Empty Bedrooms

This has been a year of transition.

Transitions stretch me. . .
Which is my polite way of saying that I hate them.

Last weekend, Sierra blew through town.  In less than 2 hours she had her childhood bedroom stripped and loaded into a UHaul and was headed back to GF to begin adulting outside of a dorm.

Phew.  I was not ready for another empty bedroom.

I do not wish her back.  She has my blessing to go forward, yet it sure feels empty upstairs.  Where once every room was full, I now have three empty ones. What do I do with three empty bedrooms?

One is OK.  I liked it even.  One pretty room with a freshly made bed in the middle of the mess of family chaos.  That felt like luxury.  I would sneak into the guest room sometimes, just to enjoy the fact that I had one clean bedroom on that level of the house.

But three?

Yuck.

Chad and I had been talking about staying in this home “always.”  It sounded so romantic to have the kids come home to the home of their youth,  To watch the trees grow along with our grandchildren.  But as that UHaul pulled away, along with the belongings of our third child, I was not so sure.  Would it feel romantic, nostalgic and precious to grow old here - or just lonely? I am not sure.  However, thankfully, today is not the day to decide.

But I am praying in a whole new way. . . Chad and I spent nearly 18 years adding to our family.  We are both the oldest.  This slow decline of bodies in our home is foreign to us.  It is weird and unnatural to subtract rather than add to our brood.  And yet, as we subtract, we also add.

That is some crazy math.

So today, I pray, God what should we do with our empty rooms?  How, in this season, do we best use our home to serve and glorify You?

The Sweetest 16

Yesterday, this sweetheart turned 16.

16.

The stage where a momma starts counting backward rather than forward.

2 more birthdays under my roof.

Only 2.

Then what?!?  Where will she be?  Who will she become?  Have I done enough?

BUT, those thoughts turn her birthday into my issue rather than her celebration.  So, I choose to silence them and celebrate my Brenna-girl.

THIS GIRL!

She is so worthy of celebration!

Of all my children, we have demanded the most from her.  She has needed to be most adaptable.  She was our baby for many years.  In reality, she never accepted that crown.  She never fit the "baby" mold, and praise God for that, because although we didn't realize it, baby was not her destiny.  When we added Joshua to our family, she gave up the crown without a complaint, transitioning with grace and joy.  And when Mataya came, she became out middle child.  The hinge in our family.  The connection between the "big" kids and the "little" ones.  Once again, she handled the change seamlessly.  AND this year, she has become our oldest (at home).  Of all the roles I have seen her maintain in our family, OLDEST seems to fit best.  It is amazing.  She is thriving.  She is more fully alive and herself than I have ever seen her be.  It has been a precious year.

In addition to adaptable, this girl is crazy-smart and equally determined.  When all her grades are A's, she works to raise then to A+.  She currently has more A+'s than any other grade.  If she was stressed, I would tell her to just chill out - but she is thriving on the challenge.  And when she is not, she is capable of chilling out and spending a night watching Netflix, blowing off homework like a typical teen.

Where her older sisters were very emotional in their thought processing at the same age, Brenna is an intellectual thinker.  She comes home from school each day not wanting to discuss the usual friendship dramas, but what she is learning.  We spend hours talking about literature and science.  She tries to tell me about math - but her math skills are way above mine!  Her rational, level-headed thought process is such a gift.

She is incredibly musical, receiving many choral awards this school year.  She also is has a flair for art and design.  She is her dad's and grandpa's favorite building helper because she understands measurement and line so naturally.

She is the kindest, sweetest, most empowering and encouraging sister Mataya could ask for.  I hardly have a single picture of Brenna in the last year that does not include Tay.  Mataya sticks to her like glue, and Brenna tolerates it with such grace.  Last night as Mataya trailed after Brenna and her friends and was accepted as a part of the crowd, my heart was so full.  I am so thankful for those moments.  And I know that Mataya will remember them always.

Brenna has surrounded herself with the most fun friends.  I love when they pile into our home.  Sweet friends are not easy to find, I am so grateful for the relationship these girls have formed.

When the oldest kids were little, I had no idea how much I would love these teen years.  I thought I  was a baby person.  I thought the best years of parenting would be when the kids were small.  I LOVED those years.  But, what I have learned is that I LOVE these years just as much.  Maybe more.  Watching my kids become.  It is incredible.  Each one is so amazing.  So much more than I expected.  Such a gift.

16 years ago, I would never have guessed that my tiniest, baldest, most clingy infant would become a 5'10" beauty who is calm, grounded, capable, and so very independent.  But God.

May you glorify Him with your many talents, beautiful one.  Always.

And may you always know how very much I love you. Always.

Unrushed Mornings

Each morning, I rise by 5:15 am.  I spend the dark hours, the only time in which my home is silent, with Jesus.  And it sustains me.

In a year  in which nearly everything has changed, He has not.  Though He has called me to do more, learn more and be more than ever before, He has ALSO been my strength and wisdom through it all.

5:15 has become my joy and delight.

My solace.

Yep, I stumble out of bed.  I immediately start the coffee pot.  I am bleary-eyed and weary.  If you read my journal you would laugh at my level of weary, but in the weary He meets me.  In the quiet and desperate and weary, He meets me.

Of all the things I have ever done, THIS has brought me to my knees. 

It is interesting really.  In many ways it should not be the hardest and most helpless.  I have waited on governments and finance and healing.  But, THIS, this teaching of my son - causes me to feel most lacking.

I think, perhaps, it is because THIS is all on me.  Governments, finance, healing - they all rest on many shoulders.  BUT this, this home schooling of my resistant learner, that falls squarely on me.

All me.

And I do not have a clue what I am doing most days.  I mean, I have a lesson plan, however I have no proof or experience that it will move him in the right direction.  Just a God-given instinct.

So, daily Jesus and I have coffee.  And we confer about Joshua and work and weariness and relationships and hopes and dreams and worries and fears.  I hand it all over, and He gives me the grace and wisdom to stumble through another day.

5:15 am in my daily miracle.

The greatest blessing in this year of home schooling is in unrushed mornings.  I spend as much time with Jesus as I need.  Some days we drink a whole pot of coffee together.  Many days I have time to exercise, too.  But first Jesus. Always Jesus.

Each day as I watch the bus drive by, its lights blinking in the dark, I give thanks that my littlest ones are still asleep.  Each day, Mataya wakes up and stumbles from her bed with her pink blanket clutched in her hand.  She finds me, and instead of rushing her to get dressed and out the door, we sit in the rocking chair.  For many long moments we snuggle.  I pray for our day, and eventually she climbs down to get dressed.  And every day, I give thanks because those first moments are pure and peaceful.  

So today, as I begin another week - rather than weary (though the workload is stacked as high as the snowbanks and the extreme cold of winter refuses to abate), I am thankful.

These quiet, unrushed mornings are a beautiful, life-giving gift.

Thank You, Jesus.

Just Another Sunday

This morning, I paraded into church about 1 minute late, with three of my children in tow. 

Only moments before, Chad had gotten called out unexpectedly to move snow.  Joshua had remembered, at the last minute, that he could not survive church without coffee.  Then he had set his precious cup of joe on the bench that I sat on to put on my shoes.  The coffee proceeded to spill all over the bench and floor.  I cleaned up our mess with a huff and shooed everyone out the door.

As we sat down in church, I leaned over to Brenna pointing to her very disheveled youngest siblings with a roll of my eyes.  They looked a wreck.

Mataya had static hair creating a crazy halo all around her entire head, leggings which in no way matched her "fancy" dress, and an inability to sit still or be quiet.  Yet, she is also currently equally incapable of going anywhere without me.  While she looks to be the most outgoing kid around, force her to be separated from me and panic (true panic, not a preschool fit) ensues.

Joshua was wearing a ski mask to cover his too long and totally out of control hair.  His pants were too short and splattered with blue paint.  His face was showing traces of toothpaste - although since he currently hates any hygiene related task, toothpaste on his face is actually a victory.

And if  I am honest, looking at them, I felt a failure.  In that moment, I felt a deep longing to have children who were perfectly put together.  Children who made me appear to be a momma who has it together.  There was no way ANYONE would glance at us and assume I had ANYTHING figured out.  This morning, I was not wishing for a perfect life.  I just wished it looked like I was paying attention.

Now, I have been doing this parenting thing a looooooooong time.  I truly can not remember going to church and NOT having a preschool child to consider.  I know my goal as a mom is to raise ADULTS who are independent thinkers, confident, defined by whose they are NOT how they are dressed.  I know that I allowed my youngest children to leave the house dressed in their crazy attire on purpose. BUT dang, couldn't they become independent and strong WHILE looking descent?!?

(Please hear my own sense of humor in all of this!!!)

We surviving church (come on momma's it does feel that way some days, does it not?).  We returned home, and as we cleaned up lunch, I confessed my flaky thoughts to Brenna Joy.  We laughed and laughed at the crazy of her siblings.  (I will never know how to thank Brenna for her free thinking and acceptance of her crazy siblings.  Many teens would be too humiliated to go anywhere with them!  Brenna praises Mataya when she proudly chooses crazy outfits, telling her that if she feels beautiful, then she looks beautiful. And she takes Joshua's current disdain for clothes and hair fairly hillarious.)  Brenna giggled when I told her that just once I wish someone would look at those two and think. . . "Wow! Their mom has it figured out!"

And my Brenna-girl responded with the kindest, sweetest words.  She said, "Mom, when people see the kids, they will know right away that you are patient and care more about your kids than what other people think."

Oh, how I needed her encouragement today. 

February

I woke up this morning at 4 am in a cold sweat, my heart racing, my entire body alert with anxiety.  Knowing I would never be able to roll over and go back to sleep, I tiptoed into the family room to grab my Bible and journal.  I journaled worries while praying and fighting that evil enemy, anxiety, off with the name of Jesus.

Over the next hour, my spirit calmed.  I went back to a fitful sleep for an hour or so.  However, I struggled all day, vacillating between sleepy and irritable, all the while inquiring of the Lord, "What is up with me?"

As the day wore on the answer emerged.

February.

UFF!  February is always such a hurdle for me.

It is dark and cold.

Chad works long, crazy hours moving snow.

I work long, crazy hours, parenting solo and billing that snow.

And fresh air comes with a price. . . frostbite.

The rest of Christmas is long past.

Spring seems a distant dream.

The tax bill looms closer.

And just when I think I have everything figured out financially, one minor emergency or another pops up that will put a pinch in my plan.

BUT deeper than all that is the very fact that February is a spiritual battle ground for me.  It is the month I am most likely to struggle with sleepless nights, irrational worries, and very real anxiety.

For some reason, naming a problem makes me feel better.  More powerful.  Capable (maybe) of conquering it.

As the day has rolled into night, I have been naming the fears that flood my gut and brain.  I have been labeling them.

They seem to come in a few categories:
-not actually my problem
-borrowed problem (meaning it may be possible but there is no reason to think it will happen)
-irrational problem
-real problem that I need to turn over to the Lord and wait on Him
-real problem I need to turn over to the Lord AND work on as He leads

This year, I feel called to claim PEACE as my anthem, my goal, my heart song.  Which means I need to face February in a new way.  I need to claim it as a battle ground, knowing that I will likely be attacked.  I need to arm myself.

I need to rest.

Always, always when I feel peace fleeing. . .  When I feel stress rising. . .  When the sounds of my children calling for me. . . AGAIN make me want to yell a snide response. . . When Chad snoring makes me want to grab a pillow and head to a hotel.  When I have had ENOUGH. . .

I need rest.

So tonight, instead of scrubbing dirty floors and finishing a work project I started this afternoon, I am blogging.  I am shining His flashlight on my soul.  I am drawing a deep breath and feeling my muscles relax (even with my exhausted husband snoring like a chainsaw in the family room and my four year old asking for one more snack from her bedroom.)

Knowing I need rest (which to me means white space. . . time when I am not striving to accomplish one task or another) kind of stresses me out.  I don't know how to rest right now.  There is just so much to do.

And then I reread this:

Girl, read your Bible.

-author unknown

You can eat all the kale,

buy all the things,

lift all the weights,

take all the trips,

trash all that doesn't spark joy,

wash your face and hustle like mad,

but it you don't rest

your soul in Jesus,

you'll never find peace and purpose.

So, if peace is my goal, I must rest.

Jesus, I do not know how to rest in this season.  It feels like there is too much to do to rest.  And although busy drains me of peace and joy and hope, there is something addictive about it.  Keeping busy pushes thought away.  It gives me a sense of power and control.  But that is the problem, isn't it Lord.  I was never supposed to be in control, You are.  You are!  I don't know how to rest when I want to run and hide.  I don't know how to lean into You right now.  To just be still and know.  It makes me feel squirmy and wiggly inside.  Teach me, Lord.  For I know in the depths of my soul that what I long for is You.  So wrap me in your arms, just as I have wrapped my overtired babies, and hold me close as I learn to relax in Your embrace and trust that You always have my very best in mind.  Hold me, Jesus, I pray.  I need You.

When His Joy Becomes Our Strength

Of all the things I have done in my lifetime, homeschooling Joshua is the hardest.  I do not say that to whine and complain, it is simply a fact.  Some things are HARD and RIGHT at the same time.

Homeschooling Joshua is one of those things.

I do not want to go into a lot of details and thus betray Joshua's trust, but some days are ugly.  Joshua does not value traditional learning, AND it does not come easy.  This makes homeschooling a wonderful option for him.  One on one learning makes lessons shorter and more personal, leaving less room to become frustrated and confused.  Shorter lessons gives him more time to explore things he enjoys and is naturally good at.  It is a slam dunk for him.

For me. . .

It is the right choice.

It is possible.

It is saving my son's mental health. 

I have a front row seat as he becomes more confident.  (We see his growing confidence in so many ways.  He will request we take his photo.  He wants to hear more about his past.  He asks questions.  He is more willing to try new things.)

I am able to see His faith develop. He gobbles up Bible time.  Every other subject has come with tension, but not Bible.  And he has successfully memorized many verses.

I see him learning and growing scholastically.  He is starting to love stories.  Where he once thought he hated books, through quality books being read aloud, I see his passion for books and story growing.  Through one on one instruction, his ability to read on his own is also blossoming.

BUT - it is not without struggle.  Nothing I have ever done has been as emotionally exhausting.  If I push too hard, he freezes.  The trauma switch goes off, and it is OVER.  If I do not push enough, he does not progress.  He is happiest in his comfort zone, so pushing himself forward does not happen. 

Yet.

This is the verse, I claim for him daily.  It is from Psalm 51:12

"Restore to Joshua the joy of your salvation
and grant to Joshua a WILLING SPIRIT

to sustain him."

My greatest desire is that Joshua will have a willing, joyful spirit.  That where he is now resistant and guarded, the Lord will redeem and restore.

The first weeks in January have been brutally difficult.  Brutally.

I was at a place where I did not if I could go on.  I knew it was best for Joshua.  I knew it was the task that the Lord was calling me to in this season, but I did not know if I could continue.

And God sent me this:

"When we don't see results from our work for the Lord, it can feel disappointing and even create doubt.  But when we walk in faith and obedience to God, we can be sure our labor is not futile or wasted.  1 Corinthians 15:58 reminds us because we have victory through Jesus we can "...be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain." (except from a devotion on the First 5 ap)

I don't know what your seemingly fruitless work is, but I am certain you have some.  We all do.  The struggle is real.  Thankfully, we are not alone in it.  God always meets us in the hard of His service.

I needed His encouragement that morning in January.  Somehow, this reminder that my work is not futile brought me peace.  My circumstances did not change that week.  They did not change for part of the next.  But slowly, ever so slowly things have improved.  And Friday, we had some moments of peaceful productivity unlike any we had had thus far in 2019.

I am thankful for these moments.  Even more, I am thankful for a God who not only calls us BUT sustains us.

Our theme verse for this semester of school is Nehemiah 8:10

"This day is HOLY to our LORD.

Do NOT grieve (or whine and complain)

for the JOY of the LORD is our

STRENGTH."

And while I am convinced He will test us.  I have NO DOUBT that He will also meet us in the hard and His JOY will become our STRENGTH.

PS - Although much of this post casts a negative shadow over Joshua, I want to clarify that outside of school tasks he is a delight.  He is helpful, thoughtful, obedient and hard-working.  And his attitude is capable of flipping like a switch.  If school is rough, he can let it go quickly and move past it as we move into "family mode."  He may be difficult to teach, but our relationship is stronger from the experience rather than crumbling.

Switcheroo

Because I am a glutton for punishment, I recently agreed to let my kids do some bedroom swapping.  Brenna has always had the smallest room on the second level.  She has been wishing to move into Krissy's former room for years, and I kept dragging my feet.  My excuse was that until Jamison and Ida got married, I needed a bedroom for each of them.  Which was true, however the real reason I did not want her to swap rooms was that I knew Brenna would want to paint, and the idea of painting just overwhelmed me.  Painting Krissy's room, would be a big task.  And it would lead into another big task - painting Brenna's room to match the things I had in the guest room/Krissy's room.  So rather than move anyone, I just kept saying, "Wait!"

But. . . I finally decided that it was time to cave, after all Brenna only has 2.5 years left under our roof!  So we allowed her to paint over Christmas break.  She painted the entire room and ceiling, by herself.  And it is a big room.  She also moved all the stuff that was in it out.

Into the hall. . .

But out.

Chad built her the bed, nightstand, and table/desk she fell in love with on Pinterest.  And wallah!  She had a whole new room with a completely new look.

 We suggested that she keep her new room clean.

Apparently this is her version of clean.

If you had seen past versions, you would recognize the progress.

UFF!

 I LOVE this little nightstand.  Chad made it from wood leftover from the bed and scrap metal sitting around the shop.  It is so stinkin' cute!

 We need to order a cute stool.

Some pale grey sheets.

And a big mirror.

Also -  the walls are white, with a touch of grey.  I do not know why they photographed pinkish tan?

Last Friday night, while this tall beauty was at her winter formal, I started repainting her old room.  It felt a bit historic.  We have now been here long enough that a fresh coat of paint was needed on all the walls before I moved stuff back in.  Two walls I repainted the canvas tan (white) they have always been.  The other two walls I painted the deep chocolate brown from Krissy's room.  (Builder tip - buy good quality paint.  Six and a half years later, I stirred up my paint and it want on without a drip or clump!)  By 2am, I had the room repainted and the furniture moved in!  I hung pictures the next day, and wahlah!  One more room successfully shifted!

 I still need Chad to rehang the headboard,  but outside of that it is complete.  I even got the crib back together all by myself!

This might be my favorite wall in my whole home.  One baby pic of each of our kids and grandkids.  Oh, the nostalgia remembering each of those babes bring!

The good news is that I love this little bedroom set up this way!

And fresh paint makes me happy.

I think I mentioned being a glutton for punishment?  Well, to prove that, Saturday I moved on to Jamison's old room.  I decided that since it was in dire need of a fresh coat of paint, and I had everything out anyway. . .

So I repainted Jamison's old room and moved Joshua into it.

He says he "downsized" because Jamison's room is smaller than his old room is, but it looks fresh and grown-up - and he is very proud!

This flag used to fly in my Grandpa and Grandma Regner's farmyard. My momma gave it to Joshua after he received his citizenship.  He is so thrilled.  He has also asked if she would bring him an Ethiopian flag home from her next trip to the country of his birth so that he can hang it in his room as well.  BOTH make me so happy.  His growing identity and comfort in who he is amazes and inspires me.  It is such an answer to prayer.

I have one more room swap planned.  Soon, I will repaint Joshua's old room.  It will become a playroom/classroom.  For now. . .

Once Sierra is settled in a place of her own and I save a bit of cash, I want to tear out the wall between her bedroom and Joshua's to create a large rec/movie room.  

It is a good thing Chad likes a remodeling project as much as I do because I am learning that as our family grows, ages and changes so do our needs in our home.  Where once I needed 7 bedrooms, I now only need 4! Instead of bedrooms, a large gathering space for when all my people come home would be wonderful!

Times are a changing!  I only used one pound of hamburger in my meatloaf for supper. . . and we had leftovers!  At one time, I made three pounds of meatloaf and left the table hungry-ish.  The really exciting about the changes, is that my heart is content.  I LOVED the days of old.  I LOVED every (OK so almost every) moment of raising the oldest kids.  BUT, I do not wish for those days back.  I am happy for where all of us are right now.  What a blessing that is!

Citizenship At Last

Citizenship has become a hot topic in America.  However, when we brought Joshua into this country, things were different.  Deportation did not feel a constant threat, and no one urged us to rush filing for his Certificate of Citizenship.  We had filed a ton of paperwork with USCIS getting approval to bring an "alien" into our country as our child.  It was approved, and the advice of the day was to get the COC finalized before he was 18 because it made FAFSA easier.  

I am not usually one to sit on paperwork, but I was SO tired of it.  Plus, we were broke.  Then we built the house, had a new baby. . . in all honesty I got distracted for a while. However, as our political climate changed, I started waking in the night worrying.  What if my son became one of those terrible cases you see on the evening news?

In January of 2016 (yes, I typed that correctly) I mailed the stack of paperwork and big ole check the government required to finalize Joshua's citizenship.  I received confirmation they got all the documents, and that was it for 18 months.  18 months into the process, I FINALLY got an email in response to the one I had sent months earlier.  I was told everything was approved, and we would be notified of his naturalization ceremony soon.

In November, I still had NO word on the ceremony.  I was feeling alone and helpless and forgotten. With the need to travel to Norway for Jamison and Ida's wedding this summer, the timing felt even more dire.  It was absolutely imperative that Joshua be able to travel with us.  In frustration and desperation, I reached out by email to Senator Hoeven's office.  I received a phone call within the week.  Monty, the staff person who spoke with me, was so kind.  She was responsive to my questions, compassionate, and willing to help.

Less than 6 weeks later, I was shocked and completely thrilled to get a call from USCIS in Fargo stating they had Joshua's expedited COC.  And today, we were FINALLY able to sign every needed document and receive his official Certificate of Citizenship once and for all.

I am beyond thankful to have this completed.

Yet, it is bittersweet.  There is a part of my heart that feels as though becoming a US citizen is a denial of Joshua's Ethiopian heritage.  And there is nothing about his heritage that we want to deny.  His biological roots are beautiful, and it is my prayer that they will grow deeper as he ages.

The complexity of adoption never ceases to amaze me.  It is not simple.  It never will be.  But it is beautiful.  And I am so utterly, humbly grateful that we were chosen to be his parents.  So often I wish I could have coffee with his Ethiopian mom and share some goofy or grand event in his life.  We share an amazing boy.  If she could see him now, I know she would be so proud.  I am also quite certain she would side with me on things like lotion usage and haircuts. (11 year old boys do not spend much time worrying about their appearance!) But if I am honest, she would probably side with Joshua on pants.  (I think he needs new pants because they are short.  He says they are in good condition, why replace them?)

If she could see him now. . .

A Whole New Year

I tend to be particularly introspective as each new year begins.  I think many people are, but for me, my birthday and the start of the chronological new year are so close together that it is a fitting time to look both backward and forward. 

Looking back. . . 

2018 was a year of HUGE change.

1. It started with me beginning the year angry.  I had realized that my family was not on the path I wished them to be on.  I had spoiled everyone, and that spoiling had resulted in a tired, angry, overworked and underappreciated mom.  Angry fixes nothing, but it can fuel change.  After voicing my hurt to my family, we worked hard to change.  Twelve months later, I am much happier - and so is the rest of my family.  The moral of my story. . . ask for help, honestly and humbly voice your needs, being "less" may just allow your family to be MORE!

2. We finished the cabin.  It was HARD - but the most glorious accomplishment.

3. Jamison got married.

4. Sierra went to college.

5. I began homeschooling Joshua.

6. We lost Chad's grandpa and two very dear friends.

7. Chad and I have worked hard at making decisions together, little and big.  We have always supported the decisions the other makes, but we haven't always discussed the small stuff a whole lot.  We made a point to do that this year, and we ended the year more unified in every way than ever before.

Phew!

Though many of the changes that 2018 brought were GOOD - change is hard work. 

Life feels much more stable looking forward.  It appears that in 2019 we can build on and fine-tune some of the changes we experienced in 2019.  But time will tell!

One never knows. . .

I like to choose a word, a theme of sorts, to concentrate on each year.  I thought (maybe hoped) my word for 2019 would be joy.  BUT, very early on  the morning of my birthday, the Lord showed me His theme for my year.

PEACE.

We spent my birthday weekend at the cabin.  It was a full house.  Jamison and Ida had one bedroom.  Sierra, Brenna and Mataya had another.  Joshua bunked in the unfinished kiddie loft.  Mataya woke up in the middle of the night with a bad dream, so she climbed in our bed.  There is NOTHING comfortable about being the middle sleeper in a bed meant for two, but that is where I found myself on the morning of my 44th birthday.  Chad, exhausted from snow removal, snored on one side of me.  Mataya, restless from nightmares, slept on the other.  I was surrounded by knees and elbows, too hot and then too cold, wishing for a pillow and ear plugs.  I lay wide awake in those wee hours, totally uncomfortable and YET totally grateful.  To begin a year surrounded by such love and commitment is the highest of honors.

I slipped out of bed, silently stoked the wood stove, started the coffee maker, and grabbed my Bible, devotion book and journal.  In the light of the Christmas tree, I read these words:

"Pursuing PEACE means making an effort.  We need God's help, and we need God's grace."

-Joyce Meyer

Those words lit up my soul in a way that only the Word of the Lord can do.  You see, I long for peace.  Quiet is my jam.  I get up at 5:15 am every day so that I can have some quiet time with Jesus and coffee before my house awakens.  Rush unsettles me like few other things.  I thrive at the lake because there is LESS, and I am so thankful the Lord gave us that gift in the middle of the busiest season because in it He restores me.

However, in the quiet of that morning, He also told me that I need to PURSUE peace.  Peace is not a place.  It is not an unstuffed schedule.  It is not the lack of noise.  It is a choice.

"Peacemakers are committed to peace. They crave peace, pursue peace, and go after it. They don't just hope for it.  They don't just pray for it.  They aggressively pursue it in the power of God."

-Joyce Meyer (again)

So, this year, I intend to pursue peace.

His peace.

Perfect peace.

Peace that passes all understanding.

"Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." John 14:27

Peace, is His gift to me.  In the year to come, I intend to explore and use that gift as I never have before.  And in those moments when I am tempted to be afraid that the stuff of this year will challenge that goal more than I can bear - I look to the second half of the verse.  It is as if He knew just how I would question and doubt. . .

oh, yeah!  He did know.  Even then, 2000 years ago.

Peace is something I want to learn.  Teach me, Lord.  Your peace is a gift.  I want to open it fully and joyfully make use of it.  Thank You for being near.  Thank You for speaking to my heart.  Thank You for teaching me.  Thank You for the many gifts You give.  Be glorified in my life, my home, my family, and our business in the year ahead.  Be Glorified, I pray.