Thursday, August 25, 2016

Bravely Whispering

Dear Brogan,

You want to be brave like superheroes. 

In public, you are quiet.  Crowds of children your own age make you nervous.  You want to speak, but sometimes the words just don't come out.  I see in your eyes how you long to play with others, but it's not always easy for you to just join in activities with people you don't know.

So, when the tears and nerves came flooding in just a couple hours before your Kindergarten orientation, I somewhat expected it, but it still concerned me.  So, I prayed...and I had other people pray.  

Then the time came...

Your moment to enter into the room that will house hundreds of your thoughts and feelings for the next nine months.  The place that you will grow...without your mom and dad there to hold your hand or give you a reassuring smile.  You entered with trepidation, but, you entered!

As I watched you sit at your desk - making sure that I sat beside you - I saw it in your eyes:

Anxiety.  Fear.  Uncertainty.  All mixed together.

Yet, you stayed. You didn't let the negative thoughts prevent you from savoring that moment.  Your opportunity to sit at your first elementary school desk for your first time.

As the teacher talked, your eyes grew bigger.  Your hand would often touch my arm as if to say, "Mommy, we're in this together, right?"  Sometimes I would pat your hand, sometimes I'd just let you leave it there.  Trying to figure out what you needed from me at that moment.  Keenly aware that the next time you enter that room, I will be leaving you for a few hours to figure this all out on your own.

Then came the real test.  Daddy loves to talk about the "One Shining Moment" in college basketball.  This was your shining moment:  the time to talk to your teacher.  Just like a basketball player doesn't know if his last attempt to make a shot will get his team the winning victory, I wasn't so sure if you'd be able to conquer this moment.

You did!! 

It was just a whisper to your teacher, but it screamed bravery to this mama.  Sometimes bravery doesn't show up loudly and proclaim its victory...sometimes the biggest bravery comes in doing the tasks that seem daunting.  Sometimes bravery shines through with a whisper.

You, my son, are brave.






Tuesday, August 16, 2016

To All Moms...Our Silence Is Killing Us

To All Moms,

Our silence is killing us.  Literally.  Today, I wept at the loss of one of our own.  A precious new mom who thought the postpartum depression she felt was wrong.  Unable to understand the hand she had been dealt, she took her life.  She leaves behind a loving husband, a baby girl, and a slew of family and friends who wish they had known.

As I wept, I wondered...how many other moms are struggling?  Maybe the story isn't postpartum: maybe it's an empty nest, a child following a path you don't understand, a dream that looks different due to illness, parenting while grieving, parenting without a partner, mommy guilt...there are so many reasons we hurt.  Suffering in silence because we don't want to intrude upon others.  Suffering in silence out of fear.

How many other moms are waiting in the wings, ready to share with fellow comrades how they overcame adversities?  Willing to share, but only when asked.  Keeping silent because we don't want to intrude.  Keeping silent out of fear.

Mamas...our stories, experiences, difficulties...they are worth sharing.  Sharing boldly with each other. Reaching out both for help and to help.

So, today, I share one of my struggles for the one I wish had reached out for help...and for her friends who wish they had shared.  Her story..."stuck" in a sea of depression...is also my story.

He was my last baby.  Our family now "complete."  Our rainbow baby born after a devastating loss. We gave him a strong name because God gave us him.  And, less than 48 hours after he was born, I looked at him and thought, "This is not how I should be feeling right now. I should not be grieved in my spirit. I should be singing, 'It Is Well With My Soul.' I have really messed up this time."  I cried tears as I put my sweet boy in his carseat for the first time. This baby I loved with all my heart, I didn't deserve.  I was going to mess up his life forever.  In fact, I thought I already had.

With two other children waiting excitedly for our return home, I was no stranger to postpartum blues. Those anxieties were rough and left me feeling momentarily defeated...and they passed after a couple weeks.  This...this was so much different.

Within two days of being home, my three and five year olds most common phrase became, "Mommy, why are you crying AGAIN?"  This made me cry more.  I had ruined their lives, too.  I began to envy them as they giggled and played.  Wishing to be young again...longing for their naivety to be mine, too.  I couldn't help but wonder what kind of mother envies her own children's joy?  I thought I was an awful mother...unworthy of these sweet babes.

My husband became the target of all my anger.  He didn't know whether to run or hold me when I started my tirades. I didn't know what he should do either. I said things to him that I would have never said before.  I knew it was wrong, but I could not stop.  I felt like I would explode. I thought he would be so much better off without me.  I thought I was unlovable.

My anxiety was so extreme that I felt unable to breathe at times.  I slept with all the lights on. I threw things.  I had dizzy spells. I would stay on my bed, sobbing, for what felt like hours. It was during one of these moments that my husband said, "We are getting help."

I was terrified the doctor would think I was insane.  Just the opposite...she reminded me that this was all very normal due to hormonal and life changes out of our control.  I was placed on a low dose medication and advised to get counseling.  Our first counseling inquiry fell through so I decided I didn't need it.  Forgoing counseling was probably a big mistake because while the medicine helped with the anxiety, the depression came flooding in.

Months of not wanting to do anything, feeling like I was failing as a parent and wife, and making poor choices in several areas wore on me.  I felt like my family deserved something better than myself.  I replayed in my head every mistake I made over and over again.  I walked around under a cloud of guilt, shame and anger. It was a dark, scary abyss and I thought I would live there forever.

Thankfully, my story doesn't end there.  Others shared with me during my darkest hours.  Members of my Bible Study shared their own experiences in parenthood.  Other ladies at church mentioned their own daily struggles. Most didn't even know what I was going through; they were just being real in their own lives. Most have no clue that I listened intently.  Watched them intently.  I learned so much from them.

Some of those who were aware of my battle, jumped into the trench with me.  My husband was my rock...the one responsible for getting many to pray...the one who held my hand...the one who endured the worst, but never left.  My sister listened to all my thoughts...ALL my crazy thoughts and assured me over and over and over again that I was a good mom, a good wife, a good person.  A sweet friend checked in daily and made sure weekly playdates (aka: Mommy Therapy) happened even when I didn't want to get out of the house.  Another came over and cleaned my entire house while I was out of town and would take my children out for fun when she could sense I needed time.  They offered their friendship and refused to let go. People prayed and encouraged me to pray and fight my negative thoughts.  They reminded me I wasn't alone.  Slowly, because of my "army" the tide began to shift. Ultimately, God  - our Commander - got me through, but He used a great group of "soldiers" to help me through.

That precious baby that I thought I had ruined turned sixteen months old today.  He is the most joyful baby in the world.  He never meets a stranger.  Two nights ago, he fell off a bed and had to get six stitches on his adorable little nose.  I momentarily started to feel the guilt that was responsible for squelching life out of me for over 14 months of his life. "I was in the room...I should have seen it coming...He will always have a scar."  I was able to stop those thoughts before they took a tight grip on me.  The next day, that baby took his chubby little hands, cupped my face and said, "My mama!" before doling out kisses.  This child - the one I loved when I couldn't love myself - he is absolutely fine.  My struggles made him no worse for the ware. That's when I realized:  it is finally well with my soul.

Sweet moms who feel like you are barely hanging on...your struggles are real.  They are yours, but they are also ours.  We can help you through because we have been through (and are going through). Don't be ashamed.  You are not a bad mom.  Will you share with someone?  Will you reach out?  We are listening.  We need you.

Moms who have been in trenches that you are no longer in...will you reach out?  Will you share your stories to moms of younger children so that they can grow?  Will you admit your hardships that you had/that you have?  We are listening. We need you.

*For those in the postpartum battle, who are unsure of where to turn, this website will you provide you with resources and other information:  http://postpartumprogress.org.  You are not alone.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

The Relentless 'Daddy'

"Daddy, when you were a kid...?"

That question is a favorite in this house.  Two children longing to know even more about the father they admire.  The third child, still too small to voice his questions, listens intently.  Almost as if he knows that it's important when Daddy speaks.  Because in this house, when Daddy is answering a question, the world stops to listen.

"Did you play with cars?"  "Did you like broccoli?"  "Did you have to brush your teeth before bed?"

They soak in his answers.  Eager to learn a little more about his life.  

These wee ones, they've taught me so much.  Yet, as I watch them with this man of mine, they teach me even more.

So, I stop and listen, too.  I listen to how he responds in love to every question.  How his answer is almost never just a one word response, but a response that he knows will satisfy their inquisitive minds.  

And, I wonder, what if I was like that with the One I now know as "Daddy?" 

So, I try it.  I start asking questions about Him...about His character. 

"Daddy, How do I know you will protect me?"  "Daddy, How do I know that you will forgive yet another blunder from this broken flesh?" 

One by one my questions are answered:

Psalm 121:7 - The LORD keeps you from all harm and watches over your life.

1 John1:9 - But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness.

By reading His word and conversing with Him, He is breathing life - HIS life - into these dry bones:

Ezekiel 37:5 - This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life.

LIFE.  The condition that represents growth, functional activity, the ability to change.  And, as these bones become alive, a desire to know Him more awakens.  I am pursuing Him...everything about Him...and He is pursuing me...my love, my time, my life.  With every question, He provides an answer.  Drawing me to Him.  Responding with love. Showing me His mercy.  He is relentless in His pursuit of me.  

And, He is relentless in His pursuit of YOU.  Watch for Him. Listen to Him.  Wait for Him.  Write down your answers to your own questions.  Let Him breath LIFE into you.

Matthew 6:33 - But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.








Thursday, August 11, 2016

When You Don't Understand A Gift

I had just listened to a powerful and inspiring testimony on the radio about daily giving God our pain and asking Him to, in return, give us all that He wanted to for that day when her message popped into my inbox.  Wisdom, advice, necessary - yet gentle - chastising, concern all rolled into one.  

One statement jumped out at me.  She called this a gift.  I had to reread her words.  A gift???  What kind of Giver gifts pain?  Despair?  Turmoil that feels so thick the very air around you feels weighted?

There was a time I would have rolled my eyes and dismissed what she said, but something about what I had just heard on the radio and what she had just wrote stuck with me.  

I wrote this post days before...the one where I was beginning to "taste and see" His goodness.  Then more happened.  More pain.  More defeat.  My focus was lost.  Bitterness abounded when praying ceased.

A couple days earlier - out of desperation, perhaps -  I opened the pages to a book called "Every Bitter Thing is Sweet" by Sara Hagerty.  It's as if this book was written just for me, just for this time.  Precious words by a precious person who has truly learned that "the pain of life, against God's Word and whispers, comes to look like opportunity."  Little did I know that in the opening of this book, God was opening my heart.

I reread the words in my inbox again: "You may not like the gift, but it is what the Lord has chosen for you during this season." 

"OK, God, if this is a gift, can you show me how to use it?" I prayed.

Later that day, I read this statement in the book that I was beginning to treasure: "Each blow has a treasure of Him, hidden deep made for our searching out."  More confirmation of this "gift."

Throughout the next several hours, revelations kept coming:  Words read.  Prayers prayed. Realizations of areas in my own life that needed fixed.  Forgiveness requested and granted from the very same Giver of all this pain.  My grip was loosening...letting go of things that I had held onto tightly for far too long.  I started searching my Bible to learn more about God and who He is simply so that I can adore Him and converse with Him differently...allowing Him to truly be my Daddy...allowing Him to draw me in.

Not only was I doing my part, but other people were being obedient to His wooing.  Prayers were being prayed for Jared and I by others to the point that the other night we could literally feel that others were crying out on our behalf.

Then a real cry early this morning jolted me from my sleep. Just one cry from the one whose name means "Mighty Warrior."  As I listened to see if he needed attending to, there was silence.  Now, I was wide awake in a silent house. I knew, God - the ultimate warrior - had used my little guy to wake me up to spend time with Him.

I prayed a very candid prayer before opening my Bible.  A prayer requesting His guidance in an area that I refused to release because of my own anger.

I opened my Bible and read the first thing I saw...a footnote that said, "Don't waste your life by selecting an inferior purpose that has no lasting value." 

Hmmm...was this meant for me?  Was His answer once again coming swiftly?  Was He telling me to let go?  To not let my anger prevent me from something I need to do?

I read the verses of the Psalm (Psalm 144) that was attached to the footnote:


"Praise the Lord, who is my rock.

    He trains my hands for war

    and gives my fingers skill for battle."



"He is my loving ally and my fortress

He is my shield, and I take refuge in him."


"Reach down from heaven and rescue me;

    rescue me from deep waters,

    from the power of my enemies."

I stopped.  

Ok, so God, you train my hands for war...my fingers for battle.  You equip me to fight (prepare me mentally for the task).  You qualify/establish/train me for battle.  Not against people, but against the enemy who wants to destroy me.  This is awesome, but I kind-of know that.  I am a fighter by nature.

Here, though, is where the real revelation came:  Not only does He equip me for battle, He equips me for rescue. Loving rescue that comes from Him, so that I can take refuge (shelter, protection, safety) IN Him.  

It's not always easy to allow myself to be rescued.  I'm strong-willed to a fault. But God, who knows how I am and just what I need, was preparing me for this moment for days in advance.  He was preparing me for my rescue. 

With a humble and sincere heart, I accepted His aid.  

For the first time since this whole ordeal started several weeks ago, I was able to pray blessings over the people involved.  In fact, not just blessings, but sincere, "my heart breaks for them" prayers.

And, that, my friends, is the gift.

Psalm 144:15 - Joyful indeed are those whose God is the Lord.

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Don't Fear, Just Dance

Her hair blew wildly as she twirled around.  Beach life suits her and our sweet girl was happy to be on a fishing pier enjoying the view, the wind, and the scent of the ocean air.

Something happened as she looked near her feet.  Her countenance changed.  Concerned, she pointed to the large gaps between some of the boards.  Those gaps, revealing a little too much water below in her opinion.  (Sidenote:  The pier was actually very safe...just not when left to the imagination of a six-year-old).



"Is this safe, Daddy?" "Are we going to fall?"

That sweet man of mine - the man who knows just how to ease the minds of both of his girls - lovingly assured her that everything was fine.  We were safe.


And, just like that, she looked up to the sky and the dancing resumed.

Worry no longer took residence in her thoughts.  She simply took her daddy at his word.  Trusted him without a second thought.  She knew he would not put her in an unsafe situation.

How often do I forget to take my Daddy - God - at His word?  How frequently do I question Him?  How many times do I wonder if the situation He has allowed me to enter into is unsafe?  Why do I allow my countenance to change when looking below?  Why don't I just look up, breathe in His truth and dance?

Want to join me in trusting and dancing today?  Let this truth sink in...

Proverbs 1:33 
But all who listen to me will live in peace,
    untroubled by fear of harm.