Last night a pastor from a church in Fremont preached at Redeemer. In these four weeks of Advent our pastor Michael Gordon has been preaching a series on the “mothers” of Jesus, the women listed in Matthew’s genealogy. The series has been excellent (you can find the sermons here). Last night’s preaching on Ruth brought up a point that I had never noticed before—that Ruth in her first marriage never had children. In Ruth’s marriage to Naomi’s son, which the bible tells us lasted about 10 years, she was barren.

If you go on and read the entire book of Ruth you’ll learn that Boaz eventually marries Ruth and together they give birth to Obed, who is the grandfather of King David. Jesus is born in this same line, many generations later.

This weird thing happens anytime someone mentions the word “barren” in a sermon. I get hot. I feel like everyone must immediately be thinking of me with sorrow in their hearts. Yes, that is a very self-centered way to think, but it is also true that my dear, wonderful, beloved friends think of me when they hear a hard story of infertility. It’s the story that—for me—continues and does not end with biological offspring as many other stories do. If you’ve studied the bible or been listening to sermons through the years, then you’ve heard of Sarah, Abraham’s wife, as well as of Hannah and Ruth. Infertile women, all of them. God opened their wombs, all of them. And furthermore, God did great things through the children he promised them.

I itch and sweat in the pew as these women’s stories are told. I get uncomfortable. I want to hide. Because my story is not like theirs; my infertility has found no resolution.

So hear me loud and clear as I get something off my chest:
God has not healed me AND he is still good.

Do you believe that? Can you believe that? Can you see something and want something so badly, can you pray for something for years and years and years, can you see your friends receive the gifts that you are not getting and can you still believe that God is good?

YES. Yes, you can. And you should.

I believe in the promises of God listed in the bible.

I believe he is good and withholds nothing that I truly need.

I believe he adores me the way that no human being can ever adore me.

I believe he catches all my tears in a bottle, that he holds me in the palm of his hand, that he shelters me under the shadow of his wings.

I believe I can be barren, infertile, not have the tidy ending of a biological child and that at the end of the day I am the recipient of God’s goodness.

THAT is what I believe. My story is the perfect one written for Rebecca Tredway. It is not Hannah’s, nor Sarah’s, nor Ruth’s. It is mine. The ending is not told, but the hope of the ending is not found in fertility. It is not found in adoption either (as profoundly grateful as I am that adoption made me a mother!). The hope I have is found in Jesus who gave everything to make me his. It’s that kind of love that gives me peace, that lets me rest, that forces me to take a deep breath in the middle of a sermon that deals with a barren womb. All is not lost. I am healed in all the right places.

The Redeemer Christmas party!!

Sometimes it’s hard to study the bible when eyes like these are looking in your direction. And don’t get me started on this boy’s cheeks! He is scrumptious. This morning he was alert and in the mood to chat. Swoon. Sarah and Jordan sure make beautiful children.

December Photo Project, day nine.

I began to think of throwing a big party for my birthday some time ago, only the idea of narrowing down an invitation list made me sweat. So I didn’t narrow down anything, rather I hosted a brunch for all the women at our church (we have a smallish sized church body) and rather self-centeredly did so on my birthday. It was kinda awesome and I only questioned my sanity a few times in the process. I asked several girlfriends to help set up and clean, and a potluck-style brunch meant I didn’t have to cook anything more strenuous than coffee—and even then I only prepared one pot.

I had a really fun morning with a lot of wonderful women, chocolate cheesecake and laughter. Thanks to all who came and all who helped. I love you, chicas!

I had this trajectory in mind for my life, one where I’d gradually get wiser and more mature and more self-sufficient over time. I assumed that I’d age and develop all these great traits and that I’d need people less. Because, you know, I would have so much to offer people—and somehow that seemed to go hand-in-hand with being a pillar of self-sufficiency.

What I’ve discovered is that, yes, it’s true that maturity can come with more life experiences. And if one pays attention to those life experiences, there certainly can be wisdom gained. But it is absolutely not true that wisdom and maturity go hand in hand with independence. In fact, the opposite is true. In the Christian life, age and maturity leads to greater humility and dependence—first on Christ and second on people.

I first noticed my incredible need for others when we stepped into the world of foster care. We were thrust so far outside our comfort zones that I knew the only way we’d survive would be with the help of those around us. More than the hand-me-down clothing and more than the toys dropped on our front doorstep, we needed prayer. The spiritual truth of our fostering reality was that we were incredibly weak as we served children. In fact, I don’t know that we’ve ever felt weaker. Suddenly juggling the needs of foster children—and the many unknowns—we were also managing all the normal job, household and parenting duties as before. The need for others to pray, asking God for sustenance, felt huge to me. Somehow I knew deep down that I would need to ask for a lot, and thus I immediately set up a support circle who would pray when I asked them to.

A remarkable thing happens when people pray, and I can’t really explain it entirely because it still seems so mysterious to me. God listens. He engages, he dialogues, he answers. And in turn I’m drawn to see his hand of mercy in a new way. But when a need for prayer is opened up to an entire group of people, guess who else sees God’s gracious care? All those people. Together we’re drawn closer due to our communal neediness.

It feels really vulnerable to be the one asking for prayer. Sometimes I feel like a big burden when I ask those closest to me to pray for me. When everyone prayed for our foster kids, it felt easier on my pride because it wasn’t for me! How nice, right? If you know anything about my physical woes, then you know that I’ve had to ask for prayer time and time and time again. And if a large season of time goes by where I’m not asking, it’s because I’m not telling you something. That’s how many physical needs I’ve got going on—I need a lot of prayer. Each time I email a group of friends, it takes a huge dose of humility to press the send button. Deep breath in of need, deep breath out of pride. And in that need, God shows up. He shows up in the words of friends preaching the gospel to me yet again. He shows up in the acts of mercy shown to me by loved ones. He shows up in ways of healing that I’d never choose or imagine.

The trajectory of life isn’t one where I am full of so much strength and goodness that I never have needs. Rather, the trajectory includes my humility, which forces my knee to bow to God’s greatness and requires me to acknowledge the great depth of need I have in all realms. In this I get to see that God is good, all the time; all the time, God is good. And what a beautiful thing it is to see that goodness! I am sustained by his mercy.

Four foodie chefs competed for the pig trophy (seen in the first set of pictures) and, boy oh boy, them eats were good. The judges took their jobs very seriously and Ray Blanton was crowned the winner. In truth, we were all winners as we got to eat their BBQ for dinner. YUM. The rest of the night was spent playing in the water, talking with friends, competing in corn hole and roasting s’mores over the campfire.

My last image of the day is, fittingly, Jen Hinrichs sitting in an empty dining hall with her feet up. A huge thanks goes to Jen, Hope, Michael and Adam who worked hard to make sure the rest of us were ensured an awesome weekend. Thank you!

What’s the perfect activity for all ages on a humid Nebraska summer day? BINGO. We’re all pretty sure our pastor has been moonlighting as a BINGO caller for sometime now; he’s that good. Look for the “oh yeah” and high-five pics—those would be the winners. My own husband came away winning a little pink manicure set. Oh boy, wish I had been there to witness it.

Camp Redeemer pics are here! I’ve got loads to go through, so I plan to have more posted soon. Last weekend a bunch of us made our way to Camp Solaris in Firth, Nebraska, to enjoy a day of sunshine, games, BBQ and fun. It was kind of epic, I can’t lie. (Pssst… Watch out for some hidden water balloons, especially if you happen to be playing soccer amongst the corn fields!)

In May I struggled to come up with words to explain my life, a life that was quite full of good things but for some reason didn’t feel quite right. My friend accurately said I felt “untethered.” Yes! Untethered. The schedule of the school year had just dissipated into summer vacation. A few weeks earlier we celebrated the reunification of our foster son with his mama. Our weekly bible study at Redeemer wrapped up and I completed my duties as administrator of the women’s ministries committee. There was a lot of freedom in my days. I felt untethered. Which leads me to the photo above. Ian. In the park. Free and happy on a swing.

My buddy Ian used to live next door to me and whenever I wanted a bit of companionship, his mom was there. Renae was easily accessible. As an extrovert, that companionship was highly valued! We lived on the same block as our church for quite awhile, which also meant that we’d have friends drop by regularly. But as the seasons of life shifted into new ones, and both Renae and I moved away from the old ‘hood, it’s become a tad harder to stay connected, to stay tethered to people. I daresay it requires intentionality that it didn’t before. It’s for this reason we’re doing a little something called Summer Lunches at Redeemer. Summer is the most untethered of all seasons and that can be a good thing! The freedom of vacation and nice weather and long days can be wonderful. But so can connection to friends new and old. Summer lunches are hosted at a different park every week and, in the simplest of terms, they’re an on-ramp to relationships. Every week someone will be at a park. They might have a lunch, they might have a kid or two, but they’ll be there and you can be there, too.

As I get older I realize more and more the beauty of belonging to a church body. The first and biggest beauty is belonging to God and worshipping him. But beyond that, there’s a sense of camaraderie of knowing that my brothers and sisters in the church are there to love and support me. In the most beautiful way possible, they are present. I belong. In Christ, I am tethered to them so that even in the hot summer months I have a place to know others and to be known.

This isn’t an advertisement for summer lunches or for Redeemer. But because I am who I am, I’m going to say this anyhow… If you want a place to belong, come to a summer lunch at a park with me. Or come to church with my family! I cannot think of a more lovely way to be tethered.

The Redeemer Christmas party is always a fun time. Lots of yummy food, great people, and a white elephant gift exchange that is always hilarious.

Tonight I am very tired, but will go to bed laughing. Laughing on the inside. External laughing would require too much energy. Goodnight!