We love God’s creative design of males and females.  We love watching how our differences create the perfect “usness.”  How two such opposites, yet both created in God’s image, can make such a powerful union of purposeness and joy.  HAPPINESS!

 In the dark I watched through the window this morning.  No lights in the hotel room.  The city I’m visiting here in Missouri had turned off the electricity because of the fire.  Nicholas had left early and my lunch appointment wasn’t until noon.  From my window I could see the fire a few blocks away as it engulfed apartment complexes.  For awhile I thought it was calming down.  But then it spread to another building.  Turns out it went to three buildings.  Dozens of homes lost in a matter of minutes.  The smoke continued and continued all morning.  But the devastation will continue for years.

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     I never really appreciated having a place to live until this spring when I lived everywhere and nowhere.  Several months of commuting – half the week in S. FL. and half anywhere in Texas as Nicholas worked there.  Plus traveling all over for speaking and variousness.  More than 100 nights on the road.  I remember counting after just the first two months and realizing I’d been in 13 different states.  A home now is a dream come true.  No more juggling mail at several addresses.  No longer that scattered living nowhere feeling.  Even though we are still on the road often, at least I know where I live.  It’s the best of feelings to live somewhere.  It’s the best of feelings to know I am going to wake up and go to sleep in the same place.  And, now even when I do still travel (yes, my suitcase is still always halfway packed because we still do travel a lot), I can press “home” on my Garmin and it sends me to my house where I really for real live and where my  pretty pink “at home toothbrush” waits for me in its little toothbrush dish.  Happiness. 

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     So I’m thinking today about the hopeless disorientation of those apartment residents that now don’t know where they live. And, I’m thinking about them as they take in the losses of their possessions.  Although my things were just in boxes during my few crazy travel months, these peoples’ are gone.  Everything gone.  For real gone. Gone gone gone. Photo albums.  The wedding dress which had hung in the closet.  The crafts made by the grandkids.  Books their great uncle owned.  Favorite pillows.  Notes for their dissertation.  All those things that maybe no one else fully can appreciate but, to the owner, they mean security and a sense of identity, markers of where they have come from and where they are headed.  Insurance payments can never take the place of those things.  I can’t imagine the sorrow.  And I’m guessing that one of the greatest dangers they face now is discouragement mixed with subtle sickening hopelessness. 

So I’m praying for them today.  I’m praying for their hope. 

     Hope is just about tops when it comes to the most important thing we have.  OK, I know love is technically the most important thing.  Like any good pastor’s kid I had almost memorized 1 Corinthians 13 by the time I had stopped teething.  But I passionately will attest that, after love, hope rolls in near the top of the list.  Of course not hope in just anything.  But Hope in THE Hopegiver, the giver and holder of hopes. 

     Hope has sorta been a top theme in my mind lately.  Bombing, ambush, and torture come in as a close second (because of criminal law class – it has added a bit of pizzazz to my brain’s contemplations these days).  How powerful hope is in a person’s life.  How as soon as I lose hope, everything goes down.  But as long as I don’t lose sight of the reality of my Hopegiver, I’m strong.  

     It’s a thought that has quite a lot of testing opportunity as Nicholas and I take our initial steps on the journey of adoption and my emotions bounce into sometimes painful areas, stretching into those quiet corners of my heart that are deeply woven with fragile hope.  I’ve been grieving no children for a several years now.  As I struggle through the conglomeration of emotions that can seem foreign to people that don’t know infertility but are very normal process of the road of infertility, some days I’ve got it together.  Afterall, I am firmly confident that God is good and He is a covenant God and adoption is a wonderful thing that God has prepared both Nicholas and my hearts for individually and together.  I rejoice in this, while I yet grieve the idea of biological motherhood that may never be.  Some moments I just need to cry.  Recently I was at a Starbucks when two women joyously entered and sat directly behind me as one told the other all about how she just found out she was pregnant with another child.  “And, imagine, I didn’t even know!  Pregnancy comes so easy.”  No more studying for criminal law for me. I just went out to the car and wept.  Those broken moments I look to my Hopegiver and so deeply realize I can’t sum up hope again in myself.  But I can pour out my soul to God and allow Him to whisper His truth into my heart.  I can actively choose to camp on His truth, marinating in His Word, even when circumstances seem to crush in at me.  Psalm 3 means so much, when the enemy rises against me, mocking the hopes of my soul, I turn to it and read:  “…Many are saying of my soul, there is no salvation for him in God.  But YOU, Oh Lord, are the lifter of my head… I cried to the Lord, and He answered me…”   

     And I look back and think of past hope struggles.  When doctors after doctor around the country didn’t know if I would walk again after I was hit by a drunk driver.  Going to hospitals again and again for more X-rays and then being told: “We don’t know why your bones aren’t healing.  Being put back in my wheelchair and rolled away with disappointment slamming through my soul.  I remember struggling ardently to keep hoping in God even though for what I was hoping wasn’t coming to pass.  But I learned that I can’t hope in God’s acts – what I think would be good and sensible for God to do, but in who God is. 

     Then I think of another time just a few years ago.  I had just left a nasty dating relationship with a man who had presented himself as godly but then a few months into it informed me that he had only shown one side of himself and now he was going to show me who he really was.  It shocked me so much the dream of ever getting married completely snapped.  I had already walked in some painful broken engagements (one a week before the wedding when the groom had an emotional breakdown because of his own past sorrow, another being engaged the first time to Nicholas).  I escaped out of that relationship.  But it just seemed too painful to ever hope again.  I still was speaking to girls about being Christ’s Cinderellas.  But inside my personal hopes about marriage died.  Not just the hopes one sees, but all the way down to the roots.  Dead.  I walked through a season that fall of feeling deeply barren in heart, body, and soul.  It was right around that time I found out I might never have kids.  And, I was walking through a dark time at the place where I worked as my understanding of the Church was going through a radical shaking to its core.  

     I’ve shared with many this story before.  But I share it again now.  I went to NYC that fall – NYC is my place to heal and think and pray.  I was to attend a conference.  I flew in early and, as I wander around, ended up buying a beautiful tear drop aquamarine necklace.  I felt a little silly and frivolous buying it.  But I bought it anyway, and since I didn’t want to lose it, I immediately put it on and subwayed up to the conference.  That weekend God met me.  Several speakers hit my heart exactly where it was.  I had recently been clinging to Romans 4:18-21, where Abraham hoped against hope in God’s promise… “..In hope he believed against hope…no distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what He had promised.”  Those were just the verses shared at the conference.  I think of how, ultimately, Abraham did not hope in what He wanted so much (a son), but in who God is.  God’s goodness.  God’s love.  God’s faithfulness.  I allowed myself to just cry as I felt the teardrop necklace around my neck.  The Psalms say that God holds our tears in His bottle (Psalm 56:8), and God turns our mourning into joy (Psalm 30:11).  I left that conference renewed in my confidence in who I was in Christ as His Cinderella and the absolute fact that I must continue to hold fast to my hope in the Author of hope, the one who restores hope to those who feel only barren. 

     It was months later that I realized that conference night was the exact night Nicholas wrote my dad and shared his testimony of what God had done in his life the past few years.  It was that letter that brought Nicholas and I back together.  And it was several months after that when Nicholas gave me matching aquamarine earrings when I graduated with my second masters degree.  But even if it hadn’t been in God’s plan for me to marry Nicholas, I know God’s goodness would have been just as real.  

     So here I am, now waiting at Starbucks across the street since my hotel still has no power.  I’m listening to the chatter of the staff and customers as they exclaim over the fiery destruction. I’m still praying for the residents who need comfort from the God of Hope as they face dreams turned into turmoil.  And I’m thinking on the dashed or unfulfilled hopes and dreams in my heart – such as my “being a mom” hope.   Yes, there will be times I still weep.  But even as I weep I will weep triumphantly because my Hopegiver is the God of Triumph.   I will continue to wrestle emotionally, not wrestling to win over God, but to come to the point of resting in Him.  When, at times, the fire of earth’s brokenness threatens to undue me, and I stand in the smoky remains of what were once dreams, I can and must find God’s grace to keep clinging to the One of Hope.  “And so, Lord, where do I put my hope?  My only hope is in YOU.”  Psalm 39:7 

      ”Sing, O barren one, who did not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud… For your Maker is your husband, the Lord of hosts is His name; and the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer, the God of the whole earth He is called… For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my covenant of peace shall not be removed, says the Lord, who has compassion on you.  O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted, behold, I will set your stones in antimony, and lay your foundations with sapphires.”  Isaiah 54

Last night Nicholas came out to the yard and laughed as he saw me playing in the mud with my little shovel. Upon seeing my unworn gardening gloves on the porch, he asked why get dirty when I could wear the gloves. He hadn’t realized I like mud so much. He still doesn’t get the elation one finds in squishy mud on one’s hands while sowing little seeds with so much potential to grow into plant grownups. I asked him what he thought about the garden and he said he didn’t know because, the few times he planted things when he was a kid, nothing came from it (I have also learned that mud digging in general has been discouraging… his mother told me about the day he dug a five foot hole hunting for a queen ant so that he could become an ant farm farmer. Needless to say, it didn’t work out. That seemed to permanently put a damper on digging).

Nicholas never knew how much I like mud. I never knew he hadn’t eaten a gumdrop.

Marriage is the most intimate relationship on earth. And yet even in that awesome intimacy we don’t fully know each other. We don’t fully know each other’s pasts. Presents. Hopes. Dreams. And so, every day, we keep learning about each other. And every day we make a point of telling and showing each other each other.

But there is One who fully knows Nicholas. And there is one who fully knows me. I don’t have to work to show Him myself. He knows. The One who thought of marriage in the first place, the One who thought of me before the foundations of the world, knows every thought I have ever had. The random moments of each day that fill me with extra joy (such as finding a penny on the sidewalk or noticing the time is 6:25 which is my birthdate). The concerns that are so tender that, when I try to say them, tears come instead of words. Every hope I’ve ever dared to hope. Even those hidden hopes that I’m afraid to dare give rise. I never surprise Him with my curious oddities and crazy ideas. He knows me.

And He knows even when I don’t know myself. Even those moments when Nicholas asks me what is wrong and I don’t have the words. Or the times I say one thing but mean another and Nicholas finally pieces together the root but it takes awhile (like when I started to cry the other day because I wanted a dog, but really I was crying because I wanted a baby so much my heart was in shreds). The Lord fully, completely, 110% understands. And He doesn’t just understand, He cares. And He doesn’t just care, He is the All-Powerful One who makes all things right in the end. And He doesn’t just make things right, He makes them better than right. He is the Author of rightness and goodness and sovereignty. He specializes in weaving His plan of wholeness and beauty for His kids.

The other day I found an old treasure box of most valuable possessions – a crumbled old corsage from high school graduation, a note from my grandma in Heaven now, my favorite tiny stuffed dog, etc. Little things collected while growing up. All saved together in my treasure box incase I had to run it downstairs during a tornado (being a Kansan one had to think about such things). Well I found it the other day and could hardly wait to show Nicholas these little treasures because they are windows into my soul, the experiences that shaped me. Nicholas is learning about these things, just as I am learning about the treasures of his life. Maybe he will even see pictures from the events captured in my box. He will learn about them. But the Lord was in them. The Lord was there during those events. He was by my side, surrounding me, within me. He knew every thought and hope and sadness and joy within those experiences. He knows how those impacted my soul. How good it is to have always been known! What joy and security that gives!

Knowing that I am known can and should powerfully impact every facet of my life. It should transform my reality, giving me an awesome confidence and security of belonging to my King and lover of my soul, and an ever increasing joy. It fills me with purposefulness. It helps me when I am tempted to despair over my sin instead of running to the cross with it. It fills me with joy when I consider life’s obstacles and hardships that hover over me now or may someday ahead. It just transforms everything.

Sometimes it’s just good to remember this; that I am fully, truly known. I have always been known. I always will be. No matter what happens in life. No matter if there is someone there to share life experiences or not. God understands me, “gets” me, and delights in me. It is so, so good to be known!

I wrote this last fall but it disappeared from my page… so I’m re-posting it…

MY GRANDMA TRAVELED, TOO, THIS WEEK
my thoughts as I fly through the clouds

We sat in that little-cluttered-damp breakfast room which was sandwiched into the ground floor of the old, tall, Venice hotel.  We ordered “American coffee please” as we delighted in the concept of a morning taking in the beauty of Venice.  Never mind that it was high tide and cold.  Too expensive and too touristy.  Our feet sported blisters.  The outdoors smelled like fish and we would have to dodge mud puddles.  Never mind any of those things because this was our day to treasure!  And so we would carpe diem in one of the most beautiful cities on earth.

 It was interesting that it was on this day here in Venice that I spoke to Nicholas about Grandma.  Perhaps it was the beauty of the city that reminded me of her.  Perhaps it was the tapestry shop that read “Grosse Pointe of Italy”, reminding me of where she spent her growing up years.  Perhaps it was peering into the shops of silver and Venician glass since, when I think of Grandma, I think of her gorgeous tables full of china and crystal set for her latest dinner party.  Whatever the reason, she was on my mind.  And so we spoke of her.  And then I snuck a little Italian breakfast cookie back upstairs with me (for a later snack) and we finished preparing for our happy day of newfound adventure.  And it was then, as I sat on the bed organizing my shrinking pile of Euros, thinking that I just might buy a little tapestry at that tapestry shop since it reminded me of something Grandma Larson would have chosen, that Nicholas read me the e-mail my dad had sent for us in hope we would be able to access it on our Italy travels.

 Today Grandma traveled, too.Nicholas read.   I stopped shuffling around my sparkly Euros and looked at my new husband sitting there hurting for me as we both took in the news.  Today was Grandma’s day to go to Heaven.  Today was Grandma’s day to see Kristy.  And Aunt Ginnie.  And Grandma and Grandma Pieschke.  And Peter and Paul and Mary and John and the zillion other saints of old.  And JESUS.  Today she had traveled to Heaven.  She had woken up in glory and found it home.  She had taken hold of a hand and found it Christ’s.

So I say there just not quite sure what to think.  It was a weird experience for me, a fast-food generation baby, not able to get in immediate contact with my world and relatives 5,000 miles away.  I was not able to do anything about it except write back and tell my dad “I am so sorry and thank you for telling me and we are going to lose internet in 15 minutes because we have to check out of our hotel.  Can you find a ticket for me please, Dad, I won’t have Internet again for another day or so?”  No ability to call.  No sisters to hug.  Not much ability to process at that moment as I ran around grabbing my toothbrush and tourist books so that we could zip up the suitcase (and also checking under the hotel bed since Grandma taught us to always check under the hotel bed to make sure nothing was left by mistake).   But I processed throughout that day at little moments.  Mostly when I saw beautiful things because Grandma and beauty have always gone hand in hand.  She kept popping into my mind.  We’d be talking about a cathedral and all of a sudden I’d say something about Grandma as my brain scrambled around memories of her life on earth and also Heaven thoughts of her new life.

It was strange as I faced my grief for her because I realized it wasn’t new.  It was the end of a long process.  I have been grieving Grandma for a long time.  I guess a little kernel of it started when I was 11 and went to Maine to visit Uncle Vernon and family.  At a rest area she became confused.  It was just Grandma and me in the bathroom when that happened and I didn’t know what to think.  For awhile after I had sat very quiet next to their miniature schnauzer in our nests of toys and dog bones in the backseat, as we continued the drive toward Maine.   It was the start of her epilepsy but for me it also started to open my eyes to the reality that even my ever strong and amazing grandparents were still human, still became ill, that they wouldn’t be there forever.  And the last few days as I have gone through pictures of Grandma at Christmas, I have seen how every year she became noticeably weaker.  So for a long time I’ve known the reality of her health.  I saw that her body was worn out.  I saw that she couldn’t respond anymore the way that she so desired to (even at the end of her life she would speak of wanting to cook dinner for us and go shopping and help Becky paint her nails).  But for her to be in Heaven for real now is a new feeling that will take awhile to know how to face.

But that’s something I particularly cherish as part of my being a Christian.  I can go to God with the scattered emotions of my heart and He will do His healing work that strengthens and comforts the very fibers of my soul.  I can not be OK with the idea of death.  I can say this stinks.  This hurts.  This seems to go against every grain of what should be right and good.  And I can be OK with that because, as a human made for complete relationship with our holy and good God, death isn’t exactly how it is meant to be.  Death is the result of a world broken with damaged relationship of God with His creation, the consequences this curse of sin.  So I wrestle with that.  I hurt.  I grieve.  But through this wrestling I learn to face this loss, not seeking to wrestle to win over God, but wrestling to come to that place of resting in His comforting hand.  And as I do this I can come face to face with that glorious  fact  that His hand is not only just comforting.  His hand is also victorious.  By His victory we are raised from the curse of death into the reality of life everlasting.  A paper I wrote for my last semester in Greek was on Ephesians 2 ”that awesome reality of how we are raised up with Christ, even while on earth we are heirs of Heaven already seated there.  And when we die we just walk into that eternal reality more fully.  And our bodies, although wracked with the results of the destruction of sin, and in some ways becoming increasingly no longer our friends as they age and weaker, are promised to be returned to us in the final day.  Returned restored.  Greater.  Fuller.  The beauty of our faith is that it isn’t that we are rescued out of our bodies into a state of release from the destruction of the physical, but we are brought into a life of the restoration of the perfection of the physical.  This is something that is of particular delight to me as I think of Grandma.  She isn’t just floating around on a ghostlike cloud playing a ghostlike harp.  She is with Christ, she is very much an individual being, very much herself.  And one day her body will be restored in perfection.  She is serving God in a concrete way.  And the physical things she delighted in on earth will one day be restored in perfection (an interesting note is that the Greek for new earth may not be a complete wipe-out of the old but a restoration of it - but either way, it means a restoration of the perfect physical which God called good.  (And I could write a whole paper or two on this, which I won’t here. but I have before since it is such a passion I suppose).  Grandma is very much alive because of the victory of our Creator and Savior, Jesus Christ.  I found that interesting last week as I visited the dreary catacombs near Rome.  Down 30 feet in the dark.  Dark and damp.  A dampness similar to the dampness of Venice, but the surroundings severely different.  The guide didn’t say, but I wondered about why the Christ-followers found it so vital to bury their dead in the catacombs.  I mean, would we have done that today?  I wondered if they were standing against the views of Plato that had infiltrated much of the thinking of that time.  The idea that the body is evil, physical is evil, a trap from the good spiritual.  And then we contemplated on the Necropolis (the burial place of the dead) that was so different than the words the Christian used… the cemetery (the place of rest and sleep) but all this is getting off on a tangent (but not an unimportant tangent since understanding Grandma’s wholeness, her purposefulness now, her selfness regained and restored in the presence of the Author of beauty, is significant).

But back to the reality of grief.  So I hurt.  Deeply. And I carefully weave the threads of memories together in my mind, hoping to never loss any of them.  Right at this moment it is the fun memories that come to mind: when I was little, if I kept my room clean, she would bring me to McDonalds or pay me a dollar or buy me a new hairbrush.  We would have slumber parties where she would bring us to the store to pick out snacks (Garfield fruit snacks were the item of choice) and then we’d pull out her sofa bed in the living room and watch Nick at Night until very later (probably 8 or 9pm).  And all our Easter egg hunts.  And Christmas celebrations.  The time Grandpa thought Grandma had made Pfeffernuse cookies and so he took a handful of “cookies” into his mouth, only to realize it was Lisa’s dog food.  And sewing doll clothes. 

And there are deep and dear serious memories, too; the way she shown Christ so powerfully.  And my mom doesn’t have a mom on earth anymore and that is really hard.  And I keep thinking of Grandpa (who happens to be one of my greatest heroes) and I can’t even wrap my mine around trying to contemplate his hurt because that is just too overwhelmingly heartbreaking.  I don’t like this.  I don’t like death.  I don’t want to go see my grandma’s casket.  I want her to still be standing at the door on Bluestem Terrace and calling for their dog Lisa to come inside.  I think of these things and I hurt for me and I hurt for my family  because I miss Grandma and this funeral signifies that we don’t get any more memories with her on this earth. 

So there is hurt and I can and must walk through that grief.  But there is also something else.  A profound something else.  That whisper of joy that surrounds a Christian’s death.  A sort of happy shadow, a raincloud that actually pours forth sunbeams of joy.  That crazy amazing reality of Heaven and wholeness and forever-after beauty.

As mentioned earlier, this funeral signifies that, for Grandma, she finally can be herself again because she is whole.  The last few times I saw her I didn’t see much of her Grandma self anymore.  Her personality was almost hidden in the medications and pain.  I grieved that Grandma couldn’t know beauty as she used to.  She couldn’t paint her fingernails.  She couldn’t delight in all those Grandma Larson things she delighted in.  Sometimes I’d catch a glimpse of my grandma.  The things that delighted her heart.  She might be so tired and in so much pain.  But then we’d talk of dresses.  My wedding dress.  Or something beautiful Mom bought her to wear.  And she would light up for those few happy seconds before she sank back into tiredness.  Ah, but now!  Just think about now!  Grandma still loves beauty and now, in the presence of the Author of Beauty, she has known greater beauty than ever filled her greatest dreams.  It is in this I find such joy and peace.

So what does that mean to me here now currently as I’m in the air?  Not enroute to Heaven quite yet, but on a plane from Paris to Houston.  Ever so many things.  It should affect every single ounce of my being, every single ounce of my living.  Realizing that I am a citizen of this Heavenly country should be the catalyst upon which every decision and pursuit flows.  And, realizing the beauty of the physical, the reality that, although this earth is broken in so many ways, that this earth still reflects the glory of Christ, the glory of the Gospel really, the goodness of the physical and an expectation of the perfected physical, should affect my enjoyment of this earth and give and excitement about my future in Heaven.  As I deeply embrace each day here on earth, I can ultimately look toward Heaven and cling tightly to the true hope (hope in the Bible means assurance) of Heaven, of my own present and future resurrection into the heavenlies (Ephesians 2).  It rips my fingers off of the earth a little more every time another treasure in my family heads on up to Heaven.  But I think it also causes me to appreciate life on earth a little more, too.

Several weeks ago I was married.  I crafted my wedding to seek to reflect the eternal marriage of Christ and the Church and the true happily ever after we have in Heaven.  At my wedding my bridesmaids walked down the aisle to the tune of “Finally Home.”  These words are my grandma’s words.  I thought Italy was the dream honeymoon.  Seeing the wealth of history and the profound ways it impacted the development of the Church universal.  But my grandma really had the dream trip this week.  For this one she didn’t need a camera.  No taking yet another picture of smiling in front of a stone edifice a few thousand years old.  Nope.  Not for her.  She came face to face with the Author of history, beauty, and life!  The Author of it all.  And it is this place she will live happily ever after.

Death swallowed by triumphant Life!   Who got the last word, oh, Death?    Oh, Death, who’s afraid of you now? It was sin that made death so frightening and law-code guilt that gave sin its leverage, its destructive power. But now in a single victorious stroke of Life, all three – sin, guilt, death – are gone, the gift of our Master, Jesus Christ. Thank God! (1 Corinthians 15:54-56).

“When engulfed by the terror of tempestuous sea, unknown waves before you roll; At the end of doubt and peril is eternity though fear and conflict seize your soul. When surrounded by the blackness of the darkest night, O how lonely death can be.  At the end of this long tunnel is a shining light; for death is swallowed up in victory
But just think of stepping on shore and finding it heaven, Of touching a hand and finding it God’s, Of breathing new air and finding it celestial, Of waking up in glory and finding it home.” (The words to Finally Home)

I posted this originally last fall but somehow it disappeared.  So here it is again…

Once Upon a Time… Our Nicholas & Kathryn Story…
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What Kathryn says about Nicholas:
I love Nicholas’ soul… the way he passionately pursues the Lord…. his humility… his joy… his desire to live for the treasures of eternity…
I love how he is so committed to truth… loves to learn and knows so many interesting facts… is a man of contemplation and enjoys discussing theology and worldview… I love just being together… laughing together about how we’ll name our first son Theophilus…. realizing how our hopes and dreams are intertwined with each other…

What Nicholas says about Kathryn…
When I think of Kathryn, I think of someone living a dynamic life, whose joy and purpose is a constant positive influence to those around her. I am continually amazed at her peaceful and tranquil spirit, which is matched only by her passion for right; and I am challenged, in my own life, by her never ceasing desire to please the Lord.

I love how her presence lights up a room and how she brings both a fun sense of humor and intellectual depth to our conversations… in short; I am excited and looking forward to spending a lifetime with my friend.

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Once upon a time I used to sit on my bed, contemplating over whether I should be a lawyer, hair stylist, or missionary when I grew up.  When I was 21 I attended a law school’s conference as I still contemplated over my big “what I’m going to be” decision.
           

Across from me in the conference room sat a young man named Nicholas.  Unbeknownst to me, he watched the speakers intently, but also watched me.  He had heard of me… the girl on crutches from having been hit by a drunk driver a few years before.  When he found out I lived in a house in Manhattan he figured I was a wealthy high-class girl who would never be seriously interested in him (later he found out I was from Manhattan, Kansas – not NYC – and he, being a Missourian, had vowed never to marry a Kansan).  I got to know his sister that week and, on the way home, she told her parents on her cell phone that Nicholas found his girl.

Well Nicholas went off to the mortgage industry and I went to Washington. A few years passed as he contemplated asking me out.  It was one day, while at seminary in Ft. Lauderdale (when I was making my weekly DC to FL commutes) that I received his e-mail asking whether I would be interested in starting to date.  I showed my friend, Susan.  I was quite shocked, particularly because I knew I was getting engaged the next week to a Washingtonian.  I think it mainly shocked me because my engagement to this other man was not smooth and there were increasingly concerns over this and, years before, my mom had mentioned how she had felt the man I was going to marry was at that conference.  Was this just a crazy coincidence or was this God doing something?  I wrote back to Nicholas and he was sad but realized the best thing was to entrust it in God’s hands.  I was engaged a week later but, a week before that wedding took place, my fiancé cancelled it when he realized there were some significant areas of his life that were not solid.

Several months later Nicholas got in contact with me.  I ended up getting stuck in the Midwest after speaking at a conference during Hurricane Wilma before the Ft. Lauderdale airport opened again. I spent a few weeks chatting over things with him and our families better getting to know each other.  We were engaged several months later.  However, soon after, he called it off, feeling that he wanted a girl who would be content to pursue the world’s glitter instead of the Lord.  He wanted a girl who would look good standing next to him when he ran for office and wanted me to really delete so much of my heart and soul’s joy and life calling.  I told him I couldn’t do that and he told me to mail him the ring back.  I didn’t think I’d ever talk to Nicholas again but, every so often, I’d look online to see if he’d married someone else.  This was such a painful time for me… but the Lord gloriously showed me His goodness… wow… that’s a story in itself.

The years passed.  I graduated from seminary, was offered a job at Coral Ridge in the Women’s Ministries department, eventually headed Women’s Ministries there, graduated with another degree, traveled all over the place, etc. etc… so much fruit and growth these past few years.

Last fall – September 26 – I was at a conference in NYC (the city where I go to refresh) and God really encouraged me there.  The speaker talked about barrenness… I was feeling barren in many ways… who would ever actually want me as a wife?  I felt very non-choosable.  The heart song I had spoken to hundreds of girls – how they are precious, chosen, delighted in, beautiful, etc. etc. to the Lord as His Cinderellas – needed a strong refreshment personally from the Lord.  I had also gone through a terribly painful year of ministry and was just worn-out.  And, the doctors had just given some discouraging news about my medical issues.  That weekend was a weekend of deep healing.

That same night Nicholas wrote my dad an beautiful letter of apology, healing, and restoration. My dad and Nicholas started writing and calling.  My parents could see an incredible transformation in Nicholas’ life – he had become a passionate pursuer of God, full of such humility, vision, and grace.  When I found out about this I wrote out a list of 5 pages.  He had to be everything on these 5 pages or forget it.  I didn’t want to date guys anymore who were compromises.  They had to be everything on the list or I would not get married.  And I seriously meant this- that through God’s grace, I would be OK if that meant not getting married.  I only was willing to date and marry someone who would encourage me to b be stronger in the Lord, someone with whom I could serve God better than remaining single, someone whose life I could orbit around as I sought to be a complement to him.  Well he was everything on those 5 pages. Everything!

Although my dad thought I would accept Nicholas’ apology, he thought the hardest thing for him in pursuing me again would be for me to trust him. I’d been hurt so many times.  But that day when he first wrote me, until today, that has never been an issue.  I know that is the Lord’s grace to both of us.  I have seen Nicholas’ heart and it is led by God.

Earlier this year I went to Thailand and thought and prayed about the relationship a lot while there (as Nicholas freaked out about my safety).  I returned secure and ready to run with it.
“Our song” – and the song playing when we had been engaged in 2005 – had been What a Wonderful World. I sent him a link to that when I responded to his first e-mail to me this time. He wasn’t sure what that meant… was I open to his apology?  Would I forgive him?   Or maybe was I even interested in developing a friendship again?  Would I maybe even be interested in marriage?  Whatever I meant, he thought that was a good sign.  We were so excited to talk that first day he called.  We hit it off – this time deeper than ever it had been.  This time there weren’t masks but instead was true vulnerability – I could see his heart and we came to delight in each others’ souls and realize how amazingly God had woven our journeys these past years to tie in with each other.  Our life hopes and dreams are the same and we have been increasingly delighted in what God has done.

I love Nicholas and am in awe that he would ever have chosen me.  We have so much fun together!  We just truly delight in each other.  He leads me spiritually as we discuss the day’s events, every night he reads the Bible to me on the phone, and we never run out of things about which to talk.  We agree on almost everything in life except liking black licorice.  We love to have long-distance “dates” together… both of us watching the exact movie at the exact same time as we stay on speaker phone.  Together we make each other better, encouraging each other and strengthening each other.  I believe we have an exceptionally deep and solid relationship that I know comes from God’s overflowing goodness.  We talk about our “usness” – how we have this amazing dynamic together.  We know that comes from God being at the core and from being honest and forgiving toward each other.

So that’s our story (from my eyes) in a nutshell.  I can hardly wait to be his girl officially.  We hope you’ll be able to join us on October 3 when we celebrate God’s’ faithfulness.
Oh, and the neat thing is that Nicholas did start law school… and I am scheduled to begin this fall. And in the meantime I learned how I could be a missionary throughout life.  And, I have become a hairstylist as well (you should see how perfectly I can make his hair stick straight up after he goes swimming… although his sister can almost make a mini-mohawk so I need a little more practice).  And, now, what I most want to do “when I grow-up” is be his wife and serve the Lord together no matter what each day brings.
Truly God has turned our tears into a song of His lovingkindness… turning mourning into joy (Psalm 30:11).  God promises to do that.  When He takes away or allows something into our lives that seems so painful, we can cling to His promise that He will restore joy as we rest in His faithfulness.

God is in the fairy tale business indeed!  I look forward with expectation of the fairy tale of being His eternal bride. Truly I am His Cinderella.  But I am also continually amazed as He brings facets of heaven to earth, weaving reflections of that eternal glory and joy into our earthly lives.

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“But if the world of the fairy tale and our glimpses of it here and there are only a dream, they are one of the most haunting and powerful dreams that the world has ever dreamed…” - Frederick Buechner (from “Telling the Truth, The Gospel a Tragedy, Comedy and Fairy Tale”)

“[The fairy tale]…does not deny the existence of… sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of the deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat…, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.” - J.R.R. Tolkien

I’m going away… to the mountains… just for a bit… but I’m so happy for this little bit!

It wasn’t really planned this way. I was going to Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville. But it turned out it was out of network for insurance so, last minutely, I cancelled that and was able to change to a different Mayo. It takes 14,000 years to get into the Mayo in Minnesota but the Mayo in Phoenix would take me (which happens to be in network. Craziness that I have to go thousands of miles away to save money… but the last few days I’ve begun to realize what a great joy it will be to return to Arizona).

I started the trek to Arizona when I worked for a Congressman from this district. I continued to come even after my Washington days… I’d always have a blast in Phoenix but also looked forward to my drive in the mountains of Arizona to beautiful Lake Havasu City nestled away in the amazing landscape.

While packing this week I was looking for my Arizona driving tunes music that my friend Lauren made me several years ago. This was my special Arizona CD and I can’t find it anywhere . So this time the mountain drive will be a little different. But not just because of the CD missing… but also because Nicholas will be beside me… and also because my driving thoughts are different.

It is in these mountains I healed… I sensed God… I would drive as the brokenness of the world loomed heavy… Washingtonianess… making sense of the secular world… Then there were the thoughts I healed through regarding a broken engagement that took place a week before the wedding was scheduled (I’m so grateful now! But at the time I was left reeling emotionally and spiritually). As life happenings would weigh in my thoughts, eventually God would cause my heart to sing again as those joyous tunes played on my rental car CD player… as I’d watch the vibrant sunset begin each time like clockwork right before Lake Havasu finally appeared past the bend.

Once when I was driving in those mountains I was healing from church pain. Several years ago it had taken place… by the time I left DC I felt deeply wounded by a church I trusted. The unhealthiness of some subtle facets of theology… the misunderstanding of elders… weird accusations… some things I’ll probably never really understand. I left with the desire to hide and not know the reality of church pain again. I was going to sit on the back row of my next church and not be too heavily involved in church inworkings.

But I didn’t keep my little selfish rule. I worked in it. That’s been my world the past 4 and a half years. I heard the personal stories, struggles, sins, triumphs, joys, heartbreaks. And the politics. And I truly believe that the politics of churches are more painful than anything Washingtonian. For it is that churches are dealing with the spiritual realm in a way in which Satan just loves to work. And I’ve seen a lot of that work. It has been a few years of deep growth, deep learning, deep rethinking and strengthening my understanding of the theology of the Church universal.

In my job I see a lot of pain just because people are involved. I face it and work with young women together through it. I can counsel a girl on a broken engagement. I can cry with a girl whose mother abandoned her. I can talk to someone who has been abused. I can sit with someone who gains confidence in sharing her doubts about God. Or someone who has been afaird to take off her mask of spiritualness and be vulnerable and real. Or someone who is facing longterm pain. Or someone who is re-thinking core foundations because of having seen death in the face. But the pain of the church is a pain of a different sort. In the other pain, one runs to the church for comfort. But here it is the church that betrays. That is the worst. I don’t really think we normally are prepared for when this happens… we don’t easily gain the skills, the place in our brain, the coat racks emotionally or mentally to hang that kind of pain on. But it happens again and again and again. The church universal is broken even as it is already seated on the heavenlies.

Sometimes it is particularly hard. And these days, with many young people in the midst of this, I particularly hurt. They are young! They don’t have the emotional backbone or spiritual maturity to handle the pain they are seeing. The weight is too heavy and their hearts are at special risk toward bitterness. And this breaks my heart.

I was thinking about it last night. And the thought came to mind, that, in all the church’s mess, Jesus died for this? For this broken mess of the church on earth? In all its sins and terrible fights within itself? Yes Jesus died for this church which He calls His beloved. For this. For me as one of those people within it. That’s an amazing love. Now how does that affect how I view the pain? How does that affect the words of Christ’s healing that I can pour out into the hearts and souls of others as I own them myself? That’s what I’m continually figuring out. That’s been a pain part of my journey these four and a half years. And I think it is a massive key to living well, to loving well, to serving well, to understanding reality well. And perhaps that’s why, this time, I’m going to the mountains…

~ I’m continually amazed at God’s graciousness toward me and the way He so intimately cares for every detail of His children’s lives. After a huge semester of finishing seminary, church merger happenings, and delightful travels, I graduated in May.
~ I love watching the way God works in weaving each detail of our lives for His use. It is good to know that He doesn’t waste time and He is carefully guiding every situation as He sovereignly weaves His tapestry for our lives. It has been a hard few years as I’ve seen a deeper aspect of the happenings of working in ministry, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
~ Particularly this semester it has been exciting to see the way theology has become increasingly alive – facets “clicking together” in many ways. I look back and see how soul forming my years at seminary have been and what a gigantic practical help it has been for my job and in engaging society.
~ These past months have also been rewarding as I’ve found such joy in seeing some special fruit in the lives of some of “my girls” (the high schoolers with whom I work). They are such treasures and it has been a deep delight to be a part of their lives. Also, it was really exciting to write the curriculum for our spring Coral Ridge women’s Bible studies. I love writing and am now writing a curriculum for girls.
~ Currently I’m home in Kansas recovering for a week from a concussion. Later this summer I’ll be heading to Mayo Clinic to seek insight into some medical issues that arose last fall. That’s been a hard defining part of this year – something I have had to go to the Lord with again and again as I learn more deeply about trusting Him. I know He is writing His beautiful story for His glory and my greatest good. I know the Lord has His hand on this and I can find great joy in that.
~ Nicholas and I are increasingly thrilled about what the Lord has done for us and we’re really excited about this new season of growing in knowing God together. We draw out the best in each other and never run out of discussion. We just spent the weekend together at my parents’ house as we said goodbye to my grandmother who is not doing well. It was really a special time. Nicholas is in law school and continues to love politics and it has been fun to start seeking God together in this area. I’m looking forward to starting another degree in the fall and preparing for our wedding.

Just returned from Thailand….
God’s amazing thumbprints everywhere… every single minute was grand!
While at a worship service in Chiang Mai I was challenged by the sermon… how often we pray puny sized prayers. I know that, even in my praying regarding Thailand, God answered much larger than my little prayers and hopes for the time there. Truly I’m in awe at God’s lovingkindness!
Highlights… meeting Christ followers various places and hearing stories of what He is doing there, the night market in Chiang Mai, seeing the tribal children at the home in Pua (near the Laos border), our crazy bus adventures around Thailand, bicycling around the ruins of Sukhothai (I felt as if I were walking through the pages of a history book), seeing those elephants out my bus window, touring the palace area in Bangkok, buying fabric from a Sikh family in Little India while in Bangkok, boating through a water market, etc. etc.
The only concerning moment of the trip was on the way home on the flight from Korea to Atlanta. I had decided to embrace each moment throughout the trip… eating the native food, etc. (which I held to except the one morning I felt a little sick and deviated off course and ordered cornflakes) so while on the flight I figured I’d choose the Korean entree… and thought I was eating tiny funny tasting noodles with my main course and seaweed soup… until after when I realize the little specks on each one were eyes… my first (and I do hope) last time eating mini fish (so thin and tiny… smaller than minnows).
Besides eating those mini fish, I did another first which I never thought I’d ever do. While in Sukhothai it was so, so, so hot that I actually turned down a cup of hot coffee (this had never happened in the history of my life… I had always insisted it could never be too hot to order coffee).
It was well worth the long journey. It took 58 hours to get from Fort Lauderdale to Pua where I met up with Annie and Sarah who are teaching there… what a crazy interesting adventure (and God took care of every detail… the one step I really couldn’t have figured out on my own – getting the correct bus from Chiang Mai to Pua – I was with a wonderful American who spoke fluent Thai)!
This was such a special experience and just made me want to see more of what God is doing around the world. However, before heading off on another world adventure, I want to spend some time enjoying/remembering to be grateful for things such as air conditioning, toilets, and Starbucks.
All in all, Thailand has officially made my list of happy places to go.

It was truly special to be in Manhattan last weekend with my family. I had a particularly delightful time with my sister, Anya, as we worked on homework at a coffee shop while drinking coffee from our “black hole” coffee cups (the ones that come with bottomless refills)… So much fun to be together! I’m really grateful for such a fabulous sister! On Valentine’s Day we hosted a Valentine party for single ladies in my sister and parents’ church. I loved hearing them share specific ways they’d experienced God’s love for them this past year.
Last night at our women’s Bible study I slipped out early to host a Valentine party for some teenage girls. It was a marvelous evening as they sat in the beautiful garden area behind my office…sharing their hearts and speaking words of blessing to each other. It was one of those nights where it seemed God did an especially beautiful work. They are such precious girls… royal diadems in the Lord’s hands (Isaiah 62:3). He has awesome plans for them… I’m looking forward to how He leads and upholds them the coming years. What a great honor to be a part of their lives!
I’ve been encouraged lately in Isaiah… particularly Isaiah 61… what a glorious hope we have in God.
Soon I’ll be heading to Thailand. I’m really excited about what the Lord will do! Hooray!
I’m sitting at a library where I am taking a break from working on Greek and helping one of my high schoolers with her science project. So now back to the perfective aspect and cell research .