MY BLOG POSTS

Several years ago, my friend Amy told me about a book she read that discussed how parents celebrate the “firsts”, but often miss the “lasts”. Usually it’s because we don’t know when those “lasts” will be…the last time we read a book to our child in bed, the last lost tooth, the last Band-Aid we apply.

Tomorrow, however, is a “last” that I am very aware of. Tomorrow is Emma’s last “first day” of school.* That also means that, after more than decade, it’s the last day all three of my kids will start the same school together.

This is the last year we’ll have a “first day” picture with all three kids, the last year my girls will play volleyball together, the last time I’ll teach Emma in my English class, most likely the last time I’ll direct her in a play.

All our lives will be different next year. Ellie and Thomas don’t know a world without Emma in it daily. And, while I am aware this is part of the “deal” as a parent, knowing that my nest will soon be emptying is a sad thought. My kids are two years apart – by the time I get over Emma leaving, Ellie will be a senior. Then Thomas…

These pictures are from the kids’ first day at school (in Madrid, Spain) – the first time all three were in school together. It is hard to believe I took those 10 years ago. Hard to believe we’ve been to three different schools since then, moved across the Atlantic and across the US. Hard to believe those adorable little babies are now all amazing teens on the brink of adulthood.

So I am celebrating this “last”. I am pausing to thank God for the years He has given me to parent my children, to buy school supplies and go to volleyball games and kiss hurts and host slumber parties. I am thankful for kids who love Jesus and love each other and bring us joy. I am thankful that, while this may be a “last”, Lord willing, there will be many, many more “firsts” to come.

*We are on a modified year-round schedule: school starts in July and ends in May.

I love to go to the beach. With its sounds and smells, the feel of the sun on my skin and the wind in my hair, ahhh. It is so relaxing. And since I live fairly close to the beach, I can go pretty often. 

When we lived in Florida, we went most often to the Gulf of Mexico. I remember lying on my towel and looking out at the water – the same Gulf that kissed the shores of Florida also touched Texas and, of course, Mexico. And when we ventured to Florida’s east coast, I looked out at the Atlantic and thought how amazing that ocean went all the way to Europe! I may not be able to visit England, but I could visit a body of water that touches England.

But the Pacific Ocean…that thing is HUGE! The waters I touch in the Pacific also touch the shores of Australia and China. My sister and her family, missionaries in Southeast Asia, over 8000 miles away, can see the shores of the same ocean that I visit. I can’t even fathom the magnitude of that much water. To visit my sister would take a day’s travel by plane and a passing through of 14 time zones! But the Pacific Ocean is both there and here.

Psalm 103:12 tells us ^“He has removed our sins as far away from us as the east is from the west.” When I read that verse, I think about the ocean. As far as the east – America – is from the west – Asia. That’s how far my sins have been removed. Some translators say this refers to the sun setting – as far as daybreak is from nightfall, that’s how far our sins are removed. Either way – our sins are long gone!

I might wish to take a swim across the Pacific and visit my sister. But, even if I weren’t ridiculously afraid of what’s in the ocean (Shark Week doesn’t help!), I could never make it. It’s simply too far.

I need to apply that same understanding to my sins. When God forgives me, that sin is long gone. I can’t reach it. It can’t come back for me. I don’t have to live with the guilt or shame of it. It is GONE. As far as the east is from the west.

What a wonderful, gracious God we have to take all our sins – every one of them – and toss them “as far as the east is from the west.” Let’s not live as if they are nearby, let’s not allow the Enemy to bring those sins back to our minds. They are GONE. Let us live in the joy and freedom of a forgiven life.

Having moved several times in my adult life, I am jealous of folks who have lived in one place their whole lives, whose parents, siblings, and extended families live close enough to share Sunday dinners and holidays. Sometimes, I get a little bitter that I didn’t get that story. I long for roots — deep, decades-long roots – in one place. Instead, I have shallow roots all over.

This week, God has been reminding me that I do have roots, I do have a home. The permanency I long for is a reality. At church on Sunday, our pastor spoke of Heaven and said, “Imagine…what is most precious here on earth is the asphalt of heaven.” In my Bible study, I am nearing the end of Revelation, where John describes the beauty and majesty of Heaven.

Far too often, I get too caught up in this life. I get overwhelmed with “to-do lists” and worldly concerns, with minor details and passing problems. I allow those temporary issues to keep me from focusing on the eternal. I live as if this life is all there is.

But this life is not all there is. Not even close. In fact, compared to eternity, this life is a blip on the radar. So why do I live like this life is all there is? Why do I worry about things I can’t change? Why do I get jealous of people who have “roots” here when I have the greatest roots ever? I get an eternity to live next to family and feast with my Father!

I don’t know about you, but I constantly need the reminder that I am not of this world. I am a stranger here. Someday, though, I will have my longed-for “forever home”.

“My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?” John 14:2

As a parent, I hate seeing my children in pain. Yet, in the 17 years I have been a mom, I have had to do just that: three broken bones, two surgeries, a concussion, countless shots and skinned knees and cuts and who knows what else.

Sometimes, though, I have to make the decision to inflict pain on my children.
I had to do that today. My son needed oral surgery to remove an impacted tooth. If this tooth weren’t removed, it could have messed up his whole mouth, causing major pain in the future. But in order to remove the tooth, the doctor had to cut into his bone, extract the tooth, and stitch Thomas back up. You squeamish folks just got a little sick reading that sentence. Imagine having to sign the paper giving permission for it to happen? It’s awful.

But the alternative was worse. So I signed the paper. I took Thomas to the surgeon, sat and watched while he was put to sleep, and then waited impatiently until the nurse came back to tell me he was out of surgery. Tonight, I am feeding him chicken noodle soup and dreading the moment when the numbness wears off and the soreness kicks in.

What comforts me, though, is the knowledge that once he recovers, this won’t be an issue again. That tooth is out, his other teeth will be fine, and life will go on. This momentary pain really will be worth it in the long run.

Sometimes God, the perfect Father, has to do this for us. He allows pain because there are areas in our lives that are “sick” – relationships, or circumstances, or activities. We may not even know there’s a problem. But God does. And He loves us too much to let that problem fester and cause greater pain down the road. So he removes them or him or it from our lives, and we are left bleeding and hurting and confused. Why would a loving God do this??

When we told Thomas he would be having this surgery, he didn’t scream or cry or argue. He trusts Dave and me, and he accepted that this is something he needs. He wasn’t excited about it, but neither did he go in with a bad attitude.

If Thomas can trust his very imperfect parents to do what is best for him, why can’t we trust our very perfect Father to do what is best for us? God is good. He loves us. And He knows far more than we do what we need.

Maybe the purpose of the pain you are experiencing right now is for good, because God is protecting you from something worse. Trust Him. Cling to Him. He’s a good, good Father.