That means it’s going on 11 years since I started my motherhood journey. And this blog has seen me through the majority of it! I have grown and learned so much over the past decade. It’s been quite a ride. I look back on earlier posts and remember those days when the kids were little, and I was barely hanging on. Lots of good and happy moments…but I know that the girl I was back then didn’t really know who she was yet. I didn’t know what it meant to be a mom and still be ME. I didn’t know what it meant to be a mom, period. Most of the journey to figure it out was slow and the change was unnoticeable. But there were also some major milestones along the way that seemed to launch me right into a new chapter almost overnight. Like when I discovered that being a mom didn’t have to be the ONLY thing to define me.  And that I could still have big dreams and think outside the box…and that doing so might not be to the detriment of my children’s well-being, but actually a precursor to it. I wrote about that season HERE…I was never ever the same kind of mom after that. And I’m so grateful.

I also learned that sometimes big dreams start very small…and that extraordinary could be found in the ordinary. And it’s funny, after I gave myself permission to fly I realized that I was pretty happy right where I was. The whole cage looked a lot different with the doors flung open. It wasn’t a cage at all. And this had been the crux of most of my issue. I had felt trapped and suffocated even though the sunlight and oxygen were pouring in. I just couldn’t see it before. That was the season where I fully accepted my life as a gift. A speaker once said “All of life is gratuity”…and that phrase has never left me.  I finally saw it that way. There were plenty of things that didn’t feel like gifts. My marriage was struggling, my kids were exhausting, I was battling depression. But I found so much hope and peace in the midst of it. I still look back on that season as one of the most joy-filled times in my life. Because it was WELL WITH MY SOUL.

And God did eventually bring healing and restoration to my marriage and my emotional state. I found my stride as a mother. Circumstances that I had learned to embrace eventually DID change for the better, and life got really good. We experienced an enormous time of sheer undeserved blessing. There were many “new” experiences…a new home, a new marriage, a new job for my husband. And eventually, a new baby

But right when I was getting my bearings and feeling like I had gotten things figure out, I hit a wall in my spiritual life. It’s funny how crisis brings you to your knees and sometimes blessings make you flee. I was so used to living in crisis and desperation in many ways that when the hardships lifted, I lost my footing spiritually. God suddenly felt far away. He was always who I had run to in my heartache or despair. But now, my heart wasn’t aching, and my heart wasn’t despairing…and I wasn’t quite sure how to connect with Him in this place. Hence, this next chapter would usher in my first Crisis of Faith.

Suddenly, in the midst of blessing, I had the luxury to question things I had never the desire, nor the time, to question before. When you’re desperate, you don’t spend a lot of time examining the life preserver thrown at you, you just grab it. I just knew I was drowning in the middle of a storm, and the life preserver saved me. Over and over again. That’s all I really needed to know. But from the comfort of a big happy boat,  I found myself analyzing things in a way I never previously had. I don’t know that this is good or bad. I spent a ton of time trying to figure out how I got there. I don’t know if I will ever know. But I honestly loathed it. It’s funny how even during the harder seasons of life, I felt so much peace…and now, here when I had been given everything I had ever dreamed of…I felt restless…lost….like my foundation was missing. I know it sounds crazy but I almost MISSED the crisis. Because I wouldn’t trade that inner peace for ANYTHING, not even perfect outside circumstances.

But I was stuck in that season for a while. And when I realized it wasn’t going to just “go away”, I  had to embrace it as yet another part of my life in need of acceptance. Maybe I’d never feel as close to God as I had in those darker times. What then? Would I question His existence simply because I couldn’t “feel” Him anymore? I had to do a lot of soul searching. What was my faith really all about? What was I relying on to be sure what I believed? In some ways, I think I always questioned these things…I just finally had the time to seek out better answers. I read about what Mother Theresa described as her dark night of the soul. She says, “I am told God lives in me — and yet the reality of darkness and coldness and emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul,” and  “I want God with all the power of my soul — and yet between us there is terrible separation” and “I feel just that terrible pain of loss, of God not wanting me, of God not being God, of God not really existing.”

Now I’m no Mother Theresa, but I could so relate to those feelings!  And if the saintliest woman of all time could feel that way sometimes, then surely I was bound to. It brought me great comfort. So eventually I learned to live with it. I did a lot of reading, praying, sharing with friends. I freaked some of them out…some thought my faith was too unshakable to be in this place of doubt and questioning. I was just as surprised as they were. It was humbling and scary . The same speaker who once said “all of life is gratuity” also said “Be careful if you ever catch yourself saying ‘I don’t think that could happen to me’…because chances are it will happen to you. I never doubted my ability to fail in a thousand and one different ways, but I always thought my faith was the one thing that was rock solid. The thing I’d always have that couldn’t be shaken. After everything I had experienced, how could I POSSIBLY doubt??

But I had to learn (and am still learning) that JESUS is the only thing I’ll ever have. And Jesus is not the same thing as my faith in Jesus. Oddly, I was putting too much faith in my faith…and not enough in HIM. This is a confusing and small difference but I can only describe it as transferring my confidence from myself and my ability to believe or not believe to JESUS. I’d done that very easily in the harder seasons…this time it had to be more of a conscious choice. And it was much harder.

In total this season has lasted about 3 years. And while it was a great season of blessing, it was very tough spiritually. But I am so grateful for the ways my friends spoke into my life. Even if I lost confidence, they never did. When I said I was struggling to believe God’s love for me, one of my dear friends said “He loves you so much…and if you can’t see that right now, it’s ok. I believe it for you”. Another time when I was feeling guilty that perhaps I was in this mess because I had somehow taken a wrong turn, a friend said, “This isn’t about what YOU are doing…It’s about what HE’s doing…He’s expanding your capacity to love. And so for a while, as you expand, you might feel emptier…but hang in there, because He’s about to fill it up”. I’m so grateful for these friends and countless others who patiently watched me flail but never for a moment doubted that I would come out the other side.

And that brings me to present day. While I wouldn’t say I’m completely out of this last chapter, I think I’m standing on the precipice of the next one. I definitely feel like I’ve expanded. This crisis of faith has opened a whole world up to me and awoken me to parts of myself that I can now see were always there. The questioner and the doubter has ALWAYS been me. I think I discovered that even in this chapter, what felt like losing myself was really finding myself. Once again, I see that the cage doors are wide open and my world has been expanding, not shrinking. What I thought was regression was progression. That’s so like Jesus…the way up is ALWAYS down first! I don’t think my faith will ever be the same as it was before. It’s more complex now. I have a deeper grasp for WHY I believe what I believe. And I have a brand new passion for a world that never existed to me before. The world of faith and doubt is one I’m intimately acquainted with now…and perhaps I am more useful to those who find themselves there than I would have been had I never experienced all of this. I have greater compassion for those, like the man in Mark, who say “I believe, help me in my unbelief”. Or for the doubting Thomas…who needed to TOUCH the physical scars on Jesus’ hands in order to trust. If that’s you, I totally get you now.

So this next season I’m entering into makes sense. It feels like a culmination of the past 10 years…as though everything I have been through was leading me to this place. This next chapter will still be about me being a mother and raising my babies…but I’m also going to continue my education. I am nervously excited to start classes online to complete my Master’s Degree in Apologetics from Houston Baptist University. I have been praying about this for almost a year and I really think it’s where I am meant to go. Everything I have gone through…dreaming big dreams, expanding my capacity, questioning my faith…it all has prepared me so perfectly for this new place. I am scared to death, but I am so, so excited. The program is heavily centered on writing so I will finally invest some time into actually WRITING rather than rambling And I will learn how to put my passions onto paper…how to articulate all of things that are spinning around in my head, especially after these last three years of soul searching. I am SO grateful for a husband and friends and family who all support me in this. I am so grateful for a life that has been shaped by a God who sees further down the road than I do. And I am so grateful for a chance to take a leap of faith and see where it lands me. I didn’t have this on my radar AT ALL, but I’m saying yes. I’m learning to accept the gifts as they come, with open hands and a sense of wonder…and gratitude. Because if there is one thing I’ve learned it is that all of life really IS gratuity.

The post 2016: Where I’ve been and Where I’m going first appeared on Motherhood Confessions.

And yet, my heart is restless. I can’t concentrate. I feel this wild pull to sort my thoughts, not the clothes.

Ever since Friday, we have been reeling, feeling, discussing, arguing, and deciding. Sorting.

I’m reading the comments, the posts, the pleas, the exhortations, the rhetoric, the propositions….

And I dig deep into my my heart, soul and mind with all my strength and I am asking like the rest of you…

“What are we to do?”

I think we all want to pass this test.

And I read the exhortations from my tribe…people I look up to and respect. And they remind me what it looks like to love like Jesus and welcome and accept and invite everyone to the table.

And I read the exhortations from others in my tribe…others I looks up to and respect. And they remind me that we are to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. And that loving people doesn’t mean we are foolish.

And I feel familiarity in their words, like when I want to adopt literally EVERY single child that I’ve ever come across who needs a home…and God has to temper my passion and remind me that even good things done outside of His will and calling can sometimes no longer be good things. And that Jesus only did what he saw the Father doing and moved where the Father called him… and nothing more…and He had to pass by a LOT of good things because He was wise.

And I feel familiarity in their words, like when I want to love the least of these, but I let fear and comfort get in the way. Or when I  talk myself out of something that I KNOW God is asking me to do because I know it looks just as crazy at it sounds and I back off and clip my own wings and settle rather than soar. When I miss opportunities to love because I choose practical over beautiful. Because I refuse to do the illogical thing and run head first into God’s call to be brave and unleash that perfect love that will send fear to the corners and change the whole wide hurting world.

And I sit here, staring at my Christmas candle and all I can come up with to answer this question is…

“I don’t know”.

And it kind of feels like I am the only single solitary person in the entire world who doesn’t know.

But that’s where I am. I am wrestling and praying and seeking and sorting. Apparently I am slow to draw conclusions. Because after all that,

I still don’t know.

I know what I’m called to do personally, but I don’t know if that applies to a country.

I know that perfect love casts out all fear, but I know there is a difference between fear and wisdom.

I know that we are called to love the least of these but I don’t always know what real love looks like.

I know that I want to open my arms and just love the whole wide world in one big group hug, but that I am never called to step outside of His Holy Spirit guidance and I am to always listen to His “hows and whens”.

And I know that we have to be wise and discerning in the midst of unprecedented terrorism, but missing Jesus and His call is FAR more terrifying.

And I know that being welcoming might make us vulnerable, but that willing vulnerability is one of the best conduits of grace.

And I know that there are people out there who really do want to hurt us, but Jesus let his enemies hurt him all the way to the Cross so he could die for the very ones who put Him there.

And I know that the darkest day in history was really God’s greatest victory and things aren’t always what they seem.

And I know that above all,

Jesus knows.

So I am going to sit here for a bit in this space. I’m going to surrender my “I don’t knows” to the God of all the answers AND the questions and humbly ask him to show me what He wants of me. And I’m going to pray that I have the ears to hear. And I’m going to beg for wisdom. He promises to give it to those who ask.

For those of you who feel crystal clear on this issue, I know how frustrating an “I don’t know” can sound. Forgive me that I’m not more clear. I know I’m risking making a lot of people on BOTH sides angry. But I’m taking a chance that  maybe I’m not the only one who doesn’t know.

And if so, this post is for you and we’re in this together  And I’m praying for us both.

The post I don’t know… first appeared on Motherhood Confessions.

So it’s been a while since I’ve officially confessed something here, and given the name of my website, this is unacceptable. So here’s one:

I have a horribly underdeveloped  way of dealing with vacations. I am (not at all metaphorically) a 4 year old child when it comes to vacations. Because…

1) I absolutely LOVE them. The first time I got to visit Disney World with my children, I thought my heart was going to explode under the enormous weight of SHEER JOY. I have to give a shout out to my mother and father in law here who SIGNIFICANTLY contributed to it being the best experience EVER…largely because of their meticulous planning, generosity and saint-like patience holing up with me and my Littles for 10 days. The experience was also awesome, well, because Disney. But I may or may not have been more excited in Disney World than my kids. I wore Mickey Ears, volunteered for the story book times and was shamefully giddy upon meeting Princess Belle (my all time FAVE). All in all, I would say vacations totally ROCK. BUT….

2) I absolutely HATE returning from vacations. This is the part where my maturity level really takes an disconcerting dip. Most adults can go on a vacation, enjoy themselves, then (albeit perhaps begrudgingly) return to their normal lives without missing much of a beat. I, however, am known to shed a few tears during re-entry. I’ve never met a cold breeze I hate more than the one that rises up to greet you on the jet-way immediately after exiting a plane that had JUST HOURS BEFORE been in paradise.  I think I can FEEL the serotonin levels drop. My hubby and I once won a trip to Florida back in college.  I was already tearing up on the plane before we ever even returned home. In my despair, I’m pretty sure I vowed to never go on vacation again because the ending of them is just too much too bear.

But when my hubby and I recently decided to visit my Dad and Stepmother in Las Vegas…our first vacation just the two of us in EIGHT YEARS….I was ready. There is more to Las Vegas than its hotel casinos, though those are a sight to see if only for their breathtaking beauty alone. But we also got to immerse ourselves in other forms of beauty…from the mountainous horizons, to Lake Mead, to the Hoover Dam, to gorgeous sunsets….to the FOOD. Oh the food. Not just from fancy restaurants…my stepmom cooked for us EVERY MORNING. I am a part of a Mothers of Preschoolers group where, according to our surveys, the single most life-giving thing about the whole program seems to be the HOT BREAKFAST. When hot breakfast happens to a mother of a preschooler, lives are CHANGED.

The trip was, in a word, INDULGENT… in the best of ways. I got to wake up when I wanted, sleep when I wanted, immerse myself in beauty and opulence, and I got to experience the overwhelmingly weird feeling of living and breathing for a few days with NO ONE NEEDING ME. It was the stuff good vacations are made of. Upon returning, I searched for words to describe the experience to my mom…

“I just, I just…I felt like a human being!!”.

And then we laughed. Because that sounded so pathetic. And then I realized that some tears had sneaked in through the giggle…because I could tell I already missed it.

“I felt like a human being”….

Meaning, I didn’t have to be a friend, a wife, a mother, a writer, a leader, a daughter, a warrior,  or a (Fill in the blank). I could just BE for a little bit. And it feels really good to just BE sometimes. To get away from the worries, the demands, the needs. The pressures, the deadlines, the to-do lists, the responsibilities. We all have them. That’s part of the reason why we love vacations isn’t it? We get to pack our suitcases full of our favorite things…and leave our baggage behind. There’s something really really charming about that.

But of course, it is only for a time. And eventually, we have to get back to our real lives, our real selves. And maybe it’s just me, but there’s always this moment of impact when my life hits me anew after I return. Like I don’t realize how much weight I carry around until it becomes unfamiliar enough for me to notice it. And this time, when I returned to real life and felt it in its unfamiliarity, I newly appreciated that real life is HARD. Taking care of 4 kids is hard. Caring about people and maintaining good relationships is hard. Marriage is hard. Walking with friends through their difficulties is hard. Praying consistently and fervently is hard.  Following Jesus is hard. Doing the right thing is hard. And being UNSELFISH is really, REALLY hard.

And a part of me was so so so happy to be home…and a part of me wanted to crawl right back into that vacation and cling to selfish just a little bit longer. Life is hard and vacations are seductively EASY…(especially with stepmoms who cook you breakfast and mother-in-laws who do all the planning). I guess sometimes I long for easy.

But then just last Sunday as I took communion and felt the song, “At the Cross” rise up on the stage and in my bones, I was reminded of a truth.

“There’s a place where sin and shame are powerless
Where my heart has peace with God and Forgiveness
Where all the Love I’ve ever found
Comes like a flood, flowing…
At the Cross”.

And the phrase from another hymn  came welling up from some deep place in me, refusing to be subdued. An invitation to recognize…

“It is well with my soul”. 

Yes, this life is hard. Loving people well is HARD. And following Jesus is hard. But even when our flesh is reeling from the weight of it all, it can be well with our soul. It IS well with my soul. Why? Because The Cross “bids me come and die”…it beckons me to let self-indulgence give way to sacrificial love…

But in return I am given a life
free of shame and guilt
with perfect peace
and all the Love I could ever want or ask for. Right here, in the midst of the crazy and the hard.

Oh is it worth it.

As I sat there and let the Truth of those words hold me, perfect peace wasn’t a phrase on a page, it was mine for the having. I felt every bit of it, as real and as tangible as the broken communion bread swirling in my mouth. Easy isn’t the same thing as peace…and it’s PEACE that we’re really after. And you can have PEACE in the middle of hard.

“His body broken for me”
‘We love because He first loved us”
“Taste and see that the Lord is good”

It’s OK to give ourselves a break now and then and refuel. But I don’t want to live there. We are meant to pour our lives out. Jesus was a man “acquainted with many sorrows”. This laboring, this persevering, this sacrificing, this burden-shouldering life we live in a community of loving others…this is the sweet spot. I have tasted and I have seen…the LORD IS GOOD.

Yes I get tired. I can get really stinking tired. And in those moments it’s tempting to dream of a life where I can trade it all in for some self-indulgence, a life where no one needs me. Where I can just show up. Be selfish. Remember when it was an insult to tell someone to go take a permanent vacation? Sometimes, I think it’s the nicest thing anyone could say to a person.

But no one gets to live life on a permanent vacation (well, some people do). Even Las Vegas is real life to a lot of people. For the guy dressed as Winnie the Pooh in 104 degree Florida humidity, Disney is no vacation. Real life is no vacation. Real life is sacrifice and hard work. Especially if you follow Christ. Because He commands it.  And every once in a while, I get smacked in the face with the reality of that…

But it is WELL WITH MY SOUL.

And you know what? I’ve lived selfishly before.  I remember it well. Honestly, often times, it was a whole lot of fun. But I also remember the emptiness. The nagging feeling that I was incomplete. The hopping from one distraction to the next because my real life in between felt completely unoccupied. There was a good dose of yuck living selfishly.
So I can choose easy and get empty…or I choose hard and get everything.

“If you lay your life down, you will find it”
“Though my heart and flesh my fail, the Lord is my strength and my portion”
“Choose this day who you will serve”

So I will continue to take, and enjoy, vacations. And when I return, I will probably mourn for a couple of days like the 4 year old that I am.  I will be probably always be momentarily dazzled by EASY. And I will probably always be startled by reality upon re-entry. Even as I try to finish up this post, I am typing with a Sleeping Beauty cup filled with water resting precariously on my chest and holding it WITH MY CHIN. Why? Because my toddler doesn’t want to drink it anymore and has decided that it only belongs right here in my lap. Setting it down on the table is against the rules. So is taking it to the kitchen. Apparently I am now Keeper of the Cup…and tempted to daydream about writing blog posts in Maui.

And it is wonderfully, impossibly gratifying. All at the same time. While I have prayed and labored and sacrificed and persevered, I have also soared and healed and loved and celebrated and rejoiced and worshiped and grown and learned and laughed. From Princess cups of water to the Well of Living Water…I have been fully alive.

I have been, quite simply, a human being.

A human being at peace. WITH Peace.

And I wouldn’t trade it for a bazillion permanent vacations.

The post And the Living is Easy… first appeared on Motherhood Confessions.

OK…so I guess now is the time for one of those more “serious” posts that I don’t want to write but feel compelled to write. I recently posted an article ( a rant really) on my personal facebook page regarding the transformation of Bruce (Caitlyn) Jenner. Despite its “ranty” nature, it contained some interesting discussion points on issues regarding femininity, beauty, and the culture’s view of both. I appreciated the issues he raised and thought some were valid…or at least worthy of discussion. I posted it mainly to get people’s thoughts (which I knew I would most certainly get!) The problem is that I don’t typically support this author and have found his writing often to be disrespectful and a bit careless. This article was no exception. I appreciate being direct, but you can still do so with kindness. This author has made me angry on more than one occasion by his harsh tone. It’s just not my style.

But I overlooked all of this in this instance and posted the article anyway. I gave fair warning of its nature and made it clear I only supported certain points he was making. But at the end of the day, I regret posting it…because I don’t ever want to compromise grace and compassion for truth. I’m sorry for anyone that it hurt.  I removed the post because I felt that any truth that might be found in it was going to be WAY overshadowed by everything else this author represents…and that’s not what I want. I also didn’t want people to wrongly assume I was partnering with this author in all of his opinions. And I did this based on my own convictions not because of pressure from anyone else. 

However, this brings up an issue that I lost sleep over last night and feel I must say. As a Christian, I also never want to compromise truth for grace and compassion. I feel that the error is just as dangerous on the other side of the spectrum. And there seems to be a growing culture among people who call themselves Christians to assume that grace and compassion are loving, but telling the truth is not.

The truth is that love requires ALL of these things. It is not loving to condemn, point fingers, mock and call names. But it is just as unloving to flatter, encourage, and affirm anything anybody does at any time as long as it doesn’t affect you. This idea that “it’s not for me to judge” has been taken WAY too far and is not biblical.

Let me give you just a few examples:

“Whoever rebukes a person will in the end gain favor rather than one who has a flattering tongue.” Proverbs 28:23

“Better is open rebuke than love that is concealed. Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but deceitful are the kisses of an enemy.” Proverbs 27:5-6

“Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them”. Ephesians 5:11

The point is that there are times when affirming, flattering and encouraging someone can be an incredibly empty and selfish thing to do. There is a saying that the opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. And frankly, the attitude than anyone can do anything they want as long as I’m not affected sounds a lot more like indifference to me than love.

We all know this to be true somehow. Let’s say you discover a friend is really struggling and is thinking of committing suicide. What would your response be? Would it be loving to think,
“Hey, whatever makes them happy! Who am I to judge?! It’s not my place to say!”

Or would you do everything you can to gently and lovingly help that person find hope? To let them know that there is a better way? I know how I would feel. My heart would fill with compassion. And I would do everything I could do speak truth to that person. To tell them they are loved. To tell them that this path is NOT the best path. Sometimes people are so blinded by hurt they can’t see the right path. And it is LOVING to point them in the right direction.

Christians have been taught by Christ himself that there is a path that leads to Life and there is a path that leads to death. We aren’t just talking about heaven and hell here, we’re talking about every. single. daily. decision we make. They either bring life or they bring death.  And Christians have also been taught that people, including ourselves, can’t always see those paths clearly. We don’t always know which road we’re on. That’s why we need each other.

“There is a way that appears to be right, but in the end it leads to death.” Proverbs 14:12

This is the very heart of the gospel. To ignore someone when they are on a potentially dangerous path is NOT loving. Jesus pointed out sin, pointed out paths that were going to lead to death, pointed out error…and he pointed to the remedy – Himself. In HIM is found grace, forgiveness and hope. John 1:17 tells us Jesus was full of grace AND truth. The very essence of being a Christian means we believe this. That Jesus is the path to Life.

Christians, we can not condemn people. We can’t beat people over the head with our beliefs. We must respect free will and choice. Truth without love isn’t truthful. We must be kind. I am sorry for all the times I’ve failed at this. But we must also speak truth. Love without truth isn’t loving. We have a culture that is going to cheer on just about anything anybody does without even taking the time to evaluate whether it’s true or good. I consider a friend to be one who sees through the masks I wear, takes the time to read between the lines, looks me in the eyes and says,

“How are you REALLY doing?”

Most of us won’t even answer that question honestly anymore because we don’t think anyone really cares to know. Many of the people who are coming out to support Caitlyn Jenner are the same people who have no problem tearing down Bruce Jenner and the entire Kardashian family. Kim was blasted for her magazine cover. But suddenly those same people are Caitlyn’s biggest fans. It seems pretty disingenuous, and I have to imagine deep down that Bruce  can sense that.

As Christians, we need to care for Caitlyn Jenner and what happens to her. We need to care about Kim and all the rest of the “K’s” in the family. We of all people need to be consistent and display grace and compassion to ALL, not just those we think are worthy or deserving of it because they align with our belief system. The culture picks and chooses when to dole out grace and when to condemn and insult. It’s incredibly finicky and petty.

This is not us. We are at all times called to Love. At ALL times for everyone, we are to be compassionate. And at ALL times for everyone, we are to speak truth. We must do so with great care, seeking to understand. We won’t always be popular. We will almost certainly be misunderstood. But this is what Jesus meant when he says, “count the cost”. We speak truth not from a place that says, “I’m better than you” but from a place that says, “We are exactly the same. I hurt just like you do. And I’ve been given hope, would you like some too?” I don’t know Caitlyn Jenner but I’m not convinced she isn’t in need of some real hope.

Proverbs 85:10  says, “Faithful love and truth will join together; righteousness and peace will embrace.”

It is my prayer that this may be true of me and you.

The post Full of Grace and Truth first appeared on Motherhood Confessions.

So it’s been like 147 years since I’ve written. Apparently, I took an unintentional extended vacay…and many mini-vacays before that.

So much has happened  in the past few years. We moved again. My three big kids are all in school full time. And…they are called “big kids” now because we added ANOTHER baby to our family.

I am being reminded why I started this blog in the first place. And it’s basically because babies make you nutso and writing helps me cope. And I do love it. Like a lot.

And I hate it a li’l bit too.

I’ve been wondering for a while why it’s gotta be such a love/hate thing for me.  And why the “hate” part took over and caused me to hit the pause button for so long.  There are probably many little reasons I’m unaware of, but here are the Big Few.

1) I got scared.

This sounds so silly. I don’t have a nationally recognized blog. But the fact that anyone sees it at all is enough to freak me out. It was all well and good when it was just my people reading this (you know, like my mom and dad). They have to love me. But then my little corner of the blogosphere expanded just a bit…and then just a little bit more. And suddenly people in the most unusual settings are asking about my life…and my life ACCORDING TO MY BLOG. As in, they KNOW stuff about me.  As much as I want to share my deeper places with others, I still want to put parameters around it. In real life, I can decide how much, with whom, in which places, and when I share. But this blog world is like one big soup pot – it all goes in to one place at one time. It’s very non-discriminatory, the Internet. (On a side note – “way to go, Internet”).  All that to say, I don’t know if I was conscious of it at the time, but I know now that I’ve been getting increasingly uncomfortable with the loss of control that comes with this territory.

2) I got confused….I think. Or too serious? I don’t know…let’s stick with confused.

I started this blog because I wanted to write about motherhood. That was the first topic that ignited the writing spark in me.  But over the years, I found myself wanting to write about other stuff too – serious stuff like (gasp!)….faith and politics. How do you jump from stories about boogers to religious persecution in the Middle East? I am a mom, yes. And I LOVE to laugh. But I also have a brain. And a conscience. (Neither of which are always operating at full capacity.) But regardless,  I’m trying to figure out how to bring all of that to the table without sounding verbally bi-polar. This goes far beyond my blog…it’s really about my life and my journey to figuring out the person God made me to be.  He’s been watering some other gardens in my soul besides the motherhood one, but I guess I just haven’t figured out a way to write about it.

3) I went through a “crisis of faith“.

This makes it sound far more glamorous than it really was, but any time I googled my problem the results kept returning “faith crisis” so I guess that’s what we’ll call it. It really wasn’t like my faith completely fell apart these last few years…but I did go through a time of sincere questioning and examining what I believe and why. Truths I’ve taken for granted ever since I was a child suddenly became questions that demanded answers. There were strong doses of doubt. Conveniently my 9 year old daughter began asking some serious tough questions of her own and I was forced to examine my beliefs in a deep way for the first time. If you ask me how or why I got to that place, I don’t know if I could tell you. But I do know that I often find myself in (and really enjoy) conversation with people who see the world differently from me…people who make me think, who refine me and my faith. So I guess I’m not surprised if it eventually unraveled me a little bit. And I didn’t know how to write from that place. It’s a good thing to be unraveled…and “re-raveled”. You’re never put back together exactly the same as before, and that’s the point. I think overall, taking these few years to quiet myself and process has been a good thing for me. I’ve spent a lot of time just listening. I’ve changed my mind on some things…and I’m gripping more tightly to the truth of others.

So those are the obstacles I’m trying to overcome as I seek to find my voice again. I feel like someone who hasn’t worked out in forever who just showed up for their first Pilates class (Oh wait, I AM someone who hasn’t worked out in forever, and yesterday I DID show up for my first Pilates class. Which leads me to this PSA: Be very strategic when placing your yoga mat. I ended up far too close to a senior citizen’s back end but was too embarrassed to move my mat…leading us both into a lesson on  “ignoring the obvious” for the next 38 minutes) Anyway, if writing is like Pilates then I’m hoping as I push through the pain and stretch these writing muscles, I will eventually come to a place where I feel a bit more centered, a bit more relaxed, and hopefully a bit more like the me I’m meant to be.

The post 3 Reasons Why I Stopped Writing first appeared on Motherhood Confessions.

I hesitate to even write this as there are millions of voices already clamoring to be heard in the midst of this devastating tragedy. And the more talking there is, the noisier it gets.

And the harder it is to listen.

I am not a politician, nor am I a member of the NRA. I don’t understand much about mental illness, especially the shadowed corners of a human mind that can carry out something so evil.

I am a mother. I am a mother who welcomed her 1^st grader home from school on Friday with grief in my eyes.  She asks me what’s for snack. I stare at her Tinkerbell backpack and hold in sobs. For my child, life goes on like any other day. And yet for others…

“WHY is this happening?!” we cry.

And we are pummeled with answers: Gun control, mental illness, policy, religion….our hearts cry out for restitution and relief, while our minds struggle to analyze and problem-solve. Similar to the 9-11 tragedy, we begin looking for a way to rebuild.

But with so many opinions, where do we start?

Brick, mortar, wood, nails…Are these not all valuable materials when building a structure?  It would be unproductive to attempt to build a home with just brick and no mortar, wood and no nails. When it comes to solutions for rebuilding, perhaps we should all be more open-minded about looking at ALL of these issues or “materials”.

But suppose we do decide to use all of the materials. What then? Do we just fling all the materials into a pit? Do we attempt to build the second story first? Or do we start with the foundation…

And go UP from there?

After all, if we don’t get the foundation right, everything we stack on top of it absolutely crumbles – good materials or not.

America is going very wrong. No matter who or what we choose to blame, we can sense the ground beneath us crumbling. And we fear for the future.

But if something is crumbling… shouldn’t we be checking the foundation?

I am a mother. I am not a religious scholar, nor do I want to “push” my beliefs on anyone. But evil visted us on Friday. Most of us agree with that. And we can’t asnwer a spiritual problem with a non-spiritual answer.

“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.” Matthew 7:24-27

Jesus says He is the Rock upon which we build. Only when He is the foundation can we start stacking other materials. Evil is all around us, threatening to crash in at any moment and steal everything precious to us. We can make good policies…and we should. We can investigate mental illness…and we should.

But if we throw all of these on a faulty foundation, we are on sinking sand.

I plead first with people who call themselves Christians to listen to the Person they claim to know. Let’s get the foundation right in our own homes and hearts and stop expecting everyone else to behave in a way that we ourselves haven’t seemed to master.  We can toot our horns and clang our symbols…or we go to work, erecting  beacons of light and towers of love that will prevail in the darkness. Let’s get involved in policy, but let’s also raise our children with values…children who truly love Jesus and who pray, whether their schools allow it or not.

And let’s live clean and blameless lives. God forbid we are the ones who invite the evil in.

And I plead with everyone else. That, at the very least,  you might understand that those who know Jesus believe with all of our hearts that we possess a hope, an absolute treasure – even if we don’t always act like it.  Horrible things have been done throughout history in the name of Jesus. I understand this. There have been far too many counterfeits defacing His Good Name and mocking His credibility….people who bear His name and live horrible lives. Even true Christians are guilty of representing him poorly at times. Many times.

I ask your forgiveness.

But the Truth of Jesus is not held down by weak impersonators. Jesus is GOOD, despite the shortcomings of man. He is nothing BUT Good. I believe His goodness is often attacked and hidden because evil knows His value to us.

Do we?

According to Jesus in this Scripture, there are those who hear His words and follow through…and those who hear and do not follow through. Almost all of us have heard the name of Jesus in this country. To some, He’s almost “old news”…as though He’s a juvenile answer to a complex problem. But we will hear His name a lot in the upcoming weeks.

I pray we listen.

And follow through.

I’ve seen Him. I’ve seen what He can do to change hearts, to offer hope, to right wrongs and to heal the broken-hearted. I’ve seen it.

I’ve experienced it.

I am a mother. I am not a politician, I am not a preacher, I am not a Republican or a Democrat. I am not a religious scholar. I am a mother whose eyes are swollen with tears of sadness, longing to live in a world where innocence can be stolen from us.

But I am also a mother who believes that Jesus is who he says He is. And when my daughter asks me why bad things happen, Jesus is a comfort I know I can always give her. In the midst of evil, we can panic and search for answers…or we can go straight to the source of Love itself.  Our thirsty, aching souls can drink Goodness in until it fills every crack and crevice of our shattered spirits. Right here. Right now.

And we can cling to the Hope that one day He will “wipe away every tear”. For good.

I don’t know why it so often takes tragedy  for us to finally pay attention. But of all the voices clamoring to be heard, I beg all of us, listen to His.

It’s the only One worth listening to.

My Hope is Built (an old Hymn)

My hope is built on nothing less Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.

 I dare not trust the sweetest frame, But wholly trust in Jesus’ name.

When darkness seems to hide His face, I rest on His unchanging grace.

 In every high and stormy gale, My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood, Support me in the whelming flood.

When all around my soul gives way, He then is all my hope and stay.

When He shall come with trumpet sound, Oh may I then in Him be found.

 Dressed in His righteousness alone, Faultless to stand before the throne.

On Christ the solid rock I stand, All other ground is sinking sand;

All other ground is sinking sand.

The post Ears to Hear first appeared on Motherhood Confessions.

Anyone who’s ever gone through a busy season knows that it can feel like the world is spinning so fast you’re going to get seasick. I often find myself in these seasons unintentionally, as I pack my life to the margins and work it out so everything fits “just so”…but neglect to leave any room to accommodate surprises  – both good and bad alike.

This is the place I find myself in today, trying to catch my breath. If my life was pushed to the margins a couple of months ago, I’m certain I’m a few surprises past the margins by now.

The most unexpected surprise recently was the loss of my Grandpa. As I’m sure any mother knows, trying to slow down long enough to grieve in the midst of all the things on your to-do list is a tricky task.

This is exactly the type of situation you’ll find yourself in where well-meaning friends like to suggest a retreat. “You just need a good long break”, they’ll say. “Get away for a couple of days, and give yourself time to cry and to process all of those feelings”.

Hmmm….That would be nice, except I have kids that need to be registered for school and doctor appointments to make and (Gasp!) I haven’t changed out their winter wardrobes for summer clothes, and – oh yeah – I haven’t even bought them new summer clothes yet (still trying to make peace with the fact that I have to replace entire wardrobes every season), and the garage needs to be cleaned out for an upcoming garage sale, and we have no food in the fridge and…

…And as good as a retreat might initially sound, an abrupt “time out” like this can  feel like slamming on the breaks after going a 1,000 miles an hour. As much as speeding through life can be unpleasant, so is whiplash. There’s something about the mere suggestion of a retreat that can induce even more stress. It’s too much of an about-face. At least with my current trajectory, I’m benefiting from momentum.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s a part of me that really wants to do all those luxurious “retreat” things like listening to my favorite worship music, journaling, exploring emotions…or just sitting with a good book and a cup of warm tea.

But there’s a part of me that really, REALLY wants to accomplish each and every thing  on my to-do list. The truth is, they are very important to me. After all, they made the list for a reason.

Now, I know there is DEFINITELY a time to do an about-face and stop everything and just sit at the feet of Jesus. And if that’s what I need, then Lord, please put it on my heart. But right now, here’s what I really want:

I want to get my garage cleaned out (really, I do) and to fold my children’s new summer clothes just right and to fill my house with the odor of candles and spring cleaning. I want to make fresh lemonade while my kids play in their pool.  I want to cook dinner and get groceries in the pantry. I want to feel the sense of accomplishment and delight as I get things crossed off my list. I want to be with my family….not alone in a hotel room somewhere, “retreat” or not.

But…I also don’t want to neglect my soul. Which means that I need to do all of these other things slowly. More slowly than usual. I need to relinquish the idea of going 1000 miles an hour and instead learn to drive the speed limit. Or maybe I’ll be like one of those really, really slow trucks with that sign “extra wide load”… only my sign would say, “Going slow. Carrying some baggage”.  And I will be content as I wave people past, because I can get things checked off my list only as fast as my soul will allow.

This weekend, I might not sip a warm cup of tea in a quiet hotel room…Instead, I will sip lemonade with my kids. And if the taste of lemonade makes me think about my Grandpa and I feel like I could burst into tears, then I will excuse myself to do just that. If I need to clean the garage by day and sob through a sad movie at night, then that’s what I’ll do. I will listen to my favorite worship music while folding laundry. I will try to think less and pray more. Perhaps there really is a way to tend to EVERYTHING that is important to me right now…caring for my family, as well as caring for my soul.

And maybe it’s better when they can exist side by side, moment by moment.

I love this paragraph from Shauna Neiquist’s blog as she explores coming out of her own busy season. She says,

“The engines of our life ran a little too hot for a little too long in this last season, so the next few days are about slowing it all down. That’s doesn’t mean a three day solitude retreat—although that’s a nice idea. But a three-day solitude retreat would mean more childcare arrangements, less margin, less time at home, more stress on the system. What these next days need to be are un-hurried and un-structured. Wandering and puttering. Playing on the floor, taking walks, folding laundry, going to Pilates with a girlfriend, gathering around the table with the Cooking Club. Reading a novel, going to bed early, tending to our life, in all sorts of ways.”

“Tending to our life, in all sorts of ways”…now doesn’t that sound lovely?

The post All sorts of ways… first appeared on Motherhood Confessions.

So I decided I’m boycotting Mother’s Day next year. Can I do that?

Here’s the reason. For two years in a row now, I’ve had a less than stellar Mother’s Day. I know, I know…how is that possible when you have the best family on the planet?!

Well I can start by telling you what is NOT to blame. It has nothing to do with all that mumbo jumbo about having unrealistic expectations in regards to holidays. You know the whole idea about how we women put so much pressure on the day that it inevitably fails to live up to our high hopes?

No, no …THAT is a rookie mistake that only newlyweds make. It only took me a few years to learn that you’re not supposed to expect too much,…that way you can be really knocked out when something goes awesomely.  Once I let go of hopes that my husband would hire someone to skywrite, “You’re the world’s best mother” across the horizon during a sunset dinner, things began to go much more smoothly.

So that’s not the problem. The PROBLEM is that life does not care what the calendar says. Apparently, all of the things that make ANY day a bad day can happen any time, including on holidays. Things like, oh I don’t know, being overtired, having cranky kids, getting behind in laundry, housecleaning, and yardwork…and really wanting to hang out with your family, but secretly wishing you could just take a nap.

As nice as it would be for the universe to refrain from dishing out my serving of “bad day” until after a holiday has passed, sadly it does not. And for two years in a row now, I experienced a very “normal” bad day that just so happened to fall on Mother’s Day. Now we have a problem. Experiencing a bad day on Mother’s Day can make us feel really ripped off as though the universe isn’t cooperating. Does it not understand that this is MOTHER’S DAY?! I only get ONE DAY A YEAR for crying out LOUD!

So THAT is the reason why I have decided to boycott Mother’s Day. I’m through with trying to put it in such a little box, because it’s too big to fit there anyway. Instead, I think it makes more sense to look for Mother’s Days all along the way. Like in Alice in Wonderland where they celebrate “un-birthdays”.

Perhaps I’ll be surprised when it shows up next week when my daughter tells me I’m “the best mommy ever” for no particular reason. Or maybe it will be when I catch my son sleeping in just the right position so I can see his lips all scrunched up, and he’s in a deep enough sleep that I can kiss him without waking him up. Or when my kids do something hysterical and crack me up just when I need it most. Or eat their vegetables.

Or maybe Mother’s Day will be this winter, when we have a picnic under the dining room table because it’s  freezing outside…and my husband takes my hand and says, “Thank you for being the mother of my children…you really do rock”.

Yep. I’m pretty sure we’re all selling ourselves short if we focus on just one day a year. So let’s not. There are too many great days out there that will qualify as a Happy Mother’s Day. Let’s soak ’em up so we don’t miss a single one.

Who cares what that stinkin’ calendar says?

The post Happy Un-Mother’s Day! first appeared on Motherhood Confessions.

This post is a part of a series Laura is doing called “Creation revealing the Glory of God”. Be sure to subscribe to her blog so you can see all the posts in this series! To see my guest post, please click  HERE!

The post Blueberry Promises first appeared on Motherhood Confessions.

“Mom, do you need a hug?”

Our kids say the “darnedest” things, to be sure. But this question from my four year old was so profound and unbelievably well-timed that it transcended simple cuteness. I’m not sure there is anything sweeter than a little face framed with dirty blond curls saying in so many words, ” I SEE YOU, Mama”.

My son has wisdom far beyond his years in this way. He truly does see people. Tell him your back is hurting just a bit and he’ll somehow remember to ask you three weeks later how it’s doing. He just notices things. (This is an amazing quality, but it can also be a little unnerving as a mother. Secretly, I really hope to go unnoticed when I’m having a “cranky day”, as we like to call it around here.)

But nonetheless, I have an exceptionally perceptive son, and despite my best efforts to push through when I was having a rough day, he took notice of my weariness. I had just finished cooking dinner for everyone. It was one of those dinners where you think you’re just going to “throw something together”  but instead end up feeling like you’re on a Reality Cooking Gameshow.

“OK We’ll just throw some sauce on this pasta and we’re good to go….Shoot. We don’t have any tomato paste. How am I going to make marinara sauce with no tomato paste? I was just at the store, why didn’t I pick some up? Stupid tomatoes. Can I even make marinara now? It’s going be too watery…how can I thicken this? This isn’t fun anymore. Can we just order pizza? Boy do I wish I had a personal chef. He’d know what to do. Cooking is hard.

A glance in the refrigerator…sour cream, cucumbers, coconut milk, week-old soup, and spinach.

“Could spinach go in here? Can you put spinach in marinara sauce? I don’t see why not…”

Next thing I know I’m googling “spinach /marinara recipe”…because I just want to see if it exists. I’m not going to FOLLOW the recipe (I’m  just throwing a dinner together remember?) But if I can at least know something like this exists, then it affirms that what I’m about to do isn’t completely crazy.

“Ok. How’s that going to look? I think this might work…Now, where’s my spoon? Wow, it’s 7:30 the kids are supposed to be in bed. Oh man, I didn’t even boil the water for the pasta yet. Do we have any garlic? Where did my knife go? Oh I have so much to do tonight…have to clean the house, get my bible study homework done….Oh shoot I never called that guy about the thing. Whoops, burning the sauce. Ok, now where did I put the sausage? Oh no, I have to defrost it. Wow, what I wouldn’t give to just go lie down for just ten minutes right about now…”

I did finally serve dinner – at 8 o’clock. And it was one of those dinners where if someone even DARED to complain, they were going to get Calm Mommy, which is even scarier than Mean Mommy. Do you know what I’m talking about? It’s when you have absolutely no energy left for arguing, nagging, or imploring your kids, so instead you end up parenting in such a way that I suspect might actually be correct. In a calm voice, you sweetly say:

“I’d like you to leave the table now.”

“Um. What?”

“I SAID I’d like you put down your plate and to leave the table now. You can come back when you decide you have something nice to say about the VERY creative and almost NOT dinner I just made for you. That’s all. Leave now, please. Thank you.”

For them it’s like an eerie movie as you quietly take a bite of your dinner and move on to talk to the other kids. They know mommy is on her last leg when she parents with that sort of confidence.

BUT I’m happy to say that my kids did NOT complain. The sauce turned out WONDERFULLY (I highly recommend spinach in marinara!) and my kids devoured their dinners. It was all very pleasant and blew just enough wind into my sails to keep going . The evening was actually turning out to be pretty nice. When we moved over to the living room for stories with Daddy, that’s when I heard my son say those beautiful words.

Now if he had said those words to me right after a cranky mommy episode, I would have felt too guilty to even enjoy the hug. But he didn’t. He said it at the end of the long day, when all was well….and when I needed it most.

It was just my son being my son. And one of the things I absolutely love most about him. He forces me to be perceptive as well, because it wasn’t until I wrapped my arms around his tiny little body and tears welled up in my eyes that I realized the answer was-

“Yes I do.”

I don’t know why some days in motherhood are harder than others. Why sometimes it can suddenly feel like the world is spinning a tiny bit faster and everything is breaking at the joints. Why life gets so untamed. Suddenly the weights are heavier and the stakes are higher, and it feels like something is just waiting to erupt, but you just can’t quite figure out where the leak is. Suddenly, not having any tomato paste is cause to fight back tears.

Blame it on hormones if you want to – I usually do.

But in those moments, I think the truth is that we all just really need a hug. And as much as I want to be Jesus to my kids, many times it’s the other way around. They are Jesus to me.

It is a rare gift when someone chooses to SEE YOU – really SEE YOU – in the midst of all of your best efforts to keep it together. Of course, my son doesn’t see everything, as a four year old shouldn’t. But he reminded me of something very important.

Jesus does.

When you need a hug, you need a hug. Period. There’s no shame in that. There’s no shame in growing weary, tired, or exhausted. There’s no shame in feeling like you’ve hit your limits. We all have limits. There’s no shame in being vulnerable and admitting that life is feeling a little scary right now for some reason. Like it got too big for you, and you’re not grown up enough for it.

Maybe you just need a hug. A hug can go a long way. And a hug from Jesus goes on forever.

Call me crazy, but it felt like Jesus himself sent that hug to me through my son. When you get what you need just when you need it most, I dare say He’s always behind it. Nothing in life is a coincidence. Afterall James 1:17 tells us that “every perfect gift comes from God”. And isn’t it interesting that just a few verses before this we’re told that “God blesses those who patiently endure testing and temptation”?

So to all of you feeling a little tired or worn out this week:

Jesus sees you.

Isaiah 49:15 says, “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has born? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!” He compares his love for us like that of a nursing mother and her child – and says His love is even greater.  What a beautiful truth.

Sometimes we all need to be like little children and cuddle up in the lap of God. So this week, may you let yourself be little enough to be hugged.  He loves it when His children come to him, weak and weary. And He promises to bring us rest.

Hang in there all you Mommas and expect God’s love to find you this week. Until then, I’m sending internet hugs your way

The post Jesus Hugs first appeared on Motherhood Confessions.