The Lesson I learned in a cold, lonely dorm room. But mostly a cold dorm room.

I am currently in Moon Twp, Penn. a small town outside of Pittsburgh at a beautiful and hilly (read: CRAZY, working thigh and booty muscles hilly) at the regional InterVarsity staff conference. I love that I can be on staff and still be a mom. I love that I can take Caleb to staff meetings and conference, and still be fully engaged and present with what God is doing in me, through me, and in and through InterVarsity on college campuses.

And yet, bringing Caleb poses its own set of challenges, as I am sure you can imagine.

Last night, I lay in my bed, and Caleb is on a toddler mattress on the floor.

I feared that he would hear every conversation that people would have as they walk by our door and wake up.

I feared that he would freeze....which we all did. I had many layers of clothes on him and multiple blankets to try to warm the poor boy up.

I feared that when I woke up in the morning to shower (community shower, so I had to leave our room and walk down the hall), he would wake up and freak out that he was all alone and consequently wake the whole floor up. (What actually happened was he woke up at 5:30a, so we decided to go to the shower together---and he screamed as if he were terrified of this shower, probably still waking everyone up.)

I feared that he would get no sleep and beat kids up in the childcare room and be naughty with those who have given of their time to watch this precious beast of mine.

I feared that I would be seen as a bad mom.

I would fear that he would throw tantrums in front of my colleagues. He did.

I feared that this would be the conference where I say, "Never again will I bring a child to work."

I feared that this would continue to be my life and attitude, especially as we enter into foster care and will have more children that we are responsible for caring for and bringing up AND in that same season as I step into working more hours with InterVarsity.

Somewhere in the midst of the late night, the freezing room and my fears swirling through my mind, I heard the still, small quiet voice of the Lord. He was so gentle with me and yet so convicting. He began to reveal to me how deep fear is rooted in my life.

Really? I thought we did this. I remember it well. Try the whole year of 2008. No really. I remember. Do we have to do it again.

But He prompted, "But you still don't trust me."

"Sure I do."

"Really? Because you are freaking out because someone might wake up your child. Or he might be cold. Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I care? And if you don't trust me in those things, how will you trust me in the deep parts of your heart? How will you trust me as you enter into a new season of family and ministry? How will you trust me as you embark on a season of fund raising? How will you trust me to raise up students who will follow me as Savior and Lord? I know you say it, but your actions are showing me that you don't trust me. At all."

And so my dear friends, I will never forget the lesson I learned in the cold dorm room. I still have fear in my heart and ways where I simply do not trust the God I serve.

I want to change that.

Beginning now.