When He goes before you.

Last week I wrote about waking up to the new life God had dreamt for me more than a decade ago. Here is the other side of the story...

Quit your job, he said.

Lord, I hear you but…the budget does not add up.

Quit your job, he repeated.

You know best, Lord but…we would have to have private health insurance and that is expensive and no dental insurance and that is scary.

The time has come to stay home with your babies, he prodded.

I want to, Lord…but in this economy?

It took another year of praying, discussing, adding, subtracting, saving, finding faith, and getting courage for us to realize that yes, the budget would not add up; yes, we would have to get personal health insurance and lose our dental one; yes, this is scary but yes, the Lord spoke and we must obey.

So I quit.

After six years of teaching high school, the only grown-up job I’ve ever known, I walked away. I was near the top of my pay scale, I had a position of leadership, I had great benefits.

But I quit.

At a time when other people were desperately looking for work, I purposefully resigned. It was not easy and it was terrifying and many friends were puzzled and many others were frustrated with our seemingly illogical timing.

Still, I quit.

It seems to me that after walking with God for so many years, having experience after experience with his faithfulness and his provision I had finally learned to trust that He has a plan, that his ways are truly higher than my ways and that, when He requires we have faith and obey, He has begun working on what the future will hold.

I just quit.

But this God, this God will not be explained, this God will not be controlled, this God will not be fully known. While I sat comfortable in my knowledge of him, He had yet another lesson to teach me about his Holy character, his incredibly organized mind, his deep understanding of our journeys, and his perfect, oh so perfect, timing.

I entered my freshman year in college with the idea of becoming a journalist. After taking my first journalism class I dropped the major. It simply was not for me.

With not many ideas and little direction, having a love of theatre, public speaking, and teaching, I decided to major in Communication Education. It was a prayerful decision and I felt comfortable declaring the major.

I knew I wanted to teach but I had the opportunity to further my education before entering the workforce. With a student visa about to expire, with the threat of having to return to Ecuador before I was ready, and with an offer to earn my master’s degree for free by teaching undergraduate communication courses, I enrolled in a master’s in Communication Studies program at a large state university.  My elective courses were spent taking Spanish-related classes to enhance my teaching license.

Two and a half years later, with two diplomas in hand, and a state license to teach both communication courses and Spanish courses, I left for South Carolina with my newly acquired husband.

I never found a teaching job that required my communication knowledge. I was quickly hired as a Spanish teacher and, while my master’s did help me to climb the pay scale, my two diplomas were put away in a box in the attic, never to be brought out again. When people would ask what one does with a master’s in communication studies I would shrug and say: “beats me.” For years I taught Spanish, loving every minute of it.

Quit your job, God said six years and two kids later. 

I closed my classroom door for the last time in May of 2009. In faith, we began the journey of living with one income, of making ends meet, of re-arranging our priorities.

In June we took a trip to Ecuador and we spent time praying about how our lives would be different when we returned to the States.

In July I received an e-mail from an accredited, well-known online university. They required someone with a master’s in Communication Studies, with two years of experience teaching at the college level, who spoke Spanish, to teach from home. This job was made for me. Perfect. The pay is equal to what I was making before, the work is less demanding.

In September I was hired. God spoke again.

I’m glad you quit your job; I had better plans for you.

As He always had.

He knew what I would need right when I needed it. All the things He guided me to do all those years ago that I could not understand were part of a plan I could not see coming.

When I quit my job I knew He would be faithful, I knew He would provide, I knew He would come through.

I didn’t know He had already been faithful, He had already provided, He had already come through for this very moment, years ago.

This is the dependable God, the Creator of the Universe who still has enough time to worry about where I have been, where I am, and where I will be all at once; He understands my every need and orchestrates it all just as it needs to unfold. All I have to do is trust and obey.

I have been home for almost two years now and this is right where I need to be. As I think about how God’s handprint shows up even a decade ago to make my today what it is, I start to understand what Moses was trying to teach Joshua in the 31^st chapter and the 8^th verse of Deuteronomy:

"The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you" (emphasis mine).


**Linking up with Jen and the Soli Deo Gloria sisters this week. Visit to see what other wonders God is doing in their lives**

Full

Sometimes I lose perspective. Am I the only one?

Sometimes I look around at my life and all I see is what’s missing. I spend so much time pining for my hopes and wishes that I lose touch with my reality and its beauty. Sometimes all that I have, all that I am, all that I have been blessed with seems to matter not in the perceived emptiness left by the things I don’t have, the things that I am not, and the blessings that have not been bestowed upon me. It is a personal moment of discontent, of ingratitude, of amnesia.

One such moment happened last week…

A month or so ago, by medical advice, we started the process of doing a fertility procedure we had done unsuccessfully a couple of times before adoption. This time it was not just unsuccessful. It went horribly wrong. After a round of hormones injected to my body, a failure of a cycle, an MRI of my brain, being called a “medical mystery” and several hundred dollars later, we ended up not doing the procedure…by medical advice. And we clearly heard from God: no more. It was frustrating and expensive and disappointing. And confusing…

 It has been more than five years since we last dealt with our infertility. We had made peace with God’s plans for building our family, closed the door to that chapter of our life, and we are happily parenting two amazing children given to us through adoption. So I was not prepared for the feelings I thought buried deep inside that this situation brought back to the surface.

I don’t want/desire/need/hope for a biological child any longer. It is not DNA that makes a family. My children made me a mom and adoption is a familiar, well-known and beloved friend in our household. We know this was God’s plan for all four of us.

But we were created to procreate and there is an instinctual desire to co-create life with God that is hard for me to shake. It is not the end result I seek. It is the common bond of a shared experience with millions of women from the beginning of time. Pregnancy is something unattainable and mysterious to me and it is something my body prepares for month after month, and month after month it un-does the preparations, never allowing me to forget.

So I despaired. And I got angry. And I cried out to God. And I did all the things I did so many years ago when the treatments did not work, forgetting completely all over again that I don’t see the whole picture, that even as I was crying out all those years ago, He was already working, that I live daily with two reminders that He is faithful and He is the same God who spoke to Jeremiah in the 29^th chapter and the 11^th verse.

And last week during a prayer time I said to God in all seriousness and pain.

“Lord, my womb is empty!”

And God, in his mercy and compassion, gently replied,

“But your arms are full…”

And his words convicted me of my amnesia. My life is full! And my eyes seemed to open to all that I had been forgetting while my spirit clamored for the one thing I don’t have. The one thing.

My arms are full of little arms, feet, smiles, growing bodies always in motion.

My bed is full of a godly man who loves me passionately.

My home is full of laughter and life.

My heart is full of Christ.

My calendar is full of friends.

My brain is full of thoughts and ideas.

My past is full of experiences, my present is full of happiness, my future is full of possibilities.

My body is full of health and energy.

My wallet is full of just enough of the world’s resources to be comfortable.

My car is full of gas.

My refrigerator is full of daily bread.

My bookshelves are full of help.

Shall I go on? My life is full even while my womb is empty.

There may be other children someday. But that is not my concern right now. My tomorrow is God's concern. He is calling me to be here, in the moment, to be all that He is asking me to be to those whom I can enclose in my arms today. To live my full life and be thankful. 

I don’t want to spend my life with my eyes so fixed on what is missing that I fail to enjoy what is there. The flesh-and-blood, tangible, love-giving, care-needing, real blessings that fill my cup today. 

When God laughs...

There is a game my students used to love playing. It is called “I’ve never…” The premise of the game is to state experiences you have never had in hopes the other players have had them. The person with the longest list of lack of experiences wins the game. For the last ten years God and I have been playing a slightly twisted version of this game. It is called: “I will never….” Here is how it goes: I say “I will never….” and God laughs. He must be really good at this game because he is yet to lose.

In college I was a Resident Assistant in a Freshman dorm at a small Christian university. I spent many evenings counseling sobbing Freshmen girls who would come in shaking because some upperclassman, religion major told them the Almighty himself pronounced they would marry each other some day. I vowed to never marry a religion major.

God laughed…

In December I will celebrate ten years of marriage to my husband, the pastor. Being his wife has been one of the greatest blessings God has given me. The man is unparalleled, in my humble opinion.

When I graduated from college with a degree in Communication Education, my goal was to teach debate and drama. Being a native Spanish speaker, I let my advisor convince me to pursue an endorsement in Spanish as well, just in case, she said. I told her I would never, ever, ever, EVER teach Spanish. This is only plan B, I said.

God laughed… I think that time I actually heard him.

When I started looking for a job, there were no Communication jobs to be found. I taught Spanish for the better part of seven years and I discovered that teaching teenagers a new language also opens up their eyes to new cultures and a new worldview. Very cool. In the process my life was enriched by some amazing kids who shared their stories with me and still do. Even cooler.

When Matt graduated from the Seminary and began his search for a church to pastor, I had resigned myself to the role of pastor’s wife. But, I clearly told God in no uncertain terms, I will NOT sing and play the piano like the stereotypical pastor’s wife.

Guess what God was doing the whole time I was ranting?

The first church we pastored needed…you guessed it, a piano player and one more voice in the worship team. We are no longer at the same church and I am still playing the piano and singing. It is my honor to be a part of leading our congregation to worship.

As I continued my journey discovering how God wanted to use me, I have done many things and served in many capacities. The one thing I said I would not do is lead any kind of women’s ministry. Leading women, I told God, was neither my calling nor my passion.

By now I imagine tears were pouring from my Lord’s eyes, he was laughing so hard.

About March of this year our church began a Wednesday night Women’s Bible Study led by…who else? Recently I even organized a women’s retreat for our church with the help of some amazing ladies. To surround myself with these incredible women has changed me from the inside out. I, who have been an only child, have found sisters… and lots of them.

A few months ago I sat at a Starbucks with one of these sisters of mine discussing Isabel’s education. My friend and I were weighing the pros and cons of public education, private education, and homeschooling. She had homeschooled her two oldest daughters and is a big proponent. I told her I admired her and gave her the old: “more power to ya, sister” but informed her that homeschooling simply was not for me.

That time God had a laughing companion…

In true God-like subtlety he began to send my way sign after sign that I was speaking too soon. In typical Gaby-like stubbornness I began to fight him. Long story short, I’m homeschooling Isabel…at least this year. In hand-to-hand combat, God’s grace always prevails over my stubbornness. Thank you for that, Lord.

The dreams and desires God has for my life are not those he has for everyone’s life. Not everyone is called to become a teacher, a pastor’s wife, a women’s ministry leader, or a homeschooling mom. But he does say: "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:9)

I don’t think I’m done saying “I will never” to him. It is in my nature to be hard-headed and it takes me a while to learn a lesson. I think God made me this way to assure a good laugh for himself every now and then. I don’t mind. And I don’t mind losing at this game. When He laughs, I know something life-changing is coming my way. Laugh away, Jesus, laugh away.