Happy Birthday, Daddy!

Daddy with Judah the day his adoption was finalized in 2008

Happy birthday to my amazing father!

Who consistently, unapologetically and powerfully proclaims the gospel,

who comes home afterwards and makes us all laugh until we're gasping for air.

Who writes books that make you think, inspire you to act, and point your focus to the same gospel that he preaches

who leads us in family worship morning and evening.

Who writes articles that cut straight to the heart of an issue

who cooks gourmet meals for his family, just for fun, changes dirty diapers with the best of them, and tucks the boys in every night with original bedtime stories.

Who is one of our church's elders, a discipler, a mentor, a friend,

who is and has always been an old soul, dressing and talking sometimes as if he was born in 1929 instead of 1969... and then turning around and making us laugh with tales from his 80s LA teen years.

Who taught me how to stand up for my faith, and to articulate what I believe,

who teaches me ballroom dancing in our living room.

Who taught me how to ask tough questions,

who sends me seeking my own answers.

Who was the son of an eighteen-year-old, Buddhist mother, abandoned by her high school sweetheart,

who is an example of what true fatherhood is.

Who married an amazing woman in 1989, six months after he met her,

who is excited about their upcoming anniversary because it means he's spent "more years with her than without her."

Who began his ministry twenty years ago,

who has been a blessing to so many since then -especially those who know and love him best.

Who does not see ministry as a popularity contest,

and who has taught us to proclaim the truth, no matter what the cost.

Who I will always see as "Daddy," no matter how old I get,

and who is forever allowed to call me "Baby Girl."

Happy birthday, Daddy! Even though your little girl isn't so little anymore, she's so proud of the man that you are, and so anxious to see all that the Lord still has to accomplish through you.

Joyfully Content ~Part One

Someday, my prince will come --but, first, I need a fairy godmother.

I'll be going about some monotonous chore that I've done a million times -we'll pick toilet scrubbing. I'll be scrubbing the toilet in my rags, bored out of my mind, singing, "So This is Love" in my lovely voice (or make "In My Own Little Corner" --Julie Andrews style, but with this amazing Aretha Franklin twist. Hey! It's my fantasy!), watching my pathetic expression (on the gorgeous version of the face that could have been) in the water below when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I'll turn to see her standing there: the fairy godmother come to change my life with a sweep of her magic wand! A mere twenty-four hours (and a few Rogers and Hamerstein songs) later, I'll be riding off into the sunset with my handsome prince, his big, amazing brown eyes (they're brown in every version I've seen, so I'm thinking that's the charming color) shining at the sight of me. In that one gaze, I'll be transformed from the boring toilet-scrubber I was twenty-four hours before to a radiant bride waving sweetly and innocently at my shocked stepsisters as I race off in that pretty white carriage towards my new life.

Of course, given the fact that the vast majority of us will not marry princes, and that I don't expect to be among the chosen few that do, eventually, the toilets in my castle (read: apartment) will need scrubbing. And as I won't be able to do it in the resplendent dress I wore to the ball, I'll need to change into some of my old rags, get on my knees, and have at it. Oh, I'll be married, yes; but on the other side of the threshold that strong-armed Prince Charming (just plain old Johnny, in reality, my heart though he may hold) just lifted me over lies a home much like the one I've already been living in, and even more responsibilities than I left behind.

I thought the best way to start of this series was with a theory that I've long held: I don't think most of us think about the "over-the-threshold" part -we get caught up in the carriage scene, where we're waving goodbye to our boring old life and stepping into the fantasy world. There's a reason why Disney movies stop at the wedding (and the cheesy sequels that come out ten years later don't count): to show us normal married life would ruin the illusion of perfection.

Marriage is such a beautiful union (Ephesians 5:22ff), a state that many of us (I'd venture to say most of us), Lord willing, will someday occupy. I believe that marriage is something that the unmarried of us should be thinking about -we should be praying and seeking the Lord's will in finding and preparing for a spouse, leaning on our parents' guidance during this critical time of preparation, but, also realizing that our single years are fleeting, and that this unique time of ministry will not be around forever (1 Corinthians 7:34-35).

But, let's face it: when daughterhood gets tough, when the day-to-day toils become monotonous or difficult, when we don't want to apply and stretch ourselves, when we're drowning in starry-eyed aspirations of romance, it can be easy to imagine a world where we are the queens of our own problem-free domains. In doing so, we start to view singleness as a less-than state.

Our idea of marriage starts to look something like this:

Johnny (Dan, Mike, Tom, Harry, Fabio, etc.) will come home from work to find you sitting on the couch reading to your adorable, well-behaved children. As he enters (handsome Irish -or Scottish, or Japanese, or Brazilian, or down-home all-American -devil that he is), you'll rise, and the children will scatter to their assigned corners of the room, cleaning up, setting the table, or just playing like the little cherubs they are. Johnny will sweep you up in his arms and gaze at you with the look that reads something like Elizabeth Barrett Browning's, "How do I love thee?" And he'll kiss you and say, "You are always new, the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest." In the circle of his arms, in the living room of your beautiful home, after his long day at work at his amazing job, with his six figure paycheck bulging in his back pocket, bills paid, pantry stocked, perfectly loved by a man in whose eyes you are flawlessly perfect... you heave a blissful sigh.

Now, I realize that this scenario is over the top, even for someone with the most romantic sensibilities (and, as an aside, don't get be wrong: I love John Keats). But did you catch the problem in that fantasy? It was very me focused. And that's the key: our ideals of marriage seem to focus all on us.

Something my mother has always taught me, though -a lesson I strive to embrace -is that marriage, like every other season in life, is a ministry opportunity. While I don't believe that a godly marriage should be devoid of that romantic love that we single girls tend to associate with it --that kind of love isn't the end of the story. Marriage is a stretching, sanctifying experience, and beyond the romantic facets of wooing, wining, and dining lie the day-to-day struggles from which unmarried young women are exempt. I want to talk about our false perception of Prince Charming in a later post, but right now, I want to mention that running our own homes isn't going to be any easier than the lives we have right now -in fact, some days, it's going to be infinitely more difficult.

This was illustrated for me about two months ago, when my entire family caught a nasty flu virus -and when I say my entire family, I mean everyone except for six-month-old Micah and me. While I do help out a lot at home, the full responsibility of taking care of my family rarely rests squarely on my shoulders (unless I'm babysitting or holding down the fort while Mama and Daddy are out of town). I've found that people who know my mom has lupus tend to cast me as the Florence Nightingale of the Baucham home (or the under-appreciated Cinderalla, depending on their agenda), I've got to say, they're giving me way too much credit. While it can be easy to hear a word like "lupus" and paint a picture of my mom bedridden and in and out of the hospital, very blessedly, that isn't the case -with the right diet and exercise regime, for her particular case, she's still the energizer bunny. On top of that, we've got two parents, and my dad is an active part of our lives as well. There are also two teenagers thrown into the mix. The ratio of children to adults is a balmy four to four right now, with Elijah (5) helping out more and more every day.

I didn't realize how much this arrangement spoiled me until everyone was down. Talk about a reality check! The Lord gave me a foretaste of what motherhood truly means (although I hope that the days I have to take care of six sick folks -four of them five and under- are scarce). I can imagine that Johnny (or Mike, or Dane, or Harry, or Julio) wouldn't look so charming doubled over and green in the gills. Diarrhea. Vomiting. Dizziness. Runny noses. Coughing. When I didn't get sick, I stopped to think of what the Lord might be teaching me: 1) I need to add a really strong immune system to my resume, and 2) although it was my joy to take care of my family, and I praised God that I wasn't ill, I loved the reminder that running a home is not always easy and romantic. When my dad was well enough to join forces with me, I was ecstatic.

No, my experience didn't chase me away from wanting to be a wife and mother. But it did help me in my resolve not to imagine my married life as Snow White gaily and easily keeping house while woodland animals serenade me and help me turn down beds. And it helped me to be grateful for these years of singleness to develop the character I needed not to go crazy while my kinfolk were falling like flies!

Home-making is a ministry, not a fantasy. A realistic picture of marriage shouldn't put a damper on our prayers for the Lord to prepare our hearts for whatever the future might hold; rather, it should give us a true vision for what we should be praying and preparing for, and how we should view the season that we already occupy: singleness is a ministry, too. Every season is an opportunity to glorify the Lord in the difficulties and in the triumphs.

From one single girl to many others, as much as I look forward to riding off into the sunset (trade that carriage for a Mustang and take out the evil step-sisters, and I'm all over that daydream) what I hope to have in a marriage, should the Lord choose to bless me with one, is so much more substantial than sweet nothings: I want to love the Lord my God with all of my heart -even when it's not easy to surrender every area of my life. It sounds simple enough, but it's no easy task, and it's more worthwhile than we could ever know. It's something I can start doing right now -and something that, by God's grace, I can continue doing, whatever the future may hold.

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Technical Difficulties

So, Blogger is eating all of the comments on my older posts. I'm not sure what the problem is, exactly, or if my comments can be rescued, only that the issue is spreading ever-so-rapidly. Some posts are losing every single comment -some post are losing about half. Popular posts like Should Young Women Go to College are down to about four out of about sixty. It's a wee bit frustrating, as several posts (that one, Home Girl and Family Dynamics and the Adult Daughter, all ones that bit the dust) were just sent to a potential publisher who was interested in what kind of feedback what I'm already writing receives (when he pulls up the posts, his answer will be 0), but, alas... our Lord is sovereign. The articles are the most important thing (she says, struggling hard not to let the Type A aspects of her personality interfere with the laid-backness she's struggling to exemplify). As the comment carnage spreads, if your comment on a recent post gets hacked down in the madness or if your comment on a recent post doesn't show up in a couple of days, I apologize in advance.

In other, random, better news, I spent the whole day at the rodeo yesterday with friends-who-are-basically-family and had a blast --I even found some of my beloved fried pickles (favorite fair food, hands down). Cowboy hats, boots, ginormous belt buckles, fried everything, country music blaring, a cow pageant, seven kids six and under in tow who stop and jam to whatever beat's on the speakers, a best friend who was ready and willing to belt out the lyrics to random songs when nobody else was milling around at the carnival, a radio station that kept playing all the right songs... sometimes it's just too fun being a Texan.

Now, off to find some of my techie friends to help technologically illiterate me...

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Joyfully Content

What would you do if I told you...

...that you would never marry?

Would your heart sink? Would you be angry? Would you feel that you had nothing to live for?

If your reaction fit into any of the above categories, would you admit it?

Would you change the way you're living your life? If you were living at home, would you go to college in search of a career? If you were at college, would you throw yourself into your career and ignore home life completely? If you've already got a career, would you become a workaholic so you'd have something to fill the empty spaces in your life? Do you have a backup plan "just in case" you don't get married? Are you living your single years as second best?

If someone asked you what your plans were for life ten years down the line, would you be able to formulate anything other than "I hope I'll be married by then..."

Something I've been thinking about quite a bit lately, and something I've been discussing with a handful of my unmarried friends, is the subject of singleness itself, and a growing concern we have with how so many singles seem to see marriage as the paradise that awaits us... and singleness as a purgatory that must be endured. I've had conversations with young women who unknowingly communicate that idea --I've been guilty of communicating it myself without meaning to.

And as I reflect on the attitudes that many young women have towards matrimony, I begin to worry about whether or not some of us are setting ourselves up for bitterness and disappointment the longer we must wait for marriage, not trusting in God's timing so much as gritting our teeth and bearing the single years as they pass by in a lonely blur. Something we would never want to consider would be the prospect that these "single years" aren't just indefinite -they're perpetual: some of us won't get married after all. What if that "lonely blur" happens to be the life that God has called us to? Will we still trust him?

I know my audience well enough to know that some of your knuckles are white right now, and your eyes are as big as saucers: Never married? Perish the thought! At the onset, I will say that very few things are as exciting to me as the prospect of being a link in the legacy of multigenerational faithfulness that my parents are striving to impart to my brothers and I by imparting it to my own children, and perhaps being able to impart it to my children's children. And, on a less multigenerational-minded level... I'm a hopeless romantic, too. But something I've been thinking about lately is that my dream of getting married -like all dreams in my life -should be held in open palms, not clenched fists; whatever my state, I need to be able to honestly pray, "Thy will be done." And if his will is that I remain single, the last thing I want to do is to forge habits of discontentment so early on in my life! And even if his will is that I get married someday, I want to spend these single years in a joyous pursuit of him, not matrimony.

Discontentment is not a unique ailment -many young women have asked me questions about how to keep our eyes focused on Christ during these single years; it's a question that I've asked myself. Because of the growing number of questions I have received, and because of a real concern I have for young ladies in my generation who have decided to turn their hearts towards their homes, I originally intended to write an article outlining some of the things I've learned about battling discontentment. However, because, with everything I had planned to say, the article would have turned out to be rather lengthy (yes, even for me!), I decided, instead, to turn that article into a series outlining at least six key areas that keep us from being joyfully single:

• A false view of marriage
• A false view of husbands
• A false view of singleness
• A false view of self
• A false view of God's timing
• A false view of the bigger picture

I hope to publish the first article next week, and to flesh out the series in coming weeks. It is my prayer that, although, as I have admitted, I am far from flawless in any area of sanctification, I will be able to encourage other young women to strive for the joy that we've been called to exemplify in every season -the series will be called Joyfully Content. The title may sound a bit redundant to some, as joy is a facet of true contentment, which comes from Jesus Christ --but, given the title of my blog, I thought it had a nice ring to it: who ever complained about an extra dose of joy?

I'm going to start by asking you to answer (not necessarily in the comment section, but at least for yourself), the question I asked before:

What do you plan to be doing ten or fifteen years from now (and you aren't allowed to answer with, "I hope I'll be married by then.")? How do you plan to be joyously, contentedly, productively serving the Lord in 2020, should the Lord allow you to tarry? Will you tarry long if there isn't any husband in your future?

(All right, the last one was a bit of a joke.)

Also, at the onset of these articles, I want to say that I can take full credit for very little that I'm going to share here. My mother, other Titus 2 women in my life, and several wise friends (both male and female) have definitely been sounding boards over the past couple of months as I've pondered writing it. That being said, if there are any errors in the series, feel free to blame yours truly. If there's anything beneficial, though (and I hope there will be), my glorious wisdom is hardly the culprit (because I can't seem to put my finger on that glorious wisdom... where did I put it again?). This series is really just the result of a thousand different conversations I've had on the topic, conversations that have all driven me back to God's Word -I spend time around some pretty inspiring people.

I'm looking forward to starting on Monday!

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Blessed are the Persecuted, A.K.A Me

When I was around eight, I decided that I was going to be a martyr when I grew up.

I had been reading Christian biographies, and just up and decided that I'd have one of my own someday. I would die doing something amazing for the cause of Christ. When I was ten, I decided I'd be a missionary's wife --the first one, who died in childbirth as soon as they reached foreign soil, the one whose name you can't remember because he got remarried and the second wife was the one that was married to him throughout most of his adventures. The first, nameless one -his first love -that was me.

Leave it to kid-me to turn suffering for the cause of Christ into a self-centered, romantic notion.

The self-centered romance was dispelled when, around sixteen, I read Foxe's Book of Martyrs. I had nightmares every night I read Foxe's, worst nightmares, even, than the ones that had driven my poor mother to beg me to stop reading my hefty collection of holocaust memoirs two years prior. They were healthy nightmares -they put some sting into my romance and reminded me that persecution is not an easy cross to bear -that a painful death is... well, painful, not just an adventurous notion that stayed mute on the pages of my books -that the heroes I'd grown up admiring were more heroes than I had ever imagined -and that if I was willing to die for the cause of Christ with their quiet faith, it would only be because he held my hand in the midst of the trials.

Matthew 5:10-12 says:

Blessed are those who are persecuted or righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

And 1 Peter 3:13-17 goes on to tell us how we should react in the face of this persecution:

Now who is there to harm you if you are zealous for what is good? But even if you should suffer for righteousness' sake, you will be blessed. Have no fear of them, nor be troubled, but in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect, having a good conscience, so that, when you are slandered, those who revile your good behavior in Christ may be put to shame. For it is better to suffer for doing good, if that should be God's will, than for doing evil.

When I read those verses, and when I reflect on the fact that some of the very people under the sound of Jesus' voice, and under the sound of his disciple Peter's voice suffered systematic persecution under the Roman empire -were gored by steers, fed to lions, crucified, set on fire -and when I understand that Christians across the world are subjected to grievous atrocities simply for mentioning the name of the God I serve... I realize something: I don't know persecution.

The worst "persecution" I've experienced regarding my beliefs has has come from unkind words or broken relationships. I don't think "persecution" is quite the right word for disagreement, unkindness, or even shunning: opposition is. And the difference may sound slight, but the thing is, although I don't like being mocked or misrepresented any more than the next person, words cannot keep me from living out my convictions --words can't make me a martyr unless I decide to play one. Opposition -from strangers blasting me on the internet to friends I've lost because it was just "too weird" that I didn't date (oh, yes) -only causes pain when I get wrapped up in myself and my feelings and my righteousness -the pain of persecution is inescapable. Luke 6:26 puts a different spin on harsh words. I don't necessarily endorse the "sticks and stones" adage: words hurt, but I've never actually had sticks and stones thrown at me for proclaiming the gospel.

When I hear American Christians throwing the word "persecution" around so haphazardly -when I'm tempted to use it myself -I have to stop and wonder: what is the miniscule amount of ridicule that I personally and the Christianity in America as a whole faces from day-to-day compared to what the Lord has called us to suffer for his namesake in the future? Are we who are so quick to defend ourselves against harsh words the same people who claim to be willing to die for our Lord and Savior?

Could you only give an answer when asked for it? Could you do so graciously? Could you weather criticism gracefully? Could you suffer for doing good? Could you suffer to the point of death?

Could I?

I may yet end up as a missionary wife ministering to a hostile unreached people group. I may face harsh persecution from our American government someday. I may be imprisoned because of my beliefs. I may have to die for them. The little pangs of the pride in my life dying a slow and painful death right now may be the Lord preparing me to lay down even more for him in the future.

While eight-year-old me wouldn't have found it quite as "romantic" to live out my convictions in typical American comfort, I don't think she quite understood how easy it can be for us soft-handed Americans to develop martyr complexes all our own. Persecution in the sense that Christians across the ages and even now, across the world, have to deal with is a foreign concept to me, at least in a tangible sense (in the sense that I pray for those who are truly persecuted, it is an ever-present reality). What I have to deal with is far less potent: all I have to do is to focus on the humility that will see me through 1 Peter 3:13-17.

I am so thankful that the sovereign King of the universe knows me better than any enemy could, and has more ammunition than any of them could ever fabricate... and chose us nonetheless, for his glory, and will strengthen us as we strive to live our lives with that goal in mind (Philippians 1:6).

Miraculous as it may seem.

"Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain." 1 Corinthians 15:58

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We Have a Winner!

Micah entered for his lovely fiancé and won a free registration to Evenings with Victoria Botkin! I'm sure these sessions will be an immense blessing to the future Mrs. H as she prepares for her role as a new wife.

Micah (awesome name: my six-month old cutie pie of a brother wears it well), if you'll just send me your fiancè's name and email address, I'll make sure to pass that information along to Western Conservatory for her free registration!

I hope that those of you who didn't win this time will still listen in if you are able --I myself am so looking forward to these sessions! Click here to register! And if you didn't get a chance to enter this giveaway, don't worry! Generation Cedar and Life in a Shoe both have Monday deadlines on their giveaways --it's not too late to enter!

Have a happy weekend as we soar into March --can you believe February is almost over? Every day brings us closer to spring, and it brings me closer -at long last -to those twenties and further from the last few weeks of my teens.

I'm already older than my dad was when he was engaged to my mama -by this summer, I'll be older than he was when he got married, as my parents were wed a mere six months after the first day they met, and ten months after they were married, they had me (and this month, Daddy will officially have been married to Mama for most of his life -he's very excited about that). Although my mama was a bit older, nineteen and twenty have always had special, "grown up" significance for this "youngster" (for no matter how many years pass, I seem to stay quite young), as ages where my dad was taking on a huge responsibility (and being given a gift he didn't deserve, my mother). I'm just now realizing how young he really was! I'm reminded of how important these years of youth are in becoming the woman that the Lord has called me to be, for his glory, primarily, and, in that pursuit, for the blessing of the saints. I look forward to these sessions as just another way to keep my eyes trained on that eternal goal.

Turning twenty-teen isn't quite at the top of my list of exciting spring events, but it is exciting (as every birthday is still a wee bit exciting for me; my parents tried to negotiate me just turning nineteen again, but we compromised instead... twenty-teen will have to do). I think one of the most exciting things is Grace Family Baptist's church plant (Lord willing, the first of many: click here for part three of that series) and our spring conference (April 9-10) with Russell Moore -I can't wait to meet him after so enjoying his Adopted for Life! (As excited as I am about hearing Paul Washer this October at our annual FIC conference) What are you most excited about this upcoming spring?

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[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Lazy Link Day

Did you know that the general consensus is that a really good blogger can blog no more than once a week, and still hold a reader's interest? Did you know that if a blogger blogs every single day, she can lose a reader's interest by clogging up said reader's RSS Feed? Did you know that if a blogger writes extremely long posts, three times a week, she can chase readers away?

Did you know I am that blogger?

All right, so maybe you haven't run yet, but I had promised myself that last week would mark the beginning of a new trend on Joyfully Home: two blog posts a week at most, perhaps less. However, I'm breaking my rule with about four this week (as I shall probably break it with three posts whenever there's a giveaway anyway, and as I often break superficial rules in general) because exciting things are afoot:

Like yesterday's giveaway for a free registration to Evenings with Victoria Botkin. That's a hat you really want to drop your name into! Or how about Life in a Shoe's giveaway? Generation Cedar is in on the fun, too. Also, I loved this post from Generation Cedar yesterday: very inspiring for one who aspires...

Also, today, since I haven't written a proper article in a while, I thought you all might be interested to know that I finally answered this question:

I'm confused [about the term] "giving your father your heart until you give it to your husband." I don't quite understand that. Why would a daughter give her father, a fallible mortal, her heart? Shouldn't she give it to Christ instead? Or is it a different heart? (I mean, I have given my heart to the Lord, but I also have a heart I've given to my husband... do you understand what I'm getting at?)

I've heard that belief used in that a daughter should give her father her heart so it does not get broken by a potential lover. Fathers can break their daughters hearts, though. They shouldn't, but they can.

...in a guest post over at my friends Mikaela and Lauren's blog, One Bright Corner. While you're there, please take a look around (and not just at their fantastic new look, courtesy of Miss Julia) --One Bright Corner is one of my favorite corners of the net. I always know Mikaela and Lauren will have an encouraging word to share. I know I'll be hovering today to see some feedback on my article (she admits shamelessly).

Next, upcoming articles here on Joyfully at Home: "Being-Have: Thoughts on Self Control for Grown Ups" and "What Would You Do If I Told You..." The first is a little self-explanatory ("being-have" should be pronounced like a five-year-old version of "behave-ing"), although, like me, you may have fallen into the trap of assuming that the only people with self-control issues are still in preschool, but the second sounds like a bit of a cliff hanger if you don't know the first sentence of the article, which is (well... a fragment, really), "...that you would never marry."

Here's a challenge - maybe you don't quite know the answer to the marriage question yet, but here's another question: what do you plan to be doing ten or fifteen years from now (and you aren't allowed to answer with, "I hope I'll be married by then.")? How do you hope to be joyously, contentedly, wholeheartedly, productively serving the Lord in 2020, should the Lord allow you to tarry? Will you want to tarry long if there's no husband in your future?

Are these questions you've even dared to ask yourself?

Also, because I know that so many Jane Austen fans lurk here, and because I was so overly hard on this film last November, I'm pleased to pass on this information (thank you for letting me know, Kenyatta): Until March 9, you can view BBC's Emma for free right here.

Actual articles should be popping up within the next couple of weeks; in the meantime, please don't forget to jump into the giveaway, and have a blessed week -I'll "see" you Friday with the winner!

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