Crying on the Kitchen Floor

It's been a long time since I've written a blog post. I don't even know if blog posts are "in" anymore. Today, I found myself thinking about our time in our city and feeling grateful. I started to write in my journal but stopped. These things are too good. Our King is too good. These things need to be shared. I hope this is an encouragement. I hope it spurs you on. I hope it opens your eyes to the kindness and majesty of our King! He has done great things! In October of 2021, I found myself in a state of deep overwhelm. I had a 6-year-old with special needs, a 4-year-old, and a 5-month-old, and we had just moved back to our home in S. Asia. Every so often, I would be doing dishes thinking of all the things on my plate, then abruptly turn off the water, slump down to the floor, and take a second to cry. A journal entry from that season reads: "'If I make my bed in the depths, You are there.' You are there, and so here we are. Deep beneath the muck of busyness, where I'm afraid I'll stay for a while. Yet, not without You. Not without pleasure and wondrous joys throughout the day. Not without seeing, feeling, hearing, smelling, and tasting that You are good. Stay with me. Lead me on. Meet me at Home and say to me, "Well done," not on my merit, but that of Your Son!" Those were desperate times. In a recent meeting with a friend, I reviewed the list of stressors during that season. The city (which is a big, over-arching category for everything from traffic, being stared at, to ketchup instead of pizza sauce). Post-partum adjustments. Adjusting back to life in our country (which, if you've ever lived the expat life, you know, is different from that first category). Visa runs. Moving to a new flat. Losing a suitcase full of many beloved items in that move. It all happened then. "And you lost an aunt, too, right?" My friend added. Yes. My parents' close friend and the only non-relative I ever called "aunt" had unexpectedly passed away. My sweet Aunt Christy with the sparkling, joy-filled blue eyes and tender, gentle, laugh-filled voice. I hadn't seen her in years, but I cried more that day than for any other friend or relative's death. I remember thinking it was strange that I would be so affected by her death. It felt like I had lost my own mother. In part, it was because of the woman that Aunt Christy was, but it was also, surely, due in part to the other little things that had been adding up. That was the first six months after our second return to our city.

In that season, I posted pictures of my growing baby and beautiful boys and talked about all the good happening around us. It wasn't fake. It wasn't ignoring reality. It wasn't all hard and bad (which, by the way, are not the same thing). There was so much beauty and goodness in that season. I thank my King for the grace He gave me to see it. That even then, in my hardest moments, I was able to come to Him. To cling to my Shepherd. To see and feel His goodness. To realize that He was at work. To trust Him. In the words of Brother Lawrence, "If I fail not, then I give G*d thanks, acknowledging that it comes from Him." As much as I failed in that season, I give thanks to Him for revealing those truths to me and sustaining me in them. 

I can't say exactly when things changed. Some of them didn't. That restaurant (from which we will never order again) still makes their pizza with ketchup instead of tomato sauce. It still sometimes takes 30 minutes to travel less than a mile. My kids still eat food. But somewhere along the way, it got easier. 

Our schedule normalized, as did my post-baby hormones. Our kids grew up, learned to play together, and no longer forget to sit on the potty when they have to go. I started enjoying doing the dishes (a miracle I consider to be on the same scale as the parting of the Red Sea!). All of these little changes have ushered us into a new season. Not to say hard things never happen. It's just different.

So, as I did the dishes recently, hearing the laughter of my family coming from the other room and thinking about His great gifts to our family, I knelt on the floor and cried. It struck me that it had been a while since I'd last been in that position and how vastly different the emotions were that brought me to it this time. Then, I cried more. 

As you see, there's been a lot of crying in the journey we started 3&1/2 years ago. Our faithful One has brought us through them all. He's counted every one of those tears. He's been strong, good, present, and sovereign through it all. And, for the next 3&½ years, until the end of my life when He finally brings me Home, He will remain to be.

I look forward to the ways He'll deepen my understanding of His infinite character in the seasons to come. If anyone ever looks at my life and considers me faithful, let them first consider the majesty, power, worthiness, and faithfulness of the One who kept me so.

4 - A Happy Birthday and an Open Letter to Parents of Children with a New Diagnosis.

8/14/15 "All that for nothing." I'm not proud of it, but that was one of my darkest thoughts when the doctor told us about Henry's condition.

Labor was hard. Really hard. Everyone told me that I did a great job and I was so strong. But being strong and doing a great job didn't make it any easier. So, when I found myself sitting in that chair across from the doctor, I couldn't help but think that ugly thought. All that hard work, all that pain, all those months of being pregnant, and this is what we get?

   Maybe you've read about James' initial thoughts after hearing the news. The dreams he had that had suddenly vanished. Many of my own dreams were fading too. What kind of big brother would he, could he be now? What kind of friendships would he be able to have with all the other babies who had been born this year?

    "Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the sons born in one’s youth. Happy is the man who has filled his quiver with them."(Psalm 127:4-5) I had visions of getting a tattoo about this idea. It would be a quiver, with different arrows representing each of my children. The arrows would be all different styles, to signify that my children, each having different talents and personalities, were created for unique purposes. But as I pondered the idea in that chair-still stunned after the news- all I could see was a broken arrow. A broken arrow for my broken child with a broken chromosome.

     Now, here we are two weeks later. I look at my gorgeous boy and listen to his sweet sighs as he sleeps, and I know it was all so worth it. This broken arrow sure does fly. God has taught both James and me as a family and individually how to trust, love and follow Him more deeply than we ever could. We have been able to share that with hundreds (gotta love social media) of people from our Facebook page. We have seen prayers answered, and encouraged and been encouraged by so many people around us. We've gotten to share about this hope that we have in Christ in more ways than we ever could have imagined. All because of the gift God has given us in our beautiful broken arrow. I thank Jesus for the blessing he is to our lives and He taught us all that in the last month!

The above is an unpublished post I wrote one month after Henry was born. It would be several more month until I emerged from the slump of a Henry's newly received diagnosis. I'm thankful for the little bits of understanding God gave me through internally processing as I wrote all of my blog posts, but there was still so much sadness and disappointment to wade through. As I look back at that time, it's clear that He protected me from losing hope completely.

Today, my precious firstborn baby boy turns 4! After Henry was born, one of the most encouraging things to me was to hear from mothers of older kids with the same diagnosis. It gave me hope. Recently, a mom posted on our support group "When am I going to stop feeling this way?" I knew exactly what she meant. I'd been there. And now, I'm here. So, this post is dedicated to all those parents of newly diagnosed children. If you're reading this, I hope it gives you peace. You are seen and loved. Not by me (although, if I knew you, I would love you! Who am I, anyway, but a random stranger on the internet), but by a Heavenly Father who loves and cares for you and your baby.

After first receiving Henry's diagnosis when I imagined his 4th birthday, all I could see was darkness. All I knew was that I didn't know. Our future was just empty. I didn't know Henry like I do now. I didn't know how funny or gentle he would be. I didn't know how he would love his little brother or what a welcomer he would be to the world around him. I didn't know how cute it would be when he laughed so hard that he got the hiccups.

Praise God for being all-knowing and all-good! Now, I see that the "life at his own pace" thing that the doctor told us about when Henry was diagnosed is actually a good thing. We've learned to slow down and celebrate the little things that wouldn't have been given a second thought otherwise (see an earlier post on this topic here!)

I don't cry about Henry's future anymore. There were moments in the months following Henry's birth that I would just fall into the chair nearest me and cry in an emotional cocktail of sadness and fear of the future. Now when I think about Henry's future, while still slightly afraid of the unknown, I have proof that we're going to be okay. Just as we who are called according to His purpose are promised in Romans 8:28, God truly has worked it all together for good. All the things I worried about, all the fears I had then, God has already brought us through. And it was simple. Not easy, but simple. It turns out to be much easier to deal with things as they happen than to think/worry/cry about all the different possibilities that may never come to be anyway. This doesn't mean we don't make plans for what we'll do when Henry starts sneaking into the kitchen in the middle of the night, but it does mean that we're not going to lose hope about something that hasn't happened yet. Just as God has carried us through the many stages of Henry's life thus far, He will continue to do so for our good and to His glory!

 I couldn't be happier to be Henry's mom. I couldn't imagine a life without him, his joy, or even all the unique hardships that his diagnosis brings. Maybe on paper, the list of special help, medication, and appointments he requires would look daunting, but that list would be missing Henry's smile and funny jokes. That list doesn't take into account the fun "dates" we get during those appointments, how sweet it is to still be holding his hand while we walk, or the bravery I get to witness from our boy every single day. Between the lines of that daunting list are a million good, sweet moments, not to mention the other million good, sweet moments that we get just from Henry being Henry!

So, Mom or Dad, family or friend of a newly diagnosed baby, I pray that you find hope here. Most of all, I pray that the hope you find isn't just that you and your baby will be okay, but that you find hope in a God who loves you, sees you and cares for you. While I could try to convince you that your baby has a bright future (which they do!), I pray that you would leave this page convinced that God is good and trustworthy, and I pray that He would draw you into a knowledge of the salvation that Jesus won for all who would believe in Him.

And, to my dear Henry, you are proof to me of the love and sovereignty of God, and you cause me to worship Him more every day. You are a joy and there is nothing about you that I don't love. God has a plan and a purpose for your life, and I thank Him daily that I get to be a part of it. Happy birthday, my precious boy.

 

He's Still Henry- Our Prader-Willi Syndrome Story

One night last week, I had a moment where, for the first time in his 18 months of life, I thought, "I wish Henry didn't have to have Prader-Willi Syndrome." It was a guilty thought, and was accompanied by more than a few tears. I'm not sure if they were tired tears, third-trimester tears or actual sad tears, but they were there nonetheless.

trying so hard to crawl

Trust me, I have wondered what Henry's life would be like without his condition many times. But I've always countered the thoughts with, "Well, Henry wouldn't be Henry without it." But that night, seconds before the hot tears began soaking my pillow, the thought occurred to me: what if Henry could be exactly himself, but also able to walk. Able to eat a cupcake, or spaghetti with big, fat noodles like the rest of us? Same personality, same long hair and big blue eyes, but more normal. Now, unless you have a child with a condition like Henry's, you don't know how much it stings to hear the "n" word come from someone's lips, and how especially abhorrent it is to feel it creep up inside your own brain. Yet, there it was resounding in my mind like a huge gong had just been rung on a mountaintop.

So, I did what Katniss Everdeen does in the third book of the Hunger Games trilogy (okay, not exactly, but the same basic idea), and repeated the same few phrases that I've clung to so often on this journey: "Henry's still Henry. God is still God. And even if all I can do right now is just keep going, that's what I'll do."

I was warned by an old friend that there would be days like the one I had last week. That this life we have as parents of children with special needs is a roller coaster, and there will be a fair share of both high and low days. That's when we just keep going. Don't wallow in the sadness, but wade through it. Trudge through the muck, because soon enough, you'll be on your way up again. By God's grace, life with Henry has been so full of highs with only the occasional drop along the way.

It was a morning a few days later that I was given a truth that I'll forever hold on to. I was encouraging a new mama whose own roller coast seemed to be taking a dive, and I myself was reminded of the gift it is to have a child with a disability. "There are things we'll get to learn about our boys that we never would have even noticed without their PWS."

Boy, am I thankful for the Holy Spirit who teaches and reminds me of good things, because I would NEVER have been able to say that, or even feel that way without His leading in my life. Still, it couldn't be more true!

Here are things I know about Henry. He's a hard worker. He's patient. He's determined. He's easy-going, and teachable. He doesn't stay mad, but is quick to laugh or make a joke. I could go on, but I think you get the point. Now, ask me how I know those things. Because every week in therapy, I see that look in his eyes as he's crawling across the rug. I watch as he tries and tries to get that plastic coin in the slot of the singing piggy bank, and share in his joy when it finally meets its mark. And even when he's been pushed further than he wanted to go, and our P.T. tells me I can pick up the crying boy, all it takes is a hug and a kiss for Henry's sweet smile to emerge from underneath his tears.

The aftermath of a particularly grueling therapy session.

Those are just a few things I wouldn't know if Henry were a regular 18-month-old. The pride and joy I feel every time Henry attempts to crawl for a toy, would've been lost on that single, solitary moment of the first time. And, if Henry were walking right now, I wouldn't be rejoicing with every step like I know I will when the day really does come. I'd probably be wishing that he would've taken longer to learn the skill! There is so much joy in waiting. In anticipating and watching as the tiniest developments lead into big ones.

I am so thankful for the change God has placed in my heart, and the wisdom He's given in these rare circumstances of our everyday life. And, when this new boy comes in May, when he crawls for the first time and never looks back, or when the first step he takes is a running leap (the way he kicks, I wouldn't be surprised!), I'll be able to rejoice all the more in the way the human body was meant to develop, and how perfectly we are all formed by the Creator of the universe.

Henry is Henry, and this new boy will be himself too. And I will go through my life in wonder, awe and worship of the God who gave me the gift of motherhood to such unique, perfect little lives.

Birthdays - A Celebration!

Birthdays have long been one of my absolute favorite things. As a kid, I used to have my birthday parties planned almost as soon as that years' party was over! Today, I turn 25. And this year, just around the corner from my birthday, we'll be celebrating another very special birthday!

As I think about the past year of my sweet, darling Henry's life, the highest of the highs and the deepest, darkest lows, I am filled with a sense of extreme gratitude for it all. Not because I loved every second of it (let me tell you right now, there are more than a few seconds I could do without), but because I love every bit of Henry, and having him makes it all worth it.

©KiraEllenPhotography

There's a verse that comforted me when Henry was around 6 months old. I talked about it more recently with some friends of mine and was reminded of it's sweetness.

 My frame was not hidden from you,

when I was being made in secret,

    intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

 Your eyes saw my unformed substance;

in your book were written, every one of them,

    the days that were formed for me,

    when as yet there was none of them. -Psalm 139:15-16

I was at a women's conference when I heard these words for the first time after Henry was born. They were meant to remind the women there of their value to God. For those of you who know this particular chapter in the Bible, it's the same one that a few verses earlier says, "you knit me together in my mother's womb." What a sweet, reassuring verse to read as a new mother! To think of a baby being knit together by God inside of you! Wow. But more than that, look at vs. 16. "In your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them." Do you know that this means? This means that, before that 15th chromosome was broken, Henry's first birthday was written. While I was taking deep breaths of pure oxygen during labor in the hospital delivery room, the day Henry would be diagnosed with Prader-Willi Syndrome was written. Not only that, but the day we decided on "Fisher" for our unborn son's middle name, God saw Henry's life at 2 years old, and 16, to the very day he takes his last breath. What an intimate, comforting feeling, to understand that God knows.

The name "Fisher" came from our desire to see our son grow to follow Jesus and have an intimate relationship Him. Jesus Himself said, "Follow me and I will make you fishers of men." So, giving Henry this name would speak a blessing and promise into his life that, if he chooses to love and follow Jesus, he will be used for the kingdom of God. In my mind, that meant waving goodbye to our 18-year-old son as he boards a tiny plane that will take him to a small tribe in South America that hasn't heard the gospel yet. But God knows Henry's days. We face a reality that Henry could very possibly be dependant for the rest of His life. But that doesn't change what God can do through him. God has written Henry's days and He will be able to use his life in ways I could never have imagined.

I think as Mamas, it's easy for our kind to think so much of our children and what God's word means for their lives that we forget that it also applies to us. I've been reading those verses in Psalm 139 as "Henry's life verses" so long that I forgot to just read it for myself. And you know what I found? Yes, of course you do, but let me tell you anyway. It means the exact same thing for my life! Those words that cause me to feel the intimacy of our great and almighty God for Henry's sake are there to convey intimacy and love to me as well. Those scenarios I wrote about earlier? Celebrating my baby's first birthday, giving birth to a child with a deletion in his 15th chromosome, the day we picked a name, and the day I sat in that room listening to the doctor tell us about our son's condition; those were all written the day I was born. God saw all of those moments, the victories and pain, all the way back when my chromosomes were being matched together. He knew this road would be difficult for me, but He also that I could trust His faithfulness to carry and comfort me through each and every moment.

So, on this, our birthday week, I ask you to join us in our celebration! The God of the universe has written my 9,125 days and Henry's nearly 365. We rejoice in His knowing us intimately, and faithfully guiding us for this long, and trust Him for the rest of the days of our lives. 

Our Prader-Willi Syndrome Story- Growing

Prader-Willi Syndrome is quite an interesting disorder because of the way it changes as the child grows. For instance, the distinguishing characteristic of people with PWS is their insatiable appetite. They are constantly hungry no matter how much they eat. As infants, though, individuals with PWS often have trouble gaining weight because they don't eat enough.  Henry had such a weak suck as a newborn and was constantly sleeping, so it was difficult for him to wake up long enough to take his whole feeding and for his strength to last that long as well. I remember from our 3+ weeks in the hospital hearing the doctor say, "if he eats he goes home!"day after day during his rounds.  It took a long time for Henry to consistently eat even 2 ounces at each feeding time.

Another characteristic of babies with PWS is their low muscle tone. In my very minimal understanding, "low muscle tone" means that Henry's muscle fibers don't overlap like mine do, and because of that, his movements need to be almost exaggerated in order to get the same response out of his body that a small movement of mine would. And that just kind of slows everything down, like trying to lift and swing a bat that weighs 20 pounds. Even sucking is a large feat for babies with PWS. They are often sent home from the hospital with a G-Tube in their stomachs and are fed liquids through that for months before being able to suck and swallow well enough to gain weight by eating orally. While we are thankful that Henry never needed one, I try to remember that he has many friends in his PWS community who do.

Henry being "floppy" was just about the first thing anyone noticed about him when he was born.  It sounds cute, because of Peter Rabbit's sister (you know... flopsy...), but it isn't. Well, it is cute because it's a baby, but it's not cute because it's so unnatural. I recently held the one-month-old son of some sweet friends, and I. was. shocked at the way little Ashton held his head up and straightened his back when he was uncomfortable. I remember thinking, "oh so this is what it's supposed to feel like!"

So, what do we do to combat this low muscle tone? Well, for starters, lot's of physical therapy!

This is Niki. We met her through an organization in Greeley that connects families and children with special needs to specialists in all kinds of different types of therapy. She comes once a week and works with Henry for an hour on rolling, sitting up, tummy time and a number of other things. Today, we had a meeting with our case manager, something we do every three months to talk about whether or not Henry has met his "playtime goals" that we as a group had set for him at our previous meeting. The goals? Rolling over and reaching for a toy while on his tummy. Sounds easy, right?

At almost 10 months, Henry can sit up for about a minute by
 himself, less if he's being challenged to turn his head or raise
his hands.

If there's one thing I've learned from Henry's PWS, it's that it is a stinking miracle that ANY baby develops the way they're supposed to! Watching Henry struggle with things like raising his arms to eye level or looking from side to side while sitting up has put me in a state of complete awe when I see other babies do those things without even thinking about it. The steps it takes to roll over - all the muscles that have to be engaged for that one quick motion is incredible! Did you even know that when a baby rolls from their tummy to their back, that they are tucking their chin, pushing off with one leg, swinging up the other and contracting their abs and back muscles? All without really knowing what to do or how to do it. They just do! The first time Henry even attempted rolling off of his tummy (for a while there he would just lay limply on the floor like a rag doll!), he jerked his head back and gave a little twist, as if the leverage of his big, heavy brain would get him where he wanted to be. Now, after almost 7 months of P.T. with Niki, Henry can tuck, push, swing, and contract with the rest of them! Praise God!

As Henry grows, so will the list of things he'll need help doing. The organization that connected us with Niki will also connect us with Occupational Therapy, Speech Therapy, and any other services Henry might need as he develops! Maybe it's because I've never had a reason to until now, but I have never been more thankful for science and people who are interested in learning about the body when it works like it should, and who are brilliant enough to find a way to help when it doesn't.

A new adventure we will be starting with Henry on Monday is the daily administration of Growth Hormone! Some children with PWS are born with a deficiency of their body's natural Human Growth Hormone, and others aren't deficient, but need a little extra to get things going. In Henry's case, his body makes about half the amount of HGH as is usual in kids his age. In either case, though, administering HGH has been very successful in patients with Prader-Willi Syndrome! Not only will these treatments help strengthen Henry's low muscle tone, but it will also help him grow in height to the average level, make his veins less flimsy, and has even been shown to aid in cognitive ability as Henry gets older.  We are so excited about the effects adding this to our routine will have on Henry's development, and can't wait to see how he takes off after Monday! I remember the way my heart lurched and the careful way the Endocrinologist spoke when he said the word, "injection" together with the words, "you" and "do". But, like the countless other things we never thought we'd need to learn, this will soon become easy. Besides, the good that this one thing will do far outweighs my fear of doing it. 

If you have any specific questions about Prader-Willi syndrome or Henry's growth, please feel free to comment or message me! And you can always go to fpwr.org or pwsausa.org to find information from actual experts if you're into that. As always, thank you so much for following along, loving and supporting us as we walk along this road!

Why I Stopped Praying for a Miracle - My Prader-Willi Syndrome Story

The month of May is Prader-Willi Syndrome awareness month! Didn't know that? Me neither, until this year! So many moms in this new-found community of mine have been posting their stories to encourage others and help the people around them understand a little bit more about this condition that affects our lives everyday. I figured now's a good a time as any to really hone in my blogging skills by posting a bit more regularly this month about our journey so far and the things I've learned over the past *almost* 10 months. I'll start this experiment by writing a little about the very first lesson I was faced with almost as soon as Henry was diagnosed.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love praying for people. I love praying impossible things, and hearing about or seeing first-hand how God answers those prayers. And no, this doesn't mean that I'm never going to pray a miracle over someone ever again. God could even change my heart and tell me when to start praying for this miracle again. But for now, all I can tell you is that I understand.

I can't believe how tiny he looks in this photo!

When we got Henry's diagnosis, I was flooded with all of the worst kinds of emotions. I didn't want see him or hold him. There was even a fleeting moment when I thought and told my husband that I felt like we had "wasted" Henry's name. That lasted for about 2 seconds. Because when I actually did go over to his hospital crib and pick up that sweet, tiny little baby, I knew that there was absolutely nothing about this child that was a waste.

Yet, that night in bed, I prayed and PRAYED for a miracle. "I'm the knocking widow here... open the door. You told me I could do this. You told me if I prayed long enough, You would answer." I prayed that prayer every night for weeks.

Something I've learned in my study of God's word is that, as a Christian, everything I do should be done for the glory of God. Sure, you might recognize the wording from one particular verse, but what I've noticed is that this is a major theme throughout the Bible. And, after reading God explain His plans to Moses, Abraham, and the prophets, I've realized that one of the main purposes of those plans is to spread His name and glory throughout the nations. And, being the all-powerful, all-knowing God that He is, the things that bring Him the most glory are also what are best for us, what benefit us like no plan of ours ever could.

James took this soon after we got home.

So, in my still-small understanding, I started praying that Henry would be "healed", that his 15th chromosome would be made whole again for God's glory. In these new prayers, I promised that I would tell everyone I met that Henry had been healed and that, like Hannah in the Bible, I would dedicate Henry, his life and his story to spreading God's glory to everyone I met. It was then that I was faced with a question: What would actually bring God more glory? A long-gone story of healing, or an ongoing story of trust? If there's one thing I know about my wandering heart, it's that I am prone to take blessings for granted. After a while, a healing would just be "healed", and even that would turn into normal, everyday life. Trust, however, is built and sustained. I will NEVER take Henry to a doctor's appointment, or watch him in Physical Therapy and think that we've done this all on our own. I will never hear a man at the grocery store look at my baby and say, "That's a BIG one!" (yes, that actually happened), and not want to sing God's praises about how far He has brought us.

In those first weeks after the diagnosis, we shared with hundreds of people via social media not only about Henry's condition, but also about how we believed God would use it for His glory and our good,  and how we trusted Him no matter what. I was even used to share it with one of our nurses, a grief counsellor at the hospital and countless others after we got home.

That's why I've stopped praying for a miracle. I still pray that God's glory will be spread through our son and his life, but not that way. I believe that this story is still going, and I can't wait to watch it unfold.

Lord, continue to share this story of Your goodness and faithfulness through our family, and use us to spread Your glory throughout the earth. 

This big guy has been doing a lot of practice sitting up! I think he's getting the hang of it. Praise Jesus!

*I thought it best to add a little disclaimer here: I don't think it's wrong to pray for a miracle for our children. If you are the parent of a child with a disability, and you feel led to pray for healing, PRAY! If you've felt led by God to pray for healing for Henry, PRAY!  Listen to what the Spirit is leading you to do, and do it for His glory! 

Parenthood-The Land of Unknowns

We knew even before we got pregnant that we'd have no idea how to be parents. Sure, we knew the general ideas, but not the nitty, gritty, dirty, confusing, scary stuff. So many times during my pregnancy I googled different words trying to describe what I was feeling inside of me for hopes of finding out that those feelings were "normal".  Praise the Lord, they all were. Little did we know, even a normal, perfect, "picture of health" pregnancy doesn't always translate to a normal, perfectly healthy baby.

I've been trying to write this post for a while. I have about 4 different drafts of posts about different aspects of the past 3 months, but they all revolve around the same theme; I have no idea what I'm doing. Those earlier drafts are hopeless, you can feel the sadness in the words written there. This post, though, is going to be quite different than the drafts I'd written. Why? Because, now I know it's okay. No, not just "know".  Now I believe it's okay.

I recently watched a show (during Henry's nap of course... as if there aren't more important things to do during that hour) where some doctors had to tell a family that their newborn babies were sick. The camera zoomed in on the parents' faces as their worst nightmare - no, something they couldn't have even dreamed - was coming true. Right then and there (I was standing in the kitchen doing dishes... see? I do do stuff during Henry's nap. Ah, the glories of multitasking) it hit me. I actually understood what those parents were feeling. Not just like, "Oh, ya, I understand... poor parents" but an actual, agonizing pain in my heart as I remembered the morning a nurse came in and delivered similar news to me. And that morning wasn't a tv show. It wasn't two actors playing characters and reading lines. There was a real nurse who was actually telling me that a helicopter was coming to pick up my son and take him to a different hospital because they couldn't treat him where we were. The unknowns swirled in my head as we watched the helivac team take our son away before I was even discharged. What could be wrong with our sweet baby boy? Was this a result of something I did or didn't do during pregnancy? Was this our fault because we got our dates wrong and induced the labor of a baby who wasn't yet full-term? I remember being held in the strong arms of my husband waiting for the doctor to discharge me. Just like a scene from that dumb show, I can see us standing silently in front of that sunny window, my arms not even able to lift around my husbands waist; just hanging there as the weight of the world - our world - tied them down.

Our sweet guy while we were in the hospital.

The next few days turned into weeks that came in waves of good news and bad news. We were transferred to yet another hospital where we ultimately received news of our son's diagnosis; a syndrome that we hadn't even heard of before. So many people told us that our baby was lucky to have us as parents. That our faith and trust in our Creator made us the perfect candidates to raise Henry. I can't say that I always agreed with them. Surely there was a couple out there somewhere who was just a bit older, more mature, maybe even slightly more prepared to take on such an unexpected challenge. There were so many times that I told people that what was happening was okay. That I trusted God and His plan for our son's life. As much as I knew that God really was trustworthy, and that His plan really was best, I often struggled to believe it. Struggled to lay every hurt, worry and tear on that fact. Honestly, I'd never struggled between emotions as much as I did in the first month - make that the first two months - of Henry's life. I would go from truly being at peace with the situation to begin a complete mess with worry and doubt in a matter of seconds.

I write this now, feeling like a soldier after a long, gruesome battle. Weary and dirty, standing among the carnage of sorrow and doubt, but knowing that now there is peace. The worry is gone. The fight is over.

So, what changed? What has brought me from a place of "knowing" to "believing"? Well, quite honestly, a good cry with a dear friend, and a long, hard conversation with my husband. The cry helped me to realize that I was still sad. The conversation carried me past that sadness. For too long, I had focused on what happened, forgetting to let the happiness of "now" shine through. Now I no longer have to just say, "It's going to be okay", because I know that it's already been okay. We've been through a lot, and we survived with God's help. Now, my Thomas-like heart can believe it. Jesus told His doubting disciple, "Blessed are those who have not seen and still believe." So, having seen my fault, and knowing there will be so many more situations where I will battle between knowing and believing, I cry, "I do believe; help my unbelief!"

So, I guess I'm back where I started; not knowing anything. Of course, I know more than I did when I was pregnant. I certainly know more than I did way back before I was pregnant! Like, for instance, what 3 am feels like, and how not to freak out when a baby doesn't poop for 3 days (who knew breast milk was so easily digestible!). But, there are still so many unknowns that we will come to as a family. So, we start trusting God now for future unknowns. That way, when we get there, we can say, "Oh, there you are, I've been waiting for you." And we can let our Shepherd take over from there.

Because He Lives- Henry Fisher.

So many times a day, I look at my son laying in his baby hospital bed in the NICU and wonder to myself, how did we get here? Wasn't I just pregnant a few days ago with a baby safe and sound inside of me? Many of you who knew we were planning a home birth might be thinking the same thing. NICU? Hospital? How did this all happen?

Being 42 weeks pregnant, it was necessary to be induced because of certain state regulations. To be honest, I was beyond ready to meet this baby, so the thought of induction didn't worry me a bit! We checked into the hospital Tuesday morning, and sweet Henry was born Wednesday night. It was a long, hard labor, but holding that baby on my chest and hearing his first tiny, squeaky cry made it all worth it.

The next 24 hours seemed to be a giant spiral of bad news and worry. Henry had low blood sugar. He wasn't eating well. His muscle tone was poor. The nurses came in every two hours with updates like this until the last one came early on Thursday: a helicopter is coming to take him to the NICU at a different hospital. As James and I waited to be discharged, we hit our breaking point. We started questioning everything we'd done up to this point. What did we do wrong? What should we have changed?

Now, it's 1 am Saturday morning and James and I are hunkered down into our reclining chairs in Henry's hospital room. This has been the most encouraging day of progress so far. Henry has been eating and regulating his own blood sugar which allowed him to be taken off of the IV line that was put in through his umbilical cord. We've been visited by friends and family and so many have been praying for us and giving us encouragement. But there still lingers that feeling of sadness as I wonder how this all  happened and what part I played in it all.

It's now that I'm reminded of a blog post I was going to write after Henry was born. I planned it all out almost as soon as I found out I was pregnant. It was going to be full of happiness and perfection as I wrote about how sweet it was to have a great, easy labor at home and be able to hold my perfectly healthy son as I typed in my living room the very next day. It was going to be a post based on the  old song, Because He Lives. As I've been thinking about that song while tearing up in this recliner, I've realized that song is much more appropriate for this post.

"How sweet to hold a newborn baby and feel the pride and joy he gives. But sweeter still the calm assurance this child can face uncertain days because He lives."

This verse would not have felt so real and encouraging in the "perfect" post I had imagined writing. Only in this scenario, this real-life moment, could I so deeply understand the truth in those words. These past few days have, indeed been uncertain. The next few are sure to be as well. But, it the midst of this doubt, worry and chaos, Jesus lives. And because He lives, I can face tomorrow. Fear is gone, because I know He holds the future. And that is exactly what makes these hard, scary, heavy-hearted moments worth living. He lives.

A dear friend encouraged us by pointing out that these early moments are part of Henry's testimony. I pray that God would use this testimony in amazing ways, and that many would come to understand the worth of living life because of a Savior that has risen from the dead, and who offers hope in life by His merciful death.

Waiting - And Waiting

Well, our due date has come and gone, and our little baby is still snuggled up inside. I'm not exactly surprised by this. Most of the first-timers I know have been 1-2 weeks late with their babies, so that's basically what I've been expecting. Until a few days ago, I was prepared to meet our son at least a full week (or more) after his due date.

Monday night, however, I started having contractions. They were light, and irregular, but definitely there! I timed a few before I told James, not wanting to give him a false alarm. 3-5 minutes apart, lasting 30 seconds to 1 minute! If there was ever a night we couldn't sleep, that was it! James and I finally decided to just get out of bed at 5:45 and go for a walk, hoping that would speed things up. I had timed almost 200 contractions throughout the day when our midwife decided to come and check things out for herself. Apparently, there's this thing called prodromal labor. Not Braxton Hick's, but not really labor either, just... labor that's not labor. The upside is that those contractions help toward real labor (maybe even making the real thing faster...?), but the downside is that after almost a full 24 hours of contractions, we still have no baby! Gonna be honest here, I definitely cried after our midwife left. I've never been more disappointed in my life!

The next day, James and I basically did everything we could to naturally induce labor. We had been so close just the day before, he just needed a little push, right? It was near the end of the day that we realized something: we've been doing everything we could think of, everything we've heard would work, and this kid still wouldn't budge. Could it mean that his time just wasn't here yet? Did we really have to start believing what we've been saying these past nine months and trust God and His timing? The answer, of course, was quite obvious.

As anxious as we are to meet our little baby, that little prodromal diversion made me realize how sweet that moment really will be. For now, we'll keep waiting. We'll continue to cherish the kicks, the rubbing of this giant belly, and knowing that everything will come exactly when it needs to, according to God's perfect plan for our dear little son's life! See you soon, you little cutie.

A Happy Place - Nursery

Well, everyone, we moved. It's a beautiful little place with two little bedrooms and a whole lot of love. In the first few days of our being here, I unpacked almost every box... almost. You know when you have things that you know you'll need but don't necessarily know where to put any of it?  I have about three boxes of that stuff. The kitchen was the easy part; you need to cook? You need plates to eat off of? Better put it all away where it goes. Secretly, I'm tempted to just throw these last boxes away without even looking in them. If I haven't needed them yet, I don't need them at all... right? Maybe just a few more days of seeing them lurking in the corner will bring me to action.

One room in the house that has not been difficult to fix up is the nursery. I absolutely love spending time there. Sometimes during the day, I'll just go and sit in the cozy glider that James' parents gave to us, and bask in all the hopes and dreams that the room holds. Someday I'll be sitting in this chair, watching my darling little son play on the floor. Or I'll be rocking in this chair and reading a book for the third time in a row; his heavy, sweaty head sliding slowly into the crook of my arm as he falls asleep. Or I'll be sneaking in to check on him during his nap time only to find that he's not sleeping at all, but has climbed out of his crib and begun tearing down all his clothes from the cubby. This room will hold so many sweet moments as this little boy begins his life here in the world, and I almost can't wait to get started!

There's still a few weeks to go, however, so I'm left here to dream. In the meantime, I suppose I'll work on these silly boxes. After all, we can't have this kid know his mom's been sitting in his room this whole time not getting anything done around the house! 

3 Things They Never Tell You About Pregnancy - Not Even Your Mom.

It's hard to believe that tomorrow I'll be 27 weeks along with our son. That's seven months, people! That means only two(ish) left! What??

If you're wondering why this is my first blog post since the beginning of these seven months, you're not alone. Sometimes I think to myself, "why haven't I blogged about this?" The short answer is that I'm scared. It's a slippery slope from one cute, short blog about pregnancy to the 25 way-too-long posts every other day in which I describe every feeling and thought I have. I've always stopped myself from posting a blog about pregnancy because I'd just think to myself, "If you do one, you'll do a million". Kind of an "if you give a mouse a cookie" scenario.... but pregnant. No one wants that.

So why now? Well, I figure I'm more than halfway...  how many more posts could I possibly write in such a short time (famous last words...)?

When I first got pregnant, I wasn't afraid of it being too hard . I have 3 nieces and a nephew, so I know basically everything about pregnancy...(that' a sarcastic joke about my naïve self in hindsight.) And really, I have been so blessed with a body that likes being pregnant. I haven't thrown up (so far). Never had any crazy pickle-and-peanut-butter-with cheese-on-top cravings. So, basically I've just been able to sit here, watch my belly grow, and enjoy the little kicks that make it look like aliens are trying to escape from inside me.

There were, however, a few things I wasn't prepared for.  Just something here and there that made me wonder to myself, "why didn't anyone tell me this was going to happen?" I guess, for mothers of babies who are no longer inside of them, these little things aren't really issues they think need to be brought up. They probably just seem like such minor details that most non-pregnant mothers just completely forgot about them! But, as they happened to me for the first time, I was surprised and amazed that I didn't see them coming. That brings us to this post.

Here are a few things that no one ever tells you (for some reason or another) about pregnancy.

1. Stretchy stretchy. Oh my goodness. Obviously, I was aware that a woman's belly grows when a little human is inside of them. What I was not expecting, however, was feeling it. Some mornings, I can literally feel myself stretching and getting bigger. Sometimes, it feels like a small cramp. Sometimes it's barely noticeable. And sometimes, getting out of bed feels like something inside is about to rip in half. I remember one day a month or two ago where I spent the whole day practically doubled over because of the "growth spurt" Baby was having inside of me. James can attest to this. I whined a little...

2. Kicky kicky. Okay, this is another "feeling" one, but can we just please invent a word to describe what it feels like to have a baby kick inside of you?! At first, I wasn't sure what to look for, and when it happened I couldn't believe it. My midwife told me it would feel like gas... sometimes it does. But for the most part, it's more of a tickly-twitchy kind of feeling. I wrote in my pregnancy journal after feeling my very first kick, that the only way I could describe it to James was by using the word, "bloop".  And really, that still seems like a pretty good way to me. From what I've heard from a friend who's a month ahead of me, the feeling gets stronger. So we'll see what I have to say about that as this boy gets closer to his birthday.

3. Growy growy. Among the people that I see and talk to on a weekly-ish basis, there are 4 or 5 pregnant women. Talk about baby season. Anyway, only one of those women actually looked pregnant at the "appropriate" time. That's because this is her 4th child. A fellow first-timer and I spent months sending pictures back and forth to each other asking if we "looked pregnant yet". I guess this kind of goes along with my first point, but bodies that haven't been pregnant before aren't used to all that stretching. It takes a little longer for our novice selves to figure out how to stretch and grow than a body that has been through it all before. An easy way to say all this is that the, "is she pregnant or just fat" stage of pregnancy lasts much longer in first-timers than veterans. No way around it, you just have to deal with it. Thankfully, that stage in my pregnancy ended about two weeks ago, so I feel pretty free at this point.

a little something from when the baby bump finally showed itself.

So, there we go. Seems a little weird, doesn't it? Those are such little things, that they barely seem worth mentioning... which is probably why I'd never heard about them until they happened to me. Or maybe most people just actually expect them, so it's not surprising to them... either way, this post is out there for the unassuming and possibly a little naïve first timers like me!

4. Bonus: This one comes from seeing many, many ultrasound pictures, but never being in that room until now. We all know that ultrasounds are used to see through you to the baby(that's the preschool way of saying it). But we don't really take time to think about what a look inside will be like. Here is the part that makes sense, but that we never quite grasp fully: THE BABY MOVES WHILE YOU'RE WATCHING HIM ON THE ULTRASOUND SCREEN!! It's fun to take home those little pictures, and show them to friends, but the best part BY FAR is sitting (or laying) there actually watching your baby move around inside of you. A baby whose heart beats, who sucks his thumb, and kicks his tiny little baby feet. It's fun to feel it all from out here, but being in that room with James was definitely a huge highlight of this pregnancy. Needless to say, we're a little bit in love, and we can't wait to meet our little son!

New Year-Ringing in the Promises

This time last year, James and I had moved out of our apartment, put all of our belongings into storage, and were staying at my parents';  almost a week away from embarking on our 6-months in S. Asia. Even as I write it, I can hardly believe it. This year seems to have gone by faster than any other thus far. Yet, so many amazing things have happened in our lives that just twelve months doesn't seems long enough to contain them all. Here's a list of just a few of those things that I look back on and just want to sing and dance about!

1. Arriving safely in S. Asia and then home again after a half-year of life-altering, eye-opening, God-glorifying moments and lessons that now flow through my veins and have recreated (thanks be to God) the person-the Christ follower that I am.

2. Receiving the call while in S. Asia for a new, exciting ministry for our lives in the U.S. This Is Church has been such an amazing ministry. We are so encouraged by what God is doing with this little body of believers and in the individual ministries that are represented every Sunday in our living room.

3. Speaking of living room, OUR HOUSE! We were blessed to so easily find an affordable home with such a ready ministry all around us.

4. James and I celebrated our first anniversary together! And what a beautiful year it has been. Praise God for His model of love that we seek to follow after every day.

5. Receiving news of the new baby that we will get to hold in June! James and I have been looking forward to being a Daddy and Mama since...forever! Every week, I read about how this sweet life is growing inside me, and I get so overwhelmed by God's goodness and love. Yippee!

6. Support. That's all I need to say. We have received faithful support for both of our adventures in ministry, along with prayers, love, and kind words from those around us about what we're doing, excitement about the baby, and just encouragement in our everyday goings on! The community that God has given us is so beyond anything that we deserve, and I am just so, SO thankful to see God work through the people He's put in our lives.


 As I think about those (along with the million others I didn't mention) highlights of 2014, I can't help but see the promises that God has both fulfilled and is going to continue to fulfill for this new year that we are stepping in to:


1. Just as God carried us, protected us, and worked through us in S. Asia, so He will continue to do in each of the who-knows-how-many opportunities He will bring us to in 2015.

2. I look forward to God continuing to work through This Is Church and the people involved. I also am anxious to see the new areas of ministry that He will lead James and I to both together and individually.

3. I'm going to be honest, housing seems to forever be a point of anxiety in my heart. The very bane of my existence (not actually). When it comes to the question, "Where will we live when our baby is born/when our lease is up" (those two seem to always pop up in my mind at the same exact time) there is never really a "peace that passes understanding".  Looking at the past year, though, I see a promise that is inescapable: God will provide. The 4 places in which we've lived this past year are proof of that. So, this is the part where I just have to take a breath, and thank my Provider-God for how He is going to provide a home in 2015. Thank You, Lord.

4. James and I have grown closer in 2014 than I thought possible. If I thought he was my best friend when I married him, he's 17 months MORE of a best friend now. It's like, if two infants thought they were best friends, then they grew up to be five-year-olds who ran, jumped and played in the mud all day, they would say to themselves, "Now we're REALLY best friends." That's how I feel about James. I'm also thankful that those five-year-olds will one day grow up to be 35-year-olds and think to themselves, "Those five-year-old babies had no idea..." I look forward to growing closer and closer to-more and more in love with my husband each year, then looking back at 2014 and saying, "That little baby Ali had no idea." :)

5. This baby is one promise that I look forward to meeting, holding and singing to in 2015!! Right now, I'm even looking forward to having a huge, giant belly full of cuteness as Baby Everett gets bigger and bigger inside of me. Even once Baby's born, I'm thankful for the promise of life, growth and service to Jesus that I will get to have a big part in as a mother to this life.

6. Finally, I thank God for the promise of YOU! The community that He will continue to cultivate in James' and my life is something I look forward to with great joy. The support of this community as our family and ministries grow is not only something that comes from those around us, but first from God, and my heart burst with thankfulness because of that!


So, there are a few highlights of 2014, and promises for the new year that I'm thankful for! Join me in thanking the One who is God of the past, present and future!!

The "Yes" Girl Experiment #2 - Ingrid

 My newest "yes" is probably one of my happiest, and wonderful yeses so far. It has also been one of my longest running "no's"... until yesterday.

It all started when my parents found and nursed back to health two cute little kittens last year. They were so young that my mom had to bottle feed them, and they could barely walk in a straight line. James and I so desperately wanted to keep both of them, but since we were three months away from leaving for S. Asia, it just wasn't going to work out. The kittens were taken to a loving new home, and we were left with only a few fluffy memories.

That was when we started dreaming about kittens! So far, it might be hard for you to understand why this made it to my "yes girl" posts. It doesn't sound like I had a reason to say "no".  Yes, I love kittens. Just thinking about cuddling with a little ball of fluff gives me the warm fuzzies. What I don't love is hair everywhere, people not wanting to come over because they're allergic to cats, and finding a good hiding spot in our home for a litter box. My family had a cat growing up, and he lived for 19 years. The very idea of being tied up with something that's not my husband or spawn for that long gives me sweaty palms. Even human babies aren't expected to live under your roof for that long!

I tossed around the idea of wrapping a cat in a box last week for James' birthday, but decided that the process of choosing one with him would be better. The next thought was to give him a coupon that said "Okay, I give up, let's get a cat," but I couldn't bring myself to make the first move. So, I resolved that the next time James said those words, I would say yes.

That happened two days ago as James scrolled down the cute, fuzzy pictures on Craigslist. I swallowed hard, and said the word. My mind immediately went into defense mode, flooding with all the reasons not to get a cat, but thankfully, it was too late. I had already said "yes," and there was no going back.

The little cutie fell asleep in James' lap on the way home.

Yesterday, we drove to Loveland to retrieve our prize. When we contacted the woman who had posted the add, she told us that the kitten we were interested in was the most cuddly in the bunch, and that she was the only one that purred. That sealed the deal for me. Those are the two best attributes any cat could have. So, purr and cuddle she did, all the way home! 

Ingrid has been purring, cuddling, pouncing and playing ever since! Watching her play with her toys and snuggle up to James' head while in bed made me wonder why I didn't say "yes" earlier! It's been less than 24 hours, and we've had so much fun with her already!

 Ingrid practically skips everywhere. This morning, she made three hops on her hind legs as she tried to pounce on James' feet. It made me laugh out loud!  She is also the only cat I have ever known who falls asleep/ is comfortable on her back. I was holding her on her back in my cupped hands (yes, she's THAT small) as we walked through the pet store, and she slept like that for a good ten minutes. It was adorable. Suffice it to say, Ingrid is the cutest animal that has ever walked on the earth, and we love her! I'm so happy that she is one of my "yes"es, and I can't wait to snuggle with her for the next 19 years(...)!

Welcome home, Ingrid.

The "Yes" Girl Experiment-Number One

I was one day in, and was already being faced with a difficult "yes". I'd been saying "no" to dying my hair just about every time James and I would go to the grocery store; when James would begin looking at hair dyes. He made it obvious almost as soon as we were married that he fancies golden brown hair. Not that he thinks my dark hair is ugly, or that he wants me to change my appearance in order to like me more, but golden brown is just a color that he's always thought was pretty. I, being the dark-haired goddess that I am (I hope you know that's a joke) have always taken pride in my dark tresses, and have a hard time thinking about parting with them. So, it wasn't a surprise when dread instantly filled my heart the minute I noticed James walking to the hair dye isle while we were at the grocery store two days ago. He was the one who was surprised, however, at the first word I uttered when he asked me for the seemingly millionth time if I wanted to dye my hair: "yes". It felt good to see his happily surprised face when he heard my answer. It felt good to be a "yes" girl. But at the same time, I regretted the word.

remember when this happened??

Remember my new motto? "Have fun at the 'yes'". It might be worded better to say, "Choose joy at the  'yes'". As it turns out, this motto is a LOT easier said than done. I could think of a million reasons NOT to dye my hair. I liked it dark. I'd already dyed it red (a dark, subtle red, remember). It was just growing back to it's natural state after the pixie cut!! But, as promised, I began counting the reasons to say "yes", and soon my anxious, half -"yes", became (after a good long time of reasoning with myself, mind you) an excited, %100 "yes!" After all, why shouldn't I try to please my husband? I know that he likes golden brown hair, and I also know that, for both selfless and selfish reasons I want to be as lovely as I possibly can be in his eyes. So why not put two and two together and do the darn thing?!? Well, that's exactly what I did. We bought the box of dye, and went home. After finishing James' cake (did I mention that that was on his birthday?), we went to the bathroom and doused my hair with the stuff.

As it turns out, golden brown is not that different from dark brown. Especially if your hair is so dark that it renders the dye basically useless. And also when you only use half of the bottle. User's error, I guess.

So it seems that all that fretting was for nothing. But I'll have you know that we WILL be trying the dye again in hope of a better, more golden result. I was really disappointed to see my natural hair color (albeit with a tinge of golden shine  if you really look at it) after it was all over. I wanted my "yes" to actually be a "yes"! But soon we'll try it again, and with some luck (and a better look at the instructions), my hair will be golden brown in no time!

Yes Girl - An Experiment

 My husband often talks with me about how glad he is that we are a "yes" couple.  He says that it conveys our love for the people we have in our lives, and our determination to be intentional with those relationships. I like the sound of that too. More than that, I know how wonderful it feels to be said "yes" to. We love having people over, and when we extend an invitation and it's accepted, we feel loved ourselves.

However, I sometimes laugh to myself when James makes his remark about our being a "yes" couple. I am NOT a "yes" person. When I am invited to do something last-minute, or even far in advance, my reaction is almost always a big, resounding no. Even when James asks me to cut his hair (which happens about every 3 weeks),  I immediately respond with my gut reaction: "NO!!!"

I received some advice from a wise woman the week before my wedding. The "Moms" in my life were sharing what they'd learned over their years of marriage, and this particular lady said, "Be a 'yes' girl". At the time, I didn't know how many aspects of life this piece of advice would speak into. I now know that being a 'yes' girl isn't just about saying the word, it's also about living it out.

This past weekend I've found myself being quite "no"ish. In one particular instance, I found myself wondering why James (who was wanting us to say "yes" to something) cared so much about agreeing to this outing. The big, pointing finger in my mind was then turned around. Why did I care so much about NOT going? Thankfully, I was able to squeak out a "yes", and though it was an unhappy, and begrudging "yes" at the time, we had a wonderful time when we finally found ourselves with the people who had invited us. That got me thinking. Why do I feel the need to say "no" to so many things? Not just invitations, but the little, everyday things that James mentions to me.

Sure, I've said "yes" to a few, really big decisions. "Yes" to South Asia, "yes" to This Is Church, but do I say "yes" to those little things that are scattered throughout our day? Jesus tells me in His word that if I am faithful in even the little things, that I will be faithful with bigger things. (Lk 16:10) Not vice versa.

So, how do you become faithful at things that you are really, REALLY bad at? Practice. So, for the rest of this month, I am going to practice being a "yes" girl. Not just to outings, or invitations, but to everything. 

I'm going to be honest, this is going to be soooo hard! Practice for becoming a "yes" girl means shutting up the voice inside that screams the reasons why certain things are a bad idea. It also means that whatever I think is best is going to take a back seat for a while. In essence, I will be laying myself down. Huh, it doesn't sound that crazy when I word it like that, does it? After all, I'm pretty sure that "laying myself down" was a part of the vows that I made before God, my husband, and many of you at my wedding day. Not to mention that it's encouraged in the Bible.

This is how I expect my "yes" to feel!

As it turns out, "yes" isn't only a word. It's also an attitude. If I say that I want to be a "yes" girl, then I can't shuffle my feet and pout whenever I agree to something I don't actually want to do; that could be harder on the both of us than if I had said "no" in the first place. The real "yes" happens when I take a step back, examine the reasons why I want to say no, and, in humility, choose joy in my "yes".

So, here I go, off to start my journey of becoming a "yes" girl. Before I start, I want to make 3 things clear to you... and myself.

1. Obviously, I'm not going to be in a cage. Laying myself down for my husband doesn't mean forgetting my needs, but understanding that my "wants" are negotiable. I'm going to be able to "state my case" if there's something I feel adamant about, but in most cases, I think I will find that when I really take a look at my own reasoning, I will see things that are generally shallow, selfish and unhelpful.

2. I'm NOT doing this so that my husband will see me laying myself down, and think, "Wow, I should really do what she wants this time".  If I've learned anything in my marriage, it's that these unspoken expectations are poison to a relationship. Also, if I'm only doing this experiment so that I'll get more of what I want, that's the opposite effect that needs to happen. This is about laying myself down, not sneakily building myself up.

3. This is not going to be sad. I'm not coming into this decision with tears and "woe is me"'s. There is joy in choosing "yes".  I'm an odd person in that, when I arrive at any event, I have a great time whether I originally wanted to go or not. So why not start having fun right away? Have fun at the "yes": that's my new motto.

I'll be journalling as I conduct this experiment, and will post updates when I reach any extraordinary discoveries. I expect to find a deep joy in being a "yes" girl. I also expect to be the owner of a cat before this is all over. I'll let you know how it all turns out!

May Jesus be glorified by this experiment both in my "yes" and in my marriage. In reality, it will be His beautiful and perfect "yes" that will be coming out of my sinful, dirty mouth. Be lifted high, Savior.

Amen!

Same Journey-New Adventure

It was the night of our farewell party that I received an amazing encouragement from a friend. We were saying goodbye to many dear friends the week before we began our journey to S. Asia. This friend said that, while James and I were being prayed over, God had given her a picture for our future. The picture was of a fox looking intently into the distance, its ears perked with anticipation. The interpretation of this beautiful picture was simple: If we would intentionally seek God's will for our future, if we would perk our ears intently and wait for His call, He would be faithful to show us His plans for our future. 

You have to understand, at that point the only thing we knew was that God had called us to serve in S. Asia for six months. When people asked us what our plans were after those six months, our answer was usually something like, "uhh... I don't know... find something else to do, I guess." As believers, we knew that whatever we did would include sharing the gospel with those around us, but we had little to no idea about how that was going to look. And then, through my friend, God gave us a beautiful promise.  We just needed to focus intently on His purpose, and He would show us and lead us according to His plan for our lives. 

What a relief! To know that the God who orchestrated our journey to S. Asia would STILL be leading and using us even after those six months was over!

So, perk we did, and the vision that God has given us for our new ministry is more beautiful than we ever could have imagined!

Long before James knew we would travel to S. Asia, long before he met me, God had planted in him a love for His word, a talent for teaching it to others, and a zeal to see Christ worshipped as King in purity and in truth. That love, talent and zeal that God has so beautifully cultivated is what has brought us to this point of starting a church!

This Is Church will be a church that focuses on growing the inner heart of a church instead of growing outwardly. Rather than trying to rack up the numbers of attendance, the passion of This Is Church is to cultivate maturity in each of its members so that they can lead their everyday lives as if it's their personal ministry-which it is. Everyday, we meet hurting, lonely people, and the people at This Is Church will be fully equipped to minister to those people. Not just to give them a smile, or to encourage them on the surface level, but to share the truth of the Gospel with them, that they might have new life in Jesus Christ. As our members live their lives as their personal ministries, sharing the gospel with those around them, it is inevitable that This Is Church will grow. Not just grow, though. This Is Church will become a body of believers that affects the entire world because of its dedication to sharing the gospel and living for Jesus in a way that has often been forgotten and passed off as radical. For more information about This Is Church, you can visit our website (yes, we have a website!): www.this-is-church.com.

As always, thank you for your prayers and support. It means so much to us that we have such a loving family of supporters that are with us on this journey! 

Looking forward to filling you in on what's to come,
The Everetts