Endurance takes a long time to learn

You would think that as a distance runner I would have understood better the need for time in building endurance. I have run a full 26.2 marathon and will soon run my fourth half-marthon.

I know that endurance is not gained quickly. My daughter and I started training months ago in preparation for our event. Slowly but surely we have increased our runs from two miles to twelve miles. Even though I ran this same half-marathon event a year ago. I must still keep training or I will not be able to do it.

So why did I expect anything different in my spiritual life? Quick endurance does not exist. So, why am I surprised to still need the spiritual pluck to keep moving on in this season of non-crisis?

James 1:2-4 says, " Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds,  because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."

When we had bonus children come and stay with us for 9 weeks back in the spring of 2012, I recited these verses as often as I could in the few isolated moments that I could find. I focused on considering it pure joy by saying the phrase over and over. "Consider it pure joy...."

A few months later, after the kids returned to their families, my father-in-law went into the hospital and stayed for almost 5 months. My husband and I lived close so we were part of the hands-on care. While it was a privelege to serve family, care-taking is exhausting.

During this season, I began to recite James 1:2-4 again. This time the focus was on the perservance. 

It has been two years since I first clung to these verses and, honestly, I am tired of clinging. I would like the lesson to be learned so that I can check it off my list. Perhaps even sing of the joy of the lesson learned. Instead, I am still here putting one step in front of the other, wishing that the feelings of joy came more often.

And today, just a few moments ago, I realized that endurance is not quickly learned. 

"Stop being surprised, Kathleen, that endurance takes time!" I almost laughed out loud at this revelation.  I need to keep on, keeping on in my considerations of joy.

I need to consider even these days of non-crisis but full of chaotic life-that-I-can-hardly-keep-up-with-three-teenagers all joy.

If one can only learn to run for hours by running for hours, it should come as no surprise that endurance in the spiritual life can only come through enduring trials for a long time.

On tears

The pages are wrinkled
In that spot

In that spot where
The tears that have fallen
So many times

Were they the tears during the hardest nine months?
Were they the tears for the one we lost?
Were they the tears from the lonely nights?
Tears from the times I'd blown it again?
Were they the tears from the years we ached for children?
Were they  the tears of sadness for my sister, her husband, and daughter
Who lost him to a battle of cancer

Are they for the child who wishes he knew
Where his mother was when he woke up

I opened the book
My eyes saw it again
The wrinkled spot on the page

In that wrinkled spot
It is...written

He hears my cry
He counts my tears
And captures them in a bottle
Mourning may last for the night
But a shout of joy comes in the morning

And so I wait for the morning

With my tears
And the pages
Written by my God

Who will rescue us from here.
One day.
And wipe away those tears
One
Last
Time
* * *
Linking with Jen and with Emily.

When red becomes your blue

Who knew that  a pot of flowers could be so persuasive?

Usually my favorite color is blue. Me, the one who hails from the land of 10,000 lakes, am in love with the many nuances of water. Therefore, my favorite color is blue. 

But not this summer.

This summer, my favorite color is red. 

It's not that I don't like red. I just love blue, yellow, and purple so much more. Usually.  But not right now. 

Red petunias chosen and planted by Grandma and the kids while I was away tending to the needs of other children are half the reason red is my favorite color this season.

I wouldn't have picked them. And, truth be told, I later went and picked purple and white petunias. To add to the red flowers. 

The Chosen By Others Flowers (or the red petunias) are growing abundantly on the front porch, back porch, and at the side of our house. They have continued to flourish in spite of 100 degree days. (We did water in healthy amounts!)

Not so the purple and white petunias I picked. We watered them the same, so perhaps it was the squirrels that destroyed them with their nut plantings. Either way, only the red survive.

 

Flowers I didn't choose have made me happy and thankful. I am also happy and thankful for the two new lawn chairs in the backyard. I did pick those. But not the color. Because, they are, you guessed it -- red.

Remember, I love blue, not red. You see, I was waiting for the blue chairs to go on sale. While I waited, all the black ones sold out except one. But I wanted two. The blue chairs were not yet on sale with only a few red ones left. I had to buy the red ones or perhaps forgo getting any this season. 

So I did. 

I bought two red lawn chairs. 

Yep. Red. A color I wouldn't normally pick. Yet, they look perfect on our back porch. See: 

 .

Not only did I have two new lawn chairs. I had a new favorite color of the season -- red

Who knew? Who knew that this season red would be my favorite color? I had no idea and this just falls in line with my year so far, except in a much more delightful way. 

This year has been filled with surprises that I did not expect, much less plan. First, a twisted knee that required crutches, help, and physical therapy for several months. Next, there were the children God sent to live with us for three weeks and nine weeks, even though we weren't registered foster parents or relatives.

 

Proverbs 16:9 says 

(as my friend Steph reminded me)

 "A man's heart plans his ways, But the Lord directs His steps."

I have made plans. God has directed my steps. This year I have been able to see it more clearly than usual.  

And sometimes, God even directs your steps and your favorite color choice. 

* * *

How about you? 

Have you been delighted by any twists and turns in your life lately?

 Linking with Jen and Rachel.

Empty room. Empty heart.

There is an empty place on the floor of my bedroom. A week ago it had the sum of the world's possessions for a young boy, minus the bed and the bike at his grandma's house. Three boxes. Two held his clothes, socks, underwear, shirts, pants and shorts. Some were given to me by his mom. Some had belonged to his cousin. Some had belonged to my sons. One box had his pictures from the airshow, the drawings, the AWANA store.

But there are no boxes on the floor of my room anymore. There is no boy, saying, "Mrs. Jaeger." in his 5-year-old slur that could not pronounce Rs or Ls. No one has awakened me in the night with a bad dream this past week. No one has enticed my youngest into pouring soap all over the counter of the  pink bathroom. My 6 year old has not enticed anyone to throw wet chalk at the back door this week. There's been no biting or wrestling or sandbox playing.

It is cleaner in my room. And in the boys room where the sleeping bag has been put away. My house is cleaner. More convenient. Easier. This week.

I can clean the floor of my room and the boys room. But what do I do with this place in my heart? Do I clean that, too? But how? Because having him here was cleaning my heart: revealing my selfishness, requiring me to think beyond my own inconvenience.

What do you do when you don't want to go back? But you weren't sure how you would keep going forward? What do you do when life has changed and it wasn't your decision for him to come or to go?

I didn't like having nothing left of me. It felt terribly uncomfortable to only be able to rely on the grace of God. But yet I don't really want to go back to relying on me and my strength.

How do I live like I need Jesus all the time when it doesn't feel like it quite so much?

Nine weeks he came to live with us. One day we did not know him. The next he was here sharing our lives whether we liked it or not. He shared our airshow, our cousins, our clothes, our food, our grandparents, our bathroom, our tree house, our sandbox, our swimming excursions, our excitement of riding in the new 'swagger-wagon'.

Sometimes we didn't mind.

Sometimes we did.

Now, there is no one sleeping in the bag in the middle of the boy's room. There are no boxes in my room.

And there's a big gaping hole in my heart left by a five year old boy who doesn't live here anymore.

Oh fill me, Lord, with You and not with me. Fill me afresh today with You. Fill Yourself in the places that you pushed away in my heart, revealing my deep selfishness. Fill it still with your wonderful, matchless grace. 

Keep me in the palm of Your hand as you did when  I could only rely on the grace of God and the prayers of the saints to get me through each step of every day. Amen.

  * * *
Linking up with Jen and Emily.

When God calls, God provides

The toothbrush holder pictures the coziness of our home during 25 days of ten people.

When He placed four extra children in our home quite unexpectedly, sources of provision also came unexpectedly. Gift cards, buying groceries from my list, a babysitter or two, socks & underwear, extra meat, hands to prepare extra meals. Lots and lots of prayer.

When God calls, He provides.

Yet, how can one be prepared to do something that they are woefully inadequate to do? On the one hand, it seemed that everything that I had ever done in my life prepared me for such a time as this. This time of having eight children in our home; our number of children doubled in one evening.

Every skill that I had ever had was called on.

The days of Three Under Three that taught me triage skills: upset tummy, potty training issues, and a baby in need of nursing. What do you deal with first when They. All. Really. Need. Something. Now? This skill comes in handy when one has a hurt wrist, dinner is on the stove, there's a headache, and two boys are tumbling in an angry fight.

The days of Just Hubby & I where I learned to get up off the couch, make a meal, and load the washing machine. The days of Two Under Two where I learned how to just do it: follow the instructions in the Once-a-Month Cookbook. I followed the recipes, the directions, and in the process I learned how to stock a pantry, cook in bulk, and feed my family.

Each child listed by name & birth order (hidden here for privacy).

The days of Sales Rep Administrator taught me how to set-up files and organize, and be excellent at the mundane tasks no one else wanted to do. I needed to set-up files for girls who had papers from school and appointments with doctors and counselors. I needed a list for the shower so that we could get ten people through one shower.

When God calls, He provides.

He even provided a clean house and a short to-do list. The week before the extras came I had thought to myself, 'I feel caught up.' When have I ever thought that? One daughter had vacuumed the van, a rare occurrence that happened just before we drove 45 minutes to get the extra kids. This year in school we were further along academically than we ever have been in the calendar year. It allowed me to focus on the needs at hand while knowing we were able learn about serving others and reading on our own. I haven't been stressed about where we are in our books, we still have time to finish up.

When God calls, He provides.

This includes inspirational encouragement! Friends had gone before me, I knew I could follow their paths: I have a friend who also took in four children for a long obedient season. Another who homeschools two and takes two to public school (which we would do for 25 days).  I have a friend who is the guardian of her niece. I have a friend who has eight children, sometimes nine. And there are others but these are the folks I texted on our way to pick up the children. The ones who knew what I was walking into better than I did at that moment.

And there was a dinner -- planned before the children came but eaten after they came. Each person at the table had fostered children in some fashion. The five of us had never before been just the five of us. Yet there they were sitting at a table -- not just to encourage me -- but man, oh man, it sure seemed like it. God is so amazing to give us what we need when we need it.

When God calls, He provides.

He prepared me to need Him fully,  so greatly. To utterly fall on my face. To do these tasks imperfectly. To see the need. To see the tears and the heartache. To be unable to fix the problem, to be at the end of myself with nothing, absolutely nothing left of me to give. And it was in those moments, that I saw God's hand most convincinly -- beyond what I could do. At the end of me, He shows up. Isn't that just what II Corinthians 12:8-9 says? My grace is sufficient for you. My power is perfected in weakness.

He didn't call because I was capable but because we were willing. Willing to be undone when a friend calls to ask what can I do for you and I can't speak because I want to break down sobbing. I want to weep because someone sees that I have a need. He sent a friend at just the right time.
 
So why do I worry? Why do I get overwhelmed when my daughter comes in all muddy from her mid-day school break and needs a shower? Why does that make me weep in these days of 'only five'?

Does not my soul remember that when God calls, He provides?

When He calls, He provides through His people, through His grace, through the power in the inner being, through the strength given to those who wait on the Lord (Isaiah 40:31). Even to those who cry the tears of the overwhelmed and the tears of those who try harder still fall short. He provides His sufficient grace for me and for all who call on the name of the Lord.

He called, He provided. He is still calling and still providing.

* * *
Linking up with Jen at SDG and Emily at Imperfect Prose.

The Luxury of Choice

At least twice during the past month, I went to the grocery store with eight children. Yep. That's right. Eight kids in the grocery store between the ages of 5 and 13. Sound crazy?

Well... yes. Unless you realize that it is much crazier for the momma to be at home with eight children and no food.

At the end of the trip, my oldest slams the back doors of our big purple van and says, "I don't know if they're exactly how you would put them. But they're in."

They are exactly where I want them. In the van, loaded. Because... you see... the youngest of the eight decided to run away in the store. He was following a couple of older children that had been given an assignment. That I do understand.

But, I called his name. And he didn't come. He didn't answer. He ignored.

I had to go to him. He didn't run fast or far. I caught up to him quickly and held his hand. He flopped on the floor.  He did not want to walk. Which he expressed loudly. I called his name. He still didn't answer me. So I calmly finished the grocery order.

"Get a bag of apples." "Get four cans of tomato soup." I said to the others.

Both instructions were executed smoothly. No delay. No complaint. We were at the end of the list. So the olders walked the cart to the check-out line. I walked with the disobedient to the line. They put the groceries on the conveyor belt.

Meanwhile I held the disobedient's hand. He flopped. I lifted. He sat down. I held on gently but firmly, not letting go of his hand the whole time.  He moved this way and that trying to be released from my hand.

He kept expressing "I don't want to." Rather loudly. Yes, people looked. I didn't raise my voice. I stayed calm.

I handed my wallet to my oldest. "Pay for the food, please." I could trust him to pay correctly and get the right change. I handed my keys to one daughter and asked both of them to walk to the van and have it open and ready. They did.

I held the disobedient's hand. He fussed and wrestled. Even as I type this, my back aches just a little bit as I think about it.

Eventually we are all back at the van. Groceries loaded. A disobedient five-year-old also buckled into his seat. I hold his hand while he screams. And that's when my son had told me that the groceries may not be where I want them but they're in.

Who would care about such a thing? About exactly where all of the groceries were loaded?

Of course they are exactly where I want them. Paid for and loaded. I needed help. Help the other seven gave to me that I am so thankful to have. I had no room to care about how the groceries were loaded into the back of the van.

I did not have the luxury of being so particular.

I needed to discipline. Stay calm. So thankful that they were able to get the groceries paid for and loaded into the car and not to have to abandon them in the store until a later time. So thankful that I would not be a momma at home with eight children and no food.

Who would care about such a thing? About exactly where all of the groceries were loaded?

Oh...it was me. You know, me, the Queen of the Just So. The one that is usually saying, with a big sigh, "Don't you know that you should put the cold stuff by the milk. "And "Why are you putting that there?" Fussing all of my help away.

When I wasn't desparate for help. When I wasn't maxed to the utmost to meet the basic needs of ten people, I had the luxury of choice, of time, of being paricular about the just so.

That day, I really didn't care how the groceries were in. I grasped the bigger vision. I needed their help, however they could give it to me. And I was grateful.

I know that in my head all of the time. It doesn't really matter how.

But...ohhhhh...the luxury of the Just So. The ruining of the offer of help from my children as I sigh and fuss about so many things that are really no big deal.


As things mellow at my house, since there are only five children here now, may I not go back to the land of Just So Sighs....as a mother, I have spent way too much time there.


It took a moment to say yes to a phone call. Yes to four more children in my house. Yes to the help as it was offered. 

Now, no matter how many people live here, may I continue to live in the moment of being grateful that the groceries are loaded, no matter how it is done.

* * *
Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose. 

Broken toys, broken necklaces, and broken hearts

There are some children who have come to my house. Quite unexpectedly. They have climbed all over me and down into my heart. At first I cried for me and all the changes and the sacrifices for me. The inconvenience.

I knew the right thing was to say yes. Like-minded peace we had, he & I. But once the shock wore off, my heart screamed nooooo.....this is too hard. I want my nominal Christian life back.

But once I was inspired by one of my mentors who has gone before me and walked the way long. Who has shared her life and broken it.

She said, "it is a high calling. It is worth it. I would do it again in a heartbeat." What an opportunity to be able to impart Christ to another. What a chance to die to myself.

At first, I cried for me. Now, I cry for them. Broken axe. Broken bracelet. And broken hearts.

There are stained mattresses. But this is what I can see. And we are to fix our eyes on what is unseen.

Broken hearts, climbing all over me. Worming their way deep down in my heart.

Don't know about them. But I know I will never be the same again.

At first I cried for me and our broken plans, broken toys. Now I cry for them. The broken hearts.

These brave souls. Who have climbed into my life, climbed over me, and way down deep into my heart.

In a moment. In a twinkling of an eye -- our lives are changed in the most unexpected of ways.

Amen.

*** 

Linking up with Imperfect Prose.