May 12: Expectations


So in all the talk about being a mom yesterday, I forgot to mention my wonderful husband… He really went all out for me this Mother's Day! He got me a teal coffee pot {how perfect of a gift is that?!?!?!?}, a book {because I'm trying to read more, you know}, and a Target gift card {the heavens are singing}. And he basically volunteered to hang out with all the kids on Saturday so that I could attend a graduation, lunch, and girls night out. He encouraged me to go, even. And he bought me flowers. 


I don't have many expectations surrounding holidays because I find it to be easier that way. No hurt feelings, no guilt trips. My joy, self-worth, and value as a person and mother can't be dependent on what others do or don't do for me, on Mother's Day or any other day of the year. Motherhood, of all professions, is not exactly something you do for the large return on your investment. It's more of a "pay it forward" kind of gig. And expectation is idolatry's younger, better looking cousin. Or something. I read that recently. 


Anyways, if I did have some expectations about Mother's Day, he would've exceeded them by far. I think the thoughtfulness was my favorite. :) The bar is set pretty high for Father's Day now… 


But I'm sure he doesn't have any expectations either. I think.



May 11: When My Children Look at Me, They See Their Mom

After church this morning, my son asked to take a picture of me. One with just me, because it was Mother's Day. Inside I grumbled. I really don't like having my picture taken, especially ones that aren't silly selfies. Those don't come with an appearance standard, because who really looks good in those, anyways? I don't like the pictures where you have to smile at the camera and look pretty. I never tilt my head quite right, my face always seems to look funny, and my smile is huge and crooked. 

But I held those grumbles inside, grinning hesitantly instead and conceding to his request. 

I stood against the wall and smiled for my son.

Is anyone looking for a photographer? Because even I can look at that and say it's a great shot, especially for a first grader! Perhaps I should hand him the camera more often... 

As I stared at the photo, my heart welling with emotion, I realized that this is how my son sees me. When he looks at me, he sees his mom. Smiling.

When my children look at my hands, they don't see the fingers of an elderly woman due to lack of moisturizing or rarely manicured nails. They see the caring hands of their mom. Hands that rub their back when they're tired. Hands that make them healthy meals and clean up the dishes when they're through. They see the hands that wipe away their tears when they're sad and bandage the wounds on their knees when they fall. Hands that give high fives and put tiny braids in their hair. Hands that prepare birthday parties and egg hunts and wrap Christmas presents. Hands that serve and love with tenderness, every day.

When my children look at my arms, they don't see the years of sun damaged freckles or the lack of definition. They see the capable arms of their mom. They see arms that wrap them in a big hug every morning, every night, and often in between. Arms that pick them up and carry them, because they still can. Arms that hold books and babies and toys and groceries. Arms that rock them to sleep and tuck them into bed every night. They see the arms that pick them up when they fall, arms that help. Arms that love to cuddle them on the couch and pull them close. 

When my children look at my legs, they don't notice the pregnancy-induced veins or the fact that they desperately need a tan. But they know those legs of mine. They're the ones that chase them around the house, tickling them when I catch up. They're the legs that go on walks and play outside. The legs that have dance parties in the kitchen. When criss-crossed, they make a perfect seat for a toddler, and when they're sitting down, there's always room on their lap for a child or two. They're the legs who jump up and down at baseball games, who sit quietly and proud at concerts and graduations, and who fall on their knees in prayer.

When my children look at me, they don't see my wrinkles, my head tilted funny or a crooked smile. They don't see a person who's not thin enough, smart enough, or pretty enough. They do see their mom. They see past my outside to the person inside, and they can see my heart because they not only have my heart, but they are my heart.

They see a mom smiling back at them, a mom who loves them unconditionally. A mom who serves and sacrifices for them, a mom who would do anything or give anything for them. A mom who puts them first, every day, and who will do it all over again tomorrow. They see the hands, arms, and legs that make up the body of a mom who was perfectly engineered by the Divine Creator to take care of them. A mom who has everything she needs to do so, to care for them just right. As only their mom could. 

That's who your children see when they look at you. They see their mom.

Isn't it about time we do the same??

Happy Mother's Day to all you mommies out there! You're the perfect one for your kids.

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May 7: Life is a Miracle: Be All There!


I'm restless and I can't sleep. My thoughts keep swirling from one wave of emotion to the next without so much as a pause. My heart is heavy. It's something that's been on my mind this past week but even more so tonight, as I've heard a few stories of families who have tragically lost a young child.

That loss is something that I can't comprehend, and if I'm really honest with myself, I don't even want to try. It's awful. It's devestating. It's heartbreaking. And although I feel bad saying it out loud, I'm so glad it wasn't my child. How does one live, how can one even go on, when all you have left are photos and empty space? 



Tiny shoes in a pile by the front door, but no longer any feet to fill them.



An empty chair at the dinner table, still sticky with smeared syrup from breakfast just this morning, but no longer anyone to sit there.



A ball now lying still in the grass because there's no longer anyone to kick it. 



An unmade bed, rumpled covers and a favorite blanket, but no child to snuggle under them.



Toys on the floor, a toothbrush in the sink, dirty clothes in the hamper, a family photo on the wall...



Moments frozen in time, memories of what was, painful reminders of what will no longer be.



Life can change at the flip of a switch, with a ring of the phone, with a knock at the door, in an instant.



That pain is so real, so raw. In my heart of hearts I know that there is no depth of pain that The Lord is not deeper still. I know that He is close to the broken hearted {Ps. 34:18}, that He collects all our tears {Ps. 56:8}. I know that God has a plan for our lives {Jer. 29:11} and that each of our days are numbered before one of them comes to be {Ps. 139:16}. I know that in His mighty hand He holds the power if life and death {1 Sam. 2:6}. I know that He is good. The Lord gives and The Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of The Lord {Job 1:21}. 


They say that life is fragile and delicate. Is it really, though, if we rest securely in His arms? I can't think of a safer place to be. The Lord gives both death and life, and all of our days are numbered in His book. Life is not fragile, though it seems so to us, as we know not when the jar of clay that is our life will tip over and shatter. The fact is, that jar won't tip over a single second before its time. Life is a miracle.


From the time that our small body was perfectly formed in our mother's womb to the moment that you are sitting there alive and breathing this very day is a miracle, my friends. Life is a miracle. Do not take it for granted! I challenge you to BE ALL THERE today, wherever you are. Be present in the moment and soak it all in. The emotions, the textures, the sounds and smells. Presence won't dull the profound ache of pain or bring back the time stolen by death, but it is an antidote to regret. Presence, forgiveness, and love. Love the people in your life with everything you have, because you just never know. 


 Be all there--that's the only way to really live. Witness the miracles around you every day. Pay attention. If you're not, you might miss it. There's nothing worse then regret when all you have left is empty space. 


If you haven't seen it already, this video is another thing that hit home for me this week. Look up!!




May 6: Five Things Writing Has Taught Me


I'm the writer who didn't know I was a writer until recently. Who has a Dictionary.com app on their phone and writes a blog and enters essay contests and doesn't know that they're a writer, you ask? Someone who isn't very self-aware, that's who. Or maybe someone who believed the lie that she didn't have anything to offer, at least nothing that anyone else would care to read. And that was me, for probably a large part of my life. But composing my thoughts and writing them down has forced me to really think about life, about myself, about God, about hopes, dreams, and even pain. It's forced me to be aware, to take it all in, the good and bad, and I'm better for it. As it turns out, I actually think better this way.


Here's a few things that writing has taught me:


1.) Writing is hard and requires discipline, skill, and perseverance. 
And I have learned that I have none of these traits when left to my own devices. I have been kinda sorta good at many things in my life, just because it comes naturally, but I have never chosen to do the hard work and stick with any one of those things to become great. You name it--painting, tennis, running, playing pool, scrapbooking, photography, fitness--I've dabbled in it and quickly given up when the going gets tough. When it becomes more like work and less like fun. Honing a skill like writing will take lots of hard work, much failure, layers upon layers of learning and refining, and above all discipline and perseverance. God help me, because that goes against my very nature…


2.) Writing is powerful.
Words can change a life. They can change the world. They can build up or tear down. They can crush a spirit or catapult into a calling. I've realized that I don't just want to spew random verbiage out into the ether, but I want my words to mean something. I want them to count. Whether spoken or written, I want them to inspire, to encourage. To strengthen, and Lord willing, change lives. Words don't have to be verbose or intellectual or highly researched to make an impact, they simply have to be real and genuine, written from the heart.


3.) The more you read, the better you write.
The only problem is, I'm not a reader. Ironic, huh? I'm working on that, though. I've always wanted to be a reader, but I've always struggled in that area. I buy books, I check them out of the library, and they sit on my nightstand collecting dust until they're overdue. Did I also mention that I have a discipline problem? They go hand in hand. I also have a TV problem sometimes, and I'll usually choose to watch some stupid episode for an hour instead of read something that would help me grow as a person or writer. So there you have it. Less TV and more reading clearly needs to be on my agenda.


4.) Every voice matters, and everyone has something unique to offer. 
Even though all the great things worth saying have probably been said already, no one has said it quite like you, simply because they're not you!! We all bring a very unique set of experiences, personality, talents and gifts to the roundtable of life, and because of that we all have something worth passing around. Maybe we both brought homemade bread to share, but I guarantee that yours won't taste the same as mine. In fact, yours will probably taste better, because frankly, I stink at baking bread. But just like every person matters, so does their voice.


5.) I don't have a prayer in this area if not for the Lord.
I think I've made a pretty good case against writing with all my "lack of's," wouldn't you think? But that's the awesome thing about the Lord--when we are weak, He is strong. When we step out beyond ourselves in faith, that's when we encounter the power and work of an Almighty God. For me, it's writing. It's being vulnerable and real, especially when it's very scary to do so. It's facing reality, being present, and translating that real life into words. It's remembering, the good and the bad, the pain of the past and the joy of the journey. It's everything I struggle with wrapped up in a neat little package called writing.



Where might the Lord be calling you to step out beyond yourself? We can spend so much of our lives being comfortable and safe that we miss the Living God. We rob Him of the opportunity to do wonderful and amazing things in our lives for His glory. Where are you weak today? That's where HE can be strong!






Thanks for reading, friends. Feel free to SHARE and pass it on!