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for every mothering heart.

It’s quiet in the house this afternoon, and I am thankful. A part of this day feels like it’s for celebrating, and a larger part feels like it belongs to reverence. I’m never quite sure how to express that part best, but it’s weighty on my heart.

On a day when so many of us make a concerted effort to honor our mothers, we can’t help but reflect on the good parts and the hard parts that come alongside. As with most celebrations, there’s a bittersweetness that lingers with today as we recognize heartache, loss, mourning and longing in so many hearts around us–and perhaps in our own. I doubt that for any son or daughter, Mother’s Day is 100% about joy and completely void of sorrow or longing. I think of friends who have lost mothers and grandmothers in this past year, and of others who have lost children or longed for children…who are still waiting or working through deep, deep pain. There is no way to celebrate something so beautiful as motherhood without bringing up the hard parts of motherhood as well, which is why I sit here in the quiet, trying to flesh out what God would have for all of us on a day bearing such striking duality.

Mother’s Day is tricky, because it brings to light something so close to the human heart. God created us to desire the loving presence of a father and mother. He built us to long after Him, and while we most naturally think of God as a Father, He intends to fulfill the role of a mother in His love for us, too:

“For this is what the Lord says: ‘I will extend peace to her like a river, and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream; you will nurse and be carried on her arm and dandled on her knees.

As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem.

When you see this, your heart will rejoice and you will flourish like grass; the hand of the Lord will be made known to his servants…'” Isaiah 66.12-14

Gods promises are not limited to some of us, but rather extended to all of us. I have known some of the most beautiful mothering hearts, honoring their call to motherhood in ways they never expected or hoped for before God. And I know that God sees them and honors their steadfast commitment to His calling on their hearts, whether they are mothering biological children or adopted children, praying for someday children, or extending themselves as mothers to children not their own. Nothing that our God has done or called us to is ever casual or wasted.

When we experienced miscarriage (three years ago this past week), I had already given birth to Henry. While I mourned the loss of a baby we’d never know this side of Heaven, Mother’s Day came heavy that year. At the same time, I was afraid to allow myself room to grieve and feel pain, because I also felt guilty…How could I be sad when I had already had a child and other mothers did not? How could I justify feeling lonely or forgotten when I had a daily reminder of God’s faithfulness right in front of me? It took me a long while to understand that God saw my pain equally and grieved that pain with me, as the Comforter of all hurts and heartache:

“…Yet no sooner is Zion in labor than she gives birth to her children. Do I bring to the moment of birth and not give delivery?” says the Lord. Do I close up the womb when I bring to delivery?” says your God.

Rejoice with Jerusalem and be glad for her, all you who love her; rejoice greatly with her, all you who mourn over her. For you will nurse and be satisfied at her comforting breasts; you will drink deeply and delight in her overflowing abundance.” Isaiah 66.8-11

I am once again reminded that God is not mean, and He is not poor. He does not allow pain without a purpose for that pain. He does not carry us all the way through labor just to deny us delivery. Instead, He actually promises delivery for those of us who trust Him with our lives. With our hurts. With our infertility, our miscarriages, our tragedies, our deep, deep longings.

This Mother’s Day, I am convinced that the day leaves room for both celebration and mourning on purpose. God didn’t declare the holiday, but, as with all things, He has carved intention within it. Motherhood is beautiful. It should be celebrated, because it was designed in God’s image and is one of the most tangible ways we can reflect and experience God in our earthly lives. It is strong and delicate, and it will stretch those with motherly hearts just as far as we can possibly go. Today, I am thankful for all of the hearts of mothers that I have known, and I think especially of those who wait for God to define just how their motherly hearts will be used for His purposes. As I do with my own heart, I am trusting that God has designed yours with a deep purpose, and that He will continue to bring delivery as we experience the labor pains of His call to motherhood in our lives.

Happy Mother’s Day to every mama heart. I am so thankful for and humbled by each of you!

mm

 

 

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1:30am and vulnerability.

Confession: I have been living in a rut that I’m just dying to get out of. I’m up late tonight (and so many nights), feeling like I need to put another stake in the ground. Like I need to declare this moment as a turning point…and it’s got to be. It just has. to. be.

I’m awake in the middle of my living room at this unholy hour, because I am fighting a battle that feels like it’s against flesh and blood when I know it’s so much more than that. My chest is heavy, as they’ve all been in this house for the past few days. Everyone has taken their turn with a nasty cold gone wrong, and thankfully (but miserably), I am trailing the pack. This means the kiddos are improving daily and Jason is on the upswing, but I’m still working my way through the worst parts. I’ve mentioned it before, but I am not a good patient. And I’ve had far more practice in the past few months than I ever imagined, which challenges me to my core. I am much better at being the nurse than the patient. So much better.

The reality I’m facing isn’t life or death, although we’ve worked through all of those fears and emotions for more than one of us in this house since December, which feels like more than enough. The truth is that I’ve been down or working hard to take care of someone who is down for nearly all of the days of 2015, and I am weary.

I am weary of trying so hard every day to find the silver lining in all of the mess. I am weary of carrying guilt for not just being grateful all of the time, in spite of life’s challenging imperfections. I am weary of asking more of our kiddos than should be asked of them at almost four and one and a half years old. I am weary of saying “no” to the little ones I love so much, simply because my emotional self or my physical self quite honestly can’t say “yes.” I am weary of feeling blurry and unsure around the edges instead of sharp and with it and pulled together. This is outside of my comfort zone…a place I never planned to be or to stay for very long at all. But God is up to something.

God is up to something and all I can surmise is that the enemy hates it. Life has thrown so many distractions at our little family in the past four months that sometimes I can hardly breath. Or I feel like I’m just treading water and getting nowhere, instead of making progress forward like (what feels like) everyone else around me.

I’m writing tonight, because after some time in prayer and hashing things out with both God and in warfare, I feel like all of these lies of inadequacy and stagnancy and suffocating need to be exposed. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m not the only mom (or woman or person) who has faced these lies since 2015 began, and feeling alone on top of everything else is like one big kick when you’re already down.

As best as I can remember, I haven’t had an ear infection since I was a kid. All day today, my ears and head have been ringing and pounding–reverberating with the awfulness that is this (springtime?) cold. So why of all nights, when I’m physically sick and dizzy and overtired, would God keep me awake at this hour? Because for all of these days that I’ve felt like I’m a battle ground for something, I am. And for the sake of what I feel called to do, I know that God is asking me to dig my heels in even deeper. Tonight, that means prayer and to be honest here in this space. Wherever that meets you, if it meets you, wherever you are. Or wherever that puts me, on the trajectory that God has for my life and journey as a wife, a mother, a child of the most extraordinary King.

There have been few moments in the last, very long string of days that I can recall not feeling dependent on God. I haven’t done a stellar job of reflecting that in my actions at all times, but I am truly, truly in a new and further abandoned place with the Lord. I don’t like this kind of vulnerability, and yet, I do. I’m safer here, more fully sold out for a God who knows all of my days and all of my needs, insecurities, misgivings and fears, long before I’m ever aware of them.

This is a crazy journey we’re on, and I am doing my best to be enthusiastic that it means beautiful things are on the horizon. I’m depending on that truth, because this life is so fleeting, and our troubles are light and momentary, even when they feel weighty and everlasting. We’re promised as much. Glory be to the God who is able to do far more than we ever dare to ask, dream or imagine. Infinitely more than our highest hopes…He calls us to ask Him, and we need to and should. I need Him every hour.

mm

 

 

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when your heart is troubled.

Henry and Eloise,

Like so many grown ups around you, my heart is heavy with the news of things happening around the world over the past few days, weeks and months. You are still so small, and it brings me peace to know that, for now, your hearts and minds are shielded from the harsh realities of evil and hatred that the grown ups around you are grappling to process. Thank goodness for your innocence and naivety at this age–it is so hopeful to look at you both and see the way that you approach life with such freedom and enthusiasm. As your mama, it is so beautiful to get lost in your world with you and tuck away from the darkness that tries so hard to weigh down the days otherwise. You are reminders of our faithful God and His urging to us to have childlike faith.

I need a good dose of childlike faith when I read the news and see modern day persecution blasted all over its pages. I need to cling to the very basic Truths you are beginning to understand as children of God–His love and our ability to totally rest in His plans, His joy, His peace. I need to show you through my own life just how much I put my faith in Him and His sovereignty, and I hope I can set a great example of this for you, if even a little bit at a time.

You don’t need to know what’s happening in the world around you just yet. You will be plenty aware of it in time. Goodness knows, I wouldn’t do you any favors to teach you to fear the things of this world, and I pray that as much as is possible, you won’t. I also pray that you will grow mightily in your faith. Put your trust in God and CLING to His Word and His Truth. Dive into Psalm 91 and REST in his promise that you need not fear terror in the night, or flying arrows in the day. If you choose Him, God will remain your place of safety; His promises will arm you and protect you.

Be wise and vigilant, little ones. Put your energies into knowing God more and more. LIVE in his Word. Hide His Truth in your hearts. Do not be troubled when trouble comes, because Christ has overcome the world and all trouble in it!

I love you more than I can tell you, sweet babies. And as much as it’s my inclination to want to guard you and protect you fiercely when evil shows its face, I know that the safest place for you is in the care of our Mighty and Fearless and Trustworthy God. When your heart is troubled, run to me, absolutely. But run to Him as well. Claim His peace and His sovereignty as you make your way. And be fearless for the Kingdom. It is ever so much more clearly at hand, and the world needs you to arm yourselves with Truth as it makes its way.

Remember the Cross and what it means for your freedom. When you carry it’s beautiful weight with you, when you lift it up as Truth in a broken world, God will use you in ways you can only imagine. Your story has only just begun!

loving you fiercely and boldly today, Hanker and Ella-bee, and praying you up.

mama

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co-travelers and bumpy roads.

I woke up at 10:20am today. First let me say, this is not normal. And (quite) thankfully, I’m not ill. A late start wasn’t exactly what I’d planned for today, but when you fall asleep on the couch in an awful position for six hours, you pour yourself into your actual bed in hopes that the kiddos will sleep one more precious hour in the morning. 10:20am with two young kiddos is basically a dream.

It’s also evidence of sacrifice–in this case, on the part of my husband, who has been through plenty in these past few weeks to justify needing the extra hours of rest. Instead though, he got up and tended to the kiddos’ needs for a long while before I ever came around. And when I did wake up? He asked whether he could make me breakfast or get me coffee. Not coffee out of the pot in the kitchen, but coffee from the sweet little shop down the street. I didn’t take him up on his offer, but I was blown away and filled with gratitude.

Because you know what?

We spent last night hashing out big life things. Hard things. We both fell asleep super late, mid-conversation, and we didn’t go to bed on great terms. We don’t like to make a habit of doing that, but our exhaustion got the best of us last night and it’s how things ended up.

And this morning?

Jason could have chosen anger or frustration, selfishness or justification, and our day would have gone an entirely different way. Instead, he woke up and chose service, love, forgiveness, and thoughtfulness. He chose Christ over sin and our marriage and family over himself. The result is a beautiful ripple effect that equals love and grace in our home today. A ripple that models what doing life together can look like. To our kiddos, to me, to whoever reads this humble blog. I’m SO thankful.

This afternoon, I’m sitting at that sweet little coffee shop down the road, spending a handful of hours writing, praying, dreaming, planning. Because Jason offered up this time, too, staying home with H and E and giving me space to rest and be. And the rewards are gigantic, let me tell you.

-Because my kiddos get to have their daddy to themselves this afternoon, which is beautiful.

-Because I will go home refreshed and ready to face the rest of the weekend, and the week ahead.

-Because I’m looking to forward dating my husband over cards or a movie or a conversation once the kiddos are in bed tonight.

-Because when we work as a team, we can accomplish far more than we’re able to on our own.

-Because choosing reconciliation and peace is always better than choosing unforgiveness.

-Because when men model the love of Christ in their homes, God honors their faithfulness.

-Because we are called to love each other more than ourselves, and Jason doing so today leads me to love him even more.

Marriage is hard work indeed. And at its finest, it is teamwork and Kingdom building work. The very closest example of God’s love and commitment to us. What a glorious gift! The road is not smooth, but bumpy and adventurous. And we are imperfect co-travelers, far better for the journey when we look down the path together, in the same direction.

mm

 

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guilt is a five letter word.

I’m a stay at home mom. I’m a lot of other things, too, but when a new acquaintance asks, “So what do you do?” this is now my reply. It hasn’t always been. I used to work outside of our home, and even when I stepped back from outside job responsibilities, I felt some kind of need or desire to pad my answer. For a while, “stay at home mom” felt like it had to come with a preface. A “just” or an “I’m only.” Slowly but surely I’m learning not to cut myself short for this significant role, but it’s hard.

A stay at home mom. The guilt can start right there, can’t it? Even for moms who want to stay at home and love to stay at home, somehow guilt attaches itself to this title. If I stay at home full time and other moms can’t (but want to), there’s guilt in the freedom I have to be at home with my littles. If I stay at home full time and other moms don’t, and they have great peace about balancing two roles, there’s guilt in not contributing to the world in some other way outside of being a wife and mom. If I stay at home with two children I’ve carried in utero, and other moms with beautiful mama hearts are still waiting for answered prayers and babies of their own, there is guilt in knowing that I didn’t bear the same struggle. I’m telling you, in this comparison game we play as mamas, guilt seems to think it can sneak in all around.

Guilt isn’t just for the stay at home mom, though. It darkens days for the mama who wants so badly to stay at home but isn’t able for any number of reasons. It’s painfully tangible for the mama who desperately desires to carry her own babies, and for the one who waits with hope and expectation for the day that God makes her a mother through adoption. There’s guilt for the mama who has babies of her own, but who has also lost babies of her own. In motherhood, as in other areas of life, the good we do and the prayers we pray and the hopes we have still do not always drown out the voices in our heads that we aren’t good enough. We aren’t productive enough. Our bodies aren’t capable enough. We aren’t enough.

But here’s the thing.

This guilt and those voices and the feelings of not being enough–for any host of valid and challenging and very real reasons–each come from a place that is not of God, in an effort to thwart our passions and determination to do the very (important!) things that He has called us to do. God is not mean, and He is not poor. The deepest desires of our hearts come from the overflow of His heart into our lives…the outpouring of His spirit over us, so that we are drawn to the tasks and adventures He has planned for us here on earth. He doesn’t promise which way He will take us to get to the very things He has for us. He promises, if we trust Him and open our hands to what He has in mind, that He is able to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. He promises that we are His, and that He calls us as His own.

My microscopic view of the call God has placed on my life is insignificant, compared to what He has for me…for my family, my marriage, my future. And it’s not likely to look exactly how I thought it would, or how I thought it should. It hasn’t already. I would never have invited pain into my own life the way that God has allowed it in. And I would never have imagined how He could use that pain for good in any way. Starting out marriage in a scary place, halfway around the world. Trying to gain traction in our marriage–at a cost, afterwards. Facing the death of someone incredibly close. Miscarriage. Five months of worry and sleepless nights and emotion after our second baby was born. Trying to rewrite the trajectory of our family and build a legacy of covenant and commitment for our children. Jason’s accident and our subsequent grappling with the brevity of life, the lasting impact of split second moments, and the sovereignty of God that creates perspective and wonder about the future and His plans for our lives.

This side of eternity, we just can’t see all of the things. It isn’t possible. And unless we allow ourselves to be brought to a place where we lean so hard on God that His peace and joy break through, we feel the weight of this world, no matter our position. We carry guilt that God never intended us to carry. We remain prisoners of our own circumstances, convinced we are the ones who have to find every answer, convinced we have to be miserable or lonely or without hope. I’m here to tell you that we don’t. We can’t possibly. And there is more peace than we could ever need or ask for when we seek God, who is generous and attentive and tangible and real.

I am a stay at home mom because this is the call that God has placed on my life for this moment, in this season. He has other things for me, too, and He’s revealing them all the more as I try to rest in His presence in my current role and circumstance. Life is not peaceful, and the world is certainly waiting to steal away our joy if we let it. So is guilt. LET’S NOT LET THEM. We are warriors, and whatever it is that we are called to in the here and now, it’s our job to do it and to do it well. God empowers us in our calling, and He gives us what we need for each day, offering a fresh start every single morning. We can’t feel guilty about any of that, and we sure can’t afford to waste it.

I will intentionally say NO to guilt in 2015. I will make the days count. I will own my stay-at-home motherhood and thank God for what He has called me to, even when it feels crazy-hard.

i’m praying peace over the contents of your day today, and asking God for joy on your behalf. i pray you find it in the greatest and smallest things as you say NO to guilt and YES to your highest calling.

mm