Mel Furniss 8/21/20 Mel Furniss 8/21/20

Here Comes the Daughter!

Baby Girl Furniss is joining the party! It’s actually happening!

Our journey to parenthood has never been a straight line. We tried for quite a while, especially to conceive babies 1 and 3. When actively trying for a baby, you’re physically and emotionally tethered to every moment of those 30 days until you can take another test. It feels like the child you’ve prayed for is juuuust out of reach, while life keeps smacking you on the head with the reminder that you don’t actually have the power to create life—only God does.

I’ve known and learned from countless women who were mothers long before they held their child (biological and/or adopted) and women who are mothers now, just waiting for that stick to read “positive” or the Lord to open the doors to the family they’ve only dreamed of. Each story is valid and beautiful and covered in the unwavering promises of God. But to the women who are walking that road now, who view pregnancy announcements with that confusing mix of genuine joy and searing pain: I want you to know I see you. I know your pain and I grieve with you.

More importantly, the Father sees you and hasn’t taken His eyes off you for a second. He knows the desires of your heart, and they are precious to Him. None of us is guaranteed biological children, certainly not perfectly healthy, uncomplicated ones who adhere to our rigid timelines. So I can’t promise that God will give you exactly what you want when you want it. But I can promise you, He will never leave you on the journey. He will lead you closely, gently, and faithfully. He will “heal the brokenhearted and bind up [your] wounds” (Psalm 147:3). And you will end up looking more like Him, carrying a deeper, more rooted faith within you than when you started.

Sister, you are loved and you are not alone. I’m joining the heavens to cheer you on and pray for your dreams to come true. Until then, cling steadfastly to Jesus... and watch what He does through your story.

Mel Furniss 6/5/20 Mel Furniss 6/5/20

Graduation in the Time of COVID

What a heartbreaking, disorienting few months we’ve had here on Planet Earth. I wish I had wise words to share, but everything feels sad and out of our control. So in the face of such grief, we decided to cultivate some joy for our kids. Here is Crosby’s Kindergarten graduation at home! We never want to miss a chance to celebrate our boys, so this video is our love letter to them.

Thank you for bringing beauty and laughter to the weirdest, hardest school year ever. We love you and we’re with you, even when it feels like the sky is falling all around us.

(Note: I do not own the rights to this song: Big World, Baby by JJ Heller.)

Mel Furniss 9/17/19 Mel Furniss 9/17/19

Finnie’s Story

We noticed for over a year that Finnie wasn’t speaking as much as he should at his age, and was using pretty aggressive non-verbal cues to communicate with us (hitting, throwing, severe tantrums). A lot of people told us these kinds of delays were normal for some kids, so we were conflicted about whether or not we should have him tested.

This past May, as Finn was nearing his third birthday and hadn’t made much progress, we got approved for several state-funded programs to help him catch up developmentally. Finn started Early Intervention (a play-based therapy that helps children with delays), Speech Therapy, and Occupational Therapy (a treatment that works to improve fine and gross motor skills). By the Father’s good grace, Finn has been THRIVING in these therapies all summer! His language and communication skills are improving rapidly, his playtime with Crosby is much more fun, and he is starting to calm himself down a bit quicker when he’s upset.

Through the whole process, Finn has undergone several rounds of testing to see how the school system can support him as he gets older. The good news is he was just approved to join a preschool for kids with special needs! He’ll join a group of about 10 children and get regular ST and OT five days a week. I really think this class will be a game-changer for Finnie, both developmentally and socially.

The harder news is that Finn was officially diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. We’re still processing that part since we didn’t completely see it coming. We know, certainly, that the spectrum is WIDE, and there are a ton of tools these days to help our boy and others like him flourish and have awesome, happy, and successful lives. I know in my head that he'll be okay. It’s just not the story I would’ve written for him.

But let me end on more good news: OUR GOD. He is wild about Finn Henry Furniss, and He knows every intricacy of his body and mind. He knows Finn’s giggles and love of books and silly dance moves better than I do. He knows it all and holds it all. So this diagnosis doesn’t surprise Him, nor does it limit His power.

We’ve been in tough places before as a family (too many times to count!) and, to be honest with you, we are scared and overwhelmed. But the Father keeps reminding us that 1. We never had control over his story in the first place, and 2. We are hemmed in behind and before by a trustworthy, almighty God. And as we continue to take step after step in faith, without any clue where we are going, He is already there in that future moment, carving a way through the unknown.

Our boy is loved more deeply and fiercely than I could ever comprehend. And no matter what, our Savior will be glorified through this. That’s the big, beautiful gospel story here. And, dear friends, it is just getting started.

Mel Furniss 7/21/18 Mel Furniss 7/21/18

Our Extraordinary Ordinary

Happy, happy birthday to this beautiful, little soul. Our sweet Crosby has the heart of Jesus beating in his chest. He sits with me and pats my back when I’m throwing up in the bathroom. He cups my face with his tiny hands while we’re sleeping side by side. He’ll look at me in my pineapple pajamas—with my hair flung up in a towel and my face covered in a mud mask—and say with complete sincerity, “Mama! You look beautiful!”. Cros is and always has been an extraordinary little human. I still can’t believe we get to do life with him every day.

Parenting is a really hard calling. It’s unpredictable and exhausting and all-encompassing (Most days, I look like Tom Hanks in Cast Away). And we’re just a few years in—I can’t even wrap my head around the decades of parenthood still to come! (Although, let’s be real. Toddlerhood is CRAZY. If I never had to clean up another Target aisle after a tantrum-induced Goldfish massacre, I’d count myself #blessed.) But I digress. When I stop to zoom out on the big picture, it’s impossible to miss: THESE ARE THE GOOD OLD DAYS. These are the days that shape us and refine us and make us hardcore, belly laugh. These are the days we get to teach our children how to see the world with wonder and adventure and empathy, only to re-learn those lessons ourselves. These are the days that the gospel—the concepts and scriptures I’ve studied a hundred other times in my life—become more real and tangible than they’ve ever been before. Yes, these days will become our sweetest memories. So while they’re still today, I’m gonna snuggle with my boys. And eat birthday cake. And have a water gun fight. And tell them I love them way too many times. And watch Peppa Pig. And memorize every. single. tiny. detail of our extraordinary, ordinary life.

Mel Furniss 5/9/18 Mel Furniss 5/9/18

The Way of Beauty

It’s been a few weeks of sad, shocking grief. I find myself feeling everything and understanding nothing. It’s unbelievably disorienting. Left to my own devices, I’d have the curtains drawn and the covers over my head, like, forever and ever, amen. Truly, socially awkward hermit crabs envy my burrowing skills. (Side note: Anyone know a place that delivers three-tiered cakes made of pizza? Preferably with a side order of cake. Asking for a friend.)

But for one moment in my emotional Upside Down, I remembered that Cheryl Strayed quote— “There’s always a sunrise and always a sunset and it’s up to you to choose to be there for it. Put yourself in the way of beauty.” I can’t answer every question or be a flawless mom, wife, believer, or friend—especially in this season. But I can open the curtains. I can turn my eyes to beauty. I can hold fast to Abba and believe Him still to be unshakably in love with me and His Church. I can fully trust what He says.

“I will go before you and will level the mountains; I will break down gates of bronze and cut through bars of iron.” Isaiah 45:2

“I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” Genesis 28:15

“Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken, nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the LORD, who has compassion on you.” Isaiah 54:10

I’m a broken, imperfect person. But reading about His perfect love makes me brave. So one breath at a time, may I put myself in the way of beauty—beautiful hope, beautiful authenticity, beautiful trust... Beautiful Jesus.

Praying the same for you.

Mel Furniss 12/29/17 Mel Furniss 12/29/17

Bye-bye, House

Today we said goodbye to our first house. In the last four years, we went from crying over fertility treatments in the living room to squealing over positive pregnancy tests in the bathroom... to bathing our babies in the kitchen sink! We’ve lost jobs, we’ve gained jobs, we’ve binge-watched The Office at least 12 times (that’s GOD’S WORK right there).

All the memories—both wonderful and heart-wrenching—could never be encapsulated in one little post. But I’ll say this: though I leave my house, I do not leave my home. I’d live in a dumpster with my merry band of Furniss men. And one day soon, I’ll snuggle up under the covers with my Abba in Paradise. We can’t hold onto anything in this life with clenched fists. So together, we walk with open hands towards whatever God has for us next.

Until then, you can find us in my parents’ guest room. Livin’ the dream, baby!

Mel Furniss 12/5/17 Mel Furniss 12/5/17

Help! My Kids Annoy Me!

I love my kids so much, I’d die for them. I very palpably remember the moments I cried over negative pregnancy tests, howling and wiping snot, and begging God to open my womb. I do not take for granted the days I get to look into my children's faces and see generations past in their eyes. I know they are a beautiful legacy—the answer to my prayers.

But the thing is, these answered prayers…

Sometimes they’re so. dang. annoying.

They smear food all over the sofa. They play drums on their brother’s head. After patiently telling them not to make snow angels in a pile of dog food for the fifth time THIS MORNING, you turn around for a second only to find them engaging in round six.

Recently, I sent this text to a friend: “I think it’s just lonely sometimes being a mom to young ones. I love them SO MUCH, but once in a while, it feels like I’m stuck on an island with crazy people who want to kill me. I miss being a normal human woman who has the freedom to go to the movies or get my eyebrows done or dissect Taylor Swift lyrics or do ANYTHING besides barely scrape by day after day.”

I know I sound complain-y, and I certainly don’t mean to. But I do wish I could look at my sleepy, haggard self with grace-filled eyes and whisper, “You’re doing the best you can.”

Life is uniquely wonderful and impossible at every stage. But when certain days beat us down, we women tend to shame ourselves— at least, I know I do.

How dare you, Mel? You begged God for the exact life you’re living, and you’re thanking Him by screaming into a pillow right now? You’re a bad wife AND mother AND Christian (Triple Threat Alert!). Also, when was the last time you brushed your teeth? Somethin’ to think about, sweetie.

These words are logically true; I believe them all the time. But I don’t believe it’s God saying them to me. I know this because my day-to-day battles don’t change—I’ve just plopped a big ol’ dollop of shame on them. No, that’s not the gospel. That can’t be the call.

Here’s what I do know: if one of my sweet mom friends looked at me with tears in her eyes, and told me she loves her kids so so so much, but she just wants ONE DANG MOMENT of peace and quiet, and she feels awful for saying that because she knows they’re the greatest kids and so many women would love the chance to live her life and she needs to pray more and read more and serve more and rejoice more and, and, and…

I would grab my friends’ weary hands, look her square in the face, and tell her what I believe Abba is speaking over me right now:

You are seen. You matter. The stuff you’re feeling right now? It’s NORMAL. It does not make you a bad mother, a bad wife, or a bad believer. All these struggles—they just mean you are human. They mean you still need a Savior.

Dear one, you are off the hook. You are doing the best you can in this short, passing season. And when you can’t do any more, you are free to fall into the arms of grace. The world may be telling you to have it all together, but Abba is not expecting or demanding perfection from you. All He wants is YOU. To draw near, talk to Him, cry to Him, listen to Him. To see your weakness as an opportunity to need His strength. This was true when you were infertile. It was true when you were a pregnant insomniac. It was true when you were in the NICU, too wounded to reach your baby’s tiny hand. It was true when you unfairly snapped at your kids this morning. And it is true now, as you cry over your self-inflicted mom shame.

Because no matter how your story changes, Abba remains steadfastly the same. And He is crazy about you. He has enough love and grace for your worst days. Of course, you should pursue a healthy perspective, wisdom, and othersmindedness; but in the bleakest of moments, remember that when the Father sees you, He sees His Son—perfect and complete, lacking nothing.

So send that shame back to its home under your feet, and be free to live as loved as you are.

Tired mama, wherever you are, I hope you know that I see you and I’m praying for you. I’m praying you feel the Father’s arms wrapped tightly around you. I’m praying you get a random call from a friend, offering to babysit your kids this week. I’m praying you sleep tonight more deeply and restoratively than you have all year. I’m praying your Christmas is infected with impractical, memory-making joy, and that the boring, adulting stuff doesn’t wear on you as much.

I’m really, REALLY praying someone buys you a massage gift certificate.

But more than anything, I’m praying you never feel alone as you love and serve your family, because your fellow moms and I are with you... and your God is fighting for you always.

Rest in that love, mama. And Merry Christmas.

Mel Furniss 9/19/17 Mel Furniss 9/19/17

Happy Birthday, Finnie Bear

This little nugget is one year old today. Goodness gracious. So much of these past few years have not gone "as planned" (whatever that means). We've had more than a few genuinely scary, painful days. But the joy God's brought us through our kiddos far outweighs the struggle. I cannot imagine this family without our Finnie in it. He is snuggly, brave, beautiful, and kind. His little dimpled smile splits my heart wide open. Truly, Jasper and I love these boys more than we ever thought possible.

Once in a while, I'll watch the kids playing together and think of that quote from The Office: "I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days before you've actually left them." It's like God gives me these sharp moments of clarity in the middle of our chaotic lives to see: THESE REALLY ARE THE DAYS. Hold your babies close while you can, Mel. Laugh with them, dance with them, pray with them, be gracious to them. These moments are a gift, and you only get 'em for as long as you get 'em.

Ask me how I know the Father is kind and empathic, creative and fun, rich in love, and calling me to live LOVED—to live for something way bigger than myself.

How do I know God is who He says He is? I look into the eyes of my children.

Happy first birthday, Finnie bear. You are more loved than you'll ever know.

Mel Furniss 1/1/17 Mel Furniss 1/1/17

New Year, Same Me

I always end a year meditating on less. Less stuff, less weight, less striving, less fear, less ME. It sounds so beautiful, a life of less. It sounds like the way we were designed to live. I'm bad at this way of life (allow me to turn your attention to the pile of empty Amazon Prime boxes in my garage). But if I could clear away the clutter—both in my home and in my soul—what would the Father do with the empty space? Fill it with peace, with grace, with eternal perspective? With more opportunities to be generous? To serve the least of these?

YES. More of that. Sweet Savior, more of You.

In His presence, there is fullness of joy. I pray for less of everything else to make more room in my life to be present in His presence. So here we go. 2017. "I hoist sail and draw up anchor, With thee as the blessed Pilot of my future as of my past. I bless thee that thou hast veiled my eyes to the waters ahead. If thou hast appointed storms of tribulation, thou wilt be with me in them; If I have to pass through tempests of persecution and temptation, I shall not drown; If I am to die, I shall see thy face the sooner; If a painful end is to be my lot, grant me grace that my faith fail not; If I am to be cast aside from the service I love, I can make no stipulation; Only glorify thyself in me whether in comfort or trial, as a chosen vessel meet always for thy use." [The Valley of Vision]

Mel Furniss 7/21/16 Mel Furniss 7/21/16

Happy Birthday, Crosby Boy

My little boy is two years old today.

I cannot fully articulate just how much I see Christ all around me, thanks to this child. Crosby lives his life with such joy and curiosity and fearlessness— man, is he fearless! I admire that so much in him, because I tend to view the world through the lens of worry and comparison.

But every day as I watch my child play in a pile of dirt, laugh with puppy Ellie, or stare in wonder at a plane in the sky, I see more and more that the good Lord keeps His promises, that fear of man is a bad friend, and that even though we can't give our son the world, he is happy, prayed over, covered in grace, and deeply, deeply loved. And that is more than enough.

As his godmama texted me this morning, "Y'all prayed a long time for the exact life you are living! Life is crazy! God is good."

The Father knew what He was doing when He made Crosby our son. And since tomorrow is not promised, let me say this for the record: Crosby Furniss, every day your dada and I have shared with you has been the best day of our lives. You point us to Jesus Christ in a million different ways, and even though I'm supposed to be teaching you, you teach ME so much. Thank you for being such a kind, hilarious, passionate, non-materialistic, content, joyful little boy. To say I am proud to be your mama is putting it way too lightly.

You'll never know, dear, how much we love you. Multiply that by a trillion, and you'll barely scratch the surface of how God, your Creator and true Daddy, feels for you.

Have the happiest birthday, son.

Let's dance a lot today.

Mel Furniss 5/15/16 Mel Furniss 5/15/16

Knocked Up and Knocked Over

This life. Some days it just punches you in the gut.

I had a few moments that knocked me over recently. Like, I’m not being hyperbolic. An hour ago, I literally tripped and fell on the porch. Bruises and scrapes errwhere. Add it to the pregnancy swelling, judgy elastic waistbands, hormonal breakouts, frizzy hair... And I'm ready for the Miss America pageant, baby!

Adding to all that, we were treated very poorly by a car salesman yesterday. It was one of those situations where a person makes you believe on the outside all the ugly lies you battle on the inside—thoughts like "You guys have NO idea what you're doing with your lives. You can't afford this? Losers! Who said you were qualified to adult?"

Stuff that makes you wanna kick the devil in his gross, lying, fiery butt. What a turd that guy is.

So now I'm lying here in bed, feeling both the internal and external scrapes & bruises... And I'm just over it.

I quit.

I quit aspiring to look like pregnant ladies on Pinterest.

I quit trying to keep up with the Joneses and Johnsons and Jacobsons (MAN, there's too much to keep up with!).

I quit battling the unsolvable "I should work more/I should be with the kids more" struggle that rages on in my brain day in and day out.

I quit trying to look like I have ANY of my junk together, cause JUNK BE EVERYWHERE, people! That's just where I'm at right now! And that needs to be okay with you and, more importantly, with me. Ain't nobody knocking down my door to put me on the cover of "World's Most Flawless Woman" magazine, and I quit wanting them to.

I'm a mess. The big secret is: WE ALL ARE. So I'm letting myself off the hook in this moment.

Jesus, You are enough.

Spirit, You are a present friend.

Father, You are mighty on the throne. If I tried to sit on it, I'd probably fall off anyway.

All the praise hands that He is God and I am not!

Mel Furniss 4/29/15 Mel Furniss 4/29/15

A Social Media Confession

Friends, I have a social media confession. Let me first say, I’m so pumped it exists. I scroll through Instagram or my Facebook feed, and I'm genuinely happy to see pictures of my dear friends, especially those I haven't seen in a long time. I think, "Thank God for Facebook, Insta, and Twitter, or I would never be able to keep in touch with all these people I love!" But once in a while, when I forget to guard my heart, I'll catch a post about a selfless husband voluntarily cleaning the kitchen or see a picture of happy children in front of their beautiful, expensive home. Maybe I’ll read a blog by a girl my age who's so much better at working out and eating her veggies. Plus, her hair is perfect. PLUS, she’s going on a European vacation. PLUS, she just quoted that amazing Bible verse that blessed my heart and, well, how dare she when I was in the middle of judging her perfect mermaid hair. Congrats on being a Disney princess-come-to-life who also trusts Jesus better than I do.

Suddenly, I feel gutted. "Are Jasper and I terrible at love?" I think to myself as I read the happy marriage post. "Why don't I have it figured out like these people do?" And just like that, I turn friends whom I love into enemies—opponents in the “game of life.” I hate this. I create it in my mind. I assume the worst of others' hearts and bring out the worst in mine. I confess this to you because writing out the words, speaking them aloud, exposing the hidden, ugly parts of my heart forces me to shine a light where there was once only darkness. It forces me to tell you the truth, and ask forgiveness for every time you tried to share a chapter of your story, and I was too busy comparing myself to you to be happy for you.

Friend, please forgive me. And because in Him there is no darkness at all, in this little moment, I am set free. Free not only from my addiction to comparison and approval, but also free to love with gospel truth beating in my chest. To see others—and myself—as more than just a Facebook page.

To check my own heart when I post.

To hold onto some moments privately so I can remember that the living is more valuable than the posting.

To send messages out into the world that help others feel less alone.

And to keep learning how to infuse the gospel into our social media-centric culture. Because, gosh... I've barely scratched the surface of understanding. #WhatWouldJesusTweet #Blessed?

Maybe you can relate to some of the thoughts I’ve expressed. I’d love to talk to you about it. Let’s sit at the kitchen table and laugh, pray, and learn together. I know this: I am so much more than what I post online. And I think you are, too. In our heads, we know this truth, yet our hearts can quickly believe the lie that people are the sum total of their Instagram accounts. Sisters and brothers, we are so much more. God’s writing a bigger and better story than what we allow others to see on social media.

So I’ve decided. I'm tired of feeling left out, not enough, or in competition with the people around me because of the internet and—let’s face it—my own sin. Today, I will choose love instead. The Father’s honest, vulnerable, liberating love.

It may not change the social media world forever, and it may not change my ugly heart forever. But it'll change me right now, in this moment.

... and maybe it’ll help you feel less alone.

Mel Furniss 1/25/14 Mel Furniss 1/25/14

A Love Letter

[I wrote this letter to our future kids this past summer under the hot Dominican sun, after almost a year of infertility. It would still be several months til the Lord blessed us with our little growing child, but in the meantime, this letter was my form of surrender. Of trusting Abba through the doubts that seemed truer than the truth.

Even today, as I sit here 15 weeks pregnant, I'm still surrendering our children to Him. He is the only Giver of Life, and whether we meet our child this year in a warm Greenville hospital or maybe a few years from now in a small orphanage in Ethiopia, they are His, and all we can do is trust Him as He chooses to entrust them to us.

So this was and still is my prayer and love letter both to my future children and my faithful Jesus.]

Sweet kiddos,

Mama loves you so much today! I don't know if you exist (though I hope to see your beautiful faces someday soon), but what I do know is this: even though we don't know each other yet, you are a part of me, and I'm so thankful God made me your mama. I love you and want to spend time with you SO much, I'm going a little nuts here!! This is a kind of love I've rarely felt before. It's a little disorienting and incredibly vulnerable... and to be honest, sometimes I get a bit lost in it. But I think that that's the kind of love worth having—the kind that envelopes your whole being, that brings faith to life in a bold, crazy way... the kind that, when surrendered daily, teaches you more about Abba Father than you could ever know apart from it. Christ kindly opened my heart to love your daddy that much many years ago, and now I know how it feels to love you that much, too. Though this long season without you has been almost unbearable, I've gotten to know and deeply trust our Jesus more than I ever could have without this time. So I hold onto hope... We'll see each other soon. Like I said, you're a part of me—I couldn't leave you if I tried! And I promise you, sweet kiddos of mine, that I will love you, serve you, and point you to our Jesus as much as I possibly can when you meet us on this earth. The greatest decision your dad and I ever made was to love our good Savior. And if there's one thing I'm MOST excited about, it's witnessing you knowing Him in this short life. He is the Giver of all good things (He gave us you, after all!) and we pray your eyes will open to His great mercy, gentle spirit, and life-changing love that turns brokenness into beauty and brings hope to the hopeless... just like He's bringing to your mama and daddy right now. Sons and daughters, I love you so deeply. And I MISS YOU! I think a reason I was created by God was to be your mama. And it hurts me not to hold you right now, to smell your smell, to laugh at your goofy Furniss jokes, to pray for you as you fall asleep on my shoulder. There's nothing that can make that hurt go away completely. It's just part of the process. Part of surrender. Part of our good Lord faithfully making us new. But please know that I carry you with me, and I love you more than my heart can hold. Come meet me soon... whenever Abba says it's time. I wait for you with joy and prayer.

Love, Your Mama

Coming July 2014, about a year after I wrote this letter. God is good.

Mel Furniss 10/11/13 Mel Furniss 10/11/13

Immovable

We came to the mountains this week. I don’t know why, but something about sitting in an old rocking chair, eating a peanut butter and banana sandwich, and looking out at vast, immovable mountains makes me feel closer to Abba.

I think in some deep part of my soul, I wanted to come here to celebrate—to thank God for being faithful in teaching us the same lesson over and over, and proclaim back to Him, “Savior, we made it this far! You’ve carried us through and we still love You and we still love each other.” This mini-trip was an act of celebrating sanctification. Of learning a big, dying-to-self God lesson. Of being set free from things by which we didn’t know we were bound.

And then we got here.

Like I said, sitting on this porch, looking out on the glorious mountains… It makes me feel closer to my Father. That’s why the moment I grabbed a good book and pulled up a rocking chair, He knew I needed to cry. Maybe this wasn’t a celebration. Or maybe it was. All I knew was that my super-strong, Beyoncé-like fearless heart hit the reset button, and before I could stop it, I was a nasty, snotty mess. It wasn’t pretty. But it was needed.

The older I get, the more I realize we may never have it all together. We may never completely learn the lesson God is teaching us right now because we’re still in the process of being made complete. But I think that’s part of why Jesus said to take His (gentle, restful!) yoke upon us—because there are burdens to bear in this life. There are moments of breathlessness and heaviness, when you feel like your sin overwhelms God’s grace and lies sound truer than the truth. And in those moments, we take His yoke upon us and continue to learn from His love. We breathe in and we breathe out, and we remember what’s real. We drive to the mountains with hope in our hearts, and sit on the porch and cry and pray. Cause even though we’re not who we need to be, we’re also not who we were before. He is completing a good work in us. He is giving rest to our souls. He is not finished with us yet.

And those are still reasons to celebrate.

I think that’s what I love most about the mountains—as immovable as they may be, they’re still held together by my Jesus. And in moments when I go from “I will not be moved” to an comically pitiful mess, He’s holding me together, too.

Mel Furniss 8/14/13 Mel Furniss 8/14/13

Here at this Table

I sit here today at our new kitchen table in our new home.

In truth, the table is from Craigslist, and the kitchen was built in 1989. And yet, everything about this little house is so brand new to me. The walls, the floors, the sound Ellie’s little paws make slipping and sliding across said floors. But mostly, the responsibility overwhelms me. The echoes of our realtor saying, “Let’s go sign your life away!” three weeks ago. The first mortgage payment we will make in the days to come. Suddenly, in place of gratefulness… all I feel is fear.

I walk through the virtually empty rooms, praying and crying a little and listening to “Oceans” over and over… “Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders; let me walk upon the waters wherever you would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior.”

I can sing those words by memory because I’ve prayed them so often over these past six months. The months that felt like lost time… like wasted space. Like yearning for fireworks but holding a single, burnt-out match.

“Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders…”

And so I sit here, at this new-ish table in this new-ish home, choosing to look out onto our pretty backyard and say, “This is the day that the Lord has made,” and find hope in those simple words. I cut up some strawberries—the sweetest-smelling strawberries I’ve ever smelled—and enjoy eating them in a beautiful little bowl. I pull out my Bible for the first time in a while, adding up the chapters I lost in ‘Eat This Book’, trying to find a bookmark big enough to hold all the pages I need to catch up on. (Lately, it’s seemed as if my relationship with God was like shouting at a brick wall. Now I’m wondering if I’ve been the brick wall.) But before the guilt sinks in, I feel the Spirit say, “Do not fear. Do not feel shame. You’re here now, Melie… and I’ve been waiting for you.” And then I read the Word of God—words that seem just as new to me as this Craigslist coffee table and this 1989 kitchen—and I submit.

In place of the fearful, Sweet Jesus, usher in the thankful. In place of worrying about coffee tables, back decks, landscaping, and office furniture, remind me of these sweet-smelling strawberries in this cute little bowl. The little pup that makes me laugh as she slides into the wall for the 100th time. The sacrificial husband who finishes his Master’s this week, yet still made time to take me on a special, Tuesday-night date. The Savior who paid the ultimate price so that I could sit here at this table, free from sin, free from death, free from fear. You are the kindest comfort… the One Thing that remains when all else seems blurry and broken. How could I be anything but thankful?

Now, you may read this and think, “Wow, Mel regrets buying her house. She’s going through a hard time.” And you’d be a little bit right. This home-owning thing is new for us, and it’s intimidating. But mostly, I think this is just me walking with the Lord into a new adventure. It’s another opportunity to cast my cares upon Him because He cares for me. Another moment to recognize when the enemy takes something beautiful (like the blessing of a new home) and tries to pervert it through fear and unbelief. Another day to trust that the God of Angel Armies is always on our side.

Another day to strive for rest, for joy, for shalom through the Word and my good, gentle, almighty Savior.

It’s all part of the process. And as I eat out of this new bowl at our new table in our new house, He is making me new. He is leading me where my trust is without borders. He is turning these simple moments of difficult faith and sweet-smelling strawberries into fireworks.

And so today, I choose to whisper through the halls of this home, “This is the day that the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be glad in it.”

Mel Furniss 4/30/13 Mel Furniss 4/30/13

Love Does Adventures

So, I don’t know what came over me this past year. Well, to be honest, I do… His name is Bob Goff, and his book is Love Does. MAN OH MAN, how this book changed my life. I had truly forgotten how to dream. How to live with abandon.

How to love with abandon.

The worst thing about growing up is how quickly you become cynical and practical. Having a “childlike spirit” seems like sacrilege, because you’re supposed to be thinking about down payments, 10-year plans, and the “real job” you’re going to get after the one you just got hired to do.

Well, against all odds, as I read this book, I felt something shift in my heart… like I was a new moon and God was getting ready to bring me into the light, little by little. I distinctly remember hearing Him whisper—in a way that only a sweet, protective, all-knowing Dad can, “We’re only just getting started, Melie. I’ve got big plans.”

So off God and I went, on the amazing adventure called 2012. The irony is only hitting me now that the world was supposed to end that year, because in the craziest ways, 2012 was when I shook hands with the world for the first time in my life (Better luck next time, John Cusack).

Now, when I talk about adventures with the Lord, the phrasing alone seems magical and “happily ever after” -ish, as if I got sprinkled with fairy dust and before I knew it, was flying hand in hand with Jesus past the London Eye or the Eiffel Tower.

Umm… Not so much.

Before the book, our year started with my sweet Jasper in the hospital. His anxiety hit an all-time high, so much so that we found ourselves pulled over on the side of I-95 as he shook and convulsed on a patch of grass next to our car. Terrified, I googled the nearest emergency room and off we went.

Being a wife and a woman, two things ran through my head as the love of my life lay in the next room, getting treated by doctors I had never met.

One was—He’s so going to die. I CAN'T BELIEVE he's going to die. This isn't supposed to happen yet... I’m going to be a widow. My life, as I know it, is over.

The second was—Dang it, I’m the worst wife ever! The first thing I think of while my husband is suffering in the hospital is how his funeral arrangements just aren’t jiving with the life plan I laid out for myself. No wonder he has anxiety… I’m the WORST.

(I’d like to throw in a disclaimer here that I got married really young, so these thoughts are also a side effect of being an insecure, pretty selfish, still-pretty-new-to-this-whole-marriage-thing little girl sitting at the grown-ups’ table. However, I’m still holding on hope that there is at least one other woman out there who is saying, “Mel, I get you! I’d be mentally picking out what outfit to wear to the funeral!!”

Wherever you are, strange, morbid lady… Thank you for existing.)

Jasper turned out to be okay, physically at least. The doctors gave him no definitive answers or medication that day, but simply told him that he had an anxiety attack and should slow down. See a doctor at home. Breathe. Seriously? I’m so glad they charged us $2300 to tell my husband to breathe (we’re still paying off that bill).

The next four or five months were undoubtedly the hardest season in our marriage. Jasper’s struggles with anxiety, fear, depression, and shame were greater and more intrusive than I’d ever seen them before. I woke up every day knowing that my husband—my leader, my partner in crime—was hurting in a way that I couldn’t repair. I couldn’t heal his heart or say the perfect words to make the worry dissipate. All I could do was be there. Show up, hold him, pray for him, and be there.

In some ways, it was really beautiful to be that helpless. We both were forced to die to ourselves. To deal with our sin. To desperately cling to the hem of His garment every single day. Looking back, I see why God took us both through that season. Without it, Jasper and I would have gone our whole lives with our struggles, strange predispositions, and numbing insecurities at a nice, easy 30%. But the Lord, in His gracious (and sometimes KILLER) sovereignty, decided to crank up the heat, shining painful, searing light on our weaknesses until we were forced to deal with them. 110%.

Yeah, it hurt. Sometimes it hurt so badly, I thought that we had lost. That our marriage was over. That we were too far gone to be restored. But God saw us. And He proved Himself faithful yet again. I learned how truly, disgustingly selfish I am—how I placed my identity so much in being insecure, that by thinking so little of myself, I was thinking only of myself. Jasper learned how pervasively his parents’ divorce affected his heart. He was so scared to open up to the real stuff in life because he was afraid of becoming just like them, of one of us running away. (I could go into the nuances of how these lessons changed and re-shaped our walk together as husband and wife, but maybe I’ll go into all that later.)

Consequently, we had no choice—we had to repent, learn, and love harder than we ever had before. It was painful in every way… but equally glorious.

Shauna Niequist talks about how, as husband and wife, we assume we become family when we say the vows, sign the certificate, or cut the cake. But in all honesty, “family gets made when you decide to hold hands and sit shoulder to shoulder when it seems like the sky is falling. Family gets made when the world becomes strange and disorienting, and the only face you recognize is his. Family gets made when the future obscures itself like a solar eclipse, and in the intervening darkness, you decide that no matter what happens in the night, you’ll face it as one.”

In this crippling, beautiful season, Jasper became my family. And he will continue to become my family for as long as we both shall live.

It’s no fairy dust, but it’s pretty dang adventurous.

Mel Furniss 8/20/12 Mel Furniss 8/20/12

Satisfied

I’ve lived so long in the practical— striving for my own good, fighting for my own desires, seeking to be satisfied in trophies, diplomas, marriage certificates, paychecks. Whether I meant to or not, I lived defined by what I could see and hold.

So I went for it. I gained as many earthly glories as I thought I deserved. Student body VP, full college scholarship, select worship team member, magna cum laude graduate, debt-free, wife of high school sweetheart, writer for non-profit organization.

I nailed it, right? It’s the first half of Philippians 3, but Mel’s version. A Hebrew of Hebrews, blameless.

Yet in the past couple of years, I couldn’t shake this feeling of now what?

“Why are you downcast, o my soul? Why are you so disturbed within me?”

As a deer pants for water, my soul panted for the Lord—for Him to reveal Himself to me. I begged my God, “Where are you, Lord? Do you see me? What have You purposed me to do… to be?”

Imagine the turmoil within my heart when I gained all the treasures I thought I needed, but then found a big, gaping hole in place of satisfaction.

“Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him.”

I didn’t have a big AHA moment that changed my heart. I still battle my flesh as the Lord continues to refine this jar of clay.

All I know is, the gospel of the Living God is enough. It is my definition. It is my satisfaction. In light of it, all that I have gained looks like filthy rags. And because of the gospel and Christ’s example, I am invited into a life full of others-minded, adventurous, inconvenient, active love.

Jesus played with the little children, danced at wedding receptions, washed His disciples’ feet, wept over His friend’s death, befriended the despised, fed the hungry, carried hope, freedom, joy, and truth on His lips, and died the death we all deserved. His love was whimsical, relentless, liberating, unbreakable, selfless.

He is the epitome of love doing.

And so here I stand, my purpose secure and eternally wrapped in the gospel alone…

Do not be fooled into believing that your career is your identity. Do not fearfully worship the god of money and financial security. Do not define yourself by your relationships. Do not submit to the lie that this life is about you alone. You are My ambassador, called and equipped to carry out the love that I, your Savior, lived and died for—an inconvenient, generous, gospel love. Shut down every selfish thought. When you grow angry and cry out to be served, serve your neighbor. When you are so desperate to share your opinions, listen to your friend. When you feel heavy under the weight of financial strain, give even more generously. When the dissension in your heart stirs up arguments, speak slowly and forgive quickly. When they mock you for loving with whimsy and adventure, show them grace upon grace.

When this type of living seems impossible, refocus yourself on the gospel and remember My example, for it is My inexpressible joy to live this way for you EVERY DAY. You are living My dream come true; you are My plan. Rejoice in the honor of carrying out My name and live in thankfulness for all that you have today. I will give and I will take away, but rest in peace knowing that all that you truly have—forever—is Me.

So let your love be active… and unceasingly trust that I, Abba Father, am standing beside you, holding your hand, relentlessly promising, “I’m with you. Always.”