Sometimes I am afraid that if you read my blogs you might think I am always emotionally processing something. You would be pretty much right, but this isn’t the whole part of my life. I should probably write more lighthearted blogs about how wonderful my husband is and what homeschooling material I am using and funny stories from the mission field, but I don’t. I put those on Facebook or leave them for real life conversations and let my blog be the outpouring of all my inner drama. A requirement for our ministry is that the staff send their blog posts to their boss and boss’s boss. I always feel like I should preface the email to them with the link to my most recent blog post by saying, “Hello Gentleman my dad’s age. Here is my 30 year old female PMS blog of the month.
They are gracious, and my boss tells me often, “I read your blog. It was very good. I am praying for you.”
And I imagine him saying under his breath as he walks away, “Lord knows you need it.”

All that to say, Prepare yourself readers. I got some inner drama to share…..

I discovered something in my 20′s. I am an introvert. I don’t feel comfortable with mingling and chit chat. I don’t like women’s events where everyone is sniffing in their tissues, but no one really knows the reasons behind everyone’s sniffling. I feel energized from having time alone. And I have a phobia of talking on the phone. With the realization of all of this, I kind of (wrongly) came to the conclusion that this meant I wasn’t a people person.

I have been working hard the last few days on coming into agreement with God. I started out by reminding Him of some situations in the past where I have been hurt, and He followed it by pointing out some times in the past where I have just been plain wrong. So I have spent my dish washing time the last couple of days agreeing with Him that I have some sin I really need to fess up to and I’ve spent some laundry folding time really meditating on how I have not and am not aligning with God’s word in these areas. As I have come clean with Him, as I have formed each word of confession in my mind and articulated to the Lord my desire to be aligned with His will and purposes, He has forgiven me and began speaking beautiful grace into my heart.

He has shown me breaking news: that although I am an introvert and stink at small talk, I am very much a deeply relational person. He has taken me back to hurt after hurt after hurt and shown me that the root comes down to the fact that it wounds me deeply when people I feel like God has placed close to my life don’t show that they care about me on a deeply relational level. Either they distance themselves, or their closeness feels fake and polished, or they set themselves in a place of being over me, but not for me. Because of who I am, this wrecks havoc deep into my soul. And it’s hard to shake off.

So here’s what Jesus is showing me; what I am learning…..

#1 That He loves me deeply. He is deeply relational just like me. He understands me. He made me in His image, and he identifies with this part of me. He will never not love me in a deeply relational way. He knows how to help me with the soul pain that can come from being a deeply relational person. He knows how to free me from the sinful side of this strength.

#2 It’s a weird dynamic being a deeply relational introvert. I can push you away when I start to feel crowded, but love you deeply at the same time. I can want so bad to be your close friend but not have the social stamina to do what it takes to get to that level. I often feel heart wrenching guilt that I am not an extrovert, because I feel like it would better show you how much I love you if I were. It makes me think of one of my dearest friends who I only see a couple of times a year. She’s the kind of girl who will run across the room screaming when she sees me and jump on me, wrapping her legs around me, and squeeze the life out of me, while I stand there awkwardly patting her on the back. My insides are so excited, but they just can’t quite get themselves out in the open to show it with near the exuberance. Thank God she still keeps hugging me.

#3 Everybody isn’t like me and I need to learn how to not take that personally. When someone opens their heart to me, I open mine too. Every time. I won’t pastor you or advise you or correct you. I will open my heart back. I will find a part of my life that can relate to what you’re going through, and I will share it with you even if it’s deeply personal. That is what I do. That is my love language. It’s the sixth one the book doesn’t talk about. The love language of openness. On the flip side, if I open up first and in return you pastor, advise, or correct me without opening yourself to ME, that hurts me. It makes me feel insecure and vulnerable. It doesn’t feel like you want to be relational. And that is where my God-given deeply relational personality gets me into trouble. I expect you to be like me. I expect you to love like I do. And that’s going to keep me dealing with soul hurts all of my life. I am not allowed to be mad at people for not being deeply relational. Deeply relational needs to mean that I love you no matter how you love me. Deeply relational can be hurt, but then it has to learn how to let go. As a deeply relational person, it is vital for me to have a deeply relational prayer life so God can teach me how to let go of hurt, because on my own it is hard. It’s impossible really.

#4 I am an asset. My husband is relational as well, just not deeply so. So he relates with who I am to a point….which is perfect. The rest of the time he just holds me and begs me not to think so much…which is perfect. I can be a strength to him with my deeply relational personality. I can be a strength to our work here. He has a pastor’s heart. He loves people. He can draw them in, but I can make them stay. Because I open us up. I am 100% okay with being real. I am 100% okay with people knowing my mess. I am 100% happy to know your mess and love you anyway. And I kind of think when you open yourself up to people who’ve opened themselves to you that you’re bonded for life. You’re soul brothers and sisters. I don’t know but maybe that’s kind of like being the body of Christ.

#5 I am not the only one like me. There are others of you that love like I do. And you have soul pain that keeps you up at night sometimes. Your deeply relational, raw, sensitive, vulnerable soul has had more moments of rejection than you can count. Chances are likely that your pain hurts even worse than mine, because I’ve heard stories that wound me just to hear them. I am so, so, so very sorry for your hurt. I want to wrap you in my arms and hold you and weep out loud, but I can’t because I am an introvert. But I want to. I don’t want to pastor, advise, or correct you, I just want you to know that I know how you feel. I hope that you don’t lose the person God created you to be because you’re tired of being hurt. I hope you don’t decide you’re not a people person. I hope you don’t stop being open. I hope you and I learn how to accept love that looks different than that which comes natural to us. I hope that we can let God help us let go. And most of all I hope that we can realize that there is no more fulfilling deeper relational relationship than the one Jesus wants to have with us.

Today is Camden’s birthday. And it’s Saturday just like the day he was born. I remember that day so well. I was amzed that he was there but traumatized at the same time. Wondering how I went through THAT much pain and was still living and breathing. I remember sitting in a daze on the twin bed in his nursery while both sets of grandparents passed him around oohing and ahhing and taking pictures of him and thinking “What have I done to my life?” I was 21 years old and in charge of a 6 pound living, breathing baby.

We kept him alive. It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that. He didn’t want to sleep. He hated his crib and his bassinet. I thought I would die of pain every time I nursed him. And I felt this almost scary instinct to be on high alert to protect him from any imminent danger. Like the contractions that I was so unprepared for, that mama bear feeling knowing that I would do ANYTHING to protect him kind of freaked me out.

Eleven years later I still have days where I have no idea what to do with him, and I still know that I would do ANYTHING to protect him. He has changed so much over the years, but he’s changed me even more. He has stretched me and challenged me and softened me and convicted me and sanctified me.

I reminded him today that it was a year ago tomorrow that we told him that we would be moving to another country. We talked about how devastated he was to know he would have to leave his friends and home. I told him how strong I thought he was for getting through this year. I asked him what his thoughts were when he thinks back to then and then thinks of now. He said, “I am more happy now but more stressed.” Blake and I looked at each other in amazement. “EXACTLY!” What a perfect description of stepping out and following God on a scary adventure. Stressful but a deep down feeling of happiness that we are where we are supposed to be. Thank you Jesus for the gift of hearing wisdom come out of our 11 year old’s heart.

I thank God for giving me the grace to be the mom he has needed this past year. Not that I’ve been perfect, but we have sure built our relationship to be stronger and closer. My mother in law came for a visit a couple of months ago. Usually when Grammy is around I have to take several steps back to protect my heart. He loves his Grammy and really doesn’t care if I am around or not when he’s got her. But it wasn’t that way this time. He, of course, still loved having his Grammy here, but he stayed attached to me at the same time. He would sit by me. He would seek me out. He would hug me. It was one of the most precious realizations that I have ever had in my life as a mommy. That I am DOING this. That I am being a mom to a preteen boy and that I am doing it well. Again, not perfect. But I am doing it.

I can’t believe I have a preteen. I am sad sometimes that I am no longer a mama of toddlers but instead a mama of big kids. I remember ME being a big kid. I had my first crush when I was 11. I wonder if he will? I wonder how I will handle that? Right now it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. But 12 years ago having a baby didn’t seem like that big of a deal. It’s funny how things sneak up and surprise us. How we respond in ways we never thought we would. Blake and I so thought we’d be the coolest parents EVER since we had them so young, but I’m realizing that whether you’re 21 or 38 when you have your first baby, you are still going to surprise yourself. You’re still going to learn a whole lot about yourself and you’re still going to be totally “un-cool” sometimes.

I have had my cool moments here and there. Like when I saved Camden from a bee. I have always been scared of bees. Really scared. But one time when Camden was a baby I ended up in the car with my mom, Camden, and a bee. I became like a ninja. Covering my baby with my body and attacking that bee like my life blood depended on it. That’s what Camden has done for me. He’s made me face my fears. He’s made me be strong when it wasn’t in my nature. He’s made me fight for what God has given me. I am better because of him.

I know we have some big years ahead of us. I know we are going to need some major help from the Holy Spirit. But I’m ready. I am excited. I am not accepting that the teenage years are going to be torture. I am expecting that they are going to be happy, stressful at times yes, but still happy. Because being his mom is exactly where God wants me to be. Happy Birthday to my 6lb skinny baby that is now a 70lb skinny 11 year old. I’d still fight bees for you.

Hope turned 9 on August 7th.
She has had a lot of changes happen this year, and she has shown us that she has the perfect personality to adapt.

She is flexible.

She is persistent.
She is a quick learner.

She is friendly.
She is a leader.
She is accepting.
She is funny.

I feel like she has been the person that has assured us that we are going to do well here. Watching her soak in Guatemala and the people that we have met has been inspiring and comforting. If the baby of the family can do this and do it so well, then we all can.

She is a performer. She wants us to watch her and praise her. Her gymnastics, her dancing, her tricks in the swimming pool, the way she has organized something or drawn something or created something. She isn’t a private person. She needs people. She doesn’t want to be in a room by herself and begs for Camden to sleep with her every night. She is appalled when I see someone I know in the market or when we are walking the streets of Antigua and I don’t shout their name or run after them to say hello. How could I miss out on such an opportunity?!

She is the extrovert of the family. The only one.
We need her. We are thankful for her. And we adore her.
Happy Birthday Esperanzita!

I have learned a thing or two and heard a thing or two about missionaries and their/our quirks. During our missionary training school they told us lots of stories and warned us and prepared us on how not to become crazy and how not to burn out fast. Then we get here and have heard lots of stories of missionaries in all kinds of organizations doing this exact thing: coming crazy and burning out fast. And as much as we convinced ourselves that we wouldn’t, sometimes I can feel it already knocking on my door a tiny bit…the crazy – that’ what’s knocking….not that I’m inviting it in…but sometimes I hear it knocking. Go away crazy.

Crazy, not as in I think I might start rocking back and forth and mumbling to myself, but crazy as in an over-zealous desire to make my reality match my dreams. An aggressive, impatient, insensitive, inflexible attitude that wants to prove to myself (and everyone else) that everything I left behind was, in truth, worth it.

It doesn’t help that I’ve been imagining being a missionary since I was 11, but a girl has to talk herself into moving to another country even when it’s what she always dreamed. I had to talk myself into it when we put our house that I loved on the market and had strangers stomp through it in dirty shoes and with critical eyes. When we sold our furniture for which we had saved for years for a small percentage of what we had paid. When I laid out on tables in my driveway the stuff that I loved: wedding gifts, hand me downs from my mom, grandmas, and great grandmothers – treasures, comforters that we loved and slept under every night, frames that I carefully picked out to house my favorite photographs that I had taken myself in the fields around our neighborhood, curtains and my favorite dishes, my shorts – dang I miss my shorts, jewelry and the floating shelves on my walls that I wanted so badly. I sold it ALL to people who haggled me down to practically giving it away… all because of my passion to be a missionary. And with everything sold I just made my dreams bigger. Imagined deeper and hoped stronger…that being a missionary would be everything I’d ever believed it would be. I traded my love for all my beautiful things and imagined it transferring to the Guatemalan people, the moms, the children, the sick ones and the lost ones. The teenagers and college students we would get to know and work with and minister to. They were going to be worth every sacrifice.

As I thought about leaving behind friends that I loved and our youth that I felt fiercely protected of. When I thought of leaving a place where I felt safe to drive 10 hours away by myself with the kids to visit grandparents. Toilets that flushed toilet paper, tap water that I could put in my mouth, and grocery stores that have EVERYTHING I need. Where policemen and guards didn’t carry around big and scary guns and we didn’t walk out of the bank feeling nervous after cashing a check. Where I knew the language inside and out and we had parks and sports for the kids and my favorite places to eat. But I thought about what we’d be doing…our job, our work, our responsibilities, the opportunities, the need and I told myself that it was going to be worth the sacrifice.

It was a LOT Of building expectations to get me through the hard of letting go of everything. I ignored the lump in my throat and focused on big dreams. My dreams, if tangible would have overflowed the 20 suitcases and carry ons we brought to Guatemala.

Guatemala is beautiful. More beautiful than I dreamed. Guatemalans are friendly, gracious, and they touch my heart in a way I never imagined. It already feels like home here which happened faster than I ever expected.

But on the other hand I admit that this is hard. This can be lonely. I can feel very deep, down sad that sometimes my expectations and my reality are not even on the same planet. Some moments out of nowhere I just grieve for something I sold or left behind. Something that I didn’t let myself grieve about at the moment I let it go because I was too passionate about the future. But now that I’m in the future I realize: “I’m really sad that I had to let that go.” And in the middle of letting myself feel sad, I get a big punch of reality and crazy starts knocking. Stupid crazy. Go away.

I know what I should say here. “This isn’t about you Christina.” How many times have I said that to myself since I’ve been here? More than I can count.
But can I tell you a dark secret? Sometimes it doesn’t help.

The last few days Crazy has been the annoying neighbor kid who knocks when people (me) should be sleeping or when I JUST finished telling him it was time to go home.

So for a minute I gave myself permission to NOT say the words, “It’s not about you Christina.

Instead I just imagined myself standing before God. I saw myself with my head bowed not out of humility but out of defeat. I saw myself with emotions in my hands held out before Him that I’m not proud of. I saw my hair hanging in front of my face like that you tube video where they put that scary looking child holding the doll in the elevator to scare people, because, well, I know God sees Crazy knocking on my door.

And you know what I saw, what I felt, what I heard as I stood there before the Lord?
Acceptance.
Acceptance that makes me think of love.
Love that I feel pouring from Jesus straight to my defeated heart.
Love that covers a multitude of sins…most of which are my sins.
Love that fills up my heart so much that I think of the things I gave up as a gift back to Jesus for loving me so much, instead of things I gave up for Guatemala.
Love that calms me into the realization that things are going to work out. And that it’s really not the end of the world when reality is different than I expected. And that Jesus has got this and He’s got me and we are all going to be okay.

Love that overwhelms me to the point that I feel pretty darn sure that crazy has left the building…for today.

One night towards the end of March 2010 before we’d even started the adoption process I was lying in bed and I won’t go into a long explanation on the whys but I just had this strong feeling that something important was happening on that very night. I couldn’t explain it, but it stayed in my mind quite strong. After we started the adoption process I thought back to that night and wondered if maybe that was the night when our little one in Ethiopia was born. Not too long after being in the process, I was on a conference call with our agency, and they were talking about a big group of children that was moving from the Southern region into our transition home. Again I had this strong feeling that one of those from the Southern region was ours. Six months later a good friend of mine 4 months ahead of us in the waiting got a referral for a little boy. She told me that he was born in March 2010 and was from the Southern region. I was thrilled for her, but at the same time I couldn’t help but feel a little sad and think…. “she got my dream.”

In May 2012, as I’ve talked about before we tried very hard to adopt a 10 year boy off the waiting child list. We bought him some toys and clothes and cleaned out drawers for him in Camden’s room and got VERY excited. And then our social worker said no. This same beautiful little boy came home this summer to a wonderful set of parents and siblings and a swimming pool and a golf cart and cousins and baseball. I am completely excited for all of them but again there’s this tiny part of me that says….”they got my dream.”

Two weeks ago I had this vivid dream. Our adoption agency called and said, “We have a little girl in your age range, but we are giving you the choice on rather or not you want to receive her referral because she is malnourished and very tiny.” Without a thought we said, “Yes! We want her!” Then my dream moved to me holding her in our room trying very hard to make her serious little face break into a smile or a laugh. I woke up with my heart aching for her. I typed out an email to our agency asking them to please call us if it’s our turn for a referral and a little, tiny malnourished girl comes available. Don’t call a family open to special needs I typed – call me! However, reading it back to myself, I thought it sounded completely crazy, so I deleted it. Then, very recently, a friend of mine received her long awaited referral. In shock I read that when they called her they told her, “She is in your age range but she is very malnourished and tiny so we are giving you a choice.” And for a third time, I’m beside myself with excitement for her while simultaneously thinking….”SERIOUSLY?! she got my dream.”

I tried to ignore it. I tried not to think back to the other times this has happened. But this morning it was there pounding away at the back of my heart.
“Your dreams are being stolen. Your dreams won’t ever be yours. You’re not good enough. You will be waiting forever.”

Why God? Why must I dream for other people?

And God whispered back, “Why not?”

Blake looked at me across the table at lunch and said, “The dream is for orphans to find families, not for us to find an orphan.”

So tonight, in the midst of a dull ache, I’m feeling honored that I dream of orphans that are not my own. That in my heart and in my sleep I fall in love with little ones that I will never hold. I am privileged to see precious ones created by God find a place in homes with mommies and daddies that love them.

I think of people in the Bible that did the same:
Abraham who had the promise of being the father of nations but it was his grandson Jacob who fathered the 12 tribes of Israel.
Moses who was asked to lead the Israelites into the Promise Land, but never saw it himself.
David who had a dream of building a new temple, but Solomon his son was given the honor.

I think of the dreams I am realizing of others
Like our pastor in Brownsville who was told by God his ministry would reach Guatemala and then told us WE were how he was reaching.
Like my dad who was called to be a missionary in college, yet it is I who actually got to go.

We are the body of Christ. We share in suffering and we share in victories. Our inheritance is the lost and it belongs to us all. It doesn’t matter who does what because all of the honor and reward belongs to Jesus anyway. It is reward enough to have our tiny roles whatever they are and whenever they come.

But God is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him and He loves to give good gifts to His children. Rejoice with the realization of your dreams…even when you see them realized in other people. But at the same time hope in this: He is faithful TO YOU! YOU are priceless to Him. You will see God’s hand in YOUR life. You will see His pleasure through His gifts TO YOU. You will know His faithfulness throughout YOUR journey.

Keep dreaming. Keep rejoicing. Keep trusting.

“I will proclaim the Lord’s decree: He said to me, “You are my son; today I have become your father. Ask me,
and I will make the nations your inheritance, the ends of the earth your possession.” Psalms 2:7-8

It’s been almost three years since we started this adoption process. My head in the clouds. My heart in love with a little brown baby that I had never seen.

I have always wanted four children. One of my first thoughts after pulling Hope onto my chest after delivering her in our bathtub was, “I did it. And now I’m halfway done. Two down and two to go.”

But then I never really got “baby fever” like I did the first two times..and the years passed. I knew I had plenty of time since we started so darn early. But right after Hope turned 6 it hit me…I wanted another one. But God was stirring our hearts for missions, for third world nations, for those in poverty, and for orphans. I looked at our 2 little mini us’s and thought, “We’ve done this, why not give a home to baby that doesn’t have one?” If I had known then what I know now well…I would probably have a two year old third mini us and a baby on the way. But I didn’t. Like I said…”My head was in the clouds and my heart in love with a little brown baby from Ethiopia.”

This waiting has been heart wrenching, infuriating, depressing, and beyond frustrating. My head has moved from the clouds, down to somewhere near the dirt, and my heart became so sore that I stomped out all dreamy, loving feelings about this little one that will be ours…. I just got too tired of longing.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t suppose to have to harden my heart against our child before I even saw her face.

Our fourth child has stayed on our minds over the past three years as well. We had thought about adopting two from Ethiopia and were even officially open to it with our agency for several months. Then we decided we would look into adopting from Guatemala while here and started gathering all of the paperwork to become residents so that we could start the process shortly after arriving. But then our Ethiopian process doubled in difficulty and frustration, and we heard horror stories about other missionaries here in Guatemala who have been trying for years to adopt from here, and I knew I couldn’t do it again. So Blake and I made the final decision that we would not adopt again. I was in agreement but I was sad. And angry.

But I’m the biggest dreamer you’ll ever meet so I started dreaming about getting pregnant again for the first time in 9 years. A fourth child that would redeem the ugly that this adoption process has been. A baby / a process where I don’t have to answer to anyone, no social workers, notaries, police reports, annoying adoption agencies, family coordinators, or vague/ridiculous emails about why I am still waiting three years later when it was supposed to take less than a year. I will have a DUE DATE! A day to look forward to when I KNOW my little one will be in my arms.

This is normal isn’t it? Wanting to redeem the bad ourselves. Wanting to make sense of it all. Wanting to make everything better. Being sure that God has good things ahead that will delete the hard from our hearts and minds.

Sometimes I still let myself dream of my little Ethiopian girl…of meeting her and bringing her home. And hearing her call us Mommy and Daddy and seeing her snuggled up to Hope asleep in the quietness of the night. I imagine holding her and rocking her and praying for Jesus to heal her wounded soul.

That’s where I am this morning….forcing my heart to love her again. Because right now she IS somewhere and she DOES have a wounded soul and that precious little girl deserves a mommy who is longing for her. Who is heart sick for her. Who is praying constantly for her protection and for God to bring her home.

Are you in a similar place? Where your heart is exhausted from the waiting? Where you’d rather dream of something new than to cling on to that promise that causes you so much pain? I know. I know. I know. But would you do something? Would you cling with me today? Cling to that promise that seems like it will NEVER happen? Will you pray with your exhausted faith? Will you let yourself believe this pain is worth something?

Because the Bible says that when we set our heart on the pilgrimage…not on the final reward…but on the pilgrimage… then we are blessed.

“Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage.” Psalms 84:5

I’ve been reading this lady’s blog for about an hour this evening:

http://www.theveryworstmissionary.com

She challenges missionaries to be real. To not strive to be what she calls: “sexy missionaries” which is a little weird to me but I get her point. She is calling out missionaries to not paint pictures with their reports and newsletters and facebook statuses that aren’t reality. Say it like it is, is her advice. I definitely feel this pressure to live up to expectations I believe people have for missionaries living on support. I have dealt with disappointment, myself, that I didn’t step off the plane onto Guatemala soil immediately feeling like Mother Teresa. I so thought I would. But I am realizing the life of a missionary doesn’t always feel like saving the world.

So here’s me being real…

Sometimes being a missionary feels like relief that your house feels like your refuge, your home, your safe place. Something that you were afraid before arriving would never happen in another country.

Sometimes being a missionary feels like anxiety when you know you need to make yourself talk with people but at the same time you know you’re going to make a mistake EVERY TIME you open your mouth.

Sometimes being a missionary feels like amazement when you realize you actually LIVE in the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen.

Sometimes being a missionary feels like loneliness when you have a good friend come visit and you realize you forgot how wonderful it is to have conversations with close girlfriends…and then she goes back home.

Sometimes it feels like guilt when you go to McDonalds twice in one week and wonder if people back home would say you should be spending your support money eating something much cheaper like beans and tortillas.

Sometimes being a missionary feels like seeing God’s glory when you see a tiny lady that appears to be in her 90′s sitting on the corner of the street and you smile at her and she breaks into the biggest, toothless smile you’ve ever seen and you think to yourself, “I have NEVER seen anything more beautiful.

Sometimes being a missionary feels like depression when you remember how you used to be able to get in the car and drive wherever you wanted to go and now you feel scared spittless to go any farther than a couple of blocks down the road. What if the car breaks down? What if I get lost? What if I get pulled over by the police? What if there’s an earthquake? What if I hit a pedestrian, or a tuk tuk, or a motorcycle, or what if a chicken bus runs into me?

Sometimes it feels like amazement when you see how perfectly your husband is fitting into his new position and how passionate he is about his new job.

Sometimes it feels like frustration when one of your children is so nervous in this new place that he starts doing weird things like grabbing your arm and sucking on it any time you’re out in public.

Sometimes it feels like sheer happiness when you have a 2 minute conversation in Spanish with the guy that guards the door of your complex, and you see in his eyes that he’s proud of your progress and that he feels happy that you have been brave enough to stop and talk and to him.

Sometimes it feels a little bit like bitterness when you realize how hard your husband is going to work and how many hours he will put in, and yet you have to think every second about how the money you have is support and not “earned.”

Sometimes it feels like sheer gratitude when you see that support roll in every month and know that with that support comes people that are praying for you and loving you from afar. It is humbling and beautiful even though it is hard.

Sometimes it feels like confusion when you wonder if as a mom and wife what your role needs to be? How much do you throw yourself into the ministry and how much do you be the stay at home wife and mom you’ve always been? Either way it feels a little bit wrong.

Sometimes it just feels worth it when in the darkness of the night when everyone is asleep and you’re wrestling with all of these emotions Jesus whispers to your heart and tells you that you are exactly where He wants you to be and that He has you here for His purposes and while you are here He will bless you and strengthen you and see you through the difficult times.

This week will make three months for us. Three months down and at least 45 more months to go. Struggling with my emotions, and with expectations, and with my role in this season is just beginning. I pray that God uses this struggling to mature me. To make me more compassionate, to make me a better listener of His voice, and a quicker obeyer of what I hear. I want to be real to those that are following our journey. Yes I want to be inspiring but not if it means I have to be fake or polish what I say to look “nobler.” Maybe one day I’ll be Mother Teresa but probably not. I’m thinking I’ll always just be Christina, and while I’m Christina in Guatemala I will soak up the mountains and the temps in the 70′s and the teenagers we get to spend time with, and the staff we get to work with, and the locals we build relationships with, and yep I’m afraid I’ll keep soaking in the McDonalds.

It’s the whole picture…the good and the difficult that makes life beautiful.

Soak in YOUR life even the struggles. Write them down and read them over and pray over them and ponder them until you find it…the BEAUTIFUL in the struggle. Because it’s there.

Photos by our friend and fellow staff Randy Braun.

I told my mom the other day that I wondered if God was disappointed that I didn’t already have Spanish mastered before I came to Guatemala….
I’ve known for 21 years that God was going to send me to a Spanish speaking country. AND I lived in a 90% Spanish speaking town for 3.5 years before moving here. I could have learned it. I could have worked harder. Could have studied more…much more.

My mom’s response to me was, “God already knew you were going to be at this level with your Spanish when you arrived.”

I’ve been thinking about that statement off and on since then… “God already knew….”

How many times do we think, without really thinking it, that we have really messed up God’s plan?
How many moments do we want to give up because we feel like we have missed so many opportunities that even giving our best now will never make up for the half-effort we’ve given over and over in the past?
How often do we feel deflated imagining God searching for someone else to be great in, because He can’t handle the fact that we just can’t seem to measure up?

But it’s true :
Yesterday God knew where you would be today.
And guess what:
He still has a plan for today.
And He is just as excited about it.
He did NOT give up on you and walk away.

I started getting excited about this tonight.
I asked Him as I was folding laundry,
“Is this just me being too easy on myself – or are you really THAT merciful to be excited about a new plan for me EVERY DAY?
And then His Word – you know the written one that you can’t doubt or wonder if you heard right,
It came to my memory strong and true:

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. THEY ARE NEW EVERY MORNING; great is your faithfulness.” – Lamentations 3:22-23

So let’s throw off our disappointment in ourselves and our mindsets that God has joined our disappointed pity party. And let’s rejoice in His faithfulness by waking up tomorrow morning full of joy and confidence that He has a plan for us. And that He’s excited about it.

I remember when I was around 8 years old and I felt God for the first time. I saw a picture in my mind of an umbrella and me under it safe and dry and warm. And in my little 8 year old heart I knew the umbrella represented God and that He was showing me that He would cover me always.

When I was 11 years old I felt God call me to missions.

I knew what it was to feel God. And then in middle school my 6th grade teacher asked our class (at a Christian school) “How many of you have ever felt the glory of God?” And I felt a thrill in every fiber of my being. The glory of God. That’s what it is that I feel when I know God is speaking. For the next two years the glory of God was my biggest desire. I spent at least half an hour every night praying and the biggest part of my praying was asking God to let me feel His glory. Worship was the most thrilling part of my life. God’s voice, His presence, His love for me…it was all intoxicating.

It was a season and it was beautiful. Like a honeymoon with the Lord. But it lead to different seasons. Seasons of spiritual growth and discipline. Seasons of emotional growth and maturity. Seasons of drought and hanging on out of sheer, painful hope that God was real and I wasn’t a lost cause. Seasons of questioning. Seasons of intense conviction. But in every season there have been moments. Beautiful, incredible moments when out of nowhere I am drenched with that feeling…that experience….His glory. And I’m transported to those years again. From 11 to 13 when His glory was my whole journey. And He let me see it and feel it over and over and over.

Last night I was doing dishes. The kids were upstairs and Blake was on the computer at the bar a few feet from me. He turned on worship music and a song began to float through the air and I felt it: His Glory. And my heart turned over and I was in such awe that I could hardly breathe. His presence; His love so strong and so real. And like always I remembered being 12 years old in my bed night after night and meeting Him just like this.

Blake interrupted my thoughts with, “Isn’t this song good?” And I whisper, “It takes me somewhere.” And Blake whispers back, “Right?! Me too!” And my heart turns over again because this man that is my husband has had those times too. He knows what I know. That there is NOTHING like the glory of God. NOTHING.

I read some things on the internet that bugged me this week. Critical thoughts and opinions on international adoption and short term mission trips… two things that are huge parts of our lives. We are adopting internationally, and our job here in Guatemala will primarily be to be over short term teams coming to partner with our ministry. So yep. It was a double whammy attack.

You know that feeling you get when something that is personal for you is vehemently judged “awful” by someone else. 50% “pit of your stomach dread” that maybe they’re right and your life and decisions are really “awful”. It causes you to doubt for a minute all those confirmations God has given you that you’re in the right place; doing the right thing. And then the other 50% is anger. What does that prideful person think they know? How dare they have such a judgmental opinion?

But then I’ve constantly been weighing my emotions and responses with the things I shared in the last blog…about God calling me to a life of sweetness. And through the lens of sweetness I am allowing God to shape my thoughts.

Attacks, whether personal or found in web-world or book-world or even church-world should take me right into the secret place with Jesus. Not only do I need Him to reconfirm to me once again that we are in His will, but I also need to step into the place of humility that allows me to ask, “Is there some truth to this Jesus?” Is there something in this person’s rant, I mean passionate belief that could open my eyes to a dimension that would make my calling/passion more fruitful; more Christ-like?

Secondly, or maybe even firstly, we need to plead with the Lord to give us the grace to not hold a grudge or personal offense against the attacker. We don’t know their heart or motive. It could be much more righteous than we would ever want to admit.

Or sometimes not. I know this because I’m guilty.

Sometimes our callings can become our plank. We judge other people based on the things God has spoken to our hearts. God is so faithful to direct us so specifically so that there is no doubt what we are supposed to do. However, it then becomes scary easy to think that He must be saying the same thing to everyone else too, and that they are just refusing to listen. We decide it’s our job to be the “God whisperer” and shout His “message” as loudly as we can.

And we hurt people. We cause the beauty of our calling to lose some of it’s brilliance. It starts to blind us, when the primary purpose of it was to open our eyes.

I guess for me it comes down to two things:
- I need to listen to Jesus. Every single day, I HAVE to hear His voice. I have to be able to hear Him louder than the roar of everyone’s opinions. His voice is the only thing that will keep me steady.
- Stop judging the judgers. Because when I judge the judgers I become a judger. And that’s not who I want to be.