When Plans Don’t Go As Expected

Unmet Expectations
After writing about expectations in relationships last week, I have come face to face with a variety of circumstances that have caused major unmet expectations and a lot of emotion. It’s been eye opening to see how much impact unmet circumstantial expectations can cause an unravel of sorts.
We got to see our sweet baby girl on the ultrasound last week to check on her position. There is nothing like ultrasounds. They are exhilarating and terrifying. I don’t usually relax into them until I hear her heartbeat and then I usually tear up and proceed to marvel that there is a little person inside of my belly. They make the whole thing real to see her little body developing and wiggling around. She has been breech most of our pregnancy and we were ever hopeful that at our 36 week appointment she would have flipped over. No such luck. She is breech with her little legs crossed at the bottom of my uterus. It explains the frequent kicks to the bladder. Our Doctor began discussing the options in the coming weeks and it is overwhelming. Step one is trying to exercise and do various things to get her to flip naturally. There is a website called spinning babies we are supposed to do exercises from. The next thing will be deciding if we want to do a  manual version, this procedure where the doctor manually tries to flip her. We aren’t a good candidate for it because of the type of breech position she is in, how long she has been breech and then the position of my placenta. Not to mention the risks make Chad and I nervous. It has a 40 percent success rate normally, and apparently is even less with our circumstance. So c-section is on the table as a very real option.
Cue expectations galore. I have known for a few months that this could happen, but I secretly hoped that she would flip by 36 weeks and all would be well. It was my timeline. But how often do our plans happen the way we hope?  I am really disappointed that there is a big possibility that I am going to have a c-section. In a sense I am grieving the hope of having a vaginal delivery. It’s not that I want to be a super hero, I just wanted to go through the process that my body is made to do and that I have mentally prepped for. I have spent a lot more time thinking about delivering vaginally and wrapping my brain (sort of) around this and the recovery.
I realized I have a lot of fear around surgery, needles and epidurals. I have heard a lot of well meaning people say that it’s not a big deal, it’s a blessing that I won’t have to go through the pain of labor, that as long as she gets here safe that’s all that matters or that the recovery isn’t that bad. But none of this has been comforting for me. And it know it’s because I am grieving the expectation of giving birth vaginally. It’s what you expect to happen nine months after you get the positive test. It’s what you start mentally preparing for. Other people have told me she still could flip. Which I suppose still could happen. But I am wrestling with holding out hope and being devastated the day of surgery. I’d like to get to a place where I am genuinely okay with either. This means allowing myself to grieve and feel frustrated.
I am processing this in real time, so this isn’t fully processed in many ways. But I am realizing that the root of my anxiety and cause of expectation is I like to be in control. This is a developed coping mechanism to keep me “safe”. When I am in a good place, I recognize that I am not in control, God is and he is good so I have nothing to fear. My ability to keep myself safe is somewhat a facade. When I am stressed, triggered by something or feel vulnerable, I clench for control even more. Emotions unravel and I retreat some. I can become mean to people I love because internally I am in a state of sheer panic. The hardest part is I don’t want to be like this. I want to constantly trust God and have my emotions be in alignment with this and experience his peace. Truly, the crisis comes because I am depending on myself and know deep inside I am powerless to really do much.
This becomes especially true regarding my body. The more I read and learn about labor, the more I discover that this is a process my body knows how to do but not my brain persay. It’s something that can feel really out of control because it just happens and moves at its own pace. Labor is the exact opposite of control, and the closer it gets the more freaked out I become. Both by labor and c-section. Both feel like something I can’t control. The surgery even more so. I will be immobile, unable to see or feel anything (for good reason), and I will be at the mercy of my doctor and nurses. Labor vaginally feels like I will have a tiny bit more control because I can choose how I am managing my pain but still is far from the measured calculations/ preparation that I’d like. So both of these have sent me into a complete emotional tail spin. My body is riddled with anxiety and panic, particularly at night. If I think about it too long or hard, I will spontaneously cry. And anything that causes me to feel out of control right now triggers me and leaves me in a panic and reactive.
 I never anticipated that labor would expose a layer of healing that needs to happen. This need to be in control is not something I want to remain. It turns me into a bit of a crazy person. It leaves me trying to control circumstances and even people around me. It’s a big sign of a wound that needs healed and a muscle that needs strengthening. We weren’t designed to control and micromanage our life in calculated caution. We aren’t meant to be paralyzed by fear and working ourselves into a frenzy to do everything we can to avoid anything that makes us feel uncomfortable or out of control. We were designed to trust our Maker fully because he is good and will take care of us. We were made to live in freedom.
This reaction of control shows me there is doubt regarding that God is trustworthy. I think this wound is part of the fall, part of the brokenness of humanity. Evil in the world and unmet expectations further this woundedness. The enemy of our souls says “if God really is good he wouldn’t let this happen”. But this is a lie. Mostly around the responsibility piece. The enemy wants to blame shift and get the responsibility of evil off of himself onto God. This creates an even greater divide between us and God, his ultimate goal. In this circumstance, my temptation is to believe that something is wrong with my body. The deeper lie is a form or rejection. That because this isn’t going according to my plan, I am rejected by God is some way. But this also is a lie, because I am assuming that God’s plan is the same as mine. But the reality is his plan actually could be a c-section for sweet baby girl for a reason unknown to me. And the enemy is using this to attempt divide me from my Heavenly Father, the very One I need right now. This is why expectations around circumstances are dangerous.
So what am I doing about this struggle? It’s raw and ugly right now. It’s a lot of prayer and tears. It’s a lot of honesty with God about how I want to be in control but I am not and how this security is really a facade. I find myself grieving the expectations in God’s comforting arms and leaning on Chad when I fail to remember that our God is good. It’s being gracious with myself and apologizing when I hurt my love ones when I lose my mind and lash out. It’s being honest with myself that I am wounded but that God is my healer. He has healed much in my life and I can trust him to heal this. He has a perfect track record. And any fear I feel around birth, vaginally or cesarean, can be placed in God’s hands as he writes the story of how she comes into this world. It will be good no matter what.

Three Ways to Manage Expectation

Expectation Management
My husband and I have been blessed with a strong marriage from the beginning. For that I am very thankful. We know couples who really struggle the first year of marriage. That was not our story; we have faced a large variety of other trials that came with their own set of great difficulty. I tend to think that each challenge is hard, painful and comes with its own forms of deep grief caused by a set of expectations. In this current season of walking down an unexpected road of a major career change that demands more of my husband than anything ever has in his life, we have faced new challenges in our marriage. We have to ask ourselves often how do we prioritize our marriage when school demands 12-16 hour days every day of the week? Part of prioritizing our marriage comes with what I call expectation management.
We each approach every situation with a set of preconceived expectations of how something “should be.” These are formed by a variety of things. Culture, Pinterest, Facebook, Instagram, friends, family, our upbringing, world view and socioeconomic position, to name a few, form expectations. In some ways, expectations are not inherently bad. We wouldn’t accomplish things if we didn’t push ourselves in certain situations to meet expectations. Or we would maybe compromise for something that wasn’t God’s best if we didn’t have expectations. But expectations have a dark side. Particularly in relationship.
During this season where Chad puts an enormous amount of energy in learning a new skill set in a school environment that makes grad school look like middle school, I have taken on a support role. I am completely powerless most days to help him as he wrestles through content I know nothing about. This is new for us since we studied in seminary side by side. We no longer have a common language around something that takes most of his time. I am no longer the sounding board I expected to be as a wife. I can listen, but rarely can contribute thoughtfully on the topic. This is different than what life was like when we were vocationally pursuing ministry together. Coding is like a foreign language to me. And while my vocabulary on the subject is expanding daily, I know about as much as the size of an ice cube compared to an iceburg.
On top of that, we are becoming parents. As a woman, I am learning that there are a lot of secret expectations that I didn’t even know I had surrounding this life event. I have had to lay down expectations and dreams of what being pregnant together in this season would look like. Visions of shopping leisurely together for tiny baby things, preparation for baby at home, birthing classes, long conversations about names and parenting plans are all luxuries that haven’t been afforded to us in the last few months. It has been a huge internal battle of frustration and grief that we would be in such an intense season of schooling while leaping into parenthood.
Not only have those expectations had to die, so have the amount of time to we have to connect. The love language that outweighs the rest for me is quality time. I emotionally have to connect with people in my life through time that is intentional and rooted in conversation to feel loved. My poor husband wants so badly to meet this need but also feels immense responsibility to do his absolute best to prepare for our future in order to provide for us. At times I know he feels like these two things are completely at odds with each other.  I confess that my husband has done everything in his power to manage the many demands competing for his attention. He is a disciplined student, devoted husband and passionate father. But there certainly has been sacrifice on expectations and hopes all around. It’s hard to see the grief in his eyes when I know he wants to emotionally meet me in my need to connect on a deep level, but exhaustion is so overwhelming that sleep is about to usher in at any moment. I also may never forget the look on his face the night before he missed his first ultrasound during our pregnancy. He wanted so badly to be there to see his daughter swimming around, but he couldn’t miss school to come.
Each of these area’s have underlying expectations for both of us that we are learning to navigate. Some of them are harder to tease out the roots of, but each of them have to be managed in order to not allow the dark side of expectation to sabotage our marriage. I am learning that this is a form of guarding our marriage from the enemy who would love to take us out. Let me share with you what I am currently wresting through regarding expectation management.
1. Expectations are dangerous and corrode relationships when they are unreasonable.
So often expectations become roots of discontentment when they are unmet. When we hold expectations, reasonable or not, we likely will be faced with disappointment if they don’t come to fruition. Disappointment can lead to bitterness if not dealt with properly.  Also, expectations are not always reasonable. I find myself asking often, is this expectation reasonable to have of my husband/relationship? Is this something that is important to further the strength of our marriage? If it is unreasonable and does not further the strength of my marriage nor meet a need of mine that is a non-negotiable, I need to let it go. Instead of taking it immediately to Chad, I spend time praying through the expectation to discover whether or not it is legitimate and where it originated. For example, does this expectation come from a cultural expectation that is far from realistic, like waltzing through Babies R’ Us in total bliss and scanning adorable baby items for hours?  Then as God speaks to my heart, I allow him to loosen my grip on the expectation so that I can be free from it. The root of the baby registry fantasy is really the idea that without properly preparing with stuff, thoughtfully scanning each item we need, we will fail as parents to care for our daughter. The dangerous root is that if my husband can’t spend hours with me shopping for baby items that he doesn’t care about our daughter. This is a fat lie that if not identified could create a big root of bitterness later.  As I allow the Holy Spirit to enlighten my heart, my heart and my relationship are freed from discontent and unnecessary resentment and allows reasonable expectations to become the focus.
2. Communicating our expectations to one another is the most important thing.
Once I determine what my expectation is and pray through it, it is important for me to communicate my struggle with the expectation with my husband. This allows Chad to shed truth on a situation and know my heart. So often the expectation I have can be completely mitigated as soon as I invite him into the struggle. For example, he is able to remind me that being a good parent is not rooted in material possessions or time spent in a baby store. In this season, loving our daughter looks like preparing for our future in school. The hours he takes to thoughtfully code is his way of loving her. He wants to provide the very best for his girls. He also can gently remind me if I haven’t already navigated the root of the expectation, where it possibly originated. Most of all, it cultivates intimacy. The beautiful thing about having a conversation about expectation is that occasionally it is a reasonable expectation that the other person now knows about. He can meet the need if he knows. So sometimes Chad says to me, I want to meet this expectation because I can tell it really matters to you and I love you. He couldn’t do that if I never vocalized it. This takes humility and trust with one another and an enormous measure of grace to gently approach an expectation together. I cannot expect that just because Chad knows about my expectation that he will run to meet it. It could be the furthest thing from reasonable or even possible. But getting it out on the table avoids the root of resentment from springing up and makes it possible to work through.
3. Flexibility and allowing unreasonable expectations to die is a necessity.
Finally, I have to have a flexible malleable heart that the Holy Spirit can root out expectations. I have to be willing to lay down expectations that are not helpful for my heart or marriage. It is never helpful if I set my heart on an expectation and am then unwilling to compromise or evaluate it’s validity. I do not want to hold expectations over Chad’s head and imprison him. This is manipulative. Not only does this harm him, it harms me. My heart hardens as I set my hope on the expectation and ultimately Chad instead of Jesus and the hope I have in Him. By being flexible, I allow the space for necessary pruning of expectations so that I can be free in Christ. This also frees my heart to enjoy my marriage and the ways my husband is loving me. So often unmet expectations block our ability to see the blessings in our relationship. If I am so fixated on an area where something is unmet, I am not able to see and be thankful for the ways that my husband is loving me. I’d much rather be flexible and willing to allow things that cause death in relationship to die so that I can truly enjoy the gift God gave me in a husband.
This is a huge work in progress for me. It’s a weekly battle as I am constantly bombarded by new unrealized expectations rooted in my heart around becoming a mother. This week it’s around birth classes. Chad and I are going to take a class this weekend! But I am constantly battling the tension of expecting to be really prepared through these classes and the reality that if she comes early I have no clue what I am doing. This particular expectation is one I have with myself. I have to remind myself that I am not a bad mother, nor will my daughter’s birth be a disaster because I didn’t make it to a birthing class. Many women do this every day around the world with minimal resources comparatively. And so I remind myself to be gracious and gentle and do a little expectation management.

When God Surprises You

Early on in my pregnancy, I was grieving over not having a traditional nursery for our daughter to come home to. My parents basement is a huge blessing, but doesn’t have a second bedroom to turn into a nursery. She will be sleeping in our room in some sort of bed for the duration that we live with them. Even though I know she won’t know the difference, I was struggling with this cultural expectation as desire that was going to be unmet. This was directly connected to being in a season where things were not going according to plan and that I had always dreamed that we would have a place of our own when we would reach the milestone of adding to our family. Somewhere along the way I had adapted the cultural idea that the correct progression of life stages went along the lines of graduating college, going to graduate school, getting married, having an awesome career, buying a house and then starting a family. Let’s just say that this “model” of living was shattered and I came face to face with the reality that life is a lot more complex. Life actually doesn’t look like Pinterest, and doesn’t have to in order to be beautiful. Also, God doesn’t really work in models. He is creative and committed to cultivating character in us that often comes through enduring seasons that are far from our expectation.
I allowed myself to grieve this, however, because I knew that without stepping into the reality that things were not what I wanted or expected, bitterness could grow towards my Heavenly Father who knows best.
For a while, my grieving looked like avoiding stores where baby bedding, cribs and adorable nursery decor was sold. I didn’t participate in pregnancy forums where they were discussing how their nursery was coming together. Instead I researched pack n’ plays and looked into alternative bed options.
One day in one of my therapeutic mall wanderings (where I go to the mall alone and just look at things and enjoy a simple cup of coffee and check out the latest fashion and things but buy nothing), I ventured into Pottery Barn Kids. The expensive mecca of children’s nursery goods was filled with the latest things to beautify a space and I just let myself dream. I found this adorable set that I let myself love for a moment, and pondered what it would look like in a space my husband and I created. I decided that when we had our own place I would come back and pick cute things out for her, no matter how old she was. I would give her a nursery in his timing. Even if it was a year after she was born or longer. My heart whispered to God, I love this, but it’s not important for me to have for her arrival or even ever. But I do love it. I told him and then walked out before the tears started to flow. I cried on my way home letting the grief flow out that I couldn’t give her a room, but I could give her arms that would hold her and promised to love her no matter how many things we had.
I never told anyone about this set. Not even my husband. It seemed frivolous and inconsequential given our circumstances. Truthfully, I let it go and set about preparing for her to come in other ways. The occasional times I found myself in the mall again I would venture in and look at it and dream and then walk out and let it go again.
One day, my sister texted me a craigslist find. I call her the craigslist queen because the girl can find a deal like no one else. I am not particularly good at bargain hunting, something I could really learn from her. I haven’t cultivated the patience of combing through pages of used things that people are selling to find a treasure. My sister had been looking for a pack n’ play for me but recently had planted the idea of putting a crib in our room. She found a $75 crib on craigslist that was adorable. It needed to be refinished but really was in fairly good condition. I hadn’t pulled the trigger because I couldn’t wrap my brain around buying bedding for it. I opened the link she had sent me and discovered it was the very set that I had fallen in love with at Pottery Barn Kids. The entire set (normally around $300) for $40. It looked like it was in good condition, and had everything except for a bed skirt. I couldn’t believe it. I told her to see if it was still available and when she said it was, I cried.
We could afford it and it was my hearts desire and no one knew expect God. He had made it happen unbeknownst to the person selling it, and my sister finding it and picking it up. She picked up the crib for us as well and in a matter of three days we had a complete bed set with the bedding my heart had longed for.He surprised me with something that I had deemed impossible because he knew it would delight me.
Recently, my mom refinished the crib and helped me set it up in our room. We have an alcove that was meant to be a closet and the crib fits perfectly inside. I am delighted. I look at it still marveling at his provision. We turned half of our room into a nursery space, while the other half remains ours.
Baby Girl's Crib
I am completely in awe of how God took something that seemed impossible and honestly unnecessary and made it happen. It’s just a testimony of his goodness, his kindness and his love. He sees us. Even the desires we think are worth overlooking.
He really is the God Who Sees.
I’d love to hear your story of how God has surprised you recently.

Surprised by Pregnancy

IMG_0412
The day before I peed on a stick wondering if  two lines would show up, I sat in a church pew. I was minding my own business, singing the words to a well known hymn. Pregnancy was not on my radar, nor was it part of my husband and I’s plan. We were in major transition. My husband just graduated from seminary, we had just moved in with my parents and were in full blown job hunt mode.
The sound of hymns stirred within my soul and I heard it. “Erin, don’t freak out. You’re pregnant.” Suddenly the words on the screen faded and I responded to the quiet voice I know well with a “What?” Because He is gracious, he repeated to me “Erin, don’t freak out. You’re pregnant. And it’s a girl. I know you have always thought you’d have boys, but I know the desire of your heart and you want a girl. You are having a girl.”
I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest. Mostly out of panic. I also had my own moment like Sarah, where I laughed at the Lord. I was convinced that I was delusional. I have misheard Him in the past and I am very guarded with taking things like this seriously until proven otherwise. The cost is too high to mishear Him. I learned that lesson the hard way. Surely the summer heat in the church was getting to me. I couldn’t possibly be pregnant,  but the thought nagged me and I knew in my heart this was one of those times he was speaking to me.
I stored this revelation in my heart with delight but mostly fear. Questions arose in my mind. How would we afford a child? How is this possible? We were so far from being ready to be parents. What about my dream of finishing school and pursuing a career before kids? What about my husbands job search? Shouldn’t we be living on our own? As the questions rolled in, the anxiety heightened. This wasn’t our plan. At least not yet. We had only been married a year. We were planning on waiting at least three to five. I thought through the reality of our current situation. We lived with my parents. We were between school and a job and despite many interviews every door was closed. We were teetering on the brink of serious discouragement over the many no’s we had recently received. We were pretty confused on what path to take and the thought of adding a baby into this made me want to hyperventilate.  I mean, our circumstances were enough to feel like if I got a positive test we were irresponsible. I began thinking about what my husband would think if this was true, and then our parents. Oh and lots of other people.
I shoved the thoughts down and forced myself to focus on the sermon that was beginning. Maybe I was just imagining that I heard God say the word pregnant…
I took the encounter seriously enough to buy a two pack of pregnancy tests that night when I was out running errands. I thought, well at the very least I can confirm or deny it in the morning. I don’t think I slept well that night. Both out of anticipation of hearing the Lord on something so major, but also the real possibility that I was in fact pregnant and what that would mean for our life.
Sure enough, the next morning yielded two pink lines and put me in a state of absolute disbelief. It was a whirlwind, emotional morning for the two of us. I can’t say I tactfully broke the news to my husband. It was far from the romanticized dream in my head of what the moment would be like. Looking back it’s almost comical. But in the moment it felt crisis like.
We reeled for a few weeks privately, not because we didn’t want our child but because we were so utterly caught off guard. Truly we were in a season of stripping. Each plan that my husband and I had made and hung onto was being stripped and laid bare before the feet of Jesus. Jobs, career, education, family planning, time in our marriage just the two of us, traveling and our living situation. Slowly it was as if God was asking us “Do you trust my plan? Do you want me more?” The pain of dying to our own belief that our plans were better than his or more timely than his was excruciating. We both felt crushed under the pain of grief and loss of our own treasured expectations. We prayed together often that we wanted his best. But when his best required we surrender any tiny piece of our conceived plan, it hurt. Truthfully, it still hurts. We both ebb and flow in and out of stages of grief that our plans are not reliable, nor did they come to fruition.
God was so gracious to prepare my heart for the positive test. It was even more remarkable that he let me know the child I was carrying was a girl. Now I am 34 weeks pregnant and know it’s a girl. Another confirmation of that Sunday surprise whisper of the Lord. He knew I needed that comfort for the weeks to come. I remembered him telling me not to freak out. Despite my desire to continually panic, I was able to slowly settle into the idea of becoming a mother.
Honestly, we are still in a lot of transition, but have seen God’s faithfulness in so many ways to make what seemed impossible actually quite doable. Many of the things we hoped for have not come about the traditional way. God’s ways are so different than people’s. But we have seen him to be trustworthy and completely truthful. We have what we need for this season. We also have way more support than I could have dreamt.
We are so excited to meet our little girl. She truly is a gift from God. After all he knows best, and gives us the best.

The Third Road

Third Road Image
Flashback to May last year. The husband graduated Seminary and we were full  of expectation as he walked across the stage. We were praying about pastoral positions he had applied for and several of them looked promising. The other road that we were peering down was an opportunity for him to teach at the college level. Both were exciting and meant big change for us. We were overwhelmed but very excited about the possibility of either option.
Several of the pastoral positions ended up taking him through each step further and further. We were in some of the top positions and it almost seemed as we had options. We took each step in prayer and sought counsel. We thought we were doing everything right. In many ways I think we did. We always prayed for God’s best and said we didn’t want to settle for something other than what he had for us. The funny thing is we didn’t fully consider what this could mean if there was a third road.
The door to each church one by one closed and it seemed like the dream of ministry came crashing down. So we turned our attention to teaching. And this door also came to a close. Though an opportunity came very close to fruition, it still ended up as a no. So then I watched my husband turn his attention to a job. Any job. I watched him spend hours a day applying to anything that he could find. Still nothing. He worked a 40 hour a week job just searching for work. Recruiters, postings that he was beyond qualified for. Nothing. I watched him go to interview after interview with hope and come home with no news. We waited for calls and an answer and still nothing. I watched him be faithful even when there was nothing to show for it. As optimism faded, he still soldiered on. Even minimum wage positions told him no because he was over qualified. Grief crouched at our door. And then was ushered in. This went on for months.
We moved in with my parents in the transition when we were a final candidate at a church out of state. At the time we thought it was a temporary landing place for us to move from. We resisted signing leases because we were holding out for God’s best not knowing that he was positioning us in that place unbeknownst to us.
With each no, we considered that maybe we took a wrong turn and we came back to the drawing board. I watched my husband holding a diploma with a masters degree and say maybe I need to start again. And by begin again he meant start a new degree at the bachelors level. It all felt like a waste. A joke or an empty promise to run a race so far and have nothing but a piece of paper with a signature saying he had mastered something. To start again felt like a dead weight, but it was one of th few viable options. So he applied. Was accepted and even registered for classes. Engineering. It was the logical choice. But the debt loomed over us and we wondered with unsettled hearts how this could be God’s best.
I pleaded with God that somehow we wouldn’t have another 4 year road for another degree and an additional mountain of debt. That the work he did in school would be fruitful and some job would come that would provide for us. At a random networking event, one my husband almost didn’t go to, God answered that prayer.  But not in the way I expected.
He heard about a program that was a trade school. It was a bootcamp of sorts for computer coding. The field he was considering pursuing instead with a four year degree and debt that consumed us.  He met with a person who encouraged him to look into it and also try a few exercises to see if it was a good fit. So then I watched him explore a new topic and like it more than he expected. He then began the competitive process to get in. This 7 month program was not for the faint of heart. The application process included an essay, an exam like the LSAT, a video and paperwork. If you were one of the 25 percent moved into the next round, you then faced an interview which was an hour long and then you had to take a logic test verbally with the person you were interviewed by. Then half of those interviewed were selected. It was grueling and seemed like a total bait and switch for my heart. But we had run flat out of options. So he gave it his all and we prayed the same prayer, God we only want your best.
And God said yes. He said yes to an option that wasn’t even on our radar. And it was so far outside of the box of what we thought we would be doing ten months post graduation. And then I watched him dilligently prepare. And we humbly accepted that for at least seven more months we would be living with my parents. We struggled with broken dreams of ministry, career, living situation and timing of plans. Grief crashed over us like waves during a storm, but God held out hope with an answered prayer. His best for us. Even though it was and is still so far from the plans we had made.
I watched my courageous husband weather a storm of rejection and questions as he sought to provide for our family. And I watched him give thanks and solider on being faithful with each step of the process and say yes to God even when it hurt. I learned a lot watching him. I learned a lot about trusting God’s best and believing in his goodness even when circumstances screamed otherwise. I watched my steady husband camp on the Rock and commit to do anything, including apply for jobs that he was over qualified for or start over in a new field for the glory of Jesus. And I watched him do it all with the highest level of integrity and faithfulness.
And I learned that God is good. No matter the circumstances.