Blessings and Raindrops

seeking joy in the midst of the ordinary

He is good. {Part 1}

More times than I can count, I experienced the power of the ocean as a child growing up on the beaches in Florida.

Do you know the feeling?

The unexpected crash of a wave that takes you under and swirls you around. Rendering you disoriented and unable to find your way back up from the crashing water.

In a fruitless effort, you exert all of your energy kicking your legs and flailing your arms. Panic sets in. Fear envelops.

Moments like this take us off guard in life. Energy exerted on our own is fruitless. Fear is real. 

Thankfully, the Prince of Peace offers His hand. He swiftly and firmly pulls you to the surface. You take a deep breath and settle into His gentle embrace. Peace reigns down.

I had a moment like this over the weekend. A moment that caught me off guard. A moment that caused me to, much like Peter, take my eyes off of Jesus and start to sink {Matthew 14:22-33}.

New information was shared about the conditions of our S’s current living situation. New information that stole my breath and forced my gaze away from the One who saves. I allowed myself to sulk in the dark and the enormity of the information. I allowed myself to feel overwhelmed and afraid.

Even still, Jesus was right there. Holding my hand. Whispering His promises. Reminding me of His faithfulness.

Beloved, remember all that I have done. 

Just two days before, Dave and I overflowed with gratitude for His goodness.

“I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living”. {Psalm 27:13}

We had spent the evening at our land just outside of town. We reflected on the circumstances surrounding our lives when we first purchased this property five years ago.

We remembered the hurt and pain we experienced as we ached for a child of our own. We had dreamt that this land would someday be full to the brim with joy and laughter as little feet ran across this ground.

We remarked on the grass that had grown in thick and full. Planted with our own hands.

We declared God’s goodness and provision. For this incredible farm house we are renovating. Moved from another spot in town. Never had we dreamt of such an serene and perfect retreat for our family.

Joy.

Hope. The promise of memories yet to be made.

He is GOOD. Sometimes, when you’re too close, you can’t see it clearly enough. Five years ago, we never could have seen all of this.

“God can do anything, you know — far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us.” {Ephesians 3:20 The Message}

butterfly kisses.

The boys recently received little caterpillars as a favor at a friend’s birthday party. The caterpillars came with food and instructions on how to care for these little bugs in order for them to emerge as butterflies.

Ben and Nathan were thrilled. This was their favorite Eric Carle book come to life. They couldn’t wait to watch these caterpillars eat cake and lollipops and apples and sausage and ice cream and then build a little cocoon and then magically transform into a butterfly! It was all so exciting.

Except that it took way longer than the fifteen minutes that they expected. They were bored with the little caterpillars in the teeny plastic cups after about two and a half minutes. And, they couldn’t believe the lie they’ve been told all this time about the very hungry caterpillar eating cupcakes and such.

Each morning, the boys would run down to check on their respective caterpillar’s progress. It became a competition to see who would become a butterfly first.

Meanwhile, I would say a prayer each morning that these caterpillars would do their thing and not actually be “asleep” {aka- mom killed the caterpillars because she was too lazy to read all the way through that darn instruction manual}.

Mercifully, the butterflies emerged from their cocoons one morning after growing for what felt like an eternity! The boys cheered and I sighed in relief.

However, it was freezing outside so we had to care for them for days before releasing them into the great, wide world. And, there weren’t any flowers outside to give them so we had to use tissue with sugar water {let’s be honest, I probably could have found some flowers but that’s a lot of work in the middle of a really late winter}.

We finally had a warm enough day last week to send the butterflies on their way. It was such a fun release…

{oh, yes, the boys are not wearing pants again. what is it with these two refusing to wear a full set of clothing?!}

As we watched the butterflies take in their new surroundings, Nathan said he thought they were going to “fly to Africa to visit S.”

Ben agreed.

Could that be any sweeter?

Yes, we all agreed that morning that these butterflies would trek across the ocean to give our girlie butterfly kisses from each of us. Isn’t that a nice thought?

Naive? Yes. But I don’t mind.

I personally think a little hope in the form of innocent trust and faith from two brothers waiting to meet their sister is refreshing.

“Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed it with an oath. God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope set before us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” {Hebrews 6: 17-19; emphasis mine}

another letter to S.

To my precious one,

I know you don’t know about me just yet. Your sweet, strong daddy reminds me of this in {failed} attempts to comfort my breaking heart. He reminds me that although I ache for you with a desperation that words cannot possibly give appropriate credit to, you are not crying out for me in the night. You are not crying yourself to sleep pleading to God to move swiftly on your behalf. You are not hoping for a life here in our family. 

Yet, here I am. Doing all of those things. I fall asleep with tear stains on my pillow. I long to hold you. I cry out on your behalf. I pace the floors of our home, circling the room where you will one day lay your sweet head, pleading to my Heavenly Father to bring you here to us quickly. I hope against hope that He will move mountains on your behalf.

Once again, this week has been full of tender moments that have brought me to my knees, calling out to the One who loves you even more perfectly than I. Moments that have pierced my heart in a fresh, painful way for you. Moments that have reminded me how hard this road can be. Moments that have caught be off-guard. 

As I shared in an intimate study of God’s word with other women yesterday, I found myself in tears as we discussed the places God takes us in order to become desperate for Him. 

“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you, there is more of God and his rule.” {Matthew 5:3; Message}

Oh, sweet one. I am at the end of my rope. I am at the end of the place where I cannot smile and stare at your photo without an all-consuming ache to comfort you and ensure you are safe. Here in this place, there is room for God to rule. Here in this place, God is in control. Here in this place, I have surrendered all. Here in this place of desperation, I am sitting at His feet begging Him to move. 

Here, in this place, at the end of my rope, I find myself unable to breathe when confronted with baby food options. Today, I took an innocent walk over to the baby aisle while picking up a few groceries, and found myself unable to see clearly through my tears. I was overcome with emotion as I contemplated all of the food available to growing bellies. I knew that you were not receiving any of these things. 

Ultimately, simple rice cereal sent me over the edge. I considered buying some to send with a traveling momma at the request of Dr. L, yet, I wasn’t sure what kind of cereal they would feed you at the orphanage. I wasn’t sure if they would sell it the way they sold all of the other items I sent for you last time. I wasn’t sure what you were eating. I wasn’t sure if you were eating. Most of all, I wasn’t sure how I could stand there, in that aisle, with all of the selections, knowing that the possibility of your little tummy rumbling from hunger was undeniable. 

That’s why I had to run out of that store. I had to run out into the rain. I had to be drenched with that rain shower to catch my breath. I had to sit in my car, in the parking lot, and cry out in complete and utter desperation to my Jesus. My Savior. My Hope. My Steadfast, Faithful, King of Kings. 

This wait for you is the hardest, most absolute torturous, gut-wrenching thing I have ever had to do in my life. I am grieving for you. I want you to understand that you are wanted. I want you to know that you are loved. I want you to feel the Holy Spirit surrounding you. I want you to see and feel Hope. 

I want you to be here, laughing and smiling. I want to see a light in those big, dark eyes. 

Most of all, I want God to be glorified in all of this. 

I cry out to Him again and again, questioning WHY you are there. WHY you are waiting in that deplorable place. WHY you are so sick. WHY you are stuck in a system that makes no sense to me. 

And, again and again, I ask that He use all of this pain, all of this hurt, all of this grief. All of the loss you are enduring. All of the fear and confusion and brokenness. 

All of it. 

For His glory. 

He makes ALL things beautiful, my love. Even, all of this. This is not too much for Him. This is not out of His reach. He is sovereign. His love is all-consuming. He holds this whole world in His hands. This whole wide world. 

A dear friend reminded me today that there will come a day when you are asking questions that I will not be able to answer. There will come a day when you are asking WHY all of this loss had to occur. And, on that day, I will not have all of the answers. Yet, I will be able to share in a small part of your grief. I will be able to explain to you the depth of my love for you as I waited to hold you. I will be able to explain the broken, hard, dark places I have walked during this wait to hold you in my arms. It will not be enough, I know. Yet, I have confidence that my sweet, sweet Jesus can heal all wounds. No matter how deep. He will heal and restore. 

I’m steadfastly praying for your heart, precious one. I’m never going to stop fighting for you. I’m never going to stop loving you. Angel armies will continue to surround and protect you. Jesus will continue to whisper your name in the Heavens. He will continue to hold your hand. 

The Heavens will tremble. The earth will shake. The mountains will move. 

This beautiful story is still being written. I am anxious to turn the next page. 

Stay strong, sweet one. Hold on. 

All my love, 

Your momma  

sanity is over-rated.

I used to consider myself a perfectly sane person. I really did.

But, let me tell you, between this adoption roller-coaster {and the unknowns and rumors and red tape and emotional toil} and the two miniature Evil Knievel / Dennis-the-Menace impersonators living under my roof, I’m starting to lose it.

It’s funny because it’s true.

Let’s take just the last 24 hours as an example.

Adoption Roller-coaster:

I spoke to our adoption case manager again asking for an update on court. She believes we have passed and are in the 30 day wait prior to guardianship, yet, she can’t confirm it because the paperwork had errors and she hasn’t seen any documentation to prove that this is true. HIGH: I was beyond excited {ready to shout from the rooftops} because we passed court. LOW: well, there’s the teensy detail that we may not have actually passed just yet, it’s hard to believe anything until there is proof.

Dennis-the-Menace impersonators:


While trying to enjoy a perfectly lovely play date at Barnes & Noble yesterday {why hello, awesome train table for kiddos and abundant magazine selection for mommas}, Nathan decided to have a complete and total emotional breakdown. I can’t even remember the reason for the episode but I can assume it had to do with a train that Ben had and he wanted. Luckily {sarcasm}, after he calmed down, he had an accident {we were braving big boy underwear out in public, I was a nervous wreck all morning waiting for this moment} and decided that instead of doing the rational thing of changing into the extra pants I brought for him, he would strip naked and scream bloody murder. In the STORE. Naked. Screaming. I was so proud.

Adoption Roller-coaster:


Dave and I have been praying like crazy about whether I should try to go to visit S with a group that will be traveling at the end of the month. After much discussion, debate and prayer, we spoke with our agency and they laid out several very rational reasons to skip the trip. I have been an emotional mess over this decision and I still do not feel complete peace about what I should do. Yet, it is looking like I won’t be getting on the plane even though my heart is longing to and the tears won’t stop flowing when I think about not going.

 Evil Knievel impersonators:


While enjoying a much-needed girl’s night out to celebrate my sister-in-law’s birthday, I glanced down at my phone to see a missed call, voicemail and text message from Dave. The text said, “Call me ASAP.” I panicked and dialed him immediately. Turns out, the boys had brought a chair into the laundry room while Dave was cleaning up dinner dishes. Dave heard a muffled scream and some laughter and ran into the laundry room to see what they were up to. Ben had crawled into the washing machine. Nathan was sitting on top. The washer was turned ON. The lid was locked. Ben was INSIDE.

Seriously. I’m still shaking typing this. I have run this scenario in my head a thousand times since I talked to Dave and heard it for the first time. I can’t even begin to think about what could have happened if Dave had gone out to water the garden or take out the trash. I can’t think about what could have happened if he hadn’t been right there, ten steps away from that laundry room.

I have decided that these two boys cannot leave my sight. Ever. They are schemers.

Case in point: this morning, Nathan went to use the potty and Ben went in with him. I heard laughter and went in to see what they were up to and let’s just say that Nathan’s aim was way off. On purpose.

So, here I am, trying to enjoy a nice quiet nap time and regain my composure and some semblance of sanity. Trying to rest assured that I’m not the only momma in the history of time to ever feel like I need to run far, far away to escape all of this chaos for a little bit of peace.

Until then, I will remember the words of Paul.

“Always be joyful. Keep on praying. No matter what happens, always be thankful, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.” {1 Thessalonians 5:16-18}

Even in the midst of the chaos. Even when I reach the end of another long, exhausting day and recount the accomplishments of that day and find few. Even when I have to dig deep to find the well of gratitude.

Even then. In the midst of it all. I will be joyful and thank the One who sees it all. The One who loves abundantly. The One who offers peace in ALL circumstances.

And, I’ll look at photos of these loves and be thankful that I have all of this chaos in my life in the first place…