MollyMadonna.com

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11 p.m. (58)

Two of three children are still

wide awake,

a fourth making rounds inside

the roundness of my belly.

Tonight, a woman I do not know

remarked, “Your baby is going to be

huge.”

“This is my fourth. They’ve all been big,” I smiled.

As if my saying so would ease

her tension, not mine.

I did not go on to mention

the other three–

How, big or small, this baby

growing is a dream. How many

days and nights I’ve prayed,

“God, protect this life

you’re creating.” How, miracle of miracles,

the fullness of this belly

is hope in something

much bigger than my frame could contain.

MM

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Out of Hiding. (61)

I’ve been thinking a bit today about what holds me back from experiencing the fullest joy that God has to offer, and I know it comes down to holding onto fear. It’s so sneaky, how this happens. I don’t mean to do it or even want to do it, but the voice in the back of my mind that whispers lies is regular enough that I sometimes forget it’s there. It’s familiar enough that lies sounds like normal thoughts, and if I’m not paying close enough attention, I miss them.

This is all of us, and so human. I don’t know anyone who never hears a lie in the back of their mind. The enemy is sneaky like that–robbing us of joy without us even noticing. How often do we let ourselves sit in the untruths that the enemy would have us believe? The thing is, this is a totally uncreative tactic. But it works, and so long as it’s effective, it’s a tool that we’ll keep encountering. This could be so discouraging, but I think it’s empowering in a way, too. When we figure out how to quiet the lies, the truth gets louder and bolder in our lives. Pushing back the darkness always makes room for more light.

So what lies do I mistake as truth sometimes these days, at least until I recognize them for what they are and shut them down? Probably the same kind of lies you hear sometimes, too. “That’s not good enough.” “You could do better/try harder/achieve more.” “If only you were _______.” “If you don’t get this right, then ________ consequence is sure to happen.” The list goes on. The sneakier lies bring God into the equation, sometimes threatening my inheritance with Him in my mind. “You’ve sinned, so _______.” “God will be so disappointed if______.” “Maybe God is punishing you because of ______.”

Yes, but NO. None of the above are true. They just aren’t. God isn’t mean, and He’s not poor. He doesn’t condemn us–He loves us as His children. His love is perfect, so He can’t condemn. He ONLY has more love for us, even if we feel it sometimes in the form of a consequence or conviction or weighty Truth, and even if that seems inconvenient. God always has His best for us. He sees us and calls us GOOD. And we can’t be enough because we could never be enough, which is why God loved us so much as to sacrifice Jesus to bridge the gap on our behalf. All of the lies we could ever tell ourselves or take on as truth can be tossed by the wayside because the enemy has ZERO authority in our lives.

Whew. I did not expect to get so passionate here tonight. But the reason I am is because I frequently experience the enemy trying to rob me or those I love of the joy that is offered to us through Christ, and I’m calling it all out on the carpet.

When I worry about the life of this baby in my belly? When fear creeps up in places I didn’t know it was lurking? NOT TODAY, Satan. I’m draging this all out of the dark because the enemy’s lies can’t hide in the light. And I’m tired of watching a weary world battle itself because of the lies we’ve been told and the lies we believe.

This baby God’s growing in me? He or she will have the exact number of days in their life that God has decided. I have zero control over that. So do I need to worry about it? No. Do I anyway? Yes. Can I ask God to take this worrying thought from me and relieve me of the burden of it? Absolutely.

Troubles we encounter with our kids. Do I need to worry about how they’ll turn out or if we’re making mistakes daily as parents or whether they’ll all be OK as adults in this mixed up world? No. Do I anyway? Naturally. Does God see my children and love them even more than I do? 100%. So can I depend on Him to have their best interest at heart? You bet.

Family dynamics. Are they sometimes more complicated than I’d like? Yes. Does this always mean I’ve done something wrong or need to carry the burden of other people’s choices or words or actions? Nope. Can I give this area of my life to God and watch Him work in my heart and the hearts of others? No doubt.

Marriage. Finances. Faith questions. Mental health. Physical health. The future. Does any one of us have all of this figured out? Definitely not. Does the enemy love to prowl around these issues and whisper lies that would drag us down or hold us back or reduce the freedom we’re meant to live in with Christ? Of course he does. Is God bigger, more powerful, all knowing, completely capable and loving beyond our wildest hopes or imaginations? All day, every day. And is He going to stop being who He says He is anytime soon? Never.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve kind of had it with the voice in my head that lies. I don’t tolerate lying in our home, so why would I tolerate it in my mind? Yes it’s a battle–a hard fought battle for all of us and an even harder fought battle for some. But we have the tools at our fingertips if we want them…prayer, the Word, worship, community, accountability. And if any of these is lacking, we can ask God for His help as we look to find it. He is a God who hears and a Father who answers. I’m so eager for more and more of His voice, and for less and less of anything else. Fear is a liar, and I’m hungry for deeper and greater and even more resilient joy.

Can we be the type of people who live lives of love in such a way that we drown out fear? The type of believers who live out joy because it’s in the fiber of our being? The army waging war against an enemy who is weak, because we’re confident in what is true and because we serve a God who is so much more? I sure hope we can. God, where I am today, in my sphere of influence, please let it be so.

MM

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A Seat at the Table. (63)

“When you arrive, there will be a place for you here.”

Isn’t that something we all crave? To know that we belong, that others have made room for us, that we’re welcome?

I joined a gathering of women last night at church, and that’s exactly what it felt like to walk into the room…there was a place for each one of us. A space where everyone was welcome, and when the room filled to overflowing, more chairs brought out in a hurry to make sure all in attendance could find a seat. This didn’t require a red carpet or lavish decoration. It didn’t call for fancy tables of desserts or servers bringing appetizers around on tiny napkins. All it took was an invitation, some intentionality and a few smiling faces at the door.

Just like the invitation we receive before communion, “Come, for all things are ready,” a table had been prepared and there was a place around it for everyone.

Invitation and welcome feel rarer and rarer these days, when the trajectory of things should be the opposite. In a world where tolerance and acceptance are preached loudly from every rooftop and corner, true invitation feels somehow out of date. The world is begging for recognition, for justice, for equality, but things feel more divisive than ever. We can’t ask to be included and wholly set apart at the same time. It’s confusing, and I don’t think it works.

What I know actually works is when we set down pride, pretense, superiority, labels and we pick up Jesus. Not a watered down version of Jesus the way that works most easily for us, but real, honest, justice-seeking, table-turning, prayerful, boundary-setting, truth-proclaiming, rest-seeking, grace-offering Jesus. And the only way to do that is to put aside agendas and expectations, and to walk into a room open to what God might do–both in us and through others. Last night was an example of this, and it was just about the most refreshing thing I could imagine.

Never mind that it’s been more than a year since we gathered in the same way, without masks covering our faces, without fear standing in the way of hugs, handshakes, conversations shared at close range. That was a huge and beautiful part about this gathering, for sure. But it was so much more than that. It was college-aged women learning from near-centenarians and grandmotherly types gleaning truth from women half their age. It was laughter and tears with brand new faces and friends reunited after so, so long. It was God being invited into a space and generations worshipping Him together and stories being told that linger long after everyone’s headed home. This? This is what’s possible when we extend an invitation with intention and no pretense. And this is what the Body really looks like in a broken world in desperate need of acceptance, belonging and Truth.

When I think about the world our baby is coming into, I could fear so many things. There’s enough heartache and evil to scare anyone away from ever wanting to become a parent at all. But God. And invitation. And the hope and expectation that God will move as He does and make room as He does, and that this child’s life will be filled with purpose, “For such a time as this.”

Oh, little one. I want you to always, always know that when you arrive, there will be a place for you here. You already have a seat at our table. We are making space for you in physical ways, yes, but God is making a place for you in every other sense, too. I believe it with every fiber of who I am, and I trust Him in all that He says He will do. That’s how I know. I know that I know that I know there is a place being prepared for you in a way that I can’t achieve with the perfect nursery or the most beautiful bassinet. This place of yours is being laid forth by the Creator of the Universe, and as the days draw nearer to your arrival, I sense the quickening of His preparations for you.

We all need a place at the table. We all need to belong. And you, Honeybee, you belong in every sense of the word. Your life is already making a difference here. I can’t wait for you to discover exactly how.

May we all experience the love and acceptance we so crave as we seek to find room for ourselves at the table.

MM

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Stretched. (64)

This past week has been stretching: in the physical sense and also the very metaphorical one. I’m noticing my belly button completely disappear at the same time as I’m being challenged to stand on Truth in different aspects of my life. I’m feeling the physical restriction of once-fitting clothing while on the same days being called to boldness and honesty and bravery in new ways. It’s fascinating, the parallels that come in seasons of our lives.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more called to live into my age, experience or faith than I’ve been over these past months and weeks. I’m not one to shy away from sharing what I think when I feel like it really matters, but my convictions are burning up inside these days in a way that compels them to press outward–sometimes I feel like I’m hard to contain, and on the heels of that sentiment, I feel called to set thoughts and convictions free. The phrase, “For such a time as this,” comes to mind so often, and I wonder if I’ll ever stop living and feeling that sentiment so deeply (yet somehow, I suspect I won’t).

I know we don’t know the day or the hour that Jesus returns to earth, but I also know that as humans and believers, we can sense a quickening here that feels more tangible as time goes on. That quickening feels pertinent and worth recognition to me, because I want to be doing the things I’m called to do here on earth in preparation for what is to come. In the same ways that I want to be mentally, physically, spiritually and emotionally prepared for labor as we look toward the birth of our child, I want to be prepared to become more like Christ and to trust God more fully as the earth groans with its own labor pains.

The condition of the world does not always encourage me. In fact, without the hope of the Gospel, it could quickly feel like a very discouraging, despairing, unwelcoming place. I know that some people experience life this way, and it’s not surprising, when there are so many lies flying at us at every turn. When we can’t find our value in Christ alone, where do we place our hope? How do we anticipate a promising future without knowing who owns and holds it for us?

Stretching. It’s stretching to aim at growing in faith and living a life of hope. It’s stretching to put our trust in Jesus and to surrender a control we never actually had in the first place but believe should be ours. It’s stretching to realize that our old ways of doing things no longer fit with who we’re now called to be. In growing this baby, I’m learning so much about myself, but even more about God. I’m stretching from the inside out and the outside in. I’m having to rewrite what I understand about trust, or perhaps better put, I’m having to stand back while God rewrites my understanding of trust and its depth with Him.

I do love a good story, so the parallels here with this season of life we’re living are so helpful to me. So much in life makes better sense when there’s a visual aid. And I don’t think the stretching inside and that outside are mutually exclusive to one another, but rather they’re working together to draw things closer; delivery and deliverance both on the horizon in the direction my heart and body need to go for birth and life to be the end result.

Stretching can be painful, and in my experience these days, it ebbs and flows in waves of discomfort and reassurance, encouragement and challenge. As in preparation for a race, I know it’s of benefit to me to stretch now, and slowly, not hurriedly or all at once. Without this stretching, I can’t get where I’m going or where God’s calling me to move, so I’m once again uncurling my grip on what I can’t control in exchange for hope and trust in the One who knows the path set before me.

Surrender is both good and hard. I’m trying to be here for it and to willingly embrace it along the way.

MM

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So You Had a Bad Day. (68)

Some days we wake up and things just don’t start out as hoped, right? Maybe the alarm goes off and we hit snooze one too many times, maybe we’re just slow moving that morning and get a little behind, maybe we never remembered to set the alarm at all. Or it could be that the kids are already awake and needing a little bit of everything, that the schedule ahead is long and daunting, or that someone was sick in the night and no one got much sleep. However the case may be, it’s hard to begin on a bad note, and that’s fair. Especially on days when we’re looking forward to something, a bad start or a rough night has a way of turning the tables that just doesn’t feel very good.

I always hate to let a bad start run the whole day, but sometimes it’s hard to right the ship in a hurry. The kids and I have made a practice of “starting over” when a day gets off on the wrong foot. As much as I hate to admit it, if it’s me who’s in a tizzy, it’s really hard to ask everyone if we can start again–but it’s worth it. Starting over usually requires some apologies and forgiveness. Great muscles for us to exercise, and hard ones to use when the whole gang is already cranky. Bless our kids, they’re as forgiving as we all should be (almost always). In a matter of moments we’re beginning again, and somehow that feels like permission to shake off our grumbling, move past our offense(s) and even laugh with each other. It usually takes away the sting of things for all involved.

Other bad days are hard to remedy for reasons beyond our control; no starting over will mend them in the moment. When I’m in the midst of a day I can’t right, I’m not always in a space to feel glass-half-full or to see where things will go on the other side. I’m sure this is natural, but still hard. So what’s best? For me, here’s a dozen avenues that often help:

  1. Playing worship music. I might not be in the mood, but this takes little investment on my part. Just having it on, the words of familiar songs creep in to my heart and mind. Either they end up encouraging me, they help me to feel understood because their lyrics are lamenting in nature, or my mood lifts because I can’t help but sing (or maybe cry, depending on the circumstance?) along with them. When I’m not in a space to go to God in clear-thinking prayer, the act of worship nudges me forward until I can get there.
  2. Connecting with a friend or a compassionate soul in my life. Sometimes this means I send a text message asking for prayer. Sometimes it’s recording a Polo message for a friend to listen to later. Often, it’s a phone call so that I can safely set the weight of my worries down with a heart that’s willing to listen. I never want to put my burdens on someone else, but the people closest to us don’t usually find our burdens to be burdensome. The peace of knowing someone else will pray or that they understand my heart is often enough to get me over the hurdle.
  3. Finding a place to be alone. This is easier said than done and doesn’t happen often, but my family knows that if I’ve retreated to my office, I’m probably in need of a little space–and they generally respect that. Sometimes I pick up a book or shed tears that need to fall. Other times, I just sit in the quiet. It’s in those moments that I’m better able to ask God for help, which always changes the game for the hours that follow.
  4. Snuggling my kiddos. This is certainly not always the answer, but a hug or just sitting with another person for a while can do us all a bit of good. The physical presence of someone else can be just the thing when there aren’t words or actions that can otherwise mend an ache. As our family gets older, I feel like we all resort to this in times of pain or sadness, and it’s comforting and good.
  5. Buying fresh flowers. This is a game changer for me. If I have the time, I drive to my favorite flower shop and spend ten minutes in the cooler picking out blooms that speak to my personality/mood. There’s always something new there that can lift me out of a haze or funk, plus the benefit of having the bouquet around for the next days or weeks is so tangible.
  6. Getting my hands in dirt. Planting, pruning, watering, repotting or sometimes even weeding is replenishing for my soul. Making something more beautiful is always a good avenue to lift my spirits. I get a little teasing sometimes for the number of plants in our home, but they all have a different way of reminding or encouraging me of something. So good.
  7. Fixing or ordering food that nourishes or feels comforting. Sometimes that’s a pot of soup. In the summertime, it’s probably a smoothie or salad. I defer to go-to things that I don’t have to think twice about to make, and often, to recipes that have long been prepared for me by family over the years. I don’t love to bake, but occasionally, making a treat to share with the rest of the household is a pick-me-up, too.
  8. Journaling. My habit of doing this has faltered over the years, but when I put pen to paper and dump my thoughts, I almost always feel better. Going back to read what I’ve written helps me to process, or to put my finger on the thing that most needs attention or healing.
  9. Praying. This one can be hard if I’m in a rough place, but it can also be the most comforting thing. In times of stress, my prayers might be crazy long or super short. Still, giving things over to God and trying my best to offer gratitude is always lifting. Even just knowing that I uttered a request for help to the One who can help me most is sometimes the lightness that I need to set a hard thing down for a moment. Being reminded of my smallness in light of His power and compassion never has a bad impact, either.
  10. Getting outside. Sunshine and fresh air are almost always helpful. While I don’t often feel as motivated to get out when it’s chilly or raining, even a few minutes can change my tune if I just step outdoors. Barefoot when possible for grounding benefits, and certainly if the kids are having a hard time, too. “Everybody out,” is a policy that has served us well again and again.
  11. Watching a tried and true show that I know will make me laugh, or picking up a book that will allow me to bury my thoughts in someone else’s story. Every once in a while I just need to stop ruminating on my own reality and be distracted by someone else’s. I don’t ever want this to become an escapist-type habit, but there’s a reason we all appreciate a good comedy or storyline.
  12. Heading to bed early. This is a foolproof way to end a bad day, right? Sometimes you just have to call it and start again in the morning. The extra sleep never hurts, and some distance from the challenges of the day is not a bad remedy either.

I don’t doubt that we all have ways of moving ourselves forward when the going gets rough, and maybe many overlap as human coping mechanisms for us all. It’s just really good to know what ours are, isn’t it? And to understand why or when they help, too? Then when we can’t see the forest through the trees, we have some handholds that light the way for a bit until the bigger picture comes into view again.

If you’ve had a bad day, I hope tomorrow will be brighter. Today has been a bit of a rough one here, and I’m looking forward to starting again in the morning. XO,

MM