There is this billboard I used to pass all the time between Roanoke and Franklin County. It is famous for having goats that just climb up onto the ledge to warm themselves up with the lights shining on the sign. I honestly couldn’t tell you anything that has ever been advertised on that particular sign. I just know that every time I pass it, I look for the goats. For the longest time (over three years of passing it), I never saw the goats. It got to the point where I started to consider this was all an elaborate prank like when you tell the freshmen there’s a pool on the roof of the school. Seeing the goats on this sign the first time felt like a miracle. I was so excited. It was real. Now, every time I see them, I smile. It’s just a fun quirk of where we live.
I was driving back from an event in Franklin County a few months ago, and I remember seeing the goats. I smiled as usual, then I really started thinking about them. How they felt so elusive. How seeing them felt like a special treat. How there were times I doubted their existence.
I think we all get like this at times with Jesus. We go through seasons where He feels far away. Where we don’t see a way out of our situation. Where we feel forgotten, left out, abandoned. We moved away from what we knew. We quit jobs, started new jobs, joined a new church, made new routines, etc. So much of this last year and a half has felt like an uprooting. Typically, I lean into it. I love change. But throwing so much new and different into the mix at once was hard especially when we were (and are) so limited in what we can do outside of the house with Evan. But then, I thought about the “goats” Jesus has placed before me in this season of parenthood.
God gave us a church family that immediately welcomed us in and seeks ways to make church a place for all three of us to worship and stay safe and healthy.
God gave us new friends who feel like family and understand what life has to look like for us in this season.
God gave us amazing home health nurses who allow us to be active in our church, run errands, go on the occasional date, and rest without worrying about Evan.
God gave me virtual friendships with other medical mamas that are so dear to my heart. Having friends who “get it” are so important.
God gave me this blog and social media as a platform to share Evan’s story and how we’re experiencing Jesus in it.
God gave us other blogs, podcasts, and social media accounts from those who walked before us in this journey– people who will likely never know us and how their honesty and stories have impacted our hearts.
God gave us encouragement through messages from old friends, family, and even strangers when we have needed it most.
God gave me a sweet reunion with a friend here in the coffee shop as I typed this post.
God gave us the best boy with the best smile to remind us of His goodness always.
God has given to us so much. But we had to look. I would have missed those goats if I hadn’t been looking for them. If I stopped looking at the billboard, I never would have seen that they indeed were real. If you’re winding down a lonely road, unsure of the reality of His promises, unsure of if He’s even there, don’t stop looking. Your goats are coming. Hold on.
“Look at the nations and watch— and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.”
When we moved to Roanoke after Evan came home from the NICU, we knew we needed to rent for a year. We had to move fast, and we couldn’t show our house with Evan still living in it. So we did rent and a mortgage for four months while we finished moving and listed our house. The goal was to find a home that would work in terms of accessibility for Evan, leave room to grow our family, and be close to our church and the hospital.
Our dream wish list for a home was kind of ridiculous. We had the things we dreamed of before Evan joined our family. We had the things we dreamed of for other potential children. We had the things we now needed to make life accessible for Evan. We had the things we dreamed of for Evan–not needs, just dreams. In a perfect world, we would find a house that checked off every item on that list and come in under budget. If you’ve ever bought a house, you’re likely laughing at this point. Compromise is almost always the name of the game when buying a house. You weigh your wish list and decide which things you can’t budge on and which things you can decide to live without. We fully expected that to be the case. We also expected the search to be long and hard.
We started looking in the spring knowing we wanted to move by the early fall when our lease would be up. It was hard. I remember Alex telling me about talking to a coworker about our house search. He told this guy about houses we’d looked at and why they wouldn’t work for us, and his coworker was just blown away by how many things we had to think about when looking.
Will a wheelchair fit around this corner in the hallway? Are these door frames too narrow? Is there a first floor bedroom Evan can use? How will we get him in and out of the house when he’s bigger and still not walking? Is there space for his equipment? Will the oxygen tubing easily make it from where he sleeps to where he plays? Can I see and hear him easily from the kitchen? Is the neighborhood too “busy” for him? Will we have to constantly deter neighbors from trying to see the baby to protect him from germs? (Everybody loves a good baby.) Is there space to build onto the house if needed down the road? Are we close enough to the hospital? Where’s the nearest rescue squad? Is there space to add ramps or an elevator? Is the house old enough to make us question the air quality? Is the house new enough that we know we won’t have to worry about replacing major things like water heaters or the roof for a while? The list probably could go on…
Meanwhile, we had our own dreams. Of course we were willing to compromise on our wants to make sure Evan got his needs, but it wouldn’t hurt if a house had at least some of those things right?
Nothing was meeting our list or even coming close. The houses that seemed possible came with huge renovation needs or the clear need to move again in a few years. We didn’t want to settle. We prayed for the right house to come on the market.
On a Wednesday night, I was scrolling through the listings on Realtor.com as I usually did every night just seeing if anything new came up that could work. There it was: a house exactly like I had always pictured us living in one day. From the outside it looked incredible. As we clicked through the pictures posted with the listing, we fell more and more in love with the house. I told Alex there was no way we would get it, but it was nice to dream for a night. We both agreed it was perfect. That is probably why we were so convinced we wouldn’t get it. Too perfect. There was just no way.
I talked with our lender and realtor the next day. It was possible. We scheduled a showing. As we drove up to the house, I really felt like we were coming home. We walked in the front door, the first thing I saw was a big wooden sign above the mantle that said “His grace is sufficient.” The whole time we were looking, I thought “Okay, God will provide. We just need to trust Him.” I really felt in that moment, that He was saying “Here it is. This is the home I picked for you. I went before you as I always do to prepare the way.”
We wrote the sellers a letter with our offer. We wanted to explain why this house was perfect for us. We told them a little about Evan, his needs, and how the house could help make his life easier. I shared our heart behind wanting this house. Why we felt so at home. Maybe they would think we were crazy weirdos, but I knew we had to tell them. Our offer wasn’t competitive. It couldn’t be. This was a risk, but we trusted.
They accepted our offer and shortly after, I got a message on Facebook from Heidi, one of the owners. She used to be a NICU nurse in the NICU Evan spent his first three months of life. She worked and her kids went to the school we want to send Evan to for preschool. We had so many friends in common. But most importantly, this family loved the Lord. That sign above their mantle wasn’t just a decoration. It was truth they lived by. Here are her words:
“We are the family that lives on [road we live on], and your letter to us was such a special gift from God. We have been praying for the family that would buy our home. We wanted them to love it as much as we do, and we prayed it would be a blessing to them. We built our home thinking of our family’s needs, but our faithful God also saw fit to allow it to one day meet your precious family’s needs. I can’t get over how much He is in the details. I was a NICU nurse for 17 years in the place that Evan spent his first months of life. I worked alongside many of the nurses that cared for your beautiful boy. What a treasure it is when God shows us over and over that He sees us and knows us.”
When we moved in, the sign was there on the mantle for us: a reminder of His goodness and provision. I see it every day and think of this sweet family and how their obedience and faithfulness to the Lord has blessed us.
We’ve been in our house now for several months. We’re slowly making it our own, but I love the reminders of the Tate family scattered through the house. They will forever be a part of our story–His story.
Yes, a house is just a building. And we do not idolize our house. We love it for sure, but its reminder to us of His sovereignty is why we are so blown away by this move.
We have two master bedrooms: one on the main level and one upstairs. Evan will keep the downstairs master as his bedroom. It makes it easy on days when he needs his oxygen all day. The tubing reaches from the machine easily into the living room which is big enough for Evan’s toys, high-low base for his chair, and stander. Everything is open on the main level, so I don’t have to worry about Evan if I am in the kitchen getting meds, prepping a feed, or pouring coffee. The first floor master has a huge bathroom that we can easily renovate when Evan gets big enough to need a handicap shower. We also see the potential space to put an elevator in for him. We can enter the house through the walkout basement and take the elevator straight into his bedroom. There is space to build a large garage in the future. There is space in the basement to let Evan scoot around on a makeshift “belly cruiser” so he can learn to crawl. There are spaces for both Alex and I to enjoy our hobbies without cluttering the rest of the house. There’s a big yard we can enjoy and build an “all abilities” swing set on. There are just so many things to love about our home. Isolation during cold and flu season requires us to be in the house A LOT, so loving it is kind of important.
But, my absolute favorite thing about our house is the view. We get to see the beauty of God’s creation magnified right from our windows.
I cannot wait to see what the Lord does in this house. I cannot wait to witness His provision, faithfulness, and glory unfold before our eyes.
“Lord, you are my God; I will exalt you and praise your name, for in perfect faithfulness you have done wonderful things, things planned long ago.”
I picked up my coffee this morning, and it was cold. No surprises there. Some days are measured by the number of times my cup finds its way to the microwave. I know I am not alone in this.
I use the Marco Polo app to talk with other mama friends, and I think the subject of cold coffee or microwaved coffee comes up at least twice a week. As moms, we laugh because this is just another part of motherhood.
But this morning I got to thinking about this cold cup. I thought, what does it really represent? And Jesus spoke.
This cold cup of coffee is about sacrifice. The cold cup is a baby fed, a tantrum soothed, medicine given, diapers changed, boo boos healed, books read, imaginations fostered, and the list goes on. The cold cup is our children’s needs above our own. The cold cup, my friends, is the gospel.
Jesus laid his life down for us. He made the ultimate sacrifice so that we could be healed and reconciled to God. Matthew 20:28 says that Jesus “did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” When we allow our cups to grow cold, we are living the gospel. We are following Christ and loving others (our children) the way He loves us.
So the next time you find yourself grumbling over your microwaved coffee, I challenge you to see it as a reminder of His grace and goodness. He says to you, “Well done, child, I am proud of you.” And goodness, how badly do we need to hear that each day?
This is the first question people ask of God when something doesn’t go according to the plan. You lose a job. Your marriage falls apart. You lose a loved one. You receive a diagnosis you weren’t expecting. You lose a child. You can’t conceive a child. The list goes on.
We ask why. Why me? Why did this happen? What did I do to deserve this?
In John 9, Jesus answers that question for all of us. He and His disciples come upon a man blind from birth. The first question asked is “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Immediately, this thought that all of our circumstances come out of decisions we make or our sins comes to question. Jesus answers simply, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.” That it, y’all. That’s the point. God is working things together that His glory and goodness might be displayed.
I think when we focus on this “why,” we are shifting our focus onto self rather than our Creator. We are saying that we are better than our circumstances. This shouldn’t happen to me. Maybe someone else, but not me. We cheat ourselves in thinking that our circumstances come from how “good” of a person we are or what we have done for the Lord. It’s not about that. And that is not to say that striving to be like Jesus and be for His Kingdom is futile. But we do not do so wholeheartedly if our aim is for reward. And I think our motives come into light when we sit and ask, “why?” when things go wrong. It’s really saying, “Where is my reward?”
Focusing on why, takes our focus away from the true why, if that makes sense. I have had so many people look at us with pity and some have even said “I don’t know why this happens” or “I am sorry this happened to you/your son.” I am here to squash that method of thinking. My son is here just the way he is ON PURPOSE, FOR A PURPOSE. He is fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of his Creator ‘so that the works of God might be displayed in him.’
I will not ask God why Evan is the way he is. I know why. Evan was created for a purpose grander than we could have ever imagined for him. His life brings glory back to God. His struggles and his triumphs display God’s goodness and faithfulness. He has been created perfectly for his true purpose on this Earth. I have no doubt that Evan’s life and his story will bring people to Christ. It may have already done so. I know we have experienced more intimacy with the Lord than ever before through this past year. For that, I am eternally grateful.
The story in John 9 goes on to show Jesus spit in the dirt and rub it on the blind man’s eyes to give him his sight back. In this time, a blind beggar would most certainly have experienced people spitting in the dirt around him to show their contempt for him. So when Jesus chooses this way to heal him, I think it is significant. Our road to redemption is often messy. The hard things placed before us can shout the lie to us that we are not worthy. Jesus’s spit doesn’t say “you are not worthy,” his says, “I make you worthy.”
I challenge you (and myself) to choose to see His goodness in your circumstances. To stop asking “why me” and focus on Him. To stop thinking that doing good in this world will gain you favor and an easy life. To remember that faith doesn’t say “what if” it says, “even if.” To rest your heart in His truth rather than the lies your circumstances bring to the surface.
You are loved. You are chosen. You are worthy in His sight.
*Featured image credit goes to Ashley Powell Photography*