With every daughter you’ve birthed and raised and now with one of your granddaughters you would ultimately share this day. And this year for the second time you will spend the majority of your Mother’s Day at your granddaughter’s recital. Once again you don’t complain. Because it’s what we mothers do. And I’m so grateful that you’ve set this example for me.

Hectic life hindered me from posting on your birthday. So here I am penning my love and gratitude for you in one post. Yes, you even have to share your birthday post with Mother’s Day. It’s almost comical.

I’ve thought a lot lately about this day and how I’ve been preparing for months after reading The Resolution for Women to declare and resolve to be the mother and wife God calls me to be. I set a goal for this holiday so fitting and alas, I’m not finished reading the book. But I won’t fuss and whine over this not yet accomplished task. Instead, I’ll continue to read slowly and take in the truth that needs to settle deep within my spirit—truth that I invariably find myself walking out upon reading each chapter.

Mama, what I’m realizing this Mother’s Day is that the sacrifices of a mother are never ending. Sometimes I want to complain. Sometimes I do. But I keep thinking of the many years that your birthday has been overshadowed and how you could’ve spoken up this year and declared that you wouldn’t make the recital. But instead you said, “but it’s not Sophie’s fault and she’s worked hard.”

Being a good mama isn’t about being perfect. We can’t be. But we can own our weaknesses and let Christ be perfect through them. This year I want you to know, to really know, that we don’t expect you to be perfect. We know you’re not. You’re off the hook. As you let Christ’s strength be made perfect in your own weaknesses you teach us that it’s okay that we will sometimes fall. And you remind us that we only need to fall on grace and let Him help us back up again.

I love you, Mama. I’m so grateful for you. I’m so grateful that God saw fit to choose you to be our Mama.

Happy {belated} 65th Birthday & Happy Mother’s Day!

We rise up and call you blessed! {Proverbs 31:28}

and we began our journey together.

Fourteen years and you’re still rockin’ my world!

Happy 14th Anniversary, Joe!

For fourteen years you’ve walked with me though sometimes I’ve ran ahead of you. You took my hand and took on the role of husband and new parent all in one day. We faced the challenge of parenting after divorce as well as rebuilding finances after the close of your first business.

That was just the first year.

We’ve laughed much. We’ve made memories at Six Flags, Busch Gardens, Sea World, and Disney World. We’ve been to the mountains—literally—making memories at Cheaha Mountain, Alabama and Stone Mountain, Georgia. We’ve cruised Mexico and sunbathed on the beaches of my home state of Florida.

We’ve fought and we’ve cried. We’ve battled defeat and failure after the close of your store and subsequent bankruptcy. We’ve been to the valley.

We’ve weathered many storms in our marriage and with the girls. We prayed for a child in spite of my tied tubes. We believed; we faltered. But we never quit.

Through it all, we’ve learned to trust in Christ. We’ve been stretched much but we’ve also grown much. He gave us Sophie. Our faith soared and our lives forever changed. And then we became grandparents and that’s where my love for words runs dry. How do you even describe that? I’m still trying.

This past year has been our most challenging, I’m sure you’d agree. But it’s been our very best as well. That’s the amazing thing about our God. In those really hard places, right in the midst of the ashes, He brings beauty. Only God.

I don’t know if I’ve ever loved you more than I do today. Disappointment broke me last night and I questioned the lack of response for my upcoming mission trip. But you prayed and you encouraged me. This morning I was determined to press on and once again our Lord used you. You’ve blown me away today with text after text of donation amount that you have helped pull in from friends and coworkers and businesses. It’s truly a symbol of your dedication, determination, and support for me. Thank you!!!

I’ll wear my My Husband Rocks and I Respect My Husband t-shirts with pride.

Here’s to the next fourteen rockin’ years!!! **insert toast with Diet Coke here {And then just pass me yours because you know I’ll drink all of mine and then finish yours.}

I love you forever!!!

Your Angel

On April 16, 2000, the sun shined brighter

and the world was a better place to be

because you were born.

{Photography by Diana Bobrycki}

I don’t know how it happened so fast. Just yesterday you were three with platinum blonde hair holding your pinwheel that you called your “twirly bird” out of my car window. Just yesterday you sang to the top of your lungs from my backseat, asked a million questions a minute and talked faster than even your Aunt Ginger.

Now you’re twelve. And although a birthday photo shoot wasn’t needed to prove it, you’re so beautiful! Your personality shines right through your pictures. I couldn’t be more proud. You are so much more than a niece to me. You hold a very special place in my heart and always have.

I know you’re no longer the little girl who would keep climbing back in bed with me no matter how many times I pried your sleeping body from underneath my side. You know, that wasn’t just because you would grind your teeth. Okay, maybe a little. But as much as I loved you snuggling right next to me, ultimately I knew you couldn’t stay there forever.

You’re growing up quickly. You still have a place right next to me where you can always come and snuggle. Always. Only now you’re a brave and strong young lady who knows that if you stay that close to Christ you can conquer anything that comes your way.

Sometimes you remind me of Poppy—you make life look easy even when it’s not. You still have song in you to sing. So belt it out like no one is around. Keep chasing lizards. And never think for one second that you are too old to hold a “twirly bird” out the car window.

Keep on smiling and shining as bright as those blue eyes.

It’s only natural that I should feel this way about you for you hold a

very special place in my heart {Philippians 1:7}.

Happy Birthday, Lauren!

I love you more than my ear plugs that drown out teeth grinding.

Nanny

In the poorer section of Tumbaco, Ecuador, missionaries Francisco and Juanita Vargas minister to underprivileged children and youth. Like missionaries across the world they’ve answered the call to serve on a level I cannot comprehend. I’ve never met them but some very special friends of mine have and I’ve heard all about their mission and the summer camp they hold for these children.

We’re not all called to fulfill the literal part of going in  Mark 16:15 or Matthew 28:19-20. Those who can’t go, send. We support our churches’ missions and missionaries with our finances and prayers. We applaud family and friends who answer the call to go even for brief missions trips.

This year I’ve heard the call to go. In August I’ll join some amazing people and go to Ecuador to assist those who are called 365 days a years to teach and preach the gospel. I’ll  see some of the faces I’ve seen across computer screens.

Like Dayana Barahona:

And Luis Miguel Toapanta:

I’ll have the opportunity to witness firsthand what I’ve only heard about in testimony to God’s faithfulness on past trips to this camp. I’ll have the privilege of sharing the love of Christ with these children.

I’ve struggled much with the very idea of me going across seas to offer help to these precious children. After all, who am I? I’ve seen the person in the mirror and I know her every weakness. But truth and the realization that this line of thinking is nothing short of pride hit me hard. Who am I? It really doesn’t matter. It’s not about me at all. It’s about Him.

I don’t doubt that He’ll provide the funds for me to go and He’ll prepare the way as we seek Him on behalf of this upcoming trip and the precious children we’ll have the privilege to minister to. He’s faithful. He provides. And He does it through people.

So I’m asking you to prayerfully consider sponsoring one of these children. The cost per child for camp is $40 with additional costs for transportation and materials. Approximately 60 children are expected to attend camp this year.

We aren’t all called to go. But we can send. And we can help ease the burden of those that are sent. Needs are met when we all do our part. Please pray and ask if He would have you be a part of meeting the need for these children to attend camp.

To make a donation or sponsor a child please send your check with Ecuador Camp in the memo to First Baptist Church Indian Trail at P.O. Box 2550, Indian Trail, NC 28079.

Whether we answer the call to go or to send, if we’ll do our part together we’ll fulfill The Great Commission.

Five days before Resurrection Sunday I break fast. On Easter’s eve I break down.

Recurring stomach issues plagued me. I was on the road, meeting appointments when I chose the only remedy left—Diet Coke. Shaking off the guilt of breaking fast wasn’t terribly hard at first. I know the importance of fasting but I also knew I couldn’t stop Easter from coming. My body was worn. Weeks of battling congestion and sinus issues, strange stomach problems and the none too subtle symptoms of perimenopause can wear a woman down.

So close. As Easter neared, I danced to the tune of my preconceived notions of how freedom would show up Resurrection Morn. On its eve, I succumb to life’s pressures and I break.

Still learning, in the midst of reading The Resolution for Women, I’m faced with resolving to do and be what He calls me to. I stumble, saying, “yes,” instead of, “no.” Sick, exhausted, worn, I feel nothing close to freedom. And then my Mama comes over.

Her presence alone was enough to expose my vulnerability. But after weeks of hearing her concern that I looked “tired and weak”, I broke a messy, ugly break. I ranted my concerns and how sick of being sick I was. In desperation, I cried for help. I needed help because—BREAKING NEWS!—”I JUST CANNOT DO IT ALL!” I was failing. Failed fast, failing my kids. As I spewed all manner of evil in words that shouldn’t be said in front of your mother let alone the Almighty, Mama was steady calm.

“NO, you haven’t failed them . . .” She spoke calm truth. She could’ve admonished me for my harshness, scolded me for my unseemly fit with five-year-old nearby. But Mama hugged me and reminded me that we’d keep praying and that things weren’t as bad as they seemed. She reminded me that my hormones were raging and everything was magnified. Mama was soothing balm. As my tears slowed, Mama told Daddy of a change of plans. Instead of having him drop her to clean her own home, she would stay while he painted Sophie’s room. She would clean bathroom and floors and help her weary child.

I couldn’t have made it through the day without her. I dare say I’d have passed out from fatigue. But she was calm and she was help. By day’s end I was still worn and I was ashamed. Yet hope stirred again. I tuned my spirit to the songs of Easter and hope. But I also entertained those preconceived notions of how He’d show up once again.

Funny how we decide how He should show up. We dress our best and bring our smiles and our loved ones who’ll join us this time around. This morning I stood in church worshiping with my brothers in sisters in Christ. Guilt gnawed at me. I’d blown it. At what seemed like the worst time ever I had broken. Filthy wretch that I am, how could I expect Him to show up?

I closed my eyes and He showed me Mama. Beautiful grace provided, truth spoken, help given. Yes, I’d blown it. And I’ll blow it again. My own Mama will blow it. But we can still fall on grace. And that’s exactly what she showed me. And He will always, always show up.

I basked in the glory of His Presence this morning. Because Easter isn’t for those who haven’t blown it. Resurrection power isn’t for those who’ve got it all together and don’t need it. I couldn’t stop it. Sin could never stop it.

Easter came. He’s alive! And Resurrection power is always fresh and anew. We needn’t wait another year to experience it. Just surrender. Surrender all. Because we’ll never be able to do it all. Truth is, we can’t do any of it without Him.

He died. And He rose again. He’s alive and now we’ll never have to live this life alone. We’ll never have to do it own our own.

And that’s freedom.