Eisley Aviana

What a journey. Seriously. The 9 months and 4 days leading up to sweet baby girl's birth felt like a badillion quajillion years of mental insanity and hormonal irrationality. Ok wow, not the most endearing way to start a birth story blog post. But yeah. I'm pretty much raw like that. ;)

It is, however a sweet story. Of God's intensive journey to box me in a tight space and create no margin for my head to turn left or right but to stare... straight at Him, straight into His eyes, wearing no yoke but His and be still and know He is God, He is in control, He sees, He cares.

I like wide open spaces and room to roam and freedom. And yet this journey although it felt restrictive was all about freedom. Freedom came where I least expected it and in a form unbelievable by the human rationale. It came in the yoke, in the collision of my soul with His heart, of my plans spilled out and His will relentlessly driving. I fought "the box" of my life until I was tired, sore, and worn from beating at the wind. Then I sat. In the dark. And I waited for Him. Waited for a voice, a sign, direction. And got nothing. 

Then I was slammed into the face of what gratitude means. The triteness of it made me want to throw a fit of rage. It was too simple, too obvious, too obnoxious to be quite honest. But as my eyes opened to behold my daily gifts and my obsession with the longing for perfection faded, I began to feel freedom. To see a world of beauty and goodness all around me, and immaculate grace under girding me. I still fought my battle of the box, but yet somehow it was different. There were tears of honesty instead of punching the cardboard.... telling Him my frustrations and leaving them there. I found a Savior with a compassionate heart that loves me too much to give the child pitching a fit the lollipop. I found peace when it made no sense. I found joy when it felt hopeless. I found myself to be a selfish, entitled brat, as my life is filled with good things if only I'd turn on the windshield wipers see.

Freedom. Bright, hopeful freedom. To be who I am. To be at peace. To rest in His presence. To quit fighting. To live in the moment. To cease striving. To celebrate good gifts. To feel joy in the simplicity of life.

I remember the Sunday in church before Eisley was born. I was already 2 days late. We started singing one of my favorite songs, with deep personal meaning for me from when we first moved here to Tennessee... "Always" by Kristain Stanfill. I began crying because I knew, God had not delayed. He had come through. He was my Refuge and Strength. I did not have to fear the war, the storm... His promises are true. He always, always came through for me. Even when it did not look the way I thought it should. I knew the time was close and that He was bringing me full circle in this journey.

Ok now for the physical "nitty gritty" ;) For several days I had been having contractions off and on, labor pains, etc. Sporadic, inconsistent, but honestly just uncomfortable and making it hard to do much of anything. It was keeping me up at night, it was getting so old. I kept just taking it a day at a time, knowing I wouldn't be pregnant forever. Tuesday night I kept waking up off and on with contractions, but was half asleep (or trying to) and I knew they were irregular. When I woke up and started about my morning routine I kept having to stop and felt sharp pains. I told David I didn't feel good about him going to work yet, maybe wait an hour or two. I kept having contractions all morning, anywhere from 2 min apart to 15 min apart. I am always in denial when I'm in labor. It finally takes David saying "I'm calling the midwife" (with me protesting greatly) to get things going. He called my sweet friend Kim to come get the kids too. I was a nervous wreck at this point, just hoping and praying this was it, because I would hate to be putting everyone out for no reason! It seemed perfect though, because my prayer had been that I go into labor during the day so the kids wouldn't have to be woken and transported in the middle of the night. I have never gone into labor during the day, so this seemed so weird! But now looking back I am so grateful for this specific answer to prayer! We were a bit nervous though, because for this pregnancy I was GBS positive and knew I needed to get the antibiotic IV going as soon as labor hit. Ideally you need 2 doses, and they have to be 4 hours apart. One of my labors was only 4 hours, so I wanted to make sure I got it in time.

At 11:30 Kim picked up the kids and everyone was super excited and ready for a sleepover! The midwife got here about 15 min later. She brought in her gear and checked me. She said that since my contractions were only lasting about 30 seconds that she did not consider it "active labor." I was bummed but knew somehow that we were on the labor train and it would keep rolling. She said she would leave her stuff here because she thought I was close, but to call her when they are 1 min long for over an hour. She left and I sat on the couch and sure enough, they got longer and stronger. It was so strange for me - when I walked around, the labor slowed up. When I sat or lied down, it picked up. Usually I have to power walk or squat my way to progress, but resting seemed to be the trick. Fine by me! The midwife came back around 1:00 and said yep, you're in labor. I was having to really work through the contractions and was at 4 cm. The next 6-7 hours was just a steady, calm progression. She worked hard to find a vein to get my IV going. I always have problems with that! Finally got the dose. That was a relief! I sat indian style on the couch almost the whole time. Lying down a few times. Contractions got stronger and harder. The ironic thing was I felt so calm. So much peace, relaxation, clarity of mind. I was able to let go, feel the pain, and mentally just let my body do it's thing. I used lavender oil on my palms and forehead this time, that seemed to help. Dave had quiet music playing. It truly was a Zen Spa. hahahah ;) I really was in my "zone." Dave sat nearby playing games on his ipad, haha! He was there if I needed something, but as he told me later "you were doing this thing on your own, you really didn't need me!" Emotionally I wanted him near. But physically I felt very in control.

The midwife assistant arrived around 7pm and brought dinner for Dave and both of them. Normally I love Macaroni Grill but the smell of it made me want to throw up... this is where peppermint oil on a warm rag came to the rescue! I sniffed it and it eased my stomach.

My midwife got the second IV going. Just as it finished, labor was getting super intense.

Finally I got in the tub at this point. It was a little too warm and I quickly got overheated and got out. About 45 min later contractions were super painful. I decided to get in again. I kept mentally telling myself I had a long way to go so I wouldn't get discouraged. I didn't realize I was in transition at this point. I got in the tub and after a few contractions I was taken by surprise and my water broke! With my last 2 when my water broke, the babies were born in the next contraction. I was in shock, excited, and bracing myself for what was coming next. I knew this was the final hurdle and it would be over. David was behind me outside of the tub, letting me lean my head on his shoulder and holding my hand. This was when I needed him most. He is my rock. I had a couple hard contractions after that with no urge to push, nothing. I started thinking "what if she doesn't come for a long time... I don't know if I could handle that!" Finally I had a contraction and pushed with all my strength. Then another. Her head was out! Then the most intense part... her body still inside! Never had that happen but it was.... wow... no words to describe! All I could think was "get this baby OUT OF ME!!!!" I pushed like my life depended on it for a 58 seconds straight (but it felt like 5 min!) as the midwife worked to compact her and gently guide her out. Even in that moment, when the pain was at it's peak I remember clarity of mind to breathe (I had hyperventilated with McKayla), call out to the Lord, and pay attention to my body. I knew I needed to push but was trying not to force it. At last she was out and they handed this wet little baby girl to me and I just cried. We all cried. The only thing on my mind was what I blurted out... "God, you are so good to me!" I just rejoiced in His presence, His guiding hand, His peace, and the healthy arrival of a new sweet one to join our family. Overwhelmed!!!

At first her hair looked dark but it was wet. When she got cleaned up we noticed it was more of a copper brown/auburn shade. Beautiful! And a thick head of it. When I compared baby pics, she looked the most like McKayla. Tiny little facial features, petite and sweet.

My placenta had some issues coming out, so I was quickly moved to the bed. It was collapsing on itself and my midwife was afraid it would create blood clots. Finally we got it out and were able to move on. Baby girl got weighed, cleaned up, a was given a full examination. We got all our postpartum instructions and Mary Anne and Kelly worked hard to clean up everything. Let me tell ya, they leave your house cleaner than it was before! They are fantastic like that. By now, I was hungry and the Mac Grill sounded good this time! :) David heated some up for me and we sat in bed admiring our baby and eating pasta. She had been nursing like a pro for about an hour now. Which is a good thing because her blood sugar was low, just like Asher's was after birth. Thank God she nursed easily and we were able to bring it back up. Her agapar score was a perfect 10, and she weighed in at 8lb 2oz, only 1oz more than Asher.

They left around 10:00pm and it was glorious to sit in bed and cuddle baby girl. We were super tired. We had a good first night with a couple feedings and the next day it was like vacation. Just us and our little baby, watching movies and eating yummy bbq the neighbor brought. I always love that first little 24 hours! David played a super sweet song for me he had been saving. I cried... like a baby :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7gjwS13smI

My friend Melanie had relieved Kim of the kids midday and took them to chickfila for dinner and brought them home. I loved their expressions!!! The girls were in shock. So excited!!! So in love! They were just 2 and 4 when Asher was born so this time was so different. They wanted to hold her, to cuddle her. Gabrielle said "I just can't believe this!" and she teared up a bit. We talked about how amazing it was that God created her - knit her - in my womb. Only God can do that. I saw on her face the awe of His power to create such a little life. McKayla just wanted to cuddle her and had a look of shock.... "oh. my. gosh!" she kept saying! haha. Asher came in and was like "whatevs." Then went to play trains. lol! Love it. Later he was crying when we were taking pics... I think he was just exhausted and not sure what was going on!?

Now here we were! A family of 6. Dave was home the next few days, thank God. It was an adjustment and a lot going on and very little sleep. He went back to work on Monday. My friend Julie came and got the girls around lunchtime to spend the night. My mom got here the next night and the girls came back. I was starting to feel like zombie mom at this point and my mom was a huge help. We worked to get a routine established back, because the kids really need that and do best with structure. Everyone's attitudes were quite interesting to say the least! We had to get a plan. Dave and I went out to grab a burger and figure out a schedule. I felt like suddenly we were the Van Trap family and needed a whistle and marching orders to keep things running smoothly! GOSH. I would much rather fly by the seat of my pants and be carefree, but with 4 kids we need at least a general agenda! They are all such different ages and stages and have different needs.

The last week and a half has been really great. Finally getting more sleep, school back in full swing and I feel so good. It's so nice to move around the house without the huge boulder belly! I've lost all but 9lbs and can fit into most of my clothes. This has never happened so quickly, but in case you wanna hate on me, let me tell you it does not come natural! I worked so so hard at it. After some nightmare post-pardum bodies (one of which took a year and a half to regain!), maybe after the 4th I finally figured a few things out!? haha. I started back some strength training last week and it feels so good.

Hormonally I feel I am doing so great. The pregnancy hormone demon has left me and I am crazy hopeful and happy and calm! Gabrielle has practically told me every day "mom, I've really noticed a change in you." I keep thinking "was I that bad!?" Yikes, apparently so! I feel amazing. I have my moments, but just glory in the fact that Eisley is on the outside and I'm not pregnant anymore.

I'm not pregnant anymore.

And all the people said amen! Thank you Jesus. For the journey, for your mercy, for the crazy love and good gifts you daily lavish on us.

Our prayer is that sweet little Eisley Aviana grows up to be a true living picture of "bright freedom." A bright glowing ray of hope to all who meet her, that freedom in Jesus is liberating, joyful, and creates a life lived to its fullest. May she be full of passion and zeal and not become entangled in the yoke of bondage that legalism, self-righteousness, bondage, and comparison bring. May Galatians 5:1 be true of you, sweet girl...

"Stand fast therefore in the liberty by which Christ has made us free."

I am crazy blessed. And sleepy. And happy.

Get Angry

This thought has been on my mind all week. Anger. The I've-HAD-it-sick-and-tired-of-being-sick-and-tired kind of anger. Not the depressing kind that makes you eat a whole bowl of chocolate chunk ice cream while simultaneously crying, watching the Bachelorette, and texting all your bff's. But the kind that motivates you. Moves you. Fuels you.

I've heard it said that if you don't truly hurt, you don't truly love. I believe the same is true in anger. If you don't truly get mad about something, you don't truly care. It seems those that live "que sera sera" lives really don't end up doing much. They let a lot of boats pass by the harbor and never jump on board. Not to say that mindset is entirely wrong, but I believe it is incomplete. To live passively is not to really live at all. It means you have stuffed something and let that inner child die.

We all have dreams, passions, and gifts. We are born driven. Even more laid-back types have interests and passions (although they may not jump around like a raving loon about it like I would). Yet I think as life carries on we get burdened and weighed down with its hardships, trials, preoccupations and perceived necessities. Yet if you were to go back - to "channel your inner child", what would he or she say? Who are you at your core? While all our fantasies and fairy tales may not be achievable, I believe we all have some things that are. Some goals worth reaching, paths worth following, dreams worth pursuing.

This is my last year in my 20's. Perhaps I'm having my mid-life crisis early. Which actually, would make sense because most people married for almost a decade and that have 4 kids would probably be hitting it about now... I just did it all crazy early. But all that to say, these 20's have been packed out - chock full of necessity. Good stuff, but to be really raw here, super crazy hard adult-y (new word) kind of stuff. Trials and life situations thrown at us I never imagined. Today as pure insanity ensued with 3 children all wildly taking their own spin on "a day without naps", I looked up from my life and thought wow. This is nuts. And it's about to get nuttier. It's fantastic and wonderful and I wouldn't trade the chaos and insanity for all the nursing home silence in the world (most days). Yet I do know this: Suzanne is coming out. My passions and dreams are rising to the surface. I'm letting them. Some involve my husband and children. Some involve my faith. Some involve my personal passions and dreams. Some involve helping others. They are good things. Things that need to breathe and come alive.It may be baby steps at first, but I am taking them. As I talk them over with the Lord and ponder them, I know I'm on the right path. I sense an excitement and a freedom and zeal for life that I need. I want my children to see, to know, Mom was alive. She was who she was created to be. I want them to be adventuresome, risk takers, to never settle, to dream, to hope, to plan, to pursue... therefore I have to be that.

Yet sitting on your daybed with a journal and quill pen, jotting about your daydreams will not get you there. It's not till you get angry - mad - about some things that you will take action. Maybe you are mad that someone killed your dreams and squashed your passion. Maybe you are angry because you have let fear and insecurity creep in and steal your hope. Maybe you are mad because you have not been true to God's calling and His voice and have shut it out. Perhaps you are mad because you have let time, and excuses, and unfair circumstances and life's crap storms choke out the pursuit of what you know you need to be doing. Maybe you're just plain mad.

Ya gotta be sick and tired of being sick and tired. I call this the Biggest Looser mindset, sick of the stretchy pants with the elastic waistband. You're just fed up of your own special department to shop in, with clothing sizes that have X's in front of it, and the beads of sweat that form between your fat rolls, and the "black is slimming" motto. SICK AND TIRED. So you let that fuel you. Motivate you. You take charge of your life and decide that if you fall down a million times, you will keep getting up and keep fighting. You will press on. You will succeed.

I have lived long enough to know that resistance and obstacles will come. People will get in your way, life will throw you curve balls, and crazy ridiculous JUNK out of nowhere will dump in your front yard. (I will write a book about this one day. But you won't see it coming.) I'm not saying "dream a dream and hop the back of a unicorn and you will fly to the motherland of destiny!" Lord knows if that was the case we would all have found our pot at the end of the rainbow a long time ago. And as a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure some dreams and passions mold along the way. That's ok too. The fact is that you did it. You went for it. You didn't give up. And you're glad you didn't, bumps and all. Whether it succeeds or flops, you gave it your all.

So I'm curious... what are you mad about? Be angry and sin not. You can be angry and not creepy. Please tell me you are angry. If not, dig a little deeper. Look inside. Look around you. Find something to get angry about. Because I dare say if you're not mad, you're not really breathing. Get mad enough to make a change, set some goals, help, give, do, be.

It will make you pretty darn happy.

Free

I cannot get this word out of my head. Free. It's like the word God has given me for this year. Which seems strange, because it is probably one of the most challenging and "boxed-in" years of my life. Not all bad. Just a lot of sitting, waiting, enduring. You might possibly have guessed it by now, but sitting is not my strong point...

Being a parent to 3 littles is a lot. If you want to do it right (whatever "right" is). I'm pretty sure even the best of parents will be begging forgiveness all throughout their children's lives. So by "right" I mean involved. Not farming out the majority of our parenting responsibilities and privileges to everyone but us. Not being constantly engrossed in my world, my to-do list, my priorities... but delving into them. I'm a firm believer in kids respecting and having other teachers and authority figures in their lives,as well as good times of separation and independence. But let's face it - kids don't raise themselves. Or they shouldn't. It takes so much active thought, preparation, and intentionality. It's wonderful. It's nearly all-consuming. It's exhausting. It's the best thing ever. I once heard someone say, "Life without kids is easier. Life with kids is better." Ditto that.

Growing a baby is a lot. For me, it's not an easy journey. I know many women have it harder than I do, so I will not even pretend to have the corner of the market on pregnancy challenges. I am young, I am healthy, and my body makes babies like a champ. However it is grueling for me - 3-4 months of intense nausea, the hormonal insanity (yes, I mean every bit of that word, ask my husband) and a whole host of physical changes and ailments of which I will spare you. Some women glow and adore being pregnant. I lock down and zone in and gut through it like a spartan. Don't be shocked at my lack of sentimentality... it's just not my thing. Yes, feeling the baby move, knowing it is being knit inside my womb is an incredible thing. But the 9 months of wanting to crawl out of my skin!? It is par for the course. And when that little face arrives, I glory. Because at last, there is the precious bundle! And there is the end of the journey up the mountainous region of rocks and serpents and forest fires and werewolves and... well, you get the picture.

Homeschooling is a lot. Now we are not the people that view it as our religion or our children's salvation. We take it one year at a time, one child at a time. I am not a natural-born teacher. Nor do I love it. But as we sit down and write out our family priorities and our goals and consider our children's needs and gifts, thus far it has been the best choice. We do not judge those who do nor do we eliminate the future possibility of our children being in school. Yet for now, it's where we are. It's got glorious perks, and yet, it has some real intense challenges. Trying to help one child figure out how to carry the 1 to the 10's place and another how to sequence correctly and another climbing all over the table and me and the school papers and the supplies like a monkey, with cars and trucks flying every which a way is a recipe for pure insanity. And some days it has baked up quite nicely.

Owning our own business is tough. House hunting in the Franklin market is tough. Not having family nearby is tough. Living in 1100sq feet is tough. Life is just plain tough.

And yet we breathe a sigh of relief because grace is there. For the weary, the overwhelmed, and the tough situations and callings of life. I am not here to complain, but to highlight why the word free is so shocking and so timely for me.

This is the year of the Lord just really undoing me. It's like He's preforming open heart surgery to reveal what is truly inside. What is clogging the flow of the precious freedom of His blood. I'm shocked at what is inside. And yet that just reveals more of my yucky pride.... to think that I was better than this in the first place.

It all began earlier in the year with reading "Grace for the Good Girl." Having grown up in such an amazing christian home and social environment, and coming to know Jesus at an early age, I honestly lived a "clean" and "good" life. Yet throughout the years I began to depend more and more on my goodness and obedience and less on Jesus. My undoing began when I realized how hard I tried and how little I tapped into the power and freedom of Jesus Christ.

It wrecked me. Wonderfully!

Since then that journey has just continued on. The Lord digging deeper, purging further, and revealing Himself more. It's hard and gruesome yet so kind and merciful. I have found myself crying my eyes out in agony yet rejoicing that He isn't leaving me to myself. He is in the business of changing. And He's changing me!

Lately I've realized the lie I'm believing: the lie that somehow, I'm overlooked. And as I dig deeper I see it stems from a false belief system of entitlement and pride. That God owes me something for my obedience and faithfulness to Him. That I am in reality comparing my life to what I think I deserve, and He calls that foolish.

While it is so hard to watch my stability, strength, and endurance crumble, it is so freeing to see Jesus stand in it's place and fight for me.

"The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still." Ex. 14:14

"Your God has commanded your strength; Show Yourself strong, O God, who have acted on our behalf." Ps 68:28

It's all about Him being strong, Him fighting for me, Him acting on my behalf. Not me. Not my endurance or persistence or undying commitment. Makes me think of the promise in Phil 1:6 that "He who began a good work in you will perfect it..." He will perfect it. Not my acts of righteousness.

Therefore the Lord has told me to sit. To let go. To relinquish control. To be weak. To hold my hands out, open and willing.

The hardest.thing.in.the.world.for.me. If He told me to go fight a battle, I would be on the front lines. If he told me to take charge, I would have a plan of action and a chart to go with it. But when He tells me to sit, I'm like a 2 year old ADD kid in the time-out chair, bouncing up and down and biting my nails and flailing my arms wildly while singing the alphabet backwards in Spanish. It makes me go bazurk!!! It's like somebody is stepping on my dang air hose! To put it mildly. And yet.... He has made it so clear. Sit. Wait. Trust. Rest.

So....... freedom. How do you come into play?

"Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." 2 Cor 3:17

"Where you are, is where I'm free
Holiness is Christ in Me". - Matt Maher, "Lord I need you"

As Brandon Heath sings,

"you know the effort I have given
you know exactly what it cost..."

It's so crazy to think of all our "effort" as being part of the cost of Calvary. That our sin of commission, even in seemingly good things, stealing God's glory. That my attempt to be Rosie the Riveter is really just my attempt to play God.

I know that He makes us all different. Some of us are easy going, day-to-day living, simple, happy people. That's great. Some of us are type-A, energetic, high strung planner people. That's great too. I'm not mad at how God designed me and the gifts and strengths He's given me. But I just truly want it to be all about Jesus. Not all about Suzanne. And He is seeing to that ;)

So my word freedom comes into play when I realize that sitting in that "time-out chair" is really God's way of setting me free from my own bondage of doing. Of taking on more than He has equipped me to when I try to play God. Freedom in letting Him lead, letting Him be in charge, letting Him care for me. Freedom to rest, to take on a yoke that is easy and a burden that is light. Freedom to return to "faith as a child" and play, dance, laugh and sing in His glorious sunshine. Freedom from care and worry knowing He cares for me far more than the daintily dressed lilies of the field. Freedom from concern about provision, for after all we can trust Him for our daily bread. Freedom from exhausted effort and an invitation to growth and pruning and more growth as I abide in the vine I am eternally grafted into.

I never thought freedom was what I needed most. I've never been in prison or had a drug addiction  But I have been in bondage and am returning to the joy of my salvation.... just Jesus. Circumstances are not changing right now. Neither is Jesus. I live caught in between those to paradoxes and find I am cast upon the Rock of His security.

I am free to run
I am free to dance
I am free to live for you
Yes I am free
-Newsboys

Raising Girls....

A few weeks back I went to a Mom's Heart at a local church. It was the one place I jumped into when we first moved here to try and get plugged in and meet other women. I haven't been in a while and it was so refreshing. Once a month you come, drop off your children into loving hands, and are served a hot breakfast and get to hear some amazing speakers on some pertinent topics. I love Bible Studies, but this is just pure refreshment. It's like a mini-retreat! I may have to make this a regular habit again.

Melissa Trevathan was the speaker, author of "Raising Girls", and founder and director of Daystar. A friend told me of the speaker and the topic, which is what intrigued me to go again. Raising girls is tough for me. Although I only have one son and he is not quite 2, already I feel more natural in the boy element. Strange I know, because after all, I'm a girl. But girls and their drama - the emotional ups and downs, the "I am upset and don't know why", the apparent PMS symptoms at age 2...

Boys are just so straight-forward. Simple. YES it is pure, raw energy and destruction. But that I can handle. That is a no-nonsense approach.

But how do I connect deeper with my girls? I feel we have a good relationship overall. They are both so different in personality, different needs and communication styles. Different love languages. I truly love to see them interact and view life from their own unique personalities.

They do test me. They push me to the edge. David is always telling me "don't get emotionally involved!" But how can I help myself!?! I AM A GIRL TOO!!!!!

What Melissa had to say was wonderful. Simple and yet profound. Not overwhelming or oppressive. Years of experience with counseling girls of all ages and the wisdom that comes along with it. She cut straight to the chase.... girls need a purpose. They need to know their lives have meaning.

How true is this! At the heart of all females is a basic need to be valued, appreciated, and feel needed. To have purpose and meaning. Significance. I have seen in my own girls that when attitudes or self-centeredness play out, the best remedy is to get them busy. Give them a job or a goal to reach. Sure they "kick and scream" about it initially, but in the end there is always a smile, a sense of accomplishment and purpose. It drives the selfishness far out, and gives them a broader vision for serving others and loving God.

Girls need to know their value. The devil is at work, on the prowl, seeing to devour and deceive even the youngest among us. My 6 year old has said on a few occasions, "I just don't feel special." It always strikes me as odd. Nothing ever drastic seems to happen that would seem to lead up to such a statement. I always wonder where the feeling comes from. I always question my attitude and approach to her that day. But when I look in her eyes and talk about it, I see a frightening thing - the lies have already begun.

We have a foe. An enemy. He is strong. But not as powerful as our God. My girls will face these lies. I don't want to pretend they aren't there or try to combat it with a pet little saying or slap a memory verse on it. I want to let God's truth and God's spirit penetrate into their hearts. I want to be the vehicle of comfort and encouragement, leading them to Christ, who ultimately is the only one that can give them value. Mommy and Daddy cannot. Jesus can and will.

I'm learning to acknowledge their feelings as legitimate. Not trying to dismiss them or say "well we shouldn't feel that way" or ignore them. I don't want to over-emphasise emotions, but yet they are a part of our being. Emotions are not wrong. It's what we do and how we respond with them that matters. I'm learning not to hate the girl emotions - even in my own self. So often I shove them aside and suck it up. That's my way of handling things. To buck up, deal with it, bootstrap. Yet I have come to see so much in this past year how much damage that can cause and lead me to a twisted attempt at self-salvation out of my pain or hardships. What I am learning to do is acknowledge the feelings, the struggle, the bigger-than-me realities, and run to Jesus. Being tough or unshakable is not a sign of spirituality. It's just as much of a sin as letting your emotions rule you. Personally, I despise this. I hate whiners, wussies, weak examples of femininity. So to oppose the movement, I emotionally join the army - hair in a tight wad, boots laced, and clenched jaw. As the Lord helps me process this and detox from my pride, He is revealing several things to me. First, I need Jesus. Just as much as the girl that sits on the couch everyday with a box of kleenex, a bag of chocolates, and a sappy movie as she wallows in her plight. Just as much. Seeing I am needy sounds so basic, but He has had to let me crash and burn to go back to this basic truth of the faith. And it's really so freeing! When I do fail or flop, there is no judgement. Nothing to perform. Nothing to prove or handle. I simply fall into Jesus and find sweet rest! What freedom. Truly. Freedom. Secondly, He's showing me how He created me. We do not all fit a mold. Do some girls cry more? Yes. Do some girls like to do hard things? Yes. I'm learning to embrace who He made me to be, without judging those that aren't like me or trying to be something I'm not. Isn't this just like Jesus!? Balance. I'm asking Him to let me be who He made me to be and show me how I can showcase elements of His character.... not trying to have my own reality show. "Steal my show" as Toby Mac would say.

The other factor to raising girls is this: Mom. Yes mom. It's not so much about what to do with them and for them and to them.... but who I am. More is caught. One of the things Melissa said that stuck with me... so stuck with me.... "Control is an illusion." Wow. Wow. She said when we are so determined to do what is effective, it becomes futile. Ouchhhhhh. "You can't directly change the heart of your child," she said. She admonished us to change our way of thinking from "I'm going to do all I can to raise a godly daughter" to "I'm going to do all I can to be a godly parent." Pursue growth! Again, this brings me back to letting God transform me. "Your child will stir you - stir your past, failures, needs, and holes." How true is that. She said "the most important thing about being a parent is being a person." I love this. So often as a mom we lose our identity in raising our children. We become person-less. I have seen this play out in many women's lives. Several things can happen. A breakdown happens at some point and she goes off the deep end, reacting in many possible different ways, attempting to "break free" from the prison she finds herself in. Often it results in either emotional or physical abandonment of her children. I have also seen the reaction of a woman clinging to her children in an inappropriate and obsessive way, smothering them by emotionally forcing them to keep her happy and satisfied. She is afraid to let go and let them be who God made them to be. After all, they now hold her identity. This is so, so dangerous and not at all God's purpose for us having children! Or some women go on living, lifeless, identity-stripped, an empty shell. Nothing to offer, nothing to be. A chameleon to the needs and lives of others. How sad and empty.

I love this quote by Dan Allendar: " You are the only you this world will ever know. And something about your life is meant to make something about God known in a way that no one else can." 

That not only deals with how we should view ourselves and how God created us moms to be, but how we should encourage our daughters. This is where their purpose and value comes in! To glorify God by letting His character shine through their unique giftings and personality. There is no mold. As I stated before, my girls are uniquely different, and I truly strive to encourage them in their uniqueness and talents, recognizing that they have different strengths and abilities. It's ok for one to be better at something than another. We are not an "everybody is a winner" household. While one daughter rocks at cartwheels, the other can crank out some amazingly artistic creations. We praise and encourage their gifts, not create an environment of false equality in skill. We are all equal in value to Jesus, because we are His! But we are all different parts of the body, highly valued and purposeful in His kingdom. I can't wait to watch their lives unfold as they uniquely display elements of Who He is!

And lastly, I was admonished to mother out of love and not fear. This is so hard. Even the tiniest of fears often motivate us. We want them to do right. To grow up and love Jesus. To live fruitful lives. Our motives are often good but fear creeps in and intermingles with those desires and creates a toxic formula for legalistic and perfectionistic living. Our fears drive us to control, to manipulate, to twist God's word into a stick to drive our children towards the behavior that most benefits us. How sad when we reduce truth into a tool for our own glory. I have been guilty of this, throwing out a Bible verse in frustration and fear because I just for pete's sake want them to get along! There is a place for ushering in God's Word as a guidebook for living, but it must always be about Jesus, not rules. I cannot control my children's hearts. I can lead them to the Living Water, but I have to lay my fears there and cry out the the Savior that He would cause them to drink of His love. My identity cannot be wrapped up in how my children turn out... if it becomes about me, it will never be about Jesus. They have always been His children, who am I to try and take them for my own!? If we focus on fear, tension will arise. What is most important is relationship and connection. And leaving our fears to Jesus.

We have come to love this song called "Gold" by Britt Nicole the last week or so. Maybe simple and cliche, but that's ok. The truth is easy to catch and my girls beg me to play it. It is taking root in their heart as we talk about their value, their ownership, their preciousness to Jesus. So have a dance party with your girls and rock it out! May we be a tool used of God to show them their value and purpose in Him.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p9PjrtcHJPo

A Month of Love

Time is flying, and dragging, all at once. You Momma's know, that's how life is with little ones... in the winter months... and being pregnant :) The Lord has been burdening my heart so much with the challenge to live daily... in the moment. 

I feel my word for this year is embrace. It sounds nice. It sounds Ann Voskamp-ish. But I truly want to learn what it means. In the moments of chaos, challenge, exhaustion, needs, and struggle. In the moments of joy, happiness, laughter, joy, and adorableness. I want to embrace.

There's a lot about this season that I find where I am "stuck." God has me in a holding pattern. YEA, again. He just knows how much I love 'em ;) I struggle through, I pour out my heart, I tell Him the realities of what I  am feeling, what I am needing, what am hopeful for. I'm learning to be truly honest with Him. Not pray the prayers I think some great theologian would pray in center stage, but the raw, honest, God-love me prayers. I am finding peace and comfort there. Hope in the fact that I am honest with Him. That nothing is hidden. That He knows.

I know I can live one of two ways: surviving or thriving. I feel everything in my life right now screammmms SURVIVAL. Yet my spirit - the one God gave me as a little girl, my personality, my passion, my heart, says live! Have fun and enjoy the days! Keep it simple. Love my littles. Love my man. Let everything else go. What people think, what the expectations are, what I'm failing miserably at, essentially, what really doesn't matter, let it go.

So last week the Lord gave me a challenge. To teach my children more of what it means to be loved and to love. To know Jesus love for themselves, and to know what it means to love on others.

After all, isn't that what really matters?

Mark 12:30-31: "The foremost is... 'you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength;' the second is this, 'you shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than these."

No other! 

So we are taking on the challenge of John 15:12: "This is my commandment that you love one another, just as I have loved you."

We sat down and had a family meeting, talking about what that verse means. How did Jesus love us? Sacrificially. He gave. We are to love the same! 

Initially this "project" the Lord gave me seemed overwhelming. My plate is so full just doing the daily - keeping everyone schooled, fed, clean, and loved. But when I thought in little bites - over the course of the month - I realized we could do this. We needed to do this. Everyone is so excited!

First we want to love each other well. This means working on honing in our words that they are kind and do not provoke. Honoring each other. We are going to look for ways to serve each other. And to have fun together! We are going to throw a family valentines party. Just us. I want to make it so special for the people I care the most about.

We are going to write another letter and draw some pictures to send to our compassion child, Edlowit. We baked some simple jam shortbread cookies to give to teachers at ballet, gymnastics, and church. We are going to go visit the sweet widow across the street and take her some. (I'm ashamed we haven't done this sooner!) We are going to mail some care packages of goodies to friends that need encouragement. We want to do some random acts of kindness in secret. We want to do some art projects to decorate the house with and give away to friends.

Simple, little things. A little here, a little there. Isn't that how lives are built? I have to be intentional. Otherwise I get caught up in the daily and nothing beyond that!

I decided to kick it off the other day by taking the girls out for a "girls date" one afternoon. Dave was home and Asher was napping, so I ditched the agenda and we headed to the mall! This was huge for me... finally coming out of the doldrums of nausea and actually having energy! I felt so ALIVE! And so grateful. We went to the mall and just did it all. Had lunch in the food court - and not the typical chickfila, I let them pick whatever they wanted! They thought that was such a huge treat. We took time to look in girlie stores, browse, play in the play place, ride the merry-go-round, snag a few deals on clearance racks, and laugh and play! Dave texted me "when do you think you will be home?" and I replied "I have no idea! We are having too much fun!"

I realized something. My girls are growing up. I tend to base my life on the needs/schedule of the youngest. I have to reverse this! It's hard when they need naps, feeding schedules, etc. But some things I can change. I don't want to miss out on this fun age they are because I am stuck lumping them all in as "the kids." They are individuals! I love who they are. I want to know more about them. I want to interact and engage. I will be begging for this in the teen years, and I know it will not just appear if it has not been built now.

I realized something else. When I slow down and am not so agenda-oriented, I take time to value people. Not just my children, but sales clerks, people I meet, anyone! I feel ashamed for being so rushed and hurried and trying to get home before my ticking-time-bomb child goes off that I overlook the needs of others - the conversations, the opportunities, the involvement. How can I be a voice for Jesus if I am always so hurried? Martha, Martha.... slow it down.

Already, this project is transforming me more than anything. It has to start here, anyway, if it's going to be real to my children. I'm excited to watch the rest of this month unfold and see what we learn and how we grow. Happy Love Month! :)

If a Picture is Worth a Thousand Words...

So if a picture is worth a thousand words....

But of course knowing me, I can't leave off the thousand words... ;)

Notice the little booties hanging on the clothes line on the right.

Yes. It's oh so true. We will soon be a family of 6.

It's a bit of a surprise. Yet we had been talking about "maybe a 4th" for several months now. In my heart I silently prayed God would just let it happen if it was meant to be. We know a little too much about how it all works and there's just no way to not plan or un-plan. If that makes any sense.

Either way. This little one came from pure oversight :)

But Divine appointment, we have no doubt.

What's so funny is everyone was teasing us when we went away for the weekend. I remember Mom saying as we were about to drive away, "we expect a 4th grandbaby!" I rolled my eyes and laughed. But for real. It was an escape baby.

I rather hold that in a sweet spot in my heart. That weekend in Nashville with my man was pure bliss. Being by ourselves, staying up late, champagne and chocolate, exploring the town, music, shows, amazing food, good talks, great memories... I'm glad we got a little "souvenir" ;)

I would be lying if I didn't say I was scared. Pregnancy is not fun for me. The worst of it being the first 16 weeks or so. GAG. I'm in the thick of it. The sickness is yucky. I hate how it feels and miss feeling normal for my kids and my husband. The pregnancy, birth, hormones, and first year of a newborn are always such a challenge. Full of amazing moments but also full of equally exhausting and trying times. Hence our hesitation to start the process all over again. But here we are! And we are thankful for life.

I was in the doctor's office the other day for a check-up for McKayla and I got to talking with the girl that worked there and somehow the topic came up and I said, "well we are actually expecting our 4th!" She smiled and said "oh wow!" Just then I looked behind me and saw 3 children that were acting like complete monkeys. Asher was making loud and manly grunts and noises, demanding food (did I mention loud??), and the girls were doing some sort of gymnastics moves on the exam table, and for a split second I saw it through her eyes.... wow. We are definitely crazy. I could tell she thought so.

The next day I ran into Walgreens to pick up a few things and the young guy at the checkout said "Wow. How did you get left with all these kids!?" I was really taken back. Not even sure how to answer that!?! But wasn't about to say "oh and guess what, we've got another one comin'!"

That night as I drove away, heading downtown to a half-way house I volunteer at, a lot of fears began to creep in. What if I can't handle 4? What if we should have just focused on the ones we do have? Are we nuts for starting this process all over again? Am I cut out for this???

Just then, this song came on the radio.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yW-JZrrEbt4

The words melted my heart! I cried to the Lord. He is my hope! He is my doubt-destroyer. He is my song. He is my peace!

Truth be told, as I fix my gaze on Jesus, I have amazing peace and excitement. My fears are only extensions of my attempt to be my own strength, to be my own faith, to carry my own burdens. But Jesus is that for me.

This will be a season of opportunity. For me to grow even more out of my "good girl" skin and let Jesus be my righteousness. To embrace grace and the freedom it brings to rest in Jesus. To choose peace over perfection. To let go of control and cling tightly to the Master of my heart.

Early this morning my little nephew, Rowan was born. Reliving the excitement and anticipation of his birth and then finally seeing the picture of his precious little face reminded me that its all worth it. It's always worth it! Life is an amazing gift. It has already helped me to catch a glimpse of the joy that is to come. I cannot wait to hold this little one and to soak up that preciousness.

So here we are! I'm more than 8 weeks. Appointment with the midwife/ultrasound is later this week. Praying for health and protection. Thankful for my amazing man on this life journey with me. Thankful for my amazing children that are really stepping it up and being huge helpers! And thankful for Jesus, the life-giver.

My hope is in you, Aaron Shust

I meet with You and my soul sings out
As Your word throws doubt far away
I sing to You and my heart cries holy
Hallelujah, Father You're near

My hope is in you lord, all the day long
I won't be shaken by drought or storm
A peace that passes, understanding is my song and I sing
My hope is in You alone

I wait for You and my soul finds rest
In my selfishness You show me grace
I worship You and my heart cries glory
Hallelujah, Father You're here

My hope is in you lord, all the day long
I won't be shaken by drought or storm
A peace that passes, understanding is my song and I sing
My hope is in You alone

I Will with on You, You Are My refuge
I Will with on You, You Are My refuge

My hope is in you lord, all the day long
I won't be shaken by drought or storm
my hope is in you lord, all the day long
I won't be shaken by drought or storm
A peace that passes, understanding is my song and I sing

My hope is in You alone

Being Refined... and Defined

I'm still on this amazing journey of undoing. Sometimes it is quiet. Other times the revelation of my true self, intentions, and masks are a shredding of my internal and a blinding light to my needy soul.

I am reading "Grace for the Good Girl" by Emily Freeman. Please. If you have ever been "good", go get this book. She really breaks it down...

"The shape and intensity of our performance comes down to two things: expectations and definitions. I have the expectation of myself to be a good girl, a good Christian, a good wife and a good mom. Not such bad things, until you understand my own personal, twisted definition of "good." Good means I never mess up. Good means I weigh the perfect amount. Good means I can handle everything, I don't look like a fool, and I never lose my patience. Good means my husband will never be disappointed in me, my kids will always obey, and everyone basically likes me. Good means I am enough. My goodness is all about me. Not only do I want to be a good girl, a good Christian, a good wife, and a good mom, I want to be those things in front of God and everyone. I want to be good and I want you to know it. I know in my head that my definition of good is wrong, crazy even. Still, left to my own resources, that is how I operate. If I fail to live up to my own standard of good, I label myself a failure. I lack motivation. I become indifferent, I entertain anxiety. I snap at my children. I want to be alone. I dream of Hawaiian vacations. I wallow.

But then something happens to offer a bit of encouragement, and I find the strength to redouble my efforts at goodness. I clean the house and successfully avoid the Rocky Road ice cream. Someone gives me a compliment. The weather is nice and I get a spurt of energy. I feel empowered, and so I try again. Then, I fail again. I don't like to fail and I certainly don't want you to know I've failed. And I'm embarrassed at the predictable pattern of defeat that my life has become.

So now I stand at the fork in the road: I can try to figure out a way to continue making life work on my own or I can admit defeat and accept Jesus' definition simply to Come."

Nail on the head.

This in so many ways is me! My cycle! I've been asking the raw and honest question lately of how much of my "strength of the Lord" is really my own bootstrapping? My own attempt at Pollyanna living? My unshakable good nature? My resilience  my strength, my Rosie the Riveter pride. I've squawked at others that need to change proclaiming "I don't get why they can't do what is right, It's just a CHOICE and you get with it and DO IT!!"

Element of truth there? Yes. We do make choices. But what I'm seeing is we don't define ourselves. Jesus has done that. He has declared us His, righteous, pure, brothers. Our choices are merely obedience or disobedience to what He tells us is best for us. But our identity? That's all Him.

I'm realizing a lot of my competence, ability, superwoman cape-ish-ness comes from growing up. I had a wonderful family and an incredible upbringing. Truly. Being the firstborn, I was very take-charge, get-er-done, leader of the pack, bossy...? Shocker, I know. I was praised by my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles on my abilities. At 9 I could get in the kitchen and whip up Chicken Divan like it was no sweat. Salad, homemade bread, dessert, and a fully set table with linen napkins and name cards. I loved it! Nothing wrong with my inner giftings. But I was praised for being so "capable." Mom's "right arm girl."

I liked the praise. YEP! Who wouldn't?! We all are praised on our abilities. It's human to give it and to like receiving it. And yet our inner greed and wanting to be affirmed and accepted latches onto these fuzzy feelings and we become an addict. We want more. We want to hear it. So we continue to do the things we know will affirm us and give us value in the eyes of others.

Yet I go back to my heart's question - is my strength truly Jesus working in me? Or is it my own?

In raw honesty I know a lot of it is my own. I'm pretty saddened and disgusted by it. My heart so wants to love Jesus and to live for Him, but doing it on my own is exhausting. It has drained me. And in the end I find myself almost bitter and cynical at Christianity because its all work and no reward. At least that's what I've made it to be.

Who can I blame but myself? I heard a lot of  "follow these 10 simple steps and you will achieve God's blessings!" And wha-wha.... epic fail. There is no formula. It's simply living for Jesus and loving Him regardless of the outcome. We live in a fallen world where so much is broken. We don't always get what we want. We don't always get the "blessings" we think we are entitled to. But did we sign up as one of His fishermen because of the cool boats we would be on, or the colossal fish we would catch, or the epic times we would have out at sea drinking Captain Morgan's brew and telling tales around the table? Or did we drop it all and follow the Savior because He's Him. He's Jesus. He loves us. His truth is all that is real.

This is where my rubber is meeting the road. I'm realizing the mask I am wearing.

We all wear masks. To hide, to protect ourselves. When you take it off you quickly see the eyes of fear. The protective guard is to prevent hurt, heartache, and pain. It reveals what you are most afraid of.

I sat and made a list. "What I fear."

It ain't pretty.

But I want the mask to crumble. Wearing a mask doesn't mean you are entirely a fake person. It doesn't mean you put on a plastic smile and everyone knows it. I feel like life is a Masquerade and we all have some sort of fancy flamboyant mask on. Again, it's our humanity to have fears and to want to avoid pain. We can be so incredibly real and yet we all hide behind something. Away from something.

Mine mostly involve the fear of not being enough. Disappointing God or others. The failure and mediocrity that comes if I don't try! Which ultimately means rejection. It causes me to believe if I'm not good enough and don't earn (key word) my love and value, I have none.

And yet.... is that not the opposite of the gospel? That He loved us - me! - while I was yet a sinner? That nothing can separate me from that amazing love? Not unorganized closets, or missing a volunteer night, or having a bad day, or missing my Jesus Calling for 11 days, or failing to do the fall pinterest craft with my children?!

The bottom line is my pride is so flagrant! I want to earn the cross. I want to earn the love that was lavished there. Before I believed. Before I knew. Before I accepted Him. I think I can earn that grace that is so rich and that love that is so, so free.

I repent.

My fears are truly just unbelief. I am asking God to replace them with truth and freedom.

I know He cares. A lot of my "mask" is my business and being constantly occupied. A sweet friend asked me once "what are you afraid of finding if you sit still?"

Freeman summed it up so well in this statement....

"Maybe you are hiding from remembering your past, from facing regret, from what may happen in your future. Maybe you don't want to be known because you fear people might find out you are stupid or wrong or that you don't know so much after all. Maybe you are hiding from your dreams because to face them would mean admitting they are there. And to admit that they are there would mean you aren't living them after all." (italics mine)

I fear some of the future. I don't like all of the past. I don't want to be wrong or stupid or dumb. But really, I do fear to dream. To hope for what may be. Because that's where I've been disappointed the most and the fact that so few of them have turned out just makes me want to mask the pain and move on so I won't feel the hurt that's really inside.

A great example of this is my desire for a home. It's a long story so I won't get into it all (I think I already wrote that out a few blog posts ago), but the bottom line is at every turn, that's something that has been ripped from me. Has God taught me lessons? You bet. Would I change my story? No. Do I wish I had my house by now? Yes. Do I recognize the truths I've learned about myself and the Lord are more valuable than any "wood, hay and stubble"? Absolutely. Yet as our lease is nearing it's end and I know that is upon us again, I shirk back in fear. I chose to not feel - not think. To assume the worst will happen in the secret places of my heart so I won't be disappointed  I don't want to ask God for anything because I don't want to be presumptive or have an entitlement attitude. Bottom line, I don't want to have an opportunity to be hurt. So I avoid it and hide behind "surrendering it all to God..." really my comp-out for being downright real before Him. It's actually more self centered than anything, because I'm trying to protect myself. It just sounds all spiritual by how I've chosen to think about it.

Reality: I chose today to just be raw before Him about it. To tell Him what I need. What I want. Layin' it out, dear God, please let me have a little Container Store luvvvv and let my daily life work for me with order, function, and beauty! I know a house will not be some "enchanted cottage" and all my days will be bliss, but to have a place we can make our own and make work for us would mean the world.

After that, Hebrews 4 was on my heart. I cried when I turned to it, it took on a whole new meaning....

"For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weakness, but One Who has been temped in all the things that we are, yet without sin, therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of Grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need."

He feels! He knows! He was here among us in our world and in our humanity. It was not a sin to feel humanness. In all this He says "Come." Draw near with boldness. Bring it to His throne with confidence that we may receive His mercy and grace in our need.

No more masking my need! I pray. No more hiding and protecting myself from pain. Regardless of the outcome, I want to know I was real with Him. The bottom line is I signed up for Jesus, not the 10 earthly blessings I think I deserve plus Jesus. I know He cares. He may or may not answer in the way I would choose. But I will not hide my honesty. I trust if the answer comes and I don't like it, I will find Jesus there even deeper of a well. I always have.

I challenge you: think of what you fear. And what you do to protect yourself. The things you do to try earn your value and worth. The things that make you feel suddenly worthless. In doing so I believe we will discover the areas we have shoved out Jesus and set up our own icon.

I just want to live abandoned. Knowing that I am fully loved and valued even if I am not capable, or if I disappoint, or if I don't show up with the best dessert. Because it is Jesus who holds our identity. Only Him. May we have eyes to see it and hearts to believe it!

It is Jesus who defines us.