I Will Not Be Overcome by Evil Circumstances

The title of this blog is a personalization of a verse from Psalms 112, Living Bible, which says, “…all goes well for the generous man who conducts his business fairly. Such a man will not be overthrown by evil circumstances.” Psalms 112 is a favorite of mine and I used this portion of scripture as a mantra during a recent opportunity for God to show “His constant care for me” (Psalm 112:7, LB).

Just about the time we started wondering when our $1395 tax refund might show up in our bank account, we got a letter from the IRS saying that they had some concerns about our tax return, would do some checking into things and get back with us within 45 days. Hmm, OK. About three weeks later, we got another letter from the IRS requesting documentation of the adoption expenses we had paid back in 2007.

They wanted a receipt from 2007, and we had 30 days to produce it. Or what? If we couldn’t prove we paid adoption expenses, not only would we NOT be getting a refund this year, we would also owe the IRS about $12,000 back for adoption credits we had claimed in the past three tax years. (Quick primer for those not in the know: the government gives a tax credit of about $13,500 when you had that much or more in adoption expenses. You can take the credit over a four-year period, reducing your tax owed, but it doesn’t increase your refund if you didn’t own any tax.) So, the small piece of paper we needed to produce was worth $13,500 for our family.

What makes these evil circumstances? Well, for starters, why did the IRS wait until the last of four years to ask us for this piece of paper? Maybe they thought there would be a better chance that we couldn’t produce it if they waited so long? (They were right.) And of all the things to question in our tax return – adoption expenses? The IRS already requires a copy of the final court order of the adoption, so they know we actually adopted.  But, you know those people who adopt – they just can’t be trusted! Some of the most devious and crafts element of society, those adoptive families!

Then there was that complication of my being out of the country during the entire 30-day period that the IRS gave us. My husband was home, but he was the only thing in our house. All of our belongings were stored away because of our extended trip. We had left to go to South America for nine months and we put our house on the market, so in anticipation of selling the house, we boxed and stored everything. But before we put things in boxes, we did that thing people will do when they move: we threw stuff away. And I am pretty sure one of the things I threw away was the adoption folder, with that valuable little piece of paper in it. In almost four years of our son’s life, we hadn’t needed anything from that folder, so I tossed it!

OK, not such a problem, we could just contact the adoption agency – good folk that they are – and surely they have a file on us with something we can use to prove to the IRS that a private adoption costs more than $13,500 (as if that weren’t common knowledge). Oh, but bad luck, we adopted from a swindler! Turns out he was taking people’s money and not delivering the babies as promised. Business went belly-up; he lost his license to practice law, got a divorce and left the state.

Providentially, we paid the adoption fees with a credit card, and the IRS indicated that a credit card statement showing the agency’s name would be acceptable. I used my Citibank card – an account I’ve had since college and right up until I closed it about two years ago. I wasn’t even in their system. But they did give me a fax number to send a written request which they might or might not answer in some undetermined time frame.

“I will not be overcome by evil circumstances. I will not be overcome by evil circumstances. I will not be…” You get the idea. A whole lot of that going on for most of the 30-day period.

A few days before our IRS deadline, we got something in the mail from Citibank: a copy of our March 2007 statement. Praise God. And there it was – an expense well over $13,500 to Adoption Advantage in Little Rock, Ark. My husband whisked it off in the mail to the IRS and now we are back where we were two months ago – wondering when our refund check is going to hit our bank account.

Take that, Uncle Sam.  All goes well for the generous person who conducts her business fairly. I will not be overcome by evil circumstances.

Living the Dream!

It’s been so long since I updated my blog that I feel it really is a discredit to the glory of God, because the fact is that He has been working in my family’s lives – a lot – and I simply have not taken time to sit down and praise His work in my blog. So, this is going to be a too-little, too-late testimony, with sketchy details because some of His marvelous blessings have already slipped through the sieve of my memory.

I am writing from the comfort of spacious environs in Joaçaba, Brazil. Just a couple of months ago, I was in rural Arkansas, stressing about meeting magazine deadlines, and daring to let my mind wander to what it might be like to live in Brazil. Though it was no secret that we were going to take a nine-month sabbatical from American life, I didn’t flagrantly count down the days on Facebook or anything because I respect too much this truth: “In her heart, a woman plans her course, but the Lord determines her steps” (Prov. 16:9). And so I also did plenty of this: “Commit to the Lord whatever you do,” so that my plans would succeed (Prov. 16:3).

An American family choosing to spend six months in Joaçaba is somewhat like an Italian family deciding to come to the United States for six months and make their home base Russellville, Ark. It begs the question, “Why?” Indeed, we could have gone anywhere for this sabbatical, with certain political exceptions. From the very beginning, I began to pray for God to open and close doors according to His will and make the decision for us. I had some basic criteria, but somewhere along the way, (I admit, not in proper order) I surrendered that too, and just said, “We’ll go where you want us to go, God, OR, we’ll stay home if you want that too.” 

I knocked on a lot of doors, I won’t go into detail (even the ones I can remember), but nothing opened. If the opportunity was right, one member of the family was resistant to the choice of country. Even when we unanimously agreed on Brazil, there didn’t seem to be any volunteer endeavor we could participate in without paying way more than it actually costs to live in Brazil; knowing the language upon arrival; or committing to a two-year stay. The main lure to Brazil was to live near and be a support and encouragement to a young couple in ministry in the small town of Joaçaba, Eliezer and Cristiane Zamora.

The friendship between my family and theirs has now involved four generations, beginning between Eli’s father and my grandmother, and most recently developing between his daughter, Vanessa, and my son Chaise, both three years old.  I wonder at how the destinies of the South American Zamora family and North American Anderson-Schillinger families have intertwined over more than 25 years and at what the next 25 might bring for us. Our stay in Brazil has certainly added a new dimension to the relationship – the closest, not only geographically (we live two blocks apart), but also in camaraderie. Chaise and Vanessa are bestest buddies, for sure!

Besides introducing another generation of our families to each other, what other purpose do we have in Brazil? I dunno! Another of my favorite proverbs is: “A person’s steps are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand his own way?” (Prov. 20:24). Probably only with the benefit of several decades of hindsight will we begin to understand what our purpose is here. Nonetheless, I can’t help but speculate, and so I’ve started a list of 100 Possible Reasons Why God May Have Brought Us to Brazil. Many of them include situations and people I am praying for now – people and things I never would have been aware of had I not come to live here.

Whereas I have no substantive clue how God is using us here, I can see pretty clearly His handiwork in our circumstances. Just like when we first moved to Clarksville, our path here has been made straight. Let me just list 10 ways (off the top of my head, in no particular order) that we’ve seen God’s hand of constant care in our circumstance here:

1. We found a wonderful place to live on the first day of searching – within our budget and just two blocks from church and the Zamoras.
2. Despite not being able to “legally” sign up for utilities and Internet service because we don’t have the all-powerful Brazilian identification card that’s needed to take a squat here, we have electricity, water and wireless Internet.
3. Between two church families, we were loaned a Razor cell phone and a SIM card on a prepaid phone – so we have a cell phone, in addition to our Skype line, which rings into our computer. We are able to be touch, locally and internationally, by phone – at very little cost to us.
4. Gwen enrolled in ballet at a studio owned by a Presbyterian woman (only about 10% of people here are Protestant); and there are two girls in her class that speak some English, so she’s made friends and been able to understand how to improve her pirouettes, pliés and pas de chat.
5. Despite only being in dance for about a month, Gwen got to dance two consecutive Saturdays in the annual recital, as a willy in a piece from Giselle – she was a giddy willy (hee hee).
6. We met with the principle of the Lutheran school here and she agreed to let Gwen enroll when school starts again in February. So Gwen will get to experience being an “exchange” student for two and a half months, and it’s a given that she will leave here with better Portuguese than the rest of her family combined!
7. Pastor Eli offers free guitar lessons on Tuesday nights and Gwen and I have both joined. I have wanted to learn to play the guitar for almost 30 years!
8. We left a backpack full of groceries and our cell phone at the bus stop one day. We didn’t realize it for almost an hour, and yet, everything was returned to us.
9. Chaise has Vanessa, Natalia and several other fun friends at church. He is very comfortable and happy here.
10. Gwen has made friends in the church youth and now on Sunday afternoons, the youth (and me too!) play volleyball – my all-time favorite sport and something Gwen has wanted to learn to play.

Truly everything is coming up roses for the Schillingers. That’s not to say that there are no thorns. But honestly, most of them are not related to living in Brazil, but to years of distraction, neglect and lack of discipline that were part of our American lifestyles – things I very much looked forward to being able to address in the intentionally slowed pace of our sabbatical.

For a lot more about our sabbatical experience, please visit our Family Brazil Blog – lots of pictures and posts from the whole family.

Magic Carpet

For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. Matthew 6:32

In preparation to sell our house, we recently redecorated my daughter’s bathroom – taking it from preteen flowers and butterflies to a more sophisticated powder-room effect, in shades of brown and teal. The project was accomplished in short order, with one holdout – bathroom rugs. The whole project cost more than it was supposed to (gasp!) and I was now determined not to pay any more for rugs than was absolutely necessary. Thus began a fruitless search through garage sales, resale shops, eBay and Amazon, etc., for the right rugs at the right price. I finally sprung for one to put in front of the shower, as I was getting tired of seeing a towel on the floor. Now we just needed one for in front of the toilet, but the search was starting to become absurdly elongated.  

One evening we were at TJ Max, shopping for camp clothes for Gwen. While she was trying things on, I wandered through house wares. When she joined me, I said, “Let’s just take a quick look to see if there’s a rug for in front of your toilet.” There was about a 10-foot section of shelf devoted to bath rugs. We stood back and looked for the right color – dark chocolate. Found it, but it came only in a set of two rugs which cost more than I wanted to pay. So I stuffed it back in the shelf, stood back again, surveyed once more for the right color and found nothing.

“Oh well, the search continues,” I said, as I headed down the isle and rounded the corner.

Just as Gwen was about to round the corner behind me, something hit the floor. She looked back and said, “Mom, look at this.” I came back around the corner to see her holding the perfect dark chocolate brown rug, perfect size, with a design that coordinates perfectly with the rest of the bathroom. She said, “This just fell on the floor.”

Where had it come from? If a rug had been precariously dangling just seconds away from hitting the floor, wouldn’t we have seen it as we stood back a second time, looking for just that color? And what about the racket it made as it hit the floor? It had to have fallen from one of the upper shelves. We looked at the shelves and all the rugs were neatly folded and stacked.  It was as if our guardian angel pulled the rug out from its hiding place and plopped it on the floor, as if to say, “Here! I found what you’re looking for.”

The price? $7.99 – very much to my liking.

Gwen and I rejoiced as we wondered about the perfect rug miraculously plopping to the floor in just the precise moment we would have noticed it.

As I reflected on this unique provision, two things happened: First, I felt very safe. If God cares enough to use His divine intervention to provide the perfect rug to go in front of a toilet in the smallest bathroom in our house, He surely cares about whether the house sells. God is in the details and that day showed His unbounded love toward us in the form of a carpet.

The second thing that happened was that my mind began to explore alternate explanations. I dismissed coincidence as a possibility, as I could clearly remember standing back and surveying the shelf for another dark brown rug. I feel certain I would have seen that rug – just seconds away from falling off the shelf. Instead, another interesting theory emerged: maybe it was a magic carpet. Maybe there’s something special about the rug itself.

I’m happy to report that this was a fleeting thought and I found it not only ridiculous, but ridiculously funny. And yet, it occurred to me! Isn’t this temptation to glorify the creation over the Creator what God is addressing in the second commandment, “You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything…”? That commandment is one we often dismiss as being mindlessly easy to obey. In this age of Christian enlightenment, we’re way past worshipping golden calves, right? It’s just plain silly these days to think that inanimate objects, like fortune cookies, Magic 8 balls, lottery tickets, lucky underwear or heads-up pennies, have any power. (Ehem!)

The magic in that carpet is that it had the privilege of being used by the Creator of the Universe to show His love toward me and my daughter. I hope we remember that each time it warms our feet as we sit on the potty.

The Trouble with Thirteen

My daughter just turned 14 and I couldn’t be happier. Not just because it’s so gratifying and intriguing to see my child becoming a woman, but also because I was so dang tired of her being 13.

The day Gwen turned 13, she was a little girl, the day she turned 14, she was a young woman. And so in the 365 days between the two, she was in the sometimes painful process of metamorphosis. She had to slough off childhood and emerge into adulthood, and there were some awkward moments stuck between the two stages.

One particular “moment” during this year required some disciplinary action. Gwen was to lose her phone. Not for a month, like she had the last time, but for good. In the 20 months she had owned her phone, it went from being a toy of sorts—good for sharing ring tones and taking pictures of random things—to being a tool for flirting, often with more than one guy at a time, and often with guys with whom she shouldn’t be talking to for various reasons, age being primary among them.

The day I had to take the phone away, I started on my knees, asking God to give Gwen understanding,  help her to submit to her parents’ authority, and squelch the spirit of rebellion. That weekend had been a rocky one and now that I had made up my mind what needed to be done, I dreaded the backlash. She had been so angry—more so than I had ever seen her. It’s scary to see your child express unprecedented anger. And it’s worrisome—how much worse could this get? I believed I was about to find out.

Good-bye phone. What? No yelling at me? No, “Mom, you’re being ridiculous?” No. Nothing.

Ok, well, it’s probably coming a little later. Keep your guard up.

Later… Hmm. Still nothing. What’s up with that?

It’s been three months since Gwen lost her phone and there never was a backlash. On some level, she almost seems relieved by it. Maybe keeping up a flirt in a dozen different directions was actually pretty stressful—too much so for an emerging butterfly. Maybe my prayer was answered.

Gag Order

Recently I was interviewed about On My Own Now Ministries. I prepared for the interview in one step: pray. After all, I know OMON like the back of my hand, so all that was left was to ask God to guard my mouth and not let me say anything that I wasn’t supposed to, and conversely, that what I would say be according to His will.

I was in town at the appointed hour of the interview, so I sat in my car alone and received the call on my cell – I had four bars. Everything was going pretty well – the interviewer, Mike, asked questions that gave me plenty of room to share some good stuff. We had been talking for about 45 minutes and I was feeling pretty comfortable. Was his plan to lure me into a sense of wellbeing and openness before he dropped a bomb on me? In an unexpected instant, he became the hard-hitting journalist and asked, “How is your marriage?”

Did he say “how long have you been married?” “How is my marriage?”

“Yes, how is your marriage?”

“Hmm. Interesting question.” Pregnant pause. “Let me say first of all that I have a good marriage and a happy marriage… but it’s not as good as it could be. And this wouldn’t be any surprise for my husband to read, he’s in it too. Probably a lot of what we are working through is consequences of my past, and his past too. Mike, are you hearing this echo? Mike? Hello?”

I looked down at my cell and realized the call had dropped. Gads! Of all times to lose a call! He called me back and same thing – an echo – and then I lost the call within seconds. What had happened? Across the street my pastor and his son happened to be working on a house. I ran over and asked if I could use one of their cell phones. “What’s the matter, do you have an echo?” he asked.

Oh, no! It wasn’t me. We decided it had to do with the tower. So I hopped in my car and starting driving to the next nearest tower. Along the way I thought, OK, this could be good. I can have a chance to think through what I was going to say. And so I did rehearse my answer a little. That next nearest tower didn’t work, so on to the next. By this time, 20 minutes had passed and I was wondering if Mike was thinking I was avoiding the question by playing that “crshhh – what?-You’re-breaking-up!-I can’t-hear-crshhh-you” bit. I hated looking like I was dodging the question that way.

When I finally got free of the echo and got through to Mike’s office, I got his voicemail. While I was driving around trying to find a clear signal, it came time for Mike to enter Tuesday morning prayer meeting at his work, which is why I got his voicemail.

We finished the interview about three hours later. I don’t know if God spoke to him during that prayer meeting or He didn’t need to because the opportunity had passed, but when Mike picked up the interview again, he started with, “Tell me about your husband – what does he do?” And we never worked our way back to the subject of my marriage.

I’ll admit I was very irritated by the whole ordeal and thought, Why me! But with just a little reflection, I realized that I was interrupted just at the right time. In the interest of full disclosure/honesty and because I’m such a rookie, I’m sure I would have been much too forthcoming about my marriage. Inquiring minds may want to know, but does that mean they should? Thank God He put a gag order on me in the form of technical difficulties at just the right moment.

A Common Predestination

As children of God, we share the same eternal destiny, but did you know that on earth, we all have a common destiny too? In Romans 8:29 we learn that we are “predestined to be conformed to the likeness of His Son.” Regardless of where we start and how far we get in the game of life, we’re all moving in the same direction – toward being more like Christ. Does that ring true to you? Can you look back over two, five, ten or more years and say, “yes, I am more like Christ than I used to be,”?

Over the Thanksgiving holiday, I saw evidence of progress in my life and in that of my family – and it was nothing short of (you guessed it!) miraculous.

There’s no sugar-coating it: My family has issues. I won’t even try to go into them; suffice to say we meet a textbook criterion of “dysfunctional.” And so when it seemed probable that 22 of my family members would be together in one place – my house – for the long Thanksgiving weekend, there was widespread trepidation: Can we pull this off? Can we have a happy holiday without inadvertently pushing a combination of buttons that results in an atomic explosion? As some mapped escape routes and others looked for fallout shelters, I decided to proactively pray: Dear Father, prepare the hearts of the people who will be at my house during this holiday. Help us to reflect your love – and especially to Anita, the one adult in our family who does not have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

Widespread trepidation escalated to near panic when on the Saturday before the holiday, I got a call from my sister Evelyn asking if it would be OK if they came up on Friday after Thanksgiving. “They” are my dad, his wife Nora, and their three children, my siblings Billy, Evelyn and John.  But this was not just five more places to set at the already overcrowded table. This visit would end a seven-year silence between my family and my dad’s. (What! I told you we were dysfunctional!)

Again, without going into issues, about seven years ago, my stepmother and I decided to stop pretending we like each other. And then the silence – which I felt most acutely in not being able to see my brothers and sister grow up.

I had actually come to terms with having no relationship with my dad and I had made peace with him through a letter. But Nora was a harder case.

One day a mutual friend called and gave me a good report about Nora. She told me things she had done that just didn’t compute. That was not the Nora I knew. God began to work on me to apologize to Nora.

I am slowly working on memorizing the Sermon on the Mount and one of the scriptures I’m given to meditate on is Matthew 5:23-24: “If you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift.” One day God stopped me in my tracks to tell me that my gift – my daily sacrifice – is out of order while my brother (stepmother) has something against me. I thank God for such revelations, and simultaneously dread such revelations. My first inclination is, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” This followed quickly by a realization that now that God has put this blip on my radar, to ignore it is willful sin against Him. It so irks to be hemmed in like that!

So within a day or two, I sat down, prayed, and wrote a letter with the express purpose of being reconciled to my stepmother. Thank God I cannot remember anything the letter said, though I feel certain it must have contained an apology.

The letter went unanswered, as I suspected it would. Until now: the rubber was about to hit the road and I was about to find out if I had really forgiven her and wanted to be forgiven. Could I really love her like Christ commands us to? My proactive prayers took on new fervor: Dear Father, help me to open my home to my dad and Nora and to extend to them the same hospitality I would to anyone I’ve invited into my home. Help me to forget the past, ignore the future and just focus on being like Christ in the present.

God gave me a triple miracle answer to prayer. First of all, throughout the four-day weekend, my family got along so well! There were no “explosions,” no casualties and we even had an extended time of thanksgiving between dinner and dessert on Thursday that not only honored God but demonstrated that we, as individuals and a family, had moved more toward the likeness of Christ. Secondly, God’s grace was sufficient for me. Although I was nervous when my dad and his family first arrived and I stood off, busying myself with dinner and other “Martha” activities, as the first night of their visit drew to a close, the walls came down and they were welcome guests in my home. For these two things I had prayed and my prayers were answered.

The third miracle was a surprise. On Sunday afternoon, as everyone was about to go their separate ways, my dad said, “Let’s have a word of prayer.” He said, “It’s really good to see you all together. It’s…” He got choked up and could only give us a thumbs-up as tears filled his eyes and blood rushed to his face. Then Nora, who was standing beside him, broke the silence. I wish I could quote what she said, but the truth is that I was in such awe to hear what she was saying that I’m left with only a general impression of what she said. In one surreal moment, time stood still and I was able to take in the expression on my husband’s face, appreciate the significance of our family circle gathered under the deer-horn chandelier that I had made from Grandpa’s hunting trophies, and look around the room full of my father’s offspring, frozen in reverence – even the babies! Maybe some of my family who read this can add in the comments a quote from what Nora said, but I do know that she apologized to all of us, to me specifically, and for hurting my dad. In sum, these were words that the Nora of seven years ago would not have been able to say. It was a testimony of the transformative power of the Holy Spirit and proof that she and I share the same predestination.

Dad prayed. Everyone exchanged hugs and then loaded up in their cars and took off. In 15 minutes the house was empty, and yet still full with the warmth of Christian and family love.

See Spot Go

About four or six weeks ago, I noticed a spot at the base of my breast that looked like an insect bite, but didn’t really itch. It was about the size of a lentil. It didn’t go away and I realized it wasn’t on the skin, but under the skin. And it got bigger, to about the size of a pea.

Last week, God spoke to me to ask for prayer for it. Honestly, it took a lot of courage because I was afraid I would doubt – that’s doubt compounded. But I did pray. Then in prayer meeting on Saturday night, I asked for prayer for it – that the spot would be gone before I go to the doctor next month for an annual exam.

I bet you can guess what comes next, after all, this is a blog about miracles… This morning the spot is gone. I can see where it was, there’s a light impression of it still, but there’s no lump there. It’s the slightest bit tender, like rubbing on a scabbed over wound, but there’s no lump there. Praise God.