The Christian Life Cycle

Groggy from a late night of basketball watching (aka: being a supportive wife during March Madness), I pick up my devotion book, Jesus Calling by Sarah Young.

"There is a time in your life when you must learn to let go: of loved ones, of possessions, of control."

I stop reading. Those words...so wise. The follow through...so difficult.

How do we let go of the things we were once attached to deeply?  

How do we say, "God, this situation is yours, not mine?"

How do we let our hearts reject the rejection that we feel?

How do we let the constant reminders not be a source of pain?

How do we overcome a situation that has left our once rose-tainted glasses completely shattered as our vision blurs with tears?

I had the opportunity to be in a car by myself for a couple hours last night. As a mom of three littles, I can say that this rarely happens. Since I had just been in the van with all three children for the same amount of time, I was excited for the quiet and yet missing the noise all at the same time. 

Excited, yet missing.

Happy, yet melancholy.

A paradox of life really.

We can be in a season of great joy, yet in one of great pain. We can find ourselves grieving losses, yet celebrating arrivals. We can fear staying the same, yet still fear change. We can have growth in one area, yet experience failure in another.

For this girl who has realized that I do much better focusing on one task at a time than trying to do five things at once, this simultaneous myriad of emotions annoys me and can leave me feeling overwhelmed.

Here's the thing I'm learning: I become what I dwell on. 

I love to declutter my home regularly. If I ever need inspiration, I watch a few minutes of Hoarders and in no time I have bags of stuff to donate and get out of my house. It is so freeing dropping all the bags off, knowing that our "junk" will be someone else's treasure. 

Yet, how often do I actually declutter my mind? How often do I take all my thoughts to God and say, "Can You take these off my hands? Can my junk be turned into treasures for Your glory? Can You restore this situation into something beautiful? Can You help me sift through the thoughts that I just need to trash so that I can make more room for dwelling on You?"

I don't want to be a hoarder of emotions that are clogging up my thought life and preventing me from living an abundant, grace-filled life.  

Christian author Ann Voskamp tells of a conversation she had on an airplane with a rabbi:

"'You know how we all want more?' He holds up the full-to-the-top water bottle in front of me. 'Look at this. You can't have more unless you pour out. You can only receive more as you pour yourself out.'" 

So I'm pouring myself out to Him and letting the One who will never fail me, fill me. As I give Him my burdens, I am free to focus on His love. As His love fills me, I can pour it out to others for His glory. And, repeat.

It's a constant give and take, release and receive. It's the true cycle of the Christian life.

I continue reading my devotion and these words speak straight to this broken, yet whole heart:

"The One who never leaves you is the same One who never changes: I am the same yesterday, today and forever. As you release more and more things into My care, remember that I never let go of your hand. Herein lies your security, which no one and no circumstance can take from you." 

He Who Promises Is Faithful

Do you ever condemn yourself? 

Think you don't measure up?

Wonder if you are further away from God than you used to be?

Feel like because you fail daily, maybe He has turned from you?

Or, is that just me?

I had just had a conversation with my husband. "You're closer to God than you think."  

"Not possible." I said as I started to list my ever growing list of flaws.

A few minutes later - unaware of my discussion with her daddy - my girl wanted to show me the words she had just highlighted in her Bible.

Then this...

Sometimes, God needs to wake you up. Make you aware of His truth.

Never - this side of earth - will I arrive at the pinnacle of closeness to God. I'll always need to draw closer. Lean in. Press forward.

This I know though, His grace sustains. My guilt is large. His forgiveness, larger.  

His promises secure.  His redemption final.

Hope For Sale

Here's the thing about hope:  you can think it's lost.

You can ask me how I know. 

You can grow impatient in the waiting. Tired of the soul fighting.  Pained because of  battle wounds.  You feel forgotten.  Lost.  Helpless.  Hope vanquishes.  Once you feel hopeless in one area of your life, that hopelessness spreads.  It festers.  Chokes the living right out of you.

"To live without hope is to cease to live." -Fyodor Dostoevsky

Recently I was in my beloved Target.  The toddler was in need of new shoes.  He seemed to grow overnight and every pair at home no longer fit. So there he stood beside me in his worn out, too small shoes.  I was looking at shoes  while singing nursery rhymes to entertain him, and lost in thoughts of a morning conversation with a friend. "What if hope really is lost?" one of us asked.  We agreed, hope is never fully gone until the final breath is breathed.  Probably.

Right there in the shoe section, my boy decided to test his mommy.  He smiled first and then ran.  As I quickly grabbed his arm, I looked up.  Shoes that I had wanted to buy a few weeks before because of the cuteness factor were staring right at me.  Taunting me because this mama refuses to spend $24.99 on toddler shoes that won't fit in a couple months. Plus, it's been a week of unexpected expenses, so in an effort to support the man who supports us, unnecessary spending was not happening.

"Wook, Mama!  Wook at shoes!" He had spotted them, too.  "I want dose shoes!" 

I tried to get him to look at a less expensive pair.  He refused.  Sat down in defiance. 

"I WANT DOSE SHOES!"

I grabbed a pair for him to hold.  Anything to not cause a scene.  It was then I saw the glorious red tag covering the original price.  That tag that has convinced me to buy things I didn't need before because who doesn't love getting something that was $19.99 for $4.99?  I looked to see what the new cost was and almost laughed out loud.  Those $24.99 shoes were marked down to $7.48.  The two pair left hanging were not his size, but my boy was holding the pair that was. 

It's a good thing too, because he had already taken off his worn out shoes and I quickly realized he would walk no more without the new pair on his feet.

We walked around the rest of the store.  The toddler talking about his new shoes and grinning.  Me, grinning at my boy and thinking about my God.  He can take a silly pair of shoes and remind me of His goodness.  Of how He looks out for us.  He can gift me with the exact shoes we both liked for $17.00 less on the same week that we shelled out hundreds of dollars in repairs and suddenly hope springs eternal.  He reminds me that some things are worth the wait.  More special than if I choose to gratify a want right away.  

Sweet boy started to dance and sing:  

"I wike my shoes!  I wike my shoes!" 

His joy was contagious.  Strangers smiled. My heart soared. I almost texted my friend to tell her hope was on sale at Target for $7.48.

Some days hope feels lost.  Some days you find it in the shoe section at Target.  Truth is, ALL days His hope remains steady...even when we forget it's there.

Fresh Slates

A new year.  Fresh hopes.  New goals.  Big dreams.  Plans to live better.

So what happens when you're almost a full three weeks in and realize that the struggle has been a bit too real?  Routines have not been established.  Goals have not been pursued.  Dreams are nowhere closer to being fulfilled than they were on December 31st.  What happens when you have already grown weary of 2018 and are saddened that it doesn't seem to be shaping up to be any better than 2017?  What if you're lost in a sea of grief that still makes you feel as though you're drowning?  What if the habits you wished to get rid of followed you with ferocity when the clock struck midnight on January 1st?  What if your child is still sick and there is no hope of a remedy?  What if you are still battling cancer?  What if you are now jobless?  Newly separated?  What if the hope you had just a few days ago has waned?

What then?

My daughter was crying the other day because someone had walked in the one part of our yard that still had freshly fallen snow.  The rest of the snow in the yard had long been "messed" up with footprints and sled marks and remnants of snowball fights.  This portion, though, she planned to keep "beautiful."  

"Sweet girl, nothing lasts forever.  That beautiful snow is going to melt.  It will be gone in just a couple days.  This snow that has footprints and a snowman and all these marks will melt away, too. What will make you most happy about this day when you remember it later?  Will it be the snow that remained beautiful but that you never touched?  Or will it be the snow that you played in and laughed in and enjoyed?  The snow that made the memories is now not as pretty as the snow that you never walked in, but the memories will carry you through until the next snow fall."

I don't know if she really got it or not, but she stopped crying.  In that moment, I understood this:

Fresh slates are refreshing for the soul and beautiful to look upon. They quickly get mucked up with all that comes with living.  Some of the marks are harsh and sting much like a snowball to the face.  Sometimes you feel like your life is spinning out of control as quickly as you can sled down an icy hill.  There are those moments where you work hard toward your goals and build your legacy piece by piece - kind of like you make a snowman...and sometimes they fall apart much quicker than it took to built.  Other times, there are laughter and joy-filled moments that echo in your soul like the children's laughter echoed through our neighborhood on this winter wonderland-filled day.  There are bad moments and really bad moments.  Good moments and really great moments.  All these moments...all these marks on your slate tell a story of a life lived.  So don't give up if your slate seems "messed" up.  Don't think you need to wait for a new one.  Keep making your marks.  Dig in your heels when you start to slip.  Continue to scrape off the areas that have hardened with time.  Remember that what plagues you now will eventually not sting quite as much.  Cherish the moments that are worth savoring.  Learn from the moments that hurt.  And look up.  Look up to the One who holds the stars.

May the words of this Christian song ring true in your life in 2018:

If You can hold the stars in place

You can hold my heart the same

Whenever I fall away

Whenever I start to break

So here I am, lifting up my heart

If You can calm the raging sea

You can calm the storm in me

You're never too far away

You never show up too late

So here I am, lifting up my heart

To the One who holds the stars

Psalm 147:3-5
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
4 He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name.
5 Great is our Lord and mighty in power; His understanding has no limit.

Emoji Reminder

My mind is filled with thoughts that I want to write down.  So I open up a blank page.  Then my two sons start fighting over a Hokie bird.  We get distracted by a cardboard box and a game of running away from the "Box Man."  I return to my page to simply sign out.  Laughing to myself at thinking that I could ever write a post while my tribe is awake and bored and begging to go outside in the snow when it's not even 20 degrees out there yet.  Anxious thoughts of how to entertain these children all day start to come.  Then...then I see what's written below and while I don't feel like the "best" at anything these days...the sentiment is nice.  So as I go take care of a toddler who is now running around the house naked, my heart is filled with hope and joy and thankfulness for God using my 7-year-old girl and some emojis to remind me that these long days of loving on littles who all have minds of their own is not for naught.

I love you mommy you are the best. Love Addi!❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁❤😁!

Those Extraordinary Ordinary Moments

He dances and lifts his toddler hands as he watches his favorite worship band.  Each day the words that flow from his mouth while he sings are easier to understand. Extraordinary ordinary.

The little girl who gave her grief for weeks is now one of her "favorite best friends." Sweet, second-grade toothless smiles shine bright when they're together. Extraordinary ordinary.

He works so hard to provide well for our family and wanted to replace our 18" TV that was starting to lose color but it was super low on our priority list. Someone who didn't know his wish decided to gift us a 48" TV in great condition.  Extraordinary ordinary.

He was in tears because his prized football from his daddy was accidentally thrown on the roof of the school and there seemed to be no way to get it down.  Sweet friends who are like family found a way and celebrated in our sweet boy's joy.  Extraordinary ordinary.

I was cold and cranky this morning but texted some precious sisters in Christ and together we commiserated and laughed. Suddenly my load felt a little lighter.  Extraordinary ordinary.

Life is full of extraordinary ordnaries:

Young cousins who count down until the next time they see each other.

Sisters who find a way to communicate daily even through complicated schedules.

A husband who is more patient than his wife ever deserves.

A grandparent who delays surgery to make sure he can share Christmas with his grandkids.

Children who often teach their parents more than we teach them.

Neighbors who always make sure to wave.

Friends who check in often.

Playdates.

Family dinners after a long day.

Laughter that fills a house that love has made a home.

Extraordinary ordinary.  It infiltrates our lives.  Yet, for this stubborn, feisty, and a little weary human, it's sometimes easy to look past the daily blessings and focus on the thoughts that seem to hinder me from praising God.  But He is so loving.  When I seek Him, I find Him.  When I look around me, I can see His hand in every detail.  I don't need grandios events to know He is with me.  Suddenly the "darkness" that once flooded my mind is filled with the light of His goodness.  And, while I am not sure who first coined this term, this, my friends, is extraordinary ordinary.

The Fall Birthday

The baby we lost almost three and a half years ago would have been born this week.  While lost in thoughts of the three-year-old Fall birthday party that will never be, I watched my toddler who was lost in a world of bubbles and wonder.  If not for that fateful day in May when God allowed the heart that beat inside of me for 84 days to suddenly stop, this boy wouldn't be.  How I long to hold that sweet one, but then I wouldn't know the joy of a little guy who will stop in the middle of a temper tantrum to comfort someone if they pretend their crying.  I desire so much to get to hold the hand that we saw waving to us during an ultrasound only days before we miscarried, but then I wouldn't know the feeling of holding my smallest buddy's hand as we take our daily walk around our neighborhood.  I always wanted an Autumn baby, but then I wouldn't get to plan an Easter egg hunt on the birthday of our boy who reminds us daily of the new life that comes with Spring.  I wish to see our three-year-old playing in the yard with our other children, but then I wouldn't see our curly-haired tot looking mischievously at his siblings as he tries to ride his tricycle into the road.  I wonder what our family pictures would look like with a baby who was born in late October, but our family pictures are so special with the baby born in the middle of April. Our family is complete...and yet, it'll never be fully complete.  I will always be the mama of more than three children...it's just that most people who see our kids pile out of our minivan will never know that.

Grieving for a lost baby can all be a bit too much to take in, which is why I finally realized this:  There's no point in wondering why anymore.  It just is.  We'll never know why God chose us to walk this road.  Why He chose our family story to hold an indescribable pain that 1 in 4 families can understand.  We don't feel we should have been spared from this journey. Why should we have been?  We just wish it was different sometimes. Like when our 7-year-old questions why she can't have that sibling here with her.  Or when thoughts of the little life gone way too soon takes us by surprise. Or when our six-year-old - who almost never speaks of his sibling in Heaven -  randomly said yesterday that he wants to see the stone where "Izzy" (their name for the baby) was buried.  There is no stone.  No place that "she's" buried. That hurts.  Deeply.

However, I truly believe that some of life's greatest lessons and some of our most "prized" pieces of wisdom often come at great cost.  It's almost never fun in the process.  It's not fun now.  Yet, if it wasn't for this loss, I wouldn't relate to the suffering of so many women.  Like the grief of a precious friend who is remembering the loss she experienced on the very day that the doctor had said I would most likely give birth to the one we lost.  Why people release balloons for children they never got to really know.  That it's OK to say nothing "encouraging" when someone loses a child and only offer prayers.  I wouldn't understand that prayer needs to be said for those who long to hold their babies more in the quiet, nighttime hours than in the lively, daylight hours.  I wouldn't know the loneliness that comes with grieving for the one you never got to hold.  The desire to have something more than just a pregnancy test or ultrasound picture of the one you will always love but never get to see.

So this weekend I'll release two balloons with no fanfare :  One for our precious gift from God and one for the babies that were taken far too soon from family members and friends of ours.  We'll eat a birthday cupcake.  I'll pray that maybe for a second God will let our little one hear me say, "I love you."  And as my toddler enjoys his bubbles, I'll thank God for the miracle of life.  For the gifts He gives and the gifts He takes away.  For how He turns pain into understanding.  Sorrow into joy.  I'll never "get over" this loss but it definitely looks different now than it did at first.  God has answered this mama's prayer to turn this verse into reality and my awe and wonder of Him bubbles forth:

 He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. - 2 Corinthians 1:4

Happy Birthday, Izzy!  You are cherished and loved for always.

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