When God Doesn't Pick You

While I knew moving to Colorado was the resulting answer to our prayers, I still felt a bit miffed that (from my perspective) God had chosen to give my husband the desires of his heart, rather than giving me the desires of mine. I acknowledged that because our desires were different, God couldn't very well give us both what we wanted (or so I thought at the time), but I still didn't like the outcome.

As I stewed about God "choosing" Devin over me, a poisonous shift happened in my mind.

I allowed my wants (or "desires" if I'm trying to sound spiritual and not spoiled rotten) to morph into a need - and entitlement settled it's fat rump smack dab in the center of my heart. My prayers were no longer a petition of, "God, could you please maybe give me the desires of my heart?" but rather, "God, how could you be so cruel and withhold something I need?"

I wasn't just "a bit miffed" about the move anymore, I was angry with God and jealous of my husband. God had uprooted our life to give Devin want he wanted, and had ignored my needs. (Naturally, I had only converted my wants into needs, while Devin's wants conveniently remained petty wants.)

Even when I started to enjoy my new life in Colorado, this attitude shadowed my walk with God. And it got darker the more I held on to it - becoming a fearful, sinister accusation of, "God chose Devin over you. You don't matter enough to Him." It was a horrible place to be and caused me to keep God at arms length. Even when He was the only One I felt I could share my emotions with, my prayers were full of confusion, distrust, and often bitterness.

So when Devin announced at the end of last year that he wanted to move back to Arizona (and was actually excited about the idea), I was skeptical. Part of my suspicion in the ernest of his declaration was due to the fact that this man whom I knew and loved had told me from our earliest acquaintance that he absolutely never wanted to live in Arizona. But much of my avoidance in even discussing the topic stemmed from the fact that I didn't trust God. Since I had convinced myself that God didn't care about my needs, the prospect of moving back to Arizona didn't line up.

I'm starting to see now that while it appeared God was giving Devin's desires priority over mine, God was actually allowing both of our desires to be met. When the possibility of moving to Colorado was first seriously discussed, we prayed God would align our hearts on where we should live. Our desires were at odds, our reasons for staying-or-going weren't compatible, and we knew God was going to have to change our hearts so we could start guiding our family in some kind of direction. (It's difficult to settle on a job, or buy  a house, or invest in community or ministry, when "but what if we move?" is constantly on the table.)

This impasse would have likely continued to debilitate us had God not clearly told us to go to Colorado (or rather told me specifically, "Go with your husband"). Through our move Devin was finally able to experience the city he always dreamed of living in (and we ending up having a lot of fun discovering said city). We were provided many opportunities for growth personally, professionally, and in our marriage and family life. And at the end of it all, God chose both of our desires.

I never expected that this was the round-about path we'd have to take to align our hearts in this area. And I assumed it would be my heart that would need to be changed in regards to where we'd live. Ironically, by the time Devin made his declaration, I felt like my heart was starting to change and that I could actually like living in Colorado permanently. Perhaps this is why I felt so confused when we moved back home (and I still do at times when my heart misses our friends and our life in Colorado).

I know this isn't how God always works. There are a lot of times when a want-turned-need isn't what is best for us. Or when it feels like God is ignoring a need when really, He can just see a bigger picture. Sometimes, this life is unjust and though God walks beside us, we still get caught the the crossfire of this messed up world. And sometimes, our desires don't get met because they are not aligned with what God desires for us.

I didn't love moving three times in one year. I hated the homesickness. It would have been much easier had God changed Devin's heart before we moved from Arizona to Colorado and back again, or if had He made me really excited to move to Colorado in the first place. But He saw a bigger picture - ways my heart also needed to be changed (that wouldn't have happened had we stayed in Arizona), ways we needed to grow as a married couple and as a family unit, and ways we needed to experience community at a level we never did during our years in Arizona.

I'm learning so much through this process and can see now that God was never choosing Devin over me, or vice-versa. He was moving us both through the challenges, joys, and pains we needed at the time. It just looked different for each of us. And frankly, I listened to lies when I thought God didn't care. When I look back at the intricacies He wove through this last year, I would be blind and stupidly selfish not to gratefully acknowledge that He did in fact care, and had a purpose all along. 

Honestly, there are still residual doubts and struggles I'm working through as a result of my "God doesn't care" mentally, but I can at least see now that there was a purpose in all that happened through this move (some of which is still to be discovered). And this assures me that God does in fact care. I matter enough to Him.

If you are feeling like God hasn't "picked" you - please, please don't let bitterness and anger set in. He's got something in the works for all who love Him and it will be for a better purpose than the one you can see now, because it will be for His purpose. "And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28). It might be painful and take a really long time, but if you listen to the lie that God doesn't care about you, the journey will be horribly lonely and so much harder.

When Change Feels Overwhelming

An abundance of things to share can be more restrictive to my ability to write than an actual lack of things to write about. I had one of the most difficult, heart-molding, trying, wonderful, and fullest years of my life in 2013 and yet, I wrote a grand total of twelve posts last year. Twelve. Most of them devoid of any real substance.

It was not for lack of content, I can tell you that. My year was insane - I moved states, faced horrible home-sickness, was placed out of my comfort zone, and was forced to make friends with strangers (gasp!) - some of whom I'd only met through a friend-of-a-friend on the internet (which for my introverted personality was super uncomfortable at first). Then around August, there was this shift and I found myself loving my new city and my new friends, and actually feeling settled in my new life. And THEN. A career refocus for my husband, a sooner-than-expected pregnancy, and a move back from whence we had come (barely a year after moving away). My life and emotions in 2013 were topsy-turvy and back again. Lots of trials and lessons learned and beauty to write about. Content, content, content.

And yet. Writer's paralysis clung to me because I had such an overwhelming amount of content. Really painful, messy, don't-really-want-to-process-it-in-public kind of content. Usually writing is therapeutic for me and helps me work through my thoughts and emotions. Flannery O'Conner said, "I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say." That's me.

But these things? They were things I felt so deeply, but I didn't understand. Bitter, ugly things, and conflicting, confusing things. Emotions and doubts that were unflattering to me and potentially hurtful to those I loved if expressed publicly. So my ramblings were kept in the safe privacy of my journal and my prayers. Which is probably right where they were meant to be kept. At least for now. At least until the bigger picture of who-knows-what God has been doing with my life these past couple of years becomes clearer.

I've seen healthy growth and little glimpses of what these years of change have brought about in my life - some good, some necessary, and some I'd like not to repeat. I don't understand (or like) a lot of it, but I do see purpose in much of the pain and confusion. And for now, that's just enough to keep me holding on and moving forward into whatever it is God has for us in our new (again) city and our life as a family of (soon-to-be) five.

Some good things that have come out of the difficult:

• There were many times I had no one to share my heart with except Devin. While we have always been close, we were brought closer as he helped me struggle through the mess of emotions I normally would have poured out to my closest girlfriends. But with their absence in my daily life, I had no choice but to turn to my husband for comfort, sympathy, and advice. It was a hard-at-times, but good thing.

• There were times however that the things in my heart were too difficult to share with even Devin, and I was instead driven to share my thoughts and emotions with God. Again - a relationship strengthen because of the relational void I was experiencing in other areas of my life. 

• With few family members (and no friends) in town, we had the time and motivation to invest in relationships within our church and our community early-on. This was a part of our lives we didn't realize was lacking during our years in Arizona, but now that we've experienced it, we see the importance of leaving room for community relationships amidst the time we spend with our extended families. 

• I learned to step out of my comfort zone, show up to a room full of strangers, and make friends. And even though making an effort to start those friendships was difficult for me, it's those sweet friends who I shed many tears over leaving. 

• And most of all, I've learned (or am at least forcing myself to acknowledge - which, believe it or not, is a big step) that change is a part of life. And as much as I hate it sometimes, fighting it will only make it more difficult. I ran across a quote shortly before we moved back to Arizona, and it was a turning point for me as I worked towards accepting some of the changes coursing through our lives right now:

"Faced with inevitable change, the choice was mine. I could fight until my spirit was weary, or I could release all resistance and create something new in my changed world." - Dean Jackson

So that's what I'm trying to do. Because my soul has become weary from fighting and it's time to try and make something beautiful in my changed world.

A Tentative Love Note to Colorado

Well Colorado, you may not be Home to me yet, but I'll say this for you - you are beautiful and your  glorious, get-outdoors, summer days are doing a decent job of wooing me.

For instance, last weekend when our little family took a day trip (just forty-five minutes away) to Manitou Park Lake and we got to enjoy the wonderful summer weather and watch our Littles explore the great outdoors to their heart's content - that was pretty great.

Digging in the dirt, hiking through the woods, throwing pine cones, climbing rocks - these are the things my little boys filled their day with. And I loved watching them get dirty and exhausted as they discovered the great big creation around them. It made my mama's heart so happy.

And the two Memorial Day BBQs we attended. They were outside (a novel experience for this Phoenix girl who associated Memorial Day BBQs with heat and sweat and hiding indoors). We ate great food and caught up with our only in-town family. We laughed and chatted with new people and starting to build those rickety bridges to new friendships. And we had a great time. 

This past weekend with you, Colorado, was refreshing and lovely. Thanks for that.

On Being The New Girl

It's awkward to wiggle your way into new friendships. When moving to a new city, you meet mostly people who already have their own circle of friends, their established trust, their shared memories, and their inside jokes. It is intimating to try and meld into that. It's not that people are unkind or unfriendly, they are simply creatures of habit and it is easy to move through life's routine without noticing the new girl.

I was guilty of a similar attitude back home in Arizona. I never joined a "mom's group" when I had the twins and I was even hesitant to started attending the Bible study group at our previous church. Why? Mainly because I was fulfilled, occupied, and content with the friendships I already had. I didn't see the point in exerting time and energy making new friends. I'm happy with the ones I got, thanks.

So with that memory in mind, I realize that I have to be the one to make the effort to form new friendships here. It is unlikely that someone is going to just up and invite the new girl out for a good heart-to-heart over a steaming cup o' joe. More likely than not, I will have to be the one to initiate the playdates, the dinners, and the coffee talks. The age-old advice of, "You've got to be a friend to make friends" really is true. Socially awkward at times - but true.

Even so, it is easy - even as "the new girl" - to get caught up in my own routine without making the effort to meet new people. Another week, another month, flies by as I'm caught up in my daily tasks and habits until I realize - wow, it's been a whoooole lot of days since I've talked face-to-face with someone other than my husband and children.

Now let me interject here that my husband has been an amazing encouragement to me during this move - allowing me to share my heart (and often my tears) and creating opportunities for us to get out a do fun things together as a family. I am incredibly grateful for this. But as much as I love my husband and enjoy spending time with him, he can not completely fill my need for friendship - especially not in the area of female relationships (for obvious reasons). And while highly entertaining at times, my children aren't real great conversationalists at the moment. (Though their unsolicited hugs do my heart a great deal of good.)

Yet even after five months in a new city and a great deal of loneliness, I still sometimes have the mindset of, "I don't need new friends - I'm happy with the ones I've got, thanks." Which is a problem because those dear friends of mine live 800 miles away. And while we stay in contact regularly (thank you, technolgy), we can't really live our lives together any more. We can't watch our kids play together while we swap mommy war-stories. We can't meet up for coffee or have a much-needed girls night out.  We can't laugh ourselves to tears while playing Pictionary after a couple of home-made margaritas. We can't offer a hug when life is painful and words just aren't enough.

With memories such as these, it is hard to make the mental shift that I need to build new friendships here in Colorado. The fact that doing this is awkward and takes a lot of effort on my part isn't a great motivator, but I shouldn't allow it to be a deterrent either.

I have to remind myself that the girlfriends that I miss so much were once complete strangers to me. I once had to wiggle my way into their circle, into their routine. I was once "the new girl" to them. It took time to form the deep relationships that we have shared for so many years now.

Humans were designed to need each other, and there are some needs that can't be filled from 800 miles away. Despite how wonderful my girlfriends back home are, the need to build relationships here is a great one. And while there are still many lonely days, ever so slowly, I'm starting to see the buds of friendship grow in the handful of acquaintances that I've made here. While I long for the closeness I shared with my friends back home, I have to trust that similar depth will form with the relationships I'm building here. Until then, it will just be one introduction, one "hi, how are you?", one slightly awkward invitation to dinner at a time. Then one day, I'll look at those friends and marvel at the fact that we were once complete strangers.

A tunnel with a light at the end

I felt compelled to give a little update after my previous, rather dreary post. But I think I should back up a little first.

When I was fifteen, I had my first bout of depression, brought on by a relatively small loss that I didn't know how to process. The experience sent me into a spiral of depression that would rear its ugly head off and on all the way through college. While this depression was partial hereditary, it was made worse by unresolved emotional losses, stress, and a refusal to seek help because I was too afraid of the stigma of going to counseling or getting on medication. Sadly, it was the Christians in my life that I most feared judgement from. This was mainly due to the fact that when my depression first started, I was told by a well-meaning, but misinformed, friend that if I just "had a little more faith", I would "snap out of it."

So my perception was that if my Christian circle knew about my depression, and the resulting doubts about God, they would think me faithless, crazy, or both. So I avoided getting help until I was so deep into my depression, and so miserable, that I didn't care anymore what others thought of me. I only knew that I wouldn't be able to keep my suicidal thoughts from turning into action unless I got help.

So the summer of my senior year of college, I met with a wonderful Christian counselor and she was able to help me learn how to manage my depression, work through my doubts about God, and process the severe grief I was experiencing at the time (in the course of a few months, three of my loved ones had died - my two grandpas and a dear family friend). I learned some of the things that triggered my depression and how to guard against them. I got on medication for a while in order to get the chemicals in my brain under control enough to process my struggle more clearly. And I learned that counseling is a helpful, healing, and heathy tool for dealing with the emotional trauma that is sometimes part of life. 

So why do I bring all this up? Because another thing I learned is that there is light at the end of the tunnel. No matter how bleak and hopeless and painful things seem, there is hope. Getting there takes work and the process itself can be really painful, but there is hope. Which is how I feel about this move. It hurts now, but I know it won't hurt this bad forever. The thing is though, I haven't been sure how to get through the tunnel to the light at the end of it.

When you're dealing with something like loss and depression, it's not just a matter of giving it time, or about finding something positive to focus on. It's not even just about trusting God. I believe my faith has played a huge part in helping me manage my struggle with depression and I believe it will help me through this most recent loss, but I've also learned that having a healthy understanding of how my mind and heart are designed is incredibly important to healing completely. 

Which is why I contacted my counselor, Bobbie, after writing my last post. She directed me to a book called The Grief Recovery Handbook. It has been very helpful as I learn more about how our minds and hearts process loss, how our culture is full of misinformation about handling grief, and how I can work through loss in an intentional, healthy way. It has been really, really good for me and I would recommend it to anyone dealing with a loss - whether a "big" one like death or divorce, or other types of loss like the end of a relationship or friendship, moving, a career change, broken trust, or anything else that is causing you to experience the pain of loss.

For me, loss is a big trigger to my depression and I'm fighting it by working through my grief in a healthy way. I have no wish to travel down that dismal road again.  And I always want to be honest about my struggle because I don't want anyone to avoid getting help because they fear the stigma, or feel alone, as I did. Counseling is a blessing, not a reason for judgement. While the circumstances surrounding depression and grief are different for each person, no one is alone in their struggle. Pain is a part of life, but if we're afraid to process that pain in a healthy way, it will taint the joy that is also a part of life.

"There is a time for every event under heaven... A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance." - Ecclesiastes 3

There is a time for grieving. Which is good, because it sometimes takes a while to work through it. But on the other side of it, there is a time to dance. Maybe I won't be pulling out my dancing shoes every day, and maybe the tears will come more often than I'd like, but there is hope at the end of this tunnel. For me, and for anyone reading this who can relate. 

The Good and The Grief

A friend recently commented that she hadn't heard much from me lately. And she's right. With the exception of a few photos posted on facebook, I have been pretty quiet since the move. My facebook page, my blog, and even my own private journal lays quiet and empty. Because the truth is, I don't know how to process this move and I don't know what to say. 

I can't pretend I'm thrilled to be here, but there are things about being in Colorado that I have enjoyed. While there have been challenges to navigate around, I have enjoyed temporarily sharing a home with my brother-and-sister-in-law and their two awesome boys (my three-year-old nephew is a hoot and keeps us laughing every day with the crazy things that come out of his mouth). It's been good for Devin and I to have to lean on each other and figure out this new life as a team. We've gone on some fun outings as a family of four and I can't deny that Colorado Springs is a gorgeous place to live in and explore. 

At the same time though, I am incredibly homesick. But I'm trying not to think about it too much because I can't function under the onslaught of tears that missing home brings. I've got laundry to do and food to cook and babies to look after and a husband to love and a new life to figure out. Not being able to see or breath because I'm crying so hard isn't conducive to making life here work. 

I know I have to eventually sift through these emotions. I'm in a process of grief and I need to mourn. I know this. The grief is just really thick and has a lot of layers and it's hard to allow it in. Because I'm not just mourning the life I left behind, but also the life that I thought I would have. Experiences and memories that I planned on sharing with my Arizona family and friends as I raised my own little family close by. Those dreamed about expectations are gone. Or have, in the very best light, changed drastically. I suppose it's not healthy to dwell on the "what would have beens", but it seems almost impossible not to do so. So I just don't think about it because it hurts too much. 

I'm in a state of numbness right now- not fully happy, not fully sad, just moving through life day-by-day. Not a healthy place to be forever, but where I am at the moment. It's a survival mechanism I suppose, to hold me together until we can get into a place of our own that just might start feeling like home. Until I can unpack the last box and find a new routine and build a social life again. Until I have the strength to unlock the swell of emotions surrounding this move. Until then, I've got to just hold it together for one more day, and one more day after that... and find little moments of joy here and there to help fortify my hurting heart.

* * * 

So as to not end this post on a complete downer, I wanted to share some photos of a recent hike we took as a family that I really enjoyed. No doubt it is beautiful here in Colorado and a great city for outdoor, endorphin-producing activities. There are far, far worse places to have to move to. 

When Making New Friends Stinks

Imagine if you will, arriving at the home of a new acquaintance, whom you have never met face-to-face before, but to whom you were introduced through a friend-of-a-friend by way of an online blog comment. You've emailed each other and talked briefly on the phone, but this is your first time seeing each other.

Imagine driving to this new friend's house and, after cautiously navigating your way through the new city to which you have just moved, getting lost in her neighborhood. You've flipped so many u-turns and pulled into so many different driveways in search of the correct house, that your motion-sickness prone fifteen-month-old begins to throw up in the back seat. You pull over and rush to the other side of the car just in time to catch three handfuls (and I do mean full) of projectile mac-and-cheese-with-tuna vomit. Said child has however, already covered himself in mounds of the stuff, so you remove him from the carseat and stand him on the snow covered side road, strip him of his foul clothing, wipe down the carseat as best you can with baby wipes, and fasten him back into the smelly seat.

Oh, and while you're imagining this ridiculous scenario, add to it that the friend you are meeting up with has a broken cell phone that can receive text messages, but doesn't have the ability to accept calls. Texting back-and-forth at stop signs trying to tell her where you are and trying to understand her texted directions is proving to be a colossal failure, so your friend steps out onto her patio were she gets one bar of service and attempts through the crackle of her phone to direct your way.

Finally, you arrive, flustered and smelling of vomit. Your new friend meets you out front and without hesitation, you nearly toss your clean child (for you have twins) into her arms and carefully remove the other child, puke-covered, half-naked, from the car. Your first words of introduction are not, "It's so lovely to meet you," but rather a desperate, "Can I use your washing machine?" And this, this, is the first impression that will be forever seared into the mind of your new friend.

But, after she helps you clean up your child, she offers you coffee and chocolate and good conversation and all is right in the world again. You may be remembered evermore as the "smelly mom-of-twins", but you hope that it will be with a touch of fondness.

And if you are me, then these imaginings are actually the stuff of reality. And my new friend Erin, bless her heart, was as sweet as can be (having five boys of her own, including a set of twins, she was empathetic to my plight). And so completes my day of two big firsts: navigating (semi-successfully) my way alone through my new city, and making my first new friend in Colorado Springs. Here's to less vomit in my future introductions. I'm not sure everyone I meet here will be as understanding as Erin.   

Discombobulated

Well, we made it to Colorado Springs on Monday. I've been in a discombobulated haze ever since arriving. Processing that we are actually here for the long haul hasn't even begun to sink in yet. Mainly because the basement apartment we are renting didn't end up getting finished in time so we are in this weird limbo of not being able to settle in or unpack, and sleeping wherever we can all find space in my brother-and-sister-in-law's house while all our stuff sits piled to the ceiling in their entry way. Bless her heart, my sis-in-law has been great about all this. I would be losing my mind if I were in her shoes. Maybe she has lost her mind and that is why she is staying relatively calm. 

Being that I didn't pack for, "sooo... the basement isn't finished yet", we've been living out of a weekend bag for over a week now while the rest of our worldly belongings precariously teeter in the entry way. Trying to unearth anything is a bit treacherous unless it's needed badly enough to risk being crushed by boxes to retrieve. Thus, repeatedly wearing "cleanish" outfits from the weekend bag is our new way of life. It's been cause for some interesting creativity. Also, my standard of acceptable attire and cleanliness has been temporality lowered. Fortunately, my underwear drawer was accessible, so that's good news.

Someday we'll all laugh about the chaos that moving into my brother-and-sister-in-law's house has caused, but today is not quite that day. 

Beyond the madhouse of daily rearranging everyone, the Leaning Tower of Death-by-Stuff, and the normal strain of moving to another state (magnified by about ten), we've had a lot of fun with my brother-in-law and family. All the cousins (my two boys and my two nephews) are getting along great, and my sister-in-law, Shannon, and I have enjoyed keeping each other company during the long days of stay-at-home-momdom. Once the stress of finishing the basement (the carpet is being laid as I type this) is behind us, I think we'll have a really good time with this whole "communal living" experiment.  Until then, we're all learning some good lessons on flexibility and patience. 

Blessed, Bewildered, Brokenhearted

Have you ever been so blown away by something God has done, so in awe at the way He has worked in your life, but also really, really hurt by it at the same time? I don't mean hurt as in, "God's out to vindictively cause me pain," but more of a, "God has moved in my life, but the results have caused life to hurt a little more than it did before" kind of way.

Well, I am completely living that emotional oxymoron right now in regards our upcoming move. If you read part one and two of the story behind why we are moving to Colorado, then you know that God answered a lot of specific prayers for us. I am stunned by how God has worked out detail after detail. Details that were completely out of our control and that we prayed about, and for some reason, God chose to answer in unbelievably precise ways. 

For example, we found out in October that there would be a possible opening in Colorado Springs for Devin's job transfer. But the timing was such that he might have to start the job before Thanksgiving and not be able to come back for the twins and I until after Christmas. Obviously, this would have been really difficult - I'd be caring for the twins on my own while trying to pack up our apartment by myself, plus having to spend Christmas away from my husband. Really not what we wanted. But the alternative - Devin not getting this transfer and hoping another job would open up again in a few months - was bad too because we were entering into a month-by-month lease in our apartment and it was really, really expensive. 

So we prayed about it. We prayed that Devin would get the job, but that somehow God would work it out that he didn't have to start until after Christmas (even though the start date for the job posting said November 25th). And oh yeah God, one more little thing - that we won't have to pay more that one month's rent on our exorbitant month-by-month agreement. 

Friends, that is exactly what happened. 

Devin found out on November 27th that he got the position at FedEx in Colorado Spring and that he didn't have to start until January 8th (giving us a perfect window to move right when our first month-by-month lease was up). It was a huge deal to us and I just felt so overwhelmed that God worked out these details. 

But at the same time, the move is real now. We have a date that we are leaving and the reality of it makes me so sad. Someone asked me the other day how I was doing and my answer was, "I've got good moments and bad days." I get these swells of excitement about this new chapter in our lives but it's the kind of excitement that comes when anticipating a fun vacation. Then I remember that it isn't a vacation. This is long-term, possibly forever. And even in light of the great things we will have in Colorado, it hurts to think of leaving my amazing group of girl friends and our incredible families. 

And to be honest, there are many days that I have not handled this change well. Fighting against bitter, negative thoughts is a daily struggle for me. I'm grateful and grumbling at the same time - which as you might imagine is very counter-productive. I don't want to leave, but I know God has shown us we are to go. I'm like the Israelites in the desert - complaining about the manna that God has provided because it's not exactly what I wanted. But God has provided and I have to reminded myself of this even though the results are painful.

Good thing is that one of the ways I deal with stress, anger, and upsetting emotions is to busy myself with a task and I've got plenty of tasks to occupy me as we try to pack up our apartment while still enjoying Christmastime activities with our friends and families. Many a box has been packed while I was sifting though my emotions. So while our apartment is a disaster, there are boxes everywhere, our schedule is jam-packed, and my emotions are topsy-turvy - amidst all this - I remind myself that God is in control. He has provided and He is in control.

My sister-in-law has a quote in her house that I've really loved during this season: "Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, its about learning how to dance in the rain."

I'm not quite dancing yet, but I am learning to take His hand and let Him lead. Lead on Lord and please forgive me for my grumbling heart. You have provided and for that I am so grateful. 

And God Said Go (part two)

(you can read yesterday's part one post here)

While I was all but ignoring the subject of moving (God bless my husband for his patience!!), I started reading The Hole in Our Gospel and learning more and more about how much the Bible has to say about loving the poor. I got crazy fired-up about it (and happily distracted from thoughts of Colorado). What I was learning even got me motivated to start a little business venture with the purpose of helping working mothers in Uganda. 

One morning after reading more of this great book, I was praying earnestly that God would show me how my little family could love the poor and serve others better and I got an answer that I was not looking for or expecting. 

I asked God, "How can I live the whole gospel with my life? What do you want us to do??" And very clearly, in a inner voice I've never heard before (and I mentally talk to myself a lot), I heard the thought, "Go with your husband and I'll show you."

Whoa. I actually shook my head in a sort-of mental double take. I was like, "Um, excuse me? I wasn't even praying about Colorado - what's up with that answer??"

Now let me tell you, I am about the most skeptical Christian I know when it comes to stories about hearing from God. I've had too many bad experiences with people playing the "God told me" card for those words to hold much sway over me. So when I, of all people, am willing to say that I think this thought was God speaking to me, you know I'm not playing around (not to mention it was so not the answer I was hoping for). 

After a little mental debate between me, myself and I, I finally forced myself to write what I had heard in my journal. In pen. Indebly. Because it would be too easy to pretend I didn't hear it and move on with my fingers-crossed-hopefully-not-moving-let's-just-not-talk-about-it existence. However, if it was God I had heard (and I was pretty sure by that point that it was) then ignoring His direction would be deliberate disobedience. So I wrote it down and set it aside. And then the pestering started...

God: You need to tell Devin what I told you.

Inner Me: Please no. Because then we'll definitely have to move...

God: Tell him.

Inner Me: ... But ...

Other Inner Me: Do it Jen. Tell him, tell him, tell him, tell him!! 

(Other Inner Me is super annoying by the way. And very persistent.)

You get the idea. This went on for days until finally, one evening, I blurted out to Devin, "After we put the twins to bed, you need to make me tell you something that I don't want to tell you!!" 

Poor Devin, I can only imagine the awful news he was imagining I might be about to drop on him.

When I finished telling Devin about my prayer and the answer I got, he looked completely awestruck. "Jen," he said in disbelief, "for the past week, I've been praying that I wouldn't make this decision based on my own reasons. I told God that I didn't want to be selfish and I wanted to do what was best for our family and if He wanted us to go, then He would have to speak through you or I was staying put." 

Double Whoa. 

From that point on, the decision seemed pretty clear. It was going to happen. We were going to move. The hard part was that there wasn't a "real" reason to uproot our family and move 800 miles away. We didn't have a job opportunity. We didn't have a ministry we were joining. It appeared on the surface level that we were making this decision on a casual whim. Which just wasn't the case. We simply felt like this was where God was guiding us and personally I felt that it was the right thing for me to do to trust my husband's leadership and go. But those reasons are really intangible and were really difficult to try and explain to our local loved ones. Those reasons are still difficult for even me to grasp at times. 

As we shared the news with our families, I was surprised to discover that despite the answered prayers, despite feeling confident that this was the right decision, I still felt heartbroken at the thought of leaving. I guess I just expected that because I'd received direction from God, He would change my heart to feel all warm and fuzzy about the move. But that didn't happen. I still felt so sad. I still sobbed myself to sleep some nights. And then I got angry about it. I got mad that God was leading me to do something that hurt so badly and caused so much pain to those I loved. 

After a couple days of telling God how mad I was at Him (I'm thankful He's so patient with my honesty), I started looking back at my journal entries and seeing how many specific prayers on the subject of Colorado that God had faithfully answered. I realized that had the warm fuzzies come, had the idea of moving been easy and not hurtful, then my faith would not have been stretched. I would not have depended on God so deeply for comfort and direction. Devin and I wouldn't have leaned on each other so much as we discussed such a huge change for our family's future. 

This decision, the start of this journey, has been unbelievably hard. However -  my faith has been incredibly strengthen through all this. My trust in my husband's leadership has been strengthen. And those things will only grow stronger as we work through the process of moving and settling into a new city, in a new part of the country. That in and of itself is a "real" reason worth pursuing. And I have to have faith that this reason is enough and that God will in time show us what He has for us to do. For now, perhaps he is just building our faith and our marriage in order to prepare us for the task He has created us for. 

"For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." - Ephesians 2:10 (emphasis mine)

Pray for us will you? Thank you friends.  

P.S. I don't want to sound all gloom-and-doom. While I am sad about leaving, there are some really great things I am looking forward to about moving. Plus we've got some super-awesome family members in The Springs (hey there Shannon, Dustin, Shane and Gavin!) that will help make the move so much easier and fun. This is an emotional time for sure, but I feel so blessed at all God has done. And more and more frequently (slowly but surely) my anticipation is beginning to sooth my fears. 

And God Said Go (part one)

I've been struggling for several weeks to finally write about the one subject that has dominated my thoughts and my prayers since March. It has been a point of tension and tenderness, both for me and for our families, so I've kept it off the blog until now. And since it's been "off limits", I've written practically nothing since March, because most of what I've been processing, learning, doing, thinking, praying, and talking about has to do with this subject.

But it's difficult to even know where to start. The past few months have been an emotional cocktail of sadness, excitement, anger, joy, bitterness, grace, faith, growth, failure, and fear. And it's hard to take all that down in one swig. So I'll probably sprinkle the story throughout the next few posts, because there are some really neat things God has done in my heart that I'd like to share. But for now, I guess I'd just better start somewhere, so here goes.

We are planning to move to Colorado Springs in January/February of next year.

This might sound like sheer insanity to anyone who knows how close we are to our Arizona-dwelling family members and how amazing our parents have been in helping us survive this first year of being first-time parents to twins. Or to anyone who knows how much I hate moving, or change. And how routine, security, and sameness is something that I cling (too tightly) to. These are all reasons why, when I was dating this amazing, adventurous guy named Devin back in 2008, I told him I would never, ever move away from Arizona. And he told me it had always been his dream to move to Colorado Springs and that he had never planned on staying in Arizona. Dilemma.

But we took that highly emotional conversation off the table, got hitched, and enjoyed a fun-filled first year of marriage and then a twin-filled second year of marriage (too much fun in the first year perhaps...). Though Colorado would come up occasionally, our differing feelings on the subject had not changed. We were happy, but truth be told, a little discontented and very stagnant in our faith, service, and community involvement. Devin especially felt restless in his spirit and try as we might, we never seemed to find our niche in a church or ministry.

Around March of this year, I was minding my own business and reading The Power of a Praying Wife as part of my morning devotions when this statement caught my attention:

"If your husband is a hard worker, make sure he has times of rest and enjoyment - to do things that entertain him and give him reprieve from the weight of a lifetime of supporting a family."

(A little insight on my husband: Devin is a very hard worker. Devin finds deep rest for his soul when he has time in nature, alone with his thoughts and with God. Devin finds enjoyment in activities like hiking, camping, fishing, running, biking and ultimate frisbee. It's awful hard to make a habit of that kind of rest and enjoyment when you live in the middle of a huge city, which is situated in the middle of the dessert, which hits temperatures over 95 degrees about three-forths of the year.) 

Without a second thought (I think my hand had been possessed), I wrote in the margin next to the quote above: "Colorado?" In pen. Indelibly. I did a double-take at what I had written and somehow I knew that I needed to consider this deeper. I couldn't brush the subject aside any longer and I knew it. So for the first time, I began to really pray about it and journal about it and pray about it some more. I knew I didn't want to go, but I also felt like God had opened my eyes to something: that my husband could perhaps find - in a place like Colorado - the refreshment that he needed in order to lead and support our family without total burnout. So I prayed that God would bring our hearts together on the subject - that I would either be wiling to move to Colorado, or that Devin would be able to find passion and refreshment living in Arizona (I was secretly hoping for the latter).

It took me a little while, but I finally mentioned my ponderings to Devin. I told him that while I didn't want to move, I was willing to discuss it as a possibility, pray about it together, and consider it as something that could (or couldn't... please God make it "couldn't") be a good choice for our family. 

So we did just that. And the more we talked about, and the more I prayed about it, I began to notice that my heart was softening towards the idea (though I still cried at the thought of leaving) and that anytime we discussed it, Devin lit up like a firefly. During this time of really sharing our thoughts, dreams and hopes for the future, we grew closer than we had been for a while (unexpectedly having twins kinda side-tracked us from really sharing our hearts, or even knowing what our dreams for the future looked like anymore). It was really, really good for our marriage and even allowed us to heal some past wounds we didn't know were barriers between us. 

God was drawing our hearts together, just as I had prayed He would. Only thing was, there still didn't seem to be a definite direction as to where to live. Both Devin and I felt that when we prayed, "Arizona or Colorado?" the answer seemed to be, "Either." And that lined up with our reality - there were great things about staying put (mainly our close-by families and friends), and there were great things about moving to Colorado (mainly being able to have the active, reviving, outdoor lifestyle we envisioned for our little family, along with some great potential to grow our photography business). 

We were also faced with another decision-delaying dilemma: while I still didn't want to leave, I was finally willing to go and while Devin still wanted to go, he was not willing to uproot our family simply for his own desires (which I greatly appreciated). God had moved in our hearts and removed so much selfishness regarding this decision, but our new selfless attitudes had brought us to another stand-still. And in the process, life here took on an even greater feeling of being stagnant as we lived in this strange "should we stay, or should we go?" limbo. 

By this point, I was frankly pretty sick and tired of praying about Colorado (and kinda imagined that God was tired of hearing about it). Plus, I had just gone through a very difficult conversation with my parents about the possibility of moving and my emotions on the subject were to-the-bone raw. I was just worn out over the whole thing. So I stopped talking about it (even to Devin). And I stopped praying about it. However, God didn't let me ignore the subject that had taken Him nearly three years to get my attention on.

(part two tomorrow)