Learning faith from the (NOT) "happiest baby on the block."

A few weeks ago, this article found me at a vulnerable place concocted through sleeplessness and fatigue, and I sat in the lamplight at 4am, nursing a fussy little baby and just sobbing.

Truth be told, as much of a miracle and precious gift our sweet N has been, it has been equally challenging and frustrating to figure out how to love her best. Without making any other comparisons between the two (because that's just not fair), this sums it up best I think: with E, it was as if I instantly knew her, knew what she needed, understood her cries, and we just 'connected;' with N, I feel confused, lost, struggling against hopelessness with a myriad of issues and, instead of connecting, I feel like we are one of those oil and water pieces that sits on side tables - shoved together inside the same container but, because of the physical properties that exist in each substance, completely unable to meld.

Don't get me wrong, I love her dearly. And each day we are working at it. I am not going to give up on her. But I have sat many days in the middle of tears, praying and struggling against the notion that I/we deserve better. That because I am working so hard to resolve the issues she faces, that we should be in a better place by now. That because I have given up every last food on the planet except rice, beans and chicken (Dear Chocolate: I miss you...), that I should be rewarded with a baby who doesn't scream after every meal. That because our family loves her so much and tries so hard to give her everything she could possibly need (even a big 4-year-old sister that would go to the moon and back for her), that she would've learned by now to trust us, to smile at us, to wake up happy that she has been borne into this family that loves her so dearly. That because of all my prayers and tears and pleas, God should be moving in ways that I understand a little more.

And then, in middle of a 4am crying jag, I read this:

"The proud heart believes “I deserve better.” It finds itself worthy not only of what it currently possesses, but also of whatever it desires. This is never a longing for justice, or even enough. It is a deadly mixture of discontent and greed. It is this belief that leaves us unsatisfied with the gifts God has given us, and incapable of rejoicing with those who have more. It is this belief that leaves us angry at every inconvenience and affliction because after all, I deserve all things to go my way. Where there is pride this belief is alive and well."

Yikes.

I am having to completely rearrange my heart and mind around the fact that what God has designed and planned for N and I is good in spite of the fact that it feels SO not good. Though I feel as though I am making prayerful, Spirit-led decisions for her, they don't necessarily lead to "the happiest baby on the block." Which, through sin-infested, human-tainted eyes, looks like failure. But the Spirit in me urges me to trust in the One True God and believe in His promises, and have faith that He is working even when I don't perceive it.

So, as with all things, God is using little N to teach me to lean into Him a little more, to persevere when things are tough, to trust Him to be the One to overcome and make all things new. And in the words of my very good (and wise) friend, "What a great and loving way for Him to do that." So true, my friend. So very, very true.

Welcome, little N.

On August 5th, 2012 at 3:57 in the afternoon at Atlanta Medical Center, we welcomed Miss N into our family. Birthing her completely naturally in the water was by far one of the most incredible and fulfilling moments of my life. We are so thankful that she is here with us, and look forward to getting to know her more and more as the days unfold.

Failure.

With CrossFit, it's interesting how many times you come to the end of yourself within a "short" twelve-minute workout. As a coach, I can't even count the number of times that I've bent down next to someone to remind them - "You're okay. You're not dying. It's called 'failure.' Your muscles have reached a point where they must momentarily recover before they will continue working the way your brain is telling them to work. Count out 3-5 breaths and then try again to get a few more. You're doing great. Just keep working at it." In fact, the only reason I know how to say those things to others is because I've said them to myself a million times in the middle of a WOD.

Even though I haven't really been able to challenge myself to the physical point of failure in the gym lately, I have more than met my share of it in the real world. And today, for whatever reason, has just been ripe with it.

A swim lesson that ended up being too cold sent my usually brave and cheerful little one into an absolute and total meltdown. And since this isn't our first rodeo with swim lessons that haven't gone the way I hoped, I'll be honest - it was discouraging and frustrating in the moment. I didn't react to her tears the way that I should have (I think I remember saying something like, "Look around, E....is there anyone else around here crying because it's a little cold outside?" Which, before you judge, was actually a lot kinder and gentler than the scream that I was forcing down at the moment). There were many moments of "failure" all wrapped up into that experience.

A play date that was scheduled last week for today with a sweet friend I have been trying to get together with for ages? Forgotten. Yep - just totally and completely forgotten in the moment of swimming tears and tiredness and trying to figure out what to do to get this day back on track. After scratching all the other things we had planned for the morning - library time, chiropractor, grocery store - and coming home and putting her straight to bed praying a nice nap/rest time would act as a "reset" button, I had just settled into some rest time myself when my phone rang from the kitchen for the third time in a row and it occurred to me that I was probably forgetting something important. Yep, I was. Shoot. Failure.

A tree service rep that came by three weeks ago gives me one price, then after making a friend-to-friend connection with my dad, quotes my dad a completely different (better) price than the one he gave me. Overall, this is definitely a success - a better price is always a good thing. But sometimes it's just hard in this world not to pull the feminism card and whine about the fact that men seem to work out better "deals" with other men than they do with women who are not as savvy on the market of "man" things. I talk with three different tree service men and get three pretty similar quotes (all obviously a little exorbitant), and my dad calls one guy and gets a $200 better deal which includes three whole extra trees and some large limbs off two others that weren't even part of the original discussion. Again, I know I'm complaining. In the end, we got a better deal and a good, fair price. But today it felt like I failed.

And then there's pregnancy. The constant day-to-day feeling that there's always something that I should be doing around the house or as a mom or as a wife or as a human...and yet the constant comments/pressure from those around me (that love me, I know...) that I need to be sitting down, putting my feet up, getting enough rest, taking care of this baby that is growing inside of me. So if I'm getting stuff done, I'm failing at resting. If I'm resting, I'm failing at getting stuff done. If I'm helping/parenting/playing with my four-year-old, I'm failing at resting. If I'm not helping/playing with her, I'm failing at parenting. And the battle rages on. Some days (today, for example), I just feel like a failure no matter what I choose.

Tomorrow I will probably write about rainbows and sunshine and giggles, or better yet - hopefully Jesus will invade my sinful, self-centered heart and remind me how stinking blessed I am and I will be able to come back tomorrow (or tonight) with a renewed heart and perspective on the things that really do matter. But today - for right now - this is just how I feel. This is just where I am. And it's where I need and am asking Jesus to meet me. And I'm trusting that he is able to do more than I can imagine.

Motherhood.

"Motherhood is not a hobby, it is a calling. You do not collect children because you find them cuter than stamps. It is not something to do if you can squeeze the time in. It is what God gave you time for."
-Rachel Jankovic

I'm thankful to be a mom today.

Thankful for the one I have here in my arms, reminding me of the ways God goes before us and answers prayers we don't even know we should be praying, blessing us with things that we are not even sure how to ask for. The Lord has used E to both increase my faith and belief in Him and to sift selfishness and humanity out of me as I strive each day to be all I am called to be as a mom. She is a true joy to me, and a beautiful jewel in the crown of motherhood that I am so fortunate to be called to wear.

Thankful for the one I have kicking about in my belly this morning, reminding me of God's tender and true mercies and of His goodness and graciousness to us as He answers prayers that not only we have prayed for ourselves but that hundreds of others have prayed on our behalf. The journey of faith that I have been on with N has caused my faith in Jesus Christ to increase all the more.

Thankful for the two little ones that are already joined with Christ in heaven today. These two momentary gifts to me have caused me to dig deeply into the cross and find faith in places that I did not even know existed. They have challenged my misconceptions of who Jesus is and what God's purposes are for my life. Through them, God given me eyes and a heart that long for heaven and the fulfillment of the gospel and revelation of Jesus Christ. Through them, I have known the height and depth and breadth of the love of Christ and of His people to me. Because of them, I am convinced even more that my God is who He says He is, and that His desire for me is good and His affections for me are great.

And along the way, I have learned a deep and powerful lesson that none of them are truly "mine" - they all belong to the Lord. I am given a precious gift and mercy to steward them and demonstrate His love to them for as long as He allows, but their lives are all designed and destined to walk in step to His eternal calling and His perfect will.

PreK-3 Spring Program.

Tonight E had her little spring program for school at a local church. The kids were all - of course - strictly well-behaved, stood perfectly in a line, sang every word with perfect pitch and glorious harmony........right..................

It might be fair to say that in order to truly enjoy and appreciate a program where all the songs are sung off-pitch, none of the performers are ever right on cue, and chaos could potentially break out at ANY moment - you really need to be a parent or grandparent of one of the ones on the stage. Because all I could do the whole time I watched was smile and laugh at how perfectly the program portrayed my little one's personality and disposition at this age. I loved every moment.

Pressing on into thankfulness.

Today was one of those days. I feel like I could probably stop with that one sentence and half the people in the world would just nod their heads in either agreement or understanding. But since I probably won't remember why it was one of those days a year from now, I'll continue explaining.

Today was my "early" day at CrossFit. My morning started at 4:35am, and I got to the gym at 5:15am, breakfast shake at the ready. Even though I'm not technically a morning person, I have come to love early mornings at the CrossFit box, simply because I love the people there. I love coaching them, I love seeing them train hard, improve, accomplish goals, encourage each other on........the whole aura of CrossFit is just amazing.

But the early days wear on me for sure. By noon, when I'm grabbing lunch somewhere, I usually feel like I should call it dinner and start winding down for bed.

Anyway, so on top of the early morning today, I had several other things lined up: leave CrossFit, jet across town and pick up a prescription for hubby who was headed out of town today; make it home in time to change out of gym clothes into real clothes, freshen up, and grab a few necessities; meet hubby to head to Atlanta for a baby appointment; drop hubby off at airport for a business trip; beat the start of the afternoon Atlanta traffic; stop by Costco for a few necessities; pick up E by 5pm from after-school care; come home-dinner-bathtime-housework-bedtime-etc.; fall into bed exhausted at a reasonable hour.

Against all expert advice, I had left no room for "margin" today.

So, when I pulled into the pharmacy to pick up hubby's prescription and heard the "thump-thump-thump" of what I prayed would not be my car's left rear tire (and it was), I felt the walls close in a little.

By the time L had made it to where I was (instead of me coming to pick him up where he was), he had called a friend and made arrangements to have the spare tire put on while we were in Atlanta. Good husband and good friend.

Once in the car, I had to take some time to pray for God to quiet my anxious heart and replace my attitude of frustration at the circumstances with an attitude of thankfulness for the way He provided. I wanted to feel joyful that He took care of me, kept me safe even though my tire went flat, allowed my husband to easily switch plans to come to me, provided a friend at just the right moment so that I would not come home past dark to a car in an empty lot with a flat tire and a kid that needed to be in bed instead of out running errands. And as I prayed and started at that point to take inventory of all the mercies God poured out on me today, I did press on into thankfulness.

Thankfulness that:
-We have a healthy, growing little baby due in August. Seeing her sweet little face on ultrasound today was so so good.
-A friend that jumped at the ready to serve us by changing my flat tire across town during the middle of his busy day.
-Another friend who, after taking me to pick up my car and laughing aloud with me about the "toy wheel" that was meant to be a spare, followed me back across town driving all of 35 mph to be sure I made it home safely.
-Yet some other friends who care enough about my stupid vanity regarding the varicose and spider veins that seem to be plaguing my legs this pregnancy to coordinate efforts on helping me score some maternity stockings. It's worldly, it's insignificant on any kingdom level of thinking, but still it bothers me. And they care. And that means a lot.
-And another friend who was willing to play back-up on my childcare plans in the event that I got stuck in Atlanta traffic. Even though her list of things to do today was longer than mine.
-A husband who pursues me and insists on making me laugh.
-A bubble bath at the end of a long, tired day.
-A kiddo who sang every thought in her head to the tune of "The Star Spangled Banner" on the drive home from CrossFit while persisting that I played "hide-and-go-seek" with her in the car. Yes, we were both buckled and I was driving. No, I don't understand why it was still entertaining in her eyes, but it was.
-A good dog that scares away the bad guys at night (hypothetical, but still it calms my fears when L is gone overnight).

So many things to be thankful for today, and that's only a few. It was worth it to press through the thick cloud of anxiety about how this day would actually work and start tasting the fruit of joy and peace with how this day would work. And it did work.

And....I just cried like a baby.

The Story of Ian and Larissa.

Nothing that I could say could add to the beauty of this, so I won't try.

To be a fly on the wall.

If you were a fly on the wall in our household this week, here are a few quips/conversations you might have overheard:

E: "Mama, when N gets here, she's going to start getting spankings too, right?"

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E: "Mama, did you know Jesus is the Bost of the sea, and Jesus is the Bost of the wind, and Jesus is the Bost of the waves? Did you know that??"

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E (looking through pictures on my phone): "Mama, daddy is so so silly. (Flip to the next picture). And mama, you are so so beautiful."

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Daddy: "E, let's talk about why you were crying today at CrossFit."
E: "Well, daddy. I was ready to leave and I was just waiting and waiting and waiting, and you were just talking and talking and talking. So I just decided to start crying."

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E: "Mama, can I roll down the window so I can be cool?"
Me: "No, baby. We've got the air on so if you roll down the window it will let the hot air in."
E: "No it won't, mama. It feels cool outside."
Me: "Baby, it's hot outside."
E: "No I felt it - it's cool."
Me: "E, I'm not going to argue with you over this. I told you that you cannot roll down the window."
E: "I'm not arguing, mama. I'm telling the truth."
*insert stern glance from mama to kiddo in the rearview mirror*
E: "I...I...I didn't say anything mama. I don't want to be in trouble. Nothing I said mama. I didn't say anything."

Discipline gets harder and harder.

I've decided that disciplining your kids takes a huge turn when they start acting "offended" by your punishments/sentences instead of just simply being saddened by it.

In our house, because we've said it so often, E can probably tell you in her sleep what the gravest crimes are: lying and disobeying (deliberately). She knows what the punishment is for these crimes. She shouldn't be caught off guard when we get to the point of needing to correct these behaviors that are not only deemed inappropriate in our household but also are an offense to an Almighty God.

But lately, every time we get to the end of the road with these two issues and discipline is appropriate and even necessary, my right brain hesitates for a moment before my left brain hits the override button and continues forward with what must happen. It is difficult to break that relationship with her for even the slightest moment. It is hard to remind myself that this is for her (and our) good. It is tough to walk in obedience to the way the Lord has called me to parent and to trust the Him to do a work in her heart and remove sin and restore our relationship. Disciplining is NOT fun. And it used to come quite naturally and much easier, but I seem to be losing a grip on that too.

I'm sure some of it has to do with the fact that I'm tired and a little (a LOT) behind the eight-ball these days due to carrying around and growing another human inside of me. But a lot of it also has to do with the fact that E is developing so much these days. Our relationship is much more of a two-way street: for nearly as much love and care as I pour into her, she returns it with her own little words of affirmation and attempts at serving me and helping me. And when I must step into my God-given role of disciplining her, which - in turn - severs that relationship with her momentarily - she reacts now by withholding her love and affection for me, which hurts. A lot. For a short time, I do not get words of affirmation from her. For a moment in the day, she does not want to help me cook in the kitchen the way she did five minutes ago. Instead of just running off to her room crying like she did when she was two, she fights back by closing herself off to me while still in my presence. And I am left to pray desperately to the only Person left that can still speak to her in those moments - my (and her) heavenly Father.

And He is faithful. Though Satan stands ready to speak doubts in my ear each and every time I come to this fork in the road, God has remained faithful to His promise to continue to speak tenderly to her and call her out of the wilderness. My relationship with her after I follow through with loving, Spirit-filled discipline is always better than it was before. And because I definitely do not always get it right, I'm finding that it's even BETTER when I get the opportunity to apologize to her for my mistakes and frustration-filled reactions, asking her for forgiveness and giving her an opportunity to extend grace.

And, I'm sure it only gets more difficult the older they get. I guess that just means I get more opportunities to prove God's faithfulness. :)

The Gospel Truth.

“When kids are young, you just need to put stuff in them so that when you shake them, they just throw up Bible.” - J.D. Greear

Read this quote in a Trevin Wax interview with J.D. Greear. Made me laugh and shout "Amen" all at the same time. I think the point he was getting at was that kids don't need to be learning morality in their homes, they need to breathing gospel truth. Morality tells us that we should "do this" or "don't do that." Gospel truth tells us that we have a loving God that wants us to know Him and be like Him so that we can enjoy the blessing of communion with Him and others forever and ever without the conflict of sin and pain and injury and death. The road to morality is abiding by the law and relying on our goodness alone; the road to Gospel truth is accepting grace from the hand of God and relying on the saving work of Jesus Christ and His Lordship alone. Morality ends in a story that's all about us; Gospel Truth ends in a story that's all about Jesus.

And our kids pick up on this vicariously through the way we teach them, correct them, discipline them, and love them. And we parents know the difference too - that outburst in the middle of the grocery store check-out lane or on the way out of the doors at church when our flesh reacts to the embarrassment of our child's behavior and we reach out and pull our child close, use a disapproving tone of voice and remind them of certain acceptable social manners that have no sure footing in Biblical truth. When our kids ask "why" and we respond with "because I said so" instead of taking a moment to root our instruction in the Word of God and give them one more connection to the reality and relevancy of the gospel. When we react with a little less than Godly love because we too are tired and ready for the comfort of our own bed, and - instead of humbly asking for their forgiveness and using the moment as an opportunity to teach them how to extend grace - we just pray that they will go to sleep quickly and forget about it by morning.

Our kids - like it or not - are "throwing up" only what they've eaten. And as an American (and especially Southern) society, we spoon-feed our kids morality lessons. We miss so many opportunities to extend them grace and forgiveness or ask them to extend grace and forgiveness to us, and then we wonder why they have a problem doing it at school with their own friends on the playground. We want scripture to be relevant to them, but we don't "teach them to [our children]" or "talk about them when [we] are at home and when [we] are on the road, when [we] are going to bed and when [we] are getting up" (Deut 11:19) the way that scripture commands. We want our kids to grow up to have a heart to serve others but we model selfishness for them, not necessarily by being selfish ourselves, but by ordering our family's world around serving their needs - their sports, their interests, their hobbies, their school activities. As parents, we lay our own lives down in "sacrifice" over the wrong altars, pointing our kids to worship everything that this world has to offer them and missing the burning bush completely.

And we do not do it intentionally. All parents (save a few) really do want what's best for their kids. Most Christian parents that I know really do want their kids to love Jesus. But sometimes, what I wonder is this: Do we want our kids to love Jesus because Jesus makes our kids more tolerable in the moment? Or do we want our kids to love Jesus because we want them to experience the blessing of a grace-filled relationship with Jesus for all of eternity?

Daddy love.

E has historically been quite the mama's girl, usually picking me over her daddy for most day-to-day occurrences - riding in the car, reading books at night, etc. Not sure why, really - that's just the way it's always been.

But these past few weeks, she's been noticeably a little more attached to her daddy and atypically preferring him over me in many situations. Which - to be honest - though it's been a little surprising, it's actually a little refreshing to see her bond with him become more evident.

She even broke down and cried one morning when she realized upon waking that her daddy had already left for work. Big crocodile tears because she missed her daddy. While one part of my heart broke, the other part swelled - I love that she's identifying the immense weight he carries in her life.

So, imagine my surprise when she walks up to a statue at a restaurant tonight that looked like this, and exclaimed: "Mama, I love him! He looks like my daddy!"

 

And, after remembering the photo of him that I snapped on my phone a week ago - one that makes her laugh out loud every time she sees it, I can almost see the resemblance...

Either way, though, I gotta say I'm lovin' this new-found love for daddy. I love him too, so it's just one more thing that she and I get to agree on. ;)

Muffins for moms.

Three times today with three different people I have had conversations on the topic of divorce, blended families, and absent parents. Strange coincidence? Maybe. But usually I end up looking back on something like this a few days/weeks/months later and say, "Ohhhhhh, I get it now. That's why you brought those conversations up with those certain people at that certain time." Not always, but usually it kinda perks my radar up for something that God may be doing in my life and/or the lives of those around me. So I've put my listening ears on.

It started with a conversation about a program that E's school does each year - "Muffins for Moms." Pretty self-explanatory, I think - the kids spend a few weeks working on special things to give their moms, and on a designated morning the moms show up and receive those gifts and the kids get to show off their classroom and friends, etc. This is a great idea in a perfect world, and maybe a great idea in a not-so-perfect world in theory. In reality, because of the number of broken homes in this world, coupled with the fact that not every mom has a schedule that easily coincides with being able to attend these types of functions, there are inevitably a few kids that get left out - even when everyone does their best to make sure they are included. And I don't necessarily think the answer isn't to avoid programs like this entirely, but it does make things a little uncomfortable.

The second conversation revolved around situations where friends of ours and also separate and totally unrelated friends of this other person were going through a divorce because the husband just decided to leave one day - no warning, no apparent reason, no excuses. Just gone. Kids were involved, some of them very young. Infidelity played its part but seemingly only as secondary to the fact that really they "just didn't love" their spouse any longer because of one reason or another. Both husbands claimed to be Christians and yet were walking completely and totally outside of the covenant of marriage that God designed and proclaimed in Scripture. Strange. And scary to imagine that it could happen so easily.

And the third conversation was spent mostly discussing the reality of blended families, broken families, families in which additional marriages did or didn't cause stress on the children of the original set of parents. How the kids responded to those new parental figures in their lives. How the parents responded to the new spouses of their previous husband or wife.

The whole time I tried - really tried - to not sound like a moron about the topic. Because when it comes to blended/broken/step-families, I really do not have a whole lot of experience. My parents have been married for over 30 years, my mom's parents have been married for over 50 years, and my dad's parents have been married for over 60 years. I did not grow up in a home that felt the effects of a blended family. So my experience with this has been very limited and I just don't feel like I usually have anything valuable to offer to someone in this type of situation.

So today I mostly listened. And considered what the Lord was trying to teach me in all of this. Wondering what He is up to in my life that I would need to have these coordinated conversations on this day. Thankful for the husband that I do have, knowing that not only does he not have the desire to seek divorce but that also he has surrounded himself with other like-minded guys/men that keep him in check on his behaviors, thoughts, lifestyles that would lead him down that path or leave him open to the Enemy's attacks. So thankful for those guys because it relieves me of the duty of being the only one there to "protect" my husband from potential footholds (i.e., nag about situations or behaviors of his that I am uncomfortable with). Instead, I get to trust that the same God that is at work in my life is at work in his, and any sin or potential sin that needs to be addressed will be done by and through the men that are daily in his life and holding him accountable to that holy standard - which brings so much peace and security to my heart and mind.

I missed my peeps.

For the past three days, I've been on hiatus from my "real life." E and I took a trip north to babysit for some friends who have a rather large bunch of kiddos and were going to be out of town for a few days. We've done this before, but this would be my first time just me - since L had to stay home and juggle work and home for us while I would be gone.

I was looking forward to the small break from the usual routine - it had been a while since we had gone anywhere, and even though babysitting seven kids plus my own while being six months pregnant isn't exactly a vacation, it was nonetheless a change of pace and therefore exciting to say the least.

And probably because it was being covered in massive amounts of prayer, everything went very smoothly, and I would dare say it was even a lot of fun. :) The kids were all on best behavior, the little girls (E, E, and E...no kidding), played like best friends, no one broke anything (albeit one bloody knee), relatively few tears, lots of laughter (and drama), and not one person got out of bed even once during the night for the three days and two nights I was there. Totally miraculous in my opinion.

One thing that I did NOT expect though was how much I would miss my community back home during those few short days. Because I tend toward the introverted side, added to the fact that this has been my first opportunity to "run away" in a while, I honestly expected to not really miss being away with the exception of a few obvious things - including snuggling with my hubby at night. What I found, however, was that I very much missed the community of folks that I normally bump into each day, and the ways they encourage me through the conversations we get to have along the way. I didn't realize how much I had changed and have become someone who depends greatly on the relationships I have with others, and because this is something that I have prayed for God to do in me for several years now, it was refreshing and exciting to see and feel the progression in my life toward becoming a more relational person.

To whom much is given.

L and I comment sometime- both in truth and in jest - that if we take Jesus' words to his disciples in Luke 12:44 to heart, then he apparently must not trust us very much in the finances department. ;) In "jest" because truth be told we are richer than the majority of people in the world, in truth because the honest answer is that we still have a long ways to go to being faithful stewards of what God has entrusted to us financially. However, thanks to a cool little program called "YNAB (You Need A Budget), a husband that has been faithful to step up and lead our family in good decisions, and the Lord's good and gracious work in my own life and heart, we are getting better now. Not that we we were carrying a ton of debt or anything, but we still were not in a place of freedom to be able to "go and send" the way we wanted to and the way we know we are called to. I still have a lot of work to do in this area though. To be honest, when I consider what it would be like to have a bigger income, I almost always jump to the things in life that would be "easier" rather than the ways I could support and sustain and engage in the advance of the gospel. My flesh tendency is to use money to bastion the walls of this earthly castle, surrounding and protecting my own investments - family, friends, future - rather than consider whether God may be testing and proving me to be faithful with money He wants to place in the hands of those on the front lines of advancing the gospel. I know there are a ton of people in this world that have been given exuberant amounts of money who spend it on their own pleasures with no thought of Gods desires or plans. And of course I look at them sometimes with jealous eyes and with a coveting heart, wanting the life of ease they portray as they lounge on their yachts and eat their chef-prepared food while their nanny entertains their baby and they discuss the atrocity of their condo becoming unavailable to them next month, and "Oh my god, what ARE we going to do?" (Okay, so maybe I would rather throw up in my mouth than have that kind of life). But still, some days I definitely do catch myself thinking that somewhere in between would definitely be a little nicer all around. But the point I think Jesus was trying to make in the passage above was actually one that makes the "richer" life the more difficult one. The servant was expected to still serve to the pleasure of the master regardless of whether or not his master was present. And when the master returned, the state of the household spoke for the integrity of the servant. I do think that God cares and is saddened by those who are careless and wasteful with their finances. He will return and set all things right one day, to the shame of those who have been self-serving with the resources he gave to them. His justice is perfect and righteous and good, and He will redeem all things to His glory one day. Until then, we are all servants that have been trusted with the management of His kingdom here on earth, and we are called to be faithful with all things He has entrusted to us. And as we continue in this process of sanctification, my belief is that He will continue to provide us with the things we need and give us an abundance only so that we can further the advance of His name to all the world, and hasten His return and our salvation from a world that is truly fading.

We were created to sleep.

I love to sleep. So it's no surprise really that I created a kiddo that loves to sleep too. And I probably did take for granted how quickly and easily she started sleeping through the night; with only a handful of exceptions, she's gotten a consistent, unbroken 9-10 hours of sleep every night since she was 10 weeks old. Before you hate on me, though, keep in mind I have another one coming in a few months....and I hear they are never the same. ;)

On the spiritual side, I do think it's interesting that God created us to sleep. His Word tells us that He created us in His image, yet also tells us that He never slumbers nor sleeps. Of all the things He chose to make us "human," I wonder why sleep was important to Him. I wonder why He felt the need to create the concept of "sleep."

Whatever the reasons, it's obvious that we DO need it. And that we suffer without it. And that we can choose to honor God with it in the same way we can choose to honor God with other daily activities (eating, drinking, working, playing, etc). D.A. Carson says:

"Doubt may be fostered by sleep deprivation. If you keep burning the candle at both ends, sooner or later you will indulge in more and more mean cynicism—and the line between cynicism and doubt is a very thin one. Of course, different individuals require different numbers of hours of sleep: moreover, some cope with a bit of tiredness better than others. Nevertheless, if you are among those who become nasty, cynical, or even full of doubt when you are missing your sleep, you are morally obligated to try to get the sleep you need. We are whole, complicated beings; our physical existence is tied to our spiritual well-being, to our mental outlook, to our relationships with others, including our relationship with God. Sometimes the godliest thing you can do in the universe is get a good night’s sleep—not pray all night, but sleep. I’m certainly not denying that there may be a place for praying all night; I’m merely insisting that in the normal course of things, spiritual discipline obligates you get the sleep your body need. (Scandalous, 147)

Sister love.

I'm pretty sure E's already in love with her little sister. She asks about her, waves at her (at my belly), kisses her (my belly), has named some of her stuffed animals after her, and continuously asks if it's summer yet (since that's her only concept of the time frame for when N will arrive). I even walked into her room one night to find her up and out of bed, doing something I couldn't see because her back was turned. When I started to raise my voice with a stern reminder, "E, why are you out of bed...," she moved out of the way and I realized she was tucking one of her very special blankies around a doll she had placed in the other twin bed in her room. "But mom, the baby was crying so I had to give her one of my blankies." Heart...melted.

I know it won't be all (or even mostly) kisses and hugs around here, but I am looking forward to seeing my big girl interact with her little sis, and already scheming on if there's a right way to parent so that they can one day truly be best friends.

This same sweet bond has caused me probably the most apprehension about this pregnancy though. E talks rather frequently about the brother and sister that she has in heaven, and even announced to me one day in the car as we were driving, "You know my brother and sister in heaven, mama? One day God is going to give us our brother and sister back and we are going to see them and hold them and love them." What goes on in their little hearts and minds is truly amazing sometimes.

In fact, though I've held a lot of anxiety in my heart about this pregnancy, there's only been a few days that I've "lost it" and just cried my heart out before the Lord. And one of those days was a moment where I just simply broke down and begged the Lord not to take another sibling away from my little E. Because both of my previous pregnancies had progressed so far, she was already aware that I was pregnant and we had already talked about her being a "big sister." Though, maybe because of age or the Lord's good grace, she never really bonded to her brother or sister in my belly those times. But this time around - whether because she's older or because she's more sensitive to the fragility of it all or both - she's been so interested, so bonded, so quickly. And part of my fear for this pregnancy has been for how it will mark her and shape her understanding of the Lord if things don't "work out" the way she hopes and dreams.

But it definitely helped to admit that to the Lord and to myself that day, and I have started to trust a little more each day in N's future. And this past Thursday, when we went to the midwife clinic, I experienced another little moment between two sisters that I will cherish. When it came time for the midwife to measure my belly and listen to the heartbeat, she turned to E, "Want to help me measure your baby sister and find her heartbeat?" E perked up and they pulled a chair over to the table where I was sitting so that E could stand at the right level. The midwife assisted E in stretching out the tape over my belly, measuring my size in cm, and then comparing it to the circumference of E's head just for fun. Then she handed E the bottle of gel and E squeezed so gel onto the dopplar wand. Hand over hand, the midwife helped E place the wand on the right spot on my belly, and the heartbeat (and E's face) came to life. "There's your baby sister's heartbeat," the midwife said. E responded with a giggle and N with a kick. Me - my heart simply overflowed as I tried to blink back the tears.

The Doctors.

In all honesty, when I first found out we were expecting little N, I wasn't exactly thrilled. It's not that I was opposed to the idea of being pregnant again, my heart just was not ready. I had just recently had a miscarriage with no known causes or reasons - my second time having a 2nd-trimester miscarriage - and I was still being tossed around by the idea of a God that would choose to take not just one but two seemingly perfectly healthy babies onto heaven when - in my opinion - they would've had a pretty decent life here on earth (I know that sounds so arrogant (it is), but it's honestly one of the things I struggled with the most).

My mothering instincts kicked in quickly though, regardless of whether my heart was going to engage or not. I scheduled an appointment with yet another OB, hoping this time that someone would give me an answer to why I could so easily get pregnant but not carry a baby to term - this fact alone was becoming maddening.

My first visit with the new OB proved she wasn't for me, though. I'm sure she was truly great in her field, but I was looking for answers and she just wanted me to trust that she could take care of me without filling me in on all the details and allowing me to bring my questions and thoughts and limited research to the table. Probably a great way to run a practice (she IS the expert), but this girl was having a hard enough time trusting GOD - much less a human.

On the advice of a good great friend, I ended up at a midwife clinic about an hour and a half away - definitely a haul but totally worth it so far. They ended up referring me to a specialist and it was there that I finally started to get some (earthly) answers regarding the source of my prenatal issues. The bottom line is that I have some genetic predispositions plus some acute immunodeficiency responses that are combining to make my womb a difficult place for a baby to thrive. There are some medical interventions that the specialist recommended that we are currently following that has seemed so far to allow me to continue unhindered with this pregnancy. But the funny/interesting part is that many of these issues, because they are genetic, were present when I was pregnant with E as well, and I never had any problems at all with her pregnancy. Which wraps back around to God's sovereignty and omnipotence in all things, leaving me thankful for modern medicine but ultimately completely dependent on the grace and mercy that the Lord provides to us on a daily basis regarding the future of our family (well, and all other things really).

Faith is NOT active?

"Faith means not doing something but receiving something; it means not the earning of a reward but the acceptance of a gift. A man can never be said to obtain a thing for himself if he obtains it by faith; indeed to say that he does not obtain it for himself but permits another to obtain it for him. Faith, in other words, is not active but passive; and to say that we are saved by faith is to say that we do not save ourselves but are saved only by the one in whom our faith is reposed; the faith of man presupposes the sovereign grace of God." -J. Gresham Machen


I don't know about you, but I got kinda dizzy the first time through reading the above quote. So I read it again. And again.

And I kept getting stuck on the phrase "faith...is not active but passive." Wait...what? Did he really mean to say that? But I think he did.

As I look back over the past few months and consider my "faith," I must admit that I've spent a lot of time launching darts at myself for not having enough faith. But as I read the above words (and Galatians 2:16), I realize that the root is not my lack of faith but my lack of God. The places in my heart and mind that struggled with believing in His plans for me were places that I had yet to allow God to invade with His Truth. I couldn't "turn on" the faith in those areas because I cannot create faith. And acceptance of faith requires humility and submission to God's infinite grace.

Author's Note: I'm sure this is probably an oversimplification of the full spectrum of "faith." This piece of it just happened to really strike me tonight as I considered the past few months of feeling so overwhelmed by the topic of faith and my seemingly small quantity of it in regards to the specifics of God's plan for our family's future. For the full article (which justifies and explains the quote much more fully, click here.)

We get to choose.

A few weeks back, E and I were at home coloring - one of her favorite things for us to do together. At that moment, I think we were using colored pencils, which are of short supply in our house, so we were having to share a few select colors. As I finished with one and was headed for another, she reached down and grabbed two of them, holding them up to me.

"Mama, do you want the red pencil or the blue pencil this time."


"Hmm, I think I'll take the blue one."

Handing me the red one, she replied, "No, I want the blue one so you can have the red one first."

Because I'm her mama, I honestly could not have cared less which one I ended up with and was happy for her to use the blue one if that's the one she wanted. But, since there are rare opportunities for me to navigate appropriate "peer" interactions with her, and this was a situation that - if I had been a peer and she had offered me a choice and then didn't allow me to have what I requested - might cause some tension, I opted for a little instruction in social etiquette.

"Well, E - now that wasn't very nice. You offered me a choice between the red pencil and the blue pencil, and I chose the blue pencil. So the nice thing for you to do was to give me the blue pencil because that's the one I wanted when you asked."

And without skipping a beat (or taking a breath), she responded, "Well, mommy, sometimes we don't always get what we want. And when we don't get what we want, we don't pitch a fit. We just have to 'choose' our mind to have a good attitude. Because we get to choose whether we have a good attitude or a bad attitude, and Jesus wants you to choose to have a good attitude because that makes Jesus happy when we choose to have a good attitude. So you can be happy mama. And you'll get your turn with the blue pencil in a minute."

Yep, I know. I'm in trouble.

The lawn care issue in our marriage - Part 2.

You might ask: "So, J, if you really wanted the lawn mowed at a certain point in time, and you didn't want to pay someone to do it, then why didn't you just mow the lawn yourself?"
I'm so glad you asked that question. Really.

Try as I may, I'm a learned behaviorist at heart and (without Jesus) I tend to work off a natural worldview of "fairness." And in regards to chores, what's fair is that you take care of what you are supposed to be taking care of. Like I mentioned yesterday in regards to my thought-life about it all a few weeks back: "It's supposed to be your job anyway." Period. 


So when I get to the fork in the road where I realize that either I can ask/nag/wait to see if L will take care of mowing the lawn, or I can take care of it myself, I start playing by "Love and Logic" rules.

If I mow the lawn, it will take me about 2 hours. Do I have an extra 2 hours in my day?

I don't actually have an extra 2 hours just laying around. But I could sacrifice some other things in order to maybe find 2 hours that I could use to take care of this chore he's obviously not tending to.

But what would I sacrifice??

'Me' time? Definitely not. 
Blogging time? Nope. 
Time with E? Not a chance.  
Other chores - dishwashing, laundry, picking up, vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom? Maybe - but then if he doesn't do those I will just have to find another time of the day/evening/middle of the night to do those things too. 
Time with him? Now that's an idea.....hmmmm....I mean, I'm going to be frustrated with him anyway because I'm doing his chore. Maybe I'll just postpone my "me" time or my blogging time until tonight - when we usually try to spend some time together. That way, when he asks whether or not we can watch a movie together, I get to kill two birds with one stone: "Oh....soooo sorry babe. I wish we could! But I didn't get a chance to do x-y-z today because the lawn really needed to be mowed. Oh - but I didn't mind! I was happy to do it for you. I just can't spend time with you now because I have to take care of these other things. Oh, I promise I'm not mad. I know you'll take care of it sooner next time. Mmm-hmmm. Love you too. Good Night.

And which option do I choose? The passive aggressive one, of course. The one where I get to throw as many punches as possible without messing up my hair or breaking a nail. The one where "nobody" gets hurt.

Nobody gets hurt.......except for the fact that I've given the devil one little foothold, one little way to squeeze into our marriage. One little opportunity that he can then turn into a thousand other opportunities to deceive and destroy. As Paul puts it:

"Therefore, having put away falsehood, let each one of you speak the truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another. Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil...Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you." -Ephesians 4:25-27;31-32

Mark Driscoll further explains this passage in one of his sermons by talking about the progression that Paul lays out in verses 31-32: how bitterness, when it takes root in your heart, leads to wrath. How wrath grows into anger. How anger swells up and produces clamor. How clamor ends up slandering anothers' reputation. And finally ends in malice - the worst kinds of evil you can imagine. All because that seed of bitterness went unchecked and unconfessed and unforgiven. It seems little and insignificant and can even seem "fair" in the moment, but it's not biblical, it's not good.

So, in spite of all the issues we DO have in our marriage concerning lawn care (taking out the trash, etc., etc.), I am thankful that the Lord has helped us (me) along in this one area by giving me the grace to confess my bitterness to Him and to my husband and start with a fresh opportunity today to try to love him and serve him better.

The lawn care issue in our marriage - Part 1.

I've been thinking a lot about the whole "lawn care" issue in our marriage, and after talking with a friend about it this morning, decided I had some good ol' blogging (aka confession) to do about it. Over the weekend, what my blogging friends got was (maybe?) a nice little laugh after reading a pretty heavy/serious blog about how wonderful (truly wonderful) my husband is. What really went on behind the scenes is this:

• 3 weekends ago, hubby mowed the lawn
  (Yay, thanks hubby! :)
• 2 weekends ago, it rained and schedule-wise, it just didn't work out for hubby to mow the lawn
  (Oh, it's okay hubby - I know it was a busy weekend and you will get to it when you can. Wouldn't have wanted you to trade the little time we had together in order to do yardwork. Totally understand.)
• Last weekend, hubby was gone from Friday afternoon until Sunday night and didn't have a chance to mow the lawn
  (I know you were gone all weekend spending some much-needed time with your dad and brother, so I'm going to overlook the fact that our grass really needed to be cut this weekend. But I made a mental note to start dropping subtle hints that maybe you should try to figure out a time to get it in as soon as possible. I'm trying not to act frustrated about it. I thought about hiring a kid I know to do it, but decided I didn't want to figure out how to make it fit our budget this month, and it's supposed to be your job anyway. Grrrr. Repeat to myself that I'm trying not to act frustrated about it. But I also made another mental note to try to avoid having people over to the house until it's done.)
• This past Thursday, my parents come to visit - my mom visits for the first time in two months because she's been drowning in taxes for the past four months.
  (Ugh. I'm sure my parents are thinking before they even make it into the driveway - "How difficult is it to keep the lawn mowed?" Frustrated Embarrassed about the condition of my lawn. I made another mental note to be more direct with you about mowing the lawn this weekend. 
• Friday night date night.
  (Hmmm....wonder if I could get away with asking you to mow the lawn instead of taking me out on a date?)
• Saturday morning. Raining.
  (Ughhhhh..........)
• Saturday night: And the "Passive Aggressive Award of the Year" goes to.......Yours Truly.
  (Strategy: Write a really great blog about how awesome you are, followed by a quick little sarcastic jab at the end - meant mostly for humor - but also to once-and-for-all direct everyone's attention to the fact that MY LAWN REALLY NEEDS TO BE MOWED TODAY YESTERDAY LAST WEEK TWO WEEKS AGO!!!

So there it is. My sinful, prideful, unredeemed flesh on paper for the world to see. (*insert long pause where I debate whether or not to erase it all and start all over again with something much more humorous/glamorous/overall-much-more-positively-Christian here*). But I can't erase because it's just the truth.

And since the truth is what reminds us of our need for Jesus, what causes us to run to him for salvation and grace and mercy and peace and freedom from this crappy load of baggage that we carry in our hearts, our marriages, our friendships, our parenting each and every day.....the TRUTH is what I will cling to. Because the truth is that Jesus' blood covers my multitude of sins - but He can't do that unless I turn to him, confess, and believe He loves me and that He is willing and able to spread His garment over me and present me blameless and holy before the Father.

So I'm in the process of doing some confession about the above issues today. Tomorrow I will let you peak behind the scenes for a little more of the sinfulness I struggle with in regards to chores within our marriage. Just in case you bought the lie at any point in time that all people are born basically good. Ha.

(Stay tuned for Part 2...)

A picture says a thousand words.

I really wasn't going for the passive aggressive move....really........
(But thanks for mowing the lawn, babe ;)

Our church.

Because there are no perfect people, and because churches are made up of these imperfect people, it's pretty easy to deduce that there are really no "perfect" churches (On a random political note, I also must similarly argue that since 98% of Americans carry a certain amount of debt, and the majority of those are increasing the amount of debt they carry each month, and since America is made up of Americans, all the talk about reducing America's debt doesn't really make any sense to me if government isn't doing anything to encourage Americans to reduce their personal debt...which they are not and are actually doing quite the opposite. Okay, political rant over.) Back to churches.


So even though our church isn't perfect, I am so thankful that the Lord led our family there several years ago. And one of the things I am learning to really love and appreciate about it is how "men"-focused it is. That probably sounds a little strange, but I have found such peace in knowing that my husband is being strongly challenged and strongly led by the leadership and worship and teaching at our church.

Sure, it's tough some Sundays when most of the worship songs are led in a key that's meant for a man's range; but if you look around, what you will notice is that men are actually singing and women are still singing too - the women are just finding a harmonious part instead. If men can't hit the melody, more times than not they just don't sing. If women can't sing the melody, they harmonize - it's what we naturally do anyway and it's not so odd for us to do it in worship either.

When M gives a challenge from the pulpit, 9 times out of 10 it is directly aimed at the men of our church. And though at first I sometimes had difficulty figuring out what that meant for me, I certainly haven't minded that my husband has stepped up and led our family with a greater sense of "biblical manhood," leaving me with more security in my husband's role and less of a desire to control things in our home.

I know I'm teetering on the edge of offending the feminists in the room. Though a discussion of proper church roles and church function isn't really where I'm headed here, I won't deny that our church is quite "conservative" (to be fair - they would call it "biblical") in their views on this matter. My goal here isn't to outright offend anyone. It's just to say with absolute honesty and conviction that after being in our church for three years now and noticing the man of God that my husband is becoming and realizing (through conversations with him and also just my own observations) that he is being discipled and trained and equipped through the work of our church, I am not personally offended that our church caters to biblical masculinity. I am thankful.

Ephesians 5:25-28 says this:

Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. In the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies.

As a man of God, my husband has a huge responsibility on his shoulders: to be Christ to me. Not that I'm off the hook by any means, but the weight of this task is enormous: "gave himself up for her," "sanctify her," "cleansed her by the washing of the water with the word," "present [her]...without spot or wrinkle," "that she might be holy and without blemish." To be Christ to me is to imitate Christ in these things - not as a substitution for Christ's work for me, but as an earthly example for all the days of our lives here on earth. I don't know about you, but I hate the task of daily reminding my husband that he should be doing these things for me (i.e., nagging). So I am thankful that we are in a church (with a pastor, elders, deacons, friends, family and other members) that are in agreeance on these things and all share a common vision of equipping the men in our church to live up - as best as humanly possible - to the task laid out for them in scripture. And thankful for a husband that desires to be like Christ to me. Yes, I am blessed. (But please don't drive by my house this weekend. Apparently Jesus never mowed the lawn ;).

A strange kind of goodness.

Today I thought a lot about how strange it must be (how strange it is) for someone who doesn't know Jesus to look in on my life and agree with the conclusions that I have made about how "good" my God is. On one hand, He has given me so many great things (even by worldly standards) that I don't deserve. On the other, because I believe the truth of the full gospel, I stand firmly by the claim that the same God Who has given me all the great and wonderful things is the same God that has wounded me deeply by allowing tragedy in my life that I never would have asked for or desired. And yet, still I make the claim that He is good - not in spite of the fact that He wounded me - but also because He wounded me. And I could dance around a million words to try and tease all that out, but it really comes down to this: until you know Him, until you have a relationship with Him, until He gives you grace from His hand and invites you into His Almighty presence and fills your heart with His love, you're not actually supposed to get it. That's why it says, "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God... (Ephesians 2:8-9). God, by the work of the Holy Spirit, brings you into the full understanding of his saving love by giving you the grace to see and understand and comprehend Him enough to love Him. We just aren't able to muster up enough faith within us to trust in Him on our own merit and understanding.


So, just a few hours after having a conversation with one of my CrossFit ladies about this very subject, I ran across this incredibly beautiful and moving song. Not that it will do any better of a job of convincing anyone that God is good, but I do agree with it and like it so much that I wanted to share it anyway.

All this pain
I wonder if I’ll ever find my way
I wonder if my life could really change at all
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found
Could a garden come up from this ground at all

All around
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found in You

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

You make me new, You are making me new
You make me new, You are making me new
You are making me new

I think it may be starting to "stick."

As a parent, there are few prouder moments than the ones where your kiddo demonstrates that the things you've spent the last days/weeks/months/years teaching them are starting to "stick." Not just that they are obeying out of fear or obligation, but evidence that the values you hold are becoming values of their own, and they are living out the lessons not just in your presence and when you are watching, but even in moments where they could easily get away with anything they might otherwise desire.

We've had a few of those. :) And tonight my little girl actually made me and her daddy quite proud.

See, we've got this rule in our house that has worked for us. When E has a tough day at school with listening to her teachers first time (she's got this passive aggressive, slow-to-action, type of disobedience that will make you C-R-A-Z-Y...), or if she's had to sit in the time-out chair for any reason, she must come home and immediately bring me her doggies and blankies (aka, most prized possessions), and they stay in my room on my dresser until the end of the next school day when we wait to see if the report from her teacher shows that her listening skills returned that next day. For us, this has seemed to be the best way to reinforce what's going on with her behavior at school and demonstrate to her that it is important to us that she listen to, respect, and obey ALL authorities God has placed in her life - not just her parents.

So, today, we got a bad report. Actually, the teacher put it quite mildly ("Mommy, I think we need to look around at home and see if we can find E's listening ears. She seems to have lost them."); but E filled in the back story as we pulled away:

Me: "E, it makes me really sad that you didn't listen to your teachers today."
E: "I know, mommy."
Me: "Wanna tell me what happened?"
E: "Well, when we were on the playground, Ms. Amy said it was time to go inside, but I just was hanging on the bars, so they closed the door."
Me: "Oh - so you didn't go inside when they called so you got left behind."
E: "Yeah, so I had to sit in the Winnie the Pooh chair, but I didn't want to, so I sat on the floor."
Translation: I threw a big fit because they made me come inside, and was so mad about it that I flopped on the floor instead of sitting in the timeout chair where I was supposed to be sitting.

Ouch.

So....needless to say, doggies and blankies were gone....long gone for the rest of the day and night.

But tonight something happened that really surprised me. L and I were gone to a friends' house while my parents had E at home. Since I had taken doggies and blankies for the night, I decided to sneak in an opportunity to give them a bath. At some point during the night, my dad pulled them out of the dryer, all warm and cozy, excited to give them to E because he assumed she might be missing them (not having been told the story of the day). However, as soon as she saw him rounding the corner with them in his hands, the Spirit inside of her leaped right out, "No, no, no, PopPop! I can't have those. They have to stay in mommy's room because I didn't listen to my teachers today."

To hear my mom and dad tell the story tonight when I got home, my heart just overflowed. I know she loves those things, but it's obvious that she is learning to love some other truths just a little more - at least in some moments, and I'll take every moment I can get. Parenting is hard - a little like the parable that Jesus talks about with the sower and the seeds that fell on different kinds of soil (see Matthew 13). As parents, we throw our seeds out every day but - especially when they're so little - it's hard to know what takes root in their hearts. And it may be weeks, months, or even years before you harvest. Days like this - moments when God encourages you a little and gives you a glimpse of what He already knows about their hearts - are usually few and far between. And they make the hard work and the daily struggle more than worth it. Not just because I am proud of her honesty and how that reflects on me as a parent, but because I am seeing continued evidence that the Holy Spirit is at work in her heart, evidence that he is removing her heart of stone and replacing within her a heart of flesh, evidence that He is calling her to Himself and giving her the grace to listen and respond. And there is NOTHING more precious than to know she is starting to respond to the voice of her Savior.

Norah Jane.

So, for all the things I have said about the most recent struggles and dealings with this pregnancy - one thing I haven't said (at least not enough) is that I am truly, with heartfelt sincerity, excited about meeting our little one in August. To date, I am 23 weeks + 3 days - almost ten weeks farther along in pregnancy than I have been since my (completely uncomplicated and rather uneventful) pregnancy with E. So in some senses, I'm definitely feeling more secure about the expected outcome of this pregnancy, especially with the growing number and intensity of kicks I'm feeling each day. :)

After finding out that we were having another girl, we settled in pretty quickly on a name. The name "Norah" has always been in our pocket - we've loved it for a long time so no questions there. We threw around a few middle names, but for some reason kept coming back to "Jane" as the front runner. After a quick babynames search revealed the meaning - "God is gracious" - we knew we were set, and she has been "Norah Jane" ever since.

I certainly have my regrets for not fully celebrating and enjoying this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to bond with Norah in the womb, but I really do believe that on most days I have at least done my best to care for her physically even when emotionally and spiritually I have struggled. Even more than ever, though - I look forward to the day when I can share with her the story of her life and the miracles God did to bring her into this world - and how incredibly special her life is simply because He is the One who spoke it into being.

"Fearfully and wonderfully made..." -Psalm 139:14

Personality - oh, is that what you call this?

The older E gets, the more comments I get about her having a lot of "personality." Truth be told, I'm not sure it's always a compliment, but I usually take it as one anyway. I'm thankful for the little person she is and the one she's becoming.....most days. ;) But as I flipped back through a few of the more recent videos and pictures that I've snapped of her on my phone, I have to admit - personality or whatever you want to call it, she's got it.

Hope

Being pregnant this time around has been tough. Though God certainly worked in my life to shape me, change me, and renew me as he led me through the wilderness, He also opened up brokenness in other pieces of my heart. Figuring out what to "hope for" has been extremely difficult.

The old me would have flipped my Bible open to Hebrews 11:1 and given myself a good, holy pep-talk on how God was just waiting for me to show some real faith before He could show up and do some truly God-sized work in my life to prove to others His faithfulness and goodness in all things. However the new me realized that He had already been faithful, that He already was good, and the reason He inspired the penning of Hebrews 11:1 had NOTHING to do with whether or not I was going to carry this baby to term.

My hope is now (prayerfully) placed in my eternal salvation, regardless of my current circumstances, but the daily walking out of my faith has been such a struggle, knowing that He was good on the day He brought E into our lives as a healthy little 7-lb bundle of joy and also good on the day I placed my finger into the tiny hand of our little Jeremiah. And this goodness is not defined by whether or not life is fair, whether or not I'm getting what I deserved, whether or not the cards I've been dealt look particularly advantageous. It's good because He knows what I need, good because He loves me and desires the best for me, good because His view is eternity and He has granted me full access to Him for all of it.

(Warning: This is a stupid analogy, but it's the best I can come up with at the moment.) It's kind of like the difference in perspective that I and Elle have when she asks for a piece of candy. Sometimes I say yes and sometimes I say no, based on my ability to weigh and calculate the answers to a series of questions - How many sweets has she had today? What are the chances that she will have dessert tonight after dinner? How is her mood? Has she been sick? Her immature thinking may lead her to think I'm not good to her if I don't give her a piece of candy, but the truth is that I love to give her things that make her happy - but only with the bigger picture of her overall health in mind. Likewise (re-read above warning), God loves to give His children things that make us happy - only with the bigger picture in mind of our overall salvation and justification in the even greater metanarrative of redeeming the whole world to Himself.

So this pregnancy has been rather difficult as I have grown to learn that God's "best" and God's "goodness" and God's "love and mercy" toward me doesn't always match up with my (or others') estimation of what seems fair or what I might deserve or what God will or will not do for me if I "ask in His name" and have a particular amount of faith. I have tasted that God's goodness could lead to many different outcomes that I may or may not particularly like, and it's led to a struggle for joy on some days as I worry (obsess) over the small things that I imagine are under my control that could potentially lead to a positive or negative pregnancy outcome - Did I workout too much today? Did I eat too many sweets? What about the preservatives in that soup? Should I be handling these cleaners? Should we be installing carpet? Am I getting enough sleep? Should I be carrying E around? Why does my _________ hurt? Because I've felt so out of control of the greater outcome, I've gone to battle daily with control issues regarding the menial things - and confessing my sin of control with one while in the midst of engaging in sin with another. The short of it is that most days, I am just simply looking forward to the end of this pregnancy rather than being able to truly enjoy the process of it.

And throughout it all - on the advice of my dear friend C, I have run to the Psalms. As she put it, "the psalms are so comforting because they express the highest and the lowest of emotions and remind us that we are not the first believers to try to navigate Who God is in the midst of it all." And this past Sunday, as one of our deacons read from Psalm 40, I was comforted once again by David and reminded that part of the reason for my journey is to confess and share with others so that God can also encourage and uplift those around me who are on similar journeys.

I waited patiently for the Lord;
    he inclined to me and heard my cry.
He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
    out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
     making my steps secure.
He put a new song in my mouth,
    a song of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear,
    and put their trust in the Lord.

I have not hidden your deliverance within my heart;
    I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation;
I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness
    from the great congregation.

Psalm 40:1-3,10

To war. Over a taco.

This weekend L has been gone to his dad's house for a weekend with the boys - him, his brother and his dad. Though we definitely miss him, E and I have enjoyed some time together strawberry pickin', hanging out at friends' houses, cleaning a little, relaxing a little, and watching more than enough 'My Little Pony' videos.

Today after church, I opted for eating out, since it would seemingly help with the flow of the afternoon. As we got our order and sat down at the table, I breathed a sigh of relief - she was happy and this was a good idea.

Whether or not she's happy about it shouldn't translate into whether or not it's a good idea, the voice in my head warned. (Cue somber, foreboding music)

We carried on for a moment with lunch, I gave the usual reminder to turn around - *insert curse words against restaurant TV's here*, and without warning, she went from playful and content to pouty and disrespectful.

"But I don't want to turn around and eat. I want to watch the TV. I don't like this taco. I'm not hungry anymore." And with a quick folding of her arms, she knocked her purse (yes, I said 'her purse') on the ground. I reached down and picked it up, placing it beside me.

"E, sit down and finish your lunch," I repeated sternly. "Or we will pack it up and head home."

"But I want my purse back," she escalated. "What are you going to do with my purse??"

I responded by pushing her food closer. "You knocked it off because you are playing and not eating, so I'm going to hold it for you while you finish your lunch."

And it was on. Tears flowed, lips out, arms crossed - she was prepping for war over a freakin' taco. And - always being up for a good fight - I was happy to oblige. I moved over to her side of the booth, searching for higher ground.

"Why are you sitting beside me?" E asked.

"So I can help you eat your lunch. You seem to be having a tough time," I responded.


She let loose - head tipped back, she let out a growling scream from the pit of her being. The kind of scream where the oxygen temporarily left the room as all the parents sucked in their breaths and said a quick 'thank-you prayer' to God Almighty that it wasn't their kid this time. To be honest, it shocked (and embarrassed) me so much I let out half of a laugh before I pulled myself together and reengaged.

"Ooooo-kaaaay." I said as I started to wrap up her taco and gather the trash. "Time to go home."

Now it seems to be a universal rule among kids that as soon as parents move to make good on their threatened promise - as soon as the punishment seems real - they all (most of the time) release the reigns and forfeit.

"I'm hungry now!" she cried. "I want to eat. I don't want to go home. I want to eat. Pleeeease - I'm hungry."

Maybe every parent momentarily wonders at this fork in the road, "What do I do now? Did I make my point? Did the threatened punishment do as I had hoped and now they are submitting to my authority?" I'm even certain I've seen many parents and kids even settle back in for a nice, uneventful dinner after the peak of tension passed and the kid(s) relented.

I hesitated for a moment, but pressed on with the due consequences. She was not obeying, she had not been submitting to my authority, she had crossed the line, I had already declared that we were in fact going home, and now we just needed to make it to the car with as much dignity left as humanly possible. So, kicking, screaming, crying, whining, we somehow made it out the door and into the car.

Later on, after making it home (yes - we did make it home in one piece) and getting her in bed for a much-needed rest, I contemplated the day. Did I do the right thing? What could I have done differently to have avoided that situation? How could I have responded differently at each turn? Did I lead her into rebellion or did she choose to go there all by herself? Truthfully, the most difficult part was having to sift through the embarrassment that I felt that my kid was putting her sinful, rebellious heart on display on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in the middle of a restaurant filled with watchful eyes (many of whom were acquaintances), and likewise wondering what I had displayed to those same watchful eyes in the process. Did they think I made the right choice? What did they think I could have done differently to have avoided that situation? How do they think I could have responded differently at each turn? Did they think I led her into rebellion or that she chose to go there all by herself? To be honest, I probably gave more thought to the latter questions than the former, which is evident of my own sinful, prideful heart as well - even if they didn't see it in the restaurant.

After her nap and an opportunity for a fresh start, she gobbled up the rest of the taco. "Mommy, this is the best taco I've ever had," she said with a big smile.


Of course it is.