Alone.

Surely one of Satan's biggest lies to any women has to be that she is alone. I know I've certainly felt it through many of the twists and turns in my life. 

As the results of our survey continue to unfold, a few things have surfaced: 1) Every single issue on the survey has been earmarked by more than one person; yet - so fascinating - 2) The number of women who have felt alone in their struggle has remained fairly consistent at 70%.

So, even though - according to the results - not a single woman is alone in facing the particular issues she struggles with, 7 out of 10 women feel alone in facing that struggle. Amazing. And heartbreaking. 

As this journey continues to unfold for me, I am praying and praying that women begin to figure out how to walk this life hand in hand. That we are able to restore and experience community. That we are not only able to experience the freedom from confessing our own dark places within a safe environment, but we are also able to extend grace and forgiveness to those who would be vulnerable enough to open up with us, and that we would be guarded against the temptation to use our sister's confession as fuel for gossip and slander. 

I'm so humbled and yet also encouraged by how relevant this all seems to be. Thanks for your prayers and love!

Confessions.

You simply could not ever in a million years collect enough money from all the richest men and women in the world to pay me to go back to high school. End of discussion.

College, however, is a different story. My time in college was sweet, surrounded by God's beautiful creation, beginning the journey of life with the man I would one day marry, and rich with friendships with other like-minded, fun-loving, strong-spirited girls. Even though a few wise old souls spoke of it then, it was several years before I realized just how precious those girls were and would become to me over the years. Of all the things I am thankful for in these girls, certainly at the top of that list was the absolute freedom we gave each other to just be real. Ugly or pretty, messy or clean, broken or brand new...nothing was unacceptable except pretense. 

Shortly after college, I read a book called "Celebration of Discipline" by Richard Foster. There is a chapter called "Confession" which highlights the Christian discipline of Confession and scripturally supports why it is good for us to confess to one another and the grace, mercy, healing and freedom that comes through biblical confession. A few great quotes from the book:

"Confession is a difficult Discipline for us because we all too often view the believing community as a fellowship of saints before we see it as a fellowship of sinners. We feel that everyone else has advanced so far into holiness that we are isolated and alone in our sin. We cannot bear to reveal our failures and shortcomings to others. We imagine that we are the only ones who have not stepped on to the high road to heaven. Therefore, we hide ourselves from one another and live in veiled lies and hypocrisy."
"A man who confesses his sins in the presence of a brother knows that he is no longer alone with himself; he experiences the presence of God in the reality of the other person. As long as I am by myself in the confession of my sins everything remains in the dark, but in the presence of a brother the sin has to be brought into the light."

Over the years, I pointed several friends and acquaintances to this book, referencing the Confession chapter each time, talking about how it had - for the first time - illuminated to me the biblical need for confession, helping to flesh out its purpose and removing the false notions I had, primarily based on Hollywood's perception of Catholicism. And though I did not begin regularly practicing confession as a discipline, I did (and do still) consider myself a very real person and do not find it difficult for the most part to openly and honestly discuss my failures and sinfulness with others. And, over the years, I have many times found myself in the midst of "confessions" of sorts whereby God would use some part of my story to connect with and encourage someone else going through something similar. And by opening up and sharing my story, I too was encouraged that my struggles and difficulties (for example, most recently with my miscarriages) were not in vain - that God really is working out a great plan and purpose even in and through those things that do not make much sense to me.

Recently, a friend and I stumbled back into this, realizing that we had both secretly walked through a struggle, and as we found the freedom to discuss it with each other, I found healing and freedom and even courage. Which led us to wonder and discuss - how many women are struggling with things that they do not ever talk about? How many women feel as if they are the only ones struggling with a particular issue? What if we could bring together a group of women who were willing to anonymously confess their deep, dark secrets with the rest of the world, in hopes that through their confession, they would encounter a living God who went to the cross and died for their sin. Women who, through that confession, were able to find grace and mercy and freedom from the bondage of that hidden shame and darkness. Could these stories be the beginning of a movement of openness and honesty in the Church - and an opportunity for Believers to show that we are different not because we are without sin but because our sin has been paid for? Would that willingness to be vulnerable help us reach across the lines and join hands with millions of other women who are struggling in secret sin who think they are forever lost to the grace of a Holy God? Does the path to freedom and healing begin in something as simple (and yet pride-challenging) as confession?

So, our eventual book project will be to bring together a group of women who have agreed - with complete anonymity - to confess their stories of walking through a particular issue. Our hope is that through confessing their stories and acknowledging God's great work in their lives, that others would know they are not alone, that they too can find healing and hope and freedom through sharing/confessing their stories. To begin, we have created a survey. The purpose of this survey is two-part: 1) we have a LOT of topics that we are trying to sift through to figure out which ones are most appropriate and most needed, 2) we are interested in the statistics regarding these specific issues. If you are a female of any age, we would LOVE for you to be a part of this survey - just follow this link and answer the questions as honestly as possible. Once you complete the survey, if you are interested in participating in the project further, feel free to contact me.


To those of you who have encouraged me this far, thank you. Please continue to pray that God receives the glory as we seek to help women experience conviction, healing, hope, freedom, grace, and mercy in the TRUTH that "Love, not anger, brought Jesus to the cross...he took in all the violence, all the fear, all the sin of all of the past, all the present, and all the future. This was his highest and most holy work, the work that makes confession and the forgiveness of sins possible." (Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline)

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.