Where “Yes" May Lead You

Twenty-seven years ago, God asked me to work with teenagers, and I said "yes."

There's a story that leads up to that moment (which I won't share with you today), but what was most surprising was:

1) I was twenty, so barely out of the teens myself,

2) I never had the desire to work with teens. In fact, I was a little afraid of them, having had not-the-best junior high and high school experience,

3) I had my doubts. I had no "training." I had no clear direction.

Nevertheless, I said "yes," without knowing where that "yes" would lead me.

Soon after, I started a leading a small youth group at my church.

After graduating from college, I was hired as a French teacher at a private junior/senior high school.

Then I got married, became a mom, and spent about the next twelve years or so NOT around teens. I was hanging out with other toddler moms, chatting it up about nap schedules and cloth diapers.

And I forgot about my "yes," until I got involved in my teenagers' youth theater company (how this happened is another great story).

What a shock! I never would have imagined that I would be teaching music to teens and directing them in shows. And the best part is that I love it! I love working with teenagers and being a supportive adult in their lives.

But along with the highs come the lows.

Two years ago, a lovely, spunky eleven-year-old came to audition for Moana Jr. She then went on to be in The Wizard of Oz and The Sound of Music, making many friends along the way. Shortly after her third show, she was diagnosed with brain cancer, and two weeks ago, she lost that battle. This was heart-breaking news for everyone in our company.

Twenty-seven years ago, I wouldn't have pictured myself in a bedroom, strumming a guitar through tears, leading a small group of girls in singing Christmas carols, witnessing the final moments of their friend's time on earth. I couldn't have imagined our time afterwards in the foyer, crying and holding each other for comfort. And I never would have known that in working with this young girl, I would be asked to sing songs with her friends at her memorial service.

Her service is tomorrow. I feel nervous and anxious. I put my two-year-old to bed, then lay next to her for a few extra moments just to pray. I ask God for peace. And I hear this song in my head.

This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine...

And that's all God is asking from me when I say "yes."

A Fickle Gut

A short post today. This is what I was thinking about in the wee early hours as I lay in bed...

My gut is broken.

And by gut, I don't mean my intestinal insides that be can fixed by changing my diet and ingesting more probiotics, or my changes in appetite throughout the nine months of pregnancy. I mean the instinct inside me that is supposed to guide me through life. Somewhere along the way, during my childhood years, between moving so often, being bullied, not feeling affirmed enough, growing up in the Chinese tradition–a myriad of things–my "guide" broke.

Sometimes "following your gut" is a good thing, but in my case, I would be in a world of trouble, because my gut is not always trustworthy. 

I would take my small revenge–my gut tells me,"You deserve it. He/she owes it to you."

I would be fearful of everything–my gut says, "Something out there will hurt you or your child."

I would doubt myself all the time–my gut whispers, "Don't try it. You'll probably fail." or "Rita, you made a mistake... again."

I would avoid conflict–my gut screams, "Run away! Protect yourself!"

We are broken people living in a broken world. Life happens–the good and the bad–and most of the time, my jerk reaction to the bad is just not reliable. This is a lesson I need to learn again and again: trust in the Word, trust the Holy Spirit's promptings, and trust people I know in the family of God. When I get lax and overly confident in my own abilities, I go with my emotions; then without realizing it, I may choose to take the easy route, the route of self-preservation. But that route is not always the right route. 

Overriding my natural responses and emotions is not easy. It's an uncomfortable place to be–sometimes it's downright painful!–but it's better than listening to the fickleness of my gut.

Surprises From God

I'll cut to the chase. We're expecting Baby #9 in October.

When I had my first prenatal appointment, the doctor asked what is now a routine question, "Was this a planned pregnancy?"

I said, "No, not exactly."

"And you plan to keep this baby?"

"Yes," I answered, when what I really wanted to say was, "HECK YES!" (pardon my language)

Before the baby was bigger than a grape, before we found out if the baby is a boy or a girl (it's a girl!), before I ever saw her wiggling on the ultrasound, I cared for this human.

My husband and I were not expecting another child. After all, I'm 44 years-old. My youngest is now 5. I had become really good at tracking my ovulation cycle, and then...

God surprised us.

And this all happened RIGHT BEFORE the opening of my musical. Not the best timing.

And yet, it was my musical that helped me wrap my head (and heart) around this surprise.

I didn't expect to get pregnant, just as I didn't expect to write a musical. And if I saw Five Children and It as a gift from God, entrusted to me to bring to fruition and share with the world, how much more can this child be a gift?! God surprised me with 3+ years of working on a musical, and if I said "No" to him at the start, I would have never experienced the joy that the musical brought me. And that is how I see this child. There will be years of work involved, but the joys will outshine the work.

Children, ALL children, are a gift. It sounds clichéd, but I must say it, because I hear parents, Christians and non-Christians alike, complain about their children. Some people (Christians and non-Christians alike) think I'm crazy to have nine children. They see children as a chore and an inconvenience. I admit that in my younger years, I would have been whining to God at this point, "How am I going to handle another one? When will I have time to do the things I want to do?" 

But children are people, and we need to fight the urge to think of the people in our lives as "inconveniences." Let us love as God loves us; we are God's children, and we are NEVER an inconvenience to Him. 

The Fruit of the Spirit is....

PEACE!

Don't we all need more peace in our lives?

Not just the clean-and-quiet-house kind of peace, or the lounging-on-a-beach-in-Hawaii kind of peace. I'm talking about the strong, steady peace of being in under God's wings even when a storm is raging all around you.

Last month's "Fruit of the Spirit" box (I'm a bit behind) included a scented candle, rosemary-infused olive oil, handmade soap, a pen, and a small poster that says:

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

What a wonderful reminder as we face the uncertainties of today and tomorrow.

The Big "What-Ifs"

In the past two years...

a friend lost a husband,

a friend lost a wife,

a friend lost a child,

a friend lost a parent to cancer,

and a friend was diagnosed with breast cancer.

This is basically my list of the Big "What-Ifs". 

Other what-ifs aren't so scary. My husband could lose his job–no biggie, been there, done that. Our house could burn down; that's just stuff, stuff comes and stuff goes.

But to lose my husband, my child, my parent, or my health... I have to ask myself, "Would I start doubting God's love and faithfulness? Would I turn from him? or doubt his existence? How would I respond?" And these things could happen to me. Four of these five friends are my age. 

Seeing my friends go through these heart-breaking, soul-crushing times have been the most difficult thing I've ever experienced. The only thing harder would be experiencing them myself. 

But–if this is any comfort to people going through a hardship right now–it's because of my friends that I'm no longer afraid of the Big "What-Ifs." 

Because I've seen my friends go through these times, and come out the other side.

Because I've seen how their faith carried them along when they had no strength left.

Because I've seen our church family surround my friends with love and care.

And because I've seen the Savior cover them in His wings and draw them near, even when He felt the most distant and silent.

There are some changes coming in the next few months for my family, and thinking about the unknown always causes a ball of anxiety to collect in the pit of my stomach. 

But I don't have to be afraid. God is the faithful Shepherd, and through green pastures or the Valley of the Shadow of Death, He is always with me.

Grains of Sand

I reread an old post from December 2011 and found it to be encouraging, in light of my latest post. These photos show grains of sand, courtesy of Professor Gary Greenberg and his book, Grains of Sand. To our naked eyes, sand looks like tiny brown rocks. But when magnified, we can see that each grain is amazingly unique.

Not only that, some are precious gems, just so minute that we don't realize it. Can you imagine... if God can make each individual grain of sand so beautiful, how much more does He care for us? God is in even the tiniest details!

We look at sand and think of it as ordinary and unremarkable, but let us remember that oftentimes the "ordinary" can be extraordinary! We may pass our time daydreaming of doing "bigger" things, when what is important and beautiful is right under our feet: time with our children, calling an old friend, inviting a neighbor over.

Though this is not my home...

I apologize for not having written since... June?! Has it been that long?!

If it helps at all, I started a post in July, then put it on hold. AND I've been using my quarantine time to finish my new book, which I hope will be available to you al before the end of the year!

Other projects I've been doing during this time are:

-making cards for residents at the nearby assisted living facility

-trying new recipes, like ube ice cream (yum!)

-doing crafts with the kids

-reading stories to the kids and teaching my five-year-old to read

And just yesterday, I decided to landscape the front yard.

Now, those of you who have been reading my blog for a while know that my family rent our home, and over the years, I've always had to tell myself, "Don't get too attached. You'll only be here for a few years."

This was partly for my own good. When I first got married, after having moved from house to house all my life, I dreamed of buying a home and living in it until I died. When our attempts to purchase a house failed several times, I had to let that dream go. God taught me that my home is not found in a location, but in the people in my life–my husband, my children, my friends, and my church.

But the down side of a "temporary" home is that I didn't want to invest in anything long term.

"Should I start a garden? Nah, we might have to move in the summer."

We always knew that the owners of this house plan to move in some day. When they deiced to chop down the only tree in the front yard, there wasn't anything I could do abut it. When the sprinkler system broke and the lawn died, I just thought, "Oh well." Every summer, when the lease-end date approached, I found it harder and harder to put my energy into the house.

Then this year, the owners gave us a two-year lease. And maybe it's because I'm feeling listless for the lock-down, or maybe I just grew tired of looking at my dead lawn, but I decided to beautify the front of the house. Even with only a few pots of fruit trees and bright flowers and several bags of mulch, I was able to make my brown yard into something colorful, cheery, and life-giving.

And here's the lesson I learned as I stepped back to look at the beautiful greenery:

Just because a home is temporary doesn't mean I shouldn't care. It's easier to be apathetic and do nothing, but I can add to the beauty, no matter where I am.

And that goes for my temporary home on earth too. There are days (especially in recent months) when I just want to say, "I don't care anymore." I know that life here is short and something better awaits for me. So why try to fix anything here on earth?

But God wants us to be His hands and feet here. He wants us to bring beauty and light to the world, though sometimes we would rather hide for the darkness. Even if I live to be 101, I want to always be doing what I can to share God's love and joy with others.

How can you add to the beauty today?

Joy in the Trials

My husband is currently reading through the book of Proverbs with the family at breakfast time. A few days ago, he read this:

Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox. (Proverbs 14:4 ESV)

When I heard those words, I had to chime it.

"My version is 'Where there are no children, the house is clean, but abundant joy comes by the presence of children.'"

And boy, am I feeling this right now!

With all of us at home, playing, creating, schooling, and working, the house pretty much looks like a disaster ALL THE TIME. We have close to a hundred books checked out from the library. On top of that, my husband brought home books from his office. The little boys have been setting up trains or scenes with tiny army men on the floor. My older kids are drawing and painting and cutting up cardboard boxes. And I'm in the kitchen cooking and baking, and now, preparing for Easter treats. 

But I go back to the proverb (my version). Joy, different from happiness, is rooted in knowing that God has me in His Hands, despite my situation. My children, in their joyful, innocent, trusting way, remind me that I too can trust in my Father. 

Life does not looking normal right now, and there are times when I almost can't stand the chaos, but I can't deny that there is much joy in our house. We are healthy. The children are working on projects together. My husband has spent more time with the kids than ever before. I see the older ones playing with the younger ones, and their laughter is contagious! We may not like living in these uncertain times, in almost complete seclusion, but at the same time, I am noticing the benefits. Whereas before, I would look at the calendar in astonishment and wonder, "Where did the time go?!", I feel like I'm actually experiencing each and every day.

I remember a quote recently shared to me by a dear friend. Fanny Crosby, the blind author who penned the words to the hymn 'Blessed Assurance', wrote this about joy:

Blindness cannot keep the sunlight of hope from the trusting soul. One of the easiest resolves that I formed in my young and joyous heart was to leave all care to yesterday and to believe that the morning would bring forth its own peculiar joy.

And that is what I've been doing–looking for the day's "peculiar joy". 

And one of these joys is music making with my family. We've always had a few reluctant kids who just did NOT want to perform, but now, without the pressure of an actual audience, they are emerging from their shells. For the first time, we've been able to musically involve all the older children in some way. And we've even put our music on Youtube! You can look us up under Homespun Royale (our band's name) or click on this link to hear our version of Ms. Crosby's Blessed Assurance (which actually has all 8 kids "participating" in the video!) 

So at this time, as difficult as it may be to adjust to homeschooling, entertaining, and feeding your children around the clock, find your "peculiar joys". Make memories. Stop to take mental pictures. Thank God for this time together.

The Light in the Dark

I’m sheltering with nine people – my husband and our eight kids. By God’s grace, we have yet to have a major blowup (though no shortage of minor ones), and by God’s provision (through many kind friends), we have yet to run out of toilet paper. 

My main job right now is to break up the humdrum of our day-to-day sameness by making things “interesting” – what interesting meal can I make with what’s in the refrigerator? what interesting crafts and games can we come up with? what interesting virtual playdates and trips can I schedule for the afternoon? So far, I’ve baked apple strudel, we’ve made popsicle stick catapults, and we’ve learned a new line dance.

And that’s been the easy part! The greater difficulty is fielding the kids’ questions.

“Is anyone coming over today?”

“When can we go the library?”

“How much longer will this go on for?!?!?”

I try my best to answer their questions, doing what I can to calm their restlessness, and their hearts. Then back to “cheerleader” mode I go! Who wants to line dance?

The truth is, behind my bold front, I am just as uncertain as my children are. I don’t have the answers. I feel anxious and unsettled too. And so I go to my father, my Heavenly Father. 

James 1:17 (ESV) tells us that “every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.”

During this time of uncertainty, one thing is certain. God knows what lies ahead. He is sustaining us through this time with His gifts of peace and love. He is our solace and aid. And for Him, this isn’t some bold front. He truly is, and always has been, our steady foundation, especially during shaky times. He is our hope, our light in the darkness. 

And this is no flickering candle, no glimmer in the distance, no ordinary light. This is a light that “shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5 ESV). Another favorite verse of mine says, “Even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you” (Psalm 139:12 ESV).

This feels like a time of darkness, but remember this: it is not darkness to the Father of lights. Take some time today to sit with your Heavenly Father and bask in the warmth of His light.

Doing BIG Things

It's that time of year again.

Time to put another candle on the cake. And time to ask myself, "Did I use my time well this past year?"

Sometimes I get frustrated because there is so much I want to do: missions trips, book ideas, art and music. I've always had a great desire to do something to change the world, or in the words of Sara Groves, "and when the saints go marching in, I want to be one of them." I want to do something BIG.

And what have I done this past year? No books, no songs, and definitely no time with orphans in China, with churches in Africa, or with refugees in Iraq. I live a quiet, peaceful life in suburbia, potty training toddlers and driving teenagers around. I am doing so little compared to those who sacrifice their comfort, their health, their income, or their very lives for the Kingdom.

But this I've learned, and I continue to remind myself: doing what God calls me to do IS big. I want to go to Africa; God says, "Tend my sheep... in California. Impact the world here, where family and children are no long valued. Show them what My love looks like. Teach others, and continue to learn from your elders so you are ready when I guide you to a new adventure." And so I make a sacrifice too, the sacrifice of doing what I want.

Living the life God intended for me is about two things. One, there are times when He calls me to step out in courage and tackle something new. There are times when He calls you too. And two, there are times when He calls me to stay put and focus on the task He had appointed for me. And for some of you, this is where you are at. You wonder if there is more to life than this mundaneness. You wonder if you are making an impact on the world. But remember, it is not the size of the task that matters. One child or eight, writing a book or changing a diaper... we may feel that what we do is insignificant, but He never does. Not if we are doing what He called us to do, and not if what we are doing brings Him glory.

Hope When Days are Dark

I haven't written in a while because I didn't have the words.

After losing two friends to cancer, then finding out that our "pet" bird was put to sleep, then saying good-bye to some of my closest friends as they move across the country, then hearing that another friend's newborn has Down Syndrome and has trouble breathing and needs heart surgery, all within a month, I didn't know how to express all the thoughts and emotions in my heart and mind.

The world felt dark, and I found myself in a strange place.

Every time I went outside, I would take a breath and smile at the beauty my eyes beheld, and almost the very next second I would feel tears welling up inside me. Every time I started to sing in worship–sing songs of God's love and salvation–I choked on the words and more tears fell from my eyes. I was having a difficult time reconciling the beauty of the world with the sadness in it. And how the God of love and joy could allow this pain in our stories.

The only thing that kept me going was hope, and not the kind of hope that is really just wishful thinking (this hope disappoints), but the kind of hope that knows, the hope founded in my faith in the God of love and joy. I know that even in the darkness, a Light shines. I know that the darkness would not consume me, even as I felt crushed underneath its weight. I know that whatever happens, the baby, the move, the bird, the cancer, will lead to something good. These stories are not over. 

I don't have all the answers. I haven't stopped shedding the tears. But hope allows me to laugh and smile and continue to strive to love and heal this broken world.  

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. 
~Hebrews 11:1

How to Survive Having 8 Kids (or Fewer) - Part 7 of 7

I have eight children. I have eight pieces of my heart living their own independent lives apart from me. What are the chances that a child will break my heart at some point? The odds are high.

Of all the lessons I have learned as a parent, one lesson rises above the others: I cannot control my children. I can guide them. I can talk to them. I can pray for them. I can love them. But what I can't do (and I really wish I could) is hide my family in a bubble. And in the end, my children are their own people, after all. They need to make their own decisions. So I can do all the "right" things, and there is still no guarantee that my children will grow up to be the people I hope they will be: healthy, wise, Christ-following servant-leaders. 

Sounds hopeless, doesn't it? What's a parent to do?!

But wait. 
Take a deep breath [ i n h a l e . . . e x h a l e ]. 
Because I have great news for you– there is hope!

Tip #7: Trust Your Heavenly Father

A few years ago, I was mentored by a wonderful woman named Cathy. She shared about being a young widow raising her children through their teenage and young adult years, and how difficult it was when her son, despite all their Christian teachings growing up, went through some very rough times. Cathy's heart ached as all she could really do was care and pray for her son. The wonderful part of this story is that her son eventually put his life in God's Hands. He is now a strong man of faith. When I asked Cathy how she felt about those rough years, she told me, "I wouldn't take those years back. Not when I see the man my son has become. He leans on God more because of those years." 

God is writing the story for each and every one of your children. You play a part in the story, but you are not the Author. There may be times when your child makes a decision that hurts you and the family. There may be times when your child makes a decision that hurts him/herself. As hard as it is during those times, you have to trust.

I know this tip may not be as practical as you would like, but I cannot emphasize how very important it is. I could not parent eight children (or any number of children) without God's help. I would be an angry, grouchy, impatient, guilt-and-anxiety-ridden basket case. I would be so concerned with my children's happiness that I would make idols of them while bitterly resenting them. I would strive for the perfect family, at least perfect-looking family, and put so much pressure on my children that in the end, they resent me too.

Cindy Rollins, in her book Mere Motherhood, says it better:

This is not about having the perfect family or the perfect school. Your success or failure doesn't rest on your perfection, just your faithfulness. Your family is going to be a mess sometimes. You could cure this, of course, by not having a family at all, which is the modern choice… Western Civilization does not rest on perfect families but on imperfect ones. Your family and mine… 

A wise person once said not to take too much credit or too much blame for your children. That is comforting… 

One day we will come to the end of what we can do for our children. In those early days our children cannot live without us, but slowly they grow up and move away. This is almost heart-wrenching, but the process also gives us a chance to lean on our Heavenly Father and to trust Him more. God entrusted us with a great treasure. It is our life lesson to hand it back. To let it go.

So pray for your children. Guide them and help them become the people God designed them to be. Love them, truly unconditionally. And remember, with every step you take, that you are not parenting alone. God is walking with you, and your children too.

Ploughing Through

Lately, I haven't felt inspired in the kitchen. Seeing the beautiful colors in the produce aisles doesn't excite me like they used to. Even my usual sure-fire solution of checking out cookbooks from the library hasn't motivated me. And watching old episodes of Master Chef Junior only makes me feel more incompetent. 

But I keep cooking, because I have to feed my hoard of children. Spaghetti. Burrito night. Chicken stir-fry. At least that's better than fast food and less expensive than prefab meals.

I realized this morning, as I was whipping up some boring ol' scrambled eggs for breakfast, that what I'm doing it with cooking is exactly what I do with any creative endeavor. Whether it's drawing, writing, or playing music, there are times when you just "have to" do it. Creative professionals always say, "You can't wait for inspiration to hit. Your craft must become a habit, a job, a task you do even when you don't feel like it." You don't let un-inpiration stop you; you plough through it. And if you draw one thing a day, you slowly get better. If you write or edit a page a day, you do finish your novel. Somedays, you feel like you played 'Rhapsody in Blue' better than Gershwin himself; other days, you feel like you barely managed to play your scales.

The same applies to our Christian walk. In 2016 and 2017, I was in Bible studies and giving talks. So far this year, I have done none of that. I don't have the energy to ponder the deeper things of God, only the little things. And that's okay. As long as I'm faithfully walking with my Lord, I'm in good hands. He doesn't ask that I be always energetically running or joyfully skipping by His side, He only asks that I follow. 

So I'm crawling after Him right now, ploughing through fatigue, selfish thoughts, discouragement, and un-inspiration. But I know that He will provide the energy and the joy. He will draw me into the deeper things. He will be my inspiration.

Trading My Sorrows

My eyes filled with tears as I watched the couple slow dance to 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow'. Ben, gently swaying with his arms around his wife, closed his eyes for a moment. He was fighting back tears too.

It was in that moment that I saw the pain amidst the joy, the duality that defines so much of Ben's life right now as he cares for Judy, who has Alzheimer's disease. He cherishes every smile, even when Judy isn't fully aware of her surroundings. He cherishes every word, even when Judy doesn't fully understand the conversation. And even as Ben lives with this deep pain, God has filled him with a new joy and peace that cannot be explained. When Ben is not with Judy, he is ministering to families and teaching others about Alzheimer's. 

Later, when I had a chance, I asked Ben how he has learned to manage the daily sadness of slowly losing his wife–if he has a routine or Bible verse that helps him get through the feeling when it overwhelms him.

"I don't have any one thing," Ben replied in his quiet way. "But I have learned to let myself feel the emotions."

The words struck me. I had learned at a young age to stifle certain emotions. Strength, I thought, lay in the ability to push through fear, doubt, despair, and sadness and tough it out. Why cry when I could do something about the situation? Why feel sadness when sadness hurts so much?

But as I recently discovered, sometimes crying is pushing through. Last summer, when I found out that I was expecting Baby #8, fear crept into my heart. But I didn't address the fear; I only told myself, "God wants to teach you something. So find the lesson." Then the baby came, and I found my fear realized as I struggled to manage everything. But I told myself, "I can do this. I just have to try harder." All the while, I became buried deeper and deeper in my dark emotions, sometimes lashing out at my husband or children, sometimes beating myself up for not doing enough. Joy and peace seemed elusive. I felt like everything was going to fall apart if I stopped moving. But it was really me that was falling apart. And all I was really doing was putting duct tape on a bursting pipe. I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong… until I allowed myself to cry.* If you've ever watched Pixar's Inside Out, you would understand.

And I discovered that crying goes beyond a psychological or physiological need to expel pain. Whenever I try to avoid feeling loss or pain, I am really trying to hold onto self-reliance. I put on a good front. I tell people "I'm fine." And I keep trying to fix the problem. I try not to feel the pain in the hope that by the time the problem is fixed, I can move on to happier emotions. But in doing so, I also keep a death grip on my pride. Which means my hands are closed, and I am unable to receive help, or anything, from God. 

All this time, I kept asking God to reveal to me what He wanted me to learn, not realizing that I was unable to learn it. That was, until I cried. Until I humbled myself and let go. Until I admitted that I couldn't do it on my own.

I would have found this in the Bible too if I had thought to look. My friend Susan (thank you, Susan!) reminded me that centuries before me, the authors of the Psalms cried out in despair and hopelessness, sounding almost blasphemous as they accused God of abandoning them. David, in Psalm 13, wrote

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?

How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Look on me and answer, O Lord my God.

Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;

my enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

Notice, though, how David ended his song. 

But I trust in your unfailing love; 

my heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me.

David did not just cry out to feel better. He didn't cry out to the sky just to release pent-up emotions. He traded his fears and sadness for peace and joy.

And that is what Ben is learning. And me also. By being honest with myself and admitting my weakness, I find strength, real strength. By allowing myself to fully feel the heartache, I can then be healed. And I've felt joy, peace, and patience return to me, though my situation hasn't changed much. 

Yes, there is a release when you cry, but what's even better is when you can release the emotions and the whole situation to the One who can do something about it.

(*See the post from May 11, When Mamas Need a Good Cry.) 

This is the Day!

When you were young, did you ever sing the song "This is the Day"? We sang this song so much when I was growing up that I used to roll my eyes at it, but now this simple call-and-response song continues to pop in my head at least every other day, and it doesn't bother me in the least. The words "This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it" are straight from Psalm 118:24, and they always encourage me to do three things:

1) To not long for the future.

"I can't wait until my son is older." 

"It'll be so much better when this over." 

There is nothing wrong with thinking these thoughts (in fact, sometimes they give me the hope I need to persevere), but when I find myself wishing for what-is-to-come more than focusing on what-is-now, I'm most likely missing out on something. Every day is totally unique and I am witness to many wonderful moments. Every second I'm alive gives me the opportunity to shower God's love on someone. And no matter how bad things may be (or seem to be), blessings are all around me, if I just take the time to see them and remember...

2) To be grateful for today.

It is easy for me to wake up and tackle the day without giving God a single thought. But everything I have is from God, from the very breath that keeps my heart beating to the magnificent sun that gives us warmth, light, and energy! God made it all, including this very day. I need to remember to thank my Maker for His many gifts! Which leads us to #3...

3) To keep an eternal perspective.

If you read Psalm 118:24 in context, you will find that its author was writing about much more than a holy Carpe Diem.

Open to me the gates of righteousness, 

that I may enter through them and give thanks to the Lord.

This is the fate of the Lord, the righteous shall enter through it.

I thank you that you have answered me and have become my salvation.

The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.

This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes.

This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. 

(Psalm 118:19-24 ESV)

The author rejoices because God has brought salvation to us all! God has made it possible for us to enter into His presence! That is why this day is amazing! That is why we should be celebrating! He is the source of our hope and joy! And so, more than being thankful for today, we should be thankful for the Maker of the day! He has given us Himself!

This is the day (this is the day)… The song goes round and round in my head, as I fight to keep my eyes open after a restless night with the baby, as I try to stay patient while my three-year-old is throwing a tantrum, as I look forward to summer vacation and a break from school, as I push back the darkness of depression and hopelessness. God has given me today, and everything I need to get through it. More than that, He has given me everything I need to enjoy it, despite circumstances. So let us rejoice and be glad in it!

Let there be light!

Wow, this post becomes more relevant to me with each passing day, even though I wrote the first draft almost one month ago.

At that time, I was 39 weeks pregnant and feeling more discouraged, more tired, more sore, and more anxious that I had ever felt while pregnant. I was having strong contractions on and off for several weeks and all I really wanted was to have my baby, but at the same time, the fear of labor pains and my new life afterwards loomed over me at all hours of the day and night.

All I could do was try to stay busy. I excused myself from the family to run to the Chinese grocery store (Chinese food– my biggest craving) and heard this song coming through my van's CD player:

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth

The earth was without form and void and darkness was over the face of the deep

And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters

And God said, "Let there be light"

And there was light

The lyrics are straight from Genesis 1:1-3. As I sat listening to the soothing melody, I was reminded that God is the ultimate Creator. He has been there since the beginning, creating and holding the universe together. And He was still creating now, in me! There was a whole new person inside me! How amazing that I can be a part of God's creation process.

And even more encouraging was the fact that God brings order to chaos, light to the darkness. I picture God's great hand giving shape and meaning to the turmoil and confusion of the uncreated universe. Similarly, anytime I am feeling unsteady and fearful, God guides me through it.

And guided me He did.

That very night, just a few hours after I started writing this post, my water broke. I then experienced my hardest, most painful labor ever because the baby was posterior facing. But after laboring through the dark night, the baby was born at 6:49am, March 4th, healthy and whole. And how perfectly fitting that her name is Nariah, which means 'God is my light'!

But we are still in the midst of the chaos. Nariah is having trouble nursing, so I pumping around the clock, supplementing, and trying to teach her to like the breast again, which also means I can't pay as much attention to my other children or keep up with daily chores. I still have moments of darkness, even more so now because sometimes I feel like I'm failing as a mother, to the baby and all my other children...

Then I remember God's words, "Let there be light!" And I am reminded (again and again) that this present darkness is not forever, not when God is in charge. I may feel inadequate as a mother of eight, I may not know the reason for the timing of this baby, I may want to think that God has made a mistake (or more likely, that I have made a mistake), but those are all NOT true. God is sovereign. God is present. God is orchestrating all the details of my life, and Nariah's young life too.

So be encouraged as I am being encouraged. Maybe you are in your first trimester, or your 39th week. Or maybe you just lost a child. Or you are going through illness. We all have periods of darkness, when we wonder if God has abandoned us or if this time will never end. Remember that God was there at the beginning and that He is in charge. Only He can make something out of nothing and create beauty out of the ugly.

One more thing, if you are looking for uplifting music with lyrics straight from the Bible, check out Seeds Family Worship (and hear the song mentioned above, 'God is Creator' from Genesis 1:1-3). I am so glad my friend Ariel gifted our family with the Character of God CD. Listening to the Seeds Family albums are also a great way to memorize Bible verses!

God With Me

I am tired.

Physically tired. Emotionally tired. Mentally tired.

But I am joyful and grateful. A friend asked me on Friday, "How can you be so calm during all this?!"

Well, it's been a bit of a journey. This is a situation I would have never expected to find myself in.  But let me begin at the beginning.

A few months ago, my husband and I began to notice a strange stench in our bedroom, a foul smell that came from under the house. My husband tried all he could to locate the cause of the odor, but could find nothing. Since we had done all we could, we called the landlord and told him about the smell. We also had to start sleeping on the sofa bed in the living room because the smell  was bothersome and overwhelming at times. We wondered if it was a leak, or mold, or worse.

One plumber came. He could not find a leak. Maybe it is the rain water? he said. I told him about the smell. He said, it must be the rain water.

A restoration specialist came to test for mold. How do I get under the bedroom? he asked. There was no entry that we knew of, I told him. Only these two little vents. Then I can't do anything, the man said. And he left.

Finally, workers came to fix the possible rain water problem. They dug trenches in the front yard to lay a French drain, and they jackhammered the cement in the backyard to level the ground. After two days of noise and demolition, the workers told me, the only way to see what the smell under the house was to go through the bedroom floor. I called my husband and he came home right away to help empty out our bedroom.

We then tried to manage normal living in a house full of furniture and clothes. We continued with school. I went to my prenatal appointment and baked cookies and made split pea soup for dinner. But then one of the workers came to me and asked, Do you want to see what we found under the bedroom floor? I wasn't sure I wanted to, but I followed him to my bedroom.

Under where my bed had once been was basically a pond of muck. Toilet paper and scum floated about. An old, broken pipe stuck out,  the only clue to this mystery. We stood staring into the hole in the floor, flabbergasted and speechless. 

The only solution was for my family to live elsewhere for a few days while the workers shut off the water and fixed the pipes. And that is where we are in the story today.

"How can you be so calm, Rita?!" my friend asked.

Calm. The calmness she saw was an answer to prayer.

My friend didn't know how months before I had been searching daily on Craigslist for rental houses that could accommodate our large family, all the while worrying about the increase in rent. I wanted to pack and move immediately, if only to escape my present  circumstance.

She didn't know about my prayers to keep my baby safe, and for the many times I almost panicked because I couldn't remember when I last felt the baby kick. Then I prayed specifically for a flutter or some sign that the baby was okay, just to calm my heart. 

She didn't know about the night I felt so helpless and anxious that I just cried in bed. I called out to God for peace. And that whatever happened, that I would trust Him through the situation.

He has answered my prayer, times a hundred.

The problem under the house may be a major inconvenience, but it is fixable and not the danger we had imagined. We did not lose our home. We did not lose our belongings. We will not need to move after all.

It has not rained in eight days. The surprisingly warm and sunny weather has only aided in the clean-up of the unwanted water. 

Our friends Jason and Susan enthusiastically welcomed us into their home and said that we could stay as long as we need. I've been able to cook and do laundry. My children have been playing with their children. I can relax and feel at home because of their hospitality.  

We are not sick, in pain, or suffering in any way. My baby is 26 weeks old now and healthy. I feel her kick when I play the cello or sing.

So, this hasn't been the holiday season I wished for, but I have come through this time of uncertainty with a peace that goes beyond the twinkling lights and merry holiday music. 2017 was not the year I had expected it to be. Never would I have thought that I would one day be pregnant with my eighth child and living in my friend's house. But I see the way Emmanuel, 'God with us', has walked with me through the years, and the way He is walking with me now... right into 2018.