May 31, 2008
Please check out this blog... and pray!
I recently discovered a very life-changing blog that has caused me to spend much time in prayer and in tears for this family. The blogger is a phenomenal writer and if you journey with her through her story (as she tells about the loss of her daughter, as well as the loss of nicol and greg sponberg's son), you will be forever changed. She is beautifully broken. the blog site is the first on my list, but for the sake of repeating myself, it's www.audreycaroline.blogspot.com
May 30, 2008
God. Bless. You.
After reading Curious George and saying interrupted prayers, I lay between Elias and Keziah tonight in my plush queen-sized bed. Elias began saying, "Well, God bless you, Mama." I sort of laughed, not having heard this phrase in this context before. I asked him what made him say this out of the blue. He went on to tell me that the man off the interstate with the sign reading, "Hungry, Homeless, Jobless," whom he made me go to McDonald's to buy a double cheeseburger for this afternoon, had said this to him when Elias handed him the red and yellow bag of processed meat product.
So then Keziah began shouting "God bless you" at Elias, which began a "God bless you" shouting match, in which I took part and began saying, "God bless America," only because I have for the past few years found this statement rather humorous, it being taken out of global context and all.
Then Elias asked me what the phrase meant. When I broke it down into five year-old terms, it went something like, "You're saying to someone that you hope God's best for them." Okay, if I were a five year-old I'd still be confused with that answer, but it seemed to satisfy a tired Elias, so he turned his head into the pillow and fell asleep. Keziah, hyper from the medication that is treating her cellulitis (from a spider bite, mind you), continued on in her own little world, peeking her head into the living room every now and then, trying to convince us that she was scared, bored, thirsty, or sick.
Nonetheless, I have pondered tonight this phrase. I wrote an aquaintence who very recently lost her baby to SIDS and titled my email "praying for you." I thought to myself how incredibly cliche' that sounded, but honestly and truly, I had nothing else to sum up my words to her...words that without the backing of Jesus' promise of restoring all that the locusts had eaten, would be empty and shallow. I carefully typed each word, trying desperately to let her know that I was grieving with her over the loss of her boy. Even then, I felt so foolish. Who am I to write this woman who I barely know and "let her know" that "I'm praying for her." Then again, it struck me how the Spirit knows what to pray and how when we come to Him with the burdens of our brothers and sisters, He gives us the words, the utterances, the tears, the sorrow, in order to go even deeper in prayer for that person. Once we begin praying specifically for someone God lays on our hearts, I believe there is a soul connection between us and that person. We pray for her, we fast for her, we cry for her. And for the first time, we understand what Jesus meant when he said to mourn with those who mourn.
There is beauty in our emotions. Most of the time, I abhor my emotions, as they many times send me on a roller coaster ride of high and low negativity. But today I am rejoicing in them, as I feel an ounce of the pain in that mother, a speckle of brokenness in that beggar, and an abundance of love toward my children. So when I say "God bless you" tonight, please know that if you are reading this, I mean it. God. Bless. You.
So then Keziah began shouting "God bless you" at Elias, which began a "God bless you" shouting match, in which I took part and began saying, "God bless America," only because I have for the past few years found this statement rather humorous, it being taken out of global context and all.
Then Elias asked me what the phrase meant. When I broke it down into five year-old terms, it went something like, "You're saying to someone that you hope God's best for them." Okay, if I were a five year-old I'd still be confused with that answer, but it seemed to satisfy a tired Elias, so he turned his head into the pillow and fell asleep. Keziah, hyper from the medication that is treating her cellulitis (from a spider bite, mind you), continued on in her own little world, peeking her head into the living room every now and then, trying to convince us that she was scared, bored, thirsty, or sick.
Nonetheless, I have pondered tonight this phrase. I wrote an aquaintence who very recently lost her baby to SIDS and titled my email "praying for you." I thought to myself how incredibly cliche' that sounded, but honestly and truly, I had nothing else to sum up my words to her...words that without the backing of Jesus' promise of restoring all that the locusts had eaten, would be empty and shallow. I carefully typed each word, trying desperately to let her know that I was grieving with her over the loss of her boy. Even then, I felt so foolish. Who am I to write this woman who I barely know and "let her know" that "I'm praying for her." Then again, it struck me how the Spirit knows what to pray and how when we come to Him with the burdens of our brothers and sisters, He gives us the words, the utterances, the tears, the sorrow, in order to go even deeper in prayer for that person. Once we begin praying specifically for someone God lays on our hearts, I believe there is a soul connection between us and that person. We pray for her, we fast for her, we cry for her. And for the first time, we understand what Jesus meant when he said to mourn with those who mourn.
There is beauty in our emotions. Most of the time, I abhor my emotions, as they many times send me on a roller coaster ride of high and low negativity. But today I am rejoicing in them, as I feel an ounce of the pain in that mother, a speckle of brokenness in that beggar, and an abundance of love toward my children. So when I say "God bless you" tonight, please know that if you are reading this, I mean it. God. Bless. You.
Apr 21, 2008
"I Think She's Dead"
“I think she’s dead,” stated Elias bluntly and apathetically.
We found her little body all chewed up today. Her breathing had slowed and I knew she was nearing the end. The male who swam next to her I could tell had no remorse. He’d been after her since day one. I knew it on Thursday, the day after we got them, and a wave of guilt came over me as I watched “Rhino” (the name given her by Keziah, my three year-old) as her body tried desperately to come up from the sideways position that it was now defaulted to, as it lay at the top of the glass bowl, the bowl that was home to her for only five days. Until now.
Now she lay in a separate glass, as the vicious male swam happily in his own feces in the bowl. I thought she should at least spend her last minutes without the fear of all of her remaining fins being torn off by Mr. “Shard,” a name prophetically given by Elias on Wednesday when we bought him at Petsmart in Bloomington where the fish man told us you can put a male and female beta in the same bowl. Total nonsense obviously. My friend Laurie told me the same thing happened to her female. The fish people at Walmart said the same thing.
Keziah was a bit devastated, that is until she found out we would go out that very minute and buy her a new fishy. As we all discussed the state of Rhino, she kept telling us to stop talking about it. I guess denial is the first stage of grief. She never hit the other stages because within an hour she was standing in front of the endless fish tanks at Meijer with her little red balloon, waving it in front of the fish, watching as they scattered in every direction. “I want this one,” she said, pointing to the huge orange fish in the first tank. We talked her into the ones on sale four for five. We ended up with five or six odd fish, including one of those sucker ones, a water filter, and some decorative background paraphernalia. Thomas tried to sneak a little fish castle in, but I talked him out of it at the cash register, due to the fact that the fish bowl is tiny and he already bought ancient Roman ruins last week at Petsmart, home of ill-informed fish man. Of course Keziah asked about it when we got home. I played it off and her three year-old mind quickly switched over to playing dress-up.
I should mention that Rhino hung on for a while. Before we left for Meijer, I sang to her and told her to swim to the light. By the time we were home tonight she was totally gone. I haven’t asked what happened to Shard yet. But I know for sure if he hasn’t been flushed already, that he’ll spend the rest of his life alone. After we found Rhino nearly dead, Elias wanted to kill him with a knife. I questioned if this wasn’t a sign of something deeper, considering I remember that commercial for a psych hospital when I was little stating all the signs to watch out for in your disturbed child, including “harms animals.” But then it came to me that I kind of wanted to kill Shard too, just not with a knife. So then we went into the whole conversation of having grace on Shard, even though he was a viscous murderer and a potential serial killer.
Our house is still now, with our little bowl resting quietly on the top shelf of the bookshelf near the fireplace. The filter is bubbling and a whole slew of fish are swimming happily. If it weren’t for Rhino’s death, they would never know this bowl, complete with ocean landscape behind it. Sleep well new fishies. Shard is gone (although I still don’t know how “gone”) and you are free!
We found her little body all chewed up today. Her breathing had slowed and I knew she was nearing the end. The male who swam next to her I could tell had no remorse. He’d been after her since day one. I knew it on Thursday, the day after we got them, and a wave of guilt came over me as I watched “Rhino” (the name given her by Keziah, my three year-old) as her body tried desperately to come up from the sideways position that it was now defaulted to, as it lay at the top of the glass bowl, the bowl that was home to her for only five days. Until now.
Now she lay in a separate glass, as the vicious male swam happily in his own feces in the bowl. I thought she should at least spend her last minutes without the fear of all of her remaining fins being torn off by Mr. “Shard,” a name prophetically given by Elias on Wednesday when we bought him at Petsmart in Bloomington where the fish man told us you can put a male and female beta in the same bowl. Total nonsense obviously. My friend Laurie told me the same thing happened to her female. The fish people at Walmart said the same thing.
Keziah was a bit devastated, that is until she found out we would go out that very minute and buy her a new fishy. As we all discussed the state of Rhino, she kept telling us to stop talking about it. I guess denial is the first stage of grief. She never hit the other stages because within an hour she was standing in front of the endless fish tanks at Meijer with her little red balloon, waving it in front of the fish, watching as they scattered in every direction. “I want this one,” she said, pointing to the huge orange fish in the first tank. We talked her into the ones on sale four for five. We ended up with five or six odd fish, including one of those sucker ones, a water filter, and some decorative background paraphernalia. Thomas tried to sneak a little fish castle in, but I talked him out of it at the cash register, due to the fact that the fish bowl is tiny and he already bought ancient Roman ruins last week at Petsmart, home of ill-informed fish man. Of course Keziah asked about it when we got home. I played it off and her three year-old mind quickly switched over to playing dress-up.
I should mention that Rhino hung on for a while. Before we left for Meijer, I sang to her and told her to swim to the light. By the time we were home tonight she was totally gone. I haven’t asked what happened to Shard yet. But I know for sure if he hasn’t been flushed already, that he’ll spend the rest of his life alone. After we found Rhino nearly dead, Elias wanted to kill him with a knife. I questioned if this wasn’t a sign of something deeper, considering I remember that commercial for a psych hospital when I was little stating all the signs to watch out for in your disturbed child, including “harms animals.” But then it came to me that I kind of wanted to kill Shard too, just not with a knife. So then we went into the whole conversation of having grace on Shard, even though he was a viscous murderer and a potential serial killer.
Our house is still now, with our little bowl resting quietly on the top shelf of the bookshelf near the fireplace. The filter is bubbling and a whole slew of fish are swimming happily. If it weren’t for Rhino’s death, they would never know this bowl, complete with ocean landscape behind it. Sleep well new fishies. Shard is gone (although I still don’t know how “gone”) and you are free!
Jan 16, 2008
Kansas City
We are at C.O.P this week, also known as Candidate Orientation for those of you who, like me, dislike acronyms. It is basically training for the organization (Avant) we are going with to Italy. It has been an incredibly refreshing time these two weeks. For the first time in a few months, I have felt in my element. I'm so in sync with what these people are about, namely planting churches that are indigenous (led and owned by nationals and not us white folk...we are only facilitators and ministers of the gospel). I feel like I'm getting back to my roots of Christianity...the bare bones of telling unsaved people about Jesus, coming alongside of people whose hearts Jesus has already been drawing to Himself, and discipling those believers into community with one another, with the intention of them multiplying their growth and planting churches elsewhere, even to the ends of the earth.
Whew. It felt really good to write that. I'm so sorry for the wordiness. It's just that I have been stock-piling so much information and passion and because I'm around people who get this vision, I haven't been able to verbally express it. Perhaps now I'll have room in my brain for whatever else is in store these next couple of days.
Our kids are LOVING our time here, so much so that the minute they wake up they ask to go to their class (which is two doors down from our little hotel-like room). They are having a blast with kids their ages, most of which belong to a family who is on our team. This is very exciting to me and I so see God's hand in providing for our children's needs. Elias thrives on interaction with other kids. He also thrives on routine, which I have not been able to provide him these past few months. So the 8-5 routine here has brought out the best in him. Keziah thrives on getting her energy out in any shape or form, but is especially fond of the little girl here that is her age. They follow each other around, sneak candy out of the candy dish together, and play dress-up. I feel so blessed in this moment. I can't tell you how good it feels to know God has called us and that we are obeying Him. In this moment I am able to give Him my hopes and dreams and believe that His thoughts and ways are much higher than mine. However, I am also aware of the bad days that I so often have...how I so easily believe the lies that Jesus is showing me something really good just to get me excited...like someone holding a carrot in front of a rabbit and then not giving it to the poor rodent in the end. Nonetheless, today I feel that the gray lens of pessimism has been lifted and I'm abandoning all to my Father, who gives good gifts to His children.
Dec 22, 2007
Missing Chicago
Ezra is standing in his crib, his crazy hair darting in every direction, looking at me with his huge one-toothed grin, laughing every time I look at him. Keziah and Elias are in the other room making snowflakes. They come in every few minutes to have me fold the bright green paper they are using, as well as to show me their finished flakes, laden with holes and holding in their folds the mystery of symmetric circles and triangles and squares. Christmas is in the air, as the red lights continue to glow on our tree and more and more presents pile in its lap. Mary and Joseph and Jesus sit there too, dressed in porcelain and donning bright childlike colors, trying hard to remind us that this season is so far beyond our fascinating traditions.
My sister just returned from her job at Starbucks with a "sorority drink" just for me. It's a sugar-free vanilla non-fat decaf latte. Elias has drank about half of it already. I'm trying hard to think on all that is good in this moment. I have found myself sad today, realizing for the first time that a chapter of our lives has truly ended. I have thought today of all the wonderful things of Chicago. More than that, I have ached for some of our "family" there, particularly our community where we were living. Just the other night, we sat in Mike and Ronda's kitchen, sipping drinks and teaching them how to play Euchre, a Mid-west card game. We laughed at ourselves and each other, as our conversation took many twists and turns. Our kids played in the other room, soaking in each other's presence, pretending to be dogs and moms and bad guys, acting as though they had never missed a beat with one another.
And it was just last weekend that Brenton and Amber threw us a going away party at the building where we were living. So many dear friends came to say goodbye. The playroom was filled with crazy three year-olds, all screaming and laughing and running while all of the parents stood in the other room, laughing and conversing, not distracted in the least by the chaos of little ones that we have all learned to ignore for the sake of having adult interaction. It seems like it was just yesterday that we all sat in the backyard talking at the picnic table, discussing our plans for the future, questioning what God was doing in each other's life, wondering how long we would live in this community...not knowing that those few moments were a glimpse into eternity and that it was indeed a season that will not be given back, not with those particular people and those particular children. Not in that particular city or in that particular building. Yes, the chapter has ended. And until now, I haven't mourned the end of so many life-changing events.
I could even taste the winters there today. And for the first time, I didn't have disdain in my mouth when I thought of cold, windy, dirty Chicago. Instead, I thought of the windows at Macy's and hot chocolate at Amber's...of Elias and my walks in the snow and how good the heat feels when we walked up all the stairs into our apartment. I thought of the man on Logan Boulevard whose house looks like it belongs in Whoville with all its lights and Santas and reindeer in its front lawn. I'm thinking of how we got out of the car last year on a night like tonight just to walk around the house.
I don't have any regrets, not about our time there or about the decision to leave. I'm thankful for that three-year season of life. I'm glad we experienced the zoo, the museums, the bathroom of the John Hancock Building (it has the best view of Chicago), tapings of Oprah, incredible Thai restaurants, the "L" (the subway), Ikea, the parks, the public pools, Elias' preschool, the beach, Dunkin Donuts, Michigan Avenue, and El Cid (our favorite Mexican restaurant). I'm glad I know the woman who works at Dominick's Grocery late at night and that I know she is a breast cancer survivor. I'm happy that the lady at Seven Eleven asks about my baby, as she saw me throughout my pregnancy and the day after Ezra was born. And I smile when I think of the ladies at Foodsmart and how I got to practice my Spanish every morning as I purchased a Diet Coke or an iced coffee from the cooler. And I sigh when I think of all the moms I met at Elias and Keziah's gymnastics class and how I never followed through in pursuing them but how we had such wonderful conversations when we saw one another.
So now I am sitting on my parent's big red couch listening to Thomas read "The Night Before Christmas" to the kids. My imagination just messed with me as I thought that the rain that just began pouring outside was the train going by our house in Chicago. It's another Christmas. I'm learning that the embroidered sign I used to see at my friend's house when I was little, the one that read "Home is where the heart is," wasn't so cheezy after all. And it certainly isn't far from the truth. It is my hope that even though I feel displaced and unorganized this season, that we will pull together as a family and enjoy one another's laughter and the fact that Jesus has given us one another, that He truly "sets the lonely in families," as the Proverb says.
Dec 10, 2007
Diet Coke, Sermons, Mallhopping and a Crazy Lady
Click on the picture to see us even bigger!
I find it ironic that I'm sitting here listening to a podcast sermon on "My Body and Sustainable Living" while eating potato chips and drinking a Diet Coke. Yikes, and I should probably mention, for the sake of my confession to the internet, that it's 12:22 a.m. There. I feel better. Dang, these kettle-cooked potato chips are good.
I'm trying to get out Christmas letters/pictures and I'm finding it to be such a process. Our addresses are in Chicago and my old database is somewhere in cyberspace. So for the sake of all people who may not end up receiving a picture, I'm going to post it here.
Indianapolis continues to have its perks. We have grown accustomed to "mall hopping" as a form of entertaining our children. The malls around here all have these little play areas, so we let the kids run around and do a little window shopping ourselves. Other than that there is the Children's Museum where we have already been four times. Every night, right before Keziah falls asleep she asks to either go to the zoo "in the morning" or to "go camping."
Thomas is now in physical therapy twice a week. He is doing great. His depression has subsided quite a bit. As for our future, we are in the process of looking for jobs, housing, and oh yah, a rental truck (do you know anyone with one?). We'll be moving our stuff from Chicago to somewhere in Indy next weekend and then we will be going to training with Avant in January. On a good day, I know Jesus is going to take care of our needs and am excited to see how it will all unfold...almost like my son when he thinks about Christmas morning, opening up what he hopes will be Megatron, Optimus Prime and Bumblebee (those are all Transformers). But on a bad day, I get down and start frantically trying to make things work on a practical level. The problem is that God typically supercedes my practicality and ends up answering those prayers that Thomas assures me he is waiting on Him to answer. Thomas is much better at the "waiting" than I am. I'm learning though, that to move forward as the stubborn and strong-willed one, without Thomas having peace about the decision, is a mistake. It only took working for a 70 year-old crazy woman for a year and a half to realize this. Let me explain...
Thomas knew it wasn't a good idea to move into that apartment to manage the building. But I saw the practicality of living in a bigger apartment and having a nice backyard for the kids to run in. The woman we worked for was controlling, manipulative, and dishonest. She would come in our apartment while we were gone. She was downright mean to her tenants and at one point, we found a man dead in his apartment and called her. This about sums up her insanity: Because she didn't follow the building codes correctly and couldn't get to the building to fix them before the coroner came, she said, "I think you should just go to bed and call the coroner in the morning." What in Sam's name? We obviously didn't listen to that advice. The fire department came, pronouncing poor Lester dead of natural causes. She was one of those ladies who I wouldn't put anything past. I think perhaps she had multiple personalities. Or dimentia. hrm.
Well, I'm done rambling. My Diet Coke is gone and I've eaten one too many potato chips and listened to one to many sermons...to the point that they are all sounding the same.
Ciao.
I find it ironic that I'm sitting here listening to a podcast sermon on "My Body and Sustainable Living" while eating potato chips and drinking a Diet Coke. Yikes, and I should probably mention, for the sake of my confession to the internet, that it's 12:22 a.m. There. I feel better. Dang, these kettle-cooked potato chips are good. I'm trying to get out Christmas letters/pictures and I'm finding it to be such a process. Our addresses are in Chicago and my old database is somewhere in cyberspace. So for the sake of all people who may not end up receiving a picture, I'm going to post it here.
Indianapolis continues to have its perks. We have grown accustomed to "mall hopping" as a form of entertaining our children. The malls around here all have these little play areas, so we let the kids run around and do a little window shopping ourselves. Other than that there is the Children's Museum where we have already been four times. Every night, right before Keziah falls asleep she asks to either go to the zoo "in the morning" or to "go camping."
Thomas is now in physical therapy twice a week. He is doing great. His depression has subsided quite a bit. As for our future, we are in the process of looking for jobs, housing, and oh yah, a rental truck (do you know anyone with one?). We'll be moving our stuff from Chicago to somewhere in Indy next weekend and then we will be going to training with Avant in January. On a good day, I know Jesus is going to take care of our needs and am excited to see how it will all unfold...almost like my son when he thinks about Christmas morning, opening up what he hopes will be Megatron, Optimus Prime and Bumblebee (those are all Transformers). But on a bad day, I get down and start frantically trying to make things work on a practical level. The problem is that God typically supercedes my practicality and ends up answering those prayers that Thomas assures me he is waiting on Him to answer. Thomas is much better at the "waiting" than I am. I'm learning though, that to move forward as the stubborn and strong-willed one, without Thomas having peace about the decision, is a mistake. It only took working for a 70 year-old crazy woman for a year and a half to realize this. Let me explain...
Thomas knew it wasn't a good idea to move into that apartment to manage the building. But I saw the practicality of living in a bigger apartment and having a nice backyard for the kids to run in. The woman we worked for was controlling, manipulative, and dishonest. She would come in our apartment while we were gone. She was downright mean to her tenants and at one point, we found a man dead in his apartment and called her. This about sums up her insanity: Because she didn't follow the building codes correctly and couldn't get to the building to fix them before the coroner came, she said, "I think you should just go to bed and call the coroner in the morning." What in Sam's name? We obviously didn't listen to that advice. The fire department came, pronouncing poor Lester dead of natural causes. She was one of those ladies who I wouldn't put anything past. I think perhaps she had multiple personalities. Or dimentia. hrm.
Well, I'm done rambling. My Diet Coke is gone and I've eaten one too many potato chips and listened to one to many sermons...to the point that they are all sounding the same.
Ciao.
Nov 27, 2007
Insomnia, Avant, a death, and a widow.
It's 6:00 a.m., and I have been up for an hour and a half all because I can't sleep. Usually I would be enjoying the slumber that comes so easy these days, my head buried in a pillow, pretending I don't have one of my children's feet in my face and another one's faint cry in my ear. But right now, I'm willingly awake without the sound, smell, or touch of children. I should do this more often.
I thought you may like to hear the news that we got accepted with Avant (www.avantministries.org click on "avant info" to see the video about what we will be doing). I'm excited that we know one thing for sure right now. Because we certainly don't know much else (can I use those words together?). So the plan is that we will go to Italy in 2009 and that we will be living in Indianapolis until then.
On a sad note, Thomas' cousin passed away a few days ago. She was only 39 and left behind three kids, the youngest which is 14. Rhonda had cancer that she thought until recently was in remission. I keep thinking about her kids and how hard this must be. They will all be going to separate states with different relatives. Today is the memorial service and Thomas was asked to do the service. He is honored yet nervous.
I've had a lot on my mind this morning. I have been in prayer for those kids and for Thomas' family, for our friends in Italy, for a woman named Polly who I received an e-mail about last night. Polly lives in Israel and is a widow and mother of some orphaned children. She loves Jesus. An anti-missionary group there decided to have a (court approved) protest in front of her house because she has "proselytized" children (she told them about Jesus, even though the only evidence of this is from a child of a Jewish family who became a Christian because he was friends with her children a long time ago). So this poor woman had 250 protesters in front of her house outraged at her because she loves God. I can't imagine how painful it would be to be intentionally hated by so many people.
Well, I will go for now. Hope this find you doing well. I'll leave you with some pictures of our kids.
-Cristi
I thought you may like to hear the news that we got accepted with Avant (www.avantministries.org click on "avant info" to see the video about what we will be doing). I'm excited that we know one thing for sure right now. Because we certainly don't know much else (can I use those words together?). So the plan is that we will go to Italy in 2009 and that we will be living in Indianapolis until then.
On a sad note, Thomas' cousin passed away a few days ago. She was only 39 and left behind three kids, the youngest which is 14. Rhonda had cancer that she thought until recently was in remission. I keep thinking about her kids and how hard this must be. They will all be going to separate states with different relatives. Today is the memorial service and Thomas was asked to do the service. He is honored yet nervous.
I've had a lot on my mind this morning. I have been in prayer for those kids and for Thomas' family, for our friends in Italy, for a woman named Polly who I received an e-mail about last night. Polly lives in Israel and is a widow and mother of some orphaned children. She loves Jesus. An anti-missionary group there decided to have a (court approved) protest in front of her house because she has "proselytized" children (she told them about Jesus, even though the only evidence of this is from a child of a Jewish family who became a Christian because he was friends with her children a long time ago). So this poor woman had 250 protesters in front of her house outraged at her because she loves God. I can't imagine how painful it would be to be intentionally hated by so many people.
Well, I will go for now. Hope this find you doing well. I'll leave you with some pictures of our kids.
-Cristi
