Leaving Home to Find Home

Being a mom of four girls is amazing and wild and hard and rewarding and gut wrenching...all at the same time...because there's four of them and each girl is so very different, experiencing life from a different place. This past August, we dropped off our two oldest girls at college. One of them being a senior, and the other a freshman.

Our second oldest was finally returning to the place her heart had always wanted to be. The years of waiting for this time were now behind us...years of incredible growth, but also deep pain, years that left our girl a bit battered, but rooted...years we weren't sad to see go, but ones that played a huge role in extablishing deep convictions and strength within our daughter.

As I think back to our girl as a child, I remember lots of laughter and words and touching. She always wanted to be touching. From the beginning, she loved people and relationships and being together. She was her mother's daughter...who, just like her momma, was deeply in love with the one male in the house...little did we know what a lifeline her Daddy would be in the years to come.

It feels safe to say that if her father was our girl's first love, fashion came in at a very close second. Our fashionista has never been one to turn down the opportunity for a good wardrobe change, which explains why by the age of three we had to limit how many times she was allowed to change clothes in a day. Early on she dreamed of being old enough to wear high heels, and has since never met a pair of Nike shoes she didn't love. She has always been well rounded in her taste!

As her personality emerged, I began praying that the joy of the Lord would be her strength (from Nehemiah 8:10). I'll be honest in saying that in the beginning, as I prayed this over her, I always wrestled with the idea that she already seemed to be walking in joy...that maybe this verse was "too easy" and I should be praying something more powerful over her. But nothing ever came to me.

In 2008, our family moved from our hometown of Hillsboro, Kansas to Littleton, Colorado. We left family and friends to begin a new season of life that would prove to be formative for all of us. I soon realized, after the move, that our second was struggling. The joy we were so used to seeing in our little one was, at times, being overshadowed by anxiety, and she began to talk of wanting to move back to Kansas. As the year passed, I saw our one who drew so much life from relationships and feeling connected, become lonely and desperate for deep friendships.

Cheerleader mom to the rescue!

Let me clear here, basketball was more of my thing througout high school and college. I took on more of a cheerleading role once I was married and had kids. Having said that, my cheerleading skills are pretty legit. And so, the pep talks and pump 'em up speeches and positive chants were preached and hollered by yours truly for longer than they probably should've been. It took me far too long to realize that there's nothing wrong with a good rally cry, however sometimes it's necessary to leave out the "rally" and know when to just sit with your person and cry.

Cue my husband.

I married a man that has the uncanny ability to engage with his heart, while thinking and listening with an incredible amount of logic. This enables him to know exactly when to speak and when to just sit quietly. He's not afraid of emotion, but he also doesn't become consumed by it. Don't even ask me how...I'm still trying to figure it out for myself. I have no doubt God knew our second girl would need just that when He gave her Vaughn as a dad, and the daddy dates that were originally spent going out in search of a fun treat, soon turned into long, tear filled conversations in the car, and over coffee, and on the bed...

Here's the long of the short of it...while deep convictions were being established in our daughter's heart, lonliness continued to surround her. We watched our ever optimistic child over and over try to establish relationships with depth, only to find herself continually having to make hard choices between friends and those convictions.

In this hard and painful season, though, we also watched something incredibly beautiful begin to grow. Through the wrestling and questioning, through the heartache and bitterness, through the longing and disappointment, we witnessed a slow surrender take place. Our battle scarred warrior slowly began to let go of her hopes and dreams of what life might look like as a high schooler, and chose to lean into a contentment that can only come from the Spirit. The countdown to graduation was on.

Little did we know that graduation would never officially come, thanks to COVID-19. The Spring of 2020 seemed hell bent on bringing this whole hard, long season to a close with one big finale of quarantining, virtual learning, cancelled proms, and drive through graduations. 

We made the most of it as a family. 

The Jost Family Prom will go down in the books as one of the greatest dance parties ever (at least for Vaughn and I), and who doesn't want to attend a family graduation where your Grandpa prays over you, your dad speaks words of encouragement to you, your cousins write and dedicate their own song to you and your Grandma hands you your "diploma", while sharing a scripture that she is praying over you.

Again, in the loss there is beauty.

The day finally arrived for our girl to go "home". Choosing to return to where she came from was never a question. The decision to head back to Kansas was an easy one...until it wasn't.

The panic attacks started in the car as we drove down I-70. First there was quiet, then tears and before we knew it we were having to coach her to breathe. There was a serious attack taking place in our vehicle and we began to battle. It was as if darkness knew just how close we were to joy being re-established in the one who so desperately needed it, and a final attempt to sabotage this taking place was being made.

The battle raged through the entire weekend.

The last morning we were there, my second crawled into bed with me. As I prayed over her quivering body, I had to disconnect from the sick feeling in my stomach and hold on to the certainty in my heart that goodness was just around the corner.

Looking into my daughter's panic stricken eyes, I heard her say, "I'm not ready....I can't do this...I'm not ready!"

Lies.

I knew we were on the brink of something new, and it was a last ditch effort by the enemy to use blatant lies to prevent our girl from running head first into a season she had waited so long to experience. There was no question as to whether or not she was ready. In her long time readiness, she had learned the hard lessons of patience, leaning in, and letting go She took steps of trust as she settled into the waiting and surrendered to something she could not see.

It was time.

"Kyan Elizabeth, you are ready!" I spoke these words over and over, with her face in my hands, eyes locked on hers, believing every word.

The fall semester has come and gone. Gathering around the table for Thanksgiving, we talk as a family about changes and growth and goodness....and in that goodness I hear our second speak of finding her people and loving where she is. I see joy in her face and I have a sense this is just the beginning. I believe the hard years were not just a delay to this new season, but a time of preparation. I see a leader before me and my prayer is that her heart would continue to be captured by the One who has created her, carried her and called her...and there is great peace in knowing she is ready!

To My Girls -- I'm so often overwhelmed as I watch each of you grow throught these new seasons. Kyan, the sadness I feel in missing you here is overshadowed by knowing you are finding "home" there in Kansas. May the joy of the Lord be your strength as you walk in the truth of who He has created you to be! Tyah, as Kyan begins, you are finishing up and I'm so very proud of you! As you enter into your own new season of life, I know God has beautiful things in store for you! Aisha, you've stepped into the role of being the "oldest" in the house with much grace and of course humor. Your sweet spirit is a continual gift to our family. And Aleah, you never cease to amaze me in how you hold your own with your older sisters. You are a combination of grit and tenderness. As you get bounced around between sisters as a roomate, it's always so sweet to watch you love the one you're with. May the four of you always cherish each other, embracing your differences, as you recognize the value each of you bring to this family! There's no one else I'd rather do this life with...even if it means quarantining together for months at a time! :)

What A Year...

Story has always been important to our family, along with remembering. This blog is a place for me to treasure both as I hand down my thoughts to our girls. This past year is one worth remembering, in spite of the hard, and in looking back it is becoming a beautiful chapter in a story written by the greatest Author.

For the better part of seven years, I nannied for a family that grew from one child to three in the time span I was with them. Through this time, God not only provided for our family, but He also provided for my heart. The home in which I worked, became a home away from home for me. The family for which I worked became just that, family. We shared a love for Jesus that allowed us to also share deep and meaningful conversations. During the summers, I would bring my youngest two girls to work with me and the kids named themselves "The Summer Squad". The job, the season, the friendship was a gift (and that friendship remains a treasured gift to this day!). But inevitably kids grow up and it was becoming evident that my job was coming to an end. I had no idea what was next.

(The summer squad)

What followed is a series of events that can only speak of the faithfulness, sovereignty, and goodness of a Father who knows us better than we know ourselves.

The first call came less than two weeks after I found out my job was ending. Would Vaughn and I be interested in summer work. Ummmm...why, yes...yes we would. Who cares if that meant we would be setting up Hallmark card displays in Dollar Tree stores...and we would have to wear a collared shirt and khaki pants. Ok, maybe I cared...but not really! It meant financial provision for the summer months AND I got to work alongside my favorite person AND we got to drive a huge Penske truck everyday...what's not to love?

The first week was awful. I'm not gonna lie, I cried in that Penske truck.

However, adjustments were made, we found our rhythm, and instead of crying in the truck on the way home, we spent our time strategizing how to streamline the next job. I will always cherish our truck time together that summer, the laughter, the sweat, the crossing of fingers that there would always be a front entrance we could use. I will also never forget how humbling the job was, giving me a deep appreciation for all those who do manual labor everyday.

 (Selfie in the Penske)

If there were an endless number of Dollar Trees in this world, with a three figure salary being offered to redo their Hallmark displays, we could have continued on with that job forever...but that is not the world we live in and so our temporary job came to an end. What would be next?

I knew that come fall, I needed to find full time work. At 42 I was forced to recognize that I didn't really know what I wanted to do. I didn't really know what I could do. Who was going to hire someone who hadn't been in the workforce for almost their entire life? How do you put on a resume, I love being a mom! I love doing ministry with my husband! I have no skills in technology and all my experience comes from simply running hard after Jesus. Unfortunately it's a little difficult to use Him as a reference. It was again, humbling and overwhelming.

In that time, my friend sent me a job post saying, "I think you would be awesome at this job." As I read the description, something inside of me broke open. I began to recognize that a new season was on the horizon...hope and excitement began to creep in. I applied for the job, and didn't get it. I was able to let it go and trust that God had something else for me (but man, I sure thought that job was it.).

A couple of weeks later as I was finishing up a resume for a different job (that I was not that excited about), I noticed the same exact job I had applied for earlier was re-posted. God, are you re-opening this door? There was an additional job posted that also looked interesting, so I applied for both, meaning I sent out three resumes that day.

What came next was an emotional whirlwind that took me to the end of myself, and left me questioning my ability to discern God's voice in my life.

The "quick" version is this...I interviewed for a job I didn't want. I panicked when I was offered the job. And by panic, I mean I literally had a panic attack in my car and had to call my husband to come help me. I miraculously, in the nick of time, was asked to interview for a job that I was getting super excited about. Therefore, I turned down the first job offer. I gave my initial interview for the second job, via video format. I "left" that interview (meaning I closed my computer) certain I had made a complete fool out of myself. For the next week, I wrestled through serious shame issues and cried more tears than I care to remember. I received an email asking me to come in for a second interview. This was it...God was making a way. Going into the interview, I remember thinking, "Is this what the Israelites felt like right before they stepped into the red sea?" The fear I felt was suffocating, as self-doubt threatened to consume me. All I could do was take the next step in front of me. I left the interview feeling as though I had found my dream job. I experienced such a sense of peace, that I was almost certain I would be offered the job. I was notified a day later that they offered the job to someone else. Deep disappointment settled in...I was exhausted, and it started to feel like God was just being mean.

By now fall was here and I needed to do something to bring in some kind of income. Before summer started, Vaughn encouraged me to do what I needed to do to get my teaching license current, despite the fact that I knew I didn't want to teach. Looking back, I know God's hand was in this suggestion. At this time, it made the most sense for me to substitute teach until I figured out what was next. In Littleton you have to have a current teaching license to sub, thanks to Vaughn I had that. In a district that was in desperate need of subs, I could substitute teach full time, and that's what I began to do...hating every. single. day of it.

As a substitute teacher, I was invisible. I was a place holder. I was simply a means of making sure a day could pass in order for normalcy to return the next day once I was gone. I was in a different room and a different school everyday. My need for relationship and connection tormented me, and I wondered why God would put me in a position so outside of who He created me to be, causing me to suffer. Again, it just seemed mean.

Early December I got called to sub in the PACE program at a local high school. The PACE program at this school is a special education program for students with moderate to severe needs. I went into the job not knowing what the day would look like. I left the job feeling sad that I wouldn't get more time with the students I had interacted with there. A couple of days later, I was asked to sub in the same program for a number of consecutive days covering the next two and a half weeks and leading right up to Christmas break. The consistency of going to the same school and working with the same students felt like a small gift...little did I know just how much of a gift it would be.

One morning as I drove to work, I heard myself saying to God, "I just want to do something I connect with, but I feel like you maybe know what that is even more than I do. I want to trust you to show me what that is."

Three days into the job at the high school, I was working with a student who is severely autistic. We were in an art class when he became agitated and upset. I suggested that we take a break and go out in the hall.

 I will always remember this time and space.

As I sat on the steps in the hallway, I watched as "T" rocked back and forth talking himself down, reminding himself of the expected behavior. "I'm sorry for kicking the table. I will use calm voice. I'm sorry for kicking the table. I will use calm voice." Over and over he spoke to himself, and in this moment my heart was captured. The love I felt for this student whom I hardly knew was overwhelming. I wanted to put my arms around him and tell him how proud of him I was for using his coping skills. I wanted to comfort him and remind him of who he was, someone created on purpose and for a purpose. I wanted for him...I wanted him to continue to grow, to continue to establish relationships, to continue to become more fully who God created him to be, and I recognized a longing in me to be a part of that process.

Two and a half weeks flew by, but not so fast that I didn't have time to fall in love with each and every student I worked with. At the risk of sounding cliche, when I worked with these students I felt alive. I felt as though my true self was being accessed, as I tried to recognize and honor the true self in each of the students. I told myself I wouldn't cry on my last day...and I didn't...until I got into my car.

Going into Christmas break, I realized God was stirring in me a desire to pursue special education. It took me several weeks to even acknowledge my heart in all this, primarily because it came as such a shock. Special education was never on my radar. I was convinced I did not want to teach. This came so far out of left field for me, I kept laughing every time I tried to talk about it seriously. Surely this wasn't for real...and yet I couldn't shake the deep knowing in my soul that this was what was next for me. I had no idea what I needed to pursue the next steps, so I began to look into alternative licensure programs that would cost thousands of dollars and require a two year commitment. I was ready to agree to those terms.

Reality set in as Christmas break drew to a close. It was time to gear up for being invisible once again. By now, though, the vision of what might be next was enough to make me think I could do anything for the next five months. And then the phone rang...

It was a text, asking me if I would be willing to sub in a behavioral room at a local middle school...for the entire month of January. All I could do was laugh. God had just provided another opportunity for me to explore a different side of special education. Clearly He knew my heart, clearly He knew the thoughts running through my head during break, "What if I'm missing something? What if I don't have an accurate sense of whether or not this is for me? What if I pursue this and hate it?" In His generous and gracious character it was as if He was saying, "Why don't you explore it a little further for yourself, so you can know."

I took the job and on January 8 I walked into a room of 11 boys. Each boy with some kind of social/emotional need that required some form of additional support. Each beautiful boy with his own set of gifts and challenges. Once again, I fell in love.

I was considering every day in this program a gift, when I was approached by the principal asking if I would be willing to stay on until the end of the year. My days of feeling invisible were over. And now God doesn't feel or seem so mean, but instead I am overcome by the truth of His sovereignty and generosity.

 (Living the life at Goddard Middle School)

Since then, I found out I only need three additional classes to obtain my special education endorsement. This is not only much cheaper than thousands of dollars, but also frees me from having to commit to a two year program. Who knew!?!

At the very beginning of the this entire journey, one of my closest friends from a state away called with a word for me from the Father, concerning what was to come. She spoke of sweet times with Vaughn filled with laughter. She spoke of a long road ahead, but one that held hope and joy and beauty. She spoke of a "knowing" that I would have as I neared the end. She spoke of growth in our girls as a result of this season and she ended with saying this, "I have a deep sense that when this season is over, you will be able to look back and say, 'Certainly, the Lord alone has done this.'"

Certainly, the Lord alone has done this and is doing this! You just can't make this stuff up. At 43 I am on the brink of a whole new season, and I couldn't be more excited. At 43 I am still learning how to walk in the truth of what I believe. At 43 I am still learning how to trust the Father, a Father who does know us better than we know ourselves. At 43 I am saying yes to the next chapter of my story, believing the Author who is writing it truly knows me, loves me unconditionally, and delights in making a way.


To My Girls -- I know, right now, you need no reminder of this past year, as you have walked this long road with me. But there will come a day when time has passed and we will be tempted to forget. My hope, in writing these posts for you, is that we never forget, but always remember.

May you never forget that you have a Father who knows you better than you know yourself and loves you unconditionally. May you always remember that even in the dark, in the unknown and unseen, your Father's hand is at work. Never forget the truth of who God is, so when you experience feelings that fly in the face of that truth you can remind yourself that feelings are not facts. Do everything you can to rest in the truth that God is good, faithful and sovereign, remembering that He has created you on purpose and for a purpose. Some days that purpose will feel so very clear and right, and other days you may have to wait and trust that that purpose is being worked out in the unseen. Never, ever forget that God delights in bringing about purpose and making a way. There's a  chance, though, it may look nothing like anything you could've ever imagined. He's just good like that!

Fly Little Birdie, Fly!

18 years, 1 month and 16 days ago I gave birth to my first daughter. There are few things I have longed for more than to be a mom, and this girl made that happen. It was love at first sight. I remember her first few days at home. I was on an emotional high, so much so that I couldn't wait for her to cry at night so that I had reason to go pick her up and feed her. I was smitten.

Soon colic paid a visit to our home, and our evenings were spent walking the hallway bouncing, singing, crying, praying. As hard as those days were, my heart continued to be captured by this child. Days turned into years and with each day that passed it became evident that this girl of ours was battling. Change was hard, transitions were hard, unknowns were paralyzing, but when she was in our home we watched her grow and smile, and when she spent time with her "bestie"(her cousin of which she is 42 hours younger) she was always free to be fully herself.

As I prayed for my girl, I began to claim 2 Timothy 1:7 over her,

"For God did not give us a spirit of

fear or timidity, but of power and

love and of a sound mind."

Before we knew it, she was old enough to head off to school, and school proved to be a huge trigger. When this is the case for your child, when you work through days and months of putting on a good face in the mornings in order to coax them out the door, when you find yourself peeling them off your neck and handing them over to the teacher, leaving only in time to fall apart in your car, you become indebted to those individuals that step in and love your child well...Mr. Just who sent me pics of her at recess during the day, knowing my momma's heart was hurting. Mrs. Knoll who knew just how to be breezy enough to walk her through situations that would otherwise undo her. Mr. Moran who often stepped in and walked her through the transition between home and classroom. These teachers will always hold a special place in my heart.

The years came and went and in these years our warrior battled on. As hard as some seasons were, there were others that were so very sweet as we watched our baby grow into a beautiful young woman. I'll never forget the shock I felt the first time she walked out of the bathroom with mascara on at the age of 13. Um, where is my child and why am I staring into the face of what looks like a 17 year old!?!?

2 Timothy continued to be my prayer for this girl, and the Father was faithful to fulfill His truth in her life. During her high school years, we began to see a leader evolve. She fell in love with her youth group and within that group found a place of leadership along with a home away from home. 

The summer after her Junior year, we packed her up and sent her off to Africa, that spirit of fear and timidity finding it harder and harder to have a foothold. In Africa, our daughter's heart was captured, and truth was once again spoken over her...the truth of being a leader, of having a quiet strength and a sweet spirit.

Heading into her Senior year, this momma was starting to realize how limited our time was. We tried to soak in every minute our girl was home, every meal shared around the table, every conversation we got to have, every time she asked me to rub her back. There was no way to slow time down and Spring was here before we were ready for it.

Graduation day came and we turned it into a weekend including a baptism. We celebrated and remembered and my heart swelled and hurt at the same time. The time we had left with her was limited.

During the summer months I often thought back over all the years, all the prayers, and 2 Timothy. I began feeling as though these verses no longer fit like they had for so long. I wondered about that...

Two weeks before we were scheduled to pack up our first for college, as I sat with the Father, He ever so graciously gave me a new promise for my girl, 

"Forget the former things; do not dwell

on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! 

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the wilderness and 

streams in the wasteland." (Isaiah 43:18-20)

These promises were a sweet and cherished gift. As I held them close and claimed them each day, my heart was filled with peace, hope and an anticipation of what is to come. 

Friday morning August 18, 2017, Vaughn and I walked onto Tabor College campus with our oldest daughter. As we stood in line for registration, Vaughn turned to both of us and said, "Look, there's your verse." As I looked around, I realized we were surrounded by the words of Isaiah on the shirts of all the student leaders. Do I even have to tell you how seen I felt by Jesus at that moment?!?!

We moved through the line and headed to the dorms. By then, all of our girls were in tow as I'm pretty sure each one would've literally thrown punches and kicks had we told them they could not come along to move in their sister. As we began to unpack, set up and organize the three youngest's eyes began to dance. As they caught just a glimpse of what college life might look like, they began dreaming about their own dorm room some day, to which I had to think to myself, be still oh my heart this life is already moving too fast. I can't even...

I will admit, though, that it was fun to return to the very dorms I myself had lived in not that long ago;). I have no trouble remembering what it felt like the day I moved in and experienced my first real taste of independence. How was it even possible that I was now moving my very own daughter into this place? I am not old enough for this!

 (Yes, this is me moving in my freshman year, hair in a banana clip and all. And yes, my father is wearing umbros.)

In all the hub bub of the moment, I looked up and saw my oldest sitting on the bed with her phone. It came as no surprise to me that she was perfectly happy to let the rest of us girls "set up house". The questions, "Where do you want this?" and "What do you think about this?" were enough to make her spin just a bit. Knowing herself, she simply gave us freedom to make the decisions and allowed her sisters to organize until their hearts were content.

The rest of the weekend flew by, but not fast enough to prevent me from giving in to some serious emotional eating. I may or may not have consumed two boxes of Mike and Ike's along with an entire bag of crunchy Cheetos, not to mention the breakfast for lunch buffet in the caf. (Carisa, I promise I've pulled myself together and am back on the bandwagon!) The whole process was taking its toll, though.

However, as we continued to follow the schedule given to us as freshman parents,  I felt as though my heart was being tended to by my Heavenly Father.  I learned early on in the weekend that the very verses given to me from Isaiah were the verses Tabor faculty and staff were claiming for the entire year on campus. My girl was exactly where she needed to be.

Friday evening as I sat and listened to President Glanzer speak, he asked us parents for permission on behalf of Tabor faculty and staff, to love our children into adulthood. How beautiful is that? 

Would it have been inappropriate for me to answer his question right then and there? Because in my head I was screaming, "Yes! Yes! I give you permission...please love my girl well. Please support her and encourage her. Promise me you'll be there when she struggles and celebrate with her as she grows. Tell me you'll make sure she gets enough sleep and makes good food choices in the caf, and please remind her to call her mom at least once a week. While you're loving her into adulthood, could you also make sure you screen any and all boys showing any interest in getting to know her? If you want to shoot me a weekly report on how it's going, my email is taryn.jost@gmail.com. 

Of course I didn't say this out loud, instead I made a mental note to simply email the President once I got home. Ok, not really, but maybe...however, by the time the weekend was over I had convinced myself to abort the idea. And yes, for all of those reading this, I do recognize that the President was referring to this exact issue. It was time to step out of the picture just a bit, time to tag out, time to allow another part of the village to play their role in raising our daughter.

President Glanzer went on to recognize the role we had played in giving our child roots, and asked if we would be willing to give them the honor to now give our child wings, and I honestly would've rolled my eyes at how cliche' that sounded, but I was too busy blinking back tears. 

This was really happening.

Too soon it was time to say goodbye. We took a final family selfie while we were all still smiling and before the flood of emotions hit. Vaughn and I then spent some time alone with our girl, praying with her, speaking truth over her and really just clinging to the last minutes of having her beside us. 

Nothing prepares you for that moment of letting go.

But it was time.

Vaughn rescued the three of us by commenting on how you know you're daughter is ready for college when both parents are sitting on either side of her crying and she is looking back and forth between the two of them with a grin on her face and a look in her eye that says, "Do I really need to be here for this? I'm happy to leave you two here alone to work through these emotions." Because that's exactly how it went down.

Immediately we were rolling.

With that, I turned to Tyah Ryan, my firstborn, to the one who made me a mother, to my warrior daughter, our girl of quiet strength and said through tears and laughter, "Fly little birdie, fly!"

To My Girls -- What a new season we are in, eh? Tyah, you are blazing a new trail as the first to leave the nest. We are so very proud of you! We are praying for you, we love you and as always we are for you!;) Kyan, this transition has been hard for you, I know. But, the pain and sadness is a reminder of what a sweet friendship you have with your older sister. I have no doubt your relationship will continue to grow and deepen even across state lines! Aisha and Aleah, your enthusiasm, ability to make us laugh and your tears created such a sweet spirit throughout our weekend. I'm beyond thankful for each one of you. There is no one else Daddy and I would rather do this life with! Please don't forget that when we're the ones getting "older" and considerations are being made to move us "out". We would be more than happy to simply rotate between the four of you! Just kidding...kind of...

Lessons Learned On The Roof

This summer Vaughn and I decided to re-shingle our house. Who knew Vaughn's years of construction work during college and our first years of marriage would come in so handy?

The project took us a week. A week of 15 hour days. A week of sweat stained tank tops, sore muscles and lots of praying for no rain. During that week, I not only learned how much work it is to shingle a house, but I also learned a number of other things. It seemed only appropriate to document these lessons in a post that my girls will return to at another time.

Lesson #1 -- There is something special about working hard together as a family
This project was a family affair. The girls not only put in hours on the roof with us, but they were also put in charge of keeping all things running inside the house (i.e. making meals, cleaning and doing laundry). By the time the week was over, I can honestly say every family member felt a deep sense of accomplishment. There is a bonding that takes place when you take on a big project together. I want to do a better job of finding more of these opportunities in the future.

Lesson #2 -- When you're on the roof, you can't micromanage your children
Two days into this project I realized that I could not manage the inside workings of the house along with helping Vaughn on the roof. In a split second decision, I put Kyan in charge of menu planning and cooking. I assigned Aisha to some baking and told Tyah I would need her to be my driver. I also put all four girls in charge of cleaning.

Tyah took Kyan to the grocery store to do the shopping for the menu Kyan put together. Aisha dove into making no-bake cookies. And I slipped into the blissful state of putting my head in the sand as far as all things household went. During this time, teriyaki marinade boiled over, no bakes were made with Old Fashioned Oats instead of Quick Oats, and one child was inspired to learn how to do laundry. My house was also cleaned.

Long story short, my girls learned a number of things that they might've never learned had I been hovering over them making sure they did it right. Aisha will probably always remember to use Quick Oats from now on (not that it stopped us from eating the cookies she made). Kyan realized how much work it is to make dinner every night. She has a new appreciation for those that make dinner and new realization that she doesn't love cooking. I learned that what I don't know won't kill me, and simply walking into a clean house is amazing! I don't have to know how it happened, with what cleaning products, or whether or not it was done exactly the way I would do it. Considering some of the control issues I have, I'm wondering if I should just excuse myself to the roof more often...would that be weird?

Lesson #3 -- Experiencing community never ceases to bless me
This is probably my favorite lesson of all.

Vaughn and I are huge believers in setting up our lives to live in community with other people. This happens in various ways and on different levels for us, but it runs deeply in our souls. Our hope and desire is to love people well, to see those living around us and to connect with them in whatever way we can. It's an act of obedience to the Way in which we're called to live, but it also rings true with living true life and life to the full. We experienced nothing less during our week on the roof.

I'm not gonna lie when I say that about 24 hours into the project I started praying. I started asking God to send someone to help us. I didn't tell Vaughn that I was praying this, but it was evident that as we started tearing off the asphalt shingles (which were the second layer of shingles under the shakes that were on top) Vaughn was carrying the majority of the burden. As hard as I worked and as strong as I wanted to be, fighting not only nails but also staples made my progress pretty slow.

Right about the time we started looking at each other with a bit of an overwhelmed feeling, Pete walked across the street asking if he could help. Pete is a 60 year old man who lives by himself. I believe he lost his wife a number of years ago, before we moved into the neighborhood. Pete keeps to himself for the most part, but Vaughn has always made a point to say hi or strike up a conversation with him when given the opportunity. I don't know that much about Pete, but I can tell you this. The man is a machine! As he joined us on the roof and began tearing through shingles like a bulldozer, I began to laugh to myself. Why was I so surprised? I had prayed for this, but quickly realized I didn't believe it would actually happen. Pete was a Godsend that day, literally. He gave us the boost we needed to keep going (and it's a good thing because we had just gotten started!). But the surprises didn't end with Pete.

By the evening of day 4 we had the roof cleared. I don't even want to talk about the hours put in pulling nails and staples. Who knew I could feel such emotion towards a clear, clean roof? It was now time to roll out the ice guard and tar paper, and it was important for us to get this done before the day was over. Just as we began the process, Mike and Bobbi popped up over the roof's edge.

Mike and Bobbi are our neighbors. Our relationship began before we even officially moved into the neighborhood as they struck up an initial conversation with Vaughn the first time he was over checking out our house. If there is such a thing as a love connection between neighbors, then you could say it was love at first sight. Mike and Bobbi quickly became dear friends as our families did life together in various ways throughout the years. We love Mike and Bobbi and they have loved us in so many ways. That evening, as the four of us rolled out tar paper, we visited and laughed and maybe had a few choice words for the one roll of ice guard we had to wrestle. We ended the day working by the light of our cell phone flashlights, finishing to the sound of thunder. We went to bed that night with full hearts, recognizing that we never would've been able to accomplish what we did that evening without our neighbors.

Community is a powerful thing. It connects people and gives the opportunity to serve and be served. It deepens relationships and opens our eyes to things we might not ever know. But it takes courage and vulnerability. I'm so thankful Pete had the boldness to come right over and dive into this project with us. I think it probably took some courage to approach us and ask if we wanted help. And when Mike and Bobbi showed up that evening, I'll admit that for a split second I felt bad that they felt the need to help us. There's a certain amount of vulnerability required to welcome others into our "projects". I will forever have fond memories of that evening we shared together, as it will always serve as an important reminder to me of not only the value of serving, but the value of being willing to be served as well! I'm beyond thankful my friends were willing to help me with this lesson.

Lesson #4 --  I love working with my man
I actually knew this before we got started, but the roof was just another reminder. I am blessed to be married to my best friend. Vaughn and I are essentially complete opposites. I'm an extrovert, he's an introvert. I'm a verbal processor, he's an internal processor. I'm quick to speak, at high volumes, with large arm gestures, and he is slow to speak, never dominating a conversation and always careful with his words. Despite our differences, though, there is no one else I'd rather be with.

I've learned a lot working alongside Vaughn. He's a hard worker and he likes to do things right. He doesn't cut corners and he takes his time. Most of all, he sees things through to the end.

The main thing I bring to the table with projects like this, is a strong competitive spirit and some serious positivity. My competitiveness kicks in and I find myself wanting to prove that I can work just as hard as any other guy. I'm fairly certain that when it came to the physical demands of this task, a guy could've been a smidge more helpful than I was, but I was determined to do everything I could to keep it to just a smidge. Lol! As far as the positivity goes, well let's just say that I would cheerlead my man through hell or high waters. Sometimes this is super helpful and other times I'm guessing it is simply the graciousness of my husband that nothing is said in return. I just can't help it, and he knows that, and luckily he loves that about me.

Our week on the roof was treasured time for me. I'm thankful to be doing life with someone who loves doing life together...despite the arm gestures.

To My Girls --We did it! You guys rocked at rising to the occasion and diving in as needed. Tyah, thanks for doing double duty as you worked with us and went to your real job everyday. Kyan, the meals were amazing and such a gift at the end of each day. Aisha, you have rightly earned the title "Laundry Queen" and I'm forever grateful! Aleah, as the youngest you pulled your weight inside the house and on the roof, and I'm so proud of you! I'm so thankful to get to do this life with you girls. My hope is that despite all the crazy of our family, you will always remember the value of working hard, working together and loving well. Sometimes we get it right and sometimes we miss the mark. Thankfully each morning is the promise of a new day and another chance.

Getting A Taste Of Africa

Often at the beginning of a new year, we reflect on the past year and remember the good, the hard, the unknowns at the time, all that we learned, all that we felt, all that we experienced.  I love remembering, even when it's remembering difficult things. It's a practice that reminds me of all the ways my Father is at work, seen and unseen.

This past year felt a bit like a doozy for our family. There was a lot of hard, and challenging. There was a lot of unknown and seeking. There was a lot of emotion and learning. In all of that, though, there was also a lot of good. Sweet times spent as a family. Laughter around the dinner table. Dancing in the living room. Feeling prompted to soak in each moment, to be aware of being present.

This past year Tyah, our oldest daughter, had the chance of a lifetime to travel to Rwanda. As I think back over this opportunity she had, I couldn't be more thankful. I believe God met her there amidst the red dirt, the dusty sky, among the beautiful native faces, and joyful voices. I never want her to forget what she experienced there, what she felt, what she saw, what she heard.

In order to help her always remember what her "first time" was like (because I'm fairly certain there will be a second...and maybe a third...and maybe more), I asked her if she would blog about her experience. She readily agreed and chose to follow an interview style format. The following is what she had to share...

Why were you so adamant about going on this trip to Rwanda?
 Africa has always seemed so cool to me.  I fell in love with the movie Lion King as a kid, because it looked so completely different than anywhere I had been.  Of course this isn't what the entire continent of Africa looks like, but as I grew up and knew of people who had lived there or traveled there, I found it so much cooler than any other place like Europe or Australia.  I have always wanted to travel there and see the way people lived, but I never thought about it much because I never thought I would have the opportunity to do it.  When I joined the student leadership team for my youth group, I heard they were taking a group to Rwanda and I jumped at the opportunity. 

What were some of your fears before you departed?
I remember people asking me before I left if I was scared or nervous.  I remember thinking of course not.  I had been looking forward to this trip all year and I was so excited and ready.  It wasn't until after we landed in Kigali, the capitol of Rwanda, and got on our bus that I started to get nervous.  I realized my fear was that I would go into the trip with an idea of what everything would be like, and that after I would get there I would be disappointed.  Its weird, but I was afraid that I would have certain expectations for the trip and in the end they wouldn't be met.  I remember praying about it on the way to where we were staying, and once we got there I didn't feel this way the rest of the week.
 

Describe your initial experience as you first arrived?
There were a few short delays throughout our flights, so it was around 12 at night when we got to the school we were staying at.  Everyone found rooms and went to sleep because the next day was Sunday, so there was church.  The next morning, we walked to one of the classrooms of the school and sat down in the folding chairs set up.  Adults and children from the village came in and sat down as well.  We listened to the pastor give a sermon as a man next to him translated it to English.  After, we sang a few of their worship songs.  There weren't any words on a screen to read from and it was in their language, but we ended up catching on.  As we were singing, a girl probably around 10 years old came to the front and started dancing.  Kids started to follow her and soon we came and joined them at the front.  Two kids grabbed my hands and we all danced and sang together.  That was my first real experience there and it made me even more excited for the week ahead.

What were the things that you found captured your heart while you were there?
The church service definitely captured my heart.  I felt the most happy when we were all worshiping together.  I also fell in love with the students I got to meet throughout the week.  There was a girl named Patience who was probably in 4th or 5th grade, and throughout the day every day she would come and find me and hang out with me.  We had conversations about my family and her family and God, and she was always so outgoing and loving towards everyone.  Overall seeing how truly happy the kids were all the time and seeing the way the littlest things made their day was something I won't forget.

As the week went on, what kind of emotions did you experience?
For the seven days that we were there, we did as much as we possibly could, whether it was spending time with the kids, eating, debriefing at night around a campfire, going into town, or competing in the "Rwanda Cup" (soccer, basketball, and volleyball games against some of the workers from the school).  Between keeping up with our non-stop schedule and trying to take in all the things I was experiencing so quickly, I became very physically and emotionally exhausted.  Around the 4th day I broke down, and after having a really good conversation with one of the girls in my room, I took a three hour nap.  It was the best decision I made all week and I was more ready than ever for the rest of the week(:  But like I said, we experienced so much in such a short amount of time that it was hard to identify the emotions I was feeling while I was there.  A lot of that happened after I got home.

How would you describe your time in Africa using all five senses.
Africa looked like grey skies, red dust, rolling hills, and banana trees
Africa tasted like banana bread and jelly, passion fruit, chicken and rice, and porridge
Africa smelled like sweaty bodies, campfire, and coffee
Africa sounded like drums, kids yelling, the Lord's Prayer, and singing
Africa felt like dusty clothes, blisters, cold showers, hugs, and tiny hands

Did you learn anything about yourself while you were there? 
One of the biggest things I realized about myself is that I hate not being able to put my emotions into words.  A lot of times, when we would talk at the end of the day, people would ask what was going on in our minds and in our hearts.  For me, there was so much going on but I couldn't explain it to anyone or even myself.  This was hard, but I learned how to stop stressing about that and just take in everything that was still going on.  Even now when people ask me about the trip its hard to put anything into words because you have to experience it for yourself.  I learned so much on the trip, but I didn't get any kind of clear message from God like I thought I would.  For a while I was actually more confused.  But looking back on the experience I can see everything He's done in me and I am so thankful for it.

What are some of your favorite memories from Rwanda?
One of my favorite memories was when someone brought out speakers and played American music.  All of the kids loved it and they always broke out in dance any time they heard it.  I loved going to the restaurants and the markets and experiencing what every day life was like.  Another one of my favorite memories was one night after our group started going to bed, some of us stayed out around the fire.  We went around and talked about what we see God doing in each other and spoke life into one another.  We all became closer and it was so cool that we got to do it in Africa.  There are so many jokes and memories we all have from that trip. 
 
What do you miss most about not being there?
I miss Rwanda a lot.  I miss the people, the kids, the food, and the scenery.  I think the biggest thing though would be the kids.  I had more fun with them than with a lot of people my own age, because they were always so happy.  They always wanted to be holding your hand and they were always up for whatever.

What was your biggest takeaway from this experience? 
This is hard because it's hard to put my experience into words.  I didn't realize I could feel so many emotions so deeply in just one week.  God opened my eyes to life outside of my own and gave me a deeper love for people.  My faith in Him is so much stronger because I encountered Him in so many different ways on this trip.  I realized that when you surrender to the plan God has for your life, He can surprise you with opportunities you never thought you might have.  I will always be so thankful for this trip and everything I experienced while I was there.  I can't wait to see what God has for me in this next year, even if I don't get the same opportunity.  


To Tyah -- I am in awe of the way God is at work in you. I see Him growing in you a heart that looks more like His everyday. I love the way He has captured another piece of you through this trip. My prayer for you is that you will continue to seek Him, that you will continue to learn to hear His voice, and that you will continue to desire more of Him in your life. May your sense of adventure (which is pure testimony of the Father's hand at work) always lead you into a deeper experience of Jesus. I'm so proud of you and can't wait to see what God has in store for you in the future. I love you!

Who Do You Say That I Am?

Two nights ago I laid in bed next to my oldest daughter while she cried. The reality of just how quickly this last year at home is going is starting to settle in, and the tears came hard and fast. Laying  there in the dark, though, I couldn't help but be thankful for the tears as I saw them for what they were...testimony to who God is.

The tears being spilled came from a deep love for the sweet friendships Tyah has developed over the last two and a half years. The thought of moving into a different season of life that promises to separate these kiddos is painful and sad. But you know, I'd want it no other way.

The pain and sadness is reminding me of gifts the Father has so perfectly given to our oldest and in doing so, given to me.

Two and a half years ago, I was face down on my living room floor ranting to God. I was accusing Him of asking Vaughn and I to follow Him into a situation that was going to lead our oldest daughter astray. I'm fairly certain I used phrases like, "Throwing my child to the wolves", and "Is this really how we get repaid for obedience?".

It was far from one of my finer moments.

Just the fact that I was not struck down by lightning for what was coming out of my mouth is testimony to the gentle, loving, slow to anger character of God. It felt like a dark season and I could not see how it was going to play out.

Two weeks ago, I was on the phone with a friend as I heard myself referring to that hard season as a foundational time in our lives, for both Tyah and myself. I was able to look back and see all the ways God was at work on a master plan that was way beyond what I had constructed in my mind. And through it all, He landed Tyah smack dab in the middle of a group of friends who love Jesus and have become like family to our daughter.

I saw Tyah's tears as a thank offering being poured out over her pillow as we talked about the sweet, sweet way her heavenly Father has loved her. And at that moment it was easy for me to speak of Jesus being good, and faithful, and sovereign.

I am finding that looking back and remembering who God is, is so much easier than being mindful of it in the present. When enough time and space has passed to allow for the pain and the doubt to subside, when the questions have fallen away and closure has maybe been provided, or when just enough of that part of our story has been revealed, that we have more of a sense of how God is moving, then we're finally able to take a breath and really say, "God you are good, and faithful and sovereign."

Three months ago, it felt like our family got thrown into the deep end of the ocean. Notice I didn't say the deep end of the pool. I'm a pretty good swimmer and if it felt like I was thrown into the deep end of the pool that would indicate that I had a flippin chance of finding my way to the side for air.

But no.

It felt like we were in the middle of the ocean with one huge wave after another crashing over us. Just about the time we felt like our heads were above water enough to take a huge gulp of air, we got pummeled by another wave, leaving us sputtering, choking and floundering all the harder.

I'll be honest in saying that I spent a decent amount of time during the first phase of this little "swim test" pretty convinced that my skills and abilities would be enough to get me to some kind of "land". However, time would prove otherwise and I began to feel like I was sinking.

In that state, I heard the Father ask, "Who do you say that I am?"

I ignored the question for as long as I could, but finally recognized that sinking is synonymous with drowning and therefore I finally engaged the question in hopes of being rescued.

It's crazy how quickly we can answer a question like this one without hardly giving it a second thought. Lord, I know who you are...you are good and faithful. You are sovereign and loving. You are my Father and my Savior.

And now that I've answered that question, can we take care of the fact that I'm drowning here?

The answer I heard in response was, "Rest in this."

Oh dear Jesus, could it be so simple? Lord knows I was beyond tired of the struggle and any thought of rest triggered a measure of hope that I dared not believe. Was it possible to actually rest in the truth of who God is, before knowing how everything was going to play out? Could I actually find peace and hope in the middle of the chaos, and not just at the point of resolution?

Finally, what were my options? I had exhausted my skill set and had looked to anything and everything else to give me a sense of security, only to leave me wanting. It was obvious I had put more trust in myself than I had in the One who promises to always be trustworthy, and it was not serving me well.

For the last couple of weeks I have thought a lot about who I say Jesus is. I've thought about what it means to say these things, and what it means to actually walk in this truth. I can see how I love to speak of His goodness after the fact, but am challenged to trust it when I'm walking in the middle of the unknown. And yet, isn't it our actions and our choices that give evidence to what we truly believe?

Ultimately, I want my life to reflect the truth of who God is. If this is the case, then I must choose to walk in this truth no matter what season of the journey. And how ridiculously crazy is it that the truth that we are invited into actually offers us peace, and rest, and Life despite the brokenness we are experiencing. I've got nothing that can offer me anything that comes close to that, and yet I still struggle to surrender to it.

Lucky for me, aside from being good, faithful and sovereign, Jesus is also patient and so much more. I will still always love and be so thankful for the times we're given where we can look back and see the work of our Father's hand. But I'm also fairly certain He is going to continue to give me ample opportunities to practice walking in the truth of who He is, before I have any idea of where He is leading. I'm slowly learning to be ok with that.

To My Girls -- I confess that I have not always done a good job of being a good example of what it means to walk in the truth who Jesus is. I have done a pretty good job of exemplifying what it looks like to try to control things and then quickly lose my mind when I'm unable to pull it off. I'm sorry for this. I want nothing more than for you to know the hope and joy that we have access to when we choose to find rest in Jesus, despite our circumstances. At times this will sound too easy to be true and at times it will feel too hard to believe. The not knowing in life can feel so scary, but the beauty is that we are invited to trust the One who does know. Embrace the unknown with the assurance that Jesus is good, faithful and sovereign. And always remember that He is crazy about you!

Dude, Where's My Car?: The Sequel

 

Two months ago I blogged about our car being stolen.  It was the craziest thing.  The range of emotions we experienced while processing the loss was wide.  Thinking about how we might recover was overwhelming.  Trying to trust in spite of circumstances was challenging, to say the least.

And then I got a text from our close friends who were finishing up their extended trip to Nicaragua.  The text essentially said, "We're not asking for permission, we're simply giving you a heads up.  We're setting up a Go Fund Me account for you guys in order to raise money to replace your car and other belongings."

What?!?!?!  First, I didn't even know what a Go Fund Me account was.  Second, how did I feel about this?  What might people think?  As church planters, we had already spent three years of our lives living on raised support.  Surely people are tired of giving...of supporting us.

Surely I am tired of being dependent on others to make ends meet (pride is an ugly thing!).

But then I read what the Cartwrights wrote about our situation, and my heart was humbled.  Again, we were overwhelmed.  The gesture in and of itself ministered to our family in ways words cannot even express.  But it didn't stop there...

By the end of the first day I had family and friends calling and texting, asking me if I was watching how much was being donated.  By the end of the second day, our family sat around the dinner table as Vaughn read the comments being left by various donors.  We both cried.

How does one even begin to say "Thank You!" in a situation like this?  For a third time, we found ourselves utterly overwhelmed.  We felt loved and supported to the point of it almost being uncomfortable.  Uncomfortable because there was no expectation of anything in return.  There was no way to "pay back" all those that had blessed us.  There was nothing we could do to balance the scales.  The only thing we could do was humbly receive the blessing that was given us, and in doing so experience the immense beauty of generosity.

With the finances raised, we were able to replace "Carl" (our Saturn).  Vaughn found an older used Toyota that was in good shape...we named it "Yoda".  Vaughn was also able to replace his laptop and most of his belongings.  Throughout this entire ordeal, we continued to pray that Carl would be found.  However, as time passed we began to wonder.

A few weeks ago, though, we got the call!  Our car had been recovered (minus our belongings).  We were free to go and pay to pick it up from where it had been impounded.  Awesome...you gotta love how that works.  Yes, I'd love to pay for my stolen car!  Really!?!?

Anyhow!  We were nonetheless thrilled because we had plans for that car.  We wanted nothing more than to find Carl a new home, with a family in need.  We had prayed for the opportunity to thank all of you for not only providing for our family, but for an additional family as well!

Carl will soon be relocating to an organization called Joshua Station.  For the last 3 years we have been in relationship with this ministry that provides temporary housing for families getting back on their feet.  We have shared numerous meals with many of these families and love the idea of being able to bless one of them by donating our car.  Your generosity has allowed us to do that.

So thank you...

Thank you to those close friends and family who jumped in immediately with their love, prayers and giving.

Thank you to those friends from high school who gave, despite the fact that we haven't seen many of you in years!  Your thoughtfulness blew us away.

Thank you to the various families from Trailhead.  Your community will always hold a special place in our hearts as we took many of our first steps with you guys!

Thank you to the anonymous givers.  We may never know who you are, but our prayer is that you will know how blessed we were by you.  And to the family with children that keeps their eyes open for missionaries to bless...you are an inspiration to us!

And thank you to our parents.  Your support, your words of encouragement, your prayers, your generosity and your love have carried us through so many seasons, and this one was no different.  We love you so very much!

My prayer for this post is that others will be reminded of the power of giving.  My hope is that those who gave might celebrate with us, as you not only provided a car for our family but for an additional family as well!  My heart longs for more stories like this.  Stories of others surrounding those in need.  Stories of communities of people supporting and loving on those in hard places.  Stories of random acts of giving, inspiring those who are receiving.

We are humbled, we are grateful, we are inspired!
Thank you!


To My Girls -- Give.  Give freely.  Give generously.  Give with a joyful heart.  It's beautiful in writing, but sometimes much more difficult in action.  My prayer is that each of you will continue to develop generous hearts, hearts that long to bless, to serve, to live openhandedly.  May we continue to learn to hold loosely to our own possessions, and always be on the lookout for ways to help provide for others.  And those times when it's hard, those are often the most important times to give.  For as we grow in our ability to be generous, our hearts are being transformed to look more and more like the perfect Giver.