Our little Shelbs turned 2 today!

If you would hang out w/Shelby on her 2nd birthday, you would learn that she:

drinks agua, “pop”, “leche de vaca” (milk from a cow), and hot tea
pretends to be a baby lion
sings all of “twinkle twinkle little star” (or rather “tinkle tinkle little star”) by herself
doesn’t like brown crocodiles, but likes purple ones
requests the stories of noah, jonah, and namaan, from the bible
looks forward to watching “Dora” every morning
eats yogurt and eggs for breakfast
enjoys food more if she has “dippy-dippy” (especially ketchup) to go with it
prefers her hair in her eyes rather than clipped up
searches for the moon in the sky at night and during the day
jokes around by putting “nunu” at the end of words (mama-nunu, papa-nunu, puppy-nunu)
asks to play with the “bright-lite” (lite-bright)
thinks blenders are too loud,
and
LOVES her mama!

Shelby, our family is indescribably blessed because you are a part of it. We thank God that He gave you to us. We love you–Happy Birthday!!

So, at 10:15, finally feeling kind-of awake, and realizing I only had 15 minutes before they start serving lunch, I quickly threw on a cap and running shoes and bolted out of the house (after unlocking and re-locking several locks, of course). As I was running the 5 blocks to the main road where we catch taxis, I prayed and said “God, I know this is not a huge deal, but it’s my birthday, and I really need a taxi to get to McDonald’s cause I am seriously craving the deluxe breakfast combo!”. And just then, literally like 3 seconds after that, a nice, shiny, new, empty taxi pulled up slowly beside me on the street, and I thought, “you’ve gotta be kidding me, this is amazing!”. So I flagged him down, and he, much to my disappointment, gave me the index-finger-wag, meaning, he couldn’t stop for me up b/c he was already going to someone’s house to pick them up. So, I kept on running. When I got to the main street, I waited a few minutes and then saw another new, fancy taxi coming my way, but, as he flew by me I saw he already had a passenger. As the time ticked dangerously closer to the 10:30 breakfast cut-off mark, I was growing more and more impatient. Over the next couple of minutes, 4 more taxis, all nice and new (old beat-up taxi’s will get the job done, but they are usually more dirty and sometimes smell like exhaust and are not as comfortable) passed me, and all were full of people. I was getting desperate and considered just running to McDonalds, which was probably less than a mile away, but then considered my out-of-shape-ness and the fact that I was half-way to 70 yrs-old, and realized a deluxe breakfast was not worth dying for, so decided my best bet was to just hope for a taxi. I soon spotted 2 more of them coming down the road, and I held my hand out to flag them down, and my heart jumped as the first one flashed his lights and slowed down to pick me up. As excited as I was, I was kind-of disappointed that, after like 5 new cars, this taxi was an old, run-down, piece-of-junk. But I was in no situation to be picky. So I quickly jumped in and explained my emergency to the driver. The driver’s appearance kind-of matched the car. He was a rough looking guy, muscular and unshaven, but seemed to be a little sympathetic to my desperate situation. We arrived at the drive-thru and it was such a relief to see the breakfast menu still on the screen. I ordered my deluxe combo, and ordered a McPinto combo for Lindsey (the traditional costa rican rice & beans dish, called “gallo pinto” with eggs and a drink), and, b/c it was my birthday and I was in a good mood, I offered to buy the driver a coffee. I was sure he would get a regular coffee, black, maybe extra strong (b/c that’s what tough guys get, in my mind), but, he ordered a cappucino and asked for cinnamon on the foam. haha! As we pulled up to the window and waited for our food I asked him about his family and stuff. Just like I was surprised at his drink order, I was surprised at his story. He told me he was a Christian and that he had a wife and 3 daughters (it is always a relief, to me, when I hear that guys have a wife, b/c divorce is very, very common here). He went on to say that his oldest daughter, who is 20, is mentally handicapped (which may explain why he can’t afford a nicer taxi–they have had to care for their daughter). She is developmentally like an 8-yr. old. I was thinking about how to respond to this information and learn more about this guy and his story, and the only thing that came out of my mouth (b/c this is all in Spanish and a little challenging) is that it must be difficult raising a handicapped child. And he looked at me and said, “Oh yes, very difficult. But very beautiful”. And then, in the brief minutes before our food came, we talked about how he and his wife have learned so much about the grace and love of God, as they have taken care of their daughter. And how, in some ways, we are all like his daughter in that we are all broken and in need of healing, and without the care of God, we will never be free to live the abundant life we were created for. Although the conversation was just a few minutes, it was deeply encouraging and touching. As we were driving back to our house, I was so thankful that the 5 fancy taxis that I really wanted, had passed me up, so I could take the old, dented one. I had no idea that on the inside of this messed up, ugly car, would be a loving husband/father, and a story of grace and sacrifice that was more beautiful than any shiny, new taxi could ever be.

When I got back home, we enjoyed our breakfast and then I opened my presents. Lindsey got me a bunch of unique, handmade, stuff, all of which had maps on them, which I love. One of the gifts was a cool t-shirt (called the “3 Green’s Globe” shirt) from a small company in Washington, called “slow shirts” that do all of their t-shirt artwork by hand, without any computers. You can see this t-shirt and their store at:
slowshirts.etsy.com

In the evening, we had small party in our apartment with Kattia (our language helper), Fernando (Kattia’s brother, who is a good friend of ours), and our maid, Roxana. It was a lot of fun and Lindsey whipped up some great food, like jalapeno / cream cheese / bacon appetizers, pizza, and carrot cake. This was the 2nd time I’ve celebrated my b-day outside the United States, but it was the first time my party has been all in Spanish (which felt like a big accomplishment). Thankfully, though, I also received a lot of calls and emails in English.

Although not wanting to admit I am out of the low-30s, it was a really good day. Thanks everyone!

While we were eating, one of the guys paused, in some slight disbelief, and said, “We did it. We pulled it off.” We were kind of amazed. Without our parents or grandparents around, we had, in fact, pulled of the perfect Thanksgiving meal, without forgetting anything. As we talked about our accomplishment, I began to see the group (including myself) a bit differently. It felt like, instead of a bunch of 20 & 30-something full-time-missionaries-with-children, we were a bunch of kids ourselves. Here we were, on our own, thousands of miles from home, struggling to fit in in a different culture, not really having a clue what we we’re doing, experiencing our first major holiday away from family and familiar traditions. Like I said, we didn’t even know the first thing about making a turkey. On this holiday, we weren’t really used to having responsibilities like baking a pie, or going to the store for more potatoes, or even making sure there were enough chairs for everyone. These were always the jobs mom or an aunt or somebody. Why would we have to do those things…we’re the kids. So this was almost like a test for all of us, a challenge….could we survive and thrive at Thanksgiving without Grandma there to make sweet potatoes? And, surprisingly, the answer was, yes. But, as big as that accomplishment was, this situation felt even bigger than that. It was more than just a question of this specific day or weekend. Surviving Thanksgiving represented, in some sense, surviving this transition from our old life to our new one of living cross-culturally. The guy who cooked the turkey was sitting across from me, and, toward the end of our discussion about all of this he looked at me and said, “dude, I think we’re gonna make it.” And I thought to myself, “I think he’s right. Maybe we are gonna make it.” Maybe the Thanksgiving meal was just that, a meal. But maybe it was more. Maybe God was graciously giving us a really joyful experience with a lot of great people, so that we could remember it and draw confidence from it. Maybe He was giving us something that, in the future, we could point to and say “But remember that first Thanksgiving away from home…”. I think I need those kinds of experiences. They let me know that God hasn’t forgotten about us. They help me remember that God is just as much with us “here” in San Jose, Costa Rica, as He is “there” when we celebrate with our families in the United States. His Spanish is just as good as His English. God reminded us of His presence with us, and of so many of His gifts that we can be thankful for–new friends here, the people we love back home, all of our ministry partners who are sacrificing so that we can be here, gravy, and so many others. There is no way to replace our traditions or family or regular experiences, and I’m not sure we’re supposed to. But we did have a very good day and had grateful hearts and extremely full stomachs. We hope you also had a good holiday and we hope God revealed to you some of the amazing ways He showers His grace on you.

Another great thing about the weekend was that the Nebraska football game was on t.v.–the first game we’ve seen all year. It was sooooo awesome to watch it, like I do every year on the day after Thanksgiving, and it was awesome that we won with a record-setting field goal! We were going crazy–it was sweet, to say the least.

We will get some photos from our Thanksgiving from our friends and post them soon. Also, we went to Guatemala a couple weeks ago b/c we had to leave the country b/c we have tourist visas. We meant to post some pics sooner, but there are like 400 photos that I am going through to select the best ones. Hopefully they’ll be on the site in a couple days.

Shelby really enjoys her aunt! Andrea taught Shelby how to clap on Saturday, and now Shelby does it regularly. Shelby laughs and smiles easily when her aunt is around, and I attribute the funk she was in today (she was kinda fussy and more clingy today) to Andrea’s departure. It’s hard on the whole family to say another goodbye. We miss you Andrea! Thank you so much for taking the time and spending the money to come see us and our Cost Rican life here. That meant the world to us!

There is something that was stirred within us when we said goodbye to Andrea today. We arrived here in Costa Rica about 2.5 months ago and although we have missed our closest people, that hasn’t affected our emotions too much. However, today we were teary, clingy, a bit depressed, and basically had a pretty good case of homesickness. It was as if Andrea represented in some way, our people, and her leaving made us very aware of how we are so “locationally” distant from so many that we care so deeply for. It has hit us in a new way today that we miss our family and friends, and that makes us sad. We feel sad and a bit lonely.

Thankfully, although today has been a bit tough, it’s also had a few bright moments. We have really come together as a family today. I think we are are more aware than before what a blessing it is that we have each other. We’ve given and received more hugs today than usual, and that has helped a bit with the sadness (and the loneliness). Also, we’ve asked God to join us in our day (maybe days) of sadness. We’ve invited Him to meet us in our tears and asked Him to be our Comfort. And He has, and is. We are reminded by funny emails from friends, good food, music, kind Costa Rican choir members (yes we joined our church’s Christmas choir), and each other, that God cares about us… all of us, the little things along with the big things. He wants us to let Him into the sad places and allow Him to meet us in our loneliness. How amazing He is! The God who spoke the world into being, wants to hear about my heartache, and about how I feel lonely and out of place in this new country.

I am also reminded of how thankful I am for those of you that read this blog. Thank you for caring about us and our lives here in Costa Rica. We are humbled by your concern and love.

Needless to say, we love having a maid. Missionaries are encouraged to hire one for a variety of reasons: as I mentioned, they can do a much of the work that would take hours out of our day; for very little cost to ourselves, we provide someone with a job, social security, and health insurance (we are her employers, so we pay the social security, health insurance, and of course her wages, and all that comes to about $2.80/hour!! Missionaries without a maid are sometimes seen as stingy and selfish because they could be providing someone with a job, but aren’t. We don’t want to offend, so I think we should get 2 maids! ha ha); we form a relationship with a Costa Rican; she can help us practice and learn the language and culture. All in all it is a great system where everyone wins!

It is very interesting learning about Roxana’s story. She gave us permission to pass some of it on to you. She is 58 years old, divorced, and has 2 kids and 4 grandchildren. She became a Christian 10 years ago during a season of major problems with her daughter. One of her grandsons just got out of the hospital last Tuesday. He is 18 years old and is paralyzed from the waist down. He has been paralyzed for 16 years, after having a tumor on the back of his brain when he was 2 years old. Roxana just found out a month ago that her son, who is not a Christian, has lung cancer and the doctors are giving him 6 months to live. He is 36 and has 2 kids. He is living a lifestyle of excessive alcohol, girls, etc. b/c, if he only has 6 months to live, he wants to “live it up” as much as he can. It is a really sad situation and Roxana prays that He finds salvation and healing in Christ.

There are 4 million people living in Costa Rica. Every day, walking down the street, shopping at the market, going to school, we see the beautiful people of this country. But all too easily they become just “Costa Ricans” to us–simply some of the millions who happen to live in the country where we are studying Spanish–unfamiliar faces that we forget as we hurry to catch a taxi. But each one of these people has a story. Every person getting in their car to go to work, as we walk to class, has a story. Each story is filled with memories, experiences, joys, pain, questions. Some stories have things like hope and peace, but many do not. This concept that each person has a unique, yet common story, is not a novel concept, but it is one that causes me to pause. Why? I think because I realize that each one of these people is, ultimately, just like me. To them, I am an unfamiliar face. I am just another “white missionary” who studies at the Institute. But I know that I am more than that. I have friends and dreams, and joys, and peace. God knows me by name. He pursued me and rescued me. And just as God knows me, He knows every one of the 4 million Costa Ricans. He loves, and is pursuing, every one of the adults and kids we see and He fills their lives with events, people, emotions, and circumstances in order to draw them to Himself. Had we not had the opportunity to get to know Roxana, she would just be another person we pass on the sidewalk, another unfamiliar face. But now she is our friend. We know her by name. She has shown up as a character in this chapter of our story, and we in her’s. And our stories are now, and forever, intertwined.

Although only knowing her for a few days, we are already very grateful for her, and sad for her b/c of her son and grandson, and happy for her, that she has found life in the salvation that God offers. Relationships, even relatively new ones, are powerful like that. They change you. They change your emotions, your thoughts, the things you talk about, and the way you pray. It’s like we were created for stuff like this. I think God knew what He was doing when He sent His son to live among us, and form relationships with us. God became familiar, became our friend. He walked down the streets and went to the market just like we do. As the Message says, “The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood” (John 1:14). God entered our story in a fresh way and everything changed.

Roxana told us today “I go to a Catholic church, but I don’t have a religion, I have a relationship with God.” She used to have empty religion but found new life and freedom in a Person. That’s cool. Lindsey and I can relate to that. We look forward to this relationship with our new Costa Rican friend and sister in Christ. We are thankful the Author has brought us together. We might only get to spend time with Roxana for a year, but it will be a rich year of learning, laughing, and growing. After this year, we will go on to Peru, then to who-knows-where, and Roxana will probably stay here, with her children and grandchildren, for the rest of her life. But both we and her will have been changed because of the other. And someday we will once again be regular characters in each others’ stories, b/c as followers of Jesus, all of our stories have the same ending.

Anyway, this first entry involves a situation that happened at my job in California, right at the time I decided to do these blog posts. Although the actual event occurred a while ago, I chose to use it as an example, b/c this type of thing happens over and over in my life, but just looks differently each time. So, here goes.

It was a dark and stormy night…just kidding…but it was Friday afternoon, and I was almost ready to get off of work. I was looking forward to the weekend, when, in the span of about 15 minutes, I got several phone calls about a possible mistake I had made in my drywall estimating. The phone calls involved me receiving an earful of comments, in rather loud voices, such as, “I’ve been in this business since you were in diapers, and I’ve never seen anything figured the way you did!!” Just what a recovering people-pleaser wanted to hear. This “mistake” that I supposedly made, halted construction and could cost the company thousands of dollars. So, a meeting was set up for Monday morning so that blame could be determined and it could then get straightened out (meaning, figuring out was going to pay for the mistake). I had been at this job for about 2 1/2 years, and had never been required to leave the office to go to a meeting. So this seemed like a big deal, and I was really, really dreading it. I thought there was a slim chance I did not mess up, but I was not confident enough to have any peace about it. I was fairly sure I had screwed up significantly.

Usually I leave the office and never think of my job, but over the weekend, I found myself very preoccupied with thoughts of the Monday meeting. I was nervous, and scared about facing people who I had, in my mind, let down. I hate disappointing people. I hate screwing up. I hated the fact that my mistake could cost the company money and I was embarrassed and worried about what my bosses would think of me, as an employee. My mind was spinning, going over what I was going to say in the meeting to minimize the damage, so to speak. I kept beating myself up (w/my thoughts, not physically), wishing I would’ve just done the job differently in the first place, so I could’ve avoided this whole mess. The situation had a lot of power over me, which was unfortunate, b/c it affected my relationships over the weekend. I was not able to be as present as I would’ve liked, with Lindsey and Shelby. Lindsey mentioned, a couple times, that she could tell I was distracted. During at least one conversation w/her, I was not able to engage w/her at the level she needed, b/c I was so worried about the meeting. I didn’t like that at all. I wanted to be free to relate to her like I usually did, but I was not able to.

Now, for many of you, a situation like this would be no big deal, but for me, it triggered something deep inside of me that caused much worry and fear, among other things. Different people have different “triggers” that cause those feelings and reactions. The question I had to ask myself was–what exactly was I so worried about? Why did I care so much about the opinions of some grouchy construction superintendents? Why did their words threaten me and have so much control over me?

I don’t know the complete, inexhaustible answers to those questions, but, here is what I think I know. To put it very simply, I was fearful about the meeting b/c, to a certain extent, I do not believe that I am loved and accepted by God. Now, that might sound a little extreme, but let me explain. My value and worth comes from God, from who He says I am. The glory of the Gospel is that I am flawed b/c of sin, but, in that sinfulness, I am deeply known and loved. I am made in the image of a God who is love. I am made acceptable to Him b/c of what Christ has done, not b/c of my efforts. In my head I know this is true, but it doesn’t always sink down to my heart where I can function out of these truths. Because I have difficulty believing this amazing story of God loving me, I inevitably look to other things to find value, validation, and approval. There are many ways this plays out in my life, almost daily. There are many things I look to for my value (being funny, athletic, knowledgeable about the Bible or missions, among others) instead of looking to God and His Gospel. In this specific situation, much of my sense of self-worth was tied to my performance at work, and tied to other humans’ opinion of me, b/c of that performance. With that mindset, if I ever screw up, make mistakes, or even do something “average,” then I get a little afraid. Ultimately I get worried that I do not measure up, that I am not “OK” the way I am. I quickly (and wrongly) connect what I do, with who I believe I am. If my view of myself is based on my good performance, then, if that is taken away I feel threatened and scared. If that is taken away, what is left? Where do I find my worth? If I am not living and resting in God’s relationship w/me, I am always striving to maintain whatever it is that gives me my sense of being lovable, of being acceptable. If you think about it, that is just another form of works-righteousness. It is saying that I can make myself “OK” by trying hard and not being flawed. My actions, and reactions, to this situation revealed that I kind-of believe I am saved by grace through faith, and I kind-of still believe I need to help Jesus out a bit, add my efforts to His. That is not the Good News that saves people and sets them free. That is bad news that enslaves people to fear and pressure, hinders relationship, and brings exhaustion.

Over the course of that weekend I had talked some of this over w/Lindsey and our counselor. It was very helpful having someone walk through this w/me. Late Sunday night, before the Monday meeting, I realized that maybe God had let me get myself into this predicament for a reason. Maybe my “mistake” was not a mistake. Maybe He wanted to reveal my works-righteousness to me so I would throw myself, once again, at the foot of the cross and receive the grace He offers. If I was really created for an intimate relationship w/God, I thought, maybe this is something He is using to show Himself to me in a new and refreshing way. I began, slowly to see the situation in a new light.

The next morning I got up (still a little nervous, but not as much as the previous 2 days) and got in my car and started driving the hour-or-so to the dreaded meeting. With every minute I was getting closer and closer (although not much closer, considering the stupid freeway traffic). I began praying, and I prayed like I have a million times before…”God, please help everyone to be calm, and keep them from yelling at me, help me to just get through this meeting” and then I stopped. I realized, I was not even really praying. I don’t think I was even talking to God, I was just saying those words in my head b/c that’s what I normally would pray in the past. I realized, in fact, that that was not actually what I wanted. All weekend I had been trying to figure out ways of avoiding getting yelled at, getting blamed and looking foolish, etc. but God had been changing my heart, and, all of a sudden there was something I wanted more than that. It felt very odd. I had lived a couple decades trying to look perfect and please people and get their approval, but, something now was different. For a few minutes, more than I wanted God to get me out of this situation unscathed, I actually wanted God Himself. I wanted to know Him and see Him and experience His grace. I wanted to believe, deep in the core of my being, what He says of me–that He loves me, accepts me, and that I am His adopted son. And if getting yelled at and having people get mad at me would help me rest in those Gospel truths, then it was worth it. I didn’t want to escape the wrath of the angry construction workers if it meant missing out on an opportunity to relate to God in deeper ways. It was pretty amazing. Right then and there on the 405-North, I changed my prayer. As I drove, I repented of my pride that had caused me to think I could earn God’s approval by being perfect. I thanked Jesus for loving me and for making me acceptable. I thanked God for His presence in my life and for allowing me to be in process. I asked Him to give me eyes to see Him, in whatever situation He wanted to do that. I almost got a little excited. Weird. I felt like God knew what He was doing all along! (why does that come as a surprise to me?). I felt like God knew me so well…He allowed me to experience a very specific situation that triggered and revealed lies I held onto, deep inside of me. Then, at just the right moment, He wrapped His arms around me and opened my heart to His truth, grace and love. In a masterfully orchestrated series of events and interactions, God showed me that He is there, in my everyday,”ordinary” life, working through a mundane drywall estimating job to give me the best gift He can give…Himself.

I arrived at the place of the meeting, and what happened next is really inconsequential, so I’ll quit here…just kidding. If you’ve read this far, you deserve to hear the ending. I got there early, so I just sat in my car, calm. I saw another guy from our company show up, so I got out and walked over to him (again, calm. normally I would be so nervous I would almost have to puke). We made some small talk as we headed for the building to meet the rest of the parties involved, including the dude who had been in this business since I had been in diapers (his loud angry words, not mine). Everyone arrived, and, much to my surprise, the mistake I had been blamed for had already been straightened out! It hadn’t been my fault, and it had already been cleared up sometime Friday night or Saturday, without me even knowing about it. We talked over a few other very minor issues and, about an hour later, we all smiled and shook hands and joked as we went our separate ways! Even though I was calm going into the meeting, and was open to however God wanted to use this situation, I was still very relieved to come out innocent!

As situations similar to this pop up time after time, God is using them to help me embrace what is actually true. The more I grasp the reality that God loves me, the less I look other places for a sense of acceptability. When I am resting in His love, I am freed to enjoy, love, and relate to Lindsey, Shelby, myself, God, and others more closely to the way He intended. And that is a beautiful thing.

So, that’s it. Entry 1. One huge thing I left out (which was/is a lot of what Lindsey and our counselor helped/are helping me wrestle with) is why this specific situation affected me so severely. Why is it so difficult for me to believe God is a loving Father who loves me just as I am? Why do I feel the strong need to hide my faults and mistakes? When did these lies take hold so deeply within me? I am really learning a lot about myself and how I became who I am right now, but I’m not ready to write about that yet, and you probably don’t have time to read it. So, that is for another time.

But, with what I did write, I would really welcome your thoughts. Does this at all resonate with anyone? Does it spark any emotions or questions? Please let me know. Post a comment, send me a text or email, invite me to coffee (ha ha—no, but seriously, I think better over a macchiato) or call me up. I’d love to journey w/you!

Thank you very much for reading this!

(I am hoping “Entry 2″ will be much shorter and will come much sooner—yeah right)

I am choosing to write on the blogsite partly to keep me accountable to actually write consistently, but more importantly b/c I actually think I might have something worth sharing. At least I hope people can relate. I think my experiences are very similar to most other people. The lies I believe are the same ones that fallen humanity has been enslaved to for thousands of years, and the freedom and salvation God is bringing me is the same that is offered to everyone. I know I am not alone and I want to invite others into my story and into the bigger story of God reconciling creation to Himself. Again, I don’t really know what this will look like or evolve into. Like life, growth, and sanctification, I guess it will be a process. I know that I want it to be raw and real (easier said than done). If I proofread and clean it up too much I am afraid I may lose connection with it (I quote a timeless, classic movie “Joe Dirt”….”Don’t church it up, son”….wise words). And, honestly, this is more for me than for you (the reader). I have to admit, I am kind of excited, but I also kind-of hate this. I wanted to put my writings on my personal “Jason” page on the website, b/c I knew no one really checks that. I am much more comfortable about having my emotions, thoughts, and insecurities, tucked away and hidden on a page no one looks at. I would love to do whatever helps me keep up the image of the cool missionary risk-taker guy who has it all together and is confident and care-free and all that stuff, even though that is not really true. Lindsey encouraged me to write on the “blog” page, so more people can peer into my bare soul (my words, not hers). It is a good idea. I was not created to journey alone, and as I get to know myself and God more accurately, and embrace Gospel truth more deeply, I want to join a community of others who are walking this path (or maybe more appropriately put, “dancing this dance”), and hopefully I can encourage more people to join us.

So, that is what is coming. For anyone who reads “This Beautiful Mess” posts and resonates with them, I welcome feedback, so comment freely, send an email, or give me a call, even if it is scary for you. I hope this can be a small thing that God uses in my life, and maybe the lives of others. Thanks for reading this, and stay tuned for more.

Early in the afternoon the three of us were relaxing in the hospital room. It was really peaceful as there were no nurses or visitors around, the hospital was quiet, and the ocean view brought a sense of calmness and serenity. I was sitting in a chair holding our sleeping baby, and Lindsey was resting in the bed beside me. Our hearts were full with a unique joy that only a newborn baby can bring. We had some music playing softly, and one of the songs that came on was “Come and Listen” by David Crowder Band:

Come and listen,
come and listen to what He’s done.
Come and listen,
come and listen to what He’s done.
Let me tell you what He has done for me.
Let me tell you what He has done for me,
He has done for you,
He has done for us.

As we listened to these words, we both realized that this was our invitation to our precious Shelby Grace. In bringing her into the world, into our family, we were calling her to enter into relationship with not only us, but with a loving God. Through our lives, our love, our words, little Shelby can listen to the story of a Jesus who pursues us, rescues us, then holds us close. A God who takes hurts, insecurities, and fears, and brings beauty and redemption. As her parents, we will tell her the stories of God’s faithfulness and nearness. Our relationship will proclaim the freedom and rest that come from knowing the One who has called us His children. By giving grace to each other, Lindsey and I will put God’s grace on display to our daughter in a way no one else on earth can. And our shortcomings and unhealthy patterns of relating, that still show themselves frequently, will point to a God of mercy, patience, and forgiveness.

The song then continued into the chorus, which is a response to who God is and what He has done:

Praise our God for He is good.
Praise our God for He is good.
Praise our God for He is good.
Praise our God for He is good.

With these words repeating over and over, we cried as we held our 8 lb. tiny bundle of God’s goodness. There was no other appropriate response but tears of praise. After the song ended, we prayed and thanked God for this new little life, and asked that He would reveal Himself to our daughter through us.

So, with Him and because of Him, we invite Shelby to come and listen, come and listen to what He has done…