MollyMadonna.com

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motherhood manifesto. (95)

Two weeks ago, I was journaling and praying when a flood of thoughts came pouring out onto paper. Now, as I’m processing some big decisions for our family and thinking about the little babe who will to add to our number just three short months from now, it feels right to share them here. If your heart aligns as a mama, please link up arms with me in the journey and keep me posted on how it’s going for you, too! (Or, if you’re not a mama but your favorite mamas would agree, please invite them to join me in this effort toward great stewardship of this season and calling 🙂

A Manifesto for Motherhood

As a mom I want to/I will:

-Make space for our children

-Facilitate structure for them

-Model Christlike behavior(s) to them

-Provide a sense of security, trust and confidence for them

-Teach them to be good stewards of their time, energy, minds, talents, resources and space

-Be disciplined…

*In my walk with God

*In my prayer times

*In my approach to adversity

*In my care of our home

*In my care of my body

*In our family’s pursuit of health

*In my friendships and relationships

*In my boundary setting

I will also:

-Pursue rest and wellness so that I can be my best self for our family

-Create space to do the things I love so that I can be the best version of who God created me to be

-Stop striving and live thriving

-Love my husband, children, friends and family well, and as God is calling me

-Clear out clutter to make space for creativity, clarity and stress-free days

-Cultivate beautiful community around us

-Be organized so I can think and respond clearly to others

-Celebrate successes well and be a soft place to land in the face of discouragement or failure

-Champion my children’s passions, desires and aspirations

-Make every effort to exhibit grace to my children and to love them extravagantly

This life we’re living and this calling we’ve been given as mamas is extraordinary. Let’s make it all count, together. 

SO much love,

molly madonna

 

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First moments with Eloise, summer 2013.

 

 

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a spirit of fear. (96)

Coincidentally or not, after sharing last night about the very real spiritual battle we face when we’re trying to stay on track with God, today has been an in-the-trenches kind of day for me. I woke up feeling off, with a bad headache and some dizziness throughout the morning, and then this afternoon I started having sharp pains on my left side.

Sometimes it seems it can take about two seconds for fear of “all of the things” to creep in and take over our thoughts, and that’s exactly what I had to work hard to fight against as I tried to stay calm and make a reasonable assessment of what was happening with my body earlier.

Of course my radar was up about baby’s well being. Naturally, I started running through symptoms in my mind, checking myself against all of the signs I know to be a red flag at this stage of pregnancy. Aside from a number of contractions that put me in the hospital for a few hours when I was 28 weeks along with Henry, I’ve not been quite so close to driving myself over to the hospital while pregnant before. It is SO easy to start thinking about all of the what ifs and the dangers and the negative possibilities, when the place I want to rest is as far away from that kind of mindset as possible.

But it doesn’t take much, does it?

If I were to pay close enough attention to it, I think I’d recognize fear in myself every single day. I’m not someone who lives in a constant state of fear at all, but I am a mom to small children, which seems to be enough to do the trick 😉 Add in some defining life experiences: witnessing major car accidents, Jason being hit by a car, the cancer scare we waded through last year, losing someone so very close to my heart, a miscarriage, trips to the ER late at night with each kiddo, living in a very dangerous place on the other side of the world, navigating life as a minority in some challenging and spiritually dark places…it’s not hard to go back to those life changing pieces of my history and filter my life view through them if I’m not cautious.

I absolutely know that this is not at all where I’m called to park or how I’m supposed to live as someone who puts her trust in God.

It’s still hard sometimes.

If I’ve learned anything through my very hardest and scariest moments–especially those that have occurred since I truly began serving Christ with my life–it’s that I’m no better off for all of the worrying. I don’t accomplish anything good by fretting it out. I do get somewhere by praying, and I’ve seen the power of God work mightily on many occasion–always to bring a level of peace, and sometimes even, to bring about complete resolution.

Today, as I rested on our bed and began to really worry if baby was ok, I remembered to pray before letting my mind wander to every possible scenario. And my heart rested, which made all of me more comfortable and calm. But when I got up and the pain returned even stronger than before, I was right back to that place of fear again in an instant, because I’m pregnant and human and easily tempted to worry before claiming God’s provision of peace.

I might have so easily jumped the gun and decided to go to the hospital in that moment to check on baby, but I remembered again that the outcome of this pregnancy and this baby’s life is not mine to control. I have to trust, every day, that the circumstances by which I live and move and have my being are not in my hands. As I carry him or her to the end of this pregnancy and into the world, our baby’s life isn’t in my hands, either.

I can’t be foolish about the care of our little one. But I can’t let fear take hold of me while I do my best to lean into my own heart and instincts. I encourage other mamas to trust their instincts all of the time. Why is it that our own advice is so much more easily applied to others than it is to ourselves?

In the end, I pushed through (and admittedly worried through) another half hour or so of the pain, until I could get our little brood where we were headed to meet Jason and I could sit down.

Do you know that thing that happens when you’re feeling so incredibly sick (or you’re sure a bone is broken, or your lungs are so tight that you can’t breathe), and then you get to the dr. or the hospital and it seems like at least some of your symptoms are suddenly, miraculously (and little bit obnoxiously) gone?

Sure enough, I just needed to get to what felt like a place of safety to settle in, rest and breathe in deeply the truth that I can trust my instinct. I needed to surrender to the fact that God could bring resolution and peace to me, whatever the circumstance. I cozied up with Eloise on our picnic blanket just as soon as we arrived at our church’s outdoor baptism, soaking in the worship music and the testimonies being given and the summer sunshine. And after a little while, having put my focus back on life-giving truth, the pain subsided.

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I swear today was a spiritual battle just as much as it was a physical one. It’s hard to try to articulate that here, especially when I want to be so careful to speak a universal language with those who land here with me, and I know that sometimes this talk of spiritual things can get sticky. But I think it’s important to share candidly and honestly that we can trust this very tangible truth:

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” Ephesians 6.12

The struggle is real, and I mean that in all sincerity and not as a lighthearted joke. I am both weary of and grateful for the battle we face, because when we face it, we know that we are warring for a much greater good in the end. There are harder days to come than what we can know now, but there is hope for so many beautiful ones, too.

I will cling to what I know to be true in the hard–that God is in control, that He is worthy of my trust, and that He is a good, good Father who cares for the places where aches run deep. He loves with authority, casting out our fears and offering new hope every morning.

better for today’s wrestling,

mm

 

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear…” 2 Timothy 1.7

 

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muscle memory and a glass half full. (97)

The kids were quiet in record time this evening–a sure sign of a summer day, unsuccessful napping and lots of fun in the pool tonight. There’s a lot to be said for access to a pool on a 90º day when you’re pregnant. It was our first time out this summer with the whole family, and it does my heart good to see Jason in the water with the kiddos. He is definitely far more able to accommodate jumping and catching and shenanigans this pool season, and they had a blast. I’m so grateful (for many reasons) that Eloise’s leg is healing from last week’s break far better than we could have imagined. I was honestly so sad about the idea of missing 3-4 weeks of summertime activities (while trying to figure out getting her around in a cast with my belly growing by the day), but mostly, I was bummed for her to have to stay out of the pool. With only 1.5 weeks under her belt since the incident (and no cast at all), she was back in the water tonight and doing better than ever. Such a joy to watch!

Baby is certainly busy these days…constantly moving and filling up the space my body has created so far–we are talking one round basketball of tiny human in there! I don’t remember not being able to bend over this early with the other two, but, as each pregnancy is different, I’m trying to adjust to the idea that I might have different limitations each time, too. At least I can still see my toes for a while longer!

I went to yoga this morning and was so thankful to be there. More than the workout, my soul needed the time of refreshment in worship, and it was good for my heart to see and visit with friends afterward, too. There are some weeks I’ve just plain felt too tired to head out on a Saturday morning in time for class, but there are others where I wake up just knowing I need to get myself there, no matter how I’m feeling. Today was one of those. It never works out poorly when I trust the nudging of my spirit.

In that same vein, I am working more diligently these days to listen more closely, to press more deeply into the whispers that God has for my heart. This is never easy to begin in the midst of young motherhood or busy schedules, family life, or any other thing that can crowd up our time and days. I definitely go through seasons where I feel more pressed to focus on listening for God, and in a way, I wish I could say I was always so careful to steward my relationship with Him. Like any other muscle, the practices of getting quiet, going to God, offering up confession, journaling prayers–each one gets stronger the more I do it, and weaker the more I ignore it.

I just don’t feel like I have the luxury of ignoring these areas when there’s so much to pray about and so many different avenues in my life that would benefit from the guidance of the Father, who knows me best.

When I am feeling desperate in any way, I know I need to get back to God first. I don’t always do this well, but I am trying to flex my God-dependent muscles more than my self-sufficient ones. The truth of the matter is, I’m not all that effective when I’m relying on my own strength to be a great wife, mom, homemaker, daughter, sister, friend. I want to be, always, but I miss the mark more than necessary when I don’t go to God for help.

Yesterday, I spent some time praying, not knowing I was pouring into another part of the day that would come later. The nudging within me to pray specifically in certain ways has proven accurate more than once in the past 24 hours, and I can feel the difference between when I ask for help and exercise intention, and when I don’t. It seems so simple, but there will be days to come when I forget this and rely again on my own self and my own ideas to manage relationships, conversations, plans for the day, plans for the future. I hope my memory is growing stronger, too, as I continue to realize the value of taking time to press in to a Holy Father, who desires to commune with me and to be invited into relationship with me on a daily basis.

Where do all of these things connect? The pool and Eloise’s leg, a growing belly, yoga and taking time out to put the most important things first? They meet up where my awareness and intentionality either guide me in and out of days or sit on the sidelines waiting for me to drop the ball.

When I’m not plugging in to God with my whole self, my life starts to feel disconnected and unplugged, too–sometimes without me even realizing it.

The heart behind what I’m sharing is that none of the good of my days would be so easy to see if my judgment and thinking were shrouded with self-pity, a lack of self-awareness, or a general discontent in the absence of the kind of joy that only God and the Holy Spirit can infuse into my life.

The heat today at 26.5 weeks pregnant, Eloise having a broken bone to heal from, my inability to be as physically flexible as I’d like to in yoga class…they could have all been sources of frustration, irritation, negativity. Instead, they were spots of joy and gratitude that I absolutely can’t take credit for, but yet, ones that certainly allow me to be a better person to the rest of the world as God nudges me. When I am trusting God with the big and small things in my days, He points me in the direction of a glass-half-full attitude and a grateful heart.

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Life is plenty tricky, and the temptation to wallow or to hang our hats on the hard things is great–there is an enemy raging after our souls every single day.

But the armor of God is far greater no matter what, and the enemy can’t light a candle to the joy awaiting us when we offer ourselves and our lives to the One God who has created us, who restores us, and who redeems our brokenness for good and for His glory.

praying that you sense God’s peace wherever you are tonight, and praying that it stays with you as you lean into the type of joy that only He can provide for our human hearts,

mm

 

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from the mouths of babes. (99)

Eloise tells me at least once a day that she can’t wait to be a big sister. Her excitement over my growing bump is palpable at all hours. Both Henry and Eloise stop what they’re doing in random moments to talk to the baby, to lay a hand on my belly or to give it a kiss. If I react to baby’s movements within their earshot, they’re like moths to a flame. And it’s beautiful.

Tonight before bed, after we’d gone around sharing what we were each thankful for today, Eloise asked if she could pray. She remembered Daddy and Henry and baby and all of the usual things, but then she said this, “And for mommy’s heart and Jesus. Amen.”

I must just be in a very hormonal and weepy space, because I almost cried right there. Really? After all of the craziness of this week and my poor attitude at times? My unwillingness in moments to act with a servant heart toward my children, and the grumbly nature of things here in the little blue house? Thank you for mommy’s heart?

This is the epitome of grace as best as I can define it. And it’s also such a reminder to me of the weighty and incredible responsibility given to us as parents–that we must steward our influence over our children oh-so-carefully, and with intention as much as absolutely possible.

I ask myself how my two and a half year old can be thankful for my heart when I’ve felt so depleted of my energy and ability to express love lavishly? When I feel like I’ve been getting it all wrong?

How important and edifying it is to recognize afresh that our children’s desires are actually quite simple: quality time, basic needs met, affirmation, presence. God spoke to my heart tonight through the words of a not-yet-three year old, which is perfect when my world at present centers on motherhood and the well-being of our still-small babes here at home.

They don’t need perfect. They just need me.

They do need me to respond to their physical needs. They need to me to initiate and reciprocate loving words or hugs or snuggle time. They need me to affirm them more than I correct them, and they need to know that I am consistent, present, and a place of refuge.

Yesterday I did not feel like a place of refuge, and, as I mentioned, we all limped along.

There must have been beautiful souls praying for our little family this morning, because today’s wake up was so much different. (Thank you, by the way, whoever and wherever you are!) I sat on the couch soaking up some quiet time for reflection while the kiddos played well together, and I could breathe deeply. There was so. much. peace.

All day today, the still small voice in my head and heart reminded me to temper my words. To encourage. To wait until it was necessary to exercise correction. To be the gentler version of myself that I so often aspire to and quite frequently overstep. There were sweet spaces in the day and I felt them. I prayed that Henry and Eloise (and even baby) would feel them, too.

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So, tonight? Tonight when we were past bedtime by about 45 minutes and still up sorting through story time and sore ankles and missing lovies and family prayer? Tonight, God used the littlest of our household to remind me afresh that it’s my heart I have to offer above all else.

It’s the best thing I can give freely to our children–not just our two here with me now, but also the third well on his or her way. It’s the best thing I can offer Jason in this season and always, even when our focus is easily drawn toward our young family, baby preparations, life decisions, and the daily grind. And it’s the absolute thing I’m called to offer God in the daily, whether I’m rejoicing or hurting, in awe of him or in doubt.

My heart is the thing, and it always will be. Yours is, too. Just ask your favorite two year old.

grace and peace,

mm

 

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sweet surprises.

My fingers have just been itching to get back to this keyboard. Life has been so full in these past months, and full of mostly wonderful things, but it’s just the nature of this season for me to run out of time and brainpower at the end of the day to sit down and write. As with all things we care about in life, this has been an area I’ve had to make peace with as I put it on hold. This, along with others like yoga, reading for pleasure, and cleaning the house to the fullest extent have waited patiently for me as I’ve danced along the wire, balancing new and beautiful and trading joy for joy. I don’t take this for granted, but I am so grateful that, from my vantage point today, there is so much good to juggle.

There has been plenty brewing under wraps here as spring comes around. We surprised Henry and Eloise with a trip to Disney World in April, celebrating Henry’s fifth birthday while we were away (this will earn its own post/s soon, just as quickly as I pick my favorites from the 2,500 photos we have from the week). It was the first time since I can remember that we completely unplugged and got away as a quad, which was timely and necessary and fulfilling and a ton of fun. We’ve also been whittling away at small home projects here and there in prep for warmer and fuller days ahead, and we’ve enjoyed longer visits with  family in town. We’re doing our best to rest a little more, to clear things out that we no longer need, and to be practical about what we can balance well as a family. It’s true that there’s no such thing as perfect balance, but there is definitely manageable vs. crazy, and we’re learning as we keep growing together than the former brings out the better in all of us. I love us as a team.

Coloring all of those moments and casting beautiful light on the ones ahead is my ever growing belly week by week. It’s true. After a long time of wondering what the future of our family might hold, and after countless prayers for another baby, God has graciously entrusted another little one to us to love. As I sit here, my 20 week old bump is full of life–baby’s kicks and movements dance within, bringing me great, great joy every time.

Life is full of surprises, and I’m discovering day by day that I’m still healing from past loss and battling back fear while I try to simply trust in God’s plan. This gets easier week by week, but it’s not lost on me that faith is in the things we cannot see, not the things we can tangibly hold. Each week my belly grows, this pregnancy is, more and more, something I can physically see and experience. And I know that God is calling me through this process to learn to give everything–all of it–over to Him again and again. I have to die to self every day to drown out the voices that are not His. I have to make a concerted effort to lean on the understanding that this baby is God’s and not our own–that His ways are higher than ours, and that every day there is life within me is one to treasure.

Remember the beginning of this year, when I committed to light as my word for 2016? In this pregnancy and so much else, God has been faithful to me to offer a direct path toward light and lightness and letting go. I want to be a good steward of these things, and so I pray that I will keep discovering the depth and marrow in each step of the way. I am terrible at this some days, and better at it on others. No doubt the sweet reminder of God’s goodness to us, increasing right in front of me daily in the mirror, has been a healing balm over wounds on my heart. In a way, nothing has changed–I am working to hand the unknown over to God every single day. And in a way, so much is different. I dream ahead to the day when our babies will meet our newest little love, and all of me wants to burst. It’s impossible to contain the hopeful joy that comes from that place.

There is freedom in expecting God. He is full of wonder, and His graciousness brings me to my knees.

I am so thankful to finally be able to share this joy here with you. Together, we weather the good and the bad, the hard and the beautiful. As such a big piece of me and of our lives as a family, no longer keeping news of the Baby Bean quiet feels right and good. I look forward to where this journey will take us in the days to come. And I’m so glad to be back to the keys.

grace and peace,

mm