I am sitting on the couch in our new condo, looking out over the lake (and the traffic on the Gardiner) and thinking about God's goodness to us in the way he has answered our prayers for another place to live and, even more, in the way he has lavishly cared for us in both big ways and small over the course of the last 3 weeks. I could spend lots of time detailing all the ways this new place is a blessing, but really, more than the lovely view, the better layout, the possibility of baths again after 6 years without (don't worry; there HAVE been showers) and the pleasant lack of mould, I have been most struck by God's care for us in the community he has surrounded us with. This move has been far more than a single family taking their stuff down the block to a new living space. From start to finish, it has involved a whole community of people, some of them dear friends and others I've only spoken to a few times, some of them in multiple ways and others in just one thing, but one thing that nonetheless made a difference.
It has been a practise of mine, whenever we've experienced mass outpourings of care, to note down the details of how God has blessed us through the generosity and service of others, so as to remember in future circumstances how God has always provided for us in the past, and also because making such lists makes me realize something more of how massive and detailed God's care for us really is. So here is how a community moved us this past month:
- Many, many of you have been praying for us since you heard that we had to find a new place, and have praised God with us since you heard that a place was provided. God has answered the prayers of his people, and we are very thankful for your support!
- A friend and real estate agent kept an eye out for listings, showed us the place 3 weeks ago, handled all the negotiating (including getting the rent down) and the paperwork, and all to no personal financial benefit.
- Another friend, upon realizing how quickly we needed to get out of one place and into another, took it upon herself to handle all the organization of scheduling and labour so that we could focus on packing. This was a huge amount of work off our backs, and allowed us to get everything else done in time.
- The truck rental, plus two movers, was arranged, paid for and completely taken care of by someone else.
- Two different people loaned us piles of boxes so we didn't have to scrounge up or pay for any of our own.
- Various people cared for our kids last weekend during the move so that we could not only have them out of the way for the actual box lifting, but also so that we could get things somewhat arranged in the new place before we added 4 kids to it. One person took them for a full day and overnight, and they had such a good time that when I went to pick them up the next morning, they didn't want to come home. Several others kept them very happily occupied the whole next day, and one more afternoon after that. This meant that we got more done, and the kids still had lots of attention and fun.
- A neighbour took the dog for the weekend and brought us breakfast the morning after the move.
- Another neighbour took care of the pizza for the moving help, though we were the ones who had originally offered to provide pizza for helpers.
- Two different people spent hours cleaning the old place, and someone tidied up the new place before we moved in.
- Our new next-door neighbours greeted us warmly the day we moved in, and showed up a few days later with vouchers for our whole family to attend a kids' film festival next month. They've assured us that they don't mind the noise of the kids at all (praying this will still be the case in 6 months!).
And of course, we are thankful for the several people who disassembled furniture, reassembled furniture, and moved heavy boxes down 4 flights of stairs and then over to the new place (thankfully with the help of an elevator here).
We are expectedly quite tired after a speedy move (hence the lack of post last week), but had we not had all the assistance God provided (and none of it at our own request or initiative), I don't even want to think about how much LESS time and energy we would have, and how much longer the move recuperation period would have been. We prayed that God would show himself to be glorious in the course of this move, and he has done so in many ways, but most of all by moving a community of people to come around us and blow us away with their care, service and generosity. We are incredibly thankful to have a God who so delights to care for his children in every little detail of our lives, and pours out abundant kindness on us even in the midst of trials he sends us, so that we might learn to trust in him as the good Father that he is.
Monday, March 31, 2014
Monday, March 17, 2014
Two Perspectives on Parenting
Stephen Altrogge has an interesting money-making idea. He wants to gather all the parenting gurus into one space, and then have parents pay a dollar each to be allowed to slap every one of these authors in the face. He's pretty sure it would make him some serious bank, because haven't most of us wanted just such an opportunity at some point (or many points) in our parenting? Of course, he doesn't really mean it (I think?!); in his hilarious essay The Inmates Are Running the Asylum
in the new book of the same title, he does give credit to the wisdom of many books on parenting. But this essay got me to thinking about the helpfulness of having two different perspectives in our life as parents (and really, in any sphere of life).
We were once part of a wonderful church community that was full of young parents. It seemed like everyone had kids the same ages as ours. Our kids had multiple options for playmates; we had people with whom we could swap date-night childcare; when the going was tough, friends would readily weep with you because the memories of similar struggles were so very fresh in their minds. We had all the sympathy in the world. But when we didn't know what to do in a parenting situation, we often had very little help (not never, just often). Even the "older" parents were only a couple years ahead, and often, questions were answered with either, "I have no idea what to tell you because we're struggling with the same thing right now" or "Well, this book I read says..." When we lacked wisdom on an issue where there was no clear biblical directive, we needed parents with a proven track-record who could share what had worked and what hadn't. And while the books were helpful, we longed for some real-life next-door-neighbour kind of wisdom from people who knew us and our kids and our situation.
After several years, we moved to another city and were part of another wonderful church community. And this time, there were multiple parents with years and years of parenting experience behind them. When we had a question, there were many trusted people we could ask, and the answers we received were genuinely insightful and helpful. I read fewer parenting books during that time because the information I was looking for was readily available at our church from people who DID know us and our kids and our situation. But for a while, we were one of the only young families in the church, and this brought with it struggles of its own. Suddenly, we felt like we had all the wisdom in the world at our fingertips, and not so much in the way of real-time sympathy. I don't mean to say that these dear friends weren't gracious or caring, or that they didn't remember anything about having small children. They were incredibly so, and they did. But there is something different about not only having people who have walked the road you're on, but who are walking it alongside you RIGHT NOW. We were so grateful for all the wisdom, and yet longed for other young parents who were feeling enough of the insanity of parenting at that moment that they could assure us that we weren't totally crazy ourselves.
in the new book of the same title, he does give credit to the wisdom of many books on parenting. But this essay got me to thinking about the helpfulness of having two different perspectives in our life as parents (and really, in any sphere of life).We were once part of a wonderful church community that was full of young parents. It seemed like everyone had kids the same ages as ours. Our kids had multiple options for playmates; we had people with whom we could swap date-night childcare; when the going was tough, friends would readily weep with you because the memories of similar struggles were so very fresh in their minds. We had all the sympathy in the world. But when we didn't know what to do in a parenting situation, we often had very little help (not never, just often). Even the "older" parents were only a couple years ahead, and often, questions were answered with either, "I have no idea what to tell you because we're struggling with the same thing right now" or "Well, this book I read says..." When we lacked wisdom on an issue where there was no clear biblical directive, we needed parents with a proven track-record who could share what had worked and what hadn't. And while the books were helpful, we longed for some real-life next-door-neighbour kind of wisdom from people who knew us and our kids and our situation.
After several years, we moved to another city and were part of another wonderful church community. And this time, there were multiple parents with years and years of parenting experience behind them. When we had a question, there were many trusted people we could ask, and the answers we received were genuinely insightful and helpful. I read fewer parenting books during that time because the information I was looking for was readily available at our church from people who DID know us and our kids and our situation. But for a while, we were one of the only young families in the church, and this brought with it struggles of its own. Suddenly, we felt like we had all the wisdom in the world at our fingertips, and not so much in the way of real-time sympathy. I don't mean to say that these dear friends weren't gracious or caring, or that they didn't remember anything about having small children. They were incredibly so, and they did. But there is something different about not only having people who have walked the road you're on, but who are walking it alongside you RIGHT NOW. We were so grateful for all the wisdom, and yet longed for other young parents who were feeling enough of the insanity of parenting at that moment that they could assure us that we weren't totally crazy ourselves.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Reminders of Grace
Last week, I was a mess. Well, actually, I've been something of a mess for the past month, but last week was particularly unpleasant. A perfect storm of hormones, badly planned schedules, deadline pressures and kids who are more than ready for a spring romp around the park left me feeling more monster than human. Or perhaps I just felt more human than I'd like to think I am. I had to repent on far too many occasions of anger, selfishness, impatience, pride and general lack of grace, joy or hope.
So it was in some ways rather amusing for it to be a week in which several different people sent notes about how my writing had been an encouragement to them, and also a week in which we were informed that we make raising four kids look easy, and in which my kids--at their own initiative--put time into writing me letters about how much they love me. It was amusing, and at the same time humbling, because half the time I'm struggling to put into practice the things I write about, and more than half the time raising four kids makes me feel like I'm on the edge of insanity.
The truth is, I'm just an ordinary woman. I lack wisdom, I have to fight unbelief (and I don't always win), and I'm a sinner. I write about putting my trust in God rather than earthly things, and then I have a week where I put my trust in myself and end up like the peg in Isaiah 22 that gives way under the undue pressure put on it. I write about Jesus being my Sabbath rest and then I go through the week just clinging to the hope of some sleep on the weekend. I write about preparing for hormone dips, and then get myself into some trouble by forgetting to do just that. I write about seeing trials as glorious opportunities to see God's work, and then feel like I'm fighting to the death against my craving for comfort and ease. (Just keeping it real here, folks!)
So it was in some ways rather amusing for it to be a week in which several different people sent notes about how my writing had been an encouragement to them, and also a week in which we were informed that we make raising four kids look easy, and in which my kids--at their own initiative--put time into writing me letters about how much they love me. It was amusing, and at the same time humbling, because half the time I'm struggling to put into practice the things I write about, and more than half the time raising four kids makes me feel like I'm on the edge of insanity.
The truth is, I'm just an ordinary woman. I lack wisdom, I have to fight unbelief (and I don't always win), and I'm a sinner. I write about putting my trust in God rather than earthly things, and then I have a week where I put my trust in myself and end up like the peg in Isaiah 22 that gives way under the undue pressure put on it. I write about Jesus being my Sabbath rest and then I go through the week just clinging to the hope of some sleep on the weekend. I write about preparing for hormone dips, and then get myself into some trouble by forgetting to do just that. I write about seeing trials as glorious opportunities to see God's work, and then feel like I'm fighting to the death against my craving for comfort and ease. (Just keeping it real here, folks!)
Monday, March 03, 2014
Tough Call
Have you ever been called to something exciting and responded enthusiastically with faith, only to encounter difficulty and discouragement? Have you hit hardships in ministry, trials in parenthood, obstacles in your service? If you're anything like us, these things can have a tendency to make you question whether you are where you're supposed to be, whether you heard the call right, whether God has somehow sent you out only to abandon you on the journey. These are the times when I especially love the "real life" nature of the Bible. I'm so thankful that God's words to us aren't just glorious transcendent ideas that are totally detached from our very earthly experience in a fallen world. There are lots of glorious transcendent ideas, to be sure, but they are woven in and out of the true stories of real men and women who lived, who doubted, who praised, who suffered, who were weak, who were strengthened, who by God's grace pressed on despite their sin and failings and the failings of those around them.
One in particular that has been an encouragement to me lately, in a wintry season of tougher ploughing and some discouragements, is the prophet Isaiah. As I mentioned, when the going gets tough, we can fall to the temptation to doubt God's call on our lives, to wonder if we're on the wrong road. But I think that's because we read about people like Isaiah and his glorious call, and we stop too soon in the story. Isaiah 6 is a common passage to quote at missionary commissioning services. There have been songs written about it. Most of us are familiar with verse 8: "And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?' Then I said, 'Here am I! Send me.'" We love this response of faith, the enthusiastic "Here am I! Send me." We want to be that guy. Here is Isaiah: He has just seen a vision of God in all his holiness and all his mercy (verses 1-7). He has had his sins atoned for, and is ready at the call of God to go out and take the news of this holy, merciful God to the people. It's exhilarating!
But we stop too soon if we stop there, because we miss what God's call on Isaiah actually is. For the next 5 verses, Isaiah is informed that his ministry is going to be one of tough ploughing, of closed eyes and ears, of proclaiming destruction alongside that proclamation of mercy. Isaiah starts off with a readiness to go out as the Lord's messenger, and the next thing we hear out of his mouth is "How long, O Lord?" The rest of his ministry is replete with hard messages, difficult circumstances and unhearing people. Isaiah even has to give a hard rebuke to one of the most godly kings of Judah when Hezekiah's pride leads him to foolish action. Of course, Isaiah also has the joy of seeing prayers answered, an enemy army decimated in the night at the Lord's hand, a king miraculously healed of a terminal illness, time turned back on its heels, and the honour of being one of the foremost proclaimers of a coming Messiah who would bring salvation, blessing and peace to his people as he rules in glory. But even the most glorious of callings comes with its share of "How long, O Lord" cries. If we forget this when things are dark, and WE'RE the one crying "How long, O Lord?" we're liable to feel like we've somehow wandered off the path of God's will.
One in particular that has been an encouragement to me lately, in a wintry season of tougher ploughing and some discouragements, is the prophet Isaiah. As I mentioned, when the going gets tough, we can fall to the temptation to doubt God's call on our lives, to wonder if we're on the wrong road. But I think that's because we read about people like Isaiah and his glorious call, and we stop too soon in the story. Isaiah 6 is a common passage to quote at missionary commissioning services. There have been songs written about it. Most of us are familiar with verse 8: "And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?' Then I said, 'Here am I! Send me.'" We love this response of faith, the enthusiastic "Here am I! Send me." We want to be that guy. Here is Isaiah: He has just seen a vision of God in all his holiness and all his mercy (verses 1-7). He has had his sins atoned for, and is ready at the call of God to go out and take the news of this holy, merciful God to the people. It's exhilarating!
But we stop too soon if we stop there, because we miss what God's call on Isaiah actually is. For the next 5 verses, Isaiah is informed that his ministry is going to be one of tough ploughing, of closed eyes and ears, of proclaiming destruction alongside that proclamation of mercy. Isaiah starts off with a readiness to go out as the Lord's messenger, and the next thing we hear out of his mouth is "How long, O Lord?" The rest of his ministry is replete with hard messages, difficult circumstances and unhearing people. Isaiah even has to give a hard rebuke to one of the most godly kings of Judah when Hezekiah's pride leads him to foolish action. Of course, Isaiah also has the joy of seeing prayers answered, an enemy army decimated in the night at the Lord's hand, a king miraculously healed of a terminal illness, time turned back on its heels, and the honour of being one of the foremost proclaimers of a coming Messiah who would bring salvation, blessing and peace to his people as he rules in glory. But even the most glorious of callings comes with its share of "How long, O Lord" cries. If we forget this when things are dark, and WE'RE the one crying "How long, O Lord?" we're liable to feel like we've somehow wandered off the path of God's will.
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