One down, 18,930 to go

Things to do, that is. I suppose I don’t really have that many things to do in the next couple months, but it sure feels like it.

The blog has been quiet for a number of reasons, one of which is my decision to run a half marathon. After Asher was born, I decided I wanted to run the Edinburgh half that takes place in May each year. I began running about a month after his birth, and stopped roughly 10 weeks later when we ran into some nursing problems.

When we firmly decided that we were moving back to Indiana, the Edinburgh half became the Indy Mini, which also takes place in May. I was hesitant to commit because it was a long way off, and I knew there was a lot of potential for failure given the uncertain nature of our lives. Nonetheless, a week or two after we arrived I registered for the race.

I started running again in January, after a few sedentary months filled with hopes of prolonging Asher’s stint as a breastfed baby. It didn’t take long to notice a nagging pain in my shins. I hoped against hope that it wasn’t shin splints. I’d never had them before and didn’t know how to handle them. The pain got worse and worse until it was constant and severe, running or not.

I made several attempts at helping my poor shins; I even took two weeks off to let them rest. But as soon as it seemed things were getting better, a few runs in we’d be right back where we started. This went on for weeks and I can’t remember the last time I felt so frustrated! I was running in good shoes, stretching, icing, doing everything I could and nothing nothing nothing helped.

Thankfully there was a light at the end of that seemingly never-ending tunnel. I started emailing with a running shop about what I was experiencing. I eventually gave in and went to have my running evaluated. The last thing I wanted to do was fork over more money for new shoes, but the desperation got the better of me.. I wanted to cross the finish line, darn it!

The nicest man watched me jiggle my way back and forth across his running shop while I prayed that I wouldn’t seem too out of breath for such a short run, and that he would only look at my feet. I felt like an unworthy intruder in a world of fitness excellence. I listened as he recommended products to prevent chafing and socks to prevent blisters. My amateur status may as well have been stamped on my forehead as my eyes widened at the price tags for running attire, my imagination was captured by shoes with toes, my gaze flitted over an endless supply of ‘fuel’ for runners I never knew existed.

That nice man never once made me feel silly as he told me that the shoes I had were without a doubt my problem. That they were perfectly wrong for my feet. He pulled out a box holding a pair of shoes that could have easily been mistaken for two golden tickets. I put almost 30 miles on those shoes in the first week I owned them; each cushioned step was like salve to my aching legs.

A week or two later, I realized I had been running without pain and hadn’t even stopped to really relish in that change. You can bet I lifted that moment with a grateful heart.

I plodded along, training as best I could, giving thanks all the way for the willingness of my husband and parents to keep my precious babes. I wrestled with guilt as the runs got longer and took more logistical planning. I drank every drop of ‘Don’t worry about it!’ and encouragement from my cheering squad. I fought off burnout in the last few weeks as other pressures built and my attention was needed elsewhere. I let questions like, ‘Why am I doing this?’ and ‘What purpose does this serve in my life today?’ be drowned out by the music that handed me the answers to those questions, by the feeling of adding one more mile to my tally.

The race?

It was great. It was hot and long, fun and not so fun. It was lonely and crowded. It was an accomplishment, and I could not be more thankful for that memory. But the meat? The best part? The part that was really challenging? It was all the days before that race. The expected, the unexpected. It was the journey from start to finish.  

That was the journey where I learned I could go one more mile. That was where I realized that I didn’t want to give up. It was those days that I felt the blessing of the Lord as the perfect song danced into my ears to carry me through when I was overwhelmed, when the last three miles felt impossible. It was the run that almost turned into a breakdown that turned into a prayer walk. It was again and again seeing my need for Jesus. Being forced to acknowledge that I am not strong enough. I am not. I can push and push and push, but the load is always heavier. There is too much that is too far out of my hands. Without Jesus, without trust, I am defeated every time.

The placement of this race in my life was perfect. If I had known what lay ahead, the many unexpecteds and sudden changes in our lives, when I clicked that ‘Register’ button, I never would have done it. If I had a grasp on how far 13.1 miles really was, no way. If I had felt the humiliation, the inadequacy, the feeble hope beforehand; if the Lord had clued me in to the depth of the challenge I was hanging over my own head, I would have nonchalantly walked away, hoping it didn’t fall on anyone. But I didn’t know. And I raced, one day – one step – at a time.

My struggles were far more insignificant than those of others I ran with on race day. But you know? It doesn’t really matter how insignificant they might seem to someone else. They are real and they are shaping my heart. Without them I would have nothing to ruminate, nothing to make me squirm. Nothing to soften me and remind me that there is really only one place I want to be. And that is right in step with my Savior.

Weaving a Story

December trudged into January. January slumped into February. I was thankful. I was oh-so-thankful for the many, many generous people that had helped us move, sheltered us, encouraged us, given our children precious gifts and memories. And yet, it seemed so hard. We were so uncertain. Had we made the right decision? In an instant my heart would go from grateful to a quivering mess of uncertainty. We had left such a full life, such precious people, and because of what.. Money? Since when did we let money make our decisions for us? We serve a big God that isn't bound by things like that. And yet, we both felt we couldn't argue with our situation. Though we wavered, we ultimately made the decision that seemed best. 

But the months that followed led us to question. Application after application. No fruit. Ian was working so hard, sending out over one hundred applications for a measly two interviews that didn't go anywhere. We had no direction, nothing we were moving towards. We had so much momentum from the last 4+ years of working towards a goal, it seemed life had just slammed on the breaks in the middle of nowhere. 

Ian and I took turns being up and down.. something we often do, and something I am very thankful for. Very rarely are we both down at the same time. We respond well to each other. I found myself feeling strongly and saying again and again that I knew without a doubt that God had something for us. It might not be right around the corner, it might take a few extra twists and turns, but there is something out there that is just right for us. 

Occasionally Ian would respond with, 'But what if that something is me working at McDonalds?' To which I would respond, 'Well, then you'll be the best employee McDonalds has ever had.' Our view is so limited. We can only see so far, be so convinced of what exactly God is doing. But I honestly believed (and still do) that God could use my husband at McDonalds if that's where He wanted him. I also believe, however, that God led us very specifically to St Andrews to pursue the degrees that my husband now holds. And I believe that God uses the gifts and talents He gives us. I was not convinced that God would have begun to weave such a story for us and not have the perfect thing in the next thread. Years of effort leading up to working at McDonalds? That would be like beginning a tapestry of deep blues, soft reds, a spring green, a warm brown, then throwing in some neon yellow with a sparkly pink right in the middle. In some contexts it would work perfectly, but it just didn't seem to fit here. 

So we continued on. I found my heart being filled with special time with family, watching my kids get attached to precious people in ways that could never have happened if we had not come back with nowhere new to go. I basked in the warm, Indiana sunshine, watching my oldest explore, get bruises and bug bites, loving all the time outside in the wilderness. I breathed thanks for the extra hands to cuddle my youngest in his squirmy moments as well as his still moments. I couldn't believe how many things the Lord had blessed us with, and yet, I saw the discouragement in my husband's face. I prayed, I was encouraged, I tried to encourage, and boy did I ask for prayer. 

I started attending my mom's Bible study after we moved, and I remember one Tuesday morning I asked for specific prayer for Ian. I asked for people to pray that he would be encouraged. That he would get an interview. That even if it amounted to nothing, there would be something to lift his spirits. There had been so much rejection, so much disappointment, perhaps the Lord could give him a little something to just buoy him along in this tough position. 

A little later, he got an email from a friend (Thanks, Luke! Just add it to our tab :) suggesting that he apply for a job at Fuller Seminary. In the midst of so many applications, with the prospect of a job that he wasn't sure was a good fit, Ian didn't apply right away. In the end, he decided to give it a shot and sent the application. Within a day or two, he received an email asking for an interview. We were surprised. It was a fast turn around. This gave way to speculation here and there about what it could mean. (Side note: speculation is torturous and unhelpful in these situations.. I recommend avoiding it at all costs.) As he prepared for the interview and looked into things further, Ian found that the job was not only a good fit for him, it was something he was really interested in and excited about. Maybe too good to be true. 

After the interview, Ian was told they would make a decision within the week. We were grateful that we wouldn't have a long waiting period (refer to my previous note about speculation) and looked forward to news. I tried so hard not to get my hopes up. I knew that they would be dashed. I had learned quickly that hoping and imagining with these job applications was useless until a job was offered. And yet, I sheepishly had to admit that I had looked for churches in the area. 

But we didn't hear anything. The next week they told us they were delaying their decision for another 10 days. I was so disappointed. To me, this meant nothing was going to happen. If they wanted him they would have just told him, right? 

The nature of our position right now is that everyone asks what we are doing. What our plans are. This meant that everyone I saw within those 10 days was told that we were waiting. Almost all of them offered to pray for us. I just wanted us to be where God wanted us. If that was here at my parents' house for another year, I was thankful. If that was moving to California, I was thankful. 

The phone call came just as we sat down to dinner on Tuesday night. The night before the deadline they had given us. Ian left the room (it seems children two and under don't really set a great ambience for serious phone calls) and I sat trying to act normal while Excited and Terrified did the rumba in my gut. The conversation was long. I was hopeful. I snuck away from the dinner table to try to eavesdrop and see what was going on. I couldn't tell. It was torturous! I knew I shouldn't hope. I knew he wouldn't get it. But I knew how talented he was. How could they not want him? 

All I had to do was peek in after he hung up the phone to know it had been another crushing blow. The final nail in the coffin for the coming school year. Recruiting in the States was winding down, there wouldn't be much left. I can't remember if I said anything. I rubbed his back. I left the room so he could be alone. Tried to conclude the day in a normal fashion with our boys. 

We told a few people, and though he was discouraged, I found myself genuinely surprised that he wasn't struggling more. It seemed his initial despair wasn't sticking. I began to formulate a plan for the coming year in my mind. The prospect of me working more while he continued to hunt for something seemed ok. We could do it. I knew the Lord had a plan. 

Sometimes a good night's sleep is really helpful. Other times, the new day just seems to shed more light on the things you don't want to see. This was one of those times. We were headed into another long tenure of ups and downs. The disappointment I thought had been waning the night before came on full force the next day. We were quiet. We were uncertain. We were defeated. 

Thursday morning I was reading books to Aed while Asher slept when the phone rang. A woman asked for Ian. Could it be? I didn't want to let myself go there, though I did wonder. I handed him the phone and he walked away. It was another long conversation. I tried so hard to keep my hopes under wraps, but the thought crossed my mind, 'What if they changed their minds? What if the other person didn't want the job? That can happen, right?' 

I tried to read faster so we would be finished and I could talk to him when he hung up. He asked if I had seen who it was. I told him no. Then he put on a video for Aed, telling him Mama and Daddy needed to talk. I was so confused. Wouldn't he be excited if he had gotten the job? He seemed so serious. I had no idea what he was going to say. Even so, I found a grin trying to creep across my face. My mouth somehow knew more than my mind did.

I walked into the kitchen. He looked at me and said, 'I got the job.' 

After my initial shock I said, 'I hate to say I told you so, but I did tell you! God had something big!' 

Then Ian dropped the May 7th news. They want him there by May 7th if possible. Then the freight train of logistics hit me. Then the realization that we'd be saying goodbye again. The many conflicts we have with a sudden and far away move in the next few months. My fear of being somewhere new, with kids this time. Suddenly we were sucked up into a whirlwind of planning and decisions and problem solving. And we were thankful. We told a few people, hoping it would feel real. More than one person told us they had hesitated when we told them he didn't get the job. They couldn't explain it, but against all odds continued to think that he would get it.

This morning I woke a blissful few minutes before 7:30. So grateful for a later morning. I took a few moments to look in a small book I have full of snippets of writings by Christian authors. There is one for each day of the year. Let me share with you what the writing for April 20th was.

Waiting on God is an act of faith - the greatest thing ever required of us humans. Not faith in the outcome we are dictating to God, but faith in His character, faith in Himself. It is resting in the perfect confidence that He will guide in the right way, at the right time. He will supply our need. He will fulfill His word. He will give us the very best if we trust Him. 

- Elisabeth Elliot

If you have faith as small as a mustard seed,… Nothing will be impossible for you."

Matthew 17: 20

So we are moving. To California. And we are still shocked. A few more threads in this story the Lord has woven. We will raise this ebenezer as we walk forward into each day. The next few months are going to be hard. And overwhelming. And full of change and struggle and adventure and wonder. But we have this testimony to look back on. To see that it was not without purpose that we uprooted ourselves and faced adventure in 2007. It was not without purpose that we uprooted ourselves again and moved back as 2011 came to a close, wondering if we had made the right decision. And it is not without purpose that we will move to a new far away land that will be oh-so-different from what we have known. 

To God be the glory, great things He has done.

Every Morning

I was thinking the other day how thankful I am for a good night’s sleep. I don’t know that I fully appreciated the impact a night of sleep could have until I had children. Not so much the impact on me (though that certainly helps the day to go well), but the impact on my children.

I don’t know how long it continues, but it seems to me that very young children have a reset button that gets refreshed with each night of sleep. Sure they remember things and carry things with them that they’ve learned, but somehow every new day really does feel new with them. You never know what is going to happen, you can’t predict who will be happy and who will melt down, you could never guess the wonderful things you’ll be given to treasure in your heart by sundown.

As I was thinking about this, the thought of the Lord’s ‘new mercies’ struck me.

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.”

Lamentations 3:22-24

His compassions are new every morning. That is a blessed truth every day, but in having small children, at the end of some days that is all that keeps me going. I never know how a day will change my circumstances, but His faithfulness is great, His compassions never fail. His love runs deeper still, He is all I need, therefore I will wait for Him. Through the long days, through the long nights, into the next day, good or bad.

And the Last Few

Pssst.. I love Christmas time. This is something I may have mentioned once or seventeen times before. St Andrews gets all gussied up with sparkling lights throughout the main streets. Some people think St Andrews' attempts at Christmas lights are rather half-hearted but in my opinion, Christmas lights are out of the ordinary and a special treat when evening begins at 4pm. Someone who loves festivities decided it would be fun to have a little ceremony to get the town together to switch the lights on. I agree with that someone, but much to my disappointment, we had never been able to attend. This year (last year, I should say) I was determined to figure out when it was and get there! I am so glad we did! Having never been, we didn't know what would happen. Sadly, we missed the actual switching on, but we made it just in time for the parade! We took our sweet boys and pushed them right along with everyone else through the streets as the pipers piped and the drummers drummed. It was so special. Something I would have thought was cool, but may have felt a little silly doing before I had kids.. But now, I am thrilled to give my boys opportunities that show them that life is bigger than just us. We are a part of something bigger, a friendship, a class, a town, a community, a country, a continent, the world.

Maybe this is a good example of the 'half-hearted' accusation? :) Two strands didn't even light up! So it goes, and it is still wonderful.

Next we took a little jaunt to Edinburgh to go to Deep Sea World. We met up with some good friends, the Bolos family. Tony is a philosophy student in Edinburgh and has been a great friend and colleague to Ian. Julie and Emeline are wonderfully sweet and very fun company as well :). We took the big bus down to meet them and Aed LOVED riding it. He had so much fun (well.. on the way there anyway.. on the way back he was less thrilled and more ready for a nap!). 

Deep Sea World was very fun, but a bit smaller than we had anticipated. The best part was definitely the tunnel under the water. There was a little belt that moved you along underneath a huge aquarium full of fish and sharks. The pictures are all taken with an ipod, so low quality, but it was so fun we did it more than once!

One little guy really liked it.. that's for sure. We were really grateful for an opportunity to spend more time with the Boloses, and are looking forward to seeing where the job search takes them as well!

Finally, we took a little outing to Pizza Express. It was our first and only time eating there! I had eaten there one other time in Inverness, but never in St Andrews! I thought it would be fun to have a family pizza night out together rather than cooking in for an evening. We did really enjoy it, and it was one of the very (very) few times we've eaten out with the kids in St Andrews. Aed did great, and as usual..

Gave us a good gun show. (Yes, that is him flexing his muscles. Yes it is as funny as it looks when he does it.)

And I think that about sums it up! We did as much as we could and spent the rest of our time trying to pack up our things. We had a horrible last night and an unbelievably blessed day of travel the next day. And now (hooray!) I have lots of fun things to share about my two little hooligans since we've been here.