Life as an Asker

There is a personal trainer who teaches classes at the Y who has become the voice in my head during long runs and solo lifting sessions.  She says things like “this is only 4% of your day” or “don’t quit until ‘yer done” and “does anyone want to get stronger today?”

She also says “the things you hate the most are probably the things you need the most.”  For me it’s lunges. (WHY oh WHY when we do so MANY of them are they still so hard?!)

When I do certain exercises and I hate them, it is probably because it is hard to do and it is revealing a weak spot.

Of course my friend means exercise but as I have walked next to friends through weeks of suffering it has come to mean more than just I may have weak muscles.

Some of these challenges we have faced have shown me areas of my life where I need to change.

When Isaac died, my heart broke on sometimes an hourly basis.  I found the towel at the Y become a tissue as well as a sweat wiper.  I would cry watching movies (Anne of Green Gables scene when they buried Matthew turned into an sob fest), lose my breath when I would remember the chain of events of April 21 or simply cry with my friends as we continue to grieve together.

It didn’t completely soften my heart (golly if this didn’t what will?) towards my children and I have not turned into Mary Poppins, BUT…

I find I am less picky.  I care less about how much they eat (I used to be a protein and veggie pusher at the cost of tears and even gagging sometimes – shame on me) or even what they eat (sure, have another piece of whatever that gooey candy is from the birthday party).  I care less about the mess, even in the boys’ drawers.  Underwear inside out?  Mismatched socks?  Mismatched PJ’s? No longer on the top of my complaint list. (Ok it does sometimes still drive me slightly crazy but that’s just normal mom-mode at bedtime right!?)

We celebrate more.  Today XS graduated from preschool.  (He told me beforehand that he was “nervous.”  Bless him.)  But we celebrated real good with juice, Chinese noodles at lunch and noodles at dinner again.

Grateful Homecroft teachers let big siblings attend the ceremony!

I never wanted 3 kids.  Had the tubal after Elam’s birth since it was a c-section and I was hanging open already.  We were sure we didn’t want or need another kid.  1-1 defense seemed best for our family.  Besides, when do people ever win a trip for 5 to Disneyworld?

But oh how grateful we are for this third child to make life uncomfortable – budget, time, diapers for overnights, lover of Chinese noodles so that I always have to have at least one dish in the fridge that’s just for this boy – mostly silly irritations but every once in a while we think what the what?

We thought we had it all together before 3 kids… ha!  We thought we had a handle on college fund planning, child care and one pink bedroom and one blue one.  Little did we know.

Thank God He knew we needed Him.

I find I am angry less.  When I remind my kids to do something (even for the 10th time) I remind them, they apologize and we move on.  When I find they have spilled, even if it IS pork grease from the freshly grilled loin Elam proudly helped Dad bring in from the deck… on the freshly cleaned carpets.  (WHO INSTALLS WHITE CARPET!?)

I find I kiss the boys while they sleep.  I chat with Calista more during bedtime and let her keep chatting.  I pray more while I run (although that may be because I am training for a marathon and simply have more time TO pray).  Brian and I pray more together before bed.  Brian and I also argue so much less than a year ago we should write a book about it.

This spring has shown me so many of my weak spots!  I could keep writing about how I find it hard to keep my mouth shut, harder to be nice sometimes and really hard to not try to fix everyone’s problems in the next 4 minutes.

And I’m sure this next week and its challenges of a friend facing a tough season ahead, Brian being gone for the last 4 days of school, grieving the end of a school year with my 8-year old and the busy weekend will show me more of the weak spots.

But as I do one more lunge, one more mile, one more day, I am also finding God gives me just what I need: faith for one more.  Joy for one more.  Energy for one more.  Strength for one more.

From a text from a friend.  From a note in the mailbox.  From a praise from a stranger.  From flowers from a friend.  From gifts left for me such a this necklace.

And then I believe I can do one more mile, one more race, one more phone call and one more blog that might mean something.

“Mom, I just wish I could do something.”

“We’d do anything.”

We had just spent hours with some of our dearest friends from church.  Our grieving friends had had a super hard day, putting baby Isaac’s clothes away.  Grandma Elaine had headed home to Iowa.  And overall, they were just sad.  We were sad with them, literally weeping together when Elam came in.

Elam had been trying to help XS and another boy slow down on the swings.  The babysitters thought they were going too fast or high and he wanted to help.  In the process, somehow this happened.

It looked like really REALLY bad road rash 2 days ago. Today, just like really bad road rash.

Elam was crying. Christy was crying. I was crying. It was slightly overwhelming.

Thankfully there were other moms and dads there and we got Elam bandaged up, other friends took over the conversation and somehow, with 12 kids, 3 babysitters, and 22 people total, we spent the evening together. We BBQ-ed, started an obligatory fire in the grill, killed some mosquitos and grieved together.

We also planned ahead for baby J coming in a few short weeks.

(True community – here is a freebie glance at a soon to be coming blog post.  True community is when your 6-year old SON remembers your girlfriend’s due date.  Just ask Elam: he knows it is May 30.)

It was devastating however to watch our friends grieve.

Shattering to walk into church behind them on Mothers Day.

Heartbreaking to get a “thank you” text from one of the grandpas exactly 14 days after it happened. It was mid-workout and after I read it at 10:00am, I knelt down on my exercise mat, cried a few hard tears, then picked myself up and got back to my push-ups and renegade rows. (Why is it when I experience hard resistance in class that I start to cry for real?  Those bloomin’ renegade rows do it every week.)

Well the night after Elam hurt his arm and we had spent time with our friends, Calista had expressed herself simply,” I just wish there was something I could do!  It is so hard to hear Elam in pain.”

And later when I was praying with the boys and I got quiet, Elam asked what I was thinking about.  “I just wish there was something I could do.  I asked Chris that earlier.  I just wish I could do something to help them.”

“Well, we’d do anything Mom.” It was simple.  Heartfelt.

I rarely don’t know what exactly to do.  I mostly have a list of 25 things and it is a matter of which thing to do.  And often I’m doing 2-3 of those things simultaneously. Especially when I’m solo parent for 14 days straight.

But in this grieving season, I am struck with such a sense of not knowing a single thing to do…

Except pray. Text. Stop by. Have lunch. Hug. Say “I love you.” Seemingly unhelpful, un-extrodinary things

Ordinary things.

Incidentally, for you liturgical types (of which I must not be b/c it took 4 attempts plus the use of my computer spell checker to get “liturgical” spelled correctly…) you know this.  But we are now technically in “Ordinary Time.” It’s no longer Easter (did you know Easter lasts 7 weeks? I just asked Calista if she knew and she said it lasts 50 days.  Yay.  She listens.)

My devotional guide reminded me that in Ordinary Time, we don’t have feasts, reminders like Christmas, Lent or Easter to wake us up and keep us in tune with the Spirit.*  Instead, now we enter in a time when we simply follow Jesus. In ordinary ways.

Ordinary Time.

The bustle of family visiting, funeral planning and having to share the fresh, sad story is coming to a close.

Instead, my friends are taking their girls to school. Planning to return to work. Running their miles early in the morning. Putting away clothes. Returning overdue library books.

Ordinary things.

However, I’ll bet they wouldn’t call it ordinary. Nothing for them is ordinary, or normal.  It is a new life, a shattered image of the dream they had been living.

And those of us around them wonder what to do, how to help.  Or maybe we shift the conversation away from the pain because we just don’t know what to do.

When I haven’t known what to do lately, I have decided to do what I always do. Stick to the plan. Keep following. Running my miles. Serving dinner. Being a friend. Talking to the neighbors. Finishing the last Harry Potter book. Writing.

Ordinary Time.

What is ordinary about a babe not waking from his morning nap after getting a full belly from his loving mother?

What is ordinary about going for a bike ride in the cemetery, where the roads are flat (a rarity in Duluth) and finding that babe’s gravesite?

Fitting: my normally smiling kids appropriately didn’t smile for this shot. I took it to show Brian what we were doing Mothers Day afternoon. It reflects how we all felt looking at it.

What is ordinary about helping another car filled with people, who happen to be looking for the section where babies are buried in that same cemetery?

What will we find as we just do what we always do? Who will find? Or Who might find us?

Ordinary Time.

• The book I am currently using for devotions is Bobby Gross’ “living the Christian year” (IVP of course)

The last two weeks have reminded me so much of how important relationships are.  The extra time, momentary discomfort and the minor work seem nothing compared to the joy I have had being on the receiving end of what friendship is.

Friendship is meeting a girlfriend at mile 10 with cut up fresh pear and oranges and then running the last 5 with her uphill both ways (golly Hawk’s Ridge is hilly!)

Friendship is buying a water bottle for your girlfriend who happened to mention she may need to buy a “going out” water bottle.  My bright red YMCA bottle is like my calling card.  I’ve left bottles at church, at friends’ houses and in the garage.  My girlfriend (my very pregnant girlfriend) remembered this despite all of the tragedy and busy surrounding her/us and presented me with a gift of a “fancy” water bottle tonight. After serving me dinner…  So sweet.

Friendship (or just love) is Calista racing to wash it for me, fill it with fresh, cold water and then taking a picture for me so I could blog about it.

Friendship is remembering to pray for your friend’s mother who is having heart surgery, while holding your baby who didn’t wake up that morning.  It’s leading the prayer, asking us all to hold hands and then pray out loud while the rest of us wept for the kindness.

Friendship is remembering families who are caring for families facing tragedy.  Offering to bring a meal to the weekly community group which meets every week.  Bringing an ENTIRE meal which provides leftovers to a mom who is single-parenting for two weeks.  Bringing the meal in non-returnable recyclable pans.  Bringing strawberries too for the kids.  And seeming to love every minute of it.

Friendship is offering to take 3 kids (mine – all these are about me, just FYI – this blog is not supposed to be tricky) for 3 hours on a Saturday even though you are a grandmother, and probably wonderful OTHER things you could do on a Saturday (like sleep IN!), plan 8 activities for the morning and bake cookies with those kids.  It’s letting them taste every ingredient (Flour tastes like dust they said).  It’s loving them with hugs and literally CHASING them around the playground on a chilly, April morning.

Friendship is offering to watch those kids again just days later if needed.

Friendship is planning to go visit your girlfriend in the hospital when she has her baby in a few weeks with other friends.  Even though your sweet baby just passed away weeks ago. Planning it with a smile and peace in your eyes.  And planning it because we remember how we visited together when that sweet baby boy was born just months ago. (And how that night we didn’t just rejoice over his new life, but we overheard another baby entering the world through the shared bathroom doors!!!)

Friendship is texting the morning after you buried your baby son before 8am to offer prayers for an important meeting before reminded to do so.  It’s remembering that my husband had a big interview that day and was getting a license to be able to minister in the Covenant church and praying just the right words for him that morning.

Friendship is learning to say “I love you” every time you say goodbye, even though you’re not related.  But after all you have walked through recently, seems more natural than if you had been born in the same house.

Friendship is texting to see how I am doing since Brian is away for 2 weeks.

Friendship is fixing my boys’ bikes so the seats are adjusted to the right height for a new biking season.

Friendship is asking an acquaintance at the Y how she is doing after witnessing her shock after finding out her girlfriend’s baby just died.

Friendship is texting daily to see if a friend needs anything.  And then when she tells you she is lonely, texting 4-5 rapid fire Bible verses that are so so EXACTLY what I needed to hear.  “even to your old age and gray hairs I am He, I am He who will sustain you.” (Is 46).  And then joke with you by texting about the gray hair part and the funny timing of the hair appointment later that day, even though I am sure that friend was quite busy this afternoon.

Friendship is telling her that her white hair is rad and she shouldn’t be ashamed of it.

Friendship is asking your girlfriend what she needs. And offering to take her 3 kids for 2 hours so she can get that white hair cut and styled again.

After 10 minutes of styling, shaping and gelling the hair to look just right, 3 second in the wind did this. What do you think?

Friendship is dropping off popsicle making trays, Apple Juice, a card, rocks and loaning a stuffed animal when you’re stuck at home with impetigo. A girlfriend and her son (one of XS’ really first buddy) dropped these things off a few weeks ago.  When I asked XS today what friendship is to me he said, “Giving other people’s toys back.” He was referring to his dropping of the stuffed animal which he did last night.

Friendship is, according to Elam, “Loving and serving people.  Giving people your food.  Worshiping Jesus together and giving people Bibles.”

Friendship is, according to Calista, “having fun with the people you like.”

Friendship is Jesus with skin on everywhere I turn: at the Y, at the grocery store (my peanut butter, lunch meat and hydration drinks were all on sale today!), church, the neighborhood and on the phone almost every hour.

How have you been a friend lately? You are doing more than you know for those of us on the receiving end.

And who has been a friend to you?

Thank your friends.

Be a friend.

It just might change the world.

It was supposed to start at 6am, but my body thought 5am would be better.  I was lying in bed, praying to go back to sleep but eventually I gave up.  I knew it was 6am when Elam came BOUNDING into the room just as he does every morning.

I gave him the obligatory 6 minute snuggles and then got ready for my 16 mile run.  It was a long run today getting ready for Grandma’s Marathon in just 8 weeks (eek).  Brian helped me by coaching and jogging alongside of me for the last 6.7 miles.  It was sunny, calm for the first time in weeks on a Friday (yay!) and birds sang the whole time.  I saw my first sandpiper, scared up a deer (ok she scared me too) and ate my banana in some stranger’s driveway.

This afternoon my two close girlfriends and I created a genuine, 3-ring circus.  Sally was off to a neighbor’s house where an elementary girl with very long hair had head lice.  She combed it through and gave the girl a haircut. That’s love people.

I took off for Homecroft Elementary where 75 2nd graders were eagerly waiting to watch a sheep’s eye get dissected.  I read through the notes, watched slides on line and got very ill as I considered my options for cancelling on this volunteer opportunity.

lines like this got me:

“If some of the vitreous humor begins to come out of the eyeball… let it come out slowly.” (might it erupt if I’m not careful?)

“you may need to tease the material loose from the inside of the eye” (is this a joke? … see what I did there?  and there?)

Instead I showed up and was the one without a partner (moment of sadness please) and realized there weren’t enough tools, scissors and scalpels for us all to cut into these balls of fatty … eyeballs.

But wow, what 90 minutes we had with those kids.  One girl told me she threw up outside during the dissection.  My friend Amy had looks of disgust on her face as she cut through the eyeball. One table of kids went from gasps of shock to audible grimaces.

Calista was delighted I was there and we actually learned a lot about the eye ball and found the insides of the eyes had a shimmery, iridescent green/blue “tapetum.”  It was fascinating thinking about how God created all of that.

There were things said I have never heard in a schoolroom. “Logan, give someone else a chance to stick their finger in the eye.”  “Anyone else need an eyeball? There are two bags full over here.”

You too could order from Nebraska Scientific eyeballs, intestines and all sorts of yummy things to dissect.  And they ship with UPS.

Meanwhile Calista, Elam and I went to pick up kid #3 and found the final ring of the circus.  Rebekah (due in 5 weeks) perhaps had the hardest job, taking care of her own 2 kids, plus 3 extra.  She was rounding them ALL up to walk to the bus to pick up her #3.  2 kids in a single baby jogger and the bus stop having uphills both ways.  We all walked to the bus stop together, ran into Sally and walked our brood home.

We debated the choices we all made that day: head lice, sheep eyeball dissection and babysitting each other’s kids.  What a way to spend a sunny Friday afternoon!

Don’t eat off this plate.

One week ago I didn’t know what to do.  What to say.  How to help.

One week ago I hadn’t ever really grieved.  Hadn’t cried so hard my eyes, throat and chest hurt.  Hadn’t ever seen my friends all doing the same.

One week ago I had never hugged my friend and the children’s pastor at my church so tight I never wanted to let go.

One week ago I didn’t know just how great my church really was, is and probably will always be. One week ago I was not as proud as I am now to say I’m on staff at Lakeview Covenant Church.

One week ago I was sweating after class, getting a phone call from my husband that life had changed forever for our good friends, Chris and Christy.  Their 3 month old, long-awaited for, much prayed for, much prepared for baby boy didn’t wake up from his morning nap.

One week ago I had never held a dead child, much less a sweet baby. That sweet babe was rocked in his momma’s arms all day until dad arrived from his trip to Michigan.  Momma shared him, asked me to say goodbye to him.  So I did.

One week ago I had never fallen to my knees so many times.  168 hours of pain, sadness and the inability to shake the feeling that just .7 miles away, a family has been shattered.

One week ago people starting praying, bringing food, cleaning bathrooms, taking care of the other 3 children, putting onesies away and gathering photos.  One week ago people starting asking “how can I help?” and figured out a million ways to love.

One week ago I heard Grandpa Bob say, “It’s times like these when we really start to love each other the way we should.”

I heard Christy say, while holding baby Isaac’s body, “God is still good.  Don’t worry you guys” (tears streaming down her face) “I won’t forget that.  Even now.”

I heard my own children ask, “Are you afraid to let us go to sleep Momma?”  “Are you still sad about baby Isaac?”  “Why didn’t I die when I was a baby?”

I heard people at the visitation and funeral say, “This church takes care of people.”  “Christy sure has a lot of running friends.”  “I came from Edina.  Chris and I used to work 2 offices apart.  I had to come.”

One week ago, I knew Chris and Christy could run forever.  But I didn’t know they could stand for 5 hours to greet, weep and hug the hundreds of people who came to church to support them.

One week ago, I knew I loved these friends of mine, and our community group which has met for almost two years.  But I didn’t know the extent we would go to show love at at time like this.  One friend moved out of her house for three days so family from out of town could move in and be 2 blocks away from Chris and Christy’s home.

One week ago, I knew my friends loved Jesus.  But I didn’t know that they could place a hand on their baby’s stomach, in a casket and point to the Cross while singing, “through it all, through it all, my eyes are on You.”

we sang this song at the funeral and it’s worth a listen…

One week ago I knew Christy loved babies, especially her own.  But I didn’t know she could still hold her relatives’ and neighbors’ babies without a painful look on her face.

One week ago I knew Chris and Christy had friends and wonderful ones at that.  But I didn’t know the dozens, hundreds and even more who love them.  The flowers (dozens of arrangements), the bars and cookies (counters filled at the church) and even the ice cream (tubs of it) donated by Bridgeman’s for the funeral told us how.  At the touch of a text button, goods for a family waiting room at the church (chapstick, CLIF bars, waters and someone thought of makeup remover pads) showed up in 24 hours.  Even a refrigerator.  After 3 emails and a handful of text messages, those bars and cookies showed up.  The woman coordinating the kitchen for the meal after the service had to turn people away from helping serving.

One week ago, and this may be the most important, I knew God was faithful.  That He provided.  That He comforted the brokenhearted.  That He could help the mother who miscarried twice one year apart.  That He could give that same mother twins less than a year after the last miscarriage.  That He could walk my friend Linda through the sudden death of her husband and replace dreams of a retired life with her husband with visions for other ideas.  That He could strengthen those of us who suffer with energy to serve.  That He loves us through one another.

But this week I know more than ever that God is real.  He gave strength to my friend to sing and preach really, the song “How Great Thou Art” to begin the funeral of baby Issac.  He gave Chris strength to speak and even make us laugh at the funeral.  He gave laughter even the day of the death of Isaac as we remembered funny things, even as Christy was still holding Isaac.

Isaac means laughter.  And I “happened” to being a chapter this week in Lauren Winner’s book “Wearing God” called laughter.  Here is a quote from the Common Prayer: A liturgy for ordinary radicals:

Lord, to laugh in the midst of trial and to rejoice in the darkest valley is another way of saying, “our hope is in You.” Fill us with laughter and joy while we work for peace and strive for justice…

Help us to live so foolishly for you that we draw onlookers and those who would deride us.  And while they watch and mock, change all our hearts that we might learn to laugh at the foolishness this world calls normal and run away with the circus that is real life.  Amen.

Kids I’m joining the circus.  I’m cleaning other people’s toilets.  I’m up at 6 playing Battleship with my son.  I’m visiting the widow across the street (good thing since her brother just died).  I’m crying in the middle of renegade rows and push-ups (back to back mind you).  I’m running 15 and 16 miles, praying for Chris and Christy every step.  I’m asking for people to empty garbage cans.  I’m putting on jammies at 5pm and making the kids chicken nuggets.  I’m calling my BFF crying in the van on the ride down the Hill, watching the waves crash on the shore line and still driving to the Y.  I am going to watch Anne of Green Gables with my daughter.  I’m taking a nap.

And I’m praying that if I ever have to go through anything as hard as what my friends are going through, I will praise Him.  Give Him credit.  Rely on Him.  And none of us will forget that He is good.  And that He can grant us the ability to laugh in the midst of trial.

I’m running away with the circus… around 6am Friday – want to join me?

I am white.  Midwestern.  Grew up in a farming town where the only non-white kids were adopted.  I literally don’t think there were any non-white adults except a Vietnamese family my dad’s church adopted.  Thankfully, the Lam’s were in our home regularly and babysat me.

My mom was a missionary to Korea and we ate Korean food regularly.  Kimchee was in our fridge (wrapped in 10 ziplocks with rubber bands!) and I had “pulgogi” (Korean marinated beef) at my high school graduation.

I went to college downtown St Paul and had mostly white friends.  I lived with an adopted Korean roommate two years in a row, but mainly we were white Midwestern kids.

Until I chose to follow Jesus in college and join InterVarsity as a campus staff in 1998, I don’t think I dealt much with race, racism and my own heart.

Fast forward to today.  I am studying Genesis 6-8 and the Flood for my job writing Bible studies for my church.

God completely destroys the earth and everything breathing on it because they are just too wicked.  But Noah is righteous.  And either he is good enough to influence his family, or his family is also righteous because his 3 sons and their wives are also saved.

AND THEN, the iconic images of the Flood stood out to me: the animals.  14 clean ones get saved and 2 of every “unclean” (according to Jewish rules) animal get a place in the big ark.

I believe God made all of the animals.  He could have just started over after the flood but He didn’t.  He also could have chosen to make new people (I believe He did that too).  But He saved a family instead and started over.

In the face of Black Lives Matter, pro-life debates and the Oregon Standoff, I have to say this today.  I just have to!

Black Lives Matter.  Although as a woman I do encounter some frustrations and judgment, I have no idea what it is like to feel unsafe in a parking lot filled with white, drunk college boys.  I have no idea how it feels to be followed around the Mall of America.  I have no idea how it feels to be watched in any store.  Simply b/c of the color of my skin.

I know I have to choose to look every person in the eye and say good morning.  Sometimes there are folks I encounter en route to the Y or at the bus stop who make me want to look away, but I choose to believe their lives matter.  I have to struggle against prejudice and assumptions about blacks and browns with low-slung jeans that get my 4 year old to ask why he doesn’t pull up his pants.  About the Native Americans who “always seem to have domestic violence and abuse” and get written up in the paper.  About Chinese parents who are too hard on their kids.  About rich white folks who probably don’t care about any of the above…

I will also dare to say: ANIMALS’ lives matter.  God made them and throughout Genesis we see that they are included in the mandate to multiply and fill the earth.  Revelation 5 tells us in the heavenlies that all creatures will worship the Lord.

I eat meat and am not suggesting we worship the animals, but sometimes we don’t take God’s command to care for the earth and all that is upon it seriously enough.

White militia lives matter.  So do those Native families who lost that land to the whites generations ago – they do too.

The cops who wield justice effectively and lose their lives that mattered.  The cops who give the others bad names – yep them too.

The Unborn matter.  The woman who lost her babe at 22 weeks … no his name is Arlo – they named him.  His life, albeit short: it matters.

The system made up of broken, wonderful, wretched, just and wacky folks: all of them matter.  

And YOUR LIVES MATTER.  They matter because God created you.  He wants to rescue you from this corrupt system, generation and injustice.

So let’s live as if our lives DO matter.  And like other people’s lives matter too.  Show them what the Truth is.

To that widow across the street.  To that kid who is always sent to the principal.  To that new man who joined our fitness class today.  To that single mom who has had to leave her job all week to care for her sick kids.  To you who feel like the mundane is just that, MUNDANE.

To you who work out next to me, sit next to me at church, walk past my house, ride the bus with my kids.  To you who raise kids with brown skin and face the challenges that surpass my own.  To you who have brown skin and fight the anger, the fatigue and the injustice.

You matter.  I notice.  InterVarsity notices.  The Church notices.  Many of us see you and want to stand with you.

But even more: God notices.  He remembered Noah and the waters receded.  The family was rescued from the flood waters and eventually got to be free again.

God will preserve you.  He will keep you from destruction.  If you listen to Him and follow His plans (Noah literally was given building plans for this barge/ark) He will rescue you.  He will bring you justice.

Your lives matter.  

God’s words sometimes literally blow me away.  Leaving me feeling speechless.

And then a blog tumbles out…

Sandi Shelton Asker

Training World Changers in Training

sandi@asker.net

218.760.8371

Blog:  www.lifeasan.asker.net

Brian spent last week serving about 16,000 participants at a huge missions conference, hanging out with Christian celebrities backstage.  He ate salmon, was a bouncer for Francis Chan and sat down with David Platt.  He took a selfie with Michelle Higgins and rubbed shoulders with those who ran the entire conference.

Check out urbana.org for amazing, challenging speakers, Spirit-led worship and other information about this conference IVCF USA and Canada hosts every 3 years.

Meanwhile, I helped draw wombats and made lunch for 3 kids off from school.

Elam had to draw 8 bats. He chose to draw 1 wombat and eventually filled in 7 baseball bats.

Thankfully Urbana did live streaming of their Bible exposition, worship time and most speakers.  I would turn it on, get lunch ready and we would watch around the table.  Or before bed I would let Elam listen to world changers leading mission organizations and serving overseas.

He fell asleep 3 nights listening to these amazing speakers! This is Tom Lin, Urbana’s Main Director

As I sat at home, wiping noses, vacuuming, assembling Legos and trekking through the zoo with the kids, I would ponder the call to GO! that so many were hearing at Urbana.  I would hear speakers challenging us to befriend others, serve in the forgotten locations and fight for justice.  I would get riled up and use Twitter and Facebook to try and get into the action, only to get pulled back when a kid needed more toilet paper.

Brian got home Friday and of course, the conversations over the weekend focused on resolutions and new year’s plans.  With Urbana in his rear view mirror, he would mention unreached people groups or the possibility of our moving one day…

Then today as we headed to the Y, after dropping all the kids off at school, just a typical Monday… I said, “I wonder how many times God just simply calls us to be more faithful where we already are.  Maybe it’s easier to go for some people than to stay put and go deeper.”

Many church fathers and mothers found the secret to peeling potatoes, being faithful where they are even when it was boring.  Many of you maybe have too.

But darn it, I have visions of grandeur, big dreams and hopes for my life.  And they surpass slicing another apple (! somebody buy us an orchard some day would you!?), finding matching pairs of socks and making eye doctor appointments.

Yet here I am, choosing to stick with what we have felt called to for a while, here in Duluth.  Loving our elementary school, our many friends at the YMCA who push me to run faster, lift with better form and set me up RIGHT IN FRONT, our wonderful church full of friends who love us and trust us with their children.  It is not a hard life by any means but sometimes I feel the pull to dreaming about other things, bigger things…

Maybe you are being called to go, make a big change or have lofty goals in 2016.  Do it, if that is what the Lord is calling you to.  BUT if not, I would call you to listen to that still small voice that calls you to be kind to the parking ramp guy, invite your lonely widowed neighbor lady for tea and share Jesus with the kid whose mom is never around for her.  Those might just change your life, or even someone else’s this year.

This heart showed up today in our driveway. To our knowledge, no one drew it.  The sun just melted the snow into this pattern.

Our memory verse this week is Psalm 145:8 and I do wonder if God had a hand in all of this simple, mundane call to obedience of late.

“The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.”

I came across a blog by Jen Hatmaker this past holiday season* about kids who “sabotage” or in my words “WRECK” big days.

Well, we have had some major big days lately and our share of sabotaging.

Elam turned 6 this December 7.  He said he always loves December because he “gets spoiled.”  Well that came true again this year.  He had a birthday party at the Y, complete with a visit from his swim coach (on her only day off from going into the Y!) and treats at Kindergarten then swim practice and a “get to do whatever you want to” night following.

We had a big swim party at the Y. He was so excited!

Calista had her first piano recital.  She was so nervous every time I mentioned in the weeks leading I stopped mentioning it.  Then the morning of, she was terrified.  When the time came to leave, she stopped talking but kept moving.  As we sat listening to her friends play, she would look at me painfully aware her time was approaching.

But when the moment came, she picked up her books, squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.  She swept her hair back from her face and bravely marched to the front of the room.  She said her name loudly and clearly, announced her songs and proceeded to play in front of a crowd for the first time.

It was a recital complete with a testimony from our piano teacher about how she wishes her students would all play for God’s glory.  What a big day!

Elam is learning how to become a better swimmer and diver.  We take him to swim twice every week and although sometimes he doesn’t “want” to go, he is really improving and enjoys it.

So in the midst of all of this, our youngest plays and swims along.  We play upstairs at the Y, using weights, exercise balls and Bosus.  I am teaching him good squat form and how to run fast.

XS is also enduring his first dental work since we brought him home from China. Unbeknownst to us, his teeth have developmental issues.  When his mother was pregnant, she wasn’t eating enough of the right things at the right time and so two cavities have formed.  It makes us very sad for his mother and for him!  There is nothing we can do except fill those suckers.

When the novocaine was going in, the dentist told him to sit on his hands. He didn’t move from that position for 45 minutes until after he stood up!

Have you ever watched anyone get a cavity?  I don’t suggest it.  I was in agony from start to finish.  That novocaine needle was so very long.  And it must have taken the dentist 15 minutes to push that thing into his little mouth.  Our dentist goes to our church and I was so grateful for her patience and encouragement through the whole thing.  It was an education, although I don’t think I’ll look the next time so much (which will be Tuesday. Merry Christmas to us!)

This kid is certainly a wonder of opposites.  Wouldn’t you think a 4.5 year old might fight off the novocain needle, drilling in his teeth or even sitting still for 45 minutes.  But no, he was an angel.

However, throw him into his brother’s birthday (HIS HIS HIS – It’s all HIS! XS kept saying during the party and gifts) and he was a disaster. Thanksgiving was about to put me to drinking.  He had two MAJOR tantrums where he could not calm down.  Even when I tried to make some Chinese food (he had been complaining I NEVER make it anymore) he complained that Calista was getting “spicy” rice (she was putting butter and salt on hers).  Sabotage.

Some days I don’t know what to expect from him.  He can fly through a whole day, then not be able to find one small item and it throws him into a fit.  He can flourish at the dentist and then later, wake up from a nap, cry getting ready to go to the bus and only until we are halfway down the street tell me he wet his pants while napping.  That was NOT a pretty afternoon for us.

It is exhausting I tell you.  I don’t like him much when he sabotages events, transitions and especially special occasions.  It makes me angry, wishing life would go back to two kids who can manage their emotions and not yell at the slightest irritation.

I know I had hard days as a mom of “only” 2, but sometimes I selfishly wish for it again.

Christmas is days away.  We have coasted through school programs with practice, church programs and grandparent visits.  We have had meltdowns about seat belt buckles (I mean seriously every.single.time!), how little milk I put in his cereal, stepping into deep snow and a myriad of other things that make XS make the throat “egh!” sound that pitches me into the next hemisphere of irritation.  I am quietly dreading the next week.

I am supposed to be the adult.  I am the one who said “yes Lord.  May it be unto us according to your word.”  No matter the discomfort we said yes and went with eyes wide open into this family of 3.

But sometimes I want to whine and say ENOUGH.

Our finances show the discomfort.  Especially since we lost a VERY important (and expensive to replace) document last spring and still haven’t received a replacement.  This makes it impossible to do our taxes for 2014, or 2015…

Our family life is uncomfortable.  At home with the 5 of us or when we travel and the kid has a major meltdown at Grandma’s for no apparent reason.  Or when we walk down to the bus and he is angry about the straps on his snow pants.  If I had a nickel for every time we walk the 2 blocks to the bus stop and he is screaming and yelling and crying behind me as I hurry to meet the big kids…

Our marriage gets uncomfortable.  We take turns when he acts up so we keep our cool.  But even the rock that my husband is starts to crumble sometimes.  It’s not fun when both of your parents are disciplining you and running out of patience.  And it’s not fun to disagree on what to do when the kid hasn’t stopped crying for over an hour.

And don’t even get me started about Brian’s travel schedule starting this week…  I’ll have to dig deep my friends and be the adult because I AM the ONLY adult.

But this is the season of Christ’s birth.  And I sat in church today, thinking about the sermon I would preach on Christmas Eve.

Mary was young – 12-14 scholars think.  God told her she would become pregnant (every young girl’s dream!) but it would come BEFORE her coming together with Joseph.  She would also bring Jesus into the world away from home and possibly away from familiar faces and hands.

Mary had to have been faith-filled, but she must have been uncomfortable!  Pregnancy is no fun but I cannot imagine being pregnant at such a young age and under such circumstances.

But she did it to bring Christ to the world.

The sermon I would preach is that we all can be Mary if we say yes.  We can hear from God (I’m sure He say something to say to you) and it probably won’t be expected, easy or comfy.  We can choose to say yes and in the process, we can do our part to sharing Christ to this world.

I will admit I am uncomfortable right now being a mom to XS.  It is no fun to hear the complaining, the critiques and the “egh” every time he hasn’t found what he is looking for. I will admit I want to run away sometimes and I do (Saturday I ran at 7am in 9 degrees to get away).

And even here as I write perhaps way too long of a blog about this I find there is no cute way to tie these thoughts and click “publish.”  We aren’t at the end of all of this.  In fact I’m bracing myself for when Brian comes home tonight with all 3 kids and we will probably walk through one more cry-fest before day’s end.

But I’ll guess that if you asked us, “if you knew all of this would you have said ‘yes’?” we would say yes.  Yes.

You can read Hatmaker’s blog here:

http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2014/12/15/parenting-kiddos-who-sabotage-big-days

Gosh how many times have I thought or even said out loud (true confessions) “You wreck everything!!”  To my kids.  To my husband.  To myself.

When I walk into the kitchen after hubs makes us homemade waffles while I stay in bed an extra hour, I complain about his mess.

When the kids trample into the entryway mere minutes after I have picked it up and leave their … marks.

When XS decides his light saber needs a bath.  A long, wet, dripping bath.  All over and into the battery compartment.  Of the light saber we just purchased…

Being wrecked is not something many of us sign up for in free.

But I have spent 2 weeks studying John 2 and let me tell you: Jesus wrecks stuff to.  He turned water into wine.  Those water jars once stood clean for ritual washing, but Jesus “tainted” them with party juice.  The Temple courts were once swimming with commercialism, money changing hands and animals being sold, but He brought complete chaos.  He turned the tables over, scattered the money and let the doves fly away while He chased the animals away.

Wrecked.

I walked through Hartley Park today instead of napping (it was a very, very hard choice at 20 degrees and cloudy).  The Park looks wrecked.  My header shows a panoramic of what it looks like: dead.  White.  Leafless.  Wrecked.

But then you look closely and there are these amazing ice crystals growing up from frozen mud puddles.  Ice spilling down steep rocks.  Red berries still hanging on.  Ice covering the surface of Hartley Pond, yet the dam flowing as if it were June.

It may be wrecked for a while, but just you wait.  It’s doing just what it’s supposed to be doing.

I am in Week 8 of a sugar-(mostly)free diet.  Other than the stray chocolate chip, I have abstained from refined sugars.  I have eliminated most things from the pantry that include refined sugars including my kids’ favorite GoGurts, major brands of peanut butter, syrup and breads.

Our palates are wrecked: I ate something with a lot of honey in it and it almost was too much for me.  My kids had waffles the other day with homemade blueberry sauce (made with all OJ for flavor) and they asked for seconds.  They didn’t even notice it wasn’t “real” syrup.

I am wrecked: I have tons of cookies in the house (for various reasons) and am not tempted.  The instant headaches that I will sure to have keep me away.  I maybe over think it, but everything that goes in my mouth is calculated and deliberate.

We went out to eat last night and I ordered off the menu, enjoyed every savory bite but was glad Brian was driving home.  My head was swimming and I didn’t sleep well.  Good thing we don’t go out very often or else even date nights would be wrecked.

I am about to find out if Thanksgiving is wrecked too.

I used to think this was just an experiment, something I’d do for 30 days.  Now at day 50 I’m fairly confident this is permanent… Sorry Ben and Jerry, waiting for us in the bottom of the freezer.

So, wreck me, Jesus with this sugar free living.  Wreck me because I guess I like it.

Sugar fast, Week 5 people.

This is the longest I have every gone without rewarding myself with Ben and Jerry’s, a brownie (or 3), choc chip banana bread or cookies.  Normally I would let myself eat 1-2 treats after a hard workout, a long run or just because it tasted good.

Now I’m looking at many lifestyle changes for my own eating and my kids’.

What have I learned in all of this:

We never ate that much sugar to start with except in a few areas…

Homemade waffles with PB and syrup (kids favorite breakfast)

PB & J sandwiches

Soy Sauce

What do we do now?  Natural PB, 100% maple syrup, no sugar added jam and just haven’t had soy sauce (much – XS had some tonight on my Thai Noodle dish)

I can live without the headaches, alleluia!

In the past I would get a headache after a long sweaty workout and I’d think I needed a Gaterade.  So I’d drink 1/2 or whole one and “feel” better.  Ick.

Now when I have had a little sugar I feel icky.

I am planning on a big piece of pie at Thanksgiving.  Then taking some Advil!

There are a lot of really good, whole foods out there!

Brian and I cooked turkey the other night and then I got positively giddy thinking of leftovers in soup and turkey tetrazinni.

I love cashews, cantaloupe and bananas.  I eat apples, quinoa, cheesy eggs with homemade hash browns and avocados.  I am learning to put olive oil, apple cider vinegar and salt on my salads.  And I like it.

The running group of moms that are all doing this challenge share recipes and wow, is it fun to find banana bread without sugar added that tastes awesome, meal ideas and where to buy certain things in town.  So so great.

I eat salt.  Lots of salt.

Just tonight Calista smelled the armpit of my shirt.  “I love you even if you smell.”  I am a sweaty girl.  I borrowed a friend’s weight today during class and when I brought it back, I bent over to set it back in his pile and my head dripped all over.

So I love chips, salted cashews, salt on my eggs and turkey and even my salads.

I compensate.

Because I am not eating all those yummy treats in the middle of my day, or for breakfast, I feel like I deserve an extra slice of my sugar free bread, handful of cashews or extra bowl of potato chips. This may be why I haven’t really seen any change on the scale this month.

I still get sick.

I have fought off a sinus infection, bronchitis type of sickness and sore throats for the last 4-5 weeks.  If you tell me sugar makes me sick, I’ll tell you to stick it.

I still have some things that I will always eat that have refined sugars in it.

Ketchup: the other stuff just doesn’t do it.  I don’t like Hunts and I know, Heinz has HFCS in it.  Oh well.

Soy sauce: it’s sugar.  As well as every single Chinese food sauce/flavoring that I have in the fridge.  I won’t throw that away.  XS likes his Chinese food and I’m going to keep making it.

Ice Cream:  Yep.  I’ll always eat it.

The daily allowance is actually a lot…

Considering I have had less than 1t of refined sugar most weeks for a month.  The daily allowance is 6 teaspoons.  One teaspoon has 7.8 grams in it.  So read your labels, watch your portions and it is easy enough to stay under this.

It is now a life change.

Brian says he doesn’t have sugar crashes anymore and since he is eating better food, he doesn’t need to snack later.  Sugar gives that false sense of being full and then you just head back to the kitchen an hour or 2 later.

We will still eat honey, maple syrup and soy sauce.  We will dip our homemade fries in ketchup and probably eat ice cream and enjoy every minute of it.  But in general, we are filling our bellies with food made in this kitchen or flavored the way God intended it.

Calista reveals the fact that it was actually really, really cold in Lake Superior!  One benefit to not snacking on treats: we go outside more and enjoy this autumn weather.