We so often look away at another’s bleeding — what do you say? how do you respond? – as evidence of our small view of God. We subtly believe His hands are tied against their pain that is unfamiliar to us, that He’s dumfounded, like us. But His hands aren’t tied.  And He doesn’t turn, He leans in to them.                               (Sara Hagerty)

The friend who wrote this yesterday is one who has intentionally celebrated my stranger-than-most motherhood since the day we met. She is one who remembered my sadness and refused to let me forget that this here and now is a treasure. The feeling of being left out, of falling behind, of not belonging, of not quite deserving the title when the pastor invites all the mothers to stand – she knew that feeling and was a witness to the fact that God does not allow pain without also issuing an invitation to know Him more deeply. She changed the way I see this season – this calling – of my life.

So when the Hallmark commercial shows a daddy coaching his children to prepare breakfast in bed for their mommy and the crib in my room is empty because the last baby in my care is with his forever mama today, I have learned to sink into His definition of “motherhood” for me.

For me, motherhood means being ready to love at the drop of a hat and let go far sooner than I’d like.

This morning, it meant being a mother for Baby Elsie, tiptoeing into the dark corner of the special care nursery and cradling all 6 pounds of baby wiggles in my arms.  It meant whispering to her that the mother who gave her life and the mother who will walk with her through life can’t be here today, but they both love her. It meant ignoring the wires and the beeping and her rapid breathing, letting her listen to my heartbeat and know that she is safe, chosen, delighted in, and loved.

I am a mom. I may not be THE mom, but I am a mother and that’s what we celebrate on Mother’s Day. Sometimes, when I stand up on Mother’s Day or raise my hand in response to the “do you have children?” question, I feel silly. But I’m reminded that this temporary (but-oh-so-important) motherhood is like a special secret between me and Jesus. He’s the one who gave me this title; not birth or adoption or even a child calling me by that name. He sees me as a mom and on Mother’s Day, I celebrate HIS celebration of me. God knows all too well what it is to love children who will never fully understand the depth of that love. He knows what it’s like to be an invisible parent. He knows this open-handed parenting better than I ever will and He is the one who promises to fill me over and over again.

So, as you bask in the joy of this Mother’s Day afternoon, would you take a minute to remember the ones you know who might be spending this day smiling over the pain in their hearts? Maybe you know them…

The woman whose mother died this year.

The couple who, unbeknownst to most, miscarried their first child this year and silently wear that grief.

The mother who is surrounded by her children today, but whose heart still misses the one for whom she chose life years ago.

The mother who didn’t choose life and is reminded of that today.

The former orphan who, on this day more than most, is reminded that their first mother may have never been celebrated for what she gave.

The mother whose child is waiting in an orphanage on the other side of the world, separated by oceans and time zones and months of red tape.

The 20-something who grew up in foster care, never really knowing the love of a mother for more than a few weeks or months at a time.

The man whose mother died when he was just a toddler.

The mothers whose mistakes have led them to be separated from their children for a season and for the mothers who have stepped in to fill that void in the meantime.

And for those of you who feel like mothers – who are mothers – but whose motherhood is invisible (or just different) to the world: hear this. You are seen. You are recognized. Your Father delights in the children who have passed through your heart, if not through your body, and left you forever changed – forever sensitive to the wounds in others and the longing of His Father heart. Don’t let this day leave another mark of “different, invisible, not-quite-real” on your heart. Claim this day as His celebration of one of the most precious pieces of your life and use it to reach out to one of the other mothers out there who might need to hear this today.

And so the celebration of Mother’s Day is joyful for me. This week, as I’ve prepared notes and gifts and mailed out packages to a few of the mothers I wanted to celebrate, it has humbled me to watch the stack grow. I have been blessed to know so many mothers who have taught me how to love.

My mom has patiently and joyfully loved and molded me these 27 years, never showing what I can only assume must have been (at times) moderate to extreme frustration with such a strong willed child. She not only taught me how to be a mother, but how to be the wife I hope to be one day. It’s cliché, but honestly if I’m anything like her, I’ll be one amazing wife and mom. She loves patiently, with detail, and often in ways that no one notices. She loves like Jesus loves.

And Rachel, we sure do get sappy when we talk about our Ugandan kids, huh? You, my friend, are such an example to me of patient mothering. When I became easily irritated, you found grace. When I forgot, you remembered. When I slept soundly, you woke up and paced the halls. It is such a joy to watch you in this new season with that brave little man of yours. I can’t wait to watch him grow up with you and J as parents.

And to you mothers who have adopted children who once lived in my house, thank you. It brings me so much joy to know that those little ones I love so much are in your arms today. Thank you for the texts, the pictures, the Skype calls, the scribbled drawings in the mail – all the things you do to keep me involved in their precious lives. You are such gifts to me. Thank you for the privilege of loving your little ones while they were waiting.

Happy Mother’s Day, everybody!

mj

__________

*I want to say here that, while in the past Mother’s Day has been a painful holiday for me, there have always been those friends who remember to remind me that my mothering is true, is real, is enough. One little text message in the midst of a forgotten day can mean the world, so please reach out to the people who might need it today. Saying something is so much better than saying nothing, in my opinion. And this year? My word. This year I have been overwhelmed by the people who have gone out of their way to remember me. I’m humbled and so grateful. My community is made up of such precious people who have taken the time and effort to understand what foster care is and love me well. You guys know who you are.

** Please go read Sara’s whole post. And this one, too. Such good words for mama of all origins.

During the month of May, I’m donating 10% of  my Etsy store sales to The Sparrow Fund to support the work they do for adopting families. Please go check out their campaign and the other awesome people who are donating to them this month.

I’m offering a 10% discount to blog readers, too, so if you hop over there in the next few weeks, use the code: SEEINGJOY

It’s been a while since I’ve update my Etsy shop, so I thought I’d let you know what’s new over there. This shop is one of the main ways I am able to be a foster parent, so each time I see a new order roll in, I do a little happy dance. Here are some of the items that are new to the shop:

(Imagination – $10)

Imagination is the playground of God.

You began as an imagination of the Divine.

Don’t live your life as anything less.

Go. Dream. Risk. Create.

You were made to make.

(Erwin McManus)

(Confidence – $10)

To follow Jesus is to enter the unknown,

to relinquish security,

and to exchange certianty for

confidence in Him.

(Erwin McManus)

(He’s Got the Whole World – $10)

(Great Love – $10)

(Our Great God – $10)

(Act of Mothering – $15)

from www.momentswithlove.blogspot.com

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She stood there in the corner where she felt the most safe – found just days earlier living alone in one of the poorest and most dangerous parts of our neighborhood. At 6 years old, she was dropped off at our front door, to a home shared by three other “aunties” and 8 other children. She was frozen. The look on her face was one that chilled me to the bone. There was no fear, no anger, no curiosity – she was empty.

Over the next few days she watched the other children went about their days. She allowed us to dress her, feed her, bathe her, but all without any glimmer of life behind her dark eyes. She did not engage in play. She would not lift her own fork. She observed silently. Empty.

I remember desperately wanting her to wake up and know the love and safety she deserved – love and safety that were already hers to receive. But her mind chanted suffocating words over her days: this will not last, you are not safe, don’t trust anyone, you are on your own.

A visiting neurologist looked me right in the eyes and said, “She will be this way forever. Her brain will not heal. Once a child turns 6, their personality and patterns are permanent. Forever.”

His words lodged in my heart like they had been super glued. I remember hating those predictions, but not knowing any better than to believe them. Was she really ruined? Did I really have the freedom to talk wholeness and restoration at church, but not expect those truths to be reality in this little one’s broken spirit?

And so, together, the four of us “aunties” in the house began to speak life to her. We told her she was beautiful. We held her at night while she screamed to be left alone. We prayed with feeble faith the words we knew to be true of her and painted those words on the walls above her bed.

And slowly, she began to show signs of life. She asked for help to get on the toilet instead of wetting herself. She said she was hungry. She played with the other children. She hugged us. The teachers at her school sent home reports of “a new child”. And then – just like that – one day she was moved to another home and I have no idea where she is or how she is doing today, but I have great confidence that He who began a good work in her will be faithful to complete it.

It’s so hard to have a momentary impact on someone’s life and then – suddenly – discover that yesterday was the last day you would have together. The last breakfast, the last bedtime story, the last bubble bath. Eight years later, I think about her a lot. I wonder if the love we gave her during those few weeks was enough to make her believe she was loveable…forever. As I sit here and snuggle tiny Baby A, I wonder how many more days we will have together. Is tonight the last 3am feeding? It’s easy to let these unknowns stir up apathy in me. Does it really matter how I spend these days when another parent is just going to take over for me eventually?

But this is the beauty of temporary parenting alongside the Eternal God. He promises that once He begins a good work in someone, He will be the one who is faithful to complete it. I remind myself that He began a good work in that little girl before she was even born. Those short weeks were just my tiny opportunity to be a part of that good work and now, I step aside and trust Him to complete it…in her life and in the lives of every other person for whom I’d otherwise be tempted to carry a greater burden than He wants me to bear. I am free to simply love…here and now…and trust that He is able to make my simple offering enough. 

**for more on why I love foster care, start here.

I am in an interesting season of my life. {aren’t we all?}  Life as a mother of two children, one who just turned four and one who just turned four months old, is overwhelming most times.  Daily, I am attempting to learn how to best love and meed the needs of both of my children.  You see, my children were not born of my flesh.  They were born of another mother’s womb.  Both of these precious women gave up everything to place their child into my arms, not for my own pleasure and happiness, but for their child’s own happiness and well-being.  Being entrusted with a responsibility so great can be overwhelming at times, though I know that neither of these mothers expect perfection.

For the first time ever, I felt God laying on my heart to give something up for Lent this year, in the form of a bit of a media fast.  Two of my biggest social media addictions have been facebook and instagram. Being a mother of young children, both of those things have become an outlet for me; an outlet for being part of adult conversations, a way to feel loved, appreciated, noticed–A place to combat this often lonely journey of parenting littles.  And the thing about social media, is that it does not fulfill one’s soul.  “If I hit “more updates” just one more time.”  ”If I hit that little refresh button one more time.”  If I check my notifications to see who liked that status one more time.”  maybe I will find camaraderie  maybe I will find refreshment…

I am not downing social media. I do believe it has it’s place, is a great place for connecting, and really is just fun!

God was impressing on my heart that I was looking for social media to fill up voids in my soul that only One Person could fill.

On I went in my journey to become closer to God, be a better mother to my children and be a better wife to the man God has given me in a husband.  Whenever I try to change things in my life for the better, my failings and shortcomings as a mother, wife and child of God become more obvious to me.  Many times, I have ended my day in defeat and discouraged at all the ways I had failed my family, myself and God that day.

A few days ago, I was ending a grocery shopping trip with my two children.  It was cold, rainy, and everyone was hungry as I was shuffling and hurrying them into the car.  Next to the car, I had my shopping cart full of those pesky white plastic shopping bags.  I was asking my oldest to work on his carseat buckles, while setting the baby carrier into the base, and trying to fit all the bags into my trunk. I barely saw him point to something outside of the car and say something like,

 

 

 

“That’s how God sees us”.  

What?? I shouted above the noise of the parking lot and the baby’s hunger cries.

“Mommy, that’s how God sees us…those white bags…” 

“What?  God sees us like shopping bags?”

“Mommy, the W H I T E bags. That’s how God sees our hearts. Like it’s white. Like we never did any bad things”. 

 

I stopped in my tracks and stared at the bags.

“Yes, of course, dear son, that is how God sees us”.

 

 

I heard Sara’s word a few weeks ago at Together Called, when she talked about how we are the sparkle, the twinkle in God’s eye.  That we are His delight.  But it took my four year old’s words to make me really listen and to internalize me that this last month wasn’t about me.  That it was all about Him and what Christ did for us on that cross over 2000 years ago.  That is what this Lenten season is all about.  Until I take my eyes off of myself and place them onto the One who is able to make me the mother and the wife that I should be, true change will not happen.

Next time you are grocery shopping {and not using your fancy reusable shopping bags} and have a cart-full of white bags, remember that you are not alone. Do not be discouraged or defeated over your shortcomings, you are God’s delight, you are the sparkle in His eye.

Forget the white as snow part, because if you are anywhere near where I live, we had a serious void of snow this year.  God sees your heart as white as that cart full of shopping bags.  Look to Him to fill those voids in your life.

 

 

This series used to run every Saturday, but that was a bit too much for me to handle. Now it’s going to be “every now and then”, which is much more my style. I’d still love to hear your story. You can submit it my clicking here.

 

On Tuesday, I didn’t even know he existed. On Wednesday, he became my 24/7 priority.

Funny how things can change so quickly.

He won’t be here long and I’m OK with that. The privilege of loving him in this little in-between of his tiny life is worth more than the unknowns and the sleepless nights.

He is a tiny 6 pounder who smiles at least every hour.

He eats like a little champ and sometimes lets me sleep for 3 hours at a time at night.

He is happy being unswaddled and naked – free to wave his tiny fists in the air and tuck his legs up like a frog.

He loves to sit in the sun.

When I picked him up from the hospital, I gave him a name that I love. A strong name that means “light”.

Yesterday, I got to talk to the woman who will be his forever mama. I asked her if she wanted me to start calling him the name that she had chosen for him. And what do you know?

She chose the same name.

It shouldn’t really surprise me. Jesus knows this baby. He knew his name and He knew that I’d get to be his mama-in-the-gap, so of course He whispered that name to me…just to keep me in the loop.

Baby A is the first of what I expect will be many and it’s my hope to write a little something about each of them here…just so that I remember them individually – their little quirks and noises and idiosyncrasies. It has been precious to see my community welcome him with wide-open arms, knowing that he might not be here next week. That is probably the single most valuable gift my friends can give me in this foster care adventure – the treasure of their love for these little ones.

That way, I’m not the only one who misses them when they move on.

If you’re one of my people who has held and bathed and fed and prayed for this little boy, thank you so much. I so value those of you who are far away and took the time to welcome him via text or Instagram.

(speaking of Instagram, I’m private, but if you’d like to follow, please just send me a message here and just let me know your IG name so I can recognize your request and accept you. Now that I have these sweet little ones, I need to be extra careful. Thank you!)

much love, everybody.

mj

**for more on why I love foster care, start here.

Days after a judge’s signature and embassy’s stamp sealed the final chapter of my Uganda season, she sent me an email. She knew, perhaps better than anyone outside our home, the pain in my heart. She knew what it was to love a child, all the while knowing that they would never be yours, but unable to give them anything less than your all. She knew the unknown-ness of my future, now without children who had occupied my every minute for over a year. She knew that the default of my heart would be to pull my arms in tight, protecting.

In those days, before I had found words to describe this pain to others, she met me there. The words of her email have stayed in my mind even though many emails have been exchanged since that day, many new seasons come and gone.

“Jesus, your hem is wide. May her arms always be thrown wide – filled with gathering it.”

And now that almost two years have passed, I look back and see the truth of her words as they’ve seeped into so many different seasons and purposes in my life. He is in us, waiting for us to grab his hem and ask for so much of Him that we and the people around us cannot help but be changed.

It matters little where we live or what we do or with whom we interact. What matters is that our where and what and who are simply an overflow of arms full of Jesus. We need not search out places to pour out before we can be used by Him. If our first goal in the morning is to gather in Jesus, we cannot help but spill Him out on everyone, everywhere. We might never know the effects of His light on the people around us, but make no mistake, the God who said “it is better for me to go away and send you my Spirit” has made good on that promise. He inhabits us, which means that if you’re hanging out at Starbucks, so is He. If you are spending your days reading books to preschoolers or tutoring college students or painting houses or selling those houses or excising tumors or home schooling or folding laundry or running a massive business, Jesus is hanging out there, too.

He has placed you where you are – today – because He wants to be in that place today, through you. Fill up on Him and watch Him inhabit your places. Wherever you are today, say, “Jesus, this is your place. Thank you that I get to be here with you.” Then spread your arms wide to gather in Him and whomever else He may bring your way.

Arms thrown wide to gather in Jesus will, almost as if by accident, gather in the broken, the lonely, the fatherless (in every sense of the word), those that we might have otherwise overlooked.

They might be in your corporate office. They might be in your favorite coffee shop. They might be sleeping in your house or sounding out letters in a book or pushing toy trains across your kitchen table. They might be living in a nursing home down the road or delivering a package to your front door. They might be serving you dinner or they might be the ones to whom you serve dinner night after night. They might be you.

That place where He has called you to be today? It might not look like the vision He has given you. Maybe it’s far from where you want to be. Maybe it even feels wrong.

But there’s safety in knowing that if He has put you here today, He is not wasting a minute of it. Far too often, we wait for what will be: when I graduate, when I get married, when the kids go to school, when I finally move to Africa, when we can adopt, when we’re done having babies, when I get that promotion.

I am so guilty of imagining what life will be like when I’m married, how much simpler it could me, how much more security I’d have. And it is so right to long for marriage (and other good things), because God gives us vision and dreams and longings on purpose, but He wants to walk there with us, not missing a minute of joy along the way. Sometimes I can get so excited about the next big thing that I forget to invite Jesus into my today. If you’re one of the people who lives nearby, feel free to remind me of this frequently.

Here is just as valuable to Him as there. Now is His place. Let’s not miss it.

I would like to introduce you to one of my favorite people, Chalice.

She has come up with such a beautiful project over the last few years. 

_________________

Beginning two years ago as a fundraising project for my two month trip to volunteer at an orphanage in Uganda, The Sara Jane Project (formerly ‘Bunnies for Buganda’) has now become a multi-continent effort to:

1. comfort children
2. provide employment for mothers and young women in Uganda
3. raise funds for families seeking to bring children home through adoption

The beauty of this project is that, not only do you give a tangible reminder of God’s love to a child in Uganda, but the money you spend is used to support the adoption of children into families. Did you hear that?

What a precious conversation to have with your children on Easter morning as they open their baskets of good things – that the bunny in their lap is a reminder of the good things God has planned, not only for them, but for their counterparts on the other side of the world.

Need some more ideas?

• What if you found a child on a waiting children list who is your child’s age and used the bunny as a reminder to pray for that child to find a family by next Easter?
• Or you could tell your children that as they snuggle with their bunnies each night before bed, the can pray for a child who is waiting in foster care in your state?
• Don’t have kids? You could buy a bunny for a girl in a shelter in your city.
• Is there a family in your church who recently went through a loss, a move, or another kind of trauma? Buy bunnies for their kids and tell them the bunnies are a reminder that Jesus is the same, even when our circumstances change.

Read more (and buy bunnies!) here.

]]> http://www.seeingjoy.com/the-sara-jane-project/feed/ 0 http://www.seeingjoy.com/the-sara-jane-project/ http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/mandiejoy/Pgrk/~3/BR8jZlE5Niw/ http://www.seeingjoy.com/you-are-not-alone-a-little-break/#comments Sat, 16 Mar 2013 22:25:05 +0000 Mandie Joy http://www.seeingjoy.com/?p=4434 Hey everyone. Wow. What a fun series this has been. So many of you have written to say that you’ve been impacted by the series or by a particular post in general and I’m so encouraged. Most of the writers have also commented on how the process of writing out their own story to encourage others has been a blessing to them as well. Isn’t that just like God?

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The series is open for submissions now (so send in your stories!) and my plan is to resume posting weekly in mid-April, but I’m sensing the need (for my sake) to take a little break. I might still post my own little thoughts from time to time, but at least for a month, I need a break to just sit with Jesus and ask Him for His perspective for me. So if you don’t hear from me very much over the next month, that’s why.

Happy Spring!

mj

And one of the most vivid memories of my childhood is being woken up by my Daddy on the morning of my 4th birthday.

I have a present for you, he said.

That day, I received the best birthday gift – a sister, born on my birthday. She was not the perfect little copy of myself for which I had so earnestly prayed. She is my opposite in almost every way, but in being my opposite, she has taught me about love.

She loves me when I’m not loveable. She’s patient when I’m angry. She has seen the worst of me and still celebrates our sisterhood. She forgives me over and over again. She shares her clothes. She drags me out of bed to exercise.

She has never complained about sharing a birthday.

And 23 years later, we still drive each other crazy, but we’re good friends. The best kind of friends.

Becca,

One of my favorite books says:

When God promises to bless you, He is saying, “I am going to make you into everything I ever meant you to be!”

I’m so grateful that God answered the cry of my heart and not the words from my mouth. I didn’t need a sister “just like me”. 

I needed you.

Thank you for being such a big part of God making me into everything He ever meant me to be.

love you so,

mj

If God is an ocean, am I swimming, diving, treading water, or living dry?

Do I search Him out like an ocean or wait for Him to come to me in raindrops?

We all get rain from the ocean. Even if we’ve never seen the ocean, even if we don’t believe in the ocean, even if we don’t ask for it – we all receive the rain (Matthew 5:45). And so it is with God. We will receive of His goodness simply by existing in His world. It is His good pleasure to rain on us. But there is a difference in my heart between waiting for rain and moving to the beach to get the ocean.

And of course rain is the ocean – reaching us far – but my Midwestern friends all confirm that even a good rain does not satisfy their desire to sit in front of the vast ocean, feel the crashing waves, and wade deep.

There’s nothing wrong with rain. It brings life and refreshes and carries the ocean in each drop.

The rain accomplishes much, but if we were made for an ocean,  rain will never do. There are secrets of the ocean that could never be discovered by simply experiencing rain, even a torrential rain.  The depths of His heart cannot be known in raindrops alone. The invitation is to swim, to dive, and to explore the Ocean of His Love.

My default of comfort is to spend life waiting for rain – ignoring the open invitation to the coastline, where the Source of that rain lies open, deep, and welcoming for me to dive in. He waits there for me to want Him. He waits to be searched out.

He is saying, Come and know the depths. Come and know the deep things about me. (1 Corinthians 2:10)

If my minute-by-minute heart’s posture towards God is one of simply receiving without actively searching out, I’m limiting myself to a raindrop’s experience of who He really is. 

And so my days must be full of reminders to search deep. One of my favorite ways to know Him is to ask questions. I write them down on cards, on my hand, or in my notebook so that I can ask Him all day long.

• Where are you in my frustration over ______ today?
• Who do you want to be for me as I wade through discouragement?
• What does “come and know” look like in this season of life?
• Where in my life am I missing you right now?
• How do you see ___________ (a person, a circumstance, a frustration)? 
• And my favorite: What questions do you want me to ask you today?

The best part about asking Him questions is that he LOVES to answer us. He is the Question-Answering God. Our questions are like a sailboat, holding us in the ocean and lifting up sails that He can use to breath us into Himself.  He wants to give us the ocean in our minutes handed over to Him throughout the day.

___________________________________________

Other ways I am learning to live in the ocean:

- Music playing over my day is a great way to go deep. These are my current favorites:

(anything from the folks out at Bethel, but especially this album and this album. Instrumental music like hers keeps my heart in an open place even when it aches. And then these are staples as well: All Sons & Daughters,  Bryan & Katie Torwalt, the Rend Collective. Do you have music to add to my list?

- Adoration. I’m still getting the hang of this, but I have a friend who really gets it, who has modeled it for me in many different seasons and environments. Fortunately, I can share her with you! I’d encourage you to make this space of hers a regular landing place. If you’re an Instagram friend, you can get little squares of truth over here @everybitterthingissweet.

- There’s also an adoration app. There’s always an app. And if you have little ones, this book.

- Spending time with children. No, I’m serious. If you have your own, ask them your God-sized questions. It’s amazing the wisdom that comes from their hearts that have not yet been stifled by adult-sized doubt. And if you don’t have your own, borrow a friend’s. These littles teach me something new every time I’m with them.

What are your tried and true ways to stay in His ocean?