Every storm runs out of rain.

It rained ALL. WEEKEND. LONG. 

I was supposed to run 16 miles as part of my marathon training this weekend, and the original plan was to do that early Saturday morning.  Nope.  Already raining with 100% chance of more showers through the remainder of the morning.  So, I made plans to run that afternoon.

Nope.  Still raining.  Despite the fact that the meteorologists kept saying that the storm was on its way out, the rain hadn't let up this morning (Sunday).  I just decided to run in the rain, and it's a good thing I did because it is now 4:30 p.m. and the sun JUST poked its head out, almost 48 hours later.

"Hey, the sun came out!" I heard Andrew comment from the living room.  As much to myself as to him, I said, "Yeah, it always does."

I can't get enough of this new Gary Allen song that has been coming on the country radio station lately.  "Every storm runs out of rain," the song says.  Sure enough, it does.  Even in places like Seattle, the sun comes out, and everything looks a little greener and healthier because of the storm. 

It feels like it has been raining in my life for a long time.  I'm having surgery this week, and I'm scared.  We'll know the results right away, and although we got some really bad news a few weeks ago, I'm not sure that the worst has come.  But at the same time, I know that it won't rain forever.  Every storm runs out of rain.

Politics

Up until today, I wasn't really sure who would get my vote in the upcoming election, mostly because I didn't feel informed enough to make a decision.  I just haven't had time to follow politics lately and to be honest, I haven't cared about it as much as I probably should.  I don't always vote Republican, and I don't always vote Democrat, so my choice has not been an obvious one.  Of course, I still don't know everything there is to know about Obama or Romney, but I did some research this afternoon and at least feel like I have personal grounds for the box I'll check on November 6th.  I'm not sure that voting without being informed, or voting for a certain party regardless of the candidate, is the definition of being "a responsible citizen."

Here's the thing- everyone has convictions, and certain issues are more important to some people than to others.  I'll say it quickly, like pulling off a Band-aid: Politics should never be so important that people become divisive and hateful because of their convictions, or that others who do not share the exact same beliefs are alienated and made to feel stupid.  I could do without all of the Facebook posts and comments on the radio/TV that are only intended to rip the other party apart, couldn't you?  I think that there is a way to stand one's ground and still be kind.

I'm not entirely free from guilt of this myself.  Though I might not say things out loud, I often have thoughts like, "I can't believe anyone would actually think that is a good idea."  Sometimes my thoughts err on the side of hate, too.  Lord help us all.

Hateful comments have been made by Democrats and Republicans alike, without a doubt.  But the most concerning thing to me is when Christians are the ones doing this.  There are many important issues facing our country today , but none so crucial that we need to start bashing our political leaders.  Aren't we supposed to hope for their best, to respect them, and to pray for them as they make big decisions every day?  They're not going to get it all right all the time, but they're only men.

I don't adhere to everything that either candidate does or says, but I do believe that both deserve consideration, and that my decision needs to be informed.  Call me crazy, but I also don't think that we should vote or not vote for a person based off of whether or not he says he is a Christian.  (As you may have noticed, claiming to be Christian doesn't mean much these days anyway.)  Despite all kinds of leaders, God has been and still is at work in a broken world.  Christians have done some great things for our country, and some terrible ones.  And although America may have been founded on Christian principles, we have long since strayed from those and in my opinion, can't be considered a "Christian nation" when the majority of people in America do not go to church.

I haven't become super political all of a sudden.  I just want people to have some grace.  I want to have some grace.  No matter which way you're going to vote this time around, I encourage you to consider your decision.  It's an important one.  Hold fast to your convictions, and talk with others about them.  Just remember that no one ever changed another's mind or heart by being unkind, and that whoever becomes president deserves to be respected.  That doesn't mean you have to agree with him on everything.

Fences

Unexpected things always happen to me on Thursdays, it seems.

I got home from work late on Thursday this week and decided to lay down for a nap.  Moments after I closed my eyes, I thought I heard footsteps on our roof.  "Um, surely not," I thought, but after laying in bed (petrified) for a few minutes, it became apparent that those were indeed footsteps on our roof.  And tree branches brushing up against our window before crashing to the ground. 

The man on the roof seemed surprised when I asked him why his ladder was propped up against our house and his big clunkers were stomping around on top of it.  Clearly, he had just let himself in through our gate and climbed up.  "I'm trimming your neighbor's tree so that it doesn't make your roof crash in when the storms come.  Do you not want me to do that?"  I have to admit, I had noticed the looming branches, but the fact that the man just helped himself into our backyard left me a little unnerved.  I let the man finish his job but made sure to ask if he would please knock on the front door next time before barging in (and scaring my pants off).

That incident made me think about the fence in our yard.  Currently, we have a short chain-link fence, but I thought back to the eight-foot wooden fences that surrounded our backyard in every home my parents bought as we were growing up.  The fences were intended to keep out all of the things that we didn't want in our yard- pets, people, trash, eyesores- as well as to give us privacy.  But looking back on it now, I wonder if those fences also kept out some good things, like tomatoes picked straight out of the garden, or help with a home improvement project- both of which come from having a relationship with the neighbors.

I think we build these fences up around ourselves, too.  The fences establish understood rules that we will not enter into someone's life when it is messy, that we will only let people come this close to us and no further, that we will always be "fine" when people ask how we are doing, and that we will learn how to be independent instead of asking for the help we so desperately need.

In Indiana, where Andrew's family lives, there are no fences.  You can see straight through someone's back yard and across the neighborhood.  I was horrified when I saw this for the first time.  Fences make life so much easier in many ways.  Leave people alone, give them their space, and everyone gets along just "fine."  Why on earth would I want for someone to know what is going on in my life?

The answer is simpler than I ever realized: Sometimes I need people to help me trim the branches on my tree so that when a storm rolls in, the roof that protects me won't collapse.  I hate asking for help, and I hate letting people love me because doing so means that I'm not self-sufficient.  But I'm not always tall enough, strong enough, or skilled enough to do a job myself.  Tearing down my fences and letting people in isn't easy for me, but in trying to keep out the bad things, I have also been keeping out the people who will help me weather the storm.

Often, mere presence is the best way to care about someone, but no one can be present with eight-foot fences enclosing him on all sides.  Maybe we could all work together to tear down fences so that "I'm not doing well" would be an okay answer, so that we are honest and authentic instead of slapping on a smile in the name of privacy, and so that we don't just look the other way when weeds start growing in our neighbors' backyards.  If you're the "man on the roof," I probably need you, and I'll do my best to let you help and love me.  You might just knock first before letting yourself in the gate.  :)

Not my plan

Thursday was a bad, bad day- the kind of day that you wish you could wake up from to realize it was only a dream.

Without sharing every last detail of our personal lives (because you probably don't care and you definitely don't need to know), we got some terrible news from my doctor.  After experiencing the worst pain of my life (and I've had a kidney stone, y'all), the doctor told me in the kindest way possible that my chances of ever conceiving a child naturally are slim to none.  At that point, the physical pain was no comparison to the emotional blow.

Until now, our "problem" with fertility has always been Andrew.  Now it's me, too.  Inadequate doesn't even begin to describe the way I feel.  Thankfully, I have basically the sweetest husband ever.  Boy, am I glad that we are in this together.

Found this on the bathroom mirror today.

Less than two weeks ago, I was posting about how excited we are to adopt.  Nothing puts a damper on joy like a big dose of bad news.  We're still excited about adoption, but clearly a larger part of ourselves than we realized was (is) still attached to the idea of having biological children.  I wonder if that will ever go away.

I'm amazed at how quickly the anger and doubt came rushing back yesterday.  I immediately started asking the same old questions again.  Why those people, who are yelling at their child(ren) in the hallway at the school where I work?  Why is this so hard for us?  Why is God withholding this good thing from us?  Ugh.  I thought I was done with these questions.

I asked my mom why God allows these things to happen.  She replied, "Because he wants us to trust him."  I have to admit that I don't like that answer very much sometimes.  Okay, a lot of the time.  But at this point, I don't know where else to turn.

If you would have asked me in 2007 where I thought I would be in five years, this is certainly not the story I would have written for myself.  In a conversation with our friend the other night, he stopped at one point and said, "This has really been a crazy year for the Fenricks, huh?"  I teared up.  Yeah.  Not even close to what I envisioned.

I'm trying to hold onto the hope that perhaps there is an even better ending to the life I had planned.  As I sobbed into Andrew's chest on Thursday, I asked him to tell me that everything is going to be okay.  "I don't know if things are ever going to be okay," he said, "but maybe, hopefully, we will find rest."  I just want that to be true.