Adult Baby

Now passing the 4 year mark of living in a foreign country, I often find myself in humbling and vulnerable conversations.  Those conversations where I am somehow revealing to taxi drivers, market vendors or anyone else I come in contact with how long I have actually been here.  It is at that moment they get excited, talk faster, and use more verbiage than my low Chinese ability brain can handle.  "Oh boy...since I told them I've been here for 4 years, they are assuming my level of Chinese is this up to par" I think to myself.  Oh how I wish I could have just said I arrived last month and impress them with my exponential Chinese growth.

If and when they seem confused at why I really don't understand them, I tend to have a ready phrase like "Oh well I only have lessons for 2 hours a week" or "I know, I really just need to practice more."  Something....ANYTHING to not make me feel/look stupid.  I'm grabbing at any quick phrase I know!  To my English speaking friends here, I describe it like this: "After I was here for two years and new the basics to the language where I could get around 'enough', my language abilities just plateaued...and now here I am, still cruising at the level I was two years ago."

This morning I was reading in Hebrews and came across this verse:

"About this we have much to say, and it is hard to explain, since you have become dull of hearing.  For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic principles of the oracles of God.  You need milk, not solid food, for everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child.  But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil."

Hebrews 5:11-14

Oh how learning a language can so relate with this verse!  Just by my mere existence in China doesn't lend to awesome language abilities and "mature conversation" and neither does my existence as a believer lend to deep spiritual understanding.  By this time I ought to be speaking Chinese beyond the basics, but I am still unskilled and need to be given the proverbial "milk" when I have lessons.  I haven't trained with constant practice or pursued to learn more like I should have.  What I clearly grasp and understand about my language maturity causes me to examine my own heart in terms of spiritual maturity.

Should I "ought" to be somewhere else in my understanding of Him?

Have I plateaued at just being content with MILK when I could have the MEAT of His word?

Would God see me as a mature adult or an adult baby?

Am I trained by constant practice at distinguishing good from evil?

"Search me Oh God, and know my heart!  Try me and know my thoughts!" (Psalm 139:23)  May I strive after MORE of you and never plateau with just enough.

Good thing my milk is ENOUGH for her now...but not forever.

Don't undo it.

"Honey, I read your last blog post...it was pretty blunt.  It didn't sound like you."

My stomach felt like it hit the floor.  In only a matter of moments, my palms were sweaty, cheeks were rosy, and my brain was going a mile a minute.  "Oh no!  Do you think I offended people?  I hope I didn't sound rude....do you think it was rude?  I think I'm going to delete it, hopefully not too many people have read it yet. What will they think of me? Oh no, oh no, oh no.." 

With every blog that I have written, I have felt an overwhelming peace to write it.  Seeing that I have never been much of a blogger before, I feel it is quite a supernatural moment to sit down and actually have my thoughts come out in some sort of articulate fashion.  Even after someone comments, I have to go back and reread it because I already forget what I wrote!  The way I typed the last one titled "Joy Vacuums" was no different.  I felt an overwhelming need to write about that topic, and had peace as the words flowed freely.  Not until Dave commented did I look back and see for myself how this post was quite different than the others.

Embarrassingly, my mulling over has continued on even until this very post.  There is just something daunting to me about being perceived in the wrong way, ruffle anyone's feathers too much, or seem judgmental.  But in reality, I have to just swallow the truth pill...I care too much about what other people think of me.

Ouch.  One pill I would like to ignore, and very hard to swallow. 

 Yet as I allowed my brain to occupy more space for anxiety, I was able to talk with my sister.  She reminded me of a quote from my Grandma that encouraged me deep within my soul.

"Don't ever undo in doubt what you did in faith."

Looking back, there are many moments in my life that I did just that.  Undid things in doubt that I began in faith.  

-Prepared material to share with an unbelieving friend and then decided to keep it in my back pack not sure if I had the right words.

-Quit too early on a campus ministry because I was worried I didn't measure up.

-Broke up with Dave, connecting a lot of petty issues making me worry for the future.

-Retracted our initial application to China figuring this couldn't possibly be the life God planned for me.

The list could go on.  And quite frankly, I don't even want to allow my mind to wander too far back into the past.  I don't want to face the honest truth of all that I "undid" in my doubt that I could have done for Him.  The whole "Coulda, woulda shoulda" chant can haunt us for days, huh?

So instead I choose to press on, straining toward what is ahead and forgetting what lies behind.  May my pile of redacted actions be burnt up in a heap so bright that even through my cowardly pathetic moments He can be glorified.  

Joy Vacuums

Dear Jesus,

Can you make something bad happen to me?  Just a little something?  I want a sad story.  Everyone else has a lot of sad things to say, but I never have anything.  I try really really hard to think of something bad, but I like my brothers and sisters, none of my grandparents have died, and my parents love each other.  Please make something bad happen.  Then maybe I'll have more friends.  Amen.

The above prayer were my own uttered words ALL through childhood.  Not kidding.  What child in their right mind would pray for bad things to happen to them, you ask?  One that constantly lives around joy vacuums.  Those people/vacuums who at the smallest inkling of joy in someone else's life sucks it up until all that's left is someone feeling guilty for the life God has blessed them with.  Sadly, I have been feeling this guilt ever since I was around 5 years old and started going to school.  I was, and still try to be now, a half full kind of girl always trying to find joy in the small things.  Yet as early as kindergarten I was taught to be guilty of joy, squelch happiness, and seek out negativity because complaining is the "in thing".

"Lauren, here's a life lesson for you.  You will always be annoying to people.  Period."

 - My dearest Mother

I think she meant for it to be a pondering type statement because I never fully grasped it's full meaning until I continued venturing through life.  Through high school, college, onto marriage, and now a mother, I have grasped this statement to its FULLEST extent.  There is just something about the cards that I was dealt with in life that has not experienced much tragedy or suffering to a full extent.  I have been given a heart and personality that naturally seeks the positive and tries to find the best in people. Yet I am honestly exhausted from feeling guilty and held captive to transforming my joy into "woes".  Who knew someone could feel bondage to blessing?  

Being a joy vacuum is a silent killer to unity in the church.  It can so deceptively creep it's way into the language of our hearts without realizing the damage.  From one who hears it often, these seemingly harmless words may sound a bit like this...

"Oh you're so lucky, you...."

"Well you would never understand, you're life is perfect."

"Oh you're happy now, but just wait until..."

"How come you ended up with such a great husband..."

"Well you're only happy because you're newlyweds...just wait."

"You don't know what it's like to work, you can eat whatever you want and never gain weight."

"I wish I could have at least half what you have."

"Oh my gosh...it's just not fair...you..."

If you find that these words frequently roll from your tongue, I hate to break it to you but you're a joy vacuum.  Without realizing, you are sucking the life out from these people and literally prompting them to unearth the negative just so they can relate to you.  

I understand that people who appear to be dumped with blessing shouldn't go around shouting about it from the rooftops, because then they are clearly annoying and just need some duct tape for their mouths.  But just going about living in the fullness of what Jesus has given should NEVER be squelched. 

 Every time someone says something to me like "Oh you're so lucky, you..." I find myself instantly trying to think of something bad about my life to bring up and share just so they don't feel bad because of my joy.  When people would vocalize jealousy over my fast metabolism, I quickly unearth all of my physical insecurities.  If people share their envy that my husband and I love each other, I feel the need to share the things that I find annoying in him.  In the times people tell me that I'm so lucky to have four years of teaching under my belt before I became a mother, I am quickly searching for yet another ungrateful, negative comment.

We are called to spur one another on in love.  May we never make people feel guilty for blessing.  May we in our sinful envy be careful not to steal joy and then replace it with bitterness.  In the past, I have allowed these words to pierce my heart to the point of praying for tragedy...at the age of five.  

May my sweet daughter live in the fullness of His love for her and taste the sweetness of His blessings and gifts with no guilt.  May her precious heart cause people to search for joy.  In her blessing, I hope and pray that she acts humbly and doesn't boast.  But my greatest hope is that she may experience the joy of Christ with FREEDOM.

Even for myself...when I see beautiful things in the lives of others that I don't have, may I rejoice with them.  May I take all bitterness, envy and jealousy to the feet of Jesus instead of unleashing it on my dear friends.  May I vent with a purposeful destination of ending at a place of contentment. 

It's okay to not feel sunshiny and happy all the days...trust me I don't either.  But be watchful of becoming a joy vacuum.  The one who is only here to kill, steal, and destroy will enjoy reeking havoc with you.

Heal the Wound but Leave the Scar

I've officially passed the 6 week mark.  

The mark they tell you that recovery from delivering a baby is normally over and you can start resuming life at a faster pace.  I have recognized the beautiful healing process that has redeemed me from this prolonged horizontal pose.  It was beautiful in the way that it demanded a posture of patience, rest, and being still to fully recover.  Any rushing the process would only set me back and keep the wounds fresh and vulnerable.  Yet in the midst of all this renewing, there is something that lingers...

...the scars.

It's something expected after pregnancy, and oddly it is something that I am quite content with.  Those squiggly little lines that now seem to dance all over my belly fill my heart with an unusual joy.  A joy that finds it's existence through hard work.  A feeling of empowerment like "Look, I have proof that I've made it through something significant".  Whether or not the scars on our bodies are from something significantly beneficial , it is still something our bodes (and most likely your mind) had to overcome in some way.  

Before my stomach was graced with the evidence of pregnancy, I also went through a period of time that accumulated scars from this tainted world.  Ever since moving to China, something changed with my body.  Call it the pollution, the water, or anxiety, but for three out of the four years my skin was under serious attack.  I had acne like I've never experienced as a teenager. The kind that would go so deep in my skin that no amount of make up could hide the bumps burrowed deep.  Mirrors were my enemy.  Pillows were soaked with tears most nights.  Hair was subconsciously pulled in front of my face when talking close to people.  I have never experienced such an insecure time in my life.  Of course I was able to maintain a level of outward joy when out in a crowd for I didn't want this issue to take over my life...but I was only lying to myself.  It had.  

To make matters worse, I never listened to any of the advice that said not to pick.  And now I see why.  You create a wound, you leave a scar.  You can only imagine how many wounds were healed then reopened in that three years  of aggravation and determination to make them disappear.  Wounds that kept reappearing out of the bondage of impatience and ignorance.  Finally, I just let GO.  At the end of last year I decided to stop reopening my wounds and just let them be...willing to wait it out no matter how much ugliness accumulated.  And it was then I began to finally taste freedom.  I found something that finally worked, and slowly wound after wound was healed.  But to quote myself from above, " In the midst of all this renewing, there [was] something that linger[ed]...

...the scars.

At first I didn't even notice them because I was just so thrilled the wounds were healed.  Every morning applying my make up seemed to be like a worship service of praise at the decreased amount of concealer.  The chains had been lifted, joy was reborn, and freedom was mine!  With each passing day, I kept on saying things to Dave like, "Did you see how fast it took me to do my make-up?" or "Look...just LOOK at my face!  Do you REMEMBER what it was like?"  And that's why I'm thankful for those scars....it's all about the remembering.    

Jesus promises to heal our wounds, but he doesn't do much with our scars.  He leaves them as a reminder of His grace.  Sometimes our scars are visible like stretch marks, stitches from surgery, or pockets of acne.  Others are scars of emotion, embedded deep where no one will ever see or maybe even know about.  But the one thing beautiful is that all of those scars are evidence that a wound has been healed.  And it means you allowed it to be.  

The Psalmist mentions how the Lord "heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds" (Psalm 147:3).  In order for Him to do that, there needs to be that posture of patience, rest, and being still to fully recover.  And once you do, it's a beautiful thing...but the scar will linger on.  Yet don't grow saddened about that scar.  You have proof that there was a victory and a moving forward...a redirection and rebirth.  

And just think.  The One who heals our wounds had wounds of His own.  Wounds that still to this day leave a scar on His hands and feet.  Such beautiful scars are left as a reminder to us of his desire to reconcile EVERYTHING and make it beautiful.  

If you were needing this today, either go to this link and listen to this song, or read the lyrics.  They were an encouragement to my soul: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zB0Yh_HS19I   

Heal the Wound - Point of Grace

I used to wish that I could rewrite history
I used to dream that each mistake could be erased
Then I could just pretend
I never knew the me back then

I used to pray that You would take this shame away
Hide all the evidence of who I've been 
But it's the memory of
The place that You brought me from
That keeps me on my knees
And even though I'm free

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar

I have not lived a life that boasts of anything
I don't take pride in what I bring
But I'll build an altar with
The rubble that You've found me in
And every stone will sing
Of what You can redeem

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar

Don't let me forget
Everything You've done for me
Don't let me forget
The beauty in the suffering

Be alert...not just armored.

Will your grace run out if I let you down?

Cause all I know is how to run.

Will you call me child when I tell you lies?

Cause all I know is how to cry.

I'm a sinner if it's not one thing it's another.

Caught up in words tangled in lies.

You are the Savior and you take brokenness aside,

and make it beautiful.

Beautiful 

(All Sons & Daughters)

I close my eyes as I hear these lyrics flow through the radio.  How much my heart needs these words to touch my soul, remind me of His grace, and keep moving forward.  In all of my day to day "living for Him", I tend to grow naive to the blatant truth that my soul wrestles against the schemes of the devil.  Someone whose only purpose is to kill, steal, and destroy.  An ancient creature here since creation and using the same tricks.  Just yesterday I found myself caught in the devil's age old schemes...killing my joy.  Caught up in words tangled in lies...  

Many times I feel that we...mere humans...enjoy bringing God down to a level that we can comprehend.  A one dimensional God that is all amazing at one thing.  Whether that one thing is that he is a God of love, or justice, or peace, or whatever...we cling to that ONE thing and forget that he is more.  So much more.  I myself have fallen down a similar way of thought when I am enjoying a particular characteristic.  Lately I have been soaking up how God is like a father, since being a parent causes me to see an instant parallel. Yet when choosing to stop in my tracks and open my mind, I look back and realize he was/is so much more:

 "Lover of my soul" through the summer and pregnancy, preparing my heart as I meditated on his word.  

"Friend" as I journaled and prayed over every worry and fear. 

 "Savior" reminding me in labor what he did on the cross for the greater joy.  

"Healer" in my recovery. 

"Fortress" when the enemy tried to steal my joy. 

 "Sustainer" when left alone to care for my new baby while Dave was at a conference. 

 "Creator and designer" when staring at Nora's little fingers and toes. 

 "Watchman" knowing He will never sleep or slumber while my baby rests. 

Now there is a reason I rabbit trailed a bit and shared my reflections of God's multi-faceted awesomeness...

Even when we are spending time with Him, basking in His glory, and reflecting in His goodness, we are NOT INVINCIBLE to the schemes of the evil one.

Basically, we're just really loaded up with armor.  

A lot of armor and no awareness that an enemy is coming doesn't really bode well for you.  It just makes you carry a facade of strength when in fact you are growing weaker by the moment. Without the ability to detect when the enemy is coming or if he is hiding in plain sight is a very real issue.

For the past couple of months I found myself in a "worshipful fog" enjoying each day with the Lord and excited to see what he would reveal to me in His word.  Yet it was almost as if I was a warrior just spending my days shining my armor, practicing to put it on, looking in the mirror with it, and smiling at how prepared I looked.  Then of course the enemy came with his lies, I got caught off guard, and forgot how to actually use my armor to defend myself!  Before I knew it, I got caught up in words spoken to me by my dear husband, and got tangled in lies from the evil one.  I instantly became tearful as I believed how the evil one twisted Dave's words and I found myself on a fast track to marital disunity.  Wow...being naive to spiritual battle is really not worth it.  

With a bit of time to myself, it was as if the Lord found me buried under all the "rubble" of the attack, dusted my feet off and said "Time to get back up again.  Yet this time use My strength that can demolish strongholds to take captive every thought and make it obedient to my Truth.  Do you REALLY think Dave meant that to be hurtful?  I think you and I both know the answer to that." 

In our joy of following Christ, let us not grow naive to the fact that we "do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places." (Ephesians 6:12)

It's interesting that in the "Armor of God" passage, I failed to notice the verse just after..."to that end, keep alert with all perseverance".  Obviously missed that small and powerful detail.

Wake up, wake up, wake up

Wake up all you sleepers

Stand up, stand up

Stand up, all you dreamers

Hands up, hands up

Hands up all believers

Take up your cross, carry it on.

(All Sons & Daughters)

Perfected vs. Pampered

Bathed, fed, changed, swaddled, and nestled snug in her bed, Nora receives her goodnight kisses.  "Good night, Nora....we love you."  Dave turns on her little sheep that plays ocean sounds for her as I flick out the light.  We casually walk back to our room and turn on the monitor.  Feeling like proud parents since this little bedtime routine has been going on for a consistent 2 weeks, we give each other a smile.  And then it all begins.  There's a whimper and a cry.  In no time at all the crying escalates to a full blown scream in a matter of minutes.  Hmmmm.....

Trying not to get discouraged, we resume what we were doing.  "It's okay for kids to cry..." we tell ourselves.  Then our "casual" conversation turns silent for a bit and we both know what each other is thinking.

  "Should we go in there and get her?"

Already knowing our daughter's tendencies, we are fully aware that she just wants to be held.  And holding is good don't get me wrong, but during bedtime it can make for an interesting situation for future nights.  After that unspoken 5 minutes of screaming has passed, we go in to check on her.  We turn on the lamp, and stand by her crib.  Instant silence.  Instead of picking her up, we just tell her "You're alright.  It's time for bed and we want you to have a good night of sleep.  You're okay."  She doesn't seem to be convinced and begins to whimper again.   "Nora, you have food in  your belly, you smell all clean, and you are safe....now just go to sleep."  Somehow this quieted her enough for the night.  No more screams through the monitor...praise God.  

In this awakened tearful moment, I paused to notice a similar scene in my own life.  There was just something awfully familiar about how everything was playing out.  The sadness followed by tears....then screams...louder screams...the period of waiting...more crying...words of comfort...and then peace and....REST.  

This is a picture of me on my due date, September 8th.  My mom had just flown half way around the world the day before to stay for two weeks and I just could NOT wait for Nora to be born so my mom could spend time with her.  I may be smiling in this picture, but inside my heart was quite tumultuous.  For the next couple of days thereafter I wrestled with God in a way that looked similar to my daughter's tearful pleas.  As we proceeded to wait, every day that lingered forward made time with my mom slip away.  My sadness moved to "controlled" tears streaming down my face every now and then that I would quickly wipe away...ashamed that I wasn't trusting God's timing.  

In the continued waiting, my delicate tears that once lined the sides of my cheeks became more uncontrollable by the day.  In the insomnia that accompanied being 40 weeks pregnant, I found myself in the living room later that week at 3:00 am crying out like only a daughter would cry out to a parent that seems to be abandoning her.  Just as my daughter's screams proceeded to get louder, I felt as though my own anguish got stronger with each passing day.  

How could God not want my mom to spend the most time with her granddaughter?

How much longer am I going to have to wait?

THIS is why that bedtime scene felt so familiar.  I too found myself crying out to my Father just wanting him to come and answer my cries in the way I suggested to him.  In Nora's case, her cry was to be held.  Mine was to have my child asap.  Same thing...ages apart.  Humans have one thing in common no matter how old we are.  We think we know exactly what we need, when we need it, and we don't like to be uncomfortable.  And then to top it off, if there is anyone above us who has the power to pull off our request and they don't take our suggestion, we throw a fit.  

GUILTY AS CHARGED.

In my own wakeful moment then crying out to God at the peak of my unrest, I found myself flipping through both my Bible and journal for some sort of comfort.  My eyes fell on highlighted text I wrote just that past Sunday from a sermon titled "When God Doesn't Do What You Expect".  How fitting, huh?  It almost felt like a "such a time as this" moment because the date of these notes was September 8th...my due date.  I can't even begin to capture all of the beautiful truths embedded in that 40 minute lecture, but I'll note the main one that stood out to me.

God's love is not a pampering love, but a perfecting love.

He desires more for us to be sharpened, refined, tested and tried, then to be rescued from every trial.  While he has every ability to free us from earthly pain, how would we ever taste the joy of overcoming?  How would we ever know the pride in persevering?  How could we possibly grasp the fullness of being set free from bondage?  

Is it too hard of a statement to swallow that God doesn't hold us every time we cry?  What if we aren't given the "rescue" we desire and instead are left to be sustained only by his truths and his presence beside us?  Did it make us bad parents that we didn't run in and pick Nora up even after she had been crying?  Was it enough to stand beside her and comfort her with our words?  I'd say yes...it was enough.  For we as her parents saw beyond the tears and knew it would lead to better nights of sleep later on.  Likewise, God saw beyond my tears and knew it would lead to countless blessing.  An extra week to have a heart to heart with my mom.  Nora's birth on a date that my dad happened to be visiting my siblings in Virginia and didn't have to celebrate alone.  Two weeks for David to actually start his school year without substitutes.  And the inevitable...a faith milestone for me to grasp what it truly means to "wait on (and wrestle with) the Lord".  

In the wee hours of the morning as my red rimmed eyes skimmed through the Psalms, I came across one that could have stolen the words right out of my heart:

How long, O Lord?  Will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day?

...

BUT I have trusted in your steadfast love; 

my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.

I will sing to the Lord,

because he has dealt bountifully with me. -Psalm 13

May we surrender our expectations, and ASK for his sanctifying, perfecting, refining kind of love.  A love that allows momentary pain to achieve a greater joy. A pain that He allowed his own Son to endure to achieve the greater joy of our salvation.  

"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." - Romans 5:3-5

"So we do not lose heart.  Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day.  For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen.  For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." - 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

She was worth the wait!

One month old and needs a day planner...

One month has gone by and it's been so fun looking through the pictures of all that we have been able to do with this little girl.  And to think that this is after slowly down our life dramatically!

Reading with Grandma Chase.

Going on a stroller ride.

Cheering on her friends running the 5K and 10K!

Meeting her new friend Elisha in the hospital born 6 days after her.

Posing for her passport picture.

Her official passport!  Can't believe this thing is going to last 5 years.

Lots of taxi rides to doctors appointments and the Consulate.

On the rooftop at a bonfire.  Too bad she can't enjoy marshmallows yet.

Chillin' with her baby friends Noah and Elisha.

Stroller rides to the market.

Photo shoot with Mom and Dad in the park.

Supporting the Philippines fundraiser while the team paints Carnival signs.

And then enjoying the carnival!

Posing with her pumpkin.

Being a model for mom's projects.

Along with Nora's adventures around Shenyang, here are some other one month updates:

• She hates waking up.  Just about cries every time until she realizes where she is at.
• Sleeps six hour stretches every night and needs to even be woken up to feed.  Thank you Nora!
• Stares at the picture frames on the walls.
• LOVE baths...HATES getting out.
• Kicks and flails her arms all the time.  Dave and I have endured a few punches to the face!
• Sounds like a little growling tiger when trying to "talk".
• Loves the pacifier.
• Falls asleep to the sound of crowds, music blaring, bumpy stroller rides or being held in the Ergo.
• Sleeps on her side.
• 9ish pounds
• 75th percentile in weight and 90th for height!

We'll keep making notes of her little developments...they are sure fun to watch.