Life of a Pilgrim

A new pilgrimage

It’s been a long time. This is no better proved than by the fact it took about ten tries to even get into this blog again. There were moments when I almost let this little piece of a former life go, but for some reason clung to the fact that someday I might return. The past two years have in no way been insignificant, but I never had the sense that the lessons and musings I was gathering were meant to be shared on a wider stage. There were times I would remark to Jeff about how much I missed writing, but I just sensed it wasn’t the season.

So why now? Why the return? This week, or more correctly, the past few months, has thrust our little family on a new and unexpected pilgrimage. I get the sense that we are standing on holy ground, and there is truly nothing that aids me better in noticing and observing the Father’s presence than writing. And I have never needed to know His presence more. I have also never been more keenly aware of my need to be supported by prayer and community, and this is one of the easiest ways for me to communicate with friends across the country and the globe without having to rehash stories that are painful to tell. And lastly, I want this record of my sweet second daughter’s life. It appears, barring a miraculous act of the Lord, that that life on this earth will be exceedingly brief. But I know that small and brief does not equate with insignificant, and I want to remember her. I want to remember these few months I’ve been given to enjoy her.

This Holy Week of Easter we sat in a genetic counselor’s office and heard the words no parent ever wants to hear. Incompatible with life. Terminal. Very, very little chance for survival. Words absorbed while little legs persistently and vigorously kicked inside me. But the story doesn’t begin in that office. It’s a long story, but so important in framing that day in that office. So I’m going to break all rules of blogging length and just tell you the whole thing.

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My daddy and me

For someone who two weeks ago had never changed a diaper and looked a bit like he was handling a bomb when handed a baby, Jeff has taken quite quickly and naturally to fatherhood.

In fact, he’s probably changed more diapers than I have in the past twelve days.

He’s taken the late night fussy shift so I can get some sleep, as well as forced me upstairs for naps.

He’s folded laundry, cleaned the kitchen, and comforted his slightly very hormonal wife.

He’s insisted on hairbows and run to get one whenever visitors come to call.

He’s burped, and swaddled, and rocked, and cradled.

He willingly donned the requested outfit and posed for countless photographs without a word of complaint.

He’s created more nicknames for our little one than most collect in a lifetime.

During one of the busiest seasons at work, he made the decision to be home for two weeks.

And made his wife fall even more madly in love with him.

Miss Eliana, you do not know how blessed we are. One thing is for certain, though, we sure are going to miss Daddy when he goes back to work next week.

What’s in a name

Dear Eliana,

There was one thing for certain, I wanted your name to have significance. This could be because I lived in China for a number of years, and in China a name is chosen with utmost concern as to its meaning. A name is seen as charting a course for your life. While I believe there is One, and only One, who charts the course of your life, I respect the care and attention placed on naming in China. This is a tradition not just in Chinese culture, but one from the beginning of time. There was nothing arbitrary about the first names for that first man and woman, and there was nothing arbitrary about the names by which they called on the Lord. These reasons for carefully choosing the meaning of your name may sound high and lofty, but the other fact is I just simply love a good story. And I wanted your name to have a story. A story that perhaps could provide a bit of an anchor and a purpose in those future moments when you may ponder and question your identity.

When your Daddy and I found out you were a girl on Valentine’s Day, we began combing the name lists; searching for the perfect name with the perfect meaning. Since our family name is quite common, we wanted somewhat of a unique name. Not so unique that people give the polite, “Oh, what a nice name” and then mutter under their breath, “What were they thinking?”, but unique enough that you perhaps would not encounter too many people with your exact same name. And so we parsed through the lists, tossing around a few for a couple days, but not really settling on one.

I was sitting in the parking lot of Safeway, the song Holy (Wedding Day) was playing (don’t ask me why I remember this minor detail), when the name Eliana came to me. The only Eliana I had ever known was the daughter of a friend from grad school, so it seemed to fit the unique requirement. I pulled out my cell phone to look up the meaning…and I knew you were named. Of course, I needed to get your Daddy’s input as well, but I was sold. I could hardly pick up my groceries quick enough before going home to tell your Daddy.

Eliana, derived from Hebrew, means “My God has answered me.” My sweet girl, you are in many ways the culmination of the Lord answering in my life. Growing up the only thing I ever really wanted to do was to be a mother. I can remember playing in my room, shoving stuffed animals up my shirt pretending I was pregnant. When I went to college, my great dream was to find a husband, move to the suburbs and start having babies. However, (and thankfully so) the Lord had bigger dreams for me. I didn’t find a husband in college, but I did find a path that led me to China. That path was a long and winding one that I will tell you the story of another day. Suffice it to say, one year into my time in China I faced a decision. I could commit to remain there for an indeterminate amount of time, or I could return to the States. At this time friends were getting married, my sister was starting her family, and I had plans to start grad school with my best friend out in California. I knew staying in China meant the postponement and perhaps the abandonment of many dreams. With the God we serve it was surely possible I could meet my spouse in China, but not that likely. Like Abraham, I felt called to take these dreams and desires and place them on the altar…trusting in the one who commanded the sacrifice that were it for good, He could return those desires to me. And thus my one year sojourn in China morphed into six. Those years are some of the richest of my life, and taught me that there is no better place to be than on the crazy unpredictable path of following the Father’s movements.

Little did I know during this time, that the Lord was working in a very special man’s life in a far off city in Washington. He was carving out a path for your Daddy as well, and working out circumstances such that at a certain moment in time he happened to be looking for a wife through an online dating service just when I happened to join the same service as well. The story of how we came together is one for another day, but is packed full of “the Lord has answered” moments.

Your daddy and I got married up in the mountains of Leavenworth on June 16, 2012 and set about adjusting to married life. We had both agreed that we wouldn’t even broach the possibility of kids in the first year of marriage. Worldly wisdom told us that we needed to establish a strong marriage first, and that there were things to be enjoyed before we brought a little one to the mix. However, in the early fall of 2012 I was praying about what the Lord wanted me to be doing in Wenatchee. I had applied for several jobs with no result, and didn’t really know what to do with myself. The only call on my life that I felt certain about was the call to be a mother. However, this was not a direction I wanted to push your Daddy in in any way. And so I prayed. I handed it over to the Lord saying if this is your timing, then I want him to bring it up. Two days later, out of the blue driving home from Gospel community group, your daddy comes out and says, “So I’ve been thinking it might be time to start a family.” It took me a bit to wipe my jaw off the floor. And so, our man made plans got thrown out the window, and you my dear came along even faster than your Daddy and I anticipated. But once again, my God had answered me. And two weeks to the day after celebrating our first anniversary, we held you in our arms for the first time.

It is my hope and my prayer that Eliana is descriptive not just of the story of how you came to be, but also of your days to come. I hope you come to know the Lord in an intimate and personal way, and that you will also collect countless stories of the moments (both big and small) where your God answers you. Because here’s the mind boggling, astounding fact–the creator of the universe loves and treasures small, tiny, and yes even insignificant, you enough to answer in big, powerful, detailed, personal ways. May you see this fact written on the pages of your life, and may it never cease to amaze you.

And then there is Elizabeth. This name too has significance. First and foremost, it is special because it is your Aunt’s name, my big sister. You are our first daughter, just as she was the firstborn. You will be the leader and trailblazer and like it or not model for your siblings, just like your Aunt. It is my hope that you will one day have a special relationship with your siblings just like I do with your Aunt. We were pretty certain you would carry Elizabeth as your middle name, even before we chose your first, and weren’t particularly concerned about it’s meaning. However, after I looked up the meaning, it fell perfectly into place with Eliana. Elizabeth, derived from Hebrew, means God’s promise. And so my daughter, I pray that you will know this God who answers all His promises. Because you are our first, I’m sure your Daddy and I will have plenty of bumbles along the way raising you. But I have no doubt that if your identity, your confidence, and your foundation is placed with our answering, promise giving God, your story will also be filled to the brim with testimonies of your Father’s perfect faithfulness.

So thankful for the Lord’s answer in you,

Mommy

Introducing Eliana

Eliana Elizabeth entered the world June 30, 2013 at 1:26 pm (7 pounds, 6 ounces, 20.5 inches long) after…well, after too many hours to count of labor. We’re all at home adjusting to the new normal and falling madly deeply in love with this little gift. One little picture to whet your appetite…much more to come, including the story behind her name.

Father’s Day

Exactly one year ago this Father’s Day, my dad gave me away. Gave my hand and my heart to another man. He graciously stepped aside from being the man who held the greatest authority and greatest affection in my life. But this relinquishing and letting go simply ushered in a new phase in our relationship.

There is just something special about the dad daughter relationship, and I am thankful for a father who, while not perfect, taught me what it meant to be cherished, respected, and honored. He was the first to give me flowers, the first to take me on a date, the first to open doors for me, the first to provide for me. And in all this he raised the bar wonderfully high for the man I was to marry. With a dad who loved me like that there was going to be no settling.

This Father’s day there is much to celebrate, and almost a coming of full circle. For (really any day now) another father daughter relationship is about to begin. Tomorrow Jeff and I will celebrate one year of marriage, and the imminent arrival of our little girl. Something tells me he’s going to captivate, protect and guard this little one’s heart in much the same way that my dad did for me. I can hardly wait to see her in his arms that first time!

The bump

When Jeff’s brother Greg came into town about a week ago we decided to take advantage of having a fellow photographer around for some maternity shots since I haven’t quite mastered the self-portrait. I had been fulfilling the “barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen” stereotype all morning preparing a family reunion meal, so my ankles were swollen about three times their normal size and my feet barely fit in my flip flops. Ahhhh, the joys of pregnancy. But there have been many requests for bump shots, so without further ado, here is the belly in all its glory. 35 weeks down, 3 to go? 4? 5? Hopefully not 6 or 7?

Out with the old, in with the new

{Alternately titled: making sense of tedious labor}

Currently I’m sitting in our eating nook looking out at my hard-working husband, friend and father as they labor in the back bed of our yard. It’s a project that we’ve been chipping away at for awhile, and especially this weekend.

What grew in the berm before were what my husband likes to call “weed trees,” but perhaps would be better titled “trees from down under.” Likely purchased because they are (A) incredibly cheap and (B) incredibly fast growing, these trees look deceptively healthy and pleasant. However, they are also incredibly malicious. They send a vast and shallow and extensive root system throughout the yard. These roots not only create a hazardous and bumpy landscape, but also send up tiny shoots of mini evil trees all over the yard. We’re talking little forests of trees that grow to at least six inches in between mowing. Sure, with constant surface level maintenance, the insidious effects of these trees can mostly be hidden, but we knew from the moment of purchasing the house they would have to go. As painful as it is to cut down mature, tall trees, we knew that in the long run we’d be much happier with them gone.

The actual cutting down of the trees was quite quickly taken care of in a couple hours on one afternoon (largely due to the efforts of a skilled former farm boy that Jeff works with). While this task was visually the most dramatic, in terms of amount of labor, it was nothing in comparison with what was to come.

We hired a stump grinder, and then set about to the real work. There was river rock to be cleared (a tedious job done handful by handful as it was sifted from dirt and debris). The berm had to be leveled. Rocks dug out of the soil. Huge roots dug up, hacked at and removed. A clearing out of the old, so that new trees with new roots could flourish in the area. Granted, you could probably plant some new trees without doing this clearing, but with all of the obstructions down below, those would have no chance of thriving.

The work has been hard and the hours days have been long and I cannot count the number of times my husband has commented, this is taking much longer than I expected. Just when work seems to start flying along, a huge boulder is discovered…I just watched the crew unearth what must be at least a two hundred pound boulder.

I took part in the tedious river rock removal…but boulder digging and root hacking? Not exactly a feasible nor an appropriate activity for this 8.5 month pregnant body. However, as I sat for hours on Friday and hours on Saturday removing handful after handful of river rock, I began to muse about what might be the spiritual gem hidden within the activity. Call it a coping mechanism, but when confronted with a somewhat repetitive and unpleasant task, I tend to begin a search for the gospel hidden within it. I firmly believe there are traces of this story of all stories within much of life, and as I sifted rock, I sifted for its message within the dirt and the rocks and the roots.

And it didn’t take long before I began to reflect on the roots and rocks of unbelief that lay buried in the landscape of our lives. We can put on a pretty good show, look quite mature and put together, especially with enough external upkeep and maintenance. However, below the surface we all have layers of unbelief. Rocks and roots and disease that send up constant shoots of anger, or impatience, or discontent. When contemplating the labor it would take to fully eradicate this deep buried unbelief, it’s easy to see the temptation of more surface level maintenance. It is so much easier and so much less time consuming and so much less back-breaking. And yet, as we seek to plant the gospel in our lives, it will fail to flourish in soil that is invaded by unbelief. And so we take out the axe and shovel of the Word and community and Spirit and we set to work. The more obvious patterns of sin and disbelief may quickly and easily be felled, but their roots? Oh how often we will comment, “this goes deeper and is much harder to uproot than I thought.” The task is by no means glorious. It’s dirty, tedious, long and laborious work–however, work that becomes more tolerable and feasible when tackled in community. And the result? A life of fruitfulness? A heart in which truth flourishes and grows? So worth the effort.

Looking forward to showing the fruits of this labor in the coming weeks. Hopefully before the baby comes.