Joshua at Half-Time

I think it was about six months ago that an article/blog post was floating around Facebook, and it was about the concept of "Half Time" in your child's life.   Apparently, this occurs when your child turns 9.  I guess it makes sense, because they've already lived their first 9 years, and technically, they'll only have the next 9 years of living under the care of their parents before leaving home and venturing out on their own.  The article went on and asked parents to evaluate the first 9 years, and what the next nine might look like.

My Joshua is 9 today.  Nine.  How did this happen?

I remember the feeling of ecstatic joy when Jared and I found out that we were expecting Joshua, and I also remember the immense fear when I thought I might lose him when I experienced pre-term labor at 26 weeks and was put on automatic bed-rest.  During my 13 weeks of bed-rest, I felt anxiety, wanting Joshua to stay in the protective care of my womb, and with each passing week with him staying in-utero, it was a small victory.  But it was also during that season of bed-rest that I prayed relentlessly for this child.  I prayed every day that he would be okay, that he would be healthy, that even in the midst of my fear and anxiety, I knew God was already forming Joshua into the person that He intended, and I prayed for my little guy to be "strong and courageous", to live up to his name-sake.  My Joshua.  My little fighter.  He made it to 39 weeks.

And on May 26, 2006, I was admitted to Good Shepherd Hospital in Barrington.  I was excited and couldn't wait to meet my baby boy.  But a scary turn of events happened just when I was about to deliver naturally.  There was a rush of activity, and the pleasantries of the doctor and nurses were replaced with immediate seriousness and they started talking to each other...fast and in jargon I didn't understand.  Next thing I knew, they whisked Jared out of the room, and everything was a blur as more medical people came into my room.  They started moving my bed on wheels and heard someone yell "Prep the OR!".  A wave of panic swept over me, and I remember asking, "What's going on?!".  My sweet doctor took my hand and said that the baby was in distress, and that she had to perform an emergency c-scetion.  She said, "He'll be okay.  He'll be okay, but we need to do the c-section right now.".  Apparently, the baby's heart-rate had plummeted because the umbilical cord was around his neck.  I don't remember a lot of what happened next, maybe I signed some paperwork, maybe I didn't.  But I do remember praying through tears, "Lord, please save Joshua.  Take me, if it comes to that.  But please save Joshua."

They must have pumped me with so much drugs that I the next thing I remember was waking up in the recovery room.  I was alone at first, and very disoriented, wondering if I was dreaming.  I was in a fog.  Then, I saw Dr. Keith's smiling face, and then I remembered what had happened.  In my raspy voice, I asked "Is my baby ok?".  And she said that he was beautiful and perfect, and that I would get to meet him soon when I'm back in my room.  I was so relieved that I cried, and began thanking God profusely.  

Waiting to see Joshua for the first time seemed like an eternity.  I was back in my room, and I was relieved to see Jared.  He was giddy with happiness and said that he had seen Joshua and that he was small (5 lbs, 14oz!), but so cute.   And the moment came when the nurse wheeled in a clear plastic crib with a little white bundle in it.  The nurse started telling me things, which I honestly don't remember (but it was all captured in the video, so it's all good!).  I think it was about the security bands, etc., and she started telling Jared where to find diapers and wipes.  Really?!  I just want to hold my baby!!

When the nurse placed Joshua in my arms, and I held my baby boy for the first time, I couldn't stop the tears.  They were happy tears of joy and relief.  My beautiful, tiny, perfect son.  He fought through 13 weeks of pre-term labor, he fought through fetal distress, and he finally made it into my arms!  And when I looked into his beautiful face for the first time, I knew my heart would never be the same again.

My Joshua.  He's 9 today.  He still has a hold of my heart.  As I see him grow from early childhood to his elementary school years, I see a steadfastness in him.  What stands out is his heart.  His beautiful, compassionate, and tender heart.  He's sensitive, and considers others before himself.  He is slow to anger (most of the time!), and loves his sisters (even though he pretends not to!).  His sweet-nature is alluring, and his empathetic self is at its best when there are hurting people around, myself included.  He loves the Lord, and sometimes goes on-and-on about how he can't wait to get to heaven to be with Jesus, and that can be unnerving to me.  He's on a journey of wanting to know Jesus more, and is reading his Bible and even started journaling.  God bless him!

At the end of each school year, I have Joshua's teachers write in the Dr. Seuss book Oh, the Places You'll Go! that I had purchased for him.  It is my intent to give this to him on his graduation day in high school.  That way, he can see how his teachers (starting from Kindergarten!) felt about him.  So far, their sentiments have been very consistent.  And this is confirmation of who Joshua is.  Each teacher (there's only 4 so far!) has mentioned adjectives like "helpful", "kind", "cares for others", "respectful", "joy to have in class",  his 2nd grade teacher, Mr. Yu, even said:

"You were patient, understanding, and empathetic towards all - it was like having a little miniature adult walking around my classroom...I have no doubt that you are growing up to be a strong leader and righteous man..."

Reading these words about my son makes me so proud of Joshua...of who he is, and who he is becoming.  It's not anything I've done, but it's by the grace of God.

I love the traditions I have with Joshua, like going on Mommy-Joshua dates (we always go to Sonic, his favorite fast food place!), going to the zoo to celebrate his birthday every year, watching the Amazing Race together with a set goal that we'd do it together some day. I love holding his hand while walking him to school (I'm not sure how much longer he'll let me do this!).  I love when he talks smack about beating me in a 1-mile race, and if I did beat him, he'd make a silly excuse that the sun was in his eye (ha!).  I love when he whispers his secrets in my ear and makes me promise not to tell.  I love that he's learned how to make me a cup of tea!  I love that he LOVES to read (yay!!).  I love talking sports with him, especially football (American and English!).  Ok, and I love that he loves soccer and is so good at it!

I love how he's willing to help and is the first one to always make a birthday or get well card.  I love our conversations right before bed time, it's like he knows he can ask me anything or talk to me about anything (we had a 2.5 hour conversation about theology which somehow ended up with me explaining the birds and the bees!  That's a story for another time!).  I love that he asks me to pray for him, even for mundane things like a math test, or a soccer game, or an upset tummy.  I love that he has that kind of trust in God.   

I love how he encourages me, like when we watch American Ninja Warrior, and he tells me that I can do it, just like Kacy Catanzaro.  I love how he gives me so much grace, especially after I see myself crushing his spirit and then going back to apologize.  He expends his forgiveness so freely to the point where I feel that I don't deserve it.  My son is an example of Jesus to me!

And, I loved being the one that got to pray with him when he asked Jesus into his heart.

I grew up in a dysfunctional home, and I didn't know what a good parent looked like.  Or what I thought a good parent was, in hindsight, wasn't a very healthy view.  I remember telling myself that if I ever had kids, I was going to give my children what I never had.  I'm not talking about material possessions, but I was adamant in giving them the emotional and spiritual foundation that I never had.  In my quest to becoming a "good enough" mom, I immersed myself in books, conferences, bible studies, etc.   But I believe that I huge part of it was prayer.  Prayers of surrender, prayers for wisdom, prayers for God to help me do my best, prayers for grace when I mess up.  

I am the most blessed of mothers, for God has blessed me beyond measure with the gift of Joshua.  May the next 9 years be full of God's grace and mercy as I journey alongside my son as he navigates the seasons of adolescence, spiritual, intellectual, and emotional development, and of finding his identity.  May God give me wisdom and discernment to teach him, encourage him, cheer him on, be on my knees in prayer for him daily, and point him to seek first God's kingdom.  May Josh ultimately find his identity in Christ, and may he grow up to be the man God has created him to be, the strong and courageous kind, one who loves Jesus and loves others.  May Joshua know the depths of my love for him, and may God give me the peace and strength when the time comes for me to let him go.

Happy birthday Joshua!  I love you with my whole heart.

IF: Gathering...Part 1

I went to the IF:Gathering last weekend, and before I forget some of the impressions it left on me, I wanted to write it down.  You know how they talk about the "spiritual high" that one gets after a conference or retreat?  I guess I'm riding the "high" right now, but this kind of adrenaline is something that I hope stays...something that will linger and convict me on a daily basis.

As I wrote in my previous post, my word for this year is "freedom". Coincidentally, or God-incidentally rather, one of the central themes to the IF:Gathering is freedom.  Right off the bat, Jennie Allen confessed that she didn't know what God was going to do this weekend, but she knew He was going to do something big.  What could be bigger than releasing one from bondage, and be reminded of the gift of freedom that God wants to give us!?

From heartfelt testimonials of a woman, Margaret Feinberg, who had been given the sentence of cancer, but yet chose to defeat fear and to find freedom in her daily choice of living joyfully; to a teenager who chose to write a song about joy and the human spirit called "Clouds" during his last days before his disease took him, and his mom, Laura Sobiech, who chose to continue his legacy by sending messages of hope and joy through her book Fly A Little Higher.  These were testimonies from ordinary people with an extraordinary message of hope and freedom.

Then there were the big guns, like Jen Hatmaker, my girl Christine Caine, Jennie Allen, Angie Smith, Rebekah Lyons, and Bianca Olthoff (the last 3 of whom I've just gotten acquainted with their teaching and have already garnered my respect!).  The central theme to the conference was the call to believe, and answered questions of why don't we believe, how do we believe, and what could happen if we believe.  The initial tug at my heart-strings came during the opening message where Jennie said that we'd focus on the story of Joshua in the book of Numbers.  And throughout the weekend, the quote "Be strong and courageous" resounded over and over again.  

Each time it was spoken, I thought of my Joshua.  I pray this prayer over him every night, imploring him to be strong and courageous.  As I pray for him, I sometimes see his teenage, grown-up self in my mind and I'm encouraging him to be strong and courageous no matter what the circumstance.  During the course of the weekend, I realized that God is praying this prayer over me!  I need to be strong and courageous, to know that He is with me, that He is for me; that I need to trust Him, I need to believe who He says He is.  Jen Hatmaker said, "When we start to believe His character, you'll start to believe what He says about you."  Wow!!  God is a Promiseland God.  He set us free for freedom-sake!

I want to be just like Joshua of the bible.  He and Caleb were the only 2 who could see the promise that God had for his people.  The other 10 could not see the promises because they were not living out their identity, and a whole generation missed out!  I don't want my children and their children to miss out on the promises that God has for us!  Jo Saxon, another speaker, said "Free people, free people!".  Oh, how I long for that!

I just realized (duh!) that I'm a first-generation Christian in my family.  How did our great God choose me to begin this legacy of faith so that generations from here on out will not miss out on His promises?  And more importantly, why?  This just blows my mind!  That He would consider little old me, who was smack in the middle of a staunch buddhist (mom) and polytheist (dad) set of parents, is a story of major rescue and redemption, and also of promise.  As I look back at how I came to know Christ, I believe that He used even my non-believing parents to set me on the course of faith.  Somehow He had put a thought and desire in their hearts to send me to a Methodist school that was founded by missionaries.  It could also be that this school was the closest school to my grandparents, who took care of my sister and I during the weekdays.  Whatever the reason...proximity, a prompting, them wanting me to be in an all-girl school, etc., I believe God's plan was set in motion for my life right from the beginning.  Little did I know back then that this faith, my faith in the God of the Bible, will be the only thing that I held on to as seasons of life-changing difficulties would ensue and wreck my world.

I digress, but it was important for me to recount those events, because as I write this, I am reminded of God's faithfulness to me.  I need to remember!

So many years have passed since my childhood faith, but I want that back.  I want to be like my Joshua.  His child-like faith to believe wholeheartedly in God and who He is.  My own limits blind me to God's capacity.  Jen Hatmaker said, "we don't have to have full confidence in ourselves, just in God".  And with my Joshua, he trusts God and somehow believes that God will take care of everything.

We know that God is good in the day

We find out that He is good at night

He is even better when things are bad

(Jen Hatmaker)

I've been reading a lot of Christine Caine's books, and in Unstoppable, she talks about ministry being like a relay race.  It's not based on the individual, but on team effort.  Similarly, her message at the conference had the same theme.  A lot of people talk about their destiny, their purpose, their goal.  But she challenged us to think about how it is NOT my destiny, but it's about advancing the cause of the kingdom of God.  Service is the key to our destiny, service is the key to our believing life.  To serve people, even though it may be costly, is a step towards claiming God's promises.  The call of God will be inconvenient and interrupt your life.  Boy, do I know it!  Hearing this message was challenging for me.  It made me think about the Kingdom, rather than how ministry and service have affected me.  It made me think about how I need to serve others, no matter what.  Because it's not about me.  It's about God's Kingdom.  I need to be strong and courageous, take that step of faith, and move towards what God has called me to do.  

So, what has He called me to do?  For such a time as this, I feel that the obvious is true: wife, mother, friend, ministry leader.  But what does my heart cry out to do?  What is my holy discontent?  This is something that I need to seek the Lord for clarity.  While I have some inklings of what I'm passionate about and what I want to fight for, there's still a part of me that is unsure.  I feel like I've lost so much of myself and my identity in the last decade, that when posed with the question, what do you want to do?  I so much as stare and become speechless because, sometimes, I honestly don't know.  I know many moms with young kids feel the same way.  Our lives have been so wrapped around raising our kids and taking care of the family that we've lost ourselves along the way, at least for me, anyway (this will be a blog post on it's own!).  Hence, this weekend was so good just to get away and listen and be encouraged, but also to be challenged to seek God and seek out who He has called us to be.  

Bianca Olthoff capped off the conference with her powerful message about how bondage and unbelief keep us from the Promiseland.  Again, a constant reminder to not lose our vision, but to be strong and courageous and step out in faith even when we don't see fruit.  She said, "results are God's responsibility, and response is ours".

So...

I want to be free.
I want to believe.
I want to respond.
I want to discover and be faithful to who He has called me to be.
I want to play my part in this race that He has set out for me.
I want to encourage, inspire others to run their race, to cheer them on.
I want to "throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.  Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith...so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." (Hebrews 12:1-3)

For "we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses", we are being cheered on, and God, our loving Father, is our biggest cheerleader!

My word for 2015

Every new year, I think of a word or a phrase that I want to strive to live by.  Other years, my word had been "simplicity", "purge", etc.  As I reflect on 2014, while there have been many wonderful moments and memories made, which I am so thankful for, it was also a year where I felt like a sleeping dragon that laid dormant for so long, had slowly been woken from its slumbering stupor, and finally decided to raise it's ugly head to torment and destroy.  Think of it as my own personal Smaug (for all the Tolkien fans, you know what I mean!).

It's not only one dragon, but a family of them.  One I call Shame, another I call Self-Loathing, then there are the twins, You-Don't-Belong-Anywhere (YDBA, for short), and You're-Not-Good-Enough.  There's yet another I call Lonely, and it's favorite cousin Despair.

I'm not one to throw a pity party for myself.  First of all, you need more than one to have a party.  But since it's just me, I've kept a lot of it to myself; deluding myself into thinking that I can deal with it.  The lies of "nobody has time for you...nobody wants to listen to your problems and struggles anyway...suck it up and move on...for pete's sake, you're a pastor's wife so slap on a happy face...you're the black sheep, you don't belong..." have been the constant voices that I've allowed to drown out Truths.  As I let these lies penetrate my thoughts and psyche, I slowly started to believe them.  How did it come to this?

I realized that I haven't dealt with some aspects of my past - past hurts and pains which have been stifled, and now, the ramifications are huge.  I prided myself in having dealt with family-of-origin issues.  It was such a break-through for me dealing with that!  I knew I had to process through my growing up years, and to stop the generational sin that had been passed down.  My motive was out of a desperation to be a better mother and better wife.  By the grace of God, a lot of my past with my family has been redeemed.  And it is by this same grace that I am a different person than I could have turned out to be.  I'm not some great mom or wife, but I'm, at least, a healthier one.  But working on my past had stopped there.  Until recently...

The more I read, especially from Dan Allender and Brene Brown, the more I can attest to the fact that yes, in every human being, one of our basest, innate desires is to belong: belonging to a family, a social group, a church group, even in one's own intimate circle of friends.  And it is that feeling of not belonging anywhere that has gripped me, and paralyzed me into a state of numbness - that I'm here to be used by others, and then discarded and disregarded when they have no more use of me.  It sends me into a tailspin of feelings of loneliness and despair.

So, circumstances and moments, even people, would trigger these feelings.  Because of it's regular occurrence, sometimes the presence of certain circumstances or people would inadvertently cause me to feel anxious and afraid.

I believe this to be one of the busiest seasons in my life, in any mother's life who has a handful of school-going kids and who's also working, doing ministry, etc.  When I watched the movie "Mom's Night Out" over Christmas break, I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, wondering if there had been a hidden camera in my home to capture the very relatable moments in the movie!  I related to both Allyson (the main character) and Sondra (the pastor's wife).  It was overwhelming to watch, but at the same time, comforting, knowing that I'm not the only one going through this.

I'm feeling pulled in so many directions, and for the most part, not feeling like I'm doing anything right.  I hear a lot of criticisms, and not a lot of affirmations.  And while certain people are the way they are (I hate that phrase, by the way!), I don't think they realize their offenses and how their actions can be hurtful.  I'm not a very confrontational person, but I believe in the biblical exhortation of Matthew 18 where you need to go to the person who has offended you.  To follow this truth has really stretched me, and though uncomfortable as it may be, I try to heed it as much as I can.  However, there's nothing much I can do if someone doesn't want to listen or change.  It's easy for me to say "I've done my part, so I just need to move on."  Or in terms of circumstances, I can't really change something that's pretty much set in stone, like a particular program or workshop.  But it's the presence of the said person or circumstance that triggers all of my negative feelings. 

So, I found myself spiraling...into a pit.  (I think there's a Beth Moore study called "Get Out of the Pit"...maybe I need to study that!)  A pit that's big enough just for me and no one else.  And that pit got deeper and darker till I could barely see the light.

But I know I'm not completely alone.  "Where can I hide from you, O God?" 

Even in the midst of hopelessness, there is still hope.  There is a still, small voice that soothes and encourages.  There is a faint push towards the light.  Somewhere in the fogginess, God yet again gives me the strength I need to take that small step forward.  In His gentleness, He whispers His Truths, about me and who He has created me to be.

I've let others define me, and I've become someone that I'm not.  I've caught myself treating others in the way that they've treated me, and I do it out of spite and hurt and anger.  But to done a different skin other than your own, it's uncomfortable and the voice in my head screams "that's not you!!".  So enough!  God has given me gifts of mercy, faith, and hospitality.  Let me use them to the best of my abilities.  If others should choose to abuse it and take advantage of it, then there's nothing I can do.  At least I can say that I've been true to myself and true to God.

Living in the clutches of despair...this is not the life that God has intended!  He has not called me to cower and hide.  He did not throw in the towel and leave me defeated.  He has called me to arise, to take up arms and fight.  To fight for my God-given right of an abundant life, to fight for freedom.  Christ came to set us free!  I need to claim that promise and not live in defeat.  I will fight for my freedom!  My freedom in Christ!

I will wield my sword and shield, immersing myself in God's word and truth.  I will put on my armor, staying prayerful and watchful.  I will rise up against these strongholds, these dragons, and fight for my freedom!  For if God is for me, who can be against me?

My word this year is "freedom", and this is my desolation of Smaug.