Yup. It's time to finally stop being afraid of the what if's and come clean - Andrew and I are in the process of becoming licensed foster parents!
There is still a long way to go, including, but not limited to: home visits, finishing the last couple sessions of our 24-hour caregiver training and TB tests. But, although some of our friends and family know about this huge and exciting and terrifying new step for our family, we wanted to announce it to all of you for a few reasons.
First, and most importantly, we absolutely have to be covered in prayer. It already is an emotionally and physically exhausting process, and we fully expect it to continue to become more so as we progress closer to being licensed and when we get our first placement(s). Please, please pray for us whenever we cross your mind. Send us emails or texts or call us and encourage us, because quite frankly, there are moments when everything feels overwhelming, but there's never a moment when we are doubting that this is God's next step for our family. Support is critical and prayer is essential. For those of you already covering our family and this process in prayer, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Secondly, we wanted to start to prepare you all, our friends and family. Yes, we understand that you are not going through this process, but there are going to be a lot of things that are the same when we become licensed, as well as some massive changes that have to take place especially concerning our transparency with details of our family life (namely the information regarding our foster children). We typically have been an extremely open family, and I am clearly not shy to broadcast our struggles, joys, and prayers aloud for all. With this new step though, there are going to be many things that we simply cannot share with you and many things that you all will just have to be ok with knowing little, if anything, about.
I have been looking into ways to share this type of information with everyone, and found an amazing blog which freely offered a form letter for friends and family. What follows is portions of that blog (which the author gave permission to freely use and change at will) and some of my own heart and ramblings. Please, please take a moment to read through it.
Beloved friends and family,
We know that our decision to foster will affect you as well, and we are so hoping and praying that this blog (also being sent out to family and friends via email and snail mail) will help to answer some of your questions and set us all up for success in this new season.
I want to start off by saying that I apologize for this being so long, and sometimes a bit bossy in tone. If you know me even a small bit, you know that I am terribly afraid of hurting people through words, but I pray that this blog/email/letter is received by everyone in the way it is intended - I love you, Andrew loves you, and we just want to make sure our future kiddos feel loved as well. Please don't hesitate to ask me, or Andrew or both of us any questions whatsoever - we love talking about this stuff! And don't worry, you'll be bombarded with information and will totally not be left in the dark when we, Lord willing, get our first placement.
What to Expect
We know that the process of becoming fully licensed can take several months, but our prayer is that we will have our first placement before the end of this year. We are open to one (or possibly two if the Lord so should make that clear to both of us) children from birth to about 2 years old. Boy or girl. Any nationality, language, culture. We could get a call for a placement the day that we're licensed or it could be several weeks or months before we get a call. The child(ren) could be staying with us anywhere from a few days to several years.
Confidentiality
When we get a placement, we will share with you (not on social media though) the child(ren)'s names, ages, birthdates, personalities and other such details. However, the family history, reasons for placement, medical status and other specific aspects of the children's lives are strictly confidential and we will not be able to share these details with anyone, including our most intimate friends and relatives. Please do not take this personally, but we absolutely cannot share many details about the kids.
Pictures
Policy is quite strict with pictures of foster children, and before you post any pictures of our future foster children, please contact us to make sure they are ok and that we approve any pictures or tags or comments about said pictures before posting. I know this is going to be hard for some people, but please trust us, and know that we are trying our hardest to have their best interests in mind, as well as following the WACs that we signed off as consenting to follow. We will really need your cooperation in this one.
Inclusion in Family and Gift Giving Policy
Other than those confidentiality issues I mentioned, we will treat these children as members of our family. We must insist that everyone respect this policy. The foster children will be treated equally to how our biological children (well, Owen so far... this is not an announcement of something else so don't read into that one...) and this is especially relevant when it comes to holidays, birthdays or other gift-giving occasions. We never expect gifts for any of our children. But, if you choose to give gifts, you'll need to plan to give equally to all of the kids who are in our care at that time.
What Do They Call Us?
Our foster children will have the option of calling us by our first names, or "mom and dad". We will invite them to address you all with the same terms as Owen uses.
What Do We Call Them?
No child wants to be known as "the foster kid". We will refer to any children in our care as our kids, our son, our daughter. We ask that you please be sensitive to this, and do not refer to a child or introduce them as a "foster child". Feel free to refer to them as you would with Owen (my grandchild, my niece, my nephew) or if that isn't comfortable for you, you can refer to them as our child (my brother's son, my friend's daughter, etc.).
With all that being said, we are incredibly thrilled to start walking this road. We feel so supported and loved already, and have had many tear-filled and joy-filled conversations with so many of you already. Thank you for loving us and our family as how God has it today, as well as in the future.
I'll be posting a blog in the coming days/weeks about why we decided to walk towards foster care, and what we believe the Lord has burdened our hearts with specifically. Please, again, don't hesitate to ask questions or contact us. We can't wait and want you to walk with us :)
Friday, July 10, 2015
Monday, June 8, 2015
Ostriches
I've been struggling with not being an ostrich.
You know. The animal that buries it's head in the sand and knows it has seen something and yet does nothing? Actually, let's be honest, it does more than nothing - it actively looks away and takes the effort needed to try and ignore whatever was seen.
Yeah. That's been me.
The Lord has been drawing me out of this for a while now, but for years I have either just barely held my head above the sand before yanking it back down, or have told others (including myself) that my head is above ground while still being very much buried.
William Wilberforce, an English abolitionist and lover of Jesus, once said "you may chose to look the other way, but you can never say again that you did not know". I heard this quote from a dear friend a few months back and I can't shake it. I want to, my inner ostrich wants to so badly, but I just can't. Wilberforce spent his life making sure that he did not ignore the suffering around him, even when he could have easily turned away. He spoke up for those who were being silenced and raised his voice against oppression and injustice even when those around him hated him all the more for it.
I can't help but wonder - what is different between myself and Wilberforce? If I am to believe the Gospel, which I do, it means that both he and I have the same redemption bought on the cross of Christ, the same indwelling of the Holy Spirit and same Heavenly Father who knows the very hairs on our head. And yet, I sit here so willing to blog about injustices and pain and so unwilling to push aside the false sense of comfort and security to actually stand with the hurting, to fight for the broken, to love the unloved.
I joined Noonday almost a year ago with the desire to do something about the injustices around the world, to fight alongside the mama who couldn't put food on her child's plate and to encourage the domestic violence surviver to continue her work even when it felt like it wasn't making any difference. I loved Noonday, and still do. But God called me away from it in January of this year and for some reason, didn't tell me exactly why.
I wish that I could write that now I know what that why is, but I cannot. I do know that He is asking me to actually wake up though. I've been living in such a dream-like Christianity for far too long. I've been comfortable with pain at a distance, hunger across the street, and sexual exploitation a click away. But, praise the Lord, He is slowly ripping the "ok-ness" from my naive heart. It's so easy to journal that out, but I know myself - without a public affirmation I am so much more likely to slip back into my normal life, my head hiding and my ear plugging way of living that I've grown so accustomed to.
I read the short book Risk is Right by John Piper over the weekend. After reading more than half of the book Girls Like Us by Rachel Lloyd over the second half of last week, I was feeling cut open. I couldn't put it down, but at the same time was loosing hope page by page and line by line. I was forgetting so quickly that I serve the God of Justice, and the Lord of Redemption and Life. Andrew pointed this out to me, and I consumed the Piper book in one sitting, pouring over the words that were so providential and so needed.
Piper reminded me through the short book that as a woman who loves Jesus, it's not about me staying comfy. In fact, my comfy Christian life is nothing but a waste. Risking comfort, "security" and even life itself for the sake of the Gospel and loving those around me with no limits is where I will meet the will of God. I don't mean to say that I am not saved here in my comfy Christianity, but that my sitting here is not what Jesus meant when he said "go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you" (Matthew 28:19-20).
This question that was posed in the second half of the book hit me harder than I expected it to:
You know. The animal that buries it's head in the sand and knows it has seen something and yet does nothing? Actually, let's be honest, it does more than nothing - it actively looks away and takes the effort needed to try and ignore whatever was seen.
Yeah. That's been me.
The Lord has been drawing me out of this for a while now, but for years I have either just barely held my head above the sand before yanking it back down, or have told others (including myself) that my head is above ground while still being very much buried.
William Wilberforce, an English abolitionist and lover of Jesus, once said "you may chose to look the other way, but you can never say again that you did not know". I heard this quote from a dear friend a few months back and I can't shake it. I want to, my inner ostrich wants to so badly, but I just can't. Wilberforce spent his life making sure that he did not ignore the suffering around him, even when he could have easily turned away. He spoke up for those who were being silenced and raised his voice against oppression and injustice even when those around him hated him all the more for it.
I can't help but wonder - what is different between myself and Wilberforce? If I am to believe the Gospel, which I do, it means that both he and I have the same redemption bought on the cross of Christ, the same indwelling of the Holy Spirit and same Heavenly Father who knows the very hairs on our head. And yet, I sit here so willing to blog about injustices and pain and so unwilling to push aside the false sense of comfort and security to actually stand with the hurting, to fight for the broken, to love the unloved.
I joined Noonday almost a year ago with the desire to do something about the injustices around the world, to fight alongside the mama who couldn't put food on her child's plate and to encourage the domestic violence surviver to continue her work even when it felt like it wasn't making any difference. I loved Noonday, and still do. But God called me away from it in January of this year and for some reason, didn't tell me exactly why.
I wish that I could write that now I know what that why is, but I cannot. I do know that He is asking me to actually wake up though. I've been living in such a dream-like Christianity for far too long. I've been comfortable with pain at a distance, hunger across the street, and sexual exploitation a click away. But, praise the Lord, He is slowly ripping the "ok-ness" from my naive heart. It's so easy to journal that out, but I know myself - without a public affirmation I am so much more likely to slip back into my normal life, my head hiding and my ear plugging way of living that I've grown so accustomed to.
I read the short book Risk is Right by John Piper over the weekend. After reading more than half of the book Girls Like Us by Rachel Lloyd over the second half of last week, I was feeling cut open. I couldn't put it down, but at the same time was loosing hope page by page and line by line. I was forgetting so quickly that I serve the God of Justice, and the Lord of Redemption and Life. Andrew pointed this out to me, and I consumed the Piper book in one sitting, pouring over the words that were so providential and so needed.
Piper reminded me through the short book that as a woman who loves Jesus, it's not about me staying comfy. In fact, my comfy Christian life is nothing but a waste. Risking comfort, "security" and even life itself for the sake of the Gospel and loving those around me with no limits is where I will meet the will of God. I don't mean to say that I am not saved here in my comfy Christianity, but that my sitting here is not what Jesus meant when he said "go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you" (Matthew 28:19-20).
This question that was posed in the second half of the book hit me harder than I expected it to:
"And now what about you? Are you caught in the enchantment of security,
paralyzed from taking any risks for the cause of God? Or have you been
freed by the power of the Holy Spirit from the mirage of Egyptian slavery
and comfort?... do you women ever say with Esther, 'For the sake of Christ,
I'll try it! and if I perish, I perish'?"
Can I be honest with you? That question scares me. It did Saturday night, and it does this afternoon. Scares me to think about the "what if's". The "how would's" and then the "and then's". But I do not believe for a second that the Lord is doing something in my heart merely to stop when I become afraid. In fact, I believe the exact opposite. I fully expect Him to change my heart until I see him face to face, and even if the change and molding is painful and uncomfortable, I know it will be for his glory and my good.
Walk with me? Please, please read Girls Like Us. It's painful and sickening and one of the hardest books I have ever read. But it is so needed. Needed for my ostrich heart to be jolted from this near comatose state of living and be willing to throw my comfort down and say "if I perish I perish, but I have to walk forward". I don't know what the Lord will do through that book in each of your hearts and lives, and I know that not everyone will be called to change their lives radically or move to India to walk with women or girls rescued from the sex industry. But some of us/you might. I don't know that the Lord will spark in your heart a desire to foster children so that the stream of runaways and sweet children abused and cast aside by society are instead loved well and deeply and pimps have less of a chance to lure hurting girls into the life. But some of us/you might be called to that.
Pray with me? That the Lord would completely break our hearts for what breaks his. That he would fill us anew with his love and passion and strength and that we would do whatever he asks of us. No matter the risk. No matter the cost.
I can't live like this anymore. You?
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Celebrating My 5th Anniversary of Freedom and My Glad Surrender
Five years ago today, at about this time, I tasted freedom.
Freedom from the words, the lies, the fears, the failed hopes, the cages, the abuse.
God spoke the most clearly He had ever to me two days earlier, in the shower at his house of all places, that I had to leave. That if I was to continue in that relationship I would be in defiant and blatant sin against the Savior who bled for me.
Don't get me wrong. I knew all along I was in sin. But that morning the Lord caused me to see Himself and my desires in an entirely new way. One that left no room for my preconceived notions of who He was and what sort of God He would be to a returning sinner such as myself.
That day, the day of the shower, I swallowed too many pills and tried to end things and couldn't.
But two days later, five years ago today, I did.
Only by the grace of God.
As I drove home, I cannot put into words the sense of closeness to my Jesus that I felt. The closeness that had been there throughout the past five years, past decade even, but that had been veiled by sin, and idolatry, and my own desire to quench the Holy Spirit's consistent promptings to return to my first Love.
So, I'm celebrating that today. That freedom. That sweet closeness. That change of perception that caused me to long to follow my Jesus more than ever before.
But, in God's great loving-kindness, I am also celebrating a glad surrender. A surrender of desires too deep for words, and desires which told through blogs only become palpable and bite-sized. A desire that pulls at the very core of my heart though, and that if I don't share it now, I honestly feel I may burst.
I'm surrendering my desire to be pregnant.
Andrew and I have been trying to have another baby since July of last year. Seeing as we weren't expecting to have Owen when we did (see my post about why here) I assumed that God would work a miracle like He did the first time, and we'd be holding a sweet little babe in a little less than a year.
But that wasn't the Lord's plan.
Walking into BSF this fall, I hugged so many ladies who had seen me through what was one of the darkest years of my life (see this post for more of that story) and so many of them kept glancing down at my belly and asking "so... any news??" I smiled and shook my head but was convinced that by the end of that BSF year I would be glancing down at a swelling belly and crying tears of joy thinking of how good the Lord was to bless me with another baby.
But, again, that wasn't the Lord's plan.
As the months went by and I threw out negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test, my hopes started failing. I began to question why the Lord would be "holding out" on me. I began to fear that the gap in ages between Owen and a future sibling would be far too much and that every month I wasn't pregnant was a month more of painful waiting.
Two weeks ago, a dear gal in my group brought her sweet 4 day old baby to BSF. We started trying for another baby roughly the same time last year, and while I was honestly so happy for her and her family, I also felt crushed.
"Look what I'm not giving you"
"Sucks to be you, you want this but I'm not sure you're there"
"Just be happy for all the women you're looking at who are pregnant and stop being such an ungrateful woman"
"How can you think you're sad when you've already had one baby and so many other women desperately want even just one and can't"
I felt like all these and more were what the Lord was telling me. That He was showing my the "Promised Land" but not allowing me to enter. Walking through the Life of Moses this year in BSF I struggled again and again with how the Lord could be good and merciful in showing Moses the Promised Land at the end of his life without allowing him to enter it. I mean, I knew that God was good and merciful. But I didn't really believe it. It felt as though He was rubbing my non-pregnancy in my face just like He must have been doing with Moses on that mountain. It was so terrible that I nearly walked out of the room halfway through the teaching.
So why am I writing about a glad surrender?
Because of Jesus. Because the Lord is not who I falsely believed Him to be.
In the last week, I feel as though the Lord has literally opened my eyes to His character in a way I have never before experienced in my life. To the point that I can literally type out that I believe God is good, and that showing Moses the Promised Land was God's mercy on Moses and not wrath or anger or something akin to a bully.
And I can type that I do deeply trust that the Lord isn't withholding His best from me by the fact that I am not pregnant again this month. In fact, if this deep knowing of the Lord had to come from these months of pain, they were all worth it. If this deep knowing of the Lord means that I never have another chance to hold my belly and feel a sweet kick against my hand, then (deep breath) it is still worth it.
I felt compelled to type this all out because, frankly, I want to raise this up as an Ebenezer of sorts. A monument to the Lord in which all who pass by (or scroll through as the case may be) can say with certainty that this was none of my own doing, but entirely the Lord. That He is and was and forever will be good and merciful and faithful.
Do I desire to be pregnant? Yes. So much. But at the same time, instead of saying "Fine Lord! Do what you want to! I didn't really want another baby anyhow!", I find myself simply falling before His feet and placing the desire there and softly saying through tears "Thy will be done". I know He knows my desires more fully than I know them myself. I know He loves me. This glad surrender is so very different than almost any other surrender I've had in my life before.
I don't know what the Lord's will for my life, and for my body and for my family is. I really don't. But I feel like offering this desire up to Him is a freedom and a release from a bondage that I never knew I was held in until right now. He is so, so good. I don't know His will, but I know Him. And that's all I desire.
Freedom from the words, the lies, the fears, the failed hopes, the cages, the abuse.
God spoke the most clearly He had ever to me two days earlier, in the shower at his house of all places, that I had to leave. That if I was to continue in that relationship I would be in defiant and blatant sin against the Savior who bled for me.
Don't get me wrong. I knew all along I was in sin. But that morning the Lord caused me to see Himself and my desires in an entirely new way. One that left no room for my preconceived notions of who He was and what sort of God He would be to a returning sinner such as myself.
That day, the day of the shower, I swallowed too many pills and tried to end things and couldn't.
But two days later, five years ago today, I did.
Only by the grace of God.
As I drove home, I cannot put into words the sense of closeness to my Jesus that I felt. The closeness that had been there throughout the past five years, past decade even, but that had been veiled by sin, and idolatry, and my own desire to quench the Holy Spirit's consistent promptings to return to my first Love.
So, I'm celebrating that today. That freedom. That sweet closeness. That change of perception that caused me to long to follow my Jesus more than ever before.
But, in God's great loving-kindness, I am also celebrating a glad surrender. A surrender of desires too deep for words, and desires which told through blogs only become palpable and bite-sized. A desire that pulls at the very core of my heart though, and that if I don't share it now, I honestly feel I may burst.
I'm surrendering my desire to be pregnant.
Andrew and I have been trying to have another baby since July of last year. Seeing as we weren't expecting to have Owen when we did (see my post about why here) I assumed that God would work a miracle like He did the first time, and we'd be holding a sweet little babe in a little less than a year.
But that wasn't the Lord's plan.
Walking into BSF this fall, I hugged so many ladies who had seen me through what was one of the darkest years of my life (see this post for more of that story) and so many of them kept glancing down at my belly and asking "so... any news??" I smiled and shook my head but was convinced that by the end of that BSF year I would be glancing down at a swelling belly and crying tears of joy thinking of how good the Lord was to bless me with another baby.
But, again, that wasn't the Lord's plan.
As the months went by and I threw out negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test, my hopes started failing. I began to question why the Lord would be "holding out" on me. I began to fear that the gap in ages between Owen and a future sibling would be far too much and that every month I wasn't pregnant was a month more of painful waiting.
Two weeks ago, a dear gal in my group brought her sweet 4 day old baby to BSF. We started trying for another baby roughly the same time last year, and while I was honestly so happy for her and her family, I also felt crushed.
"Look what I'm not giving you"
"Sucks to be you, you want this but I'm not sure you're there"
"Just be happy for all the women you're looking at who are pregnant and stop being such an ungrateful woman"
"How can you think you're sad when you've already had one baby and so many other women desperately want even just one and can't"
I felt like all these and more were what the Lord was telling me. That He was showing my the "Promised Land" but not allowing me to enter. Walking through the Life of Moses this year in BSF I struggled again and again with how the Lord could be good and merciful in showing Moses the Promised Land at the end of his life without allowing him to enter it. I mean, I knew that God was good and merciful. But I didn't really believe it. It felt as though He was rubbing my non-pregnancy in my face just like He must have been doing with Moses on that mountain. It was so terrible that I nearly walked out of the room halfway through the teaching.
So why am I writing about a glad surrender?
Because of Jesus. Because the Lord is not who I falsely believed Him to be.
In the last week, I feel as though the Lord has literally opened my eyes to His character in a way I have never before experienced in my life. To the point that I can literally type out that I believe God is good, and that showing Moses the Promised Land was God's mercy on Moses and not wrath or anger or something akin to a bully.
And I can type that I do deeply trust that the Lord isn't withholding His best from me by the fact that I am not pregnant again this month. In fact, if this deep knowing of the Lord had to come from these months of pain, they were all worth it. If this deep knowing of the Lord means that I never have another chance to hold my belly and feel a sweet kick against my hand, then (deep breath) it is still worth it.
I felt compelled to type this all out because, frankly, I want to raise this up as an Ebenezer of sorts. A monument to the Lord in which all who pass by (or scroll through as the case may be) can say with certainty that this was none of my own doing, but entirely the Lord. That He is and was and forever will be good and merciful and faithful.
Do I desire to be pregnant? Yes. So much. But at the same time, instead of saying "Fine Lord! Do what you want to! I didn't really want another baby anyhow!", I find myself simply falling before His feet and placing the desire there and softly saying through tears "Thy will be done". I know He knows my desires more fully than I know them myself. I know He loves me. This glad surrender is so very different than almost any other surrender I've had in my life before.
I don't know what the Lord's will for my life, and for my body and for my family is. I really don't. But I feel like offering this desire up to Him is a freedom and a release from a bondage that I never knew I was held in until right now. He is so, so good. I don't know His will, but I know Him. And that's all I desire.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
A New Look!
This is going to be a boring, and crazy-short update :) Basically just letting everyone know that I have changed the blog formatting a bit and plan to start updating you more frequently and sooner than later.
I have so missed posting pictures of my little buddy, talking about the crazy things that happen here at the Titus Household, and rambling on about justice, sex trafficking, Jesus, OCD, and the occasional amazing recipe I just have to share.
Look for a new blog post within the next week and get ready - I'm so excited to dust off the keyboard and start recounting graces and memories, dreams and fears alongside you!
Here... I'll leave you with some sneak peaks and adorable Owen pictures :)
Until next post,
Sola Dei Gloria
I have so missed posting pictures of my little buddy, talking about the crazy things that happen here at the Titus Household, and rambling on about justice, sex trafficking, Jesus, OCD, and the occasional amazing recipe I just have to share.
Look for a new blog post within the next week and get ready - I'm so excited to dust off the keyboard and start recounting graces and memories, dreams and fears alongside you!
Here... I'll leave you with some sneak peaks and adorable Owen pictures :)
Until next post,
Sola Dei Gloria
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| A bundled up and sick little Owen on a much needed outside adventure on the Burke Gilman Trail last month. |
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| Owen proudly showing off his circles and artwork! |
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| Twinsies selfie taken for my sister in law the first day I actually felt normal after my appendectomy in January. |
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Answering the Questions
There have been a good number of, let's just say it - sudden, changes for me recently. It's been a hard but good season, and while I want to just say "peace out y'all" and log off, I know that would literally be running away from what is going on in my heart, so I figured that the only thing I really knew how to do would be to write about it.
This feels so good.
It's been so long since I've sat down to this blog screen and started typing, started letting my thoughts and my fingers take me down the page and out of my heart and onto a screen and somehow that makes it feel more doable, more real.
I was reading through my past blog posts the other day, and realized over the past year there has been some pretty massive change in my life. Last year at this time, we were excitedly living smack in the middle of the U-District, praying through what it would look like to actually be missionaries there, and praying for doors to open to moving to LA to help with a friend's church plant, or to India to live as missionaries. We wanted to be "all in" so we sold our only car and took the bus or walked everywhere, getting to know the homeless around the area and having dinner with them. (I say this not to boast, but to just give a picture of how different things have been).
Then I got sick. Really sick.
In short, my body couldn't handle the sheer amount of mold that I was being exposed to and went into shut down in some ways. We canceled our idea (which to be so honest was actually what we thought the Lord was calling us to do) to move to Birmingham, AL in August to be a part of The Church at Brook Hills, and begrudgingly bought a car. We hastily moved out of our beloved (but deteriorating) home we were renting, and found an incredibly awesome place to live about 10 minutes from where we were. I got better, and I started Noonday.
Oh, and during the course of that time, we left our church, the most brutally painful and utterly devastating thing that has ever happened to us in our short marriage (but that will be another post later...).
I felt totally alone.
Being so sick that I couldn't even take care of Owen for nearly 4 months left me alone. I mean, I guess it happens when you can't make playdates or coffee dates or anything, the invites just sort of stop because they know you can't make it. But I ached for friends. Leaving our church was like ripping away literally everything and everyone we had built our lives around, and so I wanting community, wanted friendship so badly.
I found it in Noonday.
The second I logged onto the Noonday Ambassador Facebook group, I felt instantly welcomed, instantly a part of this incredible community made up of women around the country who loved social justice, hope, redemption, adoption, and Noonday. I got more "likes" on my posts than I ever dreamed possible, and I felt immediately free to be completely open and honest with any and all of them. I posted about my sinful lust for more sales so that I could be one of "those" top sellers that I wanted to be, but wasn't. I posted about my fear of flying to a conference I couldn't afford to attend, and probably wouldn't. I posted about insane grace from trunk shows hosted by friends that had $42 in sales, but that opened my eyes to how much I adored the women I was meeting and reconnecting with.
I feel like I was on that page all the time. Probably because I was. My sweet husband started pointing this out to me, and I bristled and roared. I was a free woman, thank you. I am a working woman, and I can do what I need to do for my business, thank you. I became even more attached to my phone and laptop, even more so than I have been leading up to Noonday and while I listened to trainings about how to set aside time for Noonday so it wouldn't interfere with family I couldn't get it straight.
Every minute of every day was work for me. I answered customers emails immediately, even on date night. I checked the sample sale page when I saw a notification buzz, even during dinner. I read posts and checked FAQs and randomly scrolled all the time. But I felt empowered. And known. And accepted. And worth something.
I could write a hundred more pages, but there's really no need. I could talk about how amazing it was to meet 300 women who I had only "seen" online before at conference less than two weeks ago. How I was overwhelmed with how many ladies came up to me and said: "you're Ashley Titus!! I wanted to meet you!!" and how I ran out of the dance party the last night sobbing and sat in a bathroom stall with mascara streaming down my face because I had flashbacks to high school and an anxiety attack when I wanted to dance but stood there in extreme fear without knowing what to do next. I could talk about how I came back to Seattle recharged and super excited for the upcoming Spring season and how I talked to my husband non stop about what samples I was going to invest in and why and which ladies I thought would be insanely awesome at hosting a trunk show and how I wanted to know my hostesses better so what I would be changing to love on them instead of "coach" them as I had in the past.
But none of that really matters. What matters is that while Andrew and I were given Owen his bath on Wednesday night he turned to me and asked if I would take the next day as a fast of sorts and seek the Lord before buying samples and new displays.
To say that I bristled would be an understatement. I full on freaked out.
I was harsh and mean and angry and pointedly asked him if he was telling me backhandedly that I should quit. Typical of Andrew (which, anyone who knows him will attest to), he calmly said no, and that he wanted me to do with Noonday and the Spring Line what he wanted me to do with every part of my life - seek the Lord. He reminded me that if I didn't purchase the bundle the moment it was posted, life would still go on and I yelled. I was so pissed that he would be telling me to calm down and pray. How dare he?
Typing this sucks. I know my husband, and I know his heart for me. I know that above all else he wants me to walk with Jesus and submit everything to the Lord who loves me and wants good for me, even when it isn't the good I wanted, or wrote down in my planner. I know that Andrew knew me so well that he could see me sitting in the whirling of my mind and of samples and of launch shows and of Noonday conference "high" and wanted me to take it all to Jesus and have peace and clarity as I walked into the Spring season, so that I could work to His glory, and not burn out through my own strength. I know all this.
But the Lord had to stop me and show me. And oh did He.
As Andrew and I talked about that topic once Owen was asleep, I began to run away from the thought that was becoming bigger and more pronounced in my mind - the thought "I'm not supposed to order a bundle. Because I'm not supposed to continue Noonday". I pushed it down without even speaking it aloud and argued back to myself that I would just order the samples and become better at time management and it would be ok, give me just one more season to make it work, I only have been doing this a few months, how would it be right to stop now? But as the conversation went on, the Lord was sweet in His conviction and clear in His words - stop. Stop.
So I uttered them aloud to the shock of my husband. "I'm not supposed to do Noonday anymore". We sat there and I started sobbing, and while he tried to convince me that I didn't need to make such a big decision that very moment, I can't tell you how specifically it felt as though the Lord was confirming that very idea. I really was supposed to quit.
So I did, and I am.
Even thought it sucks, I have such a peace about it, and know that without a shadow of a doubt, this is where the Lord is calling me. I'm not sure what lays ahead for me, but I do know that when I told Owen mama wouldn't be working anymore he smiled and said "now mama play me!!" and I smiled and said "yes" joyfully. I know I will meal plan more (ok, let's be honest, I'll actually meal plan) which I love doing surprisingly enough and haven't done in months. And I want to blog again. And just be open to wherever the Lord calls me, however that looks.
And the plugging from social media thing? I'm addicted. Plain and simple. If I told you I was addicted to alcohol you'd immediately advise me to stop drinking and going to bars, so that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to stop posting and looking at posts. Social media isn't bad. Just like working for Noonday isn't bad. In fact, they are both things that have a ton of good in and because of them. But for me, being on Facebook and Instagram is a sin. I've always known it, and I've pretended that I didn't because I am so scared of loosing out, of missing out, of being alone. But I want to trust the Lord that even when I feel alone, I won't be. That when I feel like I have to check my phone because I'm slightly bored or slightly anxious, or that's just when the pathways in my brain say I'm supposed to look at my phone, that I can actually not.
I'm not sure when I'll plug back in. But honestly? I hope I either never do. Or at the very least, that when I do again I can do it for the right reasons, and not for numbing out, distracting myself, comparing myself, gossiping, coveting, or sinning. I know it's possible, but right now it's not where I am.
Anyhow, props for whoever is actually still reading this insanely long post :) I am excited to just BE and be present and hopefully not distracted enough that the still quiet voice of the Lord is loud enough to hear clearly. I'm scared but I'm excited. I'm wanting to walk closer with Jesus, what should I fear??
This feels so good.
It's been so long since I've sat down to this blog screen and started typing, started letting my thoughts and my fingers take me down the page and out of my heart and onto a screen and somehow that makes it feel more doable, more real.
I was reading through my past blog posts the other day, and realized over the past year there has been some pretty massive change in my life. Last year at this time, we were excitedly living smack in the middle of the U-District, praying through what it would look like to actually be missionaries there, and praying for doors to open to moving to LA to help with a friend's church plant, or to India to live as missionaries. We wanted to be "all in" so we sold our only car and took the bus or walked everywhere, getting to know the homeless around the area and having dinner with them. (I say this not to boast, but to just give a picture of how different things have been).
Then I got sick. Really sick.
In short, my body couldn't handle the sheer amount of mold that I was being exposed to and went into shut down in some ways. We canceled our idea (which to be so honest was actually what we thought the Lord was calling us to do) to move to Birmingham, AL in August to be a part of The Church at Brook Hills, and begrudgingly bought a car. We hastily moved out of our beloved (but deteriorating) home we were renting, and found an incredibly awesome place to live about 10 minutes from where we were. I got better, and I started Noonday.
Oh, and during the course of that time, we left our church, the most brutally painful and utterly devastating thing that has ever happened to us in our short marriage (but that will be another post later...).
I felt totally alone.
Being so sick that I couldn't even take care of Owen for nearly 4 months left me alone. I mean, I guess it happens when you can't make playdates or coffee dates or anything, the invites just sort of stop because they know you can't make it. But I ached for friends. Leaving our church was like ripping away literally everything and everyone we had built our lives around, and so I wanting community, wanted friendship so badly.
I found it in Noonday.
The second I logged onto the Noonday Ambassador Facebook group, I felt instantly welcomed, instantly a part of this incredible community made up of women around the country who loved social justice, hope, redemption, adoption, and Noonday. I got more "likes" on my posts than I ever dreamed possible, and I felt immediately free to be completely open and honest with any and all of them. I posted about my sinful lust for more sales so that I could be one of "those" top sellers that I wanted to be, but wasn't. I posted about my fear of flying to a conference I couldn't afford to attend, and probably wouldn't. I posted about insane grace from trunk shows hosted by friends that had $42 in sales, but that opened my eyes to how much I adored the women I was meeting and reconnecting with.
I feel like I was on that page all the time. Probably because I was. My sweet husband started pointing this out to me, and I bristled and roared. I was a free woman, thank you. I am a working woman, and I can do what I need to do for my business, thank you. I became even more attached to my phone and laptop, even more so than I have been leading up to Noonday and while I listened to trainings about how to set aside time for Noonday so it wouldn't interfere with family I couldn't get it straight.
Every minute of every day was work for me. I answered customers emails immediately, even on date night. I checked the sample sale page when I saw a notification buzz, even during dinner. I read posts and checked FAQs and randomly scrolled all the time. But I felt empowered. And known. And accepted. And worth something.
I could write a hundred more pages, but there's really no need. I could talk about how amazing it was to meet 300 women who I had only "seen" online before at conference less than two weeks ago. How I was overwhelmed with how many ladies came up to me and said: "you're Ashley Titus!! I wanted to meet you!!" and how I ran out of the dance party the last night sobbing and sat in a bathroom stall with mascara streaming down my face because I had flashbacks to high school and an anxiety attack when I wanted to dance but stood there in extreme fear without knowing what to do next. I could talk about how I came back to Seattle recharged and super excited for the upcoming Spring season and how I talked to my husband non stop about what samples I was going to invest in and why and which ladies I thought would be insanely awesome at hosting a trunk show and how I wanted to know my hostesses better so what I would be changing to love on them instead of "coach" them as I had in the past.
But none of that really matters. What matters is that while Andrew and I were given Owen his bath on Wednesday night he turned to me and asked if I would take the next day as a fast of sorts and seek the Lord before buying samples and new displays.
To say that I bristled would be an understatement. I full on freaked out.
I was harsh and mean and angry and pointedly asked him if he was telling me backhandedly that I should quit. Typical of Andrew (which, anyone who knows him will attest to), he calmly said no, and that he wanted me to do with Noonday and the Spring Line what he wanted me to do with every part of my life - seek the Lord. He reminded me that if I didn't purchase the bundle the moment it was posted, life would still go on and I yelled. I was so pissed that he would be telling me to calm down and pray. How dare he?
Typing this sucks. I know my husband, and I know his heart for me. I know that above all else he wants me to walk with Jesus and submit everything to the Lord who loves me and wants good for me, even when it isn't the good I wanted, or wrote down in my planner. I know that Andrew knew me so well that he could see me sitting in the whirling of my mind and of samples and of launch shows and of Noonday conference "high" and wanted me to take it all to Jesus and have peace and clarity as I walked into the Spring season, so that I could work to His glory, and not burn out through my own strength. I know all this.
But the Lord had to stop me and show me. And oh did He.
As Andrew and I talked about that topic once Owen was asleep, I began to run away from the thought that was becoming bigger and more pronounced in my mind - the thought "I'm not supposed to order a bundle. Because I'm not supposed to continue Noonday". I pushed it down without even speaking it aloud and argued back to myself that I would just order the samples and become better at time management and it would be ok, give me just one more season to make it work, I only have been doing this a few months, how would it be right to stop now? But as the conversation went on, the Lord was sweet in His conviction and clear in His words - stop. Stop.
So I uttered them aloud to the shock of my husband. "I'm not supposed to do Noonday anymore". We sat there and I started sobbing, and while he tried to convince me that I didn't need to make such a big decision that very moment, I can't tell you how specifically it felt as though the Lord was confirming that very idea. I really was supposed to quit.
So I did, and I am.
Even thought it sucks, I have such a peace about it, and know that without a shadow of a doubt, this is where the Lord is calling me. I'm not sure what lays ahead for me, but I do know that when I told Owen mama wouldn't be working anymore he smiled and said "now mama play me!!" and I smiled and said "yes" joyfully. I know I will meal plan more (ok, let's be honest, I'll actually meal plan) which I love doing surprisingly enough and haven't done in months. And I want to blog again. And just be open to wherever the Lord calls me, however that looks.
And the plugging from social media thing? I'm addicted. Plain and simple. If I told you I was addicted to alcohol you'd immediately advise me to stop drinking and going to bars, so that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to stop posting and looking at posts. Social media isn't bad. Just like working for Noonday isn't bad. In fact, they are both things that have a ton of good in and because of them. But for me, being on Facebook and Instagram is a sin. I've always known it, and I've pretended that I didn't because I am so scared of loosing out, of missing out, of being alone. But I want to trust the Lord that even when I feel alone, I won't be. That when I feel like I have to check my phone because I'm slightly bored or slightly anxious, or that's just when the pathways in my brain say I'm supposed to look at my phone, that I can actually not.
I'm not sure when I'll plug back in. But honestly? I hope I either never do. Or at the very least, that when I do again I can do it for the right reasons, and not for numbing out, distracting myself, comparing myself, gossiping, coveting, or sinning. I know it's possible, but right now it's not where I am.
Anyhow, props for whoever is actually still reading this insanely long post :) I am excited to just BE and be present and hopefully not distracted enough that the still quiet voice of the Lord is loud enough to hear clearly. I'm scared but I'm excited. I'm wanting to walk closer with Jesus, what should I fear??
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