The Car From Jesus

This is the story in which our Jesus showed Himself, as always, good and faithful despite our frailties, concerns, and lacking faith. It is that which your prayers and support greatly participated. We were without, and God provided. But not only did He provide for the once pending need, He saw us through in the season of being without. We walked many miles, sometimes in rain, sometimes in cold, but never in complete agony. He gave Medford a mild winter, basically snowless, and He gave us rides in the various cars of the many gracious people orchestrated into our path. Many miles, many cars, the ability to buy groceries, get to church multiple times in a week, and the means for Danny to go to and from work: this is our God’s graciousness. We hoped we’d have a car by Christmas; we remained without. We prayed and sensed the need more eminent, the provision drawing near; January came and went. I had booked a one-way flight to Spokane for March 1st, my return trip mostly contingent upon us buying, or receiving, a vehicle sometime in February. Danny would then drive up towards the end of my visit and we’d return home together… in the car… that hadn’t yet materialized. But we moved forward with our plan.

So many ups and downs through this season; a lot of angsts and frustrations and learning. We knew it would always be by His grace that we’d have and be able to maintain the demands of a car. We have journeyed to a new level of desperate dependence on Him. These are good things, but the moments and days and time that went into their learning was way harder and more trying. “Easier said than done,” seems to be the perfect way to put it.  And there’s so much more to learn of faith and believing and trusting. No one can sum the trials up into a cliché statement. They just are and will be as God has them.

At the beginning of January, we delved, more so, into our car search as we felt the Lord leading. We went in thinking we had a certain amount, test drove a few cars over the months here, and finally thought we found the car. Our “amount” had changed as the Lord called us to use some of it to pay off a specific debt (a huge blessing), and yet we were under the impression of a certain amount yet remaining, enough for us to purchase this car. We went to the bank the day of the test-drive and found out differently. We were short one grand. And we didn’t have it then to spend on a car. More debt was out of the question. Another curveball thrown and in confusion we went on without a car. He knew (He always does), but that doesn’t change the reoccurring frustration throughout life of not knowing, understanding and then dying to know “why.”

So time went on and I wrestled with growing discontentment. The little conveniences of life that a car blesses you with began to gnaw at my mind, along with the humbly dynamic of always asking others for transportation. And time and time again I was challenged with where I place my hope. I knew having a car wouldn’t be a “solve-all” for the struggles of life. If anything, a car brought on more demands. Even more, through our car search process, Danny and I learned to better communicate, discuss, and make important calls as a couple. We grew closer through the season of wrestling. I came to a place of discouragement, with the car and other “life” concerns, to which I merely surrendered. Not exactly a good surrender; I just couldn’t think about it, couldn’t go there, in some ways, I gave up.

One evening, as Danny and I spent time reading, I came upon a verse in Isaiah—simply flipped open to it (yes, sometimes God does work in the “flip Bible open randomly” way.) It was chapter 40 verses 27-31:

“Why do you say, O Jacob, and complain, O Israel, ‘My way is hidden from the LORD; my cause is disregarded by my God’? Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and His understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not grow faint.”

My heart was pierced with the directness of the questions. I had fallen under the belief that God didn’t care, why would He provide, would He really change the situation or intervene in the great and very specific way we needed. The admonition here came so clearly, particularly, too, in “His understanding no one can fathom.” The reminder: His ways are not our ways (see also Isaiah 55:8-9) and the obvious exhortation to place hope in Him once again.

That same night, it seems Danny and I both were individually met with personal encouragement in Philippian 4:19. I don’t know how it all happened, we weren’t necessarily reading Philippians, but the verse itself came to mind (for me at least): “And my God will meet all your needs according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus.” You can’t get much more specific; when it says “all your needs” I’m sure that means “all.” Hope renewed again.

“The car” had already been in motion a whole week prior to these revelations. I was at a church mom’s group I attend at a smaller church in Central Point. There was a discussion group time and I had shared with the ladies at my table about what God had been doing in my life personally through our ongoing “car need.” Immediately after I shared, the gal sitting on my right turned to me voicing that they (her husband and her) were selling a car. In the conversation following I learned that it was given to them by her in-laws so they could sell it for the money: a 2001 or 2002 Ford Taurus. (More of the details came later.) I in turn shared that we didn’t have much to pay for a car, explaining to her how all that came about, and she also acknowledged that they were asking more for it than what we had. But along with that she shared an impression she was getting that they were meant to give it to us for what we had. She had already texted her husband to have him think and pray about it as well.

I didn’t get excited then, I have to admit it. We didn’t know much about the car, and, despite her impression, I wasn’t convinced it was the one for us. I remained very doubtful and skeptical. We were going to possibly see the car the next day, but timing didn’t work out. The days went on and I knew I needed to follow up again (they’d been holding off reposting it on craigslist so we could see it first.) Things finally worked out for us to view and test-drive the car. I felt, shamefully later, very doubtful and rather disdaining about the whole thing. But we got in the car that night, impressed by how well-kept it appeared and the smooth ride it offered, and were shocked to find the real worth of the car. Out of curiosity I had asked and was completely surprised in realizing it was a way nicer model of the car, causing it to be worth much more than we had previously thought. Basically this couple was offering it to us for $1,400 less than its worth. Danny and I got inside the apartment that night skeptical in a whole different way.

We talked. We prayed. There was a sweet process of humbling and conviction to follow. I felt quite ashamed for having thought so scornfully earlier on, harboring an entirely pessimistic attitude, to put it lightly. Immediate reminders of “out of His glorious riches in Christ Jesus” came to mind, for is His church not part of His glorious riches in Christ?? In fact, the context Paul spoke this verse was having received aid from the church in Thessalonica and encouraging the Philippians that they, too, would know His provision. However the Lord chooses, He does it. But the Body of Christ is a beautiful tool, indeed, coming to each other’s needs, much like the human body truly functions.

We remembered times before when God has provided. The ring Danny gave me bears sweet testimony, which we often need reminded of. Danny thought he’d only be able to get me a wedding band, he had a certain “cap” in mind. He came away with a beautiful engagement ring, an estate ring! (even better) that was just perfect for me, and happened to be even less than the sterling silver band he had picked out. God is so good. And, quite similarly, we went to the bank to find we had one grand short of what we needed for the car, we thought, we were going to buy. But God knew He had something far better, and He could do it with the modest amount we had. God doesn’t need fields of plenty; He’ll take the few barley loaves and fish. And He does so much more.

I was reminded of words a dear mentor of mine had shared with me just days earlier: “God never does it the way we want or think. He always does it in a way we wouldn’t expect.” Initially, I never even got excited about this car. I didn’t believe it could be the one! And it was nothing like the “kind of car” we thought we’d get. But it was so much more, because it was Jesus’ car for us.

We were decided and felt affirmed by the Lord as we prayed over it all. Promises God had given us flooded through our heads to our hearts that evening, things He’d given as milestones in past moments. Malachi 3:10: “Bring the whole tithe into the store house, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this… and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it.” This money was all we had for a car; it was His money that He had provided. A word also from the Lord: “There’s always more grace.” He was going to take care of us, never to leave us in the lurch even when mistakes are made, but always extending His care, providing, showing grace.

That night I was restless with all sorts of mixed anxieties: excitement, what if’s, all of it. I was given a line from a song, “release your doubt in My love” and that familiar verse in Psalms, “Taste and see that the LORD is good.” He spoke them so perfectly to quiet my fears. They resonated with all that God had been encouraging us with. Even a song Danny had played on the guitar earlier that night, “I’m running to Your arms, running to Your arms! The riches of Your love will always be enough!” His glorious riches, the riches of His love: our hope.

I could continue to think of so many things. But, to make it brief, we stepped out in faith, and I drove home with the car the following evening. I had gotten in touch with the gal earlier that morning to let her know our decision. And even after letting her know, we found His blessings poured out. I called on some childbirth classes we wanted to sign up for at the hospital, ended being covered by our insurance: free. Setting up our insurance later on: they hadn’t applied a discount we had to the quote we had received earlier: $600 cut off our annual premium. Transferring title: we didn’t have to pay all we thought initially: $86 cheaper. Danny did our taxes: getting an unexpectedly bomb tax return.

God is good, people. He gave us a car. But, for Him, I’m sure it wasn’t even about that. He did so much more.

2012
02/26
CATEGORY
the bio
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So this is how it bodes….

Hello! Much love and greetings from the Porter family “sprig.” If you’ve been wondering, it does indeed bode well. We’ve been off showing Oregon some “Porter” and have officially added two and a half to the Medford population. I consider it a small enough city that this contribution is significant. Danny, me, and little Porter on the way are running loose on this town—and I mean literally, since we are without a car. So we’ve entered the green state involuntarily going green, utilizing our legs and bike like never before. Considering I’m miss preggo now, it’s nice to be whooped right into shape. And Danny manages well getting to work which is about a 20 minute to half hour walk or 10 minute ride.

So with this introduction, you should now be fully aware that we are pregnant, carless, but sweetly employed.  And we have been blessed despite the obscurity of this present state. God provided Danny with a job at Harry and David’s retail store here in town. They have national business selling specialty gift packages of candies and fruits. But he works at a local store, much like a market, and enjoys what he does: mostly stocking and organizing backroom, but sometimes on the floor offering samples and helping with sales. It’s been a timely blessing which includes a wonderful employee discount. It looks like he’ll be staying on past seasonal, but we will need additional employment after the season since hours will drop. Danny already has a quite promising prospect with a newer business: Empire Medical. The company functions as an “in-between” for specific medical providers and medical supply vendors. God truly threw this opportunity right in Danny’s lap. His job would involve phone time with vendors and clients, as well as working with the company’s databases. It’s pretty incredible, since this was much of Danny’s job description during his internship down at GFA. God’s ways are beautiful.

Baby’s cooking! If you didn’t know, we’re expecting a “mini us” in late May. No, we don’t know the gender yet, and yes, we’ve been talking over names. We’ve ruled out “Manny” and “Danica.” And, in conclusion, we’re considering keeping the finalized name a surprise. Also, if you must know, this little event was “planned” as far as our planning goes, since God has the sovereign say in the end. There are now those familiar feelings that life brings of excitement, fleeting anxieties, and surrealism. No one’s ever seen a part- Danny- part-Monica. It will be a sweet thing, indeed. I was recently approved for OHP (Oregon Health Plan) coverage, and have been on the hunt for the right practitioner. God willing, I’m hoping to be seen by the end of the month or early January. I will then be due for the renowned “gender-disclosing” ultrasound.

God’s been so good to provide friendships and fellowship. I made a sweet friend over the past month; her name is Petra. She and I connected quite quickly, and, upon meeting, we were astounded to hear she had done an internship at a ministry down in Dallas area over the past two years. It wasn’t GFA, but still! CRAZY! She has been a HUGE blessing to me; I was in dire need of a friend. Danny has also spent some sweet time with a group of brothers from our church. And we’ve met some great people who’ve offered us rides, fellowship, and, one brother sometimes even lends us his car. We cannot forget to mention the Wilcox family (who also moved from Spokane and attended our church there). Their friendship and generosity in helping us get settled has been such a God-send. And we were blessed to be able to help them, earlier on, with some of the renovations on their new home down here.

To get down to the nitty gritty, transitions have been hard. For me personally, this season has provided a lot of time to process things past, which, though good and needed, has been a struggle. Danny, too, desires patience for where God’s placed us now and continues to seek Him for the vision He has for our family. We’re both still learning much about functioning in our roles of “husband and wife.” Yet God has blessed us so sweetly with a closeness that keeps growing. The prospect of being parents scares me, excites Danny (goes to exemplify our different personalities, wink*), and leaves us both anticipating a great unknown. It’s a battle to cling to God’s promises, but they, and He, will always remain steadfast and true. That’s gotta be the handhold when times get “testy”; they have been… I’m reminded of a song: “Oh, no! You never let go! Lord, You never let go of me!”

We miss Spokane and all of you, particularly during this Christmas season. Our hearts will forever remain where there actually is snow. We feel lavished with your love, your support, and your prayers. And we long for our plethora of coffee shop “hubs” with all of the barista family we have grown to love and cherish as well as the bagels. We most definitely await our next visit with great anticipation and longing. But for now, we pray you are well, enriched by the rough roads, encouraged by the smooth (not talking about the potholes), and, most importantly, that you would know, beyond any doubt, that you are dearly. Loved.

 

Take care & many blessings,

Monica, Danny, and Baby

2012
01/06
CATEGORY
"sitting" thoughts
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This Christmas

I am reminded by a faithful friend (my husband) that I am very good at talking about the bad things. I hate to emphasize the fact that I can very easily maintain a bad attitude, but there it is. I’m a pessimist. He has also pressed me with the truth of simply trusting God—in the everyday things, to remind myself to trust Him. Many of you who know me well could readily say this has been my issue for far too long. And I suppose it has been. But, despite my stubborn unbelief and my constant wrestling, I have to remember… to trust Him even there. For whatever reason I seem to be taking forever in learning my lesson here. But for whatever reason it’s come to that, and I gotta keep hope: He never lets go. I’m not so easily lost; nothing can separate me from His love; no one and nothing can snatch me from His hand.

So, with all this said, I would now like to write a Christmas tribute of thanksgiving.

My husband is a remarkable man. He is patient, steadfast, willing, and kind. Throughout my scores of complaints, my bouts of verbal turmoil, and, sometimes, my truly needed times of conversational processing, he has stood beside me, offering encouragement and incessantly seeking to point me to the Lord, His trustworthiness and love. I cannot overlook this blessing. God knew how much I needed my husband’s heart and, likewise, his beautiful companionship. I have a man who loves me fervently, despite my many frailties. And this, I know, is from God. Danny Porter was made for me. He is hot. He is a hard-worker, honorable, a deeply caring and sensitive man, and, above all, he is a lover of Jesus. I know that his heart bears sweet testimony of God. I need him.  I love him. Thank you for my husband, Jesus.

This season seems to completely illuminate the beautiful family I’ve been given. The sweet friendship God has coupled with my relationship to my parents is so unique and, perhaps, rare. Being away from them for the first time during this tradition and memory-packed holiday, skype has been a lifeline. Seeing their faces warms my heart. Their laughter, shared humor and love is quite simply the best “Christmas lights” I could ever have to adorn my home. Even more, I have my sister’s constant “skype company” which sometimes includes joy-filled glimpses of the cutest and most beautiful niece anyone could have. Jillian is one of my best friends and has blessed my life with the sweetest “older-to-younger” sister relationship. I love her dearly and love how well we compliment each other. She has an awesome husband, an amazing brother-in-law. I love having another brother. And I am lavished to have an older brother, Trent. “The older brother” role is something I feel has a lot of weight. I am so glad he’s the one to fill it. In so many ways, I really don’t mind being the youngest. Having older siblings to look up to is quite an amazing things. And I cannot forget my lovely sister-in-law Marci. Marriage is so beautiful; it expands your family to include such amazing people. Marci is now my dear sister. And I love her mucho. Thank you for the grace of my family, Jesus—these and so many others: grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, and the “adopted-in”.

My hometown, Spokane, is so dearly missed. The coffee shops, the friends, the familiar that still bears the name “home” for me, it’s all there in Spokane. I love my parents’ home, the place where I grew up, the memories and love that come with that territory. I love the “second homes” I had strewn about—the Brown’s house (Aunt Michele, Uncle Garrett, cousins Shea, Amanda, Teagan, Kelly, and Lukas). Amanda has been a long-time “bestie” who I will always hold near and dear—many a childhood memory of playtime, of junior high craziness and high school fun, of last-minute study sessions for college exams and long bus trips to and from school—she has been a beautiful companion. Calvary Spokane, too, has been like a home to me; so many amazing friends, and quite a remarkable “family” had developed there over the 12 years I called it my church. The list of people could go on and on: Mandy, whom I grew up with and love dearly, Collin, Keith, the Pollicks, the Nerrens… God, thank you for so many loved ones.

I am thankful for the plethora of amazing coffee shops that Spokane possesses and the many friends we have there “over the counter.” I have a deep respect for barista’s, particularly at local shops, for it seems they bear a lot of scrutiny for the service they provide. No excuses for bad service given, but everyone of them have a heart, a background, a story. And Danny and I both have found some sweet friends in many of them. Not to mention the impeccable coffee and food that many of our favorite shops claim. We miss them. But I am thankful for them.

God has been good to me. And I cannot forget to thank Him… for Him. For remaining zealous, persistent, and true, even when I fail to believe and trust. I am thankful that He’s given me, and everyone, the chance to know Him, and have life to the full. I am thankful the profound heart that He bears, that I am longing to truly know and love all the more. I am thankful that He remains sovereign no matter the craziness of life. I am thankful that He never gives up on me.

This is my tribute this Christmas. God is good.

2011
12/23
CATEGORY
"sitting" thoughts
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Christmas Time Is… Approaching

No, I can’t say it’s “here”, for as I write it’s only early November. But I’d have to confess that even October awakens my thoughts of Christmas. So much so that I can’t even stand the wait through November. I’ve already begun my earliest attempts at DIY creativity for handmade ornaments and “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” even now, sets my heart in such an atmosphere I can’t contain myself. There has been many a cup of peppermint hot chocolate to stave off the chill in our old apartment.  And you have no idea to what extent my heart rejoiced when Starbucks featured their holiday drinks in those lovely, red cups. To this day, I consider the peppermint mocha “Christmas in a cup.” So these festivities commence and it’s not even Thanksgiving. But my excitement will not be restrained! I love and adore all the sounds, smells, wrapping of gifts, and décor that tells of Christmas. It has been an obsession of mine that has only grown to flourish since my childhood whence I’d begun to initiate and oversee the heaving of boxes upstairs to open and make my parents house turn to magic. In later years, it was almost left upon me to undertake the task. I did it with relish and joy.

And now, I have a home of my own. This is Danny and my first Christmas together, so the sentiments of the coming Christmas have excited me all the more: the traditions to discover and make, the things I’ve collected to adorn our home, the baking to commence. But something has overshadowed the initial excitements of the season, particularly my desire to spoil husband, friends, and family with gifts. (This is most definitely part of my love language; I cannot deny it.) We are, let’s say, on a tight budget. Thus, the NEED for creativity and DIY ideas. I have never had to push myself to this kind of “craftiness,” if you will. But, as my sister told me, it will surely make this Christmas far more sentimental and meaningful. More heart and creativity must go into it now, and, perhaps, even more thought.

I, myself, have been a tug-a-war of mixed feelings. Part of me has found a different excitement over the simplicity this Christmas calls for: I realize, amidst this frugal time, that I have little need and even my wants for this or that indulgence has seemed to wane. And yet, my urge to give and spoil, to wrap an array of gifts with such anticipation, to see my home screaming “Christmas” with all the lights and trimmings, has caused a spout of discouragement. I certainly can’t do all I would, given the means. It’s not something I wish to complain about. But it certainly a good reality check! And, even so, it causes me to evaluate what I really hold most dear about Christmas. Yikes! Heart check!

It’s not that all these things that fall under “the most wonderful time of the year” are wrong. But they take quite an easy tendency of capturing the full attention of this time and season. For others, this may be the bigger significance to Christmas. And then there are some who loathe Christmas altogether. This may be due very much to an overemphasis of presents and family. But I know that if everything was stripped away; if there were no gifts, no tree with all its trimmings, no home with all its red and green cheer; if there wasn’t even much to rejoice over at all, Christmas would remain a sounding gong and call for celebration. And perhaps I need a Christmas just like this one to put me in my place on the matter. Or maybe it’s still a part of the process God has me in to show me what is far more important. I call it a process, because I’ve struggled with the real weight of Christmas for some time now. And I’ve always wanted Christ’s birth to overtake my heart with the same joy proclaimed in “Joy to the World” along with all those beautiful yuletide hymns.  It’s been a constant struggle. But I know God has been working to make the storybook idea of the nativity a true, tangible, breathtaking reality.

And, with that acknowledgement, I suppose I’m content. I will discover, rediscover, and grow in the fact of my Savior coming as a impoverished babe for the precise intent to reconcile and redeem what sin has raped and soiled. Even as of late, I have become better acquainted with the unruly deficit in my life, in this world, because of sin. And I pursue the power that saves: nothing but the blood of Jesus. As the song goes, “He lived to die.”

The celebration begins with His life here. The redemption plan thus commenced. And with all the joy Christmas already excites in my life, how much more? I will continue to bask in all the beautiful Christmas festivities. I will remain a lover of the scents, smells, sounds, that thus follow. And, as far as I’m concerned, I will only become more passionate towards the season. His life reborn within shall make it so.

Joy to the world

The Lord has come

Let earth receive her King

Let every heart

Prepare Him room…

2011
11/21
CATEGORY
"sitting" thoughts
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present

I sat quite alone. A comfy chair bore me as its twin stared on; directly across the little table; empty. Deep breaths: the air-conditioned scent of coffee going on about. Music chattered along with the two girls seated a ways off. People pended, and others gathered private thoughts of their own. And I sat quite alone.

My Bible opened and presently laid on the little square before me. Lines were read, mental notes taken, and the thought entered that I—with half drunken espresso, brief journal entry, and an immediate sense of loneliness—was accompanied.

I made nonchalant glances at the chair opposite, then thoughtful perusals of the others in the room. My thoughts extended towards this idea. Having felt merely left here, a subtle comfort grew. My company sat there: enjoying, with me, the warm radiance of sun through glass and perhaps supping Their own preferred drink. I lounged back in my chair to sit and be. Their presence merely encouraged my silence. I absorbed it with the friendship dwelling near again. And I took another swig of my peppermint mocha.

2011
11/07
CATEGORY
"sitting" thoughts
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Chapter 9: an unforeseen beginning

“The LORD will keep you from all harm—He will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.” –Psalm 121:7-8

This is the watermark of my story and the promise God gave me Monday, October 11th. That morning we awoke early to set out on our 11 hour adventure preceding the new life adventure awaiting us in Medford, Oregon. I was blessed once again in knowing He was with us, His hand upon us, His heart pouring forth blessing as we followed Him.

We were accepting His invitation: “new life”. I felt as though He was standing there, hand outstretched, smiling with strength and irresistible love calling me to Himself, to take that faithful hand and walk with Him into something far greater than anything I could possibly ask or imagine. I had longed so much and dreamed for so long to get away with my Jesus.

But before He took us down this path, He had to break away so much that bound me. When I first threw my girlish hopes into the idea of getting away with Jesus, it had a different motivation lingering with it: self -identity. I wanted to go off and become my own and establish a certain “Monica” that had only been in thought and theory. But Jesus saw far better than me what was good and perfect. So instead of embarking on some idealized journey of identity, He stole away my passion, broke my ambition, and left me waiting sometimes in such thick darkness to what He was doing and whether or not I would make it. But I think today is a testimony that I have, and not by anything of my mental will power or stupendous faith, but purely by the fact that Jesus draws near to the broken-hearted, that He carries us when we finally realize that we aren’t nearly strong enough to walk the road of life.

So I waited. Sometimes I wondered if I was falling away. A year had gone by, and I seemed worse off than I had been: back in high school when I had zeal and actually read the Bible. But Jesus convicted me, and so encouraged my heart, with the story of the Israelites in the desert. I had been looking back on my walk with the Lord, believing that I had been better off before; I had been looking back to Egypt thinking everything was so much easier there. Just as the Israelites had talked of their place of bondage like some fond memory that seemed so sweet in the midst of their wandering, I, too, found myself hovering on the past as something far sweeter than God’s deliverance. Jesus was telling me through this that I was in bondage and everything He was doing in that year was delivering me from it. And now, I see this long road as one of blessing. “My Father… is greater than all; no one can snatch [me] out of my Father’s hand” (John 10:29). He alone keeps me. And He has.

Since walking this broken road, or rather being carried through it, I suppose He’s found it good and right to call me away. And in this I now find relief and a new longing to simply know Him: know the sweetness of my Father, the love of my Husband, the grace and goodness of my dearest Friend. I have come to a decision of faith over fear that stood between me and Jesus; it alone held the tilt upon His open-handed invitation. My whole self needed abandoned to His faithfulness, care, and provision “for life and godliness” (see 2 Peter 1:3). I had to choose to simply believe and bank on what the Word says about God. And in it, I have found freedom.

This is the introduction to my story. Therefore, Danny and I finally began our journey down to Medford—the place He had called “a haven” and “the promise land” for us.  We were going to be with the Lord, to follow Him and make dwelling with Him in this new place. Psalm 65:4 is written in my promise book: “Blessed are those You choose and bring near to live in Your courts! We are filled with good things of Your house, of Your holy temple.”

The move in itself wasn’t the only “step of faith”, you might say. It was the beginning to a series of digging down deep, touchin’ the “touchy” stuff in our hearts. And, for me personally, I faced the very thing of “live by faith and not by sight”. So as I chose the way of faith, God rushed in with sweet blessing. I know this is part of the new life He desires to lavish me with; it’s truly a new life of crazy faith. Hasn’t been necessarily easy. But I have become convinced that it is worth it. All to know my Jesus.

In lieu of my “faith decision”, God provided the comfort and encouragement I needed to sustain me in faith. Because I found that, even after choosing to believe and obey God, the way is not entirely easy. In fact, crazier things began to take place and other doubts and fears would loom; the enemy pursued me, tempting me with “did God really say…” and everything that had been so natural to me and my though-life. So there, too, I was met with the perfect word (and, I mean, right in the midst of the craziness): “Times of darkness come to the faithful and believing disciple who is walking obediently in the will of God” (Streams in the Desert, Oct. 7th entry).

So we had been driving for about two and a half hours. Kennewick was our first pit stop where we also enjoyed a good bit of Subway. We’d made great time. Back on the interstate heading south: I followed Danny in the ol’ Buick feeling more comfortable having him lead in the u-haul. We neared the edge of town and found ourselves hitting the last bit of traffic lights on the way out. At the last, which perhaps I hadn’t even really seen coming, I glanced to the left out my window for a mil-a-second look and turned back realizing that Danny was nearly stopped only feet in front of me. My foot slammed the brake. But I already knew the horrid feeling that I wasn’t going to make it. Right into the steel bumper of the u-haul my car finally stopped. I was astonished. Danny quickly pulled away to cross the intersection and find the shoulder. For a second I sat in shock and then quickly made my way into hysteria. I couldn’t believe it. The man sitting in the turn lane at my left asked if I was ok; he came over to my door while Danny sprinted across the street to the car. I could only cry. My first accident. And the steam from the hood told me the car was lost. Danny had me slowly maneuver the car across and to the shoulder. I was fine aside from my shock and tears. We were both ok. Even the u-haul made it with barely a scratch. But the car was totaled.

So began our adventure! Our car was towed and I found myself on the phone with Nancy Atkins who I knew had lived in the tri-cities. My dad was already getting ready to head down to join us and get us the rest of the way down. But I was hoping that we might find some kind of respite with one of her friends. She made the contact and Jackie Wade gave me a call. Oh my goodness, what a sister in Christ. Provision and blessing thus commenced. She took us to her home ten minutes away and welcomed us in to rest, eat, whatever we needed. She helped us make contact with one of Nancy and Marty’s friends who owned a collision auto place in town. Free of charge, our totaled car was towed to his place where he freely kept it until further decisions were made. Jackie, and the tow truck guy, both helped us unload our poor car into Jackie’s van.

That night my dad arrived and we were all invited to stay with the Wades. We were overcome with their hospitality: beds, dinner, and sweet fellowship. How good is God? He had held true to the promise: watching over us and keeping us from harm. How could we ever have experienced such provision had the little “bum in the road” not taken place? Praise Jesus.

So here I am today, the 12th, writing as we continue this excursion. My dad follows us in his car as we near our new home. What a blessing it is to have him along, and that he could even break away to come and help us. I’ve gotten to sit with my dad as we drive and listen to him share how much God has been working in his heart through everything. I am so entirely blessed and spoiled to have such a sweet, loving dad AND Father.

Only about an hour and a half away: my excitement is renewed. Joy floods my heart. And anticipation sweeps me away with the road now behind us.

2011
10/18
CATEGORY
the bio
the personal
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Because of big windows and flowering, glass vases

The flowering opaque vases became smaller as they approached the wide open window—smaller merely because the window was on the opposite side of the room farthest from me. Even so, the vases were more like a selection of little jars, differing in shape and size. The flowers too, bunching at their rims, sat nestled in their own array: flecks of purple pansies, and then sorts of other wild sprays—pink, yellow, white, and magenta. Their tables each reflected it’s own light from the gaping hole in the far wall. For it was a bit unlike a window in its hugeness and for the mere fact that a garage door would hide it in transparent glass.

 

But through it wafted the chilly summer breeze: a foreign thing for mid-July. The grey landscape shifted and swayed with its weight. And even the flowers in their little glass vases would feel it gently. Signs marked with beverage choices and food selection swung lightly at the air’s wake. And then I sat simply with the roundness of table extending beyond either side of me. An unattended game of Scrabble accompanied me in its box at my right along with a watered-down bit of latte chilling at the bottom of its plastic cup. Ads lied abandoned near the edge of the table, an Inlander blanketed the Scrabble box and an empty muffin paper lingered with its crummy contents. I gnawed here and there at my ever-receding nails.

 

And then rain spotted the asphalt beyond the open wall. Its scent overtook the breeze and overwhelmed the surroundings. The flowers would’ve welcomed the moisture so familiar if not for the room’s shelter. And then I supped on diluted coffee and continued to chew on my pathetic nails. The world outside sat in its haze and I gave in to it. But something about the lackadaisical weather seemed restful and fresh like the scent of its rain. And that is what wooed me to simply sit and write. In the haze of such days it seems as though the haze of sleep where dreams are built and fashioned to source a kind of inspiration. But the inspiration always seems fleeting—stuck only in those moments and merely reflected upon. Much like the short-lived sprinkle of the rain outside the big window are those rising emotions, euphoric with a special sort of hope.

 

These days will find me ever so often. And I can only submit to the thoughtfulness and study within them. Their objectiveness arouses a studious girl sleeping inside. She comes out to play with the scents and smells of rain and dance underneath the overcast skies. But deep within me she lies nestled in sleep awaiting these days and moments where the coffee is good, outside it’s cold and rainy, and the atmosphere inside abides calmly with welcome to her games of thought and fancy. This is what charms me to write in coffee shops, to sit for hours reading, writing, reflecting. And it’s God who envelops these moments and minutes, sometimes hours that pass. I can’t seem to escape the slight ecstasy and intoxication. He knows me too well. So then I go on to write things lyrical in hopes of something meaningful to arise from the pictures and thoughts.

 

So it is. And here am I. And here God is.

2011
07/21
CATEGORY
the essays
the stories
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Listening to Shawn McDonald

There is something comforting about it: the music plays from the iHome into our quiet, little apartment, Shawn McDonald sings about God. And in his songs God takes shape outside of a commonly dropped three-letter word. Perhaps “takes shape” isn’t even the right way to put it, because the mystery of His presence and the vastness of His being seems to cover the room with a greater ambiance than the trendy, eclectic furnishings or even the music itself. In the mood of the music lie promise, hope, and inspiration for something bigger amidst a bland setting.  Everything’s dim, but in the beat of low strings and rich voice springs a joy that lingers with soft delight, enough to light the room of the apartment… and my heart.

I could pin it on the music, I could give credit to “the mood”, but nothing so inanimate can claim what is purely supernatural. God does this for me. And for me, it’s called encouragement.

Shawn McDonald sings live in Seattle, which is caught, captured, and released into our solitary apartment to make joyful noises against the white walls. The couch is one of many things accompanying the walls. And I am on the couch. I think of how Shawn would go on the road with his praises and how in those very verses it seemed to testify of the very road he was on. The road with God. I must be responding to his music because the words say something of my own heart. Something that has really needed to be said, acknowledged and told. I don’t even catch all the lyrics, but I long with the heart that is there. Being filled with God’s love, needing God; it all sounds rather general, but there is a depth that goes unsaid yet sings out with the ensemble. And I’ll sit alone, on my couch, the black fan nearby oscillating, and I’ll drink in more than the water resting at the coffee table. God is here. And He encouraged me.

2011
07/09
CATEGORY
the personal
the stories
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Chapter 8: restless sleeper

I’m waiting for something. And the waiting is difficult. Because there’s a desire… but there’s no knowing. And so much has grown to appear vacant and ambiguous; I only hunger. “What is it, Lord?” I so long to live, work and do something I want to do! Something I am truly impassioned with–delightful and so free. I want what’s for me! And I don’t even know what it is. I find myself jealous of college graduates and high schoolers going off for their majors. They’ve found something, or at least spotted something that intrigues and draws them. And all that once inspired me seems sleeping.

I don’t know what to do during the sleeping. Because I don’t know who I am  and what I’ll be when I wake and when I’ll ever wake! I’m stuck waiting for a dream to happen. And I don’t even know what that dream is… but I know it has to do with me and a purpose. But I guess dreams happen in sleep now, don’t they…

Perhaps I have just grown so accustomed to daydreaming that I haven’t discovered how to truly do the latter. Daydreams were under my mental control whereas dreaming in sleep is proposed to me.

So I guess the challenge is getting comfortable with sleep… and letting You do the proposals.

2011
06/18
CATEGORY
the bio
the personal
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a call to magnificence

I want Christianity to be something magnificent—not merely something I do, something I believe in, or even something I am. I want to run on the understanding that Christianity isn’t an ideological fad but rather a complete wonder. And this not so much for it’s name, tradition, or even creed, but I desire a complete awe and captivation of Christ. He becomes the “being” of and in Christianity rather than me “being a Christian”. I don’t want to make myself unto a decided characteristic of idea or belief. I want the “being” to happen within me, of divine nature, to so unravel and refute my human-laid efforts and bear into my life something magnificent, miraculous, but real. And in this reality alone do I desire any identification as “Christian”. When I am won by the person of Christ, infatuated then enthralled then, even more, devoted to His love—merely responding completely and utterly to His tenderness, mercy, and sovereign love—then, I find, identity with Him becomes me, that all of His divinity is “being” in me. And to remark of myself that, “I am a Christian” is nothing of sustenance by my own means, but rests simply as nothing amidst the reality that He is in me. He is Christ. And He is in me. And I remain nothing. And to make for myself the identity called “Christian” will only be another shod human insecurity amongst many. For if I am not loved, and by “loved” I mean receptive, responding to, and remaining in His love, then the person of Christ will not stir me and a life of “being” Christian is merely “me” off to master something, to merely call myself successful.

Christianity, therein, is nothing of relationship, as it so faithfully proclaims to be. It remains the rules and the religion the rest of the world often views it as. And its central figure, God made flesh Himself, is forgotten as humanly personable, forgotten as God reconciling man to Himself, and forgotten as the redeemer of intimacy between the creation and its Creator. He becomes “something” to follow rather than “someone” to know, trust, belong to and with. And without the closeness of this relationship, it all becomes nothing; it all falls to ruin and waste. And though human relationships take, sometimes, exhaustive efforts, I trust the one who bears the name “Love”, who designed every piece and part of communication and interaction and intimate intertwining, can, and indefinitely will, keep that which He has shed blood to restore; He will move mountains to still His beloved children in His loving hands. And for that reason I find the responsibility of “making all things right” a burden unnecessary and wholly impossible for man. Peace-seeking is noble and sweet, but we have and never will achieve such a precious entity. And, in fact, Christ Himself became peace in all He accomplished in being born as a man, living as a man, dying as a man, and yet, all along, being God and, as God, overcoming the death of man. So Christ is the life behind Christianity. And without Him, it all becomes a thing of doing, doctrines to believe and live by, and everything rests hopelessly two-dimensional. And I do not want to “be” that. I want to “be” with Him, acknowledging Emmanuel, “God with us”, to such greater degrees that Christianity would, in all reality, impassion, engage, captivate, and win the lost child that I am.

 

2011
01/07
CATEGORY
the essays
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