Remember

This past Wednesday marked 8 weeks post-op (really 8 weeks second post-op) and I found myself remembering. In gratitude. In overwhelm in some moments. And in honor of my Father who reached down into the depths of my darkest moments and healed me. Here at eight weeks post-op I am finally past 98% of the symptoms and have much freedom to choose what to eat again, no longer based on pain levels thereafter. I no longer feel sick/dizzy regularly and can finally claim that this appears to be behind me. How thankful I have been as each symptom has slowly faded away into a past memory.

I remember.

And I am humbled.

Even when my eyes could not see.

You were always there with me.

These are not my words. This is not my melody. But at risk of being misunderstood in heart, I have chosen to share with you a song that has been healing to me throughout this journey. It expresses something so deep within me that I have failed to find my own words for at times. There have been hours of singing this song in my heart as I walked the Mozambican highway, the sun freshly breaking forth on a new morning. Nothing about this process has been easy, but such beauty my Father has brought from these ashes. I truly can’t stop thinking about His goodness.

So, I invite you into the deep. The vulnerable. The truth of the processing of all this. Welcome to my dining room. Literally. Come thank our Father alongside of me as He has walked through every step of this with me. That He would receive all the glory He is due.

…I remember… what an honor.

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I will never be able to do anything to deserve the Love God has extended down to this nobody through His grace. I cannot earn grace. It is a free gift from the Father, Who desires all of us. Why us? Why restore broken humanity? Why me? My mind is baffled. Yet still He reaches down through the perfect sacrifice of His Son to right our broken relationship with Him – that we may KNOW Him and know Him deeply as we are known by Him. That I could sit at the foot of a huge tree one fall day with tear-stained eyes over my sins, my inability to uphold His perfect law. And that I could approach the Father in the sincerity of my heart, praying my own words, and receiving the freeing gift of salvation in Christ. I cannot bear the weight of my own sin, but the chosen Messiah, Jesus, took my place as the perfect sacrifice. I will never get over this. The Messiah took MY place that I could be grafted into a right relationship with my precious, beloved Father.

He led me to those truths through His Magnificent Word. And those truths have spoken to the depths of me. He defines me. I am His.

What really have I done to deserve Love like this? A Love that He has extended to me time and time again, even in that darkness of an ICU room in Johannesburg. Still He breathed His Love into me, reviving me through His Word.

The following melody is not my own but has captured my heart in the overwhelming astonishment that such a deep Love would be offered to me. Nothingness me.

I am so thankful to get the honor to tell His story in my life. How He drew me up from dark waters and restored my soul. How He sees me. How He loves me. It’s a risk to share this song with you. Vulnerability is not easy. But I am reminded of 1 Peter 3:15: “but honor the Messiah as Lord in your hearts. Always be ready to give a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you.”

My defense, my account, is nothing other than the utter Love of God poured out on this undeserving nobody.

Such a Father.

Such a Love.

Extended to all.

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Soli Deo Gloria.

(All Glory be to God.)

February 26, 2019 1

My Revival (in the ICU)

These are the songs that I listened to on repeat in the ICU. I cranked these truths high, sometimes playing them for the nursing staff so Matt and I could listen together during those quieter NG tube visit (it was really hard to talk) days.

These particular songs brought tears to my eyes as I let their truths sink in.

I can’t tell you how many times I listened to this song on repeat and just let the truths of God’s Word soak in. Sometimes it felt really dark and I wondered when I would make forward progress steps, so I would just repeat the chorus: “You are my revival. Jesus on You, I’ll wait. I’ll lean on Your promise. You will renew my strength.” I repeated it again and again in my head when I couldn’t even speak that truth around the NG tube. I repeated it when the hours seemed to stand still and even move backward. And my heart cried it out with Lauren Daigle with tears streaming. “You ARE my revival! Jesus on You, I’ll wait!!! I’ll lean on Your promise! You WILL renew my strength!” And sure enough, I found my rest in His Everlasting Name.

He took all that was wrong and made it right. Sometimes I had to repeat that truth in my head when things weren’t going that great. I will stand my ground where Hope can be found!

Though I must confess that my favorite time to hear these songs, bringing tears to my eyes, was their playing in the car ride home from the hospital on January 4th. There was no more beautiful sound than hearing my children sing along to the truths God had breathed so deeply into my heart throughout the previous 11 days.

So if you happen to see Lauren Daigle ;), tell her thanks for being used of God to encourage me through my long hours in the ICU.

And since I was kind of stuck there for a while in the ICU/hospital, I used my time to pray this over our people group and two that God has laid on my heart for months that I am desperately praying come back to the Lord.

I’m still crying out to those dry bones and dead hearts to come alive in the Name of Jesus Christ, whether I’m in Mozambique, in the US, or even in the ICU in South Africa. I will not stop calling out for the Holy Spirit to draw these precious souls out of the ashes into Life in Jesus Christ. Let us see an army rise in the beautiful name of Jesus!!!

January 12, 2019 0

Pure and Undefiled

“Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” James 1:27

I love this verse and I hate this verse.

This verse nails me to the floor every time.

My husband did a great, God inspired, job of preaching a sermon on this verse many months ago (maybe even a year ago now). It was one of those sermons I haven’t been able to shake from my head. One of those sermons that revisit me periodically to poke… and push… and chisel away at me, that I would look more like Christ.

I love this verse so much… and my flesh hates it so.

Widows, orphans. I want to make those the cute little people in Hallmark worlds, so far removed from us. Annie, the classic redheaded example of an orphan. And then pictures begin flashing through my head.

See, this verse uses these terms in their specific contexts of literal widows and orphans, but it also applies beyond the fatherless and the spouseless. It refers to the “least of these”. The filthy. The “left for dead”. The abandoned by society and the world. The hated. The devastated by culture and community. The utter and completely undesirable.

And it’s meditating on this verse that draws the pictures of those hostages in the brothels, and their captors. Those walking the shores half-naked after a tsunami. Those faces I have seen of children and families trapped in poverty all around the world. Those rendered useless because they are too disabled to hold a job. Those penned as mentally unstable, and therefore are wandering the streets.

And my flesh cries out, “I don’t want to go there!”

“I don’t want to sit down in the filth and the pain and the destruction! I don’t want to walk a mile with that burden I’m called to help carry.”

But then the Spirit within me reminds me of my own filth. My own utter desolation and destruction without Christ and even my own ugliness when I operate in my flesh while IN Christ.

The filthy rags of the orphan and the widow still smell putrid. The hurts are still real. And deep. And there are still so many unanswerable questions. And sitting beside the girl on the brothel floor may not remove her from the brothel. But is Christ still Beautiful in a brothel?

“PURE and UNDEFILED religion”

Oh there are certainly times I wish God didn’t define work with widows and orphans as “pure and undefiled religion” and yet He has opened my eyes. He has given me His heart. Even though I so don’t deserve it.

See, religion is and can be pure and undefiled when I am not in it. When it’s not about me. When it’s all about Christ.

See, my flesh doesn’t want to “visit”, which in its context is not talking about a one-time affair but instead is referring to a “living with” or “traveling with” affair – a “walking alongside” and “carrying their burden” kind of visit. Yeah, my flesh doesn’t want to visit… so I have to leave it at the door to accomplish this command.

I am forced to shed my desires, my wants, my reservations, my discomforts and instead put fully on the robe of Christ. Maybe, just maybe that’s what Christ was referring to when He said “If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you…” (John 15:7). Maybe that’s what it means to let His Words abide in me. Let Him abide in us…

Oh that He would even stoop down and find me desirable – not in any way needed for His mission – but desirable to be a vessel of His unconditional love.

“Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” (James 1:27)

It nails me every time.

“I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me.” Galatians 2:20

January 13, 2014 0

Without Apology

I am a strict Mom.

Without apology.

I lay out clear, age-appropriate expectations because I want you to know good and bad consequences follow your choices, learn appropriate boundaries and work out mastering self-control.

I require respect because I want you to understand the value in people.

When you do wrong, I explain your sins because I want you to first be concerned about your relationship with God, then learn to identify your sins so you can combat them through Christ.

When you do wrong, I explain how you can seek forgiveness because I want you to be able to let go of guilt and grow.

When you do right, I compliment you because I want you to take pride in doing the right thing.

When you do right, I point out how your good deed affected others because I want you to know the positive impact you can have on others’ lives. You can be such a wonderful example!

And regardless of your choice, I hold my arms out to you because I want you to know love that is not contingent upon behavior.

I am a strict Mom. Without apology.

I am not perfect. (I do find myself apologizing not for trying to teach you, but for my particular method of communicating the lesson sometimes. You are ALWAYS worth the lesson.)

But I strive to be intentional and consistent.

Because I know you’re watching. And my example is teaching you about Who God is and how He loves.

Discipline is out of love. A love that knows no boundaries, yet comes to where you are and says, “let me help you be the better version of yourself not for your own name, but for the glory of God”.

How in the world could I ever just leave you to yourself? To your own sinful guidance? To your own self-governing ways?

This Mommying is a process. (Thank You for Your grace, Lord.)

But I am a strict Mom.

Strictly out for your best.

Without apology.

November 18, 2013 0

A Lil Pip in Our Step

So we have been busy lately. And this is one reason:

We added a new meowing family member. Weclome, Pipsqueak.

Now, I had no intention of adding a new family member, but we happened upon her on our walk to church. And she was so thin. And so frail. And so friendly. I went took her back to our house (on the property) and gave her a bowl of food. She ate. I wished her well and headed off to Sunday School. I couldn’t get her off my mind. She was outside the door greeting people on their transition to church from Sunday School. And that’s when she started to work her magic. After church she was gone. I went over to try to find her. Couldn’t find her. Matt and I talked.

She showed back up after supper time. The kids and I found her and encouraged her friendship with a can of tuna. She was so good with the kids. So tolerant of little hands, especially when they were not so rough.

We brought her back to the house, played with her on the lawn while the sun went down. Such a playful little kitten inside of her. Oh the squeals. Oh the joy. Matt must have known it when he came home from evening service. He must have known it long before. She wasn’t going anywhere. “Why don’t you bring her in and we can think about it.” He invited her into the family.

Fleas, ear mites, all bones, but friendly as can be. She wasn’t nervous at all to be brought inside. She happily curled up on the bathroom mat. She purred. She napped.

Once the fleas were gone and ear mites getting under control, she met the other two cats. 24 hours of hissing gave way to ignoring each other. And that is now giving way to smelling each other and carrying on with normal life. No more hiding. No more anxiety. Just casual glances out the window, hopes for tuna juice and naps on the fish tank hood (it’s warm on top of the light!).

She continues to do great with the kids. She’s way too tolerant of Abi’s bear hugs. She just meows for rescue from the babies rough attempts at “gentle touch”. And she likes to sit n laps late at night, just snuggling in and being close. She has no desire to leave. And she’s starting to gain more weight. Her stomach’s once distended look is now evening out into a healthy balance of consistent meals. And I am happy. Very happy. We’re getting her in to the vet here soon to help us get the last of the ear mites under control and get her vaccinated. But she’s just so sweet. Loveable little thing.

And so now we have 3 cats. And we adults agree that we are full in the pet department. Afterall, we did take in 11 pets in just about a week (10 fish). And we’re all as happy as can be.

September 20, 2013 0

The Next Seat Up

Well it happened. I switched her pumpkin seat out for the convertible carseat. And as I was preparing to wrestle that seat into safety, a little lump welled up in my throat.

She’s getting so big.

It may seem a little whimpy, but it is real.

She’s getting so big.

Abi’s third birthday has come and gone. (I promise I’ll get that birthday post up before her next birthday… er maybe before she moves out.) And while Hannah is “Mommy’s baby” … so is Abi.

There’s this little part of me that holds the bittersweet memory… sweet little blondie in my arms. Oh she had her flaws – she would be in no one else’s arms…. EVER. But it was just my Abi Grace. Those piercing blues.

And look at her now.

I see Abi in Hannah’s eyes.

And I see a Rachael I struggle to remember in the wake of her four year old personality. She really was tiny once, right? It’s hard to remember what the normal felt like.

So maybe that’s why Hannah moving to the convertible seat comes with a little sting.

I know how quickly she’ll soon be forward facing.

And then in a booster.

She is my Joy.

And I have learned that Joy comes with some bitter moments at times too.

Just like retiring the little patten-leather church shoes. Size ones come with a slight laugh. They’re so not going to happen anymore.

That little squishy stage has slowly rippled away. 10 and a half pounds at birth has melted into a long, skinny busybody.

Thank You, Lord, for Hannah’s Mommy-clinging times. Thank You, Lord, for those quiet nursing moments when she lets me just stroke her strawberry locks. Thank You, Lord, for that smile only Mommy and Daddy can get out of those beautiful browns and open-mouthed squeals. Thank You, Lord, that she still comes to find me on those knees, sharing her delighted exploration finds.

Thank You, thank You, Lord…

it helps this Mommy let go

…and install the next seat up.

– I love you, my babies. From four on down to the floor. [And my extras ; ) ].

June 28, 2013 0