Thinking.

James 1:27 "Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world."

I've been mulling over some thoughts in my head. There is much dialogue with these thoughts but I won't really get into them right now. But here's a run-down.

Adoption is not saving a child.
Adoption should not be a foreign concept to Christians.
Adoption is really ugly.
Adoption is really beautiful.
Adoption looks different to everyone.
Adoption is a LONG process.
Adoption can be a lonely process.
Adoption puts you in your place (out of the center of the universe).
Adoption is not for the faint of heart.

That's all for now.

Quick Get a September Post In!

I have so many posts sitting in my edit folder. I really need to finish them. But those posts are thick and heavy and this post will be light and fluffy.

A few weeks ago Martin and I went on a little adventure. I'll give you the brief background of this adventure then there will be pictures. I feel pictures make a blog very light and fluffy even if they are of destruction.

A few months ago a friend of Martin's came to him at church. We'll call him Bob, because well, that's his name. So Bob owns an insurance adjustment agency. He is contracted out by insurance companies to assess damages caused by things that harm houses (nature, people, equipment, animals?). Bob does the leg work and gives a recommendation for how much money the companies should give the homeowners. Are you following me? I know you're on the edge of your seats. He knows Martin has an office in Northern Pennsylvania and asked if he could give him some jobs (go to the houses and take pictures and measurements). Martin agreed because it sounds easy enough and it's extra money. Then Hurricane Irene happened.

Most of the news was focused on North Carolina, New Jersey, and New York. Then after the hurricane passed it focused on Vermont. Well, little did I know that Northern Pennsylvania was hit hard by the mighty Susquehanna. That river caused devastation to small towns. Martin said it best, "Rivers are a dangerous mistress. They lure you in with their appeal for fun but can swallow you without so much as a warning." Sounds like a proverb huh? He's so wise.

So, Bob emailed Martin and asked if he would like to spend a weekend up there doing jobs for him. Um, yes. We both took off of work on a Friday and were on our way to our fun, adventurous weekend bright and early. We had jobs scheduled for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. It was hard work. I won't go into detail about every house. We ended up working 18 houses in three days. We made quite the team and if you know us, you know it's a weird thing that we actually worked well together. But we've found (via making a cheesecake together) that if we both have separate tasks that are used to finish a job we do very well.

We saw destruction everywhere. And the stories! They were so sad. A 75 year old man and his dog stuck on the second floor of his home for days while the river washed through his house. He said a styrofoam box floated by one day and he got a broom to retrieve it. Inside was a donut. He shared it with his dog. You can't make this stuff up, people!

House #14 will forever be etched in my mind. Most houses were nice homes that happened to be near the river. Some were people's second homes. This particular home, #14 we'll call it, was probably in bad shape before Irene came through. The basement had been full of water for days and the first floor had about four feet of water in it at one time.

Martin and I ventured down the stairs to the basement. The thing about flood water from rivers vs. lakes is that rivers not only have mud in it, there is a current. So the houses get left with this thick mud after the waters recede. I have to tell you, this house was not only gross, the people were too. We had dealt with nice people the whole time and this family, well let's just say they had no problem showing their depravity. As we were walking down the stairs I remember that we had not locked the Jeep. It was Sunday and we had checked out of our hotel room that morning and everything was in the Jeep, including my purse. Martin was in front of me and as we were carefully walking down the steps I spotted his keys in his back pocket and asked him to stop. I fished them out and locked the Jeep. The last thing I remember was the honking of the Jeep assuring me it was locked.

Next thing I know I'm at the bottom of the stairs. Martin is leaning over me and there are people yelling. I didn't pass out, I think I've just blocked the horror of falling down the most disgusting stairs in the universe. The worst part was that my bum was sitting in slimy, thick, river mud. Martin helped me up and I looked back and there was a step gone. Oops. I told Martin to just measure so we could go.

It was terrible but I got through it and I'm pretty sure I'm stronger for it. If not, then I at least got a sick day at work out of it on Monday. We finished the last four houses (don't worry, I changed my pants) and we were home by 9 PM.

I have a heavy post about this weekend in my folder and I'll post it soon hopefully. It's about the depravity of man and how it seems to conflict with how nice people are. It was a big struggle for me. But this post is fluffy so we won't get into that!

Here are some photos of our weekend. I didn't take any pictures of the houses we worked on. I didn't know if that was nice or legal to do that. So I took pictures of their neighbor's houses. Because that's moral, okay? Don't mess with my logic.

This is a corn field that was at the bottom of the river for a few days. It was like a giant came and smushed it with his shoe!


This house shell:


Belongs on top of this:


This used to be a house and the river is down below.


There are a lot of jokes I could say about this but I won't cause it's somebody's home and vacation home smushed together.


We saw The Red Cross in action. They brought food to homes that probably aren't on Google Maps. Dirt roads are everywhere in these small towns and The Red Cross found them. Too bad they weren't bringing the good news of Jesus with that food. Oh who am I kidding? There are some that could've been.


So you know Mormonism right? Well, up in these parts is where Satan (disguised as an Angel) gave Joseph Smith the tablets with the special glasses and blessed him and his friend to continue the priesthood. So it's kinda sacred ground. Mormon's had come from Utah to help with the clean-up. It was Mormon's, The Red Cross, and FEMA. Didn't see much of the church around. I did see some church signs that read, "Flood victims, we're praying for you." Reminded me of James 2:15-17, "If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, 'Go in peace, be warmed and filled,' without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead." But then again, hello, my name is the pot and I'm calling the kettle black. It's easier to point the finger than to do something about it.

So this is where the blessing from Satan to Joseph Smith happened.


I was reminded while driving up the Susquehanna that God's mercies are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness. There was lots of lamenting in those parts. Just as there were in the book of Lamentations. How appropriate it was. And how appropriate that if you look up, suddenly the destruction around you isn't so bad.

Anniversary Weekend in NYC

I went to bed last night with wilted pillows.
I had to make my own breakfast this morning.
No one greeted me when I came downstairs as "Mrs. Fern."
No one hailed me a cab this morning.

I'm obviously going through withdrawals from NYC.

The one thing I cannot get used to is tipping everyone. It's more than cruise ship tipping!

Martin and I don't stay overnight in NYC much. We've actually only stayed the night once before. The city is less than two hours from our house so we usually drive up to Weehawken and take the ferry over for the day.

When we were thinking through where we wanted to go to celebrate our 9th wedding anniversary Martin immediately thought California and I immediately saw dollar signs. So we compromised on New York.

We left Friday morning and headed up. Once we got to the city we checked our luggage into the hotel and headed out. We aren't typical tourist. We love to walk hand in hand around the city and take in the atmosphere and talk. We'll stop at a shop here or there but usually we go with no agenda and stay away from super touristy places. As I said, usually.

We didn't do much on Friday. We ate at an unique place called CRISP. It was uber-healthy. I thought I would be hungry about three minutes after I finished eating but I actually wasn't hungry for about 10 minutes! I had a "burger" and it had hummus and goat cheese on top with fresh basil leaves. It was good but messy.




We got back to the hotel and checked in. The last time we stayed at The Alex we had a two bedroom suite and Jack and Kami came with us. Our hotel was on the corner and our view was like this,


But this time we got a one bedroom suite and our view was like this,


I was a bit bummed but on Sunday we were walking back from shopping and I noticed the building across from the hotel was still being worked on (I say still because I remember them working on it two years ago when we came). There were construction sheets and scaffolding all over it and there was work being done with a jackhammer out in the street. And it hit me, God gave us a stinky view but a quiet side. We were able to sleep and rest without being forced out of bed by crazy construction all weekend (crazy that they actually work on the weekend!). Martin wasn't convinced by my revelation. But I know I was right.

Friday night we ended up staying in and ordering room service because there was a lightening, thunder, and rain show put on by God. We ordered burgers (real burgers for this meal) and watched the show from our not so good window seats. I need to show you a picture of the burgers because they cost more than my weekly grocery bill.




On Saturday, I only had one request. I asked if we could be tourist for a few hours and go on the double decker tour bus. Because he loves me and it's our anniversary and my birthday weekend, he said yes! So we bought our tickets and we stood in this line for about 25 minutes.




It was honestly us and hundreds of our foreign friends. By the way, don't listen to the news about the economy. When you walk around NYC you realize the world is doing just fine. They are coming to NY, spending their money and loving every minute of it.

We hopped on a tour bus with an amazing tour guide. He was dry humored, had quick wit, smart, and loved the city of New York. We learned all kinds of random facts that will make us look smart in conversations with strangers and casual acquaintances.

I took a few pics, one being the World Trade Center Building 1 being built,




Then a picture of the Flatiron Building cause it's cool and I was on a high bus,




And writing in the sky. I'm pretty sure God didn't write this like in Daniel 5 because I bet He's a cursive writer not a dash guy. But it's still cool! It said, "Tickets on sale now" Of what, not sure.




I'll let you know one of our random facts of NYC, the World Trade Center buildings took so long to build because the dude that leased the buildings took the insurance policy out. But the government owned the property because the subway station was below the towers. So when it came time for the rebuild, the government told the dude to pay for the rebuild and he told them they could pay for the first building and he would pay for the rest. The government said no. There is more to the story but you're gonna have to do one of three things. 1. Ask me. 2. Find our tour guide and ask him. 3. Google it.

Saturday night we went to dinner at Ponte's in Tribeca. It was great. The cab driver duped us. I should've told him which way to go but I got that insecure "I'm not a true New Yorker" feeling and let it go and we ended up taking a 45 minute ride that cost us $28, and that was on a $0.50/mile meter. To compare, we went home on a $1.00/mile meter and it cost us $11. Don't worry, he didn't drive us to New Jersey and back, he just sat in Holland Tunnel traffic until the last minute then drove around it. Never Again, I say, NEVER AGAIN!

Here is a great picture of Martin at the restaurant sporting his new shirt, his first purple shirt ever,


This last picture is of my spoils from Anthropologie. We have a store close but it's not as large as the one at 30 Rock. So I took my 15% off coupon for my birthday and headed in. I got two books, one on modern day etiquette and one on random tidbits on life. Then we got more monogrammed mugs (our new "thing") and a new measuring cup thing. I don't know what you call it but it looks like something that would've been in my grandmother Lawson's kitchen.


We stopped by Martin's brothers house in Hillsborough on the way home yesterday and we were home by five. Go us.

It was an awesome weekend. I know these days are short for us. When the kiddos arrive we'll be spending weekend getaways in more economical places like the Hilton. I'm kidding, kidding! But I won't be camping - I'm just not that kinda girl.

The Yankee View of THE HELP

I know I'm not a Yankee but I do live up here in New Jersey and last time I checked, it was above the Mason/Dixon line and although I grew up in the beautiful state of Tennessee and had a southern set of parents and two sets of southern grandparents, I have now lived away for eleven, yes eleven years. I am still southern at heart and the longer I stay away the more I realize it.

Last night I went with my mother-in-law to see The Help. I read the book and loved it and like everyone else who has read a book then gone to see the movie, I was nervous. I read the night before that the screenwriter/director grew up with the author so I was excited that there was heart behind the movie.

We went to dinner first and as usual, I talked my poor mother-in-law's ear off. She's just a great listener and whenever I leave her company I always kick myself for not asking her questions and making her talk. We arrived to an almost empty theater. I picked the perfect spot, you know, the middle, middle. And I knew people would sit all around us because everyone loves the perfect spot in the theater, right?

I was observing the people who were walking in. I didn't know what to expect with this movie up here in the North. There were a few couples but mostly women coming in (not surprising). But as I watched them come in, I noticed that all races were coming in. I got a bit excited. I mean, action movies pull people from all walks of life. But dramas and comedies? They are usually divided.

As the movie started I was stoked that no one sat directly in front of us. It was like my own personal screening if I squinted the entire time. I did not.

I loved it. I loved the costumes and sets, the way the screenwriter/director brought parts of the characters together. I loved how he didn't waste his time with developing characters that didn't need to be developed in a movie. But more than anything, I loved hearing everyone in the theater laugh together, cry together, gasp together, and scream together.

It was a great experience.

I am a southern girl and always will be. I say "go catch the bath water" and "I need something to bear down on" and "I fixed this for dinner" and "I usta could but now I can't." My children will probably say these things too.

I am not proud of the racial heritage my southern roots held on to and in some aspects still hold on to. But as I think about allowing my daughter (assuming that God gives us at least one) to one day read and watch this movie, I smile to think that our family will be trans-racial with a twist of North and South. And I know my grandparents wouldn't know what to think about this but I do know my God smiles on it. And that's all that really matters.

By the way, I am not a movie critic nor do I claim to be. The last movie I watched in a theater was AVATAR in 3D. That shows you my frequency in front of the big screen. And you will never see me writing something about that film. Trust me.

Chaos and Shambles!

I wish I could describe to you the chaos I am feeling right now. It's in my heart but it is because of all that is going on in my life. Oh please, don't think this is a deep post. Cause it's so not. It's more of a lets not cry over it but chuckle and move on post.

We just finished getting some things done in our house. We're doing the next step to our adoption and having the homestudy completed. And although we don't need to have quarter round trim put up to our molding where our hardwood meets it, I wanted it done. And the homestudy seemed like the time to do it. Makes sense right?

I mean why not get the quarter round trim put up all over our house and oh by the way, why don't we have them paint over our red in our living room and dining room and put up pretty wainscoting in the dining room and paint over the dark trim in the living room and dining room and paint some things in the family room and please, paint the steps too? Why not? And why not do it all the same week that I have finals and am starting Biology 101 again (it's of Satan, people). Why not? And oh, I'm sorry you need me to put everything in the middle of the room in every room? Sure no problem. I'm on it.

Now our walls look like this (with a another coat or two on the bottom, of course you know that, I just felt I needed to clear the air. You're welcome.):


And if you remember from a post back in the spring, our walls looked like this:


I'm super excited that we now have a safe color on the walls and trim. That way if we ever move or something crazy like that, we won't have to call someone in to paint because red is not every one's friend as I've learned on HGTV.

The guys are gone (except they have to come back tomorrow because they forgot to paint trim and our sliders in the family room) and our house is in shambles. SHAMBLES I tell you! Dust everywhere, furniture piled on everything, empty bookcases with bags and bags of books everywhere. It's just bad.

But add the shambles of the house and school together and you get COMPLETE CHAOS AND SHAMBLES! Here's the thing, I took my statistics final in the midst of dust and debris Tuesday night and I ran out of time. The short of the story is, the air conditioner wasn't working. I walked in the house after getting my hair did and instantly I looked like Ashely Judd in the movie A Time to Kill. You know, glistening with sweat. [It was about 459 degrees in New Jersey Tuesday.] Thankfully Martin fixed it. It was something mechanical. I ended up getting a 73.4 on the unfinished final. I've maintained an average of 83 to 86 all semester. And this test was 26% of my final grade. Well I now have a 79.6. That's right, FOUR tenths of a point away from a B. I'm on pins and needles waiting for my final grade. Will they round it up like they taught us in statistics? I mean they should. We should always practice what we preach even in math don't you think?

I'll keep you posted. I know you too will be on pins and needles.

And to top it off (I haven't talked about this in quite some time) I was going to the gym at 4:45 in the morning but I have recently stopped because my life is in SHAMBLES. My goal is to start back Monday morning. I love it when I'm there but I have to go to sleep at like 9 at night just so I feel rested.

And the one thing I keep saying to God is, You're making my life crazy so when the babies come I won't think it's so bad aren't You? He's so sweet. He loves those kids so much he doesn't want them to see their new mother have a breakdown.

25 Years Ago - Part 2

I said tomorrow and it's been well over a week, maybe two. Sorry friends.

Before I move on, I think I need to describe what kind of child I was. I didn't do that in my last posting. If Nellie Olesen from Little House on the Prairie and Anne from Anne of Green Gables, somehow morphed into the same person - it would be this person:


I was mean and a know-it-all but I also had a sweet side and an imagination that knew no limits.

Moving on.

We were sworn to secrecy when we returned to Columbus. I don't know how I kept my mouth shut other than the thought of the punishment I would receive if I did tell.

I don't remember too much about those few months before we moved to Tennessee.

I've always liked change. When we pulled up to our new mansion (split foyer, early 1970's style) I was in love. I didn't have a parking lot to ride my bike around but I did have a backyard with no fence to separate me from the front yard. And the oh, the front yard was huge and our driveway was so long (and by long I mean it fit more than two cars) and we were allowed to ride on the street! I also had my own room which had two, yes two windows. We joined a neighborhood recreational club (and by club I mean a pool).

And just like that, a soon to be fourth grader, was transformed into a suburban middle class American child.

I have debated in my mind about whether to go into detail about what my life was like after we moved to Tennessee. You see, it suddenly became like everyone else's life. I had a great group of friends at church and school. I spent my summers riding my bike, swimming and hanging out with friends. I was a terrible sister to all my siblings. I wanted to be a cheerleader like it was nobody's business. I wanted everyone to like me. I had a love/hate relationship with being a pastor's daughter.

But I think what I want to zero in on is my blindness. Let me clarify, my spiritual blindness. I had done the "asked Jesus in my heart" thing when I was five and like most children who grow up in a Christian home, I played the part very well. When I was a preteen, I matured enough to know that if I stopped pitchin' fits (and oh could I pitch em) and accepted what my parents said, I would not get grounded and in turn be given more freedom. Some kids figure this out way early but my strong will seemed to win out over rationale and common sense until puberty.

By my teenage years, I was doing pretty well playing the part. I was in a Bible study group with some kids after school and we had to do our quiet time. I remember trying and failing. Wanting to want to have a desire to read the Bible but just not getting it. And always feeling condemned by God because I forgot. I was on the youth council (which was a group of teens who got to go on retreats with the leaders and "plan" stuff - it was awesome). I went to youth camp and we'd all cry and talk about how great God was and promise never to sin again. And I think I "rededicated" my life about 734 times.

I think this type of life looked the same for a lot of teens growing up in the 90s. And by my junior year, I was done. I was over it. I wanted out of my small suburban town. Out of my fishbowl life. But I couldn't because I was still in high school.

I won't get into all I did in high school. It was stupid. I wish I got highs from studying and excelling in classes but I didn't. I remember my dad telling me I was the smartest out of all his children (sorry Aaron, you may be a doctor but I obviously got the brains) but that I was the least motivated to use my smarts (he probably only told me that thinking that would motivate my "well I'll show him" will, but it didn't work.)

By college I was a bonafide drifter. Well a college drifter. I went in and out of college. At one point I dropped out and became a waitress. Oh and not just any waitress, I wore barn dress, apron, and tennis shoes. I was what they call classy.

And by the ripe ol' age of 21 years old, I got burned out on the world. Thank you Jesus for my A.D.D. cause I got bored quicker than most do! So guess what I did? I got saved! Nope, just kidding I didn't. I actually started straightening my life out. Got back in school and did really well, started getting involved in church, met and started hanging out with some people from church. My life really seemed to be going well. But something was missing. I blamed it on the fact that I was jaded and my new church friends weren't. But through a series of events, nothing life shattering just honest people telling their stories and knowledgeable people teaching Truth from God's Word I realized that I didn't have a relationship with Jesus. I wasn't truly a Christian. I was just a girl who was raised by a mom and dad that loved Jesus and taught their children about Him, hoping one day they would follow Him.

That's when I became a Christian. When God chose to save me. It didn't matter that I was a bible drill champ. That I said a prayer when I was five. That I acted like a good Christian for years and picked myself up after being in the depths of a pit. God chose to save me when things were good. When I had fixed everything. Everything but my heart.

I don't waste my time wondering if I had come to God years earlier how things would be different (don't get me wrong I went through a time when I did). This is how He intended it. And since I've been changed by God, I've been a very good legalist on one side of the pendulum and on the other (yes legalism exists on both sides of Christianity). I keep thinking I have reached the middle where I'm balanced but my ever-loving God then shows me where I need fixin' next. He's so good that way.

Thankful for this journey. Thankful you're here too.

25 Years Ago - Part 1

I didn't know this was going to be such a long post so I've split it up into several posts. I love writing about things I haven't thought of in years.

25 years ago next month a tan and brown conversion van came into a small town in Tennessee filled with seven people. They had came from Ohio. A husband with Jim Bob Duggar hair, a wife with Michelle Duggar qualities and their five children who were nothing like the Duggar children. Nothing. Okay, enough with the Duggars.

I was in that van. I was eight years old and maybe the biggest brat that ever walked the planet (sometimes I think God is being gracious by not allowing me to have offspring, other times I realize He's bigger than that and my babies are going to be my babies no matter where they come from - and Lord please help me!).

I grew up for the first eight years of my life in Columbus, OH minus the first couple of years living in southern Ohio. My daddy is a preacher. Has been since before I was born.

I have very vivid memories of Columbus. We lived in the little parsonage that was in the back of the church. The church parking lot was our giant bike riding playground. We'd hang out on top of the dumpster (I can still smell that sour stench) and talk with our friends.

We lived in a bad part of Columbus but I didn't know it (Oprah says if you didn't know you were poor then you were po' - and lemme tell ya - we were po'). I didn't know our neighbors were drug dealers. I just knew we couldn't go over and we couldn't play in the front yard (my mom feared there would be a drive by shootings). Some nights my brother and I would sit on the back steps of our house and watch red, blue, and white lights flash in the sky. It took a few times to realize it was police cars next door. We couldn't buy ice cream from the ice cream truck because of fear of drugs in the snow cone (at least that's the story I got, it might have been a ploy to get me to quit asking for a snow cone, not sure yet).

I had the all American childhood, it was just in the hood not the burbs. And I loved it. I loved that the kids came to our backyard and played kickball. I loved riding my cousin's hand-me-down banana seat bike from the seventies around the church's lot.

I loved that I could run over and see my dad whenever I wanted. And that sometimes at night, when people would break into the church (seemed to happen all the time) I could get up and watch the helicopters fly around over our house with my mom while she waited for dad to come back home safely.

When I was eight my dad sat me and my older brother down and told us we were going to my cousins wedding in Tennessee but that while we were there, dad was going to preach at a church in the town next to where he grew up in Knoxville. I didn't know what all that meant but I did know that if we moved, I would be close to my grandparents, aunt and uncle, and cousins and that was the BEST idea ever. It would be like Christmas every day.

I remember the Sunday we visited the church. It was pink, the sanctuary that is. Pepto Bismol pink. I knew we were on display so I tried to act mature. I guess as a pastor's kid you always know you're on display. You grow up having most people critique your every move good or bad. It's a right some members of a church feel they have.

My dad was asked to come and be their pastor. The church was First Baptist Church of Powell. And little did I know, our lives were about to change.

More tomorrow.