Last week marked one year of living in Brazil. When we moved here a year ago, I had some pretty unrealistic expectations about what it would look like to live here. It’s both been harder than I imagined and better for me than I could have dreamed.  In some ways, my life hasn’t changed as much as I thought it might. I still take care of the kids for a chunk of the day. I still grocery shop and menu plan, cook and clean, do laundry and wash dishes, create family routines, plan activities to do together with the kids, and read them books before bedtime. 

In other ways, my life has changed in ways I didn’t even know it needed. It happened in slow layers — I’m sure due to God’s grace. I had to learn to drive here, cook here, and clean here. I had to learn a new language and a new culture that gave meaning to the new language. I had to learn to interact in new systems, a new church, a new school for the kids, a new group of neighbors. I've had to learn to parent in a new environment where I did not have the same resources and had less independence to find new ones. I’ve also had to learn the new guidelines in how to be careful according to this culture and this city when I walk somewhere.   

As a perfectionist, I just couldn’t keep up the illusion of perfection as I was invited (or forced) to step into so many new things. Because that is all perfection is: an illusion. I had to learn that if I was going to grow in the necessary areas here, that growth would come through a lot of mistakes and failures. I hate mistakes and failures so much I would rather avoid learning something new or trying something different than to make them. Here in Brazil, that was never even a possibility. I no longer have the luxury of being a perfectionist. I shudder when I think about how many blunders I have unknowingly made, but at the same time, there has been great freedom in that because is strips the constraints of perfectionism right off. There was a time when I finally realized instead of trying to pretend like I knew Portuguese well when I met people in the building, or at the kid’s school, I would just start the conversation by apologizing and saying I was still learning Portuguese. Why pretend? I probably wasn’t as great at pretending as I thought anyway, and once the pretense was gone, I spoke more Portuguese, which is what I need to do well here. I’ve had to depend on grace, the grace of God to get me through the day, and the grace of others as I awkwardly bungle my way through so many new things. My options — according to myself — used to be either I needed to do things perfectly or avoid them. Those are both no longer options in so many new areas, and that is freeing in and of itself.  

My days still may be filled with more things that I did in the States than what I thought a missionary’s life would hold. But this is true of my heart, and true of the hearts of those impacted by the ministry of Counseling for Brazil: God is at work, changing lives. God is at work, doing the better deeper work in our hearts that we sometimes avoid but so desperately need. I’m so grateful that this ridiculous notion that I need to be perfect is being loosened, one mistake at a time. 

"I just want to go back to Dallas"

"I just want to go back to Dallas" Nicolas sobbed, big tears streaming down his face. 

"I understand. I miss it too. What do you miss about Dallas?" I asked, hoping to help him feel empathized with and understood. 

"It's just better than Recife." 

"What is better?" 

"It's just better. Recife is bad."  

The conversation deteriorates from here. He lists everything we have here, everything he likes, everything he is happy about and he starts calling it bad, saying he doesn't like it. 

It would be heartbreaking if I didn't understand the meaning behind it. And I know its real meaning because I might have been known to say, in a much more adult-let-me-say-something-I-don't-like-but-hide-it-better way, the exact same thing he is saying. 

The kids have done so well in so many ways in our move here. I know this move is in some ways an easier transition for them because of their age, but I also know we have asked a lot of them. So when last week we started hearing this more and more - especially after he was actually upset about something else - it was a good reminder to me that no matter how well the kids have adjusted, they will have their own struggles too. 

Sometimes it really is the last straw that breaks the camel's back. Anytime Nicolas says he just wants to go back to Dallas, it is preceded by something else he is upset by. His plate is at the wrong spot on the table, his favorite shorts are dirty, the bathroom he wants is currently in use and he doesn't want the one that is free. These are very small things to me, but after all we have asked of the kids, these are monumental things to Nicolas. And it's that last huge little thing that he just can't take, and the tantrums come on strong. 

I've unfortunately had my fair share of adult tantrums here about very "small" things, unimportant to normal sane people who are not adjusting to another country, culture, and language. I'm trying so hard, and in many ways "adjusting well" by measurable standards. But then along comes that one last thing that is just too much for me to handle on top of everything else. I'm so embarrassed by the last little thing that set me off, but it wasn't really the last little thing, it was a string of multiple things multiple days in a row that finally set me off. 

During those times, I'm tempted just like Nicolas to say "I want to go back to Dallas". But what I think I really mean, like I think he really means, is - it felt safer. It had less stressors, less changes, less transitions to navigate. It was known, it was familiar, and it was comfortable. God had us there for a wonderful season, and then it was time to move on. In ways I didn't understand then, it was too comfortable. I rarely went outside my comfort zone, and that was not a good thing. In some ways I was thriving but in other ways, I was restless and stagnant, and longing for a God sized change I couldn't create on my own, no matter how hard I tried. 

Nicolas and I will still have days while we say out loud or in our head "I just want to go back to Dallas". There are still people and things we miss there, no matter how much we adjust to Recife. But God no longer has us in Dallas. Sometimes I am sad about that, because it was our home for 12 years. But I'm also incredibly grateful for His change in bringing us here - not only for joining Him in the work He is already doing here, but also for the work He is doing in our hearts. It's hard and it's beautiful. It's necessary pruning. In Dallas, I almost never stepped out of my comfort zone even if I wanted to because I wasn't quite brave enough. In Recife, I live outside my comfort zone. My comfort, my preferences, my perceived safety are daily accosted by the many differences here. I was never brave enough to choose to live that way in Dallas, and there are days I still fight it here. But I know He is using the circumstances to give me exactly what I need in Him. Ultimately, that is really what I want - what He deems best for me, not what I deem best for myself.

Courage and Perseverance

A little over a year and a half ago when Joa and I felt prompted by God to move to Brazil, I knew immediately I had to be 100% committed. I’m a little embarrassed to admit it – but I will anyway – I normally like to stick one toe in to test the waters before diving in to something new. In fact, I don’t ever dive in. I wade in slowly, ever ready to flee the water if I get too uncomfortable.

Comfort. That was something we talked about often. As another missionary had said, we repeated – we are choosing meaning over comfort. That became our motto.

I love my comfort. Left to my own devices, I rarely go where I am not comfortable. There is a lot of fear in leaving comfort. Will I try something and fail? Will my inadequacies be revealed? Will I be judged as not enough? Even in saying yes to God about Brazil, I spent the year before we left walking around carrying my brokenness. It was as if I was carrying it in my arms; it was that present and unavoidable to me. My inability to be exactly who I wanted, my inability to make my inadequacies more acceptable, my inability to have more to offer that people would value. These things are still tender spots in my heart, but I ended that year finally understanding that my brokenness was actually a gift. If I accepted it, my brokenness could become a gift to others as well.

I knew that if I was to take this leap of faith, I couldn’t wade in. There would be no going back, no changing my mind, no matter how uncomfortable. No matter how hard it would be, I was determined to adjust, to adapt, to thrive or I would be unable to fulfill the specific purposes God had for me in Brazil.

We have all been doing well – and yet, we are constantly thrown off by how long things take, how no one seems to know the exact steps you need to accomplish important federal tasks, how the bank has so many checks and balances in place you almost can’t use your account, how brand new electric showers don't work, and instead become our kids' least favorite time of the day as we bribe or shove them quickly in the cold water. We needed to immediately and drastically increase our tolerance level for stress and chaos.

Suddenly the phrase of choosing meaning over comfort hit home in a very different way. Not a warm cozy feeling way, but hitting an invisible brick wall. That is a perfect descriptor. We are doing well in the things we have control over, but multiple times a day we hit invisible brick walls with no warning. Sometimes it takes the rest of the day to recover from one brick wall, but on some days, we hit multiple brick walls and have no recovery time.

Thinking about all these experiences on New Year’s Eve brought me to my words for this year: courage and perseverance. God doesn’t expect me to practice these two themes fearlessly – fear is almost always involved! He just calls me to practice them faithfully, Spirit led. There is so much He is already doing that I don’t see. There is so much I can’t do. But I can be faithful to step into so many new situations with courage and with perseverance. I’ll be writing more about that in the weeks and months to come and hope you’ll join me.

Grieving

This week I have been grieving. I have pretended not to, tried to ignore it, tried to talk myself out of it. Nothing is working. Suddenly movies I normally would be completely unaffected by grate on my nerves like fingernails on chalkboard; movies about couples having babies; movies about couples being pregnant.
 
I know this time of year is coming. I never forget the dates. They have added up over the year. My surgery on Good Friday and my release from the hospital on Easter Sunday ultimately brought a diagnosis of infertility. Yesterday, Bella’s half sister turned two. Today, Lili turned four. A few weeks from now on April 12^th, Ethan turns 6. All failed placements. All hopeful adoptions to be that didn’t end up as we hoped.
 
I don’t believe in coincidences, but even if I did, I would say these events this close together can’t be a coincidence. Really, what are the chances that two of the completely unrelated and much loved children we hoped to adopt would be born almost to the day within two years of each other? That my surgery was Easter weekend, a time where we remember the day that contained the greatest sorrow there ever was that made the most joy possible? That brought life from death? That allows God to offer the free gift of life and hope to all through Christ? What’s seems ironic to me now is every year we went through this journey, with every new event, I was hopeful God would “redeem” this sad time with a joyful event. Instead the losses just added up. First Ethan, then Lili, then Angel.


 But I guess I am still always so surprised that it hits me this hard. With two beautiful kids that are all I could ask for, whom I love with all of my heart, why am I still grieving children lost to me that are still alive? Why am I still grieving my infertility? I guess because I am always reminded of loss. Adoption always includes loss. It includes the loss deeply felt by the birthmom. I am forever grateful to our birthmoms for their sacrificial love, but because of how events turned out with Lili and her birthmom, I know a teeny bit of the reality of the loss they face, the grief they feel. It also includes my loss of fertility. It includes the three failed placements during adoption before we ended up with our kiddos. We were blessed to see Nicolas’ birth grandparents a few weeks ago. We are so grateful they remain in contact, as well as his birthmom. But this reminds me that someday not too long from now, Bella will start to feel her loss of her birthmom who has not stayed in touch. Maybe that is what Bella's birthmom  needs to do to deal with her loss, too. It seems like it is one full circle – there are so many losses. In the middle of joy and delight and a full heart of gratefulness for God’s timing and provision that He said – These two. These two little ones are the EXACT ones I have for you – there is still loss. The losses were real. They still are real. The losses of the failed placements were like deaths of children to me. Heart miscarriages. I loved and carried a child in my heart that I no longer have in my arms.


 Is it okay to grieve? I ask myself. I have so many blessings. I am really so grateful for where we are at, and I can’t imagine life without Bella and Nicolas. There are so many other losses. Bigger losses, dare I say? But why do I have to qualify them? A loss is a loss. And comparison only brings harm. Why would I ever compare my loss with someone else’s? What purpose would that accomplish?
 
It is okay to grieve. It is okay to, in the exact same moment, thank God for all He has given and grieve all He has allowed to be taken away. It’s hard. It’s not natural. We like one side or the other. But it’s possible and even good to do both. At the same time.
 
So, I am going to stay there. Not fully understanding how my body grieves so deeply and remembers so strongly (even when I pretend I don’t). Not having to make it all better, to tie it in a pretty bow. Not having to have others understand (though that’s nice). I am rejoicing and I am grieving.
 

Exciting News!

It has been too long since I updated this blog, but this news is certainly blog worthy! 

We got the chance to meet with Bella's birthmom on Friday. It was the first time she saw Bella since she left the hospital. She had requested the meeting to see Bella, and we were so thrilled she did. It started off with Bella devouring most of the birthmom's Kit Kat. She had never had chocolate but she definitely loved it! And then Bella was off and running around the room, like her usual self, although she did sit contently in the birthmom's lap for a bottle and some Cheerios. It was a really sweet time where the birthmom asked a lot of questions, getting to know Bella, and shared a bit more about herself and her family. Bella seemed pretty comfortable with her birthmom, and the birthmom seemed pretty comfortable with all of us. That was very encouraging to us. 

We also got to talk about some big news: we are pursuing adopting again! When the birthmom requested the meeting, she also told the adoption agency she was pregnant again and wanted to choose the plan of adoption for the child she was carrying. She told them the birthfather was deceased, and this and other circumstances would not allow her to parent the child she was carrying. She really wanted us to adopt baby #2. 

When we first found out, we were quite shocked. We did plan on adopting again, just not so soon. But we certainly did not want to pass up an opportunity to adopt Bella's half sibling. We were thrilled about that! We are still finding out some of the details. From the information we have so far, she believes she is due between the end of March and the end of April. Although she had a sonogram last week, baby #2 would not cooperate, so we do not know the gender. 

Although everything we know at this point looks good for a successful adoption, we know there are no guarantees. We appreciate all your prayers as we wait to see what God will unfold for our family, for the birthmom, and baby #2. And we welcome your excitement! I am not sure how many updates we will have, but I will post them here as we get them. 

Obscure Viruses

I had not been feeling myself last week, having a dull headache that wouldn't go away. I say that to explain some of what I am about to share. We went to the doctor on Tuesday for Bella’s six month checkup, and left with the discovery that she had a fever. This will seem silly to most of you, but I didn’t know that a fever was over 100.4. So after the doctor's appointment, I was giving the allotted amount of children’s Tylenol, and she still had a higher than normal temperature, and I was starting to get very worried.

Thursday I was especially emotional and felt a bit crazy. I thought Bella still had a fever, and I worried all the way home from work. Worried that they wouldn't be able to find out what it was. Worried she would die from some obscure virus no one had ever heard of.

I knew all those things were a bit crazy. But I think the thing it reminded me was: there are no guarantees. It was easy for life to go on, for me to get comfortable in my routines with Bella, for me to think that what I have today I will have tomorrow. And the silly fears of losing Bella to some obscure virus really touched a much deeper nerve of our previous losses when the unthinkable did happen.

As grateful as I am for all God taught me through our pain, it made me realize there is still some healing – through trusting – that needs to be done in my heart over losing Lili. I am always worrying about "obscure viruses" that will cause my world to crumble. I have used the attempts to control as a coping mechanism for life for so long that I automatically run back to it instead of choosing to trust God, instead of recalling what I know and experienced to be true: what God gives me is for my very best good. It does not always feel or look like it. But I can trust Him in every circumstance.

Thankfully, Bella is completely fine. She actually had been fever free since Tuesday night, I just didn't know it. But the reality is: I have no guarantees on how long I have her, or any loved ones in my life. And I don’t want to go through life trying to prevent loss, and fearing loss, but instead walking in trust.  It was such a silly reminder this week, but it was a necessary reminder too. I can trust what God brings my way is for my very best good. I would really like to live in that trust instead of my usual response of fear and attempting to control. Apparently, I always need reminders. But I am grateful God faithfully gives me reminders. 

He remembers

Yesterday was the year anniversary of when we lost Lili. I know not everyone likes to remember sad anniversaries but for me it is necessary to actively remember. So I started talking about it with Joa back on Saturday. And then, because I had verbalized it, I went on with my week.

Then yesterday I got an email and a facebook message that shared how God used our story with Lili in someone else’s life. At first I felt uncomfortable because we were thanked for our faith and told how we were an inspiration to others. I fail at living out my relationship with God as I long to much of the time, and certainly have been struggling recently to live it out well. It was really God’s grace working through so many prayers that sustained us and kept us during that time.

It wasn’t until I checked the date that I realized it was the actual anniversary day. And when I got the second encouraging note of the day, it clicked. Yes, I have been floundering lately. But it was a sweet reminder from Him that even though we fail, He still uses us, and He still uses our story with Lili. He uses something as big as that event, and something as small as the blogs He prompts me to write. 

I can’t promise you I will be back on here consistently, but I am refreshed by God’s goodness today, and thankful for His sweet reminder that He too remembers. 

I couldn’t end this without a quick update on Bella. She is doing great: sitting up, holding her bottle, stretching into 9-12 month clothes (even though she is only five and a half months). She loves water, being outside, our dog and people. She hasn’t met a stranger yet. She is a joy and delight to us, and we are so thankful God blessed us with her.  

Sad Days

Today is a sad day. We had heard about a birthmom choosing soon, and it was one of the rare occasions where we needed to be contacted to confirm we wanted our profile to be shown to her. She is due in January with a baby girl.

Yesterday we found out she had chosen a family, and it wasn’t us.

I had been praying about this each day, telling God I knew He really knew what was best, and asking Him to provide it. But I confess I was sad and discouraged when once again, it didn’t turn out that our dream of being parents at this time was what was best.

Of course, it is okay to grieve that. I think we probably don’t grieve enough as a culture. We are too quick to move on. We want to stay busy instead of sit in those hard, overwhelming feelings of grief. So it was okay to be sad yet again (though sometimes I am really just tired of being sad).

But I thought it was ironic that I had prayed and asked God to work out the situation according to His will, knowing He knew best. That I had told Him I trusted Him to do this and I trusted Him with the outcome. And yet, in the end, I was sad I didn’t get my way. It reminds me a bit of the old Connie, the one who said she trusted God but who meant she trusted Him only if He did things her way. That is not trust; that is manipulation. I don’t want to walk in that again. I really do want to choose trust.

I am thankful we have a faithful God who really knows what is best and is working according to His plans and purposes for His glory and my very best good. I don’t think we often get to know the “whys” here on earth and the ways God used situations and circumstances. But I am thankful for the glimpes He has given me, and I was reminded of them again this morning.

I have wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember. I highly value motherhood and know the value God places on it as well. And I pray, Lord willing, I will still someday get to be a mother. But in this long adoption wait, God has also made it clear to me my focus is too narrow. When He gives me the blessings (and struggles) of motherhood, I want to do that wholeheartedly. But kids grow up, move out and get their own lives. Through this process He reminded me to open my eyes to what else He might have for me that I can focus on now while He chooses we remain childless. And He has done some of the necessary work through our adoption journey.

If we would have been able to have biological children years ago, I would have been content to be a mom. For a while. But I know me and so does God. I would make my children my idol, and not pursue using the other gifts God has given me. Through this adoption journey, God has actually shaped me more for the future He has for us. He used all this waiting time to help me see I was not really living and using what He has given me. He used losing Lili to get me back in school, working on my counseling degree. He used our personal experience to grow in my heart a desire to work in the adoption field in counseling. I am excited to see how Joa and I can work together counseling wise once I am finished. God is really working together some beautiful things in my life I would have missed out on, had we been able to have biological children.

That doesn’t make the adoption wait less painful. But it does help me to continue to trust a faithful God who really does give us the very best. 

Faithful Friends. Especially Women.

***Since I have been busy with school, my blog has been neglected. I found an old draft I had never posted, written two days before Lili's birth. Sweet Lili. In remembering her, I will remember some precious things God brought out of the experience.***

Well, the baby is not here yet. I have two more nights until the baby comes. And no matter how exhausted I am, once I get in bed my mind starts racing.

Tonight it was racing with gratitude for all of you who have walked along side of us. In adoption, yes, but more than that, just in life. Some of you have walked a marathon with us, some of you have just walked around the block with us. But you have been a part of our lives and let us be a part of yours.

And tonight I was especially grateful for women as we enter this time of new, unknown territory. Neither of our families will be able to come join us for the first week or so when we get home from the hospital. I am sure people who have that kind of help are still terrified. I must admit I am a little afraid of that part. But what I do have – what God has provided – is a group of strong women, each with their own experiences to bring to the table, each with love and care and support. I am afraid of failing. I am afraid I won’t know how to do this mom thing. I am afraid everyone else does but somehow I don’t.

But I have women in my life to tell me, with understanding, we all kinda feel that way. No one knows how this works but we walk forward, and ask for help, and make mistakes and learn how things work. Everyone is afraid at some point. I guess I would be scared if I wasn’t afraid.

So thank you, dear friends, who have offered to be with me in the hospital. Thank you, dear ladies, who have offered encouragement or to bring a meal or to babysit or to spend the night when the baby is home and take a late night shift. Thank you, sisters, who have offered anything that is needed and really meant it. Thank you, daughters of the King, who have offered up prayers and petitions and thanksgiving. Thank you, roomie, for watching George and talking and listening. Thank you for the ones who get excited with me, and the ones who get nervous with me, and the ones who understand with me, and the ones who fear with me, and the ones who pray with me, and the ones who hug comfort. 

Not everyone who has been a part of this process is a believer. But I think it is breath taking the way these lovely ladies – to me, today – have been representing the body of Christ. Each plays a role – some the same like two hands or two ears – but there are many different roles working together. All are vital and all important, though some are not as visible as others. We are united in purpose. That is a wonderful thing to behold. 

Ladies, as much as Joa has been there, and as much as I am thrilled to spend the rest of my life with him, I need you too. Now more than ever. And you have shown up. And you have been faithful. I am supported. 

The Journeys of Life

Several people have expressed fear or discouragement about adoption when they have looked at our adoption journey. That is certainly understandable. There have been seasons for us where we felt discouraged and hopeless in our adoption journey. 

But I would also love to share another perspective that God sometimes graces us with. It is a beautiful perspective where we are able to see not only the painful part of our journey, but also the tremendous redemption and reconciliation God has brought and is bringing through our journey. And although adoption is a big one for us (almost five years of waiting and three adoptions that never finalized), He has helped us see these same things in other painful journeys in our lives. I have been most shaped and most transformed by the hard things God has allowed into my life. He has taken me from an empty life of checklists and morality to a deepening walk with Him. He continues to woo me into active dependency on Him day by day, actually exercising faith and trust. He has given me direction and purpose for what He has specifically for my life. I have finally experienced His love for me, instead of just knowing of it. 

All those things (and many others) came about from the hard things of life, not the easy comfortable seasons. Honestly, if our adoption journey (as well as previous hard seasons in my life) would have gone the way I wanted, I would not have learned any of the things above. I would still be trying to walk in obedience to God without really giving Him my heart. I would still be struggling with all my might to be self-sufficient, controlling and manipulating to get what I think is best. (Well, God is still working on this area, but He has brought change already). I would still be living a coma-like life instead of pursuing the plans He has for me right now. I would still know His love intellectually, but feel that He is very far away. 

This year, as we see friends who adopt after waiting much less time, or friends having second, third and fourth babies, what has been so helpful to me is that we really all have our own God ordained journey. John 21: 20-22 has been a great encouragement to me. I am paraphrasing here, but Jesus basically says, worry about the journey I have for you, not the journey I have for someone else. I love that. It has been very helpful for me. I don't have to compare my journey with someone else, but walk in the journey God gives. That brings a lot of freedom. 

Lili Turned Five Months

Lili turned five months on Thursday (August 30^th). I did not consciously remember the date, though since I started at DTS I have cried for her each day I was there, so she definitely has been on my mind.

This morning, when we got up, our roommate, Joa and I had all had some form of dream about Lili. What I thought was interesting was that even though I had not consciously acknowledged she turned five months on Thursday, in my dream I told someone she just turned five months. When I woke up, I had to count but realized that was accurate.

My hardest thing with going back to school so far (you know, in my ONE week of school) is that the grief for Lili seems as fresh and in full force as it was when we first lost her. I have cried more tears over her the last week than I have the last two months.

This was not what I expected. This isn’t our first time with grief, or our first time losing a child we thought would be ours forever. I know it ebbs and flows and surprises you at all the unexpected times, and yet still I am surprised. As grateful as I am to be in school, I am also aware had it not been for God working through Lili, I would not be where I am in school. And that just makes me miss her more.

The hardest thing for me has been trying to hold back the tears in class, and just wishing someone would remember with me. Wishing just one more person would know my memories of this dear little girl, and that would help me not feel so alone. I got overwhelmed again today when I started my reading for Norman Human Growth, and some of the topics are infertility and adoption for next week. I took the step to email my teacher and share a bit, knowing that if she just knows, I won’t feel so alone.

Even though the grief has not been as fresh (until this week), I still pray for Lili regularly. I pray for her protection and her salvation. I pray that she would be a game changer for the Lord in her birth family; that God would use her spunk and determination to be one of the things that ultimately changes the path of her birth family’s eternal destination. I mean, come on, He has already used her greatly to change my life. She is going to be a little spitfire; I just continue to pray she is one who knows and loves God from an early age. 

Living Life

In many ways, having Lili for two months was one of the greatest gifts from God. And in many ways, losing Lili was also one of the greatest gifts from God. It was transformational for me.

We started our adoption journey in January 2008. It has been almost five long years. Every birthday that would pass, every Christmas, every Easter I would think, surely, next year by this time we will have a child in our homes. Surely.

And during that time, I gave up pursuing any dreams I had because I always wanted to be ready – at any moment – to be a stay at home mom. I didn’t make any huge commitments. I didn’t start more schooling. I actually forgot about any other dreams I might have. I just waited and waited for one of my big dreams of being a mom to come true. And as I waited, my life became a bit coma-like. 

Then Lili came and went. As I stepped back into my old life, the one I had before Lili, I realized I couldn't do it anymore. I had woken up from the non-life coma I was living. I realized in my waiting, I had really put everything on hold. Everything. I remembered again I had dreams hidden in my heart. I started looking for jobs but all the jobs I was interested in required I be an LPC (Licensed Professional Counselor). I got discouraged. I had all my crises together: identity, mid-life, job. My world seemed turned upside down and I didn’t know which way to go. I felt so lost. Of all the emotions that saturated my life after the loss of Lili, feeling very lost was one of the pervasive ones.

God was so tender and gracious to me. He took me by the hand and kept dropping things in my lap. Like a job possibility where my would-be boss hunted me down and asked me to consider this job instead of me finding and applying for it. I accepted this job and while I waited over a month to actually start the job, God used it in other ways. Like sneakily growing the desire to go back to school from a “I will if it is free through my job” to “I MUST go back to school; I will be going the wrong way if I don’t.” That is a big change, folks, from a girl who thought she would never go back to school. I am giddy even now as I wait for school to start in a few weeks. I submitted my application the day before the deadline and I was accepted into the school of my choice. God directed me to yet another job, a part time job where I actually now work, that will be paying monthly for Joa’s school bill, my school bill, and our new (to us) car payment so we will continue to live debt free (Thank You, God). I have already signed up for my first two classes in the fall at Dallas Theological Seminary in the counseling program. I can't wait for school to start. 

When I look back at all these things God did in my life, I am amazed. I feel a bit like a new Christian, when everything is going your way and things are easy. It’s a nice break from some of the tough, hard things we have gone through in the past couple years, but I know it won’t last. Regardless, I know God loves me and He will be faithful. And if we had never had (and lost) Lili, I will still be living in my non-life coma and probably finding it harder and harder to breath every day. He really used her as a catalyst for growth and change in so many areas of my life. I am so grateful for that and for His tender love towards us, even though sometimes it is very painful.

What does a dead phone, a dead car, and 635 equal?

I forget so quickly what God has already taught me.

I don’t know if I will ever be able to fully put into words what our experience with Lili meant to me. It was a time to fully love and care for this little girl, and that in itself was beautiful. But it was also a time where God loved and pursued me in a way I had never experienced before. Daily I saw what He provided truly was sufficient and learned I could trust His grace for each day. I thought I did, at least.

And then, last week, I was back to the old Connie. The one I really don’t like. The one that worries and frets so much she gives herself a headache. The one that thinks she is responsible for the world, and so if there is a problem, it must be beaten to death by analyzing it and coming up with her solution. Then the obvious next step is manipulating and controlling to get circumstances to align to what she thinks is best.

I have lived that way most of my life. I really hate it. But somehow it all snuck up on me again. We are looking at a house projects list that is too long (and too expensive). Both of us are going to be in school again (Yes!! I need to write another blog about that! I am going back to school in the fall!).  I started to worry about finances, always my tender spot. My phone keeps dying when it shouldn’t. And yesterday, after my phone died, my car died too. Right on 635. Ugh.

I want to be the new Connie again, the one God has done so much work in. I want to walk in faith and trust, not self-reliance, self-sufficiency and a worried heart. How easy it is to slip back into the old patterns. How easy it is for fear to spiral so quickly into this deep, dark pit I can’t seem to get out of. How hard it is to fully trust God. How much work it really does take to walk by faith. I don’t have to create the faith – God gives that to me as a gift – but I do have to choose to walk in it or not. And it is not an easy path.

Things have always been so much clearer for me written down. They get jumbled up in my head. So, here I am, confessing my failure, making clear what has really happened. It is not my circumstances; it is my choice of coping. Trying to be God by fighting for my own solutions instead of running to God asking for His solutions. 

He brought me back to reality yesterday when my car died on 635. Although my phone was dead, I was not by myself, but was accompanied by Joa and a friend. My car died in such a spot that Joa was able to push it over to the side of the road and nestle my car safely between a cluster of construction barrels. It happened yesterday, not going to or coming home from work, when I was by myself with my unreliable phone. Our dear friend who was riding with us graciously and patiently waited for help to arrive. My wonderful husband took good care of me, called some friends to pick up our friend and me, and waited in the heat for close to three hours before the tow truck arrived. Joa even remarked as we drove his car home from the shop, other than taking so much time, the car break down event really went very smoothly.

Through that situation, I could almost hear God whisper “See? I took care of everything you needed today. I do that every day, one day at a time. Trust me each day.”

So, what does a dead phone, a dead car and 635 equal? Well, gratefully, because of God’s grace, yesterday it equaled the perfect reminder and His peace to continue trusting Him day by day.

He Loves Me

God loves me.

This is a simple truth that has eluded me for years - all my Christian life, really. And now as I sit in Lili’s room typing this, I realize something has changed. After a million other preparations, God solidified in my heart what I longed to experience all along through our time with Lili. God really loves me.

I knew He loved me, intellectually. But I wasn’t sure He really liked me. And I don’t think I wanted to trust His love. I wanted to earn it. Trying to earn His love but never being able to rest in it was a very vicious cycle.

What happened? Was it that I finally opened my heart to believing His truth instead of lies? Was it that in opening my heart and choosing trust instead of fear He allowed me to see more clearly? Was it the love I felt for Lili that allowed me to finally glimpse how He feels about me, despite what I ever do, say or be? Was it when I started choosing gratefulness for all He has given that this knowledge grew in my heart? Maybe it was all of these things. Maybe it was none of these things. I know He was doing something, and I was open to what He was doing. And somewhere in that, He solidified His love for me in my heart. All I know is that as well as intellectually knowing His love, I feel and experience His love. I can rest in His love. 

And it is a wonderful thing to know. And experience.

1 John 4: 9-10, 15-19

“By this the love of God is revealed in us: that God sent his one and only Son into the world in order that we may live through him. In this is love: not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins…Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God, God resides in him and he in God. And we have come to know and have believed the love that God has in us. God is love, and the one who resides in love resides in God, and God resides in him. By this love is perfected with us, so that we may have confidence in the day of judgment, because just as that one is, so also are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear includes punishment, and the one who is afraid has not been perfected in love. We love, because he first loved us.”