The first day of school is always exciting.

You get to use your brand-new backpack and lunch box for the very first time.

You get to wear your brand-new clothes that Mom has said “no” to every day since you bought them.

You get to color with those brand-new crayons that have NEVER BEEN USED.  They’re not broken or dull, and they even have the little paper wrappers still on them.

You get to see your friends again and have a new classroom and a new teacher and a new routine.

And, if you’re lucky, you lose a tooth moments after you arrive home.

Or at least that’s how Crisana rolls.

As she got ready for bed last night, we had to make preparing for the Tooth Fairy part of the routine.  She brought out all the stops: her tooth treasure box, a candle to light the way, and - in case the Tooth Fairy was confused - an explanatory note.

And of course, the Tooth itself, tucked carefully away in the Tooth Treasure Box, awaiting the arrival of the blessed Tooth Fairy.

And in the morning, she discovered a crisp new $1 bill, which she promptly announced she was giving - along with her “2 quarters” (really a dime and a penny) - to church for the children at the Yellow House in Monterrey, Mexico.

Exciting times.  In fact, so exciting, she decided to do it all over again…losing another tooth moments before our neighbor arrived to pick her up for school.

And that’s the tooth, the whole tooth, and nothing but the tooth.

Tomorrow morning if you wake up

and the sun does not appear…

I will be here.

Days of darkness…we’ve had our share.  Job losses.  Deaths of parents and loved ones.  Cancer.  Times when it seems like a dark cloud is hanging over us.  Times we’ve wondered if the sun would come up in the morning.  Through it all, we’ve been together.  We’ve held on to one another, relied on one another, comforted one another, and reassured one another.  Looking ahead, there are sure to be storm clouds on the horizon.  It’s somewhat frightening, since we have no way of knowing what those storms will be.  But I promise you today, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

If in the dark we lose sight of love,

Hold my hand

and have no fear:

I will be here.

Times of stress, of fear, of doubt.  We’ve had our fill of those, too.  Financial struggles, endless to-do lists, pressures of work and family, the constant struggle to balance ministry and marriage and parenting.  When our emotional wells run dry it’s easy to lose sight of “us”…to begin blaming…to fight and argue…to demand and expect and withhold.  But in the end, we’ve always come back to one another, found ways to rekindle the flame of our love, been able to reconnect in our hearts and souls.  Looking ahead, we still have a lifetime spread out before us, filled with years of work and ministry and family.  But I promise you today, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

I will be here when you feel like being quiet

When you need to speak your mind, I will listen

And I will be here, when the laughter turns to crying

Through the winning, losing, and trying

I will be here.

Times of trial, of trying and failing, of striving and falling short.  Times when each of us has felt defeated, lost, and unsure of ourselves and our abilities.  We’re very different, you and I.  But God brought us together because we fit each other so well.  Your strengths complement my weaknesses, and I’d like to think I smooth out your rough edges.  When I fall, you’re there to pick me up.  When you fail, I’m still the one who cheers you on and encourages you to try again.  We’re not perfect, but I believe we’re perfect together.  Looking ahead, I know there are potholes in the road.  There will be detours and wrong turns.  And so I promise you today, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

Tomorrow morning, if the sun comes up

and the future seems unclear

I will be here.

Times of uncertainty.  Times of fear, doubt, and questions.  Times when we’re not sure which way to turn, which direction to take, or how what we’re supposed to do.  Sometimes it seems like God has been silent.  We’ve felt alone, with no direction or guidance, fumbling our way along, hoping to stumble across the path God has chosen.  But we’ve never truly been alone.  God’s always been there, even when we haven’t seen or felt Him.  And we’ve always had each other, to lean on, to talk to, to share the journey with.  We’re still walking along this road of life as it stretches toward the horizon.  Looking ahead, I can’t see where it all leads.  There are hills and bumps and twists and turns, obscuring the road signs.  So I promise you today, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

Just as sure as seasons are made for change

Our lifetimes are made for these years

So I will be here.

Times of change.  Changing jobs, changing responsibilities.  New addresses, new homes.  Different ministries, different churches.  The only thing that stays the same is that nothing ever stays the same.  In our years together, we’ve witnessed a lot of change.  There have been changes in the world around us, but also in our own little world.  We’ve had friends come into our lives for a season, only to leave abruptly.  We’ve been engaged in activities and ministries that have energized and captivated us for a season…and then faded away as our interests waned and our focus changed.  But through all the changes, I could always count on you as my constant companion.  The one who would be by my side, holding my hand.  The one who’s encouraged me to grow in areas I never expected.  The one I’ve poured my heart into and watched blossom into an amazing husband and father.  Looking ahead, I can’t see who we’ll become, or how the road ahead will change us.  I know there will be seasons of plenty and of want, of harvest and planting, days when the winter winds will howl and days when the warm spring breezes will blow.  And I promise you today, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

I will be here

And you can cry on my shoulder.

When the mirror tells us we’re older, I will hold you.

And I will be here

To watch you grow in beauty

And tell you all the things you are to me…

I will be here.

Times of remembrance.  Times to reflect and look back on where we’ve been.  We’ve shed tears as we’ve laughed so hard we could hardly breathe.  We’ve shed tears as we’ve experienced losses so deep they’ve torn at the very fabric of our souls.  We’ve created memories that have interwoven our hearts so completely it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Our friendship has always been the basis of our relationship, and on that friendship and shared faith we have built something of beauty.  We can speak without words, through just a touch or a simple look.  Looking ahead, I can see the crow’s feet deepening, the grey hairs multiplying or simply falling out.  The effects of gravity are inescapable.  But still I promise you, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

I will be true to the promise I have made

to you and to the One

who gave you to me.

Times of renewing.  Times when I am reminded just how deeply I love you and how grateful I am that you love me, too.  Times my heart is nearly bursting with pride to share your name and be called your wife.  Times I am honored to call you my husband.  But none of this would be possible without the One who brought us together.  Through a divinely choreographed dance, God’s hand guided us along the twists and turns, the hills and the valleys, to that straight and narrow path to the altar.  As I stood before our family and friends and even God Himself, I made you a solemn vow to love you, cherish you, honor you, and be faithful to you to the end of our days.  Looking ahead, I can see us walking together along that road, hand in hand.  Sometimes it’s a leisurely stroll, other times it’s more of a sprint.  No matter what, I promise you, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

Tomorrow morning if you wake up

And the sun does not appear,

I will be here…

We’ll be together…

‘Cause I will be here.

Times of togetherness.  Now and always.  Looking ahead, it’s just the two of us.  Living life in love together.  No matter what, I promise you, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

Sometimes, I’m such a twit.  I can’t tell you how glad I am that God, in His infinite patience and endless love and mercy, never actually says that to me.  But I’m sure there are times He must feel like it.

This epiphany came to me this weekend after spending several days trying to climb out of the deep dark emotional funk I’ve been in.  The circumstances of the past couple of weeks, coupled with a never-ending list of stuff I gotta do, have worn me down.  Physically, I’m tired.  Mentally, I’m frazzled.  And spiritually, I’m empty.  The sum of all these parts is depression.  Darkness.  Despair.  And as much as I hate being in that place, I’ve been unable to find my way out.

Until this morning.

As the sun pierced through the windows in my studio, it was like God opened a ray of light into my soul and spoke directly to my heart.  I was re-reading our passage of study for our Uganda trip meeting when suddenly He had me park here for awhile:

I am not praying that You take them out of the world but that You protect them from the evil one.  John 17:15

As I meditated on this, He gently moved my eyes back a few verses to read this:

I have told you these things so that in Me you may have peace. You will have suffering in this world. Be courageous! I have conquered the world.  John 16:33

And then He sent me here:

Consider it a great joy, my brothers, whenever you experience various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.  James 1:2-3

You’re probably more of a quick study than me.  By now, you’ve probably noticed a theme, a trend, an obvious connection.  Eventually, I did too.  But what struck me is that these verses contain a promise, too.  Maybe not a happy, all-warm-and-fuzzy, let’s-get-together-and-sing-Kum-ba-Yah kind of promise, but a promise nonetheless.  These verses promise us that as believers - heck, as human beings - we will experience trials.  There’s no escaping them.  We might as well accept that fact and be prepared, because it’s gonna happen.  Cancer.  Job loss.  Accidents.  Political strife.  Some trials are more difficult than others, but there is no escaping that promise.  Trials will happen.  Life is hard.

Oddly enough, as God reminded me of this promise, I began to feel energized.  Renewed.  Fearless.  And - ironically - hopeful.  Crazy as it seems, this reminder that hardship is inescapable, that trials are promised, that life is difficult brought me a sense of calm and restored optimism.  Because there is more to the story.  Like all optimists, I search for the silver lining.  And there’s a big one.

Our trials have a happy ending.  It’s guaranteed.  I don’t know exactly what that happy ending is, because it’s different for everyone and unique to each situation.  We are protected from the evil one.  Christ has overcome the world.  We have the strength to endure - which means an end is in sight.  We will get through it.  We will succeed.  We will have joy once again.  Just read those verses again and I’m sure you’ll see it.

Is it any wonder, then, that this song spoke so deeply to me this morning as I had the privilege of singing it at church with my favorite trio?

Most people, when they are preparing for a mission trip, spend a lot of time shopping for supplies for international travel.  They shop for new clothes appropriate for the culture in which they’ll be traveling and the work they will be doing.  They purchase snacks and little travel-size toiletries and certain creature comforts which may be difficult to find in a foreign land.  They get immunized and ensure their passport is ready and do research on their country and maybe even learn a few words in the natives’ language.

So what do I do?

I get my team together for a COPY PARTY!!

I couldn’t understand why one person was particularly excited about this event until I realized she thought I said, “COFFEE PARTY.”  Needless to say, my party didn’t exactly live up to her expectations.

We met up at church yesterday to begin the VERY BIG task of copying the materials we will use during our ESL lessons.  With 72 children, that means a lot of copying, cutting, collating, and laminating.  I must admit, I get a serious adrenaline rush just thinking about it.  Seeing the ideas in my head come to life, watching as our team comes together for a common goal, knowing we’re doing something good and making a long-term impact in the lives of others is enough to boggle my mind sometimes.

But enough about deep thoughts and serious moments.  So there we were, makin’ copies.  On the copy machine.  Bein’ the copymeister.

And for those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, here:

(disclaimer: I have tried to find an original online but this is the best I can do.  It’ s not as good - or as funny - but he does capture the essence pretty well.  Just put Rob Schneider in the place of the Richmeister and imagine it’s an SNL set and you’ll be all set.)

In my last post, I was “abiding.”  That was before the past four days.  I know Mom said there’d be days like this, but we’re more than halfway to a full week…and counting.

I almost don’t even know where to begin.  This has been a week of daily tragedies.  Something new every day that rocks my world, shakes me to the core, and tests the limits of my faith.  Something new every day that causes me to cling to the feet of the one on the throne, to grab the very soles of His feet and hang on for dear life, to trust that somehow, some way He knows what He is doing and has all of this chaos under control.  Something that makes me lift my tear-filled eyes to meet His, searching, seeking for assurance and answers.  Something that makes me realize how incapable I am of handling life on my own.  Something that makes me know how desperately and completely I need Him.

So, in a nutshell, here is the week-at-a-glance…and bear in mind, it’s only Wednesday.

Sunday

We received word that the organization we will be working with in Uganda - an organization that is dedicated to rebuilding the lives of orphans devastated by years of war and civil unrest, an organization whose very name infuses HOPE into the lives of the hopeless, an organization of peace and love and healing in Jesus’ name - was the victim of serious (and false) legal and political accusations.  In order to protect those involved, I will not share the nature of these accusations, but be assured they were serious enough to shut down the whole operation and destroy all that God has spent the last three years building up.

Monday

I awoke to the horrific news of the bombing in Kampala.  Our church had just sent a team there to do church planting/revival and medical clinics.  In fact, Sunday’s worship service was a celebration of their trip and reports from the various team members who participated.  One of the local nurses who worked with our group lost her 26-year-old daughter in the bombing.  And most of you have probably heard of the tragic death of Nick Henn, who worked with Invisible Children rescuing Acholi orphans from devastating circumstances.  Though I don’t have a direct connection to Nick or Invisible Children, the organization I will be traveling to Uganda with (and yes, we will be traveling through Kampala on our way home) also supports Acholi orphans.  We are definitely on the same team, and for that, I feel a special kinship with Nick Henn.

Tuesday

We received a call from some dear friends whose lives have become intricately layered with ours over the past couple of years informing us that the husband had been seriously injured in a motorcycle accident that evening on his way home from work.  Though his injuries do not appear at this point to be life-threatening, they are multiple and serious, and will require a rather long rehabilitation.  To make matters worse, it was the day of their 14th wedding anniversary.

Wednesday

And then came today and an unforgettable “good news/bad news” phone call.  We had planned to take advantage of a discount ticket opportunity to visit Hawaiian Falls for the day.  Matt had gone in to work and would plan to meet us around 2:30.  The kids and I would arrive closer to lunch time and enjoy a picnic-style lunch before splashing our way through the afternoon.  About 11:30, as I was on my way to the park, Matt informed me that the good news was he was leaving then to meet us, since he had the rest of the day off.  The bad news…you guessed it.  He also has tomorrow off.  And Friday.  And next Monday.  And so on.  And so on.  A baker’s dozen of employees were let go today and he was one of the “unlucky 13.”  And while we are optimistic and have faith that ultimately God will provide - a new job, finances in the meantime, and full funding for my trip to Uganda now that we have no “fallback” option - that doesn’t mean that the process is easy.  It’s discouraging.  It’s disheartening.  It’s depressing.  It’s stressful.  And only God knows what the future has in store - for us, for Matt, for our home and ministry and family.

At this point, I might be tempted not to wake up tomorrow.  To fear what lies ahead and what tragedy awaits in the next 24 hours.  But thankfully I know the One who holds tomorrow:

• He’s the Judge, who will deliver justice to those who oppose His plans.
• He’s the Conqueror, who will destroy His enemies and reign victorious.
• He’s the Great Physician, who heals our wounds, and restores us to life abundant.
• He’s the Provider, who ensures our needs are met above and beyond anything we could ask or imagine.

He is.  He was.  He ever will be.  And I will choose to cling to Him.

I’m happy to report that Mr. Scale and I have reached a truce of sorts.

Sure, he’s still a bit stubborn and, frankly, a tad arrogant.  And I am by no means perfect, though I think I’ve made far more of an effort to change my behavior this week than he has done to change his attitude.  But whatever.  He can be like that.  Because I have a new bff to hang out with: Ms. Measuring Tape!

See, when Mr. Scale gets all pigheaded and bullish and refuses to compromise or see things my way, I can go to Ms. Measuring Tape.  She is all kinds of niceness and positive reinforcement.  Because she confirms what I’ve known all along: that regardless of what Mr. Scale tells me, I’m thinner, leaner, and trimmer than ever!  And those smaller sizes I’m now wearing reinforce that she’s right.

So even though Mr. Scale still tells me I’m about 15.5 lbs. away from my goal, I can rest assured knowing that I’m making progress in other ways.  And that’s all the motivation I need to keep going.

Today is Earth Day, a celebration of the world we’ve been given, the beauty contained within it, and the responsibility we’ve been given to care for it.  While the “official” holiday of Earth Day has only been around for the past 40 years, that mandate is as old as the earth itself:

The LORD God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. (Genesis 2:15)

Like Adam, we have been given the task of being good stewards of what God has entrusted to us, and that includes this spinning top we call “home.”  What better way to celebrate earth day than to express my gratitude to my Creator God for the beauty He has given us in the world we live in.

I’ve been privileged to experience moments of true awe in nature.  Times when I believe God has taken me aside and given me a tiny glimpse of His glory.  Moments when my senses and my soul are overwhelmed with the beauty, majesty and perfection of creation.  Moments when I am drawn to a standstill and simply sit, or stand, or bow in awe of my Creator, the Master Artist Himself.  Moments when my heart is filled with worship and adoration for Him.  Moments when I am humbled to think that He would want to share this beauty with me.

So today, I’m grateful for the beauty of God’s creation:

• for bluebonnets in Texas in the spring
• for the blazing color of fall foliage in New England
• for the dazzling beauty of freshly-fallen snow and frozen winter landscapes
• for sun-kissed beaches of white sand and turquoise waters
• for the majesty of snow-capped mountains
• for canyons, grand and otherwise, carved out of the earth
• for flashes of jagged lightning, streaking across the sky
• for waterfalls, flowing out of hidden streams into inky-black pools
• for the diversity of our world, from lush, tropical jungles, to spartan desert landscapes
• for shooting stars across the African sky

For the beauty of the earth - ALL of it - I am grateful.

What is the American Dream?

• White picket fences.
• A house.  That white picket fence would look awfully silly without one, don’t you think?
• A 2-car…no, make that 3-car garage.  Better yet, a 4-car garage with 2 cars, a boat, and a workshop.
• 2.5 kids.  And a dog.  Maybe even a cat, and a goldfish to round it all out nicely.
• A steady job.  Preferably with a 6-figure income.  And health benefits, 401K, and vacation package.

The list goes on and on.  The perfect body, the perfect clothes.  The best schools, the uber-involved schedules for parents AND kids.  Attending church on Sunday, and volunteering in civic, social, or religious clubs.  Living the dream.

Because, at its core, that’s what it is.  A dream.  A facade.  A sham.

Life is most definitely NOT like that.  At least, not all of it.  We may be able to grasp part of the dream, but it’s like catching clouds as we watch the rest slip through our fingers.

Today we began a new sermon series focusing on Living the Dream.  And tonight in our life group we talked about what the American Dream embodies versus what God’s dream is for us.  There was plenty of food for thought as we reflected on our priorities and how easily we get caught up into chasing things that are not really that important.  How we look at what we DON’T have…what we THINK we want…and forget all that God has given us.  Can we look past our circumstances and be happy with what God has given us?

Well, it’s either that or “bad things happen in threes.”  But since I’m a positive person, I’d rather look on the bright side.  Whatever cliche’ you use, the results are the same: the miracle of multiplying food at Taco Bueno has struck again.  For the third time.

As has become custom for me on Wednesdays, I was headed through the drive-thru to pick up lunch in between piano students.  I already had a drink, and I was low on cash, so my order was simple.  ONE item.  My favorite: a vegetarian black-bean burrito.  I ordered, was told my total, gathered my cash, and proceeded to the window to pay and receive my order.

And somewhere in between, a blessed miracle occurred.

For you see, when I opened the bag after driving away from the window, I noticed not ONE wrapped food item, not TWO wrapped food items, but FIVE.  It was obvious, even though they were wrapped, that at least one was burrito-shaped.  Some were taco-shaped.  Some were even quesadilla-shaped.  None were vegetarian black-bean burrito shaped.

I’ll be honest:  I was tempted.  Tempted to take the food and run.  Tempted to be grateful for being the recipient of another divine blessing over my Taco Bueno order.  But when I discovered that there were no vegetarian black-bean burritos…and remembering the last time when I had been cheated out of my cheesecake chimis…well, I knew there would be no rejoicing in this meal.

So I turned the car around and headed back through the drive-thru.  I rolled down my window and in my sweetest southern drawl informed the attendant that I had not, in fact, received MY order.  Sheepishly, he admitted, “You ordered the vegetarian black-bean burrito.  I think you got a #5.”  And in a flash, my miracle order was reduced to one vegetarian black-bean burrito in a little plastic bag.

And I was happy.   Not as happy as I would have been if they’d thrown in a free mixed berry cheesecake chimi, but happy nonetheless.

Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done

and what I had toiled to achieve,

everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind;

nothing was gained under the sun.

Ecclesiastes 2:11

Yep, that pretty much sums up my NCAA brackets after this weekend’s games.