Lesson 1 (Lessons from the Garden)

Lesson One: We are precious.

I've already mentioned the care I took into planning my garden...if you care, see previous post. But once all the preparations were done, the real fun started. And by real fun I mean actually growing something. I planted my seeds the first week of April. I was scared to plant them because it was supposed to rain all week and I didn't want my seeds getting washed away. But my Dad gave me wisdom and said the rain would make the seeds sprout faster. (Hmmm. That line in itself could produce a whole lesson of its own.) So I planted them and allowed my kids to help which was painstaking because I wanted it to be perfect. And it was, but not in the world's way of perfect (outward appearance). It was the perfection that comes from time with your kids out in the world working in the dirt and passing on passion. 

The seeds were in and then began my least favorite of tasks. Waiting. I have never been abounding in patience. Fishing, not my thing. Boiling water, not my thing either. The list could go on, but you get the point. Something about waiting for plants to grow is different. It wasn't just patience, but excitement and expectation. Everyday I got up and watered my plants. I watched and I waited for the smallest sign of life. Clearly my eyes are aging because my kids were always the first to spot a new green shoot breaking through the ground. Every time a new sprout broke through I felt joy. My seeds were alive a thriving! If they made it through to the surface there was hope. Each day brought new wonder and awe. I wish I could video the garden at night because I swear something magical happens over night out there. The plants take all the energy from the sun and shoot it out through their little bodies and grow. I never marked anything so sometimes I wasn't even sure what was growing. I was so concerned over if they were going to grow and make it. Was that a cabbage? Why did those two sprouts look the same? What if my lavender doesn't come through? My 7 year old would tell me, "mom, just wait until they grow bigger, then you can tell what it is". Such patience found in her, that I didn't even have. 

I fill you in on all these mundane details because in them I found my first lesson. We are precious to God. If I, a mere human, could find such joy in the growth of a seed. If each seed's progress was precious to my heart...Then how much more does our Father find joy in our growth and find our lives and the details of our hearts and progress precious??? Much more. Much, much more.

I'll say it again, we are precious to Him. He delights in our progress and growth. If we are failing to thrive He is sees. He is concerned over our well-being. He watches over us and tends to us and waters us. He prepares the setting of our lives in His supreme, all-knowing ways. He uses the rain and storms to profit us. His goal is for our survival, for us to spread our roots deep where He places us and grow, grow, grow. Nothing escapes his notice when it comes to our lives. He sees us.

I've always known I was precious to Him, but I have found this knowledge grow in much deeper revelation each day I work in my garden. As I tend my garden, He tends to me. It is His grace and joy to speak to me while I do something that I love. Many lessons in my life have come through sorrow, but this one has come through joy. 

This is the Gardener's Heart: us.

The Heart of the Gardener

As I was working in my garden today I hummed a tune and I thought about the heart of the Gardener...Something I've done every day for the past 3 months. Working the garden that is, not the tune. The tune came later, after my sweet Uncle passed away. At his funeral I celebrated his life by singing one of his favorite hymns called "In the Garden". Whoever wrote this song knew what it was like to be alone with God in a little piece of Eden. Here are a bit of the lyrics:

1. I come to the garden alone,
   While the dew is still on the roses,
   And the voice I hear falling on my ear
   The Son of God discloses.
2. And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
3. And He tells me I am His own;
4. And the joy we share as we tarry there,
5. None other has ever known.

I love this hymn because it paints such a lovely picture of being with Jesus. And for someone like myself, who LOVES being outside with nature, it calls me closer. It makes me think of Adam and Eve and the incredible blessing they had to walk unhindered with their Creator in the most aesthetically beautiful place ever. It makes me want to be still for a moment and know that He is God. And because being still is not a forte of mine AT ALL, I love this song for how it moves me. 

I've long adored the sunshine...The way it creeps into my skin and leaves it's golden mark. My family can attest to my ridiculous attachment to tan skin and sun rays. I love the Georgia heat. I dare say I love the humidity. What about the mosquitoes you say?? Love em'. Just kidding, but I tolerate them. I'm a Georgia peach, I don't know anything else!! When I'm in the sun I feel utterly alive. It's probably just science, but I'd like to believe it's also deeper and more spiritual than that. I reserve the right to romanticize sunshine!

My love for gardening hasn't always been as clear, and it wasn't until a few months ago that I finally found within myself an undeniable green thumb. This year I had an unquenchable need to have a garden. I can't explain it, but I needed it. I tried one the summer I was first pregnant with Clara. But morning sickness stole my thunder and I couldn't maintain it the way I wanted. This year my heart was set. Financially I wasn't sure how I could afford what I wanted. No doubt my adoring husband would have made it possible because that's the man he is. But low and behold my parents blessed us with some raised beds and I was off and running. I spent hours putting them together and finding the perfect positions and spots. I leveled the ground, leveled my beds. I filled them with dirt that I lugged across the yard bucket by bucket... I made Jeremiah fill his truck with dirt from our families business. I mulled over which vegetables to grow and how to position them. I googled and researched. I got creative and re purposed old things and debris from fallen trees. I got OBSESSIVE. I drove my poor husband crazy. He finally said, "I don't care about your garden the way you do." I didn't hold it against him (nor should you...we have an open, honest relationship that way). And it was true, my love for these 32 square feet of land had grown deep roots. 

To say I love going out in my garden each day would be an understatement. I understand why I needed it because when I'm out there, I hear His voice falling on my ear and I soak in the sunshine and I smile. I'm so utterly happy. Which I know is not what life is all about and I know it cannot last forever. (A winter of some sort is always inevitable.) But for this season, I go out and stand in a physical parable of His love and get revelation on His work in His children. I'm looking forward to relaying these simple lessons He's given me. Stay tuned.

Moms Unite---It takes a village...

Unless you are like this woman (a humocotpus), then you need help. 

About 98% of the things I have done to improve my marriage, parenting or house running has come from advice from others or just my observing my friends' lives and stealing their cool ideas. And to all those who have lent me a proverbial hand, thank you!!!

As I was just attacking a massive pile of laundry I was reminded that I've been meaning to blog all my personal "life hacks" so maybe, other moms, can benefit/improve. If nothing else, you'll all leave with a smile and an internal pat on the back knowing that 1. moms of 4 are not superheroes and 2. I'm not as organized as you thought. So here goes, enjoy!!

Laundry:

1. I do laundry once a week. As it piles up around the house, I re-pile it in the basement (aka my laundry room).  Then on Friday I wash it load by load and re-pile it a few feet away in front of the dryer...Sometimes I wash a few loads during the week but it always stays piled until Saturday. On Saturday I lug it upstairs and dump it on my bed. That's my new thing (I figure I cannot go to sleep unless its done...Then again, I do have the spare mattress in the girls room). 

2. I utilize my kids. They pull their weight. Even lil ole Abz can carry her clean clothes to her room. The girls fold the towels and put away. They hang up all their shirts, match socks, put their clothes away. Irie is an organizing junkie like me so she keeps the drawers in order when I don't. 

3. I DO NOT iron anything unless its absolutely necessary...And by that I mean maybe 3 times a year. 

4. I DO NOT flip pants, socks or undies, etc. If it comes to me inside out, that's how it gets washed and reput in the drawers. The girls flip the shirts when they hang and the pants when they wear.

5. I DO NOT fold pajamas or abaleens clothes. 

6. I DO NOT fold underwear. Come on, I pray no one does this.

Housework:

1. I repeat, Kids. My girls can clean the bathrooms (I do mirrors and toilet bowls.)...they can sweep, clean table, vacuum. BUT if they are playing peacefully I just clean it myself and enjoy the peace.

2. If I start cleaning they get in the mood. 

3. Cleaning is not an option because I CANNOT function in mess. 

4. But I CAN function in dirt. I DO NOT deep clean but maybe once in...hardly ever. I am trying to get better about washing sheets and such...

5. Inviting people over is an good excuse to clean.

6. I unload and load dishwasher EVERY day. I used to have this complex about wasting water and would only run the dishwasher every two days. That was with 2 kids. I'm over it. 

7. I make cleaning the kitchen a personal race against time. I give myself a deadline and rush. 

8. I do not clean hoping it stays clean. But cleaning up before bedtime does give me 3 hours of clean.

Food/meals:

1. I make a monthly menu before the start of the month and I stick to it in terms of what I am making. Sometimes I have to revise mid month to accommodate for eating out/elsewhere or leftovers. 

2. I shop 3 times a month. The 1st, 10th, 20th. I shop at the cheapest places around: BJs and Food Depot. 

3. My big girls can make cereal :) My next goal is to teach them eggs and pancakes.

4. My big girls make sandwiches. LUNCH

5. We eat alot of beans, rice, chicken, fruits and veggies. I do not buy a lot of snacky foods. 

6. My menus are not complex and usually repeat alot from month to month, even every 10 days. I fight the cultural need to cook big fancy meals. If my kids are healthy and full, and the like it I'm good. 

7. I make my own spinach applesauce for Abaleen - and I use reusable baby food pouches (Little Green Food pouches on amazon).

8. I never buy chicken breasts. So much more expensive. I cook whole chickens and build my menu around it. Or a whole pork butt and get 4-5 meals out of it.  

9. I keep recipes for muffins, biscuits, basic casseroles in my head. Makes for fast cooking!!!

Fun:

1. reuse your foam hand soap pumps!!! just buy cheap soap and mix half soap and half water. viola!!

2. less toys = more play

3. allow a mess to keep a toddler happy. 

4. be healthy and exercise, you will be happier. 

5. don't always eat healthy, cause you gotta have some sugar sometimes!!!

6. when my kids utter the word bored, it means they do chores. 

7. if my kids say they are "like my slave"  (yes, that happened, clearly too much history has been learned) then threaten real slavery to me for a day

8. in house date nights = redbox, junk food, adult play time :) so cheap and fun

9. don't interrupt peacefully playing children unless their lives are in danger.

That's all I got for now. 

Jesus, friend of sinners.

It’s funny I’ve had all these blog ideas rolling in my mind but today they will have to wait because I got something in my heart that just needs to get out.

Let’s talk about Jesus and sinners. And let’s talk about ourselves and sinners. Anything that Jesus did with sinners we should be doing too. And the way sinners felt around Jesus is the way we should only hope and pray they feel around us.

But first, let’s ALL remember that all of us who are no longer “sinners” find ourselves with a new title of “saint” by the Grace of God alone. That’s the only thing that separates us and them. A saint is no better than a sinner and a sinner is NO worse than a saint in terms of our sin and what we are capable of. The benefit to the saint is that we are under Jesus’ blood and our sin no longer counts or acts against us. The detriment of the sinner is that they are bound to sin and to obey it. They have no hope of real change and obedience out of faith in grace. The law has its hand around their neck. These facts should burden the saints’ hearts…Not elevate ourselves in our own eyes.

Have we been saints for so long that we have FORGOTTEN where we came from and what it was like to be separated from God and unable to receive His lavish grace???

I’ve got news for you and for myself.

We are no better than…

…the mothers and fathers who gladly abort the unborn

…the homeless brother

…the prostitute sister

…the gambler

…the druggie

…the Muslim

…the terrorists in ISIS

…Judas (the disciple who betrayed Jesus)

…Peter (who denied Jesus three times)

…Saddam Housin

…the father who abandons their kids for another woman

…the mother who loses her kids because she is mentally ill

... the severely obese person 

…the brothers and sisters who love someone of the same sex

…the pedophile

…now you think of the people you look down on and add them to this list.

If we are saints then we are who we are by the Grace of God alone. We are just like the “sinner” in terms of our sin nature BUT we have Jesus. How can we truly love the least of these while we have this notion that we are in any way above them or better than them? The answer is we can’t. And honestly, these wonderful amazing people can TELL we have this notion. They won’t feel like they can be themselves around us.

How can you tell if you’ve fallen in to the trap of thinking you are better? Well, I can answer this because I see it in myself ALL the time. (So don’t think I’m judging you, I’m just relating my internal learnings.) You can know if you’ve ever had thoughts like this about a “sinner”:

...I would never do that!

…How could someone do that to their kids??

…If I can change why can’t they?

…Why don’t they just get it together?

…I cannot believe they said that!

…Who could ever kill an unborn child? Something is wrong with them!

…That person is just SICK.

…etc.

These are just some of the thoughts I’ve had. I look at people and expect them to do things or handle things the way I would (problem #1 because everyone is different and is shaped by their different upbringings and life experiences and personality). I look at people and I state the obvious (of course a pedophile is sick and its wrong to kill the unborn) but I FORGET that if not for Jesus I could be (would be) in the same place as them. Jesus makes the difference not anything about ourselves. I think we will always have these wrong thoughts but we must take them captive and plead with God to change our hearts.

As a mom it’s a hard walk to walk. I want to protect my kids. I’d rather them not be around smoking or drinking or talk of anything ungodly. But that’s not realistic is it? Jesus made wine at a friend’s wedding. He must have been fun and accepting and grace filled and people saw it. We can say we are things but I think the true test is whether or not unbelievers see it. Can they be themselves around you?? Are you even friends with sinners??? And if you aren’t – then why not?? I would rather my kids be exposed to hard things because we live a life that is tangled up in love with sinners than being sheltered because of a wrong need to protect them. Will we sacrifice raising kids who know how to LOVE for kids are who are "safe"??

We are called to be in the world but not of it. I can, with a clear conscious and full heart, surround myself with the lost and still maintain my identity. *Within balance of course, I’m not talking about having only friends who don’t know God* I’m not friends with people just because I long for them to know the amazing grace of God and the power of Jesus. I am friends with them because they are amazing and I love them and they are WORTH something. They add to my life. I want people to feel free to cuss around me if that’s who they are or where they are. I want to the Muslim to feel loved by me even though we believe something fundamentally different. I want the homosexual to feel free to love who they want to love in my presence.  I want the broken to be free to be broken around me. No one had to get it together to come to Jesus, and they shouldn’t have to feel they have to do it for us. Do I agree with everything “sinners” do or believe? No. Is loving them tolerating their sin? Yes. Because loving them is loving them in their sin and that means accepting them in it and asking God to bring His love and power and change. Can I love “sinners” and keep quiet about God all the time? No. There is a balance of being led by the Spirit and loving them and speaking about what God is doing in my life. It’s building a relationship that isn’t contingent on their “salvation”. Again, people sense that. Let love be our agenda. Not a passive love or generic love… But a PASSIONATE love and a LOUD love.Because I don’t save people. Jesus does. But I can love them in word and deed and I can in that show them Jesus’ saving grace.

** As an ending disclaimer I do not write this because I think I have it all together or figured out or because I live such an awesome example of this. I can say with confidence that God been challenging me in this for about 7 years and that I find my heart is reacting more in love for people than judgment. Praise God he offers hope for change!! And this has also come through some radical life experiences my husband and I have walked through since we’ve been married and doing life together. These revelations  do. not. come. easy. They come through seasons of intense stripping down of myself until I no longer just feel naked and bare... But realize I have and been that way all along.

Letting Go...Part One?

As a women I can testify that we women generally have more control issues than our male counterparts. I think this goes all the way back to the fall of man...but in case you don't believe all that, then just examine yourself to see if its true. I can look back on my life and see many times when I went through a time of anxiety and it was mostly due to my trying to control life or other people and it/they not bending to my will. It's the human nature to want to control our fate or destiny. And to some extent we definitely are able to shape our futures. Make good decisions have a good future. Make bad decisions have a pretty rough future. However, sometimes you are going to find that no matter what you do, your decisions do not equal the reciprocated outcome and you realize: YOU ARE NOT IN CONTROL.

Parenthood has been one of the main ways God has brought this home for me. I remember when Jeremiah and I were potty training our first child. We did everything wrong...Starting with our thinking processes. We thought we could put a child on a toilet and by saying "poop!" she would poop. Well, you can't make another person poop. Especially when the pressures on. Lesson learned! 

As parents we do our very best to keep our kids safe, protect them, love them, lead them on the straight and narrow. But sometimes you find that no matter what you do they get hurt or endangered, they end up feeling unloved or they make bad decisions. They are their own person. They grow up and go out into the world leaving you praying they got everything you were throwing at them all those years.

I saw all this to say this: as a mother, letting go of my kids has been especially hard this past year. You may be thinking, "Maria, your kids are so young". Yes, they are...My oldest is only 6. But its a mental thing and emotional...and spiritual. And it takes time. So (despite my best efforts to avoid it) I'm starting to let go now. 

Before I even given birth to our 4th daughter I had already begun grieving the ending of my birthing years....The precious baby years I've grown to adore. (Yes, that means we do not "plan" on having any more children by birth). For 7 years I've been pregnant or nursing and even though I know those things do not make my identity...They have become the only world I know.  I cannot remember what it was like to do not be doing these things. And now, as I wean my sweet Abaleen, I am trying to urge my heart to be at rest. Nurse her longer some may say...Have another baby others will say. But if I did those things they wouldn't because I truly want to nurse another child or be pregnant again or have another child. It would be with selfish motives because I couldn't bring myself to let go right now. And at some point, no matter how many kids I had, I would be right back to this place. Letting Go. 

(More on this in the next post...I think :)

The Best of Both Worlds

For a long time I've wrestled with guilt over a "small" thing. It started when I met Jeremiah and increased when I bore my first daughter. You see, until I had these precious people in my life I was content with whatever life brought my way. I had no fears or qualms with an uncertain future. Sickness? Bring it on; I'd die praising Jesus. (Not that I wanted it but I wasn't afraid.) Martyr??? Even better; let me deny myself unto death. A life of celibacy in some foreign jungle spreading the good news??? Yes!!! Please!!! Jesus and my heavenly home was enough. Life was short and I'd push through until I was in my real home.

I was very internally dramatic in my imaginings of the life I might lead. It's easy to have a "risk it all" attitude with you have nothing but yourself to risk.

This all changed when I met Jeremiah. I love him so dearly that I wish I had two lifetimes with him.
And then I had my children and instead of embracing a metaphorically short life I wish for the reality of a llllooonnnggg life on this earth so I can soak in every minute of the heaven I have here.

And then I was stuck. Because I'm not supposed to love this life on earth this much. (Am I?) I've felt guilty that I no longer wish to rush into the arms of my Saviour with such haste. I hope I'm explaining myself well. I know this isn't my home and that heaven will be a billion times better. And the older I get the more I look forward to heaven. Not just because I get to be with God forever, but because I will never be sad there, or see myself as less than beautiful, or look down on someone and miss their beauty. I will never be angered there or  hurt or tired. And everyone I've lost on this journey--I'll have unending days to catch up with them as well. It's all wonderful and I'm tearing up just thinking of it.

BUT, that's when I get stuck. Because for so long I've felt guilty that I love what I have right now as much as what I'll have then. I've felt guilty because in me burns the revelation that I don't want to go to heaven yet, I want this life now for as long as I can and then I want eternal heaven. Maybe God will reveal to me that in some fashion I've created an idol of what I have now. But to not say it is far worser to me. I've got to be honest with myself and with God.

I LOVE THIS LIFE HE HAS GIVEN ME. I want a hundred years and more with my husband and my children and my (one day) grandchildren. I want to make love a thousand more times and fall in love over and over and over. I want to take vacations and make memories and travel and know what it means to die old and bursting at the seams. I want to spend as long as I can loving people and pointing them to Jesus. Reveling in every miracle: big and small. I want to laugh and cry and embrace the essence of my humanity. I know the heaven that comes when this body perishes will be outstanding. But the heaven I live in now is outstanding as well. That's part of the good news of the Gospel. We DON'T have to wait to die to experience heaven. We start now. Jesus brought the Kingdom Heaven to earth.

This is what's burning in my heart this week. The best of both worlds. I have it!!!!

Give it all.

A few weeks ago during our corporate worship time we were singing the song "Scandal of Grace" by Hillsong United. (An amazing song oozing with deep truths!) There is a line that says "oh to be like you, give all I have just to know you". For those of you who don't know, one of the main ways I minister to the body of Christ is by leading worship at our church. So, trust me, I know (if anyone does) how easy it is to sing truth but not really get what I'm saying. I'd love to say that every song I've ever sang was uttered in the purest of heart. But I'm human. Sometimes they are just words.

The words to "Scandal of Grace" are powerful...But they also remind of another "song" I used to be silly and sing. "Oh be careful little lips what you pray, oh be careful little lips what you pray." Sometimes I've prayed things and I didn't realize what I was asking God to do in my life. Can you relate? For example in high school I felt that I didn't really understand the spiritual realm in terms of battle of good and evil. So I asked God to open my eyes to see what was going on. Boy did He. But it wasn't an easy answered prayer. Even as I write I wonder if my strong spiritual gift of discernment stems from this prayer. I love the gift of discernment but it carries a weight to it. I can read between the lines when people say how they are doing. I can sense something is going on and it burdens me. I carry people's burdens like their my own. I feel the battle. Anyhow, all that to say is that we pray things and sing things and say things and sometimes, despite our best efforts not to be ignorant...We say things in ignorance.

So I was singing that song in church, blissfully telling God I will give ALL I have just to know Him more and GUESS what??? He clearly showed me an area in which I'd been fighting Him and clinging to a safe zone. I had dug my heels in. Now if I told you the situation you'd insist that I have every right to feel the way I do and to fight it. And in a way you'd be right. We have every right to feel the things we do. And we can be totally honest with God about it. But when we sign up to make Jesus our LORD, we also consequentially sign up to resign all our personal rights. We live for someone else. Things in life happen. Sometimes they are glorious, but also sometimes they suck. We feel helpless and out of control. (Really, we are...that's not a feeling.)

When I sang those words a few weeks ago I heard His voice. He said "You CAN gladly give it all in this situation, because you will gain more of ME."

I had lost perspective. It's easy to do when the crap hits the fan. You see the crap everywhere, instead of what is really there. The crap is life and God is the room.

The words He spoke to me DO NOT make it easy for me to give my all, but they give me a hope in doing it. I can save my energy and stop fighting. I can rest easier and wait to see how much more of Himself I find in having to go through the fire. He is worth it. He is our reward. Everything and everyone in life can fail us and fall away...but He never will.

So, I give you the challenge He gave me. You are not going through what I am, but you are going through something. The enemy wants you to gain more of yourself and become inward focused. But God wants to replace yourself with Himself and become Kingdom focused.

Give it all my friends. Give it all.

2 years ago...

This is a blog I wrote 3 weeks after I had a miscarriage in September of 2012.


Three weeks ago I was me. But I was a different me.

I was a me with a handsome husband, 3 children and we were getting by. Life was hard but I had nothing to complain about. Three weeks ago I struggled with guilt because I know so many people who want children so badly. I know people whose desire for children have starved their marriage of desire for each other. I know people who have tried everything and still have no kids. I know people who have miscarried many times. I was not one of them. I get pregnant easily. At the blink of an eye easy.

Today I am me with a handsome husband, 3 children and one miscarriage under my belt. Life is still life but I don't see it the same way. Some will say what I carried inside me for 3 weeks was not really a child. Some will say they understand but they don't. I said it too, but I didn't. All I can say is there was a filling that occurred in my soul when I knew I was pregnant with my fourth child. And this morning when I found out for certain I wasn't anymore, there is an emptiness. I look around my house and see what might have been. I see my 3 beautiful girls and know that there should have been one more.

Three weeks ago I thought I knew what loss and sorrow and grief and confusion felt like. Surely I thought I did. I'd lost my grandfather. I'd been engaged and lost that love.

Today I know loss and sorrow and grief and confusion and we are no longer just acquaintances. We are like old friends. There's a knocking on my heart..."Oh, hello, it's you again. Did you come to stay or just to visit this hour?".

This loss has changed me, as I know all loss does. What you may surprised at is to know that it changed me for the better. I am not angry at God. I don't blame Him. I know He is good and I know He is all about life. I also know that He doesn't make babies die in the womb, but He does know about everything we go through before it happens. I know that if He has allowed me this suffering He has something to show me, to teach me, to tell me. So, I've been listening.


When I first started spotting and bleeding, this is a Psalm I read...
You are my hiding place.
You protect me from trouble.
And sing over me with songs of deliverance.

I made it into a song and I sing it over myself and over this life.

An open letter to my child in heaven...

Its been some time since I blogged but yesterday words began to pour like the great flood and I have found them healing me as the came. So, I'm gonna write as it comes and I hope that you can find some healing in this too..For whatever ails you in this short life. 

Yesterday I wrote some hard honest letters to people that I have lost along this road. My last letter was to the child I miscarried in September 2012. I wrote that child one letter when I first found I was pregnant, and one more when the bleeding started. I begged them to stay within me...But we know that was pointless. The aimless cries of a mother in agony. So I wrote a final letter (because I'm not going to be one of those people who goes kuku by writing letters to deceased people all the time). 

I share it with you because we have all lost something and have all grieved deeply for someone or something. As I did in my first post, I recommit to being as real as I can. My love to you all!

Dear Child of Mine,

I’d like to believe you were a boy but odds are you weren’t. But I’m naming you Zeal (hopefully your dad will agree…He did!). I think it’s a perfect name either way and hopefully all your heavenly friends will think it’s pretty sharp. You rocked my world and changed me in weeks the way waters carve lines in the rocks over hundreds of years. You were radical and I needed (need) that change. I would never have chosen it but I needed it. 

My grief has been like a seed. It falls in the soil of your heart without your permission. When the bad thing happens a flower in the field of your heart dies and it drops its seeds. Some blow away with the winds of time. But some take root. Your silent tears water them and before you know it, you have an underground system of roots belonging to grief. In most respects I am very in touch with myself. But no one wants to be angry or sad so I had rejected them. I had said, “Go away from me!” and dusted them from my shoulders like an old cobweb. It was silliness and futile but I tried. Did I mention grief is like a nasty stain??? You can’t merely dust it off. You must wash it repeatedly and possibly use some oxy-clean. Unfortunately there is no spiritual oxy-clean so there you have it. Life goes on and with each situation you find that over time the grief stain lessens. That is if you dealt with it. But remember I didn’t.

So, here I am with a grief tree growing in my heart. You can call an apple tree a pear tree or an orange tree. But really, it is still an apple tree. So it is with a grief tree. You can call it whatever you like or nothing at all. It doesn’t matter. It’s there.

Sweet child, you were the beginning of my grief tree. And just because of that I think it’s lovely because it grew from you. Grief is not a bad thing. Well at least not to me. Depression is the evil twin of grief…but grief itself is normal and natural. So I tell myself.  (I shall call it my Zeal Tree). And the reason I think grief to be good and not bad for me is that it has drawn me closer to our Maker. To the one who breathes life into all my leaves and waters me when I’m thirsty so that I grow and thrive.

And I do grow and thrive even in the midst of this time. His words say that better is the unborn baby. And in the past months I will say that you haven’t missed out on too much when it comes to what others undergone. For that reason only am I thankful you are there and not here.

Now, onto something completely unrelated. The idea that I would have no Abaleen if you hadn’t gone. I can’t conceive that because she is all I know in the flesh. I can’t think “I’m glad I have her and not you”. Or  “I wish I had you and never her”. That’s absurdity. So, I cherish every moment with her because that is a moment I have with her that I never had with you. And I thank God that He gave me her even though I lost you. I thank him that this life is a breath and even now in His mind we are all together in an eternity of something I can’t comprehend…But I know you’ll be there and I’ll be there and our Maker.

One day I’ll “hold” you… and I will be able to love you in that moment without any grief because thankfully there is an end to this madness. And passing from life to LIFE uproots all the trees in my heart and lays down a new forest of only Goodness and Joy and Peace. I don’t know what your Home is like. Can you see me? Do you watch us? Do you laugh when I’m silly? Do you watch me worship and know that it’s only the tip of the iceberg? You know so many mysteries I can’t fathom.

It’s not fair that a mother should nurture a child even for a day that she would never be able to hold and nuzzle and smell and kiss. It’s not fair that I didn’t receive your first smile or glean from you your first giggle. It’s torture that I don’t know if you were my one true son. It’s crazy that I must wait to know if you were the one who took after your Daddy. (Who, by the way, is the most amazing man I know).

In my last letter to you I begged you not to go. But in this letter, I leave you in better spirits Zeal. You are in way better hands than mine. (After four children I realize children living past age 5 is a sheer miracle in and of itself.) I give myself fully to the shade of this grief tree. In it I find the comfort of my Maker in ways I would have never known otherwise. Your life was not a waste. It has been used for my good over and over and over… And therefore the good my children and my husband and our church and my grandchildren and so on. Your tiny formless body has had a great impact. The fruit of your life grows with in mine.

Zeal, you have all my love. 

Things I gotta say...

There have been many times when I have felt guilty over the fact that my fertility resembles that of a rabbit. I know so many precious couples who long for a child and here we are popping them out like gumballs from a machine. I know I shouldn't feel that way, but I do. I've often pondered between me and God: why did you choose us for this easy path and others for a hard one? I have even envied the perspective that people who have had to wait have gained from their experiences. I'll be honest. I've not always had the best attitude upon first finding out about a child growing with in me. Don't get me wrong, I love (LOVE) our girls. But there were days when I know I don't fully appreciate what I have, because the stress of life pushes away perspective. And I have to fight for it sometimes. I guess we are all guilty of that, but it still bothers me about myself.

When I got pregnant with Irie, Jeremiah and I had been married 2 weeks. I was shell shocked. Yes, we knew where babies came from, but didn't expect that we'd accomplish it so quickly. With Scarlet, I was happy. With Clara, I was in denial. With sweet baby #4, I was at peace. But that child didn't thrive and was gone in the proverbial "blink of an eye". I grieved and experienced a sadness I would never wish on anyone. And, if I hadn't gotten pregnant again immediately then I know I'd still be swimming in a pool of despair on some level.

So, here I am, carrying our precious baby #5 (which for obvious purposes will always be referred to as our 4th child). I would love to lie and say that after a miscarriage I've had a wonderful positive attitude about everything I've experienced in this first trimester. I try not to lie so I'll just say that I still struggle for perspective. The past 3 months have been incredibly trying and emotional and just plain crazy sometimes. I know that a miscarriage is not from God. However, I know God and I know He promises to use everything for my good...Even the horrible things that Satan would use to destroy me. And that is just what God has done. He met me in my sadness and I felt Him near to me. He changed my heart and made me more like Him. He gave me another child (and there was a part of my heart that feared I wouldn't have another). He has given me grace after grace after grace to live and not just merely be alive. I am thankful that God doesn't just have healing for us, but also has Himself for us.

I am 11 weeks and 3 days pregnant with this baby. We would like a boy :) 

Grey Hairs and Wheel Chairs...

So, for awhile now I've been wanting to start branching out in my personal ministries. Which can be rather hard considering the mommy demand in my home is at an all time high. But, I don't believe children are meant to be an excuse so I have finally gone forward with something God has put on my heart for many years...And this is done with many thanks to my husband, who, in addition to starting 3 new jobs at one time, is taking Tuesday mornings off to watch our girls so I can live out the Gospel in a new way that God has put on my heart. (I love my Jeremiah.)

Today was my first day as a volunteer at a local nursing home, Ross Memorial Heath Care Center! My basic duties are to help wheel the residents from their rooms to the activity room, sit with them while the take part, or visit other residents in their rooms, and then help wheel them out. Originally I was supposed to do Friday mornings until I realized I had double booked myself. Praise God that He loves to show up in the details...Guess what the activity is every Tuesday when I'm there?? It's called "Sounds of Praise". A pianist comes in and plays and sings old hymns and an elderly man brings some God centered stories and devotions. As you all should know, singing old hymns to a piano is right up my southern Baptist-raised alley :) I got to sing, and loudly at that (hehe). The sweet woman, Annie, next to me was my own personal fan club and whenever a break presented itself she exclaimed "my, aren't you good...can you come home with me and sing to my Mommy and Daddy?". Though, she is obviously suffering from dementia, she was sincere all the same.

So, this is what I get to do every Tuesday morning. I get to serve these sweet people, and smile at them. Hold their hands and listen to them. Sing for them. It really is amazing how cool our God is! I knew I'd enjoy, but now I'm going to love it. And eventually I'll probably get to lead a devotion and do a musical "special" :) And as a side note, usually I am nervous about starting something new just because it is foreign...But I wasn't this morning. It was real nice. And as an additional side note, this is something I can bring Irie (my 3.5 year old) along with me to. She will love showing off her dance skills for them.

What has God been putting on your heart that you've been putting off for a million different reasons??? Perhaps, its just not time yet. But...maybe it is! Hey, if I can fit it in, maybe you can too :)

Dreams are a wish our hearts make...

I've been thinking about dreams. Not the kind you have when you sleep (though I've plenty enough strange ones to devote a whole blog to). I've been thinking about dreams, as in the things we desire most in life, the things we aspire to do and become, the things we dare to think of though we know it may never happen. The reason that this is noteworthy is because by nature, I am not much of a dreamer. I tend to err on the side of being a realist, and a realist isn't one for dreaming much. However. since I've been married to a magnificent dreamer for four years now, I think he's having an effect on me. I know this to be true because I've been dreaming some magnificent dreams myself. When I'm lying in bed at night, my mind wanders far from me...And when I wake up in the morning to nurse Clara I have trouble falling back asleep thinking on such dreams. I don't know why I've never been a dreamer, because despite the lack of sleep its causing me, it's quite the thrill! I suppose it has seemed so easy to see dreams may never come to be, than to take the time to imagine if they did. I was on the way to church this morning and heard this line in a song "I've heard of dreams that move the mountains"...And then I was thinking on our beloved Martin Luther King, Jr., who, as we all know, had a dream. I've been pondering that if more people were dreamers, then maybe we'd have a greater impact on the world. Because, as for me, the more I think about my dreams the more I start to realize they aren't so far fetched...Especially since I serve such a mighty God!

So, this may not come as much of a surprise, but there is really only one thing I spend most of my time dreaming of (though I do dream of other things as well).... I dream of moving to Jamaica and planting a church. Oh my, every time I think I'm going to get it out of my system, I don't. Lately, I can close my eyes and picture Jeremiah and I ministering together. I can picture myself walking with the girls down the road to visit people. I can see the sunrises and sunsets and I can smell the freedom and excitement in the air as people start walking with God. It makes my heart beat faster and my eyes tear up. I dream of it so intensely. Usually I dream and then the realist within starts talking to me...It reminds me that my husband is not quite on board with all that, and that you need money, and that though life is simpler there, you are not afforded many of the conveniences you are here. And of the dangers to my children and that I'd leave my family behind. But lately, I've listened to the realist with wisdom and acknowledge these obstacles. I realize that my dream may never happen. God may call someone else's family to go there and they may plant a church. God may only use my prayers instead of my body. If that's the case then I'll just have to wonder why I was given this passion from afar, but I'll be okay. But, what if it is me and my family that gets to go!? What if my whole destiny depends on my ability to keep dreaming? To dream and keep my passion burning deep so that when the time comes I'm ready?

I think on Martin Luther King, Jr. and wonder where our nation would be if he had stopped dreaming? He changed a NATION for crying out loud! His dream was impossibly big and huge and hard, but it was the heart of God inspiring it with in him! I dream of changing a nation and pray that I could be devoted to my dream as he was his.

So I challenge you with this...let yourself dream! Dream of freedoms won, and nations released. Dream of your children following God to the ends of our earth and your children's children after them. Dream of your marriage causing envy in all those around you because the love that you share is so tangible. Dream of your families being reconciled and those that are unreachable being reached. Dream big dreams and small dreams...Outrageous dreams and down right silly dreams. Dream with faith that God CAN do it, even if He never chooses to. As Beth Moore so boldy puts it: "If I err, let it be on the side of faith!"

I see now, in our own way, we are all called to dream. We dream God's dreams and in pursuing them bring the Kingdom on earth.

Magic Mirror on the Wall...

Let me start this with a boring random fact...I use to think the mirror in Snow White was addressed as "mirror mirror on the wall", when in fact, it is "magic mirror on the wall". Hhhhmmmm. Pointless, I know :)

But on to my real thoughts. Last week I reposted a blog from last year titled "Beauty is Fleeting". Never in my life have I struggled so much with my physical image as I have the past few months. So, I had to go back and reread what God spoke to me last year...and reread and reread. Well, you get the point, I read it about 5 or 6 times. And guess what? It ministered to me! And guess what else?! I'm still struggling.

I'm struggling with my image and wasting my precious thoughts on how my body looks. And I'm frustrated that I'm struggling. And I'm frustrated that I'm frustrated. Eh.

I've been contemplating why I'm struggling and I've come to a few conclusions:

1. I've never been a looker, but I've always been completely at home with the way my body looks. Even after the first two children. Even back when I was flat as a board and skinny as a pole. Even when I gained a little weight my senior year. And especially when I was an in-shape hot momma before our wedding :) That is, I've always been until now. I've never even remotely disliked the way I look until now.

2. I've never had to work out to look good. Since I've always been comfortable in my own skin, I've always just worked out for the sake of it and because I enjoy it. I don't know if I have the diligence to work out with a goal. And for what? Because for all I know six months from now I might be pregnant again! (Not that that is my goal, but we all know my track record is bit shady in the not being pregnant area.)

3. My body has changed a lot in the past 4 years. And especially since my much desired VBAC. I'm like a freaking bear that keeps going in and out of hibernation. I don't know if that makes sense to you but it does to me. Not only have I much "milk fat" (that is what I have termed the additional weight women put on to later on give back to their baby via nursing)...I have these hips that won't even unwiden and a body that has endured 3 pregnancies. Stretch marks, saggy parts, a "plump" tush, and thighs that chafe in this wonderful Georgia heat. A head of hair that is bound to start molting any day now. A knee that wouldn't allow me to run it all off, and an Achilles tendon is acting up.

4. I have changed A LOT in the past four years. I can barely remember I life post kids. Getting married changed me. And every time I get pregnant I change. And every time I give birth I change. The church next to our house had a meeting advertised on its sign for "borderline personality disorders". I thought maybe I should go because its seems I'm always on the borderline or becoming someone else!

So to sum it all up. I don't look in the mirror and recognize myself. I don't look inside myself and recognize myself. I know that what I see hasn't a thing to do with my insides, and vice verse.

I'd like to tell you and myself that the mirror doesn't matter to me, but it does. Frankly, I don't give a rip what other people look at me and see (well, might give a small rip), but I care what I see. I want to be happy with the person I see. And I wish it weren't so hard to get from the place I'm at now to where I want to be.

Here I am, learning to relove the body I'm in. To love it because it is the way it is because I have been blessed with 3 amazing little booger heads. To love it because I am able to bear life. To love it because I bear the marks of motherhood. To love it because if I don't I'm vain and shallow and without perspective and those are three things I never want to be.

Changing this world...

Jeremiah and I are watching this documentary called "The Human Experience". It's really cool. It got me thinking about my first visit to Jamaica when I was 15. We went to a handicapped orphanage up in the mountains called Westhaven. When I say handicapped you might think of someone in a wheel chair or someone with Down's Syndrome. There are children there with those conditions, but there are also children who are 18 years old but the size of a 1 year old... Children who are shriveled and stunted, molded into contortions from bones that are fused together. Children who are bedridden for life. They are there because their parents saw them at birth and rejected them. I think if many of them were born in America they could have been a lot better off due to available physical therapies and such. But then I also think that in America we have so many tests and technologies available to predict such conditions before children are born that if that child had been conceived here most parents would have aborted them before they were born. It makes me sigh. It makes me sigh a big, long, and deep sigh.

And then I remember their smiles. :) The first time I went I just cried uncontrollably. I cried and to this day I still don't quite understand why. Well for the obvious reasons that these children are so sweet and beautiful and their parents gave them up. But it was more than that. It was the horrible state of humanity and the sheltered lives we lead. It was holding a sweet girl names Janelle who was bed ridden and stuck in one shape and seeing her smile at me. It was the joy they gave me, a joy that rattled my world. And I was the one who was there to minister to them!

I can trace a shift in my world view back to that first trip, back to that orphanage. God changed my life on that trip. He opened my eyes and stirred my soul for someone other than me. And this was done through children that were the scum of the earth, children that couldn't walk or talk or feed themselves.

So, I'm watching this documentary yesterday thinking about how those sweet kids changed me. And I'm left with the dreadful truth: that most of us (including myself) aren't living up to our potential. If those kids could be used to alter my life, how much more should I be altering lives? Not because I'm better than them because I'm not handicapped. But because I'm NOT handicapped. Because I can talk and walk and speak and say deep things and go places. Not to mention all the other gifts I've been given in abundance. I've nothing limiting me.

That's all.

Life Is a Treadmill

Life is a Treadmill.

And it is on a high speed.

I.E. If you are not moving your feet forward, then you are flying backwards!

Have you ever watched a video where someone was distracted on a treadmill and FLEW backwards off into a wall? I have. And this image is precisely what God reminded me of when I was thinking about how I have been slacking off in a few areas. What a wake up call! Sometimes I fool myself into thinking that if I slack a little, it is equivalent to me just standing still, taking a break, catching my breath. In reality, my choices are making me backtrack (the Baptist in me is tempted to say "backslide" but that sounds too dramatic!).


Let's be honest, I have a lot of good excuses for dropping the ball. But excuses is all they are. What I need are actual reasons for dropping the ball in order to justify my behavior and I've found, upon self examination, that all my reasons are selfish.

So, here's to picking myself and my pride up off the floor, hoping no one saw me fly off the treadmill, and praying I am not injured so I can jump back on and keep going! ...Metaphorically speaking of course! :)

Clara's Birth

I have been pondering in my heart how to convey in words all that I feel towards the birth of our 3rd child. I feel that no matter what I write here it will fall short of doing it justice - but oh well! That's just how awesome some things are.

I went into this pregnancy kicking and screaming. I wasn't ready to deal with all the things it made me face and my past discouragements concerning birth. Two c-sections under my belt and more than physical scars to accompany those surgeries. I wanted a vaginal birth more than I could explain and for reasons I didn't even understand myself (though in retrospect, I do understand better my innate need for something so wonderful).

Clara was born on February 14th, the best Valentine's present I've ever been gifted. (Nothing like having the Lover of my soul satisfying a deep desire of my heart on the day of love.) She was 6 days "past due" and those six days were hard. When I was pregnant with Scarlet I didn't go into labor by the appointed time my former OB gave me. So I was just waiting. Fortunately this time around I have an awesome OB, Dr. Joseph Tate, who wouldn't have done a c-section unless absolutely necessary...Still I was facing my fears. But my body was working and I knew that labor was coming - just the waiting for it that was killer. I was having contractions that were getting more intense over the course of 5 days before I actually went into labor...And this is where the real story begins!

On Sunday night Jeremiah went on a date and I was uncomfortable from the child inside! So, we decided to come home and DTD (do the deed) one last time for good measure since that is the best way to keep your body ready for labor. Well, this time it worked. With in half an hour I was having contractions 4-6 minutes apart (this was 10pm). With in 2 hours they were 2-3 minutes apart and more intense. But, I could still talk through them and they weren't that long. So, I tried to sleep, took a warm bath, drank a little wine - no rest though. And even though I was tired, my heart was EXCITED! I was in labor! This went on all night, I let Jeremiah rest because if you know J, you know he is much more helpful rested. I did wake up to tell him I was indeed in labor and that we'd be leaving for the hospital in time to beat rush hour traffic. He accepted this info and went back to sleep - I love my husband! :) (Testimony of how at peace we both were with the situation.) So, at 6am we left for downtown (Emory Hosp in Midtown). My whole family met us there which was a blessing because I didn't know they'd all be able to make it. We had to wait awhile for a triage room. Thankfully my awesome OB was there and he checked me. 8am: 5cm 80% eff, -1 station. Then we had to wait for a labor and delivery room -- which was great because in the meantime I didn't have to be hooked up to fetal monitoring so I paced around through contractions and J and I joked around and went over some Bible verses I'd been confessing...9:30ish Dr. Tate checked me again and I was 6 cm. Moved into the L&D room and things really picked up! My doula arrived just in time because she was invaluable in keeping me going. She told me transition was coming soon. Holy moly! Transition was like a time warp where breathing was my only focus. Jeremiah said it passed quickly for him, but not for me. I guess it was only an hour but man it seemed longer! Contractions straight with no breaks in between. J and Talitha (my doula) were trying to get me to change positions, but that was hard at that point. Anyhow, this is around the time I started feeling the uncontrollable need to push with each contraction, and also when I started to get some breaks between them. Since my OB is so awesome he didn't tell me "not to push" as most do. He said push as I felt the need. He also checked me and I was 8cm, fully effaced, baby was at a +1 (which is really close to crowning). So, I kept on pushing with my contractions. Really, I couldn't not push. This is around the time Jeremiah forced me to get out of bed and go to the bathroom. Yes, I pushed on the toilet and I could literally feel Clara moving down. Once I got back on the bed my OB told me she was crowning and within 15 minutes I pushed her out. And it wasn't an orthodox pushing position, but more of a crouching on hands and knees fetal position. So, after she came out I flipped over on my back and they put her on my chest. I'm getting teary as I write.

For some people this may just be the norm for their births, but since I'd longed for this day for so long, it was almost surreal. I had just birthed a child into the world with out any help from modern medicine. One of the verses God impressed on my heart for this birth was from Psalm 139, that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. In terms of the size of children J and I produce, I needed to believe this. Amazingly I never worried this whole pregnancy about the size of Clara. Anyhow, since she came out a whopping 9lbs 14 oz, I consider that another testimony of how wonderfully my body is made. I didn't tear when her head came out, but I did tear some when her shoulders came out. I don't really care though, because it was part of the "natural" process. Also, one thing I was slightly obsessed about this time was Clara being in the "right" position for birth (face down) b/c Irie was face up and it was hard back labor. So, this time Clara actually came down the birth canal facing to the side. Another thing that was cool is that my water never broke in an obvious way. Even my OB didn't know when it broke. And so many doctors just break your water in a rush...I know that it was there at 5cm and then at 8cm he didn't say anything. My fluid levels had been low though so I think there wasn't too much and it just came out gradually. Obviously God was just making a point to me. When He is granting the desires of the heart, He works out the details. I'm so glad I chose to believe God had something more for me than what so many people and doctors assumed for me.

That's the technical side of my story...Here are some other fun details about my natural labor.
I always (internally) made fun of the women in the movies who were screaming in labor. I thought it to be highly dramatic. I now call myself the "movie woman". I was screaming, moaning, grunting and other "primal" noises, as my sister so eloquently put it :) I was sweating, cramping, almost hyperventilating :) If I hadn't had Talitha and Jeremiah I couldn't have done it. I know I never asked specifically for an epidural, because that's not what I wanted. But there were points when I didn't think I could do it, or that my body could take anymore. Talitha said "you are doing it". I love that.

I always fall in love with my husband all over again after having a baby. But this time is on a whole new level. It was such a precious experience to go through together. Jeremiah said when she came out and then put her on my chest the wave of emotions he felt was overwhelming. He was amazing and I realize that to have a husband, let along a supportive one, is not to be taken lightly this day in age. He supports my dreams and desires and is my rock.

Talitha, my doula, was invaluable. She was so calm and collected. I feel that her presence and confidence in me made it possible for me to know I could do what I set out to do. When I look at pictures of her grace while I labored, I am reminded that this must be how God "looks" when we are travailing in life. We think we can't do it, but he is calm and says, "but you are".

Lastly, after laboring for around 15 hours, I was spent to say the least. But when Clara came in all her glory and I saw her, it was euphoria. I felt like I could conquer the world. I was on a high for hours. This is why I would do it all again in a heart beat. After having c-sections and being drugged up, unable to move, etc with Irie and Scarlet...Clara's birth made me feel alive in a way I never have. That is what I believe God intends for women to experience, but that modern medicine and our belief that we might need more than God to do something has stripped us of. I am in no way condemning epidurals or c-sections because I know they have their place. But I do think for a lot of us God would have more for us but our thinking has been tainted by this world and so we miss out...And that statement is not just about a birth experience but about so many things in life.

In the after math of this amazing experience Jeremiah and I feel like we are on top of the world. For us it is one of the hardest and best experiences of our lives! I see this desire in him resurface to dream and do things he's been meaning to do. I feel capable of rearing 3 kids at once. I've been keeping my kitchen clean and clothes washed. We both believe this change in our attitude is directly related to our birth experience with Clara. We felt empowered and encouraged by it - while in the past our birth experiences left us defeated/discouraged. I know that God had his reasons for allowing us to experience the hard times we did with Irie and Scarlet, and that what we learned from the trails was more important to His glory than what we would have learned if he'd given us what we wanted the first time, or even the second time. Since He's never failed me, I trust Him to give me what I need WHEN I need it. And I feel that what we experienced with Clara was what we needed for the now.

God is such a gracious God. I feel unworthy to have experienced His goodness in my life concerning this birth. He's already done the ultimate kindness to me by loving me and saving me, yet He still cares about the things I care about and still delights in my delight. I feel loved beyond measure and confident in my standing with God.

An open door...

Usually I am writing about serious topics, but sometimes we need a change of scenery...So, here's some scenery to picture:

A living room that was relatively clean. A living room that was no longer clean but destroyed. A spare room of Christmas decorations, toys and art supplies.... Specifically a large bag of colored feathers my mother-in-law bought me for crafting. A door my children should never enter alone. A door I accidentally left open when I went out yesterday in a hurry. Two children whose father assumed since they were playing quietly, they were playing in their own room. Two children who are more like tornadoes than human beings and a father who was playing video games. One very pregnant woman who loathes crawling around on the floor cleaning. One very pregnant mother who has been on top of keeping the house cleaned and recleaned and rerecleaned...

That's a beautiful picture I just painted for you, huh? That is what I came home to yesterday. I felt like someone was playing a mean trick on me when I saw the living room. But then my eyes rested upon some play dough toys which I knew for a fact were locked in the nursery....But were they? No, because I left the door open. So I look into the nursery and find a flock of colorful birds has been defeathered at my feet. No not really, just an 18 month old meeting the bag of feathers. Every marker was open, all the nativity pieces scattered abroad. And my good mood I had waltzed in with, it was gone. I could have taken a picture but it wouldn't have done the mess justice.

Was I mad at the kids? For once, no. Was I mad at my spouse? You bet. Was I mad at myself? Oh yeah! So what did I do? Allowed myself to be boggled by the chaos, to shake my head in disbelief. I fumed for 3 hours.

I ask you, is there meaning in all madness?

Minister

Last night I was laying in bed with my husband...This is noteworthy because we rarely go to bed at the same time. He, being a night owl, and me, being a tired pregnant woman who cherishes every 8 hour stretch of sleep I can get. Anyhow, Jeremiah wasn't in a particularly friendly mood because he had to get up early this morning and I think he'd just got his butt kicked in some ps3 gaming - so it wasn't one of those chatty, cuddly lay in bed times. It was a turn the light off and be quiet night. But hey, we were going to sleep at the same time so I didn't complain...Yeah right! My flesh wanted to grumble silently, but thankfully my spirit won that battle. So instead, I found myself praying for him.

See, my husband's job is not glamorous and it is not the best of pay. It is cold, hard work and I'm sure if he could go and do just about anything else he would. But for now, J chooses to be content in these circumstances. I'm proud to brag on him - he's got his eyes on the prize. It didn't happen over night, but he's come to realize that there is more to a job than a good pay and enjoyment; there is a ministry and a calling. While he views his responsibility to provide for us as highly important, we both have come to view God's love for others as more important. We could have kept searching and searching for an awesome pay job that J loved, which was my prayer for awhile. But God's heart got the best of us. I love when that happens. (And, when we starting having God's heart, he blessed us with a pay raise at a job that I claimed "would never give raises".)

Jeremiah works with people who are diamonds waiting to be discovered...Caterpillars waiting to be wrapped up and meta morphed...Seeds hiding in the cold of winter waiting for spring. I know all people fit this description in some sense, but believe me, some more than others. They are written off as delinquents and slackers and crazies, and those are the nicer of the terms. They weren't fathered by men of integrity or mothered by women of gentleness. J has this amazing gift to relate to people and see them as God does. Something that I long for more and more. He sees them as God does, and not as this world. And so he forges these relationships with people that other's just write off. Twice this week his co-workers have called to just chat or ask for help or pour out their heart. I have listened to him be a friend - I have listened to him minister.

It is humbling when we realize that the responsibilities that are most base to our positions in life, or our existence, are more than just responsibilities. I know this, and I've known this. But last night laying in bed it was a fresh revelation. For me, God reminded me that I'd forgotten my role as wife and mother and daughter and sister are my foremost ministries. It is easy to let our church ministries distract us from it...Or let the repetition of the acts of cooking dinner, changing diapers or disciplining our kiddos seem to be just what they are: acts. But they aren't - they are good works prepared in advance for us by our Father.

Today, let us be reminded that in all things God has a purpose for us, a chance for us to minister and advance His kindgom. In Jeremiah's case it may be chatting about movies with an older man who lost his son many years ago. In my case it may be the gentleness of my voice when I remind my children what is right and wrong. I hope God shows you what it is for you as well.

God's Way

What does it really mean to choose God's way over this world's or our own???
Originally I thought of titling this God's Way or the Hard Way...But that is false because sometimes (many times...most of the time!?) choosing God's way is way harder than choosing our own way.

I'll get right to the main thing that I have discovered when faced with the decision to choose my own way or God's way:

God's way is no guarantee of harder or easier - it is our guarantee that we become more like Jesus in God's timing rather than our own...And for the record our timing would take a heck of a lot longer. In essence, God's way is NOT about what is easier for us, or making life hard to teach us a lesson. It is about what is BEST. And not only about what is best for us, but for our spouses, and our children, for our extended family, for the Church as invidiual churches and as an international whole, for the lost and dying world we live in...And above all, God's way is about His glory, which is always first and foremost on His mind.

Now, I'd like to say His glory is always first and foremost on my mind, but then you'd know I was lying. I'd like to say that it is even the fourth or fifth thing I think of when I am vacillating a big decisions. But no, usually I remember after much deliberation and such.

I'd also like to say that I think this is one of the main reasons God inserted Romans 12:1-2 in the Scriptures. There are many things people say with good intention and many things we see as right or acceptable or "how its done" because of the culture we were raised in or by influence of this crazy world. Sometimes how we see things line up with God's word, but really, most of the time they probably don't (at first). That's why it is VITALLY important for us to become questioners and wonderers. For me, to question and wonder is by nature. Ask Jeremiah, I drive him nuts asking him a billion question. I want to know everything about everything. I want to know why we do things, why I do things. Satan would have us as cookie cutter-minded running around doing what everyone tells us. God calls us to "not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind". And the result is this: "Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will." I don't know about you but the fight, pain and diligence it takes to break us out of our old way of thinking is way worth the result of knowing what His will is for us. Some people are under the impression that His will is evasive and we can't really know what He has planned for us. Malarkey!!! These verses say we can and it also says it in 1 Cor. 2:9-10 (focus on verse 10).

Let me give you some examples from my own life. For Jeremiah and I choosing God's way has been saying no to birth control pills. (And note, this is God's way for us, and I don't want anyone to think I am pushing our ideals on others.) There are many things God did in our hearts before we even met that made us compatible on this decision. Popping a pill and timing your kids would have been ideal for me, someone who had a business degree and could make big bucks...Someone who loves to travel and do a jillion things at once. But, God's way for us was something different than we imagined. And I won't say that us having 3 kids back to back (starting with getting pregnant 2 weeks into our marriage) was all because of not taking a pill. Obviously we are a little looser with our prevention methods in other areas, and a little more carefree on the timing of our kids. But I also think that is a result of God showing us He has something different for us. This pregnancy was definitely a surprise and we did try not to get pregnant. Hey, God had different plans! Has it been easy to have 3 kids close together? No! After Scarlet was born you may recall that I temporarily lost my sanity. I'd describe it as something in me breaking. And from that crack, things began surfacing. Things that made me see myself in a new way (not a good way). But things that have caused me to change and change and change. Change as a spouse, a mother, a daughter, a friend...And these changes have made me become more like Christ.

On the same topic, I have friends who have been married for longer than Jeremiah and I. They don't prevent pregnancy, but they have yet to conceive. They long for children, but they also, and more so, long for God's plan for their lives. For a few of a people I know, this means no fertility testing or treatments. They wait on God. God's way for them is not easy. But I KNOW they are becoming more Christ like. I see it in them. Friends of mine waited 12 years to conceive. Their son is now Scarlet's age. They never saw a fertility specialist. They never doubted they would be parents. Other people told them to get over it, let it go. That never crossed their mind. To me, they are my modern day Abraham and Sarah (without all the sending your husband to sleep with the maidservant stuff!).

All this to say that even in specific areas of life, God's way looks different for people who look the same. While I cannot venture to say why God does what He does, I do know that I think it is about us as individuals, and our marriages and our families and again, the Church and this world. And all of us are in different areas of life, with different areas of ministry and influence. We ask Him for His will but we forget that it is not just about us. He takes everyone into consideration.

In closing, I leave you with John 15:9
"As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love."
God loved Jesus, yet He asked Him to leave heaven, live in our dirty world, hide his Glory for 30 years, and then submit himself to our hands in death. That is how Christ loves us. And what He calls us to do or be, no matter what it looks like, is about things so much bigger than ourselves. It's humbling.

Reconciliation

This week God showed me what true reconciliation looks like - I'd like to share, so keep reading!

Reconciled: (according to blueletterbible.com concordance from Matt. 5:24)

1) to change

2) to change the mind of anyone, to reconcile

3) to be reconciled, to renew friendship with one

Reconcile: (according to dictionary.com)

1. to win over to friendliness; cause to become amicable: to reconcile hostile persons.

2. to compose or settle (a quarrel, dispute, etc.).

3. to bring into agreement or harmony; make compatible or consistent: to reconcile differing statements; to reconcile accounts.

4. to reconsecrate (a desecrated church, cemetery, etc.).

What does reconciliation look like between two people?

For the sake of time, I will list Scripture references so you can double check my word (Matt. 5:23-24, 1 Cor. 7:11, 2 Cor. 5:17-19 just a few)...When I read about reconciliation it is about more than an apology for a wrong, it is about peace in a relationship that was once not at peace. I think true reconciliation starts with seeking forgiveness, but ends somewhere far different than what we have come to accept as the norm. Are the common things that cause problems between people acceptable reasons for a friendship/relationship to end (James 4:1)? Some examples from my own life that I can think of are business relationships with friends gone bad, romantic relationships gone bad, family members hurting each other...I know that sometimes we have to distance ourselves from a person for a time, or for good and that is the wise thing to do. But I think situations where this is needed are far and few in between. Yet, how many times do we just cut our losses with someone because things got hard or complicated?

The reason I am talking about all this is because reconciliation is something I have longed for in my life. On my end, at least, I want to do everything possible to be at peace with people, especially those with which I have had a history of "war". In my very first blog I wrote of being engaged when I was 18. We dated on and off for about 3 years. I know it hurt both of us deeply to be in such a traumatic relationship with no stability. Though at the time, I didn't accept responsibility for my part - it took me awhile to see that I even had a part. When he finally broke up with me, it took me awhile to accept the fact that things were really over, since we'd been on and off. And it took me even longer to start healing from loosing something I thought would be life-long. We tried to be friends in the aftermath, but it was too much for me. It was not healthy - I could not heal and be friends. So, I ended any relationship we had. Not because I wanted to but because I needed to. People told me to stay away from him, especially when I started dating Jeremiah. Then when I was married, they said stay away because you need to guard your marriage. When I got married I still had baggage, and Jeremiah, being the awesome man that he is, respected that healing takes longer than we want sometimes. I didn't love my ex-fiance anymore, not in the ways that would hinder a marriage. But how can you stop caring completely about someone that you were once willing to commit yourself to "until death do us part"? I'm human, and I can't. Not unless I had made myself less than human in my emotions and become detached, which is not healthy either.

It grieved my heart and soul to know that I would never be friends with someone so amazing. After all, if we hadn't been crazy and listened to everyone who told us to stop, not to mention God, things would not have gotten so out of hand that we couldn't be friends. It was our fault. I hated it. I don't think there should be anything that happens like that between believers that we should not be willing to work through. But there I was, the victim of a vicious "war".

I had been talking to God and my husband about my desire for reconciliation. A little over a year ago I felt that it was time to seek it. But I didn't even know what it would look like and did I mention my ex-fiance lives across the world now? I knew I had God's go ahead and I had my incredible husband's blessing as well. Being the godly man that he is, he looked past all my horror stories from that relationship and saw in my ex what I saw once too - a cool guy. So I emailed him. It was awkward. We started over. We filled each other in on our selves. We talked about old friends and family and our new lives. I was open and honest (not something that is terribly hard for me, but given the situation...). There were months in between correspondences, but it was casual and peaceful. I told him that Jeremiah and I would love to have him for dinner when he was stateside. A few weeks ago I got a call, he was here and he accepted. He and his sister, my long time friend, came for dinner on Monday. So there we were, me, my husband, my friend and my ex-fiance/now just friend at the table with my 2 girls. And it was a beautiful picture to my soul. We caught up, talked, laughed, joked and I had a really good time.

That is what reconciliation looks like to me. When my husband and I can sit in complete peace with someone that once rendered my heart useless and talk like old friends...Because you are old friends. From this point forth, I no longer refer to him as my ex-fiance, but as my friend. If we are truly reconciled to someone the past has no bearing on the present.