Moving Forward into Our Calling

A year ago at this time Colin and I were making some important decisions about our future together in ministry. The choice to move from Portland, Oregon to Bellingham, Washington was no small thing. Leaving behind family and friends and entering into a virtually unknown community would be daunting to many, but Colin and I were ready to take on a new challenge and dive in head first.

The first months were great, but as time goes on the novelty wears off and things become more mundane. Relationships here blossomed and flourished. We celebrated as two of my best friends (my sister Bethany and my lovely gal pal Stacy) celebrated their weddings back home. At church the leadership structure experienced changes. Colin just rode the wave, kept his head down, and worked his butt off. The transformation that he has made to the church facility, the standard of excellence he has brought, and mostly his spirit to champion volunteers has made him beloved by the staff, leadership and surrounding community. I could not be more proud as I have watched him become more of a man this year through some very refining life lessons.

During late spring and into this summer I have become heavily involved with a new college ministry movement here in Bellingham. Under the passionate, visionary and Godly leadership of my friend Brian MacSwan I have given this year fully to this cause: to reach the community of Bellingham for Jesus. Western Washington’s campus is in the heart of Bellingham and this community is home to some 30,000+ young people that do not yet know the freedom of a life sold out to Christ. Through much prayer and preparation this summer we are having our first gathering, Ekklesia, on Wednesday evening (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Ekklesia/). This leadership role I am in was formed very organically through investing in young women in the community: meeting, praying, challenging and empowering them to know that with Christ in them they are fully equipped to live life as a disciple and also a leader; that church is not about consuming or creating an attractional ministry, it is about servanthood and loving people. There is no platform given to me based on talent or influence; this is a leadership position that has me behind the scenes championing and supporting others. I am exercising spiritual muscles that I never have before and it is tough, but extremely rewarding. I am so grateful for the community and connections Colin and I have found through this new ministry launch. The core leadership team that I am a part of has created a family for us here. It feels amazing to be a part of something so fresh, and the burden of being a person worthy of leading constantly points me back to Jesus. 

I have also become a full-time working class citizen... In July I started working for Windermere Real Estate as an assistant to the agents. What that means is, I list properties online, create flyers, and help maintain the office. This job has opened doors for me to have my foot in the “real” world, a place filled with normal people that do not know their need for Jesus. Another “perk” of the job is that Colin and I have found our first house. YES, you heard me right, we are purchasing our first home. :) The story is pretty amazing, things have happened very quickly, but God so has his hand in it. Both sets of our parents have visited, taken a look at the place, and fully support the purchase. Kind of hard to wrap my head around, but in a couple of weeks the deal will close and we will be home owners (that's our house pictured above).

So the consensus is that we are sticking around, even if things get tougher, with Christ in us and protecting our marriage we can wade through any mucky situation and come out stronger and even more seasoned for a life of ministry. Stay tuned, this story is only beginning....


"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9

The Forgotten Mothers

This morning I finished filling out Mother’s Day cards for my mom, Colin’s mom, and Nanny. I am full of love and admiration for these great women in my life and the role they play in the lives of their children.

Mother’s Day is a “holiday” that is unique to each person. Some women are great mom’s and deserve a celebration. Others, like myself, have the BEST mom is the universe and should recognize this positive influence.

All of these niceties aside, Mother’s Day can, for many, be a dreaded reminder of deep sadness, loss and longing. It has the potential to be very isolating, and many women will choose to skip attending their usual Sunday morning church service, because all too often the predictable “standing of the moms” during the service is like rubbing salt into a wound. These women are the "forgotten mothers."

For me the complexities of Mother’s Day often just leaves me feeling numb. As many of my blog readers already know, I am a birth mother. My son is now eight years old and has an amazing adoptive family. When I gave him up at seventeen there is no way that I could have foreseen that I would one day be in a marriage where I could not have a baby. Talk about ironic.

Most of my married girlfriends have, at this point, had their first baby; many are working on their second. It’s exhausting to have people continually asking Colin and I when we’re going to start having kids. PEOPLE: your constant questioning just highlights our infertility. STOP ASKING. We’ve been married for five and half years and I guess that’s just the time that people expect us to have babies. If we could produce a child we would have by now.

This weekend I am scheduled to lead worship at church, one service on Saturday evening and three on Sunday morning. It continually amazes me the unique ways that God brings me into situations where I’m forced to look outside of myself, not allowing me to wallow in depression or sadness. Going into this weekend I’m feeling very raw, but I know that I have a perspective on Mother’s Day that allows me to remember the hurting women in our congregation and to relate to them on a level that can bring healing and contentment in Christ alone.

I’m teaching a new song called The Greatness of Our God to our church. The lyrics have really been speaking to me this week.

Give me eyes to see more of who You are

May what I behold still my anxious heart

Take what I have known and break it all apart

For You my God, are greater still

And no sky contains, no doubt restrains all You are

The greatness of our God

I’ll spend my life to know, and I’m far from close to all You are

The greatness of our God

Give me grace to see beyond this moment here

To believe that there is nothing left to fear

And that You alone are high above it all

For you my God, are greater still

And there is nothing that could ever separate us

There is nothing, that could ever separate us from Your love

No life, no death, of this I am convinced

That you my God, are greater still

So I can rest knowing that I serve a God that is greater then the loss of a son and my longing for a child of my own. There is nothing that can separate me from the love that he has for me. He can give me the grace to see beyond the current circumstances in my life- He is HIGH above it all. He cares deeply about my pain and grief, and he has AMAZING plans for my future.

Thank you Jesus for reminding me of your love. Continue to use me to bless and encourage others. On Sunday help us to honor the great mothers that we know, but also remember the woman sitting in church that has so much guilt over an abortion, the birth mother that longs for the child she gave away, the woman who has suffered from a miscarriage, and the barren women that don’t understand why they are not given the opportunity to mother.

Bringing sin into the Light

My little sister is a very special young woman. Corrina joined our family when she was 3 years old, and has since overtaken our hearts. For some reason she and I have connected in a unique way. I am ten years her senior, but Colin always says that when she and I are together I always seem to enjoy her company as much as my 20-something old friends, which I would say it absolutely true.

Corrina is gorgeous. She is adopted, so her genetic make-up is different then Bethany’s, Peter’s and mine, and it certainly shows. She is tall, has to die for full, beautiful, curly hair, and when she smiles it lights up a whole room. No one wants to stand next to Cori during family photos because you risk looking like a troll next to her.

The best things about Corrina have nothing to do with her external beauty, but more her sweet spirit. She genuinely loves people. Whenever she and I are driving in the car and we see a homeless person on the corner, she never fails to ask if I have anything we can offer to them. Her compassion is compelling. Cori is a pleasure for adults to be around. She has no cell phone, so isn’t constantly texting her teenage friends; she knows how to truly engage in conversation with people, which is a rare thing in girls her age these days.

Being a freshman in high school is tough. I pray for Cori every single day. My passion for her success in life is more what one would feel for a beloved daughter, not necessarily a younger sister. Moving to Bellingham, Washington during this fundamental time of her development has not been easy for either of us. I am filled with thanks that Cori always feels safe to talk to me about anything. Having gone through some very extreme high school trauma when I was just a year older then her, I think she knows that I will never judge her, and only want to help her learn from my mistakes.

This weekend there were some “confessions” made from my dear girl, not anything bad per say, just normal high school silliness. She told me everything while we were together in person, and then proceeded to inform me that she wanted me to tell mom and dad everything. I sensed a fear in her to talk to mom and dad about it, she never wants to disappoint anyone, which, I think, drives her to secrecy. I considered her request, but then in the end had a very unique opportunity to encourage her to come forward herself and share what is going on with our parents. I explained to her that she had not done anything overtly wrong, other then guilt by omission when she chose not to have full disclosure with our parents.

When I think back on my own story it is very clear to me that my spiral down began with secrecy and sin that took place in the “darkness”. John 3:20 says, “Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed.” My craziness in high school did not begin with evil intentions, but was more a result of my own naïve nature at the time and a deep seeded fear of having my sin found out; being exposed for who I really was. The deeper into sin I dug, the more I would try to hide it, and the more callused I became to my own sin nature. I was no longer sensitive to the whispers of the Holy Spirit gently steering me back to Jesus.

Needless to say, my sin did catch up with me and the pain that ensued is something that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. So, I think it’s very natural that everything inside of me is in high gear to keep Cori safe and never fearful to tell the truth, I never want her to fear exposure of sin. Proverbs 28:13, “Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy.”

Whenever my parents would tuck me in at night as a child and into my teenage years they would pray with me and in their prayers they would never fail to ask God to let my sins come into the light. That my “sin would find me out.” I HATED such prayers at the time, but as I get older I am more and more compelled not only to pray that for my own children one day, but also to pray that for myself, that my sin would be exposed so that I can have an opportunity to experience the fullness of grace and mercy that can only come from Jesus.

Cori.... I love that girl. She brings me so much JOY. My prayer for Cori today is that she will never be fearful of being honest, having full disclosure, that the Holy Spirit would continue to reign in her heart and be heard clearly in her mind. Let her see that our parents care so deeply for her success in life, and have her best interest at heart. They would never want to hold her back from anything in life, but rather, want to protect her from the things in this world that she does not yet comprehend in her 15-year-old mind and limited life expereince, even though I remember being that age and thinking I knew EVERYTHING there was to know. May she never experience the downward spiral that I had, or the pain and loss that were a natural consequence to my sins.

...BUT if she does, I pray for the grace and love to continue being a listening ear and a vessel of the Holy Spirit in her life.

Au revoir!

Changes are happening to this little family, we are moving! Colin has been very happy working as a genius for Mr. Jobs, but he is happily accepting a job as a lead technical director at a church called Christ the King in Bellingham, Washington. This is a huge change for us, but I am thrilled to be partnering with Colin in this new endeavor. We love the church and the people we've come to know in Bellingham. We know that we will be very happy there!

Being away from family and friends will be tough, but the drive up and down I5 is very manageable! I mean, it's not Australia or anything :)

As for what I will be doing.... school. Bellingham happens to be a college town, home of Western Washington University. So I will be back in the books once we're settled.

During our last visit we found an amazing little apartment to rent out in Everson, Washington, about a 15 minute drive from the church. The home is a mother-in-law place located on the property of a lovely couple that have two young girls. The place has an incredible view of Mt. Baker which we will LOVE waking up to each day. The family also has many chickens, bunnies, 3 pigs, and 2 dogs, so we know that Sydney will fit right in!

I've informed all family and close friends of this endeavor, and now it's time to tell the world! We're moving. Novemeber 1. Au revoir!

Birthday Memories on February the 3rd

It’s interesting to me how special dates can bring about nostalgia, cause a wave of depression, or even remind us of the ones we love and happy times. February 3^rd is one of those special days for me. February 3, 2003 is my son’s birthday.

I have such mixed feelings whenever February 3^rd comes around. It’s so strange to me that seven years have passed since his birth! It’s really incredible how the time has flown by. I would never in a million years have anticipated back then how I would feel seven years later. Sometimes it feels like it was all yesterday, and sometimes I feel centuries have gone by.

I’ve already blogged a bit about his birth, the beautiful miracle that occurred the moment he first looked into my eyes and I really understood what love is. That day will forever be a part of my existence. On that evening of February 3^rd he was left with my mom and me at the hospital while his adoptive parents went home for the night. Originally he went to sleep in the nurse’s care, outside of my room, but as the night hours wore on my mom says that I was crying in my sleep so the nurse decided it would be most natural and soothing to my soul if he slept beside me. That one night sleeping beside my son was probably the most important event that took place during my hospital stay. My mom had been worried that I would become too attached and perhaps change my mind about giving him up, but I really feel like it had the opposite effect. It made me just love him so much that I wanted to give him the best. I woke up with confidence in my decision and was able to follow through.

The day of his first birthday, February 3, 2004, I was a full time student at Multnomah Bible College. I was overwhelmingly sad on that particular birthday. I felt so alone and desperately wanted to be with him. The memories of his birth numbed me. The most amazing part about that first birthday was the support system that came around me and held me up. My roommate/soulmate friend, Laura, cared for me, wrote me a poem actually, and just hung out with me. Neither of us went to class. My mom drove out to campus bringing me a single rose, representing one year. That year I was part of a small singing group called “Destiny” and we had a rehearsal that evening that I was begrudgingly attending. Little did I know that they had planned a little birthday celebration with cupcakes! There were many tears that year, but I did feel so loved and supported.

Another birthday that stands out to me is February 3, 2006. I was a freshly married (still under one month!) bride and living overseas in Australia. My son was turning three. I’m not sure that Colin really knew how to support me. I mean, I was already extremely homesick to start with, and now the whole situation was amplified by the birthday. Drama, drama, drama. My sweet girlfriends had sent me cards, and my mom had Colin buy me three roses. I pulled out a wad of photos that I had spanning his short three years of life so far and spread them out over our small living/dining/family room in our flat. I cried, and then the day ended. That was a sad one for me.

Last year, when he turned six on February 3, 2009, I called in sick to work. Colin and I spent the day together. I would intermittently cry and then laugh with Colin. It was a good day. Mom sent me six beautiful roses. Last year was really the beginning of feeling less sad and more at peace with things.

Today, February 3, 2010, he is seven. Seven was one of my favorite ages. As Colin said today, seven is an age where kids really start becoming more intelligent and able to carry on a conversation, have original ideas, and are just more fun. Last night was my evening of tears. We’ve been really busy lately, fighting some sickness and we had our friends Alex and Stacy over to watch the season opener of Lost, so there really wasn’t a lot of time to think about the impending birthday. I knew that Colin wasn’t going to remember. So I decided that rather then sulk around, waiting for him to figure out why I was so melancholy that I would just come right out a remind him of the birthday. He felt crappy for forgetting, and I told him it’s ok, and it really is ok. We’ve got a lot going. There is no reason to cripple myself for a day by moping around. I did cry last night though. I think it’s because 90% of the time I try not to think about the sad parts of all that my decisions in life have caused. I just try not to think about him, my son, all that much. It makes me long for him too much. But as I said through my tears last night to Colin, it’s hard to ignore or forget him on his birthday…

So happy birthday to my sweet little love. Seven years old, so precious. I love him with all of my heart. I’m looking at my vase with seven little roses and I live with no regrets and smile at the future.

thoughts on my marriage (dangerous topic)

My husband and I are approaching our 4^th year of marriage; Colin will also be turning 26 next month. Being out of class and having ample time to contemplate life, my thoughts have turned to the ever-evolving entity that is Colin Smith.

I know that most women probably think that their husband is a one-of-a-kind guy (I mean, I know each individual is unique), but I really do believe that if they were to look into a window of my life with Colin for a week they might reconsider the complexities they deem that their husband possesses.

I always thought I would end up with the heavy-set, Monday-night-football watching kind of man, but instead I ended up loving a longhaired, school-bus-renovating, emotional rollercoaster of a guy. What happened?!

Colin and I grew up as “friends” (but not really because I would have considered myself to be much “cooler” than him) in the high school youth group at Rolling Hills Community Church. He was popular, in that “I’m a funny and yet deep, soulful, musician” kind of way. I was so self obsessed and living a double life and had no room to be interested in such a skinny, strange, farting guy. In college everything kind of shifted. I had definitely been humbled to a degree that left me believing that NO guy would ever really look at me, and Colin was a little *cough, cough* more mature. We saw each other in a new way, fell in love with what we saw, and then BAM we were married 12 months later.

The first year we spent living across the world (literally) in Sydney, Australia. We were “living the dream” spending about 14 hours a day at Hillsong Church attending class, doing our ministries, and then, when everyone else was going home at 9 or 10pm, we would stay and work, cleaning the ENORMOUS building. I was mostly on toilet duty. Yes, so glamorous. I think that year was so incredibly character building for me though because I was never in the spotlight, I didn’t have my parents to run to whenever things were tough, and mostly I discovered God in a new way, right alongside my new husband.

The second year of marriage was spent pouring our lives into the students in our old youth group at Rolling Hills Community Church. Colin was hired on an interim basis and worked together with our old youth pastor Joel Dombrow and the amazing Elisa McClurken. We loved the kids there, spent many tireless hours working to improve the ministry and it all peaked when the entire group of 300+ students and leaders went on a “summer camp” to Mississippi to rebuild homes and schools after hurricane Katrina. Colin and I learned so much during our time there. I also discovered that Colin is probably one of the most creative people I’ve ever come across personally. The ideas that he came up with and actually implemented were phenomenal. I gained a new respect for him.

Year three was hell. The staff in the youth group had some major changes and in the end Colin wasn’t “the right fit” for where they were headed. The rejection was so personal to Colin. When your work is your ministry and you’re not given clear reasons for being let go it can leave you mystified, aimless and bitter. It tore me up to watch my once dedicated, fearless husband become introverted, I couldn’t get him to express his feelings to me, and I was embarrassed by what I supposed other people were saying about us. I took up a defensive, mother-hen type of role in Colin’s life. In many ways I was less like a wife and more like a body guard, fending off people’s judgments and comments and allowing Colin to grieve alone. Eventually one tires of this kind of lifestyle…

This past year has been one of revival for us. I realized my fault in becoming a defender rather then a comforter and I guess a challenger to push Colin out the door and into what God has next for him. I’ve discovered that Colin doesn’t need me to do anything other then to put God first, be obedient to God’s calling on my life, and to love him the way that God loves him. A kind of love that doesn’t enable but stretches, bringing out the best in him. I must be patient as I wait on the Holy Spirit to do the work rather then me.

I love Colin more now then I ever have. He works so hard to put me in school and to make me happy. He doesn’t always do everything I ask (ie Cutting the hair!) and he is not easily manipulated, but at least I’ve figured that out early on and won’t waste my energy! We’re poor, we’re not looking to purchase a home right now as may of our married friends are and we are years away from ever having children, but I am learning to be content with where we’re at. We are on a different course then the masses and that is ok. Colin continues to surprise me in the way that he loves and believes in me, he really does adore my family, and although he might not be the same man I married almost four years ago, I am deeply committed to him and chose to love him each day regardless of which mood he’s in (trust me there are many sides of Colin…) or how he’s treating me. If you lined up all the men in the world, tall/short, fat/skinny, longhaired/shorthaired, cliché/unique, I would choose him every time.

this is me.

this is me.

Over this past month I’ve had the unpleasant but necessary experience of being challenged. The challenge wasn’t about school or work, how I look or the way I talk, it was more about who I am at the core. What makes me tick. I was questioned as to whether or not I am authentic. It is difficult for me to really put my finger on how this questioning made me feel. I can say that I felt misunderstood, defensive, hurt, and embarrassed. Mostly though I just felt very convicted that if I’m am not fully sharing what is going on inside of me with people through my actions or words then they are probably receiving a false sense of who I am and what I am about. This did not rest well in me.

This self-doubt and examination lead me back to a paper that I wrote my first year at Multnomah Bible College. I was a fresh eighteen years old, so please forgive me if my writing was terrible… I’ve left out some of the most intimate details of the piece but I wanted to post this story about myself. In reading this I am often reconnected with some of my deepest pains and at the same time, what I would consider to be, one of my most glorious moments. Here it is, hopefully I am better understood through this blog (and the two people that read it… )

I am a Mother

One’s identity can be found amidst overwhelming chaos and seemingly unbeatable obstacles. At a very young age, I gleaned this information from first hand experience. The confusion began the summer of 2002. I was about to enter into my junior year of high school with academic, leadership, family, and spiritual responsibilities weighing heavy on my young shoulders. Anticipations of prom, spirit week, college scholarships, and visions of high school glory were shattered when the little stick showed two pink lines. I was pregnant.

In a matter of seconds I had become another statistic for the masses to devour. Little did anyone realize the intense drama that was playing out in my naïve, immature, 16-year-old mind. Can I raise a child on my own? Is this unborn child meant to be with another family? How will I tell my parents? What will people think of me… Amidst all of the tremendous stress and devastating questions was a little voice telling me what I need to do. God was speaking to my heart.. He was whispering to me as I felt the first movements of life deep inside.

I began my pregnancy with the end in mind. By the time I broke the news to my parents I had specific goals laid out and a detailed plan of action already playing in my head. Naturally, they were both shocked as they sat there, staring at their ashamed young daughter opposite them in a chair, weeping. Although they were distraught and mortified at my behavior, when I told them my strategy they were pleased at the obviously well thought-out presentation of the options before me and, eventually, the decision that I had come to on my own accord.

The first option that I had considered was to keep my baby. In the past my judgmental heart and prideful spirit had poured out condemnation on any girl who chose to keep her baby. What did any of those girls have to offer a child? However, this time I was in their shoes. I was the young mother. This time I was the one who wanted to keep the most precious possession that God had ever entrusted to me. Yet I would only be seventeen and not even done with high school. There was no way in the world that I could ever provide for a child without immense amounts of financial, emotional, and physical assistance from my parents. I wasn’t willing to put my parents through that. Keeping my child was not the best choice.

The only other morally sensible option for me was adoption. Adoption can be a tricky thing. Some feel pity for adopted children and some feel deep sympathy for the parent giving away their child. Either way you look at it, someone is going to hurt intensely. I feel that until individuals experience adoption first-hand in their lives, they can never fully understand the incredible amount of love involved. My younger sister is adopted, so I understood.

I chose adoption. My decision was to relinquish my child to someone else’s love and nurturing. In my eyes, I was making the intentional decision to renounce my motherhood responsibilities. Eventually I knew I would deliver a child but would not be that child’s mother. I would provide a warm, healthy, incubator for this kid to grow in but that would be the extent of the relationship. I had become a human oven, preparing a glorious meal for someone else to enjoy.

The pregnancy wore on and on. The days were long and uncomfortable as I prepared my body for the upcoming labor and my heart for the rapidly approaching heartache. Externally, my body was rounding out to a perfect little ball directly in front. Internally my son was playing soccer with my ribs and boxing with my bladder. I was beginning to fall in love with this little burst of energy inside my womb, someone I had never seen or touched. I knew that he could hear my voice, so I began to sing to him. I would play the piano and sing for hours on end, and in response he would roll around inside of me in what I like to consider his own little dance. These moments were precious; my meager attempt at passing a part of me into him.

Finally the day came. A woman can never really prepare herself for the oncoming of labor. Sharp pains roll up from below the enlarged belly and cramping overtakes all sense of reason and, eventually, manners! My labor lasted for thirty hours. Thirty hours is a long time to labor for something that I wasn’t going to reap any benefits from. The nurses were wonderful. My mom read scripture to me as I gritted my teeth and clinched my eyes tighter then ever before. Sweat poured from my face as I cried out in pain. Then suddenly it all went away. I received my very first epidural! I lifted a prayer of thanks for modern technology and continued to push.

He emerged at 12:08 in the morning, all seven pounds, eleven ounces. He screamed and yelped and I did not touch him. I demanded that he be taken away with his mother, but when they did I was overcome with the most intense feeling of loss that my body physically ached from the pain of it. I sobbed. I was a mother and my child had been taken from me. This defied nature. There are no words to describe the extreme loneliness.

Finally his parents left for the night and he was brought in to me. I sat there in my hospital gown and stared down at this little thing I had played a part in creating. He was so perfect, so soft. His tiny nose, cheeks, hands, and feet were all faultless. Beautiful dark eyes occasionally squinted up at me, and I was astounded at just how much they seemed to resemble my own.

I was with him for twenty-four hours. The time was spent simply embracing the one thing in the world that I could ever claim as a purely wonderful and flawless creation. The bond that we developed will last me a lifetime. If I never see him again I will be content. The time spent together meant more to me than anything. During that time I fell in love with my son. A forever kind of love.

Love moved the pen the following morning as I signed the adoption paperwork that detached me of all responsibility for my child. My mom clutched my shoulders and wept. My lawyer explained everything to me for the hundredth time, assuring himself that I was fully aware of the ramifications of signing these papers. I knew full well what I was doing. I was giving away my own flesh. I was offering my song as a gift to another woman. I was walking away from motherhood. In love I signed.

…….

The paper did have more to it. Not really feeling the need to share it all. I think that my point in all of this is just to remind myself that there is depth to me regardless of people who may interpret me as shallow or “harsh.” I do also know that people’s interpretation is important. After going through a situation like this my automatic response to people who judge me is to say I don't really care what you think, you don't even know me. So I suppose finding myself humbled by this all over again and also remembering where I’ve come from will help guide me where I’m headed; always on a journey, hoping that I learn my lessons the first time. Remembering to be low because Christ made himself low enough to die on a cross. Nothing I have ever done or given up in my life is more sacrificial than that kind of love…