An Inconvenient God in a Convenient World

I was driving with my kids to take dinner to a friend and we saw a dog up ahead.  It was standing in the middle of the road.  We slowly passed it and its head followed us with a look of terror on its sweet face. It was a big golden dog with a collar.  It seemed to be beckoning us crying, “Help!”, in doggy language.  Let me first tell you that I am NOT a dog person.  I like dogs.  I even have one.  Her name is Mia and she is sweet and small and follows me around the house all day.  I like her.  I would even cry if she died, but I’m not in love with her.  If I’m honest, there are days she is just one more creature that needs my time and care.  OK, now that’s settled, let’s get back to the road.  So, unfortunately, I had all my kids in the car with me.  They love dogs.  They saw the dog and saw the look of terror on its sweet face.  They all yelled in unison…”GO BACK! Get the dog!”  Now I had a choice.  I was already late in getting this dinner to my friend.  I had a to do list with me filled from top to bottom.  What do I do?  I really did not want to stop, but I had been asking God to speak to me when He wanted me to do something.  In my heart, I knew I needed to turn around.  So back I went with cheering kids in tow.  We got out of the car and checked the collar.  Good, it has a phone number.  I didn’t even see that her name was Abby.  Ok, I will just call the owner.  We will be heroes and off to do my list we will go.  So I called and there was no answer.  Now I had another choice.  Leave the dog and continue on planned path or detour and be inconvenienced.  I really wanted to leave her (I’m sorry to all you dog lovers), but we decided to go to some houses and see if we could find the owner.  No one was home.  I felt like we were supposed to take the dog with us to drop off the meal.  I’m sure the owner would call soon.  Because of the long list of to-do’s, after I dropped off the meal, I went by my house to tie her up with some water.  She was a very docile, sweet, loving dog.  I put a leash on her as I took her out of the car.  I was holding the handle of the leash in one hand and the rope part of the leash in the other.  Once she saw my dog in the yard, she became Kujo!  She leaped out at my dog as if she was going to devour her in one bite.  As she raced to eat my dog, the rope in my hand sliced a gash in my finger.  It felt like a burn and a cut all at once.  Luckily I had her on the leash so my Mia was safe.  I bandaged my cut, tied the dog up, gave her some water and left to run my errands.

I came back late afternoon and still no call from the owner.  I called her again with the message machine answering.  I left another message.  It was dinner time and again I called with no one home.  I started getting a little panicky.  Then the sun went down and it grew dark.  Abby began to howl and scratch at my door.  I went out to pet her and play with her, but as soon as I went back inside, she howled some more.  I put her in the garage around 7pm so she wouldn’t bother our neighbors.  She just kept howling!  Why did I pick this stupid dog up?  I felt like I had to have a plan for her to spend the night.  I saw myself not getting any sleep as I went to the garage every hour to keep her quiet.  I envisioned our garage mutilated by this terrified dog.  I predicted the next day I would be cranky and irritable due to lack of sleep.  So I did what we all do when we are desperate….I prayed.  I asked God to please have the owner call me before we went to bed.

Around 8:30pm, I got the call.  It turned out that the owner was in Georgia and the people who were house sitting were frantically searching for the dog.  The house sitters saw that there were messages, but couldn’t retrieve them.  Finally, they got a hold of the owner and she called me.  She said that Abby was scared because of a gunshot and that she was a very nervous dog.  She was so appreciative that we took her dog home. And as it turned out, she lives right around the corner from us.  We found her three miles away from our house.

I was inconvenienced.  I know this was a very small price to pay to help this dog and neighbor.  But I could have been spending my time doing what I wanted to do.  How many times do I wake up and have my “quiet time’ with God.  Worshipping, praying and telling Him how much I love Him and then going on my merry way to do “my day.”  My time is valuable.  Why would I take the time to pick up a dog when I had more important things to do?  It is because I think my time is mine.  That what God wants is secondary to my to-do list.  That I will choose how and when to follow God.  If I do my ministry on Wednesday nights, I feel good that I did what God would have me do.  But what about the homeless person on the corner Thursday morning?  What about the woman in front of you in line at the grocery store on Saturday?  What about that dog in the road?  That is too inconvenient.  I don’t have the time. I’m late. I don’t want to see.

Isn’t it the truth that ALL time belongs to God?  That every minute is His to give?  Then why do I think that I can serve God when it’s convenient?  Is it because my life is convenient?  I can get a coffee at the drive- thru and order my groceries on line and buy the latest book on Amazon.  Convenient.  I will schedule you in for dinner when it’s convenient.  I will bake cookies with you when it’s convenient.  I have found that God is not interested in our convenient lives.  He is more interested in the Kingdom Life.  He wants to be able to minister to that drug attic.  He wants to heal that blind man.  He is desperate to talk to that single mom over there.  And who will He use?

You.

Me.

The church. 

How can He use us when we are blinded by the convenient life?  When we are deaf to the voice of God?  When we want it our way?  God is not looking for more ministry.  He is looking for your time.  All 24/7 of it.  To be able to say go, and we will go.  To love that person in front of you at His command. 

To slow.

To stop.

To see!

I want to live this way.  But to be honest, I’m scared.  It is so much safer to read my Bible each morning and serve in my ministry than to give God my every minute of the day.  What if He asks me to go to Africa? What if he tells me to be late for a meeting so that I can help an old woman put groceries in her car?  What if He wants me to hear my child’s heart and I have dinner to make?  I hate to admit it, but dinner CAN’T wait.  The truth is…the child can’t wait.  When will the moment come when I can see?  Which moment will I choose to hear? When will I believe each moment is God’s and I live because He has gifted that moment to me? Jesus was inconvenienced constantly.  He was always on a journey somewhere when someone would need healing or a woman would touch him and power would leave Him. Or he would need to detour to raise the dead (and I thought a dog in the road was bad). He was always open to God because Jesus was doing the Father's business.  He only did what the Father told him to do. I’m wondering if the full life, the adventurous life is really listening to the voice of God and then doing it.  If I love and trust God, then I can believe that he will not give me more than I can handle.  That He will slowly teach me to hear Him and as I obey, He will trust me with more.  The fact is that God did answer my prayer that the owner would call and He did not give me more than I could handle.  When I was inconvenienced, my mind went directly to how this was going to impact me not how God wanted to use this.  Following God is a risk.  I could fail.  But I’ve gotta try. I want to love God better.  I want the full life!  I have nothing to lose and a Kingdom to gain.  Are you with me?  If you are lucky like me, God might just start you off with a dog in the road!

My Story Part 9

When we were asked to take in a 16yo foster daughter and her 2yo son, we were skeptical.   My son was 3yo and my daughter a baby.  What did I know about teenage moms?  We decided to have her over to check her out.  We instantly liked her and her son.  But could we handle it?  We took her on a tour of our home and ended up in the back yard.  My husband had a vegetable garden in the yard and had carefully placed the envelopes of each vegetable on a stick and stuck them in the ground ( I know…stay with me).  These envelopes were tattered and torn from the rain and wind.  I looked at one while giving our tour and the envelope looked like Elvis (I told you…stay with me!!).  A minute later, this young woman, Sarah, said, “Hey, that looks like Elvis.” And she was pointing to the garden envelope.  I knew right then and there that God was calling us to take these kids into our home.  I know it sounds crazy! In fact, I’m laughing out loud right now as I write.  But we were young in our faith and needed a sign.  Who knew God could use Elvis to confirm a prayer?

Sarah was a beautiful, scared, lost 16yo with a 2 yo son.  But we instantly bonded with her.  We had some great times together going to hockey games, out to dinner, movies etc.  It was tricky having her 2yo living with us because I took care of him during the day and she would take over after she got home from school.  When she was mad at me, she would tell her son to not talk to me.  But when she was happy with me, we all got a long great.  When she was about 17yo, she started freaking out.  I think she was scared.  She began to act out against me.  She would smear my food all over my kitchen and would take my car and we couldn’t control her.  The foster agency was a huge help and kept asking us if we wanted her removed.  But I knew God called us to keep them.  God would have to make it clear if she should go.  This trauma went on for months.  And I wasn’t innocent in this either.  I would yell at her and I remember throwing my keys at her.  I was angry and scared and wanted to help her, but couldn’t.  I lost weight  and would spend time at night in my room.  I like to say that Sarah helped me to like beer.  After I put my kids to bed at night, I would get some chips, salsa and beer and lock myself in my room.  I was miserable, but not going to give up.  She began having boyfriends and lying all the time.  We forgave her.  We made contracts.  We set boundaries.  None of it worked and we realized that she had to leave. 

It was devastating.  She was furious that we were “kicking her out with a baby.”  And I felt horrible. I felt like we failed.  I didn’t think we would ever see them again.  But she would keep in touch every now and then.  She ended up in transitional housing and then moved in with her dad.  She began making good choices and got a great job.  We saw her now and then.  She still struggled because she wanted a mom.  She wanted me to be a mom to her.  How could I fill a hole that big?  How could I help her unravel the pain, trauma and abuse she suffered?  There was no end to the depths of her pain.  So I loved her the best I could.  But it wasn’t enough.  I disappointed her many times.  She didn’t just need love.  She needed a pouring out of healing that only God could give.

And you know what? He did!!!!!  I have tears in my eyes as I write this.  Sarah became an amazing, beautiful, loving mother.  God gave her money to put a down payment on a condo.  He gave her a job at a private Christian school where her son could attend.  He gave her a church to call her family.  And the best part for me is that I get to still call her family.  I get to still love her.  God redeemed the pain.  If you met her today all you would see is beauty.  Beauty out of ashes.  Beauty despite what the enemy had planned.  Not just beautiful, but the deep kind of beauty that only comes from suffering and pain and wisdom and healing.  The kind of beauty that will never fade or disappear.

Today, Sarah is married to an amazing Christian man with two more kids.  Her son that lived with us is grown.  She is following the Lord wherever He leads.  She is compassionate, real and seeks God daily. She home schools and serves in her community.  She is the definition of beauty in every way. She is a gift.

So because of Elvis (and God), I got to witness a miracle.

I got to receive the gift. 

I got to be a gift.

I love you Sarah. 

The Guilt Trip

The guilt trip.  Many of us pack our bags, but how many of us ever come back from the trip?  I have lots to be guilty about….the choice to not love the unlovable, the choice to not see the broken from my own womb, the choice to bring words of death instead of life.  I could have, should have seen instead of being blinded by fear.  These were all choices packed tightly in my bag of guilt.  I have carried this heavy load for years. Occasionally taking out the garments of shame, looking at them one by one; hanging them up to the light of my window so that I could see every last detail.  Then when I have glared at each and every piece, I fold them up carefully and tuck them back in my bag.  And I wonder.   Why do I do this?  What causes me to recount the memories of failure?  To be burdened by the weight of my sin?

I carry my bag all the time.  It is so used to being carried that I cannot even feel the weight anymore.  Oh, but the heaviness is there.  It is waiting to shame me and keep me tied to the lie.  And what is the lie?  I stumbled upon it recently.  It is in Galatians 3-5.  It says, “All who rely on observing the law are under a curse.”  A curse?  So when I choose to carry my guilt I am under the law, right?  I am under a curse.  Galatians goes on to say, “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us.”  OK. Here is the good part.  So, little old me is carrying my bag of guilt living under a curse.  But Jesus redeemed me from the curse by becoming a curse for me?  How cool is that?  So I am redeemed.  When I carry the bag, I am choosing the curse.  When I’m unpacking the bag, I am telling God….you are not enough.  Your becoming a curse is not enough for me.  I need to live under the curse because that is what I deserve.  Am I becoming God when I do this?  Am I accepting the curse over accepting Jesus?  Galatians goes on further, “But now that you know God- or rather are known by God- how is it that you are turning back to those miserable and weak principles?  Do you wish to be enslaved by them all over again?”  Uh, NO!  Enslaved? That is pretty powerful.  So let me get this straight….I have been redeemed from the curse, can live in freedom, am an heir of Christ…His daughter and why am I still carrying this bag of curses? 

Well, I put a stop to that right away.  I took my bag, opened it and named every piece before God.  I told him about not seeing, not loving, the pain I have caused, the failure, the fears.  I took each piece and held it into the Light.  And the Light burned these words into each piece….”IT IS FINISHED.”  I don’t know about you, but I am done carrying burdens that have already been paid for.  I am no longer wanting to be God, punishing myself until I’m sick to my stomach.  Galatians 5 says, “It is for freedom that Christ set you free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” 

I choose freedom.  

I tossed the bag.  

There was a price paid for my guilt.  

But I was never intended to pay it.  

IT IS FINISHED.

What about you? Are you carrying a curse? If so, you are missing out on grace.

And it is AMAZING!

One Year in Colorado

It has been exactly one year since we moved and what a year!

Here are my top 10 reasons why we love it here! 

1.  The sky is big here so the beautiful sunsets and sunrises are that much more beautiful.

2.  Every weekend I see hot air balloons and sky divers from my back porch. 

3.  I never knew how much of a country girl I am…the peace, quiet and beauty takes my breath away daily. 4.  I didn’t realize how much our family needed to heal and draw closer together.  This is happening here and it is changing our lives. 

5.  Being out of a place where I had a reputation and was well known has brought me to my knees.  I have realized that I am nothing and anything I am is because of God.  I am so thankful for this gift.

6.Being surrounded by horses, cows, raccoons, fox, skunks, toads, coyotes, snakes and every kind of bird is a constant reminder of God’s creation. 

7. We live in a non- nanny state.  We can talk on our cell phones in the car, we don’t have to wear helmets on motorcycles, we get to have bags when we shop. 

8.There are 12 million people in the Bay Area.  There are 5 million people in all of Colorado.  We are loving all the space to explore, hike and camp. 

9.We are part of a church that supports foster/ adoption and is a powerful presence in Boulder County finding homes for kids in need. 

10.We have loved having visitors.  It is so fun to share our new home and lives with friends from California.  Please visit us!

Watching the Miracle

“You are saying I do things wrong all the time”, my boy screamed as I was explaining the consequence of hitting his brother.  “You are saying I am bad!”  This was a reoccurring theme in his almost 10 years of life.  Being abused by a domestically violent father has taken a toll on this beautiful heart.  Somehow, at a way to early age, this boy of mine decided that the abuse was his fault.  He was the cause.  He was bad.

The glass half empty.

The grass is always greener.

The fear to try new things.

Unable to give thanks.

These are the still fresh scars of a father who lashed out because of many old scars branded on his own heart.

How do I get to this tender but confused heart?  How do I tell him about a Jesus who heals scars?  How to reach a mind already entrenched with lies?

I am utterly unable. 

So I speak the words I have always known he believes.  I speak them out loud.  I speak them straight to his heart.

“I think you believe you are bad because your parents hurt you when you were small and somehow you blamed yourself.  You thought it was your fault.  Is this what you think?”

A nod of the head.

I began to speak from my deepest inner being.  Hoping.  Praying that he could hear.  Hear the words of truth.  Hear the words your Heavenly father speaks to you. You are special.  God will redeem.  God has a plan.  God sings over you. You are good. 

You are good.

You are good!!!

Did he hear me? 

I felt like something “clicked” in his eyes.  The glimpse of knowing.

I spoke out loud what he has known all along but couldn’t speak for himself.  We connected.  I understood.  I heard his heart.  He is not alone.

My mission is to speak words of life into this boy.  He is precious.  He is kind. He thinks of others.  He is smart.  He is worthy to be loved.

I cannot speak life while I am running around to different activities or busy on the phone.  I cannot speak love if I am irritated or tired or fearful. Speaking takes time.  It interrupts the schedule. Dinner might have to wait.  Appointments may have to be cancelled.

My own fears cannot trump truth.  My mind is saying “it’s no use, you will not be victorious.  You will fail.  You cannot undo the damage.  You cannot love.  Your words are not life, but platitudes of the flesh."

My heart cries out to a Living God!  “Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord. The Maker of heaven and Earth.”

Can I receive what I need to speak life? Can I live fearlessly? Can I live truth?  Can I live love?

Oh Father, help me.  I want to be filled with you. I want you to pour out spilling over my children. In my children. Cleansing the marks of shame. 

I am unable.

But I am enough because He is enough.

I am able because He is able.

Keep speaking. Take time. Heal wounds.

Watch the miracle!

Turning Seven!

My smallest boy is turning seven this Father’s Day.  We decided to have a few friends over and go to the park.  You would think that was a normal and even nice thing for a mother to do, wouldn’t you?  So we are in the car with friends filling the seats and he opens a gift his friend gave him.  He received a nice tape measure and a pair of working gloves.  After looking at the generous gift he replied, “I like the tape measure, but I don’t like the gloves.”  Which I immediately retorted, “Caleb Joshua Reginato (he knew he was in trouble by the use of the middle name), “you tell your friend thank you.”  And I proceeded to tell the six year old sitting next to him that, in fact, Caleb loved the gloves and would use them all the time. To which the little girl just stared at me with a blank face. 

We went to the park and had a lovely time, but when we got back home (the friends still with us), Caleb decided to ask the neighbor boy over to play games and have cake.  After the games were over, they all retired to Caleb’s room to play house.  They all were trying to fit into the closet ( I think they were using it for a bunk bed with one child on the floor of the closet and two others on the top shelf) when Caleb told his neighbor friend to leave his room because he wanted to play alone with his other friends.  I only found out about this because the little guy walked right past me in the kitchen, looking like he might cry.  So I marched into the closet and demanded to know what happened.  I was told the sad story and immediately had Caleb go apologize to his friend, which he did.

After all the kids went home, I asked Caleb if he had a good time at his party.  He said, “No, not really.” 

Isn’t that exactly how we are? 

We half heartedly accept gifts from God.

We are thankless for the wrapped treasures he places in our hands.

We love self more than others.

And it causes us to lose our joy.

What I get to share with my almost seven year old is that God’s mercy is new every morning.  That we get a do-over and we can start fresh by the power of His love. 

We can begin tomorrow with a renewed awe of the gifts we have been lavishly given.

We can excitedly unwrap even the smallest, precious treasures He gently places in our hands.

We can mend relationships and ask for forgiveness. And love others more than ourselves!

We can find our joy!

I asked my son before bedtime tonight if he could have done anything differently today.  He said, “I could have not been rude to my friend.”

Good job, son.

 Maybe seven won’t be so bad after all! 

My Story Part 8

I hate her!!! That was all could say about our first foster son’s birth mom.  How could a woman neglect her own child? How could a mother choose drugs over her kids?  I was appalled at the lack of love that this birth mother had for her son. And believe me when I say that the feeling was mutual.  She hated me.  She hated that her son was calling me mom. She hated that I got to take care of him and love him and feed him every day.  But you really can’t blame me, can you?  I was in this for the sweet child in our care.  To show him the love of God and to pray protection over his precious heart.  Why would I want to care for his neglectful mother?  She chose the life she was living and her son had no choice in the matter.  He had to go along for the ride. 

This hatred ran cold in my veins.  I truly couldn’t stand this woman. I wanted nothing to do with her.  But God had other plans.  One day I was on my knees praying about my anger.  Not that God would forgive me for it, but that He would strike her with lightening or make her leave the country.  As I was praying and looking out my living room window, it started to rain.  Now up until then it was a bit cloudy.  But as I talked to God about this woman, it began to pour.  Not just rain, but the floodgates of heaven opened and it gushed down like a waterfall.  It wasn’t peaceful and beautiful.  It was a torrent of rage being poured onto the earth.  And at that moment, God spoke to my heart so clearly, that I nearly fell on my face in His presence.  He said that He was even angrier than I was over the pain of this child.  That He would take of it and I was to leave the punishment to Him.  And lastly, I was to love her.  Love her?  Did I hear that right?  You are kidding me God, right?  No reply came.  I was summoned to love a woman I hated.  I knew better than to deny God.  So I began calling her and asking about her life.  I started to pray for her.  And my heart began to soften.  I asked her if I could pray for her and soon was praying with her.  And she desperately wanted to be loved.  I only wanted to do foster care to love the child.  But here was a grown up child who needed the same love.  When I found out about her past and all she had been through, I grieved for this woman.  And God gave me a piece of His heart.  This mother was also hurt and abused and unloved.  She was just in a bigger body than her son.  I eventually fell in love with this woman.  I wanted nothing more for her to get her son back and live a healthy life.  I eventually asked her if she wanted to give her life over to the true Healer. 

  She became a Christian and my husband baptized her at our church.  She eventually got her son back.  I was torn.  I loved this boy with all of my heart.  But I knew where he belonged. We had to take our sweet boy and drop him off at a drug treatment center where his mom lived.  We had loved him for over a year.  As I handed this child over to his mom, my heart ached.  I would never again hold him.  Never tuck him in at night.  I would never again hear the word “mom” come out of his mouth again.  As we left the treatment center, we were in deep grief.  But as we drove, we both felt the Spirit of God in the car with us. He lifted us out of our sorrow and gave us hope.  We began singing along to praise music we had in our car and praising God for allowing us the honor of seeing a family put back together.  And it hit me!  We could love the child.  But what if we loved the birth mom too?  What if God could heal the child’s mother?  Then generations are forever changed.  This foster child would have a healed mother.  Families would be restored.  The chain of sin broken!  We decided in that car ride home that we would be resolved to love not only future foster kids, but to love their moms as well.  This was a seed that years later would become The Refuge.  A seed that was planted deep in my soul.  Freedom!  These moms and kids needed to be set free.  I knew just the person to do the job! Yes!