A Note from Deutschland: Guess What God Has Gone and Done?

So much for that last post, two years ago, about reviving my blog. Overly optimistic I guess. Excessive optimism isn’t usually my ambience, but I suppose it can trip anyone up now and then. From now on I shall refrain from making predictions regarding my use of this site. There’s clearly no point in it. But some deep and apprehensive part of me still wants to write something worth reading someday, so, write I must, if only to practice. Certainly practice need not be publicly posted, and I don’t dare look back and read all the “previous prose” on this page to see how I’ve come along — I’m too afraid of finding my writing as poor as it always was. Or worse than I imagine. Or, if not finding faults of writing, then faults of understanding. There is the option of starting an entirely new blog, or of deleting all my old posts so no one need find them, but both of those sound like a lot of work and, as we have already seen, for me personally, a lot of work on a blog + two children are a recipe for inaction..

So, I’ll keep it simple, and just keep writing here. Oh dear, there’s that pesky prediction thing again. I *hope* I’ll keep writing here.

Speaking of here . . . where is here? Germany, of all places. Who knew! Well, God did. Which rather defeats the purpose of the expression. But it encourages me, because of all things what I did NOT want was to move away from Little Rock. Yes, yes, I married the Air Force and I knew it was a likelihood. And I had prepared myself. But preparation doesn’t inoculate one against pain. The prospect of being ripped away from the place and the people among whom I had become an adult, grown spiritually, been carried through trials, served and been served, loved and been loved, seen my children loved and taught and prayed for, was gut-twisting. Still, moving always comes with some level of excitement; even when I don’t want to move I enjoy the idea of setting up a different home afresh, seeing new places and meeting new people. That excitement was present, but the pain didn’t ease at all for nearly a year.

That’s how long we’ve been here, isn’t that wild? Nearly a year. And now, wonder of wonders, guess what God has gone and done? He’s only gone and kept His promise to be faithful, to be near to us in our hurt, and provided us immediately with a Bible-teaching church full of people who love Him and love His people. The first eight or nine months were very hard, but “already” sweet friendships are developing, for us and our children.

God provides His people to one another. He gives generously beyond all we could ask or think — no matter what else He has taken. The giving and taking is His prerogative, and His perfect wisdom knows best what we need, and what our kids need. There is still pain in the separation from my other church family and I intend to keep making the effort to stay as closely in touch as possible. And yet — what fun it is to get a head start on meeting the great throng of believers I’ll spend eternity with! That there’s a nice thought.

~Lizzy

Blog CPR

I’ve never taken a CPR class, but I’m going to attempt to revive this blog. Never having taken CPR is probably a mistake, but that’s a subject for another time. Anyway, I have a keyboard again so I imagine that’ll help. Two years ago I assigned my broken laptop to the nether regions of the universe and acquired an iPad. It’s been useful for a lot of things, but not so much for writing. Now, with an honest to goodness keyboard once again in my hands, there’s a solid chance new posts could begin to show up here with slightly more regularity than Haley’s Comet. The question is, will I say anything worth reading?

That remains to be seen. I’ll certainly try. Nothing has changed in regard to my faith or core beliefs, and hopefully I’ve continued to grow as a Christian. But my life is now so drastically different from the ol’ 9-5 jobs of the blog writing days, and my mind necessarily occupied with answering a 3 yr. old boy’s ubiquitous questions and keeping a 20 month old from pitching herself headlong over the edge of whatever surface she’s currently standing, lying, sitting, or kneeling on, that precious little mental space is devoted to anything else. Food, laundry, and cleaning barely make it in some days.

This is not news to anyone. If you’re reading this you either are a mom or you know one, so I’ll waste no more words with to-do lists. You know the drill.

My husband has encouraged me to blog again. I appreciate that, and I want to as well. It just might take me some time to figure out what I have to say. What do I want this space to be? Dare I wonder if there’s something specific you want to hear…from me? If there is, and you know me personally, please let me know. I’m not an expert in anything. I have very few skills, and those I have are about as far out of practice as it’s possible to be.

I think it was Flannery O’Connor who said “I owe my desk two hours a day.” — just in reference to keeping up her basic writing skills, let alone completing publishable material. I don’t have two hours a day for this, but my writing does need a great deal of improvement so I might just put in some of that practice right here. I’ll try not to punish your presence with glorified navel gazing that’s better left to the rubbish heap. I have Microsoft Word for that.

Re-reading the above, maybe I’ve failed already.

Oh well, I’ll try again next time.

Cheers!

-Lizzy

More Beginnings

Our firstborn arrived on May 30th of last year, a large part of the reason it’s been fifteen months since my last post. Any available creative time for me is usually spent on reading or physical writing, so blogging has gone by the wayside. But I’ve finished a few great books and my calligraphy is gradually getting back up to snuff. Gradually.

Life is now momming. Fourteen months in it is still new and scary, but I love it. A lot of times I feel like more mom than wife, and it takes some intentional action, even planning, to feel wifely too. Even if that means jumping in and doing a task for Aaron that he usually does himself, just to serve him specifically. So much of what I do in the household is for Teddy or for the family as a whole, that it’s good to do the odd thing that’s just for my husband.

And now Baby Girl is coming in November! I feel like I have very little time these days, but I know once she’s here I’ll realize how much I had with just one baby.

It’s hard. I hoped I would be one of those moms who found time work out even while pregnant and stuck to my Trim Healthy Mama way of eating. But I haven’t. I still battle laziness every day. I haven’t put into practice the planning and prep it takes to do those things, and more importantly, my time in the Word is lacking as well. I listen to a lot of sermons, but of course that’s not the same.

My husband, in laws, family, and church family are so supportive and keep me encouraged, and it gives me ALL the warm fuzzies to watch them enjoy Teddy. He has brought joy upon joy to our lives, and we hope to others’ too.

Hopefully I’ll write again soon. No doubt this blog sounds like every other Christian new mom blog, and that’s okay. No particular gift of expression graces my writing. 😌 But I hope to share tidbits of what I learn, here and there.

Until then,

Lizzy

Failure Is Not An Option

Lately I’ve been reading Failure Is Not An Option, the book written by longtime NASA Flight Director Gene Kranz. I highly recommend it! If you’re at all interested in the American space program, and especially if you like behind-the-scenes inside information, you’ll love this book.

For a decade at least I’ve watched Apollo 13 several times a year, enthralled, each time wondering not just how accurate it is but how the rapid growth of the space program had functioned day to day in order to put human beings on the moon so quickly after President Kennedy’s inspiring charge.

Astronaut Jim Lovell has always said, “It wasn’t a miracle. We just decided to go.”

Hard work and dedication. Toughness and competence.

With a short flashback to his formative years, Mr. Kranz takes you through the grueling days and rugged nights of Mission Control, from the near chaos of the early space agency before the first Mercury mission through the well-oiled machine of the Apollo program. New staff chosen by the dozens, many straight out of college, and immediately tossed headfirst into complex, ill-defined roles, learning to work together while writing the books on their own jobs, with expectations and deadlines shifting constantly under their feet. Add to that the nail-biting excitement of each test, each launch, and each landing. The tragedy of Apollo 1, the riveting thrills of Apollo 11, and the “successful failure” of Apollo 13.

I’ve always been astounded by what these people accomplished. Learning how they accomplished it has been beyond fun! 

And despite the gravity of the subject, all throughout the book is Mr. Kranz’s irrepressible sense of humor. So check it out from your local library, order it, or borrow it from a friend. Curl up in your reading nook with tea or coffee, and ride along with Mission Control as they fly you to the moon.

If You Have Kids, Or Have Ever Been Around Them, Read This

Years ago my dad found this online, and he used to read it to couples and families visiting our home. Without fail, everyone ended up doubled over, expiring with laughter.

As Aaron and I look forward to having our firstborn child this Spring, all the joyful anticipations — and fears that I hear are so common — are present. Let this be a lesson to me to retain a sense of humor about it all!

Author Ian Frazier explains that he was reading Leviticus and watching his kids alone for the weekend when he had the idea to write this. Enjoy!

Lamentations of the Father: Laws Concerning Food and Drink—Household Principles

1. Laws Pertaining to the Living Room

Of the beasts of the field, and of the fishes of the sea, and of all foods that are acceptable in my sight you may eat, but not in the living room.

Of the hoofed animals, broiled or ground into burgers, you may eat, but not in the living room.

Of the cloven-hoofed animal, plain or with cheese, you may eat, but not in the living room.

Of the cereal grains, of the corn and of the wheat and of the oats, and of all the cereals that are of bright color and unknown provenance you may eat, but not in the living room.

Of the quiescently frozen dessert and of all frozen after-meal treats you may eat, but absolutely not in the living room.

Of the juices and other beverages, yes, even of those in sippy-cups, you may drink, but not in the living room, neither may you carry such therein. Indeed, when you reach the place where the living room carpet begins, of any food or beverage there you may not eat, neither may you drink.

But if you are sick, and are lying down and watching something, then may you eat in the living room.

2. Laws When at Table

And if you are seated in your high chair, or in a chair such as a greater person might use, keep your legs and feet below you as they were. Neither raise up your knees, nor place your feet upon the table, for that is an abomination to me. Yes, even when you have an interesting bandage to show, your feet upon the table are an abomination, and worthy of rebuke.

Drink your milk as it is given you, neither use on it any utensils, nor fork, nor knife, nor spoon, for that is not what they are for; if you will dip your blocks in the milk, and lick it off, you will be sent away. When you have drunk, let the empty cup then remain upon the table, and do not bite it upon its edge and by your teeth hold it to your face in order to make noises in it sounding like a duck; for you will be sent away.

When you chew your food, keep your mouth closed until you have swallowed, and do not open it to show your brother or your sister what is within; I say to you, do not so, even if your brother or your sister has done the same to you.

Eat your food only; do not eat that which is not food; neither seize the table between your jaws, nor use the raiment of the table to wipe your lips. I say again to you, do not touch it, but leave it as it is. And though your stick of carrot does indeed resemble a marker, draw not with it upon the table, even in pretend, for we do not do that, that is why. And though the pieces of broccoli are very like small trees, do not stand them upright to make a forest, because we do not do that, that is why.

Sit just as I have told you, and do not lean to one side or the other, nor slide down until you are nearly slid away. Heed me; for if you sit like that, your hair will go into the syrup. And now behold, even as I have said, it has come to pass.

3. Laws Pertaining to Dessert

For we judge between the plate that is unclean and the plate that is clean, saying first, if the plate is clean, then you shall have dessert. But of the unclean plate, the laws are these: If you have eaten most of your meat, and two bites of your peas with each bite consisting of not less than three peas each, or in total six peas, eaten where I can see, and you have also eaten enough of your potatoes to fill two forks, both forkfuls eaten where I can see, then you shall have dessert. But if you eat a lesser number of peas, and yet you eat the potatoes, still you shall not have dessert; and if you eat the peas, yet leave the potatoes uneaten, you shall not have dessert, no, not even a small portion thereof. And if you try to deceive by moving the potatoes or peas around with a fork, that it may appear you have eaten what you have not, you will fall into iniquity. And I will know, and you shall have no dessert.

4. On Screaming

Do not scream; for it is as if you scream all the time. If you are given a plate on which two foods you do not wish to touch each other are touching each other, your voice rises up even to the ceiling, while you point to the offense with the finger of your right hand; but I say to you, scream not, only remonstrate gently with the server, that the server may correct the fault.

Likewise if you receive a portion of fish from which every piece of herbal seasoning has not been scraped off, and the herbal seasoning is loathsome to you, and steeped in vileness, again I say, refrain from screaming. Though the vileness overwhelm you, and cause you a faint unto death, make not that sound from within your throat, neither cover your face, nor press your fingers to your nose. For even now I have made the fish as it should be; behold, I eat of it myself, yet do not die.

5. Concerning Face and Hands

Cast your countenance upward to the light, and lift your eyes to the hills, that I may more easily wash you off. For the stains are upon you; even to the very back of your head, there is rice thereon. And in the breast pocket of your garment, and upon the tie of your shoe, rice and other fragments are distributed in a manner wonderful to see. Only hold yourself still; hold still, I say.

Give each finger in its turn for my examination thereof, and also each thumb. Lo, how iniquitous they appear. What I do is as it must be; and you shall not go hence until I have done.

6. Various Other Laws, Statutes, and Ordinances

Bite not, lest you be cast into quiet time. Neither drink of your own bath water, nor of bath water of any kind; nor rub your feet on bread, even if it be in the package; nor rub yourself against cars, nor against any building; nor eat sand.

Leave the cat alone, for what has the cat done, that you should so afflict it with tape? And hum not that humming in your nose as I read, nor stand between the light and the book. Indeed, you will drive me to madness. Nor forget what I said about the tape.

7. Complaints and Lamentations

O my children, you are disobedient. For when I tell you what you must do, you argue and dispute hotly even to the littlest detail; and when I do not accede, you cry out, and hit and kick. Yes, and even sometimes do you spit, and shout “stupid-head” and other blasphemies, and hit and kick the wall and the molding thereof when you are sent to the corner. And though the law teaches that no one shall be sent to the corner for more minutes than he has years of age, yet I would leave you there all day, so mighty am I in anger. But upon being sent to the corner you ask straightaway, “Can I come out?” and I reply, “No, you may not come out.” And again you ask, and again I give the same reply. But when you ask again a third time, then you may come out.

Hear me, O my children, for the bills they kill me. I pay and pay again, even to the twelfth time in a year, and yet again they mount higher than before. For our health, that we may be covered, I give six hundred and twenty talents twelve times in a year; but even this covers not the fifteen hundred deductible for each member of the family within a calendar year. And yet for ordinary visits we still are not covered, nor for many medicines, nor for the teeth within our mouths. Guess not at what rage is in my mind, for surely you cannot know. For I will come to you at the first of the month and at the fifteenth of the month with the bills and a great whining and moan. And when the month of taxes comes, I will decry the wrong and unfairness of it, and mourn with wine and ashtrays, and rend my receipts. And you shall remember that I am that I am: before, after, and until you are twenty-one. Hear me then, and avoid me in my wrath, O children of me.

– Ian Frazier

Prolonged Singleness: Some of Us Don’t Just Feel Unwanted, We Start To Feel Unwantable

It’s not just you, you’re not crazy. I remember how it felt. Not the feeling that nobody wants you — that took a backseat to something new a few years ago: the feeling that nobody could want you. Would ever want you. Something’s got to be wrong with you, and you’re simply unwantable.

Maybe you think you’re too messed up. Too far gone. Have too many issues. Who would want to hitch their wagon to you and all your baggage?

When your head’s on straight, you know it’s not true. Still, most days, you can’t shake the feeling that whatever used to be desirable about you is either gone, or just not enough.

Lady, I have BEEN. THERE.

Your married friends keep telling you what a great catch you are! It feels good for a few moments, and then it rings hollow. Especially their kind-hearted assurance that they “just know God has someone wonderful out there for you!” That’s sweet, but, they can’t know that. No one but God knows that. And God simply won’t tell you whether or not you’ll be single for the rest of your life.

This isn’t going to be a lecture on why such thinking is wrong. If you’re someone who knows the God of the Bible, you likely know it already. Nor is it going to be about all the reasons the right man, if God has marriage in your future, is going to want you. I just hope to commiserate, since I’ve been down that hole, and communicate that climbing out is hard, but possible.

By the way, it wasn’t meeting my spouse that somehow lifted me out. I had to find a rope and climb. The rope was the slow, consistent work of God to comfort me, and gently show me the idol of my heart. He comforted me with the truth that He had created me, without design flaws, for specific works He had prepared beforehand (Ephesians 1:10). He comforted me with the truth that He would never abandon the progress He was making in my sanctification (Philippians 1:6).

Owning up to the fact that my idol was being chosen by a good man, refocusing that worship to Christ, and finally grasping what true contentment is — those changes got me to a place of real joy two years before Aaron ever moved to Arkansas.

It wasn’t for me to be consumed with whether God’s plan for me included marriage. He had things for me to do, now. As a single. These were not, are not, wasted years.
Unless I waste them.

Regarding contentment; boy, there are a lot of articles out there right? But, I believe it can be boiled down to one sentence. The ones I usually hear/read are:
“Contentment is not wanting anything more that you want Christ.”
“Contentment is finding your satisfaction in God.”
Well, those are true, and I understood them, but I clearly still lacked something in the application. Then someone told me another single sentence, the most life-changing thing I’d ever heard since the Gospel, that finally drove it home in my heart:

“If you aren’t content without it, you’ll never be content with it.”

Turns out, what I needed to understand wasn’t the true nature of contentment, but the nature of discontentment.

Whatever it is we want so much — marriage, that different job, a baby, restored health, anything — getting it will not magically make us content. There will always be a next thing. The insidious little worm of discontentment will keep chewing holes through our hearts until we choose to make God’s current provision the joy we fill them with.

God is so full of grace for us as we learn this, especially in the midst of intense trial and grief. He knows that we are only dust (Psalm 103). He is patient.

All this doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to make good changes and pursue better options for work or what have you. It’s okay to want good things! But the test of our contentment lies in how our hearts respond when we don’t get them . . . or, often, during the long years that we still aren’t getting them.

Feeling unwantable? Take a deep breath. Meditate on verses about what God has done for your soul. Examine your heart. Ask for His help, and look around for what God is doing in your life, instead of staring at what He’s not doing.

One of the heaviest trials of my life came along while this understanding began take root in my heart. After the initial shock and grief, relentlessly looking for the good that God was accomplishing is what has gotten me through it. There has been so, so much good.

So look up, and turn your head. You might just find some of the greatest joys of your life.

 

Are You Trying to Run Someone Else’s Race?

The race metaphor for the Christian life seems to have endless applications. I keep thinking of more, or hearing friends make comparisons I hadn’t thought of. Most recently, it hit me that if I had tried to run those two marathons at someone else’s level of fitness and training, I would never have finished. There’s a lesson in that for my wretched little heart.

Both race days, a lot of people started one or three corrals ahead of me — the “elite” runners pawing the grown up front in corral A, and me way down the road, corral D, just ahead of the walkers. At a pace of 12-13 minutes per mile, there was no way I could have run a race like corral A runners. Nor even like the people in C! If I had pushed myself too hard and too fast, I wouldn’t even have made it to mile 5.

I had to run my own race.

Everyone else had to run theirs.

What did that mean for me? I had to stop and stretch when my body needed it, to eat what worked for me without upsetting my stomach, and most counter-intuitively, to walk for one minute every two minutes.

As a Christian I am in a race. As a sinner I often try to run it like people who aren’t me — usually those I envy in some way. But if it’s true that God sanctifies each of us in His own time, with a unique set of disciplines, trials, and gifts, why would I place on myself the expectation to be just like them?

Let me make an important distinction here: there is a difference between what I’m trying to describe and seeking to imitate those whose Christianity you admire. We are commanded to disciple one another, following the examples of more mature believers and being an example to others in turn.

The key is to look around and choose from those who are running ahead of you, and follow. However this doesn’t mean our experience of the race will be the same as theirs. Yes, we are to imitate Christ, and Jesus did say “Be perfect, as your Father in Heaven is perfect.” (Matthew 5:48) But we don’t do that by expecting perfection of ourselves the first day of training. Or the 50th, or the 232nd day. We don’t do that by wishing we had the sames gifts as our best friend, or resenting the discipline and trials God has chosen for us and longing for someone else’s “easier” life.

If God has put us in the race, then He has also provided the body and the tools with which He wants us to run it. He commands us to “lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us” (Hebrews 12:1b). Sometimes that weight is crippling perfectionism, sinful envy, or mistrust of God’s wisdom.

Distance racing has “pacers” — one person in each corral wearing a bright colored vest and a carrying a tall narrow sign with the time in which they will race. They’re chosen as pacers for being remarkably consistent, it’s amazing. Runners who wish to keep that pace make an effort to stick near them. This might represent those we desire to follow in our Christian race. Personally if I try to follow the 4 hour pacer, I’m dead meat in 20 minutes. I don’t have the gifts they have. I haven’t trained to that level. Yet. It’s a good goal! So, work toward it in training. But in the heat of the race, in the heat of trials, I have to give myself grace to run with what God has given me.

Okay, so it’s a limited metaphor after all. But I hope it’s clear enough what I’m getting at; in our God-pleasing efforts to be more holy, more obedient, more like those who are more like Christ, beware of perfectionism and envy.

Yes, we pursue excellence, we exercise the spiritual disciplines and work hard to make progress. God-willing someday we will be running at a whole new level! In training we do have goals. Just remember it takes time to get there. Time, patience, and attention to what God has given us to work with.

The rest of Hebrews 12:1 says “and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.”

I love that word, endurance. It assumes hardship. Jesus promised hardship. “In this life you will have trouble.” (John 16:33)

I can and must seek to run with as much endurance as those whose examples God wants me to follow, but I mustn’t forget He is working in each of us differently, to endure different things. We must run our own race, thanking Him for the perfect wisdom that decrees its path.

 

Number Nineteen

Everything’s in except the piano. Another move in the books. From a rented pool house in a friend’s backyard to a 2-bedroom apartment twenty minutes closer to town and five minutes from church. It’s my eighth move in the ten years I’ve lived in Arkansas, and it’s the third move in four years here for Aaron. The other day I counted up the number of places I’ve called “home” since being born. This is number nineteen. That seems like a lot for thirty-three years. Thankfully only a few of them involved an uprooting from one whole area or state to another. Two were international. I never could relate to friends who had all their memories in one house. Part of me envied that, but I loved my family’s adventures too. My mom excels at packing. Unfortunately I only partially inherited/absorbed this skill.

My husband has moved a fair bit for his age as well. His father was Army for 30 years. For my part, God made me a homebody who loves travel. I love seeing the world, and I even like a lot about the hectic excitement and apprehension of moving to a new area, but when I’m home I want to be home. Don’t need to find something to do downtown thank you, I’ll enjoy a book by the fire or on a blanket under a tree in the yard in Spring. Maybe a play or musical once in a while if a good one comes through town. So, for years now I’ve said that I figure God has one of two reasons for having nudged me all around the country and the world; 1) He has allowed the moving and travel (nine countries) so that if I never get to move or go anywhere again, I’ll have absolutely no excuse for complaint (not that there would be anyway), because just look at the places and people I’ve gotten to experience!

Or 2), He’s preparing me for more.

Well, now I’ve married into the military. So it’s looking like the latter. Aaron is Air Force. He wants so badly to see the world, to go fight the monsters. And I want him to be able to. He’s ready. I’ll miss him, but I want him to get that chance. They haven’t sent us anywhere yet but we can bet quite a few more moves lie ahead, especially considering his long term goals. But as you all know, here’s the thing about “home”: it’s where the people you love most are, regardless of the point on the globe. In that sense, a lot of us have several homes. We are blessed with people. I feel like I’ll always have homes in Minnesota, California, South Africa, and Arkansas. Despite all the times my family has picked up and left, God has given me wonderful people; family, church families, and friends that have defined home for me.

And now, my husband. I look around this cozy apartment and I’m so grateful for God’s provision. For yet another place to call home. Until it changes once again.

When The Mother’s Day Roses Turn Black

On May 25th, we learned for certain that I had miscarried our honeymoon-baby at 9 weeks. It was 10:30 in the morning. “Happy two months of marriage, babe.” We cried, but we smiled too. It really had been a wonderful two months.

Aaron and I were house-sitting at the time, and our own home is a rented pool-house in a friend’s backyard. Where would we bury our little one? So at first, my baby was in a small container in the fridge. That really messes with your head.

Friends and family brought meals, praying for and with us. But a few days later we had to face moving back home with that tiny Tupperware until a burial location could be found. We drove two vehicles, so I had to figure out where to put the baby while I drove. In my lap? Carefully on the front seat? It was all so wrong. Then when we got home…walk in, put him in our fridge. Oh how we wept.

We had been married only 7 weeks. (They count weeks from the first day of the woman’s last cycle, hence the apparent discrepancy.) But we had the comfort and love of God shown constantly through those who love us. And most precious, through one another.

Just the week before, Aaron had given me six beautiful red roses for my first Mother’s Day, and I had taken them along to house-sit. They sat on the coffee table all through those ten days, and after the miscarriage I couldn’t bear to throw them away. One day I noticed that, while usually the petals would begin to wilt and fall off by then, these had not done so. Six perfectly formed roses still looked up at me out of that vase; not a petal had fallen, but they had turned black. And yet, I couldn’t help but be grateful for how beautiful they still looked. Our baby was gone, but I’m still a mom. My dear young husband is still a dad.

The night we came home from the ER, Aaron was naturally struggling with the awful feeling of being unable to help. Sitting there on the floor I told him that the best way a father can help his children is to love their mother well, and because he was loving me so well he was already the best father he could possibly be.

We did bury our little one about two weeks later. We have grieved in our own way, tears coming at random sometimes or brought on by seeing pregnant friends. It’s been very important to me to make sure none of them think I don’t want to see them or share in their joy. I do!

Our hearts are still full of joy, truly. It was a difficult passage, but we are so thankful for each other and for God’s work in our lives through it. I definitely have a new level of compassion for all of you who have been through this, some of you many times. I am so very sorry for your losses.

Thank you all for praying for us during that time, and since. We truly lacked nothing.

God is good, all the time!

The Single Thing

Since getting married I’ve thought a lot about writing something to my single friends. I suppose every single-longer-than-she-wanted-to-be Christian wife has considered doing this, and I’m willing to bet that if you’re a single woman reading the blogs out there, you feel like ALL of them have done it . . . repeatedly.

Another one, really? Is it some kind of right of passage that you married people feel like you have to go through — write the blog to the still-single demographic that you were a part of, oh I dunno, five months ago?

I get it. I’ve had that thought. So how do I know that what I might have to say would be any good? Well, I don’t. But I do know that every time I pushed past those bitter feelings and read the words of women who had at last gotten their heart’s dearest wish, it helped.

Their disillusionment helped me keep perspective.

Their joy helped me remember that disillusionment doesn’t mean disappointment.

Their charges to be content in singleness — or I wouldn’t be content married either — helped me be obedient to God, and find all satisfaction in Him.

In 2013 I wrote my own blog on that last point, The Gift of a Gift Withheld.  It was probably the single most important thing I ever internalized. No pun intended.

So I will continue to consider what, if anything, I have to say to my still-single friends from a recently-married nothing-figured-out perspective that could possibly be of encouragement.

One thing I can say right now: God’s wisdom is trustworthy!