not one of two choices

The Lord gave me a good thing this morning, and I've gotta give it back.

I was hurt a while ago, deeply, and I'm sorry to say that it has shrunk me. Threw me off. Made me small.  Dimmed my light.

Been there?

As I've been smarting from this smallness, from the wrongness, struggling to get past it, striving to get back my footing, it has seemed apparent once I had forgiven that I have one of two choices in dealing with it.

I could allow those who wronged me to have their painful territory and cut myself off from it, protecting myself...or I could somehow coexist with the hurt and keep battling.  Both have those have felt sickening and painful and exhausting.

Ever been there?  Quit a friend or a job or a church because it just hurt too much to stay? Gave up lots of yourself because it felt like you didn't have a choice? Been between a rock and a hard place and finally settled on one...but it's still bitter and you're harder than you were?

I've gone back and forth between my choices a dozen times, helpless, and honestly, feeling hopeless. 

I mean, Yes, yes the Lord.

But THEY!

Have you been THERE?

I got the seven loaded up to church this morning, still clouded and feeling small over my options. 

Got to church and got worshipping in my row of teenage girls, and He gave me the incredibly freeing 3rd alternative I never thought of.

As we sang through Gratitude, this took my breath away.

I've got one response, 
I've got just one move
With my arms stretched wide,
I will worship you.

I know it's not much, but I've nothing else fit for a King

Except for a heart singing Hallelujah.

I don't have to choose between stay and bleed or walk away and lose. 

I'm not of the world, nor subject to people's powers, not tied to the two human responses I could come up with.

I have one response He's made available to me, and it also happens to be the only genuinely freeing one.

I've got one move here, and it's not trying to protect myself or reclaim territory or making sure not to empower wrong or about combating being hurt. I don't have to figure it out, nor control the uncontrollable, dish out justice nor find a way to come out on top...

I don't have the energy or even the wisdom or ability to navigate all that.

I've only got one response fitting of Him, and it's stretching open my hands, giving it to Him, eyes overwhelmed by Jesus, and worship. 

My option is to praise Him, it's all I've got, and when praising Him, eyes on Jesus, it's awfully hard to focus on wrongs.  It's impossible to focus on our injuries when we're focusing on Him.  It's not even possible we be consumed by others when truly consumed by Him. 

My choice can be not A and not B, but Him. Almighty God can be my choice. God on the throne can be my choice. Christ crucified and knowing and understanding WELL and removing the sting of death and pain can be my PLAN : ALL.  Praising Him, who was not in any way shrunk by any harm done. Not small. Eyes on Jesus, I am perfectly small and full and grateful and loved. 

A heart singing Hallelujah in every circumstance is FULL. A heart lifting praise no matter what is free.

What can man do to me, eyes on Jesus?  Eyes on Jesus, the long and weary debate of playing the cards man deals us fades away.

Glory.

I pray you've been THERE. and if not, that you're with me on the way.

weaving

When we came to Mississippi, it was because John Neihof, the president of WBS, had suddenly passed away and WBS needed a new president.  Every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday, his widow Beth comes to the messy house for three hours and helps Nora, Ben, Emma, Sofie and I through homeschool, she joins us every weekly Family Dinner, rand all the kids love her as Gaga. 

Tomorrow Matt is in Michigan, preaching at her son Nathan's church for their annual missions conference.  The kids and I will be at our beloved church, where Elijah Friedeman is the pastor. Matt Friedeman, his dad, took over for Matt when he stepped away from being the president at WBS. Tomorrow afternoon, the kids and I will then head to our new church that Matt now pastors, Wellspring, where Hannah Friedeman, Matt F's daughter and Elijah's sister (and a dear friend),  just started as our interim worship leader. 

I don't know how that all works out except the Lord, but it is good for me to take note. It is good for me to remember that He's been working in places and ways I'm not seeing yet. 

Empty places, gaps we have no way of filling, God is miraculously sending people into we never would have thought of and never could have recruited. Maybe He's using us that way, sometimes, too. 

The precious family at Wellspring we are hemming into is being stretched and faithful and so are we. Many times the last four years it has seemed like He either wasn't seeing, or wasn't working...and He was. 

So I'm holding that for my Haitian brothers and sisters.

I'm holding it for my present gaps and helpless places.

And I'm holding that for you.

remembering who we're following

We've had lots of crazy storms lately...power outages, massive hail stones, and I'm still trying to get better.  Several friends have had pneumonia and ended up in the hospital, so I'm wondering by now if that's what I've been wrestling too. 

Either way, Matt took the kiddos to the indoor pool for a few hours yesterday so I could work on a Bible study I was going to teach, and while laundry and meal plans waited for once, it was so truly life-giving to really spend good time on a short passage of His Good Word.  

The Holy Spirit really opened my eyes to an outpouring of themes and focuses I'd never seen, and while I have since learned that I will not be teaching this Bible study....I keep being reminded by Him that no time in His Word is wasted. No digging is in vain. 

Maybe He was just unpacking the richness for me. 

A lot has been hard lately. Pastoring is not for the faint of heart, and neither is pastor's wifing. 

Matt always says in his studies and sermons that we must remember who we are following. 

We want riches...but we are following a homeless man. We want glory...but we are following a man beaten and crucified. We want appreciated and valued for our hard work...but we are following a man utterly rejected. We get following Jesus and then want to follow Him down paths He simply never walked. 

He was betrayed, rejected, abandoned, misunderstood, lied about, hated, abused, murdered. 

So when we suffer some betrayal or some unkindness or some lies, and get indignant that this should not be the reward of following Jesus, after all we've done...wake up. 

This is exactly following Jesus. Nay, this is what it is to put our feet in his footsteps.

And I DO want to follow Him that closely. 

The disciples missed it and misunderstood Him many, many times.  How often did they point to B, and Jesus gently corrected, yes, but it is better to look to A.

His very last moment with them was no different, Acts 1, the passage I was to help unpack. They thought maybe His fulfilling of the new covenant meant His kingdom come, on earth, now....and He reminded them that God's timing wasn't theirs to know or worry. But He did promise they would receive what they needed.

And instead of forgetting this time, He ascended and they obeyed. And instead of fighting this time, bickering like my children at Kroger, Acts 1 tells us that they gathered in full accord. And instead of panicking and scurrying, the Word tells us they were totally devoted to prayer. Just as Judas hadn't spoiled God's plan by betraying their Lord to death, they trusted now that the HS was coming, because Jesus had said so, and no one can mess up what He's doing.

Their extreme differences hadn't disappeared. Their unique pasts hadn't been erased. But they were so intently trusting in Jesus Resurrected that their eyes on Jesus kept their eyes off each other. Eyes on Jesus, they were in notable fellowship. In notable prayer.

Stacey.

Are my eyes on Jesus? The real one. Who He really is?

Am I drawing, in these circumstances, on the super-natural power of the Holy Spirit, that which is truly needed?  Are my emotions being filtered through His truth? Am I waiting on Him, confusing the world by my non-worldly responses to rejection, betrayal, gossip, unkindness...minor offenses compared to what our Lord faced? 

The mind set on the Spirit is life and peace. 

May our obedience and our fellowship and our prayers be notable. Grateful for you, my little corner.

let's ask for it

I've lost some of my footing along the way, lately, and if you really looked me in the eyes and asked lately, "How you doin'?" I woulda said, "Not good." 

My own strength has been weary and faltering, and instead of sitting and waiting on the Lord, I've been trying to hobble on, or looking to other places...Matt, wishes, and if onlys....which of course have only left me unsatisfied, lonely and dry, because none of those fill and satisfy.  The mind set on friends or family or husbands or children or goals or hobbies or dreams or desires is death, the Bible dramatically and truly speaks, and the mind set on the Spirit is life and peace. 

After six kids were off to Friday school today, five in uniform, one dressed from the Roaring 20's, all with lunches and water bottles and homework and rubbed off kisses, I started in on mountains of laundry and dishes and crumbs and heaviness.

But Emma, she saw her stroller in the garage through all the exiting siblings and just absolutely insisted. Got in and would not get out. Wok. WOK!

I'm glad she enjoys them as much as I do, but I don't waste my one child-free morning a week on walking! (Yes, moms of 7 call having just 1 kiddo "child-free" time :). I have SO much work to do and so many emails to catch up on!

Wok! You try telling Emma no. She is ridiculously adorable. 

So we go, and I pop on the daily devotionals I started doing a few days ago, noting my skinned knees and slipping feet, looking for the resilience found only in Him. I know how to send down my roots deeply into Him. Why haven't I been?

The words were so rich as the trees towered overhead, the birds called, the sun warmed, so rich I wanted to share them with you. I'm just going to leave them here, and work myself on getting back to giving everyone and everything to Him, living in the river of living waters flowing from His heart.

Just like oxygen, the presence of God and his kingdom surround you all the time. Take a few deep breaths and notice--you don't see it, but it's keeping you alive. You don't see oxygen, but it sustains you.  Take a moment and become aware of the presence of God with you. 

Holy Spirit, make me aware of your presence now. Help me become aware and tune into your presence all around me and within me. 

I know you are gentle: help me to feel your presence with me and within me. 

Our lesson is that we are amphibians, created to live comfortably between the natural world and the spiritual, between earth and heaven. So much of the resilience we seek comes to us from the kingdom of God. Learning to align with it, getting in position to receive it. 

John 7: 37-38

On the last day, Jesus stood and shouted to the crowds, "Anyone who is thirsty may come to me! Anyone who believes in me may come and drink! For the Scriptures declare, 'Rivers of living water will flow from His heart." 

The life of God is descibed in Scripture as a river -- a powerful, gorgeous, unceasing, ever renewing, ever flowing river. That river is meant to flow within you, strengthening you, healing you, imparting resilience into your humanity.

Notice the interplay of heaven and earth, the life of the Spirit operating within our humanity. We are strengthened from heaven as God's Spirit comes into our humanity, deep in our inner being. Rivers of living water flowing from Your heart. How beautiful! If we could open our hearts to this, it would heal our humanity and fill us with resilience. 

Let's ask for it.

John Eldridge's 30 Days to Resilient, Pause App.

cousin crew

We had such a long trip and such fast and sweet days in North Carolina. I managed to stay sick the whole time and come home still coughy and wiped, but it was well worth it, and we got back late Monday night in time for school Tuesday and Ben's first ball game.  All this is is pictures, but they tell lots of good stories. So grateful for all these precious kiddos. 

Almost caught up on groceries and laundry and emails!

Easter roads

It has been such a busy week with church work and ministry and, you know, kiddos..., and suddenly it's Wednesday and the kids and I are heading to North Carolina. 

Every year post Haiti we have met my dad and his wife, and my sister and her family somewhere in the middle for Easter. Last year we sorely missed dad, and this year, with Matt being Pastor Matt this season, Matt can't join us.  So, the seven and I will head to Atlanta tonight and on to Nebo, North Carolina the next day for four short days with Cindy, Lisa and Adam, and the cousins.  

Easter week as pastor and wife has proved to include a lot of extra services and planning, bulletins and social media posts, orders of worship and Bible studies. I truly hate missing Easter weekend here with both of our precious churches, but we will cherish this rare time with family!

Packing and transporting seven kiddos 9+ hours is not for the faint of heart, and the last 24 hours I've been hit with a nasty cold, so I'd love your extra prayers. Cute pictures to come, and if you are in the Mississippi area, get to one of these gonna-be-so-good services!  Matt is teaching them each. 

always

Anyone else so heavy on Haiti?

It's not Haiti killing me. It's Jean-Sius, and Leme and baby Yasha, it's Tati Gertha and Junior and our students at Emmaus. It's not the country, it's the people, and what in the world are they supposed to do?

"Stand up, Haiti" I keep seeing staff and students pushing on FB, and she's trying. Everyone we know is trying to stand up on shaky legs, trying to push forward, trying to pull their hungry children behind them. 

They're being cut down, those standing up and those sitting and those quiet and orphaned and widowed. 

If we're only talking of man's justice, there. is. none.  There is none. The blood of many cries out.

If we're only talking of hope the media can report on, it is beyond hopeless. Beyond late. Beyond not enough.

If we're only talking about the weapons man sees, standing up is both futile and dangerous. 

Matt was teaching last night's Bible study from Psalm 113, where I have had long written "Haiti" in the margins, the Lord, high above all the nations, stooping down to the lowest low to lift up those on the ash heaps, to raise the poor from the dust.

Blessed be the name of the Lord, from today and forevermore, 
from the rising of the sun to the setting, 
the name of the Lord is to be praised. 

I spent this morning doing the sacred and timely task of translating student testimonies, and one first-year student's report stood out to me.

He shared his prayers, for a desperate family and community situation, and then shared his praises. 

I praise the Lord, he said, because I closed my eyes last night, and I opened my eyes this morning. Praise the Lord!

I haven't been home in a long time, and have naturally faded thinking and praying like my Haitian family. It saddens me.

Is praising the Lord because we rise with the sun and set with it only a praise for desperate people, fighting for survival? 

Or is it a psalm like 113, entitled "Who Is Like the Lord Our God"? Is it simply a psalm like 113 saying, ALWAYS. Praising always. Not because this. Because HIM.

All my own things bringing me low today, all of Americas, all of Haitis...The Lord is high above, his glory above the heavens. Who is like Him? Seated on high. Looking down. Raising the poor. Lifting the needy, making us sit with princes. Giving the barren woman a home. making us joyous.

Maybe we don't need to stand up today. Maybe we're too tired. Maybe we're too heavy. Maybe it's too dangerous. Maybe it makes no difference.

Maybe somedays we need to just praise Him where we are.

We closed our eyes last night. 

We opened them, grace, today.

Almighty God, above even the heavens, isn't like any of any of this, Haiti. Not at all, family.

He looks far down, bottom.

And He raises.

You can read Dr. Guenson's recent take here.  Please keep praying for and supporting our family in Haiti, with us. 

broken dreams and the Lord's ok.

The Lord's been helping me face something the last few weeks, and I'm thankful always for you to help me work through it. 

Even the expression "broken dreams" has always been cheesy to me. Who has time for dreams when there is work to be done? Who after 15 is chasing after dreams, anyway? We're not ours, but His, and it's always been my goal to be used by Him, His way, and I guess I've never spent much time thinking about what MY dreams are.

Even if you'd asked me years ago, 20,  what my dream was, I would have said, "Whatever God has for me!" and I would have been true, and satisfied with that. 

So when a few weeks ago,  a song came on my phone I'd never heard before while I was brushing my teeth and I started unexpectedly bawling, tears pouring with my toothpaste, I was so confused about that that was all about. I cried myself to sleep, still trying to work through why that song hit so hard, and realized kind of sheepishly a few days later that the lyrics went straight after a dream I hadn't realized I even had, that has since been shattered.

For example. I never would have said, ever, that one of my dreams was to have parents past my 40's. Never at 20 or even 35 would I have said, "It's my dream to have my future kiddos know my parents."

But now they don't, I painfully realize that that WAS a dream I had. That was a desire I always had for my life, of course it was! My mom and dad in my life today, in the lives of my children...of course that is a dream I had! And I didn't even realize I had it until it was broken...and in moments when that brokenness stings so badly.

It's why when Ben flops into bed at night and says, "I wish Grumpa could come to my baseball game," it springs instant tears to my eyes. Yes, because I miss Grumpa, too, but more, because I wish that more than just about anything for my boy, and yet it is not possible. That dream is gone and broke. Can't fix it. Isn't getting fixed this life.

The song that brought me down a few weeks ago spoke boldly of a dream I hadn't even realized I had but of course I did, and now it is broke and can't be fixed. It is a broken dream, nothing I can do.

So what, Lord, do I do with this? I've been asking Him, since I realized the painful pieces in my hands. 

I was getting no answers, and sifting through the pieces wasn't helping me put them back together, nor come to any peace.

Finally, I came out straight with Him.

Lord, I had this dream. I held it out to Him. It was a GOOD one and it shouldn't have been that hard, and now it's broken. You know. You were there. I don't know what to do with this painful pile of broken dream now. It hurts me and is beyond me and can't be unbroke the side of heaven. So.

Imma need you to take it, and...and handle it. 

Please.

My prayer was about that eloquent, and I didn't even have the wisdom or hope to tell Him what to do with it, or my normal audacity to make any suggestions. 

Just, You're gonna hafta take this broken dream.

And you know what He very clearly said? 

Ok.

That was all. That was it. 

He didn't tell me what He's gonna do with those shards. Maybe something awesome and beautiful and redemptive. Maybe nothing but hold them. 

But His ok, I realized almost instantly, was more than enough for me. I don't much care what He does with that dream, because I trust Him, and I can't carry it without a constant unraveling and stabbing in my own life.  He's got it, my broken dream, and that's enough for me.

Which makes me realize the dream I had of living in Haiti and serving there with my whole life, He can have that broken dream, too.  The dream I've had of traveling so many places--among so many people and cultures, coming alongside, and that grows dimmer every day--it's one I can't reconcile that He can surely have instead.  The dream of raising babies with my sister. Of hiking all the widest places. Of living on an island and aiming it all at Jesus, every barefoot mud hut day...of being a foreign missionary, always, of having my parents, alive and involved and beautiful....all those dreams, broken or not.

He can have them. I'll take His ok. 

What are your secret stabs, friend?  Is it possible instead of carrying them--unable to be fixed or worked through or fabricated by our own blood, sweat and tears--you'd rather entrust Him to handle them? 

Whether He remakes them with power and glory and beauty from ashes...or sets them on His shelf to die while He does totally different and new things at His workbench...wouldn't you rather HE? 

I am entrusting Him to my broken dreams, and tenderly and completely, He said ok. 

the Jesus rut

We didn't go to Disney or hike the Grand Canyon, but a 24 hour family trip to the Memphis Zoo, and a 24 hour mom and dad trip to Oxford (Mississippi :) and lots of downtime and family time made this Spring Break a good one!  We watched a few Columbo's (our newly discovered version of family-friendly murder mystery for the teens), spent lots of time with friends, had court, a funeral, youth group and Bible study and friends for dinner and a game night.  Spring break has also delayed the smack of the time change, which will be hitting hard tomorrow morning at 6!

Extra time with them, and twenty-four hours without them, just reminded me how deeply we love these 7 kiddos.  I sure hope and pray I'm a good mama, 'cause I sure am doing my best.  They stretch me in every way possible, stomp all over my insecurities (and frequently announce them), push all my limits of trusting the Lord, and cover every surface of my life and sanity with their fingerprints, but the Lord absolutely continues to refine and sanctify my life through these children, toddler to teens, and I'm THANKFUL. 

A day away with Matt was so lovely...it has been a long time since I simply got in a car, or simply got out of a car, or simply decided what I'd like to eat, or when I'd like to go to bed, or when I'd like to get up, or what Matt and I would like to talk about...uninterrupted!  I am not letting 8 more years go by without an overnight away!!! I wish I had prioritized this for our marriage and even for myself and my mothering before now.  Please sign-up now for 24 hours manning the Ayars crew in six months :)

A few random things I've been thinking about...

I can't tell you how many people have warned me not to burn these kids out on Jesus...but NO ONE has ever told me to be careful not to burn them out on sports or dance or social activities or on school.  No one hesitates to take kiddos to hours and hours of practices a week, to drive hours for competitions and meets, to spend untold amounts of money on costumes and uniforms and gear and goals, but since becoming a pastor's wife, several people have told me to be careful about church!  What in the world, culture!?  I don't usually speak this plainly, but you are wrong and I do not want to hear it.  

We can burn our babies out on religion, on practices for the sake of them, on playing church, on preaching one thing and living at home something else, absolutely. We can burn out our kids on white-washing, on "Christian" competition, on good works without His love, on church-attendance that's about church-attendance.

I will never tell (and I have caught myself in the middle and done an Uncle Dave visible self-silencing!) one of these kiddos to behave a certain way because we don't want a person to think such-and-such, or because we want to appear a certain way before man, or because missionary kids/presidents kids/pastors kids should/shouldn't...dot.dot.dot.  I WILL talk to them, endlessly, their eyes rolling, about speaking and behaving the way of JESUS. About looking like HIS Children.  Because God's Word is the TRUTH and LIFE and WAY for our lives and their lives. Because we have an audience of One who is Holy and FOREVER.

But I will not let them decide if they want to go to church or not. I will not allow them to miss family devotions. I will not let them pick a baseball game over church or a hang out over youth group. We will take their friends with us, we will have to miss that practice, and we will make sure church isn't a check box and that youth group isn't hype or social club. I won't pass up an opportunity to point them to Jesus instead of the world. And I will not be silent about His Word or about Jesus because they don't want to hear it, or because it's cringe, or because they've heard it before, or because I don't want to make them tired of Jesus. 

Man alive, if I can't make it through a trip to Wal-Mart without Him, how are my children supposed to make it through life? They will be in the habit of turning to Him, of praying about it, of giving it to Him...or what habits am I bothering to repeat a million times to teach them?? If I can't speak a good, wise word on my own, if I can't do a worthy action on my own strength, if I can't build ONE lasting brick on a foundation other than Him, what am I teaching or giving them that matters outside of Jesus, and gathering together with other believers, and interrupting life constantly to remember Him?  

If He tells His people to write His word on our foreheads, to train up our children, to meditate on Him day and night, then I figure He can handle the dangers of them burning out on Jesus. 

More of Jesus has always made me hungrier, not sick. 

Don't burn your kids out on religion. But don't you worry about burning people out on Jesus. If He never, ever stops pursuing His children, nor shall I. And if I die at 45 like my mama did, my kids won't even have to think about where to turn or how to make my faith their own. The ruts will be worn, Jesus help me and bless them! Don't warn me about making Jesus our rut. 

We have tried it all, friends, haven't we? IS there anything else??

And if I'm wrong, I'd rather go wrong here than wrong on grades. Or healthy diets. Or sports. or. well. anything else. 

I had more thoughts about that than I thought I did :). 

I'll save my other thoughts for another day....but let me push myself and you again to be in His Word daily. It is SO EASY for our world and culture to feel like the norm, like the goal, like the truth...and it is only His Word that recalibrates our truth to HIM, our culture to HIS. His kingdom is NOT like this one, our God is like no other, Jesus wasn't living or talking or looking or walking like anyone else, the Word is living and breathing and God-inspired like nothing else....if we are NOT looking different today too, friends, something. is. wrong.

making space

Matt and I are getting away overnight for the first time since. I. was. pregnant. 

With Nora.

Nora is eight. 

It is embarrassing that that is how long ONE NIGHT away together has taken to prioritize, and also that I have grown so accustomed to keeping it all together with everyone that I have allowed it to become impossible. 

Dad and Cindy kept Lily and Sofie overnight when I was 8 months pregnant so we could go to Amish Country in Ohio, and it was so good and sweet and restful that I remember. 

Then we added five more kids and were and then moved far from family and it's not often someone has both said, "When was the last time you and Matt got away for a few days?" and ALSO, "I'd love to hang with the kids so you could!"

 I would have never let any of our friends get away with this, and I'm trying to be more of my friend lately.

Praising the Lord for HANNAH, who DID ask and DID ask to come and who is giving up 24 hours of her hard earned Spring Break, and whom the kids will adore spending time with so much while Matt and I drive two hours to Oxford Mississippi, a town we've always wanted to explore (and honestly, doesn't matter where.)

We leave this afternoon and come back tomorrow afternoon for a funeral with dear ones, but I am trying to wrap my mind around NOT planning my evening around what's best for the kiddos, and going to bed, and eating, and sleeping where and when we want to, and around 24 uninterrupted hours with Matt!

It comes at good time. I spent the afternoon yesterday with our bonus girls in the juvenile court, and there has been little that discourages and wearies me like these afternoons. Yesterday was no exception, the girls quickly being taken out and put in the "kids room" (where they have spent so much time over the years it has truly become a traumatic place) and an hour of heated arguing while I mostly stared into the carpet. 

Did you know 1 in 10 kiddos in Mississippi are in the foster care system? 76% of the 600,000 kids in the US in state custody because of neglect? As I walk our neighborhood each afternoon with a gaggle of kiddos, I can't help but pray that every 10th house will open their lives to a kiddo who needs them.

The mama in me screams internally every time we head into that dirty, dark and depressing juvenile court building, and I can hardly keep up with all the prayers I'm streaming while so many worlds are coming down around me. As always, what we learned yesterday is that it is possible the girls' situation will change, and also that the girls' situation will not change, and all the doubt, pain and questions that come with these always heated and confused conversations follows you home. 

I have very little voice, foster mama, understandably. But it is hard to sit and hear children's lives discussed and watch the best and the good often discarded and long-forgotten in long legal discussions and lots of variants and versions of truth.

If you're looking for something life-giving and fun, I would strongly not recommend foster care. It's probably the hardest thing we have ever done...not loving on the kiddos, but holding them loosely and having very little ability to protect them and help them thrive when not under our roof, trusting the Lord with them when decisions for their lives are being made after having already lived through so much.

But man alive are you needed. If your family has a little space in your hearts and family clearly formed by the Lord, there are so many foster families who need a little support, so many foster kiddos who need just that little space. There are so many kiddos in that "kids room" who need someone to sit in the middle of the argument and interject on their behalf, to take them home after and let them eat ice cream and wash off the day and assure them that no matter what happens, there will be a place in your heart and your family and your home, always, for them, because Jesus...the only thing that remains after good intentions and best efforts and biggest hopes crumble.

So thankful for Hannah giving Matt and I a little space to realign and rest!