in Him all our carrots lie

This morning I got to apologize to my children on the way to church.

I hate that.

Not that I had to apologize, but that I needed to, and I did.

Sofie and five dear friends partied hard Friday night...horses and crafts and Vietnamese Pho (first time making that!) and birthday pavlova and late night giggles and a house of 10 girls and 1 Ben on the 8th day of Matt being gone. 

It was glorious, she had a blast, it was a success. Had several drop offs to do, took the kids to the pool for a few hours because they'd been begging all week, and got home Saturday evening at 4 wiped and ready for a sweet, easy evening with less kids than the nights before and spaghetti and family movie night ahead!

No sooner had I gotten them showered and laundry started and dinner going, huge storm. Really huge storm. Crazy out of nowhere. We were aware it was bad, but as with anything tornado-y, you don't really realize till after how bad. Lost power at 5, huge trees all around us down, lots of limbs, debris, tons of rain. The storm passed as quickly as it had violently come on, one nearby neighbor has a huge tree through his roof, and we headed out to check on a few elderly neighbors. 

Everyone was ok, but no power. No stove for dinner, couldn't open the fridge, no family movie night. Yes, we did this lots in Haiti...but we were better set up for it with a gas stove and open air, screened windows! I needed to make it an "adventure" night. I tried.  Got out flashlights and a creative snack-based dinner and read the children books by candlelight. 

But I was SO tired. And I wanted a cup of hot coffee SO badly...wanted an easy night--not an adventure night--so badly!  I wanted someone to come and take care of ME. I had had expectations for REST, and it was NOT...and now outside was tons and tons of WORK. I could hear my mind and heart whining. 

We all went to bed early (no power made that easier!) and work up this morning with the power back on! I had a beautiful plan again for rest...breakfast for the kiddos and I would sit in my chair and have my quiet time while they played, get us all ready for church, get there early for good, needed time with our church family. 

...and then the dishwasher I had fully loaded by flashlight the night before, loaded and ready to run...the dishwasher that that I have dissembled, reassembled, watched 16 You-Tube videos on and FINALLY fixed twice now the last 10 days...woke up blinking like crazy and refusing to work. 

I wanted rest. I finally had coffee. I wanted to sit with that coffee. 

Instead, I was trying to fix the dishwasher, again, and then hand-washing an impressively arranged, overflowing dishwasher of dirty dishes, filling every counter with crépe dishes and dinner dishes for a literal dozen people over the last 12 hours.

Everyone dressed and ready, waiting in the car to go, and the house was a mess (last night's after-bed clean up neglected due to darkness), the counters were full, the yard a battlefield, every light and fan in the house on, my hair-dryer covered in sticky bday craft-paint, breakfast dishes all over the table and the cat in the scrambled eggs, carseats needing moved again from driving extra girlies.

We went from getting to church early in my mind to getting to church late in a van with the empty gas-light on...with mom frustrated with kiddos who got in the car, but didn't clean up after themselves or help with the house...on our 18th wedding anniversary, with Matt in New Jersey.  

The rest and peace I so badly needed and felt I deserved was all smelly dishes and broken tree limbs, and so was my attitude.  

I apologized to my gracious kiddos profusely for my frustrated attitude. For my short responses. For my irritation at the silly dishes and silly hairdryer and silly gas tank. 

But I needed more than their quick and lovely forgiveness. 

We slipped into church just as it was starting, they said stand up and one woman sat down.  They said get out of your seat and go around saying hello, and one woman reached out a weary hand to the man in front and behind. Our pastor is in Indy, and Mike preached as slow as Elijah does fast, as molasses as Elijah does fire. 

Mike talked low and slow about not getting tired of waiting on the Lord, not to stop persevering after that carrot in front of us.

He said I will get my carrot. He said not to get tired of waiting, not to get tired of persevering, and therefore walk away without my carrot. He said to wait, to wait WELL...to wait with joy, to wait with trust, to wait without taking charge, to wait without making my own solution. He said to wait on the Lord. 

Without even meaning to think it, I challenged the Lord with my dad.  I'm waiting to see my dad again.

You will get your carrot He said.

I'm waiting for quiet, then. For clean. For peace. For something easy. For Matt to come home, to get back to Haiti, to get Emma with her dear Haitian family, to be able to one day be at a place where I could go away for a day with a friend. Just one day. Maybe two? To go to the beach without a court order. Any beach. Any time.  I'm waiting to get back to the foreign mission field, I'm waiting for the dishwasher to do my work, I'm waiting to lose the last five pounds of baby-weight, waiting for the kids to grow and also to stop growing. I'm waiting for ME time, I'm waiting for rest. 

And I've been waiting for it all with a complaining heart, my waiting in their receiving and not in the Lord.

JOY is how we endure when we have to wait, Mike says.

And do you know what prompts joy? Mike asks, and I already know. I do.

I've been grouchy and rushed and tired, but I know. I apologized to my dearest ones because I know, and I didn't. I know because my mother sang it, incessantly, into every day, my parents, my Haitian family, so many of you, have poured it into my every season.

Generosity and gratefulness prompt joy.

Not rest. 

Not clean.

Not quiet.

Not easy.

Not beaches. 

Not date night.

Not a hot cup of coffee. 

I'm not going to say the rest of the day was rainbows...I am weary, and sticks and pinecones almost broke my bones, and I am off to bed for rest.

But I am so incredibly grateful when I was alone with the kids last night that God protected us and kept us in the shelter of His wings. 

I'm so thankful for the friends that took the kids and I to lunch, and talked to me all about the missions trip they are taking next week to Peru...because it is not my season--not for girl-weekends or the beach or Peru--but I so deeply LOVE to hear about foreign places and people and experiences of sharing Jesus with the corners of the world and seeing Jesus back. 

I'm so thankful for my husband, here or not. I'm so thankful for the many people God has provided. I'm so grateful for dishes to wash and food to put on them. I'm so grateful God has entrusted us with these seven precious, messy, loud, eye-rolling, hair-dryer-ruining lives. I'm so grateful that I am waiting on the Lord, the one who promises, promises, that we will get our carrot, that in Him all our carrots lie. I'm so grateful that when we give...when I pour Lady Jane coffee tonight and chop up potatoes for Mr. Henry, and that when we share with others and they with us, there is mysterious and genuine, unexpected JOY.

I'm so thankful you pray for and love us, even when my posts don't make sense, and I'm talking about carrots. 

There are lots of things and people and experiences we're waiting for...that are good things and perhaps things that we deserve.  But they will easily let us down and despairing and frustrated if we are lying up our hope in them.

Let us wait, instead, on the Lord. 

Do not get tired of waiting with me, grateful and generous, with joy