Stumps

The trees are gone. Six of them. Cut down to save a house that will never belong to me from potential damage. Early morning light comes through my front window without being filtered through a canopy of leaves--harsh and without the gentle warmth that I have appreciated since moving here. The front of the house is bare. Naked and exposed. Stripped. The towering trees in the backyard that once beckoned me outdoors to sit in their shade to listen to their magical duets with the wind are silent now. Reduced to battered stumps and shredded piles of mulch. The landscape is scarred with their remains. My once beautiful retreat is now ugly with their decaying bodies. I am strangely grieved.

The day they came down, I walked the expanse of our backyard surveying the damage--I ran hands over the stumps and lingered long trying to find the rings to see their lifelines. To find beauty in the midst of ruin. But I couldn't clearly see the rings due to the scars the chainsaws left. No beauty to be found. Just loss.

I don't understand why this has affected me so. I am reminding myself of Jonah grieving over a plant that he didn't cause to grow instead of the people of Ninevah. I am frustrated by my lack of perspective. Perhaps I have put too much stock in my surroundings to bring me joy and God is pruning my heart once again along with the trees in this yard. Whatever the reason, my grief lashes out like the winds that first did damage to these trees outside. I feel battered, stripped and scarred.

Perhaps I linger too long over the stumps of my life. I look too much inwardly and trace and retrace the lifelines that have been scarred by loss. Perhaps I, myself, have picked at scabs long since healed by the tender Gardener who prunes my heart and I make myself bleed over again. Instead of seeing loss, I should look for the beauty in those scars because they are evidence that the Lord's loving hand was in the healing. Touched by God On High.

 Oh that I would trust Him more to know what true beauty is and how to tend my life in order to produce it. And taking my chin in His gentle hand, He would lift my face from the stumps and help me to see the landscape He is fashioning even while having to remove trees in the way of the better view.

S-T-R-E-T-C-H-I-N-G

There are lots of things in the world that stretch. Some are pleasant---Like the stretch of warmed mozzarella cheese coming off a bite of homemade flat bread with fresh basil. Ooo...that's some yummy stretchiness. Or the stretch in jeans now-a-days. The fact that I can wear a size smaller than I know I really am just because I know there's a little give in them. I love this stretchiness a lot. I love it because then I can eat just a little more of the mozzarella goodness and know that I can still fit into my jeans. Or how about that brand new morning stretch after a great night's sleep? Stretching out all the kinks that my strange position put into my neck and hearing the ligaments pop and make ready to carry my body through the day. It feels amazing. In contrast, there are some stretches that are less than comfortable. Like the multitude of stretches I have put my body through attempting Pilates. I'm still recovering. Or the stretching that took place on a table in Physical Therapy after injuring my knee. The kind that made tears spring to my eyes unbidden and shocking in intensity. These kind of stretches hurt. Yet they are intended for good to come from them. Health maintained. Vitality restored. Strength-inducing.

God is doing some of those kind of stretches here in my home for all of us it seems. My husband is stretching his mental boundaries and making room for more genius to dwell in his cranium. He is learning the fine art of balancing loads of work, pressure of deadlines and a family who still desires him to lead us, know us and love us well. It's not easy. Sometimes he misses the mark. But he is growing smarter, wiser and more compassionate.

I am being stretched to see how much of myself I can lay down and die to. Will I be willing to serve my husband with a cheerful heart so that he can study harder and achieve more? Will I be willing to make less of my wants and more of what God wants to accomplish in me? Will I embrace those that the Lord puts in my path here and love them fully even when in a year I will have to say goodbye? Can I resist the temptation to protect myself? God is stretching me. It's not easy. Sometimes I miss the mark. But I am growing more humble, more thankful and more loving.

My children are being challenged remarkably this year as well. We have asked them to trust more deeply in the Sovereign Hand of their Maker and to walk in this painful path of leaving dearest friends with eyes wide open to the possibilities of God's plan for their life. We have asked them to exchange comfort and stability for the different and strange. We have switched up their schooling and asked them to trust us and try. It is going to be hard. It is already stretching the limits of what they think they are capable of.  But they will grow this year. And it will be good growth---Life-sustaining, faith-inspiring growth, Lord willing.

Sometimes the stretching is painful. But it is always for our good. It is mind-boggling and incredibly remarkable to me that while God gives us circumstances that cause us to have to stand on tiptoe, raise our arms up to the sky and reach higher, He bends to grasp our hands and help us to walk. The God who fashioned the heavens and put the earth on its axis stoops to hold me up. This thought makes me want to cover my face and weep. How can He love me that much? Yet He does. As He loves my husband, my children and you.

So stretch me more, my Father in Heaven! So that I might walk, hands-clasped with You and depend on You to help me take each step.

Breathing In...

Oh glory! Oh bliss! Summertime! I had forgotten how fantastic summer in the mid-west part of the States can be. Today has reminded me. It's August and I have my windows open and the air-conditioner off. That hasn't happened in at least the seven years since I've lived in Oklahoma and Georgia. My sweet friends in good ole' Okie are sweating bullets having survived more than 40 consecutive days at over 100 degrees. Yuck. Makes me extremely thankful to be here in Ohio! Today I ran errands around town with my sunroof open and my hair blowing in the wind. My kids were outside playing Bocce Ball, practicing archery and topping it off with a Super Soaker Water Fight. Tonight, I'm sitting on my back porch while I write this letting the breeze blow across my face and just breathing in. Have you breathed in lately? Do it. Right now. It feels great.

So here's my tribute to Summertime---these are just some of the many things that make it great to be alive and breathing in...

1. Summertime is the sounds of kid's outside playing---shouts of "Hi!" and "Wanna Play?" It's "Tag, You're It" and "1, 2, 3, Not It!" and giggles galore when swim-suit clad kids jump through the sprinkler. It's the strange circus-like music that is broadcasted over the neighborhood from the Ice Cream Truck and kids yelling, "Mom! It's the Ice Cream Man!"

2. Summertime is the smell of Hawaiian tropic, chlorine and popcorn mixed all up together while lounging at the pool. It's the feel of terry cloth on skin and plastic sticking to your thighs when you sit too long in the lounger. It's the sight of a dignified, balding man sporting wild-colored swim trunks and letting his grandchildren soak him with a water cannon just for the joy of hearing them laugh with abandon.

3. Summertime is when you throw caution to the wind and sit too long in the sun just because it feels so good on tension-bound shoulders. It's the sting that begs for aloe and the itchy delight of peeling sheets of skin off later. (come on---we all love a little skin peeling. Admit it. It's like the weird delight of seeing how full the vacuum cleaner canister gets after vacuuming...am I alone? Can I get a Woot Woot?!? Anyone?)

4. Summertime is knowing it's supper time without looking at a clock. The smells of charcoal and every cut of meat grilling hot and juicy floating in the air and beckoning you to the table. It's the time of year where men become chefs with metal spatulas and tongs. Where "cooking over a hot stove" becomes obsolete and where women can relax with an icy diet coke and watch her man cook for a change.

5. Summertime is the tang of lemonade, the coolness of a Popsicle and the taste of sweet corn. (Oh my, the sweet corn here is amazing. I had forgotten what it was like!) It's the time of year when you excuse the daily ice cream cone just because summer demands it. It's spitting watermelon seeds or cherry pits. It's the sweetness of a nectarine and the pucker of a Mango. Let's just face it, summertime is delicious.

6. Summertime is Pajamas until noon. Or all day.

7. Summertime is crickets chirping loud enough to drive you crazy all night. Which is why pajamas until noon becomes necessary. It's fantasies of hunting them down with a flashlight and killing them good just so you can sleep for an hour.

8. Summertime is celebration time in our house---3 out of the 4 of us have summer birthdays. Throw in America's birthday and we've got more reasons to hoot and holler than a fat kid at a candy store. And we do. Hoot. And Holler. With wild abandon. I'll have two scoops of ice cream, please!

9. Summertime is the smell of green grass being mowed. The sight of my boy-man with his freckled-faced red with effort at pushing the grass-munching beast across the yard. It's his satisfied grin when the work is done and both mom and dad are proud. It's the sight of my daughter's hair glistening in the sunlight as she plays with her dog in the yard. It's the smiles of both of them and the warmth of my heart thinking that they will have summer memories of their childhood like I have of mine.

10. Summer is time. Time to sit a little longer. Time to try new things without the school-schedule binding your hands and energy. Things like baking bread and building fairy houses with my daughter. Time to slow down and keep my eyes wide open for the goodness of God. It's sensory overload--but in a good way--and my heart is full.

...And Yet

I confess, I'm a recovering perfectionist. And I'm failing at it. Darn. I think that I'll just climb back in bed and pull the covers up over my head. I joke, of course, but in reality, my perfectionism is something that wreaks havoc on my soul-bound journey to joy in all circumstances. Pride is at its core---as if I am capable of leading a perfect life or responding to it perfectly. If I were perfect, would I ever have a need for a Savior in Jesus Christ? No way, no how. However, it is still hard to accept when I am confronted with an area where I am failing. But also, I have along the way, picked up that if I behave perfectly, then love will follow. Acceptance will be automatic. So I am slow to learn and accept God's unconditional love for me--yet it is. Why do I so often trade man's cheap praise for the deep love of a giant God who is so magnificent yet He still sees little me as one of His crowning acheivements in creation? Yet I do. And because I do, I often pretend to feel or be something that I'm not...like happy and fully content and deeply joyful. It is my heart to be these things---but I would be lying if I said that I have arrived. I don't even think I'm close.

The other day, my husband lovingly brought something to my attention that he felt might encourage me in this quest for joy-filled living. However, I couldn't hear it because my "Perfection Alarm" was ringing in my ears too loudly to hear this tender heart of my man's. Instead I heard, "you're failing and I can't love you when you are like this"---so I left in tears and drove away from our home to try to outrun the sorrow and panic. I ended up in a parking lot sobbing and crying out to God to help me understand. The question I have (and I'm thinking many people might wonder the same thing) is how does acceptance of circumstances and choosing joy mesh with real, raw emotions? How can one live a joyous life when there is grief? What do you do when the loneliness threatens to overwhelm you? How does one live with deep joy and still be true to what boils underneath the surface of daily life? What does one do with the ache or anger? So as I sobbed, I told God that while I appreciate all the heroes of the faith found in His word,  I wished that there was one person in the bible that truly felt sad and lived out this life in a way that I could strive to emulate. A guideline of sorts. And there, in the midst of my sniffling in the car in the parking lot of Kohls, God spoke so tenderly to my heart that it threatened to make the tears that had recently dried spill over again---"DAVID....AND YET". David, King of Isreal, a man after God's own heart, felt sorrow. He felt loneliness. He felt fearful. AND YET, David trusted in God's unfailing love. He told God of his sorrow AND YET, David praised Him still and held fast to His promises. God was his lifeline.

Psalm 56:8-9 "You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?...This I know, that God is for me."

Psalm 6:6 and 9 "I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping. The Lord has heard my plea; the Lord accepts my prayer."

Psalm 42:11 "Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God."

I write this today as an encouragement---more for myself but also for anyone who would read this and relate. Too many Christians out there put on a facade that masks their pain, their sins and their struggles. Too many of us are afraid to show that they are failures and that they can't live this Christian life perfectly...but none of us can. We, who have the hope of Christ in us, should boldly proclaim to the world, I SUCK! AND YET---CHRIST LOVES ME!  I'M SAD AND FEEL HOPELESS AT TIMES AND YET---GOD IS FOR ME! I AM UNFORGIVING AND YET---GOD IS GRACIOUS! I FAIL ALL THE TIME AND YET--GOD NEVER FAILS!

So there you have it---my confession. I am struggling to find joy in my circumstances here amidst the lonely ache. God designed me to feel these things---for what purpose? To torture me? No---to remind me of my need for Him. So I will feel this sadness AND YET, I will praise Him through it and hope in Him to restore my joy to fullness. I don't have to pretend with Him...I can be real and raw and trust Him to love me just as I am--in fact, those emotions should propel me to His throne so that I can climb up on His lap and let Him comfort me as my Father.

I am (thankfully!) not unaware of how many reasons I have to be thankful. I have sweet friendships that are sustained over distances, I have precious and warm company in my family here in Ohio, I have food, shelter and my health...I can see clearly the blessings around me and I am grateful for that fact. Gratefulness keeps my heart bouyed and that is a gift from a gracious God who bottles my tears and seeks to be my lifeline in the sadness.
Psalm 126:5-6 "Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! He who goes out with weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him."

Fireflies

I love my Ohio backyard. It is filled with at least a half dozen giant trees that have roots sunk down deep into aged soil. The trees offer shade in the heat of this humid summer but more than that, they give the backyard a feeling that is reminiscent of my childhood home. Tonight I slipped out onto my back porch to sit a while and be alone in the quiet of dusk. I sat and looked over this giant backyard and before too long, the fireflies came out to do their nighttime dance. I have often marveled at the firefly. Watching their lights flicker like so many tiny stars close enough to touch turns me into a child. I stop short of getting my jar out to catch them preferring to leave them free to flicker and delight. But tonight I found myself in absolute wonder at this creature. I couldn't help but wonder at the fact that these flying lanterns are bugs. I don't like a lot of bugs. As much as I like the outdoors, bugs are not my favorite thing and you can catch me jumping and screaming if one happens to land on me. The firefly is a bug. It is fairly ordinary looking in the light of day and yet, at night it is absolutely transformed into a magnificent luminary.

I try to think hard about the Lord I love---and so as I watched these delightful bugs flicker and dance through the backyard tonight, I began to wonder about how God must delight in these bugs as well. I wondered if He called them out by their names like He does with the stars each night. I wondered if while He created the sunset tonight in all of its originality if He motioned the fireflies to stand in the wings and be ready to light up the night before asking the stars and moon to take center stage. I wondered about how He must be a little like me (or rather I like Him) that gets almost giddy to see them shine through the darkness. I began to wonder if these flashes of fluorescent light were glimpses of God's awesome glory---To see God's glory in fullness would so overwhelm us in our human bodies that He pinched off just the tiniest bit and placed it in the tail of a bug so that we could see it with our eyes and while doing so, see Him too.

I lingered long on the porch tonight. As I sat with my thoughts, I got to thinking about how we as Christ-Followers should be like the lightening bug. We should be sparks of light in the darkness of this world. We should delight others with our lights and point to God when they notice. It made me smile here in Ohio---where I feel a bit lost and very alone and where I have been shuffling through a depression that threatens to overcome my sparkle. Watching these ordinary bugs transforming the night gave me some hope of purpose. Oh that my light will shine here in the murky light and cause just one person to think hard on the God who creates, the God who loves and the God who transforms the ordinary into extraordinary.

A Humble Update

What a whirlwind 2011 has turned out to be! It has been a journey both physically and emotionally for me. One that has triggered many profound thoughts in the recesses of my brain that are brewing and steeping down deep enough for me to write about someday. But this is not the time. Instead, I'm keeping it a little lighter to give a little update.

We left Oklahoma mid-May and drove our home on wheels to Ohio where we parked at the Family Camp on base for two weeks while waiting for a rental home to come available. While we were waiting, I was blessed by meeting a young family living in the smallest little pop up camper with all their belongings in a pick-up truck, a mini-van and a small trailer. They had just come from Alaska and had been in their little home for a month already with two very small, very active children. They came over one evening to look at our RV---rejoicing in the fact that they finally spotted a couple under the age of 65 that owned one. Up until that point, they thought they were foolish to have the idea of purchasing one for themselves. I hope that they left encouraged in some small way. I doubt very much that they will ever know the impact they had on me in that small exchange. Their awe at our vehicle and appreciation for the space to live, gave me better eyes to see how blessed I had been the past two months. It humbled me. It humbles me still to think on it.
A week and a half after arriving in Ohio, our rental home opened up. We are now living in a 1500 square foot house in Kettering with a giant backyard full of beautiful, mature trees and beds of flowers that the owner put her heart into cultivating. (I will do my best not to kill them all! A green-thumb I am not!) On a side note, this house also came with a remarkable feature! We have flatulating carpets. Really. There are air bubbles that are trapped underneath the carpet and when walked on, they make a noise that tickles the funny bone. It is hard to be angry for long or feel sad for long when you walk down the hall and with every step it sounds like too many cans of beans have been eaten. (I'm sure you are shocked that such a dignified woman would find humor in it! Or that I would use it as my new excuse--"It wasn't me, it was the carpet") You can not tell me that our God doesn't have a sense of humor! The house He provided for us comes equipped with an immediate tension breaker. That's just priceless.
At any rate, the movers came with their giant trailers filled to the brim with all our worldly possessions--and these same beefy, moving men tried hard not to laugh as they unloaded a 2300 square foot house into a 1500 square foot house. And I tried hard not to cry in my panic of where it all was going to go. No attic, no basement and a one car garage (might be a half car garage even) and boxes upon boxes of stuff. Let me pause here and tell you that I am a purger---I throw things out, give away and get rid of all I can. I purged while packing up the house, I purged from the RV and I have purged while unpacking...yet I still have TOO MUCH STUFF! I could excuse myself and say that it's because I homeschool and I have to have art supplies and a library filled with good reads for my kids. I could excuse myself and say that it is my duty as a homemaker to make the home beautiful for my family and so I have to have a giant boxes filled with silk greenery and pictures for the walls---but really? The thought of all I have accumulated makes me throw up a little. It causes me to think of verses in the Good Book of treasures found in fields and storing things up in heaven and where my heart is. It humbles me. But if I'm honest, not enough to cause me to give it all away. Once again, I'm reminded of how much the Lord has to do within my heart to transform me and teach me the greater joy.
One week after the boxes arrived, I had sorted through them, stored a lot of them and given away a little. The pictures were on the walls and home was established. I then packed up some suitcases and jumped into the car to travel to Minnesota for two weeks in order to be in my youngest sister's wedding and spend time with family. What a wild time we had. So much fun. Maybe a little too much fun.
After two weeks, I finally had to turn and face reality that I was heading back to Ohio. Having worked frantically to get the house ready before leaving for Minnesota, then being in Minnesota for that time, I hadn't had much time to stop and think about the fact that my life now was truly relocated to Ohio.
Heart-work is hard work. I am striving to embrace this life that God's good hand has given me. It isn't easy---I trip on discontent and fall flat on my face. But I know that God isn't finished with me yet and that it is Him who does this Heart-work in me. I'm praying that I will have a teachable heart and that He will give me eyes to see the blessings around me and the way I can serve other people while I'm here. It humbles me to know that despite all my groanings and complainings He loves me fiercely with a love that never disappoints and always comforts. That truth alone is enough to cause my heart to swell with joy.

Other

A funny thing happened to me the other day. Something I never dreamed would happen or even be required of me in my life...I had to check "The 'Other' Box" on a form. So what, right? I'm sure all of us have at many different points of our life checked "The 'Other' Box".  How did you hear about us? A friend? An Ad? Word of mouth? Other? Are you following me here? No big deal---but when I came upon my "Other", I just stopped and stared and asked myself if this was a practical joke of some kind. You see, I was asked, "Where do you live?" An Apartment? Condo? House? Assisted Living Facility? Other? So I giggled, suppressed the urge to scream, swallowed and checked "Other". Thank goodness they didn't ask me to explain.

On another note, life in our Other is becoming easier. We know our boundaries so we have stopped bumping into each other. We know that a closed curtain means that someone is about to lose it and needs a little "alone time". We know that when my jaw sets a certain way that everyone must scatter to pick up their things and the vacuum comes out. But also, we've learned to enjoy the State Park that is our neighborhood. Mitchell is often found at the lake perfecting his rock-skipping technique. Maddy has found that Arcadia offers landscapes that inspire the writer in her. The other day, I was sitting outside on a beautiful day and noticed how the sun was shining stunningly through the bright green oak leaves. I dashed inside and got my camera and spent the next 30 minutes snapping pictures in perfect light. And Jordan? Well, Jordan never really had to adjust to life in the RV. He is my mountain man. The man who builds fires. The man who grows a beard when the Air Force doesn't interfere. The man who fixes things. The man who doesn't squirm when facing the sewage hose. The man who cooks outdoors. He's in heaven. And now that his family has relaxed a little bit, he's in Nirvana. Who would have thought that Nirvana could be found in "The 'Other' Box"?

WWF

My friend laughed at me the other night at my self-acclaimed-profound statement that I have to “fight for Joy”. She laughed---almost guffawed at that idea. Normally, I delight, revel and thoroughly enjoy making my friends laugh. (I have been known to be a little less than dignified for the sake of hearing the golden sound of laughter) But her laughter prompted me to think hard on whether or not I was foolish in proclaiming my wrestle for lasting joy. So, in true woman fashion, I have been thinking, pondering and questioning my profundity. I have wrangled with the fact that she laughed at what was said in utter seriousness. Perhaps to her mind, if you have to struggle to find joy, it’s not joy at all. But the joy I am speaking of is not the Pollyanna kind of joy. It is not the shallow “joy” that looks at a difficult situation and plasters a fake smile on it and proceeds to ignore it. That isn’t even joy—it’s denial. I’m also not talking about happiness. Happiness is valuable but it often doesn’t last. It ebbs and flows with life’s ups and downs. When I speak of joy, I am speaking of a deep down, in the marrow contentment and confidence in the goodness of God. The kind of joy I am speaking of is the kind that looks pain in the face and sees it’s ugliness for what it is and yet chooses to turn to God to transform it. God---the giver of both goodness and calamity, sorrow and joy. God—who turns ashes to beauty and our mourning into dancing. This joy-wrestle looks into the face of bitter disappointment, deals with it, takes it on and struggles to turn it to God and say, “Yes, I’m disappointed, I’m sad, I’m angry but I’m choosing to believe your Word when it says that You will work this for my good.” (Romans 8:28) It is a fight. A hard fight. At times I feel as if I’m in the World Wrestling Federation and it’s me against a Tag Team of Defeaters. Just as I pin Self-Pity to the ground, his team mate Anger rises up and they’ve got me against the ropes. Let’s be honest here---there are times when I really would like to wrap myself up in self-pity. To put it on like a cloak and wallow in it, wear it and soak it in…because if I can feel sorry enough for myself, it justifies my anger at my circumstances and excuses my actions. So I have to fight---hard. To throw off that cloak of self and put on Christ who redeems me. Christ, who fought this bloody battle for me long ago on the cross and it is one who embraces Joy that chooses to believe that He did that for me and claim the victory that He won. (the Joy of my Salvation!)

It sounds easy but it’s not. It should be---and so maybe the wrestle isn’t so much for joy but against Unbelief. Do I believe that I am “more than a conqueror through Christ who loved us?” (Romans 8:37) Do I believe that “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13) including painfully dying to self in order to be more pleasing to God? After all, Paul states that believing this is the key to being content in all circumstances and contentment is directly related to joy. See? Even the thinking through of these things require mental wrestling…So perhaps my blog shouldn’t be “Choosing Joy” but “Choosing Belief” and my prayers shouldn’t be for joy in all circumstances but rather “help my unbelief” and give me faith at least as big as that pathetic mustard seed.

My friend was maybe right to laugh at my statement---Joy is mine already through Christ and the Cross but I must fight to believe in the victory that is mine against whatever foe I face in that wrestling ring. (Cue Carmen’s “The Champion” here for nice effect)

Top Ten Things One Can Learn in an RV

10. Bugs brains really do squish onto the windshield. Usually their bodies are left fairly intact. I’m thinking that we’ll have to do our next Homeschool Science Project on labeling the bugs we are collecting on our giant windshield as we drive northeast.

9. Parking by a highway can produce a kind of white noise that is similar to the ocean. Oh, a train whistle too…hmm…an ocean liner perhaps?

8. I still have an imagination at age 35…I’m pretending that I’m at a resort by the ocean and not parked in an RV Park in the middle of someone’s farm right off the highway…yes. That IS the ocean I hear…not the semi-trucks and the train flying by. Ahh…paradise.

7. I can laugh. I must laugh to get through this ordeal that is my life. The hilarity is vast from pushing my grocery cart laden with groceries to my “house” parked on the outskirts of the lot, to eating Subway in the Wal-Mart parking lot with my family, to the fact that I’m sitting in the middle of a field right now by the highway actually feeling the vibration of that train still rolling by…and don’t even get me started on how hysterical it is to actually pee while driving down the road. I never cease to be amused at that fact.

6. The RV can be smaller than 350 Square Feet. In fact, quite a bit when your brand new hydraulic pump quits and the slides don’t move out unless you bang on the hydraulic pump with a rubber mallet and move it out inch by inch. (This is also giggle inducing) 1 hour later, after banging away at the motor, that extra 2 feet feels gigantic. I’m going to start doing carpet angels while it’s out.

5. I am thankful for people who work on the weekends. Unlike those who work for our RV company in the Technical Help Department. I mean, one can’t drive until jacks are up and the slides are back in and one can’t put them up and in without a working hydraulic pump, but what the heck? Service people need a break too. Coffee anyone?

4. We will need to purchase the extended warranty. Guess I’ll need to get a job. Maybe I can offer my services as an RV Housekeeper. I’ll get paid by the minute since it takes only about half an hour to clean one of these. Or maybe I can get a job in the Technical Help Department for Monaco. I hear they keep great hours.

3. Humming keeps big RV’s on the road in high winds. At least that is what I keep telling myself while my husband drives dangerously close to the side of the road and as I keep myself from screaming by humming as loudly as I can. It works. Like Magic.

2. Wi-Fi doesn’t mean High Speed. I’m sure you all knew that. But I didn’t. Until tonight when it took me two and a half hours to check my email and I still couldn’t reply to anyone. So if you are one of my friends who is waiting for a reply, be patient. I’m not mad at you or ignoring you or distancing myself emotionally. I just can’t make this internet connection any faster.  Maybe it’s because I’m at an ocean resort in the middle of Paradise.

1. And the number one thing I can learn while living in this RV is gratefulness. I am grateful for this weird experience to teach me gratefulness. As I stare out the window (between bug guts) at the world going by, I’m noticing things like how I’m seemingly chasing Spring across the country. I get to experience it twice—once in an Oklahoma State Park and now as I travel. The purple on the Crepe Myrtles is bright here in the Northern part of the country—the trees just beginning to bud and it is spectacular to see it in its beauty for the second time this year. What a gift! And tonight I was thrilled to inhale deeply the smell of this field (ocean) after receiving a good soaking today. It smells like Minnesota grass and childhood. I wanted to take my shoes off and sink my toes in. To be grateful, one has to slow down enough to notice what is around them. And that is exactly what this RV has done for me. Helped me to slow down, breathe in and live the moment.

350 Square Feet and a Whole Lot of Room for Growth

A husband and wife, two kids and a dog crammed into roughly 350 square feet. I have to admit, it’s been rough to adjust and just when I think I’ve accepted my circumstances, I trip on the dog or bang my knee on the corner of our bed while making it and I lose it once again. I haven’t been able to find much joy in my present circumstances but not because there isn’t anything in which to find joy. The truth of the matter is that there is always joy to be had if I’m living in the knowledge that all things are for my good and have eyes to see how bountifully I am blessed. Yet I’m failing miserably. Often. So these small spaces are squeezing me internally---squishing out sin that I didn’t even realize was within me. Ugh. I confess, it’s ugly in this here tin can of a home.

The thing is, I’m not necessarily unhappy about our RV and the fact that I’m living in it. It’s beautiful, warm when it has needed to be, cool when the sun beats down. There’s a decent bathroom with a shower---and now that I have figured out how far I can spread my arms, I no longer hit my funny bone while washing my hair. I have my kids close and at night, when all is still, I can hear their breathing. It reminds me of the nights I used to tiptoe in and listen at the side of their cribs for the sound of their life-giving breath…and that is charming, sentimental and wonderfully good. So what is my problem? Why have I so often sulked in silence and stared out the windows into sunshine feeling sorry for myself? What culprit has stolen the joy rug out from under me? Self pity overwhelms me at times and I am angry at myself for allowing it and seemingly helpless to stop it.

I think part of it is the fact that I feel displaced. Military moves (or any moves for that matter) are charged emotionally in ways sometimes unexpected. The move alone would be difficult enough, but we are in limbo here as we wait out the next 6 weeks to actually move on. Our anchor has been pulled, however, since we have sold our house and yet we are tethered here by military red tape and paperwork. So we are both here and not here at the same time. It is so difficult to even write about this strange existence and effectively communicate the emotional disarray I am experiencing. I am trying to live in the moment and enjoy with fullness the time I have left with dear friends but it is hard not to look 6 weeks out when the goodbyes really will take place. I’m grateful for the time with them but yet anxious to get it over with—rip the bandaid off and get on with the adjustment in Ohio. In essence, I’m feeling a bit schizophrenic! A perfect example would be this morning as I am bracing my feet against the side of the “tub” putting on makeup while the RV is moving out to another lot---I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of getting ready in my bathroom while it is driving down the road and yet cry at how unstable my life is right now! Calgon can’t take me far enough away at times.

And I am responding the same way with my family. One moment I am happily embracing the elements of the RV lifestyle and the next, I’m freaking out at my husband for having his things on every single available space. I am at peace, I am not. I have a home, but I don’t. I am Christ-like and I am Satan in human form.

But there is hope. Christ is not finished with me yet. He is using even this experience to show me my wretched sin. He is showing me that stability doesn’t come in a house’s foundation but in Him as a foundation for all things. He is showing me my selfishness and allowing me to deny self and serve Him in all things. He is showing me how I idolized comfort and giving me opportunities to get cramped, dirty and have to work a little harder for things. Who knows what He is prepping me to do? Mission field? Hold a baby that is filthy with lice-ridden hair and tend to her with love? Reach out to unknown people and love them without fear? Perhaps this will serve as a stepping stone from rich, worldly living with solid doors and locks to living in a hut in Africa with God alone as my safeguard. So, while I am terribly annoyed at myself and circumstances, I am also very grateful. (another sign of schizophrenia!) I am so immensely glad that the Lord loves me enough to show me where I am not pleasing Him and that He has brought me to a point where my self-dependence fails and I have only Him to do a life-changing work in me. And He will. With patience and unfailing love that I do not deserve in the slightest. So even in these tight quarters, there is a ton of room to grow.

A Party with No Balloons

I've reached box number 150 in our inventory of worldly belongings. Packing is overtaking my life but so is self-pity. I'm throwing myself a big ole' party while wrapping breakables and meticulously arranging items from my kitchen cupboards into cardboard. But instead of bringing joy into my life, this party is bringing such sorrow. It has festered within my heart anger at my husband, discontent with the job he has that demands so much of his time and controls so much of our lives. After all, this job is the reason we are moving, right? But is it? Do I not believe in the Sovereign Hand of God on High? Have I not implored my children to view this move through His Sovereignty? If I believe it, I would celebrate that instead of plodding through my pitiful, self-induced get together with the only guest being hateful, angry me.
Yet even as I write this, I am struggling to accept it. To want it. It hurts too much. It makes me acknowledge that I am not in control over my life and it also makes me aware that I am far too spoiled and self-reliant. If I am to accept God's control over my life, I can not blame my husband, the Air Force or all the work I have to do right now for my own sourness. I have to blame myself and be accountable to God for the spoiled rotten daughter that I have become that feels entitled to comfort and ease and getting what I want when I want it.
Oh that my heart would change---Lord, help me accept your Sovereign Hand as good, right and profitable even when I rail against it. Forgive me for my temper tantrum and fill me with your peace, joy and a desire to obey with joy that surprises an onlooking world.
Back to the boxes...not the pity party.

SOLD

We came home from a whirlwind, denial-inducing, family-soaking, and RV-buying trip to Texas to a bright gold sign with bold blue letters saying "Sold" in our yard. We met it with mixed emotions. Thankfulness at having found a buyer in a sluggish market, absolute relief at having passed inspections with flying colors and a marked sadness in our hearts at the finality of it. SOLD.

As I walked in the door to put things away I was almost annoyed at the absurdity of putting anything away knowing that in mere days the boxes would begin stacking up in our various rooms with all our worldly goods tucked in them to store for an indefinite amount of time. I walked through the rooms and looked with eyes that acknowledged that this was not my home anymore. It was someone elses. My new home was parked in a sales lot in Dallas getting cleaned up and prepped for pick up the following weekend. Then a thought crossed my mind that was completely riduculous---I wanted to drop down to the floor and spread open my arms and legs as far as they would go and do "Carpet Angels"...I know. Ridiculous---yet I already feel spacially challenged even thinking about climbing in that RV and want to feel the space around me as much as I can. So in the next few weeks don't be surpised if you see me do odd things like that. I might stretch out, stroke a wall and walk around aimlessly in my 2100 square foot house just because I can...and we might be in the middle of a conversation. I'm just warning you.

So as I was thinking that ridiculous thought and sorting the mountains of laundry I was about to start in my giant, brand-new-- but now forfeited to the new owners of my home-- washer and dryer, (boo hoo!) Jordan walked in and said, "I'm so sorry". This took me by surprise (even more so than the idea of my doing Carpet Angels). He went on to further explain how much he was sorry for our lifestyle, the leave-taking and the sacrifices I have to make as his wife. I must admit, I wanted to say, "You should be." But I had already reminded him earlier that morning that he was absolutely lucky to have me and didn't feel that my journey to being a godly, dignified woman would benefit from another ugly statement. I was reminded that I instead need to choose to see joy even in the midst of saying goodbye to a house, space, and brand new washing machines. So I said to my much-loved husband, "It's okay--in fact, it's good that we have to go through this." Now, I'm not necessarily prone to "Pollyanna" platitudes. I like sunshine as much as the next person, but try not to blow it up places where it doesn't belong. (is that a dignified statement?) But this wasn't said without conviction. I believe that it is good.

How can I say that? The pain is excruciating as I prepare to leave friends and prepare to give up comfort to honor my husband so it's not because this is without pain. But it's good because shallow roots on this earth leaving me longing for heaven. Temporary homes leave me longing for the eternally permanent. And knowing that time is short with those I love let me more fully enjoy their company while I can and rely on the hope of reuniting with them in heaven one day. So I can choose Joy even in the sorrow. Furthermore, and most importantly---I don't just long for heaven but the Heavenly Father as his grace is absolutely sufficient for me. Sufficient in grief, sufficient in loss and sufficient in the stress of upheaval. He is more than enough to bring me comfort and peace and my heart is learning to treasure Him above all worldly comforts and items that can be stored away in boxes. It is a good God who will strip us of our earthly treasures that rust and decay and comforts that make us soft and stagnant and instead replaces them with Himself. And there is deep and abiding Joy in Him. He is sufficient and He is good. So good.  

A Lot of Words

Words. There are a lot of them. Words that feel like sticks and stones. Words that mend and encourage. Words that make you laugh! (those are some of my favorite!) Words that make you weep. (Like, "We're Moving") But my favorite words in the world are God's Words. These words have power. They are sharp, active and can pierce the dullest soul and cause it to live again. They reprimand. Comfort. Teach. Inspire to believe in the impossible. They are my delight, a lamp to my feet so I might not stumble, they are edible, sweet and like honey to my mouth! (Or dark chocolate)

So I chose words to write or speak carefully. Sometimes. I can be very careless and often not very tasteful. But I'm working on that. Or rather, God is working on that. Someday I might be a very dignified woman. There is always hope. The verses you will find on this page are ones that I would like to say apply to my life perfectly. That I have grasped what it is to live content in any and every circumstance. But I haven't. I keep those words here  to meditate upon and remind myself that only in contentment will I ever truly live a joy-filled life. And that is my desire. "The Joy of the Lord is my Strength" is a verse I live by because I really believe that. When I am filled with the joy of the Lord, I can not be toppled by the circumstances I live in!

Life is about to change rapidly for the Lee family. I am about to embark on the dream of my husband's heart--living in an RV for the next 2 months at least. It is going to get interesting. And challenging. But the question that I keep asking myself is, can I choose to live joyfully in the tin can that will be my home? Can I choose Joy while tripping on my children and dog and cooking on a two-burner stove? Can I choose Joy when I'm sharing a bathroom the size of my front closet with three other people? Can I choose Joy in these circumstances? I can. With God's help. I can do all things---even live in an RV for two months through Christ who gives me Strength.

So join me on the journey---not just the literal one we're going to take from Oklahoma to Ohio and then who knows where---but the journey of my heart. A journey that will most likely have a few detours. I may get a couple of flat tires, run out of gas or crash but I'm going to keep traveling until I get home to heaven.