So, tomorrow I'll be ducking when I go outside, because surely pigs can now fly.
1. Our oh-so-naughty puppy actually went outside off-leash and did what pups ought to do outdoors.
2. I actually care about who is winning at football.
3. Daughter #1 is quite certain she should be homeschooled next semester.
I attribute the first to never-failing optimism that someday puppy would get a clue. My actual dog training skills are feeble and embarrassing.
I attribute the second to Rob's enthusiasm being contagious. He's usually pretty quiet and easygoing, so it makes me smile to see him get so fired up about the Ducks.
I attribute the third to God. Our whole family started praying intentionally about school choices as a new year's commitment. I shouldn't be surprised that when we start asking, He starts telling. He can make what seems like a complex, impossible decision into something simple and obvious. I love that.
I wonder what other never-no-way-forget-it situations will turn into YES in 2015. We're only 12 days into the year and things are a-changing!
If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. (James 1:5)
How have your circumstances or assumptions been turned upside-down? How did God show you which way to go?
About Me
- Joanna
- My husband Rob and I get to share a crazy life with a son in college, three daughters, our newly-adopted preschooler, our neurotic dog Sasha, wild puppy Toby, and Alice the bunny. We spend our time writing books, homeschooling, foster parenting, and growing in our faith in Christ. Music, chocolate, and friends make the days even brighter. I am blessed beyond reason!
Monday, January 12, 2015
Monday, July 14, 2014
Two, three, one, go!
Doing things in a logical order isn't always my strength. It shows up in the little things--forgetting to lay out my towel before my shower, so I have to drip all over the bathroom before drying off. Adopting a puppy two weeks after we put in the new carpet. Cutting my hair off two days before the wedding, so no gorgeous up-do for me. Starting a can't-put-it-down novel early in the day, blowing any chance of a productive morning. Filling the gas tank at the end of my list of errands, so I travel from store to store on fumes. Checking the pantry for sugar after the cookie recipe is half-mixed in the bowl.
This pattern has shown up in some more impactful ways, like getting married before we graduated from college (i.e. choosing to live on mac and cheese in a cheap, rat-infested apartment for months. I guess you really can live on love!). Signing up my daughter for summer camp before I was sure she was emotionally prepared to go. Pitching a fit at my husband before giving him the chance to explain his side of the story. Taking on a second foster baby before my volunteering and book deadlines were complete. (Who needs sleep, right?)
Sometimes that's okay. It's great to be optimistic and open to new experiences. To be able to flex and change outside the limits of a rigid routine. To have a willing heart to drop everything and help when there's a need. To be a "yes" person in a negative world. But clearly, I need wisdom and balance before I jump into new situations without thinking. Especially when my choices might take my family for a ride they didn't ask to get on.
It occurred to me that God doesn't always seem logical either. I'll never understand how "while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Romans 5:8) Shouldn't he have waited for me to beg for salvation before he made the way? Didn't he want to see some good effort on my own to get my act together, before he invited me into his family? Shouldn't I have been looking for him before he came looking for me?
No, he knew my name and had plans for me before he even made this world. He knew I would be weak and blind and lost. He proved his love by giving me Jesus before I even knew I needed him.
I'm sure I'll keep on doing things upside-down and backwards. Sometimes because I'm following my heart and sometimes because I'm loopy. But I trust in a God who always does things in the perfect way at the perfect time. I am loved.
This pattern has shown up in some more impactful ways, like getting married before we graduated from college (i.e. choosing to live on mac and cheese in a cheap, rat-infested apartment for months. I guess you really can live on love!). Signing up my daughter for summer camp before I was sure she was emotionally prepared to go. Pitching a fit at my husband before giving him the chance to explain his side of the story. Taking on a second foster baby before my volunteering and book deadlines were complete. (Who needs sleep, right?)
Sometimes that's okay. It's great to be optimistic and open to new experiences. To be able to flex and change outside the limits of a rigid routine. To have a willing heart to drop everything and help when there's a need. To be a "yes" person in a negative world. But clearly, I need wisdom and balance before I jump into new situations without thinking. Especially when my choices might take my family for a ride they didn't ask to get on.
It occurred to me that God doesn't always seem logical either. I'll never understand how "while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Romans 5:8) Shouldn't he have waited for me to beg for salvation before he made the way? Didn't he want to see some good effort on my own to get my act together, before he invited me into his family? Shouldn't I have been looking for him before he came looking for me?
No, he knew my name and had plans for me before he even made this world. He knew I would be weak and blind and lost. He proved his love by giving me Jesus before I even knew I needed him.
I'm sure I'll keep on doing things upside-down and backwards. Sometimes because I'm following my heart and sometimes because I'm loopy. But I trust in a God who always does things in the perfect way at the perfect time. I am loved.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Grandma
Yesterday I had to take the back off of our rolltop desk, a piece of furniture that once belonged to Rob's grandparents. Our little, um, cutie had shoved the TV remote into an opening at the top of the rolltop. After taking a hammer and screwdriver and prying open the back of the desk, I found all kinds of goodies he's lost back in there over the last several months. There were two remotes, a toy flute, a variety of DVDs, and various trinkets and toys. It seems a lot more cute and funny today than it did yesterday!
The most fun things I found tucked in there, though, were a couple of receipts and a banking slip from Rob's grandfather. They showed that one day in 1989, he bought a dust mop, socks, a sweater, and a Julio Eglesias CD. Having his written signature in our hands made him feel a little closer, since he's no longer with us in this world. He was a wonderful grandpa--he loved his family with his whole heart.
Ever since then I've had grandparents on my mind, and my grandmother Martha in particular. One of my greatest regrets is that she and Rob never met--she passed away while we were falling in love and he wasn't able to travel to meet her before she was gone. She would have loved his kind, quiet spirit and sense of humor. He would have enjoyed her spunk and intelligence. It makes me smile to think about what great friends they'll be in heaven someday.
Grandma wasn't a snuggle-you-on-her-lap with hugs and kisses type of grandmother. But she would do cartwheels with me in the front yard. She would hand me scissors and a basket and send me out to create bouquets from her beautiful garden. She would spend days each summer patiently teaching me how to sew. She bought the metronome I used throughout years of piano lessons--it still sits on top of my piano today. She made homemade lollipops with me, no matter the sticky mess it left behind. She took me to the corn festival in southern Illinois, with the best fried chicken and fire-roasted corn I've ever had. She let me chase her Siamese cats until they escaped to hide under the bed. She was fun.
Today I'm wearing the gold butterfly earrings she bought for me about 30 years ago. On my table is a sweet-smelling pink hyacinth. I buy one each spring because they remind me of the rows of hyacinths blooming in her rock garden. And I breathe in the fragrance and let myself feel how much I miss her.
The most fun things I found tucked in there, though, were a couple of receipts and a banking slip from Rob's grandfather. They showed that one day in 1989, he bought a dust mop, socks, a sweater, and a Julio Eglesias CD. Having his written signature in our hands made him feel a little closer, since he's no longer with us in this world. He was a wonderful grandpa--he loved his family with his whole heart.
Ever since then I've had grandparents on my mind, and my grandmother Martha in particular. One of my greatest regrets is that she and Rob never met--she passed away while we were falling in love and he wasn't able to travel to meet her before she was gone. She would have loved his kind, quiet spirit and sense of humor. He would have enjoyed her spunk and intelligence. It makes me smile to think about what great friends they'll be in heaven someday.
Grandma wasn't a snuggle-you-on-her-lap with hugs and kisses type of grandmother. But she would do cartwheels with me in the front yard. She would hand me scissors and a basket and send me out to create bouquets from her beautiful garden. She would spend days each summer patiently teaching me how to sew. She bought the metronome I used throughout years of piano lessons--it still sits on top of my piano today. She made homemade lollipops with me, no matter the sticky mess it left behind. She took me to the corn festival in southern Illinois, with the best fried chicken and fire-roasted corn I've ever had. She let me chase her Siamese cats until they escaped to hide under the bed. She was fun.
Today I'm wearing the gold butterfly earrings she bought for me about 30 years ago. On my table is a sweet-smelling pink hyacinth. I buy one each spring because they remind me of the rows of hyacinths blooming in her rock garden. And I breathe in the fragrance and let myself feel how much I miss her.
Monday, March 24, 2014
Joy in the morning
Easter is hands-down my favorite holiday. It's a time of celebration - He is Risen! I love the beautiful church services, time with family, darling little girls in frilly dresses, and the fresh scent of spring in the air.
At Easter our church creates a prayer garden where we can meditate on Christ's work on the cross. It has three stations, including a place to lay a memento down that symbolizes a burden being given over to the Lord. The opportunity to reflect, give thanks, and ask for help is powerful.
Last year, however, it was difficult to find joy. On the morning of Good Friday we sat through a court hearing for our foster son where the judge seemed determined to hedge us out of his life by any means possible. It seemed certain that he would be pulled from our home and our arms forever. I took our daughters to the prayer garden later that day. All I could do was sit and weep. My prayer was just that God would help me to accept His plan, even if it meant saying goodbye to our precious little boy. The girls each brought a tiny toy car to leave as a symbol of their prayers for their little brother.
Later that day, Rob went to the prayer garden alone. He's my calm, steady rock. But when he saw those little cars among the stones in the garden he was broken.
It has been a year since that painful, tearful Good Friday. We are in awe of all God has done since then. He turned the whole course of the case in a new direction, and now we're nearly through with the adoption process. Other circumstances knocked us down over the last year--there were days I wasn't sure if I would be able to function or even breathe. But God gave me what I needed to not just survive those days, but to overcome and thrive as He carried me through.
My heart feels the heavy weight of all that my friends and loved ones are dealing with right now. Whether it's sickness, lost jobs, a strained marriage, or painful separation from someone dear, so many of us are frustrated, hurting, and afraid. It does not mean that God has become distracted or turned his back. He loves on, and on, and on. When he says he's here, he means it. When he says "weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning," it will. When he says he doesn't waste our pain, he won't.
Anyone who's spent much time in church has heard that God keeps his promises. I needed this last hard year to begin to understand that he truly does. And I learned that it's through pain that I get to see my Hero. My Champion. My Healer, Rescuer, and Friend that sticks close. Whenever I have to give up something here in this world, it's a chance to get more of him. And he is better than anything I will ever lose.
At Easter our church creates a prayer garden where we can meditate on Christ's work on the cross. It has three stations, including a place to lay a memento down that symbolizes a burden being given over to the Lord. The opportunity to reflect, give thanks, and ask for help is powerful.
Last year, however, it was difficult to find joy. On the morning of Good Friday we sat through a court hearing for our foster son where the judge seemed determined to hedge us out of his life by any means possible. It seemed certain that he would be pulled from our home and our arms forever. I took our daughters to the prayer garden later that day. All I could do was sit and weep. My prayer was just that God would help me to accept His plan, even if it meant saying goodbye to our precious little boy. The girls each brought a tiny toy car to leave as a symbol of their prayers for their little brother.
Later that day, Rob went to the prayer garden alone. He's my calm, steady rock. But when he saw those little cars among the stones in the garden he was broken.
It has been a year since that painful, tearful Good Friday. We are in awe of all God has done since then. He turned the whole course of the case in a new direction, and now we're nearly through with the adoption process. Other circumstances knocked us down over the last year--there were days I wasn't sure if I would be able to function or even breathe. But God gave me what I needed to not just survive those days, but to overcome and thrive as He carried me through.
My heart feels the heavy weight of all that my friends and loved ones are dealing with right now. Whether it's sickness, lost jobs, a strained marriage, or painful separation from someone dear, so many of us are frustrated, hurting, and afraid. It does not mean that God has become distracted or turned his back. He loves on, and on, and on. When he says he's here, he means it. When he says "weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning," it will. When he says he doesn't waste our pain, he won't.
Anyone who's spent much time in church has heard that God keeps his promises. I needed this last hard year to begin to understand that he truly does. And I learned that it's through pain that I get to see my Hero. My Champion. My Healer, Rescuer, and Friend that sticks close. Whenever I have to give up something here in this world, it's a chance to get more of him. And he is better than anything I will ever lose.
"I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord
(Psalm 27:13-14)
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Four steps forward, one step back
Ten years ago, we had our fourth and final beautiful bundle with the birth of our daughter. We enjoyed every minute of her babyhood, but as she grew we moved past the life of strollers, cribs, high chairs, and sleeper jammies. Rob and I could head out the door for spontaneous coffee dates. Nobody needed help brushing their teeth or cleaning their rooms. Everybody in the house could sleep through the night and hold a coherent conversation. We were living the life of parents with "big kids".
Then, three years ago we turned our lives upside-down by welcoming a tiny baby boy into our lives. As new foster parents we believed the story we were told in training that most foster cases wrap up in a year or so. Silly us. Our little guy stayed...and stayed...and stayed. For over three years. And here he is today, almost our forever son through adoption.
We gave our hearts away to our little boy the moment we held him in our arms. We had no idea that he would be a gift from God that would change our lives forever. And we never expected to find ourselves back in the life of parents-of-babies again. Yes, we miss some of the convenience and flexibility we used to have. We sigh as we deal with potty training, car seats, and illogical mood swings one more time. But we also have more laughter and awwww moments than we could have any other way.
The comments people make are true:
"Boy, you have your hands full." Yep, and our hearts are full too.
"They keep you young, don't they." Yes--we get to remember how to play and laugh about the little things and take life at a child's pace.
"He's going to pass you up any day now." Yes. I'm short. He's tall. I think I'll be looking up to him when he's eight. It's all good.
We're nearly done with diapers and we're shopping for a bed to replace the crib. The high chair is back in storage. Life with big-kids-only is back on the horizon. But I'm so thankful for these last three years--one more chance to cuddle up and marvel over the little milestones. It's been worth every minute.
Then, three years ago we turned our lives upside-down by welcoming a tiny baby boy into our lives. As new foster parents we believed the story we were told in training that most foster cases wrap up in a year or so. Silly us. Our little guy stayed...and stayed...and stayed. For over three years. And here he is today, almost our forever son through adoption.
We gave our hearts away to our little boy the moment we held him in our arms. We had no idea that he would be a gift from God that would change our lives forever. And we never expected to find ourselves back in the life of parents-of-babies again. Yes, we miss some of the convenience and flexibility we used to have. We sigh as we deal with potty training, car seats, and illogical mood swings one more time. But we also have more laughter and awwww moments than we could have any other way.
The comments people make are true:
"Boy, you have your hands full." Yep, and our hearts are full too.
"They keep you young, don't they." Yes--we get to remember how to play and laugh about the little things and take life at a child's pace.
"He's going to pass you up any day now." Yes. I'm short. He's tall. I think I'll be looking up to him when he's eight. It's all good.
We're nearly done with diapers and we're shopping for a bed to replace the crib. The high chair is back in storage. Life with big-kids-only is back on the horizon. But I'm so thankful for these last three years--one more chance to cuddle up and marvel over the little milestones. It's been worth every minute.
Friday, March 21, 2014
A Happy Anniversary
Today marks 22 years of marriage to my best friend, Rob. I am truly loved. And that word, love, means so many things beyond romance and flowers and warm-fuzzy-feelings:
it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude,
it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes,
always perseveres. Love never fails.
(1 Corinthians 13:4-8)
Rob is patient with the messes, mood swings, and mistakes he's had to put up with for all these years! He would have every right to be "rude" or "easily angered" when I've failed for the thousandth time. He doesn't store up a list of my weaknesses, ready to throw them in my face when I've disappointed him again.
Instead, he "always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres." He cheers me on, believing I can tackle that pile of work, write that book, lose that weight, overcome that ugly emotion, and be that person who God says I am in Christ. His optimism and confidence in me hang in there even when I'm giving up on myself.
Rob doesn't let "evil" and "envy" creep in and spoil our marriage. He's doesn't keep score of which of us has the most free time, who spent more money on new clothes, or who's better at this and that and the other thing. He keeps it clean with his language and humor and the type of entertainment we enjoy. He doesn't stare at other women or compare me to anyone else.
Finally, he protects me. He works hard to provide for my needs, guards my feelings, and holds me tight when life is overwhelming. He locks up the house before bed and makes sure my car's running right. He prays for me. He makes me feel safe.
I'm looking forward to celebrating our anniversary with a date and presents, cards and kisses. But I'm looking forward even more to what's ahead--more years of this beautiful, real-life love that he gives me every day.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Twenty!
Just thinking about tomorrow makes me smile--it's my son's 20th birthday and the anniversary of the day I became a mom for the first time. And I'm not just smiling because of all the memories coming to mind of his adorable childhood. It's realizing how much I really, really like the man he has become.
First of all, he has great hair. And gorgeous eyes like his dad. He spends hours each week at the gym and it shows. Yep, my boy is good lookin'.
Second, he reads, plans, and dreams. Which makes him great to talk to because there's always a new idea or possibility cooking in his brain. He's motivated and interesting, and I never know what might be on his mind when he stops by to chat.
Third, he has a high comfort level with saying "I love you." No one in our family ever has any doubt that we matter to him. He gives great hugs. I'm a compulsive hugger so that is big stuff to me.
I'm really proud of him for all he does, but I'm even more thankful for who he is. My life is more beautiful because he's in it.
Happy birthday, Josh. I love you with all my heart.
--Mom
First of all, he has great hair. And gorgeous eyes like his dad. He spends hours each week at the gym and it shows. Yep, my boy is good lookin'.
Second, he reads, plans, and dreams. Which makes him great to talk to because there's always a new idea or possibility cooking in his brain. He's motivated and interesting, and I never know what might be on his mind when he stops by to chat.
Third, he has a high comfort level with saying "I love you." No one in our family ever has any doubt that we matter to him. He gives great hugs. I'm a compulsive hugger so that is big stuff to me.
I'm really proud of him for all he does, but I'm even more thankful for who he is. My life is more beautiful because he's in it.
Happy birthday, Josh. I love you with all my heart.
--Mom
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