Category: life thoughts

April 13th

Alivia,

Today would have been your birthday. Funny how Goga and I laughed about the fact that it was a Friday the 13th. I’m not superstitious. It was just another day.

Though we never got to hold you in our arms, I will never forget this day.

Alivia, I wish I could have seen your face, smiled at your little grunts… your soft skin… your beautiful eyes.
I wish I could have delighted in your tiny fingers… swaddled tightly your fragile arms until you felt safe and secure enough to drift off to sleep.

I still don’t know fully why we didn’t get to keep you. I know sin in our world finds it’s playground. I just wish it hadn’t brought about death. But you have met the Creator of Life, in one lost heartbeat you appeared at His throne. Fragile and naive of deep hurts, you found yourself with Jesus. He will care for you far better than we could.

Eleven weeks and three days in utero. We were going to announce you to all our friends, family, and the church at 12 weeks. You only had eleven weeks and three days in utero. The world may not count you as a baby, but there was no doubt in my mind. I saw your little hands. Those little feet. Your little heartbeat. Your closed eyes. Nothing can convince me that you were just some glob of tissue. No, my baby, you were so alive.

God can and has worked all things for the good of those who love Him. He has and will continue to use this for His glory, my dear Alivia. For your life pointed and continues to point directly to Jesus. Hope is found in His eyes. How amazing to think that one so small – only an inch or so big, could so clearly point to the Ruler of the World, without ever speaking a word or taking a breath.

Alivia, I missed you when my friend announced her pregnancy. I felt a little pinch of hurt. I missed you when I held my friend’s newest bundle of joy. I miss you when I look into your big sister Rachael and Abi’s eyes sometimes, catching that glimpse of utter joy I hoped to see in your eyes.

I miss that I will never get to hold you in my arms, or watch your character grow… your personality form… and discovery and mastery and accomplishment light your eyes. I miss that I will not get the privilege to call you mine and announce, “That’s my girl!” I miss that I will never get to delight in how you play with your sisters, running through the house with glee.

Alivia, Daddy and I used to joke that you had to have been a girl because “he only makes girls.” We laughed that he defied the “Stauffer” odds of having boys by having two girls in a row. We don’t even know for sure if you were a girl, but what we do know is that you had as good of a chance as any.

It took me a month before I spoke your name. The shock of it all is still so real sometimes. Daddy agreed shortly thereafter that it just fit right… Alivia. And of course Mommy had to spell it “a little funny” to fit in with the rest of the kids. Alivia. My precious.

We miss you. We love you. And you are not forgotten.

Some day we hope to see you, if we get the privilege. And if we don’t get the privilege, sweet girl, just know that there was a family down here that was just thrilled at the chance to love you and hold you, but Jesus made the best of the situation… as I am sure you are well aware. And we too hope to feel Him and know Him fully to be our faith’s sight someday.

Praise Him all the more up there, sweet Alivia.

He deserves it all.

– Your Mommy.

*** Written October 2011.

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Open Eyes

It was something in the scrolling through the Bible School material, the constant planes, the play passports we were ordering for the kids, Daddy’s old passport Rachael has been playing with, Daddy’s new passport sitting on the counter, the missionaries and countless children on our missions wall, the adoption stories I have read and celebrated with as children from desperate situations in and out of the States have found their Jesus-loving forever families… something in it all brought a tear to my eyes.

This years VBS theme is “Amazing Adventures” and is airplane themed. Each year Matt, Mark and I tackle the sixth grade class. Usually by sixth grade VBS is no longer cool. The glamor and flare of VBS has become commonplace and the kids are coming because their parents are involved or their little siblings wanted to go. Matt, Mark and I try to take that opportunity to not focus on the cute- VBS, but instead we lean more on the side of “cooler” stuff. I have enjoyed the challenge of transforming a brightly-lit, plane Sunday school room into a basketball court in the Bronx, an outdoor Western Scene and various other “slightly on the edge” themes in VBS pasts. This year we’re going “world travel” in our theme, erring on the side of transforming the room into an airport hanger with country flags hanging. We’ve erred on the dog tag, military, and world travel side of the cute airplane theme, choosing our symbol to be a bomber.

While I am one to believe that the Word does not speak void or does not need dressed up to speak, it is nice to pray over and try to break down barriers and allow the kids to be comfortable in their uncomfortable skins.

But all the airplanes and passports and luggage and country flags carry so much more today than they have in the years past.

Monday we drop Matt off with his Daddy at the airport with hugs and kisses. He and his Dad are going on a preview trip to Haiti in preparation of planning next year’s first-ever youth mission trip out of the country. Matt’s vaccinations, malaria medicine, and travel preparations have filled our household conversations for a few weeks now. This will be Matt’s first trip out of the country and I am as certain as can be on this side of Heaven that it will not be his last.

Haiti has brought up so many conversations: adoption focus, world missions, our family’s involvement in world missions, local missions, potential 3 year missions stints with our family, short-term missions, bringing the gospel to unreached people, who constitutes as unreached people, and so many more topics. God has really been using the past few years to open our hearts and our minds to the reality of His hand around the World. Isn’t it funny how you can learn that God loves the whole world and God has the whole world in His hands, but as you allow God to breathe the Truth of that into your heart it’s like the blinders come off?

Matt surprised me this past Christmas with a future trip to Jos, Nigeria, to visit and see firsthand the community for which I have been praying. The community that is displayed on our missions wall through a few pictures. The community that we track the time of with our “Nigeria clock.” The children, the faces, the hearts…. needless to say it was overwhelming. I would never have anticipated seeing or meeting these people and have been content to just love them from across the ocean.

With God’s timing and the reality of vaccinations, this trip has been postponed to next year. (Yellow fever does not have a pregnancy equivalent and dying, I’m hoping, is not on the agenda). While my heart looks forward to and longs for the adventure to visit such dear friends and the Nigerian people, I am so excited at the prospect of seeing the fruit of Will and Theresa’s labor in the Lord as they begin to close out their 3 year mission stint, turning the work over to those that they have trained and invested in for three years: the Nigerians.

And then there’s the heart for the world that God is opening inside of me as He reveals His heart for mankind – no matter how sinful. I am blessed to be in the shelter of His hand, for His full heart for His people is beyond me to comprehend. But He is such a good God that He would even dare to open my eyes to His compassion.

Missions adventure readings have flooded our household. Conversations about the nations and God’s heart for the nations have saturated our dinner tables and family walks. Practical sacrifices and being useful to the Lord here and now has filled our planning in more ways than financial planning.

This all comes to mind upon thinking about passports, luggage and airplanes.

Something in it all brought a tear to my eyes.

It was the heart of God.

The heart of God.

– Thankful.

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Learning Lately

It’s days like today that I just feel so blessed to be a part of this family God has given me. There was nothing special today, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a regular day. But it’s amazing how different the day can feel through eternal eyes.

Gratitude. It’s been something my dear friend, Theresa, and I have been trying to incorporate more of in our everyday lives. And I could not stress more how our everyday lives differ. She’s in the dry season Nigerian desert, me in the cool Ohio Spring. She’s in the “foreign world” and I’m on the “homefront”. But we share some common things too. She’s on the mission field (3 year missionary with her husband to Nigeria) and so am I (serving in the States and through prayer and finances). Do I long to walk the dusty streets of Nigeria some day? – oh how my heart longs. But I do not long so for my ministry there to begin that it discredits my ministry here.

I think there is a danger in Christians viewing ministry in the extremes. We are truly ministering to God if we are full-time on staff at a church or “on foreign soil”. This is not to discredit either of those positions. But could God possibly call us to be a martyr in our own house?

Luke 9:23 says, “And He was saying to them all, ‘ If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross daily and follow Me.” (emphasis mine). 

Sounds like daily martyrdom to me.

Matt guest preached at a nearby church Sunday from Ephesians 3:14-19. Wish you could have been there. Your heart would have been cheering and uplifted like mine. So amazing to sit there and just feel the exhortation from the Lord filling your heart and mind. It was like Jesus was saying, “be full, child, and run hard the race before you!”

Ephesians 3:14-19 goes like this [exactly like this to be specific 😉 ] :
(Keep in mind that Paul is speaking to people that will later be martyred and harshly persecuted for their faith – the very people whose faith and deaths God will use to bring more to the faith)

“For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name (the Alpha and Omega), that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory (limitless, never-ending glory, people), to be strengthened with power through His Spirit in the inner man, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love (key part), may be able to comprehend with all the saints (counted among the saints? those amazingly loyal ones sold out for Jesus) what is the breadth and length and height and depth (can you even imagine?), and to know (KNOW!) the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge (indescribable), that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God.”
* (commentary clearly mine).

Can you even imagine that people? That we would be filled up to all the fullness of God. I can’t even fathom that. I can’t even grasp that concept in my mind. The fullness of God through joy, peace, love, hope, might…. His attributes are endlessly wonderful. And just like God through Matt explained, all we have to do is ask. It’s not like God is unwilling to grant us things in line with His will. It’s not like He wants us to walk through this life as mediocre believers. It’s not like He’s restraining his fullness from us. He is more than willing. He died in an ultimate display of willingness.

Gratitude! What more could we possibly be thankful for?

 When we look at our lives through God’s eyes suddenly right where we are becomes our ministry. I am not waiting to do something for the Kingdom – today I can. Maybe my ministry is begging the Lord of the Harvest to send more laborers. Maybe my ministry is asking the Lord for His fire and His zeal and more of Jesus in me that more of Jesus would touch someone’s life for His glory. Maybe my ministry is showing my children unconditional love and practicing self-control in Christ when they are living out their sin nature. Maybe my ministry is doing an extra load of dishes to serve my family and my husband.

The Lord has not forgotten us. The Lord has not mistakenly placed us “on layaway” until we can do something Kingdom worthy. He has given us an opportunity TODAY to deny ourselves, take up our cross (crucifying our flesh and walking in the spirit) and follow Jesus. When we follow Christ in speech, manner, the way we love others, the way we raise our kids, the way we open our homes and our lives to believers and non-believers, the way we set aside time to meditate on the Word and let it permeate the depths of our soul, we point to the Leader of our follow-the-leader-line. The Head. The very One worthy of all the praise, honor and glory.

Today, dear brothers and sisters, today “lift your eyes up to the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, Maker of heaven and earth,” , “seek first the Kingdom of Heaven and all else will be added to you,” , “delight in the Lord your God,” , “lean not on your own understanding,” , “run the race, fight the good fight and keep the faith.” For we can “do all things through Christ who strengthens” us. He is the “Author and Perfecter of our faith” and He’s more than capable of winning every battle of flesh verses spirit in us throughout the day. For one day you will stand before His throne while the angels call out “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord, God, Almighty” and oh so much your heart will beat to hear the words drip from His tongue, “Well done, good and faithful servant… enter into the joy of your Lord.”

“Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen.” (Ephesians 3:20-21).

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The Fall.

All parents have been there, it’s the terror of the fall. That slow-motion fall that you know will result in bruising, scrapes, blood, head-banging, chin-banging, skidding, or other pains. It’s that helpless moment when everything went wrong and no one can stop it. The look of chaos on your child’s face as they feel completely out of control and helpless falling in mid air. The time in which you brace yourself and pray for the best, fearing the possibility of the worse. The fall. I’m not talking about the trip or the bump. I’m talking about the fall. The all-out fall that can only end in those sobs of pain or worse, that shriek of great pain.

I have found that the sinking feeling in your stomach doesn’t change when witnessing falls at older ages. That kind of a fall results in the same unpredictable outcome whether you’re a baby or a teenager, the first or the tenth kid. All parents should rightfully fear the fall.

Thinking about the fall, a few terrifying moments come to mind. A normal outing at the park, sitting around the picnic table with the cousins enjoying Popsicles. Abi was asleep in the stroller, she did that a lot at nearly four months and Rachael sat amongst a gaggle of cousins and her nearby her Daddy. I sat on the other side of the table with Abi and Uncle Ron when I saw it happen. Daddy was preoccupied and 21 month old Rachael fell backward, head-first off the picnic bench. For those of you who need a mental image, when you fall off a picnic bench your legs are the last things to dismount. Sure enough her head hit with a thump on the concrete, producing a bloodcurdling wail. I remember it like it was yesterday, being stuck on the wrong side of the picnic table to catch her. All I could do was pray for the best in that moment of terror. Watching her head bounce off the concrete didn’t aid in my assurance. We scooped her up, Daddy and I both at the same time – both of our hearts in the pit of our stomachs. We watched her walk for the rest of the afternoon and kept a look out for signs of a concussion. She was fine. Just rightfully shaken up. And you had better believe over-protection came thereafter for the next hour.

Today, while drawing outside with chalk, Abi tripped over her own feet while nearly running resulting in a Superman dive to the sidewalk. I thanked the Lord on impact that her elbow broke her fall instead of her face. But her feet and arm took the skidding impact of her 20 month old body. Mommy was instantly needed and with some antiseptic creme and many kisses, Abi returned to normal in five minutes of heavy sobbing into Mommy’s shirt. 

Or the time that Abi fell out of her booster seat, catching her chin on the table the way down. Her head bouncing backward in aftershock. My heart sank. Suddenly “you should have listened to Mommy” didn’t matter. She needed comforted and I needed to know she still had a tongue attached properly. Comfort and time produced healing, leaving behind the battle scar of a red spot.

I wonder what God’s face looked like as He saw Adam and Eve eat from the tree. I wonder if His heart sank to His stomach watching that slow-motion fall that He knew would result in bruising, scrapes, blood, head-banging, chin-banging, skidding, or other pains. It’s that helpless moment when everything went wrong and His redeeming love knew it was better not to stop it, though His compassion wanted to.

Being a parent is teaching me so much about the restraint and the heart and the compassion and the self-control and the reckless running that the Father has for His kids.

Being a parent is teaching me more about God

and forcing me to run to His arms all the more.

– thankful, even in the scrapes.

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Thank You

Thank You

  • for 185beats per minute
  • for the hope of getting to take the bag home
  • for peace and rest in Your arms – regardless. 

* written February 8, 2012.

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    To Take the Bag Home…

    I’d like to take the bag home. I saw a woman leaving with the bag. Her smile was big, “the scary window” had passed. Life alive inside.

    I’d like to take the bag home, the one filled with hope, life, and joy. Bustling to the brim with “new pregnancy” freebies. And the Dr.’s water bottle. Even the little urine sample cup.

    I’ve been praying to take the bag home, this time. I know You hear my prayers. The bag matters to You. It matters to me. It even mattered before.

    I’d like to take the bag home, God, if it could please be in Your will. Last time it was left on the chair. She was gone. The bag was unneeded… nonfunctional without her heartbeat.

    I’d really like to take the bag home, the first trimester accomplished. And tell of the good news to more than just a handful. Celebrating life as You create and prefect.

    I’m praying to take the bag home, this time, Lord. Thank You for hearing my prayers. Thank You for the peace You bring, the comfort within, that in Your arms I can securely ask

    to take the bag home.

    * written February 8, 2012

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