this could take all day

taking a leap

Today I walked into an office for a meeting, took off my coat, sat down and began with “I just have to let you know that I don’t want to be here today. But I am being obedient to God by being here, and by saying what I need to say. And in fact, I was hoping I could put it off but with today being leap day and all, well, it’s time I take a leap.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Last week I was in Portland for this semester’s week of classes we call Face To Face. I love this time with my classmates and professors, in fact it is a large part of why I picked this “online hybrid” program at George Fox. Having me gone for eight days in a row, twice a year, is challenging for my family (and for me too) but a necessary part of this school thing for me.

My first day on campus belonged to the class on prayer. We had a glorious morning with lots of wonderful discussion and prayer experiences. Then the afternoon was spent at a local home where we prayed individually, in the labyrinth, and as part of a small group. These experiences were deeply meaningful, and God met me in a powerful way with themes of rest, play, and abiding instead of doing. During our prayer group, I asked for prayer in trusting God with the desire of my heart. My sweet friends, without any more details, prayed confidence and trust over me.

Just about this time last year we were changing our foster license. With a rules change from the state (which I don’t want to go into here) that we couldn’t abide, we adjusted our license from ages 0-3 to ages 2-5. Our original calling and blessing was fostering infants. We’ve had four infant placements (two long-term, two short-term) and a handful of respite babies over the four years we’ve been licensed. We let those we could know our displeasure at the rule change, and almost daily ever since I have prayed they will change it back and we can foster a baby again.

This is the desire of my heart. The one I asked my group to pray about. The one I confessed to my husband recently. (His response? That is insane! Where would we put an infant in our busy schedule these days?) The one God asked me just a few short days before to relinquish, to open my hands and give it to him. I don’t want to birth another baby. I am content with our family and happy and grateful for what we have. But I long in my heart of hearts to minister to someone else and to live out my calling as a disciple of Christ, by loving someone else’s baby. I know this sounds weird, but it is my truth. And the desire God is asking me to trust him with.

After the class on prayer, I headed into 2.5 days in a class called “Personal Transformation.” This class is the real deal. Transformation is a part of the life of a disciple of Christ, and if we are to lead others toward transformation experiences, we must as leaders be willing to go there first. So we were going there last week. Through conversation, Scripture study, lecture, and personal exercises, we were tackling some hard places in our lives. God’s work in transforming us into the image of God’s son isn’t easy, but it is real and ultimately it is really really good.

After a study of the “lost” parables (you know, the lost sheep and the lost coin) we were asked to take 20 minutes and write a narrative of the way Christ pursues us. This is my kind of assignment, I thought. I love to write and I am so grateful for the ways Christ has pursued and continues to pursue me. Bring it on!

I opened up my computer and bowed my head, asking God for an image of how Christ pursues me. The one that came to mind was a bit unexpected: two mothers and one baby.

What? So I sat with it a bit longer.

Two mothers and one baby. Not altogether unexpected given my life as a foster mom. But stil…

Who am I in this picture? Who is Christ? How is this a picture of pursuing?

 Nothing. Just that image. What in the world was I supposed to do with this?

So I used my open computer to go to the place in Scripture where we see such an image: 1 Kings 3, the Judgment of King Solomon. This passage is difficult to make out at first, which woman did what? Which baby is dead? Which one did the switching?

And then this: why in the world would the second mother react the way she did? When King Solomon offers to cut the child in half, one mother screams out “NO!” and offers the child to the other woman. The expectation at that point is the woman would accept the child and walk away. Instead, she herself offers a “NO!” and agrees that the child should be cut in half, effectively killing it.

This tale is often told to show the wisdom of King Solomon, but what in the world was I to do with it? What kind of woman would be willing to kill a child? Even if the child wasn’t hers to begin with? What is going on here? It can’t simply be because she is jealous. If that were the case, take the baby and be happy. I searched google for an answer, and then sat down to write my narrative. It isn’t any good, otherwise I might consider sharing it here. But it is dark. Really dark. And ends with a dead baby and a dead mother. Because really, what kind of mother would be alive and also be willing to murder a baby?

I sit staring at the screen, flabbergasted and confused. What is this, Lord? What are you trying to tell me? What is this dark place?

It is at this point we are to gather up with our discussion partner/group and share our narrative. Um…no thanks. I give my professor a snapshot of what I have written, and she responds, “it appears the Spirit has co-opted my assignment” and generously offers me the space I need to process.

I walk around a bit before settling in the back of the chapel, closing my eyes, and demanding God explain himself. Do not leave me here with this dark image, I beg. Tell me what this is all about. Please.

This next part is weird to say out loud, and even weirder to write, because I don’t quite know how the Spirit worked. There were no audible voices, just gentle nudges. Which thoughts were mine and which were prompted by the Spirit I’m not quite sure. It is all a jumble. So forgive me as I stumble through it, but this is important to record.

Spirit: Where else in Scripture is there a mother with a dead child?

Me: Why, Mary and her boy Jesus.

Spirit/Me: Jesus had to die to set her free. Jesus had to die to set you free.

According to some Jewish rabbis, the two women in Solomon’s story were actually related by marriage. One woman was daughter-in-law to the other, she had been married to the second woman’s son. But the first woman’s husband was dead, and with her own dead son, now she was bound to his infant brother. Until he was 13 years old and he would marry her or release her, she was bound to him.

Me: The baby had to die for her to be free.

Spirit: The baby has to die for you to be free.

And with that I knew. The dream of an infant and the call of foster care, I need to let it go. It is not my calling anymore. And I am not free for what God has for me, until I let the baby die.

When I recounted this to Darin, and questioned the darkness of the image (dead babies are not a popular image around here), he encouraged me that God really needed to get my attention and this was a way to do it. Makes me wonder how long God has been trying to get my attention? We haven’t had a placement for a year, some would think that would indicate a “door closed.” There is no movement on the state’s part to change their rule, some would think that was a door closed. I have no margin in my life full of parenting and wifing and seminary and Teen MOPS, shouldn’t that be enough to let it go?

For this past year I have often (yes, a lot) said that “we are licensed foster parents and are taking a bit of a break, but don’t feel released from this ministry” when really I should have been saying, “I am not ready to let it go.”

I’m so grateful for a God who is slow with me.

I’m so grateful for a God who knows how to get my attention.

As I work my way back through my own anxiety in letting this go, I have to be honest: so much of my identity and the one I want our family to have is wrapped up in the ministry of foster care. In my understanding of what it means to follow Christ, we are to care for the orphan. This is what I lived. This is what I preach: put your heart in a place where it is willing to be broken for the things that break God’s heart. And when your heart breaks, let it scar over and break again.

I wrote these words last semester about our foster journey:

My family experienced some massive heartache through foster care just under two years ago and it has profoundly shaped me and my faith.  As we took the time to grieve and heal my husband and I wondered if we were done. How could we possibly walk back into the fray knowing full well this heartache could come again? But we watched our children and we listened to them. We heard them pray deeply with care for people they knew and for total strangers. We watched as tragedy unfolded and their first instinct was to pray. We watched them love babies and children without fear and without need for reciprocation. And we heard them tell the stories of their foster sister and brother and the times we had together as a family.

We knew that our fostering journey wasn’t over, because of them. We see the fruit in their young lives and we have a deep desire for them to grow into compassionate and “foolish” women seeking after the things of God. We want them to live in trust and without fear, with hearts fully willing to break and break and break again. And we don’t see another way to teach them this than to do it with them in the ministry of foster care.

What part of myself do I lose if I am no longer a foster parent? What part of my ministry? What part of our family dynamic, our family goals?

And yet, God.

I am choosing to trust in that freedom God promised. I am choosing to trust that God has a plan to mold and shape my sweet girls into women on-fire for Christ and the people he loves. I am choosing to trust that God has a plan to continue to mold and transform me.

For many, foster care is a life. For us, it appears that foster care was a season. And in that, this song has been my hope and my prayer and my promise:

There is a strength that rises up in me
To know that You've been here before me
A strength beyond what I can see
Jesus, Your love
Jesus, Your love

So let my heart tell You again
When seasons change and stories end
Your steady love
It will sustain me through it all
Jesus, Your love

So I will sing it, and I will grieve. But I have a new hope for a new season.

And an identity that Christ is calling me to root in him, and not in the things that I do for him. (But that sounds like another post for another day.)

Gemmer Family Top Ten MEMES of 2015

 

Our annual year-in-review is LIVE! Told, as always, in top 10 style; still in no particular order.

10

 

We all knew that it was going to happen. Deanna is just loves learning too much to stay away for long. Over the last few years, Deanna has been feeling called to return to ministry in a professional capacity. But without any specifics in regards to where that might be, the next step seemed to be pursuing higher education in the form of seminary. After a bit of searching, Deanna enrolled at George Fox Evangelical Seminary in their Master of Arts in Christian Leadership program. Most of her work is online, but every semester she gets to join her classmates in Portland for a week of intensive face-to-face sessions, deep discussions, and abundant food truck fare. She has been very busy in her first semester and the family misses seeing her as much, but we all understand when we see her light up as she talks about the newest thing she’s learning/discussing.

Bonus Meme:

 

9

 

In January Darin had a work trip to Epworth by the Sea on St Simon’s Island, Georgia. Conveniently, this is only 40 minutes from our friends who recently moved back to the South with the Navy. Darin flew down for his conference and the girls all followed a few days later to make for a fun family vacation. We had a great time seeing the sights, catching up with our friends, taking a trip to Daytona Beach, and eating so much southern comfort food that we almost burst. While there we watched the Super Bowl with a bunch of college football fans and represented our Hawks so well we earned some serious fan cred in the football capitol of the world. Even if the ending of the game was heartbreaking.

Bonus Meme: (too soon?)

 

8

 

Speaking of our Hawks, one of our favorite new traditions is a delicious soft pretzel recipe that Darin discovered late last year. Every game we make a batch and serve them with our favorite cheese, smoked salmon, or summer sausage. The recipe calls for baking them, but occasionally Darin deep fries them for a little different feel. Either way they are a great family tradition that the whole family (and a few game-day visitors) look forward to enjoying while cheering loudly.

 

7

 

We finally made good on a family vacation option we have been talking about for a long time. First, in January, Darin sold our faithful Subaru that we bought when we were expecting Daisy, and bought a 2007 Dodge Ram 1500. As if that wasn’t enough fun, this fall we added a 24’ travel trailer for easy off-season camping (the only type of family camping trip we can do with Darin’s work schedule).

We took it on its maiden voyage over Halloween weekend and it rained and stormed the whole time. We were blissfully warm and dry, playing board games, watching movies, and making the most of any break in the weather. We even had a couple visitors, and the rain held off one evening so we could enjoy a fire and s’mores. While it’s tight for the four of us and Gypsy, the bunk beds for the girls give them their own space, and no one seemed to mind the close quarters too much.

 

6

 

 

 

During an odd August week without guests at camp, we were able to sneak away to visit another set of friends from long ago who now live in Summerland, British Columbia. The town is aptly named and we had a wonderful time. When the smoke from the wildfires in Washington ruined our plans to float a river, we loaded up and headed north to Kelowna and a huge indoor water park run by the YMCA. (Dear American YMCA, please take note.) After another few great days with our friends, we headed towards home and a quick overnight stop in Cultus Lake for Dani’s birthday adventure at a full water park complete with tons of slides and tube rides. On this trip we also discovered the wonder that is Tim Horton’s. (Dear America, please import Tim, thank you.)

Bonus Meme:

 

5

 

Daisy’s year has been marked by many wonderful experiences and accomplishments. She turned 8 and had an epic superhero birthday party, had her first foray into volleyball and a second summer of being a camper. She is also taking her second year of piano lessons. She had a recital early in the year and has continued to grow and learn, impressing us with her ability and rapid improvement. The the little boy in the meme isn’t Daisy who diligently practices without complaint. Instead the boy is Darin, running from the continuous repetition which is apparently part of the learning process. It does get a bit old.

 

4

 

This year Dani has really come into her own. She has always been a strong and unique little girl, but this year she has really just taken it to the next level. At countless times this year her parents have just looked on in amazement as she is captivating and directing whole hosts of kids, adults, and staff members. This happens so much and with such exuberance that Deanna started referring to her as the “cruise director.” She finished up Kindergarten and is loving life as a full-time first grader. She wrapped up gymnastics in the spring, and is looking forward to trying her hand at drama in the new year.

For her birthday Dani received a small fish bowl and a gift card to pick out a fish. She chose a blue betta fish and promptly named it “Tank,” as in, “Do you want to come see my fish Tank?” Tank was not as sturdy as her name would suggest and only lasted a few months. Luckily Dani still had some money left on her gift card and she saved a little allowance to give it another try. This time she chose a sturdy looking male fish and, with a little help from a camp staff, promptly named it “Stix,” as in, “Do you like my fish Stix?” Oh Dani…

 

Bonus Meme:

 

3

 

This was our second summer at Camp Indianola and Darin’s 15^th summer at camp overall. While last summer was much more about observing and learning the culture and traditions here at Indianola, this summer Darin really began to cast a vision for the future of this amazing place and program. As Camp Director, Darin carries most of the responsibility for the direction of the camp overall, and that includes summer programming. Discipling young leaders for their next steps in life and ministry is what Darin loves most about his job, much of which takes place with the college-aged summer staff. This year we had five great staff (one of which is Deanna’s niece) and a wonderful summer of growth and ministry.

The biggest change for the year has got to be the Giant Swing upgrade that happened in May. Check it out the video here and then make plans to come visit and try it for yourself.

 

2

 

Last Christmas Deanna was praying and vision-casting for the re-launch of Teen MOPs in our area, and this Christmas we are happy to report that the ministry is launched and is growing. This volunteer work sometimes feels like a part-time job but Deanna loves leading an amazing team of mentors and leaders as they serve young moms with twice-monthly gatherings, as well as park dates and playdates and other fun. At meetings they eat together, do a craft or learn from a speaker (like one who suggested un-used WIC beans make a great sensory bin), care for practical needs (lots of diapers and wipes are given away), get a break from busy kids and work to build a supportive community. This has been a year full of growth and of challenge, but Deanna is grateful every day for the team she works with and the girls she loves. This ministry is hard, but it is amazing and these young moms are incredibly inspiring with how hard they work to be the best moms they can be. 

 

1

 

When asked about his hobbies, Darin has traditionally had a hard time coming up with something. His two favorite things are his family and his job, neither of which can really be called a hobby. Additionally, he has trouble spending too much time on anything that doesn’t yield some product in the end. Luckily he is also confident enough in his masculinity to not be warded off from traditionally feminine hobbies like knitting and crocheting. He tried knitting a while back, but it didn’t stick so this year Deanna encouraged him to try crochet instead. Since Deanna spends most of her evenings studying these days, Darin cues up Netflix and gets to work. He’s made a few nice hats and is working on Christmas presents for the girls’ teachers before undertaking an infinity scarf that is the first of many, MANY requests sure to come from Deanna.

 

Once again we happen upon the end of the year with gratitude for the adventures, challenges, growth, and blessings. We love our life here in Indianola and we love the friends and family (both near and far) God has given us. We hope and pray you feel God's blessings and love in your life this year as well.

Love,

Darin, Deanna, Daisy, Dani Gemmer
(with Gypsy and Stix too)

Tony is loved

 

I saw this picture on facebook this summer and I immediately hit the button to download it to my computer. I see it frequently and have intended for months to come to this space and share a bit about all the feelings I feel seeing Tony with his sister, with his cousins, with his family. Oh my gosh, just all those smiling faces. It kills me.

This week I've spent a lot of time thinking about our call to foster care because of a class assignment and the online discussion around it. I've thought about the sh*t we went through, but how that has become fertilizer in our lives for growing new and beautiful things. I've thought about how this ministry breaks our hearts, and how we actually want it to. I want to come back soon and share some of that here.

Soon.

Tonight I feel so overwhelmed and under equipped. The events of the past week are swirling in and around me through my conversations, our media, our social networks. There is so much darkness in our world. There is so much hate in our world. There is so much needless death and war and hunger and fear. My heart hurts for this. I cannot imagine how much more the heart of God must hurt.

But at the end of the day there is this little boy and there is love. 

I am holding tight to this friends. 

Love wins.

It does.

It has to.

on the eve of a birthday

 

When I was a stay-at-home mama I remember being so jealous of Darin when he would get to travel for work. It was less the action of getting on a plane and exploring a new place, but more about ministry “shop-talk” with people “on-mission” that he connected with and learned from. It was the conversations over dinner or coffee or a beer that I knew challenged him and stimulated him, and which would have done the same for me. But he was there and I was home. Looking back, I hope I didn’t begrudge him these trips, but I do remember having an envious heart.

Fast forward a few years and here I sit, on the eve of his birthday, away in Portland, Oregon. I’m here doing seven days of face-to-face classes which are required for my mostly-online seminary degree. I’m here learning in class for hours from interesting and challenging professors, and learning after hours with classmates as I hear their stories and their “takeaways.” And Darin is home shuttling kids to school, packing lunches, and tucking them in each night with prayers for me as I’m away.

And I can’t help wondering if he’s jealous of me like I was of him.

But whatever the feelings might be, he is supporting me. He is encouraging me. He is taking over for me. He is already planning for me to add another year to get a higher degree.

I am so incredibly blessed by him. I wish he was here with me: asking questions of Dr. Sweeden, eating the delicious pasta sauce Cynthia made, laughing at Greg’s jokes, trying to figure out which food cart to try, adding his thoughts to conversations with Mike and Kelsi and Josh and and so many more, and snuggling down with me each night in the too-firm bed in our rental house.

I am so grateful for him, so grateful for this. It is no small thing for me to be here, for me to be tackling this. And there is no way I could do it without him.

 

Happy Birthday my love. Thank you

holding space

 

 

She stood in the water behind the extension of her heart, gratitude overflowing. Gratitude for the tiny person who made a very grown-up decision for faith and for Jesus and for telling everyone. Gratitude for the pastor who loved and prayed for and taught her daughter what a woman following Jesus looks like, that woman who would lower her daughter down to the grave and back out again into new life.

And then it was her turn to step forward, wipe away tears, claim faith in a living savior, and preach a whole sermon with few words: “And then I realized I don’t need to earn God’s approval, I already have it.” Her sweet friend and mentor lowered her into the water and back up to shouts of rejoicing.

 

I was there on the other side of the water. I was there because this woman is my friend, and her daughter is a friend of my daughters. I was there because baptism is holy and sacred and I wanted to be there to rejoice and stand with her. I was there because I could offer a small gift, with camera in hand, to capture this moment of history. There were a million other places I could have been, but I was there.

I am learning that being there, that holding space, is a small but powerful gift. And sometimes it is the only gift we have to give.

Last Thursday I had a most delightful and unexpected day. It started with a chance encounter in a coffee shop with a woman from my yoga class, and getting to know just a fraction about her life and story and calling encouraged me deeply. Then a stop by the thrift store yielded not one, but two incredible finds. For those of you who enjoy a good thrift store treasure hunt, you know the high I was on checking out and driving away. Waiting for a friend to arrive for our lunch date, I spotted another friend and got a quick hello. Then while dining with that friend, Rachel and Leyla came into the restaurant with another woman, so we all pushed tables together and sat and chatted. Miss Leyla wasn’t feeling too hot so she sat on my lap and cuddled for a good 45 minutes, every so often looking up and asking me where Daisy and Dani or their dad was. Oh, be still my heart. Later that night my family had an impromptu outing to a local volleyball match that was filled with just a genuine sense of fun.

My Thursday was so incredibly good and serendipitous that as I was driving Friday morning I literally thought to myself, I wonder what is coming? And sure enough by mid-day I had received some news from a woman who I love and with whom I have a deep connection. The news shook my world a bit and had me in a panic worrying for her. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to react, and there I was in a public coffee shop trying not to make a fool out of myself as I read the news on my computer screen. I wanted desperately to be there for her, to drop everything and just go. But she told me to stay.

Luckily for me Friday’s plans included an appointment for a massage.

I have so many amazing women in my life, but there is one in particular I wish you all had. She has a massage ministry out of her home, a massage ministry, and it is free. While she is pushing out those knots and encouraging me to relax, she is praying and singing and holding space. She sings words of truth over me, and cries out to God on my behalf, while her touches keep me present and in the moment. Last Friday when she finished up she told me God wanted me to give over the burden I was carrying. The dear one I was worrying for; the woman who has made a decision and is grieving the weight of it all. “That is not your burden to bear,” I was told. “God wants you to know that He has her and He is in the midst of it with her.”

 

Today while I lifted the camera to my eye to capture the scene of surrender in front of me, there was a surrender happening inside of me too. I am holding space, but I am not holding the burden. I will come running when she calls, I will hold her hand and wipe her tears and just be without words and without judgement. But she may never call, may never need me to run, and that is OK too. So here I sit with a candle burning and music playing and prayers unspoken…and this space. This space for her.

It is all I have tonight. But it is enough.

 

 

 

 

Daisy turns 8, birthday morning

I've been having fun this week catching up on some photography, so I thought I'd let you all in on the fun too. First up, the morning our sweet Daisy Lee turned 8.

Checking out the muscles in the kitchen. She does look bigger and stronger somehow.

And don't forget the morning hugs!

Then it was off to check out her gifts.

As requested, she received a watch. She also got some money, books, and a most excellent sparkly-pen set that her sister picked out just for her. (We split the cost of sister gifts these days, so they have to pay for half out of their own spending money.) Isn't it awesome to find just the right gift and know the recipient will love it? Dani was giddy with anticipation all week, and it totally paid off.

Dani looks pretty happy too.

What a difference 7 years can make!

Wordless Wednesday, Kingston Kite Festival

God bless you

 

Happy 18th birthday Miss Molly! It is so fun to get to celebrate with you today. I'm so thankful you signed on for this journey working at Camp Indianola, and that we get to call you "Shenzi" all summer long.

My kids asked me the other day "Mom, why do you say G'bless you after someone sneezes?"

"Well," I answered. "You can thank your cousin Molly for that. I'm actually trying to say GOD bless you, but I suppose I don't always pronounce the God part very well."

Years ago when Molly was in her Christian preschool I was visiting and happened to say bless you after someone sneezed. 

"Aunt Deanna," my sweet niece said to me quite sternly. "It is GOD bless you. You forgot the God part."

She said it with such conviction and firmness, that since that day I have always blessed a sneezer with a blessing from God. After all, He's the one they come from, right?

text to my parents, #7

 

Watching the Viking Fest parade today a woman walked by with a plate full of viking chips*. I looked at her, smiled and declared "thank you for bringing those to us!" She paused and then offered me one. Happily munching away I remarked to the girls: "sometimes it pays to be my father's daughter."

 

*fresh and delicious potato chips

on doubt

 

Dear Daisy,

Honestly, I don’t know how this conversation even started (maybe I have should written about it right away, huh?). But then you asked a question,

“Mom, what do I believe as a Christian?”

Oh girl…where to begin?!

I explained a few things, like how we believe that Jesus is the Son of God and came to earth to teach us about God and show us a way to Him; how we believe what the Bible teaches, especially the things Jesus tried to teach; how we believe God created us and knows us, and how we can live forever with him someday.

But then I paused, and I realized I need to answer another, unspoken question.

“But, Daisy, here’s the thing: this is what Papa and I believe. This is what we hope you believe and what we teach you to believe. But you have to decide for yourself what you believe. We can’t force you to believe what we do.”

“Yeah,” you told me. “I believe in God and all that…but sometimes it is hard.”

Can I just tell you how proud I am for you admitting that? That this thing called faith has an element of doubt woven in. That belief isn’t easy.

Here’s what I told you that day, and what I will continue to tell you every time I get the chance:

God doesn’t give us an easy proof for his existence. Faith isn’t easy. Mama and Papa doubt too, and I would venture to guess that most of us who call ourselves Christians do as well.

But here’s the secret: this faith thing is a journey. And the longer you walk along this journey, the more time you spend in reading God’s incredible story called The Bible, the more time you spend hearing the stories of His people, and in experiencing your own, the doubts begin to recede. They may always be there, but lean in to what you know, and trust the rest to God.

A lot of us adults have spent many years trying to “prove” things in the Bible using scientific methods, or sociology, or language study, or whatever tools we can muster to arrive at an undeniable “truth”. We approach the Bible as a book to be understood, if only we work hard enough. We want a list of rights and wrongs, dos and don’ts. We want to be sure we’re on the right side. We love our clichés and easy answers and want to be all about “the Bible clearly says” because gosh darn it, having the right answer always makes life easier.

Papa and I grew up at the edge of this generation, often called “modern” and your generation, clearly rooted in new thought and often labeled “post-modern.” There is so much about this way of thinking that appeals to me: the skepticism, the wonder, the pursuit of justice, the value of story, of community, of art and beauty. You’ll read the Bible for what it says, not what you want it to say. You’ll understand that there is context and culture and language that influence the text in ways you’ll never fully understand.

You’ll find a way to worship in community with others saying, “I’ve studied and I’ve prayed and this is the conclusion I’ve come to…but I could be wrong…” and then you’ll get to the work of Jesus: the loving the poor and the marginalized and the working to right wrongs and restore the broken.

In some ways you guys are going to get this Jesus-following thing so much better than we did.

And so, I trust you when you say “I want to believe, but it is hard.” I know that faith and doubt can co-exist. That you can be a Jesus-follower full of questions and OK with few answers. May this be the prayer of you and your generation:

“Lord, I do believe. Help my unbelief.” (Mark 9:24)

 

We love you kid and we are so very proud of you,

Mama