The Moberg Family

Category: Faith

  • Dreams

    “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” Proverbs 13:12

     

    I grew up with dreams.

    And I am convinced, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my dreams are from God. That He, the Author and Perfecter of my faith, planted these dreams in my heart long before I knew what the word “dream” meant, and He–and only He–is the One in charge of fulfilling them.

    There are so many “itty bitty” dreams that my Creator has knowingly crafted and accomplished in my life, but here I want to reflect on four of the “big” ones. (Note: I must put the size of these dreams in quotes because really, is anything “big” or “small” for our God?! With a spoken word, every part of creation was crafted into being…I can’t think of a more simple “act” on God’s part and yet with that, he created the greatest of all complexities!)

    Ever since I can remember remembering, I’ve always dreamed of being a teacher. Not sure where that came from…neither of my parents were teachers by trade, although they are both quite gifted in teaching. I remember sitting in school (as early as first grade) thinking, “Wow, my teacher is doing a great job of teaching me…I should write down everything she is doing so I can teach this well when I grow up.” Every grade I attended became my new favorite and thus the grade that I wanted to teach when I grew up.

    Somewhere along the line, I became passionate about Mexico. And little Mexican children. Definitely not sure where that came from… But I knew I had to learn Spanish, and it wasn’t until my freshmen year of high school that I was finally able to take a course. And I immediately fell in love with the language that I apparently had a natural knack for. And meanwhile I dreamed of living in Mexico one day, doing mission work and teaching little kids how to speak English.

    I went to college to pursue my teaching degree and finished with a bachelors in Education, endorsements in Spanish and Elementary Education and a minor in Teaching English as a Second Language. Perfect set up to pursue my dream. Not long after graduating, I was offered a job teaching at a Language Immersion School in Tacoma…and I remember blinking several times as the job fell into my lap…Really? Really? Could this really be happening? So many parts of my dream are coming true…

    Ever since I was a little girl, I have dreamed of marrying a prince who would adore me and cherish me and love me forever. I remember when Brian led me by my hand to the boat that was supposed to take us to a job site he was called to in the middle of a date we were on, and saw the gorgeous pink flowers and the perfectly wrapped presents inside and suddenly there I was again…in my dream. I was floating through a dream, watching Brian lead me across the dock and down the steps into the boat. And I heard myself say, “Wait, was is this?” And I saw my brain ticking…It’s not quite my birthday yet, so this can’t be a birthday surprise…and we haven’t picked out a ring yet, so he can’t be proposing…and wait a minute, we’re supposed to be heading to his job site…What is this? And I watched the tender and knowing smile spread across Brian’s face as he told me to sit down while he started the engine… And the dream went on, as a ring was slipped on my finger, as my brother and sister-in-law (who live thousands of miles away) suddenly appeared on the dock of the restaurant where we were to eat lunch, as the woman gave me a beautiful french manicure, as we ate dinner with both sets of our parents, as we drove to Brian’s home where our closest friends were waiting for us and as every day after that passed and my ring was in constant view, secured in a permanent place on my left hand. Really? Really? Could this really be happening? My dream, my prince has finally come? The reality of this dream becoming a reality was almost too much for me to handle…I couldn’t even filter and sort the gazillion thoughts flooding through my head during our engagement season, the night before our wedding day, and as I walked down that aisle towards my prince.

    Ever since I was a little girl, I have dreamed of being a mom. I have just loved “little ones” ever since as I realized that there were “little ones” littler than me. I volunteered in our church’s nursery, read every book in The Babysitter’s Club series, and enrolled in courses to be a certified baby sitter while still in elementary school. I ordered books on fun craft projects with kids and I’d bring them with me when I landed babysitting jobs. About 5 seconds into my teaching career I was ready to apply for my foster care license because I just couldn’t handle the injustice that so many of my students lived under. I wanted to be their mom. I knew I could do a good job, by the grace of God, and I wanted to take them home with me… When Elliott was, after a long hard labor, placed in my arms that Sunday evening, I just wept and couldn’t believe this dream was being realized. Really? Really? Could this really be happening? I have a son…a most perfect son… And not a day has gone by since that I have not been overwhelmed by the goodness of the Lord to give us this perfect baby boy.

    Ever since about 2001, I have dreamed of being called and sent out by God. I have dreamed of being a missionary. I have dreamed of working in an orphanage or working with children and families who are in need. I would read about times when the Lord would call his people in Scripture, and I would beg Him to call me. “The Lord spoke to Joshua…saying, ‘…Now therefore, arise, go over this Jordan, you and all this people, to the land which I am giving to them–the children of Israel. Every place that the sole of your foot will tread upon I have given you…No man shall be able to stand before you all the days of your lives; as I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not leave you nor forsake you. Be strong and of good courage, for to this people you shall divide as an inheritance the land which I swore to their fathers to give them…” (Joshua 1). I would read things like that and pray, “Oh God! Would you call me in the same way? Would you give me the land for your Name? Would you be with me, not leave me, not forsake me?” I would read about the destitute in Scripture and the ways that the Lord asks us to take care of them. “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy” (Proverbs 31:8-9). And I would long to defend the rights of those who cannot speak up for themselves. I longed to be with the broken and the hurting. I longed to bring the love of Jesus to those who were suffering. The words in Isaiah 6 were the cry of my heart: “Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?’ And I said, ‘Here am I. Send me!’” I told the Lord over and over that I promised I would go if He would call. And He has called me various places over the last 10 years. I have been called to my students, I have been called to my colleagues, I have been called to my friends, I have been called “to the least of these,” I have been called to Africa, I have been called to the Eastside of Tacoma, I have been called to my husband, and I have been called to my son.

    And then the Lord called us to Mexico. To do all of the above. All my dreams, colliding into one.

    As is the reality of dreaming–dreams feel so surreal. So real, yet so unreal at the same time. You pinch yourself over and over, blink until there are tears streaming down your face, but again and again you wake up and realize that the dream is, indeed, reality. And so here we are, selling most everything that we own, because we’ve heard him say, “Whom shall I send? Who will go?”

    And we, two children of God on our knees, have blinked and pinched ourselves to the point of realizing that yes, He is asking us to go. And though I think we’ve known in our hearts that this was our call since the moment we heard of the opportunity, we are finally able to audibly say, “Us, Lord! Yes, send us! We will go!”

    And so we strap our little one our back, and we go…We go with the faith that “He who’s promised is faithful,” with the faith that “a longing fulfilled will bring life,” with the faith that, “God reigns over the nations; God sits on His holy throne.”

    Here am I, Lord. Awake, alert, and ready to be sent out into this dream that You have fostered in my heart. Send me, God!

  • “He Was Born For Heaven”

    “He Was Born For Heaven”

    Today is Father’s Day…and it was filled with copious amounts of joy-filled moments staring at our son, playing with him, kissing him, snuggling him, laughing with him, smiling at him…all while I told Brian over and over again how grateful I am that he is my son’s father, and the greatest dad Elliott could ever ask for…

    But with as much joy as today brought, I could not escape the grief that still lines the edges of my heart for my dear friends who lost their baby boy just 15 days ago. Can you imagine celebrating your first Father’s Day ever, but not having your baby in your wife’s womb to eagerly anticipate, let alone in your arms to hold? My heart has been especially heavy today for my dear friends, and for sweet baby Moses whose short life has had a profound impact on mine.

    When we first realized there might be a problem, we began to fight hard in prayer. The next 10 hours or so were filled with some of the most faith-filled prayers I’ve ever prayed, along with one of the hardest battles I’ve ever fought for. I’ve never understood the friends of the paralytic who raised him down through the roof to get to Jesus like I did that night as I cried out to the Lord to save my best friend’s child. I would have done anything to save him. I’ve never cared less about what people thought of me as I screamed out for LIFE in that delivery room. I would have gladly accepted a scarlet letter for being a lunatic if only… And I’ve never felt greater grief in my life as I did in that moment that the NICU doctor so gently relayed the news that I had refused to believe was an option all night long, “There is just nothing I can do to save him.”

    The grief was unbearable.

    And this sweet little baby boy, who was supposed to wait another 4 1/2 months to come out and meet us, sovereignly passed quickly from his mama’s womb, to his parents’ arms, and onto the Heavenly Father’s lap.

    The ensuing few days were some of the hardest I have ever known in my 29 years of life of so far. Everything was suddenly different. I couldn’t look at my own vibrant, healthy, alive son without being reminded of Moses’ death. I couldn’t nurse my baby without being reminded that my dear friend would not get to nurse hers. In just the 2 short weeks that we knew Moses was Moses, he had secured such a permanent place in all of our hearts. Every morning as I watch the sun rise, I see the face of the One who painted it into being that morning. The sunrise…a new day, a new start, new mercies. But even the sunrise was different. We got home from the hospital just as the sun was rising, and I’ll never forget looking out our window and wondering how joy could ever “come in the morning” ever again. You just don’t know if life will ever go on without such intense grief spilling over onto every aspect of it. There were few moments that our eyes were dry those following few days.

    After several minutes of pouring out my heart through a flood of tears and questions, a friend of mine said to me, “Susanne, he was born for Heaven.” And these words brought such peace and the beginning glimpses of perspective. We, as believers, are not citizens of this earth. We anticipate and look forward to and LIVE for eternity. When we keep our eyes on the eternal, we realize how temporary the here-and-now of our day-to-day lives just really is… What are we living for anyway? We are living for eternity. And this precious boy, whose life was just created 5 months earlier, beat us all there. The little stinker :).

    Yet still, we grieve. Every day. But we grieve with the faith that our most loving Father–who sent his very own son to die so that we may be free of the bondage of sin–has purpose beyond what we can fathom in this moment. I hurt for my friends…oh, I hurt so deeply for my friends…there is not a day that has gone by that I haven’t shed tears for them. I wonder if there will be, until we see the redemption that we are believing God for bundled up in their arms one day. Scripture says, “His ways are far above our ways”… I have never wrestled over God’s “ways” as much as I have in the past year. Moses’ death takes the cake for my wrestling career. If we’re only allotted a certain amount of Why, Lord?s, the last 2 weeks have certainly thrown me into debt. But one thing the Lord showed me over Easter was that if I had been writing “The Salvation Story,” I would have never chosen to have the main character–the man who was PERFECT and the full essence of LOVE–suffer a grueling death. For my behalf. A sinner. Who deserves nothing. But God showed me that the resurrection would hold no power had Jesus not died. He had to conquer death and the grave…by dying. If I had authored the story, not only would it not be a best seller, but most importantly–we would not be ALIVE through Christ. Through His death, I live. Through His sacrifice, I am redeemed. And so as difficult as it is to thank God for death, I do so continually…for that death has brought me life.

    And so…so. To the Author of my friends’ story and to the Author of my own life…I thank you that your ways are far above mine. I trust you for the plan that you are unfolding. And though tears are streaming down my face even now as I pray, I thank you that you are in control, and that Moses’ life slipped through your hands…hands with holes in them, marking your own death…Hands whose fingerprints run deep with love that I cannot understand, and hands whose fingers are grasped tightly around Moses’ right now. You are LOVE. You are MERCY. You are SOVEREIGN. Thank you for letting us share in Moses’ life for a short while…it is an honor to love him.

    Moses Myles…I love you so much. It’s difficult to believe that I can love someone who I’ve known for such a short amount of time so incredibly much. But I love you. And I love your parents deeply. I know you are with your Creator now, and I know there is no better place for you to be. But we sure do miss you down here. Elliott can’t wait to meet you. Although you’re running around and talking up there, he’ll catch up to you one day. I am so grateful that you get to look straight into the eyes of Jesus every single day of your life. What a privilege…

    You–sweet, precious, baby Moses–were born for Heaven. Hallelujah.

  • Good Morning, 2011

    Good Morning, 2011

    This is what I woke up to on New Year’s Day, 2011. And the words, “Good morning, 2011!” rang through my head. I could see God smiling down at me like he was saying, “Look at this ‘Good Morning’ that I saved for 1-1-11!! Isn’t it beautiful?!? I’m so glad you’re awake to see it…” Yes…it’s simply breathtaking, oh Lord.

    I woke up feeling pretty good, and I remember thinking, “Maybe God’s gift to me this year is no more throwing up!!” I sat, eating my first bowl of cereal while staring at the above view. By the time the sun came up completely I was ready to crawl back in bed for my morning nap, filled to overflowing with hope and anticipation for the upcoming, vomit-free new year.

    When I woke up the second time, I still felt pretty good. So I’m not quite sure why my second bowl of cereal had a hard time staying down… Usually, when I’m eating and I start to gag my next step is a no-brainer–get to the nearest sink, toilet, or bucket as fast as possible. But this time when I gagged, I was so convinced that 2011 was going to be a vomit-free year that I didn’t move. I refused. “No way,” I sternly thought to my stomach muscles, who were gearing up to action. “You stay calm and just let this cereal have its place down there.”

    Wishful thinking, I guess. Because it ALL came up a second later. So much for a “good morning.” 

    I barely made it to the bathroom in time…in fact, a good amount of vomit actually splattered across the bathroom mirror because it was so violently flying out of my mouth, despite the fact that my lips were sealed tight and my hand was covering them for extra reinforcement. I just found that splattered mirror vomit the other day, which is what has triggered this post.

    Because I have thrown up so. many. times. this year already. There are days where I feel like I’m getting worse and I have to remind myself of the horror of my first trimester to put things back into perspective. There is SOOOOOOOOOOOO much to be thankful for….!!!! But my point is, when I saw the vomit splattered across the mirror, my first thought was, “Um, that’s disgusting. How did I miss that when I cleaned up the rest of the vomit mess that day? I wonder who’s come over in the meantime and seen this…?” Gross.

    And my second thought was, “This. Sucks. Royally.” And Shame and Disappointment loudly mocked and criticized the little spirit of Hope that I had woken up with that New Year’s morning. “Who are you to hope? This is your lot–accept it. You’re going to be so sick these last 2 and a half months that you won’t be able to enjoy or anticipate the birth of your son. And you might as well accept the fact now that you will be this sick every time you get pregnant. So forget about having lots of kids. Forget about being a good mom while you’re pregnant with the next one. While you’re at it, forget about ever being able to wake up and say “Good morning” to your husband again. Forget about getting more than 2-3 hours of sleep at a time. Forget about ever being able to eat a meal without gagging again…” 

    The list went on and on. So much so that all I could think about was how sick I am…forgetting about the One who had given me the “good morning” word and the beautiful sunrise to go along with it.

    Thankfully, I follow a God who is so much bigger than all of that crap, who interrupted this worthless monologue and broke into my spirit. “A ‘good’ 2011 has nothing to do with the amount of times you throw up this year. I have provided for you every day so far; do not worry about tomorrow. I will provide for you tomorrow, too.” And the simplicity of that age-old truth reverberated in my spirit. I don’t have to work right now, because God has provided. I don’t have children right now, and so I don’t need to take care of another little human at 6 am. Because God has not given me more than I can bear. And when the fatigue and the weariness are so strong around me that all I can do is cry, God has provided a husband who is strong enough to embrace me in such tender love and remind me of the truth–that God will take care of us. Do not worry about tomorrow, for today has enough troubles of its own…

    So I thought I would have a vomit-free 2011. And that definitely didn’t happen. But health is not my greatest need in 2011. My God is my greatest need. My favorite mentor, Amy Carmichael, once wrote:

    “Not relief from pain, not relief from the weariness that follows, not anything of that sort at all, is my chief need. Thou, O Lord my God, art my need–Thy courage, Thy patience, Thy fortitude. And very much I need a quickened gratitude for the countless helps given every day.” (A Chance to Die, pg.365)

    And so–you know what? It was a “good morning” that first day of 2011. In fact, it was a great morning. Because I have–over and over–been put in a place where I need God to come through day after day more than I need anything else. And is this not the place that is most blessed? 
    I pray for you, too–dear family and friends–that you would be in this most blessed place in 2011. In the place of greatest need and dependency upon the only One who can save you and bring comfort to you.

    Oh, how He loves us…it is a divine, beautiful, glorious love… Thank you, Jesus…

  • August Madness Part 3

    We could have never guessed how timely the Lance Wallnau conference and the concept of Brian finding his true passion would be when we booked tickets for it in early July…

    Right before heading down to Mexico, Brian’s company (KLM) was in an extremely fragile spot. To put it *very* simply, a client that has owed them a lot of money for over a year was still refusing to pay and the back-log had finally caught up to KLM. Brian & his business partner had been meeting with lawyers to try and do everything they could to get their money from this client, but nothing was working.
    We went down to Mexico knowing that the company was in a very fragile spot, and this confirmed in both of our hearts that we were meant to go. We had a feeling we were about to enter a season of major transition, and we needed fresh vision and direction!

    We flew from Mazatlan into Seattle on Tuesday and that’s when I started getting really sick…threw up for virtually 12 hours straight and finally ended up in the hospital on Thursday. Friday afternoon I was released from the hospital, and on our way home we got the call from Daniel, who had just gotten off the phone with one of the lawyers, that there was nothing more they could legally do at that point. KLM was forced to shut down. They just didn’t have the resources to keep going without that money.

    Talk about a roller coaster.

    So, we did what any normal person would do when finding out their company was collapsing would do: We made tacos and ate dinner with our friends (did I mention we had two dear friends–Erika & Melisa–living with us? And we liked to call Troy, Melisa’s fiance, our surrogate roommate because we got to see him most every day/evening!) So the 5 of us ate, drank (water), and were merry. Brian & I retired early that night and began to talk through just the beginning of the ramifications of our news…life was transitioning. Big time.

    We were heading into Melisa’s wedding week, and Brian began the intense process of getting all of their trucks/supplies/materials back to Tacoma from Santa Cruz…LONG, intense hours of driving and labor.

    That same week we got a call from the owner of the house we are renting: “Brian, I’ve stopped making payments. I just can’t do it anymore…I’m short selling.”

    I couldn’t stop laughing when Brian told me the house news–absolutely NOT because I was pleased with what the owner had to do (in fact, I’ve been genuinely praying for him for months that he would sell his house at full price), but because it was like our entire physical world was literally crashing down around us. Of course the house we were living in was about to get swiped out from under our feet! Losing our job wasn’t a drastic enough of a change. 🙂

    I’m not sure how we made it through the next two weeks, but we did :). When I think of August I think of LOTS OF VOMIT, a terrible Mexican resort, the worst plane trip in the history of plane trips for me, my heart swelling with joy as two of my dear friends got married while my stomach was swelling with nausea the whole time, Brian driving back from Santa Cruz 3 times, early mornings, late nights, throwing up in the middle of the nights–every night, roller coaster of news, Brian getting two spider bites that required a (very) minor surgery, more vomit, and the biggest transition we’ve known as couple. When September arrived I just remember taking a deep breath and not wanting to MOVE…or think…or blink. What a crazy August.

    So what are we going to do for work, you ask? Great question. We likely have another few months of receiving a paycheck, so the “Um, we’re jobless” shock hasn’t hit quite yet. Brian’s been up to ears with lots of projects and things that are required to close the company out. When things start to settle a bit he’ll start actively looking for another job or business opportunity.

    The bottom line: We’re at peace, actually–we’re excited–for what’s next. We follow a faithful God who has not abandoned us or left us out to dry. We trust Him, and we’re looking forward to seeking His will!!