When God Says No

The resistance to the word No in response to your desire manifests itself at a very young age, doesn't it?  It's one of the first signs of a toddler's growing independence.  Unfortunately, it's something that you never completely mature out of, even as an adult.  Some times, when God says No, it's fairly easy to understand why - perhaps that financial windfall would have led to a sense of pride, or that A on a test that you didn't study for would encourage your tendency towards procrastination and lack of self-discipline.  But the hardest Nos to hear are when you desire a good thing.  I recently went through a miscarriage that tore my heart up.  As soon as I began to sense that things were not going normally, I fell to my knees in serious prayer - asking God for a miracle, desperately asking that he might allow me to keep the baby that I already loved and wanted.  These fervent prayers and frantic pleas lasted for days.  The utter stillness and quiet tormented me.  Eventually, though, God provided an answer, and that answer was No.  I don't understand why, right now, and my heart still hurts.  But what I do know, and what I hold onto, is to be found in the Word of the Lord.

For I know the plans I have for you, " declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you.  Plans to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11

The Call

Why us?

We are an average American family.

We send our kids to school.  We participate in extracurricular activities.  We have and enjoy nice things.  We like having the world at our fingertips via the internet.  We like our comfy, beautiful house.  We love living a place where we get to experience the four seasons.  We don't care for extreme temperatures.  We love air-conditioning and fireplaces.  We love to go out to eat.  I love Diet Coke.  I like flashy, outrageous heels.  We have seven kids.  We've developed deep roots in our community and especially in our church.  We have teenagers starting to plan for their future.  We are swiftly approaching our forties.  We have a new baby.

The reasons for not going are so numerous, I could go on for hours.

But none of it matters.  Because God has called us to the mission field.  And no comforts of home and community and family, however wonderful, are more satisfying than following where He leads.

We have begun our application with the ABWE mission board.  This process takes quite a long time, so this is not something that will happen immediately, or even within the next year.  But, if God desires it for us, as we feel surely that he does, it will happen exactly when it is supposed to.  

I've wanted to be a missionary for a long time - in fact in my 8th grade, under "What I Want To Be When I Grow Up" I wrote "A missionary doctor in Africa".  Well, I was a bit off on the doctor part, but I've gotten two thirds of it right.  For James, this hasn't been a lifelong ambition, but the Lord has been working in his heart during the last few years.  He's especially been moved to watch the developments of the mission work in Togo, Africa.  And at the beginning of February, we both approached each other with some trepidation, worrying that the other would think we were crazy or be totally opposed.  Oh, what little faith we had!  Instead God had moved us both in the same direction at exactly the same time!  Where we go and what we end up doing could change, depending upon needs, but right now we are hoping to go to Togo, a country in West Africa.  You could hardly find a place more different than Boise, Idaho. 

At times this feels all like a dream, like how could God be calling puny, unimportant little me to such a work as this.  How I wish I had more skills to help the people - that I were a doctor or a nurse, or something very important.  But I trust in our calling and that God can use even the smallest and the least of his people, and such a one as me.

On the Boat

The older I get the less I'm one for resolutions and the like.  But, I do think there's value in refocusing from time to time, and a squeaky, shiny brand new year seems like a natural fit for that goal.  This is by no means something that originated with me - I heard it last year from someone who read it somewhere years ago.  But I think it's good and, as Solomon says (maybe, I know, I know), there's nothing new under the sun anyways.  Anyhow, to the substance of my point: I want to ask myself, in all decisions I make, big and small - will it get me on the boat?  On the boat is a euphemism for closer to my goal.  The Merry Band of Fife has a very specific, mountain-sized goal in mind (I will share more about that in the future), but the thought process is a good one for more modest goals as well.  I think the Great Deceiver has such an easy time with us, really - we are so very distractible in this modern world, aren't we?  I read somewhere that studies have shown that happiness decreases proportionally with the number of choices that people are offered.  And goodness knows we are bombarded with choices, choices, and more choices.  It's so easy to live in the moment, how could it be otherwise, in the marketing culture we live in, whereby happiness is the great drug and we are always hopping for our next fix of it in the relentlessness of consumerism.  What seems obvious, the purposing of our lives, actually requires constant focus, planning and redirection - for me anyways.  If the answer to the question is "Yes", then it's full steam ahead (you'll have to forgive me with the nautical puns today, I'm feeling shippy - badum, dum, dum).  If the answer is "No", then I ask myself if I need this or if I just want it.  And wanting can be okay, and sometimes I absolutely will do things I just want, but I think it's so important to be more conscious of the ways in which I treat myself (because I'm prone to lingering on the times when I denied myself or comparing myself/my things to someone else).  Accordingly, the first thing I asked myself before deciding whether to restart my blog or not was "Will this get me on the boat?" and the answer is a resounding Yes.  It's important that I open myself up to others more, and writing is an easier way for me to do that right now (I'm working on being more open in person too, but it's going to take a while for this introvert).  Plus, it's just plain old good for the soul, isn't it?

Graeme's Birth Story

I so wanted to have this put down in writing, but I didn't want to actually do it.  How's that for not making sense? lol  But my need to document things outweighed my laziness, so here it is (drumroll, please): Graeme Paul's Birth Story

My seventh pregnancy was incredibly easy and blissful.  It was problem and nearly-symptom free, despite being Advanced Maternal Age.  Until the last three weeks.  It was still problem free, from a medical perspective, but I totally lost it.  I think that Elle's early birth at 38 weeks made me erroneously assume that this little guy would also arrive before his due date.  That mindset made the days, as I hit and passed 38 weeks, then 39 weeks, and then my due date, feel interminably long.  Even though I knew in my head that it wouldn't last forever and it would seem like no big deal after he finally arrived, whenever that would be, my emotions got the best of me.  I was so miserable, and on top of that, I felt guilty for feeling miserable because baby and I were healthy.  I just wanted to go into hiding as October 2nd (my EDD) came and went.  My OB did not want me to go past 41 weeks, and, after a lot of back and forth, at 40 weeks 4 days, I did something I had promised myself I would never do again.  I was so desperate that I decided to try the Castor Oil (dun, dun, duuun).  I had used it before with Ian, and it had (maybe, obviously you can never be 100% sure) worked.  There were definitely unpleasant side effects, but I went into labor a few hours after I took it.  So, I threw my better judgement to the wind, but somewhat cautiously, only opting for a small dose at about 10am on Tuesday, October 6th, hoping that at least it'd make me dilate or efface a bit more for my 2:00 OB appointment.  After swigging down 1 ounce of castor oil mixed with orange juice, I waited.  And was met with crickets.  It didn't really do anything.  I gave up, frustrated, and consigned myself to making my first "overdue" OB appointment.  Pretty quickly after climbing into bed for my afternoon nap around 12:30 I started feeling sick to my stomach.  Ah, the dreaded castor oil had finally worked its evil magic.  I visited the restroom several times and feared for the drive down to my OB's office (would I be able to make it without pit stops?).  James arrived to pick me up at about 1:00 and off we went, with a planned stop necessary for James to do some work on the way to my appointment, we headed off around 1:15 or so.  About ten minutes into our drive, a contraction hit.  Now, I'd been having contractions for weeks, sometimes even rhythmical for a while, so I didn't put too much stock in it.  Plus it was short, only about 30 seconds, tops.  About 3 to 4 minutes later, another contraction hit, slightly stronger.  And so it continued, extremely patterned, and progressively stronger, for the next 15 minutes or so.  He stopped at his work stop and those minutes he was inside their office felt like forever.  At that point, it was time to turn around and lean over the truck seat.  When James came back out and saw that I had assumed the "position", he made a call to my OB's office, who instructed us to skip the appointment and go straight to Labor and Delivery.  Then he made a second call to my doula, who would meet us at the hospital.  The 15 minute drive to the hospital took forever.  The pains were already very intense, but I remember thinking that it probably looked funny to everyone driving down State Street to see the woman kneeling on the front seat and moaning (did we hit every possible stoplight?  it felt like it).  At about 2:00, we finally arrived in the hospital and the walk from the parking garage into the hospital and through the main lobby and up to the second floor was hard - I hate not being in control and I wasn't completely in control at that point and I was crying because of the pain (and I had to use the restroom again).  We were immediately admitted into a triage room and they checked me and I was 5cm dilated and 100% effaced - definitely in labor.  And, at that point, the pain subsided a bit, and I worried that I would have to have some augmentation.  But no worries, after a 30 minute stay in the triage area, I was led to my room, and labor shifted into high gear quickly.  I was required to have a heplock, as a VBAC patient, and my veins are tricky.  Which meant that it took three different nurses about 6 attempts in multiple places on both arms another 30 minutes, while I'm in very active labor, to try and get the IV in.  After blowing up some veins and leaving me with some spectacular bruises, success!, although it had to be placed on top of my hand, unfortunately.  I was handling labor well at this point, standing up, with the support of James and my doula.  But my legs were trembling and felt very tired, so we had to move to some different positions.  This proved to be my undoing.  I just could not get comfortable.  I tried the birth ball, the toilet, kneeling - none of it provided any relief.  The worst of it was the intense need to pee - it must have been how he was positioned, but I felt like I continually had to go to the bathroom (nothing there, though), but I knew it wasn't the rectal pressure of full dilatation.  And my L&D nurse did a quick exam in one of those positions and, after an hour of hard, regular contractions, the news that I hadn't dilated anymore was positively crushing to my desire to do things unmedicated.  At this point, I asked for the epidural.  My doula suggested that now might be the time to consider the nitrous oxide.  I readily agreed.  It helped a bit, for the in between contraction part, but did nothing for the pain of the contractions.  I asked for the epidural again, but the epidural requires that you be given two bags of IV fluids before administration.  Upon my loudly-expressed desire, they started the fluids, but everyone in the room (even me, although I just needed reassurance that they were at least TRYING to get me the epidural) knew that I was going to deliver before an epidural could happen.  I tried to block that knowledge out and finally climbed into bed with the peanut ball in between my legs and held onto that nitrous mask as if it was my lifeline.  In fact, post-delivery, the bridge of my nose was super sore and it took me a while to figure out that that was from pushing the nitrous mask so hard into my face.  The time from that point out is a complete and total blur - it could have been minutes, or it could have been hours.  I felt completely out of my mind.  I just hovered as far away as I could from the events that were transpiring as a way to cope with the trauma of the intense pain.  I vaguely remember my OB coming in, but not much else.  I was finally instructed that I need to move from my side to my back (a Herculean effort, if ever I've experienced one) to start pushing.  Now, here finally was what I was waiting for - the desire to feel the urge to push, which I'd never experience before.  And, it was nothing like I expected it to be.  I felt a desire, alright, but more a desire to just escape the pressure that had engulfed my entire nether regions.  Pushing didn't bring me relief, per se, I just did what I was told to do, hoping that they were right.  It took a long time - I found out after the fact that his head was huge (98% percentile), but then he was also broad-shouldered, and so he didn't slide out easily, and I had to work hard to pass both areas, but he arrived at 5:26 pm, about three and a half hours after I checked into L&D.  The doctor laid him on my stomach and I remember feeling slightly disgruntled about that, which was definitely a first for me.  The pain (without an epidural, pushing out the placenta was unpleasant, I found) had left me shell shocked and traumatized, and all I wanted was to be able to feel like myself again.  I didn't experience the euphoria or empowerment I'd heard you're "supposed" to experience after natural birth and I didn't feel the immediate bond and love that I'd had with my other kids - my brain remained in its numb state for a good thirty minutes after delivery.  The kids came in pretty quickly to meet their little brother, and everything was still a bit fuzzy for me.  We even forgot to take family pictures, which is something I've done every time.  Everyone except Graeme and I left to go have dinner and then the baby care nurses came in and did his assessment.  I enjoyed the peace and quiet at that moment and was finally starting to feel more like myself.  He weighed in at a (for me) whopping 8lbs8oz (my previous largest baby was a 42 weeker at 7lbs11oz) and was 20 inches long.

In reflection, I feel almost as shocked by my first natural (the hospital staff considered nitrous usage to be still classified as a "natural" birth, I'm sure others disagree, but whatever you want to classify it as, it was definitely a non-epidural birth) birth as I did by my unexpected c-section with my first.  It was a wildly different experience than I'd dreamed it to be, and from what I heard nearly every other woman describe it as.  I felt traumatized by it, mentally foggy, and not entirely present.  My brain handled the pain by withdrawing from the situation and that lasted clear through the actually delivery part, which I didn't expect.  People usually cite wanting to be fully present as a reason for seeking a natural childbirth, and the irony of this birth was that I actually felt LESS present than in any of my other previous births.  I entered into this animal-like state of existence, and wasn't fully cognizant of what was going on around me.  I feel a bit like a non-participant in Graeme's birth.  Clearly, I'm going to have to work through some stuff, and my feelings of trauma have lessened already as two weeks have gone by.  I absolutely adore my little boy now (way more than I have with previous newborns), but I feel like an anomaly - a woman that desperately wanted, but ended up hating natural childbirth.  In fact, it kind of makes me feel guilty typing that out!  But, the take away, as always, is that I've learned more about the world and more about myself.  And my precious son is worth it.

How Different Things Can Be In A Year!

The small pile I pulled out (not all of it, I tried to spread out the enjoyment over a few days)

My dining room with sparkly pumpkins, gourds, and indian corn

A few autumn touches for the top of the piano

This finally replaced the Easter cross that hung on my door all summer, oops

So much changes in a year!  One year ago we came home to a broken icemaker in our refrigerator that leaked while we were in Wisconsin for a two week vacation.  Our kitchen tile was wet, and we knew that wasn't a good thing, although honestly it didn't seem that major.  We contacted our insurance company and they suggested we get a bid from a clean up company and we found out that our relatively little problem was not going to be so little and that we would need to make an insurance claim.  We'd never done that before, but honestly that process wasn't too bad.  The bad part was living through it.  In fact, it's standard protocol on the part of insurance companies to put you up in a hotel throughout the drying process (which took, for us, 3 weeks) because due to the 24 hour a day industrial fan noise is considered unlivable.  Of course, that is not really doable for a family of eight, newly into school mode.  So, we lived right in the midst of the clean up, and then the reconstruction for about two months.  It. was. terrible.  I always knew that everything would be fine once we got through it, but it was a trying time.  And now, here we are, one year later, and indeed it IS fine.  My kitchen is restored (we found out about a more serious building issue underneath the house where a very important support beam was out of place and should have never passed inspection and was slowly sinking, so they had to jack our house up and put in a new support beam - so our house is now BETTER than new).  I have new carpeting in the music room, we painted the entire downstairs (which had mostly been the same plain jane white from when we moved in), and we converted nearly the entire downstairs into beautiful dark hardwood, from the nasty old dark brown carpet and white/green vinyl that was there.  I remember being so sad about not being able to put out any fall decorations last year - it just felt so silly in a house that was such a disaster and I didn't have the heart for it.  So, this year, I broke into my Fall storage bins on September 1st, with much pleasure.  There's so much beauty to be found in the change of seasons, everyone of them, but this one is extra appreciated this year.

Kitchen and four of the eight dryers/dehumidifiers we lived with for three weeks

Music Room/Entry Way and more dryers (one was under the house in the crawl space too)

The kitchen/dining room during renovation

Looking into the living room during renovation (our dining room table was in the living room)

The music room - where I had to teach while this was all going on

 

A Psalm of Promise and Rest

I have a heart for injustice and mercy.  It took me years to stop railing against God for what I DIDN'T have (my personal stumbling block has always been envy) and realize that that intrinsic awareness of others that I've always possessed in abundant measure could be turned to the good, by the grace of God and His work in my jealous heart.  But no journey of growth will ever be complete on this side of heaven, so it was a delight, then, to have Psalm 73 pop up in our daily bible reading this morning.  What comfort for those of us who absolutely ache for the misery and oppression that fellow human beings endure at the hands of those who appear to be more privileged!  What promise and rest comes in the arms of the Mighty God alone, praise Yahweh.    

Psalm 73

A psalm of Asaph.

1 

Surely God is good to Israel,

    to those who are pure in heart.

2 

But as for me, my feet had almost slipped;

    I had nearly lost my foothold.

3 

For I envied the arrogant

    when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

4 

They have no struggles;

    their bodies are healthy and strong.[a]

5 

They are free from common human burdens;

    they are not plagued by human ills.

6 

Therefore pride is their necklace;

    they clothe themselves with violence.

7 

From their callous hearts comes iniquity[b];

    their evil imaginations have no limits.

8 

They scoff, and speak with malice;

    with arrogance they threaten oppression.

9 

Their mouths lay claim to heaven,

    and their tongues take possession of the earth.

10 

Therefore their people turn to them

    and drink up waters in abundance.[c]

11 

They say, “How would God know?

    Does the Most High know anything?”

12 

This is what the wicked are like—

    always free of care, they go on amassing wealth.

13 

Surely in vain I have kept my heart pure

    and have washed my hands in innocence.

14 

All day long I have been afflicted,

    and every morning brings new punishments.

15 

If I had spoken out like that,

    I would have betrayed your children.

16 

When I tried to understand all this,

    it troubled me deeply

17 

till I entered the sanctuary of God;

    then I understood their final destiny.

18 

Surely you place them on slippery ground;

    you cast them down to ruin.

19 

How suddenly are they destroyed,

    completely swept away by terrors!

20 

They are like a dream when one awakes;

    when you arise, Lord,

    you will despise them as fantasies.

21 

When my heart was grieved

    and my spirit embittered,

22 

I was senseless and ignorant;

    I was a brute beast before you.

23 

Yet I am always with you;

    you hold me by my right hand.

24 

You guide me with your counsel,

    and afterward you will take me into glory.

25 

Whom have I in heaven but you?

    And earth has nothing I desire besides you.

26 

My flesh and my heart may fail,

    but God is the strength of my heart

    and my portion forever.

27 

Those who are far from you will perish;

    you destroy all who are unfaithful to you.

28 

But as for me, it is good to be near God.

    I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge;

    I will tell of all your deeds.

Things I Love About Summer

This post should be easy - I mean the conventional wisdom is that summer is awesome, right?  But I've never been too much of a summer girl myself, so this takes some work for me.  But positive thinking is a good exercise, so I'm bound and determined to find 10 things I like about summer (not in any particular order).

#1. Green Tea Frappuccinos - Generally I'm a latte or macchiato girl, but on a hot summer day that simply won't do and I'm not much of an iced coffee fan, so Green Tea Fraps (no whip) it is for me.  I think the odd color is half the fun.

#2. Sandals and Flip Flops - This pertains to me AND to the rest of the family.  They take up less space (when you have eight people and multiple pairs of shoes, this becomes important) and they are easier to put on, both as an adult AND for the littles.  And nothing says comfort like naked and free toes. :)

#3. Swimming - I think it's the cheapest, easiest entertainment out there (especially for us who have the luxury of nearby family with a pool).  And it's super healthy for you too.  I haven't been in the pool this summer as much as I probably should be, but it is amazing how good it feels on a pregnant body as well (or should I say, how heavy and burdened you realize you are when you climb OUT of the pool).

#4.  Camping - Okay, okay, I have a love-hate relationship with camping.  It's SOOOO much work and sleeping is just never very comfortable, even on the best of nights.  And the epic clean up/laundering when you get home is rough too.  But there's just something so family-bonding-ish about the whole thing that keeps me looking forward to our once or twice a year trips every winter.  And, let's face it, nature, while it scares me a tad bit, is just awesome, isn't it?

#5. Easier Mornings - This isn't universal, we often have early mornings for skating, swim team, and various appointments, but in general it's less hectic as there are at least only one or two kids that need to be ready early versus the entire crew.

#6.  Grilling - I love the grill.  We don't use it as much as we should, but grill cooking in the summer is the best.  Especially veggies.  Who knew zucchini could be so delicious?

#7.  Laundry - There's less of it in the summer, I think because each individual piece has less fabric in the summer, and because, let's face it, there will be days (not often, I promise) when the kids don't make it out of their PJs.

#8.  Long Nights - The lazy, sunshiney nights are some of the best times of the year.  In the early and late summer, they are perfect for sitting out on the patio.  And the sunsets, oh the sunsets.  Amazing, and certainly reflective of God's majesty.

#9.  Green - Okay, Idaho doesn't compare to the Midwest here, but hey, I'll take what I can get.  I love to see things at least a *leeetle* bit green.  Now, by late August, green is very relative lol.  Speaking of green, my oddly happy hydrangea bush brings me great joy too!

#10.  The Family Unit - While I love the school year and have never had a second thought that traditional schooling is exactly what's right for our family, there's a sweet togetherness that happens during the summer.  The younger kids and older kids spend more time together, bonding as a unit.  It's neat.  I think perhaps the brevity of it helps keep it sweet too.