When you cross a bridge, especially one that is a bit wobbly, I find it best to not cross alone.  As we’ve begun our new TZ life, we have been keenly aware of our increased ability to transition because of our support.  At times we’ve even said it felt like we were cheating because we’ve had such an amazing catapult into bravery.

The Senders

God worked mightily to prepare us to set foot on this bridge.  He surrounded us with people who loved us well, provided for so many of our needs, and then (most importantly) people who would bravely, confidently and lovingly let go of our hands when we were ready to start walking across.

We had amazing times of prayer and encouragement with our small group, our travel/dinner/friend group who are like family, and our Church community in congregations across the country.

In what felt like a wall of protection being built all around us, we were prayed for by individuals and we were prayed for in church services of many gathered together.           

Neighbor buddies celebrated with us and supported us as we moved out of our house, even as our hearts were all breaking to part.

Friends brought us treats and travel needs, gave money and notes of encouragement.  Friends who knew us well brought our favorites for one last savor.  We were hugged, loved, allowed to cry, celebrated with, and encouraged.

My only regret is that I didn’t take more pictures, as these are just a few of the faces that loved us well as we went.

One amazing family even let us stay with them for our last few weeks in the States.  In case this seems like a small hospitality…may I remind you that during this time we were a collective emotional, physical, spiritual whirl-wind AND THERE ARE NINE OF US! 

We closed on our house, said goodbye to friends, packed, argued, cried, disciplined, ate (ALL of their food), made travel arrangements, celebrated victories, swam and played, did about a bazillion loads of laundry…all smack in the middle of their space.  They not only allowed us to be our not-very-best selves with emotions hanging out like toilet paper stuck to your shoes, they loved us sincerely and patiently through it.  Man, what an invaluable gift! 

And our parents.  What would we have done without our parents?  I could write a novel about how they encouraged and supported us from the very moment we said “Africa” but the morning we left sums up all of their love quite well.  All three of them showed up early that morning, after hours (and I MEAN HOURS) of RRL and I being awake, fighting a very real and intense and horrifying spiritual battle to actually get on the freakin’ plane.  They loved us, cried with us, and passionately prayed over us, took care of our kids while we finished packing.  And then LET US GO.  The three of them helped load our belongings, hugged us and their grandbabies and then turned us, pointed us to a very rickety looking bridge with no railing and said “Go.  We love you.  We will see you soon.” I’m only a parent of small people, so I am not certain I can fully grasp the real effort that took, to send pieces of their heart that way.  But I can tell you that it was a gift, one that meant we went when we might not have. (and one that has me currently sobbing like a baby just writing about it these nearly 6 weeks later) 

The Receivers

If we had a catapult across the bridge, we had a safety net for landing on the other side.  Just as valuable as those who sent us well were those who received, and continue to welcome us, so very well.  We had outstretched arms even before we could clearly see a vision of our new home, beckoning us across.  We arrived to furniture already set up in our house, an amazing meal, big hugs from people we love and even a welcome banner.  What a gift to walk into our new home and have it already feel like a home.  These families, supported by the same sending Church as we are, have patiently encouraged us, answered questions, given us freedom for it to be “hard” while reminding us that we are not alone.  They’ve celebrated small victories with us and hugged us in the frustrations.  There have been cookies and treats and home-cooked meals.  Recipes and cleaning help and errand running.  Adventures and lunch dates.

And the community at school has also been amazing.  They had our house cleaned before we arrived, helped us navigate difficult paper-work and life-start-up necessities, helped connect us to resources and loaned us a car.  They’ve also been so good to reach out, invite us for meals, share things they’ve learned, ask how we are doing and pray for us.

Finally, I want to introduce you to some new friends who have been unique in their ability to help us settle into life, here because they are also new.  They get it.  Two families who arrived within days/weeks of us to work at the same school have been such a gift because of their willingness to do life (and figure out life) along-side of us.  We’ve conquered the grocery store and errand running.  Bemoaned difficulties and celebrated triumphs while helping each other set reasonable expectations.  We’ve traded information we discover and new Swahili words we’ve learned.  And our children already know that when in doubt they can rely on these new friends at school.  I am eternally grateful that the Lord designed this intersection of my path with these amazing women (and their families).  He has created a rhythm for our life together in miraculous ways, long before it should have been possible for us to get to know each other.

Our Constant Travel Guide

There is only ONE who both sent and received. Who walks every step of the way with us.  Who has not left us for a moment.  Our God has been so faithful.  He has reminded us of His Mercies so often- through the sun coming in our window, through the ocean just beyond, through the ways He’s nudged hearts of both our senders and receivers to reach out to us at just the right moments.  And through the overwhelming power of His presence even as we first set foot in our new home. 

He has given us to reminders of our passion and purpose, glimpses of how we will be able to serve and love and grow here, even while we are settling.  Even before we are quite ready to embrace it.

He has been so good to say in a million ways-

“This bridge is not the hardest one you’ve ever crossed.  This bridge was built just for you and will lead you straight to where you want to be.  I know, because I put that desire inside of you.  And when you go, there you will experience my pleasure.”

Indeed.  And amen.

Thank you for the ways you’ve sent, received, encouraged and journeyed with us!

We are traveling well, even on this rickety bridge, because of you!

ABL

BRIDGE

noun   a structure carrying a road, path, railway, etc. across a river, road, or other obstacle.

Though our bodies have physically traversed a great distance, our hearts still have a bit of a chasm to cross.  I find myself praying and looking for bridges.   Bridges for communication with all of you, bridges for the hearts of our children, bridges for life together in a new place.  Because at some point a bridge touches both sides, it crosses the divide.  While you cannot see the precise line where you cross from one side to the other, you know you are connected from land to land.  The bridge is the guide.  The bridge is the link.  The bridge is not just a source of passage, but a source of security.

Sometimes you must find the familiar things that can be laid, like planks, in a manner which can be used to walk across the gap.  Familiar things, even in a brand new context, can provide a bit of sure-footedness.

Running

Before we left the States, we completed 1009 of our 2018 mile Team challenge.  Being able to reach the ½ way point on US soil was a significant milestone, albeit well after our goal date.  We rolled up our little poster and tucked it safely in our luggage and carried it with us to our new home.  Literally the ONLY thing I’ve hung on a wall in our new home is this marker of our team’s journey together.  And fairly soon after arriving we began to run again.  We’ve marked a little route inside our compound so we can run together.  The view is SIGNIFICANTLY different, the elements drastically different, the mindfulness of where we run and even what we wear to run is brand new.  But running, together, we know.  Our bodies, while adjusting to new foods, new humidity, new blaring sun, KNOW the rhythm of running.  Our team knows the same spirit of encouragement and doing hard things.  Our first few miles on this soil have helped us cross.  Running is a bridge.  And I hope that in our running we can continue sharing about our milestones will all of you.

Tradition

We build bridges as we find significant moments that we can still celebrate.  On the night before school started we kept true to our back-to-school tradition of eating a meal and praying at school.  The context was a bit different (we’ve never had beans and rice as our FDOS-eve meal), the company was brand new (so thankful for the friendship of other new families on staff with RRL), and the scenery from the school-yard quite different to us (not complaining one bit about the serenity of the view).  But praying for our year together was the same.  The SAME GOD will walk with us as we learn, grow, encourage and work together this year.  THE SAME GOD will unite us, guide us, go with us, and use us in this new place.  THE SAME GOD will provide.  The same opportunity to remind our children of what we believe- we believe in THEM, we believe in what they were CREATED to do, we believe they are stronger when they stick together, we believe in the GOD who goes with them, even into the unknown.  This tradition was a significant bridge for us. As others will be, and we will continue to share.

But there is yet another bridge that I hope continues to unite us as friends in DRRF, connecting the pieces of our story and connecting us to you:

Bridge

noun the elevated, enclosed platform on a ship from which the captain and officers direct operations.

As a family of 9 we make slow turns.  “WIDE rights,” I like to say.  Even in conditions of low visibility, we must be looking forward a bit to navigate a path full of obstacles.  Which is why we need a bridge- a place RRL and I stand together to steer this ship.  As officers, this is the small space where only we can enter to seek direction with our Captain.  A place free from input from the outside world.  A space where we must take what we’ve learned, grab hold of the helm, and seek direction for the next moments of the course.

Vulnerably I’ll tell you…the two of us have been a team for a long time.  But we are still learning.  While the ship and its components are the same, navigating and working together is quite complicated when the surroundings are so foreign, the obstacles so unexpected.  Never have I been more thankful for a steady source of direction.  A rock on which to stand.  A high place available for perspective.   An unchanging guide of promises from our Lord.

Standing on the promises, I cannot fall
Listening every moment to the Spirit’s call
Resting in my Savior as my all in all
Standing on the promises of God

Standing, standing
Standing on the promises of Christ my Savior
Standing, standing
I’m standing on the promises of God

RRL and I are committed to persistence in this and I could not imagine a better partner to navigate with.  But sometimes life is just H-A-R-D and its tough to see where to go next.  CAN I GET AN AMEN?!

Join us in committing to go OFTEN to the Bridge.  Close the door to the noise of the outside world.  Seek direction from the Captain, His promises.  Get back on course.  None of us can navigate across the chasm from the belly of our boats.  We cannot see where we are going if we choose to remain in the dark.  Let’s come up for air and light.

Its good to be back here with you.  Thank you for the ways you’ve encouraged us, supported us, sent messages and waited for me to be ready to share.  I’m coming back and slowly finding bridges!

ABL

The single question we get asked most frequently: “WHEN are you leaving?”

This, my friends, is a tricky question to answer.  Because it is directly tied to money.  And money is a finicky topic for a blog.  But the more I’ve reflected on this topic, financial stewardship and the Lord’s provision shouldn’t be tricky to declare at all.  The lessons we’ve learned about money need to be shared.

Eight years ago, there were precisely zero formulas in my excel spreadsheet to predict provision for 3 small children suddenly landing in our lives, home, hearts.  That was NOT in the life “budget”. And thus, the Lord began a work on this accountant/planning/type-A pro.  A new balance.  My talents, while still important to our stewardship, needed to be returned open handed to the true creator.  My life submitted to His authority.  Even my budget available for His determination.  And I think, over time, I’ve released.

A bit.

At least until the next curveball.

RRL’s position in Dar es Salaam is a “vocational missionary” position.  Which means, financially, we will receive a stipend from the school and the rest of our living expenses must be covered through fundraising in the States.  It is not a cheap city in which to live, so this is a pretty big curveball in our life budget.

Never you fear.  Fairly quickly we had an AMAZING plan for how we would provide for that need.  You know, using God’s provision. (insert eye roll).  It wasn’t a very profound plan:  We would sell our home in May so that we could eliminate significant monthly expenses while simultaneously freeing up our home equity to support us while we fundraised and also be a portion of our necessary commitment for monthly expenses when we arrived in Dar es Salaam.  WONDERFUL.  EASY. PERFECT.

As we worked quickly to get the house ready to sell, I wrote a post sentimentalizing our home’s “for sale” status.  We just KNEW it wouldn’t be ours for much longer.  Funny thing.  It was ours.  For what felt like FOREVER LONGER.  Nearly 12 weeks and 41 showings longer.

Our house did eventually get one offer. ONE.  And the buyer came to look at our house on a day when we had decided that we were just going to start packing and moving out, by faith it would sell.  By “decided” I mean like mattresses leaning against the wall, half packed boxes scattered throughout, kitchen completely undone.  After months of impeccable house keeping involving a detailed systematic plan by which assigned zones of the house could be attacked and cleaned at a moment’s notice, the future owners of my home saw it in a war-zone-moving-effort-state.  Of course they did.  And we will “close” this sale at the end of the month, just days before we hope to leave for TZ and precisely at a point when when it is too late for an ounce of the equity to provide for our summer needs.

All my plans. Such great plans. Worthless. Will I never learn?

A couple of things happened as a result of this particular plan being foiled:

• An opportunity to pray. I don’t know if the future owners of our home will ever know, but they may be the most prayed for strangers in the history of strangers.  My children have frequently talked and prayed about who they might be.  My neighbors have prayed with us for the next occupants. And each time I was the last one out the door for a showing I prayed for them and their future memories here.  I don’t know who needed nearly 12 weeks of prayers to pave the path into this home, but God did.  He is in pursuit of them.
• And He might just be in pursuit of us, too. Because “our plans” didn’t work out for our provision this summer, we were gifted [another] opportunity to watch God powerfully at work.  RRL has been incredibly persistent in using his talents to ask, share our story, and fundraise.  And God has honored that work.    In just a few short months, we’ve experienced what “experts” said to be impossible.  We have raised 100% of the money need to transition to Dar (settlement costs and travel) AND nearly 70% of the amount needed for our monthly costs over the 3 years we expect to live in Tanzania.  We marvel at this provision.  It is no small thing.

This remaining 30% is one of the key pieces for our family to be able to embark on our Tanzanian ministry. We are prayerfully looking for donors and partners to help us get to at least 90% of the monthly support for our 3 years in Tanzania to be committed before we will even leave the U.S. We wait because we believe:

This tangible and measurable gauge of preparedness is helping us pace ourselves for spiritual and emotional readiness to travel. 

We cannot control even when we will take the next step.  Like whether we will be able to travel during “convenient times”.  Or whether we will be able to settle into our new home before school starts.  So much about the future, about even tomorrow, that we simply do not know.

And for one of the first times in my life, that phrase is beginning to roll off my tongue:

”I.Do.Not.Know”

Slowly, there is freedom in not knowing.  Slowly, my waiting posture is (re)reformed.  As I sit, again, in a space of waiting, I find myself remembering to release.

Instead of planning: Wondering. Marveling.  Expecting.

Just how is the Lord going to provide?

Instead of praying for OUR plans to succeed:

Lord, may our eyes be open to see YOU at work.

Instead of jumping at the opportunities to “make it work:”

Lord, make us simply available.  Ready.  Each day.  To take a step.  Make a call.  Write a blog.  Ask.  And expect.

Because we KNOW we have been prepared for this journey.  We believe in the mission set before us, even though we do not yet know the full extent of it.  We feel about as confident as I have about anything in my entire life: We are supposed to GO.

It is our sincere prayer that as you read along on our journey, you too find confidence to DREAM the impossible.  To HUNT for His daily provision.  To WAIT expectantly.  His powerful provision will never look exactly as you plan.  And that is the very thing that makes it miraculous.

It is not too late to join us, financially, on our journey to Tanzania.  And no amount is too small to be helpful.  We are continuing to seek both individual contributors and churches which would be interested in partnering with us.  You can find out more information about the three key points of our Tanzania work at this link to our blog announcement about the move.  Additionally, there is a page on the blog directly related to how to support our Team.  Thank you for being part of this journey and for sharing it with your friends and churches!

If I have a love language
it is TRADITIONS.

Sometimes because of the specific occasion the tradition marks.

But usually because as the years pass and seasons drift

As kids grow

and each of us change

As together we struggle and celebrate and warrior and say “yes” to crazy new paths…

The tradition, which stays steady, is a marker.

Year and after year. Season after season.

A tangible measuring tape by which we can see it- the very thing that has been hard to grasp and believe and trust:  Our becoming.

The traditions become our constant beacon on a path of forward movement and change.

By the documentation of our annual traditions we can remember. And celebrate. And grieve.  And release.  And Praise the One who carried us
slowly but surely
year after year

into Family.

This year, our 10th visit to CFA for free food in July, I looked at these pictures of Cow Appreciation days past. And I was overcome. Sure, we are moving to a country that doesn’t celebrate this holiday and that’s an odd thought. But all the more I was overcome by the story these pictures tell.  The pictures remind me of

• The “black hole” year where I have literally zero memories thanks to 3 tiny additions in 3 years.
• The year that we added 3 more. And were miraculously carried.
• And the years when those loves weren’t in the picture because they moved from our house to bio parents home to foster parents. And my heart was constantly tangled.
• The years when we were first back together. But still a team with two names, struggling to blend.

THEN…
The year where we were newly 9. Forever. Finally.

And now. The year when we look into the future. Wondering. Believing. Trusting. And going. Together.

Traditions.
Markers.
Family.

ABL

TEXAS.

A distant land I’d only barely heard of. Until the day in 1996 when a friend convinced me to do a ride along on her college visit.  One scholarship interview and one Christian school chapel service that swept a public-school-raised-girl off her feet, changed the course of my life.

Texas became home.

Not without some reservation.  I sobbed when Momma and Daddy, driving me to college in a west Texas town, stopped at a rest area.  As we parked, I saw it.  Glaring at me through the windshield was the big sign that held the words I felt sure indicated the end of my life…”No cattle allowed on the grass.”  WHAT IN THE ACTUAL WORLD IS THIS PLACE?  I’ll tell you what it was- My home for no more than exactly 4.0 years.  3.8 if I could get out of there after a May graduation.  That would be just about ENOUGH.

Then something happened.  A handsome boy happened. And then some babies.  And then three more little loves. And jobs and deep community and life.  Home.  Actual home.  A home we’ve come to really adore.

And suddenly 3.8 was nearly 21 YEARS.  I’m sorry, WHAT?!

But that boy who swept me off my feet also made me a promise.  A promise of a home for all of us in the Rocky Top glory land.  He would take me back to my roots.

TENNESSEE.

Even as we have come to LOVE life in Texas, for years we’ve dreamed and planned our life in Tennessee. We looked at houses, we planned regular Sunday lunches with my parents and even picked out neighbors.  RRL was making regular trips and working toward taking his job there very soon.  Ya’ll, I wrote an actual blog in my head all centered around Drew Holcomb’s “Tennessee”

Tenn – ess – ee
Tenn – ess – ee
I was born here and raised here ‘nd I will make my grave here,
It’s home,
Tenn – essee

Tennessee.  It would be home.

Unless it wasn’t.

Have you ever done something so hard that you KNEW it was impossible to take an ounce of credit for the work?  Have you ever stumbled into obedience by just taking one tiny “yes” step after another until you were so far in you HAD to surrender?  Have you tasted the Lord’s pleasure?

I’ll tell you what happens, should you find yourself there.  You’ll dream every single day about how to continue to dwell there.  How to make it home.  And sometimes it stinks.  Because sometimes it means that when you pray “Lord, we are willing…,” you find that your dreams are just that. Yours.  Not His.

Tennessee, at least for right now, is not our home. I won’t put words in the Lord’s mouth or presume to know why that longing has continued to stir in our hearts.  I just know that for today we’ve prayed that we’d simply be “willing,” he has heard our cries and answered by gently pointing in another direction.  Pretty far away from Tennessee. Or Texas.

TANZANIA.

In July our family of 9 will be moving to our new home.  In Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. I cannot even begin to explain to you the THRILLING SURGE that runs through me even typing those words.  There are precisely zero of the things on paper that make this make sense.   Especially to an accountant/planner.  Except one- saying “yes.”  And because of that, there is a great joy as we embark on this adventure… and a bit of OHMYWORDWHATINTHEACTUALWORLD

We want to share more really soon about how this all came to be.  CRAZY ride.  But for now I’d like to share just a snippet of the three really cool opportunities we feel called to:

1. RRL has this amazing gift and passion for working with and advocating for teenagers.  Through both life as a Youth Pastor and through his role(s) with Teen Life he has had incredible opportunities to use those talents.  When we read the job description for his new role, it was like they were describing HIM.  It is so perfect.  RRL will be a High School Bible teacher and chaplain at a small(ish) school in Dar where our children will also attend.  He will be using his incredible passion and gifts for teaching and discipling teenagers, while learning to do it in a multicultural setting- knowledge that will no doubt prove very valuable when we return to work in the states (someday- maybe- hopefully).
2. We will have an opportunity to live and work with other missionary families, learning more about what it really means to care for those who have GONE into the world to share the gospel of Christ, often putting themselves on the front line of spiritual warfare.  We’ve prayed for opportunities to do this better and help others be better “senders”, yet could never have dreamed our “learning” would look quite like this.
3. And a third really important opportunity is what we’ve come to call “leveling the playing field”.  For the first time, all nine of us start on square one.  Together. Together we prayed that the Lord would show us where He wanted us to be and together we received an answer.  Together we will travel and expand our view of the world, together we will minister and serve, together we will do something hard, together we will be willing.  I’m not sure I can quite explain to you (or even to me) the value of this opportunity.  We are praying that the hearts of our little people will be forever molded by this experience and that we will all walk away stronger as a team than we could have otherwise been.

So there you have it.

Team L. In Tanzania. Together.

We are so Thankful to know you are journeying with us!

ABL

I make really great plans.

In 2012, with 1 baby on the way and 3 bonus kids making frequent trips to our home we decided that 1400 sq feet was a little tight.

Our plans:

• List our little house two months before baby was due and either sell before he arrives or take it off the market.
• Find a house with a master suite downstairs and all the ever-loving-craziness of kid world upstairs.

Such great, well thought-out, careful plans. YET. Guess which of those plans worked out?!

All of ZERO.

Our Tito was born, so we were done trying to sell.  Except.  The day after I got home from the hospital, we got a call. An offer.  So- here we go.  Moving with a new born and post-partum hormones.  HOORAY.

THEN we started hunting.  There were many houses I literally walked in the front door, saw no master suite downstairs and walked back out. You know, because of my plans and all. Until the night I had a dream.  I had a very vivid dream that was simultaneously comical and heart-wrenching.  All my kids went upstairs and literally grew-up (to old people) while they did their life on “their floor” and RRL and I did life on ours.

NOPE.  My plans stink. I want my people close.

The very next day OUR (new) house popped up on my Zillow radar- I wouldn’t have even gone to look at it a day before because the playroom was downstairs and the master suite up.  But since I now knew my plans stink, when I saw the pictures of her, I KNEW she was ours.  This would be our place to do life together becoming our best selves right before each other’s eyes.

It was HARD to move.  I wrote all the feelings back then (“Saying Goodbye”.  Posts one. two. AND three).  But it was also good to move.  This is home.

Over the years, every room has been rearranged a dozen times to accommodate our family changes, the growth of our children and their new interests.  It has been prayed over, laughed in, loved in, (possibly fought in), and grown in.

And lately I’ve been kind of a wreck, because she has on her best dress and a new decoration in the yard.

I know it is just a home, but in many ways the Lord used this place to carry us through some of the hardest days.  The spaces where Elders prayed for us or invited us into ministry with them.  The things my Daddy fixed or the times both of our Moms cooked in our kitchen.  The board games and movie nights, and the running up and down the stairs for discipline.  The dancing in the kitchen and singing in the shower.  The transformation for three little loves from “I NEVER WANT TO LIVE HERE” to family and home and security.

Which is why a few of the things that have made her ours cannot be taken down or hidden away just because a stranger wants to look at my home.  Especially the scripture taped to the middle of the back door.  The words which have hung in that spot since the day in 2014 when I declared war on darkness and we all memorized those words of light together (John 1:1-5).  I care precisely zero if my marker writing doesn’t give curb appeal.  It will not be removed until someone (who now owns that backdoor) takes it down without my knowledge.  It is part of our fortress.

And just like that, I know.  A piece of us will stay here.  Like the empty fields of an old battleground, even the empty walls of our house will have a story to tell.  If the rocks can cry out, so can these floors that have been knelt on.

When we sell our house and say goodbye, I’ll leave a note for her new people.  It will simply say “Welcome to your new home” and, in the mantra words of a sweet friend,  “This is sacred space.”

ABL

PS- In case you don’t know yet, we are moving. FAR.  Post about that coming very soon. It’s not a secret, just a little harder to write.

PPS- If you know someone looking for a new home who thinks they REALLY need a master suite downstairs….  Tell them they might be wrong 🙂 and then send them our way.

The last time our family really committed to a specific word for the year it was “BRAVE”.  The year was 2016 and we knew change was on the horizon.  We didn’t know exactly what the change would look like, but decided to pray “Brave” over our little team as we put one foot in front of the other.  Within that year, the year of “brave,” we came to know we’d be forever 9.

So you can understand, maybe, a bit of hesitancy to pray another word.  Goodness, we are bravery-ed out.  I’ve wondered: “Can we continue to be willing to submit in a way that really means ‘whatever’? Can we handle MORE? Do we even want to try?”  But also in the same breath, “There is no where else we’d want to be than firmly planted on this wild roller-coaster-ride path He has designed for us.”   And that, my friends, provided a word we could grasp. A word we could cling to.  A word we could trust for this year.

FIXED

(not like the “from broken” kind- although applicable, but the “no matter what, firmly planted” kind) 

Like this:

“These words I speak to you are not incidental to your life, homeowner improvements to your standard of living. They are foundational words, words to build a life in. If you work these words into your life, you are like a smart carpenter who built his house on solid rock.

RAIN POURED DOWN, THE RIVER FLOODED, A TORNADO HIT, but NOTHING MOVED THAT HOUSE.

IT WAS FIXED TO THE ROCK!”

Matthew 7:24-25 (The Message)

And maybe especially this:

“You will keep in perfect all who trust you, ALL WHOSE THOUGHTS ARE FIXED ON YOU! TRUST IN THE LORD always, for the Lord God is the eternal ROCK!” -Isaiah 26:3-4

During a time when it would seem the only thing sure about our future is surprise and the only thing consistent is change, FIXED is a word I need.  We need.  While we may not know exactly what it is, our very next step and the one after that and the one after that is indeed KNOWN.  And, somehow a life of uncertainty and challenge has provided even more security.  Security in a Hope that is 100% certain. 

So, this year. 

May we, the Team L9:

Seek, without fear, the great adventures He has designed.

Willing to go wherever that carries us.   

Because our

Eyes

Hearts

Minds

Selves

ARE FIXED

to the rock.

ABL 

Come, Thou fount of every blessing,Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
While the hope of endless glory
Fills my heart with joy and love,
Teach me ever to adore Thee;
May I still Thy goodness prove.

It had been many mornings in a row before I realized I always woke up singing. Every morning a song of praise, worship, reassurance, promise filled my earliest waking moments.  And as I showered, dressed, packed lunches, prepared for the day the song would often follow me.  Eventually it would fade but the next morning a new would rise.  The songs weren’t just a sweet way to fill the quiet, they were a miraculous replacement for noise.  My first morning thoughts had often been about the complicated details of my life and never moreso than as we navigated bonus-kid-parenting.  what did we need to do? How were we going to do it? Was I going to be able to manage? How was it possible? Worry. Doubt. Planning.Strategy.  Noise.

But then- singing.

Don’t get me wrong- the songs didn’t take away the hard things of the day.  They didn’t always prevent my poor attitude.  Didn’t suddenly make everything ok.  But the songs were first.

Not long after I noticed that I always woke with a song, I was reading through Psalm and came across 42:8.  “By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song is with me”

I remember thanking God for reflecting his care for me through these morning songs, a reminder that he directs my paths.  I thanked Him for giving me a gift of an answer to a prayer I wouldn’t have even ever known to pray. But then.

One morning as I brushed my teeth there was, laced with the song of the morning, a dim flash of a memory.  Years ago, sitting in the youth center at church watching RRL on stage, and praying for a voice to sing and lead worship.  As I remembered, I dropped my toothbrush and stood staring.  I don’t remember why I prayed those words in that moment so many years ago. But I suddenly knew, it was a prayer for today. Prayed before I could have known to pray it.  And answered.  My singing voice is just as terrible as it was then.  But during that season of morning songs, especially in the days leading up to our adoption, the songs that flowed from my lips were worship.  They led me into the day and they led my family to worship as I sang. I’d been given exactly what I was prompted to pray for…a voice to lead worship.

After that morning realization I started making notes.  Were there others?  Stepping stone miracles that lead to our family slowly becoming 9, the things I had been grateful for yet not fully appreciated the way the Lord was carrying us before we even know to ask.

Remember when RRL asked me and I said “no”?  That very evening a conversation/prayer time we had with a spiritual giant in our lives, Dr J. Willis, changed the way we viewed difficulties in life and our marriage, even spiritual warfare.  I remember confiding this in a few friends.  One of my nearest and dearest confessed to me, days before our adoption, that when I told her my “no” was an attack from Satan, she’d been a bit skeptical.  Thought it a bit cheesy.  But now, firmly saw the necessity of that preparation.  15 years before.

In 2005 we wanted a baby.  But one didn’t come quickly.  During those days of waiting we prayed together like we never had before.  We prayed for God’s creative design for our family.  We were open to where he would carry us and how he would place children in our hearts and home in a way we wouldn’t have been without that time.  10 years before we knew our team would be 9.

And while we waited for that design, we decided to work hard toward paying off our debt.  It set us on a path to gain complete freedom from debt that then allowed us to do so many things.  But never could we have dreamed how important that freedom would be until it helped us say “yes” to three bonus kids. He did that for us before we knew to ask for financial provision.

On a whim one day I taught KJ and Cbug a little safety chant… ME: “why do we stick together?” THEM (while grabbing each other’s hands in parking lots/grocery stores/etc): “Cuz we are TEAM LEWIS.” “Team” language became a huge part of how we talked to our kids.  We couldn’t have known how desperately they would need to remember to stick together.

Praying for Community.  Man I prayed for community.  It fuels me.  I thought I needed it then, but WOW did we need it the day the 3 came home the first time.  Community became the very vein through which life was pumped during those early days and so many after, in a way we couldn’t have known to pray for.

I remember the Christmas when a Momma was doing her very best to get her 2 year old and 3 year old ready to head home.  Their tiny baby brother- 6 months old- was crying.  I offered to help, and snuggled him to sleep while singing.  I prayed for him that day in a way that seemed so odd to me, compelled to pray for his life and future.  It was such a weird moment that I still remember the details of it.  Now I know something was happening that I couldn’t have known to ask for… a piece of us connected.  The song I sang in that quiet hallway is still the one I rock that baby boy, now my 7-year-old son, to sleep with.

And what about reading Nehemiah, verse by verse, for no reason I knew for sure?  Except that I had prayed, years before, to find a love for studying scripture.  I was sure this was why I had been given Nehemiah.  Because I loved studying it and my prayers had been answered…little did I know how that book would carry me.

The numbers. Thirteen- always my sports number, one I chose because no one else wanted it.  13.1- my favorite distance to run.  Joshua 13- the story of Caleb (our son’s namesake) and Joshua and their devotion to following God when others said “impossible.” And just a little over 13 years post the surgery that has allowed me to live a health-stress-free life was January 13th, 2017. Our adoption day.   Of course Pi.  AND 152… the number of days they lived with us first and then the number of days until that breaking-point when an elder “coincidentally” called us and pulled us right up out of the pit.  oh and btw, 52 just so happens to be the number of days Nehemiah and friends spent completing the wall. Why those gifts?  I believe because He knew i would see him there- in the numbers.

I get goosebumps when I think about RRL saying “A van.  When a van shows up we will know this is what we are supposed to do.” And then it did- one night a red box showed up and later became our van, a van in which we all RIDE TOGETHER.  Or what about the day we got pictures of our new “family,” the very day the papers were signed.

The day I told RRL I needed some time alone.  For my birthday.  I thought I need some time to pray, some time to hike, some time to rest.  We agreed to my birthday.  When we made those plans we had one hundred percent of ZERO idea how significant that very day would be.

There were also the prayers we prayed specifically for “unity of spirit”.  For an entire year.  Before 4 parents agreed that 3 kiddos would be forever, officially passed from one set to the other.  The barriers of mental and emotional health that had to be transcended for that to happen.  Y’all, a mountain was literally moved.

These are (some of) the stones that were gathered, one a time, and placed in a monument of sorts.  Together they built our family marker on January 13th, 2017.  The day that marked our Ebenezer.  Our place to look back and say as Samuel in the Bible did, “Thus far has the Lord helped us.” (Be sure to go read I Samuel 7 about an impossible victory over enemies.through which God was glorified.)

Celebrating our adoption day isn’t really about when we “got” them.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to refer to it as a “gotcha” day.  More, it is about remembering how far we’ve been carried.  Looking back just long enough to celebrate the miracle that came to be.  Standing on that place, looking forward and praying for what may lie ahead.

In the year following adoption there have been more stones added to our marker.  Very specific moments etched in our memories when kids began to accept and transition and become.  When brothers and sisters don’t even remember not being.  And when Christmas is miraculously uneventful because everyone feels HOME.

Yet, there is so much about “what is next” that we do not know.  So much that is daunting about the future.  We don’t know where we may live or what the next chapter of our story will be.  We have no guarantees about health or wealth or even what our children will choose when it comes to a faith of their own.  There are a few prayers we are praying that we are heavily relying on intercession right now.  But we have this crazy security.  A firm confidence because of what has clearly been demonstrated in our “thus far He has helped us.”

So this year we celebrated on January 13th with adventures and cupcakes and even attending an adoption party for friends celebrating their own new forever.  We celebrated partly because our God carried us to Nine.  Officially.  But a lot more because the day is our place of remembering AND dreaming.

We did this year.  And we will next year.

January 13th is our Ebenezer.

Here I raise my Ebenezer,
Hither by Thy help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.

For years the dominoes had been set, one at a time, in swirling circles and patterns around us.  We couldn’t see the hand that spaced the pieces even distances apart, then left them poised and waiting.  Until Labor Day ’16, the tip.  Only it wasn’t a gentle finger tap that sent the first and critical dominoes cascading forward- it was a wrecking ball. A heavy blow to our family, sending splinters of hurt in all directions.  Amid the emotional chaos one of the flying pieces of debris- quietly and completely unseen- was the exact catalyst needed to spark a change. It spiraled out from the mess to provide the tipping of a most unexpected series of events, each one prompted by the previous. I still can’t believe it, even looking back a year later.  It’s a bit incomprehensible that at the very moment we felt most forgotten, the most isolated, the very point at which I screamed out “we can’t do this anymore”, right in the middle of the wreckage wreaking chaos.  RIGHT THERE: the moment of IMPOSSIBLE. That was the exact moment the unveiling of a new path tenderly, carefully, beautifully began.   It is very hard to grasp that beauty from chaos doesn’t just mean that God takes what’s left over from wreckage and turns it into something.  It means He is standing firmly planted, right in the middle of the chaos, using even the destruction itself to prompt beauty rising. How can that be?  But it is.

I don’t know this, and there are lots of semantics some may argue on “God allowed” versus “God did” versus “God redeemed”. But I have this picture in my heart that is so unreasonable to me, I can’t shake it. Maybe He even swung the wrecking ball that day.  Maybe with tears He pulled it back with one hand, while extending His other in a careful cup around us so we wouldn’t get totally blown away.  He didn’t block us from the blow, but he stood ready to let us grasp hold when we went reeling.  He was carefully intentional. Knowing that the fear and pain of that moment was exactly what would set it all in motion.

Miracles are amplified, and His glory most fully recognized, when there is no other way out.  When by all other accounts it is impossible.

“Your road led through the sea.  Your pathway through the mighty waters- a pathway NO ONE KNEW WAS THERE.”  -Psalms 77:19

You know what I think?  I think the parting of the Red Sea wasn’t one bit glamorous to those who had to trust that the walls were going to hold.  I bet it was terrifying.  But they had no other path.  The Israelites were chased by a terrifying enemy, one IMPOSSIBLE to beat.  And in the very moment when they felt most forgotten, the most isolated, the very point at which they might have screamed out “we can’t do this anymore.”  The moment of IMPOSSIBLE… was the exact moment the unveiling of a new path began.

The Israelites had to look complete destruction in the face, terrifyingly chased by the enemy with seemingly no escape for the miracle to be necessary and noteworthy. For God’s full glory and power to be revealed.  The Israelites couldn’t see it at first, but God made a way.  A way no one knew was there.

Many dominos had fallen before we caught on to what was happening.  Months later we could see pieces that had long before been poised and ready and we noticed they were falling.  When we moved a bit of the rubble that had blocked our view, one day we saw it.  And gasped.  Two months after that terrible Labor Day, on my birthday in October, papers were signed.  And 2.5 months after that we stood before a judge promising forever to our 3 bonus ones.  For nearly 6 years we had prayed for redemption and rescue for those three.  And suddenly there was a path.  A most unexpected path.  An impossible path.

You know what I’m thankful for? I’m thankful that the Bible tells us the Israelites had wandering years even after that up-close view of His unexpected provision.  Because don’t we all?  There are tiny splinters stuck in my fingers from life’s flying shrapnel. And sometimes I get so obsessed with those reminders of the past destruction that I forget to remember the beauty that rose up.  I lose faith that the same God that provided an unexpected path will indeed provide bread and water.  I cry out for MORE.

But He is kind and good and faithful. He’s given me a gift this Labor Day of looking back at the last one with an amazing picture of His powerful presence right in the middle of our storm. I can see him cradling us there and I can see that He carried us both before and after.  I know He stood in the middle of our pain creating a path.

Only 365 days later, three kids who didn’t last year, were yelling “Mommy, watch me ride!” and “Daddy, lets go!” as they joined in with family and friends in Labor Day traditions.  When we recounted the weekend of fun over dinner on Monday night, all three stared at me in disbelief when I reminded them they’d only been part of those traditions once before.  It was as if, in their hearts, they’d always been there. It was as if they were finally home.  How did we get here?  God made a way.  And how will we get to tomorrow?  He will make a way.

ABL

I wrote this post on Monday night, Labor day.  But I didn’t post it.  partly because ANOTHER mellow dramatic post about our adoption.  really. and partly because we are still struggling through faith, family, life, marriage, relationships.  I don’t want to risk ever being misread on that- we haven’t “arrived”.  BUT THEN.  This morning we listened to a Sermon on this very topic:  The provision of God, the faith that it builds, the impossible paths He asks us to take, and the lies that threaten our ability to completely grasp hold.  As we sang the final song, I was flooded with pictures of families I know waiting on an impossible thing, for their marriages, their kids, their health, their family members.  Kingdom changing, impossible paths, yet to be revealed.  and I was reminded: THE SAME GOD.  The very same one.  In His name, NOTHING shall be impossible.  This is a truth that needs to be shared.  If the daily struggles of my life threaten my witness of His power in our story then what is it for?  I won’t stop sharing and hope you’ll join me.  Tell someone.  

Visiting friends this summer. 10 kids with “Unstoppable God” stories.

Unstoppable God
Let Your glory go on and on
Impossible things
In Your name they shall be done

Nothing shall be impossible
Your kingdom reigns unstoppable
We’ll shout Your praise forevermore
Jesus our God unstoppable

Unstoppable God lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Essential Music Publishing