We're moving.

That's right, the Sauders are moving.  (And no, not back to America. Not today, anyway.)

Last month our landlords broke the news to us that they had sold our house.  It came as a complete shock and I remember sitting on the couch just hoping they were playing some sort of Thai April Fool's Joke on us.  No such luck.  The reality remained that after almost 4 years in our beloved house, we were going to have to find a new place to call home.  (Thankfully, we know of a pretty cool business that helps foreigners relocate in Chiang Mai!  And actually, Steven found us a house within a week that's in the same neighborhood for almost half the price that we pay now.  Way to go, Expat Homes!)  But even so, this transition has been really hard for me.  It probably seems silly to some, after all, it's just a house... but I've had a hard time letting go and trusting God with this one.  (Big shocker, I know.)

Yet anyone who knows me well could probably tell you that there are two things that I've found great comfort in while living in Thailand; Pawn and our home.  In a sense, they have been an on-going encouragement to my soul when things have been hard.  A quick and tangible thing I could always thank God for when my heart was homesick or discouraged.  Well, in the last few months, for whatever reason God has chosen to take those two blessings away.  Pawn is no longer working for us and has taken a different job (a transition that's been even harder than moving houses, but that's another blog post in and of itself that I just haven't had the energy to process) and now saying goodbye to our beautiful and comfortable home.  The whole thing has honestly felt like such a big loss.  Pawn was not only one of my best friends, she was also my family and ministry.  Our home was not only a safe haven, it was a life-line for me to use my gift of hospitality and my love for gathering people together.  Like I said, the combination of losing these two significant and life-giving blessings has been difficult and has left me feeling lonely, sad or just plain angry more times than I'd like to admit.

Take this week, for example.  I've been so tired.  We are in the middle of packing up the house so we can move out before the end of the month, so I've spent my days sorting, piling, organizing, trashing and cleaning.  It's hot.  I'm pregnant.  We're living in a mess.  Steven's been working during the day and spending nights at the new house trying to fix it up and make it ready for us to live in.  Even though I think he enjoys the manual labor, it still makes for a long day for him.  And to top it all off, our adorable little William has fully embraced the trying "Terrible Twos" and I feel like all I've been doing lately is disciplining him.  So my day is either packing by myself or disciplining/talking with a defiant 2 year old.  Not what I call fun.  It makes me miss my mom, wishing she was here to pick up William for the day or to keep me company and help me pack.  And as you could probably guess, all of this has not left me in a good place.  I've had a horrible attitude.  I'm physically and emotionally exhausted.  I've pouted, complained and cried.  I've been ungrateful, crabby and a bear to live with.  In other words, I've been acting just like my 2 year old kicking and screaming the whole way to our new house.  

Crap.

One of William's biggest "challenges" is how he reacts when I tell him "no" or take something away from him.  He will either stomp his feet, cry, scream or deliberately disobey.  He's a stinker and is good at putting up a fight, rarely saying "okay" with a joyful heart.  Hmmm... I wonder where he gets that from?! Parenting is so humbling, isn't it?  You see so much of yourself and your own sin in your child and it often serves up a big dose of adult reality.  And that's exactly where I found myself today.  When William reacted poorly to something, I had to have this conversation with him (for the millionth time, might I add).  It went a little something like this: "William, do you trust Mama? Do you trust that I have your best interest at heart? When Mommy tells you something, it is for your own good.  It is not to be mean or to make you sad.  It is because Mommy knows what's best for you and it's because she loves you that she sometimes needs to say "no".  When you react like that, it is disobedient, disrespectful and shows Mommy that you are not trusting her.  I need you to learn to trust Mommy even when it's hard and you don't want to.  No kicking and screaming, no stomping your feet... trust and obey with a joyful heart, please."  As the words were coming out of my mouth, how could I not be convicted myself?  I imagined myself in William's place, only having the conversation with God.  Suddenly the "Terrible Twos" were looking an awful lot like the "Terrible Thirties" and I was humbled at the fact that I am still learning the same lessons that I'm trying to teach my son.  "Lauren, do you trust Me? Do you trust that I have your best interest at heart?  When I take things away from you, do you trust that I have better things in store?  Do you trust that I am a Father who loves giving good gifts to His children?  Do you believe that I am good and worthy of your trust?  Your complaining and ungrateful heart only reveals your distrust in Me.  Can you learn to trust and obey with a joyful heart?"  Man. I'm trying to teach William to trust me--his mom who loves him dearly yet is someone flawed and full of sin.  How much easier should it be for me to trust God--someone who has never failed me, loves me perfectly and is completely holy?  And how can I lose my patience with William, when I think about how many times God has had to have this same conversation with me?  What a patient and loving God to continue giving me chances to trust Him and then extending grace upon grace to forgive me when I don't.  

Needless to say, as I was giving William a hug and kiss to end our conversation, I felt like God was doing the same for me.  No condemnation, just love and a genuine desire for me to trust in Him and His goodness.  It was enough for me to gain a different perspective for the day, apologize to Steven for being so crabby and ask for the grace to have a joyful heart in the midst of disappointment.  So here's to tomorrow and hoping William and I can remember these truths... 

To those overseas moms...

I'm writing this blog today for all the moms out there.  Specifically, the overseas moms.  And even more specifically, the overseas moms of little ones.

I have lots of things to tell you (and myself).  Important things like you're doing a great job, you're so incredibly strong, you're significant.  You. have. value.  

But maybe most importantly, I want to tell you that you're doing enough.  More than enough.

It's an emotional thing for me.  The crossroads where motherhood and missionary intersect.  I feel it deeply.  Daily.  It humbles me, confuses me, awakens me, challenges me.  It's a continual balancing act and yearning in my soul as I try to make sense of my role, my call, my life. 

I came to Thailand because I wanted to be a part of change.  Change for good.  Lasting change for the Kingdom of God.  I wanted to be in on the action, to be up close and personal with the calling, to make a difference, to live for the eternal.  I've never really been okay with being on the sidelines (and probably never will) and I actually like that about myself.  It doesn't bode well when I try to fit myself into the stereotypical submissive, passive, quiet godly wife, but I've seldom longed to be that.  I crave strength, determination and independence.  It's one of the things Steven loves most about me.  I'm a woman of conviction with enough stubbornness to see things through.

I'm guessing a lot of overseas moms are the same way.  Our personalities differ, yes.  But the convictions that got us here are eerily similar.  Few and far between are the women who are here just because their husbands want to be.  The reality is, we want to be here too.  We have dreams.  We have ideas.  We have just as much of a calling.

And here's where it gets tough: For the overseas mom, our expectations of ourselves and our calling seldom become reality.  (Gulp.  That's such a hard pill to swallow. I cry just typing that sentence...)  The truth is, our lives aren't exactly what we envisioned.  One one hand, we love being a mom.  We love being able to stay at home with our kids and delight in the significant role that God has placed us in.  But we also feel this tug, this nagging sense that we should be doing more.  (After all, that's why we're here.)  We want to do ministry, we want to keep up with our husbands, we want to work alongside of them and be involved.  But that takes time and energy that we just don't have.  Language learning, grocery shopping, meeting with local people, disciplining our kids, doing ministry, cooking dinner, writing newsletters, showering, seeking community, cleaning, visa runs, taking our kids to the park, the list goes on... It often feels like we have two-full time jobs with little support or understanding from the outside world.  It's a tall order, only put on by ourselves, but a tall order nonetheless.

I remember crying on the couch to my dear friend right after I had William.  The reality of juggling motherhood with ministry was just so overwhelming.  I was crying to her saying, "I didn't move all the way to Thailand just to sit on the couch and feed William all day."  There was so much tension in those words.  They were hard to get out and even harder to admit.  Was I a bad mother because I wanted more?  Or was I a bad missionary for sitting there all day with my newborn son?  Either way, I was failing at something.  At the time it seemed like a death of a dream, even though I wasn't even sure what my dream was anymore.  "I might as well go home then."  This became the voice in my head and the ache within my heart.  Because the truth was, if I was "just" going to be a mom (and I don't say that lightly or take that for granted), I wanted to do it at home.  If I wasn't going to be at the front lines, I didn't see a point in being here at all.  I was just wasting people's money.  Wasting time.  And wasting the opportunity to be close to my family. 

I think that's the hardest part of being an overseas mom.  Just like any other mom out there, your life is crazy.  You're trying to survive the days without pulling out your hair, or yelling at your kids, or displacing your frustrations on your husband.  And you're doing it all while making huge sacrifices.  The sacrifice of living on support and feeling responsible to more people than you can remember.  The sacrifice of your kids never seeing their grandparents.  The sacrifice of being able to call your mom to just come over to help you.  The sacrifice of feeling stupid when you can't even hold a conversation at the market because you haven't studied language in so long.  The sacrifice of navigating a different culture and releasing your idol of getting things done quickly and easily.  The sacrifice of your self-worth and self identity.  The sacrifice of so many things all while you sacrifice the one thing that made it all worth it; your calling.

This is part of the journey I've been on the last 18 months.  And as I look ahead to life with (hopefully) more kids, I see the road only become harder, curvier, longer.  But I can write this blog today because I am painfully learning to lay down my pride, love myself and rest in the truth that I am doing enough.  And I want other moms to know it too. 

I want other overseas moms out there to know that your role is significant.  That your husband couldn't do the things he's doing without you.  He needs you.  Your family needs you.  And because of that, the world needs you.  In my struggle last year, I almost made my husband pack things up and take us home.  When you've made a choice as a couple to live this kind of life, you both have to be all in.  It just doesn't work any other way.  I can't be here without Steven.  And he can't be here without me.  And as I saw how much my role as a wife and mother affected our ability to be here last year, I unexpectedly realized just how valuable I was.  As I serve and love my family, my family can serve and love those around us.  It is foundational to our health, our success and our vision in being here.  By taking care of the seemingly insignificant and mundane things, I empower my husband to do some really cool things.  And suddenly that doesn't seem so insignificant to me.  Suddenly, my independent-stubborn self can feel the joy and freedom that can come in submission.  It's a first for me.  And something so valuable and really beautiful.

So to all the moms out there, keep your heads up.  You are doing exactly what you should be doing.  You are world changers every day.  And that is definitely enough.

the impossible.

Me:  "I think this is what "walking by faith" may look like.  When you've done everything you possibly could do and surrender the rest at the feet of Jesus.  Where we're living every day expecting God to show up, praying for miracles and knowing that it could all fall apart at any second.  A humility that only comes from realizing you're not in control and trusting the One who is."

Steven:  "But I'm not sure if we're walking by faith or just find ourselves in an impossible situation."

Me:  "Well yeah... I think that's the point."

A simple conversation over dinner last night in the Sauder household.  Steven, my hard-working, risk-taking, steadfast husband, is getting tired.  No, I take that back.  He's been tired.  At this point it's at a whole new level.  Exhausted?  Frustrated?  Defeated?  Maybe a little bit of everything...

These last few months have been hard.  (And yes, I am aware that I always say that...)  But let's be honest, we all know our journey in Thailand has been hard.  It feels like we've fought and clawed our way through these years, drawing from the deepest parts of ourselves at every turn.  And last night felt no different.

We are once again hitting turbulence with the many rules and regulations that the Thai government puts on foreign businesses.  It's a complicated situation that I even have a hard time keeping up with...

Here's a brief rundown: 
*Note: I would put this in logical order, but the way things work here there really is no "logical" order to getting this stuff done... It really puts my Type A personality to the test.

• We have to hire 4 employees (all within 2 months): This has been difficult for a number of reasons... 
  1) It's hard to hire 4 people when you're just starting a business.  Doesn't give Expat Homes any time to grow slowly... puts the pressure on to work beyond your own capacity. 
  2) It's been hard to fill the positions with the right people in such a short amount of time. 
  3) We can't seem to fill our last position and we've exhausted all our options.  We are basically waiting for God to send an angel through the door to be our 4th employee..

• We need to renew our business visa: The first business visa we got in Malaysia (a debacle in and of itself) was only good for 3 months.  In order to extend the visa to another 9 months, we have to show proof that we have hired and are currently paying 4 employees.  This complicates things because...
  1)  Our 3 month deadline is up May 12th.  That's in 6 days. 
  2)  We still have no 4th employee.
  3)  Our lawyer tells us we actually needed to have all of our employees as of last month... which means we already are past the deadline.  Awesome.

• We still need our work permit:  You can't get a work permit without a business visa and you can't get a business visa without a work permit.  It's a Catch 22.
  1)  We are still waiting on Steven's work permit because there have been complications with getting all the right registration paperwork for Expat Homes. 
  2)  Having no work permit, Steven is technically not allowed to work.  (We are trying to finish the office, but haven't been able to use it because it's dangerous for Steven to be there without a work permit.)
  3)  As a result, our house has turned into Expat Homes' temporary office... which has been really fun for me, yet also really difficult.  It's hard to keep an 18 month old under control while "Daddy and his employees get work done". 

• The Thai government needs to do inspections of the business:  We're told that unannounced inspections will need to happen in order to renew our business visa.  This means someone from the government will stop by the office to check it out, talk to employees, ask to see the right paperwork, etc. 
  1)  We've heard many horror stories about this as it's been a prime opportunity for them to ask for bribes since they know they're in the power position. 
  2)  Since Steven doesn't have his work permit, he can't be at the office working.  So how can they do inspections and talk to employees when they're hiding out at our place? 

So it looks like things aren't going to pan out very well... hence the dinner conversation last night.  For Steven, I know it feels like one step forward, two steps back.  I can see the discouragement in his eyes and how utterly exhausted this makes him.  But I know he won't give up and I don't want him to either.  By God's grace, my heart is full and expectant that He is up to something big.  Our lawyer says we can push this paperwork through if we hire someone fake.  But we will not do that.  He says that we can lie and have our other employees lie for us.  But we will not lie.  We could probably pay a bribe too.  But, we will not pay a bribe.  That would rob God of the glory He so deserves when He makes a way for us.  It may not be what we plan, want or even expect, but I do trust that it will be best.

And so, the saga continues.  Our last and final option is to leave the country again and start all over.  To basically do what we did in Malaysia and get another 3 month business visa that will hopefully restart the clock on a lot of these deadlines.  However, the thing that made everything complicated in Malaysia last time is that we did not have a work permit.  And we still don't.  So in order for this plan to even have a shot at working, it is crucial to have Steven's work permit before we go.

As of today, we have 4 days left to get it.

Assuming God does some sort of miracle, we will probably go to Singapore this time instead of going back to Malaysia.  (I highly doubt that lady at the Thai Consulate in Malaysia wants to see our faces again.  I think we used up all the grace she had.)  So, we'll take a stab at Singapore.  There's no straight flight from here to there, so we'll have to stop in Bangkok.  It may not be so bad for William...  Shorter flights are better for him...  Gives him time to run around in between layovers...
(Is it obvious yet that I'm really just giving myself a pep talk here?)

Sigh.  Truth is, it's another international trip for us (and another blow to the budget!).  Another adjustment for William.  Another long week waiting in line at the Thai Consulate, at the mercy of whoever is working that day.  It's just another big thing to add to our already overly busy lives.  But then again, it's another opportunity to walk by faith.

I'm not sure why I'm choosing to write this all out.  I usually don't blog like this.  I don't like rambling details, writing amidst the chaos with so many questions unanswered.  But today, I just felt like I needed to.  To stop doing and just write.  To record the impossible and then give it to the One in whom all things are possible.  To Him who is able to do far more abundantly than anything we can ask or think... God help.

Momma said there'd be days like this...

Yesterday was just one of those days.

They always come out of nowhere.  It's annoying how they can completely catch me off guard and then send me in this downward spiral.  You would think I would be used to it by now.  Almost 3 years in, you'd assume I'd find ways of coping and dealing with these kinds of days.

...

Yesterday was just one of those days where all I wanted to do was cook with my mom and prepare thanksgiving dinner with her.  I just wanted to laugh with her, learn from her and build more memories with her.  Even though there's technology, I still miss her every day.

Yesterday was just one of those days that I regretted missing my grandpa's funeral and could no longer ignore this deep ache and yearning to see him just one more time.  I had a dream the other night that he was sitting under a beautiful fall tree and I heard his deep, gentle voice call out to me.  I woke up so disappointed.  Some days I just don't have the patience to wait until heaven to embrace him.

And yesterday, as a gazed at my beautiful baby boy, I felt this small, yet sharp pang of guilt.  As people start preparing for the holidays, I realized that William will miss out on much of the joy and excitement that surrounds this "most wonderful time of the year".  Singing Christmas carols, experiencing a snow fall, opening presents with our families on Christmas morning.  Somewhere along the way, my wonderful Christmas memories have turned into painful reminders of what William won't have.

Sigh.

Yesterday was just one of those days where I was so very very homesick.

I used to get mad at myself when I felt this way.  I thought that God was disappointed in me, as if it showed a lack of devotion and love for Him.  Every time I was homesick, I tried to tell myself that "I shouldn't feel that way" and to "suck it up".  Didn't I love God?  Yes.  Didn't other people have it worse?  Yes.  Wasn't I being a baby?  Yes.  This led to guilt, which led to anger, which ultimately left me bitter.  A bitter heart towards myself.  Towards people in America.  Towards Steven.  And most of all, a bitter heart towards God.

But, I don't think that's true anymore.  And I'm thankful for the much needed freedom that comes from that.  Amidst my sin and selfishness, God continually offers me much grace.  Especially on hard days like yesterday.

It wasn't too long ago that Steven and I made the decision to stay in Thailand.  To say it was a hard and painful decision would be a complete understatement.  It tore us up and almost apart.  Friends and family often ask me  what . the . heck . happened.  Seeing the state we were in this summer, almost everyone thought we were done.  What had changed?  

And the only way I know how to explain it is that I felt intimately cared for by God.  As soon as we landed back in Thailand, I just felt... Him.  He was all around and in all things.  I couldn't ignore it.  Everywhere I turned, in every situation, I felt Him saying, "I see you, Lauren.  I see you."

And that's how I knew we were supposed to stay.  Not because everything was better and certainly not because I was no longer homesick.  It was because, despite those things, I knew God saw me and cared for me.  He wasn't going leave me to continue down this road alone.  He was right there, encouraging me and fighting for me.  My God, the infinite God of the Universe, was paying attention to me and choosing to care for my needs.  How incredibly humbling.

And so, with yesterday just being one of those days, I was reminded of my continual need to remember the ways in which I've felt seen.  To not only put things into perspective, but to reclaim in my soul the love and grace God has so lavishly shown me.   May I frequent this post with a thankful heart so when hard days creep in again, I can cling to these beautiful and visible truths.

Doing life with our best friends: Upon returning to Thailand, Liv left this in our room.  It was accompanied by a heartfelt note saying that, "No matter the potential craziness that lies ahead, we are excited to walk through this hard time with you and we want you clearly knowing we love you dearly and sincerely."  

What more could you ask for?

Being reunited with Pawn: I don't know if she will ever know how much she means to us and how much she has impacted our lives.  The way she serves our family, how she loves William and the friend she has been to me... there are just no words.  I couldn't be in Thailand without her.

Thailand's beauty: Steven and I escaped into the mountains one day to this secluded pool.  As we sat there, taking in the breathtaking view, we couldn't believe that we lived here.  I believe Steven's words were, "I mean, some people save up their whole lives to visit a place like this!  And this is our home!"  It's true.  Thailand is absolutely beautiful and we are blessed to live in such an amazing place.

Our team: Despite the ups and downs of life, we have team leaders and teammates who ultimately care for US.  We trust that they truly love us, care for us and want us to go where God leads.  

What deep peace that gives us.

A flexible baby: William has experienced a lot in his 1 year of life.  What a blessing to have a baby who sleeps well, eats well, goes to anyone, plays with anything, etc.

The opportunity to use my love for cooking: At least once a week, I get to teach a house helper how to cook some of my favorite recipes.  How life-giving.  My grandma would be so proud.  :)

My Thailand bestie: Bonnie.  Love her, appreciate her, need her.  She was my answer to prayer when I needed a friend last year.  And not just any friend... a deep, soul-connected, 

"we-just-get-eachother" friend.

Seeing Steven use his gifts: Even though he has a lot on his plate and it can be stressful at times, I absolutely love seeing Steven create.  He's excited, fulfilled and sleeps well at night.  :)  As a wife, it just does something for my soul.  I'm so blessed to watch God do a work in Steven and in Expat Homes.

Our mentors: God placed Jen and Buddy in our lives at a crucial point and have since become so incredibly special to us. They have challenged us, loved us, served us and supported us in more ways than we could count.  We're grateful. 

Family support: We know that it is hard on our families that we are so far, but they always try their hardest to makes us feel included and loved.  They call to sing William "Happy Birthday!", send packages, send emails & texts and make long trips across the ocean to come visit.  I suppose that's why I often get homesick... you would too if you had families like ours.  :)

grace like rain.

grace.

It's what I tell people I've learned the most about from this past year.

grace.

It's what I so desperately needed, yet so strongly despised.

grace.

It's how God covered me and what He lavishly poured out on me.

Despite myself, this last year, grace reigned.

praise him.

It's a really ugly thing when you come to the end of yourself.  You discover all these things about your-wonderful-self that you didn't know were there (or at least you were fooled into thinking they weren't).  I've always been a really determined and goal oriented person.  Maybe it's the Asian in me or just my addiction to that feeling of accomplishment.  It makes me feel valued.  It makes me feel important.  It makes me feel alive.  Trouble is, when you move overseas and life isn't as efficient, smooth or peachy as you'd like it to be, you unknowingly start to hold on, grab on, grasp tightly to those idols in your life.  Unfortunately for me, this looked like doing whatever I could to control my own circumstances.   It put a lot more pressure on "my own abilities" and left very little room for God or other people.  But the more I tried to control, the more I lost.  And the more I lost, the more angry I became.  And the more angry I became, the more judgmental I was.  And the more judgmental I was, the more depressed I felt.  And the more depressed I felt, the more hopelessness consumed me.

And at the end of my hopelessness, I discovered that really ugly something about myself.

I hated grace.

That's probably the last thing I thought God would reveal.  After all, Christians are supposed to loooooove grace.  Didn't I?  I was ready to work on my pride, self-reliance, impatience, anger issues... but grace?  Really?  The truth is though, a lot of those things are wrapped up in my lack of grace.  If you strip away the pride, the arrogance, the anger... the sin left is a graceless heart.  And the more things that God stirred up in my life, the more I realized my hatred towards it.  As someone who loved to "work hard for what she got" (And yes, I realize there are a lot of problems in that statement to begin with...), I was always discretely looking down on people who basked in grace.  It seemed like a cop-out.  An excuse.   

To me, grace seemed cheap.

And so, as we crawled and stumbled through this past year, God allowed a lot of heartache in our lives to teach us new depths of grace.  The hardest part was that the greatest storm was in our marriage.  Through an array of different circumstances, Steven and I found ourselves divided and at war with one another for way longer than I'd like to admit.  We cut each other with harsh words, left issues unresolved and redeveloped bad habits that we had worked hard to conquer.  There were nights where I questioned if God would ever redeem any of what we had lost.  It was hard.  So very, very hard.  Even now, my chest begins to ache and tears well up just thinking about it.  Where was God in all of this...?

To know grace is to know the depths of your sin.  And as Steven and I continually failed one another, we were both in this new place of needing  s o.  m u c h.  g r a c e.  All the time.  Every day, as the storm raged on, we felt the deep pain from our sin that only further revealed our utter need for grace.  It was here that I believe God began His redemptive work.  We had reached a level of vulnerability with one another and with God that we had never been before.  We were failing... in every sense of the word.  Failing to love each other.  Failing to give up control.  Failing to trust God.  Failing William.  And for the first time in a very long time, we felt the depths of our sin and our desperate need of a Savior. 

So we did the only thing we hadn't yet tried.  We asked for grace.  Grace to continue on.  Grace to forgive.  A grace that could save us from ourselves.  And as we slowly embraced this new place of humility (which did not come easy to either of us), we were met with a grace that didn't feel like a cop-out or an excuse at all.  This grace wasn't cheap.  It was rich, deep and full.

As a way to move beyond this past year and rebuild and reestablish ourselves again, we made this "ebenezer" for our home.  It's our way of being reminded of what God has done in our lives and our need to cling to His grace each and every day.  Before we hung it, Steven and I asked one another for forgiveness for the hurtful things said and done.  We spoke grace over one another and promised to extend it through the hard times yet to come.  And we thanked God for it.  Praising Him for sending the storm, and in the midst, pouring out grace like rain.

breaking the silence.

I haven't written a hesed in 6 months.  Well actually, I haven't really written since last October. 

So much has happened.

And to be honest, the "so much" has been quite ugly.  Okay, really ugly.  So ugly, in fact, that I couldn't bring myself to write about it for over a year.  Writing, one of the most life-giving parts of my life, was suddenly so draining.  My once cherished place to dig deep, connect with God and capture life-long lessons for my soul was actually the very last place I wanted to go.

It's been a really ugly year.

In retrospect, I probably should have written through the mess.  It would have been useful to see exactly where my heart was and to remember the true depths from which God has brought us.  But at the time, I just couldn't do it.  I was ashamed, exhausted and angry.  Really, really angry.

And at the end of the day, when I couldn't cry any more tears or fight one more battle, when I couldn't pray or even sing, I found myself completely numb.  I didn't want to process things.  I didn't want to connect with God.  And I sure as hell didn't care if God had any "life-long lessons for my soul". 

It's a dangerous thing when you stop caring.  You not only lose a sense of yourself, but you lose your love for life, people and, for me, God.  And the worst part about it is that you don't even care that you don't care.  Yeah... try talking your way out of that one.  Impossible.  It's a sick, twisted downward spiral to nowhere.

Like I said, it's been a really ugly year.

But today, I am breaking the silence. Maybe because I have just enough courage to write again.  Maybe because I'm stupid enough to expose myself in all my sin.  Or maybe because I want to claim back what I've lost.  The pain, the hurt, the sufferings of this past year.  They would all be for nothing if I didn't turn around and claim them for good.

So here's to breaking the silence, to claiming the beauty that's only found in the ugly.

my ebenezer

O God, how can I possibly recount all that has passed
for we have been to the depths of darkness
beaten down and striped bare
knocked off our feet and lost without hope

I never thought I could come to that place
never thought I would ever question Your love
But there I was, alone and afraid
isolated and angry, not wanting to call upon Your name

I came here with hopes and dreams
with a plan of my own to accomplish the task
But you took it all away from me
You called out my idols and my spirit you made low

You frustrated the vision and asked too much of me
shining light where I did not want to see
You exposed my sin that I had hidden so well
even my righteousness could not fix

Vulnerable and weak, I was in a new place
consumed with fears of failure and uncertainty
The more I strived, the more I lost
and your grace I soon despised

I cried out to you
"How long, O Lord?  How long will you keep me here?"
But silence was my only friend
and it threw me deeper into darkness still

No plan of mine could rescue me, no easy fix would come
So I fed my flesh and called it quits
your calling I no longer cared
my sacrifices too big to bear

What was once a unified vision with the love of my life
had suddenly become our deepest pain
Toil and strife consumed our marriage
and we were at war for days on end

Quickly lies crept into my heart
"He should have married someone stronger.
He should have married someone better."
And I became bitter for marrying such a determined man

We destroyed one another with our cutting words
and acted in ways that left deep wounds
We stood toe to toe in opposition
allowing division to take root within our souls

I remember it like yesterday
the pain is still so raw
I was holding William as I crumbled to the floor
"Where are you, God? We need you now. Our family is falling apart."

And in my desperate, painful cry to You
I wonder if that was more beautiful than all the other times I have praised Your name
if my misery was actually Your melody
if my ashes were really your treasure

Could my darkest hours have been your most treasured moments?
Could this time of hurt been your way of healing?
You saw me lose my way, yet did not condemn my faithlessness
In your gentle patience You waited

Your silence led me to a deeper place of You
With my filth exposed, You could wash me clean
Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more
The uglier my days, the more beautiful your redemption

Yet in our fallen world, the tension still remains
but when all we have is brokenness to offer you
it keeps us at the cross
and we find purpose in the pain

So praise be to the One who rises with healing in his wings
and who finds beauty in our messes
Praise be to the One who is bigger than our sin
and who pours out grace upon grace forevermore

Amen.