A Bossy Husband

I set a goal for myself when I first started my blog that I wanted to write two entries a month. For the last few weeks, I have had on my running list of things to do a second blog for the month of February. But I never got it done. Last night – the last day of February – after a busy weekend out of town and a long full day, I asked Joa (in my typical non-decision making fashion) if I should stay up to write it. He said no, I shouldn’t but then I should write a blog about it later, about freedom within structure. I thought that was a great idea. Then he even suggested a title which I can’t remember because I immediately dismissed it with a tiny hint of annoyance. Then he suggested a second title which made me laugh because it might be just a little bit typical of Joa. Maybe. It was something about a bossy husband.

While his idea about the blog was fabulous, I wanted to do something else today. And, no, not in rebellion. Actually, in gratitude.

I wanted to publicly thank Joa for being the wonderful husband he is. He is a wonderful guy, my hubby. He is a busy guy with a full time job, classes, teaching and grading. And a few other things thrown in on top of that. In the midst of his crazy schedule, I do occasionally get lost. But he cares for me. Sees me. Knows me. Loves me. On one of his busiest days last week, he took a break to talk and listen and encourage me. He sat by my side when I had a really bad headache and offered me whatever comfort he could. He did the dishes last night after a very busy day for both of us. He did that not because he cares about it. He did that because that is important to me.

I am so glad to walk through life with him. He can almost always make me laugh and that is a huge feat sometimes. Friday as we were going to the airport, everything seemed to go wrong. We were thankful to make it to the right airport to catch our flight, without running out of gas or getting a ticket. He even sweetly smiled at me as he sped down the road and said “I love you honey”. We were able to laugh at all the stressful events not just later, but in the midst of them. That is a gift I am grateful for.

We make mistakes. We hurt each other. We miss seeing the really important things of life. We miss connecting on some days. We don’t always communicate well but think the other has read our mind. We have strong differences of opinions about many things. Life doesn’t go perfectly. He accidentally hit my car that morning. I accidentally left him behind at security with much of our stuff. He accidentally spilled orange juice on me so it looked like I wet my pants on the flight. He accidentally whacked me with his laptop. I (not accidentally) kicked him out of the room when he snored so loudly I couldn’t sleep. He gave me a big smile and a hug in the morning. There is no perfection in life but there is much to enjoy.

I am thankful for a man who I can smile at life with. A man I can trust. A man I am safe with. No matter what we have been through in our nine years of married life, he has always been there. Thank you, Joa. I love you! I am so glad you are my husband.

Disappointed

It is hard to write this on a blog. But I thought it was important. I am not the only one who has felt this way. To publically acknowledge what I have been feeling is a frightening, dangerous step of freedom. I am going to take it.

I have been disappointed with where I am at and disappointed with God that He hasn’t rescued me. I have felt dissonance in my relationship with God and have been unsure about how to change it. I have felt dissonance in my life and have been unsure about how to change it. I know the two are connected and yet I have been afraid that even if I take steps towards God, I will somehow manage to mess things up so badly that God will throw His hands up and step back. Maybe I think He is as tired of me struggling as I am.

I know all the “right” external things to do. Reading God’s Word. Prayer. Journalling. Those are good actions but they don’t always change things internally. And I have been afraid that I can do those things for the rest of my life without an internal change. What a terrifying prospect. I have been trying to do the right things because I do have a responsibility to change things – only I can make that choice – but it feels like a futile attempt. So I have been struggling – first with struggling, then struggling because I am struggling.

In the midst of a scary event, a bad night, and a lonely morning yesterday, sobs came. At a time where most people were enjoying a day off work courtesy of the weather, I was not. It felt like I was in physical circumstances that mirrored the internal circumstances of my heart. Desolate. Alone. Trapped. And disappointed with God that I was in this place again. As angry as I was to be there again, the tears were cathartic. As much as I wanted to be strong when Joa called to say hi, it was better to be honest.

Then something wonderful happened. God showed up in a very tangible way to me. He spoke to me through His Word – which hasn’t happened in awhile, not because He is not speaking, but because I haven’t been hearing lately. He reminded me of something very simple. That maybe part of what I was missing was not doing one more thing, but going back to the beginning. Just as I placed my faith and trust in God to save me, I need to daily place my faith and trust in God. To believe and trust He loves me, that He is working even when I don’t see it, and that He truly has a good plan for my life. To believe that even in the midst of struggles and confusion He is bigger than me or my sins or my mistakes. To believe that even (and especially) when I don’t know the way out, He does.

So once again, I choose to believe my God. I choose to trust Him. I choose to look at circumstances through the eyes of faith not to see what I am missing but to see what He has already provided. And that doesn’t instantly change or fix everything, but that also never leaves me disappointed.

Here are the verses, in case you are interested.

Psalm 40:1-2 “I waited patiently for the Lord; He turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of a slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; He set my feet on a rock and have me a firm place to stand.”

1 John 4:16-18 “So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as He is so also are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.”

Pursue me!

For those of you who don’t know, my dog's name is George. I had to clarify this because once I met with a friend and she asked what I had been up to. I said several things, one of them being taking walks with George. She got this look of horror on her face and asked who George was. She thought I was talking walks with some guy. Mind you, she had actually been to our house several times recently and met George every time because he is impossible not to meet if you come to our house. So just remember, George is my dog, though I think it will be obvious.

George and I play this game. He comes up to me, his favorite blue ball in his mouth, and teases me. He comes close but when I try to get the ball, he runs away. I just want to sit on the couch and throw his ball so he does all the work. But he wants to be chased. After he gives me one of the most pitiful looks ever, I chase him around the house yelling “I’m gonna get you!” He runs, sometimes frantically, depending on how heavy I stomp my feet, and sometimes just trots ahead of me. The fun part is that every couple turns around the house, I hide in the bathroom or bedroom until he notices I am no longer chasing him and he comes to find me. Then I yell with delight “you found me!” and start chasing him again. Just writing that brings a smile to my face.

I almost never want to start this game but in the end, I am always smiling and laughing and feeling energized. I am not typically a playful person – I am usually much too serious – and playing with George brings out the playfulness in me. I hope that the same will be true with our kids some day; I want to play with them, pursue them, engage in their world. It doesn’t take much but it does take time, energy and the willingness to step out of my world. To simply play and not being so busy doing things and being productive.

I look at George’s delight in being pursued and it reminds me of my own delight in being pursued. I think we all love to be pursued in the right way. And it is amazing that God, the Creator of the universe, pursues His creation. It should be the other way around but that is what makes God so amazing. He doesn’t pursue us like the world does. He doesn’t pursue when we are famous or have accomplished something big. He pursues us when we are nobody and our name means nothing to the world. He doesn’t pursue us as the world does relationships. He doesn’t pursue us to make Him feel better. He doesn’t pursue us for all we have to offer Him. He pursues us in our weakness and in our sins and in our failures. He pursues us in our brokenness and grief and pain. And He isn’t surprised to find out we are not perfect. He pursues us, knowing us fully already. He pursues us not because He needs us but because He loves us.

What is also amazing to me is that God delights in being pursued. It’s not a one way street. He seeks me but sometimes He figuratively hides in the bathroom until I seek Him. Then maybe He yells to me "you found me!" I can delight the heart of God by pursuing Him. As I read over the blog again, I am struck by how many times “pursue” and “delight” are in it. We are a people who are meant to be about pursuing. Being pursued by God, and pursuing God. Being pursued by people, and pursuing people. Joy is found in both. Isolation is found when we go to either extreme of only pursuing or never pursuing.

But regardless of where we are at, God always pursues and He always invites us in. In to be with Him, not to get gifts or accomplish things, but to be with Him. That is amazing.

Grace

I wrote this last year but never got around to posting it. Several months later, it's still a powerful reminder of grace to me. I thought it was a good first blog for the new year.

I am tall and I have very bad depth perception. Those two things make an embarrassing and clumsy combination.

When I was little I hated to be so tall. I was so thankful to have a friend, Ruth Anne, as tall as me. They called us Twin Towers. We, the tall ones, survived together while everyone else was at least a foot shorter than us.

Today I love that I am tall but I think the bad depth perception doesn’t help me out at all. I still end up being a bit clumsy. When I first got married, my poor husband had to put up with getting scratched and bumped accidentally. At least I can tell how close he is these days – less accidental hurting going on – but I still am clumsy. A few months ago I literally walked into the bumper of a SUV. I thought it was farther away. And I did the quick look around to see if anyone saw me, as if that changed things for better or worse if there was a witness.

Yesterday, I had relational clumsiness. I had an emotional meltdown at work. As hard as I tried to keep it together and as hard as I tried to hold it back, I couldn’t. I sobbed. It was embarrassing. Then my kind bosses sent me home to take a nap, where I woke up refreshed and thought “who was that sobbing woman”? I am still not totally sure what happened yesterday.

I was so embarrassed. But (after my nap) when I regained my normal senses, I thought the whole event was very significant. I felt God dumping His grace and acceptance on me yesterday in very tangible ways. There is something wonderful about being vulnerable (even if you can’t help it) and being accepted. Being understood. Being cared for. That as clumsy as I can be sometimes relationally (as well as physically!), there is grace in that.

I think we all kind of bumble around in our own ways. We all have days when we are weak. We all have areas - not sin, mind you – but areas simply that annoy us, that make us look weak, that we wish we didn’t have that God says – I gave that to you. Without my clumsiness relationally, I would certainly not have opened myself up at work like I did yesterday. I wish I could have held it together and looked competent instead of pitiful with a tear stained face. But I experienced acceptance that I would not have seen.

I guess I just wanted to say to all you perfectionists (like me) out there – it’s worth it. Stop the lies in your head. You will not be less valuable if you look less perfect or perform less perfect or act less perfect. I hated how embarrassed I felt after my emotional meltdown yesterday. But since God wanted to remind me my acceptance was in who I am, not what I do, He pushed all my buttons (in a good way) so the tears flowed. And I am glad I have bosses who know me and accept me. Thank you Cathy and Phillip.

New Year's Eve

This trip to Brazil was my fifth trip here. And it was the first time that the area of the city where we were staying lost power. Twice. Tonight is the second time and it’s New Year’s Eve.

So, although this is my vacation and I have plenty of downtime, tonight was the perfect timing. Tonight I took stock of the past year. And honestly, sadly, what I saw was not what I wanted to see. But it was necessary for me to see it to make changes in the coming year.

It has been a rough year. I have spent much energy, much time, and much focus on the things that didn’t matter. I did not walk away from the Lord intentionally but I certainly drifted away each day a little further. However, without the loss of electricity, I would not have taken the time to look back and see that. God was so gracious in calling me back to Himself that on New Year’s Eve, He turned the power off.

Maybe you have had a great past year. Maybe you have been closer to the Lord than ever. Maybe You have grown and enjoyed His abundance. If that is true, I am so glad. But if your year was like me, where you drifted away from him a little more each day, there is hope. He continues to call you to Himself. With His Word and with sunsets and with power outages.

And just so you know, as I was writing this, the lights came back on. Just in time to celebrate a new year.

Winter

I am sleepless these days. When I was little I had many nights like this. I don’t know why, but I often couldn’t sleep. As an adult, I go through seasons where I sleep very well and then seasons where try as I might, I toss and turn all night. I hate being awake when everyone is asleep. It makes me feel very alone in a quiet dark world.

When I was little and couldn’t sleep, if the light was still on in the kitchen I would go out there. My dad, who typically never put me to bed, would tickle me and send me back to bed. This morning I wondered if I was able to sleep not because he tickled me but because I knew someone else was still awake in the house. And if I needed to, I could come find them and not be alone. And that was reassuring.

Being sleepless is not the worst thing in the world but this is my vacation. This is one of the few times every couple of years that I literally can sleep in every morning if I want to. And yet I can’t fall asleep at night, I toss and turn, and eventually get up early. To try to understand it doesn’t make sense. To try the usual sleep aids don’t work. But I know eventually I will be so tired that I will crash and sleep well. I know this is a season that will come and go.

That’s helpful to know because it reminds me that there are other seasons in my life. It has been a hard past semester for many reasons. One of those is adoption – or lack of – but that is not the only thing. I was hoping, after what felt like a hard winter of the soul, that we would come to Brazil and all our problems and struggles would disappear. I was hoping for a vacation from struggling. Although I have had many good days here, that is not true.

In the midst of this, Joa brought a book recommended by a friend and that has been a great source of comfort. It is called Spiritual Rhythm by Mark Buchanan. It talks about how the four seasons of nature can coincide with the seasons of our spiritual life. Basically, that we all experience different seasons of life in our spiritual life. None of them, either the good or the bad, the thrilling or the struggling, last forever. Each one has a purpose that God is leading us through. None of the them are wasted.

What Mark Buchanan writes about the winter season has given words to what I feel inside but haven’t been able to verbalize. Even though Christmas is just around the corner, I feel like I am in Narnia with the White Witch reigning where it’s always winter but never Christmas. Reading the book has not changed anything about my circumstances – it’s still winter – but that has given me a new perspective. This is just a season. It feels long, like South Dakota winters I grew up in, but it won’t last forever. Spring will come. I will feel the sunshine on my soul again just as I do outside.

A season is just a season. My circumstances aren’t my foundation or my security. So, in some similar ways, when I am in my winter season, I do the same thing as when I was little and couldn’t sleep. I go to my Heavenly Father. He is always awake. He never sleeps. That brings a lot of comfort and security.

So, as you potentially wish you were here with us, enjoying the beach and the sun and the vacation time, could you also say a prayer for God’s good work to continue to be done in my heart here? He doesn’t waste whatever season He puts us in.

A Day in my Life in Brazil

The night before last night Lara, our sister-in-law, let Joa and I sleep in her air-conditioned room with black out curtains. No, let me rephrase that. She did not just “let” us; she forced us to sleep there. My Portuguese isn’t quite up to speed so I normally don’t join in but throughout the day, her and Joa spend a lot of time playfully arguing while she bossily tries to make sure our every need it taken care of plus some. I can’t add much but I do get a “estou cheia” in sometimes. It means “I am full” and I have to repeat it many times as she tries to make me eat more food. There is a loud love here where I am used to quiet politeness. Its refreshing to have something different and yes, good to step out my familiar.

We woke up early for vacation. It was 7 AM, which is actually 4 AM back in Dallas. If I think about that, it makes it worse. Joa tells me that we would take Lara to work so we could have the car for the day. As I rushed to get ready, I checked with Joa to make sure we were just dropping her off. He replied yes.

But I knew from experience that setting out to do one thing could lead to ten things, and that I had better be ready for anything. I know to some of you, that sounds pretty silly. But at home, in my element, I get to plan my days, I get to take care of things, I get to drive, I get to choose what to do with my time. On some levels, that is not true here and that is both refreshing and challenging at the same time. I just like being prepared and here, most of the time, I never know what is coming – as much as Joa tells me about plans – and I never know quite how to prepare. I am a control freak, yes I am. It is obvious from the last few sentences.

So we head out to drop Lara off downtown. This is close to where Joa grew up so we drive to his old neighborhood. We walk around. We see neighbors. We find a drug rehab place. We talk to the guy in charge and find out what their program is like. We stop and see his mom. All things not in the plan but all good things.

The rest of the day was pleasant as well. We went swimming in the pool. We met friends for lunch and I enjoyed hearing English again. We go back to the house. I try to take a nap. Joa’s sister and her family from Kansas City gets here. She and her husband – separately – tell me that they hear I am doing very well with my Portuguese. I wonder who in the family said this – I doubt some days that I have learned anything at all - but I am encouraged regardless. We go see Joa’s mom. We go to see Joa’s uncle and family. I throw out my few sentences in Portuguese that everyone is impressed with. I am proud of myself and honestly, I know even if I don’t say another thing the whole entire trip, they are pleased I have tried. I feel celebrated – not necessarily for who I am, because it feels hard to be known when I don’t say much– but for being brave, for trying something new, for struggling to learn Portuguese when it doesn’t fit or stay in my brain.

Sometimes I love it here and sometimes I hate it here. I am celebrated here in loud ways, in excited ways, that I haven’t felt often with life. And yet sometimes here, I am no one, I am hidden. I don’t speak, I don’t understand, I don’t contribute, I don’t choose.

When I think of living here, it’s overwhelming and exciting. It really has become as familiar as home because of the amount of time we spend here and because we spend it with Joa’s family and friends. Maybe I am not known in the ways I would typically want to be known. I can’t voice my own opinions as I want to – sometimes I think things get lost in the translation. But I am celebrated for being Joa’s wife, for being an American that (as much as she can) embraces Brazilian culture, for learning a new language (as hard as it is) and for journeying here with my love. I guess that’s a start. It’s a start at bravery and courage, it’s a start at taking risks, it’s a start at stepping outside of my comfort zone.

And that, my friends, is typically what my days in Brazil are all about.