Less like Vacation, More like Home

When we first moved here, the girls and I made a pact to treat this like we were on vacation. “Because on vacation,” I said, “we can’t ever find the sunscreen or our towel or toothbrush, and here we can’t either.” It worked for a long while, and now it’s just seeming like home, only not my home.

For one, the walls are a creamy beige. I love the color, but in MY house, I mean my former home, the living room walls were the prettiest blue gray color that my friend Tracy picked out. That color helped me relax without always hugging me to death with warmth and happiness. Sometimes, like right now, I just don’t wanna go and be happy. I wanna play sad country songs and cry in my milk sometimes.


And frankly, I’m tired of being strong. Everyone says, “Ooooh! Glad to hear you’re settling in!” Yeahhhhh;. Because my boxes are getting put away, then suddenly all is right with the world? Grrr. I’m so grouchy tonight. I know that people just don’t know what to say right now.

I don’t know what to say either. Ask me if I’m OK. and you’ll either get the “Yeah fine,” or you’ll get a sob story like none other. There’s rarely an in-between.

What needs to happen is that Mr. Wonderful needs a job. (He is still SO wonderful, though!) Then maybe we can ever see TV again. (TV isn’t the important thing, but we REALLY miss seeing it for 30 minutes to one hour  per day.) And then we won’t have to live on the kindness of our friends and family members to carry us through financially until there’s a real paycheck.

I KNOW that through all this, God has a vision and a plan. I want to remain faithful to Him, and be a good witness to our children of His love. But sometimes I just don’t feel like rising above the circumstances. Sometimes, I just want to wallow in self-pity, for a half-minute, until I feel better. Sometimes, I just need to buy new lemons, because the ones that life handed me were all bruised and rotten, so I can’t even make that lemonade with them.

God, please help me to be strong when my family needs it. Help me to do my work while I’m at work, and to be sweet and tender to my family when they need that. Forgive me for being grouchy and having a bad attitude about everything today. I love you, God. Without You, my whole life is a wash. Thank you for giving us a pretty home nearer friends and family, and for our cat, Pookie, finally gracing us with her presence tonight. It’s going to be good here, I know it. Amen.


Manic Moving Monday

On Monday, we’re moving from this place where we became a family, where Mr. Wonderful and I have lived since 2009. I remember having a tantrum one night after we moved in, because I didn’t know how many steps from our bed to the bathroom, or intuitively where the lightswitch was located.

I’m so tired, emotionally and physically. And tomorrow, we’re throwing a party. A PARTY! Because it’s been planned for several months and our parents, friends and family said they thought we should still celebrate the girls’ adoption,.

And then the next day, we’re moving… because maybe we’re gluttons for chaos? I don’t know…

I resolve to know only this: Jesus Christ and Him crucified.

Watershed Moment

June 11, 2013 was a watershed moment* in Mr. Wonderful’s and my life. Mr. Wonderful wrongfully lost his job, and because of that, we are being forced to move out of our home and into, well, something not as great, but very near my work and the kids’ school.

The rivers of tears we’ve cried separately and as a family over this are deep and all-encompassing at times. Leaving our community, our ministry, our church family, and this little life we carved out of this big city is proving to be difficult and gut-wrenching at every turn.  Packing up this house is the least of the issues. What really stinks, what REALLY hurts is the way we were just yanked out of this, without even the opportunity to say goodbye. Our hearts are bleeding inside of our chests at the thought we’re still just a block away from these people we love so dearly, and now they’ve been officially directed not to fraternize with us, as though we  were a self-contained colony of lepers.

At first it seemed very much like we were running back to our hometown with our tails tucked neatly between our legs and cowering. That isn’t the case, though. We have choices in this, and we have so much support from our friends and family that we can’t help but be lifted up out of the muck and mire of these last weeks.

The people of Eastwood are forever in our hearts. We miss each one so much!  They were our whole life, and we miss them so! We would never have chosen this path; we would never have willingly left these people. It’s hard to imagine why this has happened, but we believe God has something better for us, coming hopefully soon!

My goal for this coming week is to get back into praying. I’ve been so angry throughout this whole ordeal, that the only prayers I’ve uttered are ones of desperation, to hold onto sanity for another minute, and to not pass out from sheer exhaustion.

Father God, I don’t understand this, and I don’t like it. I’m sad that we didn’t even get to say goodbye, and worse, that someone is trying purposefully to hurt Carl by spreading lies about him. God, I’m mad because you knew this would happen and you could have stopped it! It didn’t need to go this far, and you could have made it all better, so we didn’t need to go through this agony and uncertainty.

But your Word, Father, says that you will never leave, nor forsake us. Your Word says that You will work all things together for good, for those who love you and are called according to your purpose. Your word says that no weapon formed against us shall prosper.

Psalm 91 sums it up nicely:

Psalm 91

1 Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
2 I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”

3 Surely he will save you
from the fowler’s snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
4 He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
5 You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
6 nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
7 A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
8 You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.

9 If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”
and you make the Most High your dwelling,
10 no harm will overtake you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
11 For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
12 they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
13 You will tread on the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

14 “Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
15 He will call on me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
16 With long life I will satisfy him
and show him my salvation.”

God, I don’t understand why this happened, but I’m feeling the familiar tug at my heart to stop looking back, and instead, to delight in you, and look forward to what you have planned for us from here on out. Thank you for loving me, and please forgive my near-constant whining for the past 3 weeks. I know Carl and I are in the refiners fire at the moment, and when you’re done with us, we’ll shine like nothing on this Earth.



*A critical turning point. It is actually a moment in time where everything changes. A point in time when nothing after will ever be the same as before. To call it a turning point technically is true, but it is an overly simplistic definition of the phrase.

The figurative meaning comes from the literal meaning of a point, or division in a river, or stream where the river is split into two distinct paths that will not intersect again.