The mighty mushroom

"Restlessness and impatience changes nothing but our peace and joy.  Peace does not dwell in outward things, but in the heart prepared to wait trustfully and quietly on Him who has all things safely in His hands."  -Elizabeth Elliot

Mushrooms don't grow incredibly fast.  The only part we get to see in a mushrooms life cycle is fast.  One evening the grass is spotless, the next morning there are small white mushrooms dotting the lawn.  It is easy to assume it all happened in one night.  It is amazing what you can learn from a curious eight year old.

What we see above ground does happen extraordinarily fast.  But, we see only the "fruiting body" of the organism.  We did not see the weeks and even months of the stem soaking up nutrients, dividing, and pushing upwards.  It happened in the dark so that when it did divide and the white cap pushed through the ground all it had to do was expand.  All the hard work was done.  All the real growth had already happened.

  I came into last year thinking it would sail by quickly.  That once we stepped away from what we were doing here and were willing to step into the something new everything would just fall into place.  I was pretty sure we would be the family they asked to come speak at future Young Life International conferences.  Standing up front as a smiling family with the boys not fidgeting or picking their noses.  Encouraging others that they too could raise support in six months.  I was also certain we would be standing on Basque soil this summer boldly loving others in Christ and learning Spanish as we ate pintxos.  There were moments this year when I felt like we might take the longest to raise support in YL international history. We have come a tremendously long way.  We have raised support slowly and steadily for an entire year.  The names and faces of everyone who has given humbles me.  I know many times my faith has not matched the generosity.  I know the giving was done in love and support.  As the months passed and kids got sick, when asking God  how much longer, and having Jeff go through plans a, b, and c when timelines shifted.

We only have 36% more to go.  It seems a small percent, but it represents a big number that has us on hold.   I know from running that I always falter at the end.  Not at the start of the run or even the middle with side cramps and weary legs.  It is the end when I just want it to be over with.  When I want to show I really can move gracefully with one foot in front of the other, just not in this way anymore.  I am ready to finish the run and see the light. The 36% more is telling us a little more has to happen in the unseen.  A little more preparation underground.  A few more laps around the field.

Jeff is now off Culpeper Young Life staff as of two weeks ago.  For the first time in our marriage we are both home every night eating dinners together.  He is working full time picking up remodeling jobs and doing estimates as we try to tag team raising support.  The health insurance grace period ends in November.  More decisions to make as we press forward.  Jeff is running the race way more gracefully than I am right now.  Carrying the bulk of it all on his broad shoulders.  we are trusting God for provision and timing.  Asking for endurance, to finish the race set before us.

We are hoping to raise 75% by the end of October.  That equals 11% in six weeks.  Or three people willing to give $100 a month and twelve more people willing to give $50 a month. Please pray for us as we move forward in faith and try not to dwell on outward things, but trust in the God of the unseen.

A day in the city

 

The boys and I woke up last Saturday knowing we needed to get out of the house.  Jeff and some guys were hanging drywall in the basement all day.  Dust, noise, and tools that Ian couldn't play with got us out by nine.  We were going to go to Luray again.  Dressed for a bike ride and creek trekking.  An hour later we ended up at the Vienna metro station with new plans to go to the D.C. zoo.  A trip that involved two shuttle buses, four metro trains, and two long walks to stations.  

I am happy I have a husband who laughs at our adventures and doesn't worry that I am the adult in charge when he is not there.  Grateful that Luke always remembers where we park our van, even in the metro garage ten hours later.  SO thankful that Ian can still fall asleep in a small umbrella stroller.  One that is  propped up on a chair while we eat a Lo mien noodle dinner in front of a sinking sun.  I am still smiling thinking about the look on Levi's face through out the day.  His pink cheeked grin that spreads to each of us.

Jeff grinned too when we came in smelling like the ape house and telling stories of our day.  I was kind of surprised that my creek and forest bred boys can make it in the city. They hopped off buses, and onto trains, and escalators with ease.  The plans changed at least ten times that day and no one ever complained.  We didn't think to, we were having too much fun living it to worry about what was next.  Except for food, we did start to worry just before we found the little Chinese place by the last metro stop.  

I didn't extensively prep them with metro maps and how to be safe in the city.  I didn't tell Ian he would get to ride on a carousel, or Luke that he could fit in T-Rex skull, or Levi that he would learn a massive amount about animal poop to share with his friends.  I didn't tell them because I didn't plan it.  I could never have planned a day like that.

 The day was a gift.  A crazy, wild gift that we unwrapped slowly wondering what would happen next. On the metro ride home I asked the boys if they could imagine doing this in Basque,Spain. With every sign written and  every person speaking in Spanish or Euskara.  They didn't yell no and I didn't get sweaty palms thinking about it.  We just smiled goofy grins at each other while holding onto the metro pole.  On that metro it really did feel possible. 

I really think days like that will prepare the boys for Spain as much as any Rosetta stone lesson or book about cultural adjustment.  To live each day with expectant hope, flexible and ready.  To trust a God that knows the plan.  A God that helps us live out His crazy love story even on the days with too much homework or long grocery store trips, oh those wretched grocery store trips.

I am trying to teach them as I learn.  To not let the mundane eat away at our wonder.  Not let routine erode our delight in God.  Luke still whispers that he is not sure he wants to go to Spain.  I still whisper that it is okay.  God is bigger than our wants or fears.  We are small and our hearts and minds so feeble.  Our sight is so limited but His is not.  So we will stumble through trusting a very big and good God together.  We may even start to have some fun in the process.      

"The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him; though he may stumble he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand."  

Psalm 37:23&24

 

Learning from my three year old

 Ian turned three this June and adored the summer adventures with his big brothers.  He is still lamenting every morning as they board the bus.  I was a little sad at first also.  This fall my days will not be filled with teaching art or ministry.  After three weeks Ian and I have fallen into a happy rhythm of exploration.  We are going to all our favorite stomping grounds but they are so different without two more boys voicing their thoughts on what to do and where to go next.  Instead of feeling lost without them, Ian has savored every bit of the unhurried, quiet pace.  

  Just the two of us exploring in silence.  The first week out and about I asked questions and would tell him the Spanish words for the things we saw.  Orchestrating the days to be full and efficient.  The park trips following after the errands and phone calls.  Now, they come first and I watch more than hurry along;  listen more than teach. Realizing that maybe this season he will be the teacher and I the student.

I am pretty sure Ian can stare at the lake surface for hours.  Watching fish dart under the dock.  Exclaiming that the water can hold the sky and his face together.  Wondering where all the miniature waves come from that crash into the dock without ever ending.  He could run up and down the green hills again and again just for the sheer joy of running so fast and traveling so far from me.  I ran with him at first and then sat watching for over thirty minutes.  I laughed as I saw the speck of red that is my son turn into a huffing and puffing boy with limbs flying.  He finally collapsed staring at the sky.  Clouds drifted over us as Ian said over and over, "I felt wind in my hair mom.  I didn't know I could run that fast mom."  His natural reaction to the world around him is to watch, experience, and enjoy it.  No rushing, no to-do lists, or even the feeling of accomplishing something useful.  He is just enjoying and exploring God's creation one leaf and rock at a time.

I feel best when there is a long to-do list that I can neatly cross off before dinner.  On days that are less productive I have been known to add *make breakfast or *do dishes to the list just to have more to cross off.  I love fun and spontaneity but never at the cost of productivity.  I have never mastered the art of relaxation or rest.  I read before bed every night but would never think to pick up a book during the day.  I sit to eat a meal with family but would not think to sit down when eating alone.  Ian might just change me by the end of fall.  I have laid in grass and stared at the sky more these last three weeks than the last ten years.  I have watched the waters surface and taken more pictures.  Felt wonder and experienced gratitude for the small things in life.  And I think I am starting to breathe deeper and trust more simply.  Finding myself more thankful for this moment instead of trying to constantly prepare for the ones unseen.  I still write out my to-do lists, but each day they are getting shorter and my ability to stop and rest a moment gets a little longer.

 Hoping you get to be the learner instead of the teacher for a day.  That you will get to feel the itchy after grass sitting feeling and count clouds knowing that the God who created them also created you.  And that we weren't just created to be productive and serve but to rest and thank the Creator of it all.

"Trust in the Lord and do good;  dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.  

                Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart."  

Psalm 37:3&4

What the last six months have taught me

Waiting is part of the adventure.

I am not a fan of waiting.  Not many people are.  But going through photos from the last six months I realized so many of them were of us waiting for something.  Maybe it is because it is the only time we are all still enough for me to capture the moment.  I am starting to be thankful for the wait, thankful for the stillness.  We know now that the adventure began the minute we said yes.

Saying good bye is hard.

  I have perfected the quiet sneaking away to not have to say good bye.  It is a painful blessing to say good bye to people we love.  To love deeply hurts.  It is a gift to get a chance to tell someone what they have meant to you in the time given.  It is worth every awkward gulp crying part of it.

                                        We are blessed.

 

We are blessed with amazing relationships.  Friends who have offered us adventures and sun soaked fun.  We do not own a pool, kayak, paddle board, or even a dog.  We are so grateful for friends who are brave enough to let three wild boys and two thankful parents crash into their days.

 

 To love and be loved is the richest gift from God.

 I can't imagine going through this life with anyone else.  I remember thinking twelve years ago that I could not only go through life's joys with this man, but also life's sorrows.  We have had our hearts knit together through both and become more humble and in love because of them.

Stop looking at the numbers...

The man on the bike is my dad.  Doctors said he had six months to live over six years ago.  A disintegrated heart graph would seal his fate before any of us were ready.  I got to see him ride a bike last week.  His heart is weak, but his days are numbered by God and not man.  We are so grateful for every day we get.

Life is good.

Life is good because we love a good God.  Not just when we get to boogie board down creek rapids or bike a new trail.  He is good in the waiting, the disappointments, and grumpy rain days.  We are learning to be thankful not just for the belly laughs but also for the refining of our hopes and dreams.

Blessing

We just got back from a week at the beach with family.  Toes in the sand, diving under waves, bike rides, and family meals.  It is so easy to rush through days forgetting the biggest blessing we have is in relationships.  How sweet it was to soak in the family time and see cousins giggle way too late into the night.  We are going to miss the summer days but can't wait to move ahead into what God has next.

The note

I saw the note flutter down out of the corner of my eye.  I turned from doing dishes and opened the backdoor to find the small envelope resting on the grass.  When I looked up to the second story window I saw Luke, then only five years old, peering down with big eyes.  He must have opened the window and squeezed it between the screen and sill watching it sail down to the ground.  I had sent him up to his room to think about how he treated others and not to come down until I came to get him.
My voice had not been raised but I was clearly at a loss on how to soften his heart.

I opened the small card with steam engine on front and read his large mismatched print.  With a heavy heart I climbed the stairs and hugged a still crying boy.  Those are the moments to speak truth in love.  Truth about unending grace and forgiveness that wipes clean.  Truth about love unchanging that is not based on what is done or left undone.  He answered with his typical response of already knowing that.  But then he quickly asked what if I had forgotten about him and had eaten dinner without him.  And, if I could forget him, then maybe I could stop loving him.  I gently reminded him that he was mine, my first son, given by a good God and I could never forget him.  Tears dried and we talked more, I left him alone again to think about love and forgiveness and a heart that is soft.  We all ate dinner as a family that night, the note still tucked deep in my pocket.  The prayers and I love yous at bedtime felt a little sweeter.

Since Shirley's death there has seem to be a number of losses.  Some that are not mine to write about but have affected our hearts.  Others that are ours and are still hard to sort out.  And like most important seasons in life, the answers and reasons are unseen.  The monotone place of wait still rests at our doorstep.  It is so easy to feel forgotten in the wait and unloved in the loss. It seems the biggest fear to battle from small child to grown adult is am I loved?  I found this note again in a big blue jar where I keep all the boys old love notes in. I reread this one, remembering with Luke the conversation we had that afternoon.  This note could have been written to God from me many times this summer.  Written every time my heart ached, or I felt forgotten, or a time line changed; each time I questioned His plan and struggled to receive His love.  And yet, His answer will always be, I have never stopped loving you.  I will never forget you, YOU ARE MINE.  Unending grace and unchanging love.

And I feel it.  I feel His love right now in a place of unknown.  In a place very different than I thought we would be a year ago, I feel His love and joy even in the wait and small losses.  I have no clue what will happen in the next two months.  I do know that I don't have to write these notes to God each night as disappointment spills from my lips or the whys aren't answered.  The cycle of feeling unloved can be met with the truth of His unchanging love.  I can choose to whisper I love you, I trust you, I receive what you have for us instead.  In that there is freedom and joy.  Anticipation that hinges on His ability and not mine.  

If you have time in these last few weeks of summer grab a copy of Corrie Ten Boom's The Hiding Place.  It has held truths my heart was aching to hear this season.  I pray that you feel His love as you read it.  Here is one of my favorite quotes form the book, Corrie's father talking to her about love:
"Do you know what hurts so very much?  It's love.  Love is the strongest force in the world, and when it is blocked that means pain.  There are two things we can do when this happens.  We can kill that love so the it stops hurting.  But then of course part of us dies too.  Or we can ask God to open up another route for that love to travel."

"I have loved you with an everlasting love;I have drawn you with unfailing kindness."Jeremiah 31:3

Basque Update

We've had quite the summer of fundraising.  Well, mostly Jeff. I show up and talk a little bit but he has done some hard and faithful work.  Speaking at churches and bible studies, meeting with people one on one in between a day of meeting with local HS kids and planning camp trips.  Then came the camps and trips out west to potential partners.  And the biggest event and blessing in many ways, a banquet.  The banquet was a chance to share our hearts and God's love for the Basque people with a larger group of people.  We were hoping for forty and just over a hundred came.  Amazing friends locally helped us pull it off.  High school friends served without payment and an incredible caterer, Aruna of Kababs N More, created an amazing meal.  We felt loved and encouraged and can't imagine not having had that chance to share.  We raised 12% more of our budget in one night which is no small feat.  We are still have 38% to go.  The conversations and generosity have encouraged us deeply.  They have humbled us and made us feel ready to fly out tonight!  The numbers nudge us to the ground.  We still have work to do.  Adding to the nudging is that Jeff is officially off Young Life staff September 3rd.  He is putting together (and looking for) building/remodeling projects to get us through late October as we continue to fundraise.  We see the deadline looming and the needs of our family also.  It is a fine line between responsibility and faith.  We feel we are suppose to walk this part out as faithfully as we can with sacrifice, sweat, and sometime tears until we have reached that time.  Our heart is to go.  We believe God's heart is for the Basque people to hear.  If you feel a desire to give to help make that happen here are the links to give towards The Stables Family, Basque, Spain YL International.  It is a secure site and all gifts are tax deductible.  Our biggest need is monthly partners, small gifts given regularly are better for the health of the mission than a bigger one time gift.  Thank you for walking through this with us and we are excited to see what God does in the next two months!

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