State Fair 2014 and Go Ducks!

This afternoon, I pulled up a recipe on my blog for an amazing cake that Marshall wanted for dessert before his first day of school. (Yes, my oldest is going to school. Not homeschool. But that's a post for another day). And, yes, I keep my recipes on my blog because I lose them when they are on paper.  I've never claimed organization to be one of my spiritual gifts.

Anyway - I had this recipe up on the blog. I put the cake in the oven, looked over, and all four of my kids are around the computer looking at old blog posts. This is why I blog, people. I love to write. I love the creative outlet, especially since I have no artistic or crafting ability. But, I started my role as a mommy blogger so that my kids would have a record of what we did. I want them to be able to look back in 2030 and see where we went, trips we took, what we did in the day to day, and the horrendous outfits that they wore in 2014. I love their joy looking back at younger versions of themselves and each other, and hearing their perspectives on days gone by.

No explanation for Eliza putting a bow directly on top of her head.
Or for Morrow's extremely dirty shirt (except that he is the 4th child. So goes his life)

To keep the memories rolling, I'd better get a few photos up of our trip to the Oregon State Fair. We hadn't gone since 2010, when I was pregnant with Jameson. So Gram and I piled the kids in the car, in the rain, and headed out to the fairgrounds. It really was so much fun. 

Watching Morrow love the animals was in itself worth the price of admission. Feeding baby cows was almost too much joy for him. And, he gave the pigs a serious talking too, with hand motions and all, even thought his vocabulary consists of about five words.

The best part is that my kids don't know that r-i-d-e-s exist at the fair. Ssssshhhhh - don't tell them! They loved the animal barns, the fair food, pig racing, the petting zoo and even the quilt exhibit. All without having to put them on the rickety rides that get taken apart and put back together every few weeks. 

And . . . we got to end the day watching the Duck game together on the couch. So sweet to have four little ducklings to snuggle up and cheer with. (I know it looks like I have three little ducks, not four. Eliza was painting her nails yellow and green, putting green & yellow hair chalk in her hair and making treats in her EZ-Bake oven). Nothing better!

Deepest Crisis and Highest Praise

So, the writing continues.

In January 2011, I sat in the lecture at Bible Study Fellowship, eight-week-old-Jameson asleep in my lap, just weeks after receiving utterly devastating news. I remember one of my best friends turned around from the pew in front of me as our teaching leader said "from our deepest crisis comes highest praise." My friend knew those words were meant for me. I was in the deepest crisis I had known in my then 32 years. It was dark, disorienting, and lonely. I was at the bottom of a pit so the only place to look was up to the Lord.

About 10 months before that time, I had providentially read a book by Dr. Ligon Duncan titled Does Grace Grow Best in Winter? Dr. Duncan says the following about suffering:

"Since we live during a time in which some of the sufferings of this world have been mitigated for us, we are lulled to sleep sometimes and are surprised by suffering. When pain comes into our experience, our initial reaction is 'Oh, this shouldn't be happening!' But if what I am saying is true (that suffering is, that suffering happens, that suffering is the norm for this fallen world), none of us should ever be surprised by suffering. Instead, when it comes our way, we ought to be saying: 'I've been waiting and preparing for you. I knew you were coming, because this fallen world is full of the likes of you. I've been preparing, by God's grace and by God's Word, to glorify God as I experience you.' We must get it ingrained into our minds that suffering is an essential part of the Christian experience. You will suffer. That's the first thing you need to know. The question remains, will you suffer in a way that honors Christ?" 

When I received the utterly devastating news, I was pressed but not crushed, struck down but not destroyed. The Holy Spirit brought Dr. Duncan's words to mind, and I knew. I knew that this was the suffering I'd been waiting and preparing for.

And the Lord used that suffering to do a work in me that I never even knew needed to be done. Just recently, I came across the words of the prophet Hosea:

And, I can say without a doubt that the Lord tore me so that He could heal me. The Lord struck me down so that he could bind me up.

You see, my identity had become completely wrapped up in the things that Jesus had called me to do as a wife, a mom, a homeschool mom, a servant at church and Bible study, a friend. When this news hit me, I was stripped down to nothing. I was like a house ripped apart by a tornado. The only thing left was my foundation. Praise God that in His Grace, Jesus had laid a foundation of His Word underneath the things I had been building.

Jesus wanted me to know that I am His and that therein lies my identity. That He died for me and redeemed me just because I am His child. Not because I am perfect (Lord knows I'm not!). Not because I have a law degree. Not because I weigh less than xxx-lbs on the scale or finally fit into size-X clothing. Nor because I listen to Matt Chandler and read John Piper. Not because I followed the newest Christian author's wisdom on being an amazing wife. Or drove an SUV full of carseats and little people. Or implemented Shepherding a Child's Heart to perfection. Or was a leader at an amazing Bible study. Or brought dinner to a family from church. Or watched my friend's children when she needed help.

At Hope Spoken in February, my friend Jami Nato described her experience in a way that I tracked with 100%. Before her own suffering, she thought that following a formula meant God would give you a perfect life. Kind of like: Jesus, I follow your "rules" and then you give me the American Dream wrapped up with a bow and dropped off on my front porch.

Amen.
Thank you.
See you in eternity, Jesus.

But Jesus said, "not so fast." He stripped away everything but Himself. And he began rebuilding my identity in Him.

God did not want to let me rest satisfied in the American Dream because He didn't want me satisfied in anything less than Himself. Augustine of Hippo captured it well in his Confessions stating, "You have made us for Yourself, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in You."
I was torn and I was struck down, but none of it was without a purpose. It was so that God could heal me and bind me up - so that I could be healed from my desire for (what I thought) was the perfect earthly life and instead find my rest in Him. So that I could start letting go of my formula for perfection and instead find my identity in Him and Him alone.

As I have walked through this next chapter of suffering, Jesus has used every bit of what He taught me in that last season of crisis. None of it has gone to waste.  Jesus knew that I would need my identity to be entirely in Him because other pieces of my identity were disappearing. Through the previous season, He taught me to be vulnerable and live pressing into biblical community - two things that have made this present season bearable, and even fruitful, yielding an abundance of depth in my relationship with Jesus, in friendships and family relationships.

Closest to my heart is that in 2010-2011, God proved Himself faithful to keep every last one of His promises to me. He gave me a blessed assurance that He is who He says He is. This assurance has given me confidence when I tell my children that God won't let them down; that He is their ever-present, all-knowing father in Heaven; and that He will keep all of His promises to them. They have to be able to sense that this isn't wishful thinking but instead a rock solid confidence based on experience. It is a work that God did in me when He healed me after I was torn and struck down. I never would have chosen to walk through suffering. I never would have hand-picked the trials I've faced. Yet God is taking the deepest, darkest trenches and is working them for my good, the good of my children, and for His Glory. From deepest crisis, highest praise is rising.

Sunriver, Birthdays, and I'm Blogging Again

And so it begins . . . a new chapter in the life of the Comptons. Many of you know the heartache and craziness that were brought about in the past few months.  Many of you don't. Someday I will be ready to write more, but for now suffice it to say that Jesus is faithful and by God's grace we live and breathe and have our being. As we have walked through the storm I feared most in this world, the Lord has done immeasurably more than I ever could have asked or imagined. He has continued to make me fearless, and as long as I keep my eyes on Jesus and off of the waves I'm okay. More than okay.

In all of this, my oldest baby mentioned that I haven't blogged since the start of this mess. I asked him why it mattered to him, and he said he missed having a record of everything we've done. That he wanted our life in writing and pictures that he could read about later. He suggested that I start with these past few days of vacation at Sunriver. So, here we go!!

Thursday morning I packed up my four babes and headed over the mountain to Sunriver to meet my in-laws. The house there has become a place of comfort and joy to me as much as to my kids. We spent four days playing to a state of exhaustion and filth!

Secretly, my fave part of Sunriver is that Morrow will only nap with me!

These two are becoming best buddies!

Riding bikes,

Cutest bike rider ever! He rode to the Village and back!!

swimming, water slides,  time with my big kids who are growing up WAY too fast,

football, brotherly bonding,

ice cream, riding the chair lift at Bachelor for the first time ever,

snow, ladder ball

Clash of Clans & Minecraft,

tubing, bounce houses,

bumper cars, mini golf, donuts,

hot tubbing and train rides!

Oh . . . and we might have celebrated my birthday. Bless my sweet friend Sara for thinking it was my 32nd - I wish! Thankful for Randy and Robyn who gave me an awesome birthday weekend. Including getting to go running TWICE and an hour of laying out in the sun with headphones in!!

All I wanted for my birthday was a picture with my four kids. I can't say we got a good one, but they definitely depict real life.

So glad to be writing again . . .

Repost: What's in a Name: Morrow Isaiah Edition

Oh goodness, I haven't written in weeks. But today I woke up and read Charles Spurgeon's devotion for May 13 in Morning by Morning, and thought I needed to at least re-post the blog about Morrow's name. The May 13th devotion is where his name finds its roots, and it speaks to walking through trials and suffering. It seems we know so many who are walking through different types of trials recently. Praying that this may bring you comfort in your trials, just as the Lord used it to comfort us.

Joy truly does come on the morrow. Hard to believe that this little guy, who was once a figment of our imaginations, is now a crazy one year old running around entertaining all of us and terrorizing our house and his siblings.

In honor of Morrow's "Spurgeon Day" here you go:

Four weeks ago, our hearts were bursting with joy as we welcomed baby Morrow Isaiah into the world and into our family. Joy. Pure joy. When we were walking through some of our darkest days, I clung to God's promises with every ounce of my soul. One of those promises is found in Psalm 30:5 that "weeping may tarry for a night, but joy comes in the morning." In the midst of many tears, I was trusting Jesus that joy was truly going to come.

Another way of saying "morning" is "morrow," as found in one of our all time favorite devotionals, Charles Spurgeon's classic "Morning and Evening." The morning devotional for May 13 is based on Psalm 30:5 and beautifully explains our heart in choosing Morrow's name:

Christian! If thou art in a night of trial, think of the morrow; cheer up thy heart with the thought of the coming of thy Lord. Be patient, for

"Lo! He comes with clouds descending." 

Be patient! The Husbandman waits until He reaps His harvest. Be patient; for you know who has said, "Behold, I come quickly; and my reward is with me, to give to every man according as his work shall be." If you are never so wretched now, remember

"A few more rolling suns, at most,
Will land thee on fair Canaan's coast."

Thy head may be crowned with thorny troubles now, but it shall wear a starry crown ere long; thy hand may be filled with cares-it shall sweep the strings of the harp of heaven soon. Thy garments may be soiled with dust now; they shall be white by-and-by. Wait a little longer. Ah! how despicable our troubles and trials will seem when we look back upon them! Looking at them here in the prospect, they seem immense; but when we get to heaven we shall then

"With transporting joys recount,
The labours of our feet."

Our trials will then seem light and momentary afflictions. Let us go on boldly; if the night be never so dark, the morning cometh, which is more than they can say who are shut up in the darkness of hell. Do you know what it is thus to live on the future-to live on expectation-to antedate heaven? Happy believer, to have so sure, so comforting a hope. It may be all dark now, but it will soon be light; it may be all trial now, but it will soon be all happiness. What matters it though "weeping may endure for a night," when "joy cometh in the morning?"

During my "night," I was in the midst of the Bible Study Fellowship study of Isaiah. Isaiah's beautiful prophecy, full of God's promises to His people, carried me through dark hours and breathed new life into my downcast soul. Further, Isaiah means "God saves," and God Himself saved us from the night. We could think of no better middle name for Morrow than the name of God's faithful servant, Isaiah. Welcome Baby Morrow. Sweet baby, you are a tangible expression to us of Jesus's salvation, redemption and joy.

Hope Spoken

I don't even know where to begin after this past weekend. I want to write, but I'm still trying to process all that I heard at Hope Spoken. As people are asking me about my time in Texas, I'm kind of speechless (which is seriously rare for me, and notice I only said kind of speechless). With a brain spinning in a ton of different directions, I just don't now where to begin but I've got to start somewhere.

There were three reasons that I wanted to go to Hope Spoken: Lauren Chandler, Jami Nato and Shauna Niequist. Other than that, I really had no expectations. So, these other moments were like surprise parties thrown into my weekend:

Staying up until 2:00am with one of my best friends laughing and laughing and laughing over nonsense. It was so.much.fun.

Eggs at Denny's, served by a waiter named Antonio (table check, everyone), where we experienced a moment of the beauty of brokenness - knowing that only in recognizing the pain can we ever be free from its grip.

Watching a totally random fashion show rehearsal, in the mall-type-building where we found a Starbucks, with the fanciest Wranglers we have ever seen and this strangely over-dressed man giving nonsensical instructions to a group of of would-be models. Made more bizarre by the amount of Botox in the faces of women. Wow.

Cake pops, late-night donuts, peanut butter M&Ms, a table full of candy jars that seemed to be continually refilled with Twix and those little treasure chest shaped Hershey's, and lots and lots of coffee.

The most amazing thunderstorm I have ever seen. Ever.

Amazing swag bags.

Worship which has led to a new obsession with the Hillsong version of Lord of Lords. So good.

A small group that was divinely orchestrated, life-giving and refreshing. We had the best small group leader. Like, the best. Seriously, Shannan Martin was a huge, huge blessing. It was a total gift to be placed in her group.  Just to prove it, here is a quote from Shannan's blog today that sums up so much of the weekend:

"He (Jesus) rights our wrongs as the circle closes in. We're connected by so many things, but pain and failure top the list. They reel us in, wrap us up. We share our hurts and we're healed. We have got to get better at getting real, guys. We have to do better than making everyone else in the room secretly believe they're alone in their mess. We have to get better at being human together. This is what is good. This is how we stop pretending. This is how we really love."

There was so much goodness this weekend. So.Much.Goodness. But, I truly cannot keep my eyes open so I'll have to write more later. I cannot wait to process a bit more in writing.

Morrow is One

The inevitable happened. Our fourth baby reached his first birthday. We love you, Morrow Isaiah. 

Desperately Seeking Dinner

Sometimes I blog about Jesus. Sometimes I blog about life. Sometimes I blog to keep track of things I might otherwise lose ... like memories . . . or recipes as the case may be. Awhile back, my mother in law gave me a recipe for chicken parmesan. I love making it because (a) my kids LOVE it and (b) the smell of the chicken baking is total nostalgia for Eric of his childhood.

The recipe is printed on a half sheet of paper that doesn't fit well in any of my recipe boxes. Needless to say, due to my ADD tendencies (read: organizationally-impaired), it gets lost in the pantry and I find myself scrambling to dig it out on a regular basis. Tonight, I sat down to blog this recipe so that I will always be able to find it, and alas, I cannot find the recipe. Anywhere. The irony is rich.

So for now I'll leave you with one of my favorite cake recipes that I did already blog a couple of years back after being forced to find it via Google one too many times. It's one of our faves that I'm making for the IF:Gathering girls on Friday night. Maybe it will entice you to come watch. Our past two Friday nights have been fabulous. I'm so thankful for a family room full of women hearing about Jesus and considering "IF He is real, THEN what?." If you haven't joined us yet, but are curious, consider yourself invited and come watch this Friday night at 7:30. Even if you don't know anyone else, you know me right? Email me for my address and come partake in some seriously amazing chocolate cake!

Chocolate Kahlua Bundt Cake with Chocolate Ganache

Cake:

1 package Betty Crocker chocolate fudge cake mix

4 eggs

1 cup sour cream

1 cup Kahlua

3/4 cup vegetable oil

1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

Chocolate Ganache:

1/2 cup heavy whipping cream

1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

Make sure the oven rack is in the center position and preheat oven to 350 degrees. 

Cake:  Combine cake mix, eggs, sour cream, Kahlua, and oil.  Beat with an electric mixer for 1 to 2 minutes.  Do not over mix.  Only mix until ingredients are blended.  Stir in chocolate chips with a spatula.  Pour batter into bundt pan.  Bake for 45 minutes or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean.  Cool.  

Ganache:  When ready to serve cake, in a saucepan bring whipping cream to a boil  Remove from heat and stir in chocolate chips.  Pour immediately over cake and serve.