a good word

Yesterday was the first day of a new year according to the Church calendar, which begins on the first Sunday of Advent. Although there was no late night champagne or fireworks, it did feel very much like the beginning of a new year for me. The following words are from a song called "Benediction" by Maeve, and I think they work well as a new year's blessing:

May the Lord bless you and keep you
May he shine a light upon your face
May you feel the heat of his glory in your bones
May you know his kindness and his grace

May his love define your ways of living
May you see his face among your friends
May you live your story empowered by his love
May you be comfortable walking in your skin

May you find your worth from your Maker
and live in freedom all your days
May you grow in the sense of who you really are
May his light show you the way

May you know that you have the power
to add beauty and grace into this world
May you discover all your gifts and give them generously
May you listen for God's every word.

I pray these words for you today, and ask that you would do the same for me. Happy New Year!

they said it: thanksgiving

Dexter: It's Thanksgiving! We should say thank you.

Jon: That's right Dexter -- who do we say thank you to?

Dexter: I don't know... Grandma Boonstra or somebody.

----

Jon told the boys that if they stood still, smiled, and looked at the camera for a good picture then they could throw a snowball at him. It worked!



In fact, it worked so well that I tried to snap a bunch of pictures while I had them. There were, however, diminishing returns over time.



Can we throw a snowball now please?!

[click to enlarge the picture and check out Dexter's face]

cold shots

thankful

for old magazines and glue sticks that keep hands and minds busy



for serious faces



for sharing chairs



for my budding photographer

psalm 131

My heart is not proud, LORD,
my eyes are not haughty;

I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.

But I have calmed and quieted myself,
I am like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child I am content.

Israel, put your hope in the LORD
both now and forevermore.

anticipating amazing

We leave for Ethiopia in less than 48 hours. Everyone we know who has been anywhere in Africa tells us that going there was life-changing for them. It is a really strange to anticipate a life-changing event. I know I will be different when I come home, but I don't know exactly how I will be different. What parts of who I am will change? How will my post-Africa self view my current pre-Africa self? Will I ever learn to ask questions that aren't intrinsically egocentric? All of this remains to be seen.

I'm writing about these questions here because I'm not sure what will happen with this blog in the future. No matter what happens in Ethiopia, I am pretty sure I will still love to write when I come back. Still, there's a good chance this will be my last post here for at least a few weeks, so I didn't want to leave ya'll wondering. If you want to follow along on our trip and the ensuing adoption adventures, there's a link to that blog on the side bar.

In the meantime, Xavier Ibarket. (God bless you in Amharic, the national language of Ethiopia)

love wins

Life is so fragile. We make all these plans. We have all these expectations and goals and dreams. We say things like, "Maybe in 10 years I'll do [this or that]."

We hope for success. We grieve failure. We worry. We think we have it all when our interest rate is good, our cars are paid off, and our portfolio is gaining. We breathe a sigh of relief when our kids get good grades, our family holiday gatherings are drama-free, and our annual performance review comes in above-average.

All of this is as sure as our next breath. Can you guarantee that the next time your medulla oblongata tells your lungs to expand they'll do what they're told? And if they do, can you guarantee that fresh, life-giving air will fill them? No. None of us can.

If all we have to hope for is what stares us in the face every day -- our home, our job, our spouse, our friends, our family, our sense of self-worth -- we are [and I really want to cuss here but I won't]... screwed. If this life is all there is, our story is always a tragedy. Death wins.

Thank God our hope is not here. Thank God our hope is not in our next breath. Thank God death does not win. Out of love for us and a desire to bring glory to his Father, Jesus Christ conquered death once and for all, transforming our lives from a series of meaningless inhales and exhales into an eternal gift. Our hope rests in that transformation, in that grace, in that free offer of true, redeemed, everlasting life in the kingdom of God. There is absolutely nothing -- no accomplishment, no failure, no decision, no tragedy, nothing -- that can change this gift of God on which our hope securely stands. Love wins.