Point C

I was listening to a tape today of a homeschooling mom teaching about goal-setting and long-term planning. She described something she called "Bend in the Road Syndrome" which happens when you are at Point A and think you see God leading you toward Point B so you head that direction. All of a sudden, it is clear that the road is taking a sharp turn and you can see that Point C is your ultimate destination. Does this mean God changed His mind? Not at all. Instead, she surmised that God had Point C in His sights all along but knew that if He sent us directly from Point A to Point C, we wouldn't go.

And she's right.

As I sit here on the last night of this almost five-month journey of living on the road and having no idea where me and my three little ones would lay our heads from month to month (right now everyone's but mine is on a pillow in a Holiday Inn in Florence, SC), I know for sure that if God had suggested going from our last home directly to Richmond - a mere hour away - I wouldn't have gone. And, in fact, when it was first suggested to me, I absolutely refused to even consider it. I pitched a fit uglier than you can imagine.

And all along, He knew I would.

So the destination continued to appear to be Point B (Las Vegas) while all the while God was molding and changing and shaping my heart so that He could give me His best at Point C. Maybe someday I won't be so stubborn and hard to harness. But until then, I'll be thankful for the roadwork that occurred between Points A and C.

How about you? What have been your own Points A, B, and C? And how has God changed you in the process?

Three Minutes

I was alone tonight from 8:17-8:20.

I know, right?

I actually got to drive in the car all by my little self for three whole minutes while my brother transported all the kiddos from the pool back to his house in his car.

Three minutes.

I got three whole minutes by myself. I'm still trying to recover from it. It was bliss, I tell ya. Bliss.

You see, I can count on one hand all the times I've been alone in the last five months. This journey of "living in between" has been full of adventure and fun and memories. But it has also been full of exhaustion and chaos and me being in charge of all three kids 24/7 without ever having a break. Ever. (Insert me giving a standing ovation to single mothers everywhere. I do not know how you do it.) You may be thinking, "Surely you get to go to the bathroom alone." And right now I'm thinking that if you asked that question, you likely don't have small children at home.

So those three minutes tonight were big time. Big. Time. And since it was so quiet, it made me think about God and wonder why He never wants to be alone.

I would think He gets tired of the constant barrage of requests from me. He doesn't.

I would think my whining might wear on His last nerve. It doesn't.

I would think the idiotic things I do that risk my safety and the safety of others would make Him shake His head and beg for a break. But they don't.

I would think the way I hurt people sometimes would make Him throw up His hands and give up. At least for a little while. But it doesn't.

I would think the fact that I completely and utterly need Him to survive each and every day would zap Him of all His energy and strength. I am, after all, pretty high maintenance. But, still, it doesn't.

In fact, just the opposite. God cannot wait to spend time with me. To hear me talking. To hear me sharing my heart and all that's in it. To watch me interacting with my fellow humans and taking (and missing) chances to love them. He just can't get enough of it. He's not sitting on His throne hoping that someone else would step in briefly and keep an eye on me so that He could have a break. And for that, I'm thankful. He's the only one who I would ever want watching over me.

As I followed Blake and the kids in my car tonight, delighting in the deliciousness of my three whole minutes, I couldn't help but flick on my high beams to see their little faces lighting up with joy at the treat of riding with Uncle B. As much as I am completely and utterly exhausted from these last five months, I sure do love those little faces and my heart is never far from them.

I would like to think that God feels the same way about me. And He does. He really, really does.

The Vagabond Life

This blog post was originally written on a napkin while I sat in a McDonald's PlayPlace somewhere along I-81 North in Pennsylvania. I'm a vagabond these days. Having just left one friend's house and off to another, never knowing where the highway may take me and the kiddos next.

In the fall we felt like the time had come to put our house on the market. It was a decision we had been contemplating for most of the year but felt like God kept saying, "Wait." I had told my friends that I thought my house must be for a specific buyer and when it went up, it would be gone in a flash. And, boy, was I right. We had an asking price offer on the house within five days of it hitting the market (if you know the DC market, you can just get down on your knees right now and worship the Lord of All Creation for that) and the buyers wanted to close in three weeks. Oh my goodness. With the help of A TON of friends (we sure do love you) and a gracious God (we sure do love You too), we were able to pack up everything quickly and be on our way out by the end of November. Amazing!

We had every intention of going to Las Vegas to help our friends with a new church that they are planting near the Las Vegas strip. Every intention. So the kids and I headed to PA to stay with my family while Kevin remained in VA to work and try to hunt for a job in Vegas in his free time. The plan was to leave PA after the holidays and head west. My, how plans change.

November turned into December turned into January turned into February and still no job. We were bummed. We were wondering what God was up to. And we couldn't help but feel a little abandoned. What on earth was all of this for, God? We sell our house, we risk everything, we go into this crazy, temporary living situation? For what? Nothing? We were so confused.

I was talking to my friend Jen (the one who we were planning on joining in Vegas) about my frustration and she challenged me with this: "When I pray about your situation, I come up with two things. 1) If moving to Vegas is your calling, you are not embracing your calling, and, 2) If God is calling you to Vegas, you are not exhibiting the faith required to get yourself here. Wow. Talk about a whack upside the head. But talk about truth spoken gently and lovingly. It seemed that everything boiled down to that calling. Were we convinced that we were called to Vegas?

As Kevin and I discussed that question at length, we realized that we were willing and ready to go to Vegas but didn't have an overwhelming sense of God asking us to take a huge leap of faith and move there with no job and no house and just see what happens. Crazily enough, if we were sensing Him asking us to do that, we would. But, in fact, we were sensing that He was asking us to do just the opposite and stay put. Every fleece we laid out, every prayer we prayed seemed to lead back to Richmond. It was as if he wanted us to hang out in Richmond, buy a house closer to Kevin's job (which he LOVES but had been commuting an hour plus to from our last house), and let Him continue to unfold our story from there. In some ways, staying in Virginia was a much harder and humbling decision to accept. But we accepted it.

So, as of last week, we are now VA homeowners again. The kids and I have been on the road since November 30th and are getting excited about having a permanent home once again. We spent the first 2.5 months in PA staying with my parents and then headed off on a grand tour of the eastern seaboard (thank you BruMar, Gettigs, PCTC, Shores, Guilberts, Saufleys, Mim, and Uncle Blake for being so generous and hospitable to us!) over these last four (!) months. Right now we are in Florida staying with Blake and remodeling his home here while Kevin does major demolition and remodeling at our new home. When the worst of it is over (about another week or so), we will return. We can hardly wait to begin this new chapter and settle into what God is calling us to in Richmond.

Enough to Make You Puke - Part 2

So yesterday I blogged about how my constant intake of junk food finally culminated with a puke-fest that reminded me of my sin and how even though it makes me sick, I keep on doing it. But that wasn't the only thing that made me want to puke. The example I am setting for my children is nauseating at best.

When I found myself grabbing a Mountain Dew and a Smore Pop Tart for breakfast after being so sick from my junk food indulgences the day before, I also found myself hiding what I was eating from my children. I didn't want them to see me eating that after the non-stop instructions I give them about eating healthy and making wise food choices and how food is fuel and how we need to take care of our bodies.

Basically, I didn't want them to see their mother being a hypocrite. As if they didn't know already.

So what did I do about it? What every self-respecting, Christian technophile would do: I confessed my sin through my Facebook status.

"Nikki Sampson Brungard It should be a hint to myself that I must change my eating habits when I find myself hiding what I'm eating for breakfast from my children (S'more Pop Tarts and Mountain Dew.) I am a hypocrite. :(

Does that mean I was convicted? No. Just because I announce something to the FB world doesn't mean I'm convicted about it. It was more like an easy attempt at appearing penitent and a great venue to hear others say, "Me too." Not a lick of conviction going on there.

But then I went to the fridge to finish off my Dew. As I grabbed the handle and whipped it open hankering for another fix of my liquid drug, I saw a verse that I posted there last week for my children to see. But God used it for me instead. It's from 1 John 3:18 and says,

"Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth."

And then the conviction came.

When I instruct my kids on healthy eating, I am loving them with words and tongue. When I confess my weakness to others, I am expressing love for my children with words and tongue. When I say I should be honoring God with what I put in my body, I am expressing love for Him with words and tongue. But if all I have is words and tongue and not actions or truth, then my love is empty. Worthless. Full of hypocrisy and selfishness.

So no more hiding what I eat from my kids. No more making myself think that I get to do what I want because I'm the mom. No more comparing myself to others and thinking that at least I'm not that bad (insert finger pointing here.) Because I've seen that list from yesterday. And I am that bad.

May my children look back and say, "My mom not only loved me with words and tongue but her love went deep enough to include actions and truth." May it be, Lord, may it be.

Now, do you think chocolate and raspberry rugula counts as a breakfast pastry? Because I just bought some at BJ's and I would hate for it to go to waste...

Enough to Make You Puke - Part 1

I threw up in the middle of the night last night. After tossing and turning with horrible stomach pains for an hour, I finally relented and went in the bathroom and put my finger down my throat and let it all out. Did I have a virus? Nope. Food poisoning. Huh-uh. I just simply ate too much crap. And I mean crap.

Yesterday, at one point or another, various quantities of the following foods passed by my lips:

S'more Pop Tarts

Mountain Dew

Cheeseburger

Fries

Buffalo Popcorn

Starburst

Good 'n Plenty

Chocolate covered pretzels

Beef Lo Mein

Sesame Chicken

Rice

Sprite

More Mountain Dew

Ritz crackers

Whoppers

I'm sure you need to go and throw up now after reading that list. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Waiting...waiting...waiting...

Feel better don't you?

Yep, I did too after I puked it all up. And then I went back to bed promising that I would give up junk food and never eat like that again.

And then I woke up. And reached for a Mountain Dew and S'more Pop Tart for breakfast and thought, "What is wrong with me?! How can I be puking six hours ago and swearing I'll never eat this stuff again and here I am downing complete crap for breakfast? I need help!" I have the desire to eat salad, but I cannot carry it out because the Swiss Roll Cakes are calling to me. When I want to make a good food choice, Swedish Fish are right there with me.

And then it hit me. Romans 7:15-23

I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.

So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God's law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members.

How many times have I resolved not to gossip again...and went right back to it? Not to lose my patience again...and yelled at my children? Not to judge someone again...and looked down on the "least" in society? My sin and my propensity for it make me want to puke. It makes my stomach knotted and hurts from the inside out. But, still, I keep doing it. Still I keep putting garbage in. And still garbage pukes itself on out.

Paul finishes this passage of Romans 7 with the following:

"Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord!"

Indeed, who will rescue me from this slow death I am dying from the amount of junk food I am ingesting? I am sorry to say it's going to have to be me. I already know what God wants for me so now it's about me changing my choices. Me hating this eating style enough to stop. Me realizing that more and more of my clothes do not fit. Me listening to God prompting my heart about the example I'm setting for my children. Me choosing wisely so I don't have to puke later.

And as for the sin in my life, I have no doubt about who will rescue me from this body of death. I join Paul in saying, "Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord!" His grace alone rescues me. His willingness to die so I didn't have to rescues me. His conquering death so that I can live forever rescues me. He will rescue me. And I will respond by making choices that don't lead to death. But when I do (and He knows I will), thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord that His grace is still sufficient. And there's no puking required.

This IS Glamour, Baby!

Why, hello! It's me...Nikki. You may not recognize me because for the better part of three weeks I've been covered in puke, snot, phlegm, poop, and most other kinds of bodily emissions. My dear sweet children have been sick, passed it around, picked it up again, passed it around, and are now - Glory to God! - well again.

The mothering life is full of glamour, isn't it? Cleaning up puke, cleaning up splatters of said puke five days later when you realized you missed it the first time, wiping noses, doing laundry, making beds, making meals, listening to whining about said meals, picking up toys, retrieving said toys from toilet, and the list goes on. Lather, rinse, repeat. Day in. Day out. Same thing. Over. And over. And over again. If only I had my own personal Alice from the Brady Bunch or had a nanny or two like I see those Hollywood starlets have (hello, Angelina Jolie has SIX nannies! What on earth?!), maybe my mothering life would seem more glamorous. Maybe I wouldn't be so completely exhausted. Maybe the scale wouldn't reflect a woman who had buffalo chicken dip and Mountain Dew for breakfast.

But maybe I wouldn't be the first person my children want when they're sick.

But maybe I wouldn't have mine be the name they call when they need help.

But maybe I wouldn't be the one they want to hold their hand and make everything better.

But maybe I wouldn't the one that makes them smile with my corny jokes.

But maybe I wouldn't know just the right blanket or stuffed animal to help them rest.

And if even one of those "maybes" were true, my heart would be broken and I would be missing out on what God has for me and what He wants to do in me. But none of those "maybes" are true. And as far as I'm concerned, that's pretty glamorous.

Delight!

Tonight I went to the grocery store and brought home "The Princess and The Frog" fruit snacks for Cana. She squealed with delight and was so excited she could hardly stand it. Such a simple and cheap thing, but to her precious three year-old heart, it was like she hit the lottery. She realized she was special. She realized she was valued. She realized that her momma was thinking about just her. She couldn't have been more delighted. And neither could I.

Throughout the weekend of our Bethcation, Lara and I were just thrilled with all of the fun things that were transpiring. At one point, Lara and I were discussing how God loves to shower His kids with kindness (see Matthew 7:11) and she said, "I feel like God is up in heaven right now saying to Gabriel, 'Watch this! This is going to send those two over the top! This is so fun! Wait until they see what's next!'"

Psalm 18:19, "He brought me out into a spacious place, He rescued me because He delighted in me."

Psalm 149:4, "For the Lord takes delight in His people; he crowns the humble with salvation."

Zephaniah 3:17, "The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing."

You see, just like I delight in my own kids and seeing their faces light up, Scripture teaches us that God delights in us. He delights in us. Us. Broken, sin-filled us. Helpless little us. He really just can't help Himself. He adores what He's made. Each individual heart is valued so much. Every single one of us is precious. When each of us is born, we are new and wonderful and delightful to Him. And He is always looking for ways to show us He delights in us. He takes great pleasure in seeing His children in awe over His goodness. He's just sweet like that.

Throughout me and Lara's weekend, I just kept saying, "This is too much. It's just too much, Lord." From presidential suites to pictures with Beth to precious new friends and reunions with old friends, the way God was working was just too much. I felt so loved. So delighted in. So satisfied. I thought for sure that God was done. There really couldn't be anymore delight to be had. And then I got to Harrisburg.

My flight back got in pretty late so my dear mother offered to watch my children so I didn't have to drive the two hours back to her house that evening. My dad gets a zillion free hotel nights for his job and so he gave me some and I checked myself into a hotel in Harrisburg. (Even my earthly parents both love giving good gifts to their children, and can we all agree that a night alone in a hotel room is a good gift for a mother of three young children? Amen and amen.) As I was checking in and inquiring about the NFL playoff game that was on the TV, the clerk said, "Well, you'll have plenty of places to watch it in your room because there are four flat screens in there." I laughed, thinking he was joking and went on my merry way.

As I wheeled my luggage down the hall to my room, I stopped and nearly peed my pants (apparently this is a theme with me...) The sign on my door read: Presidential Suite. Seriously, God? Seriously?! You just can't help yourself, can You? Twice in one weekend? It's like you're sitting on the edge of Your throne just waiting to make me squeal in delight. And squeal I did when I called Lara to tell her about my flat screens in my two-bedroom suite with my free breakfast buffet and the hot tub that I had to swim seven strokes to get across. Delight!

How has God shown you His delight lately? Because He has. It might be you getting a good parking space. Or a clean mammogram. Or a hug from a four year-old. But there is delight in your life. It's there. Celebrate it. Smile about it. Squeal over it. And then don't forget to thank Him.

Thanks, God, for Your delight. I sure do love You. Now if you'll excuse me, there's a little girl who I'd like to watch eat some fruit snacks. Delight!