Life After Facebook

My last two posts here and here were glimpses into my personal struggle with social media/web addiction and how I was just barely hanging on.  So this last spring, after many many months of milling over if it was possible to cut the cord, I took one last deep breath and deleted my Facebook account.  Of course before I said goodbye, I downloaded all of my Facebook data and history (they give you the option to do that) which was eye-opening in itself.  They kept track of every "Like" and comment and Status Update and article read and link that had I clicked, EVER.  Essentially it was my life in a nutshell (or zip file to be exact).

If it sounds like ending it all was easy, it wasn't. When I got the long-awaited courage to deactivate my account, Facebook made me take a mandatory survey to answer why I'm leaving.  Some of the options were: "It's temporary, I'll be back" (which if you hover over that option, a pop up answers, "Okay see you soon"), or "I'm spending too much time on Facebook" (which baits something like, "Did you know you can select how much you see in your News Feed, excuse excuse excuse"), and "I'm having privacy issues" (to which they reel, "You can personalize who sees your information by following this rabbit trail to your settings").  You get the idea.  They don't make it easy to just say goodbye.  When I gave the answer, "I'm leaving for good," Facebook kept their foot in the door by telling me that if I ever want to come back, they keep ALL of my information and all I have to do is sign in and everything will appear like I never left.  How comforting.

But that's not all.  When I finally got to the deactivation page, I was met bold-face with the Profile Pictures of my dearest friends and family, no kidding.  And it said, "Are you sure you want to leave?  BFF from high school, and one of your bridesmaids, and your aunt, and your friend on the east coast you haven't spoken to in six years but whose every picture you like and comment on will miss you!"  How painful is that?

But alas, 1...2...3...click.  I'm gone.  Dead to the Facebook world, like I never even existed.

So this begs the question: does life exist after Facebook?

YES.

It's funny though, when friends ask me how things are going post-FB, they lower their voice almost like they're talking about the no-longer-living: "So, how have you been doing since <lower tender tone> you're no longer on Facebook?" 

My answer is, THE AFTERLIFE IS AWESOME.

It was a few days after I lept off the Facebook cliff that I saw how great the ground is below.  First, my own dad texted me, "I can't find you on Facebook are you okay?"  And then a dear soul-sister in California texted, "I went to write on your wall and you were gone...how are you birdie?" Which began a sweet text catch-up that no one saw on my "Wall" or in their "Newsfeed".  Then, you know that friend I hadn't talked to in six years but whose every picture I "liked" and commented on?  She texted me, "Hi Tracy! I hope this is still your phone number, I hope everyone is doing well I was just thinking about you guys and noticed you are no longer on FB and thought of dropping you a little note!"  Which began a personal interaction with this sweet old friend that we hadn't had since we moved over six years ago.  You ask, "but didn't you comment on all her pictures?"  Of course I did, but did we interact personally?  Nope; you feel real personal connection in the afterlife.

My favorite experience in this afterlife so far was when I met up with a friend for coffee after a good couple of months without seeing her.  I knew she had been on a mission trip to Thailand, and when she referenced something from the trip, I looked puzzled because I didn't know about it.  She said, "Well didn't you read my post-trip update on Facebook?"  I answered, "No, I must have missed that...tell me about it."  Then she and I sipped coffee and walked the lake while she told me stories and things about her trip that probably wouldn't have made Facebook, or if they did, didn't come with her eye contact and voice ebbing and flowing with the story that I had the privilege of experiencing.  Sure, I could have read her update and clicked the "like" button so she knew I approved, but instead I listened to her and responded with laughter, and "oh no" and "that's awesome" and with nods and grins and my own questions to dig deeper into what's going on in her life.  It was a gift, and life-giving.

Fear of diminishing friendships and not knowing what was going on in the lives of my 836 Facebook friends was what kept me on for so long.  I shuddered to think of all that I'd miss from the social groups I'm a part of, not to mention, I was afraid of missing all of the great articles and blogs and funny comic strips and vacation pictures that were shared.  The fear clinched me: "I learn so much from those blogs and comments and links, and I'm so connected to what's going on--what would happen if I closed that window to the world?"

A window of real, fresh air was opened. And I don't miss a thing.

Of course, I miss interacting with my cousins and family and close friends (thankfully some of whom I still see on my much more manageable Instagram: @tracyfrue).  I do miss a few baby announcements and funny animal videos that everyone is talking about.  But when I say I don't miss a thing, I don't miss the multitude of trivial distractions that overcrowded those few genuine interactions.  That's why I left, and how I'll navigate social media in the future is left to be determined.  But at this point I don't expect a Facebook resurrection...I'm in a much better place now.

As heavenly as that sounds, to my dismay, I am still very much trying to untangle myself from the sticky trap of the world-wide-web, and just the habit of screen-gazing in general. My hope is that my heart will be helped so that my usage of media is more redemptive than destructive.  I'd be pushing the metaphor to call this a purgatory, but right now I'm seeking the pages of good books and arduous prayers to help me out of this life in-between.  

Dying to Facebook may not be the prescription for everyone's social-suction malady, but I'm so thankful to have ended the life I maintained on Facebook in hopes that I can revel in the angelic faces around me (Heaven help me). 

Facing Facebook

http://www.flickr.com/photos/8007352@N06/4726893871

I've been sitting on a couple of blog posts like eggs, and I think it's about time they hatched.  I'm just a little chicken to share because they aren't cute and fluffy.  Like my last blog, I've debated sharing my heart on this subject just as much as I debated leaving Facebook.  It's complicated.  And it's my own personal conviction not a universal prescription.  So with that said, I'm using my blog as a journal of my own experience in hopes that I'm not the only one who's thoughts on the matter have been incubating awhile...

I think the first admission that I spent too much time on Facebook was made about three years ago over coffee with some girlfriends.  I felt the trouble then--maybe it was from staying up late, or thinking too much about other people's lives, or maybe just hand cramps from thumbing the news feed on my phone.  But however my problem came to the surface, it would rise, and then diminish, or be dismissed, or laughingly excused. I'd even subtly ask for prayer about it, knowing that there is something spiritually unhealthy at the heart of my habit.  Unlike looking at pornography or drinking too much alcohol, media binging is an "acceptable addiction" and consequently help is hard to come by. So for these several years, no matter how many times I signed out, or took a break, or deleted the app from my phone, or tried my darndest to manage my habit, I kept reaping the rotten fruit of this social-media addiction.  There was grumpiness from staying up late, guilt for being so distracted that I neglected important things, relational problems because I always had a phone in my face with a need check my Facebook or update my status.  The status wasn't good.

But still, the longer I stared at the lowercase "f" the less I could see my way out of it.  Mostly because Facebook isn't the root of all evil; social media is not a sin.  Scrolling a news feed is, for the most part, morally neutral.  In fact, a lot of good can come from Facebook, and that's what kept me sitting in that hot tub.  Surely I read a lot of good articles and links from the things friends shared, and did my share of sharing good, too.  And what harm is there in posting pictures of my darling children?  Or that funny thing that will make everyone laugh?  Or the viral deep-thinking article that all my friends "liked"?  But it seems like other friends could dip in for a few moments and move on, I couldn't. You know there's a limit to how long one should sit in a nice warm hot tub, and I over-stayed my limit, often.  It wasn't good for my heart no matter how many of my friends were having a fine time in there. Unlike others, my addictive personality doesn't help me do things in moderation...I had to get out.

So as hard as it was to leave the place where most of my dear family and friends were congregating and sharing life, for the sake of my own well-being, I faced the "deactivate" button, and clicked.

What happened in that tunnel of light on my computer screen will be described in a blog to follow...

Love is Less Screen

It's midwinter now, but I wrote this in late April and never hit the Publish button for fear of being honest, and for my overwhelming aversion of leaving issues open-ended.  But I think I'm ready to peel back the Band-Aid and let you see how things have been slowly healing since then (which I'll talk about in later posts).  So, wincing, here's a close-hearted journal entry...

Today was a full, mostly lovely day with the kiddos while Todd is away.  We had playdates/meetups planned all day long from 9am until sundown just for the sake of getting out and enjoying the company of friends on our first spring day in short sleeves.  The boys and I played with friends in St. Paul and walked to their neighborhood playground, met Lauren and her sister Cara for an all-afternoon tour of the Mill City Museum, explored and walked around Boom Island Park, met Betsy, Lauren and Cara for a sunset picnic, and had mudpies with leaf sprinkles for dessert.

It was ideal…minus my lack of patience and general happiness.  Why?  I read news articles online last night until well into the wee hours, and I was paying for it in mental absence and a physical lapse of love.  I wasn’t web-surfing for anything perverse, nothing outright wrong, just the news going on that the media thinks I should know about…that I thought I should know about.  At least, that’s what kept me clicking without recognition of the time ticking.  

When Doe woke up to be fed at 1am, I looked up from my laptop, and although I wasn’t sleeping, I did wake up—from the web-zombie state that I was in.  Picking her up, feeling her soft hair and smelling her sweetness gave me a touch of reality that was more like a cold splash of water to my face:  "what am I doing? I’m wasting my life. I’m losing the sleep I need so badly. I’m setting myself up for failure with a full day ahead.  There are four little lives sleeping peacefully who will need me in the morning…and I’m up thinking I need to know about 'The Top Three Rated International Airlines' and 'Why Nuclear Downsizing is Coincidental to Russian Uprising.'"  Sigh.

Why?  Is it a desire for mental stimulation after a long day with little people?  Why then don’t I read a good book? I just don’t get what keeps me up and web-browsing.  Granted, just last week I deactivated my Facebook account after a long time of debate over it’s usefulness versus my uselessness the morning after a News Feed binge.  I’ve been so free from the temptation to check Status Updates this week that I may not ever go back.  But I only replaced the bad habit with another one; I cleared out one demon and seven more moved in.  Deep sigh.

So it all culminated tonight as I was putting the boys down for bed and was heart-felt apologizing my for my lack of patience and kindness to them.  I tell them every night that “Jesus loves you most and best” and I thought it appropriate tonight to explain why I say that: to remind them that He is the only one who can love them perfectly; that I fall very short of demonstrating the love, kindness, grace and patience that Jesus gives.  "God is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love,” I said, “and I’m praying that I can know His love and show it better in the way that I love you."

 I expressed how, although imperfectly, I loved them and that I’m asking God to help me.

That’s when the usually quiet Bear spoke up with eyes wide open, “Mommy we need to tell you how much screen to get…20 minutes or 30 minutes and that’s all.”  

“Screen?” I asked.  Then Lion caught on and said, “Yeah, your screen time.  We’ll give you one minute of screen time and then you’re done.”  Bear, presently fixated on rhyming, piped up, “One-DONE!"

They had no idea I had been up late, nor did they know how much I’ve been wrestling with this bad habit.  I knew it was a prophetic reference to the source of my lack of patience and focus that day and my overall malady. They insightfully equated my inability to love well with my overuse of media. I bravely pressed in to understand more of what they meant: “what screen are you talking about?’

Lion said with a grin, “Your phone. You’re OBSESSED with it.” I seceded as I combed their hair with my fingers, “Yeah…I realize I’m awfully distracted and I’m missing what’s important, which is you guys. I am very, very sorry.”

Lion agreed, “Yeah mom.  Can you give us some paper so we can write a note that says, ‘One minute allowed’? Then you’ll actually have time to play Legos with us!"

In a flash I pictured all the times during the day that I’ve got my phone in my hands, the times I’m sending a text, or checking my e-mail, or the weather, or whatever I can to feed my habit.  I saw myself missing all of the moments of opportunity to engage with my children because my mind is elsewhere, finding every opportunity to escape such a beautiful reality to numb my brain with virtual reality.  

I need help.  So I asked the boys to forgive me for being so distracted, and to remind me about my screen limits.  And while I tucked them into bed and kissed their soft faces a few extra times, I prayed to a very patient, loving, kind, merciful, always-present God for help.  

That hog in the ground better tell me winter is almost over!

Yes, I came out of my winter burrow once again to tell you "Happy Groundhog Day!" and share with you what we and our little hoglets have been up to this year!  Besides the fact that it's so cold I couldn't feel my fingers and toes after merely delivering our Groundhog Day letter to our nearby neighbors, the snow sure is beautiful here in our Minnesotan wonderland.  Punxsutawney Phil's shadow tells us we have 6 more weeks of winter...I'd be stoked if that were true.  His shadow seems to stretch a bit farther 'round these parts.  So back in my snow burrow I go, thankful for our furnace and the love of God that keeps us warm :).

Sorrow for Sparrows

Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God.

Luke 12:6

The newly melted snow uncovered a dead bird in our backyard yesterday--the boys' first face-to-face encounter with the sadness of death. Quietly they crouched and observed the stillness of our little feathered friend.  I found the moment appropriate to mention Jesus' teaching that not even a sparrow falls to ground without our Heavenly Father knowing about it; that God knows all about even the little sparrows and determines when their time is to "go". Their little minds worked to process why and how this one died but were mostly just sad for the little birdie.

Full of faith, Lion concluded, "We can pray for it and bring it inside and care for it to bring it back to life..." Not wanting to crush his sweet heart I gently explained that in this world, when a creature dies, it's body stays dead, but that's why we love Jesus because He made a way for life after death.  Lion began to weep and expressed, "I'm just so sad about death." I picked him up and told him that it was okay to be sad, that I was too.  Bear's sad eyes looked up from his observation of the bird and humbly asked, "will you pray?" So together we prayed a little eulogy for the bird and I thanked God for loving us even more than the sparrows, for the bird's song, and for Jesus who came to make an end to forever death.

Quietly we sat, holding each other while the boys observed and again Lion heavily wept about the sadness of death. I empathized with him while speaking relevant words of scripture, like how all creation has been made subject to death because of sin, that creation groans as we wait for Jesus to come make all things new. As Lion processed, he lamented that "death is just everywhere, it's so sad."

As Bear remained in quiet observation, Lion got up and walked across the yard to the gazebo for some time to himself.  He wandered around in the mud of our winter-killed garden; vines bare, plants brown and crushed by the months of snow...and then excitedly came running back.

"Mom! I have the BEST news after this bad death news: I found signs of LIFE! Come see!" We
 hurried across to the corner of the yard to find the very first sprouts of green emerging from the mud. Lion was inspired, "we will call this the 'Garden of Salvation' where we can come when we're sad about death and see life to wipe our tears away..."

Lion's heart was lifted and mine was filled. We walked around the yard, talked about telling daddy when he got home, and made arrangements for birdie's burial.  Lion ran inside to get a little box and he and Bear filled it with leaves "to make it comfy". Shortly afterward, Todd came home and the boys spoke a mile a minute to explain what they discovered.  Todd prepared for "a proper burial" and Lion objected: "you can't put him in our Garden of Salvation because it's only a place for life; no death can come there." So Todd dug a place under an evergreen tree opposite the garden and placed a rock there for us to remember our birdie teacher.

Lion was excited to show Todd the green sprigs in the garden, and there he said, "whenever we see green, whoever is sad can pray.  If you don't come to the garden to pray when you're sad, your heart will be like a stone.  Daddy, are you sad about the bird? Then you can pray." Lion knelt and Bear stood by the sprigs while Todd prayed a beautiful prayer of thanks for our hope in Jesus, and for His death and resurrection that brought us life. 

After dinner, we went out in the spring rain to find raspberry, blueberry, and blackberry bushes to plant in our garden.

Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later.  For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day when God will reveal who his children really are.  Against its will, all creation was subjected to God’s curse. But with eager hope, the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay.  For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.  And we believers also groan, even though we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of future glory, for we long for our bodies to be released from sin and suffering. We, too, wait with eager hope for the day when God will give us our full rights as his adopted children, including the new bodies he has promised us.  We were given this hope when we were saved. 

Romans 8:18-24

I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, “Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them.  He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.”

And the one sitting on the throne said, “Look, I am making everything new!” And then he said to me, “Write this down, for what I tell you is trustworthy and true.” And he also said, “It is finished! I am the Alpha and the Omega—the Beginning and the End. To all who are thirsty I will give freely from the springs of the water of life.  All who are victorious will inherit all these blessings, and I will be their God, and they will be my children.

Revelation 21:3-7

Praises for Seven

Seven years ago, dressed in pearly white, I walked with my dad down a brick path through a rose garden to the guitar-strumming tune of Come Thou Fount.  There at a fountain I met my man, in his Navy dress whites, where we vowed our love in the communion of Christ's love.  

Since then I'd like to portray that it's been all roses, but better yet it's been beautiful blooms surrounded by the prick of thorns.  We've been painfully cut back sometimes to bloom more bountifully, watered some by dew, other times by heavy downpour, all still a consistent nurturing of God's faithful love and care.  But regardless of how well Todd and I, and now our three-almost-four children have grown, I always come back to the same tune of praise to Jesus, our never-failing Fountain of Grace:

Come Thou Fount of every blessing

Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;

Streams of mercy, never ceasing,

Call for songs of loudest praise

Teach me some melodious sonnet,

Sung by flaming tongues above.

Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it,

Mount of God's unchanging love.

Here I raise my Ebenezer;

Hither by Thy help I'm come;

And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,

Safely to arrive at home.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,

Wandering from the fold of God;

He, to rescue me from danger,

Interposed His precious blood.

O to grace how great a debtor

Daily I'm constrained to be!

Let that grace now like a fetter,

Bind my wandering heart to Thee.

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,

Prone to leave the God I love;

Here's my heart, O take and seal it,

Seal it for Thy courts above.

--Robert Robinson, 1757

After praise to God for our marriage, my heart wants also to praise my Todd.  Being the humble man that he is, Toddy doesn't receive words of praise very well.  It's almost like he doesn't trust them, or worse, receive them.  So today as we celebrate seven years of marriage, I thought it was appropriate to explain why I must praise him so :)

For Toddy With Love

“We delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is the appointed consummation.  It is not out of compliment that lovers keep on telling one another how beautiful they are; the delight is incomplete till it is expressed.”  -C.S. Lewis

When I tell you, ‘I love you,’ ‘You’re handsome,’ ‘You’re good,’

I believe that you have me quite misunderstood.

I don’t tell you I love you to boost your esteem,

and when praising your character it may seem

that to receive my praise is to deny humility,

or worser yet to promote idolatry.

But what you have missed is that I must praise what I enjoy;

to deny praise is my joy to destroy.

For Jesus said, “what’s in the heart the mouth speaks,”

and to share from my heart is when my joy peaks.

So when you hear that I admire your frame,

your thoughts, your love, and the sound of your name,

please hear that your quality is reflection of your Maker,

and believe when I praise you that I am no faker.

That enjoyment of you is enjoyment of Jesus,

Who gives us sweet gifts with intentions to please us.

That the pleasure of others is to make more than a nod

to the ultimate joy who is our great God.

So my Toddy, I love you and the man that you are.

If I were looking for greatness I wouldn’t have to look far.

for beside me is a husband, a father, a friend,

who makes my heart swell and my knees to bend,

in praise of my Redeemer who loves me so,

Who has blessed me with you that His Christ-love I’ll know.

Happy Anniversary, seven years have now passed,

in a marriage that is more than I could have asked.

To the enjoyment and praise of the One who gives life,

and has given me the pleasure of being your wife.

From my heart,

trace

Happy Groundhog Day 2013!

These little groundhogs came out to say that winter isn't going anywhere soon around these parts!  Praising God for another year of His faithfulness :)

Seedlings

I suppose you wonder if the Frues fell off the face of the earth?  Not quite, but we are certainly in another world!  We only moved 2,250 miles, 37 road hours, 8 states, or 3 days away from our cozy little condo in Cali, but life is dramatically different. The pace, the place, the people (don’t-cha-know)—all the unfamiliar that is beginning to become much more familiar.  I still rattle my head when I’m reminded that we live in Minnesota, and I still refer to California as “back home”. I look at people funny when they say “put your things in the beg” (bag) or “here’s your name teg” (tag), and they look at me funny when I say “stoked, ya’ll”, but slowly Minneapolis is becoming our own.  We are in love with the city and the diversity and the new things to see and explore and do.  We are overwhelmed by the sincere love and care and friendship that has come from the families in Todd’s seminary, our church and our neighbors. Our home is a haven in a humble quiet neighborhood where you can turn right to go into “the forest” as Lion calls it, or left to a view of the city’s skyline.  We’ve been uprooted from the sandy soil of SoCal and replanted in a special place…and are beginning to take root again.

Now just so I don’t paint a rosy picture of utopia and perfection, we may have left a few things back west, but our sin and habits and hang-ups came with us, for sure.  It’s taken some adjusting, and stretching, and releasing, and (gasp) repenting to settle us into this new way of life.  Some rocks had to be dug up, some weeds pulled, some pests (ahem, habits) killed so that we can wiggle our feet into the new soil.  It isn’t easy, but it’s good.  In a lot of ways, although challenging at times, I feel like the Lord had us under the rake for awhile in order to make the soil we’re in the perfect place to grow.  Or to put it another way, if the year prior was a muddy mess of awkward uncertainty, confusion, and painful pause, this year is emerging from the soil and seeing sunlight. 

The summer garden we inherited and it's caretaker

It’s no coincidence that I’m using planting metaphors to describe the season of life that we’re in.  As Todd unpacked his seminary textbooks, I unpacked our homeschooling curriculum and realized that we’re settling into a fresh field for an altogether new beginning for our family. And just why am I so enthused about the planting, and growing, and seeds, and root talk?  Well first, Todd has begun seminary, which is derived from the Latin word seminarium, or seed bed.  It’s name is defined not only as a place of theological education, but also “a place or environment in which something is developed or nurtured.” Next, we have begun kindergarten with Lion, which is German for “children’s garden” and preschool, otherwise known as “nursery school” (think plant nursery) with Bear.  And Bees, well, he’s busy eating dirt and bugs…which begs me to say our home is a garden and we are all growing!

So what exactly are we watering?  Zucchini?  Tomatoes?  Faith.  Plain and simple, by grace Todd has answered the upward call to the knowledge and fear of God, which has already taken him deeper than any Navy dive he’s done and has really stirred up (and healthily challenged) his faith.  And as a mom I’m (fumbly) engaging the role as seed planter in my children’s hearts for the love of God and of learning, which has equally challenged and stirred up my faith in and dependence on Jesus.  It is not beautiful (I’m often in my pj’s well into the afternoon) nor breezy (Todd’s school work is more than a full-time job), but I know that the Lord is cultivating in us something that I believe will be fruitful and worth it. 

(Not coincidentally, “cultivate” is the word God impressed upon us when we started dating):

cul·ti·vate  tr.v. cul·ti·vat·ed, cul·ti·vat·ing, cul·ti·vates 1.a. To improve and prepare (land), as by plowing or fertilizing, for raising crops; till.    b. To loosen or dig soil around (growing plants). 2. To grow or tend. 3. To promote the growth of. 4. To nurture; foster. 5. To form and refine, as by education.

Honestly, I can’t get away from the metaphors.  The last several weeks of homeschool with the boys was first about the sun, how it gives life and light to everything, then later about leaves and how plants grow and are dependent upon the sun, and last week was about apples and how it begins as a seed, grows into a tree, and bears fruit that proliferates more seeds…I really think God in nature has a theme running here…

“Blessed is everyone who fears the LORD, who walks in his ways! You shall eat the fruit of the labor of your hands; you shall be blessed, and it shall be well with you. Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house; your children will be like olive shoots around your table…”  Psalm 128:1-4 

“Then our sons in their youth will be like well-nurtured plants…”

Psalm 144:12 

“Trust in the LORD and do good; Dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness.” 

Psalm 37:3

What’s most encouraging to me in the days that I just want to go back to bed:

“Do not become weary in doing good for at the proper time you will reap a harvest of blessing if you do not give up.” 

Galatians 6:9 

And I'm reminded that we aren't really the growers here, but God who began a good work in us and who will see it to completion (Philippians 1:6). "So neither he who plants or he who waters is anything, but only God who makes things grow." 1 Corinthians 3:7

"I am the true vine and my Father is the gardener. . .If a man remains in Me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing." (Todd's theme verse)

John 15:1,5

So just as Jesus said, “no one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God", pray that by His grace we'll be focused, with our minds fixed on the row in front of us, able to nurture the little mustard seeds of faith in Christ that God has planted in us.

Oh, and did I mention there’s literally something growing in me?

We’ve got a new seedling a-sprouting in May!

And that’s why we’ve fallen off the face of the earth--it’s hard work to grow a person from a seed, you know!  (Not to mention, I'm definitely experiencing "growing pains" in this first trimester, so please keep us in prayer for healthy perseverance!)