a legacy of faithfulness

On June 26, 1925 two boys were born to Harley and Sarah Gross in Jacksboro, Tennessee. I wasn’t there, but I’d imagine there was quite a bit of relief and a little trepidation surrounding their birth, since twin boys born just a year prior had not survived infancy. Numbers five and six of eight children, my grandfather’s family grew up in the tough days of the Great Depression, and life wasn’t always easy for them.

During a local crusade, twins Clifford and Clyde came to faith in Jesus on the same night. Over the next few years, my grandfather worked in various jobs while wrestling with a calling on his life to vocational ministry. Not that he was counting or anything, but in chronicling this season he noted that he worked on a dairy farm for two years, four months and three days. (He may have been counting down, but lots of children, including his great-grands, are pretty thankful for these days….since they gave us the best cow-mooing impression you’ve ever heard.) He joined the army and completed 7 jumps with the airborne division. Towards the end of World War II, he served with the military police in Italy. One of the prisoners he was charged with transporting sketched a drawing of him that remains a treasure in our family to this day – it says something special about the character of a man when prisoners in his care connect with him in a special way. Given the choice to re-enlist, he declined and came back home to work in construction, at a gas station, a grocery store and even in the coal mines that shaped the communities around him.

Along the way, a still, steady calling to ministry continued to weigh on his heart. Two months after he told the Lord “no” to a calling to missions, he surrendered to the life’s work that would shape the rest of his life. On January 15, 1954 he traveled to Cuba to begin his ministry there with WorldTeam. There, he married Reathel Mae Combs on April 7 and the rest, as they say, is history.

For the next fifty-four years, they served faithfully alongside each other. We often joke in our family that WorldTeam instituted a mandatory retirement age due in large part to the fact that my grandparents were still working on the field past their 80th birthdays. Of course, most of us dream of retiring to the Caribbean. Why would we have expected them to retire from it?

During those early years, my grandfather describes many times when the Lord faithfully met needs in very practical ways. For example – $150 arrived by mail just as Grandpa believed he couldn’t travel home when his father was very ill. Short of money to return to Cuba after his father died, he spoke at a church and received $67 – enough money to help him make his return flight. Again and again, God provided as my grandparents served Him and His people throughout their lives.

After what my grandfather described as a “personality conflict” with Fidel Castro following the Cuban Revolution, they left Cuba and came home for a brief period of respite. While recently reading through some of his notes, I learned that he really wrestled with returning to the field during that time. After a rather tumultuous ending to their time in Cuba, there were lots of questions about what the best pathway forward might be for this family with young children. In the end, Grandpa wrote two letters – one agreeing to return to the field – this time in Trinidad – and another rejecting the offer. With only one stamp, a decision had to be made. Trusting in the sincerity of their calling, they mailed the first letter and headed to Trinidad. From that moment on, there was great peace in their calling.

Island life may have been beautiful in many ways, but it wasn’t without hardship. A fishing accident in cost Grandpa his right eye, and Aunt Suzie required an emergency flight out of Tobago after a dislocated elbow became infected. My grandparents lived apart from their children for several years in order to make sure that they received an education. Hurricanes threatened safety (and apparently stole a favorite pair of shoes), social movements threatened the security of Americans, and work permits, visa issues and US military operations changed the course of plans & the countries called home.

The interesting thing to me is that I only learned many of those stories over the past few months. During the entirety of their ministry, the story was never about the obstacles that threatened security or the moments when most of us would have thrown it in and come home. Instead, the life’s message my grandfather preached was of God’s faithfulness and love. For those 54 years, my grandparents served each person they encountered with the grace and peace of the Gospel. Through print shops, radio broadcasts, marriage seminars and ministry to local churches and training for pastors across the West Indies, they served with a quiet strength and solid understanding of the promises of scripture. They lived these promises out in their own lives, inspiring others to do the same by their example as much as their words.

Upon retirement, they continued to serve here in the community each of their four children call home. At 93, the greatest lesson my grandfather taught me is that there is a plan and calling on our lives for all of the days the Lord graciously gives.

When Grandpa was moved into the Hospice House nearly two weeks ago, he was just down the road from my office. I stopped by early each morning on my way to work to spend a few minutes with him before the rush of the day began. Four days before he passed away, I sat by his bed while he slept and accidentally coughed, which startled him awake. I quickly apologized for waking him, knowing that sleep was his best escape from pain at that point. He told me never to apologize for waking him up, and it quickly became apparent that he was the most lucid I had seen him in quite some time.  I told him I loved him, and then he looked right at me and told me he loved me. I told him we were praying for him, and he replied that he was praying for God to reveal Himself to our family every day, and that he was praying most of all for Maddie and Hudson to love Jesus all of their lives. He quickly went back to sleep, and those were the last words we exchanged.

The whole conversation lasted less than two minutes, but it will forever be etched in my mind. Even as he moved from this earthly life into life eternal, Clifford Gross knew that the God who called him to Himself all those years ago continues to reveal Himself today. He knew that the faithfulness of His Savior was not just a memory but a promise for his family in the days and months to come. He knew what mattered most, even as his body faded away.

We are surely going to miss him – all the corny jokes, bad directions and reliving the past with him. But we grieve with hope, knowing that our loss is his great gain.

Speaking of his friend John McCain last week, Joe Biden said it this way: “You know you’re going to make it when the image of your dad, your husband, your friend crosses your mind and a smile comes to your lip before a tear to your eye.”  And the smile does come first, because there’s so much joy in knowing that the love we’ve been given is a treasure of heavenly proportion. If you’re here today, we know that love has touched you in some way, and so your presence here means more than you might know. It is the legacy my grandfather leaves behind even as he is healed and whole in Heaven. It is the legacy we will live out, knowing that the God who was faithful to Clifford and his family all of these years will be faithful in all of the days to come.

speaking up: #notwithoutmychild

“I would cite you to the Apostle Paul and his clear and wise command in Romans 13 to obey the laws of the government because God has ordained the government for his purposes,” Sessions said. “Orderly and lawful processes are good in themselves. Consistent, fair application of law is in itself a good and moral thing and that protects the weak, it protects the lawful. Our policies that can result in short-term separation of families are not unusual or unjustified.”
— U.S. Attorney General Jeff Sessions, June 14, 2018

Yesterday, Attorney General Jeff Sessions doubled-down on his recent “zero-tolerance” immigration practices that have resulted in the separation of at least 700 children from their parents since October 2017. Families attempting to enter the country without the correct documentation (oftentimes seeking asylum) are separated in attempted deterrent to illegal immigration. To be clear, not everyone seeking entrance to the country this way is doing so for genuine reasons, and the need to secure borders is a heavy responsibility carried by our government officials. But separating children from parents cannot be our answer.

The justification for continuing this new policy? Because the Bible says “obey your government.” During a press conference just yesterday, Sessions cited Romans 13 and said that religious outcry to these separations needs to stop because scripture commands us to do so.

First and foremost, anytime someone uses an isolated verse of scripture to defend a personal or political agenda, we must pause and consider the whole of scripture. What about the many places where the command to protect the immigrant in our land is very clear? (Leviticus 19:33-34, Deuteronomy 10:18-19 and Deuteronomy 27:19, Jeremiah 7:5-7, Matthew 25:31-46 and so many more) When you take a verse or two from the larger context, we can often find words that seem to support our perspective. You could say I’ve done that even in this paragraph. In determining our response to the treatment of people (or to any issue), we should start with scripture, not seek it out to defend our already determined decision.

Secondly, Romans 13 has long held problematic use by those in positions of power. Once used as a deeply-held defense of slavery, isolating this verse as a command to support decisions that harm the vulnerable should cause us to all sit up and pay attention. Especially when the very same chapter of scripture also says that “love does no wrong to a neighbor” (Romans 13:10).

Immigration laws are not the issue at debate here: humanity is. When stories like this one of a Honduran mother being separated from her 18-month-old son as fled tear gas in her home to seek asylum in the US reflect what is happening, we must seek out a better way.

The family unit is an institution ordained through scripture, and as such, followers of Jesus should seek to protect it. Ed Stetzer said it this way, “God created the family long before there were borders.”

So today, I will join many others from the evangelical community in speaking up for the human rights of the families separated. I will do so by contacting my Congressmen (using language from this letter to help me articulate my concerns) and by joining the “Not Without My Child” campaign by sharing this blog, signing this petition and speaking out on social media.

As an American, a mother and a follower of Jesus, it is time to pay attention and respond.

#notwithoutmychild

“New Colossus,” by Emma Lazarus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

 

on leaving middle school: dream like a kid

Last night, I had the opportunity to speak to the eighth grade class at my former school during their middle school completion ceremony. It was a wonderful night of celebrating this important transition in their lives. Here is some of what I told them:

I need you to trust me for just a minute. Close your eyes and think back to that first day you were a middle school student:

Wasn’t it just yesterday that you were walking onto the LMS campus for the first time, most of you a little nervous and unsure? Lockers seemed overwhelming and and that crazy  A-B-C schedule made absolutely no sense. Exploratory classes felt as far away as another continent and nobody was quite sure how to handle a cafeteria where you could sit pretty much anywhere you want.

Meanwhile, your parents were in the parking lot, trying to figure out how to sneak onto campus behind you for that perfect first day of school picture.

And your teachers, well, you might as well know that many of your 6th grade teachers didn’t sleep more than an hour or two the night before your first day of middle school. I know I never did. There’s something about anticipating your arrival that brings a great mixture of excitement and nervousness to your teachers.

And yet somehow, in just the blink of an eye, we’re here tonight. You’ve just about made it through what we often think are some of the hardest growing up years. You navigated the lockers and the schedule and the cafeteria – and now you’re ones helping younger students find their way around campus. You’ve learned to embody the Wildcat Learner Traits of the International Baccalaureate Middle Years Programme and you’ve become inspired, prepared and empowered to change your world. You’ve begun to master new languages, play instruments or maybe even to act on stage. You’ve developed digital citizenship skills and learned to think in creative, out-of-the-box ways that weren’t even dreamt of when I was in your seat as a student at LMS (just a year or two ago).

And you’ll need all of these skills as you move forward. You see, you’re about to enter high school in a time when the world around us is changing faster than we’ve ever envisioned. On March 7 of this year, the world’s first flying car was sold at the Geneva International Motor Show in Switzerland. 90 of these cars will be delivered in 2019. Just think, by the time you graduate from high school, your Amazon packages will likely be dropped off by drone and 3D printing will be the norm. Many of you will work in jobs that don’t yet exist, and it’s super-exciting to think of the possibilities that lie before us. But that excitement carries a little trepidation, too.

So it’s important for you to remember in this ever-changing world that there are a few things that won’t change.

No matter how fast technology around you is changing, remember this: the work you’ve done to embody the traits of the Wildcat Learner Profile is the work that will continue carrying you forward.

Because the reality is that now, more than ever before, we need more…

• reflective learners who can consider their experiences and plan for growth moving forward;
• balanced citizens who recognize the importance of intellectual, physical and emotional balance;
• knowledgeable graduates who continue to deepen their understanding of a variety of issues with local and global implications;
• open-minded civil servants who actively seek to grow from a variety of perspectives;
• inquirers who embrace natural curiosity and ask questions to explore the world around them;
• thinkers who approach complex problems with creativity and critical perspectives;
• courageous explorers who meet unfamiliar opportunities with thoughtfulness and bravery;
• communicators who work collaboratively and in multiple languages to express information creatively and confidently – and truthfully;
• caring empathizers who express compassion and respect through a personal commitment to service; and,
• principled leaders who act with integrity and honesty out of a strong sense of values.

That’s a tall order, but you’re prepared to do it. That’s the kind of learner — the kind of person — you have become over these past 3 years. You’ve become “inspired, prepared and empowered to make your world a better place,” right?

So let’s get started.

Take Mikaila Ulmer, for example. When she was just 4 years old, she set out to design a business for a competition in her hometown of Austin, Texas. While working on her plan, she was stung by a bee…twice, in fact. Through that experience, Mikaila learned about the importance of bees in our ecosystem. With a little help from a recipe from her (South Carolinian) grandmother, she created a lemonade sweetened with local honey. Now, at only 13, she is CEO of the very successful “Me and the Bees Lemonade” company and a celebrated social entrepreneur. In 2017, Time magazine named her one of the 30 most influential teens of the year. In fact, her company is so successful that she recently hired her dad as a full-time employee.

Or maybe you’ll do something similar to Salvador Gomez Colon, who became so disheartened by conditions in his native Puerto Rico following Hurricane Maria that he crowdsourced over $125,000 to purchase portable solar lamps and and hand-operated washing machines for the communities around him.

What will be your story? When we write a list of the most influential work of the Class of 2022, what will we say about you?

As you embark on the great adventure before you, you’ll be alright if you remember this advice from Mikaila: “Be fearless. Believe in the impossible. Dream like a kid.”

Congratulations, my friends. You’ve grown so much in your time here at Lexington Middle School. We are all so proud of you and so excited to see how you get out there and change your world. I know you can do it.

water-walking: a sabbatical journey, part 3

“And He said, ‘Come!’
and Peter got out of the boat,
and walked on the water
and came toward Jesus.”
– Matthew 14:29

Water-walking has never been my strongest skill set. I want to be the kind of person who wants to take courageous risks to push the boundaries and move forward, but buried deep in my heart there is a quiet fear of the unknown, of the unexplored. And yet, the command is there. A command to come. To walk. To tread where there isn’t a clear pathway cut forward. A command to trust.

And trust, my friends, isn’t always easy.

But earlier in Matthew 14, there’s another part of the story that I often miss when I’m reading about Peter walking on water. After Jesus fed the 5000+, He sent the disciples in the boat to slip away while He dismissed the crowds. Once they were out on the water, the wind began to toss the boat as a storm grew around them. Yet, while the disciples where in the midst of the storm, Jesus was alone on the mountain, praying.

You see, the disciples climbed in that boat after watching Jesus do something unimaginable. When He fed the 5000 (+ women and children), the disciples saw His miraculous power right in front of them. Moments after that, Jesus sent them out — right into the storm that He knew was coming. He still sent them out.

Meanwhile, He prayed for them, interceding while they faced the storm. And if Jesus sent them into the storm and prayed for them while they were there, you might say they were safer in the midst of the storm than they would have been on land.

And then, in the fourth watch – between 3 and 6 am – Jesus came, walking right on the water to them. And it was Peter’s turn.

Sometimes I wonder what I would have done if I had been in the boat with the disciples. Would I have stepped out with Peter, risking it all for a chance to walk on water with Jesus? Or would I have stayed in the boat, anxiously waiting to grab Peter’s hands and pull him back in the boat – just knowing it would all fall apart?

There are moments when the calling to come and walk is so clear that it cannot be shaken, no matter how risk-averse we might be feeling. This has been one of those seasons for our family – hearing Jesus’ voice so clearly say “come” and not knowing exactly how steady the water is beneath our feet. When Jesus is calling us to something specific, it is a little easier to trust the water beneath us. But when He’s calling us to trust, to step out and to know that He is writing a story in our lives that we cannot yet envision? That’s a hard step to take.

But when His calling is clear, there really is no other choice than to take the risk, to put a foot over the side of the boat and stand up – with our eyes on Jesus and our trust that He can make the water strong enough to hold us, no matter what.

Serving the people of Lexington Baptist Church has been our great joy and love for so many years now. It was in the halls of LBC where I first met Jerry, where friendship grew into love and where life together began to unfold. It was to the nursery of LBC where we carried Maddie and then Hudson, unsure of what to do or how to begin this journey of parenting. Long before that, it was the nursery of LBC where my parents took me, as they began their own parenting journey. I was baptized in these waters and watched Maddie make the same decision. We’ve lived and loved and laughed and cried with people we love. We’ve learned how to minister alongside of so many wonderful LBC staff members over the years. We’ve loved passionately and been loved beautifully in return, and it is so very hard to think about leaving. But Jesus bids us come and walk – so we will. We will do what is hard because we have learned here that God is good and that His plans can be trusted, no matter how scary they sometimes seem.

Because, after all, we do know this: you can’t walk on water if you don’t first climb out of the boat.

walls: a sabbatical journey, part 2

I remember playing school in my grandmother’s garage-converted-into-playroom with an old elementary school desk and a chalkboard long before I knew what my future might hold. Moving forward through my growing-up years, I moved from wanting to be a teacher to a writer to a lawyer and back to a teacher, among other aspirations. I dreamed of living in Africa (because giraffes and zebras and missions, of course), on Prince Edward Island (thank you, Anne Shirley) and even in Narnia (reality wasn’t always my forte). I saw myself as a wife and mother in a variety of places and stories.

But through all of that, I never really imagined myself a pastor’s wife. I thought I would struggle to assume the role of a docile, quiet, behind-the-scenes helpmate that I (incorrectly) assigned to this calling. (I’ve been called a name or two in my life, but docile has likely never been one of them.)

As the journey of this life unfolded, I fell in love with a kind, gracious, funny and extraordinary man – who also just-so-happened to live under a calling to vocational ministry. So here we are, pastor and pastor’s wife – serving the church with as much love and grace as we know how to give.

I’ve learned a lot in these 13 years of marriage and ministry about being a pastor’s wife – many by getting these things wholly, amazingly wrong.

1. Like all roles and callings in life, there’s no predictable formula to being a pastor’s wife. Some of us are quiet and reserved, some of us are simply not. We love Jesus and our husbands, and do our best to serve Jesus as Savior and our husbands as husbands without confusing the two.
   
2. We know our husbands are human, more than even you do. But we are also know how hard they’re trying to get it right – and so we’re fiercely defensive and loyal because we know how desperately they are really, truly trying. (This is also true of our children.)
3. We work hard not to resent the church. That’s hard some days, because it sometimes it feels like we’re asking our husbands to choose between us and…well, God. We want God to be first in our family and in our churches, but we can grow weary feeling like we are fighting the church for attention. (We don’t tell our kids this though, because we really don’t want them to grow up resenting the church – and we fear that all too often.)
4. Sometimes we hide because ministry can be really lonely. Some of us hide in the shadows; some of us hide in overcommitment; some of us hide at home. We are lonely because we struggle to be vulnerable. We believe you expect perfection from us, our marriages, our parenting and our personal lives. Most of that is our own misguided belief about your expectations, and we know that. But we still hide, because it’s risky to be transparent. (This one is particularly hard for yours truly.)
5. We love God’s people, more than you’ll ever know. We see the way you serve and worship, and we are so thankful for you and the way you love our family. We don’t always express that the way we should, but we see you and love you, so very much.

During these past weeks of our family’s sabbatical, I have reflected a lot on what it means to serve beside my husband. I have learned some things about myself and who I am that have helped me see the importance of embracing the still, quietness of peaceful rest. For so many years, I have hidden in commitments and service because it felt comfortable and safe. I have pushed away friendships out of fear and kept relationships at an arm’s length, at best. As a result of this, when the polished facade was fading, a crushing loneliness remained.

During this season that has, at times, been very hard, I am beginning to see the joy of friends who are willing to love me…broken and unsure, and am finding the restoration that comes from that love. I am learning that my humanness is expected and embraced, and how holy and healing it is to rest in that.

The truth is that the call to walk alongside Jerry in serving the local church is one of the greatest joys in my life, despite the reluctant beginnings. But that does not always make it easy. If you have a chance to love a minister’s wife, know that she will see that and crave your love, even when she pushes you away. You may find yourself having to fight for her friendship, but she needs you. Don’t give up on her just yet.

 

P.S. I should definitely say that, while I believe my experiences might be true for some other ministers’ wives, I won’t pretend to speak for all of us. Everyone has a different experience, and each of those experiences is as honest and raw as the next. 

P.P.S. I don’t imagine being a minister’s husband is any easier than being a minister’s wife. They need you, too.

rest: a sabbatical journey, part 1

The first time we visited a church during Jerry’s sabbatical, I was not prepared for the deeply emotional response that day would bring. For most of the service, I alternated between fighting back tears and swallowing nausea. We were so determined to slip in under the radar and sit in the back where no one would see us or speak to us, but that didn’t so much happen. Blending in is a little hard with hot tears dripping down your face. Somewhere around the 2nd sermon point, I discovered that running my to-do list for the week over and over in my head was a pretty effective distraction. After 36 years of attending the same church as a member and a staff wife, I didn’t fully realize how broken I was until I crossed another threshold that rainy Sunday morning.

The heaviness of ministry is really, truly hard. When the work you are doing requires a balance of counter-cultural service and serious eternal implications, trusting yourself to follow the Spirit’s leading is not simple or easy. Added to that, ministers (and their spouses) are often guilty of saying “yes” to so many things that we eliminate any opportunity to be poured into ourselves. The analogy we often hear is that an empty jar cannot pour, but that analogy falls flat to the demands we place on ourselves to out-serve the expectations that we think, usually falsely, others have for us.

Somewhere last fall, Jerry and I began to realize the ministry we’d carefully built in our safe and predictable lives was slowly unraveling at the edges. We were continuing to love and serve the best we knew how, but there was a steady darkness creeping in where joy had once been at the center of our work.

For Jerry, that heaviness manifested itself in rising anxiety and self-doubt. Tasks that were once straightforward and matter-of-fact became confusing and paralyzing, and significant weight-loss and sleeplessness became the norm. Racing pulse rates and trembling hands were frightening signs of out-of-sync adrenaline and nerves.

There aren’t really words to capture how hard it is to watch someone you love spiral into a frightening cycle of self-doubt and fear. We work so hard to trust that God’s grace and mercy is enough for any moment that we somehow believe that reading scripture or praying long enough will unlock the grace we need to turn the tide in these moments.

But no matter how many verses we highlighted or prayers we prayed, things seemed to be spinning further and further out of control.

We dressed up and played nice week after week, but deep inside we both knew that we could not keep plowing forward forever…the cost was too great – to our ministry, our marriage, our children and ourselves. In those scary days, things hit the proverbial rock-bottom and we knew something had to give.

It increasingly became clear that what God was calling us to wasn’t a magic formula of more verses or hours on our knees (though neither of those are bad or wrong). What God was calling us to was a deep and abiding season of rest. He was calling us to acknowledge our brokenness, admit we needed some help and seek out a support system that we had pushed away for so long.

So we set out to find healing, covered in a period of a sabbatical and the prayers of our closest friends, and we attempted to find strength day-by-day as we worked through emotions that were sometimes overwhelming and suffocating. Fearing the perception of weakness, we struggled to be vulnerable and transparent. Still, we felt loved in mighty ways and trusted God for the grace to climb out – and He was there…continuing to call us forward as He poured out the grace and mercy we’ve sought these last months.

In rest there was healing. And, in truth, in rest there was also the pain of knowing that healing might come in some ways we were not quite ready to accept.

But there was also light pushing back that darkness. And great joy crept in when we least expected it. And with that, there was great hope.

hard love

Unconditional love is a beautiful, holy, precious thing…but it’s also a really, really hard one.

A love that says “I want what is the very best for you even if it is the most painful for me” is not simple or straightforward. It’s not pretty. It’s not clean. And it’s definitely not easy.

Tomorrow afternoon there is a really good chance that a child my children have loved as a cousin for the last 18 months will vanish from our daily lives as quickly as she popped into them in November of 2016. We’ve traveled with her, had sleepovers in our house, nursed her when she was sick, played with her and argued with her more times than I can count. She came into our extended family with a big, dramatic personality that quickly drew every single person who knows her into a tight knot around her finger. She has loved big and deeply and we have treasured her as our own.

And tomorrow will wave goodbye. The adults in her life are processing lots of hard questions — can her mom truly care for her now? Is she ready? Does she have the resources she needs? A support system? What if she doesn’t? Who will know? Who will rescue? Who will help?

Maddie and Hudson are processing in entirely different ways. We’ve walked a lot of hard conversations this year about why some parents can’t take care of their kids and how they don’t need to worry about that. We’ve dissected what it means to love someone and yet not be able to care for them and the reality that some parents cause harm instead of good for their children. We’ve fought hard to retain innocence while growing an understanding that there’s a world that needs our help.

Yesterday, we talked about a family birthday dinner we were planning for Maddie & Hudson. As we planned for the evening, Maddie looked up and said, “This is the last time we’re ever going to see _____, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t, but tomorrow probably will be. Maddie told me today that she is afraid she’ll cry when she says goodbye. And she doesn’t want to cry, because she knows ______ must “be so excited to be with her mom again.” Tonight, she prayed: “Dear God, please please please let the judge say that ______ can go home with her mom tomorrow, because even though we will be really really sad and miss her so much, she needs her mom, too.”

SC is in a foster care crisis. Over 4200 children in our state are in foster care – and that number is steadily rising. Right here in Lexington and Richland counties, over 600 children  are in protective custody. We need foster homes, guardian ad litems, social workers and so many more to support each of them. About 3 years ago, my sister began her journey towards opening her home to children who needed a safe place to stay. She’s the real hero of this story, and the way that she is being used to change lives will forever be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. But man, is it hard.

But it is good. It is right. It is holy.

Psalm 10:14 says it this way:  “But you, God, see the trouble of the afflicted. You consider their grief and take it in hand. The victims commit themselves to you; you are the helper of the fatherless.”

So we will say goodbye tomorrow. We’ll do our best to do that with a smile and with excitement for the restoration of a family. But it will hurt. There’s a good chance we’ll all get in the car and cry.

And, when my sister is ready, we’ll do it again. Because loving hard is part of loving well, and we will be the helpers. There isn’t really any other choice.

a christmas like candy

Christmas is like candy; it slowly melts in your mouth sweetening every taste bud, making you wish it could last forever.
– Richelle E. Goodrich, Smile Anyway

Well, the presents have been opened and there are toys strewn across our den. We’ve survived the day on a steady diet of sugar cookies and sausage balls, among other holiday treats. Just now, the boys have given it up for the night while Maddie and I are watching a Christmas episode of one of our favorite shows. As things finally settle for the night, it seems to time to get started on that Christmas card I never mailed.

2017 has been a year filled with lots of joy for the Freeman Family. Not every day is easy, but there’s lots of grace in every day, and we are truly blessed beyond measure.  

Jerry continues to serve those around him with grace and compassion, both in his role as Associate Pastor for Administration at Lexington Baptist and with all of those he meets along life’s journey. He is still running – training for a ten-mile race at the moment. This year, he joined Maddie on stage at Village Square Theater, much to her delight and excitement.

Earlier this summer, I embarked on a new adventure as I joined our district’s Human Resources Office as Employee Development Facilitator. In this role, I am able to serve teachers as they join our profession – particularly in those crucial first few years of teaching. I still have a lot to learn, but I am surrounded by amazing people who are walking with me along the way!

Maddie is in third grade this year, crazily enough. She is thriving in school both in English and Mandarin, and it is so exciting to watch her grow into herself a little bit more with each passing day. She truly enjoys everything about school, but science and math are her particular favorite subjects. This year, she alternates between planning to become a veterinarian when she grows up to a disaster relief worker in China. When she’s not at school, you can often find her on stage at our community theater, where she is about to begin her third show of this season (and eighth overall.) She also enjoys singing and acting in our church children’s choir and cooking whenever we are home long enough to turn on the oven.

Hudson is in first grade this year, consistently keeping us on our toes. He also loves school, especially playing with friends at recess. He too has found a home on stage, where his second show for the season (fourth overall) is about to begin. Earlier this summer, he played Chip in the production of Beauty and Beast, Jr., which was a lot of fun for him. Baseball continues to be another great love, and he is eagerly counting down until the next season begins. Hudson is on the go from the time his feet hit the floor (often in the middle of the night) until he crashes somewhere around bedtime. He reminds us all to take in all of the little things that happen along the way during a day.

As the evening closes on this beautiful Christmas day, please know that the Freemans are so thankful to count amongst our blessings the friendship you bring into our lives. We are wishing you the very Merriest of Christmases and a wonderful New Year’s Celebration!

Kimberly (on behalf of the royal family of the Land of UhOh)

i’d rather be a hero

“I need you to explain this 9/11 thing to me again, Mommy.”

“Well, on September 11, 2001, there were some bad guys who don’t like a lot of the things America stands for, so they decided to attack our country.

“What do you mean, ‘stands for?'”

“That part is kind of complicated. I’m not really sure I totally understand it, so I’m not sure how to explain it. They just don’t agree with some things we do around the world, and it makes them pretty angry.”

“So what do they do?”

“Well, on September 11, they flew some planes into some buildings, and a lot of innocent people died.”

“And we try to remember that every year? I would think we’d try to forget that part.”

“What we really try to remember all of the really brave things people did that day. Police officers & fire fighters who risked their lives to save people. Regular people who tried to serve folks around them however they could. Soldiers who fought the bad guys to keep us safe. There were lots of heroes on that day, even though there were a lot of bad things happening.”

“Mom?”

“Yes Maddie?”

“I’m not a baby anymore. You can use words like ‘enemy’ and ‘war.’ I know what they mean.”

“I know, but I kind of like to think you don’t know words like that. I wish I could protect you from them.”

“Whelp, I guess you can’t protect me from them forever. But if it makes you feel better, I get a little funny feeling in my tummy when I hear them. I think I’d rather remember the heroes of the story than those guys. When I grow up, I’d rather be a hero. Not an enemy. Just so you know.”

And the problem is this
We were bought with a kiss
But the cheek still turned
Even when it wasn’t hit

And I don’t know
What to do with a love like that
And I don’t know
How to be a love like that

When all the love in the world
Is right here among us
And hatred too
And so we must choose
What our hands will do

Where there is pain
Let there be grace
Where there is suffering
Bring serenity
For those afraid
Help them be brave
Where there is misery
Bring expectancy
And surely we can change
Surely we can change
Something

And the problem it seems
Is with you and me
Not the Love who came
To repair everything

Where there is pain
Let us bring grace
Where there is suffering
Bring serenity
For those afraid
Let us be brave
Where there is misery
Let us bring them relief
And surely we can change
Surely we can change
Oh surely we can change
Something

Oh, the world’s about to change
The whole world’s about to change

~ Surely We Can Change
David Crowder

when anxiety takes over

Sometimes there comes a point where we as parents have to decide that we’re willing to ask for help – for some insight into how to find balance and peace in the midst of life with a high-intensity child. Jerry and I began to reach that point this spring. We knew we were moving in the right direction with OT and a GI, but we felt like it was time to dive in and uncover as much as we could about Hudson’s brain.

After lots of research and many phone calls, we finally found a doctor who was willing to do a sensory evaluation for a Sensory Processing Disorder in addition to other developmental screenings. Armed with lots of paperwork and family history, we began to prepare for our appointment.

After several (looonnnggg) and thorough appointments, our doctor walked us through Hudson’s evaluation and told us that in addition to a Sensory Processing Disorder, Hudson demonstrates many signs of a rather intense form of ADHD. He began to suggest some treatment plans, and I immediately shut them down in my mind and told him that we were not at a point where we were willing to consider medication.

In our society, we flippantly throw around phrases like “it’s just my ADD,” “I must be ADD” or “I was so ADD when I did that.” We often have mental images of children with ADHD being loud and disruptive and always off task. Many people even believe a false paradigm that says that ADHD is an excuse for misbehavior and poor parenting. I believed what the doctor told us about Hudson’s diagnosis (the test results were overwhelmingly clear,) but our experience has been so much different from the stereotypes that I was afraid to claim it out loud.

You see, for us, ADHD manifests itself in a great deal of anxiety and stress. When something doesn’t go the way Hudson anticipates it or catches him off guard, it leads to complete emotional melt-down and paralysis. (As evidenced by the picture below, in which we had a total anxiety attack over a thunderstorm last night, even though he is normally not afraid of storms at all.) His frustration tolerance is extremely low, and the anxiety kicks in before he can rationally think to ask for help.

After we watched Hudson spin in circles in the doctor’s office for a few minutes, the doctor looked at me and said, “You have to understand: his brain is wound up just as tightly as his body is right now. All the time. And I imagine that’s pretty stressful to him…and I imagine it’s pretty stressful to you all, too.” In that moment I thought about the three anxiety attacks he had faced in the week prior to his appointment. I needed someone to help me understand that being overwhelmed inside (ADHD) and outside (SPD) was causing some serious stress for this sweet six-year-old kiddo and that we needed to get him some help, even if that took some non-traditional paths.

We’re learning to adjust to life in the intensity of the fast lane, and Hudson is learning to find some balance and rest. It isn’t always easy. Sometimes things that don’t seem like a big deal to many of us (and that even often aren’t a big deal to Hudson…) become giant hurdles. I held a shaking, sobbing, heaving child last night and tried to reassure him that there was no danger of a tornado, but he was convinced there was one and there was nothing we could do to change his mind.

Though we refuse to allow a series of acronyms to define his life, the very real challenges that accompany them are an important part of his story. They’re not flippant or light-hearted terms; they represent serious and significant challenges for our little man. Hudson is an incredibly bright, loving, charismatic child who will change the world for the better, but days can be hard for him (and sometimes for everyone in our house.) However, there are so many people in his corner helping him find peace and confidence, and every day he finds new ways to learn and move forward. The best is yet to come for Hudson, and we can’t wait to see what the future holds.