Thriving - Ecclesiastes 6:1-9

"How are ya'll surviving?"

This is the question most frequently asked in our world these days.  You see, my husband lost his job several months ago.  November 8th, to be exact.  Since then, well, the question has been, how are you surviving?

We're never quite sure how to respond to that question, and, when we do, people don't quite understand.  They don't understand when we respond with calm, peaceful, if somewhat vague answers.  They expect heartache, hardship, panic.  (Don't worry, we've had those moments as well, most definitely, but, the peaceful places have far outweighed the fearful ones.)

I'm returning to the blog world today because I want to share what's been going on.  I want to testify to God's goodness and provision.  I want to give Him the glory, for all to hear, because He, ultimately, is the source of every good gift we have received over these last three months.

And what have those gifts been?  How - practically - have we lived during the last ninety+ days? 

It's been a mish-mosh, really.  A little here, a little there.  There most definitely has not been a plan, a budget, any semblance of control.  This process has been 100% about learning how to have faith.  True faith.  The kind that takes a step when you only see air beneath your feet. 

I have never known poverty like I have in the last three months.  I have never known fear like that.  I have never known humility, not really.

I have also never known riches, security, joy and freedom.  Not really.

But the moments God has given us, the memories I will never forget, the gifts...these things have changed me, changed us.

Like the time I told a neighbor I couldn't afford toothpaste and she showed up at my door with an SUV full of organic, gluten-free groceries hours later.

Like the time I told a friend I couldn't afford the supplements I absolutely have to take to stay healthy and she wrote me a check on the spot, covering the full amount.

Like the time a check showed up in the mail from some friends who lived out of state.  "We know it's not enough," the note said, "but we want you to know that we're with you."  (You never know how God will use what you give - that check bought my husband's epilepsy medicine for the next three months.)

Like the time I asked my priest if we were eligible to take food from the church's food pantry, and she told me three parishioners had come forward that very same morning asking to financially donate to a family in need within our own church.  Because of their generosity, we made our mortgage payment that month, something I had thought impossible only moments before.

And then there were the gifts from family members.  The no-questions-asked checks written and given with nothing but love and support.  No judgment, no disappointment, no condescension, just belief in us and hope for our future.  True hope, the kind that is sure and willing to wait for fruition, for God's timing.

There was work on our part as well.  I took as many hours as I could get at my part-time job.  Justin and I scoured our belongings and sold anything of value that we didn't need (I can't tell you how good it felt to unload ourselves of things that, only weeks before, we thought we couldn't live without!).  Justin diligently searched for jobs and filed for unemployment benefits, something denied to him until he won his appeal yesterday.  We prayed, we cried, we sought the Lord.

But we also waited.  And trusted.  And believed, more and more with each gift that came our way, that God would not abandon us, does not abandon His children.  That even though we had no idea how we were going to feed our own children, He did, and He would not leave us.

We experienced the truth of Psalm 37:25:

"I was young, and now I am old, yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken nor their children begging bread."

We're coming out of the season of utter desperation that we have been in.  The process is not over, the story is not written (in other words, yes, Justin is still looking for a job), but things are different. 

I am not afraid.  I have a peace that passes understanding.  I know that I know that I know: God has provided, is providing, and will provide.

To all of you who have helped during this season, this testimony is one way we want to say thank you.  You have loved us so well, whether you gave financially or supported us with calls, prayers, texts, and that has reflected God, the Source of all Love, back to us time and time again.  On this Valentine's Day of all days, we want to say thank you for your love.

Linking up with the wonderful ladies at Soli Deo Gloria, who spent many hours praying for us.  Love you ladies!  God bless!

Nourishment

I'm guest posting over at my friend Jen's place today for her series entitled "Nourishment".  Here's a taste of the post.  Click on the link below to read the whole thing.  Happy Thanksgiving!

I breathe deeply and I pause.  The Thanksgiving begins. 

Amidst the “hello’s” and “nice to see you’s” there is an awkwardness.  A hmm, do I really know these people?  I wonder and I wander. 

Between tables, around corners.  Through conversations, amidst scents....

For more, visit Finding Heaven.

Turning

A leaf falls
and flutters
twisting and
turning
like a breath caught
in the wind

A page turns
and bends
sliding and
passing
through the book
to its end

A life moves
and breathes
seeking and
yearning
for the glory
to begin

A hand reaches
and touches
speaking and
encouraging
this is not
the end

Of Seasons & Sign-Offs

I've been dwelling on the notion of seasons lately, especially as I long for a change in our physical season.  We all seem to be holding our breath here in Texas, waiting, hoping, longing for the drought to lift and rain to come, bringing with it cooler temperatures and the shift into fall.

As I long for that seasonal turn, I look to my own life and see a shift happening there as well.  I have experienced one, full, glorious year of full-time stay-at-home mommyhood.  Now, while I am still primarily a stay-at-home mom, thank God, I am also a part-time worker bee, a writer, and one who is still trying to find balance and healing (in my body, specifically).  The addition of working at night and on the weekends is wearing me down, so something has to give.  It's like a tree that has to shed its leaves in order to experience new growth come spring: I cannot continue producing right now; I must shed some things.

So, I'm signing off for a while.  The blog is being put on hold.  I might throw up some posts every now and again, but it will be even less regularly than it currently is.  I'm doing this to make room for my novel and for rest.  I'm getting much stronger physically, but I still have a ways to go.  Your prayers are always appreciated for that part of my journey (or, heck, any part of it!).

Thank you for a wonderful year of bloggy-hood.  I pray grace and peace over you, my readers and friends.  In Him, Jenny

Linking up with Soli Deo Gloria today.

Quick Hello

This is a quick note to my Soli Deo Gloria friends.  I'm sitting in a quiet house while Lily sleeps and Gunnar tries to unwind.  Today was a preschool day.  He was line leader and had a blast.  As we walked to pick up his sister he said, "Mom, aren't you so proud of me that I was the line leader today?"  I assured him that I was, beaming as I spoke affirmation over him. 

He did a great job today: modeling how to line up for the other kids; delighting the teacher with his pretend play (fireman head to toe, including the princess gloves he put on because they were the only gloves available and, "firemen have to have gloves", or so he told his teachers); playing well with the other kids; and generally having a great attitude.  I am really, really proud of him.  He is learning to love others outside of the little world we call home.

How much more must our Father in Heaven feel when he looks down at us and sees us choosing well, acting well?  Most of you know what I'm talking about: that indescribable feeling of pride a mother has when she observes a moment of her child 'getting it'.  I can't imagine how His heart must swell if mine feels like it might burst out of my chest in that small, human moment.

All of this leads me to this juxtaposition: last week I had two very different experiences, both of which keep coming back to the forefront of my thought life.

One: I witnessed a young woman parking in a handicapped spot.  She had no sticker and was obviously quite healthy.  Giving her the benefit of the doubt, I asked her if she had realized she parked in a handicapped spot.  "Maybe she just missed the sign," I thought.  She brusquely turned a go-to-you-know-where look on me and said with a very mean tone of voice, "I'm quite aware."  Then she continued to stalk toward her destination.  In a sweet tone of voice, trying to control my temper, I replied: "okay, well I'll just call the police then."  I did and that was that.  She saw me - as my children did - photographing her license plate and calling it into the cops.

I later explained to my children why I had done that.  I told them that, particularly because of their grandmother (who is in a wheelchair) and grandfather (who is a lung transplant recipient), it offends me when people choose to break that particular law.  I also told them that, if they believe in something strongly, they need to do something about it.  Last but not least I said, "it's not our job to enforce all laws, but I happen to believe strongly in that one, so I did something about it."

The woman's response deeply upset me.  Why in the world would she choose to dig in her heels over something so insignificant (for her anyway, not insignificant to someone who actually needs a handicapped spot)?  She could have simply humbled herself and moved her car.  Instead she chose anger, rudeness, pride, stubbornness.  It was a real bummer.  As I told my husband later that night, it upset me so much that it actually made me lose hope in all people in general.  "People are so cruel," I said to him.

Two: I recently started working in the cafe at Barnes & Noble, part-time at night.  Although I would rather not be working (instead I want to give all of my energy to my kids and home), I am very grateful for the job.  I'm particularly grateful to be around books and people who love books, since I'm working on a novel of my own.  One night as I was working I struck up a conversation with a stranger, a regular who comes in to read books in the genre my novel is in.  We chatted for a few minutes and then I asked him if he would recommend some authors for me to read.  He said sure.  I only half believed that he would.

The next night he showed up and wrote me out a list of twenty or so authors and novels.  He explained where I should begin and what he liked about each of them.  There was nothing creepy about this - it was simply one stranger doing something nice for another. 

Because I so deeply love books I felt like this was a little tap of encouragement from the Father, a little angel He sent my way to affirm my likes and desires.  And this man had let the Lord use him to encourage me simply by being willing to be nice to another human being.  This small act was so completely opposite from the handicap parking woman's actions and attitude that it restored my hope, my belief that we as humans can choose rightly after all.

I have a feeling God was as proud of my new friend in the bookstore as I was of Gunnar today.  I thank Him for the gift of the kindness of strangers.

(On a side note: I'm published!  I just had a short article printed in this month's issue of Austin Monthly magazine.  Woo-hoo!!!  Another thing to be very grateful for....)

Linking up with Jen and the ladies at Soli Deo Gloria today.