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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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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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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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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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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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 Letter to my Daughter

She turns five this week and it doesn't seem possible.

It seems that just last week I was feeding her bottles and washing onesies in Dreft. Then all of a sudden I turn around and chase that baby into preschool and realize that she isn't so little anymore.

Turning five is big.

Independence is through the roof, conversations are hilarious, the anticipation of Kindergarten has her already wishing time away and I am clinging to every minute.

It's like trying to hold sand in your hands. Time slips right through your fingers and disappears.

So, on the eve of a new era for my girl, here are mama's thoughts and wishes.

Dear Miss Q,

I've heard that you're now in the golden years of childhood and I think I heard right.

We celebrated you turning a whole hand this past Saturday and my heart was filled with joy. 

You danced in circles to Disney music, busted a piñata (cried a little when you didn't get much candy,) played pin the pony tail on Elsa and we all ate way too many sweets. It was splendid.

Your official turning of four to five isn't until 1:30 pm Thursday but the celebration has already begun and is in full swing at our house. 

You are our princess and we want to honor you.

I remember thinking you were going to be a boy (that's what the ultrasound had said at first) and to be honest I was a tad bit disappointed. It wasn't that I didn't fully enjoy all the energy and fun brought on by our little mister, it was just that I wanted someone that I could share life with and enjoy all things pink. 

They say it's wrong to be your child's friend and I'm still trying to figure out what all of that looks like because honestly, at five years old, you are already my little BFF. While I want to shepherd you well I want to enjoy you well too. 

We usually go to lunch together a few times a week, I braid your hair and you play with mine too. We paint our nails and both share a love for a good book. There's no way you could understand this yet but you have a little children's bible and it's much deeper than the rest. That's the one you always want me to read to you and when I'm finished with one story you always want one more. You are your mother's child.

I'm honestly contemplating taking you with me to a Living Proof Live event in the summer-because although we love the beach (going in two weeks) Disney world and all things fun, I can already see an interest in your little mind and while you're  curious I want you to grasp at a young age that there is SO MUCH MORE! How wide and how deep and how high is the love of Christ. (Ephesians 3:14-21.)

I want you to know that you are a priceless treasure, known by Him before you were even known to me (Psalm 139:13) and that in His Kingdom you are able to accomplish whatever your life is going to ask of you (Phil 4:13.)

Right now your little world is fun and light and carefree. While I wish it would stay that way forever, you will reach an age soon enough that will make you realize that everyone and everything in this world isn't good. And I want you to know that that is ok....Christ knew it would be like this and He has given us His Holy Spirit to help us overcome bad people and bad days and any bad thing you might encounter.

And everything bad will never go completely away until we finally get to the place we're meant to be-where everything is always good and sparkly and pink. A kingdom where we are all Princes and Princess and our Kingdom is forever secure.

So on this week as you turn from four to five and next year as five turns into six and before you blink you're fifteen and learning to drive and started to wonder why a certain boy has your attention all of a sudden-I want you to know that mama will be there for you through it all.

More than that HE will be there with you through it all and actually He'll even be there when mama can't.

You already do such a sweet thing when you are having a bad day-you just say, "Jesus, Jesus" over and over. You're on the right track big girl.

Keep repeating His name over and over and keep shining his glorious light bright to all those around you. 

Never let anyone in this world rob you of your joy, Miss Q. "May the God of hope fill you Quinley with all joy and peace as you trust in him so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the holy spirit." Romans 15:13

You have a sweet soul, a kind little spirit and I want to encourage you to always "keep your chin up girl," too many people lost their joy and never find it again.

Oh sweet girl, if you only knew how much mama loves you.

Everything about you from the way your blonde hair shines, to the little freckles on your nose and especially the way that you still let me rock you and love on you-oh girl....I find it all fascinating.

You are loved. You are chosen. You are mine.

Happy birthday week Miss Quinley. May this be your best year yet!

Love,
Mama

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Community

We didn't even wait for the wake up call of the beautiful snow. We didn't have to.

When the weatherman flashes a winter storm warning across the screen on the eve of a regular school night in east Tennessee, preparation begins before the first flake has fallen.

While the women head to Kroger, the men venture out to the local hardware store to stock up on a fresh supply of sleds. Because, necessities people.

Friends start calling friends and the invitation to come out and play is stronger than the urge to sit inside on the couch with a cup of coffee in hand.

(Although that does sound inviting now that I think about it.)

Just not on a day when there's a fresh six inches on the ground.

So by the hour of nine am yesterday we were layered up and ready for round one. Let the games begin. 

Friends come together on uncommon days to share joy.

Real life happens on all of those ordinary days in between. You know the ones where you manage the household, run the errands, get the kids to school and back home again-and somewhere in between all those phone conversations and meet-up's you get to know the good, the bad and yes-even the ugly about those people investing time into your life.

They cheer you on when you're overcoming, pick you up when you're in a slump, cry with you when your heart is broken, give you clarity when nothing makes sense and best of all a good friend will point you back to The One when your compass is off.

So while I stood at the top of the hill yesterday watching the little children (and the big ones too) sled down and make their way back up again, I sort of felt what it must feel like to finally make  it to the top of a mountain after a long hike up.

I felt like I belonged.

Right here, right now,  in this town for whatever amount of time (or forever) we are right where God has planted us and called us to be. And it feels good.

There's no pretense, no false image that we have to keep up, not that we'd be good at that anyway. By now, these people know us. They know our strengths and they know our weaknesses too. 

They know where we struggle and what makes us cry.

They know what we're good at and all of those weird little things that make us, well us.

They know that Tim is a gym rat and a collector hoarder of sorts and that he would do anything for his kids.

They know that I hardly ever make it to the gym, talk way too much and need to sit that ugly coffee mug of mine down and take a chill pill instead.

They know that I struggle with things like a need to control and when I voiced some concerns out loud earlier this week, one of them literally hit me on the head and said, 

"Girl God has got this! Why are you worrying so much?"

That's a true friend right there.

That's community. That's friendship. That is LOVE.

For all of that time that Tim and I spent trying to seek God's will and figure out just where we were supposed to be and especially for every time that I wanted to assert my own way-

...well I stood at the top of a mountain yesterday and silently thanked the Lord for not answering that prayer in the way that I had wished.

There have most certainly been times that I've missed His good and perfect will and barged forward with my own agenda. You could probably guess how those times have turned out.

But this thing? This planting of one's life and putting down roots thing-well I'm sure that if we would have missed this we might have had a community, but it wouldn't have been one like this.

It might not have been one that sharpened us (Psalm 27:17.) Heaven knows that I need that. In a big way.

It might not have been one that loved us unconditionally either. I need a 1 John 4:18 kind of love that casts out fear in my life.

Praise be to our God, that's what a real community gives you.

I'm forever grateful.

What kind of community does this season of your life find you in?

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To the Lady in Front of Me at Target

I blame it all on the unexpected week at home.

All of that break of snow fun left me a tad bit emotional I reckon, because on Monday when we got back into the swing of things well, I was not swingin'.

I've been blessed with a job that allows me to work while the littles are away but, truth be told on Monday it really didn't take much time.

And when I found myself finished early and the clock didn't read pick-up time yet, then what's a woman to do but go to Target? Because, of course.

All the browsing of those aisles filled with pretty little things can do a woman about as much good as an hour at a counselor's office.

Until you round the corner and run smack-dab into the woman you used to be.

I didn't meet her until I was in the check out line.

She wore a pony tail and a tired look on her face. Scurrying around like a busy squirrel, she was getting those groceries onto the check out counter as fast as possible.

I know that feeling. That "Oh my goodness if I can just hurry up and pay and get out of here surely no one will notice the screaming."

Or better yet, "Come on you've made it this far, do not leave that whole cart and give up now. Just make it through check out and get out. Focus girl, you can do this."

Any mama knows that the wheels do tend to fall off the wagon right when you've made it to that  counter.

What caught my attention most wasn't her worried face, the hurrying around or the annoyed (twenty years old at most) attendant at the register.

It was those kids. Those ridiculously beautiful brown eyed little beauties....well, I just couldn't take my eyes off of them.

"Mama I want a snack! I want a juice box PLEASE. Please mama, I'm hungry now!"

In my minds eye those were two little blonde heads and that woman with her hair in a pony tail was me.

I tried to stop the tears from coming-but it was no use.

Embarrassed, I tried to quickly explain myself and I'm sure it was all a bit or much awkward.

"Oh I'm so sorry, please excuse me. It's just that it all goes so fast and now mine are in school and oh how I wish I could have one more day like this when they were little."

It's true. What they tell you about blinking and it's on to the next season? That's very true.

Soon enough there comes a day when there is no need for a diaper, a sippy cup or a nap time.

You suddenly go to the bathroom and no little person tries to follow you in there.

No one wakes up in the middle of the night needing to be rocked back to sleep.

And while healthy development and progression is a beautiful thing it can sometimes leave a mama wishing for yesterday.

Like leaves blowing off of a tree in the fall, time blows swiftly and there's no gathering up those leaves. No putting them back on the trees again.

A season passes and it's gone. You're left with the memories.

So while it may be a frigid cold of a winter time in mothering for you dear friend, try your best to embrace it.

Stop in the front of the grocery store, listen to those little cries for help and soak it in.

All too soon those little people you're pushing will be running ahead of you and you'll be doing your best to keep up with them.

So let's enjoy every moment and make the most of today. Don't let the little things rob you of the JOY of the current season.

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Life Lesson's Learned at the Circus

When there's an inch of ice on the ground, covered by an inch of snow and the power's been off and on all week....

And when the littles are out of school and you've bundled up and headed out to play in said snow and ice 1, 2 or 587 times....

Even though playing in all that said snow's been great and all, by the time Saturday rolls around and those big Barnum and Bailey trucks are making their way into town?

Well, then one mama might decide she'd like to sit and watch an elephant entertain for a while, so she can you know, catch her breath and drink a cup of coffee. Or eat a bag of cotton candy or whatever (by herself.)

Surely when the Apostle Paul wrote Phillipans 4:7 he had the lady of the twenty first century in mind.

Because we all know that there's nothing like the roar of two or three dirt bikes or fifteen dancing performers, five galloping horses and two giant elephants to bring such peace that passes understanding. 

Thank you Brother Paul.

Y'all know that I kid.

The truth of the matter actually is that I did thoroughly enjoy the snow and the ice and even the oddity of people and animals stacked mile high on objects flying through the air Saturday afternoon.

Even if it wasn't my choice cup of tea, we would have went anyway.

Because....this.

Most of the choices we make as parents aren't about us anyway are they? Of course not.

Many of my friends would tell you that (and this is the honest truth) half or three-quarters of what Tim and I do with the kids-we do it for ourselves too. While that really could mean that we are the most self-absorbed people on the planet, I like to think that we're just young at heart ourselves. 

Now don't get me wrong, if I wasn't the mother of two small littles, there is no way I would have been at that circus on Saturday. No way.

But that look on Quinley's face?!

That's why we do the things we do as parents isn't it? 

It isn't so we can say when they are older, "I was a great parent just so you know. I took you places and you saw things and looked oh so cute while doing it."

No. That's not it at all. And if that's all we get out of the money we've spent then I'd have to venture to say that we've wasted it.

We do these things because we take delight in enjoying our days with our families. 

Just like the Father delights in us,  (Psalm 18:19, Zephaniah 3:17) and no doubt, does some wondrous things in our lives just because we are His creation, created to bring Him glory...

We do the same things for our kids because well, we like to see that smile as wide as their face, those bright eyes and the wonder of joy in their expression. 

You know what? I'd do it all again.

I would pay an amount of money that I consider a bit too much, sit in an uncomfortable seat to say the least, listen to the roar and breathe in the smell (oh the smell) of the circus, just to see the joy and delight of those sweet little faces.

I'm sure He would do the same for me.

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But The Lord

He's gone away again for a while now, only heaven knows when I will see him again.

It's been that way for some time now. A few months here, a few there, never settled for too long.

The way of the wanderer is hard. Unsure and unsettling, it's lonely and it's cold.

Time makes accepting the way that things are now easier, yes. Yes it does. It doesn't however, make the reality of the situation less hard.

Cold hard facts are just that; cold and hard.  While you can get used to some things as time passes, I tend to think you never fully recover from the loss of peace that comes through the disconnection of a loved one. You simply re-adjust.

Here's something you don't learn in Wandering 101 of Real Life University: it's very hard on families. Because we all know that everybody's got to find their self sometime, right?

But when you have to leave your intact group of core human beings to do so? That's hard. That's a good amount of sleepless nights and tears shed right there times the number of left said human beings.

So while he wanders, while he drifts, I wait.

Wait on the Lord and be of good courage, wait I say on the Lord (Psalm 27:14)

One can learn a lot in a decade or so of desperately waiting. Actually there are some life lessons that can only be learned in a period of time like this.

Hope is learned while waiting.

You can go to church all of your life, go to Sunday School faithfully and be a part of the best small group ever. You can read all the verses and do the curriculum....but hope just doesn't come fully alive in your bones until it's the only thing you've got left in them.

Hope let's you see sentences like "But the Lord," and go for days and weeks at a time just from the beauty of those three small words.

But the Lord. That's it. Nothing fancy or earth shattering here. But such profoundly truer words have never been spoken.

The fact that I never even prayed about the man that I would marry? And that I married one of the best men, THE BEST MAN that God had just for me?

But the Lord.

The eldest of my littles was born with a VSD (that's a hole in the heart otherwise known as a ventral septal defect) and at three days old we didn't know if we were facing open heart surgery or if this was a minor issue? Thankfully, over the period of about six months time the Lord closed that little hole in his heart and that very same child has since brought me to my knees more than once or twice with a few other health issues that haven't been terrifying but bothersome enough to keep a mama close in touch with Jesus.

But the Lord.

That time I was sinking further into depression with every single day and felt like I had somehow missed out on how exactly I was supposed to be happy and carefree-especially since I'd just recently brought two little people into the world?

But the Lord.

When Tim and I lived in Ohio and were having one or three or four hard years figuring out where we were supposed to be and what we were supposed to be doing and at times it all got oh so desperate and confusing?

But the Lord.

The mountain I'd love to see God move right now is not another hurdle we've stumbled upon, but in fact is the oldest request of my life. It is to see the wanderer come back to Jesus. To live in the gloriously full and abundantly rich life that our Savior offers.

And when David Crowder sings "Come as you are, wanderer come home" and my heart feels like it might break right in two?

But the Lord.

I know that the hope that I've held onto for years is just as real now as it ever was. It never dies, it never fails and it never gives up on that one lost sheep even when, ESPECIALLY when the ninety nine are safe with the fold.

But the Lord....thank you Lord, thank you Lord.

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The Loom

So when you're handed number 18189 on a little business card at the information desk of the O.R. where your son is having surgery, the process goes a bit like this:

1) You take said card and make your way to the fish tank. (Because everyone knows that a glimpse at a bright fish will always distract a mama's eyes and still a fast beating heart just a little.)

2) Find the number on the card and match it with the number on the screen. See what color the number is highlighted by.

3) Take a seat and get busy being still. Get busy being still....just waiting for the green of the O.R. to turn to the blue (recovery) and finally yellow and the little lady that walks over and says you are soon to be connected with that little piece of heart that beats outside of your chest in just a few minutes.

Ahhh, sometimes  oftentimes it's in the stillness, in the quiet, in the sitting while-waiting-it-out that we realize the gravity of our situation.

The realization that God is so very near or we would be so very overcome by the current state of events in our lives is made evident by many a fact at a time like this. I have literally sat and waited for my breath, my very next breath, sitting there in the grip of His grace waiting on number 18189.

Last week, while I was sitting there waiting I joined my littlest little on a project she was working on.

Before we left town and headed for another hopeful chance at a successful procedure on my boy, a friend of mine gave our sweet children some crafts to keep them busy on the long trip ahead.

Little did anyone know, the loom was for mama-and the Lord was about to show his glorious Self through the weaving of the threads on that loom.

As the hour of 4 turned into 5 and 5 into 6-my fidgety heart took the loom that my little Quinley had already created quite a few masterpieces on and got to work.

I would weave a few rows, look up and see where 18189 was, look down to weave again, wipe some tears and realize I'd mis-stitched a few rows.

Frustration would get the best of me and I'd hand the loom to my sweet other half sitting by me on that couch. He'd fix my mistakes and hand me back the loom again. 

That process repeated itself for the better part of the evening until I'd finally finished a potholder or two myself.

When the surgeon walked through the doors to greet us at a little past 7 I was finally able to breathe a little better and felt like Mt. Everest had been lifted off my shoulders.

As we were gathering up our things to head to Tanner's room a few nurses commented on our potholders. 

"Oh how beautiful," they would say. I heard a lot about how many of them used to do the same thing back in the day. 

As they talked I looked down and I saw the missed stitches. I saw one orange row where three lines in a row were missed. 

One was tightly woven in the middle and so loose on the edges.

I thought about my mistakes and the fact that my potholders weren't perfect.

I didn't care. 

Because to me, the grace in the fixing was worth more than my perfection ever would have been. 

No one looked at my little piece of art and said, "Oh that's cute but it would have been so much better if you wouldn't have messed up here."

No-when the world looks at our lives friends let me tell you a little nugget of truth here: they aren't looking for perfection. We all know that perfection is unattainable anyway and the strife to get there can drive one to misery in the process.

What they are looking for someone who is real. Someone living in the trenches and doing their best along the way with a joy that marks the life of a believer.

That is what makes the web of our lives so beautiful. And that is when Christ really shines through. What is the meaning of our salvation if we're so put together on our own that we don't need the blood of our Savior anyway?

It isn't the beautiful perfect rows so much as the redeeming ones with more than a missed stitch or two or three-caught and woven together by the surrounding support of a web that catches all.

It catches all our good days and bad days and the good thing is that even the bad days are worth something!

We don't just throw them away never to be remembered again, we redeem them and weave them into our story. Our story for His glory.

That's how the Saviors love makes us known. As His broken but beautifully pieced together and  brightly shining masterpiece.

Isn't that so much better than perfect?!

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Deep Calls to Deep

I'm no bible scholar, that much is for sure.

I'm not a preacher or even a teacher for that matter.

I'm just a woman who's trying to live life. I have a lot of good days and some bad days too.  But it's on those nasty old unfortunate bad days that almost always, the Light of God shines the brightest.

I had one of those bad, unfortunate, messed up days not too long ago. You know the kind where you hit snooze more than once and are therefore behind even before you get started. You burn the oatmeal. You're out of creamer for your morning cup of MUST HAVE coffee. Yeah, it was one of those days.

So all day long I was in a hurry. If there's one thing I've learned about time in my span of thirty two years-it's that rushing it never works. It just never works.

Nevertheless I was rushing it. Because in my head maybe, just maybe I could squeeze an extra minute or two out of that day if I tried hard enough. Or so I thought to myself. I had a couple jobs to do, a grocery run to make and had to pick up my littlest from pre-K before getting into the pick up line for my big Kindergartner at three.

And all along the way I was so busy focusing on the list of things I had to do that I missed what I should have done.

I had a chance to share the good news and I missed it. The gospel of Jesus Christ that I so desperately chase after without abandon was reaching, beckoning to be shared and I missed it.

All because of busy schedules and pick up lines and fear of missed appointments.

There's a passage in Psalms 42 that says, "Deep calls to deep." And as I mentioned before, I'm no bible scholar but in my mind I think theres a deep calling from the Holy Spirit living inside of us to the deep things of God that we can not even understand ourselves. That deep calling makes intercession for us when we do not even know what we have need of ourselves.

But on that day? On that day I was a bit too shallow and I missed it. I didn't even realize it until it was late in the evening, too late to go back and make a change. It was too late to recover the lost opportunity.

Deeply saddened as I told a friend about this I said, "What if she missed her chance at hearing the good news because I was too busy?"

"Oh no. She wouldn't. That's not how Go works." She was animated and fervent about her point (which is one of the many reasons that I love her). "Don't be too hard on yourself. If you missed it," she told me, "then God will send someone else to do the work."

I came home and thought about it and flipped through my bible. There had to be some scripture to back that up somewhere right?

Because I don't know about you, but sometimes I cant just take somebody's word for it. I have to read that truth, lay a finger on it in the sacred pages of scripture and speak it out loud before I can digest the truth of it fully.

Here's what I found.

2 Timothy 2:13 says that if we are faithless, He remains faithful. For He an not deny HIMSELF.

Relief flooded over my soul as I realized that God will always, always accomplish His will. Even if I do not.

That was a hard lesson learned. I'm so grateful that unbeknownst to me-somewhere someone fulfilled God's calling in my place.

The next time, my ears and my heart will be listening for the Deep.

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Kindergarten

We walked behind her letting her lead the way and I just stared at the big blonde curls bouncing with every step she took.

Evaluation day is sort of like Coronation day in the eyes of my little real life princess.

I didn't realize how much it had concerned her until her teachers told me she'd been practicing writing her name all morning and asking them if she was doing better. She's paid attention to how much big brother has worked on handwriting this year.

My sweet girl just warms my heart.

Watching her reminds me of how Jesus must look at us. He wants us to succeed. he wants us to be the Godly people we are called to be, working for the glory of His Kingdom.

When we go out there and do that thing He's called us to do? Oh how His heart must burst with pride.

As I think about some of the hard things God has sometimes called me to do-my first thought is,
"Oh how easy it would be just to ignore this and settle for less than my best...God's best for me."

But after I push past that initial backing away, it's like working on writing my name for a preschooler. Day in and day out, pressing toward the mark, it always makes for a more fulfilling outcome.

When we picked her up from preschool yesterday, the first thing that she asked was, "Do I get to go to Kindergarten mom? Did they say that I'm ready?"

"Yes ma'am, you're good to go," I told her. She pumped both little fists in the air and yelled, "Yes!"

It was one of those finer days of motherhood.

The kind where you feel like the good that is being poured into your child is finally starting to sink in and pay off. Watching them blossom into the beautiful person that God created just for them to be is a beautiful thing.

My heart looked toward heaven and I said yes too.

Yes Lord, send me on to Kindergarten….I want all you've got in store for me.

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Resolution to Hope

You've seen them glaring at you like a deer in the headlights as you scroll through any social media news feed.

 The beginning of any new year is filled to the brim and running over with newness and promises. Full of resolutions and good intentions, the masses are set to make a change as the calendar year turns a fresh page.

 But what if you're like me and you're just not sure about this new year? And what if you hardly know what to resolutely change because you aren't even sure of the state of everything that is in the interim?

What if you hardly know what the first week of January is going to hold, much less the remaining eleven months? 

Because it's easy to make plans and set dates with goals when you feel like you've got a pretty good grip of control on your life, but what about those plans that you just have to surrender simply because you've got more questions than answers at the time?

 All of that is what crowded in my mind as I brought in the first day of 2015.

 I'm usually pretty good with being laid back and going with the flow, but even for this non type A girl that I am, I still like to have at least some sort of a plan.

 So when the only real plan that I could come up with was to open that app that my man challeneged me to...that one that divides out the reading of The Word in a year? Well, that's what I did. Even though I'm not a fan of a checklist, I do like a challenge. Especially when God's Word is involved.

 I open the book, thinking I can fill in the box next to Romans chapter eight and I begin to read. I come across a verse that says, "Hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently."

Intrigued,  I read on and the beautiful scripture that says,  "We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose" really starts tugging at my heart. 

There in the middle of the book of Romans I find my resolution.

The truth of the matter is that I really don't need a new goal for the year at all. What I need is the realization that God already knows every intricate detail of this year.

What is my job? My job is simply to hope.

Hope for what I do not have and hope for what I can not see.

Then when I do not yet see what I have hoped for? I'm to wait patiently for it until indeed I do see it. 

My mama bear heart aches with hope for a change in the wellness of my little man child in this new year.

Next week we will walk into a building that has become all too familiar. We will sit and wait for our name to be called. We will walk down a long hallway and into a sterile room where an ultrasound will be done on his left kidney.

We've done this enough now that I will look at the screen and before the Doctor even confirms whether or not we have had sucess or failure this time, I will know. I will know if this chapter of our lives is coming to a close or if it indeed has a few more pages, or chapters perhaps, to be written.

 Either way it goes, I have this hope....this glorious hope and we will walk into the rest of the new year full of it.

Full of promise, because even if the screen doesn't really say what I think it should, We know that in all things, ALL THINGS, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. 

Whether that looks the way I think it should or not, may our God receive all of the glory and may His perfect will be done. He will work everything out for our good. His word says it and I believe it.

Here's to some HOPE for the new year.

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