They Are Yours

After my alarm woke me up, I picked up my phone, a bad habit I use to spend extra moments in bed. That's how I discovered a young mom suddenly died. Her name was Wynter Pitts, a  mom of four girls. One of those girls was the daughter in the movie, War Room.

She was cousin to Priscilla Shirer, one of my favorite bible study teachers. I heard her on podcasts. She loved God and her family and wrote for young girls.

It was utterly unexpected. One moment she is doing normal mom things, and the next she is in the presence of Jesus.

I don't know the details of what happened, but what I understand is she passed away in her sleep. Sudden loss. Profound pain.

I searched her Instagram account for any other information. All over, she has hashtags, #sayyestoGod.

Say yes to God even if we don't understand. Say yes to God even in the biggest hurt and confusion. Say yes to God because we know He is a big God.

Her other hashtag she used often was  #sheisyours. Her ministry was to point young girls to God. She had four beautiful girls and she gave them back to God. Her death was unexpected and swift, but if she had warning, she would have given her fears of leaving her girls behind at God's feet. They are His, first and foremost.

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, my concern for my kids was my deepest fear. I knew where I was going if I died, but who would be their mom?

I never will understand God taking away a mom from her kids. Sometimes, with our hardest questions, we won't know the why, but we can look for the who God says He is in the midst. He is Father. Comforter. Provider. Immanuel God, God with us in the middle of the pain.

Today. We aren't guaranteed tomorrow. I spent today with Ben. We went to Bellevue to watch a couple of friends  perform in a play. We stopped during the long commute home in rush hour for pizza. I love building in this memory.  He'll be a junior next year. That means in a minute he'll be a senior. And then, well you all know how fast these high school days go.

I've already dropped off Becca for her second year in college. Walt had to stay back to help Nathan with orientation at the UW. Even though it was just the two of us, it was so much easier than last year. Three bags from home, a trip to the storage unit, a parking spot right in front of her dorm because hardly anyone else was moving in at the time. She had leadership meetings during the day, so we shopped at night. I got to hang out with my cousin who offered her home for me to stay, visited my dad, and spent time in one of the coolest libraries around, located in Old Town Scottsdale.

The goodbye was easier, too. She is where she is supposed to be. Becca's absence here feels normal. Of course we miss her, but we are excited to see what God has in store for her this year.

Nathan has about a month left before we move him to the UW. Last night I talked him into taking a walk with me. No expectations to clean anything or follow up on something or finish his thank you cards. We just walked and chatted. The sun, because of the smoke from the wildfires in Canada, was a unique shade of red as it lowered itself for the evening, and the cool breezes blew away the heat of the day. It was the perfect ending to a summer day, as I count down our time with him at home.

These are the things that are important. Today with my people. Feeding into my kids when I have a chance. Breathing in deeply, trusting God with my expectations.

#theyareyours

#bigGod

So What if We Need Community

 When I was in high school literature class (aren't you amazed I can remember back that far?) we were discussing the poem, "No Man is an Island" by John Donne. Our teacher was trying to get us to understand what it meant, but his requests for deep thought were left empty by our juvenile disinterest. I remember it today because he tried so hard for us to understand the meaning of the poem, that we all need each other. Humans do not thrive separated from each other.

I follow, along with 52,000 others,  Jess Connolly on Instagram (@jessaconnolly). She's the coauthor of Wild and Free, a book I started reading last summer and misplaced but am confident will show up at the perfect time when I need to hear what it says. Ask me how I know this.  But, here's my point. Last weekend Jess ran her first marathon. At mile 14 she called her husband in tears, and many of her friends changed their plans to run with her, to support her in this fearful, difficult place.

She spoke aloud the lies Satan was whispering, "You are so needy."

"You are so emotionally weak."

"You can't do anything alone and you always need help."

She continues in her reflection on Instagram, "After a few miles and a lot of prayers, the Lord stirred up some truth in me. So what? So what if you were made for community?"

Yes! So what? We all need community. We are not designed to live life on our own.

When I first started this blog and titled it Running my Race after the verse in Hebrews, my friend Wendy shared with me a story about a middle school boy who was struggling to finish his race at a track meet. A group of kids joined him and encouraged him to finish. She said she doesn't remember hearing the cheers for the first place finisher, but everyone cheered for this selfless act of support by his teammates. We shouldn't need to run our races alone.

A single lady in my bible study moved for the second time in a few months. She agonized about asking for help, again. She wanted to do it all by herself, but the reality of her overwhelming task wouldn't allow her. She reached out to our pastor, and he organized a few guys to help, including himself. She felt utterly grateful. Yet, if I asked the guys who helped, they probably felt equally blessed. Yes, it was inconvenient. It was hard work. Still, something about helping someone lighten her load just a little bit lifts a person's spirits, too.

We all need each other.

My community did the heavy lifting when I was in the midst of my cancer treatment. My family would have suffered more than they already were if I was too prideful to ask for help. Sometimes, we need to risk and do the asking. Other times, we hear the need and run alongside someone to encourage them through that dark place. Both parts are essential.

Besides my bible study groups, I'm also a part of a prayer group. These families have become my family as we pray for each others kids, marriages, extended families, work, you name it. We officially meet once a month, have dinner and pray for each other, but that connection continues throughout the month as we send out prayer requests anytime, knowing our friends will stop and pray for that need. These are the type who would drop everything and run with me if I needed help on my 14th mile.

What about you? Do you have a community, someone to run along side when you are weary or fearful or bone-tired? Sometimes finding that group is difficult. It takes risk. I remember talking with one of the ladies who had planned on joining our Sunday morning bible study. She was nervous, never having done anything like this before, afraid she didn't know enough of the bible to fit in. I encouraged her. She risked. The whole group welcomed her, like they do every new person who joins. Now that she has been attending for several months, it is clear she has given us all more than we ever gave her. That's the beauty of being part of a community.

No man is an island. So what if we need help to run our race. We are meant for community. Where can you find yours today?

Things I Learned This Summer

Nathan and Ben on Lake Crescent

In August, our school has a couple of start up days where I have the privilege of writing big checks to pay for ASB cards and yearbooks, and the kids get their class schedules. It's been the beginning of the end of summer for our family the past three years. We mourn the end of summer at our house. Ben, while on the cusp of starting high school for the first time and wanting the summer to be longer, aptly pointed out, "It seems like time is speeding up. Each minute is like a half of minute."

I heartily agree with him on how fast the summer seemed to whiz by.  Now that the weather is inviting cozy blankets and sweaters, and the kids have started back to school, it sure does feel like summer has left the building. Before it leaves us entirely in its wake, I wanted to reflect on five things I learned this summer.

1. God has our backs. Sometimes He may choose not to answer our prayers the way we want, but I know He always has our best.  When I question His actions or inactions, I can trust His heart. I relearned this again this summer.

Despite the blurriness in this picture, we were
 having fun

We were vacationing in Florida. My oldest in particular was not happy being away from her friends. Walt and I were determined to make this trip, which could be her last summer with us, as memorable and fun as possible. One afternoon we rented kayaks and paddleboards and set out for adventure on the Guana Preserve in Jacksonville. We were having an absolutely marvelous time, the sun not too bright, fish occasionally surprising us with leaps out of the water, the sounds of oars splashing and kids laughing. Suddenly, an errant oar sent two cell phones in the water. The water was only about thigh high, but it was murky. Despite fervent prayers, Walt's best attempts at recovering the phones were defeated. I couldn't understand why God wouldn't answer this simple prayer and increase the faith of my kids who doubt that He cares for things like this. One of the phones was my daughter's, and being so far away from friends, it was a lifeline.

Walt responded brilliantly, reminding the kids that we lost something we could replace. Other than a few pictures not backed up and a phone case from Barcelona given by a friend (hard to lose, of course, but not devastating), our situation was remedied by a quick trip to the AT&T store and a few dollars.

Waiting for our ride back (the pre-kayaking pictures are in the water)

Enjoying the sun nonetheless

Later in the trip, as I drove  the kids south to Orlando where our flight was departing the next day, we saw clear evidence of God's work in our lives.

I was entering the freeway and a car came from nowhere, sped up along my left side, then dangerously veered into my lane, barely missing my front bumper. The kids and I watched in shock as the car recklessly entered the freeway, crossed four lanes of traffic and bounced off the guardrail. Time seemed to slow down as prayers were sent and cars braked and swerved to avoid a collision. The car, its hubcap bouncing down the road, continued its precipitous maneuvers. I slowed, as did most of the other cars on the freeway, allowing as much distance as possible. Becca called 911 to report the reckless behaviour, and all I could do, blinking away tears, was praise God for saving us, for saving the others on the road.

As I reflected on what just happened, I'm convinced that one of God's angels deflected the car from my bumper, and kept the car from causing a major accident on the fast-moving freeway. God was there. His purpose for us that day was not only be spared an accident but catch a glimpse of Him.

2. Sometimes we parents take too much credit when our kids are successful and too much blame when they make poor choices.

Family picture at our friends' summer wedding

 I've been known to puff with pride when I witness how well my kid performed on a test or played a sport or helped out that person. I love hearing comments from teachers and counselors at schools about how much they like my kids. Parenting has been the most amazing, emotional experience I could have ever wished for. However, as my kids enter their last years of high school, I realize that they will make choices I wouldn't prefer. They will stumble. I have one who is pushing, challenging, looking for things outside of what we have taught. We pray. We talk. We love. We establish boundaries, and when tested, pull them closer. We make mistakes. We start over. We pray again, often, constantly.

I know some parents might think we should be more involved with our kids, to limit their choices, to forbid them to see a certain friend or group of friends. Others may think we are too involved, too controlling, too in their business. The beauty of parenting is it is not a competitive sport. We all do our best, we love our kids like crazy, and my winning doesn't mean your losing. And vice versa.

Frankly, I long for the days when a timeout would stop a tantrum. I miss the days when I knew all their friends and their friends' parents and where they were every minute. Now as my kids spread their wings, they choose friends over hanging with  mom. I know it's normal. I want them to spread their wings. It doesn't mean I'll always enjoy it or stop fervently praying for their safety, their wisdom, their friends.

Ultimately, good or bad, right or wrong, successful in the world's eyes or successful in God's, it'll be their choice. Their actions. Their overcoming or giving up. Walt and I will always be their number one fan, be their greatest prayer warrior, but we need to give over the reins of their life to them. I pray they turn those reins over to God. I pray they recognize how much God loves them. That His plan is better.  That a life outside of God's will is not as amazing as it may seem. But, ultimately, it's their choice. Watching on the sidelines is not easy, but then I remember the power of prayer and return to my main job on my knees.

3. I love summer. This is actually not a new lesson, but I just needed to get this out. I will never be one of those moms who celebrate having their kids go back to school. I enjoy lazy mornings where the sun or the birds wake me, not my blaring alarm. I enjoy leisurely days choosing to pick up a book because the laundry/cleaning/bills or whatever can wait because my schedule isn't jam packed with things. I love the longer days, where an after dinner walk is bathed in lots of sunshine.

I love time with  my kids. Even when they prefer to be with friends, or prefer to be in their rooms, or prefer their independence. I enjoy my kids. Laughing at the dinner table. Standing in lines at Universal Studios in Orlando, trying to squeeze in as many rides as possible before heading to the airport. Going to church together. Celebrating birthdays. BBQing in the backyard. Roasting marshmallows or chatting around the fire. Even shopping (which for this non-shopper just means a reason to hang out with one of my kids.)

I love spontaneous conversations about nothing and everything. I love the people my kids are becoming.

I miss the simple moments that are swallowed up by the busyness of fall. You will never convince me that more quiet moments to write or to get "things done" while the kids are at school is better than hanging with my kids. I'm just saying.

4. I've learned it pays to be fearless, to risk, to push myself away from my comfort zone.  I wish I could say I operate under this policy all the time, but quite frankly, I'm a coward when it comes to stepping out of my little bubble I've created. Yet, isn't it true that fear can make our world extremely small?

On this recent trip to Florida, Walt had to leave a day early for a business meeting. I was left with the responsibility to drive the 2 1/2 hours south to Orlando with the kids. Now, I've flown with the kids when they were little, so of course flying with teenagers is a breeze. All I had to do is rent a car in Jacksonville, plan out the distance, allow for ample room for getting lost or traffic, and get on a plane. I can do this.

Then Becca asked us about going to Universal Studios while we were on this trip. We were there a week, after all, surely we could fit it in. The logistics of driving over five hours round trip and a full day at the park wasn't happening. Too much. Too far away.

Then Walt asked me innocently, "What about going to Orlando a day early and go to the park prior to flying out?" Our flight was scheduled for seven. Universal Studios was minutes away from the airport. Our kids would be easy travelers. It could work. In his eyes, it seemed simple enough.

Then fear set in. I would need to do the planning. The driving. The scheduling. All on me. Yes, the kids would be great helps, but right now they were lightheartedly swimming in the pool or watching Netflix while I made the decisions.

Then I remembered, this could be Becca's last trip to Florida, her last big trip with our family. This could be a great family memory, something to look forward to before the long plane ride home, a reason to be glad we were flying out of Orlando and not the closer Jacksonville airport.

So I prayed and felt immediate peace. I double checked with God, "You will be with me, right?" God's word promises, "Surely, I will be with you always." (Matt 28:20). This is not a conditional promise, if I do this, then God will do that. No, this is a promise. Period. This is not something I need to doubt, to even pray for, but sometimes, it doesn't hurt to make sure. Sometimes it just feels better to know that I won't need to do this on my own.

I searched for a hotel nearby Universal, found an excellent deal and booked it. Then I talked with the kids to get their feedback on which of the two parks to explore, since we had just one day, and not a full one at that. Quick texts to their friends brought upon a consensus. We chose Islands of Adventure.

Then a bit more investigating found a place to stay where we could get into the park an hour early. It would cost a bit more. Again, further discussions brought the consensus that we would regret it if we didn't. Which ended up being true. So, fortunately I was able to cancel the first reservation and rebook us into a new place.

Then more research on tickets and directions and logistics. I spent a lot of energy thinking and debating and wondering. This is where Walt would just head down and figure it out on the fly. Nope, I needed to think through as much as possible, too much, in fact.

Then we had that scary almost accident as we drove down, got lost for a bit as the kids' Iphone app didn't update the directions fast enough, pulled into the wrong place, navigated around construction and rainstorms, checked in, and finally made it to our room, exhausted.


All through this, I kept reminding myself that God was with us. That it was evident He was caring for us. That fully replacing my fear with trust smoothed out my emotions and gave me energy for the important things. Although Nathan still believed I was freaking out a bit when all I was doing is talking through my decisions and praying.  Is it only me who does this? Walt advised him on the differences between how women process challenges and the silence men usually exhibit. Or at least my men.

All in all, it was well worth the risk to experience the thrill of one last amazing family memory. I learned that when I step out to the cliff, God securely has a grip on me.

Our first glimpse of Islands of Adventure

Wondering why the Green Eggs and Ham restaurant is closed

Soaking wet and in line for King Kong.
Amazingly fun adventure with the kids

We sang a song in church that reminded me of this, titled You Make Me Brave by Bethel Music. Here are the lyrics that spoke to me:

So I will let you draw me out beyond the shore

Into your grace

Into your grace

As Your love in wave after wave

Crashes over me

Crashes over me

The key point is we won't experience God's grace safely standing on the shore. It's only when we step out in faith that we see God's grace, that we feel His love crashing over us. That will be my challenge as we head into the fall, to live fearlessly.

5. Summer is for reading.  Again, this isn't anything earthshaking or new, especially when the term "beach read" is splashed over almost every new novel that is launched in the summer. Yet, I made reading a priority this summer, above Netflix and household projects, and just below spending time with God and family/friends.

I read several nonfiction books this summer. Tops on this list were Restless: Because You Were Made for More  by Jennie Allen (actually listened to this on audio while I repainted our front door) and Rhinestone Jesus: Saying Yes to God When Sparkly Safe Faith is No Longer Enough by Kristen Welch. Both of these challenged me, inspired me to say yes to God and listen for what He has for me.

I also read some incredible memoirs, notably When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi. If you haven't read this book, I suggest you go to your nearest library and check it out, although it'll probably have an unbelievably long waitlist for it. What makes this book so enriching is these were the last words penned by Dr. Kalanithi, a neurosurgeon who aspired to be a writer. Although it is undeniably sad, it is more aptly described as a beautiful, poetic portrait of a life lived well.

Two other memoirs worth noting from my summer book pile is Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed and The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels by Ree Drummond. These two women couldn't be more different that I can't even believe I'm grouping them together. Yet, they are connected by my summer of 2016 reading adventures. I picked up Strayed's book awhile ago,  before the movie came out, but couldn't get past the first chapters which dealt with her drug use and out-of-control life choices. Yet, for some reason I decided to listen to it on audio and persevered through to the end. I am not sure if I fully recommend this book because I felt she lived a life that was all-consuming of self, but her adventures on the trail and the people she met were very interesting.

The Pioneer Woman, on the other hand, was an easy, breezy read, full of interesting stories and mishaps as she began her life on the ranch. This was an impulse grab at the library that turned out to be an enjoyable read.

Now, while nonfiction can be an ignitor for growth in me, I often find myself getting lost in a well-written novel. I believe fiction feeds my soul when the writing flows with beautiful images and a smart plot. A surprisingly enchanting book I just finished is A Man Called Ove by Fredik Bachman. How does a story of a grumpy  man (I can't use the word elderly since he was still in his fifties, although I've seen it used other places to describe him) with staunch principles and an orderly life find his way into one of my favorite reads of the year? It's a nice story that turns into an endearing one as Ove triumphs over difficulties, fights for what is right and becomes a hero to a struggling family. I won't say a peep more or I'll spoil the fun unraveling of this tender, memorable story.  This is exactly what I mean when fiction feeds my soul.

Other highlights of my book-filled summer was The Kitchen House by Kathleen Grissom (not an easy summer read but very well-written about a white servant girl indentured to the kitchen on a slave plantation) and The Lake House by Kate Morton. This is my first Kate Morton book, and it will not be my last. I really enjoyed the multi-layers of her characters, the vivid descriptions without being excessively wordy, and the twists and mysteries of her plot. This was a fun book which I took along on my own summer adventure to Washington's coast.

So, as we switch gears into fall, I am glad for this chance to reflect back on what the summer has taught me. On the calendar, it's still summer, although the first soccer and football games tell me differently. So as I close, I'll remind myself of one more thing I've learned this summer, that even though it feels like fall, smells like fall, and tastes like fall, I shouldn't forget to put on sunscreen when I watch afternoon tennis matches on a sunny Saturday. My first sunburn of the season snuck up on me as a last summer lesson.

Ben serving during Saturday's tennis jamboree