When You Leap!

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Feet planted, toes push close to the edge but not over. Knees bent, a slight bounce as my body sways first forward then back. Jump or no?  That is the question.

In April, my husband and I stuttered through conversations, one after another, that waited for the other to say “go.”

A series of God ordained events led us to the edge of a cliff. God spoke. We obeyed. 

Deep breath! “Jump!”

We made a leap. 

Long story shortened, we decided to place our 17 year old adopted son in a treatment facility for boys in hope that he would get specialized help needed to overcome some deep issues and unhealthy brain patterns. In truth, it was our last hope to save his life. (and we have a long history of suicide attempts, hospital visits and therapists to confirm what may sound like an overdramatized statement.)

The leap was in part the group home but  in full it was the price; a hefty sum ALL out of pocket. 

A recent summer day found me, mid-air, with wavering faith. Won’t ask for money, but friends made a point to do it for me by way of a You Caring Crowdfunding site. Pride made me resistant to the idea, but love of my friends made me cave.

“God, this is hard and humbling and somewhat embarrassing to accept money from people who I know struggle with their own finances. Forgive me, though, for not embracing what seems to be your will. If it is your will, then please let money come from those who won’t have to sacrifice to give.”

No more than 5 minutes passed after those words left my lips before an email popped up. I cried at every word. Here’s the nutshell version.

“Teresa, I have a trust account set aside for donations. Right now we are sending $2500. No need to thank me.  It’s from God and my parents, who left me the money.”

I sat stunned. Ecstatic at the evidence of God’s involvement yet a bit ashamed at my surprise of it.

Q: At what point in our decisions process should the possibility of success outweigh the possibility of defeat or humiliation or failure?

A: The moment God says “jump!”

Faith is to believe God’s faithfulness, provision and omnipotence will meet us at the same mid-air moment a skydiver pulls the cord and releases the parachute. Then and only then, does He take us higher and further than possible to imagine.

Psalm 3:4 “I call out to the LORD, and he answers me from his holy mountain.”

The Lord’s work began when our human effort ended.

On a more remarkable note, our son is thriving. His therapist wrote, “Good news! [Your son] continues to do very well! We are very proud of him. We have not had any issues of defiance, has been a GREAT leader and peer and has been very productive in therapy.”  

Six years of therapy and hospitals and our unconditional love could not do what this home has done in 4 months. 

God had a plan for healing that involved a leap of faith on our part. We are still hovering with wind below but are confident that God, who called us to jump, will be faithful to sustain us and complete what He started.

At what cliff do you find yourself paralyzed? Is God saying “jump?”
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Stuck in the Middle of the Storm!

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On one hand – Hands shook and heart pounded as I ripped through the glue on the envelope. Hope absent, but adrenaline still raised anticipation. Not bolded, but the words drew my eyes, “Your request for SSI has been declined.” The long list of disrders diagnosed, hospital documentation, school records and Dr. reports could not overshadow the pay stub of my husbands “too large of income.”

On the other hand – My heart surged with hope. The voice on the other end related to every struggle with our adoptive son with RAD. Treatment options that resonated with what we believed our boy needed, what we needed in respite care. Six years of fumbled treatment, dead end counsel and unapplied tools proved we, as parents, could not provide what his mental health required. A slight exhale of relief escaped, all to soon. “Our program requires 12 -15 months of treatment at the cost of $9,000 a month.” A brief elevation of hope dropped to the pit of my stomach. 

We aren’t low income, but we aren’t Bill Gates either. 

“Sorry, your income exceeds our requirements for assistance.”

“Quality treatment costs money to keep the patient to staff member ratio low. The benefits are worth the price.”

We are stuck in the middle class conundrum. 

Too much for state or government programs yet my husband’s income falls too short to pursue treatment plans that could pay the monthly mortgage for 10 families.

Frustration and desperation led to prayer, as it often does. And as He often does, a revelation brought light to the dark cycle of “too much, not enough” and being stuck in the middle. 

Perhaps being in the middle is the breeding ground for God to cultivate His glory.

One the one hand, we can’t rely on state or government and on the other, we can’t rely on ourselves.  Who’s left? 

Who indeed. 

Just like Peter! Jesus called Peter out of the boat. Too far for the other disciples to pull him back, not far enough to grab onto Jesus or he would not have panicked. He had only one choice when the waves grew stronger, when he began to feel the water rise. He shouted, “Lord, save me.”

God called my husband and I to adoption before we even said, “I do” over 20 years ago. We stepped out in faith with knowledge of storms that could rise on the journey.

We knew our adopted kids could have disorders from alcohol in the womb or early life in an orphanage. Yet God called us, so we jumped out of the boat, not knowing where it would lead us. 

Here we stand, in the middle between stepping out in faith and not yet reached the destination of healing and wholeness for our son. The waves are crashing as we tread the waters of Reactive Attachment and mood disorders and learning disrders. The storm surge of suicide plagues our son. We are desperate as we feel the water rising and weariness as we fight to keep our head above the waves. 

Our journey finds us in the middle of surging waters. The boat behind us and the end too far, yet to see the calm. 

God is still before us. “Trust! Have faith! Come to me.”

Peter couldn’t help himself, only the one who called him would be faithful to lead him to his destination. To be his rock, unmovable by forces that surround. 

Maybe your in the middle, between honeymoon and restoration not yet seen. The new born cry and the dream unfulfilled for your adult child. The last meal and the next. The last bill and the next payment. The foster placement and court papers signed.

You’re out of the boat.

Know that God has called you and He stands firm in the rushing tide. Shout as Peter shouted!  Jesus is there, the calm in the storm.  The voice that controls it. Stand firm and keep moving toward Him. 

  

Heaven’s a little Brighter!

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My eyes, glued to the scene. The dust of the debris invaded my nose. My hands wanted to prevent the sounds of the sirens and the cries, but I couldn’t move. 1,700 miles away from Oklahoma City, I was there only by the waves of the TV, but I had walked that place, breathed the same air as those people.  “Oh God, no!” 

Floors dangled, wires sparked, glass fell. “Did I know, by name or face, anyone in that building?” 

Oklahoma City Bombing 1

Often, I reached for the phone but fear would not let me dial. So I stayed, stared and mesmerized as reality sank in.

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Subtle Lies that Haunt Us!

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The tone of the tall grass merges with the dirty yellow of his mane. No movement, no sound. None are aware of his presence. He observes.  A moment of weakness rises as one prey lets his guard down. Predator edges closer. No cracking of dry grass beneath his feet warns imminent danger lurks. The prey, oblivious to his surroundings, is hit as predator leaps to attack.  He never saw it coming.

I relate to the prey, often unaware that a beast hides in the shadows. He detects, more than I, my vulnerability and my doubt. He waits for it, then feeds on it.

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An Ahrendt Christmas Story…by God!

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This Christmas story, composed not from my own creativity, is absent the tinsel, twinkling lights or cookie baking, yet, a version worth sharing, none the less.

December, 1996, our first Christmas bearing the weight of infertility, oblivious that we were about to embark on years of anguish and endless tears coupled with uncertainty and empty womb. Yet, unbeknownst to us, God was scripting a beautiful Christmas story, interweaving his promises with each chapter.

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Perfect Timing!

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Left leg crossed over right knee, I bounced it out of boredom, partly, and partly out of irritation.  The clock behind the receptionist counter revealed the Pediatric Ophthalmologist to be 30 minutes behind schedule and nothing in the pages of the Health magazine between my fingers was to hold my attention or the attention of my 3 young children in tow.

Grace, Teresa, have some grace. (Sigh)

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