Changing Seasons

I sat down cross-legged on the kitchen tile yesterday afternoon, the season’s last piece of pumpkin pie, leftover from Thanksgiving, on a plate in my hand. My three toddlers crowded close, mouths open like little birds, clamoring for bite after bite. We scarfed it down before even having lunch. It was our last hurrah to the season of the year that I always think I love best; our bidding adieu to what had been the best Autumn I could remember.

I pulled down all the Fall decorations and piled them on the table... the pumpkins, the coloured leaves, the stuffed Mr. Squirrel Nutkins who’d been hugged countless times by googly-eyed girls as we read stories of Fall and pumpkin picking and Thanksgiving, cuddled on the loveseat under a blanket.

I won’t deny it: I was a little sad that Fall had come to a close once again. I’m not ready.

I don’t like change, people. At least, I think I don’t.

My in laws came and put up the Christmas lights outside. I brought up the bin of winter decorations from the basement, set up a manger scene, introduced the girls to Mr. Nutkins’ replacement, namely Sugar the stuffed snowman, and sat him on the mantle next to all the wintery board books I could find… but, truth is, I’m still dragging my feet into this new season.

My babies? They turned one today. One whole year. Just like that, an entire year just flew by. Gone. Over. Complete. Engraved into my history.

Twins do that, you know. They make time fly twice as fast. I guarantee it. Just yesterday I was holding both tiny, swaddled newborns in the same arm. I know it was just yesterday, there’s no way it’s been longer than that.

I remember the four dragging days in the NICU, the first wakeful night with them in our own room… the adjusting, the learning, the praying for grace… the two of everything, the explaining to each and every visitor every time which baby was which and how one could learn to tell the difference.

But then, of course, just as I think there’s no way a whole year has passed, I think of all the other things this year has held and I know it has been a very full, very busy and very long year after all.

So many milestones, so many memories to cherish. I don’t think I ever realized, before now,

...just how much can take place,

...just how many changes can happen,

...just how many seasons there are

in just one year.

One year ago at this moment I was breathing through the pains of labour, soon to birth these two daughters of mine into the world. And not one day has passed since then that I haven’t laboured to nourish, to nurture, to care for, to teach these daughters of mine, to make sure they make it in the world, but more than that: to make sure they make it into the Kingdom of God. Labour doesn’t end in birth, it has only just begun.

There have been many a night when I begged God to make these babies go back to sleep, and prayed for grace to change my attitude because, honestly, at three in the morning the very last thing I would really like to do is get up and change two diapers, then prop up all the pillows on my side of the bed to nurse two babies back to sleep in the dark and the cold. Some nights I get so frustrated. Some moments I just lose it. And then I labour again to find the grace I need to be the mama they need.

But the seasons keep changing. Already they are sleeping better (or am I just totally getting used to it?) and they definitely don’t go through as many diapers now as they did in the newborn stage.

So I can say “I don’t like change”, but then these changes, of course, are welcome ones.

Hmm. My heart attitude is coming into full view now. Who am I to pick and choose which changes I’ll give thanks for, and which changes I will whine and complain about?

We don’t get to choose the seasons, but we do get to live them. They make us who we are.

Sunday evening I was doing my best to hold it together inside. There’s another season I’m dragging my feet into, and it’s a season of mothering three toddlers and saying goodbye to their babyhood that flew by all too quickly. Because the twins aren’t the only ones who had birthdays this week. My first daughter, the one who opened me up and made me a mother in the first place, she turned 2 on Sunday. Two whole years. I’ve already reminisced about this last year and where it went, but what about the year before? How did it come to be that that tiny treasure whose name means praise no longer wakes up in the middle of the night squalling until satisfied with milk and her mommy’s warm touch? How can it be that she no longer needs to be swaddled or bounced or carried everywhere? When in this spinning world did that little tiny baby-miracle of mine learn to walk on her own, talk on her own, feed herself, put on her own socks, pull up her chair to turn on a lightswitch, pretend to read a book aloud and care for her dolly like a miniature mother? When?!

When did I become mother of three toddlers?

And quite frankly, when did I become a mother of three?

Because if yesterday I was holding tiny newborn twins, it surely was the day before that I was welcoming my first daughter into my arms and whispering her name over and over. And undoubtedly, it was just the day before that that I was walking down the aisle to those babies’ father, the love of my life…. and just days before that I was travelling through Romania, El Salvador, Honduras, Uganda. RIGHT??? How can it be that years of my life have gone by in the blink of an eye? Where does time go and how does it drag and fly all at the same time?

Breathe. Slow down, Self. Breathe. I must remember to breathe through this labouring.

Breathe and remember. Breathe and give thanks. Breathe and rejoice in the changing of the seasons of life.

If seasons didn’t change-

No, seriously. If seasons really didn’t change-

I say I don’t like change, but if seasons just stopped changing; if, let’s say, at some point when I was feeling really very happy and content everything just stopped changing and stayed the same from that point on: look what I would’ve completely missed out on!

I might still be in Africa: loving it, I’m sure, but living an unfulfilled life because that was just part of my life story.

I might still be single: permanently lacking my other half.

I might still be enjoying our honeymoon in Hawaii, but would have never had the joy of knowing my three precious daughters.

I might still be sharing our bedroom with two babies. (Um, that season also just came to a close on Sunday when we moved them into their new nursery. Yes and amen!)

I might also be starting to get really tired of Pumpkin Spice Lattes. If seasons never changed.

Change is good. Change is how we grow. Changing seasons let us experience joy in so many different, beautiful forms.

And, okay. I admit it.

One year old twins? Two year old daughter? Time isn’t really passing me by thaaat fast.

It’s not like they’re leaving home yet or anything. However, I may refer myself back to this post tomorrow when she’s walking down the aisle on her wedding day.

And in the meantime? Alright. I get it. Breathe and give thanks. Give thanks for each moment while it lasts. It’s time to enter into the new season my Father has so thoughtfully prepared.

Breathe and remember: Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. (Heb. 13:8)

He doesn’t change with the seasons. He gives more grace for each season we walk through and He continues to satisfy our hearts and our souls with all that we need throughout each season. He stays the same, His love endures: “He delights in unchanging love.” (Micah 7:18)

So I’ll pack away the last of those infant clothes, store the baby rattles and chew toys in the basement until next time, and embrace this new season of full-blown toddlerhood-times-three that He has put before me.

I’ll finish putting away my Fall candles and pumpkin spice, pull out the advent calendar, and dig out the stockings. And while I get dinner going, I may just turn on some Christmas music and make myself a peppermint mocha. And I will give thanks to the Giver of all good things, because this season, too, will be blessed and beautiful because He made it.

He makes the seasons, and He makes the changes.

And I will labour 

to take hold of the grace I need 

to embrace the changing seasons.

Opening

Precious, tiny thing that you were, you opened me up to a pain I could've never imagined possible. The contractions in my body that pushed you down, down, down from your cozy place in my womb; they scared me. They hurt in a way I couldn't describe. I writhed and groaned and squeezed your daddy's hand way too hard.
And then, then you opened me up. You opened my body, I was broken for you.

You made me a mother.

My life was changed and your life came forth.

Oh my goodness, the relief. The joy. The completion: you were finally HERE.

In those moments my lips opened and I couldn't stop whispering praise and thanks to the Emmanuel who created Motherhood. Oh, oh. I can't even describe it.

Each one of you. All three times. The same feelings of pain, of fear, of relief; the same ecstatic joy.

And then? Then my heart was opened up to love so big I didn't even think I could hold it in. All three times.
Day after day, month after month, my heart has opened wider and wider because this love, oh this love, just keeps growing. Why? Oh, because you keep growing. And when a baby-dear grows into a person, a Mommy's love grows too, because there is continually more and more and more to love: with every inch added to your stature, every word added to your vocabulary, and every attribute of your personality revealed.

And also, you open doors for me. Yes, you! Each one of you precious, tiny girls. Doors to my community. Doors into people's lives. Neighbours I've never met came to our home to welcome you  with a card and a baby gift. Random people stop and peer into the stroller when we're out in town, smiling and asking questions; "How old is she?" "What's her name?".... And now, "Oh my word, you have three?" "Are they triplets?"
I have gotten to know the neighbour next door better in this last week than I have in the two years we've lived here, just because twice I've happened to step out onto the back porch with you and there she was, out on her back porch too. Seeing you little cuties she grinned and said you were adorable. Then we started chatting. And from there, well, you know how it goes: conversations start. Relationships are formed. Opportunities to share Jesus present themselves. She has an auto-immune disease: that basically means that the cells inside her body attack other cells inside her body and that makes her so sick all the time. I didn't know that before our chat this week.

YOU opened that door with her.

You, and your pigtails. You, and your charming gummy smile. And yes, you, with your funny, baby growl that makes everybody laugh. The three of you have opened the doors to opportunities with more neighbours and locals than I can count. Opportunities for me to smile and spread the light of the joy that Jesus puts in our hearts even right in the trenches of sleepless, unpredictable, busy motherhood.


But those are not the only opportunities you open up for me. Because of you, I have had the opportunity to learn and and to grow personally in so many areas.

For one thing, my knowledge has grown. Growing up I learned to change diapers, bathe a baby, dress a child, braid hair, cook meals, teach reading, babysit... All the basic things, because I had a good mommy, and because I was given the opportunity to practice what I was taught on my siblings. I'm the oldest of 5 brothers and 5 sisters, you know. But because of YOU I have begun to learn MOMMY things. Since you have arrived in my life, my mind has been opened up to so many, many new topics I hadn't even considered before. Like what foods to introduce to a baby first, how to nurse two babies at the same time, what to look for when you're worried your toddler got a concussion because she fell off the couch on her head when being silly (you didn't, thank the Lord), how to treat a cold in a very young infant, how to train up a child in the way she should go.... Things like that, just to name a very few. Oh, I've learned much already, and I'm learning more every day.

But also I've had many opportunities to grow spiritually. I've learned from you. I've learned because of you.

Patience. That's the classic answer; ask any mom, she'll tell you, "If anyone teaches me patience, it's my kids!" But really, though; you do. The Lord does, anyway. Through you.

The thing that stands out the most in my mind, though, is how much the eyes of my heart have been opened to the love and character of my Heavenly Father... Just by mothering you. It's amazing. Oh, I needed this. To have my eyes opened more, like this.

But why all this about opening?? Well, my darlings, simply because there is this strong, subtle, dangerously-venomous temptation in motherhood to look at all the doors, opportunities, seasons of life... adventures, experiences... that are now closed to us, and grow so discontent in the place we fill.

Are you happy when you think about and wish for what you don't have or can't have anymore? No.

And neither are Mommies. And an unhappy mommy can really do damage in her home.

It can be easy to vocalize about how our children tie us down, keep us at home, close us off from the world we used to know, keep us from the "fun" and the "freedom" we used to enjoy... 

Or even to ever-so-simply mull it over in over minds discontentedly.

Closed doors can be disappointing if you stand there staring at them. YOU know that; I've seen you whine many-a-time when Mommy closes a door to a forbidden room. 

Meditating on the closing can often brew a perfect cup of bitterness ...if we forget the opening! 

The more we turn this thought of closed doors over in our minds, the more unhappy we become in the very calling that is meant to give us life and joy... 

AND the more we whine to others... 

AND the more we lash out at our little dearies... 

Making it really hard to be "a joyful mother of children." (Psalm 113:9)

I'm a mommy now. I might never again get to fly through a day and a night to Africa: care for orphans, pray with AIDS victims, walk sandal-clad on red Ugandan soil, feel a hippo bump the boat I'm sitting in, or watch the sun set of Lake Victoria. 

I may never again see the Cataratas de Puhapanzak in Honduras or tour Peleș Castle in the Carpathian Mountains of Romania or pray with a young Guatemalan mother on the curb of her cobblestone street.
I probably won't get to go back to Hawaii with your daddy, or be invited join the single ladies for a shopping trip to the city, or get to sleep in until 10 on a Saturday morning, or have a flat, tight belly again. I might not ever get a solid eight hours of sleep again either (actually, I prefer ten, if we're being honest). Those are just a few of the roads closed off to me now, because I am a mother of three babies. 

Oh, but Loves, just look at the joy, the life, the amazing adventures that the Lord has opened up before me NOW! Why would I even sigh about the places I can't go, things I can't do, person I can't be; in light of the privilege of motherhood???

You've opened up a whole new world to me... 

Of diaper bags and bottles and baby toys, 

of cluttered floors and animal fridge magnets and Cheerios, 

of carseats and swings and bouncy chairs and exersaucers, 

of sleepers and burp cloths and tiny matching outfits, 

of fascination with birdies outside and puppies and motorcycles that roar by past the front window, 

of silly gummy grins and cooing conversations and giggles that end in spit up, 

of 3am snacks in the kitchen and 5am feeds in bed, 

of blow-outs and spaghetti sauce in hair and perpetually runny noses in Winter's "Cold and Flu Season", 

of watching the wonder in your eyes as you see a real cow for the first time, 

of tasting avocados or rice cereal- or ice cream or chocolate chips- for the very first time, 

of teaching you to hide God's word in your heart and rocking and praying in the twilight moments over you and thanking God over and over and over daily for the gift of you... 

And, oh, how I love this world that I live in with you. 

How I love this adventure with that we call motherhood that has been opened up to me because of you.

You opened me up. You made me a mother.

I choose to open my heart and my arms to all that my Father chooses to bestow, and not become fixated on the closing. I rejoice to tear open this beautifully-wrapped gift He gives me called Motherhood.

"You give to them, they gather it up; 

You open Your hand, they are satisfied with good."

(Psalm 104:28)

A Match Made in Heaven

{a personal testimony of how God brought my husband and I together, written in January 2013}


While at a youth conference in Colorado during the second week of August, the Lord impressed upon my heart (as He had many times before) that in order to be wholeheartedly devoted to Him I needed to let go of my own plans, desires, and ideas for my future and surrender to HIS will for me... Even if I didn't understand what that was yet. The hardest thing about that surrender was letting go of my long-cherished dream and hope of marriage. After thinking and praying hard and long about it, I chose to let go of what I thought I wanted and give myself to the Lord completely so that His plans and purposes could be brought about in my life. 

During that same week, my mom became friends with a Canadian lady whose son and daughter were attending the same conference as my siblings and I. In a conversation one afternoon, Mom discovered that this friend knew the young man named Tim who was courting my dear friend Whitney, so she began asking questions about him. During this conversation this friend also mentioned Tim's brother Joel several times as being a Godly young man whom she and her family highly respected. That day, even though she couldn't explain it logically, my mom knew in her heart that this Canadian Joel Holloway (who we had never met) was the one the Lord had chosen for me.

As the Lord would have it, two weeks later I met Joel.

Joel had accompanied his brother Tim down from British Columbia to Missouri for a week of (what I assumed was) visiting Whitney's friends and family. The second day of their visit the two brothers came over for dinner along with two other friends from their hometown and our mutual friends from Tennessee. When Joel walked through our front door for the first time my Mom once again felt confirmation in her heart that he would be my husband. I had no clue.

Many times throughout the next week I had opportunity to observe Joel's character. I knew there was a difference in our ages so I hardly considered the possibility of him being interested in me and interacted with him very little. I did notice, however, an admirable character displayed in this young man which I respected greatly. I'd seen him interact with my younger siblings: volleyball in the rain on the little-kids’ team and long conversations about fishing with my ten-year-old brother. In passing, I'd noticed him enter into worship during the several fellowship gatherings we’d attended that week: eyes closed to all surroundings and singing with a wholehearted passion that couldn't be mistaken. This blessed me. 
We had found ourselves one afternoon in my best friend's living room discussing mission trips and discovering -much to our surprise- that we'd both been to the Central American country of El Salvador at different points in our lives. I'd also immediately taken note of the fact that he not only like coffee, he loved coffee. Just like I do. Still, the thought that he had considered me never crossed my mind.

Then, on the last day of his trip, Joel asked my Dad to go out for a conversation over coffee. 

Peace filled my heart later that afternoon when my Dad called me into his office and told me that Joel had asked for the blessing of beginning a relationship with me.

Little did I know that early in August Joel had received an email from an older brother in the Lord -and mutual friend of ours- that mentioned me. It was then that Joel began to pray about me for the first time, even though we'd never met.

Joel had then flown those 2,315 miles down to our little corner of Missouri with the single goal of observing my character throughout the time he was  here and asking the Lord for guidance regarding a relationship with me. When Dad told me this I was very blessed remembering the honorable way in which he had conducted himself when he was around me. I'd had no clue whatsoever of any such observation going on the whole time. At the end of his week here he was encouraged by what he’d seen and felt total peace and confirmation from the Lord that he should ask my dad for his blessing to begin a relationship with me.

As Joel headed back to Canada I began to pray, along with my parents, to  understand God's heart on the matter. Peace like I had never felt before continued to guard my heart every single day as we waited to know the Lord's will.

After a week and a half of praying and discussing things with my parents, all of us feeling a confirming peace from God about the situation we decided to take the next step in faith.
I found that same peace living inside me, swelling and overtaking me, as I began correspondence with this man I barely knew who felt God's leading  to get to know me for who I am. It wasn't without occasional trepidation, however. There were those little fears that crept in, unnoticed and unwelcome, quietly as I lay in bed at night considering the circumstance. Humanly speaking the whole circumstance seemed impossible and even scary; simply because Joel and I hardly knew each other and lived nearly a continent apart. But whenever I'd take the fears and concerns to the Lord He'd remind me that He wasn't the Author of fear and He'd bid all fear to leave me alone. Peace came back every time.
So in faith I stepped out into a relationship I could've never conjured on my own and the scary became okay.

For about two weeks Joel and I communicated daily through email. We talked about all kinds of things including what a normal day looked like in each of our lives, favorite colors and pastimes,  personal convictions or strong beliefs, hopes, dreams, experiences, and what the Lord was teaching us that day specifically. It’s amazing how much can be communicated through writing! We learned a lot about each other’s lives that two weeks and looked forward to every new email with excitement. Then Dad gave Joel his blessing to call me, and when I heard his Canadian voice for the first time come over the phone so clearly, him speaking my name in that beautiful accent, there was that peace again: over and under, all the way around; filling that first conversation in a way I couldn't hardly believed. There wasn't even any awkwardness.

From then on we corresponded mostly by phone calls. The more I got to know Joel the more I not only began to trust and admire him, I began to discover that he was everything I had been asking God for in a man since I was sixteen.

It was a season of learning to walk by faith like never before. I had nothing to base my decision on but the unchanging character of God. It was beautiful because it daily proved to me that my Father loves ME and had tenderly and faithfully gone before me and provided for all of my needs; even throwing in a few trivial wants for my extra assurance of His genuine care.

And then the day arrived in early October, only weeks into our relationship, when I found myself walking down a jet way: one step at a time, making my way to visit Joel in Canada for the first time. Whitney, who was now engaged to Joel’s brother Tim, turned to me as we sat together on the plane and asked with a smile how I was doing. Above the clouds somewhere between my home and Joel’s I told her I felt nothing other than peace. Still: peace.

Five days I spent in British Columbia, getting to know the families at Joel’s church, celebrating Canadian Thanksgiving with him and his family, touring some local attractions, and getting to know Joel better by spending time with him in person. I left more encouraged than I had gone, and more convinced than ever that Joel was the one for me.

We continued our long-distance relationship on into November with daily phone calls, emails, texts and even a few video calls. The Lord continued daily to confirm to us that we were moving in the right direction and that we had been made for each other.

American Thanksgiving came around to us Missourians, and with it came Joel. Joel and his parents spent the day at our home and shared our traditional Thanksgiving meal with us. We enjoyed being together with our families, playing volleyball, basketball, chatting, walking down our long dirt road, eating and relaxing, taking four-wheeler rides and just enjoying getting to spend time together.  It was a day of celebration and giving thanks, but it was that evening that our rejoicing increased majorly. After dark Joel asked if I’d like to go for another walk. Agreeing, I grabbed my coat and headed out the door on his heels. Shutting the door behind him he turned to me. “Actually,” he said “I really wanted to just talk more than I wanted to walk.” He gestured to the rocking chairs on the porch and we both sat down. I looked him in the face and saw that tears were in his eyes. He began to tell me some of what the Lord had been doing in his heart and assuring me that he wanted to marry me. He gently offered that if I still wanted time to pray about it I had no obligation to answer him then and there, but I knew there was no need to pray about it more. The Lord had already made it clear to me in my heart that Joel was the one I had been waiting for all this time. Joel is the man I was made for. I made this clear to him, and after we talked a little more Joel got down on his knee with a ring and asked me to marry him.

I said yes.

Two days later was Tim and Whitney’s wedding. Joel and I began planning ours.

A week later, at the beginning of December, I flew up to BC again to be at Tim and Whitney’s Canadian reception and spend time with Joel and my future family. Joel met me at the airport with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. That week was filled with many wonderful memories for the two of us, including fellowship with the saints there, coffee dates and planning our wedding. The ladies from Joel’s church threw a surprise shower for me that weekend, blessing us with many things for our future home and then that Monday Joel and I flew out to Texas together. He had some business meetings very close to where my extended family lived there so we decided it was a good opportunity for them to meet Joel. We parted ways there, already planning his trip to Missouri just in time for New Years, and thanked the Lord for the knitting together He was continuing to do in our hearts.

Joel came down at the end of December and spent a week in our home with my family and I. I rejoiced to see the way my parents and each of my nine siblings love him so much and enjoy being around him, and thank the Lord for the many beautiful memories that were made for all of us that week. This was our last opportunity to spend time together in person before our wedding in February, so we enjoyed every day to the fullest and enjoyed watching God grow our love for each other daily as we were together... as He continues to do even now that we are apart again for a little while longer.

As I think of the story our Father God has written for Joel and I, I cannot help but think of the many similarities it has to His own beautiful Love Story. Just as Jesus came from Heaven to earth to a people who didn't know Him with the purpose of winning a bride to Himself, Joel came from another country to see a girl who’d never met him with the purpose of finding the bride God had chosen for him.
In the same way that Jesus patiently, powerfully but gently wooes and captures the hearts of the beloved ones He longs to call His own, Joel patiently won my heart and my trust through prayer and months of listening to my heart and displaying his love in multiple ways. When Jesus finished His days on earth He went back to Heaven to a prepare a place for His Bride, leaving us with a promise to soon return and take His Bride to Himself. I get the beautiful privilege of seeing this exemplified in my own life as Joel Holloway left me the first week of January to go and prepare a place for me with a promise to return soon and take me to himself as his bride forever. The Second Coming of Christ has never been more realistic or precious to me before now.

We pray that this glimpse of God’s work in our lives would inspire each of you on to deeper faith in Christ and that you would be encouraged, along with us, to continue to surrender everything to our precious Savior Jesus Christ to the glory of His matchless name.

{photos from our wedding day, credit goes to R&E Photography © 2013}

(Copyright © 2013 Madison Holloway)

Struck Down..... But Not Destroyed

 (Originally written in July 2008, during the hardest season of life I had ever faced up until that time)

"For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' 

made his light shine in our hearts 

to give us the light 

of the knowledge of God’s glory 

displayed in the face of Christ.

  But we have this treasure in jars of clay 

to show that this all-surpassing power 

is from God and not from us. 

We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; 

perplexed, but not in despair; 

persecuted, but not abandoned; 

struck down, but not destroyed. 

We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, 

so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 

For we who are alive are always being given over to death 

for Jesus’ sake, so that his life 

may also be revealed in our mortal body."

2 Corinthians 4:6-11

The Lord wants to be glorified in His children's everyday lives.

Many times throughout our lives we encounter hardships and difficulties of all kinds.
There's nothing we can do to change this... we live in a dying, hurting world.
But we can decide how we will respond when trouble hits.

We can let Jesus be magnified through our response, or we can dishonor Him by succumbing to our trials; not letting Him prove His power through us.

To succumb means
to submit to an overpowering force or yield
to an overwhelming desire;
give up or give in. 

Does this honor and glorify and magnify Jesus??

Our Lord is merciful, He doesn't heap trials on us just because He can or wants to; He allows different trails and hardships into our lives for very specific reasons and purposes. We are told to consider it PURE JOY when we face trials (James 1:2). Why?

"Because you know that the testing of your faith developes perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." 

The trials God allows are for our good. He wants to make us mature and complete, not lacking anything! The child of God who says "God doesn't care about me." while going through a trial (or at all!) knows so very little. What an utterly backward thing to say- especially while in the midst of the fire! Does this person not know -does He not understand- that the fire he faces is proof that God cares about Him? Can he not see that God cares so much about him that He is willing to do whatever it takes to make him mature and complete, so that he won't lack anything as a child of God?

Rather, the child of God who is faced with a trial should lift up His hands and praise the Lord with all his being that God has not given up on him and is so wonderfully concerned with working in him until he is made complete.

Complete. Is this not what we all, as His children, desire-
to be made complete?

One morning the truth of all this finally struck home as I considered what happens when I punch my bread dough down after it has risen for an hour. Doesn't this ruin my dough? Why punch it down? Was all that rising time and effort wasted? Absolutely not!

In my eagerness to understand exactly WHY I must punch down my bread dough, and what exactly this does to make my bread better, I did some research (good ol' Google!), and this is what I found:

1) Punching down the dough after it has risen expels some of the carbon dioxide and redistributes the yeast cells evenly throughout the dough for a new source of food. Too much carbon dioxide chokes the yeast, so deflating the dough is actually good for it.

2) When the dough is deflated, the temperature is equalized throughout the dough, so that when it is shaped, the dough can rise evenly.

3) When punched, the gluten in the dough is allowed to relax, making the dough easier to shape in the next step.

4) Finally, punching down the risen dough divides the air pockets, making them smaller and more numerous, which ultimately contributes to the fine texture of the bread.

(a special thank you to all those patient readers who bore with me through that brief overview of bread dough. Ahem.)

So, from what I discovered, bread dough needs not only to rise, but it also needs to be punched back down in order for it to turn out well.

So that it will be complete, not lacking anything.

It is the same way for us in our trials. We NEED to be 'struck down' every once in a while. It is part of the process. This is how we are made complete. But we must not forget the promise that is found directly after the words 'struck down' in 2 Corinthians 4:9 ...

"...but not destroyed."!!!

Praise the Lord! Yes, He brings us low, but it is in love and He does not let it destroy us. He does not give us more than we are able to bear. "As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him; for He knows how we are formed, He remembers that we are dust." (Psalm 103:13-14). He knows just how much fire we can handle, and when we learn the lessons He has for us through that fire, then He will remove it for a while. Like silver, He is refining us.

But praise God that He never stops working in us- He never gives up on any of us, even the most stubborn, struggling, and resistant of His children.

I will close with this last little story...

The Silversmith
 Some time ago a few ladies met to study the Scriptures. While reading the third chapter of Malachi, they came upon a remarkable expression in the third verse: 
"And He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver."
One lady decided to visit a silversmith and report to the others what he said about the subject. She went accordingly and, without telling him the reason for her visit, begged the silversmith to tell her about the process of refining silver. After he had fully described it to her, she asked, "Sir, do you sit while the work of refining is going on?" "Oh, yes ma'am," replied the silversmith, "I must sit and watch the furnace constantly, for if the time necessary for refining is exceeded in the slightest degree, the silver will be injured." God sees it necessary to put His children into the furnace; but His eye is steadily intent on the work of purifying and His wisdom and love are both engaged in the best manner for us. Our trials do not come at random, and He will not let us be tested beyond what we can endure.
Before she left, the lady asked one final question, "How do you know when the process is complete?"

"That's quite simple," replied the silversmith.  
"When I can see my own image in the silver, the refining process is complete."
 ~ Unknown

So let us praise the Lord when we go through trials and hardships. Let us love Him even more through the hardest and most intense times. Let us sing praises to Him while we suffer. Let us remember that He feels our pain and holds all of our tears... He is the one who walks beside us and holds our hands through it all. He is our Shepherd- let's let Him do the leading, and remember that our part is simply to follow and trust completely. Let us bring glory and honor to His precious name as we walk through the fire.

Let the power of the Lord be the message 

that is shouted to the world by the megaphone of our trials...

 

      ...and may He be magnified in His children as He makes us perfect, mature and complete.