Point The Way

Angel Varney

Point The Way

The weekend had been a nice and long one with three days full of good times and laughter and void of a schedule. 

It was a holiday, the first one of the school year to be exact. Time was spent backyard barbecuing, dipping in the pool and watching fireworks at night. For a while mom even got to sit at the waters edge and chat with friends while the littles swam, splashed and dove to their hearts content. 

So when Tuesday morning came and those littles of mine had been dropped off at school I pulled into a parking spot, cracked the windows open and turned the ignition off to breathe and reminisce for a bit. 

(Please tell me that I'm not the only one who finds her vehicle a good place to pray, read, answer emails and just find five minutes of refuge some days.)

My five minutes turned to fifteen before I realized it and I quickly got out and hurried to rush inside. 

But before I even reached the front door I saw her struggling there and knew that I wouldn't be making it to the morning exercise class that I had intended to go to. The Lord had other plans. 

She was wearing a look I'd now recognize anywhere. The look resembles a deer in the headlights kind of fear mixed with a bit of blankness that comes from depression. 

She looked so very tired.

She was me.

Five years prior I had walked that lonely road called depression and by the grace of God I'd vowed after coming out of it to reach out to whomever I met struggling with the same foe.

She has big dark eyes and as I looked into them and saw my reflection it was suddenly me standing at the kitchen sink, or the checkout line, or by my car at any given place on any given day. The heaviness can sweep over you in an instant anywhere or anytime and make you feel as if a cloud the size of Texas has settled over your life.

I shook my own shoulders knowing all too well that my light needed to invade this darkness settling over my friend.

"Here, let me help you," I offered. I reached for something she was trying to carry and she burst into tears and fell into my arms.

That's how you know that you are one step closer to real help and freedom from this beast. When you can feel the brokenness and let the river of tears flow freely then your heart is good and ready for a revival of sorts instead of hardened and calloused to the pain.

I stood there and listened. I let her cry. I said not a word as she told me how angry she was at the disappointment her life had become. I rubbed the back of her head like she was my five year old child and listened some more.

If there's one thing I've learned through the years about an  encounter of this type,  it's that people often avoid helping or reaching out because they are afraid they won't know what to say.

The beautiful truth of it all is that transformation takes place not so much in what you say-but how well you listen to others that God puts in your path.

When she was finished talking we prayed together and I shared with her a bit of my story, because although I might not be able to fix what is wrong in her life, I can point the way to the One who fixed mine.

John has always been my favorite of the Gospels and I particularly love how in the opening verses of the fist chapter John the Baptist is described as a witness of the Light.

Not to be confused with THE LIGHT, he was just a good teacher of the way to the One who could set men free from darkness.

We were never meant to walk this path of Christianity alone. When we open ourselves up to testify and share with someone who is experiencing a pain that we too have experienced before?

It’s like turning a big chandelier on inside of an old musty cave. Light expels darkness every single time.

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Listening

Back where I come from the town is small and the ties run deep.

Friendships are made on playgrounds in Kindergarten and often carry through to adulthood. Such is the case with me anyway.

I'm sitting here watching my boy play the day away with his buddies and I can't help but wonder what bonds are being made over bike rides and dips in the pool.

Some of the little girls that I played hop scotch with at recess in elementary school are the same ones that were bridesmaids at my wedding. We grew up, got married and carried our children through pregnancy and infancy together. We also had to learn, as anyone else who is among the living, how to get each other through some hard times.

And more often than not that meant not knowing what in the world to say, so we got really good at listening over time.

Such was the case when recently a lifelong friend and I were talking our way through the feeling of  a lack of productivity that is often accompanied with the young years of motherhood.

I say feeling of with emphasis because that's exactly what it is. A feeling.  While we rely heavily on them, our feelings can sometimes be a far off illusion of the truth. While I desperately wanted to be able to bust out in a monologue that would bring any woman out of the throes of depression-the truth is that I just wasn't sure I had them.

So I sat and I listened.

I waited and nodded my head in humble understanding because the truth of the matter is that I've spent some time there myself. In that mode of wondering if the days that sometimes seem so long and unstructured are producing anything good.

It's a good breeding ground for discouragement in that space of time where loneliness meets monotony. One load of dishes after another, one load of laundry after another and it can all start to feel a bit less than the glorious making of something wonderful than it is.

I know this to be true because I've lived it.

And let me tell you the last thing I wanted to hear on any given day of a worthless feeling was someone to tell me how to get out of it.

No-what I needed was a good ear to hear me out. Because I think that the Lord puts deep inside of us a longing to reckon with Him about the way we spend our days and the way we feel our worth.

If I spend too much time talking and pitching in an opinion where I'm not even sure it's warranted? Then I risk talking over Him.

I've learned a beautiful thing while talking to my sister over the years. Sometimes we'll call each other, one of us with a big problem pressing to the front of our mind. Most of the time what I've recognized is that neither of us necessarily needs a great amount of advice from the other.

Usually just laying it all out there in the open air is enough. Before you know it, just stating the problem begins to start the working of a solution without even so much as another opinion.

Sometimes truth shines through like a radiant light when someone takes the time to close their mouth and turn their ear to listen.

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April

You know that old saying, "Life can change in the blink of an eye?" Yeah, that's turned out to be true. It's a little like balancing a tight rope for me because I've always been sort of carefree and laid back but with every year older that I'm getting comes another realization.

Be ye therefore careful.

And sometimes even in the midst of being as careful as can be, accidents are going to happen.

Thus was the case on Monday. What would have been known as an otherwise random normal evening grilling burgers turned into a nightmare right in front of my eyes.

Exactly what happened when and all of the details aren't anything I care to rehash at this point-I don't even think I could accurately recall myself. In short, April and I were just trying to light the grill and make some hamburgers and it blew up on her.

Sometimes a flurry of activity in an emergency situation is a bit like watching a lifetime flash right before your eyes.

Suddenly I was seven years old again, walking that sweet little thing into a Kindergarten classroom on her first day.

I still remember walking her off the bus and up the stairs into the school and the proud way I held her little hand in mine.

Two years her senior, it was my job to safely deliver my little sister to her classroom and to calm those big eyes full of uncertainty and fear. I'm sure I left her with comforting words but I do remember her Kindergarten classroom was at one end of the hall on the first floor of the building and my classroom was upstairs and all the way on the other end of the hall. It seemed forever away to me.

What was I going to do if she needed me? I wished that I could bring my class downstairs to be close to her.

All these years have passed and I don't know that I've ever thought much about that first day of school for her and the way I hated to leave her until now. Now we're in our thirties and just this week I stood and watched a helicopter take her away to the hospital and that was as much as I could do.

Helpless would be one way to describe how I felt.

Help-less but HOPE-FULL because time and again in my life as a mother, sister, friend I have went as far as I could for somebody and had to leave the rest up to the Lord. I'm human and humbled by the fact of just how little I can do and how incapable I am and how big and how capable He is.

What I have found is that it's times like these that we can experience the richness of our Lord so near. I believe that He's there all the time for us-He doesn't come and go. He's constant. It's just that we're more aware of Him when He is all we have.

I'm so grateful for God's healing power. April's airway could have easily been compromised. Holes were burned through her clothing but her body didn't get burned nearly like her neck, face and hands.

Just like years ago when I turned and went away into my own classroom, I am standing on the sidelines now watching her heal.

And I know that our God walks with her every step of the way.

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What To Do When the Scrambler Stops Spinning

The scrambler is always my favorite ride at any theme park.

Not much of one for a roller coaster with even as much as one loop, I'm the girl who sticks to the small rides. With two little people following along who are near waist high now, the scrambler is the perfect size for them and all the more fun for me.

I've stood in that line of anticipation a few times this summer and with one passing group of riders after the next,  I've noticed something.

Standing on the brink of what I call the next phase of motherhood, this summer has felt a bit to me like I'm on the exit side of a wild ride, about to exhale.

While some might call that a breath of fresh air, I call it frightening.

For years before I became a parent I would wonder what it was like. I remember walking through Gymboree and baby Gap and picking up the little clothes, the tiny shoes and wondering what my baby would someday look like. Would it be a boy or a girl? I never had a preference really and surely never dreamed I'd one day be blessed with both.

When my son was born I was so much at the beginning of the learning curve that something as little as changing his diaper intimidated me. I was in complete and total awe of him and I just had this eager anticipation to get it all right. I probably had a big fear of failure too, thinking there was a chance I'd also get it all wrong.

My children are close in age so soon thereafter it all began again. Just the simple marvel of a tiny little onesies, the smell of a newborn, the way that those tiny little fist's close and open up slowly-those are little breath's of Heaven given to a new parent.

I don't remember when exactly when it was that I took those little pieces of Heaven and jumped on a wild ride, but I did. Oh my goodness, I did.  We all do.

People try to warn you, "Take it all in, time flies I tell ya!"

Or, "Honey you better enjoy them while they're little because they sure grow up fast."

You smile and nod because that's polite and that's what you do but the minute they turn and leave you retreat back into changing diapers and cleaning up spilled sippy cups and breaking up fights and doing what it is that you do to get through the day. And the day after. And the day after that.

Until one day you're like me and the diapers stay on the shelf at Wal mart and there are no sippy cups to be spilled and all is silent and fighting has ceased. Baby fat legs turned into long lanky ones and walked themselves into school like big kids.

The ride spins, it turns whirly twirly and my stomach aches-oh it's a good ache and not a bad one. It's pure bliss.

It's a day in the pool, a day at the park, a trip to the beach, a trip to the library. It's meeting friends for lunch at Chik-fil-a for that hour of blessed chicken and regrouping while they play. It's afternoon naps, evening walks, catching fireflies past bedtime. It's building forts in the living room, crafts at the kitchen table and dance parties to Disney music.

It's a few times of, "If you do that one more time you're going to be in time out forever."

And every now and then a few scares and trips to the pediatrician with uncertainty that builds the faith of a patriarch.

Sometimes it's a moment so big it's like you're watching a movie and living outside yourself. They hit the ball out of the park, show kindness to a friend, walk away from a fight, read a verse of scripture aloud, bow their head to pray unprompted.

It's all that and more, this wild ride of motherhood. I wouldn't trade a moment of it for anything.

The funny thing about a scrambler ride is that though much of it is the same, it never starts and stops exactly as it did before.

There is no cookie cutter recipe for how to do motherhood. There's no instruction manual for a tiny human given out at the hospital when you check out to go home.

You step on to your ride, your own wild adventure and then hang on for dear life as the joy unfolds.

You belly laugh and giggle your way through because you never thought living like a kid again would ever be this good.

While my youngest goes to Kindergarten in two short weeks, I feel like we're walking out of the gate and they're two steps ahead of me running on to the next ride-one that they're big enough to ride alone.

I'm catching myself looking over my shoulder wondering how we ever got on there, rode and off again in what seemed like less than a minute. It all went by so fast.

Now I follow them along and into the rest of the park. A new adventure awaits.

 Theres a lot of uncharted territory out there.  Preferably, I would like to hit rewind and just get back in line and ride that scrambler again- but I'm sure this next one will be just as good or better than the ride before.

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A School Year Gone By

I walked him into his little classroom, my grip on his hand whitening knuckles for sure.

This was big, this Kindergarten thing, and I knew my mother/smother hen nature was fighting letting go as we made the trek inside. It's inevitable when it's school time.

What was once a choice was now a command.

We made our way in and found his desk and said hi to the pretty little girl sitting beside him. We took pictures with his teacher, helped him unpack his backpack and left him at a desk coloring a picture.

We waved goodbye to other tear filled eyes of parents as we walked out the door of the school.

Throughout the year, drop off got easier. We settled into a routine and eventually were able to drop him off at the door. And eventually he didn't look back and wave, he just ran right in like a flash of lightening.

That's how it's supposed to be in Kindergarten; exciting, carefree and full of expectations.

My boy graduated his first year of school last Thursday and is officially now a first grader. Looking back on the year is a bittersweet feeling. I'm so proud of how far he's come, how much he learned and   more importantly of the little man of God that he is growing into.

Next year I will have another Kindergartner and the whole process starts all over again.

But what sticks out in my mind more than anything at this point is just how quickly it all will go.

We will get little Ms. Q up and ready come the first of August and pack her lunch for the very first time. We will help her find her way to her class and I'm sure I'll cry as I leave the building on that first day.

Days will pass, she will grow and become more and more confident. I will see her blossom as she starts making friends and finding her little place among her peers.

Along the way, just like we did this past year, I'm sure we'll have some bumps in the road and some hurdles to overcome. Tanner had a few days of "yellow" this year but all in all it wasn't too bad.

I'm sure Quinley will do the same. If she's anything like me she'll probably talk too much and get in trouble for not being quiet.

She'll be emotional some days and come home crying after little situations among her friends that is typical for girls her age.

And we will watch it all again....one sunrise after another and one year after another until there is a cap and gown and the routine doesn't start all over again.

I read a caption not long ago that said the days are long but the years are short. I couldn't agree more.

I intend to fully enjoy this summer with my kiddos but I can not believe how quickly a year has come and gone by.

The grip on their little hand has gone from tight with white knuckles to a looser hand hold at best. Most of the time they are running off and going ahead of me. And I'm not far behind them, with a grin as wide as the state of Texas and a sense of pride that nothing could surpass.

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The Best and Worst of Me

One of the biggest misconceptions from this social media driven world we live in is that everyone else's life is perfect.

It's human nature to want to post cute pictures of our littles, the good things we've done this week and what all we're involved in and put it out there for the world to see.

And while there's a fine line there that I think need's to be drawn as far as airing our dirty laundry, I do tend to think it might be helpful if we were all a little  bit more real. How good is our testimony if all we broadcast is perfectionism?

So on that note, I'm sharing this story because the last thing I want people to think about me is that I'm all Mother Teresa-ish. Not because that wouldn't be great and wonderful, it would.

But that's just not reality. Anything good that I do is all because of Him....it's really none of me.

Last week while we were caring for our house full of sweet little girls plus one boy of mine, I had a not so wonderful moment. I have them quite often actually and when it only affects me, that's one thing. However, on this day, I let my meanness spill over and it was not good.

The day had been long and eventful, spent in court fighting for the very life of three of five babes under my roof. The outcome had been good and my mind was relieved, but exhaustion quickly set in as soon as I got home and most of what I was pouring out of me and into these little lives was like lemonade that needs a lot sugar if you know what I mean.

I was tired and my patience was getting pretty thin as the day lingered on.

I stepped outside with the four littlest ones when I heard my boy and his precious neighbor friend announce that the electric scooters didn't work anymore. They tend to do that when submerged into a pool.

"Really?!" I said yelled. "You really think that something like that is an ok thing to do?" They tucked their heads and my boy went inside and the neighbor child turned and headed home.

Shame settled nice and heavy on my shoulders in about five seconds. I tried to pick it up and throw it off but there's just something about that weight called guilt; it can't be removed with human hands. That can only be done with words of apology from a broken heart.

I'm not saying that I was wrong for correcting my boy. He does have to learn to respect his and anyone else's property. But it was not my place to raise my voice at either of them and definitely not my place to scold the neighbor child. He has a sweet mother who has handled that job for many years without my help.

So I did what I had to do.

Donning my big oversize t-shirt and ponytail high on my head, I strapped one baby in the stroller, put another on my hip and the other three followed me down the sidewalk to the neighbors house. Now that's quite a walk of shame let me tell you that much for sure.

I knocked on the door and made said apologies and we walked home talking about how sometimes mommy messes up and has to apologize too.

The only way little people are going to learn about grace and forgiveness is to see big people putting it into action.

Did it hurt my pride? A little.

But it made my heart feel so good that it was worth every bit of it.

Some days I give the best of me and some other days unfortunately, I give the worst.

At the end of every day though, I'm just like every other woman/wife/mother and that means I'm in need of a whole lot of grace. I'm so glad He has it to give.

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Downstairs

Today my house is quiet.

The littles are at school and here I sit out on the back deck reflecting on the whirlwind that has been the past five days. Birds are chirping, I can hear the pond ripping and the sun is shining bright.

Anyone one would think that's a great day, right? Yes, matter of fact it is. Except that I miss those three little voices.

The floor has been mopped and those little feet aren't tracking dirt across it anymore from playing outside. That floor looks pretty but oh how I would love to paint those little toes right about now. Or watch them make tracks across my kitchen.

My hands have washed dishes and made breakfast and lunch today. I've written out bills, run errands and folded laundry. But oh how I would love to reach down with these hands and pick up a little saying, "Hold me, Miss Angel."

My heart is content knowing that the Varney family is living out it's purpose but it aches a little too.

The sting of loss still comes even though peace has now been found and justice served.

When we first signed up for foster classes I was sure that I wanted to adopt as quickly as possible and be done with fostering as quickly as possible as well. "We'll take about a one year old," I thought. "Hopefully we can adopt and then be done."

But God seems to have other plans.

Because at three am we received a phone call Friday morning not for one or two but three littles....we knew the time was right. These children needed us.

It was a pleasure caring for them Friday and Saturday but it quickly became apparent that they had a loving father who had flown in from out of state unaware of the situation. That precious daddy loved his girls and he needed us to be his advocate. He didn't ask, I just knew.

So one event led to another, all set up by our amazing heavenly father and yesterday I found myself in a courtroom going to bat for dad.

As I sat there I remembered all the times that I had thought this is EXACTLY the kind of situation I would never find myself in. I never intended to go before a judge if it wasn't required. I'd rather stay home and play and rock children and leave the rest to the professionals.

Matter of fact, I met a sweet lady who has walked this road ahead of us earlier this year. "Be the advocate for these children," she said. "You put on your three piece suit and hold your head high. Fight for these kids." She freaked me out a little and I really thought I'd just never have to do that.

But again, God had other plans.

She was the first one the Lord brought to my mind as the weekend unfolded. I knew what I had to do. And although I don't own a three piece suit, I did put on my Sunday best and apparently it worked a little because when I arrived yesterday no one knew who I was without my hair in a ponytail and my t shirt on. Big smile.

I knew that if thing's went dad's way I would be grieving a little today-but he needed his girls more than I did. With a lot of prayer and a God sent lawyer, things did in fact go his way and when I walked through the door last night and told three little girls that they were going to daddy's house you should have heard the squeals of delight.

Our God is so good. He is so faithful.

Those three little girls slept in two of our rooms upstairs while they were here. Several times today I've cleaned up toys, folded laundry and headed that way. But I always stop at the bottom of the stairs. And that's ok.

I've learned that sometimes walking in God's will comes with a little pain. You know what? My sins cost Him pain too. If I can bring a little redemption to a broken situation?

Well you better bet your last dollar that I'd do it all again.

But today I think I'll just stay downstairs.

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God's Promise

These sweet kid's of mine, they're always teaching me a thing or two. They say the most profound things when you least expect it and such was the case this past weekend.

Sunday evening the littlest and I went to the grocery store. The day had been a mixture of clouds and rain and as we walked out to the car to put the groceries in the vehicle, a big thunderstorm was looming overhead.

"Hurry mommy, it's going to rain!" She ran to her seat and buckled her little self in and I hurriedly loaded one bag after another.

We pulled out onto the road no less than two minutes ahead of sky splitting thunder. As we made our way down the road home the rain started pouring down harder and harder. It was as if five gallon buckets were right over us dumping out so hard that we could hardly see.

And all at once my girl starts laughing. Laughing hysterically from the back I glance at her through the rearview mirror and her eyes are wide with wonder and she's laughing while watching the rain.

I'm a bit surprised because last year's spring thunderstorms brought nothing but sheer terror to my littles. They were scared to death of the thunder so much that Quinley wouldn't even want to leave the house if she saw dark clouds overhead.

So I hear this laughter and I'm happy but confused.

"Mom don't you see," she said. "We don't have to be afraid. Because God promised he would NEVER flood the earth again! So it doesn't matter how much it rains it won't be too much."

And all at once it was like joy burst forth because she understood that no matter how rainy the day, dark the cloud or cold the wind, it would never ever be too much. God's promises are true so there is no need to be afraid.

The same is true for me, you and all those who believe.

It doesn't matter if you're a five year old trying to navigate your way through a thunderstorm on a scary ride home,

a fifteen year old trying to find out who you really are and what your place is in this world,

or a fifty year old looking at an empty nest and a new phase of life in the face with more questions than answers.

You can laugh at the rain and keep your joy through the storm because no matter how dark, how long, or how wet it gets-it will never, ever be too much.

God's promises are true.

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Grateful

I'm grateful for this park right beside the library here in our quaint little town. And the creek that runs beside it. And the way that the littlest adores her big brother:)

I'm grateful for the shock and awe of big bubbles and the preciousness of a five and six year old in their not-so-usual day clothes that I might have had to force on them for church. Or maybe not. Just pitching that out there.

I'm grateful for this man and what he means to our family. He is my best friend. He is our rock. He is precious and I love him more and more as time goes on.

I'm grateful for spring days and hay rides and the way that the lake starts to sparkle near noon on a sunny day.

I'm grateful for fires at night. Smores and snuggles with my little girl.

Afternoons with a real live princess right in my living room.

And days at the zoo with good friends just because.

I'm grateful for bible studies and Beth Moore. For the Word of God and quiet time. For how he speaks into me in those early morning hours.

And last but certainly not least I'm grateful for true, real, rich and authentic friendships. And the fact that my children are friends with my friends children....well that's just a bonus. A bonus I call a little slice of heaven here on earth.

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The Unexpected Friend

It was late one Thursday night last fall when I found myself standing in the sporting goods section at Wal-Mart.

A lot could be said about just that fact alone because trust me, I am the last person you will find out on most week nights. Especially at Wal-Mart and sporting goods?

Oh my. That is just not my niche but duty calls so there was I.

The truth is that I was struggling. Not the kind of struggling that involves questions such as which basketball do I buy or the how quickly can I get the least amount of things I need and get out of here kind of struggling-no I was struggling for real.

When the husband and had I decided to become foster parent's we knew we were called and we knew little else. One of the worst things for this non detail oriented person that I am to deal with, was just the overwhelming amount of information that was presented to us every week.

Every Tuesday night after a class we would get in our car, look at each other and kind of say.....really? And then before we could make it to the interstate we always came back to the simple fact of WE WERE CALLED THEREFORE WE WILL MARCH FORWARD.

So that's why I was standing in sporting goods on said Thursday night.

Our home study was wrapping up and after the kids were in bed I decided to head to Wal-Mart and buy the last finishing touches of safety proofing our home. Tim is a hunter so I needed some gear from sporting goods to secure his hunting equipment.

I must have looked halfway as confused as I felt because when I went to ask for help I was greeted by a blank stare and the help of a woman who knew way more about this kind of thing than me.

She warmed up to me after I started talking to her and when I told her why I was there in the first place she got a clouded look on her face.

"I was raised in foster care," she said. "So I want to thank you for what you're doing."

An hour later I'd heard about more pain than I ever cared to know existed in the world and I'd made a friend.

Sometimes all people need is someone to slow down long enough to listen.

When I asked for her biggest piece of advice she didn't hesitate and said, "Don't ever make any of them eat dog food." She wasn't joking.

I cried, talked to her some more and kindly thanked her for cheering me on as I had overcome yet another hurdle in the process. I told her I wished her well and tried to share the love of Jesus and went on about my way.

That was then, this is now.

For the last two weeks we had the privilege of our first little precious one in our home through foster care. It was ten days of absolute fun. To say that our hearts are prepared to love again and love big would be like saying that the ocean is made of water. Or the sky is blue.

And when that little one was suddenly out of diapers and baby food one evening and it was after five pm....you guessed it.

I loaded up the little one and together we headed to Wal Mart.

A woman on a mission was I and we had our list bought in no time. As I headed from the check out counter to the front door I looked past the big beautiful blue eyes staring at me from the front of the shopping cart and stared straight into the face of my friend from sporting goods.

I could tell she didn't remember me but I wasn't deterred. "I'm the lady you helped one night when I was struggling with getting everything together for our home study!" I'm sure I was a little overly excited and more than happy to share with her the little guy I was toting along.

"This is the first sweet one we've had in foster care," I told her. She looked at him and then at me and she said, "I'm so glad it's going well for you ma'am."

I hugged her tightly and she walked away with big tears in her eyes. The last look I got of her face was like that you'd see on a runner after finishing a marathon. Or someone at the top of Everest.

It looked a bit like redemption.

Foster care has already been a blessing to us in so many more ways than one. Loving on a child, well that's not hard for me. That's just what I was born to do; be a mom.

When you add to that the bonus of encouraging someone along the way? Well, that's also what I live for.

We go to church every Sunday, attend bible studies through the week and have the best devotion apps on our phones.

But sometimes its in the oddest aisle at the grocery store that you can encounter the heart of God. I'm so glad I made an unexpected friend.

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Redemption

Have you ever had the weight of brokenness settle on your shoulders and stay there for a while?

I bet if you've lived longer than a few years you have.

And it doesn't sit there like a fluffy comfortable pillow either. It's a hard, heavy, cumbersome sack of a thing and carrying it around is not fun at all.

It settled on me Tuesday.

Here's the back story-
As our first foster experience we were given the opportunity to provide respite care for a sweet couple while they were away working for the Lord. So that meant two weeks with little chubby cheeks to kiss and love on. Every person who knows me knows that when it comes to anything like that, I'm in.

But the sweet kisses and cuddles and the fact that we even get to do this at all-means that there was at first brokenness somewhere.

This week of Passover that we're celebrating as we anticipate Sunday and the celebration of the glorious empty tomb....it means that at first there was a whole lot of wrong and a whole lot of hurt for the need of such a price to be paid.

And I think if we miss the heaviness of the sin that required such a sacrifice-we miss the beauty of the Cross.

As I sat Tuesday and fed a sweet little man some peas and banana baby food while waiting for his birth family to arrive for a visit, only to sit there a bit longer and longer and finally realize that they weren't coming-I felt the heaviness of the sin infested world we live in settle on my shoulders.

I looked into big bright blue eyes that don't even understand rejection yet and thought about the circumstances on both ends.

I wasn't mad, I was hurt.

Don't be fooled for a minute, but for the grace of God-that could have been me on the other side of the table Tuesday.

I could have easily been the one struggling, not showing up, not being the person that I need so desperately to be to the family I have around me.

Because it's not me-I get to see the other side of the spectrum and look straight into the face of the ones that the sin trickles down to and ends up affecting.

The enemy never sets out for just one. He is in it to kill, steal and destroy whole families.

And that's where it would end if Jesus hadn't ridden into Jerusalem on a donkey to the shouts of "Hosanna, King of the Jews." and willingly laid his own life down-

And because he was both God and man you know that although He knew what was required of Him as part of the triune God-head, he felt every lash of the whip with his man flesh that He so gloriously put on to be like us. The sting of the thorns on his head, the spear in his side and the nails in his hands and feet felt just like it would if that were you and I on that cross.

Deathly.

He did it so that every bad choice, every wrong move, wrong turn and the weight of the whole world's sins could be atoned for with one drop of His precious blood.

As I rocked sweet little foster babe yesterday I was more thankful than ever for the precious blood of Jesus.

I don't want his life to be lived in brokenness-and you know what?

It's not going to be.

Because of the cross. Only because of the cross.

Redemption can come to heal and bring restoration to people in unsafe, unwanted, unhealthy situations because the price of our Lord and Savior paid.

Sunday I will wake up three precious littles instead of two and walk into the sanctuary to praise my Jesus for the redemption He so graciously gave us.

It was needed, the sin debt could never be paid without it.

It wasn't cheap, He suffered beyond human recognition.

And it isn't wasted now, I hold a sweet new little redeemed by the power of the Cross.

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Mundane Saturday

So when I realized that on Saturday we had nothing to do...

Well, I was excited. I might have did the Hallelujah dance. Or maybe not. I'm just pitching that out there.

Because besides watching Kentucky play basketball that evening, there was nothing I'd have rather done with our day than stay in our pajamas and chill.

We've got another sweet little to love on for a while so resting and getting used to his routine was a bonus to our lazy day.

You thought I was kidding about the pajama thing....

(And it's a onesie no less!)

It seems that the theme of slowing down (which kept hitting me like a ton of bricks on spring break) has stuck.  Let's hope it last's longer than a week. (Big smile.)

Hearing my littles say things like, "You know what the white egg presents? (That's kid language for represents.) An empty tomb!"

Why yes it does sweet girl. Those words were priceless to me.

I love spring. Especially the resurrection week of spring.

I've noticed on social media that a lot of people seem to be doing cleanses, fasts and the sort.

So this is my spring fast.

I'm taking a break from the fast and focusing on at-home activities as we head into summer.

And just like that white egg I aim to be empty, poured out completely.

So that He can fill my days, my time spent and most of all my mothering, with Him.

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Expactations

The weather was just beautiful and as a lover of sunshine,  I had our evening all figured out.

It involved a lot of being outside.

Dad's away on a work trip this week so I would bake the three of us a fine family meal of chicken nuggets and fries because we like to keep it healthy when he's gone. 

We would then take said healthy meal out to the front lawn, spread out a picnic blanket and enjoy the weather through dinner. Listening to the birds sing and watching the wind blow through the trees sure beats the four walls of a kitchen anytime.

That would be followed up by bike rides, games of horse, and maybe a walk around the neighborhood before going in for the day.

All of this playing outside would work really well in my favor of the old routine of putting the kids to bed an hour early when dad's away on a business trip.

(I dread the day that they figure out that I do this. It's worked really well in mama's favor while it's lasted though.)

So that was the plan anyway.

Until we had to make an unexpected errand run after school. It didn't take long and the kids were well behaved. I had a proud mother moment or two, walked us back to the car and we were on the way home when it started getting oddly quiet.

Not like they're up to something quiet-just plan quiet.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and could see sleepy eyes but we don't live even a good ten minutes across town so no big deal.

Then I pulled in the driveway, opened up the garage door and more quiet. They were out.

With all the graciousness of an elephant on a tight rope I managed to carry them in and lay them on the couch one at a time, thinking surely I could make enough noise and move them around enough that they would wake up.

Well, no. That didn't happen.

So when they were both inside sleeping soundly on the couch and the garage door had been closed behind me, I looked around and thought shazam. Time for something productive.

That thought left my mind about as quickly as it had entered and I curled up next to them and was probably sawing logs in no time.

Now, let me just explain to you something about my littles. THIS NEVER HAPPENS.

When the babies turned into big kids, naps went out the door. I grieved a little and quickly realized I was going to have to turn into an early to bed, early to rise woman if I was going to survive.

Oddly enough for a woman who worked night shift for years, it worked wonderfully for all of us. But as a result of that I'm sort of like a mean drill sergeant about bed time.

Now you see where this story with seemingly no point is going.

Bed time at the usual time-it was NOT happening around here tonight.

And you know what, that's ok.

I looked at those two precious little sleeping people on the couch today, panicked for a minute or two about how this is going to make our morning look tomorrow and then refocused.

My littles were tired. They needed to rest.

And if that means our evening routine got all out of whack? So be it.

If tomorrow morning is full of grumbles and sleep walking children because of a late bedtime tonight, we will survive.

I had to let go of my expectations this evening and just let them be.

A lot of what God has taught me about life through motherhood is to let the expectations go.

More often than not we're trying to live up to something that's unfair or unattainable anyway.

Now-don't get me wrong-I'm not saying that a regular routine is a bad thing. I love our routine. Our routine is good.

What I am saying is that time and again I've just got to learn that one odd day isn't going to kill us. Roll with the punches.

And more than that-enjoy them.

We had the oddest evening which involved running to Weigels after dark for a fountain drink. I guess staying up late makes one a bit thirsty. But you know what? It was fun!

We giggled as we drove and the kids were singing every lyric on the radio as we made our way back home.

That's something I would have missed if I hadn't  let go of my expectations and embraced the unexpected.

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Joy Is

Joy is found in the small things of life.

Ironic isn't it, since we spend so much of our days in vain pursuit of things that won't really matter in the end.

My people and I-we spent last week unplugged and away from the busyness of every day. It was joyful indeed.

The laughter in those little voices, the sunshine on their faces and the ice cream dripping from their chins, well it all did my mama soul some good.

While I love the memories that are made and the fun that is had by all-one of my favorite things about a week away is perspective.

Because somewhere in the middle of the piles of laundry and the dishes and  the how am I going to concoct some sort of chicken and call it dinner tonight there is a mundane dance that is too easy to acquire.

Sometimes that makes the little things like the way the light shines in your kindergartner's eyes seem too dull.

Or the way the freckles spot the nose of your pre-schooler seem like beauty that will always be there, so why stop and marvel at it today?

Sometimes? Well sometimes we just need a good reminder to slow down and enjoy what is being lived today. Because we aren't promised tomorrow.

Tomorrow it will not matter that we worked overtime today. Or missed a soccer game last Saturday. Or spent endless hours scrolling through social media. Or talking too much on the phone. Or whatever it is that we do-that doesn't really matter.

It is so easy for me to get caught up in doing what it is that I do-instead of being who I am called to be.

And who is that exactly?

Well, I'd say it's a lot of things but mostly at this point in my life-it's mama.

Going in slo-mo is crucial for me every now and then-because finding time to appreciate the small joys of motherhood is the good stuff that my life is really made up of.

And for me it's hard to remember that when I'm too busy.

Of course you won't find that information anywhere in the latest best selling self help book. It is not a number in the the course of "ten keys to success" or "twenty ways to make your life matter." 

We live in a world that thrives on busyness and I too am guilty of having a calendar with not enough white space.

But when I slow myself long enough to hear the giggles as we bike ride through a quaint little town, and when I look at life through the eyes of a five and six year old while building sand castles....perspective.

And with that perspective my heart is so content. So full of joy.

I don't need help juggling-I need help slowing down. Because just like tiny grains of sand passing through those little fingers....

so goes the moments of our lives. 

(No that was not a promo for Days of our Lives.) 

It just sort of sounded that way.

Joy to me is motherhood. And the million little things that go along with that role. 

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Keep Digging

This sweet boy of mine, he is always teaching me a thing or ten.

I'm so thankful that The Lord didn't make him an "easy child" because how boring would that have been?

On good days he is a delight. On bad days he is stretching me, pulling me out of my comfort zone. I love it that he keeps me humble and in constant conversation with the Savior on my parenting. I don't even pretend to have him all figured out.

The truth is that this sweet boy of mine is actually a lot like his mama.

It's humbling to see the best and worst of yourself in a pint size version.

I used to wish that I could tell him the hard lessons I've learned early on so that he could just skim over that part of life toward becoming the little person that God has designed for him to be.

But lately I've changed my prayer to sound a bit more like, "God this is an amazing child with a super strong will. He is strong, yet tender hearted. He is very opinionated but easily influenced at the same time. So I thank you for the wonderful person you've created and I want you to show him from an early age how to become all that you intend for him to be."

The fact of the matter is that I think I've been protecting my sweet boy too much.

Often times I can see him starting to get angry and I'll hurry and try to redirect him.

If I know that something is going to upset him then I'll do whatever it takes to avoid it.

There's nothing wrong with that sometimes-but my heart has been convicted lately that I need to let him feel anger so that he can learn how to deal with it in a healthy way.

I need to let him be upset, so that he learn how to cope with disappointment early in life.

That might sound mean and hard and cruel but the truth is that I wasn't much older than my boy is now when I vividly remember how I started figuring out that everything in life wasn't always sweet and sassy.

And the last thing I want to do is build a bubble around my little one that is so thick he'll never be able to see the world around him clearly.

We are on vacation as I type this. You would think that a week in the sand and sunshine would be giggles and grins and everything glorious wouldn't you?

You would be wrong.

Our little man wasn't feeling well when we started this trip off and that coupled with the lack of a routine....shazam. We found ourselves in the middle of a couple of off days for our boy.

I immediately did what I always do first, which was start thinking of ways that I could handle this and ways that I could make it better.

Of course, as a mom, it's easy to do that.

But then I made myself let go a little bit.

"Just trust Angel. Trust and believe he's going to be able to figure some of these hard things out."

That's always so much easier when you aren't right in the middle of a mess.

And then yesterday as I was watching the grumpiness unfold he did the neatest thing.

He sat down with his blue shovel and just started digging. He dug for quite some time and actually he and The Princess spent a few hours today doing the same thing again.

Not building a sand castle really, just digging for the pure pleasure of it.

As I watched him dig I thought about life and the times that you feel overwhelmed, overcome by frustration, anger, sadness, depression and all of it would surely overtake you if you didn't choose to keep on digging.

Sometimes for the life of you, you just look at everyone else and they all seem so happy and carefree, jumping in the waves and all, and you have to sit and dig.

But if you keep digging long enough you will find what you're after.

The joy everlasting that comes from Him, only from Him sometimes gets covered up with the messiness of everyday life.

Week after week and year after year of storms and waves can  overlap and bury your dreams deeper and deeper until you look around and it all looks the same.

Kind of like a sandy seashore.

When it does and when you feel numb from the frustration of it all-if you'll just go back to where you started from and start digging, it may not appear at once, but surely after while persistence pays off and what you're looking for will start to resurface again.

And like a six year old who's just been handed a double scoop of ice cream, you will cherish your treasure and relish in the joy of that which you spent precious time looking for.

Are you in a pit today? Keep digging friend.

I don't promise gold....I've got something better.

It's joy everlasting. It can't be bought or measured-it comes from on High and it is so worth every day you'll ever spend digging.

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The Loving and The Letting Go

You came and stayed for a little while.

When you left, a part of my heart went out the door in the other arms that carried you.

That's how this process goes, or so I'm learning.

The truth is that I've only waded into the shallow end of the pool and still have so much to learn about how to be the best mama I can be to the precious littles being brought to us.

Like for instance, how to love and how to let go at the same time. Remnants of your stay remain and I wipe tears for a while and smile at the same time.

Because the truth is, little one, that I'm still learning to adjust to the fact that you are gone and the little snacks on the kitchen counter are still here. There's a clean footed sleeper,  fresh and ready to be worn on top of the folded laundry pile and currently, no one here to wear it.

I dug through totes last night and found clothes for your age and size. You're coming back in a few days and I aim to be ready. But at the same time I put the baby food back in the pantry and pushed the high chair to the corner because it's not yet time.
The loving and the letting go....it makes for a wide pendulum swing of emotions on a mama's heart in one day.

I still don't know all that much about the way this all works. Even the acronyms that go along with all of the formal process can leave my brain feeling more than a little fuzzy.

But this I do know. I love children.

I love you little one.

And for now that's all I need to know.

Even though it's painful, I would much rather love deep and well and have to cry with the separation that goes along with this process, than to never know this kind of love at all.

It's all very strange to me still, even the deep love that I feel because my biggest fear going into all of this was whether or not I'd be able to attach.

Yeah, you took that fear with your chubby little hand and threw it right out the window never to be heard of again. Because when my eyes looked into yours a confirming piece of this puzzle locked into place never to be removed again.

We were called to walk this road. It got a little confusing at times, but you gave us all the proof we needed to know that this path that we're on? It's right.

I stand back and marvel at the precious ones who care for you night and day and have done so nearly your entire little life-and I wonder how I am ever going to be that strong. They are the very hands and feet of Jesus and there's no one I'd have rather looked to for a real eye opener kind of first experience than them.

They have blown the four walls of safe living down with a jackhammer and love you and show you Jesus without abandon. Your little eyes light up when they walk in. It's a marvelous miracle, that God can weave the fabric of two lives together into this beautiful story of yours that He's creating.

Whatever your story is little buddy, I know it's going to be great. Our God is FOR you.

No matter how much I think I love you, or anyone else loves you, He loves you way more than that.
He knew you before you were born into this world and knit you together in your mother's womb.

Even though you got off to a little bit of a different start, that didn't take Him by surprise. We live in a sin infested, fallen world and He arranged and rearranged the plan that would take place to put you right where you are today.

You are chosen little one, by the God of the universe. You are His child first and although what that's going to look like here on Earth is still a little fuzzy, I have full confidence that He will put you right where you're meant to be.

So I will love you and I will let you go.

I will smile and laugh when you're here and cry when you leave.

I will push you in the baby swing at the park, rock you to sleep when you're tired, hunt Easter eggs with you and take a million pictures along the way.

And when the van drives up to take you home I will load up your things, cry the ugly cry and smile through the tears as I wave goodbye because I trust God is working out all the details of your little life. His plans are far greater than mine could ever be anyway.

It's been one of the biggest blessings of my life already-to have even been this much a part of your story.

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Free to Live

When you take on something, you inevitably give up something else.

We're not superwomen. That's not who we're made to be. No matter how much anyone tries to portray that they can do it all-the fact of the matter is that none of us can.

We can however,  do all things through Christ who gives us strength. But I tend to think He gives us strength more for the Kingdom work that He needs for us to do-not necessarily all of the things that we might think need to be done.

It would be really easy for me to beat myself up, for example, when I see pictures of neatly organized homes on everyones social media. Because my laundry pile right now? 

It's where we've been getting clean socks from for the last two days.

And that bed is only made because it's the guest bed. Which means it hasn't been used since the last guest left two weeks ago.

Right about now the vacuum needs to be ran, the kitchen counter has Barbies on it instead of food 

which I should probably do something about before dinner.

(As a side note I have no idea why Barbie is doing push ups. Because I can almost guarantee you my daughter sees not much of this from me.)

and the living room? 

Well, the living room is being lived in. Which means it's the farthest thing from anything that looks like it's out of Southern Living or such.

Matter of fact, yesterday when Tanner walked in from school he laughed and said, "I can tell a baby has been here."

He was right and my heart was full. I still haven't cleaned all of those toys up because baby fever.

I'm joking. Sort of. Toddler fever is more like it.

The coolest thing about it all is that sure, even though at some point the laundry will have to be folded and put away, I will have to move Barbie and cook dinner and get the living room to the point that we can walk through it....

the fact of the matter is that although Superwoman I am not, I am a mother, wife, daughter, friend and sometimes those things take priority over house cleaner/chef.

If we have to order out tonight it won't kill us. If we get our socks from the laundry pile one more day before I put it all away, at least we've had clean socks to wear right?

I don't want to miss the wonderful opportunities to BE who God has called me to be and spend my days doing the things He's called me to do. 

Things like share and live this glorious Gospel, taking a meal to a friend in need, loving on some littles that we're called to love on in addition to my own and take an hour out to talk to and encourage a friend in need.

I might catch myself caught up in the beast of comparison and feel down on myself for a while, but by the help and grace of God I will get back up and I will march forward and walk the path that God has called me to walk.

The laundry can wait. 

The dishwasher is in charge of the majority of the kitchen mess.

Chik-fil-A is serving dinner.

Today I am not guilting myself.  I am going to LIVE.

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A Beautiful REAL Sunday

The Lords day has always been a favorite of mine. Even if, at least for a few times in my life, that might have been just because I considered it a command that mama rest on that day.

That might have sounded something like, "Any further requests should be made known to your dad. I am now off duty taking a nap."

But that's neither here nor there really because the point is yesterday I found myself in complete awe and appreciation of REAL worship, REAL church. And what I saw was so much more than a Sunday.

That's what makes the Lord's day so special, when the church disassembles after the Sabbath and and tears down the four walls taking the heart of the Gospel into real life Monday.

And as the church stood and sang, "Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me..." I stood in holy awe of the crazy amount of amazing grace surrounding me, surrounding all of us sitting there in the beautiful country church pews.

Amazing grace has saved us all.

One family after another stood alongside each other, blended together by God's grace in a sin infested world which leaves plenty of room for the church to open arms and adopt others into the family of God. More than any Sunday I've noticed in a while, the families yesterday looked like a big colorful quilt stitched together with so many fabrics, many of them undoubtedly stained with life, with sin, in need of the red blood of a Savior to wash them clean.

When you put flesh and bones on the Spirit living inside of us and walk out the commands to (Luke 14:33) forsake all and follow Me....you see things that look like Jesus living and walking among us. You see foster mama's wiping little noses, young men helping the elderly and sweet church mothers speaking to the one that no one has ever seen walk through those doors before. Because we carry His Spirit inside of us, that's what we're called to do.

We're food to the hungry, water to the thirsty, clothes to the naked, a father to the fatherless and more.

If we fail to do that? We're not much more than a social gathering of people singing songs and exchanging pleasantries. But if we do, we are living out His purpose and not our own...because He has saved us and called us to a holy life-not because of anything we have done but because of His own purpose and grace 2 Timothy 1:9.

It all struck a chord with me yesterday because we sit on the eve of what could be the literal jumping in the pool for our family.

We're called to reach out, we're ready and we're waiting for that open door.

That's so much easier to do when you're surrounded by the incredible faith of others who are living the example in front of you.

So when the preacher read from Matthew chapter twenty five about doing for the least of these my heart beat a little faster with the anticipation of leaving Sunday and living it out the rest of the week, the rest of our lives.

I can't do only religion anymore-I have to have relationship because the God I serve is REAL. He lives inside of us, He walks among us and we are here to be His representatives.

I can't wait to live out the rest of this week and see what He has right around the corner.

It's going make standing in those aisles, worshipping this wondrous God I serve all the more amazing next Sunday.

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When Life As Usual Isn't Good Enough Anymore

For quite some time now we've been good.

Life is comfortable, we're in a groove and the kids are well. Who could ask for more right?

Well, we are.

I was sitting at my desk (otherwise known as the kitchen table) Monday when I got a phone call that would change us forever.

Quite some time ago, Tim and I felt the Lord leading us to become foster parents. We went through the classes and the home study. We're now approved, we're just waiting.

Patience has never been a virtue of mine so while one might think that we're in the home stretch of preparation, I think I've only just begun.

Getting to this point didn't happen overnight. We've been talking to other families and seeking Godly counsel on this subject for years. The one piece of advice that we've heard again and again (I particularly remember Jon Croyle telling me this at a Lifeway conference when I met him two years ago) is that a yes is a yes, a no is a no and a maybe is a no. If you're ninety-nine percent in, don't do it.

You have to give these kids one hundred percent.

That was all good and fine and I am in agreement even now with the theory.

But in real life this not knowing thing, this ninety nine percent thing-well it's hard. Really, really hard.

I have been praying that we would get a clear yes or no call and on Monday we got a ninety-nine.

We talked about it, prayed about it and talked some more. We went back and forth with placement and gathered as much info as we could. We sought the advice of others who have gone this way before.

And when we weren't clear we did the only thing we knew to do.....we put it solely in God's hands. We were open to taking them, but we wanted to know for sure they were the littles that God is guiding to our home. The ones that we are supposed to take care of, support and love with open arms.

So we laid it all out on the line and within just a little while they were placed with another family. Our answer was no.

I was numb. I thought for sure it would have been a yes and while my mama's heart just wanted to hold these girls and love on them, God's heart said, "I have a different plan."

I stood at the kitchen sink yesterday morning with so many questions in my mind that I didn't even know what to pray. When I finally said, "God I'm afraid we might have made this a little too hard," He spoke ever so gently back to my heart, "Is anything too hard for God?!"

I know He's right, nothing is too hard for him. If He intended for us to parent those girls, He would have sent them our way.

The emotions in my heart and the knowledge in my head that God's way is always, always, always best have been hard to connect this week. Yet I won't stop trusting, I won't stop believing and I will always be confident of this one thing-He is good and He knows what was best for those girls way better than I do.

So now?

Now I wait for a little missing piece of the puzzle that I can pour myself into, feed, clothe and know for sure that completely, absolutely without the shadow of a doubt has been placed into our home for such a time as this.

My heart had to be broken into shattered pieces this week to be molded back into the woman that God can use for His glory as a foster mom.

Now my heart....

My heart is laid bare and open before the Father, beating wildly outside of my chest in the form of another little person that I am so anxious to love.

Oh, little one hundred, may the Father bring you to us soon. I am so ready to help you mend your broken pieces too.

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A Whole Hand

Today you are five my dear.

When we woke up you wanted to make colored pancakes. Because, of course.

I knew five years ago that this would be awesome, this sharing life with a little girl. But I had no idea just how awesome it was going to be. 

Five years in and we are in full on royal mode at this house.

You are our Princess and we adore you. 

Right before your fifth birthday party started, you had an impromptu dance party listening to Disney music. It was beautiful.

I hope you are able to dance through the good times and bad and stay this carefree forever.

I'm thankful that we decided to celebrate your birthday the Saturday before instead of the Saturday after because currently, on this Thursday of you turning five, the stomach bug has found it's way back into our house.

We got to eat our cake (and keep it down) dance along with you, celebrate with you and hopefully you realized just how loved you are Miss Q.

We celebrated as REAL LIFE royalty, paper plates and all.

I wouldn't trade one minute of it, or one minute with you, for anything and everything in the world.

Happy birthday little princess.

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