Broken moments

Today I feel like I am being dragged through the valley of the shadow... backwards, by a large truck. I feel like I am living James 1, as though I was being cautioned about what was coming, and guided as to how I should respond and what to believe. Basically, it's as if James wrote me a letter that said:

"Dear Kimberly, things are about to get rough. Prepare yourself now; know that God has a greater purpose, a perfect work He is working to complete in you. The author of lies will speak many words of defeat and discouragement into your heart and mind; he will frustrate, confuse and anger you, if you let him. These feelings do not come from God, Whose every gift to you is good and perfection. Where there is darkness and doubt, He comes, your Father of light, to dispel it all. Satan knows God's power is greater; He believes and TREMBLES at God's might. Trust him. Persevere. Be still before Him. Wait for Him to guide; do not act hastily."

My first thought, when my little world seemed to be crumbling all around me the other day, was 'why is God allowing this'? And then I did the only thing I could... I prayed. I prayed, cried, and called out to Him for salvation. My cries were desperate and pleading, and my heart broke with each word. And He heard. He is listening. He could erase everything like it never happened, but He won't, and I believe it's because He has a purpose. He did bring His comfort and direction from a very unlikely source--an unsaved acquaintance who, unbeknownst to me, had experienced what I am presently going through--and as I cried my broken heart onto her shoulder, I cried in relief at this "God moment" that He had given me. He is here. He is near.

It's a shame that sometimes we have to be completely broken, brought down to the very bottom of ourselves, before we turn to Him in desperation. But in those very broken moments, His glory radiates through us like a hot cup of tea; sits on us like a warm blanket. And we are once again reminded that He will "keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee" (Isaiah 26:3).

So, I'm crying, and I'm sure I will cry a lot for a while, but I will also sing, and rejoice, and praise the One who is bigger than anything this life throws at me, and in doing so, I will have peace, and I will persevere, and I will outlast the author of darkness and lies by the mighty presence of my Healer.

So grateful

So I've been doing an online Bible study in the book of James (have I mentioned that already), and I am really enjoying it. It has been challenging to make it the first thing I do everyday, and to be accountable to each of the women that are in my group, but I am now at the point where I look forward to opening my email each morning to read what God has placed in their heart to share.

I'm amazed, even, at how God put this group together, as we come from the UK, the US and Canada; yet, no matter how many miles (or kilometers, for those of us schooled in the metric system) are between us, we share so much in common. What a wonderful group of ladies God has brought into my life, and I am so grateful for each one!

We have been studying the book of James, a verse or 2 a day, and it has been neat to see things in those verses that I have quite possibly overlooked in the past, and to see each one from 7 or 8 different perspectives. Today, for example, I saw something I hadn't before, and it added a whole new dimension to the verses for me.

We read from James 1:15-16, where we are reminded that everything we have, "every perfect gift", comes from God. The first thought I had after reading that was that if everything comes from God, then everything belongs to Him, also. The greatest visual I have of that is my children. I mean, we have children and then we take them to church and dedicate their lives back to God, right? Because they're HIS, on loan to us for a while.

Every child is a gift but, seeing as 3 of my 4 were adopted, the greatness, the HUGE-ness of that, is imprinted on my brain. I know that, if not for His grace and the prayers of many (which availeth much), we would not have our children, and I feel such huge responsibility not to screw this up. They're HIS; I HAVE to do what is right by them.

Okay, so the second thing I got from the verses came in one word: "...with Whom there is no variation or shifting shadow". Variation is by definition a 'degree of difference'. Now, what I had always seen in this verse is that God is unchanging, constant, consistently the same. What I hadn't thought of before, in terms of how He gives (everything), is that He gives equally to all. I don't believe that means that if God allows monetary wealth in your life, He will bless me the same way. What I think it means is that He meets everyone's needs the same, that if He meets me in my greatest need, He will do so for you, also; if He hears my cries, He hears yours, also; if I pray for His blessing, He blesses me, just as He blesses you when you ask.

It's not that I didn't know that before, or that I thought some people got blessed 'bigger' than I did; but it can be so easy to look at someone else's life and think they've "got it made", or that everything is/comes easy for them, and wonder why it's not like that for me. I lose sight of the fact that God doesn't bless us all when one person asks for it; He blesses according to His good pleasure, just at the time we (as individuals) need it. It never occurs to me in that moment that maybe that person has just come through a valley, and is now being met by the "Father of Lights", just as I have done, and will do again, I'm sure, many more times.

As parents, we are always trying to make sure that we keep everything 'fair and equal', that no one gets something (opportunity or otherwise) that no one else gets (with the exception of birthdays, of course). How could we think our Heavenly Father would do any less? He does not change; in Him there is no shifting shadow, no variation. He cares for His children equally, and meets each of us in our needs,as much for one as for the other. His love is unconditional, boundless, and offered to all who would accept it... equally.

So grateful today. So very grateful.

I hate Tuesdays

It has just occurred to me, on this dismal, gray day, how much I hate Tuesdays. I mean, every other day has a high point, something going on to look forward to; not Tuesdays.

Mondays, everyone goes back to school, and me and the little man have a bit of a down day; very little cleaning, maybe some laundry, make a half decent dinner and maybe a game after.

Wednesdays are baking days around here! I would love to say I'm a good mom who has a warm plate of cookies ready for her kids everyday when they walk through the door after school--I have even attempted to do so a couple of days a week--but I am not that motivated. Wednesday night, however, the kids have Awana and I have choir practice, and I bake snacks for the choir. I absolutely LOVE doing it! I have created my own ministry, and I am reaping the rewards of friendship from it. It's all good.

Thursdays, my husband usually has at least part of the day off, which he spends with our little guy while I run errands or do some cleaning. I realize that doesn't sound like heaps of fun, but it is actually nice to be able to do something without any kids in tow, just by myself. Sometimes I go out just because I can do so all by myself. Then on Thursday nights, Sammy has drum lessons, which I love to go to; I love to see the surprise on his teacher's face when he sees how well Sam is doing, something he didn't expect because Sam is so little.



Fridays usher in the weekend, and we kick it off with Family Night, where we have dinner in front of the TV while we watch a movie, and maybe play a game or two before a later bedtime for all. Saturday is easy-going; laundry and a wee bit of cleaning, showers in the afternoon before dinner, earlier bedtime because of church the next morning, and a hallmark movie for me once everyone's in bed. And Sunday is church, and I love my church!

But Tuesdays... nothing. I don't feel like doing anything, and right smack in the middle of the afternoon, I pick the kids up from school, take 2 of them to piano lessons and run errands (usually dinner groceries) while they're there, and then home where everything is rushed until dinner time. I hate the rush; I hate Tuesdays.

I've been doing an online study in the book of James, and aside from the fact that I am getting to know some really cool ladies from the UK, Canada (yay, my homeland), and the US, I am seeing things in this book that I have overlooked in the past. Today's verses reminded me that temptations are not of God, but my own selfish and/or sinful desires, and that I need to resist them before they even take hold. I was reminded, too, that while God doesn't send temptation or trial, He will allow it and use it for our own good and His glory.

So today, while the temptation is great to sulk, pout, and sit around doing nothing on this miserable Tuesday, I am going to get up off my stumps and try to get something accomplished.

Here goes nothing!

Can't wait! Can't wait!

Is it wrong that I'm terribly excited about getting my new Tassimo?

A couple of weeks ago, we bought a mini Keurig, something we said we would probably never do. We didn't think it was necessary, and we loved our Gevalia coffee pot; boy, do we love our Gevalia coffee pot, I think mostly because it was free! So, yeah, didn't really see the need for a Keurig, or any such single serve coffee machine. Until we used them at 2 of our friends' homes. SO cool! And considering that Richard and I only get to have coffee together a couple of mornings a week, it seemed like a great idea.

So, we got the mini Keurig... and boy, it's mini. It only brews a 10 oz. cup, one at a time. The other downside is that the first cup is really strong, and there's no way to adjust that. And it's small; did I mention that? Really small. So, the Keurig is going to my husband's office now, and I am getting a Tassimo! I found one on Ebay the other day, and it was $25 cheaper than what I was seeing it for at Walmart, plus no shipping fee, so I got it!

I cannot wait to get it! My poor mailman will be hounded incessantly until I get it, I'm sure. So excited that I decided to blog about it; how pathetic am I, really?

That is all.

My secret career

I remember various hideous hairstyles growing up (if you can even call those bowl-shaped wonders a style). I remember my mom trimming our bangs by putting a piece of tape across the bottom and then cutting with her big silver sewing scissors, the problem with that being that she didn't tape the bangs to our foreheads when she cut; as a result, I think my mom might be responsible for the original angled bangs!

I remember one haircut, however, (the first of several) that first got me interested in being a hairdresser someday--the wretched 'granny cut'. The I-look-like-I'm-89 cut, where all you're missing is the purpley-gray hair dye and a set on rollers to complete the look, which is fine if you are, in fact, 89. I was 14, and absolutely mortified. I remember running all the way home and closing myself up in the powder room (what we called the downstairs bathroom, the one for my dad and company) with a pair of scissors, a comb and a towel, trying to figure out what needed to be done to make this dreadful haircut look better.

That began my secret haircutting career. It should have come as no surprise to anyone that I should want to do this, at least no one in my family, as I cut the hair of every doll in the house, whether or not it was mine. I used to have a doll with red hair that you could make short or long by pressing a button in her stomach and pulling on her ponytail; poor thing, wound up with a short layered cut. We had a beautiful barbie styling head, with the most thick, beautiful, soft blonde hair; we called her 'Nicki' because she reminded us of the character Nicki from the Young and the Restless. I didn't just cut her hair, I layered it to death, gave her bangs, the whole ball of wax! My sisters were furious!

When I started Bible College, I would cut the guys' hair down in the laundry room, two dollars a head, and for girls', five dollars for a trim. Nothing fancy, just the basics... except for my own hair. I have tried just about every medium to short hairstyle on my own head. When I finished my 3 years at Bible college, I planned to pursue being a beautician (the new fancy title), but I had already racked up my student loans, and couldn't afford to take on another, so it was never more than a nice thought/aspiration. (insert sigh here)

So here I am, 40 years old now, still cutting my own hair (today I tried my hand at a shag), and my poor children, if they aren't fast enough to get away. My oldest son wants to grow his hair out a bit, which is just killing me because his hair is so thick that it tends to grow up before it falls down, and it's looking much too big and round for his little face. But, he's 10, almost 11, and I guess I have to give him some room to express himself. It could be worse; he could be asking for piercings of some sort. My daughter wants her hair to grow out, too, and this is also a struggle for me because there are so many pretty hairstyles for girls these days and I want to try all of them out on her! Plus, she has a little face, too.

For now, I am content enough to hack at my own hair, and trim away at the other two boys' hair. But someday, maybe I will get around to pursuing my secret career for real! Maybe when my littlest starts school in the Fall and I'm all on my lonesome... we'll see!

So where was I?

Okay, so today I started my Good Morning Girls devotional, and I am VERY excited! I am in a group with women from the UK (and I'm not sure where else), and I have already read 3 of their emails about our reading from James 1 today. So excited to be a part of a Bible study again, where we exchange our thoughts about what we're reading in the Bible, and learn new things from familiar passages! And while today didn't start terrifically--I got up early, fed the dogs (3 big guys), cleaned my kitchen, made the lunches and threw in a load of laundry... and then realized the kids had no school today and I could have stayed in my pajamas, in my nice warm bed, a little longer--things have gotten progressively better.

So, seeing as I have them all tucked away watching TV in the attic, a whole empty floor between them and me, I figured I would take a minute to tell you all the neat 'God things' about how we came to be a family. Lots of things that other people might call 'lucky' or coincidence, but we know better.

As I said before, we were married in 1998, and while we weren't actively trying to have kids, we weren't trying not to, either. Unfortunately, it just didn't look like it was meant to be. We went to a doctor who had apparently had a good deal of success dealing with infertility, and I was told I had endometriosis, bad enough that everything had shifted to one side. So, in November 2000, I had laproscopic surgery to remove the scar tissue, and we were told to go home and get pregnant. Didn't happen.

Now, this is where, if I could draw a chart for you, it would have two columns: the one on the left would be called 'our reality', and the one on the right would be called 'what God was doing'. I'll try not to be too confusing.

In May of 2000, my sister had her youngest (Mother's Day, to be exact, our reality); 9 days later, my oldest was born (what God was doing).

May 31, 2001, I found out I was pregnant; June 30, 2001, I had a miscarriage (OR); 6 days later, my Noah was born (WGWD).

In the Fall of 2002, a friend convinced us to consider foster parenting; by December, we were signed up for the winter classes, which started on January 15. On January 8, one week earlier, my daughter was born.

We received our license to foster/adopt in March 2003, and on July 18, Nathanial and Noah were placed in foster care; 3 weeks later, they placed Faith in the same home.

By December, my husband and I were losing hope that we would even get foster kids, and were considering closing our home; by February 12, we had a 2-wk old newborn (who stayed with us for a year), and less than 3 weeks later, God brought our 3 kids to us. OUR kids; they were always meant to be so.

And Sammy, our little 'bonus', seems to be the glue, sometimes, that keeps us all together. He is the ringleader, the comedian, the lovey one who calls out to my daughter each day as she gets out of the van at school, "Goodbye Faith, my ol' sweetie pie."

Today might not have started real well, but I was reminded again of God's purpose for me in this life, as me and 4 little toads picked up Tim Horton's for ourselves and dropped some off to their dad at work. I was reminded that all I have belongs to Him, EVERYTHING, and for that I am grateful. I was reminded that I was made to live for Him, His glory, and that I should, everyday, give everything as an offering to Him, live my life as a sacrifice for Him. Psalm 17:8 is my heart today, that I would be the apple of His eye, hidden in the shadow of His wings. I feel like I have been posting that everywhere, but it really struck me, moved me, today.

I am blessed. May I not forget that God is always in the details, and has a greater plan for me than I could ever imagine.

So, yeah, here we go again!

I have attempted to write a blog a couple of times now, but nothing that I would ever consider letting anyone (other than my sister) read; but I just can't seem to keep it going.

I used to love writing, used to write all the time--poems, short stories--and it used to be so easy. You would think that it would be easier for me, now that I have four little 'subjects' to draw from. I guess in order to understand why it hasn't been, I should start at the beginning.

My husband and I were married in October 1998. We tried to have children, but didn't seem to be having any luck. Finally, after pursuing what we could 'afford' (which was not much) to deal with our infertility, we found out that we were pregnant, 4 weeks along... fast forward 4 weeks, June 2001, we had a miscarriage. It didn't look like we were going to be able to get pregnant again; it was a difficult and emotionally draining time, especially as we watched friends and family members welcoming little bundles of joy into their hearts and homes. A friend encouraged us to consider being foster/adoptive parents, which we struggled with, not knowing if we could open our hearts to a child and then have to say goodbye to them. This same 'friend' also felt it her duty to inform me that the baby I lost might be the only one I would ever conceive. LOVELY.

On January 15, 2003, my husband and I began the Foster Parent MAP training program, and we were officially licensed for 2 children, ages 0-2, in our little 2-bedroom cape cod home by March. We were so excited (and nervous), as we waited for the little ones to start showing up at our door, having been assured that there were MANY such children needing homes. WHERE WERE THEY ALL? That Fall, we had 3 siblings with us for 5 days, and then nothing. February 2004, while at a book club at a friend's house, my husband called to tell me to come home; a baby was on his way! By 1 p.m. that day, I had a 2-wk. old baby in my arms. Baby #1 of our 'allowed' 2 was here!

Boy, does God have a sense of humour, however. Two weeks later, we got another call. Three little ones--a baby girl and her 2 brothers needed a home... FAST. I explained to the caseworker that we were only licensed for 2 and already had 1, and she asked if she could tell me about these kids. Oh boy. They were already half freed for adoption; they were 14 mths, 2 1/2 and 3 1/2 years old; and are you ready for their names? You're going to love this: Faith (14 mths), Noah (2 1/2) and Nathanial (3 1/2)... all Christian names. Needless to say, I told her that if she could work it out, we would take them. She worked it out. Three days later, March 8, 2004, we had 4 children, all under the age of 4, in our tiny, 2-bedroom house. And we couldn't have been happier.

One of these days, perhaps on my next blog, I will tell you just how God had perfectly planned these children in our lives, as their very births paralleled events in our life. INCREDIBLE!

Eleven months later, the baby boy left us to go live with his Grandma. We thought our hearts would break. Five months after that, we found out our kids were finally free for adoption and we could begin our paperwork; four months after that... we found out I was pregnant! You could almost hear God chuckling. June 4, 2006, we sat in family court as a judge gave our children their new names--Faith Rose (hers stayed the same, the boy's middle names were changed), Noah Russell (my husband's middle name), and Nathanial David (my Dad's name). In July, Samuel was born, and we gave him my father-in-law's middle name, Edward; my little Sammy who, bless his heart, is concerned about the world ending, but is standing beside me now, assuring me that between God and 'Fiderman' (Spiderman, for those of us who can pronounce our sp's), Satan will surely be defeated.

So that's me. Well, it's a big part of who I am these days, anyhow. So I guess this blog is going to be about my day to day, which I can't necessarily promise will be exciting, but if nothing else, might prove to be a little cathartic for me, in the land of little people where adult conversation can be sparse.