A Year Ago: Reflection and Update on our Kentucky Adventure

A year ago, this week, our family was making its "final rounds", visiting friends, saying our "see you laters", hugging and laughing and crying, and doing our very best to not let a moment pass without making the very most of our remaining time in Pennsylvania.  We were packing final boxes, signing final papers, making final arrangements and doing all kinds of other "lasts" and "finals."

It is very hard to believe that was a year ago.  We find ourselves today in what we still consider out "new" home and marvel that a year has gone past.  It's not that the year wasn't full; on the contrary, our hearts are filled with wonderful memories, warm friends, and a welcoming community.  It's just that a year "sounds" so long but is really just a breath in eternity (see previous blog post).  


The beginning of summer in Kalas felt like a long time too.  Stretched in front of us was a long, hot summer devoid of friends (who were either away for the summer or had moved away for good) and an empty calendar to fill.  And fill it we did with vacation and day trips, time in Indiana and evenings at the park, hikes and bikes, day camps and Back Porch Art and, ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom we have almost reached August.

And so we come once again to a new academic year and this time around, a new job for Mom as a full-time Director of Children and Family Ministry.  We are not entering the school year with as many questions or as many concerns as we did last year.  The girls know their school and their teachers.  Luke has acclimated to Asbury life and gotten to know professors and coursework.  I am the only one truly diving into new territory but not unfamiliar to our family.  And Caleb calls this house "home" and knows where our friends and neighbors live and is a happy, rambunctious, wonderful 3 year old boy!

As I look back at my facebook posts and blog entries from last year at this time, I see the bittersweet joy and questions and concerns paired with statements of faith and sincere hope and I smile.  Because, as I once heard a speaker say, "God is not done writing your story.  Where you see a period, He sees a comma; He is not done yet."  It's so very true.  Where we see "finals" and "lasts", He sees just another chapter in the beautiful story He is weaving.  We cannot predict where the plot will turn next.  We cannot know every character that will be introduced, every twist in the story, and every page-turning climax we will experience. Only the Author knows that.  What we do know and what we can bank on is this: "I know who goes before me, I know who stands behind.  The God of angel armies is always by my side.  The One who reigns forever, He is a friend of mine.  The God of angel armies is always by my side." (Chris Tomlin lyrics)

Tomorrow the sun will rise, the day will dawn and life will go one.   Good things come and good things go.  Sad things come and sad things go.  The ebb and flow of life will not cease and neither will the love of God.  So as we face today, tomorrow and wherever the future takes us, may our questions always be rooted in the consistent love of Christ and may our answers always be found in the gentle hands of God.  It's not a matter of "if we'll be okay."  We will be okay if we are found in Him.  

There will always be a part of our heart left in the arms of friends and family in Pennsylvania.  We will always feel "home" when we are there.  This Sunday our daughters will be baptized in their home church.  We will attend the annual church picnic at Roxbury.  We will spend time with my parents, live with my sister and her family, and meet friends at parks, homes, and restaurants.  Then we will pack up, much like we did last year, and head back to Kentucky where friends, school, jobs, and life awaits us.  And, unlike last year, it won't feel like "finals" and "lasts" but "see you soon" and "call me."  And the story will continue to be written.

Time on My Side

I have not seen my girls since last Saturday evening around 6:30 pm.  This is the first time since they were born that I have been away from them for this long.  Luke's wonderful parents with some help from his sister invited the girls to stay with them in Indiana for a whole week where I am pretty sure they got thoroughly spoiled (as all good grandparents do) and enjoyed absolutely every minute.  Coming home will be the biggest downer of their summer I'm afraid.

More than a few people asked me, with looks of compassion and understanding, if I missed the girls.   Because I felt like a heel if I answered honestly, I usually said, "Yes" and smiled sweetly as if I were in some sort of emotional angst about being apart from them for this time.  But... I have to tell you something.... I lied.  If I were honest, the truth is I didn't really miss them all that much.  That's not to say I don't love them or that I am not excited to welcome them back home.  But miss them?  No, I really didn't.  I knew that they were being loved and cared for.  I knew that they were safe and happy.  And I knew that they were old enough to handle being away from us and mature enough to take care of themselves without mommy and daddy hovering.  That's not to say I'm not gonna smother them in kisses and squeeze them silly when they get home today, but I realize they've reached a point in their life where more and more they will be independent of me and come into their own person.  Let's face it, Hannah is only 7 years away from being considered an adult by the government of the United States and only 5 years away from operating a moving vehicle.

When I finally did express these honest feelings to a friend, the familiar comment was made along the lines of "Ahh, they grow up so fast."  I nodded my head in agreement at first but as I pondered that thought over the next few days, I gave pause.  Because the truth is, no, they aren't not growing up so fast.  There are still 24 hours in every day, 7 days in every week, and 52 weeks in a year.  While my perception of time may be changing, time itself is not moving faster or careening forward at a blinding pace.  While it is true that my girls are growing up, they are growing up at the same pace every man, woman, and child has since the beginning of time.

My wonderful kiddos

So why is it that we hear this statement or some variation of it so often?  Why do veteran parents warn us that it will be over so quickly?  Why do we look at our babies and say, "Oh please stop growing, I want you to stay my baby?"  Why do we look at pictures and think, "Wow, how have them grown so much?  Where has the time gone?"  And I am queen of this mantra, especially with Caleb, my baby, who still sports his baby curls because I refuse to cut them off.

As I've given much thought to this over the past few days, I can't help but come to this conclusion: We were made for more.  The emotional tug of our heart that shakes our head at the swift passage of time is out of sync with our very being, who being created in the image of God, has its heart and soul rooted in the realm of eternity.  Time constraints to not exists in God's dimension.  He who has been, is now, and forever will be does not measure life, even our lives, in hours, days, and weeks.  "He has made everything beautiful for its own time.  He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God's work from beginning to end." (Ecc 3:11)

It's not that time is going quickly.  It's that our time here is just a blip on the screen of time.  Eternity, neverending time, is so gigantic and so immense our heads cannot wrap themselves around it but our hearts cannot detach themselves from it.  And so we look at our time here on earth and we lament the passage of time because we cannot understand the full scope of God's work from beginning to end.

Now listen people, I am not a theology major and I have no idea if this whole idea of eternity and why time goes fast fits into some category of theological thought or exegesis; I'm just sharing what I think about why we feel the way we do so often.  Moreso, I'm curious as to how that should affect how we live, how we approach life and prioritize and value the people and possessions therein.  More specifically, how do I as a parent recognize the march of time without grieving its passage in my children's lives and fearing the swiftness it seems to manifest?

Holding my hand one more time

My uneducated conclusion: Live in each moment.  Truly live into each special time.  Caleb is 3.  He still snuggles after nap.  He still kisses me on the lips.  He still holds my hand when we go for walks and lets me keep those adorable ringlets around his face.  And it is so tempting for me in those moments to think, "He's not going to do these things soon.  He's going to grow up and be an awkward preteen with abnormally long appendages and smelly body parts and then he's going to get all buff and handsome and some girl is going to TAKE HIM AWAY from me and he is going to hold her hand and kiss her lips and snuggle with her and I hate her already and I just want him to stop growing and stay with me like this forever!!!"  And while I am thinking those thoughts, I am wasting the precious moments I have with him now because I have become the victim of time instead of a participator in eternity.

And let's be realistic. He will also learn how to use the toilet instead of a diaper at night.  He will learn how to voice his desires instead of using various forms of whining and screeching to express his thoughts.  He will figure out how to eat a popsicle without half of it depositing on his shirt or the sidewalk.  Just like my girls, he will grow in confidence and instead of being sad when I leave the house for a few hours, he will be able to leave me and go spend a week with Grandma and Granddad.  And that is all good, and normal, and fine.  

I am learning to rejoice in the moment.  It truly is all we have.  The past is done.  The memories are made. The future is uncharted.  The possibilities endless.  What we have is today.  And we are not alone.  The One who set eternity in our hearts is walking with us.  The One who sees the past and knows the future is living in this moment with us now.  So yes, take the time to enjoy those snuggles and recognize that this moment will pass probably faster than your eternal soul desires it to, but also know, it isn't too fast, it's God's perfect timing and eternity will amaze us with its longevity.

When the girls get home today, they will regal me with stories of all they've done and show me all the cool things they made with Grandma and Aunt Jennifer and complain that I make them go to bed a normal time and do chores and stuff, and I will do my best to live in that moment.  They are growing up, as they should be, and I am blessed by God to be a part of that process.  Go hug your kids, not with regret that the future is looming, but with joy that in the present you are there.  

5 Things I Learned in Seminary: Spouses Edition

Recently a good friend of ours wrote a blog entitled “5 Things I learned in Seminary.”  It was a good read and a number of my seminary friends re-posted it with remarks of “Agree!” and “Yes!” and “This!”  The one and only place that you’ll find seminary students using such brief descriptive terms will of course be on Facebook.  Because outside of the realm of social media, seminary students love nothing more than to engage in a discussion over the nuanced differences between process theology and open theism and the exact nature of N.T. Wright’s view on post modernity.  If I’ve lost you already, then you are most decidedly NOT a seminary spouse, but if you are still tracking, hang on for my version of the “5 Things I Learned in Seminary: Spouses Edition.”

Expect Transition

When we first moved to Wilmore, Kentucky so my husband could pursue his Master of Divinity in order to eventually serve in full-time pastoral ministry, I knew that we would face a lot of changes.  We had to move from our family and friends in Pennsylvania into a new community of strangers and students.  We sold our house and moved into a family-housing unit.  We left our church and had to visit more than a few to find a fit.  We started classes and found new jobs and new dentists and new restaurants and new hangouts.  And I expected all that.  What came as a big surprise is the transitory nature of a graduate school program, especially one in which families live together in a community.  With each semester break, we have to say good-bye to strangers who have become friends and students who have become graduates and in the same breath, welcome a whole new group of fresh-faced, expectant newbies beginning their own transition.  My fair warning to all families considering this move is to be aware of this constant ebb and flow and make your family, especially your kids aware before you take the plunge.  This isn’t to say you should build those friendships and lean into the community; those things are vital to a full experience, but know that part of your friendship is that you will one day need to pick up the phone or send off an email to keep that relationship alive.  You will also have friends all over the country and, if it’s anything like Asbury, all over the world.  Treasures not to be taken lightly.

Expect Community

As alluded to in my previous post, simply by transplanting your life and family to the location of your school, you will find yourself a part of a new community made up of fellow students, respected professors, and seminary staff.  Bonded by a common goal and united by location and time, you have the extraordinary chance to become part of a

unique group of people you may otherwise have never crossed paths with in your lifetime.  Your children can play with kids from all over the globe.  You can share meals with friends from Singapore, Puerto Rico and Korea all in one night.  You can make travel plans to pretty much anywhere in America and have doors opened and rooms available for your stay.  You can have community in the full sense of the word.  OR… you can not.  There are seminarians who for whatever reason (personality, scholarly pursuits, physical limitations) who are either unable or unwilling to participate in this kind of community.  But my experience as a spouse is that the community is one of great blessing for both encouragement and commiseration and one that I have been especially blessed to participate in.  Asbury has done an incredible job at building that community and giving spouses a unique opportunity to be a part of the seminary environment even if they are not taking classes.

Expect to be left out of most conversations

“What did you think about what Collins said about the Nestorian controversy?”  If you are lost already, welcome to my life.  Because the students go to class together and see the same professors together and have the same attraction to all things biblical and historical and Greek together, you can imagine the conversations that take place when they all get in a room together.  I love my husband and I love his fellow seminarians but when they start talking, I start walking.  I have neither the interest nor the knowledge to participate in these conversations.  Unlike them I do not walk into the homes of others and immediately set to examining the books upon the shelves (and speaking of bookshelves, this place is like bookshelf heaven – I think a shelf maker could make a fortune here even if all he did was sell dirt cheap bookshelves of various sizes).  When we have friends over for dinner, I strive to ensure there will be a spouse in attendance that I can talk to about such things as oh, the weather and current events.  Because I love my husband and his friends, as stated earlier, I have acquainted myself with the context of many of the buzzwords like “exegesis” and “hypostasis” and “IBS” (which is NOT what you think it is) so that I can jump in every now and then sound like I belong.  Then I go for a walk.

Expect to be alone sometimes

Finals week in seminary is pretty much the most stressful environment I’ve ever been in.  I’m sure this is true of every graduate school although I don’t know of many where the families all live in a community within walking distance of the library and classrooms and where the collective whole of the community is engaged in a precarious balance of intense studying and paper writing while continuing in the normal child-rearing, money-making aspects of life.  You can quite literally feel the blood pressure of the entire community raise as the semester comes to a close.  Students are not seen; they are behind doors or at the library, pouring over books and notes and Greek verbs and sermon outlines.  The spouses are not seen either; they are hiding in corners, praying fervently to God for finals week to be over and for salvation to come.  Okay, so it’s not that bad.   Or is it?  In all seriousness, if you are the spouse of a graduate students, you have to expect to be alone many times during the semester as papers get written, books get read and vocabulary gets learned.  It’s not always easy because the normal demands of life that you usually face together, you have to face on your own.   It’s better to go in eyes wide open and hearts steeped in prayer than to think you’ll be in it together at every bend.  There are times where you will simply need to say, “Godspeed.  I’ll see you on the other side.”

Expect “Greater Things” are yet to come

As Randy said in his blog post, “Seminary is meant to be temporary and it is meant to be a blessing. But it is not where you are supposed to stay.”  This amazing time of

community and growth is meant to be a step to something greater, something far more meaningful.  Whether your plan is to continue on to a Ph. D. and one day be the professor training the students or if, like us, you plan to use your degree to grow the church and minister to a world in need, the greatest things will come not here, but after you leave and use the tools you have been given.  When you as a spouse can stand beside your seminarian graduate and serve together in a church, a mission field, a community and see people come to Christ, see lives changed by His power and see families healed by His love; when you can send out disciples to be disciple-makers and when you can train up a future generation to answer their call; when those things happen, you will know that the “greater things” can’t be measured in degrees or credits but in souls and lives.  And while this may be one step on the journey, it is not the end.  Greater things are yet to come.

If you'd like to read Randy's original post, click here

http://www.ministrymatters.com/all/entry/5213/5-things-i-learned-in-seminary

The Least of These...

"And I was just thinking.  We should drive down there and get one of them.  Give at least one of them a chance at life and at hope.  I mean we already have three kids, what's one more?"

No, I wasn't the one that said this, but part of my heart is so sad that it wasn't me, that this isn't what my mind thinks or what my heart runs to.  I tend to be a lot more selfish and righteously indignant than be moved by this heart of compassion and unselfish mercy.  Because I saw a problem, instead of a person.  I saw a political issue, not a heart issue.  And my facebook feed seems to agree because this statement was the first I heard that in any way offered the solution of love to the problem of hopelessness and, yes, even hate.

Yesterday was the 4th of July.  We, as a citizens and visitors, came together to celebrate the "birth" of America.  Words like "all men were created equal" and "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" were bantered around with pride and pomp.  Bands played, fireworks exploded, heroes were honored and the fallen were memorialized.  As a social studies education major, I have always loved the celebration of our country's story and the great men and women who shaped our country from the ground up.  I love stories about how so many predicted that our republic would never last or quickly form into a tyranny and how against the odds, the United States of America strove to stay exactly that - united as one country.  I marvel at how blessed I am to have been born into the country that consistently tops the lists of places people around the world want to immigrate to and call their own home.  I am grateful for the freedoms of speech, assembly, religion, press, and petition and I love that our celebrations seem to have always involved shared meals (if you don't believe me, check out our history).

It seems like we can all agree that we live in a really great country... on Independence Day.  But the rest of the time, it seems like all we can do is find something or someone to complain about.  Lately my facebook feed has been filled with stories of the immigration camps overflowing in Texas and filled with children by the hundreds who have been sent across the border by their parents and guardians in various Latin American countries.  The great immigration debate.  Should we kick them out or welcome them in?  There's got to be some kind of law about immigration right?  Some kind of limitation?  Maybe we can just say whoever is here gets to stay but then everyone else has to follow the laws?  We need more enforcement, better laws, stronger government, less government, open doors, higher walls, deeper rivers, angrier people, a new president, a new Congress, a new country?  Land of the free and home of the brave suddenly doesn't sound so blissful.  All men created equal sounds like a nice thing written on a old piece of paper that really doesn't have any relevance today.  Endowed by their Creator?  What Creator?  He really isn't all that welcome in this arena at this time.  Our archaic government just cannot handle the problems of today.  Why are we even celebrating it?

And it would be one thing if I could say that those who are "seeking first God's kingdom" and united in serving the Creator are conspicuously absent from the mud-slinging and insult-hurling.  It would bless me to no end if what I was reading on facebook was a call to a church to go "to the least of these" to wash the feet of these poor hopeless CHILDREN and to hug and hold these little ones who are too young to understand politics and immigration and only know back home there was no hope and here there is no love.  If I could see my Christian friends on either side of the argument calling for the church, the arms and legs of Christ on earth, to mobilize, to love, to serve despite political differences and frustrations with the government to just "be" the church.  I'm not saying you can't hold an opinion, because frankly that's what this country was founded on - the right to hold an opinion and persuade others to it - but if your opinion about our President, our government, our laws, and our political situation is all others think and hear and SEE of you, then we all need to question just who's kingdom we are seeking first.

When my friend said those words to me yesterday, I was convicted to the core.  For I have perhaps been the saddest of them all.  I have said nothing.  I have cried silent tears, tried to put it from my mind, said "It's not my problem.  I can't do anything anyway.  Those poor kids" and never once even considered that maybe I could do something and more importantly, maybe I should do something.  Because I can't imagine for a minute the God I serve knowing this is happening and sitting behind his computer typing a status about how terrible our government, those people, these laws are/is.  I see him going to the lepers, eating with the sinners, embracing the broken and giving hope to the hopeless.

And this applies to more than just this situation.  If you are against abortion, may I ask, what are you doing to help that single mom who just kept her baby and is completely alone?  If you are against welfare, are you willing to open your home and your wallet to keep those two souls well and nourished?  Where are our priorities?  Is is so important to us that the world "knows our views" that we have forgotten what they need to know is our God?  And that our God said they way they would know Him is by our love.  And that love is, as the old DC Talk song proclaimed, love is a verb.

I get that not all of us can go adopt a child or open our home to a single mom or fill in the blank with whatever came to your mind.  But that cannot be our excuse to do nothing.  We cannot teach our children that in the wonderful country where we are blessed with freedom and wealth that many will never know it is okay to use as an excuse "I couldn't do the big thing so I just did nothing."   If I could go through this life and you never knew my political persuasions or what party I supported but you knew I loved God and I loved people, wouldn't that be a much better legacy?  

In Jeremiah 29, the home of every graduation cards favorite verse (Jer. 29:11 - For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, Plans to prosper you, plans to give you a future and a hope) we find this instruction from God for the people of Israel who were living in a strange land as a conquered nation.  They were not particularly fond of the government, the ruler and the land they were.  But God did not tell them to rise up and change things.  He didn't say "Make sure they know exactly where you stand and what you think."  He didn't call for reform or fight against regulation.  He simply said, “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.”   And in that context he tells them that he has plans for them, for a future and a hope.

God has plans for us too.  As followers of Christ, we know that our future extends into eternity.  We have a hope that is an anchor to our souls.  So while we are here, should our energy be spent ridiculing our representatives and tearing down our government?  Or should our words, our actions, our lives be ones of increasing in number by extending the love of God and invitation to His family to everyone around us, especially to "the least of these."  I know some would say that by making these strong political statements or by taking a stand on divisive issues, they are seeking the peace of their city, but I have to share, when I see the message couched in an insult of our leaders or by disparaging the other political party, I can't see peace being pursued.  It's much easier to look to others and say, "It's their fault.  Look what they've done" than to look at ourselves and say, "What have I done?"  And if you've done, good for you, keep at it and if you have not, perhaps we must ask why?

I'm guessing this won't be one of my more popular blogs.  I'm guessing that it is much easier for us to post a facebook status that says, "They are so wrong.  I am so right" than it is for us to examine our hearts and lives and say, "I am so wrong.  He is so right."  It is a lot less messy to deal with the drama on facebook when we post a political statement than it is to look into the eyes of a broken person and hold their imperfect hands and welcome their empty hearts into our lives and our homes and our country.  I know because I'm living it right now and asking God, "Where are my 'least of these'?  What do you want of me?  How can I be your hands and feet?"  And it starts with this post, this reminder, that we are called to so very much more than a political party and a righteous stand.  We are called to love.  We are called to "the least of these."