"You've survived the war, now survive the highways."

There's a sign on the right-hand side of the road as you leave the main gate.  It has three lights--red, yellow, and green--and a counter that displays the number of days since the last traffic fatality.  Depending on the number of days that have passed, a different colored light lights up.

It was red the last time I passed it.  The last time being this afternoon, when Alan and I were leaving chapel.

In the ten months that I've been here, we have yet to make it to triple digits, but we've made it past 50, and that seems to be pretty good.

Too frequently, the light remains red and the number in the single digits.

This sign (and others like it) has fascinated and saddened me ever since I first saw it.

I think of the spouses, the parents, the children, loved ones left behind, and the thought sticks with me until it's time to merge onto I-35, because I need to concentrate if I don't want to be the one who sends the counter back to 0.  Drivers don't always yield and sometimes people seem to remember at the last minute that they don't actually want to take the access road to go home (because it's not like they drive this route every day or anything). ...

And so, they cut in front, and I'm keeping my eyes simultaneously glued to the vehicle in front of me and to the car to my right--is he going to cut me off?--and the traffic to my left.  I don't want my husband thinking of me every time he passes the sign ...

... 6 days since Elizabeth died.

Fort Hood brings people from across the country, across the world, and their driving styles show it.  I'm not sure what a native Texan driver is like, but many drivers in Killeen drive like their parents just filled out the logs without actually holding their teenagers accountable aggressively.

At least, they seem so for someone whose typical definition of a traffic jam is three cars behind a tractor (or a horse and buggy).

But, hey, I don't have to have every destination referenced to me in terms of its relation to Lowe's anymore.  When I first arrived, we went to Lowe's a lot, so it became my landmark--if I'm going to the Soldiers' Hospitality House, I should pass Lowe's.  There's an amazing, hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant (Amazing Thailand) in the plaza in front of Lowe's.  Firehouse Subs is farther down, near where Lowe's Blvd. intersects with Trimmier.

My life pretty much revolved around Lowe's.

But now I am learning, and my memory serves me better when I'm not stressing out about whether I'm going to cause an accident and am I in the right lane to turn around and do I need this exit or the next one?

And so we continue to survive the highways.

the least of these

On a recent drive to school in the morning, our oldest foster child asked me if I needed Scripture references in order to believe things or share things. We sometimes have political or theological discussions on the way to school, and I either preface or end my response with, "Well, the Bible says. ..."

I said that I did, and explained that if it's not backed by Scripture, it's just someone's opinion, and opinions can lead others astray.

That lesson became even truer to me on Saturday, when we attended a Focus on the Family Wait No More event in Houston.

On the way, we passed this really amazing house. We told some of our friends that we needed to buy it and move in together.

But, I digress.

But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as sons.  -Galatians 4:4-6

We have all been adopted, as children of God. God gave (and continues to give) us grace when we deserved none. No matter what our biological parents were like, we have a Heavenly Father who loves us unconditionally, whose love is not dysfunctional.

When I was younger (when the movie rental place only had VHS tapes and it was in a tiny plaza that isn't even there anymore), I recall sitting in my parents' Jeep while we waited for my dad. I asked my mom if she would always love me, and she said that she would, no matter what. Thinking of the worst possible thing I could imagine, I asked if she would love me even if I killed someone. She said that she would. And I thought that was the weirdest thing ever, because I didn't think I would love me (or anyone else, for that matter) if I'd killed someone.

No matter what my biological parents were like, my mom and dad love me unconditionally.

Father to the fatherless, defender of widows—this is God, whose dwelling is holy. God places the lonely in families. -Psalms 68:5-6

Alan and I have been discussing adoption for a very long time. He feels led to adopt. I want to adopt because I feel that I am uniquely suited to help children navigate the questions and issues about their biological families and identities that may arise. And now I want to adopt because there's Scriptural support to this idea, and the event gave me an entirely different perspective on adoption.

I had never had adoption put to me in a Biblical sense (that I recall).

Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you. -James 1:27

"Caring for orphans." I never thought that might mean, "take one into your home and make him family." I thought that meant something like, "donate to charities."

After all, donating on occasion is way less intrusive--financially ... emotionally ... physically ... personally--than the total upheaval that comes with bringing children into your home. Into your life.

Especially older children.

          Traumatized children.

                    Legally orphaned children.

But, isn't living for God all about living lives that are totally unlike the rest of the world? And if one life can be touched, if one little soul can be granted the peace that comes with stability, the comfort that comes from support, and the chance to know Jesus Christ as his or her Lord and Savior, then isn't it all worth it?

lessons in pseudo-parenthood

On June 14, I became a stepmom. On March 21, I became a (temporary) foster mom.

I feel like I've been everything but just mom.

Part of me yearns to be "just mom." The little things quicken my clock.

These are my favorite Texas flowers so far. After weeks of admiring them from the Jeep, I was able to look at them up close while taking a walk.

Our friends' sweet 18 month old saying, "Hi!" when I came home from class recently (Alan was watching our youngest foster child and babysitting for our friends) and our youngest foster child climbing onto the couch to snuggle with me--not all moments are difficult.

Shopping for baby clothes with my friend--she's expecting again. Meanwhile, I want to stash them away in a hope chest.

Trying to decide if a jogging stroller and diaper pail would be worth the investment--I need an athletic outlet. I wanted to buy them now with the hopes that we will someday have use for them again, but as far as the stroller goes, I realized I could just wake up earlier and exercise at home. And as for the diaper pail, we're down to UnderJams and about one accident a day.

Potty successes. They seriously make my day.

Heating dinosaur chicken nuggets and cutting up hot dogs the way my aunt used to, even though I'm preparing a vegan meal for myself.

Connecting with our oldest foster child.

Praying on the drive to school each morning, turning on K-Love. Hoping the words minister, praying that something sinks in, wondering if my mom thought the same things when we grew up listening to our local Christian radio station.

Constantly reminding that not all bugs need to be killed, and everything in nature needs to be put back exactly where it was found. Thinking of my aunt.

Cooking with a curious onlooker who ties my apron strings. Remembering my grandmother and her apron, and watching countless meals being prepared in her kitchen.

Remembering to be patient when someone is being independent--I don't ever recall my grandfather being impatient with me.

Hearing my speech revert to the colloquial Pennsylvania Dutchisms my grandparents, aunt, mom, and extended family sometimes use--and realizing that I would totally talk to my own children like that.

          "There's more back."
                    "It's all."
                              "Come here, onst."

I want my own opportunity to train and rear and teach and guide.

A friend's mom blessed us by filling up my gas tank. With my weekly gas budget more than double what it normally is, her act of service was a major blessing.

But, through this experience, I have also learned to be content where God has us.

To never again take for granted the time that Alan and I have together as a couple (or the time that I have to myself).

To be grateful that finishing assignments minutes before I leave for class and turning in work that is far from my best will not be a forever thing.

To continue reading as many parenting books as I can find and to ask for advice from as many parents as I meet.

To be grateful for those times when I can be in the car by myself and go to the store by myself.

By myself.

To understand the vague semblance of attention one sometimes pays while in class (or at work), knowing that there are little ones and a spouse waiting at home.

In the midst of this situation, I'm not quite sure what lessons God has in mind for Alan and me to learn. But, I'm learning to trust in His timing and His plan.

  
EDIT: Oh my goodness, it's not even Monday. What was I thinking?

are you sure you don't have to go to the bathroom?

 + your house looks like you have kids. i feel better now. This quote sums up our life pretty well, right now. Without going into much detail, Alan and I became temporary foster parents for the children of a friend (hence the lack of updates). You can imagine what our house looks like.

I recently read and loved this book. Our younger foster child and I spent the morning outside, eating breakfast and playing.

+ how do you wake up so early? Hearing this question from our oldest foster child reminded me of my pre-college school years. I could never understand how my mom, aunt, or grandmother could be so chipper/relentless/creative/annoying while trying to rouse me at 6:30 a.m. Yet, here I am, waking at 5:30 a.m. and having to stop myself from loudly greeting everyone with, "Time to make the doughnuts!" Which my aunt used to say.

A week after we became foster parents, Alan sent me to a local spa for a massage--at the end, the therapist said that I still needed more work. Also, I love Aveda Comforting Tea.

+ mind if i pray? Something else from childhood that I've incorporated into our foster children's lives is morning prayer. My mom used to pray for my sister and me before we walked to the bus stop, or, if she drove us to school, she prayed in the car on the way to school. (Honestly, at the time I didn't really care, as I saw it as just another prayer/something else to make me late--in my mind, because we were almost never late for the bus--but now I appreciate it so much more.) And, since I drop off and pick up our oldest foster child from school every day, I've started praying as we turn onto the street where the school is. I can't remember my mom's prayer verbatim, but I pray for some of the same things--wisdom on tests, making good friends, safety, guidance, and a Godly influence in the lives of friends.

Last month, the Baking Brigade connected with soldiers--some about to deploy and some who had arrived at Ft. Hood just the day before. We used Whisker Graphics' Air Mail Divine Twine.

 + dinosaurs and man. Alan arranged for Mike Riddle to come to Chapel Next and hold a Creation Training Initiative class on Saturday. Mike also taught during Sunday Morning Life Group (about dinosaurs and man), and during the church service (about Genesis and discernment). Having attended a mostly secular college, I never received any apologetics teaching (nor did I ever receive any from my home church--that I recall--which I attended until I moved to Texas last summer), so hearing that dinosaurs only recently (hundreds-ish) became extinct was interesting. I also wish churches would teach more about a Biblical worldview.

 

the enemy's lies

We've recently started Max Anders' "What You Need to Know About Spiritual Warfare." (Our edition has a more recent cover, but the point is that the book is available online.)

We were supposed to start the week before last, but our plans were waylaid by a surprise birthday party that my wonderful husband and friends put together. I keep meaning to post about it, but I still have some photos to upload.

Anyway, prior to home life group, one of my friends (Friend A, who attends home life group) mentioned that she felt an evil presence at one point, and another friend (Friend B, who attends home life group) said that she couldn't finish reading the first chapter of the book because of a sudden headache. At the time, I was babysitting and didn't answer my phone when Friend B called, so Friend B called Friend A to tell her, and Friend A prayed for her. The headache mostly went away, and I later heard the story from both of them separately.

And I thought, "Why is this happening to them?"

Susie Larson, in her amazing book "Your Beautiful Purpose," which I highly recommend (and may cover in life group), says that we can't always see God's forces mounting before us when God is about to do something great through us, but the enemy can, and--knowing that we cannot see the awesome power supporting us--chooses to attack us in an attempt to waylay us.

With this in mind, I thought to myself, "I know that they are both great women of God. They are actively advancing the Kingdom--what if that's why they're being attacked and I'm not? The enemy wouldn't bother with them if they weren't doing anything. Maybe I'm not doing anything. What if everything I'm doing is in vain? What if I'm doing it for myself, and everything is meaningless?"

Later, Friend B said that Friend A told her that she wouldn't be surprised if our home life group is attacked spiritually as we continue this study.

And then, it clicked.

I used to sometimes have really intense nightmares. After a while, I recognized the nightmares and the oppressive feelings for what they were, and I started to tell the enemy that he had no power over me, that he needed to leave my presence because Jesus Christ gave me authority over him.

I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you. -Luke 10:19

The nightmares stopped.

I realized that I wasn't having the same feelings, the same experiences, that my friends were having because the enemy knew that I recognized those attacks. He needed to change tactics.

So I doubted myself; I took the bait--until that moment when I realized that my own misgivings were the enemy. The moment I considered my fears in a different light, the doubting ceased and I smiled, partially out of happiness that I understood my own fears and partially out of surprise that

Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. -1 Peter 5:8