family

The Move

IMG_20160602_174000We live in a great house; Midcentury modern, open floor plan, wood floors, lots of light, plenty of space. We live in a great house in a great neighborhood; brick paved streets, awesome neighbors, short walk to amazing coffee and Allen Fieldhouse, (Rock Chalk), and close to the highway. We live in a great house, in a great neighborhood, in a great town; Lawrence, Kansas; home to Kansas Basketball, incredible food, (like this, this and definitely this), (and this and this) great church plants, and dear, dear friends. And we are moving…

Three years ago, Jessica and I moved to Lawrence with the expectation that we would spend at least ten years in this house, in this neighborhood, with these friends, raising our two, almost three, and now four kids. We expected our family to live out the mission of God in our neighborhood, planting roots and seeking the good of our city together with other sojourners who wanted and were lead the same.

Yet, this life we were building in the pursuit of all this good, increasingly brought us out of alignment with each other, our kids, and ironically the mission we feel called to.

The thing about great old houses in great neighborhoods is they aren’t cheap and they are prone to breaking. The thing about having four kids is, they aren’t cheap and they also are prone to breaking. The way God built, is building our family requires a lot of bandwidth both housesalepicin terms of time and resources. Over time, the combination of a growing family (and growing medical bills, living expenses) and a house in constant need of updating and repair, lead us to a situation where me having secondary employment wasn’t just a nice bonus, but an absolute necessity financially.

Over the last four years, in addition to my work with the North American Mission Board as a Church Planting Catalyst, I have been incredibly blessed and humbled to serve four different churches in an interim pastor capacity. God has been incredibly gracious in each of those situations, both to myself and the churches we were involved with. In each, God has brought growth and healing for myself and the churches involved and each stop has allowed us to stay afloat financially. Yet, in the intervening months when I wasn’t serving a local church as interim, our family fell off a cliff financially. This cycle has repeated itself yearly over the last four years and has combined to place us under a mountain of debt and stress. Additionally, and more importantly, for the majority of the last four years, our family has worshipped in different locations on Sunday mornings, as some churches have been at a considerable distance to travel with four young children and I have missed precious time at home when local church responsibilities have required my presence.

For me to continue leading my family in worship with them, as well as spend the time I desire with each of them as they grow, things had to change. If you remember, here; Jessica and I shared an expression of the Mission God has called our family to and for us to complete that mission requires time; time from and with both of us. In short, our current life was increasingly out of alignment with the goal and mission of our family.

At the end of the day, while we love our home, it’s not the idol that defines our identity and it’s not the most important thing in our life. Rather, our home is a useful tool in our God called work of building “a family of missionary servants“. Our hope is that again soon we will own a home that we can joyfully work on together and for that place to be the place our children remember growing up. IMG_20160602_173918It is also our hope to serve a local church as a family together, not separated as has been the case for too long.

So, for the time we have remaining in this house we’ve made a home, instead of sadness and mourning, we choose to live in thankfulness and gratitude. And instead of fear and unknowing, we choose joyful expectation of what God has ahead.

 

 

Schematic of loss

We met at the pavilion; an obtusely tall, angular building resembling something more at home in the mountainous panorama of my native Wyoming then here in brown Kansas. It’s December, though not happy December, plangent with snow or Christmas cheer. It was appointment day. As we met, there was talk of me taking the kids and returning home, leaving her to navigate Camry colored silver when the end had come. “I’ll wait”

Looking back at two faces buckled in…I pause and think, they always look like tiny astronauts ready for lift off, buckled tight surrounded by foam and resin. The girl, cheery eyed and lucid, the boy sleeping, all be it in fits and starts. “I’ll wait” She climbs from Mazda midnight blue and I take her place, the door shuts and the cabin is quiet. She returns a glance over the shoulder as she crosses the lot, and I press my lips together and give her a hopeful and concerning half grin and wave.

Sliding the gear shift into reverse, then drive, we go. First round the parking lot and medical complex, “Gracie that’s where you and brother were born, right inside that building….” Girl still awake replies, “Where’s mommy?”

“She’s inside” I reply, “We’ll see her again real soon.” We drive, first through adjacent business lots, then across bridges and to other access roads, circling, always returning to that pavilion, that ugly pavilion. I hate that pavilion.

We find a park, built around a man made lake, there are geese, dirty frozen puddles and a few beaten down vehicles parked, conducting business I need not know nor want to know about. “Do you see the geese?!” I exclaim. “Yes Daddy! They’re silly!”

We drive, around and around, we drive. Finally my travel companion follows her fair haired brother into slumber, succumbing to the warmth of her jumpseat and the rhythm of the road…I return.

The pavilion, that disgusting pavilion gleams mockingly out of place…she returns, biting lip, pink faced, fears realized.

“The baby is gone, it’s just gone, dead! No heartbeat, only measuring 6 weeks again….please take me home!” We embrace, as best you can in the front seat of a Mazda, her tears hot on my cheek, her pain, palpable, her body carrying the hope of life and the grim reality of death.

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