the word that changed my prayers.
I know it’s a bit cliche to have a “we were so broke when we first got married…” story, but Travis and mine took place on the curb outside the laundromat just up the street from our apartment. It had something to do with how many coins were needed in the dryer – was it 3 or 4? To me 3 was risky – it might mean someone emptying our clothes into a basket while they were still damp, so I used 4 just in case. What started as a debate between Travis and I turned into an argument that last most of the morning – we were that broke.
Between paying two full-time tuitions for Mandarin classes and rent, our salary had little leftover for food and laundry. We were relying on our savings account and wedding gifts to get us through the year.
Not long after our argument over coins we found out we were very unexpectedly pregnant with our first child. Due to visa issues I wasn’t eligible for Taiwan health insurance for exactly 10 more months (of course). We were so unexpectedly pregnant I was already almost through my first trimester before I found out, so there was 100% chance we’d be delivering this baby in a foreign country with no insurance.
We did some calculations and figured the pregnancy and birth would cost about $2,000 U.S. dollars, so we set aside a chunk of our savings in anticipation of a normal, timely birth. I had two prayers I prayed throughout my pregnancy: that I could deliver the baby naturally, and that I would be able to breastfeed him. C-sections were expensive and so was formula so I assumed God would shield us from both (He knew how broke we were!).
Fast-forward 5 months and my son’s birth was the total opposite of natural and timely. In reality, it was a near-death experience for both of us highlighted by an emergency C-section under full anesthesia, 4 blood transfusions, and a stay in the ICU. I didn’t meet my son until he was almost 24 hours old and for other various reasons I was never able to produce enough breastmilk to feed him.
But this is how God tells stories. This is how He provides.
Travis and I withdrew as much cash as we could from the bank and prayed we would have enough to leave the hospital. Our final bill was $3,200 US dollars (a miracle in and of itself, really!) and we had a stack of traditional red envelopes from friends with money to congratulate us on the birth of our son. As we tallied up all of our money on my hospital bed, we were $300 short. We’d reached our maximum withdrawal from our account for the day, so we would have to wait until the next day to leave. We were discouraged and exhausted.
I had a card in my pocket from our Taiwanese friend who had given birth the same day, she had given it to me in the nursery but I never thought to open it. They were poor missionaries like us who had a newborn baby! But something told me to open it, and there was exactly $300 inside. We paid our bill and had roughly $5 leftover, enough for the cab fare to get Ben and I home.
God provided every last cent that we needed.
In the next few weeks a friend reached out and said they would send us $100 a month for whatever we needed, and it was exactly what we needed to pay for Ben’s formula.
I’ve prayed a lot of crazy prayers in my life – some specific, some vague. And I’ve seen some awesome miracles, sometimes quickly – others took years. I’ve also had lots of prayers that haven’t been answered yet, or at least not in the way I’m hoping.
But what I’ve learned is I need to allow GOD to be the focus of my prayers. I’ve prayed for job promotions or success in my business or money for this or that – but the problem with doing that is it trains my eyes to look at things on Earth. But when I pray for PROVISION, it draws my eyes to the only one who can ever really provide for me – and the only one who ever has.
When we first moved back to the U.S., I made a big dream list of attributes I wanted our first home to have. 5 years later, I’m a homeowner and the house we bought checks about half of those. But this house also comes with a lot of beautiful things I would’ve never thought to pray for – the extra grandma at the end of the block who loves my kids like her own. A yard full of neighborhood kids every summer night and a park just outside our back fence. We live in walking distance of our church and the grocery store.
I’m so struck by how many times God says He will do this for us in the Bible, specifically in the Sermon on the Mount. He doesn’t promise us big houses, comfortable salaries, or perfect health. He makes an explicit promise to those who seek Him and His Kingdom to PROVIDE their every need.
25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?
28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Travis and I find ourselves in a season of questioning how God will provide for us this year – a promotion we were hoping for didn’t materialize and we need to replace a vehicle before the summer. I confess I’d been praying for that promotion specifically for awhile now. But I’m reminded now that what I really need is God’s provision, and He always seems to do it in a way that reminds me how deep His love is for me and that He knows my needs far better than I know them myself. A year from now I’m sure I’ll look back and be telling another story of God’s provision, and I hope my trust in Him and love for Him is even deeper because of it.
-RK
i’ve got a daughter now..
It’s January – which typically for me means finally getting to the gym and pretending I’ve been doing it all year. Having a baby stretches and pushes your body to new dimensions (and let’s be honest, so does perpetual snacking while cuddling with a newborn). And though I know my pre-motherhood body is long gone, I’d like to be in better shape than I am right now.
I’ve done this after every baby – packed on the pounds postpartum and inevitably found my way to the gym to fight off at least some of the new fat. But this time it felt different as I approached how I was going to do this. Fad diet? Train for a half marathon? Calorie journal? I’ve tried all of these things – sometimes successfully, but this time it felt weird setting apart a new lifestyle from my family and I couldn’t pinpoint why.
I stumbled across a thread the other day started by a woman who was having some severe side effects from a weight loss drug she was taking – she had extreme dry mouth and was unable to fall asleep more than a few hours each night. Dozens of women shared their experiences and gave advice – some recommending going to a spa to get a prescription for a different type of weight loss injection. The desire to be fit was obsessive and borderline dangerous.
It’s a plague that has pursued women of all shapes and sizes since the beginning of time. I’ve never known a woman who walked in complete satisfaction with her body. I’ve always wished I weighed less – but I’ve had friends who long to add weight to their thin frame. Perhaps for other women weight isn’t the issue, but height – they measure too tall or too short. Skin tone, hair thickness, hair color, eye shape — beauty feels just out of reach, even for those we admire as flawless.
A few weeks ago I was skiing with my family in South Dakota. It was a gorgeous sunny day (one that would not have allowed for skiing if it weren’t for snowmaking machines) and I took a break to watch from the outdoor deck of the chalet. Just behind me a family took a photo and the mother quickly grabbed the phone out of her pre-teen daughter’s hand and was aghast at her own form in the picture. She quickly deleted it off the phone before anyone else could see and encouraged them to take another without her in it. Her daughter rolled her eyes and didn’t put up a fight – she’d played this game before.
And that’s when it hit me – why all of this fad diet, extreme exercise, and twice-weekly weigh-ins felt all wrong after this third baby. I have a daughter now – and for at least the next 18 years of her life no woman will have more influence on her than me. What do I want my daughter to see? That the men at our table can eat whatever they want, but I must restrict myself because I want to maintain a specific weight or figure? Do I want her to hear me talk about my body as something to abhor, rather than a gift from God? Would I ever want Penny to feel as if a woman’s relationship with food and her body is almost always negative?
So the questions I find myself asking this time around have more to do with health than beauty. Habits rather than sizes. I want Penny to grow up seeing that exercising regularly is normal – even if it’s just going for a walk at night or playing tag with her brothers. I hope Penny sees me eating a wide variety of vegetables and exotic cuisine – and truly enjoying it. One of my favorite memoirs is called “My Life in France” by chef and cookbook author Julia Child. I’ve read and reread it half a dozen times simply because I love the way she describes the food she ate while she lived in France. It’s never about the fat or calories, but the flavors and the creativity! For Julia, eating was a divine experience – as I’m sure God intended it to be!
Vanity often feels the curse of the woman – in fact, it seems to destroy the very thing it so longs to possess: beauty.
I do cringe when I take selfies with my kids and the black circles under my eyes are the first thing I notice – or my double chin. But I want to fight to be the mom that takes the picture, puts on the swimsuit, ignores the size listed on the tag of my clothes.
What that mother outside the chalet didn’t realize is why her daughter wanted a picture with the whole family. She wanted to remember the time they spent together, doing something fun and memorable.
Penny – I’m gonna mess this up, I’m going to attempt to chase vanity as this body ages over decades – I’ll forget but then I’ll remember. I’m going to try model what it looks like to be a healthy mom for you – emotionally, mentally, and physically. And maybe that will be the beauty you see in your mom.
the beauty of a thorough God.
I love efficiency. I always have. If I can accomplish two (or three!) things simultaneously I feel hypothetical star points pinging above my head as if my life were some cosmic video game of accomplishment.
I can remember an argument I had with my friend at summer camp in junior high when she wanted to deliver a few letters to the post box in the dining hall during free time – a 10 minute walk from our cabin. The idea struck me as foolish – why drop them now when we could bring them at dinner when we would already be going there? I distinctly remember telling her it was a “waste of foot movements.”
And I wish this aim of mine was something God reciprocated in my spiritual life – why take the long way when we could just get there as soon as possible? He’s God after all – if anyone could spot and accomplish the quickest route, it would be Him! And yet I would never use the word efficient to describe God’s role in my life and my story. Oftentimes His unwillingness to solve my problems (or eliminate them altogether!) has caused great frustration and I’ve no doubt let Him hear my end of it (and my ideas for how he could do better next time).
The day after Christmas 2021 Travis and I found out we were expecting our third child. We were excited and already looking ahead to the end of the summer when we would become a family of 5. Our first two pregnancies had gone smoothly so within two weeks most people in our circle knew we were expecting. A week later something changed in my body and I started to miscarry the baby. By the end of the day he/she was gone.
It took two painful weeks for my body to complete the process of miscarriage and after missing a few work shifts, I decided it was time to keep moving forward and go back to work. That January night, not one, but two co-workers announced their pregnancies – both due the same weekend as the child we had just let go. In my heart I felt genuine excitement for them, but it co-existed with the literal confrontation of our loss. And it was not a confrontation that would disappear that night – for the next 9 months I would walk alongside my two young co-workers as they carried their babies, attempting to be an older mama lending insight and encouragement.
In the first few months I didn’t know how to grapple with our loss – there are so many emotions that come with miscarrying. Guilt – did I do something medically or in my diet that caused this? Fear – will I never have another child? Anxiety – was the miscarriage the result of a deeper hidden medical issue? Sadness – this side of heaven I will never meet this child that was part Travis, part me, and fully created in the image of God to be a unique footprint on the Earth.
But as time passed I had to process these things with God – it was unavoidable. Even if I wanted to forget, every Monday and Thursday at work I’d be reminded that my womb should be growing, but it was empty. At first it seemed cruel, but over time I began to see it as a kindness. A reminder from a good Father that forgetting did not equal healing. Facing it, talking about it, and receiving it were practices that took time but that ultimately brought peace into that part of our story.
Labor Day weekend both of my co-workers had their babies, and I celebrated healthy babies with them – and also celebrated how God had tenderly walked with me the past 8 months. I journaled of how the long process had softened my heart, and a new tenderness was growing that had not been there before. As I’ve watched friends go through gut-wrenching loss in the last year I’m slower to speak, quicker to listen, to shed tears, and pray long-term.
Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant again. My husband and I were cautious and excited, longing to grow our family but knowing it’s not always a direct route. We had been trying for months and weathering each month’s “not this time” together.
But as I look back on those months I see how much healing happened – and none of it was circumstantial. Perhaps if I had become pregnant within a few months of miscarrying I would’ve treated the new baby as the resolution, and not God.
Rebecca McLaughlin brilliantly illustrates this point in Confronting Christianity through the story of Mary, Martha, and the death of their brother Lazarus. Mary and Martha call to Jesus while Lazarus is still sick – knowing Jesus’ power and His love for their brother, they assume He will come quickly and heal him (efficient!). Jesus receives the message, but He doesn’t come. At least not quickly – in fact, the text says He remained in place for two extra days. By the time Jesus arrives, Lazarus has been in the tomb for four days. And even when He does come, He does not rush to the tomb. First He has a conversation with Martha.
I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?”
John 11:25-26
McLaughlin translates: “As you stand here in your desperate grief, your greatest need is not to have your brother back again. It’s to have me.”
He later goes to the tomb to raise Lazarus from the dead, but first He gives us a portal into His own soul – in two words the Scriptures say “Jesus wept.” Jesus allowed them to see that He was grieving with them. He loved them so much more than giving them simply what they wanted – He was stepping into their grief and saying “I know.”
I feel as if I’ve lived this story so many times – when I desperately wanted God to give me the exact thing I was asking for and didn’t get it right away (or sometimes at all). Yet I’ve come to learn that God is so much more than an efficient problem-fixer. He is a thorough lover and healer. And that is infinitely better than making all of my problems disappear through happy endings.
Efficiency may give us the quickest result, but thoroughness gives us the best result. The miracle of this story is not that I am once again with child, but that where a wound pierced my heart God tended to it, slowly, mercifully, and thoroughly. Is this how God makes His people more like Him?
advent in the dark.
A few years ago I was teaching a class in Taiwan about American holidays and I remember my Taiwanese students being particularly astonished that we celebrated Christmas not for just a day, but an entire month. I laughed, telling them that Christmas was a world in and of itself – with its own food, music, movies, and even clothing.
Over the last century, Christmas in the West has ballooned (quite literally with its arrival in the televised Thanksgiving parade) into a materialistic, all-consuming wonder of a season – one that leaves the marketplace salivating for higher sales and record-breaking profits. There are debates about “how early is too early” to put up the tree and whether Black Friday should be confined to after midnight on Thanksgiving night.
But a months-long celebration of Christmas is actually not new to the church – in fact, we can date the season of Advent all the way back to the Middle Ages. Historically, the church’s celebration of Advent has looked nothing like a Macy’s parade or bustling marketplace – but instead an intentional, even morose season to ponder and long for the return of Christ, the promised fulfillment of his first coming – which we celebrate on December 25th.
And it would be very difficult to truly hope for Christ’s return without an honest assessment of the darkness that surrounds all of us every day. Dietrich Bonhoeffer put it this way:
The celebration of Advent is possible only to those who are troubled in soul, who know themselves to be poor and imperfect, and who look forward to something greater to come.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Advent Sermons
What our celebrations in the secular West fail to recognize is that bright lights, loud music, sweet treats and lavish gifts do not do anything to change the reality of evil in the world. Perhaps we can distance ourselves from it for a time, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
What I’m finding so beautiful in this season of Advent as a follower of Christ is that there is room for my grief – in fact, there is an invitation to mourn it.
Our year began in death – our third child passed in the womb, and we never got to meet them. In June one of our most beloved friends was murdered along with most of her family and several small children. Another friend delivered a beautiful baby girl who never got to take a breath on this Earth. I know we are not alone in walking through a year of heavy loss.
America has spent too many decades in a tremendous, outrageous epidemic of violence, rage, and murder. A manager killing 6 of his employees in a Walmart breakroom should not be another day in the news – but in this country, it is. Thousands of people will grapple with loved ones dead at the hands of senseless violence this Christmas season. What will Christmas be like in Uvalde?
And the very things that bring people joy at Christmastime – family, generosity, and recognition – are the things millions of people will be lacking in some way this year. Must all of our ducks be in a row for Christmas to be a time of unrelenting joy?
Or is it possible that Advent allows us the space to acknowledge this world could not possibly be all there is?
Because when we do so – the joy of Christmas can come alive in us! We find that sorrow and hope were meant to join hands in this season – Christ has already come and HE IS COMING AGAIN! This world is not all there is!
As we toil and reckon with the evil within us and around us – how can we possibly think redemption is humanly possible? Over many millennia humans have failed to build a peaceful, joyful world devoid of evil and suffering. Christmas is the announcement that the One who can has arrived! The great restoration has begun!
The New Testament ends with a promise that one day Christ’s work will be complete – and gives us a beautiful glimpse of the world to come, the one we could never build ourselves:
And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea.
2 And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.
3 And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God.
4 And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.
5 And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. And he said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful.
Revelation 21:1-5
In Advent, it is okay to mourn – necessary even. Because only then can we truly celebrate the meaning of Christmas, the birth of Christ our Savior. We celebrate Advent as we approach the darkest day of the year, which every year gives way to ever increasing light.
dead branches, living trees.
Summer is finally here. Never can I remember a summer so longed for, after such a long and brutal winter. Spring was swallowed in blizzards and even the dawning of the summer solstice had yet to boast a week of warm days. Now that summer has settled in, I keep fighting the feeling its slipping away already.
My husband bought a bird feeder for our backyard this year, and we love watching out the window as a variety of birds come to dine throughout the day. The feeder is a reminder to stop and look, to enjoy the many things that come alive during summer (except mosquitoes of course). Birds singing, trees whistling, flowers blooming, kids playing, water splashing, baseballs cracking…
A few weeks ago I was looking at a beautiful, leafy green tree – the kind of tree that sends a home’s value out of our price range. It’s branches hung heavy with beautiful, symmetrical green leaves, casting a perfect shadow underneath. But emerging from the top was a singular dead branch, crawling with pointy twigs devoid of cover. I’d never seen anything like it – how could a tree so full of life carry in it something that was clearly dead?
Ever since I saw the dead branch, I’ve been seeing them everywhere! Driving through town, I spot trees lining the sidewalks boasting bright foliage, and yet a dead branch emerges. Perhaps the late spring blizzards affected the buds, or perhaps the trees are signaling that some day they will die, just like all of us.
Each tree shows signs of decay and signs of renewal.
Isn’t that what it means to be alive in this intersection of a decaying world and a bursting Kingdom?
Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look at the earth beneath; for the heavens vanish like smoke, the earth will wear out like a garment, and they who dwell in it will die in like manner; but my salvation will be forever, and my righteousness will never be dismayed.
Isaiah 51:6
All around us we see signs of decay and signs of renewal. I went to a bachelorette party last weekend for a beloved friend who is getting married – something new and beautiful being birthed into this world. Days later my uncle passed away. Weddings, funerals, baby showers, climate change, leafy springs, dead twigs, and vines ripe with tomatoes. We walk in a time where both realities ring true.
Our bodies are decaying, yet daily regenerating and healing. Trees die, and new ones find ample nutrients to grow and flourish. How do we make sense of all of this?
This life shows flashes of beauty and perfection – how could it not, if the Creator is as majestic and magnificent as the Word says He is? But they wax and wane – a full moon never stays full.
I don’t know where Heaven is – I’m not sure if one day it will come down to this decaying planet we’ve been inhabiting for millennia or if it’s another place altogether. But I do know Earth in its present form will pass away – just like us. Nobody lives forever and the Word tells us our bodies will not go with us through death.
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.
And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying:
“Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man,
and He will dwell with them.
They will be His people,
and God Himself will be with them as their God.
‘He will wipe away every tear from their eyes,’
and there will be no more death
or mourning or crying or pain,
for the former things have passed away.”
And the One seated on the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new.” Then He said, “Write this down, for these words are faithful and true.” And He told me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give freely from the spring of the water of life. The one who overcomes will inherit all things, and I will be his God, and he will be My son.
Revelation 21:1-7
Dead branches are not pleasing to the eye, but perhaps they could be a balm to the soul. A reminder that this is all passing away – the stuff that will die. And the leafy branches remind us that one day this will all be made new.
live like penny.
I first met Penny in early 2016 when she was a student in my husband’s English class.
She was a college student just up the road from our coffee shop and had signed up for a class to gain more experience in advanced English speaking. She had recently decided to follow Christ, and it was evident it was no half-hearted commitment. We attended her baptism a few weeks later, and watched with joy as Jesus came alive in and through her life.
Penny spent that summer (2016) in America on a work exchange program and came to our wedding – she blessed us by reading our wedding passage in Chinese during the ceremony. She would be a part of our family’s life for the rest of her life – reading books to our babies, taking them for walks, practicing Chinese and laughing with them. When Penny “A-Yi” walked in the room, we all knew we were receiving a blessing.
Penny died on Wednesday in a tragic house fire. Tragic in every sense of the word. A family dispute turned violent, and when their home was set on fire – Penny, her two sisters-in-law and mother were trapped with the four sleeping children upstairs. None of them made it out. I’m still in total disbelief as I write these words.
It’s common to “deify” someone after their death – to paint a picture of them that seems perfect and flawless. Penny wasn’t perfect, but Penny was undoubtedly remarkable. If you had asked me about her two weeks ago – I would’ve said the same thing.
Penny could have done anything with her life – I mean anything. She was gorgeous, smart, kind, popular, curious, funny – so easy to love and get to know. She had a college degree and graduated with high marks. I sat in the audience as she showed her class her senior project, a documentary she made about a professional archer in Taiwan. She received the highest score – her professor remarked to the whole class about her work ethic and storytelling. Penny was fluent in English and had spent a few summers in America – she had job offers and opportunities there, ones she seriously considered.
A lot of her friends were missionaries – she wanted to be one too. She looked into different YWAM bases around the world, but ultimately she knew it wasn’t the right time. I’ll never forget a conversation we had when she finally made a decision for what she was going to do after college.
“I’m moving home.”
I pushed back – “What? Why? Penny, you can do anything! Why immerse yourself in your family drama?”
Do you know what she told me?
“Neilson and Faith need to know God.”
At the time that was her only nephew and niece. She listened to God and felt it was of utmost importance to be a part of their everyday life, bring them to church and teach them about God. And she did. Without Penny, they may have never heard the gospel – but instead, they not only knew Jesus but had the opportunity to learn from the Bible and pray to the God who hears.
Her third nephew Caleb was born a month before my Caleb, and he too got to share in her love. He was born with some health complications and she took care of Faith and Neilson while he was in the hospital – and they prayed every night for a miracle for their baby brother. They celebrated God’s power as he answered their prayers, Caleb got to come home.
Penny had no idea that on June 15th, 2022 all 4 of them would die in a fire, along with their baby cousin, their aunt, mom, and grandma.
But Penny knew God.
When God told her to do something, she listened.
Humans often measure achievement in size, wealth or influence. But in Scripture, God tells us to leave those goals alone and pursue obedience. Perhaps this obedience will produce a large harvest of fruit – but ultimately success lies in our posture at the Master’s feet. Believers are called to sit in God’s presence, to know Him, and to listen to what He says – walking in trustful obedience.
I got to know Penny long enough to say that was how she lived her life.
Simple.
Faithful.
Willing.
Obedient.
Penny loved children – she loved mine. But she loved Neilson, Faith, Caleb, and baby Joy the most.
And on Wednesday night I believe they held her hand as they all took their first steps into God’s marvelous light. She ushered them into church every Sunday, and there’s not a doubt in my hand they were all in tow as she stepped into the eternal presence of God.
Those of us who loved Penny are crushed, devastated – it’s been a long time since I’ve felt such deep loss. A world without Penny seems like a dimmer world.
But there is a Kingdom coming. It’s here and it’s not fully yet. One where we never have to suffer loss and pain like this. And the builders are people just like Penny:
Simple.
Faithful.
Willing.
Obedient.
To Penny: thanks for being my friend. I love you. ❤️
a garden for grief.
This fall my husband and I set a running challenge – run 50 miles in September and you get $50 to spend on whatever you want (board games for him…probably girls night out for me). I found a nice route I liked around a park about a mile from my house and spent most afternoons just trying to get home in less than an hour (slow runners unite!).
Partway through the month I noticed lawn signs popping up on my running route with the phrase “Justice for Willow” written in pink on them. It’s hard to read that sign and not have your heart sink – police investigators found evidence of intentional abuse of a baby girl at a daycare that resulted in severe brain damage. Those lawn signs were just the beginning of a tragic season in our community.
There is no deeper grief one can walk on this earth than the death of a child. It is an assault on the natural process and trajectory of life – we are supposed to bury our old, not our young. The first weekend in November a shooting happened at a casino just outside of town, leaving 3 dead – one a dear friend of my uncle’s – and a high school girl orphaned in a senseless act. Minutes later on the other side of town a drunk driver speeding in the wrong lane collided with a mother and her 7-year-old daughter, killing them instantly.
From that point on, death and tragedy would not stop haunting our community. Our close friends lost their precious 8-year-old great nephew in a car accident as his family made their way to their home for Thanksgiving.
There is no deeper grief than burying a child.
In early December I was singing my son to sleep with the familiar words of O Holy Night and thought of all of these precious people mourning loss:
A thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn
I held my son tight, knowing there were many others who wish they could be doing the same. And as I sang, two words struck me in that verse….weary and yonder.
It’s hard not to feel weary as 2021 closes and 2022 begins. 2020 was the year of the toilet paper shortage and the quarantines and the memes – but that feels so long ago now. We are still trying to make our way through a pandemic that at the very least has disrupted us – and for many so much more. To add death and tragedy to this already difficult season – weary feels barely strong enough to hold the burdens people are carrying.
But…yonder.
Without hope – pain becomes anger, and anger has nowhere to go but down. Deeper into our souls, festering with rage and bitterness. But with hope – the hope Christ promises in His return, secured with a down payment of His Spirit – sadness and grief has its place. We can grieve because deep down we know this is not our destiny, this is not the world we were created for and thus awful things will happen we can’t explain or understand. We grieve because this was not God’s design. We hope because we know God is in the process of setting it all right.
Paul says it well in 2 Corinthians:
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen.
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
Maverick City Music just released a new song that brings me to tears every time I hear it. It’s a beautiful song that illustrates and reminds me how Christ has changed not only our future life, but our daily life. I’m so moved by the line:
“I’ve still got joy in chaos
I’ve got peace that makes no sense
So, I won’t be going under
I’m not held by my own strength
‘Cause I’ve built my life on Jesus
He’s never let me down
He’s faithful in every season
So why would He fail now…”
This season has been tremendously sad, hard – enraging at times. And I’m just watching from the sidewalk. But I know that Hope changes everything. Hope is the soil that gives our grief a place to grow.
As I ran past the signs for Willow last fall I would always pray for two things. First, for a miracle of healing in her brain and body – this is not beyond God’s reach, even here. Second, that the outcome of this story would not be bitterness and despair. I pray for those precious parents that daily walk the challenges of their new life – that they would succumb to even the smallest bit of hope. God can take even this unspeakable pain and heal in places nothing else possibly could. That’s a miracle too. It is the miracle of the gospel.
writing takes courage.
A few days ago I brought my son to a birthday party at the local trampoline park.
I was of course careful not to tell him too early that we were going – it’s a place he would live if he could. Every time I take him there I love watching how he is growing up. From almost jumping in the toddler park to having to yank him out of the teenager area where he marvels at their form. There is a climbing wall offering heights about 10 feet over a giant pit of foam cubes, and with this visit it didn’t take Benaiah long to start his conquest to the top. With a dare from his mother (who, me?) he eventually reached the very top and with a one-toothed grin leaned back and fell ten proud feet into the pit. He is a brave boy.
I like to think he gets his bravery from me – but though I can be brave in some ways, I lack any sort of courage in others. Sometimes I wrestle with writing. I’ve posted less than 10 posts on this blog in the last 3 years – but there are 68 unpublished drafts wasting away under a tab I’m afraid to even open.
In 2019 I had an idea for an article in a Christian magazine and for whatever reason the editor of Christianity Today thought it was worth her time to help me write it. The article was about 9 paragraphs….it took me 9 months to write. By the end of it I could hardly even get through reading the intro, it was so vulnerable and boring and redundant in my eyes I sincerely hoped it would end up on the bottom of the pile.
But I think that’s how writing works. Because writing may come naturally to some people – but as with any talent, if not cultivated with hard work, curiosity, and bravery – it is something that will wither and die.
I heard a challenging view on a podcast a few years ago and it’s stuck with me every time I think about sitting down to write:
“None of that [platform building] has to do with being an aspiring writer. That is an aspiring famous person. To be an aspiring writer, that’s a craftsman’s job. You have to do the necessary work of practice.” (Barnabas Piper, Malcontents Pod)
It’s such an odd time to be a writer. Because I can post something in 140 words that might provoke people – but is that craftsmanship? Or storytelling? The real work of writing and storytelling takes years, yes – but years alone (as I have seen in the past four) holds no promise of growth. It takes commitment.
And courage.
To not “x” this tab.
praying for croquet
My mom informed me in March that this year, 2021, we were going to buy Laura a nice croquet set for her birthday. But you see, this is a complicated request – because finding a nice croquet set is not easy to do.
When we were kids our family friends had a nice croquet set. We loved to go to their house and whack the wooden balls around their huge yard – the set had endured much abuse but was built to last forever. Laura in particular loves to play croquet and for at least a handful of birthdays, we’ve bought her a new set.
But not a nice set – sure, we’ve shelled out plenty of cash – but without fail we bust all the mallets before the summer is halfway through. I determined this would be the year we found her a forever set, and embarked on a quest to find the best croquet set for under $200 with indestructible mallets and balls, made from real wood.
My only problem was, the only company doing that in 2021 is an Amish company, and they want $400 for their basic set. So I kept digging, and found that most American croquet sets prior to 1960 were made by a toy company in Indiana called the South Bend Toy Company, known for their handmade, high quality product. But they were eventually bought out by Milton Bradley and by 1980 sets were being made overseas with cheaper materials – several other companies would follow suit.
So if I didn’t want to shell out $400 on an Amish website, I needed to find a croquet set made prior to 1980 – in good condition, with all the pieces. For less than $200. I scoured ebay and other online sites, and could only find sets that were missing pieces or required a $60 shipping fee.
After weeks with no luck, I decided I was going to pray and ask God to give me a set. Why not, right? He could say no if He wanted to, He’s God.
A few days later my dig brought me back to Google, where I was trying to find a few extra pieces to a set I saw on eBay. I typed the name of the set into the search bar, and the first result that showed up was a complete set for sale on Facebook Marketplace.
In Williston, North Dakota.
Less than a mile from my house. Two hours and less than $200 later I had an immaculate 1960’s vintage set in my garage ready to be wrapped and gifted.
I might be over-detailing this entire story (trust me, I’ve left out a bunch of other nerdy details) – but you have to understand, this was the only complete set for sale in the entire COUNTRY! And it happened to be just down the street.
I tell this story because I honestly have no idea why God cares that I wanted to get my sister a croquet set for her birthday. But clearly He did.
Travis and I are in the midst of praying for some bigger things (well, bigger than croquet at least), yet I approach praying over them with such hesitancy. Does anyone else pray “Well God, I don’t dare ask for much, but if you could…I mean…I trust your will..God okay, we’re fine with whatever.”
My croquet prayer was super specific. But I think God likes specific prayers. It shows that we trust His power and His goodness – that we know we are sons and daughters, not orphans or slaves.
That doesn’t mean the answer is always yes – but sometimes, it is! God says “I heard you, and I know you! Here is a gift, I’m delighted you asked.” To pray boldly is an act of faith, one that awakens the heart of our Father God.
Right after I hit publish, I’m going to write my specific prayer on the fridge. I’m asking boldly, because a life of not asking is a life of missing out on God’s abundant grace.
Matthew 7:7-11
Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.
Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? So if you who are evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!
one year later.
We moved back to the US one year ago this week, so here is an update on our lives in 2021!
A year ago, we got on that plane with no job or house waiting for us, but the safety net of family and a church we love waiting for us on the other side. And quite literally, they were all waiting for us at the airport with masks and signs welcoming us home to a place we had lived before but never together and never as a family. We knew our time in Taiwan had come to a close (God was generous in that our departure was healthy, happy, and hope-filled)) – but there were so many unknowns waiting for us.
The summer was…hard. Travis had to wait almost 3 months for a job, which was frustrating for him to navigate as we all tried to find routine and stability. But with almost no effort of our own, we found an affordable rental house with a fenced in backyard for the boys. Our landlord lives two houses down and has become our neighbor Grandma who we like to go visit (Ben knows exactly where her snack drawer is).
Finding community in a pandemic was challenging – but we were given abundant time with our families who all live nearby, time we didn’t know we needed. (Update: Caleb likes my sister more than me – his own mother!). As things begin to open up again, we are spending more time with old friends and praying for opportunities to make new ones.
In March, I went back to working at a restaurant a few nights a week so we could get some money stashed for a future home (or whatever God has in the works for us). As an extrovert I love the connections I can make with my co-workers and customers and even squeeze in a few adult conversations here and there!
Caleb is 15 months old and has yet to walk his first solo steps! He loves to walk holding someone’s hand, but as soon as we let go he plops right down on his behind and forgets all about it. He’s never been in a hurry to do anything, which is in stark contrast to his brother! He has a few words down pat: nana (banana), dada, mama, lala (the aunt who holds his heart), and papa. He is truly a delight of a boy.
Ben turns 3.5 today! We went to look for a pedal bike for him over the weekend but couldn’t find one that fit his size. Yesterday I was at the thrift store buying something and tripped over something on the way out – it was a red bike that was the exact size we needed, for $10! He had it mastered 20 minutes later. He is our independent, strong-willed, and brilliant boy. If we are prematurely gray he may be the reason, but we can’t imagine life without him.
love going to Nana and Papa’s house, about an hour south of where we live.
Travis and I have gotten involved at our church (they were our primary sending church to Taiwan) and are so thankful for the community they have been and continue to be. We were careful not to rush into too many commitments right away as we found our feet in America. My kids are my primary ministry in this season, and I’ve also had lots of great opportunities to share my faith at work. Travis oversees the facilities at our church and is involved with the 6am Men’s bible study on Friday mornings (my 6am friday morning study is my pillow).
We have seen God’s abundant faithfulness this year in the big things (house, job, family, etc) but also in the little daily things. Travis doesn’t wake up every morning dying to get to his blue collar job, but God meets him every day in small ways. Leaving a tropical island and keeping two boys busy indoors in a 4-month winter was hard, but God was there with us too.
Psalm 121 was so clear to us as we were packing and leaving Taiwan – and its truth has carried us all the way through year 1.
Psalm 121
1 I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The Lord watches over you—
the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
6 the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
7 The Lord will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
8 the Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.
Reading Rachel 