A Marriage Miracle Story

It’s been a while since I shared one of my miracle stories. This one has been on my mind lately. It’s a long one, and pretty personal. It’s messy and I’m not proud of how I handled myself through most of it, but this isn’t about me. It’s about what God has done for me, despite who I am. Since I’ve seen God move many mountains in my life, again and again, I’ll keep sharing, because I know you have mountains too. These events took place in our family between 2003 and 2010, pre Stella and Nora (our girls are another miracle story for another time). What a mixed bag of years these were for us! We bought our first home, had our first child, bought a business, struggled through four consecutive second trimester miscarriages, followed by two more at 10 weeks, lost the business, filed personal and business bankruptcy, and left our home church of 15 years. The highs were high and the lows were low.

Buying our first home was one of the highs. Houses were flying off the market at record speed in 2003. We would go to an open house and there would be three or more offers, well over asking price, before we even stepped foot in the door. I didn’t think we’d ever find something in our budget. We branched out further and further from Middleboro, trying to find a price range we could afford in another town. This led us to look in Fairhaven MA, about 35 minutes away. One night, there was a new on-line listing that came up. As we clicked through the pictures, we immediately fell in love with this sweet home and property, with it’s charming interior and spacious yard, it just felt right. “It’s probably already sold and gone,” I said, not willing to get excited. We had been in this situation many times only to find out we had been outbid or our offer rejected. There was no time to waste. Ray went and looked at the house the very next day while I was at work. He told them he wanted to put down a deposit. They didn’t want to accept it because I wasn’t there to see the home with him. “Trust me, she want’s this house,” he assured them. They accepted our offer. The whole time, our prayer while we searched for the “right” home was that God would open the doors if it was a good decision, and close the doors if it wasn’t. He closed a lot of doors. We prayed that whatever home that was, that it would be a good investment for us, something that would help us build towards a solid future for our growing family. I even prayed that when it came time to sell our home later on down the road, that we would make a profit and invest it wisely into our next venture. The door to this house seemed to fling wide open and everything fell easily into place.

Ray and I both felt like this was the perfect house for us. We were right in town but had several acres of land to our property which gave our home a spacious, country feel. It felt like we had the best of both worlds. We hadn’t been in our home long when a conversation came up with our next door neighbors about the possibility of selling some of our land out back to the elderly housing community that abutted our property. It was owned by the town and when we approached the management to ask if they were interested in buying some of our land for the future expansion of elderly housing, they said they didn’t have any money in the budget for that and we should consider donating it. I remember that news being such a bummer because it seemed like an obvious win/win deal and I had expected them to jump on it. For the town, we offered them a fair price, and we were the only adjacent property with land to sell them for an increasing elderly population that needed housing. For us, the money would have helped pay off some newly acquired debt. When the town said no, we then worked with an engineering firm to develop a cul-de-sac on the land, hoping to sell off the lots and make some money that way. We dumped about 40k into the plans only to find out that the town wouldn’t let us connect into the sewer pipes. Another dead end, a lot of wasted money.

As I previously mentioned, shortly after we bought our home, we bought a business (the newly acquired debt mentioned above). I was about 26 years old and Ray was about 29 at this time. I think Ray felt on top of the world at this age; young and full of ambition, he was willing to take risks. He has always been one to assume things will work out for the best. I always kid him that I am going to put, “It will all work out” on his gravestone. I wouldn’t say I’m a pessimist, but I usually walk through everything that can go wrong first, then make a plan based on best possible outcome with lowest possible risk, and then I make a decision. I’m calculated. Our union resembles what it would look like if Lightning McQueen married Mrs. Beaver from Narnia. Suffice it to say I wasn’t on board with buying the business, but Ray was moving full speed ahead so I tried to keep up. We bought our home at the peak of the real estate market boom, when housing prices were already grossly overinflated. In order to buy the business, we borrowed another 75k against our home with a second mortgage (inflating our mortgage even more). From another business partner we borrowed 75k, and on top of all that, borrowed another large sum to pay for the rest. All the unsecured loans made me very nervous, and as I did the bookkeeping for the business, I was forever worrying about having enough money to pay our loans on time each month. Half of me was happy that Ray had followed his dreams but the other half wished we could have gotten there on a path that was more stable, even if it had meant taking more time. On paper, things were going well and the numbers were working out, but it all relied on things going perfectly every month. Money was coming in and we were paying our loans on time, but there were other problems rising to the surface, at home and in the housing market.

After a while, I started building up frustration about the lack of communication between Ray and I. He was independently making really big decisions that affected all of us. From buying the business in the first place, to the ways we financed it, how it would run, and what my new role would be at our company. I never seemed to have a say in any of it. I was told I was to be accounts payable and receivable, payroll, licensing, compliance, and the “catch all” for all other minutia. I had no experience in our company’s field of business, like none, at all. And now, the success of our company relied on me figuring it out and getting it right. Simultaneously, our son had just turned two, and he was a high energy, rambunctious little boy. I had to bring him to work with me three days a week. After lunch, I remember I would pull two office chairs together, put Barber’s Adagio for Strings on repeat, and pray that he would take his nap so I could get some work done. It was as much of a challenge as it sounds like it would be. My stress level was through the roof. One day, Ray drove in the driveway on a new motorcycle we hadn’t discussed him purchasing. He smirked and said it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. I got angry but I was really hurt. It seemed like I was just a silent partner in our marriage and our business. I told myself it wasn’t fair for him to be so impulsive while I was counting every penny, worrying about every loan.

As the days and months went on I wasn’t so silent anymore. He started coming home later and later, his food often waiting for him, cold on the table, Brady already in bed. I felt like a single parent and I resented him for it. Then, the housing market crashed and my worst fears came front and center. I’ll sum it up by saying that business in the mortgage industry drastically changed, as well as our ability to generate income from it. All I could think was, “I told you so! If you had just listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” We kept things going as long as we could, but the writing was on the wall. We filed for bankruptcy, both business and personal since everything was wrapped up together. One of our debtors forgave our debt which was such a blessing but we were still drowning in loans. I was so disheartened when the bank came and repossessed my car. I watched from the window and hoped our neighbors weren’t home to see. We had stopped paying our mortgage to try to continue paying our business loans, so it was only a matter of time before the bank foreclosed on our home. Everything was a mess, including my heart. One day Ray came home and I had had it. We put a movie on for Brady and went in the back yard to have it out. I screamed at him all the pain I had been holding in. I wanted him to hurt like I was hurting. “You lost the business, we’re loosing our home, I lost my car, you don’t take time for your family, we barely see you, and all of this could have been avoided if you had just listened! You have failed at EVERYTHING! This isn’t a marriage, it’s you doing what you want and me following behind picking up all the pieces!” I watched as my words hit their mark. He was definitely hurting, but if I was being honest, he already had been. This had been hard on him too, but his feelings were the last thing I cared about at that time. I left him sitting in the back yard. I didn’t feel better. We would probably lose our marriage too. Just more collateral damage from this stupid mess.

That’s the thing about bitterness and anger; we can convince ourselves how justified we are to feel it, release it, but in the end it builds nothing, fixes nothing. It only destroys what’s already hurting, making it harder to salvage what’s left. I’ve come to believe that for every negative, destructive emotion, there is a similar yet constructive emotion. You have to choose which to feed your brain. For instance, I can choose fear, or I can choose hope (both are based in anticipating the unknown). I can choose to assume the worst in someone, or I can choose to assume the best in someone (both are assumptions based on guessing the internal motives of another). I’m not always good at finding that alternative constructive emotion, especially when hard things haven’t been properly dealt with and I don’t feel heard or validated. It’s complicated, that I know. I also know that somewhere along the line I stopped controlling my thoughts, I stopped filtering my feelings. My perceived reality became my truth. My feelings, my thoughts, my assumptions, my fears, led me around like a dog on a leash. We knew some things needed to change. We talked. Even though Ray’s intentions hadn’t been malicious, he knew he hadn’t gone about things the right way. He acknowledged that he needed to work on including me in conversations and decisions, and get council and wisdom from others before taking a big leap. He would focus on spending more time at home. I needed to stop pointing fingers, release my fears to God and accept where we were while maintaining hope that we could keep moving forward, together. We were both praying for God’s help and direction. I’m not sure what I expected God to do since I felt like our own decisions had gotten us to where we were, and honestly, that we deserved whatever difficulty came our way. I guess I was hoping for mercy and grace. I know for sure I didn’t expect what happened next.

We hobbled along for the next few weeks, trying to make housing plans when we really couldn’t afford much of anything. I told Ray I could make anything a home, even if it wasn’t our own house. We told ourselves it would be a tough season but it wouldn’t last forever. Ray called me from the office and told me it was time to officially call the bank to let go of the house. He was going to call them the next day. We had lived in our sweet home for 7 years. We had fixed up each and every room, one at a time, making it our own. I loved our home. We hung up the phone and I cried. The next day the phone rang and it was Ray at the office. “I called the bank and they said we have to be out in a week so they can get the house on the market. You have to start packing right away but I won’t be able to help since I’m working every day. Oh, and we don’t have any money for rent so we will have to live in boxes in the alley beside my office until I can find a place for us to go. How are you at cooking food over a burning metal barrel?” This is what I was expecting him to say. Instead, I heard genuine astonishment in his voice. “You’re never going to believe this.” He said he had just received a call from the town. They had put in for a grant with the state of Massachusetts and it had been granted to them. They were willing to purchase our land if we were still willing to sell. It had been about six and a half years since we had presented our offer to the town, about 2,370 days. Their call came the very day (probably the very hour) we’d been planning to call the bank to begin foreclosure. Coincidence? I think not.

The next few months were a much welcome reprieve. The fog was lifting and we could finally see a light at the end of the tunnel and it wasn’t another train coming at us. That day on the phone with Ray, I had asked, “How much do they want to buy the land for? Holy Cow! That’s enough to pay off the second mortgage, and pay up on our missed mortgage payments. We might even have a little left over to get back on our feet.” Turns out it was exactly enough. Also turns out that money problems make you fight more and positive cash flow fosters pleasantness. It didn’t fix every problem but we rode the positivity train as far as it would take us. It took a few months to close with the town and in the meantime, we made some plans. Even though we loved our home, it was a long driving distance from everything else in our lives. Most everything we did took place in or near Middleboro. Once the land was sold and we were right on our mortgage, we were finally able to sell and move. It was a good move for us. Only 8 minutes from Ray’s office, we would see him much more often now. Closer to family, friends, church, Brady’s school, our schedules of life began to flow a bit easier. We had turned a page.

Of course, I have to share what I learned from this. Soren Kierkegaard said, “Life can only be understood backwards; But it must be lived forwards.” Here are a few things I came to understand when looking back.#1 God doesn’t just help those who help themselves. God helps those who CAN’T help themselves. He helps us in spite of ourselves. Because he loves us. It’s not based on performance. It’s just who he is.

#2 As I mentioned, many bad things happened to us during this time. Some were the consequences of our own choices and actions, but others, like our miscarriages, weren’t. Even though I didn’t understand it, and I fought it out with God, I surrendered to the place that I would choose to have faith that God was good, that he loves us, and that I could trust him, even through pain that didn’t make sense to me. God’s ways are not our ways, and his plans are not our plans, but I am his child and my life is in his hands. Bad things, good things, both happen to those who deserve it and to those who don’t. The Bible says, “It rains on the just and the unjust.” The difference is, with God, I have hope that he is still working things for the good while I put my trust in him. Not so he can give me my way, but so he can have his.

#3 When I first heard that the town was going to buy our land, I went to bed that night thinking how grateful I was that God had rescued me. That he had come through for me once again and that somehow it was because I was innocent of the guilt in our financial mess. I was stunned when he pushed the thought into my head that it wasn’t just for me. He was Ray’s father too. This miracle was just as much for Ray as it was for me. God never stopped rooting for Ray. He wanted to see him succeed. Things I wanted to fix in Ray, God was honing. Where I saw Ray’s actions and how they played out in our lives, God always saw his heart. He sees the greatness in each of us because he put it there. Each step of the way, even when we go off-roading, if we are willing to call out to God for help, he promises to come find us where we are, how we are, and walk with us. I have found this to be true. Every. Single. Time.

#4 God disciplines those he loves. As much as we benefited from God’s blessings, we also experienced his discipline. And it was a good thing because it brought about growth and positive changes in us both. We are both much more fiscally responsible people. We are cautious and conservative about any debt we take on. We traded in the motorcycle for a Quad that we all enjoyed. Most nights, we are all at the table for dinner, my favorite part of the day. Ray always seeks out wise council from experienced people before making any big decisions. He gives really good advice too; experience will do that for you, if you’re willing to learn from it. One thing I have always admired about my husband is his willing heart to be molded by God. If there is a better version of himself out there, he is open to becoming it. I found a councilor to help me stop blaming and pointing fingers about what had happened, and appreciate the second chance we were given. I had to come to terms that it wasn’t fair to put all the blame on Ray. He never could have known what was about to happen in the housing market. I worked on giving my fears to God before I let them crush me. I encouraged Ray to follow his dreams and supported him in a few different ventures he has explored on the side. I appreciate his business mind, hard work, and dedication to excellence.

#5 In the spirit of honesty, which I am committed to when I write these life stories, I will say that our marriage is not perfect. We have never had an easy go of it, we are very different people, but we simultaneously have a fierce love for each other. When love isn’t enough, our faith becomes our common ground and we lean in hard on Jesus to help us through. It takes a lot of surrendering our own will to God and he has consequently been the glue that holds our family together. We are coming up on 19 years married, 29 years together. This, in itself, is a miracle, and one I am so very grateful for.

Psalm 91:14-15 “Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him; I will protect him, because he knows my name. When he calls to me, I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will rescue him and honor him.”

Philippians 4:13″I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day: finding contentment in the monotony of parenting

When I woke this morning, the raw, cold drizzling rain was sputtering outside my bedroom window, trickling like tears down the panes of glass, blurring the view into my backyard. I wanted to stay in bed, but, motherhood was calling. Occasionally, the sun has tried to poke through from behind the darkness, raising my hopes each time. I’m cheering it on because I need it to brighten my mood and not just my day. As I walked around my house this morning picking up strewn pajamas, inside out with the underwear still in them, off the floor, wiping breakfast bread crumbs off the counter and putting away the 15 dolls (really, 15?!) taken out by my girls for 2 minutes of play before they hustled off to school, I reflected on how this weather pattern accurately represents how I used to feel about my role as a mama and homemaker. It’s not that I didn’t love being a mother to my three kids, it was just that sometimes I hated the parts of motherhood that didn’t actually involve much mothering at all. I love the nurturing side of motherhood; the cuddles, holding hands on walks while having sweet little conversations, bedtime stories. It’s the repetitive, mundane, mind-numbingly boring tasks that would get to me, like the hours spent cleaning up my kids’ morning messes once they were off to school, then repeating it all again for afternoon and night messes. The endless laundry that never earns a check-mark on my task list because it’s never fully done. Driving everyone to fun activities while I sit and watch. Making meals that someone always complains about, scrubbing toilets, grocery shopping, etc etc and finally, realizing that I still have days, weeks, and years left of all this. I needed a new perspective; I needed my sunshine on a cloudy day.

I think part of my perspective problem began when I was just a little girl. I was raised in a poor, single-parent home without many opportunities. The first seven years were spent down a dusty dirt road in central Florida where we played in the summer in the dirt and orange groves and were called white trash at school. The next seven years were spent in the inner city of a tough neighborhood in eastern Massachusetts where we played stick ball in mill parking lots and were called street rats. We didn’t participate in any after school programs or activities, as Taylor Swift would say, like never ever…ever. Most of the time we didn’t own a car to drive us anywhere, and we had no money to pay for anything even if we could get there. We walked home, did our homework, our daily chores, then played outside with whatever daylight was left. I just kept thinking that one day my life would launch and I’d finally get to go off and do something interesting, something important, something fun, be someone. I was b o r e d. After high school, I went to college for a year and a half before I realized I couldn’t actually afford to be there. I dropped out and within 2 months had found a humdrum full-time job as a bank teller, waiting for my college loan payments to begin. Shortly thereafter, I was married, still working full time and also learning how to take care of my home. Two years later, when I was 24 years old, our son was born and my life as a full-time homemaker and mother began. My life had hardly launched; there had never come a let’s-see-what-I-can-really-do season of time where I got to explore life and opportunities before I found myself in my permanent role of caring for and supporting everyone else.

Over the next 10 years I had two more children, and each time I watched the clock restart on my perceived freedom- when I’d finally get to go discover myself, pursue my interests, become something. This was presumably going to take place when the kids were at a more independent age, in school full time, less needy of me. I would get to have a life, find myself, go back to college. When my last daughter was born, I calculated that time would come when I’d be around 45 years old, another 10 years away (insert frown face, the one with a dripping tear). This realization overwhelmed me. I felt like I was looking at my future through the backside of binoculars, it just kept getting further away. From 22 to 45 years old, the best years of my life; it would total 23 years of doing the same thing, locked in this role that everyone else seemed to define for me, bringing me further from any sense of myself. It seemed like years of my life were being robbed from me that I could never get back. I’d be going back to college so late, entering the workforce with years of experience missing. After being with toddlers for years, I even doubted my ability to string together a sentence that sounded professional and contained two-syllable words. My vocabulary had certainly diminished. Again, I dearly loved my kids, but it just felt so unfair, so empty, spending my life making sure everyone else could fulfill their potential, be happy, be supported, entertained, cultivated, and cultured when no one was doing that for me. That last part was the part that really bugged me. It was also where I was the most mistaken.

With honest reflection, I could look back and clearly see that God had never stopped taking care of me, giving me very unique experiences and opportunities, teaching me who I was and showing me his endless love for me. I just couldn’t see what he was doing with me now. I wanted God to show me my purpose for today. I needed to know I wasn’t just a cog in the wheel of someone elses life; that he had made me with a specific purpose too. Why did he make me love science and philosophy, writing and astronomy, piano and finance if all I was ever going to do was cook and clean? I felt like a race car sitting in a barn, waiting for my chance to rev my engine and take off, but all I ever did was beep my horn and turn on my wipers. And then a few things happened that helped me change my perspective.

The first happened during one sporadic bible reading devotion. I say sporadic because quiet times didn’t really exist in my house. Once, somewhere in the middle of raising two rambunctious toddlers, I remember becoming determined to rise early and start my day in prayer and bible reading, but my youngest had plans of her own. With her supersonic ears, she woke at the slightest sound, matching me hour for hour, minute for minute with her early rising. I would tiptoe out to the living room, grab my bible and coffee and would just get settled in on the couch when she would toddle out and climb up on me, bouncing on my stomach, rumpling the pages of my bible, spilling my coffee, and demanding breakfast. I wanted to give up before I began. It seemed like I never had a moment to myself. However, on one rare occasion of solitude (probably in the bathroom with the door locked), I sat and read my bible with a desperate plea in my heart for God to help me. I felt like I was drowning in motherhood and I needed a life raft. I had read it before, but this time as I read Matthew 6:33, it just jumped out at me, or better, into me. Its message filled me with hope for my own future, as well as a purpose for my day to day. It reads, “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” The paragraph that contains this verse in my bible is labeled “Do Not be Anxious”. It all just hit home for me. I felt God urging me to embrace this season of my life and trust that if I kept seeking first God’s kingdom, then I could trust God would add anything and everything to my life that he intended for me when the time came. Even if I was a no-name, in a small town, with no connections and almost no marketable skills, I could trust that the creator who made me knew the potential he had knit into me and he would open the doors when it was time. There’s no wasted time when you are pursuing God’s will. God reminded me through his word that I would not get lost in the shuffle. Through each day of cooking, cleaning, and trudging through the often mundane responsibilities of homemaking and motherhood, I was newly encouraged that I could seek his Kingdom in how I honored and cared for the blessings in my life today, that I could model a Christ-like attitude for my children this moment, and I could find purpose in the privilege of getting to serve my family right now, because he had my future in his hands. Tomorrow didn’t have to make me anxious, because I once again trusted that God had a plan for me.

My second revelation happened through a series of articles and interviews I read over the course of a few months. They were in different magazines and on various channels, but I kept seeing and hearing the same thing. Highly successful people being interviewed, revealing that the one thing they wish they could go back and change was having more time with their kids, their families. Here I was, having that opportunity every day and realizing I was often resentful and overwhelmed, wishing these tedious years away. With newfound hope for my future through Matthew 6:33, I also heard the second part of God’s message for me through these people who were living the kind of life I often wished I could be living. I listened to them talk, not of their great career successes, discoveries, and accomplishments, but instead, of lamenting their time lost with their loved ones. I heard over and over, “I just wish I had spent more time with my kids.” I became more determined than ever to make the most of this season of my life with my children. I would purposefully engage and become a part of their world and experiences and leave a joyful imprint as often as I could. I wanted to listen more and talk less, taking in all their little nuances and ever-growing minds and hearts. I knew that I was going to be here doing household chores for a long time, regardless of my attitude, but my children would grow up and be gone one day and I wouldn’t enjoy these years with them unless I changed my attitude. It would stretch me, but I would keep trying, seeking, and trusting that God was right there with me.

It wasn’t until I was able to release my fears for my future to God that I was able to embrace the gift of the present. I’m realizing He’s not just “adding unto me” in my future, He’s adding unto me the joys of right now.

Matthew 6:33- “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you.”

3 Tips On How To Protect Your Children From Sexual Predators And Empower Them To Help Protect Themselves.

It was mid-afternoon and the school nurse was conducting the scoliosis checks behind the white screen that had been set up in the class. A girl who was my friend stood in the line that ran down the side of the classroom wall with her arms crossed, visibly upset. When it was her turn, the whole class heard her from behind the curtain. She was refusing to lift her shirt and bend over for the nurse. She was loud, obstinate, and defiant; she wouldn’t cooperate. Her fight or flight had been triggered and she was not backing down. “No! ” she said. “You can’t make me! Don’t touch me! I won’t do it and you can’t make me!” she argued. The class sat there listening, shocked by her brazen opposition to authority, but something inside me knew what was wrong because I had seen it before. I wanted to get up and tell the nurse to stop, to just leave her alone because this wasn’t about her spine, it was about her heart. Someone had hurt her and she had put up boundaries because of the pain, distrust, and shame in her heart. Later, on the playground, I gently asked her about it and she warily opened up. She said her mother’s boyfriend used to come into her room at night and abuse her and now she couldn’t stand anyone touching her. Although he was no longer living in their house, I encouraged her to talk to a grownup about it because I knew her pain wasn’t over simply because he was gone.

I don’t have a doctorate or a degree in this, but I do have experience. In fact, when I look back at my childhood and recall all the sexual predators that were around, I’m still nauseated by the sheer number of men with child predatory histories and behaviors. I wasn’t targeted by all, but I saw their ways, their techniques, and it was all very similar. Also, I know it’s not always men, but they were the main offenders I witnessed but what I’m writing pertains to all predators. Most of my friends had been abused or had a sibling who had, and I saw patterns and similarities in the stories that I continued to hear through the years that made me think hard about the preventative measures I would put in place for my own children. I didn’t want to live my life making decisions out of fear, but I did want to be smart and diligent with the information I did know. So here are a few things I have learned to help, and I say help because nothing is a guarantee, to keep my kids protected as they grow.

1) Make sure you REALLY know who you are leaving your kids with:

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen parents leave their vulnerable children with people they didn’t really know because they were in a pinch for childcare, or were assuming that the so-and-so’s were a nice family. They care about their kids, but they aren’t aware or considering the high risks each child faces with being abused by someone they know and thought they could trust. So we need to really be familiar with the people with whom we leave our children. Let me explain what I mean by “really knowing” someone. Knowing someone is not about proximity, recognizing, hearing of, or even seeing often. Let’s say you have a neighbor. You exchange pleasantries, she’s sweet to your kids, and every so often they play in her yard; but this doesn’t mean you really know her, at least not the things you need to know. You need to have a real feel for what goes on in her house, with who is in her house, behind closed doors. You need to be completely certain of the character and integrity of anyone who will be around your child in a house, or at least know that the main person watching your kids will be just as aware, diligent, and concerned with your child’s safety and whereabouts as you would be while you are away. That might make for a short list of babysitters or houses your kids can go over to play or sleepover, but in this case, there is too much on the line to be negligent in this area. This goes especially for very young children that you can’t yet inform about warning signs or boundaries (more on that later). You need to know people in a way that comes from witnessing them over a good period of time and really learn and observe how they interact with your kids before you can trust them enough to leave your kids with them.

Here are some things to look for. Watch how much they touch your kids. Are there lots of hugs, cuddles, nuzzles, or whispers unsolicited by the child? Watch where they touch your kids. Is there frequent tickling, hair touching, or restraing/wrestling disguised as play? Pay attention to where they go with your kids. Do they often suggest moving away to private rooms or areas with your child to “show them” something new or “give them” something special? Watch how much time they want to be with your child. Do they constantly volunteer to babysit or take your child out for special time? Watch what they say to your kids. Do they love telling secrets or maybe undermining mom’s rules with a “better idea”. These are just some of the behaviors predators will use to groom your kids, especially in front of the parent, all the while conditioning your child to believe that this is safe and normal because mom/dad is cool with it. Do these things always point to an intention to abuse? No, but they are often part of the warning signs easily overlooked when a child is being groomed for abuse. Look for these signs especially in babysitters, coaches, neighbors, family members, family friends, church members, but know they aren’t limited to this list. And trust your gut, if you just get that feeling that someone or something is off, trust your intuition!

2) Establish healthy boundaries for your kids, and make sure others know them and respect them:

Anyone who watches my kids knows my rules. I have them for my kids’ safety and protection and I don’t bend them for anyone. For instance, I don’t make my kids give kisses, hugs, sit on laps, anything physical unless they feel comfortable doing so. My kids are taught to be polite, loving, and respectful but physical interactions are not forced because we should all have autonomy in this area, even little ones. This helps enforce the idea of feeling personally comfortable with the types of touch and affection we give and receive and that it’s ok to say no.

Another boundary I have is privacy. My children and caretakers know there are areas of privacy we uphold in our home such as bathrooms, showers, sleeping spaces, and personal areas of the body. Very few caretakers can help my young children in those areas. This minimizes the risk opportunity for my children. My children hear me tell people our rules out loud and I check in with them later. I have talked to my children from a young age about the importance of privacy and boundaries. Thankfully they are old enough now to know that something is off if anyone tries to contradict that, but they won’t be old enough for some time to fully understand the purpose behind the rules and see the wisdom in following them themselves. Which is a nice segue to my last point about boundaries.

Young children should never be expected to uphold boundaries all on their own. We can inform and educate them but in a real-time experience, very few children can hold up against the manipulations of an adult, or even thier natural curiosities with another youth or child who may have malintentions. They just don’t have the maturity to navigate that yet. As my son once told me when he was 6 or 7 years old, “Mom, I know you have rules for me, but when I’m at someone else’s house, it’s just easier to follow their rules.” Point taken. Children don’t always know what’s good for them, even if they’ve been told. Here’s a for instance about a boundary for my young girls that they push back on every time: When they have friends over (sleepovers are rare in our home), they know that every child will have their own sleeping space. This means no bed sharing because beds are a “privacy space”. But that still doesn’t stop them from asking if they can all pile into the same bed to sleep every time. Although I don’t consider natural curiosity of children to be predatory behavior, it is something to be watched and guarded because you never know what experiences another child has had, possibly from a predator, that they may try to recreate with your child in the darkness, under covers, during a sleepover. I wouldn’t have thought of this myself if I hadn’t heard so many sleepover nightmare stories over the years. Children may understand stranger danger, but they don’t expect danger to come from a friend, so it’s important to make boundaries and stick to them. This allows everyone to still have fun, but with a buffer from the real dangers that are out there.

3) When protecting your child, you have to think like your child:

The last tip I want to give is only that, a tip, not a shield, not a promise of protection, just a tip. But I have seen it work for my own kids and I think there’s something to it worth sharing. I have modified what I tell my kids about predators and boundaries as they age, but when they are young I tell them the same thing. I say, “…these are the boundaries, this is what is appropriate and what’s not appropriate, and if anyone asks you to do what mommy and daddy says you should or shouldn’t do, come and tell me right away and I will give you a prize. Even if they ask you not to tell us, if you tell me, you won’t get in trouble EVER, but you will get a nice prize. But NO lieing, if you lie, you will get in trouble.” This dialogue doesn’t excuse me from my duties as a parent of being vigilant and watchful, but I’ll tell you what it does help to do, it gives my child immediate incentive to come to me. Since I know I can’t be in all places at all times with my children, this gives them the motivation to come and tell me what I don’t see or hear. If they report something small I thank them for telling me and I give them a small prize and help them discern whether it was a risk or not. If they report something concerning, I look into it right away and give them a good little prize for telling me. Predators, and even some children who have been affected by predators, are good at convincing your child to go along with what they have in mind. If the bodies natural response to sexual touch is not motivation enough for a child to stay quiet, then sometimes threats or shame are enough. The thing is, a child often doesn’t realize abuse is abuse until they are older, because it can feel good while it’s happening. In fact, most predators count on that because it can keep the child willing to keep the secret and coming back. But then shame is triggered once you realize what was really happening, and you can feel like it was your fault because it felt enjoyable. This can lead to years of emotional pain. So yes, I will do whatever I need to do to give my kids the motivation to come tell me anything that might be a danger to them. Offering an immediate incentive of a prize, which is how a child thinks, has been enough of a motivation for my young children that I already know for certain has served to protect them and the boundaries we have set. I strongly encourage you to find a motivation that would work for your kids.

Unfortunately, we live in a world where abuse is a reality. For whatever reason, some people end up with evil sexual perversions and they direct them at children, our sweetest, most innocent members of society. For this reason, I will read instructive books and articles, listen to people’s personal experiences, have planning conversations with my spouse, watch informative shows, and do my very best to stay educated so I can have a plan to help keep my kids safe. There are no guarantees, but I am confident that I am doing my best, and that’s all any of us can do. I hope this has helped you consider your own parenting plan to keep your kids safe, because they need you to.

Ephesians 5:15-17 “Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is.”

When Our Hearts Cry “Barabbas”

This Easter I spent some time reflecting on the Bible’s description of all that took place in Jerusalem; from the time of Palm Sunday when Jesus rode into the city on a donkey, until the time of the crucifixion on Good Friday, the end of the same week. I was mostly interested in the people of the crowd. I know what was happening to Jesus that week, but I wanted to know what was happening to them, or more specifically, in them. Because somewhere deep inside, I know I am like them.

I can only imagine that on that Palm Sunday, as Jesus rode into town on the back of a borrowed donkey, that every good Jew in the crowd was thinking about the verse from Zechariah 9:9 prophesying that their Jewish King, their messiah, would ride into town this exact way. They had heard of the miracles he was performing. I can completely imagine how the energy, excitement, and anticipation was thick in the air. They shouted, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the king of Israel!” Yes! They had been waiting for their Messiah for so very long, and he finally was here. He was going to save them, deliver them from their suffering, rescue them from the Roman Empire and establish His Kingdom. They were no longer going to be ruled and oppressed by others. They were about to enter into their destiny, and it was filled with victory, celebration and freedom! If only their ancestors could see them now. How utterly blessed they were to be the generation that would see this all happen. And then it didn’t.

By the time Friday rolled around, those very same people had turned into the crowd screaming, “Free Barabbas!”, who was a despicable criminal and convicted murderer, and “Crucify Jesus!”, the King they had just laid their cloaks and palms down for just days before. What made them turn? How could they go from praise and joy to such anger and hatred in just days? These questions made me turn within, because we can often see ourselves in the people of the Bible, and learn about ourselves from their experiences. I remembered a time in my life when I felt my heart turning on God, the God I had praised my whole life.

My husband and I had bought a mortgage business in our mid to late 20’s and six months later the housing market crashed. To make a loooong story short, we ended up having to file personal and business bankruptcy, and so before we were even 30 years old we had dug ourselves into a financial hole so deep I couldn’t see the way out. On top of all this, my health was failing with lung issues that just wouldn’t let up; our usually clean house suddenly had four different pest infestations of bats from the attic coming into the house, fleas all over the downstairs floors, saw tooth grain beetles in my pantry affecting all our boxed food, and a spider nest that hatched in my clothes closet with so many baby spiders hanging from webs everywhere that I literally shut the door and didn’t go in for a year!; my marriage was failing as my husband worked through some character issues; I had just had my fourth second-trimester miscarriage in a row; and our home church was splitting. It seemed like we were under attack and there was no area of our life off limits. I felt like the very foundation I stood on was giving way under my feet. I thought I had built my house on a rock, but right then, it all felt like sand.

And then I felt it. The deep despair you experience when you expect your savior to show up and rescue you and he doesn’t. I feet let down, left alone, and fully abandoned. I couldn’t see God, I couldn’t feel God, and I couldn’t hear God, and so I began to doubt God. I doubted his goodness, I questioned his love for me, and I challenged my trust in him. I always knew he existed, he had proven that to me beyond a shadow of a doubt, but I no longer knew what was true about him. If I prayed, I knew he could do it, but I didn’t know if he would do it, and that made me feel hopeless, so I stopped praying. I relinquished my spiritual armor and stood defenseless. For a while it seemed like God was ok with life destroying me, and that was the worst part, feeling like God just didn’t care and I had been duped. My heart was turning on him and I was beginning to shout Barabbas! which really just means we are willing to open ourselves up to whatever option there is, as long as it’s not him. But then Sunday always comes.

As that period of trial played out in my life, I began to see God differently. Just like he appeared to his followers after his resurrection to clarify to them who he was and what had just happened, he began to open my eyes. It was as if my old conception of God was dying away and a clearer, truer understanding was taking form. I realized he wasn’t my cosmic butler, my 911 rescuer, my get out of jail free card, or my personal assistant. And most importantly, he had never been the one to tell me he was any of that. The truth of him is not dependent on my perception of him. He does things on his terms because he is Lord. And he does rescue, and he is faithful, he does heal, restore, provide, and everything else the Bible says he is. But it’s when he is ready, because only he knows what we need, the purpose of why it’s happening, and when we are ready for each step of our journey. My faith grew roots, and at times it was painful, but there are worse things in life than growing pains. Things like living without hope, without purpose, and without my savior.

I have to say, that during that season of storms in our life, my worst fears were never realized. We lost some things, but we never went without a meal, a bed to sleep on, a roof over our heads, or clothes on our back. Everything we lost was restored, including hope. We moved on from our failed business, and through continued hard work, my husband became successful working for another mortgage company. The pests all went away and even left us with a few funny stories (ask me to tell my bat in the hair story if you ever see me). A good pulmonologist helped me treat the worst symptoms of my lung issues, finally bringing relief to my persistent cough. I suffered two more miscarriages before having two beautiful daughters, baffling the doctors and the specialists who had tried to help me. My husband surrendered his struggles to the Lord and allowed God to change his heart and mind which led to a healing and restoration in our marriage that could only be called a miracle. And the day (hear me, the same day!) we planned to call the bank to foreclose on our house, our town approached us about buying a piece of our property to expand the elderly housing that abutted our land, being just the amount we needed to get out of debt and start afresh. If that’s not restoration, faithfulness, provision, healing, goodness, blessing and love, then I don’t know what is.

If your heart has ever cried “Barabbas!” over “Jesus!” because of hurt, disappointment, despair, exhaustion, frustration, and crushed hopes, just remember what Jesus was doing from Good Friday to Easter Sunday. He was saving our eternal souls, not just our temporary circumstances. He was restoring us to himself for his eternal Kingdom; he was rescuing us from sin and death, out of the clutches of Satan; he was providing us a path that lead straight to him, because we were all lost; and he was healing our hearts, because sin had infected us all. If he can handle all that, certainly he has a plan to help you in your circumstances! Try not to limit God based on how he is performing in your current circumstance, because he is so much bigger than that, and he will show up. Your weak moments don’t mean that God is weak, it just means that your roots of faith need deepening so you will be like a tree planted by the water, and you too, by the grace of God, shall not be moved.

Isaiah 26:3 You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.

Romans 8:28 And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

Oh, The Places You Will Go

It was the fall of 1997 and I was coming home from a summer missions trip to Africa, excited to leave for college. I had applied to only one college, Oral Roberts University in Tulsa Oklahoma. “Why only one?” you ask. Because filling out college applications is really hard. I didn’t know what I was doing and getting all the forms, fees, financial information, and required documents together for even one college felt like an impossible task to figure out, alone, at 17 years old. But I was also pretty confident this was the school for me. It was where I belonged. And I had a very good reason to believe this, a miracle in fact.

I was a great student all through school. I loved learning, especially Science and English, and with the exception of a class here and there, my report cards showed the effort I put into school. After all, a college education was going to be my ticket out of poverty. I was going places, and Tulsa Oklahoma was just going to be my first stop.

During my junior year of high school, my youth group at church had gone to an Acquire the Fire Conference in Massachusetts (led by Ron Luce, an ORU alumni) and ORU had a booth there handing out information cards. I filled mine out on the spot and turned it in. Not long after that I got my admissions packet in the mail and began the tedious process of gathering the required documents. Financial information was especially stressful because I had no idea how I was going to pay for college and the concept of financial aid was all new to me. I felt like I was reading another language, and Google and smart phones weren’t around to help me figure it out. I just kept praying that God would help me find a way. If he didn’t, I wasn’t going.

I had read in the ORU packet that in order to get a Freshman Academic Scholarship I would have to score a 1050 on my SAT. I absolutely needed this scholarship for all this to work. I had received a $500 scholarship from a local bank but that was it. I was going to have to sign up for loans for the rest of it so I knew a lot was riding on my SAT score, and now is probably a good a time as any to mention that I have never been a good timed test taker. I was as nervous as a turkey in November on the day of the test. After it was done, I had no idea how I had performed, no way to gauge weather it had been enough. Well, it wasn’t. I don’t remember the exact score, something like a 1040, but my heart sank when I realized I had missed it by such a close margin. I was so disappointed, especially when it occurred to me that all my friends would be leaving to go off and start their own journeys at college, and I was to remain behind. I had felt so confident that ORU was where God had led me. How had I gotten so much wrong? I felt like a fool for even daring to dream.

I can’t remember exactly how long after the test scores came back that I received the letter in the mail. I just remember opening the envelope and reading that for some reason, some glorious reason, the SAT people were awarding an extra 50 points on my overall SAT score. Maybe they had discovered an error on the test, maybe they were grading on a scale, I don’t know the exact reason, but I do know my test score changed and now I had the score I needed for the scholarship. I truly felt like God had reached right down and rescued me, putting me right back on the path I belonged, and I was so very grateful. When I couldn’t find a way, God found a way, because he does that. He helps those who help themselves, but he also helps those who can’t help themselves.

I loved my time away at ORU and I have never forgotten the Lord’s provision for my life at that time. I loved my classes, my new friends, being away from home and growing more into myself, and all the new experiences that can come from going away to a great college. But most of all I just reveled in the feeling that I was right where I was supposed to be.

Proverbs 16:9

In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.

When Luck Had Nothing To Do With It

Some lucky winner in South Carolina just won the single winning Powerball lottery ticket valued at 1.537 billion dollars. I almost never play the lottery because I believe, when played on a regular basis, it’s a waste of money seeing that statistically I have a better chance of being killed by a vending machine than winning one of the major payouts. But when the lottery gets “1.6 billion dollars big”, I can’t resist purchasing a $2 ticket for a chance to dream about what it would be like to win. I spend a few nights not knowing if my ticket is the winner, and in the meantime I have some fun imagining what I would do in the fat chance that it was. I dream about having a house on the ocean, limitless learning and educational options, travel, charity, the ability to relieve financial burdens of family and friends, and just the endless opportunities and possibilities that that kind of money would bring. But alas, I was not the big ticket winner this time. However, all of the recent hype about the lottery did have me thinking about a time in my life when I scratched and won, not everything I wanted, but just exactly what I needed at the time.

I was about 15 or 16 years old and a sophomore in high school. My family’s financial situation was pretty much the same as it had always been; not much money to go around for the things we needed, and definitely not enough to go towards anything extra, so I found myself praying as I walked home from school on this blustery early December day. I was frustrated and feeling burdened by the all too familiar circumstance of wanting to participate in activities, but not having the money to do so. I was tired of feeling like a charity case, tired of trying to scrounge up money for things, tired of being poor really. So I poured all of this out of my heart to God as I walked down the sidewalk that lead to our second story apartment situated halfway down the street.

The previous day at church I had read in the announcements that the deposit to attend snowcamp with the youthgroup would be $45 and was due the next week if we wanted to attend the camp in January. I was used to the church pitching in for me, but I hoped to at least have the deposit to contribute. Also due was the $15 per person ticket price to attend the church’s annual Christmas Banquet. It might as well have been $150 because I couldn’t come up with any of it. I was still trying to figure out what I could do about it all as I climbed the front steps of the house to grab the mail before I headed upstairs.

The family who lived downstairs was away visiting with relatives on the Cape and had asked me to collect their mail for them as well, so I grabbed the contents of both boxes and retreated from the cold to our apartment. I noticed we had gotten the blue ValPac envelope in our mail which contained coupons for community stores and businesses. This only mattered because sometimes there were free vouchers for a $1 lottery ticket inside. While standing over the heating vent to bring feeling back to my face and hands, I called my neighbor downstairs on her cell phone to say hi and tell her about the various pieces of mail they had received. She said I could throw away their ValPac and a few other pieces of mail. Before I ditched it, I opened it up and ruffled through the coupons, happy to discover that the lottery voucher had been included that month. Now I had two!

I was technically too young to play the lottery, but I had found that the convenience store down the street had let me get a ticket with the vouchers before, so I figured I would go to the same place and hope for the best. As I walked, I prayed and asked God to help, promising him that if I won anything, anything at all, I would use it towards the deposits I needed. After “purchasing” my two free tickets I quickly walked home, with a nervous excitement about the possibility that something big could happen with these tickets in my pocket. I sat at the dining room table feeling a little like Charlie Bucket with his Wonka Bars. Penny in hand, I scratched the first card and then the second. Brushing the gray dust from the surface or the cards, I sat staring in awe at the tickets on the table in front of me, first checking then double-checking all the numbers. It took a moment to sink in. I had consecutively won first $45, then $15 on the two tickets that lay before me. Chills ran up and down my arms as I sat there in astonishment. I still get the chills each time I tell this story. In that moment I had a lot more than just my deposits. I had an assurance that I was seen and heard, and that my life and worries mattered to the creator of the universe. And that felt so very good.

There are several moments in my life where I have felt complete Peace, Love, Joy, and Hope all at the same time, and this was one of them. The minutes following felt electric, because I was still absorbing the realization of the miracle that had just happened to me, for me. It wasn’t the first time or the last time I would experience a miraculous answer to prayer like this. And I look forward to sharing those stories, soon to come.

Philippians 4:19- “But my God shall supply all my needs according to His riches in Glory by Christ Jesus.”