Grace

 Last year, I found myself saying to someone that, “I’ve never had two seniors graduating at the same time, one going through the process for a service academy appointment, while I was also a teacher of seniors while working a side job(s) and producing a yearbook and parenting other kids and being a wife.”

I was saying that to explain some balls I had dropped, and some plates that had stopped spinning. Was it presented as an excuse? I guess it kind of was, and could be taken as such, but it made me step back and think to myself how true it was. I had done several of those things before, and I had already parented three seniors through to graduation, but none of the times before compared to doubling everything AND helping Angela with all the service academy hoops. 

And it wasn’t that I messed up on purpose, or even that I took on too much, it was merely that I didn’t KNOW what would prove to be too much because it was my first time. 

I’ve actually thought about it a lot since. We had never collectively lived through a pandemic before. I know people dealing with chronic or terminal diagnoses who have never lived with something like that before. Some people in my circle have never suffered tremendous losses and grieved loved ones before. And it’s not all bad things, either. 

The good, the great, can still be complicated when you’re a novice at them. Some people have never worked this fabulous new job before. Some have never had a spouse to factor into everything before. First time parents have never adjusted to a baby’s schedule before. Second time parents have never had to figure out how to shower while a toddler and an infant are looked after. 

Think for a second about how many things in our lives, just today or this week or month or year, we are doing for the first time. All of us.

And maybe, just maybe, we could all be a little more understanding of and patient with each other. 

Several years ago, I saw a quote that said, “May grace be my first response.”

I often get around to grace, but I’m ashamed to say that it is seldom my first response. I told my students all of first semester, this schedule is brand new to me too. I’ll give you grace but I need it in return. And we did, all of us, because we made it a point to ask for it, to be aware of the intentionality of grace.

So maybe as we go through this life, it would do us good to remember all the things that people are doing for the very first time, and grace can be our first response instead of the one we get to after damage has already been done.

Practicing the Art of Abiding

 I usually write this blog post on New Year’s Eve, before the family comes over to Sandy’s for pizza and games and the turning of the clock. This year I did a lot of reflecting in the days prior to December 31, and I considered writing the blog post then, but I decided to wait.

Never has there been a more clear illustration of my 2023 word than the one I am experiencing in this moment. 

I’m writing this blog on my phone from a chair beside my mom’s hospital bed. It’s the first New Year’s Eve I haven’t spent with Kraig since we got engaged, the first I’ve ever been away from my kiddos. Yesterday, when I received word that she had been admitted (originally due to Flu A and a super low pulse ox but now kept for heart issues), I grabbed my stuff, kissed my family goodbye, and left WV for Tennessee so that my sister could leave the hospital and sit with my dad, who also has the flu at home. We thought she was going to be going home today, then the heart stuff ramped up, so we spent the day waiting on cardiology consults and a plan. If you’ve ever spent time in a hospital at the mercy of everyone else, you know how that went. Even now, no one has explicitly said we are here for the night but it’s 9:09 and that seems assumed. 

… to remain, to stay… … to wait for, to await…

In truth, I wasn’t super pumped about this word. I worried that there was going to be a tortuous event or situation that I was going to have to tolerate, to pay the price of. But I always feel very strongly that my words of the year come from the Lord and so if I was going to need to be reminded of the ability to stay, I was going to be relieved that He was beside me.

I ended up seeing glimmers of what my word meant. It wasn’t a word that I was constantly reminded of, like 2022’s Shivelight. But instead it was a word I regularly reminded myself of.

As our entire family life changed, I had to abide in our new normal. I had to be left behind and abide in missing my kiddos but also watching them develop new lives in their new places. And MAN was that fun!

Regarding my health, I had to both abide and also push. I am so grateful for that day in September when I had a scary heart moment at school and had two people tell me what I needed to say to my doctor in order to get results. I’m thankful I saw a different doctor that next week, a PA who listened to me and immediately took action, setting all factors in place for a specialist to schedule a Halloween pacemaker. My life has been changed for the better and I am forever thankful for that.

Abide for me this year was a reminder of the ways He is beside us in all of the moments— big and little, high and low. He’s here in the crazy busy and when life comes to a grinding halt. He’s here when we are surrounded by people and when we are alone in a big empty house. He’s here to help when I take on too much and He’s here when I’m working to hold it all together.

Abide. 2023 was a year of abiding.

And honestly, when I look back on 2023, MAN was it an incredible year. I did have to grow a lot and learn a lot, but the high points were SO HIGH.

I told my mom, if all I did in 2023 was take our big family trip to Alaska (best trip of my life to date) and get a pacemaker, it would be a winner of a year. I repeated that to a friend, and told her that then you add in all of the AMAZING moments and accomplishments of my graduating seniors, watching Emma and Roman solidify their paths and achieve, seeing Francisco start to rebuild some roads and bridges, take more INCREDIBLE trips like our Empty Nest Fall Break trip to Europe, see my travel business meet and exceed the goals I set for myself a year ago, and take the UTTER JOY I am receiving from yearbook and… dadGUM 2023– you killed it. My friend then added, “And skydiving and getting to finally take kids to Model UN again” and YES! That too! 

I have some work to do in 2024, some things I let slip in 2023 (mainly the second half of the year, and I think because I just kind of STOPPED in order to sort of reward myself for the utter insanity of things that I managed to pull of during the first half of the year), but I’m up for it. 

My fears of this year’s word meaning it was going to be a year I had to tolerate didn’t pan out at all. The synonyms of abide are tarry, live, persevere, endure, bear, and support. In 2023, I LIVED. I persevered with Him supporting me every step. I’m headed into 2024 stronger from the abiding I did in 2023. And filled with joy at all that filled me in this previous year.

The picture with this blog post is not the best picture of me ever taken… even the best taken this year… or even the best taken on that particular trip. But it’s a picture that was taken without me knowing it was being taken, and I have never seen a candid photo of me that captures my sheer joy in a moment like that one does. We were on the whale watching boat and I was absolutely filled with delight with everything in my life at that time. It was utter, raw, pure, unadulterated JOY. That’s the abiding that 2023 gave me.

"Moses My Servant is Dead."

 My pastor preached today out of Joshua. It was a powerful sermon, focused on the command that the Lord gives Joshua (and Joseph, and Peter, and Job and many others) to "ARISE!"

But I'm going to be honest, I struggled to get past the first words of Joshua 1:

"After the death of Moses, the servant of the Lord, the Lord said to Joshua son of Nun, Moses' aide: "Moses my servant is dead. Now then, you and all these people, get ready to cross the Jordan River into the land I am about to give to them-- to the Israelites."

In my personal devotional time, I'm doing a study on the book of Exodus. So I'm all tied up with Moses in my heart. I relate so much to Moses in the beginning of his call, when he proclaims his fear of speaking and begs God to find someone else. I think Moses was probably someone who struggled a little with anxiety and a lack of self-confidence, so it means all the more to me that the Lord used him to do these incredible things I am reading about every day. Yesterday my reading was about the Passover, and the absolutely human and very unholy thought I had as I read was, "Oh my gosh, these directions are SO SPECIFIC! I would never have been able to remember what to tell the people to do, and heaven knows people in today's time would never have listened and followed the directions!"

But as I see Moses do allllllll of these things, or more specifically see God do alllllllll of these things through Moses, I am a perfect illustration of dramatic irony because I know the ending, the things that Moses and his people did not know when they were living it. I know that Moses, as much as he trusted God and accomplished for him, did not get to see the Promised Land. He died in the desert.

He died in the desert. There wasn't a homecoming for him, a congratulatory party, a book signing, an awards ceremony... just a discouraging death in a dry place, not having seen the end of the story. His story ended in the desert. 

Joshua's story started with the entry into the Promised Land, but as my pastor preached today, it wasn't all "promise". A lot of it was "problem", like having people who angered God and having to circumcise grown men. And honestly, that beginning isn't exactly auspicious. "Moses, my servant, is dead. Now then you..." Not, "Hey, Joshua! You are the guy! I've been so excited for you to lead these people because I knew you were the best man for the job." Nope, more "Moses was my number one man, and he messed up, so now it's on you. And you're not exactly a number one, you're more of a number two. But even number one couldn't do it without messing up, so... good luck, number two." (I know that's not what He was saying, but Joshua was a human and I'm sure it sounded a little like that to him.)

I think sometimes I get really wrapped up on what seems "fair". I am a big fan of closure. I like neat and tidy beginnings and endings. If Moses started the journey, then it seems only right that Moses get to finish it, not this second-string Joshua guy. (And listen, I actually love Joshua and his story is one of my favorites. But for right now, I'm thinking of Moses.)

But what I often forget is that the journey, the story, goes far beyond one career or one lifetime or one generation, even. The story stretches the entire scope of humanity. And while it may seem only fair to me that I get to see the fruition of the labors I engage in, I might not. And I also might mess up and someone else may have to take the mantle from me. 

I don't think Moses died feeling slighted. The Lord showed him all that would belong to Israel, and the Bible says his eyes nor his strength were weak. It goes on to say that no one else has done what Moses did in the eyes of the Lord. The will of the Lord stretches far beyond one man or one lifetime. Moses had a part to play, a huge part, and he played it so well. Then Joshua's part started. And on it went, person after person. And it continues today with me and with you.

Abide.

 I guess since I wrote my December 31 post on January 15, I might as well also write my January 1 post on January 15. :)

abide: verb

1. to wait;

2. to pause;

3. to watch;

4. to stay;

5. to continue in a place;

6. to continue without fading or being lost;

7. to remain stable or fixed in some state or condition;

8. to be left;

9. to stand up under;

10. to await submissively

I think it was late October, maybe November, when I felt the Lord give me my 2023 word. And here's the truth: I did not want this one.

I was hoping for "adventure", or "bloom", or "flourish". I'm waiting for "sunshine" and "fun", but so far I haven't gotten those. :) I like to GO, I don't want to ABIDE. I want to DO, not ABIDE. Abide is BORING.

Or maybe "abide" is terrifying. When I started to know very clearly that my word was "abide", the fear started to set it. What if my word is "abide" because I'm going to get a terminal diagnosis this year and He wants me to learn to rest in it? What if it's "abide" because some tragedy is going to befall my family and He wants to teach me to trust? What if any number of awful things???

And then the reason I need this word was made perfectly clear: Worry and anxiety are direct results of an inability to abide. As long as I am abiding in Him, I am trusting His hand and His path. It's when I stop abiding and start trying to handle it myself that the anxiety and fear set in. 

I also just wrote in my 2022 reflection that I did not do a good job in a daily commitment to His disciplines this past year, and I want to do better this year. I want to abide in His word and His voice. My pastor said on the first Sunday of the new year that we are terrible at waiting on the Lord in silence, we try to fill the space with talking, and that's surely me. To learn to abide means to learn to wait, to listen.

In addition, I'm a mom who is going to wake up to a relatively empty house in a few short months. Emma will get a place with a 12 month lease, so the home visits will change and become less frequent. The last two will graduate and go away to college. The middle, while back in the house this semester living at home while going to Lee, may decide to move back on campus or somewhere else. After living in a household of 7 people as recently as March of 2020, the whole "to be left" part is pretty obvious. And within that, the "continue to be without fading or being lost" seems very relevant too because I will be the first to say that a lot of my identity is tied up in momming the kids in my house.

My goals for this year are the same as every year for about the past 4... I just want to continue to refine the habits I have already started. And in it, I want to learn to abide.

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, 'My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." ~Psalms 91:1-2

"You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you." ~John 15:16

Nothing Like a December 31 Post on January 15

 All day on New Years Eve, I kept thinking that I need to go upstairs and do my NYE reflection. And all day I just couldn't. I haven't been in a writing mode very much at all this year, and I'm not sure why. I did a ton of reading, so maybe my brain wanted to exercise intake rather than output, I don't know.

Whatever the reason, I want to do a late reflections on 2022. Just for myself, just to leave here so I can revisit it later.

What a year. My calendar years are never neat and tidy, because the school year breaks them into two parts, and so there is seldom any sort of thread that can be traced through an entire calendar year and this one is no different.

The first half of 2022 was a continuation of the last half of 2021 as far as school years go and... holy cow. We kept a written record (that we left a TON of stuff off of because the absurd was so dang commonplace that eventually we didn't even notice it, to be honest) of that school year because no one would ever believe it was real. My students, my classes? AMAZING. Everything else? No words. (There are, but lots of them I can't publicly reflect on, haha.) I'll just leave this statistic right here: My department of 11 in August had lost 6 teachers by May. We started the 2022 school year with 6 teachers who were brand new to CHS (two of whom had come in January, but still). I think CHS hired like 30-something new teachers for the 2022-2023 school year and the middle school was almost as high. The first half of 2022 was spent professionally just wondering WHAT is happening, HOW do we fix it, and CAN I outlast it. I will say that I found something beautiful inside of myself, something that knew without a shadow of a doubt that I'm where I'm supposed to be and that I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to do. I can tighten the belt and still be fine because when you're doing the Lord's work, He equips you. And that's how I see my job, truly. Once I came to that re-realization, I was in a good place and I've been in a good place professionally for the second half of 2022. In fact, a wonderful place. I've accepted a new-old leadership role, I've mentored new teachers, and I've taken on two new classes in 2022 (one was English II Honors just for the one spring class and it was SO AWESOME and the other was yearbook on my planning period during the second half of the fall semester, and I have it full time now and it's been wonderful). It's really wild, what has started to happen in some ways, and that is that I seem to be returning to my teaching roots a little bit. I have 8 years left and it's starting to feel like I may finish this thing out in many of the same ways I started it. And that's awesome. 

The first half of 2022 brought the highest of highs for a few kids, the lowest of lows for another, and some challenges for another. We had a week in April/May when, and this is totally bragging I guess but it is what it is, for three days in a row, every single day a huge honor or award came to one of our three high schoolers. Angela was named JRTOC Cadet Corps Commander for her upcoming senior year, Kelsey was voted Student Body Vice-President for her upcoming senior year, and Roman won literally like 5 or 6 of the local scholarships at Senior Night. A few weeks before that week, Kelsey and Angela were selected to be the two juniors to attend Girls' State and Roman was awarded the Rymer Gold Scholarship. Those were the highest highs we could have dreamed of, and the Lord truly gave all that we ask or imagine. In March, though, and on into April, we faced a really difficult situation with one of our children and, for a period of time, we didn't even know where he was. I never imagined myself parenting in something like that, and I guess in a lot of ways I have been shown that it doesn't matter who you are or what you've done or what you believe or how you live, we are every one susceptible to being shown that you can do everything possible and sometimes it's still not enough, because your kids have free will. 

The second half of 2022 has brought the most awesome senior year for our two youngest. They are carpeing the diem, they are leading well, they are doing awesome in school, Kelsey was voted Homecoming Queen, and Angela got two nominations to the Air Force Academy and one to the Naval Academy (still waiting to see if she gets either appointment). Emma had an incredible first semester of her sophomore year and is flourishing at UTC. Roman learned that college is a lot different from high school and had some major stress and close calls with his grades, but he squeaked by and kept those scholarships. And Francisco is doing really well, working landscaping and becoming more like his old happy self. 

Kraig freaking wrote on a piece of paper on January 1, 2022, that he wanted to run a marathon and on October 9, 2022, he did it. In Chicago. The Chicago marathon. Because if you're going to go, why not go BIG. :) I'm just so proud of him for battling his diabetes (and conquering it), and showing our kids what it means to be disciplined and dedicated and driven. He ran late at night so as not to miss family time, he ran while a kid biked, he trained, and he did it. He will tell you that, due to an injury during the race, he did not finish anywhere near where he would have liked, so he's not finished with marathons. He had to try again.

The second half of 2022 brought a tremendous loss on Thanksgiving Day, when one of our closest families from our young married/young parenting days, were in a car accident and two of them were killed.  The horror from that middle of the night phone call with my friend will never fade for me. The memorial service at the college freshman's college, the double funeral in Canton... I just sat there in shock that it was really happening and that my friend and her surviving daughter were somehow finding the strength to put one foot in front of the other. My heart remains crushed for the two of them.

I had a really good year as far as self-discipline and organization and goals. I tracked everything, which always helps me, and was able to see what worked and what didn't. There were definitely emotional ups and downs, but the time from May to December was a period of mostly level ground, which is the best. 

My very favorite part of my personal life this year is that I started a new job, a side job working as a travel advisor! It's been a lot different than I expected (and, frankly, a lot harder), but MAN when it works, does it ever work! I'm finally getting the hang of it, I think, and it's a ton of fun. I hope it ends up being something I can do in retirement as well.

Speaking of travel... we did Congaree National Park in February while Emma went to see a friend at USC (kayaked it!), Mammoth Cave in March (just me and the three high schoolers-- had a blast!), Kelsey had Girls State week at Lipscomb, Shenandoah National Park and DC and Annapolis in June (Angela was accepted to the Naval Academy Summer Seminar so we made a trip of it when we took her), CMAFest with Kelsey in June (we benefitted from the kindness and generosity of an amazing friend and got to have VIP passes with some other CHS kids and moms), Bear Paw several times, took the camper to Pigeon Forge (also, we got a camper!), in September Kraig and I went on an anniversary cruise to New England, in October for fall break the two high schoolers and Kraig and I did the first half of the week in the Keys (Everglades NP and Biscayne, Dry Tortugas was canceled due to the hurricane damage) and the second half in Chicago for the marathon (and Indiana Dunes NP), I took Angela and Roman to Tupelo for him to hang with his girlfriend and Angela and I had a blast, Kelsey went to Florida for fall retreat, and then we all went to WV in November and December. SUCH a great year of stealing every moment we could to make a memory. 

Spiritually, this was a year where I definitely leaned on the Lord frequently, but I am sorry to say that it was NOT a year of walking closely beside Him every day. I mean, I did, but I didn't commit the time to regular study and His word, and I intend to fix that this year in 2023. Even still, He showed me so many things and He took care of us so well.

My 2022 word was "Shivelight", which means rays of light that pierce through a canopy of trees. I vowed in January 1 to spend the coming year looking for the light, even when it was dark. I would say, especially as I think back on it now, that Shivelight was the perfect word for this year. It was so bright at times, but so dark at others. And I truly did train myself to always look for the light, which was very helpful when I was living the hardest school year known to man and had a kid whose whereabouts were unknown. I wish He had not decide to give me so many opportunities to practice it, but I am surely glad for those rays that pierced the darkness.

We spent some time on one of the last days in 2022 driving to a mountaintop to do a quick hike (short but totally uphill) right at sunset. I had read that the sunset from there is astounding and that was the perfect weather day for a great sunset. I told my people to take warm clothes and shoes they could walk in, and that we would use flashlights to come down. What I did NOT take into account was that there was still snow on the ground on this mountain from the WV snows a week or so earlier. And so, the awesome and amazing idea and plan was completely thwarted as we slipped and slid around on a mountainside, trying to get to the top to see the reward. Instead, because I was afraid someone would get hurt (and probably that that someone would be me), we decided to give up and return (carefully) to the car. It was a good laugh and fun bonding experience, no one (including me) truly felt cheated of the sunset. But from below, through the trees, we could see the glorious light from that sunset. We didn't get the full picture, but we got the rays. And sometimes, as 2022 showed me, the rays will have to be enough. 

A Season of Hope

Last Sunday at church, we heard a pretty incredible sermon. My pastor talked about salvation and about the fact that we are never too broken to be redeemed, never too dirty to be worthy of Him. If I’m being honest, although it was a POWERFUL sermon, it wasn’t one that specifically felt like it was speaking to me directly at this point in my life the way some sermons feel. 

Then, just at the end, Lord spoke to that house and then my pastor said these words: “Heal us, help us, and fill us with hope.” 

And immediately after that, I got a clear sense of the season the Lord has brought me to.

From August to December, I was in a deep, dark place. I was angry and I was fearful and I was broken-hearted. Many of those factors through which I defined myself had been destroyed or aged out or been taken away. 

Here , in January, I wrote about the mending that He was showing me and providing, and while the post was about the parent-child relationships I knew of, more in me was being mended than relationships. He was healing ME.

In February, it became very clear that He was helping me. In order to come to a place where I could receive help, I had to first figure out where the wounds were for them to be healed. Once that was done, He sent the words of others and new perspectives to allow for the helping to come. I wrote about the help Here.

Sunday, at the end of church, I saw where I am now and hopefully where I am headed in 2022… to a place of hope. My 2022 word is “shivelight”, which I have translated into looking for the bright spots. That’s what hope is, it’s the bright spots. 

Angela hopes to get into the Air Force Academy and after being very optimistic for a while, I had come to a place in the last few months of, not just being doubtful that it would happen, but even feeling a lack of trust in the prayer I had prayed— that if it’s not meant to be, He will close the door in favor of opening those that need to be opened. Last week, she got her acceptance into the Summer Seminar at the US Naval Academy. This is huge on many levels but, as I told a close friend, it just gives me a new sense of HOPE that it IS a possibility for her big dreams to be fulfilled. 

I had prayed the same for Roman and college, that if he’s meant to be at one school the money will be provided and if he’s not, it won’t. It didn’t look like it was going to happen and so we had taken steps to prepare for the other school and suddenly this week, a letter came and the hope is back. 

I have renewed hope in the future of my job. I have renewed hope in a new side job. I have renewed hope in my children’s futures and in mine and Kraig’s upcoming years. 

He has moved me into a season of hope, and while I don’t know how long this season will be, I am grateful and hungry for it.

Stone Memorials

At the very end of service yesterday, the praise and worship team started to sing a song that I have not heard in YEARS but a song that I consider a stone memorial of sorts for me.

Back in February of 2017, it did not look like our adoption was going to happen because the paperwork did not look possible in the 4 week timeframe it had leading to the deadline. I stood in church the morning that I wrote this post and Travis Greene’s “Made a Way” was played. In that post, I detail how the Lord spoke directly to my soul (after having used that song only four months earlier) to reassure me that He was going to do it. And in that post from February 2017, I mention that one day in the future I will hear that song and the promise will be fulfilled. The way will have already been made and we will be living it.

Yesterday, during that ending of service, that song again became a promise and a fulfillment. We have had high hopes for each of our kids since they came here and there have been moments of grave doubt and moments of fear and moments of insane joy. This past week, we were in moments of insane joy as a huge dream of Angela’s is starting to look very possible and a hope we had actually kind of given up on for Roman suddenly became very possible. We WERE, literally, standing in that moment on March 6, 2022, holding onto an email and a college letter that happened only “because You made a way.” 

And yet in the midst of that, there is heartbreak and loss and grief for another. For that, we are…. 

“Standing here not knowing how we'll get through this test
But holding unto faith You know that
Nothing can catch You by surprise
You got this figured out and You're watching us now
But when it looks as if we can't win
You wrap us in Your arm and step in
And everything we need You supply
You got this in control
And now we know that

There is nothing that’s impossible.”

I had the family devotional last night, and I used Joshua 4 as my text. 

1 When all the nation had finished passing over the Jordan, the Lord said to Joshua, 3 and command them, saying, ‘Take twelve stones from here out of the midst of the Jordan, from the very place where the priests' feet stood firmly, and bring them over with you and lay them down in the place where you lodge tonight.’” 4 Then Joshua called the twelve men from the people of Israel, whom he had appointed, a man from each tribe. 5 And Joshua said to them, “Pass on before the ark of the Lord your God into the midst of the Jordan, and take up each of you a stone upon his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the people of Israel, 6 that this may be a sign among you. When your children ask in time to come, ‘What do those stones mean to you?’ 7 then you shall tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it passed over the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. So these stones shall be to the people of Israel a memorial forever.” 21 And he said to the people of Israel, “When your children ask their fathers in times to come, ‘What do these stones mean?’ 23 For the Lord your God dried up the waters of the Jordan for you until you passed over, as the Lord your God did to the Red Sea, which he dried up for us until we passed over, 24 so that all the peoples of the earth may know that the hand of the Lord is mighty, that you may fear the Lord your God forever.” - Joshua 4:1,3-7,21,23-24

I talked to them about those stone memorials. We all have those moments in life where God’s faithfulness was proven and we return to them, either through a song or a verse or a geographic location or a date in time where we are reminded, and we need to share that testimony with others. 

For me, that song will always be a stone memorial. And for me yesterday, it not only proved His faithfulness in where we have been, it gave me strength and faith in where we are going. I had no idea when I did that devotional last night with my family that today would bring about a new test, new fears and grief. But because my faith was strengthened last night and because I shared with them, I am better able to face today’s situation.

“He moves mountains. He causes walls to fall. With his power, He performs miracles. There is nothing that’s impossible. And we’re standing here only because He made a way.”