Since Timothy and Katelyn are about to leave for college, we decided to take one last family vacation together. We went to Tennessee and camped for a week (primative tent camping!) on the banks of the Ocoee River right near the Tanasi trail system. We had so much fun. I thought that by the end of the week, we'd all be more than ready to go home, but other than the fact that we had completely run out of clean clothes, we totally weren't. We went biking, hiking, floating down the river, and rafting. We came home filled up on s'mores and precious memories. Here's the photo dump (The pictures are posted in gallery form, so you can click on them to expand them): The mountain biking trails were great. There were lots of places the littles could bike around. And more challenging trails for the big kids. The first time the big kids and I went out, we were on the Tanasi trails. They were pretty tough, especially going up. It was a 1000ft. elevation gain in a little over three miles and the trails were rooty and rocky with some shelf trail that you just don't look down. haha... We had to get off a few times to push our bikes through, but most of it was doable and the down hill was great fun. The second major ride we did was less elevation gain, but most of it was a narrow shelf trail. It was faster and very flowy though, so it was pretty fun. The only hitch was that the kids didn't hear me say that it was an out and back, so when we were nearing the turn around, and I said that we were almost to the end of the trail, they were happy until I said, "So now we turn around and go back!" mwahaha! One day we did a hike to Benton Falls. It was such a beautiful day and a beautiful trail. We also had fun climbing up the rocks to the top falls and playing in the water. Perhaps my favorite thing from the week was being right next to the river. I hung my hammock over the edge and spent quite a few hours reading and thinking and praying there. It was peaceful and refreshing. We also had great fun floating down the river. We could walk to one end of the campground, jump in and float down to the other end. It was great fun as long as we made sure to swim to the side in time...lol... I'm so blessed by these kids and was so happy to get to spend a week with them! (and a week with no cell service...bonus!) God has been so gracious to us!
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At the beginning of July I took the 5 youngest camping for a couple nights at the beach. We had so much fun! Here's the massive photo dump! We took our sweet Louisa May with us. She's a little crazy and hyper on the beach though. She let it be known to everyone far and wide that she was there. haha!
This month is a month of one-year anniversaries for us. One year since I felt like my world fell apart. One year since I started walking through this dark providence. One year since God rescued me. One year since we experienced our quick and traumatic move to America. One year since saying good-bye to dear friends. One year of being a single mom. I have cried more during this past year than I ever thought possible. But I was thinking recently, that rather than marking my days of sorrow, I should rather mark them under God's grace. Afterall, I have one year of seeing God's faithfulness. One year of the comfort of the Holy Spirit being poured out in ways I had never known were possible before. I have more than 365 mornings that God has literally lifted me out of bed and set me on my feet. He has pushed me through every day, seen every tear, provided for every single need, given me every ounce of strength needed. And not only that, he has given us a measure of healing. Restored some joy. We have seen, especially in the last month or so, the sun start to peek out again. He has allowed my trauma brain fog to be lifted and a measure of restored hope that I will indeed "look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living." (Psalm 27) I've come to the conclusion that marking God's time is more beneficial than marking my own days of sorrow. It encourages me keep the eyes of faith which see God and say, "He is enough." This picture is from the Entebbe airport parking lot. The big kids and I were struggling with a broken suitcase and weighing the luggage. And in that moment, the littles were struggling with broken hearts and the weight of all that was happening. But when I looked over at them, I knew that one day they'd be okay because in their own personal desperation, they had dug out their Bibles from their backpacks and were soaking in the Psalms while they sat waiting for us to finish.
One year later, I can say that God has never failed us. No, not once. The pain has been intense, but so has his love. I have one more big day that is coming that I'm still struggling to see my way through: May 27 --what would have been my 20th wedding anniversary. I'm asking that you please pray for strength to walk through it, that I'll keep my eyes on Christ, and that God will wrap his arms around me on that day, just as he has done so many times this past year. I have also seen this past year how he has continually used the prayers and love of his people to minister to my heart and this upcoming day just feels like a big one right now that I need a lot of prayer for. So thank you! "The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. He fulfills the desire of those who fear him, he also hears their cry and saves him." Psalm 145:18-19. Whew...has a whole month passed since I've posted? This past month I've been enjoying time with the kids and getting things done around the house and still pushing on with my grad school work. God has blessed us with many moments of joy and hope this past month. Here is a smattering of pictures. The kids loved me enough to dress up for Easter still this year. I am so blessed by this crew. We are really enjoying the warmer weather. No need for heating or airconditioning and we eat supper outside almost every night. We've also planted flowers and a garden. It's been refreshing. Talitha got another hamster. Sadly, her other one managed to escape. This is Hamlet. He's pretty cute! My parents have been kind to let us come hang out at the lake. The water is just starting to get warm enough for me, but the little boys have been in for a while. We got Louisa May a life jacket and have been slowly coaxing her into swimming. The kids have a goal of getting her to jump off the dock wth them. Yesterday was our last day of school for the 2019-2020 school year. It's been a CRAZY year, but I am so thankful that I can honestly say we had a strong finish of the year and after our rough start and our "real school" detour things got so much better. While I know we'll enjoy our summer break, I'm really looking forward to next year and am already mentally planning and getting excited about the future. When I think about where I was when we started this past year, I consider the fact that I can say that to be nothing short of the grace of God. Thank you to everyone who continues to pray for us...particularly as we move through a month of difficult anniversaries. We really do see God wrapping us up in his arms and we would covet your continued prayers to that end.
"You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will be turned to joy." John 16:20
Sorrow is a strange beast. There are days when it is larger than life and seeks to completely consume me. Then there are other days when it is content to remain as a small dark shadow in the corner. The changing of the seasons, the social isolation, Easter, and the anticipation of the shortly coming days where "one year ago today..." will be heard, all mixed with no end in sight for these trials of mine has turned my sorrow into a roaring beast. Last night I felt content to sit with Good Friday. All of its hurt, pain, and death seemed to feel appropriate. Jesus gave the sign of Jonah to the Pharisees, and the sinking and crying out and seaweed wrapped around him and the darkness of his strange tomb was the place where the eyes of my heart wanted to settle. I can feel Mary's pain as she wept at the tomb where Christ was laid. She thought Christ had left her. The pain of losing the one who Loved her was palpable. But graciously, Christ placed his hand on my shoulder, just like he did for my weeping sister, and reminded me of his presence. He doesn't want me to sit with good Friday forever. After all, He didn't. On that resurrection morning He made the greatest exchange so that one day, my sorrow will forever be traded for joy. "You will have sorrow," he said and today it feels like an understatement. But he knows. He knows that sin always causes hurt. He knows that before life can burst forth, the most unimaginable pain must first be experienced. He knows that before a baby's beautiful cry is heard, a mother's painful cry will pierce the ears of those around her. Christ suffered to pay for our sin so that joy could come. He didn't avoid the suffering. He didn't try to diminish the experience of the suffering. He accepted it fully and then paid the ultimate price so that he could exchange our suffering for joy. I wish that the beast of sorrow would shrivel up and die altogether. I know that I will never experience a complete exchange of sorrow for joy here on earth, but I hear people saying that time will help, and I feel frustrated that time doesn't pass more quickly. But the Holy Spirit soothes my heart by reminding me again that the bright hope of heaven and all its future glory will give me the needed strength for today as I face these trials. And graciously, He reminds me that Love hasn't left me. Instead, Love has bottled my tears and recorded my hard ugly cry in his book. He has diminished my beastly sorrow to a more manageable size and comforted me with truth. Easter truth. Resurrection truth. Truth that dries my good Friday tears and replaces them with a joy-filled glimmer of hope. Yesterday we enjoyed springtime and sunny weather! Talitha said to her sisters, "Lets go outside and smell ALL the flowers...we can't leave a single one unsmelled!" It's been many years since we've experienced spring and many years longer since I've had spring in the south. It truly is glorious.
"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls."
--I Peter 1: 3-9 Hope. Peter understands hope. After greeting the elect exiles, hope is the first thing Peter wants to talk about. Perhaps Peter has such a grasp on hope because he knows what it is like to fail, to be restored, to suffer, and to live knowing that more suffering is coming. He has seen the beauty that God can bring from the mess we humans tend to make. He has experienced a great mercy and that experience has done the work it should: it's taken his eyes off of the immediate and placed them on the eternal. And hope has come rushing in. Peter's hope is a living hope. When Christ conquered death, he declared that life is found in him. Hope is alive because Christ is alive. Our hope also makes us more alive. Like the air we breathe, hope fills our being and nourishes us. It clears our mind and expands the boundaries of our hearts. Peter's hope is a future hope. So much of life on earth consists of things and experiences that perish, defile and fade. The constant dying hurts. The defilement leaves us broken. The fading of things we once saw as beautiful makes us wonder "what was the point?" But oh, heaven is coming and soon the perishable will become imperishable, the defiled will be made pure, the faded will be restored to perfect beauty. We aren't there yet, but we know it's just around the corner. Hope will be made manifest, and it won't be long. Peter's hope is a powerful hope. Peter knew what it meant for life to fall apart. Christ had told him to stay awake in the garden and he had failed. Then things went downhill from there. The arrest, the prophesied denial, the crucifixion, the falling apart of all that he thought was. But yet, there was the guarding, powerful hand of God. Peter's hope failed in those hours, but did eternal hope? No, God was right there keeping Peter, guarding his soul, letting him fail only enough for him to put his hope where it should be. God was orchestrating a powerful salvation that would open the doors for that same power to be planted deeply in the hearts of his children made of dust. Peter's hope is a rejoicing hope. The Christian life doesn't involve pasting a smile on and appearing happy. Christians face real trials; we were never promised an easy path to walk. A day is coming when joy will require no effort because sin will be no more. But we aren't there yet. Today is full of hard, sometimes it is crushingly hard to the point that you labor to take the next step. But we can have joy, because we know the end of the story. We know that Christ will win and we will reign with him forever. And further, even our immediate struggles are being redeemed and are given gold-like value. Nothing is wasted in God's economy. Believing that moves us way beyond a pasted on smile straight into a deep hope-filled joy. This living, future, powerful, rejoicing hope of Peter's is ours too and because of it we can praise and glorify the Hope-Giver. When other persons fail us and only manage to contribute to the perishable, defiled, and fading, we can, with the eyes of faith, look beyond and see that the person of Christ is not like that. And, when, like Peter, I fail and only manage to contribute to the perishable, defiled and fading, I can still look to the person of Christ and know that he is not like me. Unlike the naturally loveless and trust-less hearts of mankind, Christ loves and loves well. And we can earnestly love him in return and trust him to keep us and keep us well. This truly is the outcome of our faith and the salvation of our souls. "Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ,
To those who are elect exiles of the Dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, 2 according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, in the sanctification of the Spirit, for obedience to Jesus Christ and for sprinkling with his blood: May grace and peace be multiplied to you." --I Peter 1:1-3 When we were suddenly displaced from our home in Uganda and we moved back to our passport country, we were keenly aware that we weren’t home. It still causes wonder in my heart to ponder how much we feel displaced. We’re living in the house I grew up in. The other day, I even absentmindedly walked into my childhood bedroom when I was intending to go to my room! I keep telling myself that it seems like it should be easier to make this space home. But realistically, it’s going to take a while. But I’m thankful for this time. It’s a gift to feel like an exile for a bit. Our immediate exile has become a sharp reminder of our Christ-following exile. We just went through Peter’s letters for family devotions. The wonder of trials is that so much of Scripture washes over my soul in fresh ways. Being pressed in by the world helps press out new insights…so many things that I would have never noticed if it weren’t for the new eyesight that the hard has brought. What I saw the other night was this: Peter wrote to the elect exiles: people who weren’t at home where they lived. Peter’s exiles did have a home, it just wasn’t in Asia Minor. They had a heavenly residence that wasn’t theirs…yet. The hope for us is that, because of Christ, we’re on the same path as Peter’s exiles. Their comfort is our comfort as we travel, and the comfort is this: the path we’re on is directed according to the foreknowledge of God the Father. Yup. God ordained this journey of ours. It’s not merely the choices of others that put us on this path, ultimately it was the choice of my heavenly Father. Why would he do that to us? So we could be sanctified, or made ready for our new home. So we would learn obedience to our Savior, and so we could glory in the Christ’s work on the cross that makes us ready to reach heaven. Every step of this past year has been under the foreknowledge of God the Father. Every step has been for our sanctification in the Spirit. Every step has brought greater obedience to Christ. And every step has brought more glory to Christ’s finished work on the cross as we have been continually made more fit for heaven. As much as we don’t always like feeling our “home-lessness,” when it gets down to it, it’s been a stimulus for grace and peace being multiplied to us. And for that, I think we will remain continually thankful as we live out our days as exiles and, all the more, as we move to our real home for all of eternity. Some mornings I still wake up angry. I never quite know how much is righteous and how much isn't, so I prefer to put it all to death through prayer. I continually pray for protection from bitterness settling in as a squatter. I don't want to wake up five years from now and have bitterness claiming squatters rights in my heart, so I aim to push him out every time I see him. This morning these unwelcomed guests came rolling in with full force.
"How can one man make choices knowing how profoundly they would detroy the one he claimed to love?" Bitterness tries to lay a rough blanket down. Anger sets his luggage in the corner. "Oh God, he's destroyed my life." "No," speaks the tender Father, as he picks up the blanket and luggage to push them back out. "Only I have that power. No man does." "But I don't like this story! It's awful!" "It's not a story, it's merely a chapter" He reminds me, as the soft, tender comfort of the Holy Spirit is spread out on the table with his beautiful china and soothing tea. "Your story isn't finished. This chapter is a dark and terrible one, but it won't define the book. I'm the one writing the book. I'm the one that writes the ending. I'm the one that decides what kind of story this is. Only I have that power. It's not his to take. Trust me." And so, in the light of His power, Bitterness gets up to leave and takes Anger with him. I am suddenly once more aware of another familiar guest at the table. It is Grief. But Grief will remain as a welcome guest at the Holy Spirit's table until she decides on her own to leave. I know that she won't claim squatters rights. While she will probably stay for a few more nights, one morning I'll wake up and at her place will be joy. The story maker has promised. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5 It's been my tradition for several years now to choose a new word to dwell on in the new year. Last year, my word was perseverence. I totally thought when I chose the word, that I would need to persevere with my health and with working in a difficult mission field. I had read in a book that the Chinese characters for perseverence were two: one of a man walking and another of a knife through a heart. Together they encapsulate the idea that perseverence is learning to walk with a knife through your heart.
I had no idea. I had no idea how hard the walk would be. I had no idea how sharp the knife would pierce. In January, 2019, I had no idea how much the blow that I was about to recieve would cut, hurt, and nearly kill me. Nor did I know how I would have to stand up and press on, not just for one day or one week, but for month after month after month. I also had very little idea of what it felt like to have God's love and strength carry my wounded self. In January of 2019, I didn't know how God would hem me in, lift me up and give me all that I needed to keep walking. I didn't see how He alone would be the one who would stablize the knife so that it would stop twisting and he is the one who would pour a soothing balm on my wounds. I didn't understand how, as the comfort and intimacy of an earthly companion left me, I would begin to experience an intimacy and comfort from the Lord I had never known before. This year, I have chosen the word hope. I think I've used it before, but I'm okay with that. (My tradition, my rules. Right?) What has been impressed upon me in recent weeks, is that when one is struggling to persevere, hope is an absolute neccesity. The Disney beauty sings, "How in the midst of so much sorrow, can so much hope and love endure?" It's not through the love of man. Humans fail. 2020 doesn't hold any different hope for sinful humanity than 2019 did. Hope, when you are struggling to persevere, is still only found in the person and work of Jesus Christ. My walk is still painful, the knife is still there. But Christ is there to grasp hold of and to cling to. I'm aiming to move forward this year with with that hope in mind. |
Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43:19 Archives
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