Tag Archives: encouragement

faith, mommyhood, random thoughts

How It Looks From Here

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I got an interesting comment the other morning. The person said, “I’ve just been reading your blog. Final verdict: parenthood sounds hard.” It was in the middle of a good-natured comment from an old friend, but still took me a little off guard. My first reaction is “Duh! An hour at my house is the only birth control you’ll ever need!” But then, I wondered if I hadn’t been portraying my life the right way. Am I posting too many things that are frustrating or annoying or hard or sad? Should I be glossing over those difficult parts and highlighting only the good? I don’t want anyone to think I have an unusually difficult time with my kids. But I don’t want you to think I have an unusually easy time, either. I just want to be real. Encouraging, but real. (My thoughts on that a little more in depth here.)

Parenthood can look like all sorts of things at different times, different seasons, and to different people. Motherhood can look wonderful. It can look hectic. It can look easy. It can look good, bad, crazy, scary, or sad, depending on the moment. There are times full of snuggles and smiles and eating all the food on their plate and going to bed on time. There are times of skipping naps, toddler tantrums, picky eating, snotty noses, poop-splosions (read about those here) and breaking down to cry. It’s ridiculous how quickly you can go from thinking, “Awesome! I’m doing it! This is great!” to “I can’t wait for Hubby to get home so I can sit down.” or “When does school start back, again?”

In the moments when my toddler has finally fallen asleep, and I’m still laying in her bed, spooning her, for fear she’ll wake up if I move, I drink in the snuggles. I thank God for the moments like this, when she turns back into a baby again, blanket in her mouth (gross, I know) and face softened to chubby cheeks and eyelashes. And maybe I cry a little bit, because I yelled when I shouldn’t have, or I had to harp on her too many times to share with her brother, or I simply was so busy with work and errands that I barely saw her until bedtime. Finding the grace to forgive yourself isn’t easy when you feel like you didn’t do the best you could possibly do. But you know what? I always make time for smooches and snuggles and she’s always fed and rested and clean. If those things are true, my day wasn’t a complete fail.

Sometimes, when one or both of the babes has gotten up in the night, I’m a zombie, and several cups of coffee don’t seem to be giving me the boost I need, we park it in front of the tv for longer than I’d like to admit. We eat whatever is the easiest thing to scrounge up for our meals and snacks, or we pile in the car and get drive-thru burgers and fries. I do no laundry, no dishes, and the only thing I clean is baby bottoms. Talk about the mom version of an under achiever, right? But those days aren’t the norm. They aren’t even common. But sometimes they are necessary to a tired family. When we all take naps on the couch watching some awful Netflix movie like Turtle Tale, it’s not likely I’ll complain that much. Sometimes those are the days that bedtimes come a little easier and less crying jags happen. On days when I “accomplish a lot”, I’ve been vacuuming instead of playing, and there are groceries in the fridge because I lugged my kids through the grocery store… Those are sometimes the ones that there are more frustrating than rewarding.

But what’s the formula here? Is there a way to ensure that my kids have a great day every day, and sleep well every night? I bet not. I bet there isn’t even a formula to ensure that they don’t have a good day and don’t sleep well. I just do the best I can; I love on them, try to teach them right from wrong, feed them (as healthily as I can), help them get rest (even if it means napping with them), foster learning and love of learning (whenever possible), bathe them (sometimes more than once a day), and pray for them. I don’t know how it looks from the outside. Maybe it looks hard to you, or maybe it looks fun! Maybe it looks rewarding, or like something you aren’t ready for right now. All those answers can be the right one.  It’s looked like all of those things from the inside, too. But from where I sit, the mama of two adorable (however crazy) kiddos, I have a blessed life, and I try to bless those kids in return. It’s looking pretty sweet to me.

faith, music

A Tool for the Gospel

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This keyboard is a tool (a darn good one at that). I use it to make music, to provide accompaniment or melody. As a worship leader, I am also a tool, to be used to lead those around me into worship, into the throne room, into the presence of my God. Sometimes I feel like a broken tool, hurt or jaded or so very needy that I could never lead others. Who am I to stand up there, an exhausted and sometimes frustrated mama who makes an embarrassing amount of mistakes, a too-busy friend, a distant stranger, and usher those sweet seekers of grace to the place of self-abandoning worship of the Most High? Who am I to hammer out the chords, sing someone else’s words, and put my heart out there, when others are surely more worthy?

But I guess that’s the beauty of it. Flawed people do great things. Everyone has a little work to do to further the Kingdom. Moses tried to tell the Lord that he wasn’t good enough. In Exodus, when God called Moses to set His people free, Moses said, “Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh to bring my people out of Egypt? What if they ask me questions I can’t answer? What if they don’t believe me? ”  God simply says that He has the answers, He will provide the proof… “I will be with you.” Moses will be the tool God uses to do the work, the freedom work, the work for His Kingdom.

If He can do that, then Jesus can take my half-asleep-on-Sunday-morning self, who is insecure about her abilities and worrying about what people may think, and help me let go. He can take my meager gifts and turn them into something beautiful. He takes my simple singing and playing, and touches someone’s heart. Even on a morning that I feel unrehearsed, rushed, hoarse, and hectic, someone will tell me that they felt His spirit, that they were spoken to. If just one someone grows closer to Him, I know that He has used me for His good. What better purpose is there for a person – a woman, a wife, a mother, a friend – to have than to bring forth the Gospel? To bless others? To lead my precious brothers and sisters to adoration at His feet?

And who is changed? Me. I am most affected by His use of me. I am the one who is blessed by blessing others, who grows closer to Him each time I play a note or open my mouth to sing. I am growing and changing and marveling at His love. From there, I can spread that incredible, mind-boggling love to others.

faith, mommyhood

The Thing That Broke My Heart And The Thing That Saved It

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Some of my people know this story… my family, close friends, prayer warrior friends of mine. I hope that by telling it, someone will be encouraged, someone will feel less alone, someone will be justified in their anguish. This story isn’t cute or sweet, and it doesn’t leave anything out. It’s just heartache and details and sadness and redemption.

Hubby and I tried for seven months to get pregnant with EK. I am well aware that seven months isn’t very long to try to get pregnant. It seemed long going through it, but as the cliché goes, God’s timing is always perfect. Hubby and I have always liked the idea of having our children fairly close together, so when she was born, we decided to “not not try”. Pardon the double negative, but that was our short way of saying we weren’t actively “trying” to get pregnant right away, but we weren’t actively preventing getting pregnant either.

When EK was ten months old, I got pregnant. I knew early on, told Hubby, and we somehow kept the joy and excitement of a sibling for EK to ourselves for two weeks. We finally told my parents (who were visiting at the time) when I estimated myself to be about 6 weeks along. With utterly cruel timing, the following week I started having terrible cramps. Not “implantation cramping” or “stretch cramping” or whatever other excuse they give you to tell you “it’s totally normal”. I was having honest-to-goodness, menstruation-like cramps. I tried to keep calm. I tried to monitor my body. I tried to wish and hope and pray them away. And when the spotting started, I called my OB’s office, heard the nurses say it was normal, read on various medical websites that it was normal. But I knew. Somehow, deep down I already knew what was happening.

I went in for an ultrasound, because my OB wanted to rule out an ectopic pregnancy. He was able to rule that out but said it was too early to tell much else. I went home. Cried a little lot. Rested. Tried to pretend everything was fine. Hubby was preparing for a ski trip with his brothers and some buddies, so I tried my best to put on a happy face and not share my darkest concern with him. But two days later, I knew for sure. My worst fears were all but confirmed. My cramping was a lot worse, and so was the bleeding. Even though my head kept wanting to hope, my heart was resigned to the loss.

I had gotten up at 4:00am that morning when Hubby got up to leave for his trip. He had offered to stay, but what good would it have done? Whether he stayed or went wouldn’t change anything. As I sat in the bathroom, weeping, I could even tell the moment that was the peak. It was done. Over. There would be residual damage, of course, but the event was finished. When I was hugging Hubby and sending him on his trip, I told him it was over. He held me for a long time, and left. I knew asking him to stay, like I really wanted to, would be ridiculous. I had already seen that he felt helpless, and was miserable for me much more than for the situation.

Later we would talk at length about this, about how he was excited at the idea of the baby, but it was just that – an idea. For the partner, it’s just an idea until they start to see the belly grow, feel the kicks, see the movements. For the woman who is pregnant though, the motherhood starts the moment you know that baby is there, just a microscopic little bean. Your feelings in that moment, combined inevitably with your hormones, overwhelm you. You start thinking and planning, praying and seeking wisdom from those other mothers in your life. You love that little thing… that little nameless, shapeless thing, because that’s what the Lord created you to do. You begin to neglect other things in your life as you start to wonder what the baby will look like, how far along you (actually, officially) are, whether it’s a boy or girl, whether you’ll even find out until the birth. It’s incredible how quickly you love that little thing, and every possibility it has.

But to have that little thing taken, snatched from you without reason or ceremony, that will break your heart. “What did I do wrong? What could I have done differently?” The answer is probably nothing. The poor little thing never had a chance. And neither did your heart.

In the next few weeks that seemed to drag, I held onto my first baby, my sweet Ella Kate, so tightly. I thanked the Lord for her, tried to believe that it was still possible for me to have a second such miracle. But if there wasn’t, EK was perfect, and I would do my best to be happy with only her. But I wanted her to have a sibling! I wanted her to experience that bond. I know many only children who wish they had shared their childhood with another. I didn’t want to keep that experience from her. I couldn’t help but wonder, no matter how hard I tried not to, if I had lost the only chance at another little miracle.

After the miscarriage, my doctor told me it could be 4-12 weeks before my cycle would start again. You guessed it – all that stuff about every woman’s body being different and all. He also said we should wait till the cycle started back to try to get pregnant again. And oh, did we ever want to try. I didn’t know there was a gaping, second-child-shaped hole in my life until I glimpsed it and lost it. But we waited to “try”. We took it slow, went about our busy lives. Then one day, chatting with two of my girlfriends, I started to count. I counted the days and weeks since my sadness had begun. There were so many… thirteen weeks, to be exact. How long had my doctor told me to wait? 4-12? Well heck, there ought to be something wrong with me if I haven’t started at this point. What could be the hold up? This girl needs to get pregnant!

When I got home, I found out what the hold up was. I was pregnant, there in that very moment. In the midst of my anguish and waiting and wallowing and praying, I got pregnant. Without trying, without stressing over dates and temperatures and wives’ tales. I couldn’t believe it – women don’t get pregnant like that, right? Our bodies need time and healing and rest, right? I guess sometimes not. And when I called my doctor’s office, the nurse I spoke to estimated (based on my miscarriage date) that I got pregnant about eight weeks after the miscarriage, and made me an appointment for when I should have been abut eight weeks along. At the appointment, the ultrasound tech (the same sweet Kayla who had walked with me through both my pregnancy with EK and my shorter, sadder one) burst out laughing and said, “You’re 10.5 weeks pregnant! Due before the end of the calendar year!” What an incredible surprise, to be that near the baby’s arrival! I was almost out of my first trimester, and I hadn’t even known I was expecting.

EK's big announcement!
EK’s big announcement!

Part of the beauty of my story is the way Joseph obliterated my raw sadness. His appearance showed me that my body wasn’t broken. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. A few short months later, he arrived the day before his due date, round and pink and perfect. He’s the symbol of redemption in the story. The proof that something blessed and sweet was on my horizon.

The night before J was born, EK still in her mismatched Christmas pajamas, snuggling her brother-to-be.
The night before J was born, EK still in her mismatched Christmas pajamas, snuggling her brother-to-be.

In my story, I just have one. Just one little being I lost and will one day meet in heaven. But I know there are countless women who have lost more, much more, more than even those little babies that should have been. I count myself lucky to have two healthy children, and just one comparatively brief time of sadness. I don’t sit here thinking I’ve had it the worst you can have. But every miscarriage hurts. It still hurts. It is such a deep sadness, in your bones. But look for the redemption. I won’t tell you the redemption will look like mine. It might not be a child at all. But it will be there. Every situation can and will be redeemed. Let yourself believe it.

mommyhood, random thoughts

In Case You Think We’ve Got It Together…

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Disclaimer: attitude and honesty are sure to follow.

I don’t have it all together. No one does. But I’m one of those moms. One of those moms that wishes to be optimistic, to focus on the positive, the highlights of my day. On my Instagram, I’m in the middle (well, almost three-quarters) of my “100 Happy Days”. Because I wanted to be able to click my hashtag and see only my pictures, I dubbed my project #shinyhappy100. I felt a couple months back that I was getting a prophetic word to “shine”. I didn’t know what that looked like, but I took it in stride and did my best to do it, to share it, and to help my family and friends shine as well.

That doesn’t mean that every moment of every day is perfect. I love organization, but just like anyone else, sometimes the mess consumes the house, and I have to succumb to it, go to sleep, and fix it tomorrow (or the next day). I love when my babies nap at their regularly scheduled time, dinner is a delicious feast at the right time, and baths and bedtimes are spot on. But let’s be honest; that shit rarely happens – am I right? Babies don’t nap if they don’t feel like it, dinner can be a peanut butter sandwich (because I’m out of jelly, of course) and we skip the bath to start bedtime early, but no one actually goes to sleep till after 9:00pm. Can I please get an amen, yet?! Sometimes it’s all I can do to not fall asleep in EK’s bed while I’m waiting to her to decide she’s finished playing with my hair and singing to herself… because you know if I leave before she’s finished she jumps right out of bed and follows me out of the room (cue the loud wailing as if being tortured when I put her back).

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. -John 16:33

I just don’t want to give in to negativity. I’m not trying to pretend I don’t have problems. I’m not trying to pretend I’m the happiest person on the planet with a perfect family and flawless friends and a fairytale ending. But I am trying to encourage. I’m trying to send good vibes. Yes, most of my Instagram, Twitter and Facebook feeds show cute pictures, Bible verses, hilarious things that have happened, and sweet things about my family. But would you really want to hear every time my kids pooped out of their diapers and I had a huge mess to clean up? Would you want to hear about every disagreement Hubby and I encounter? Would you care to hear the details of a particularly grueling day where I didn’t get to leave the house or even shower? I bet you wouldn’t. I bet you’d rather hear about cute stories and successes and triumphs, because they give you hope that positive and happy things happen, even on crappy days, even in the midst of strife or sadness. Why? Because he has overcome the world! There are so many things out there that can discourage you and get you don’t. If you’re looking for a place where women write about all the things they hate and complain about every little thing in their lives, this probably won’t be it. Yes, I’ll do my fair share of venting and ranting, I’m sure. I won’t sugarcoat or pretend things are great when they aren’t.

The kids enjoying some back porch kiddie pool time together
The kids enjoying some back porch kiddie pool time together

But I will absolutely be happy in little moments with my sweet family, and celebrate small blessings, because that’s what keeps us going. I am about encouraging and lifting up and praising and thanking the Lord for little pieces of His awesomeness. Chocolate-covered mouths in wide grins. Successful bedtimes followed by evenings spent watching tv snuggled in the basement with Hubby. Lunch out with the kids that didn’t end in a scream fest. I will celebrate these things! I will post pictures! I will even post the picture that I took right before the meltdown. I do these things because when I look back at the pictures, at the statuses and blog posts, do I want to remember that my children were crying, sloppy messes and I had a husband who never remembered anything I said? No. I will remember I had precious children who made mistakes but had even more redeeming qualities. I will remember a Hubby who loves me unconditionally, even when I am my worst self. I will remember that I was busy and crazy and stressed, but happy and blessed and loved.

What will you do? What will you focus on and remember?

faith, mommyhood

We All Need Some Grace

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This article (here) just blew my mind.

10 Promises for Parents. Gospel promises. Gospel promises to mend your aching heart and give you hope. Hope that you aren’t totally screwing it up. Hope that you can keep on moving forward.

On the heels of a particularly horrific afternoon/evening (which coincidentally followed a truly lovely morning) these Scriptures brought tears to my eyes, conviction to my heart and healing  to my soul. There is grace for the anger. There is grace for the tiredness. There is grace for the sadness. There is grace for the mistakes. There is grace for every possible situation in which you find yourself.

Specifically, this verse spoke to me: A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. (Proverbs 15:1)

How much did I need to hear that?! I have a headstrong toddler. I don’t mean just a toddler. I mean a headstrong, outspoken, defiant, my-way-or-the-highway toddler. She comes by it honest (I’m from a family of just such people) so I can’t hold it against her. But I am butting heads with her over so many things I can barely keep up. Choose my battles, you say? I’m choosing, but she isn’t. I have to keep her safe, clean, fed, watered, and rested. Often, I keep feeling like I have to choose between those because she refuses to give in.

So I needed this reminder of grace. I needed to be reminded that my messy evenings of torturous bedtime routines that drag out for hours can be redeemed. I needed a reminder to speak softly, because my harsh words are thrown back at me from the mouth of my babe. She can be pushy because I can be pushy. She’s loud because I’m loud. Sometimes it’s funny – imagine a rousing rendition of “Let It Go” – but sometimes it’s awful. I needed a reminder that this little one just needs love. She needs patience and grace and love. I realize I’m human and I’m short on all of those things, but there is a fountain of them, flowing out onto me and through me. It’s my job as a mommy (not to mention as a wife!) to channel the flow of patience and grace and love onto my inexplicably wailing, exhausted (and exhausting) two-year-old. Even when I don’t know what to do, there is Someone for me to call on. And God, I’m calling on you. I need that grace, that patience, and that love. I need it desperately, for myself, and for my family. And praise the Lord, it’s coming.

faith

His Best For Us

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CS LEWIS 1

How often do you pray for what you want? A friendship to mend. A job opportunity to work out. A boyfriend to pop the question.

I bet those things don’t work out like we plan as often as we wish. We lose touch with the friend. We don’t get the job. The boyfriend says things “aren’t working out”. And we are left hurting.

It sucks down there in the pit… the pit in which we feel we’re stuck after every situation that ends a different way than we plan. How will you ever forgive that friend? What will you do since you couldn’t get your dream job? Will you find a love as good as the one you had?

Friends, these are valid questions. I won’t tell you they’ve never crossed my mind, or that they shouldn’t cross yours. It’s the human experience, wondering these things. But listen to this: That isn’t what God has for you.

There are incredible plans for you. He knows what you need. Isn’t that comforting? What a relief! Even when you’ve had the wrong idea all this time, He’s had the right one. God has fashioned a perfect journey, and you’re already on it. It might not be easy. It might not be safe in our personal bubble. But it is GOOD. His highest for you is so much more wishing and wondering. He has a perfect place for you to be. He has the perfect way and time for you to get there. He will lead you to the perfect brothers and sisters in His name.

There are so many clichés that non-empathetic people love to use… mostly ones that we don’t want to hear. God’s timing is perfect. Hindsight is 20/20. When God closes a door, He opens a window. Blah blah blah. Of course they’re true. They wouldn’t be clichés if they weren’t true. But who wants to hear that?! I want someone to say, “Yeah, that’s an awful feeling. I’ve been there.” and then pray for me. I know that God has a plan. But that doesn’t mean my heart doesn’t hurt. I know an amazing future is ahead – but that doesn’t mean I’m not totally impatient waiting on it!

Take heart, right now. His best is on its way. I promise. He promises. Pick your head up, trudge up from the pit, and shout to Him, “I’m ready! I want to trust You and move on!” He will pick you up and help you onward. And if you need a sister to pray with you and for you and hold your hand, I’m your gal. Or connect with a church. Or find a fellowship. Reach out. I can’t do it for you (believe me I would if I could). If you can’t muster up the faith that He has your best, call on someone to believe it for you. He has it. His best. For you. Always.

mommyhood

Parenting Plight #2: Babysitters

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Let me make this clear before I get started: the plight of which I speak isn’t the babysitters themselves. Oh no, our family is blessed with wonderful, sweet babysitters who love and take good care of our kids, including several family members. No, the plight is a different beast altogether.

The plight is the leaving. The preparing for every possible scenario that might occur. The feeling that your phone must be on loud and in a visible spot at all times during whatever it is that you are doing away from the kids. The hoping you don’t get the phone call you’re waiting for. The sneaking out (I know- sneaking causes a whole set of issues- we don’t always do it) while they are distracted doing something else. The feeling that you’ve forgotten to mention something, or forgot to leave a certain item in plain view, or forgot to get cash to pay the sitter with. You know what I mean.

The plight of leaving your kids with someone else must get more comfortable at some point, right? I mean, beyond the missing them and hoping they sleep well, it must get easier the older they are. I remember as a kid, my parents leaving meant that I could probably play board games and watch movies and eat cookies and stay up late with a sweet older girl who would serve, for several years, as a role model and favorite person to see on the occasional weekend my parents went out. But right now, with my two year old and six month old, leaving means that I better have my daughter fed or she won’t eat. And Frozen in the DVD player. And a swaddle (she will NOT sleep without one) ready for emergencies or bedtime. And I better have my son in a happy mood, in his pajamas, with everything he needs for bed already in his crib. And several bottles made and ready to go, because if I only leave one, he will wake up every two hours till I get home and need one. Hubby can’t relate to this, because I have self-diagnosed OCD and he is as laid back as they come. See why we fit together so nicely?

Often, we are lucky enough for our babysitters to be grandparents. They know routines. They know what to do in case of a meltdown. They know where everything is in the house (or in some cases, baby stuff is all there in their own houses). They are familiar, safe faces and personalities. And praise the Lord, they are free. But lately, even they have a little resistance from the too-smart-for-her-own-good toddler. My mom doesn’t like to do bedtime with her right now because she gets up so many times before she is finally down for good, and when she gets up and all she finds is my mom, she is likely going to melt down. Why? No good reason. She loves my mom. She knows Hubby and I are coming home. She has everything she needs (full belly, clean diaper, swaddle, animal friends, etc). She just needs extra love right now, in this stage of her life.

Now, I will say two things, and they are in no way supposed to sound pushy. They are simply my opinion. First of all, the plight of leaving shouldn’t make you feel like you can’t have a date night, or go out with the girls, or even just see a movie by yourself if that’s your thing. We all need a little sanity, a little freedom, and a little time where the company can form complete sentences and drink a glass of wine. Secondly, if you’re in a committed relationship, it is really, REALLY important for you to have some time with your significant other alone… by yourselves. A revolutionary thought, i know. This is my opinion, but I’m also sure it’s true. Your relationship needs time that isn’t interrupted by kids’ meals, baths, naps and bedtimes. Make your person a priority. Don’t read that as “neglect your kids for that person”, but read it as a call to not neglect that person for your kids, if your person is important to you. Hubby and I love spending time together with the kids. We love spending time together at home after the kids are in bed, by ourselves or with friends. But we really appreciate a night out, just the two of us, slowing down, reconnecting, and getting to know each other better. It’s a time to see him as Hubby instead of Dad, for me to be a wife instead of just Mom, and to revisit hopes and dreams and careers and thoughts on life in general, instead of schedules, kids, bills and housework. Remember that time? Yeah. We were living the crazy life. We were doing what we wanted to, when we wanted to. We don’t really want to go back there, but a few hours of doing just that is exactly the therapy we needed.

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Dinner at The Porch, drinks at Recreation Billiards and music at Bull’s Tavern was our perfect date night.
faith, mommyhood

Your Best Is Good Enough

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You know who is an expert? Not me. Oh LORD, it ain’t me. Not for one minute on any subject at any time. You know who else is an expert? Not you. Not her. Not them. No one. There isn’t a single person who knows all the ins and outs of every situation. Not a friend, not a family member, not a parent, not even a spouse knows how you feel, how you think, or exactly how you tick. When I have a question about how to handle my toddler, or how to soothe my teething infant, or how to finally let go of some frustration I’ve been clinging to for a few days, want to know who I ask?  My mom. My best friend. My hubby. All of the above and more. I ask every mom, every wife, everyone I trust. They all have a different answer to my question. I ask them to pray for me, to pray with me. And beyond that, I let my “Mama Bear” instinct (yeah, you know what I’m talking about) take over and hope for the best. All I can do is my best. There isn’t any more. My best is good enough; it MUST be good enough. And then I praise the Lord – because He fills in the gap where my best falls short.

When I think of that post going around Facebook right now about the woman who left her son in the car while she went in the store to buy headphones, my heart hurts. Not because I agree or disagree with her choice.  Not because I would or would not have done the same thing. My heart hurts because I know she did her best. Her best was clearly different than the videotaping bystander’s best. But you know whose best that kid needed? His own mom’s. The woman whose best has been given to him, I’d bet all my money, since day one.

I really get teary when I think of the “I Support You” movement that is happening among moms. You know, the breastfeeding-till-age-5 moms holding handwritten signs that say, “Formula feeding mom: I support you!” and vice versa. Finally, we all get it. Your best is the healthiest thing! Your best will nourish your baby!  I truly think that movement has been a long time coming, and much needed among the often dramatic and pushy collective of mothers.

So, to all of you – moms, wives, sisters, daughters, colleagues, strangers, and friends – be encouraged. Do your best, because your best isn’t shameful. Your best isn’t lacking. Your best is awesome. Your best is beautiful in the eyes of your Maker.

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Here is my best. Ella Kate and Joseph are the best I have ever done, or could ever do.

mommyhood

Doing Life Together

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One thing that I feel personally blessed to have in my life is mom friends.  Don’t get me wrong- my single friends, my married-without-children friends, my dude friends, I love them all.  But there’s such a built-in sense of camaraderie, of “oh my gosh, that just happened with us, too!” with these women.  Their kids are just as crazy as mine, they’re just as tired as I am, and they feel just as privileged to be raising their little humans as I do.

On the days that I get to have a “playdate” with one or more of these moms, I always feel a little better about how I’m doing as a mom, but not in the way it sounds.  I don’t mean that I am a better mom than she is.  I mean that it’s encouraging to see another mom, doing her best, loving her kids in her own way.  There is hope for humanity.

One such playdate was on Monday afternoon, at my house.  Two of my mom friends from church, Stephanie and Abby, brought their little humans to play together, and so we could hang out with each other.  Total, there was  a 4 year old boy, a 2 year old girl, a 1 year old girl, a 5 month old boy and a 3 month old girl.  Even in the different stages of these kids’ development, they played very well together (or rather, some played and some just lounged around).  And the moms?  Well, the three of us get to share some stories (hilarious or sweet), complain about our difficulties (weird nap schedules and spit up woes) without fear of judgement, compliment each other on jobs well done (we all have cute kids, ya know?), and compare some parenting strategies (that day’s topic: using baby sign language).

Time spent this way is so valuable for moms specifically, but really for women in general.  It’s nice to spend intentional time with people in the same stage of life as you.  Whether that’s grad school, newlywed, new mom, first grandchildren or retirement, being able to sympathize and empathize with another woman who knows where you are, where you’ve been, and where you’re headed next is one of the most wonderful experiences.  Knowing you are not alone.  Knowing you will get to the other side of it.  Knowing you will survive.  Knowing you’ll look back and think (as my wonderful mother-in-law often reminds me), “That stage wasn’t nearly as long as it felt when I was stuck in the middle of it.”

I thank the Lord every day for the many women that I get to “do life” with.  The women that encourage me.  The women that I encourage.  The women that I connect with every time we are together, even if it’s months in between those times.  These are the women that I aspire to be like.  Moms in the trenches, take heart!  We’re doing life together.  How did you connect with the women you get to do life with?  How does it help you in your walk?

Ella Kate (2yrs), Elliott (3mo), Joseph (5mo), Abigail (1yr), Nathan (4yrs)
Ella Kate (2yrs), Elliott (3mo), Joseph (5mo), Abigail (1yr), Nathan (4yrs)
faith, music

Oceans

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I have been a fan of Hillsong United ever since I started attending a “contemporary” worship service (more on why I used quotes there later).  They never fail to make really great sounding, high quality music at the same time as provoking thought and entering into worship.  A lot of “Christian radio” these days is missing out on worship AND on great sounds.  My husband and I often joke about the choices some of the contemporary Christian artists make.  Why use those corny lyrics?  Why use that machine-like drum sound?  Is the song encouraging anyone?  Is it pointing people to Jesus?   Okay – off my soapbox (for now) and back to the main idea of this post.

First things first: Watch this video.  Really, truly watch it.  Stop whatever else you’re doing and focus on it.  Let it seep in.

Now.  How do you feel?  Did those lyrics speak to you like they spoke to me?

“Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders.  Let me walk upon the waters wherever You would call me.  Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior.”

You know what I’m talking about.  The conviction.  The pull inside you, reaching to your very bones.  Every time I add this song to my set list for a Sunday morning, I know it will reach someone.  Every time, after the service, a different soul tells me how the song touched them.  And in this particular video, it’s just that; a lovely moment of worship is being held by everyone involved.  Did you have a moment of worship?  I hope so.