Gratitude for the Plans I Didn't Make

This year I was asked to be part of a writing team for my church's Women's Ministries blog. I get to contribute, along with some amazing women and writers, three different times this year, and I'm honored to have been asked. Here is my first post:

November is the month we are reminded to be thankful. At the top of this year’s November list is my thankfulness that God’s plans far exceed anything I could dream up for myself. In short, I’m thankful for God’s sovereignty.

When Jon and I first got married, we had plans. I was teaching and Jon was a bicycle mechanic. We weren’t going to have kids for at least five years. We were going to travel the world. Open to missions, we assumed God was going to call us to use our talents serving in another country.

In the middle of my first year as a full time classroom teacher, I received an e-mail from my sister-in-law, Danielle. She and her husband, Dave, were spending their first year in Guayaquil, Ecuador. Danielle was teaching at an international school, and Dave was along for the ride. They were living our dream.

Danielle’s e-mail informed me that her school was in need of a 5th grade teacher for the following year and that I should really think about applying for the job. Jon and I immediately assumed this was our calling. God was going to use my teaching credential to get us into another culture, and Jon was going minister to the local people by fixing their bikes and riding with them.

Jon and I knew we shouldn’t get too excited yet, and that we needed to pray. We prayed together, and separately, for weeks until deciding that the next step was to apply for the job. We asked God to let us know if we were making the right decision, and to open and close doors, as we began down this road, as He saw fit.

About a month went by, and I was contacted by the principal of the school. He had filled the position, but he would keep my resume and information for future school years. Ok, God, you made that one clear. We’re not going. We get to stay in our comfort zone, I will continue teaching, and Jon will continue to wrench on bikes. Here.

Two months later I received another email from the principal. He unexpectedly had an opening available and wondered if I’d be interested in teaching 2^nd grade at his school? Jon and I were confused. Hadn’t God already told us no?

We prayed even more. We went through the necessary steps to proceed down the same road we thought we’d been steered off. After a handful of Skype dates, countless e-mails, and more prayer, I was hired. By the swiftly approaching summer, we were scheduled to move to a foreign country, barely speaking the native language, separated from most of our family and friends, and teach in a brand new school. Preparing for all the changes was an emotional bungee jump.

Next came the logistics: collecting paperwork, notarizing documents, getting blood tests, buying plane tickets, selling most of our belongings, packing, and finding a place to live during the interim phase between an expired rental agreement and our departure date.

Summer came and we were ready. We had turned in our keys and stored the few belongings we had left in my parents’ attic. As a married-for-almost-two-years couple we were living in my old room, under my parents’ roof. Waiting.

Four weeks before our scheduled flight to Ecuador, Jon and I had just returned from a dear friend’s wedding in Mexico City. We had both gotten rather sick at the end of our weeklong trip, blaming it on too many carnitas tacos. But we’d been home for a week and I still didn’t feel good. In fact, I started throwing up. Somehow I knew in my heart what the “problem” was, and tested my theory. I was right, and I was pregnant.

To put it simply, my boss told me not to come. His wife was informed of our situation and she told him to tell us we didn’t want to have our baby in Guayaquil. The decision was never ours to make. So… we were both unemployed, living at my parents’ house with one car and hardly any stuff. And I was pregnant.

Sometimes I wonder if Jon and I weren’t listening to God’s direction five years ago. Were we so set on our desired traveling lifestyle that we missed the “no” God was trying to tell us? Were we praying for what we wanted, instead of what He wanted, and assuming He was leading the way?

But my hopeful idea has more depth than that. Is it possible that sometimes God is simply trying to see just how far we will go for Him? We say we surrender all, and we will follow Him anywhere. But will we? Even if it leads us right back to where we started?

How this experience has strengthened our marriage and faith is immeasurable. A short list of God’s provisions in the confusing weeks following our unexpected news includes: Jon getting his job back; me getting a new, more local teaching job; finding an affordable and reliable car; the perfect apartment opening up the same week we found out we were staying…

And a short list of the opportunities which would have been impossible had we moved to South America: me mentoring a HUB group of teenage girls at ABC through their four years of high school, creating eternal bonds and relationships; Jon opening his own bike shop and becoming a well known influence in San Luis Obispo; me becoming a mother and spiritual teacher to two little girls who I love more than life.

My in-laws are still living our dream. But it’s not my dream anymore.

Jeremiah 29:11 – “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”

Election 2012

I felt compelled to write this after a long election season. From smear campaigns to ridiculous commercials, a bombardment of annoying and opinionated Facebook posts to the personal desire to slap some people across the face for being so disrespectful toward the opposite opinion. As much as I love my freedom in this country, I tend to hate election years.

This particular post is another one directed at my daughters, for future elections they will participate in.

                                 

*Exercise your right to vote. It's a privilege, and if you don't use it, you certainly can't complain about how things in your country, state, county, or city are done. (Not that you should complain anyway, but if you don't do anything to change things, don't expect change.)

*No matter what your party affiliation, religious beliefs, or personal opinions, no one man or woman will  lead the country the exact way you want them to. It's impossible to please everyone. I'm sure each president stops trying to fairly quickly once they are put into office, if not well before then. Because it's impossible.

*If you support a candidate, in any kind of election, don't be condescending or insulting to those who support a different one. We are each entitled to our own opinion, and vote, which is one huge reason our country is so great. Vote the way you're going to vote, but do it quietly. It's fine to positively support those you believe in, but don't try to smear the opponent(s). It's a waste of time, and usually makes you look and sound stupid.

*I believe there is one True God, and that Jesus is His Son. Along with this belief is the absolute certainty that my sovereign God does not make mistakes. It was no surprise to Him when Obama got elected in 2008, and it was no surprise to Him that Obama was reelected last night. The bible actually tells us (which it seems to me in the heat of election years that many Christians either forget or choose to ignore) that we are to respect and obey those put in authority over us. I believe that if God didn't want Obama to be our president, he wouldn't be. Vote what is on your heart, and for the one you believe will do the best job. But if your choice does not win, be assured that it was not a mistake. Use your energy to then move forward, and always remember that our president is just a man (or woman someday!)...

Barack & Michelle: the pic Obama tweeted after winning in 2012

*...President Obama is just a man. He is human. He has made mistakes, and will make mistakes, just as any other human being would if he/she were President. He has two daughters. He has a wife. He has things he loves to do. He has one of the hardest jobs in the entire world. Respect the fact that his job is hard and that he is most likely doing the best he possibly can. If you think you can do his job better, run for president. I'll vote for you.

*You don't have to be affiliated with a party. I'm not. I vote for the candidate I agree on the most issues with. This has not always been a Republican, as it has with most of my family. In 2012, I did not vote for Obama or Romney. I personally have major issues with certain stances both of these men take on subjects that are very important to me. I fully realize that some people would argue that I threw my vote away. I understand the reasoning, but I have a problem with the mentality that we should "vote for the lesser of two evils." (I'm not saying Obama and Romney are evil... it's just an expression.) If I don't feel comfortable supporting a certain candidate, I will not do it just because he/she may be "better" than the alternative. My opinion may change as I get older. I realize I'm just a 30 year old with hardly any wisdom, and am still far from having a strong opinion with regard to most political issues. But for now, I refuse to "pick a side". You don't have to, either.

Once the winner is announced, it's done. No need to bash those who voted against your choice, no need to bash the actual president. It's time to respect who was put in charge and live your life. We live free, we live happy, and we live with love. The President won't change that. 

Hypochondriac of the Holy

We moved to Atascadero in 1987. After a few months of church hopping, my family found one to attend called Atascadero Bible Church. ABC is nondenominational. I didn't care what denomination it was, or what denomination meant for that matter: I didn't want to go. Every week I had to be forcibly coerced into going to Sunday School.

First of all, who has school on weekends, and second, why did they force intellectual wonders like myself to congregate with the scum of elementary school society? These kids were stinky, ugly, big fat babies. Some of them would even cry when their moms left the room. Pathetic.

We had to sit around tables in tiny rock hard desk chairs while some lady told us stories with flannel people. One question I asked myself every week: Who cares?

Sunday mornings were quite the battle at my house. I feigned sickness almost every Sunday. "I don't feel good" became the catch phrase after once being rewarded: I'd been allowed to stay home and watch cartoons with Dad, who courteously sacrificed his own church attendance for my sake.

If my mom was lucky, Sunday would roll around and I would actually admit I was healthy enough to attend the service (the fact that as a mom, she had known from the first attempt that I was faking it, but chose to indulge me once out of convenience, was lost on this kindergartener)... but the war was still raging.

I despised dresses. My mom loved her little girl to be all dressed up, many times in fashions she had handmade just for me, with my dirty blond hair arranged perfectly into two rope-like braids; I was more than content in my jeans, shorts, and t-shirts. My attempt to guilt my mother out was the phrase, "God doesn't care what I'm wearing," to which she always replied, "Well, I do." Needless to say, my attitude walking onto ABC's premises wasn't the most holy.

This all changed the Sunday that I joined Mrs. Bennett's Sunday School class. I loved both of my grandmothers, but if I had been allowed to have three, I would have adopted Mrs. Bennett as my third. Her smile caused a sigh of relief as I walked into the room, and she didn't have blue hair like most of the older ladies at church. Her voice was soothing and animated, and even though she told us the same stories with the flannel Jesus, they meant something coming from Mrs. Bennett. She encouraged everyone, and made me feel confident that my colored pictures were the best, even if I'd made Zacchaeus' skin orange and went outside the lines a little bit. Luckily, Mrs. Bennett was my Sunday School teacher for a few years. Just enough time for me to grow out of my "I don't feel good on Sunday morning" phase.

Throughout the years, I'd run into Mrs. B. in the bathroom after a service at ABC, and she'd always greet me with her contagious smile, using my name every time she greeted me.  I even wrote a story about her in third grade as part of an assignment to describe one of our favorite people. Mrs. Bennett was one of the first people, outside my own family, to show me how to love like Jesus, and I will forever be grateful to her for that.

I originally wrote this story, like some of the others, in college. That year I'd become close friends with Mrs. Bennett's grandson, Jon, who I hadn't known growing up because he had lived in Washington until high school. To make a longer story (which will be told later) shorter, Jon and I went from best friends to dating to friends again to dating again to engaged to married over the course of about four years. Mrs. Bennett is now my third grandma. Whether you believe in God, like I do, a Higher Power, the Universe, Fate, coincidence, or whatever else is out there... you have to admit, someone has a sense of humor.