Blessings and Raindrops

seeking joy in the midst of the ordinary

slowing down.

Lately, I’ve been craving quiet. Stillness.

This week, I find myself soaking up moments with my little family. 
Feeling nostalgic. 
Taking mental snapshots of these days. The boys at this age. 

Reflecting on how quickly time passes as we watch our children grow.  


Feeling changes on the horizon. 
I feel a need to just duck away for awhile. Hold my little cubs close. Not let go because I need to get up and check an email or answer a phone call or check another item off of my never-ending, ever-demanding to-do list. 
Just sit and hold them. 
Linger. Read more books together. 
Sit on the floor and help them build a train out of legos. 
Stop. Slow down. Rest. 
Knowing this season in my life is coming to a close.
Hopeful that I can accept each moment with gratitude as we step away from this place of beauty and awe and back into everyday life. Prayerful that I can remember the lessons learned this week away. Here, at the edge of the sea. Where I have learned more about the need to be still. To relinquish the guilt of constant striving.

Very thankful for this week of rest with the people I love most. At the same time, aching with the void that can only be filled with our daughter’s presence here.

Most of all, desperately trying to embrace every bit of this final chapter as a family of four. 

His plans are higher and greater.

In this season of waiting for our daughter to come home, unexpected news can be jarring.

I long to be at a place of such trust that I will not be shaken no matter what storm blows my way. But, the reality is, I’m not there.

I’m human. I’m weak and I’m weary of this process.

The small victories are rejoiced over. Yet, the setbacks and delays quickly send my rejoicing edging toward despair. These days, my emotional pendulum swings sharply and unexpectedly.

Surprising news this past week took my well-laid out plans and scattered them in the wind.

I was confused. The path ahead seemed foggy and murky.

Right after the news, He brought me away. Away to a place where I can stand in reverent awe of His majesty and glory. Time away to rest in Him.

Over the course of several days and many, many prayers for wisdom and grace, I have found myself settled in the gentle embrace of my Father’s love. His gentle whisper assuring me that His plans are far, far greater than anything I could ever hope for or even imagine on my own. 

This is not a surprise to Him. He saw this coming. 

I reflect back on all that He has done. Events, conversations, friendships, words of encouragement, provision, new paths… all orchestrated by Him. All of it leading to this very place.

And I see it. In the way the ocean tosses a shell to the shore, refining it. I am being refined by my Father.

Fear. Doubt. Confusion. They do not belong in this place. God is the author of good things, He never authors pain or chaos.

These words sang over my heart this morning as I walked along the sea. I’m so thankful for His unending, never-failing, powerful love and sufficient grace.

You hold me as my Father
and mold me as my maker. 
I ask you how many times will you pick me up,
when I keep on letting you down?
And, each time I will fall short of your glory,
how far will forgiveness abound?
And you answer, 
‘My child, I love you.

And as long as you’re seeking my face, 

you’ll walk in the power of my daily sufficient grace.’

the beach. memories to be made.

We’ve made it back at the beach. Back to the same house where we created so many memories together last year.

When we booked this vacation almost a year ago, we were certain that S would be home and this would be our first vacation together as a family of five. We were apprehensive about booking because we had no idea exactly when she would be home and if it would be too soon for a trip to the beach.

To be honest, it hasn’t been easy to be here now without her. I had so many images in my mind of what this week would look like. S and the boys playing together in the sand and surf for the first time as brothers and sister. Moments of bonding and trust forming. Joy and celebration.

Yet, I’m learning to embrace the story God has written for me and my family. Learning to rest in His timing and trust His sovereignty. Knowing that my plans are never something to boast about. Instead, trusting in His plans – which are far greater than I could ever imagine.

And, so, we are soaking up this week. This last vacation together as a family of four. This time with Nana’s and Papa’s – all four of them – together with us under this roof.

We are swimming in the rain.

We are laughing and slowing down.

The boys are digging in the sand…they cannot get enough. A little rain can’t stop them.

We’re dancing. Enjoying these precious moments together.

To be given a week together, away from the business and messiness and trappings of everyday life, is a blessing. We are soaking it in this week.

thoughts on this past month.

Lately, I’ve been walking alongside some of my dearest friends through the darkness of the valley. Unexpected illness. Unimaginable sorrow and grief. Confusion. Pain.

It has been a hard month for so many reasons.

Leaving our daughter behind as we flew home from Africa. Struggling with unresolved fear and anger over this process. Working to get back to “normal” after returning home. Wrestling with how to explain our trip to friends and family. Aching. Feeling isolated and misunderstood. Thankful that God is My Hope and Comforter.

Landing in Belgium and learning that a very close friend had been hospitalized back home with Guillain-Barre syndrome. Since that time, his condition has worsened and he was flown to Kansas City to receive treatment at KU medical. GBS left him completely {temporarily} paralyzed. His wife and two young children uprooted their lives to Kansas City in order to care for him and be by his side. He was recently transferred to a facility in Nebraska and has started to show signs of improvement. I am so, so thankful for this. I have been on my knees for this family so often over the past month. Confusion and fear and uncertainty have overcast all of us that are close to them. Scott was perfectly healthy one day and the next, he was hospitalized with this rare disorder. Hope is rising. Thankful that God is the Ultimate Healer. 

Pleading on behalf of a dear friend who, after waiting 3 long years for a referral, found out that the son they have claimed and loved deeply was severely ill in Ethiopia. We stormed the gates of Heaven on behalf of precious Cruz. Praying for healing for this little boy who touched the hearts of so many. And then, last Thursday, we learned that Cruz had gone home to Jesus. Tears flowed. Confusion and sorrow clouded my heart. I ached for my sweet friend, Cat. I just read a beautiful tribute to Cruz from another dear friend and am reminded why we continue to fight for the least of these. Because every child deserves a family that will love them unconditionally and claim them as their own. Thankful that God is the Father to the Fatherless and the Provider of Unexplainable Peace.  

I read THIS POST by Jen Hatmaker yesterday and it resonated so deeply with where I am right now as I struggle to walk alongside my sweet friends through this season of suffering…

“Suffering invites us to be radically human with one another, perhaps doing nothing more than reaching across the table, clasping hands, and weeping together. We are afforded the chance to create a safe place for someone else to mourn; nothing is needed but space, proximity, presence, empathy. You cannot possibly give an answer, so don’t try. Grief cannot be sidestepped; it must be endured, so may we be a people who endure with one another rather than constantly mitigating, explaining, propping up. Let’s just hold one another through the dark night and wait for the sun to rise.”

Amen. 

James MacDonald explains our tendency toward ungratefulness when circumstances feel out of our control {from his study, Always True}:

“Don’t disregard every good thing he has done for you, turn rebellious and ungrateful, and whine, “But I have to have this, God. If You don’t fix this situation, You’re not God. You don’t care about me.” Don’t put it all on the line over one thing and demand that God work right now. When we try this, we are not depending on God so much as we are trying to demonstrate just how much influence we have with Him.”

Today, I’m choosing to stand firm on His promises and reflect on His goodness. I will focus my attention and strength on every good thing He has done for me and for those I love, as we stand together in the valley waiting expectantly for the sun to rise.