To say that we have a lot to be grateful for would be an understatement. When we reflect on the things we have to show gratitude towards, so many come to mind: Our upbringing in stable, Christian-based homes with loving family; Our opportunity for well-rounded education that has contributed to our career success; The fact that God drew us down similar paths that led us to one another; Our family’s acceptance, love and compassion for us as a couple and as parents; And our chance to raise three wonderful children.

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This past August, I had the opportunity to have a late start at my job where I work for two separate financial advisors. This was especially appreciated, as I had returned late the night before from a trip, and was excited for the chance to sleep in a few extra minutes. I woke up later than my usual time, showered, and went into work. As was my particular morning routine, I stopped by my boss’s office to check in and add any additional tasks to my list. His voice was uncomfortable and calm as he told me to come in and have a seat.

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Thankfulness and a “glass half full” mindset seem to come naturally to some. Although I don’t see myself as a pessimist, my default response is not always positive. I first want to know how many ounces the glass holds and where exactly is the halfway point on said glass. I’ve had to learn gratitude from the example of others. My first and best teacher was my Dad.

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We are currently in a series on uncertainty, and I was asked to write about gratitude, so I thought I would write a little bit about Kyle’s and my journey through foster care and why I am grateful for uncertainty.

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It seems to me like many of us go through life with a fair bit of anxiety on our plates. This ranges from general social discomforts to genuine panic attacks that can leave a person helpless. But there appears to be a common undercurrent in the lives of most adults I know. There is this nagging question of, “Am I doing what I'm supposed to with my life?”

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I am a labor and delivery nurse, so the word transition carries a particularly strong meaning for me. In my world, transition is the point in labor when the woman goes from 8cm to 10cm dilated, right before it’s time to push. It is the most difficult stage of labor — when the changes taking place in the woman’s body seem too intense to handle. It’s when even the most composed woman starts to lose control and is ready to give up. Forget all this talk about wanting the baby to just be here already. She takes it all back.

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I began attending Imago Dei Church about three years ago. I had gone through a difficult time in my life. I had gone through a very long and painful divorce. I had worked at my church for 16 years as a counselor and Recovery Director. My position was eliminated. I also was battling a cancer scare as well — and my Jeep had broken down (again). I felt alone and terrified. I couldn’t think.

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A phrase that’s popping up in my everyday vocabulary more and more often is, “I’ll figure it out.” My roommate and I don’t know what to make for dinner? “We’ll figure it out.” Not sure which cabinet to put the new groceries in? “I’ll figure it out.” Having difficulty scheduling the events of my week? “I’ll figure it out.” It’s a very efficient way of saying, “I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing, but that’s okay, I’ll know soon.”

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I am a five.

For those who speak Enneagram, you know that I’m not the likely choice to write about community.

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In August of 2016, our little family considered moving from Minnesota to Peoria. A job was offered to Mark in a town that I had never been to before, a place where I knew not one person. I wasn’t really worried about that. I have moved (alone) to places where I didn’t know a soul so many times that I’d have to actually sit down and write it out to figure out how many times I’ve done that.

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Eight years ago, I took what felt like a big step into the unknown. I asked an acquaintance if she wanted to have lunch.

Perhaps I was a stunted 27-year-old, but this was a gigantic leap for me.

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If there was a catch phrase for our marriage it would be “It takes a village.” From our wedding, which included many talented and loving friends, to finding our daughter through the friend-of-a-member-of-the-church-of-a-childhood-friend-by-way-of-Facebook — take that, Kevin Bacon!

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Gamers and gardeners. Postal workers and poets. Thinkers and doers. Singles and couples. Therapists. Musicians. Runners. Geeks. And advertisers.

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