Cleaning through Depression

Hello, friends.

On Friday, I cleaned my living room. It really needed it. Depression makes it hard to do anything other than what's absolutely necessary, and I am a very messy person even when not depressed, so my living room was a pigsty. Now it's clean. There are no piles of papers on my desk, no collections of empty boxes on the floor, no little pieces of trash everywhere.

My kitchen is clean, too. I did that yesterday. Again, it was a deeper clean than usual. My counters and table and floor are all cleared off.

My plan was to clean my bathroom and den today, but I think my temporary burst of energy is gone. I got the bathroom done. That's all I could do.

You may wonder why I'm detailing my cleaning for you. I tell you all of this because I know I'm not the only person on my Facebook friends list who has depression, and I want you all to know as I learn myself that whatever you can do, it's okay. It's enough. It may not be great, but that's because depression is not great. It's not a reflection on you. I refuse to be more down on myself because I couldn't finish my tasks. The fact that I started them is already better than it could be.

Be kind to yourself. And find people who will be kind to you when you can't do it. You don't have to go through this alone.

In Anticipation of Mashed Potatoes

Hello, friends.

Tomorrow, I'm leaving the state for a few days so that my mother can make me mashed potatoes (hint hint) and my father can spoil my daughter excessively. Also, so that I can hold my new baby niece. Mostly so I can hold my new baby niece.

I put it like that - "leaving the state" - because it's a really positive thing for me nowadays. It's difficult for me to find the positives around here, so I literally have to leave the city (or, preferably, the state) to find them. For example, I had a countdown on my phone for the premiere date of Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, and at the end of that countdown, I drove to Oklahoma City to see it. Spoiler alert: there are closer movie theaters. I just needed to get out of here.

That may seem depressing. No, it is depressing. But there's a silver lining in this story. I am making my own mental health a priority. I am recognizing that being here is depressing, and I am taking action to make sure that I go somewhere occasionally that is not depressing. I'm acknowledging my mental state and acting on it. That's a good thing.

I'm not nearly as addicted to NCIS as I used to be, but Gibbs' rules still pop into my brain sometimes. Rule 28: "If you need help, ask." This is another good thing I'm doing - remembering that I am not in this alone, and asking for help when I need it. My daughter informs me that I talk to Lindsey, like, every single day. This is a true fact. And while it's mostly because she's my best friend and I greatly enjoy talking to her, it's also because I know that when I need help, she'll be there. I call her in many and varied circumstances. I call her when I need to rant about bad meetings, and I call her when I need motivation to make a sandwich. Lindsey's definitely the person I contact the most, but there are many others, and I'm learning to rely on them.

I suppose what I'm trying to say while I wait for laundry to finish so I can go to bed is this: your mental health matters just as much as your physical health. Depression and anxiety are real things. (If you have questions about that, check out Elijah in 1st Kings 19 or the entire book of Job or, you know, this Jesus guy in the Garden of Gethsemane in Matthew 26.) Don't discount your feelings. Acknowledge them. Work through them. Ask for help. Find your ways to cope. It's okay to not be okay. And if anyone tells you differently... well, they're wrong.

Simple Reminder

Hello, friends.

Today, a simple reminder is in order. For me, that is - but maybe for you, too.

Jesus hears you.
He cares for you.
He values you.
Even when the world seems against you, Jesus is for you.

The Sixth Commandment in Light of #MeToo

Hello, friends.

I'll be honest - when I write blogs, especially about current events, a lot of the time it's for my benefit, not yours. I force myself to think more clearly and rationally when I'm planning to reveal my thoughts to the world. Today I'm motivated to write so that I can more clearly and rationally plan my Confirmation lesson for this afternoon. Normally, I'm not too worried about teaching Confirmation; it's one of my favorite things to do and I think I'm pretty good at it. However, today, I find myself intimidated by the topic: the Sixth Commandment.

You shall not commit adultery.

What does this mean? We should fear and love God so that we lead a sexually pure and decent life in what we say and do, and husband and wife love and honor each other.

On the surface, this is pretty straightforward. Don't have sex outside of marriage and respect your spouse. Easy, right? Wrong. This is the first time I'll be teaching on the Sixth Commandment since the #MeToo movement gained traction, and I want to do it right. We in the church are far from immune to the enormous problem of sexual harassment and abuse. We can't ignore it. When we have the opportunity, we need to talk about it, plainly and openly and honestly. This seems like an opportunity. But how do I take it? How do I get my point across to my class? What is the point I want to get across, exactly?

In the latest version of Luther's Small Catechism, question 68 reads:

How do we fear and love God in keeping the Sixth Commandment?

We fear and love God by living as men and women who respect God's purposes for marriage. We do so by

A. treating our bodies as holy - set apart for the purposes for which God created us as male and female - and not as objects that serve our selfish desires;

Note: Human beings often violate God's purpose for them as male and female by engaging in sexual sins. This includes consensual sins such as fornication, pornography, and homosexual behavior. It also includes coercive sexual sins such as rape, incest, sexual child abuse, and other sexual assaults (which also violate the Fifth Commandment).

B. speaking and actions to one another as male and female in ways that build up rather than tear down (such as crude talk, derogatory comments about appearances, or immodest dress);

C. reserving sexual intercourse for marriage rather than before or outside of marriage;

D. refraining from lustful desire or activity of any kind, whether heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, or otherwise; 

E. treasuring our husband or wife as a gift of God and loving him or her sacrificially.

Now my question becomes, "is it possible to address all of these issues in a single class period that isn't even solely devoted to this topic?" The answer to that is unequivocally "no." So then, what do I address? What do the young people in my class need to hear the most?

I currently have the website for MeToo pulled up on another tab. The tagline caught my eye: "You are not alone." If nothing else, that's what I hope to get across to my Confirmation class. The Sixth Commandment reminds us that we were created to be in community with one another. From the very beginning, God said, "It is not good that man should be alone" (Genesis 2:18). We are meant to interact with each other in loving, positive, respectful ways, sexually and otherwise.

This Commandment also reminds us that, outside of the Garden of Eden, we are never going to be able to do that perfectly. It calls us to repentance for our own failures, and it calls us to look after our fellow humans who have been harmed by people who break this Commandment. It calls us to listen. It calls us to report. It calls us to have compassion. And it reminds us that, just as we are not alone because of our fellow man, we are also not alone because of the Son of Man, Jesus, who fulfilled this Commandment and all the others when we could not.

The MeToo website reminds us that 17,700,000 women have reported a sexual assault since 1998. If there's any small part I can play in reducing the number of sexual assaults in our country, then I'm going to do it.

This is me, doing my small part.

I urge you all to find your small part to play.

Mary Magdalene and the Mental Health of Church Workers

Hello, friends. 

Back in March, I had to write an article for my church's monthly newsletter. I wasn't in a very good mood that day - in fact, I hadn't been having a particularly good month in general - so, I wrote about it. I described my feelings of general down-ness, and followed it up with the story of Mary Magdalene on Easter morning. She was also feeling down, like nothing was ever going to be all right again, but then Jesus literally came into the picture and changed everything. I ended my article with my assurance that Jesus would come into my picture and change everything, too.

The responses I recieved were largely secondhand. Some members of the congregation approached some leaders and asked if I was really that unhappy here. It didn't help my emotional state to learn that they appeared to consider my state of mind as a personnel issue, not a personal one - and to realize that they missed the big picture: my faith that Jesus would make all the difference. 

This week has been a tough one from the get-go, and it doesn't seem to be improving. Once again, today happened to be a day on which I needed to write a newsletter article. I considered for about thirty seconds the option of revisiting my March article. I ended up choosing a different topic, because I couldn't stomach the reactions I might get.

Talking about mental health is never easy, but it's made even more difficult as a church worker because we're not supposed to need these discussions. Even on an okay day, when I'm focused and feeling good, I have well-meaning people tell me to smile more, and you know what I do? I smile and nod and agree, because what else can I do? But inwardly, I'm shrinking even farther back into my shell, knowing that a conversation about why I'm not smiling more isn't welcome here. They want me to grin and bear it. No matter that vacancies are exceptionally stressful. No matter that when I ask, no, beg for help, I rarely receive it. No matter that I'm the senior called church worker after being a DCE for less than three years. No matter that, when our last pastor left, I had one less friend, confidant, babysitter in an already very sparse pool. Grin and bear it, Mary.

I'm not painting a picture of every person at Redeemer, of course. I have many wonderful people there who have honest and present concern for my well-being. But often, those people feel few and far between. 

In these situations, I always return to Mary Magdalene on Easter morning. When she needed him the most, Jesus appeared and said her name. Conveniently, her name is also my name, which is only one of the reasons I love this passage so dearly. I know that, on any given day, at every moment, despite anything that might be happening, Jesus is saying my name and reminding me that I am not alone. 

July Adventures

Hello, friends.

It's been a crazy fun month. My blog posts are usually serious, so instead, today I'm going to share with you some of my favorite stories from the month of July. I hope you enjoy. :)

I'll start off with a classic Mad Libs story entitled "Your Undead IQ," as written by my daughter and narrated by myself and Melissa.

Are you an undead expert? Take this powerful quiz to find out! 

1. Where do vampires sleep? a) with the fishes, b) on the beach, c) inside a cat, or d) in a striped coffin

2. What is a zombie's favorite snack? a) moon salad, b) chocolate-covered pillows, c) school bits, or d) brains

3. Where do ghouls go to meet ghoul friends? a) the grocery unicorn, b) the cookie park, c) a confused school, or d) the grave-trip

4. How do mummies become undead? a) they ask Lindsey nicely, b) they travel through time using a glove machine, c) they earn extra floppy grades in school, or d) they get cursed by a soft sorcerer 

If you answered mostly Ds, you're a real undead Kleenex! Your curly expertise will come in handy - in this life and beyond...

Good times, good times. Thanks to Melissa, Lindsey, and noun expert Bryan for your excellent contributions to my daughter's Mad Libs education.

Speaking of Bryan, he passed the "get continually harassed by Mary for two days" test, which is a good sign. Within an hour I was comparing him to my dog and he didn't even flinch. That's significant right there. Take note, Lindsey.

Let's be honest though - there was a very simple and obvious reason that I wanted to visit the cheese state. It was so delightful to show my daughter the campus of my alma mater Concordia Wisconsin. That's where I met Lindsey (when I came to her room to help her roommate with English and basically didn't leave for a year) and Melissa (when she stopped by my room at 8 AM on the dot to collect money for vegetable oil). CUW is where I joined Students for Life, the group that inspired me to become a foster parent in the first place. Without this incredible school, my daughter and I might never have met.

And have I mentioned the bluff?

We walked down the stairs to the beach, dragged ourselves back up the switchbacks, bought a Zoey the comfort dog plush in the bookstore, posed for a picture with Freddy the Falcon, and giggled at the summer hours for the Falcon's Nest.

Other Wisconsin-y highlights include: eating cookies while watching American Ninja Warrior with Melissa in her ANW hat, feeling very old at a trampoline park and a water park, the "men's ballet" at the water ski show, and naming dozens of badgers for Lindsey and Bryan to own.

I'm really quite astonished that I've gotten this far in my July blog post without mentioning my nephew. Have I ever mentioned my nephew on here before? I clearly need to make up for lost time. His name is Kylen and he's the cutest person on planet earth. Soon he'll have some cute competition, but for the moment, no one can make me smile quite like him.

Kylen's accomplishments include:

1. Being totally obsessed with my dad, AKA Opa. Which is, of course, very appropriate as my dad is awesome. Everyone coming to visit Kylen arrived before Opa, and this was extremely concerning. We're all small potatoes in comparison. 
2. Mowing the lawn (and the driveway) (and the sidewalk) with his bubble mower. It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it, and Kylen's up to the task.
3. Making spaghetti with tomato sauce, thanks to the super-cool pasta play set his super-cool aunt and cousin gave him for his third birthday. 
4. Loving tractors a lot. I wasn't next to him at church, but I'm told that all he talked about the whole time was returning home to his new toy tractor from Oma and Opa.
5. Not appreciating Opa's very scary sneezes.
6. Naming his stuffed animals after letters of the alphabet. 
7. Pulling up his pants a lot. 
8. Playing frisbee with Oma.
9. Identifying the dogs (excuse me, puppies) in his neighbor's yards.
10. Have I mentioned he's cute? 

There were other people in Marion as well - Zach and Lindsey, my parents, my grandma - but none of us will deny that we were there for Kylen!

After saying goodbye to Kylen and his crew, we headed up to Minneapolis for my youth ministry conference with Melissa and my daughter's summer fun camp at the Mall of America with Lindsey. It was amazing to attend the conference. I learned so much and immensely enjoyed myself in the process. Meanwhile, my daughter and Lindsey rode roller coasters, met members of the Paw Patrol, climbed tall towers, made their own crayons, built a bear (technically a dog), and played arcade games. Lindsey also drew me this excellent map, which probably meant something at the time. 

My personal favorite activity, however, had to be the lumberjack show hosted by Concordia St. Paul (not THE Concordia, but still a good one). Oh goodness, it was hysterical. The lumberjacks were such hams and cracked us all up with their antics. I really hope we have that option for the National Youth Gathering next year. 

After Minneapolis, we spent a few days in this little place called Urbandale where I used to live. We went to the Botanical Center, where my dad and daughter ran around on a scavenger hunt while my grandma and I gave up and visited the gift shop after half an hour because it was very hot in there. My dad and I soundly defeated my mom and grandma in cards one night, only to lose just as soundly the next night, despite the fact that we were the sober ones. We also decided that we would like a turkey-shaped ice cream cake for Thanksgiving this year, please. 

Speaking of ice cream, I'll leave you with this list of all the places my daughter and I had ice cream on our fourteen-day six-state adventure. Thanks for a great trip that will hopefully be repeated soon, friends and family. :)

1. Dairy Queen
2. Culvers (twice) 
3. Kopps
4. Zach and Lindsey's house
5. Target/our Minneapolis hotel
6. ColdStone (twice) 
7. Baskin Robbins

Solving the Problems of Humanity

Hello, friends.

If I lived in an alternate universe in which I had unlimited time and resources, I would have a very large house in which all foster children, homeless people, survivors of abuse, refugees, and stray animals would be welcome, healthy, happy, and safe.

Unfortunately, I live in the real world, and solving the problems of humanity is not that simple.

I hear about the situation at the border, where a heartless policy rips children away from their parents, and all I want to do is fix it. I want to storm that old Wal-Mart full of innocent girls and boys and reunite them with their families. But I can't. I don't have the power to make all of those poor children's problems go away.

Occasionally, my caseworker asks if I can take another child. I hate saying no, because I know the ratio of foster children to available foster homes (it's not good) and I know the amount of difference a home instead of a shelter can make (it's a lot). But I have to say no. One child is almost too much for me sometimes, and logistically, it's just not possible for me to take in another one. I say no, but mentally, I'm always calculating what it would take to get to the point of saying yes. Because if I can help, I should be. That's the way my parents raised me. You don't stand by and watch as someone else suffers. You help them. That's just what you do.

So as I look at the situation at the border, I know that I can't actually storm that Wal-Mart and help all those kids. But I know that, just like I'm able to make a difference in the life of one foster child, I can make a difference in maybe the life of one of those kids. Or two. Or three.

This article provides a lot of good information. I recommend you check it out. It's easy to look at a big problem like this and say, "That's too big for me. I can't possibly fix this." And you'd be right in saying that. You, alone, as one person, you can't fix this. But we, together, we can fix this.

"The King will say to those on his right,  'Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.'

Then the righteous will answer him, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?'

And the King will answer them, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these brothers, you did it to me.'" (Matthew 25:34-40)

Coping Mechanisms

Hello, friends.

In troubled times, I have a small collection of coping mechanisms.

1- Binge-watching shows on Hulu/Netflix. For reference, ask me any question about The Flash. (It's possible that I've watched all four seasons in the last month or so.)

2- Ranting over the phone to various people in other states. I don't know how many long, nonsensical calls I've had with people like Lindsey and my parents. All I know is, it's a lot.

3- Eating ice cream. Half-Baked Ben & Jerry's, man. It's the way to go. Speaking of which, I'm out of ice cream...

4- Re-reading my favorite books. Anything by Tamora Pierce is always on the list, but a few others usually end up on my kitchen table too: "Hope Was Here" by Joan Bauer, "Shadow Spinner" by Susan Fletcher, and "The Horse and His Boy" by C. S. Lewis.

Tonight, after exhausting all episodes involving the Scarlet Speedster, talking to Lindsey the past several nights, and running out of ice cream, I've been immersing myself in the life of Shasta (the Boy in the aforementioned Lewis tale). So far, he's run away from home thanks to Bree the horse and met up with new friends Aravis and Hwin.  He didn't exactly intend to meet up with them - they were forced together when lions started chasing after them.

Lions are a recurring theme in "The Horse and His Boy," much to Shasta's chagrin. My favorite part of the book, and the reason that I often return to it, is this conversation near the end.

He told how he had never known his real father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman. And then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all the dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert. And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis. And also, how very long it was since he had something to eat.  

"I do not call you unfortunate," said the Large Voice.  

"Don't you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?" said Shasta.  

"There was only one lion," said the Voice.  

"What on earth do you mean? I've just told you there were at least two the first night, and--" 

"There was only one: but he was swift of foot." 

"How do you know?"

"I was the lion." And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. "I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you."

Shasta had every reason to complain. His life had been nothing but one hardship after another. He tried to do the right thing and failed in those attempts all the time, and even when he didn't, he ended up in worse predicaments than before. But this exchange revealed to him that he was never alone, and through all those trials he faced - and lions he ran from - he was guided and protected by The Lion, Aslan.

All of us have troubles every now and again. Most of us have troubles more often than that. But Shasta's encounter with Aslan is reminiscent of all the encounters I've had with God in which He gently reminds me that I'm not alone or forgotten or abandoned. He's here, even and especially when I struggle to see Him. "I do not call you unfortunate," Aslan told Shasta, because he wasn't. He was blessed to have Aslan in his life in a very real and present way. We're blessed in that same way. God is in our lives in very real, present ways - ways we would never expect and may never know until we get to the heavenly gates. But we can be sure that He's there, guiding, protecting, loving us through it all.

I left out one coping mechanism earlier:

5- Writing blog posts for other people to read, but really for myself on my next rainy day.

Until next time, this is Iowa Girl Meets World, signing off.

Two Years and Counting: Life as a Foster Parent

Hello, friends.

Today, I woke up, woke my daughter up, drove her to school, came home, took a shower, got dressed, and went to work. My secretary wasn't in today, so I only took a short break to come home and grab some leftover pizza before heading back to the office. While at work, I divided my time between VBS planning and brainstorming for my confirmation class next year. I left work, hung out at home for a little bit, then picked my daughter up from school. We spent our evening as we often do: I did chores, she did chores, we ate dinner, we both stared at screens a little too much, and then she went to bed. Now I'm here, typing all of this out for you.

My day-to-day routine didn't change a whole lot when I became a foster parent over two years ago. Let's be honest: I spent a lot of time staring at screens before I was a foster parent. I went to work. I came home. I did chores. I ate leftover pizza.

However, my life in general changed dramatically when I became a foster parent. I became "Mom." Every single parent out there knows there's no coming back from that. Once you're a parent, that's it. And it's wonderful. I love being "Mom." I love the funny back-and-forths I have with my daughter. If you keep up with my Facebook feed, you know what I mean. She cracks me up like no one else can. She also makes me cry like no one else can. Recently she's been coming up to me at random times of the day and saying, "I didn't get my hug this morning." Let me tell you, unsolicited hugs from my daughter are the very best kind.

Her life changed dramatically, too. She's made an insane amount of progress in the last two years. She's matured, she's opened up, she's become braver and stronger and kinder, she's gained confidence and a sense of responsibility and a whole host of positive role models. She's becoming her own person, acknowledging the things that have happened to her without letting them define her, and that's incredible. She's been able to do all of these things because she's had stability, consistency, and unconditional love.

Does she still have a long way to go? Without a doubt. But so do I.

There are some people who question whether my decision to become a foster parent two years ago was the right one. I won't deny that I've questioned that before, too. On the days when I get calls from school, for example. Or the nights when she gets out of the shower and I make her get right back in because she didn't wash her hair. I'm pretty sure all parents have those kind of moments. But all good parents recognize that momentary discomfort or annoyance doesn't change the fact that they're parents, and they love their kids dearly and would do anything - anything - for them.

Has being a foster parent affected my job? Absolutely. I've been forced to learn more about teenagers, and parenting teenagers, and the joys and struggles both teenagers and parents face on a daily basis. What terrible experiences for a Director of Christian Education to have! It's almost like this is a good thing. Because it absolutely is. Nothing about this situation is undesirable for me. My daughter has made me a better DCE, a better Christian, a better person.

Is being her mom hard? Yes, it is. I won't sugarcoat it. But my daughter is a child of God just like you and me. She deserves compassion, sacrifice, acceptance, encouragement, love. Just love.

If anyone can take an honest look at my daughter, knowing that she's in the foster system for a reason, and say that she doesn't deserve those things, that she's somehow "less than" because she's not like other teenagers, that I shouldn't be willing to give up everything for her because it's too hard... well, the simple truth here is that they're wrong.

She's my daughter. And that's not the end of the story; it's only the beginning.

Answered Prayer

Hello, friends. I returned today from a very needed weekend away at OK'd in Christ, our high school district youth gathering. It was a blast, and I have so many stories, but there's one in particular I'd like to share that has very little to do with the gathering itself.

While at OK'd, one of the adult leaders came up to me and asked about my foster daughter. She remembered her from when she was a substitute teacher at an elementary school in Edmond. Since my daughter's in high school now, this was obviously several years ago. And keep in mind, this person was a substitute teacher, not even someone that my daughter would see regularly. This teacher could tell, even then, even with that limited amount of exposure to my daughter, that something was off in her life. She told me this weekend that seeing my daughter again, in such a context, and so obviously happy, was an answered prayer.

This isn't the first time someone has told me that. Last summer, at the First Friday event in downtown Enid, my daughter and I ran into another one of her old teachers, who told me much the same thing. I've had caseworkers and foster care workers who knew my daughter previously share similar sentiments with me. It didn't register any of those times, but it did this weekend: I'm the answered prayer. God chose to answer those prayers through me.

That's a strange concept for me, folks. Of course we talk about these things in theory, and always in the plural - God uses us to answer prayers, he chooses to do his work through us, that kind of thing - but it just really hit me while talking to this teacher: God chose me. Out of all the potential foster parents out there, out of all the avenues he could have chosen, he looked at my daughter's situation and said, "She needs Mary."

I'm not saying this to brag. Don't take this as me being conceited, because as I told this teacher over the weekend, "There's nothing particularly special about me that I'm able to do this. I'm still the kind of person who forgets to turn off the faucet and floods the kitchen accidentally. I'm just like everybody else, except I said yes." And of course, God could have worked through so many other people to be my daughter's foster parent. But the fact is that he didn't. He chose me.

Sometimes, I question why God would do such a thing. Why on earth he would choose someone who can't wake up on time or keep the kitchen clean, why he would look at a short, overweight, out-of-place Midwesterner who still plays Pokemon at the age of twenty-six and say, "This girl needs Mary and no one else." The funny thing is that, when God chose someone in particular in the Bible, they often asked that question, too. They looked at themselves, and then back at God, and essentially said, "Me? Really?" Let me quote some of them for you:

"Behold, I do not know how to speak, for I am only a youth." -Jeremiah
"Please, Lord, how can I save Israel? Behold, my clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my father's house." -Gideon
"Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the children of God out of Israel? ...Oh, my Lord, please send someone else." -Moses

No one is good enough to be chosen by God. We all have inadequacies, limitations, pet sins, problems. And when God chooses us, our tendency is to panic, and ask, "Are you sure?" But God knows all of those things and chooses us anyway. Hear how he replied to Jeremiah and Gideon and Moses. It's very simple:

"I will be with you."

He says that to me, and to you, as well. We have all been chosen by God for something very specific. He looked at each one of us and said, "You are meant to do this - and I will be with you through it." Of course we are all meant to serve God and our neighbor, but he has chosen each and every one of us to do that in a particular way. For me, in this time, it's to be a foster parent. For you, it might be something different.

But I encourage you today to think about fostering. I'm not going to lie to you, it's not easy. I like to say that it's an adventure every day. That's a nice way of saying that it's a constant challenge. Fostering is hard. The kids in care have gone through more than I could have even imagined at their age, and it makes them hard to handle. There's a constant tension between "I feel so badly for you that I just want to spoil you" and "I need to discipline you because you are behaving badly." It's hard to find the balance.

But while it's difficult, it's also incredibly worth it. I've witnessed so much growth in the past almost two years. Despite all of my missteps and failures, despite all of the excuses she could have used to do otherwise, my daughter has grown in leaps and bounds. She's improved in school, in social skills, in self-esteem, in hygiene. She's made friends and gone to church camp and, most importantly, became a Drake basketball fan.

I'm just kidding (although that is true) - the most important thing is that her faith in God has evidenced itself everywhere I look. This weekend showed me that.

There's a certain stigma associated with fostering. I think most people automatically dismiss it before they even consider it. So my plea is this: give it some thought. You might be God's chosen person to change someone's life forever.

After all, it appears that I am. And that's the best feeling in the world.

Our Young People Lost in Parkland, FL

Hello, friends.

As a DCE, I work with young people a lot. On Sunday mornings, you’ll find me providing children’s messages and teaching the high school Bible class. On Wednesday afternoons, I’m hanging out with elementary school kids, leading them in prayer and helping them with crafts. Annually, I lead events like Vacation Bible School and the children’s Christmas program and all-youth lock-ins. You get the idea: I’m with young people, or thinking about young people, pretty much all the time.

Tragedies like the school shooting in Parkland, Florida, hit close to my heart, because it’s so easy for me to close my eyes and picture the victims as young people that I know, young people that I work with every week. Those poor young people, I think to myself, as I am thanking God that they weren’t my young people.

The fact of the matter is that the victims were my young people. I might not have known their names or faces, but they were mine, just like they were yours. We are all responsible for each other. "Am I my brother's keeper?" Cain asks God in the book of Genesis. God doesn't dignify his question with a response, because of course Cain is his brother's keeper. Even if the story of Cain and Abel had played out radically differently - if Cain had not killed his brother in a jealous rage - the answer still would have been yes. We are responsible for each other. Part of being human is taking care of one another. I am your keeper, and you are mine, and we are all the keepers of the seventeen innocent lives lost last week.

The survivors of this senseless attack are angry. They want change; they are demanding change. I'm not pretending to know all the answers, but here's what I do know: we are all responsible for each other. If there's something, anything, that we can do or give or say that will prevent another tragedy like this one, we should be doing it, and giving it, and saying it. 

Let's honor the young people that we lost, and work towards lasting change that will ensure something like this never happens again.

As I said, I am not, in any way, pretending to know all the answers. However, I welcome helpful dialogue that will help me and others learn how we can be better keepers of each other. If anyone had ideas to share, put them in the comments below or on my Facebook post.

My Weird Life

Hello, friends.

My life is weird.

I'm lying in bed, in the dark, after midnight, wearing yoga pants (that have rarely seen yoga) and a Thrivent Financial shirt (that I got for free from church despite not being a Thrivent member). I'm very tired, because it's been a weird couple of weeks, but I can't sleep, probably because it's been a weird couple of years.

It's been hard for me to make friends in Enid, which is why it's so ridiculously exciting when people come to visit me. My dear friend Lindsey came out for a week recently. It's hard to put our friendship into words, but just imagine some combination of selflessness and gummy bears, and that's Lindsey to me. We have so much fun together that we greatly confuse my foster daughter (and most other people we come into contact with, let's be honest).

So Lindsey was here, which, again, was fantastic and she could come every day for the rest of my life and that would be fine, but whenever someone visits there's a lot of driving involved for me and it's exhausting. It also gets me out of my routine.

Then, after (reluctantly) returning her to the airport, instead of having a normal work day the next day, I had a meeting two hours away in Broken Arrow. Then, two days later, another meeting in Knowles, three hours away. Then I think the exhaustion just took over and made me sick, making me miss another day of work. Then, two days later, I had to miss yet another day of work to take my daughter to an appointment in Oklahoma City. So much driving. So many breaks in routine.

My kitchen is a mess, I'm behind in my volunteer side job (writing for The Fandom website - check it out sometime), I probably have bills to pay in my various piles of mail, I'll have to go in on my day off this week to make up some hours, and yet here I am.

Writing a blog post.

I'm so tired.

My life is weird. And there are so many ways to make it less so - I could have chosen a more "normal" career like my parents and my brother, one that allowed me to choose where I live. That way, I actually could see Lindsey every day. (Although these days I'm not so sure if that would happen, Bryan.) I could have chosen not to become a foster mother. That would give me more free time, allow me to travel more. I could have chosen to say screw it and not attend those meetings. I wouldn't be as far behind on everything, that's for sure. Maybe I wouldn't have gotten sick.

But I love my job, and my daughter, and my DCE friends that I meet with. I love my weird life. If you'd told me ten years ago that my life would look like this, I never would have believed it. This isn't what I expected.

God's plan never is.

And isn't that great?