Our Search For A Church

When God decided to transplant these four hearts into this small prairie town I fully believed that He would lead us to the perfect home church. He had done just that three years earlier and I expected a welcome case of deja vu.

I still so clearly remember that incredible feeling of peace when we walked through the doors of our first-ever home church. How I just knew that it was the place that God wanted me. And I can truly say that I loved every moment that we spent at that church. I loved our pastors and the message they spoke each Sunday. I loved the worship experience and the talented singers and musicians that led us in songs of praise each week.  I loved our children’s ministry and the Christmas concerts and mothers and fathers day songs and even the Big City Studio bucks that always took way too long to spend. I loved our women’s coffee nights and retreats. I loved being part of the growing family matters ministry and the outreach that was being nourished within that ministry. I loved our life group and the discussions and debates that grew and stretched me as a Christ follower. I loved all the incredible godly friends we made over the years and that comforting feeling when there is always a familiar face to be found.

And so as our moving day quickly approached my heart was without a doubt saddened by the thoughts of all that we would be leaving behind. But, I had to trust that God would once again show us His faithfulness and that we would soon be part of a new church community.

I wish I could say that the first church we tried in this new town was our perfect church and that history repeated itself. But, I simply cannot. 

No, the journey to our new home church has been a road filled with tears and laughs and wide eyes and oh-my’s.

The first church we tried was chosen because it had the best website. When we entered the church we were off to a rocky start. We entered through the “old” front doors and thus had to hunt our way to the “new front doors. Sunday school was definitely in summer mode and no one really knew what to do with us newcomers. But we finally got ourselves seated and worship began.

Yes. Worship. Began.

Oh. My.

The first song was … different … and no one really sung. The next song got a slightly better reception (thankfully). Next up was 10,000 Reasons and my heart felt peace as it sung for its Savior. But, before the second chorus I caught something out of the corner of my eye. Something gold. I turned my head and there was a woman floating around the room with two gigantic gold flags that were being swung in a figure-eight-rhythmic-gymnastics-formation. I resisted the incredible urge to pull out my phone and secretly record … (a video would have really added something to this post!) It took everything I had to just keep on singing and not make eye contact with my husband. Oh what a laughing disaster it would have been if our eyes had connected! The flags continued to be waved for two more songs and then the pastor began his message. The most convoluted, sidetracked, confusing message I have ever heard. Even with my notes I am still not sure what the message really was about. 

Once we got back into the car I cried, then laughed, and then planned to search out something new for next week.

And that brings us to church number two.

We attended church number two for three weeks. We really tried to make this church work. The worship time was okay, but it really lacked emotion. The pastor was young and misquoted three or four passages each week during his message – but, for that, there is grace. Our decision to move our search along came down to two issues. The first was that Sunday school occurred before the service; which meant that the kids were with us during the service. Even with the blessing of MP3 players loaded with Adventures in Odyssey tracks my kids could not sit still on those wooden pews. The second issue was when I mentioned to the pastor that we had accepted Christ as our Lord and Savior three years ago and his reaction was “Wow! That’s amazing. I don’t think I have ever heard of adults coming to Christ like that, kids yes, but never adults.” Now, I am more than happy to be the anomaly, but I really want to be part of a church that is reaching out and spreading the gospel and being a place for new believers to begin their journey.

Ok … two down … and on to number three.

The third church we tried was chosen because it formatted it sermons into series – something our old church did and I was craving something familiar. Praise God that the worship was incredible. It felt so good to be singing songs that I knew and with the type of energy that just felt right. The pastor was by far the best speaker we had come across in our journey so we were beginning to feel the plantings of hope. And after three weeks of having the kids in service with us the fact that this church offered “kids church” was really appreciated – although I did (slightly) miss having them with us during worship.  

After three weeks at that church I began to get the inkling that maybe there was something even better out there and I had overheard a few people talking about this other church. So off we went to try it.

At church number four we were greeted with open arms (literally). No nods or handshakes for this church … it was full on bear hugs. The worship time was okay, but not nearly as good as church number three.  And then the sermon began - a sermon that would last for two very long hours. Yes two hours (with worship two and a half - 10:30 till 1:00). No, there was not enough to talk about for two hours. The only way to fill two hours is to keep repeating the same thing over and over again. Sometime between my head nodding and my stomach grumbling I reached the decision that this church would be a one-week stop.

At this point we were really running out of options. And this is when the tears really began to flow. I felt lost and confused and was left wondering where God was in this crazy search.

I kept thinking that this search would have been a lot easier had I not known that the perfect (for us) church existed. I wanted to pick up our old church and drop it smack dab in the middle of this little town. Desperation rarely leads to rational thinking.

Once I accepted that moving an entire church, pastoral staff and congregation was not likely to happen we returned to church number three. I had conceded that it was the best that this town had to offer. When people would ask which church we attended my answer always began with, “ we are currently attending …” It felt as though this was just a resting place and not our home church.

As I prayed for God’s guidance and wisdom the answer he placed on my heart was to simply rest at this church through advent. And there was peace in that decision. I was saddened that the kids would not be part of a Christmas concert this year; but perhaps God knew that with all the craziness in our lives we needed rest more than a musical.

For Christmas this year the only thing I asked for was to be back in our hometown so I could attend Sunday service at our old church. It meant that my incredible husband had to drive after a long workday – a workday made longer by the fact that he was operating on very little sleep due to his late-night staff Christmas party the night before. But, nevertheless, he delivered my Christmas gift. Walking into that church Sunday morning and seeing familiar faces and embracing in heart-felt hugs was so unbelievably soul fulfilling. As worship began tears began to stream down my face – this time tears of joy. Oh how long it had been since I felt true joy at church. Interestingly, the message theme we had heard the previous Sunday at church number three was repeated this week at our old church. Yet, this week it was delivered in a way that was like being wrapped in a warm and familiar blanket. Honestly, it was the best Christmas present I could have received.

As our Christmas vacation came to an end I decided that we really needed to try church number one again. I felt that perhaps we had not given it a fair chance. So that first Sunday in January we tried it again – this time entering through the “new” front doors. However, my heart was so saddened during worship time. Not a single person sang along to a single song. Not one song was even vaguely familiar. The flags were absent this time, but so was all joy and excitement for the Lord. And things did not get much better during the message. Now, I fully believe in asking for all things in the name of Jesus. However, when the phrase, “In the name of Jesus” is used instead of “uhmm” it begins to feel … odd and a bit uncomfortable. So I did what my Type-A, OCD personality does at a time like that … I counted. 32 times. Yes, 32 times - not including all the times it was said before I started counting (and when it may have been said when I nodded off).

Strangely, it was this week when I felt closest to God. I am so thankful that we had such an uninspiring time that week.  It was truly a blessing. It gave us the answer that we had been craving. We finally knew where we belonged.

We left that church craving church number three.

And so, the following week we entered the doors of First Baptist Church with new eyes.

This was our home church.

Our journey into this church was not the same as our journey into our very first church – and maybe that is God’s grace. Maybe the first time we needed the shoe to fit instantly – maybe we didn’t have the determination and persistence and discernment to keep trying church after church so God provided us with one that fit as easily as Cinderella’s glass slipper. And maybe this time He knew that we could handle the growth that came from the tears and laughs of trying each church so He allowed us to walk in a shoe that at times was incredibly uncomfortable, but eventually molded into something more comfortable.

This part of our journey feels more like a leather work boot than a glass slipper.

And perhaps, it is time to take off that fairytale, new-believer glass slipper and lace up that leather work boot and truly begin working and building His kingdom.

I am truly excited to live out God’s plans as we continue our journey at our new home church.

My Boy

Seven years ago today my baby boy entered this world and stole my heart. If I had to point to one earthly person or thing that has transformed me the most it would be, without a doubt, him.

From the confines of my womb he taught me to trust my instincts. Despite low amniotic fluid, little to no fetal movement, a breech position, inconclusive ultrasounds and mumblings of chromosomal abnormalities, predictions of a very low birth weight and constant non-stress tests I knew in my heart that he was healthy. And healthy he was - six pounds ten ounces of pure perfection.

He taught me that I would need to let others sometimes set the pace in life. It took him 38 weeks to turn himself head down and only 15-minutes of hard labor and two pushes to enter this world. 

Seven years later I am still learning to follow his pace. I never really know when it will be a lets-make-the-elderly-with-walkers-feel-fast-by-walking-ten-times-slower-than-them kind of day or an I-think-there-is-a-new-Skylander-at-the-back-of-Walmart kind of day! However, I have learned that he will typically chose the exact opposite speed that my schedule requires! (I should say though that I am happy with the speed he entered this world – we were on the same page that day!)

He has taught me that I need a lot less sleep than I ever thought was humanly possible. He didn’t sleep through the night consistently until he was three years old. And still he is the first one up most days. He loves to come running into our bed for the exact number of cuddles and kisses that makes falling back to sleep impossible.

He has taught me that parenting books are useless. 8-hours of straight crying proved that not every baby could be sleep trained. He also proved that dream feedings are pointless and that the shush/pat method is just a form of new-age torture (for parents). It took me a long time to pick up another parenting book and by the time I did my kids were at the age for "charts". My failure with tracking "charts" has led me to close all parenting books. I'm a much more relaxed parent when I am not reading about a system that will make my household perfect. Perhaps denial is bliss!

He has taught me that his spunk and determination and stubbornness may very well have driven me crazy, but those same traits are allowing him to take the world by storm. His reading and math and spellings skills are off the charts. He can memorize five Bible verses each week for Awana (and never forget them). He can out run a grade-six student at tag every time. He is able to make a friend in every Disneyland line-up. He can fill out a Scholastic book order by himself and count out the exact change in nickels without me ever knowing. His quick wit and loving heart make hime memorable. 

He has taught me the art of negotiation. He knows how to ask for the same thing over and over again without saying the same thing over and over again. “Mom can I play Skylanders,” “I just want to check, you said no to Skylanders, right,” “When you just said right, did you mean that I could play Skylanders or did it mean no to Skylanders” “Mom it would be really cool if I could play with Chomp Chomp” “Oh you don’t know who Chomp Chomp is? Well let me show you. You just need to turn on Skylanders” “But Mom, honestly, you will think Chomp Chomp is really cool” “Mom I just love when we get mommy-son time and play video games together. Wouldn’t it be great to have some time together?” .... and with that I am conquered - the game gets turned on. I fully admit that I am responsible for that monster! He can outlast me (despite what the books say!). He knows my weaknesses, my limits and my soft spot. I do predict a career in hostage negotiations.

He has taught me the importance of making others feel special. When choosing a Christmas gift for his teacher he kept telling me that a gift card just wouldn’t do because Mrs. White had to know that he was thinking of her when he bought her gift. And because she loves Robert Munch books that is what we bought. I truly felt guilty sending my daughter with the Tims gift card for her teacher ... to help my guilt I loaded it with 25 bucks. Hopefully lots of coffee also says I was thinking of you!

He has taught me not to compare. I spent the first few years of his life trying to fit him into the mold of his sister. I drove myself crazy in the process. I have finally - for the most part - accepted that they are different beings. They need different amounts of sleep. They teethed differently. They learn differently. They want different forms of quality time.  They have different food preferences. They love differently.  They play differently. I’ve learned to embrace different - to accept both of my children for the incredible Godly creation that they are. 

Every time I look into those beautiful baby boy blue eyes I feel so honored. I am honored that God saw in me the potential to stretch and grow and learn. That He knew that His child would transform me. That He found me worthy of such a transformation and placed His blessing into my arms.  

I am honored that that seven-year-old blessing came bouncing into our room well before dawn this morning, that he gave me seven kisses so I would “look” for the present I had wrapped the night before, that he would not let me forget the tradition of French toast in the shape of the number seven and that I got to decorate and deliver twenty-four cupcakes with the number seven for him to share with his classmates.

I am honored that he calls me, “Mom”    

Happy 7^th Birthday Sweet Baby Boy!

Puzzle Pieces

Sometimes others have the words that your own heart is so desperately trying to speak.

In her blog post “When Your Life Feels a Bit Like A Puzzle” Ann Voskamp has put words to the many beats of my heart.

Ann’s own journey knows, all too well, the puzzling truths of depression and anxiety. She knows the despair and the darkness of the battlefield and she knows the only battleplan that can truly conquer.

She has captured so much of my heart that I simply wanted to share it with all of you. Enjoy! 

I Will Remember

It is hard to believe that it has almost been a month since we drove the seventeen hours to this new town. One month since the last play dates with best friends were played. One month since we hugged the closest of friends and we were covered in prayer. One month since we waved goodbye to our family and drove down the street.  

Leaving was hard – a lot harder than I ever expected. I miss my mom, my friends, my church. I miss easy conversations and spur of the moment play dates. I miss knowing how to get to the grocery store and the kids schools. I really, really miss knowing how to get back home.

I still yearn for the familiar.

This past month has been simply a blur.

We camped, organized utilities and house insurance, got our vehicles inspected and insured (what a pain that process was), took possession of our new home, moved into the main floor of our home and then a week later moved the rest of our stuff into the basement, vacuumed, scrubbed and organized a neglected woodshop, drove around town registering for after-school activities, attended two different churches, began a new school year, started the process of transforming a house into a home and, this past weekend, we adopted a 3-year old neglected puppy into our family.

Yet, amidst all of that craziness there has been such blessing. God blessed us with a house builder who was willing to work with my west coast style and who worked so hard to get us into our home quickly. We were blessed to meet the children’s teachers before the school year started and both appeared to be a great fit for their individual personalities. God blessed us with neighbors who have children the exact same age as our children – all of whom run from yard to yard playing with one another. He blessed us by allowing us to see another piece of His amazing creation. And of course, the reason we are in this town, God blessed us with the most perfect job, school division and staff for my husband – he truly comes home from work happy and excited for the next day.

However, there are still those moments when loneliness and anxiety and worry seep into my bones and I begin to question God’s plans. We are yet to feel that we have found a church that we can truly call home and that is hard for me – I am craving the fellowship that comes with a home church. Staff and church fall kick-off parties are nothing less than awkward when you know not a single soul. And then there is the unfulfilled need and desire to fill my home with friends. I love a house full of friends; whether, it is for tea and coffee or dinner or one of our gatherings of 50 or 60 people. I want these walls to absorb the laughter and joy of loving friendships. 

When these moments of loneliness, anxiety and worry hit I forget that I pray to a fully capable and powerful God. I forget all that He has done and will continue to do in our lives. I forget the greatness of Him.

I forget rather than remember.

Like the Israelites I forget. I forget the miraculous signs in Egypt - the bloody river, the swarms of flies and hoards of frogs, the locusts and hail, and the grace of Passover. I forget the parted sea, the cloud and the pillar of fire, the rocks overflowing with water, the manna and fallen birds that sustained and momentarily satisfied. I forget the Holy Land and each nation that was driven out. I forget His grace.

God longs for us to remember - that we would always see His hand at work in our lives. Receiving all that He gives as grace. 

And so I remember His works and the wonders He has bestowed upon my family.

I purposefully remember the words He spoke to me three years ago when He told me that I could live anywhere as long as I always lived with Him. I remember the darkness and, more importantly, the brightness of His Light the moment I first believed. I remember the friends and community that He poured into my life. I remember the gentle loosening of a mother-daughter bond; which gave me the courage to fly. I remember how, in trials, He strengthened my husband’s faith; creating a man whom is leading his family closer to Christ. I remember how He prevented me from returning to teaching when the timing was not part of His plan and I remember how He provided comfort and counsel when I felt as though I had failed. I remember how he drew my husband and I away from our small group and into a Bible study that we completed together – allowing us to grow stronger as a couple and closer to Him. I remember how desire ceased for camping and other summer activities; and yet, how He provided one last trip along the Pacific Ocean with the best of friends. I remember how He secured us the perfect home and how He made the sale of our old home so very quick. I remember the perfectness of the job posting and the joy that filled our home the night my husband accepted that job offer. I remember the prayers that were answered as He prepared our children for the move that was before us. Yes, I remember all the prayers that He answered that led us to this very place.

I know the day will come when this town will truly feel like home. A day when everything will be familiar and our lives will be blessed with friendships and community. A day when we will see what God, Himself, saw all along.

To remember is to glorify Him– to show the world His goodness. As a couple, we are committed to always remembering (and sharing) how God has worked in our lives and by His grace continues to work.

“We will not hide these truths from our children; we will tell the next generation about the glorious deeds of the LORD, about His power and His mighty wonders” (Psalms 78:4)

We Are Moving

We are moving!

God has decided to uproot these four hearts and transplant them nearly two provinces over. We will be leaving everything that is familiar and landing in the completely unfamiliar. When we pull into our new hometown there will be no family close by, no grandparents to babysit and no friends to visit with. It means a new church, new schools, new doctors, new grocery stores, new hairdressers and new afterschool activities. It even means a new climate – a much, much colder climate!

This move is an answer to prayer; albeit a much different answer than I originally expected when I started praying.

I married a man who loves teaching woodshop. Amongst the machines, tools, drawings and sawdust is where his passion lies. Yet, for two years, I have watched his woodshop course load be arbitrarily cut in half. I have watched as he was told that his program has no value. I have watched as his ideas and visions were quickly dismissed. And finally, this year I watched as he learned through an e-mail memo that his program was completely cut from the school offerings.

With each storm my heart broke a little more. I prayed so hard for administrative eyes to be opened, for my husband to find joy in a different content area and for a new woodshop position to open up in the district. But, God was not answering those prayers.

The prayer He did answer though was when I asked Him to prepare my heart and mind for what He had planned. Yes, God got right to work on that prayer. 

Before I knew it, God had me encouraging my husband to look at positions outside my comfort zone. I told him I was willing to move anywhere in the country so he could have the opportunity to teach what he loved.

At first there appeared to be nothing that was the right fit for our family. God would shine lights in different areas, but quickly those lights would be extinguished.

We had now reached a point where we were not sure if my husband would even have a contract position in the fall if we were to stay with our current school district. That after thirteen years of working for the same school district on a continuing contract there was a good chance that he would be on the substitute teacher list. It seemed absolutely ludicrous, but it was the reality that we were facing.

Just when everything seemed so dire, when we felt so helpless, when the anger was beginning to swell that was when God revealed Himself once again.

God posted a full-time continuing (we couldn’t uproot our children for a temporary position), high school (oh how my husband wanted to be back in a high school after eleven years in a middle school) woodshop (yes, only woodshop – you just don’t see that in our part of the country) position in a good community (a town with some decent shopping, good schools and more than a 1000 people).

My husband was excited and I was so excited to see him finally excited. And I felt a peace that can only come from God.

As I looked at the qualifications next to my husband’s resume I had this feeling that God had literally taken that resume and rewrote it in the form of the qualifications list. I knew the moment the application was sent that we would be moving.

The posting closed on Thursday. The human resources director had a 45-minute phone discussion with my husband on Friday. There was a Skype interview on Monday. And the position was offered and accepted Tuesday evening. 

In a five-day whirlwind our lives changed and we were finally able to see what God could see all along. 

Our journey with Christ continues.