"I don't want to be blessed"

I said with sharp sincerity.

We were on the side of the road on a Sunday afternoon. I was having one of those frustrated mom breakdowns. We 'attempted' to visit the church in Bar, about an hour and 20 minute drive from our house. We arrived. The baby was fed, everyone looked relatively decent, church started at ten. 

As my four and two year old get shuffled into the children's program, I am holding the baby and I breathe a sigh of relief, I might actually get to sit through a service, and in English no less!

...then the baby starts crying, I walk to the kid's room to walk him around. That's when I see Xander (the two year old) gearing up for a wail. The entire children's lesson of about 10 kids and 3 adults stops, trying to consol the wailing cute kid. He is wailing 'mommy' so he is brought to me. while I am trying to get some logical soothing plan down he then screams 'daddy' and runs into the room where the service is and I cannot stop him because I am holding a baby, so we begin a one arm tug of war with screaming in front of the entire assembly until Jesse sees and runs to pick him up and take him out. we go back to the kid room, the entire kid program stops again to offer suggestions of how to sooth our hysterical 2-year old. 

We have managed to derail 2 church services in as many minutes. 

So we resort to crackers and a field outside. The baby is starting to get fussy and I don't have a stroller, so I resort to the old rocking the car seat to sleep method as I use the other hand to try and entertain the 2 year old.

I was angry. Why did I even leave the house today? Why am I stuck doing the ONLY job I hate all the time. I know this is mommy  blasphemy. But I would rather clean bathrooms or give an impromptu speech then try and keep a 2 year old and a baby happy. I HATE THIS. 

I was telling Jesse this an hour later as we sat under a tree eating our flaky meat pastry called Burek...

Why do other people's struggles seem 'uncomfortable' and I feel like I am often foaming at the mouth? It's not that I think my job is objectively harder, it is simply harder FOR ME. Like putting an art student in the army or a shy kid as class president. I SUCK AT THIS LITTLE KID THING. 

Why do other people 'use their spiritual gifts' to serve God, or 'honor God with their talents' while I seethe in the Montenegrin sun with little need factories that my own body created?

"Because God wants to bless you honey" my husband answers sincerely.

I know it's true, and I reply honestly..."I don't want to be blessed".

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It's the truth that defines every sin in my life. I don't want blessing. I want control. I want my story, not God's. 

Just the day before it happened again. throughout the day, if my temper is short, I think, "I will try and be nicer to Jesse today" after six years of this NOT WORKING AT ALL, I see that God does not honor my 'effort'. You see, what has happened to me, growing up in church, I just trade in mysuper ugly sins, for more culturally acceptable ones. So instead of being openly mean to my husband, I opt for self-righteous effort. Self-righteousness is always the sneakiest sin, that's why it lives in our churches. It is simply a fruit of my flesh putting on pretty clothes while it rots underneath. 

I have realized submitting my life to the spirit of God through the Gospel is the only thing that can change my heart, and then my behavior. 

"I should make an effort to be nicer to Jesse today"....The Spirit's reply...

"To do that you will have to submit your plans, your identity, your life to me so I can give it back to you producing a gratitude that will outshine the selfish, will outshine even the 'effort' out of your own heart"

pause.

"No thanks". I reply. I don't want to be nice THAT badly.

I don't want to be blessed.

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Our whole redemptive story hinges on us saying yes to Blessing, Yes to God.

Read this amplified version of 2 Corinthians 1:20...

²⁰ For as many as are the promises of God, they all find their Yes [answer] in Him [Christ]. For this reason we also utter the Amen (so be it) to God through Him [in His Person and by His agency] to the glory of God.

His promises and blessing are hidden in our 'yes' to Christ's gift, and our "so be it" to God the father's plan for us. 

We are all trying so incredibly hard to exist for our own glory.

Our search for self-identity consumes us, WE STRIVE, because striving is the only thing one solitary soul can do on its own without Identity in the I AM.

But, if we say yes to who He is, the Glory and Gift, we die to that solitary self perception.

Then, who we really are in Christ emerges from this 'Yes' to Christ and 'Amen' to the Story.

His story calls me out: It calls my well intended efforts, vanity, my 'ministry', idolatry, my death...necessary. 

The story that says my death is His Glory,

The story that loves me to death.

Do you want to be blessed?

My Vacation Needs a Vacation:

Needing grace even on (especially on) Vacation

In high school me and my best friends would always go to the Florida for spring break. We ate, whatever we wanted, went to the beach all day, laid around, came back to the condo, laid around some more! I was one hundred percent about me and my needs unless i was passing the tanning oil to Nicole Payne. I remember in those days I had a vague desire 'to get a quiet time done' on the beach, The week would end, and I had barely acknowledged that God existed.

Boy has vacation changed in the last 10 years.

I have to be honest with you. Talking about vacation is something missionaries hate doing. It is a huge point of insecurity to me who fancies herself international super Christian. Guess what? I need vacations. Not just that. I need them about 10 times more than I ever needed them in America. Guess what else. What would cost you a trillion dollars to do. Our family can do with about 200. because, well we already live in the most beautiful country in the world and their tends to be about a 50% immediate discount when you speak the local language. What's even more amazing is, more often than not, people just give us the money because they want to bless us. It's awesome, truly awesome. but I would trade it all to sit down with my sister for coffee or watch my sons play with their cousins for one hour. 

So just know. this might be hard for you to read. know this, it's much harder to write.

"life is hard, Vacations are so refreshing" = American Andrea.

"Life is freaking impossible, vacations are hard, we need them anyways"

 - Montenegrin Andrea

The other day I compared living overseas with treading water. When you are in your own culture, you are simply coasting (like in a boat) ALL. THE. TIME.  Your life is knowable and you can face challenges knowing your resources and expectations. When you live in a different culture it takes effort to do EVERYTHING. So instead of sitting in a boat, You are treading water. Sometimes you feel like your drowning, but that's not even the worst part,  The worst part is when you look around and you know YOU WILL NEVER GET a break. as long as I live here, life will be exhausting. I will be treading water forever. 

It is a feeling i never had in America. So it is hard to explain. I can relate it to the feeling you have as a mother of X number of kids and it's the middle of the night and you think that the kid needs will NEVER end. It's kind of like that. 

That being said, vacation can become one of those drowning moments. But Ironically enough, you need some variety, and drowning IS at least eventful...

 in America about every 2-3 weeks we are celebrating something: birthdays, Easter, Mothers day There is a rhythm already set up that we all dance to. It keeps our lives interesting and fun and our souls fed. When we moved to Montenegro and there was this LOOONNNGGG silence. We Wake up on Easter and it's no one Else's Easter in the whole county, do I wear a pretty dress? do we have a one family egg hunt? We wake up on Labor day, and we are not camping in a tent with out extended family. No Cakes. No fireworks. No Hobby Lobby busting with seasonal decor. NO NOTHING.No family, no cultural rituals,  NADA! it begins to wear on your soul. HARD. 

 We realized at some point we needed to start celebrating something or we would go insane.

 So the first year I studied Jewish celebrations, I saw the every culture has similar themes and rhythms of when they celebrate, so I took all that and boiled it down to a few celebrations,. Then, I appointed myself the Family Celebration Coordinator (aka 'mom') and committed to help our family celebrate Christ at the turning of the seasons. It has been a fun journey, where before was a 'oh I guess we are having an Easter egg hunt' is now: "What the heck does the resurrection really mean to our family?" Being more intentional about our family values is wonderfully exhausting.

but also...

It's hard. I have to practice it. I am tired, My tired is tired, I don't want to pack, I want to watch Gilmore Girls and do nothing. It's a discipline, it's not something we want, we NEED it.

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I used to sit in the North Georgia mountains and think "This is nice, I deserved break"

 Now I'm realizing when you stop thinking your deserve something, you can accept it as a gift

=

GOSPEL

So I planned the " Soren's Birthday/Rash Hashanah (Jewish New Year) Coming of fall) vacation. We had some previous experience of vacationing with little ones. Where normally I would GO CHEAP for like a week, with our family it works to GO LESS CHEAP for like 2 days. By the third day our kids start to wig anyways, and sitting in a dingy one bedroom hotel room while your kids take crazy 'no naps' is very close to a scene from Paradise Lost. So we find deals, then go big(ish) for 2 days. This time we went to one touristy place for one night with the castles and the pretend shopping (and tons of foreigners speaking ENGLISH) and then we went to a secluded small village on the water that is my absolute favorite place for one night. 

Foolproof right? how could this not be fun? We had a blast the first day. We even got to grill outside which was my 'nod' to camping. I LOVE camping, but it wasn't in the cards this time. It was my "hey camping, i still love and miss you, see you in 5 years meal'. it was FUN. 

               

*Sometimes 'mom hair' looks like a fancy wedding up-do.

sometimes.

We lounged at cafes as much as you can 'lounge' with three kids three and under. The locals showered our kids with tons of candy and kisses, they let (and encourage) my kid to STEAL ice cream cones, so he just keeps doing it. 

 *Track suits are standard issue dress code in Podgorica

That first night was a little 'we have 4 people sleeping in one room' kinda night. I was fighting a cold. I woke up the next morning and was soooo tired. Coffee... nothing, so I downed a cappuccino but could still feel my body slowly give way to exhaustion.

                  *We use instant coffee in eastern Europe, I used little baggies to make myself 'coffee packs' for the hotel.

 I thought I was so clever.

 By 10am I began to get a little foggy, the foggy turned to snappy, While Jesse played on a playground with the boys, I actually laid down on a park bench. Something you DO NOT DO in Montenegro. By the time we checking into our room in the second town I was delirious and the kids are acting insane because we are on day two and they were hyped up on candy and stolen ice-creme cones. This was our 'nice hotel' so we only had 1 room total. 

Candy Crazy kids at nap time + deliriously tired mommy +  one room = Disaster

Jesse tried to take Soren away to see if that would help the 2 year old and the baby sleep. That just left me alone in my moment of insanity with two screaming kids. I have never felt crazier in all my life. Honestly guys. I was in the most beautiful room in the universe, in the most beautiful town and the kids are screaming and all I can think about is jumping out the window because that would guarantee me SOME VERSION sleep. It's kind of funny, except it was not, I called Jesse and asked him to come back, knowing there was nothing he could do, nowhere he could take 3 kids by himself. I just knew I was delusional and couldn't be alone with the kids. 

Vacation = Emotional Breakdowns

I sat there on the bed, baby Logan looking at me and Xander calling and screaming "MOMMY MONMMYY MOMMMYY!' from the pack and play a few feet away as the magical Adriatic sun baked wind drift in from our sea view room. I was balling with my hands on my face, (I think Logan thought it was a new game of peek-a-boo.) I wept and cried out to God

 "Please have mercy, Please have mercy, I need a break, not because 'I deserve it', but because of your loving-kindness, I need you to bring beauty to today, I need Your Sabbath Rest."

So you have almost read two pages of my gibbering and we reach the point. My God is Jehovah Jireh. He provides. He make impossible situations lovely. 

We asked the front desk if there was any way we could have a room with a separate bedroom so we could get some sleep. We simply had to act in faith and trust God that he would provide what we needed. They upgraded us to the nicest room they had, and did not charge us a penny extra. When I say nice, I mean like James Bond movie nice. see for yourself...

first room: I soaked that bed in tears. 

 

The Upgrade : 2 Bedroom Suite!

 View from the living room

Private entrance with a private balcony

 View from our Balcony

 

 So yes.  you just read a story about how God gave people who don't 'earn' a living in Europe an EVEN BETTER vacation, because they needed it. I keep expecting His grace to end at some point (like at the point where we have a one bedroom sea view hotel) but his mercy ENDURES forever. He does not only respond to my neediness, but embracing my pathetic is the only true way to live and breath G-O-S-P-E-L.  Except your life as a gift. Call out to God in need, from a place of total humility and watch the miracles the unfold before your eyes. 

The Lord says, “I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my name. When they call on me, I will answer; I will be with them in trouble. I will rescue and honor them. I will reward them with a long life and give them my salvation.” 
Psalm 90

and last. a quote from Derek Webb...
 "you’re never going to be truly filled with joy unless you truly know yourself for who you really are. And until you are a real sinner with a real Savior, you will be a hypothetical and theoretical sinner – and therefore, with a hypothetical and theoretical savior.
But if you can’t honestly put your finger on one sin you’ve committed all day because your view of sin has become nothing more than this cultural hiding game, then you’re not experiencing real joy. Because if all I can confess is a knowledge of how sin has affected me, but not any of my real sins – if I don’t really know that I’m sinful – then I don’t truly know, and I’m not truly encouraged by the fact that I’ve been saved. Because, saved from what? If I’m not really sinful then what’s the big deal? What’s the good news? It’s just news.
But if you know yourself as exposed by the cross, then I believe you will begin to experience true joy. Because you will not constantly be looking over your shoulder all the time – constantly checking the knots in this great suit of fig leaves that you’ve sewn for yourself. But rather, you will be comfortably exposed in your sin and boasting in your great Savior because he is real.
Charles Spurgeon once said, “If your sin is small then your Savior will be small also. But if your sin is great, then your Savior must be great.”

The Reluctant Hostess

This title makes me think of a whiny twinky that does not want to be eaten. 

You're gonna need some comic relief, this is a long one. 

I am doing a Facebook book club with some girlfriends on a book called  A Meal with Jesus. The book is about missional living through hospitality, something God has recently put on my heart (by put on my heart I mean shoved into my face to reveal my sin). Our first assignment is telling our 'hospitality' story.

We moved to Montenegro 2 years ago to help grow the church where so few know the name of Jesus. At least that's why I thought we were coming here...silly me. God brought me here to teach 'the missionary' the gospel. He dug deep in my heart, leading me to repentance, of which I am recovering from 28  years of some major self-righteousness. I found out I usually try to earn God's favor through doing ministry in my own power. I combat shame by doing. Ministry in your own power does not work overseas, ergo psychological breakdown/Spiritual awakening leading to repentance. God has hit every source of identity I have (being creative/smart/getting things done) and laid them to waste for His glory.  He asked me to scrap my plans to save the world and instead hang out at his feet and spend time being still in his presence. He has asked me to EMBRACE joy in the sacred of everyday stay-at-home -mom-ness. What can I say...It's rough.

It feels like death, because it is.

 I kinda suck at being a mom, I am impatient, insensitive, controlling, I won't even get started about the word 'submission' when it comes to my husband. I basically think it's a great 'idea' and that is where it ends. But God wants to enact his grace in my life through my slow death, he wants to do miracles in my everyday desert soul, and I have to confess, I am pretty excited about it.  Some days I feel so weak (it's 11 am and I have lost my temper 2 times already). If the baby is sleeping, I go the 'bathroom' to cry and get angry with God, get in his face, and remind Him that he has promised BLESSING. Sometimes I feel like Jacob, that me and God are wrestling in the sand and the only thing that connects us is my weak embrace and the pathetic entreaty the He MUST BLESS ME. So in this mess, the mess of my home, this place where I already struggle with control, with cooking from scratch, with line drying clothes, with gratitude, God has basically asked me to OPEN my heart, not just to the million needs of the 3 beans and the hubs, but to anyone God brings to us who are in need. whahhhhhht?

so about hospitality.....

my story.

It begins with the deep insecurity that it 'just isn't my thing': my mom and sister got the Martha Stewart gene/hospitality gift thing. Not me. While My sister was learning how to butter bread, I was spinning around in my socks pretending to be Christy Yamaguchi. My mom and sister aren't just good cooks, they are like professional hostesses: my sister holds like 117 pristine functions at her house every year and enjoys laying the perfect white coffee cups out on a perfect row, the night before and my mom could host a like 300 people on at 22 minute notice with a Crockpot and paper towel roll and not even break a sweat. Me, well I hate people, I hate it when people eat my food, I hate cleaning, and washing bedding  spins me into depressive thoughts about the meaninglessness of life. Sometimes when I am whining to my sister about this, she reminds me that I have the pretty cuticles in the family. That is something I guess. 

My first Hospitality try was a 2 day post college reunion, a "come to my house a few days" New Year's get together in 2010. We had a ridiculous 2800 square feet abode, so I was going to show it off. At the end I realized I HATE hosting. I felt like I was in the kitchen the whole time or providing for everyone's needs or feeding a three month old, (exhausting!) while Jesse got to play board games and laugh and laugh and laugh. It ended with 90% of the guests getting a massive stomach virus (sorry if you were there). Me = no spiritual gift of hospitality.

                                 America                                                    Montenegro

  Before: 2,800 square feet. After: 800 square feet. It's awesome.

Downsize people, you will not regret it!

2012 we move to Montenegro. If I sucked at hosting before, move me to a culture where hospitality is like THE THING. It is a culture based on home visits and relationships. No one has ever been more insecure about anything, ever. We were barely surviving the culture shock and depression of that first year, then throw house guests in the mix and it got ugly real fast. In our first term in Montenegro, we had about 14 overnight guest in all at different times, it sucked. I was always confused about my role, what to feed people, and mostly what they expected.

 I think mostly I was ashamed and uncomfortable that the ugly of our family would shine though, 

 physical and spiritual:  unwashed baseboards and hot tempers.

 Once my 2 year old pooped in the middle of the living room in the middle of a delightful conversation (sorry again Ellyn).  I CAN"T DO THIS PEOPLE! Another time, Jesse and I were in a HUGE fight (the really intense silence kind) while driving our first guest to a New Year's party, said guest slowly exited the car, very slowly, making sure he made no quick movements lest I turn my indignation toward him. Suckfest. Uglyfest.

 I don't want people to see my sin. 

We told our boss, "no more guests". We still ended up taking a few out of necessity and friendship, but this was not my bag, and told God as much. As I mentioned before God laid me bare that year. I decided that I would rather rest in him than earn it. I would be foolish, I would be inefficient, I would be a mom, a help-meet, or whatever he asked for the sake of the gospel hope inside of me and trust God to change the world-HIS WAY. He gave me a word from Chronicles

9"As for you, my son Solomon, know the God of your father, and serve Him with a whole heart and a willing mind; for the LORD searches all hearts, and understands every intent of the thoughts. If you seek Him, He will let you find Him; but if you forsake Him, He will reject you forever. 10"Consider now, for the LORD has chosen you to build a house for the sanctuary; be courageous and act." 

Since the breaking at the end of that first year, God has been softly whispering joy, purpose and grace in the dish washing and the butt wiping. He keeps bringing forth the truth that our home is the sanctuary, a city on a hill in a dark country.  The enacting of grace, the spill-out of his love in the community, the 'evangelism' if you will, will be though that...word I hate...hospitality. 
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So here we begin. Currently (fall 2014) I have a family of three staying with us for two weeks. That's Jesse and I, a married couple, a 6 year old girl and my 3, 2 and 4 month old boys in 800 square feet. The baby sleeps 4 times in 4 different places around the house daily:

Nap 1 : Xander's crib

Nap 2: the closet (but in a nice padded box)

Nap 3:  our room

early bedtime: our room

late night: pack'n'play in living room. 

The only constant in that little doughnut's life is his trusty glow-seahorse who accompanies him to every musical crib rotation. But you know what?...he doesn't seem to mind. One of the first times I had the opportunities to actually cook for this family of three, I was extremely fatigued and had to lay down. As I laid there on the bed the voices returned "you are not being a 'good hostess'". Then I realized something about hospitality. A light shined into the darkness and broke away a huge lie...My entire life, growing up in the deep south of Georgia, hospitality was...a show. Flowers, nicely stacked books, Better Homes and Gardens, smiling faces. I believe the original intent of 'Sothern Hospitality' are to honor your guest with 'the show' but for me, this is basically honoring myself. The show becomes a lie. The show becomes about hiding the true reality of our lives. 

"The house always looks this clean"

 "I never lose my temper with my kids"

'"I always calmly honor my husband with a quiet spirit"

No wonder I was exhausted, who could keep that crap going very long.

Like the aforementioned Twinky the 'hostess' becomes a processed conglomeration of ingredients for an immediate sweet gratification. No real 'hospitality' is happening with that fakeness. 

What I realized is: This is the exact OPPOSITE of how hospitality works in God's Kingdom.

One is a show, the other is authentic and vulnerable display of Jesus in our family, it is about the ugly moments as much as it is about the laughter and cookies.

It's about unity, the opening of our hearts through our front doors.

It is messy, spiritually and physically, 'but come on in folks'. Watch how God redeems our ugly.

What should be a circus is a HUGE blessing. (This is absolutly true with said current family. My son is in love with their daughter, and we get to learn a little Russian.

 What should be frustrating is graceful, where there should be shame there is redemption. What should be a simple meal is partaking of a promise.

It's about bearing one another's burdens,

It's about covering each other's weaknesses in grace.

It's about exposing hearts, repentance, laughter, enjoying God's bounty.

It is about someone being blessed though a leftover piece of pizza.

It is Church

It is communion.

The physical body of Christ being shared by each other.

Like Jacob...

God has won the fight, we lay in an awkward embrace of a finished wresting match in middle of a desert, my arms and legs barley holding in through shaky fatigue. I will not let go..."Bless me God. Bless Me!"

She Must and Shall Go Free

August 2012

We were sitting in trailer in Denmark, at a seminar called "How to Avoid Burnout". We were on our way to our first term. My 1 month old gurgle echoing of the flimsy walls. The woman up front had my complete focus. she was talking about her experience with burnout a year or so earlier. she was a mother of 4 kids serving in the TUNISIA. She had pushed herself too far and was giving us all tips about how NOT to do that. 

I was all ears. I wrote everything down. I made lots of charts. this Burnout thing was not going to happen to me. This soldier was NOT going to get shell shocked. Then she opened it up for questions. Someone asked her "Have you recovered from your burnout?" 

She looked down and in a very sweet and serious voice said "No". 

well that's awkward. Not healed after over a year???? What illness takes years to heal? Don't we work for God? Isn't our spiritual health insurance supposed to be, well supernatural? 

____________________________________________________________________

 August 2013 

I don't know if I am officially burned out, but the word meltdown certainly comes to mind... Read here. 

____________________________________________________________________

August 2014 

I read these words, they seem so blunt, the worlds of a woman barley surviving, the words almost feverish. A lot has happened since this post a year ago. 

HEALING is SLOW but she is also RELENTLESS, because she is birthed from Christ provision. She Must and Shall Go Free. We are still recovering.

It started by moving houses. It was a hard decision at the time, it symbolized me letting God put to death many of the expectations I had of myself. so I cried for like 2 days. 

2 months after we moved in we realized this land was the property we had driven by 5 months before...It was a sunny day in June, we saw the Vineyards and the rolling fields with terracotta roofs, we were getting a little stir crazy in our apartment block and I looked at Jesse and said, "wouldn't that be a beautiful place to live?" Then I had a deep sense of peace and said, "God will give us what we need, exactly when we need it". 

 That was before things got really bad, and can you believe it, 5 months later we are in this house, here next to that same vineyard, we didn't even realize it in the craziness of the move. 

Death, then a hidden blessing, 

Death to self, then God's provision of promises that seemed forsaken pour out into our lives. 

I'm not going to say it got all better after that. Our bodies were worn down, immune systems shot, but we began to take rest, like God commands Isaiah, Resting it is an intense move in the spiritual realm. We slowly started over. We slowly redefined what defined us... 

Not being Missionaries, but Being Forgiven. 

Not being saviors, but being apart of God's church, delinquent bride that she is.  

God seemed to restore tenfold what was lost. I settled into my role as a homemaker, 4 months later I was making tortillas, pies, and pizza from scratch, loving on the babies, supporting Jesse as he began to process the hurts, sharing my story with others. Life slowly began to seep back into my veins. 

Then it was time to head back to America to have baby Logan.

I struggled so badly with Anemia in the third trimester, the last 2 weeks before we left, i rested just to make sure I could make the plane trip, America was a whirlwind of debrief, labor, newborn, and tons of support meeting with our now three kids three and under. God again showing Hos relentless provision. 

We are back for our second term. I truly seems so different this time. Our first term, it felt like the enemy had his way with me stabbing me repeatedly where my armor was weak, my identity in Christ. 

Now when he strikes, it is still very real, but I parry the blow with God's truth. 

I am enough because Christ is enough. 

I sing the song of 'It's Enough' to myself multiple times a day...

I spend 2 hours getting the mold out of a toy the baby looses interest in the next day, 'It's Enough'

Jesse spent 2 full days just trying to pay our power bill. 'It's enough'

When I sweep the floor again. 'I'm enough'

Why? Not because it's quantitative, not because there will be a big payoff later (like hundreds accepting Christ because we were patient enough to pay our power bill)

 but because...

Christ is Enough. 

He pours out his abundant righteousness on our lives.

We NEVER mature PAST the Gospel

We must sing it over ourselves every day. 

We must, because honestly, we are still recovering from that first year.