Living in Community

Let me start with this: I got a new job! A job I am excited about. I could tell you many details I have to look forward to, but that's not really the reason I am writing.

I wasn't really looking for a job before this opportunity came along. I applied. I was nervous. Terrified in fact. In the past I would have kept the fact that I applied to myself, not told anyone, crossed my fingers, prayed and hoped for the best. I was afraid of failure. To be clear, applying for a job and not getting it does not equate to failure, I know this. In fact, it could be God's protection and provision for something different, even far better. But somehow in my mind, to apply for a job and be deemed "not good enough", was not something I wanted to share.

This time was different. I told people. I told my wonderful family, my amazing community group, my beautiful friends. Yet, I still feared I wouldn't get the job. I had knots in my stomach throughout the application, interview, and waiting process. Despite the fact I was trusting God that if I didn't get the job it was His best, I was nervous.

My friends, family, and community group surrounded me. They supported me, prayed for me, and asked me regularly how it was going. I could have kept the job information to myself (and Tyler). Yet, it was so freeing to know I was not alone, to know other people knew, cared, and were walking with me. If I hadn't gotten the job, it would have been far better to know that there were people I love walking through the situation with me.

But, oh my, the feeling of rejoicing with people that have been praying, hoping, and anticipating with you! To have others walk with me through this, sharing my nerves and excitement makes the result so much sweeter. I am so incredibly grateful for the people in my life. For the ability to "do life" with my community group, friends, and family. I am blessed with people who check on me, get excited for me and who I know will walk with me through thick and thin. I am grateful for everyone who faithfully asked how it was going, who listened as I excitedly shared details when I got the job and whose lives I love being a part of; hearing their stories, and striving to be equally faithful to in the details of their lives. Blessed.

Headaches

This is a post from a while back that I wrote... but never published...

I have perpetual headaches. They come whenever they want. Pain in my head is my body's primary form of communication with me. My head hearts when I am dehydrated. It hurts when there are allergens in the air. It hurts when my muscles are tight in my neck because I have worked out, or because I have stress. It hurts when I have to take medication to cure infections. My husband would tell you that I get headaches "all the time."

Often times I can tell the difference in the "type" of headache. (Is it at the base of my skull, or pounding in my temples; does it wrap all the way around my head, or can I a pinpoint its location?) Sometimes I can ignore them, or simply take something and ignore the pain. Sometimes I can drink a big glass of water and ward it off. I tell you this not to complain; though I am sure at this point it sounds like nothing but complaining. I share this because I was sitting in church today (with a headache from taking antibiotics, no less) and was totally convicted. We were looking at the life of Abraham, and I realized, just like Abraham, how short term is my view of things. How much I rush to fix each headache as an isolated incident, instead of praying and seeking God in the big picture. If headaches are my suffering, so be it. That is a light load in comparison with what my Savior took on for me. Would I prefer not to have them... of course. But people around me are suffering in greater ways all the time. And those without the Gospel are DYING while I complain of a headache. Perhaps my headaches should be my physical reminder to share with those who need the healing of the Gospel in their lives? Of course I will continue to try and drink water, or do what is necessary to get rid of them, because they are unpleasant; but perhaps I should pray for the lost, pray for opportunities to share the Gospel before I race to rid myself of the dreaded headache.

I write this not to say "oh poor me and my bad headache" but because I realize that this is NOTHING compared to what Christ suffered for me, and NOTHING compared to what believers around the world are suffering with daily. So here I am with my good health, my wonderful family and church family, and I don't share the Gospel as I should.

All I Have is Christ

We sang this song at the members meeting at Sojourn last night, and I realized once again that it truly is the heartcry of those who believe. But it also gives me hope for those who do not believe. If this is my song, it can be theirs too. I was first loved, I did not love Him first. I refused Him and He drew me still. I was bound and determined for my own way when my Savior captured my heart. Praise God.


I once was lost in darkest night
Yet thought I knew the way
The sin that promised joy and life
Had led me to the grave

I had no hope that You would own
A rebel to Your will
And if You had not loved me first
I would refuse You still

But as I ran my hell-bound race
Indifferent to the cost
You looked upon my helpless state
And led me to the cross

And I beheld God’s love displayed
You suffered in my place
You bore the wrath reserved for me
Now all I know is grace

Hallelujah! All I have is Christ
Hallelujah! Jesus is my life

Now, Lord, I would be Yours alone
And live so all might see
The strength to follow Your commands
Could never come from me

Oh Father, use my ransomed life
In any way You choose
And let my song forever be
My only boast is You

Grace Given

My parents would tell you from a young age that I never wanted to give up on people. I believed that every friend that disappointed or hurt me would change, sometimes almost blindly. I am now in a field where I get to give second chances to people all the time, and I love it. I love giving grace to people, to the kids that I see every day who, because of circumstances quite often outside of their control, have experienced horrendous things and respond as would anyone undergoing trauma. To addicts who are desperate to conquer their addiction, and can't seem to get a grasp on it. I can overlook ten thousand faults in friends and people I care about, many times not even being aware of the fault unless I am forced to address it. I love people, and choose to give them that grace. And when they ask for forgiveness, I can usually grant it, without a second thought or struggle.

However, when driving down the road and some random person cuts me off, I fail. I fail miserably. If you are my friend, someone I care about, someone in my world, I can freely give the grace that was given me. And often times even if I do feel the sin has to be confronted in love, I can confront it, and then  move on, loving the person, and letting go. But when it comes to the faceless person on the road who cuts me off, I fail to give grace. I fail to see that they are perhaps also late for work, or had a really bad day, or a rushing home to an emergency. A friend could cut me off, and I might laugh, or presume they are caring for a child that is screaming in the back, or distracted by some (in my mind) extremely legitimate excuse.

Fail. I want to give the same grace to everyone I interact with, whether it be a faceless driver, or my closest friends. We all need Jesus, and I have been given grace. Who am I to not extend it to others? Why must I act as if someone else's carelessness, busyness, or lack of paying attention is a personal attack on me? And yet I freely accept the grace I have been given again and again every time I sin and enjoy the ability to repent and be made right with God. I sin against the God of the Universe, and get mad when someone cuts me off in traffic. Father forgive me.
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Ya'll are Rich

This past weekend I was involved in a S2 (Sojourn Students) event. We took the students to the Ice Arena, then descended upon the mall for dinner and shopping; followed by the Southeast YMCA to swim, rock climb, and play basketball. The evening ended with 5 middle school girls spending the night in my apartment. We played Just Dance on Kinect, ate pizza and donuts, generally hanging out and having "girl time". Two young ladies from Shelby Park laughed and danced with three girls from completely different backgrounds. It was beautiful.

Tyler arrived home about 20 minutes before we headed to bed. It was around this time that one of the young ladies asked me where they would be sleeping. I told her she would be in the guest bedroom. Her jaw dropped, "In the bed?". "Yep." We walked down the hall, and she asked me which room she would be sleeping in. I pointed to the guest bedroom, and she promptly asked where I would sleep. I pointed next door to our bedroom. She looked at me bewildered, and asked "ya'll don't sleep together?" I responded that we did. "So, why do you have two rooms?" I explained that it was a guest room/office, but as I was explaining, realized, in her mind- there must be a purpose for the room- why else would we have it? How else could we have it?

I proceeded to the bathroom to wash my face, while Ty talked to the girls in the hallway. This same young lady then pronounced to Ty, "Ya'll are rich". While he proceeded to tell her that half of our furniture is secondhand, craigslist, or the like, I stood with soap on my face, convicted. We always hear that we are so wealthy in America, that if you can pay your bills you are wealthy, etc. I have heard this, and thought I understood it. Yes, I am well off compared to those in 3rd world countries, and I am grateful. But to be told I am "rich" by a girl who lives 5 miles from my home, as she stood in my 800 something square foot apartment filled with hand-me downs? That changed my thinking in a way I had not expected.

The next day, we got up and headed to Sojourn for a pancake breakfast. As I sat with the girls at breakfast, another leader asked this same girl if she would now consider coming to S2 on Wednesdays with us (she had never previously attended). She stated she would not. One and a half hours later, as we sat in service, I realized I would have to leave directly at the end of service and might not see this special girl again. I wrote her a note (Yes, I wrote a note in church)! I told her I enjoyed getting to know her, and was glad that she had come to my home. I passed her the note. She quickly asked me for my pen, scrounged another piece of paper from the back of the seat in front of her, and wrote me back. Her note said this "I'm glad you enjoyed having me at your house. You are a nice person, a kind person. I will go to Wednesday night. Do you go to Wednesday night?"

WOW. Praise the LORD. Totally a God thing. Nothing I could have thought, or planned would have worked out that well. Thank you Lord for using me, even in small things.

Last night, she came to S2, and brought her sister!

So in a weekend where I was exhausted, and had nothing to give, God worked.

Still Faithful

I wrote previously about the faithfulness of our Father, but I continue to ponder and think, continue to be amazed... and so grateful. One thing that I failed to mention about the time during which Tyler did not have a job- we had in our savings account, enough for 1/2 of one months' bills (ie what Tyler would normally contribute in one month). Nothing more. That amount remained untouched for a year and a half, until the last month between Ty's last paycheck from contract work, and his first paycheck at his new job. It covered the one month gap where he would receive no income, perfectly.

Still Faithful.

In October I awoke one night with shooting pain in my abdomen. I remember debating whether or not to go to the ER because of the pain I was in. Deciding that I had no desire to spend $100 to be seen, I opted to lie very very still until morning when my doctor's office opened. I called them as soon as they were open and asked how quickly there was an opening. They had one 20 minutes later. By this point, the pain in my lower abdomen was such that it hurt to sit down, it hurt to stand up, and walking was extremely painful. Upon arriving in the office I was seen by the Nurse Practitioner in my doctor's office. I explained my symptoms, and after carefully pressing on my belly (which caused me to groan and writhe) she asked if I would be willing to get a CT at the hospital because she was worried I may have appendicitis. 30 minutes later I was sent for CT at Jewish Hospital. Once there, I had to drink very nasty oral contrast (yes, I plugged my nose like a child to avoid the taste :) ), and wait an hour and a half for it to get in my system. On my way to Jewish, I had called Ty and updated him on the situation. He asked me to let him know the results of the CT, saying that if I were to indeed have appendicitis, he would come join me. About 20 minutes after drinking the yucky contrast, while waiting on my CT, Ty arrived. He told me that he had called his boss (Ed) to update him on the fact that he may have to leave, pending my results. Ed then asked what he was working on, and asked him why he was still at work, instead of on the way to the hospital to be with me. Ty stammered that he didn't know, and was quickly instructed to do so. Blessing.

Not long later, I was taken back to have the CT performed. At this point, my pain was increasing, and the act of lying down on the "bed" was quite excruciating. Following the CT, I returned to the waiting room to sit with Ty while the doctor reviewed the results. Suddenly, the doctor appeared in the waiting room. I stood up to talk to him (with minimal grimacing) and he informed Ty and I that it was not appendicitis, but in fact looked like either an ectopic pregnancy or ovarian cyst. He stated that he was trying to get in touch with my doctor for continuity of care, etc, etc. As he was explaining this, I began seeing black and white dots, felt heat rising up my body and got dizzy. I apologized and sat down, Tyler later told me that in that moment, all blood drained from my face. The last thing I remember was the doctor calling for a wheelchair and stating "never mind, we are taking you to the ER". I awoke to being moved to a wheelchair and heading towards the ER. As I arrived in a room, I began dry heaving. The nurses quickly put IV's of saline in my arm and drew blood to determine if I was pregnant with an ectopic pregnancy or had a cyst. As the saline got in my body, the dry heaving ceased. The doctor gave me pain medication, and for a while, I simply sat with Ty, waiting on results. Then they came. The doctor informed me that it was in fact an ovarian cyst, and it appeared as though it had ruptured. Now my body needed to heal, and I would be placed on bed rest. This was a HUGE blessing. The risk of an ectopic pregnancy was scary, and if the cyst had not ruptured, they would have attempted surgery to remove it. Instead, my body was able to heal with just some rest, and not risk scarring that could prevent future pregnancy.

Still Faithful.

Finally, in the midst of all of this, we moved last winter to a new community group, who, in the midst of Tyler not having a job, surrounded us, loved us, accepted us, and encouraged us. The guys drew close to Ty even as he was having to travel, and the ladies gave me much needed support in a extremely stressful situation. They rejoiced greatly with us when Ty got a job, and have continued to be people that we share life with, and treasure their friendship.

STILL FAITHFUL.

In the midst of stress, trials, and so much more. HE is still Faithful.

He is Faithful

So I wrote in my last post about my husband not having a job for 15 months... and I wrote that my Father was faithful with our finances... but did I mention HOW faithful He really was? I know I was stressed... but that was in part due to lack of faith... HE was faithful. REALLY faithful. Faithful as our community group surrounded us with love we could never imagine. Faithful as bills were paid... sometimes just in time... and faithful as we were protected from many other things. Our 17+ and 13 year old cars lasted... when, for how much maintenance we had done on them, they shouldn't have. Our apartment did not burn down (when we didn't have renters insurance), the list goes on.

So when Ty got an excellent job, and a few months later we began having car problems... some would get frustrated. My response- I am grateful that God did not allow that to happen when we didn't have the means to do anything about it. He was faithful to protect us and keep them running when we needed it. Even small things like bills being less than expected during that time, were a gift. My Father KNOWS my needs, and meets them.

My faithful Father allowed Ty to get a job, and job above his "experience level", where we could pay off debt, so that we will be free to honor Him with our finances, and our lives. So when He calls... we can follow, joyfully. I could continue on... but all that to say... He Knows... and He Cares for the intimate, tiny details of my life

My Father is so Faithful