Are you pregnant yet?

        

I'm 24, I have a handome husband, beautiful house, a dog and two children. My life is what I always dreamt it would be... everything has worked as I always thought it would have!

What a beautiful life! 

It's only a dream, a wish of what could have would have been... if only I had stuck to the plan. The reality is I am 28, I have a handsome husband, a beautiful apartment and two dogs... quite a stones throw from where I once dreamed I would be as a little girl. And my heart aches...

It's hard to explain the pain that I feel when I have to answer questions about pregnancy, family and children. And I know that no one means harm, but my heart still beats for my desires to be fulfilled, and I know they will be one day, however right now... it hurts. Ever since I can remember I have dreamt of being a Mommy and raising a beautiful family while LOVING every second of it. There was even a time in my life when doctors and my parents were unsure that I would even be able to conceive due to the possibility of having Turner Syndrome, and I will never forget the day that I found out that I was normal... it was a beautiful relief to a grief that I had carried silently with me from childhood. Though I was barely a teenager when I found out I would be able to have children one day all I could do a lot of times was dream of what my family would be like one day. 

I had it written down on paper... every detail! Names, genders, house design... you name it! Everything was leading up to the biggest let down of my life! Or the life I had created in my head according to Western Christian standards. It wasn't a let down all at once, but it was year after year after I had turned 24. That's when the questions started. The questions that would thwart me into a place that I wasn't at yet... questions that would always try to give me a title that God hadn't given me yet. It started with friends and family asking if there was a "special someone". And in my line of sight... there was NO ONE! No one seemed to fit that bill of "husband material". After the questions started, my heart began searching... everywhere. I would watch guys at church as they prayed or worshipped and I would think "is that him? I like the way he worships/prays..." or "I wonder if he knows I exist, maybe I should pray in front of him, surely that would attract him." These questions bombarded my heart long after they were asked, and I tried hard to push them down. 

It was by the grace of God that I was able to ignore these questions for a time after dealing with day to day anxiety and heartache of still being single. Through tears at night in conversation to God I would tell Him that this wasn't how I planned it all to go!

Then I met him! Handsome husband came waltzing into my life... well he was boyfriend and fiance first, but it seemed like out of nowhere he appeared, even though I knew him for years as a friend before we ever considered any type of relationship. It wasn't long after our simple commitment became public, and before I knew it family members were asking me if he was the "one", and though I answered that I thought so I really had no idea. The Lord confirmed to me over the course of our relationship that he was in fact the one that had been chosen for me, but even before I could say "I do." there were those who were beckoning me into being a wife long before I had rightfully had been given the title of one. It was hard to have a chance to be girlfriend and fiance when the questions and standards around me were forcing me to think of marriage before it were even an option. 

So then we were married... we have rented a beautiful little apartment, and although we had each other we felt the need to add to our little family. We weren't quite ready yet for parenthood, so we got a dog! And then another! Everything seemed to be going well, but no matter what friend I hadn't seen in months or what family members I had the honor of visiting with, the questions started to come again. The catapulting of titles were thrown onto me that I hadn't been given the honor to carry just yet. This fateful question started just moments after we were married even. Before I could ever see boxers on my floor inside out, before I could ever hear belching after a delicious meal... and before I could ever share my life with this man I just gave my life to. 

At first it didn't bother me because I had asked this quesiton of friends who were recently married too. Innocently enough I had conversations with old roommates about starting a family, while forcefully putting in my two cents of when they should try to have children. It just seems like the natural filler question for couples who have just started their lives together. But little did I realize the damage it was doing to my heart... until recently it was asked of me.

"So, are you pregnant yet? When are you guys going to have children?"

The question hit me hard as I saw an old friend standing in front of me holding her belly with child, and there I was with just my husband and two dogs. And I found myself with my husband at the local grocery store breaking down in the salsa aisle because I wasn't fulfilling my calling as a woman. Now don't get me wrong, I am beyond blessed and overjoyed at what the Lord has given me at this point of my life. But it was as if my heart couldn't help but go there. That dream where I am 24, with a house, husband, two kids and a dog. And then I snap back violently into the present and there is a deep aching in my heart for what I know is a promise yet to come. I have come to realize that these questions have been forcing me to imagine titles and giftings that the Lord hasn't allowed me to step into just yet for whatever reason... and I am learning how to grieve while trying to conceive. I know that while although Jesus has given me hope for tomorrow, I still have to deal with my flesh that desired things long before they were in existance. 

I desire children. They seem so close that I can almost reach out and grab them, but yet it is still not so in my life. You don't have to ask if I want to start a family, or if I am pregnant. I already feel the burden of being a mother, long before my children will ever arrive. This is my purpose in life. 

There needs to be grace for new wives. We need your moments of interest in our lives, and not questions desiring answers that we have no clue how to answer just yet. We know that you are just being kind and caring about what you think fits our best interests, but there are some of us who just haven't gotten there yet. We don't need the title of mother when we are just trying to walk out wife. Or even just girlfriends not yet wives. Questions are good, but just let us soak in who we are created to be for the moment. 

In all Chaos, Peace.

        

How do I find You here? In the midst of the storm, where do I look for You? These gale force winds are knocking me hard. My mind feels more like a bloody battlefield than a storm crossed horizon. While there is beauty in a lightening filled sky... a bloodied field is terrifying. Men die, and families grieve. I'm somewhere between storm tossed and fighting for my very life. The grieving process has already begun.

And all I asked was for revival to come. 

Why doesn't anyone ask these questions? Why aren't more wives grieved over the fact that they don't know how to do it? There's no answers... and my heart is searching hard to find them. Alone. Who cries the crucified ugly cry for revival? 

Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.

And so I find myself dying. There is a strange pulling in my heart that says not to let go, that says to maintain the face, maintain the "good life". But in all of the beauty of desiring the Kingdom of Heaven there is an ugly forcefullness that desires a sacrifice. The heave of breath upon the altar that says, "I will gladly spend and be spent..." just for Your Kingdom, oh great King. 

But terrified my eyes look into the horizon. Bright flashes of lightening and peels of thunder nearly split sky from earth. And I am dandelion waving in the wind... seed spent until all is gone. And this is where beauty happens... in all the seeds falling to the ground alone... and I am seed falling to the ground to die. Everything changes so quickly... and before my heart can have time to grieve the time spent as a flower... the sprouts are coming forth. Hundreds of beautiful seeds that died alone, yet now bear forth beautiful flowers. 

It's a beautiful image that passes before my eyes... and although the answers come, so do the questions. There's no book or "how to" on welcoming revival into your home while folding laundry. There's no class or lecture on how to love your husband well while pushing through into the Holy of Holies. And the flesh of my heart would say that I can only do one well... and at the end of the day I choose to love Jesus well in hopes that I would love my husband well. Most voices would spill complements or even suggestions from their lips, but there's no heart of a woman that I know that is pressing in for the answers... how do I steward revival and my home well? If my husband is called to reach the nations... how do I reach our little nation first. This little nation, the tribe of our family. The hearts that will one day mean more to us than any other on this earth. 

Jesus I want to see human trafficking end! I want to see abortion end! I want to see revival in the earth! But I don't want any of those things if I cannot see my family before the throne with eyes beholding Him highly exalted. Our one day family standing upon the sea of glass in adoration to the King. 

How do I find You here in this Jesus? How do I learn to be a mother now? How do I learn to stir up and host revival now? In this place, in my storm. Help me find peace.

An open letter to Moms: Finding peace in the fear.

         

Dear Mom,

I know you're scared... I catch the fear stricken gaze every once in awhile and sense the tremble in your heart that wonders if your love will carry me far enough for long enough. I know you're scared, but everything is going to be okay. Do you know that? It will all be okay. If my heart could paint sentences my love for you would be like your favorite summer morning, sunrise all ablaze against a dark unlit sky. Coral hues and baby blues, shining against the darkness of a night that was rough against my sails. Do you see it? 

I know you've felt inadequate and imperfect, but those moments of uncertainty are some of my favorites. The moments when you didn't quite know it all, but together we figured it out. I was learning to walk wide eyed and alive as a child, and you were learning to walk all wided eyed, opened hearted as a mother. Sometimes my curiosity stretched you thin until you thought you would burst and sometimes you loved me despite the questions that my heart frequently pushed. You didn't have the answers, but I didn't know that. Do you remember the moments when I was a child and you wished me busy just for a moment of peace and quiet? I don't. I only remember those moments of love. Moments where you wished for quiet and I wished for words... and there you loved me well. In grace you held my heart just a moment longer.

You're doing such a beautifully great job. The way you love me so well... you've seen everything in me. You're the one human on this earth that has known me the longest. Your's was the first voice I heard, and your heartbeat was the first that lulled me to sleep as I floated safe in amniotic ocean. These may  not be words your heart dwells on in the midst of chaos and calamity, but they still ring true through the ages. As a child I believed your heart beat for me... as an adult I know it must be true. I catch it in your graceful gaze every once in awhile. 

I know you're afraid that time will get away from you. You see my moments at birthdays, weddings and sometimes funerals. You've seen my first steps, first win, and first kiss... moments held together by the love of a mother. Can you see it yet? Can you see the perfect portrayal of love? Can you see the moments of trying when you didn't know how to love? There He is. He is in the moments of fear giving your heart grace to beat for those curious eyes that look up in question. He is in your words as you reach out for me bruised and broken. He is in your arms as you hold a painful teenage heart... and He is the grace when you forgive me for crying hateful words in your direction. He is the perfect Parent teaching you how to love me well, and there in the heart of the greatest Father... there is a mother! You.

I'm sorry I haven't always had the eloquent words to tell you how I've felt since the first time you ever held me in those warm arms. But it rings true... how I love you! The one who has seen me all, heard me all, and still you love me! In my wickedness still your heart beat for mine... and He stood behind you pushing love hard through you in the moments when you thought you would lose it all. His arms stretched wide to love you more than you could ever love me! What a beatiful display!

So I know you're scared you aren't doing the perfect job. I know the house isn't clean, and dishes aren't done. But there is a greater accomplishment you've made. You have loved me well!

Thank you Mom!

To the moon and back!

Forever your baby. 

Eyes wide like oceans.

Alive? Breath deepening in my lungs, and I almost have to convince myself that I've been doing this since I've left placenta. Breathing. Taking in the next of life, moment by moment. Inhale, exhale. Breathing, living. Sometimes I wonder with eyes wide like oceans if I'm living or just drowning in the overwhelming life. Am I living the full life? Or am I just surviving, barely sitting with chin above surface breathing between waves that take my breath away. Wonder child in me is trying to figure this all out... will you walk with me?

The Man with fire in His eyes once said that He came that we might have life, and life more abundantly. That He came to give the full life. With arms stretched wide on beam wooden and splintered, He intended for life to come coursing through my veins. Do I sometimes squander the full life? My hands fumbling the moment of sunrises more beautiful than paintings from Picasso and I forget... I forget the eucharisteo life. The thanksgiving that brings me into His courts... the thanksgiving that brings the very life into my lungs. In the rare moments when I remember I am like child wild eyed and ablaze with wonder. How did I forget in the first place? 

My memory is like that of a fresh winter powder... beautiful and extravagent, until the sun comes and it's all wiped away. The surrounding heat of the moment melt the beautiful hand stroked painting and I won't remember again until that beautiful fresh cloud hits the earth again... and I wonder why I ever forgot in the first place. Only to forget again. Then cold stinging air hits my lungs and I remember! I want to live!!! I want to live life to the full. I want to live what that Man spoke of. Full life... this time, I won't forget.  I am set free!

Life springs humerous into the mind of created ones, reminding us suddenly to live. Sometimes we find out when our body wrinkles and bones shatter under weight of life, and sometimes we are like babes finding out when the breath in our lungs is still new. No matter the years that life places upon our frames, we are lucky to know... life is meant to be lived! And lived full. Hands are meant to bring healing to wounds deep. Mouths are meant to speak words of forgiveness forever. And eyes are meant to adore every sunset that graces that horizontal frame between earth and sky. And to utter the words between moments of living for thanksgiving to the One who came to give life, and life more abundantly. 

What if today you chose to live?  

Would you remember every moment for thanksgiving? Or would your mind play like eraser on slate forgetting every beautiful stroke of the pen? I dare you today... I dare me... to live life to the full... to inhale deep in the moment of living. I want to know what life smells like, what it looks like and what it sounds like! I want to be like Sherlock around corners with spy glass in hand waiting for the moments that I get to search out the glory of the King. And my pen will find paper, and I will write... thanksgiving to the King! 

What if today you chose to live? 

Though I walk through the valley, it's only a shadow...

God is good. The words of saints, ancient and new born ring loud in my spirit. In the face of tragedy and triumph the words that should resound from burning hearts should be as such. To cry the phrase of Job, or even David. God is good. 

My heart is learning lessons hard this past week as beloved sister passes from earth into eternity. Grace isn't walking faithfully through death and loss, grace is saying at the end of the beginning without her... God is good. To cry from broken heart, "though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me..." The truest test of grace in the midst of losing is this, I am not offended, I choose to worship. 

Tomorrow is this wild girl's birthday and I can only imagine that she would have approached 26 with the same wide eyes as she viewed all of life. It seems as though her common theme of life was how she could love to the full. I can only put imagination to flight now as she is before the God of eternity learning the true fullness of the heavy love, the Agape Himself. And here I know the meaning of the words that man wrote to a tune we all know; bending beneath the weight of Your wind and mercy. How He loves! 

I cannot say with all certainty the thoughts that ran through sweet one's mind as she saw Him for the first time, but I can only imagine that at that moment it was Love. The heart aching, worth writing a million songs for LOVE! The tree bending, ocean rising, mountain dividing love! My heart is not certain of much in trying times, but I am certain of this. She knows love. 

And now I need to know Love. I am learning how to survive without knowing for certain how the Unknown chooses to work. My finite mind says how unfair, and my heart cries pain. But I choose to worship, I choose to praise! Though You slay me, still I choose to worship! My heart aches as I try to comprehend how my earthly second papa might feel right now, and I can see his life as it aligns with parts of a story that I am familiar with, and I heard him utter the words of that man Job. Certainly God's hand is in this! He speaks with wavering tones as tears streak his fatherly form. This man is broken, but there is One who identifies with his brokenness. The man of sorrows, aquatinted with grief! 

Jesus...

So we lean. In misunderstanding, in grief... we lean! And my heart finds solace in the words of C.S. Lewis "I believe in God as I believe in the sun, not because I see it, but because by it I see everything." With unveiled face I see Him, and I lean into the invisible, ever present God who identifies with my pain.

I find peace.

To all the broken: You will survive!

        

"My soul magnifies the Lord! And my spirit rejoices in God my savior, for He has looked upon the humble estate of His servant." 

The words of a poor virgin woman echo throughout eternity, written on the expanse of time because of her devotion to a God she could not yet see. Yet even still, she chose to believe in the good things. He is not a stoic detached God, but an ever near, ever present Father... waiting for the cry of obedience in the dark. 

This Christmas as I read through the story of Jesus in the gospels I am reminded of the simple faithfulness of a mother that survived much to be impregnated with the very savior of the world. The author and finisher of faith. The man that was destined to die from the moment he was born, and still, she chose the good parts! Mary whose reputation was on the line, and I'm certain even her heart was breaking at the prospect of birthing such great risk. Yet even still, she chose to believe in the goodness of God. A son! Prophesied and promised! Yet destined to die. Mary at the foot of the cross, remembering the promise of her first born son... and her eyes meet the cry of the song she sang from the start. "He has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of His mercy..."

Can you see it now? Can you imagine the pain of Mother for child? The promise taken, yet given. 

Can you identify with mother of Grace? The promise, the impregnation, the gift taken and seemingly erased. Can you feel your broken heart? All the promises you thought God had spoken... only to be taken away. This time of year is like a mirror reflecting in our hearts the last year's trials and triumphs. The failures and... broken promises. Where you thought you might be, and where you're still not. 

This Christmas I challenge and provoke my heart, and your's too, be like Mary and choose the good parts. The simple and the in the moment promises. The eucharisteo gifts that bring thanksgiving to lips. The promises for today... for even tomorrow isn't promised. Today may look bleak and empty, like that field full of snow, but beneath the cold and dark of snow there is LIFE! Even promises tarry, but wait, spring will come. 

Remember in trial, she spoke the words God etched into time... "My soul magnifies the Lord..."

This Christmas remember the Man of Grace that came to fulfill every longing in the hearts of men, through Him... you will survive. 

Keep heart, you will survive.

One night with Molly Brown.

Wide eyed and whining we meet this fur covered yearling of four legs. Her tail wagged sweet when your eyes met hers and you could feel the desperation in the heart of this little orphan. It's strange how the human heart can surge with emotion over a being that could never share a single word with you. 

And so began an evening of grace, trying to find peace in whimpers. Her soft head nuzzled beneath my chin and I could feel her tiny body heave with each breath of safe quiet she could take in. For this tiny ball of grace, peace is found in the heartbeat of one willing to just love her through the night... and so we did. Husband took over midway through the night, and his heart was met strong with emotion for a creature that depended on his hands for food, love and grace. Sleep was far from the ears that could hear the cries of this tiny orphan in the night. And this is when I learned what the Father of Grace was trying to teach me. My heart yearns long as I meditate on truth fighting hard for light.

Tiny grace orphan could never offer us love or words of adoration, and yet we were willing to give her all that our hearts could bear. And our hearts broke in such a vulnerable light when we woke up the next morning. We could not offer this small one everything she needed. Small grace eyes in my lap for the last time makes me realize this truth screaming loud for my heart to hear. 

I can love this tiny orphan of grace, but not love the orphan of grace that the church walks past as she freezes in the cold of neglect all year long. Heart brakes screech as truth awakens my soul. Ouch.

One night with sweet Molly Brown and I can feel my heart as it is groaning for love to come forth from my heart for the fatherless. Tiny grace with wide eyes and tail wagging sweet could never love in the image of the Father, but orphan in darkness brought to life could. Who will I choose to love, and spend nights with eyes wide awake as I comfort the whimpering of the pain of a broken heart? Every two hours strong husband loved tiny grace into darkness, and all I could think was what if we were loving the orphans of the Father's heart into morning light? 

My heart is broken as I am moved by compassion to love after one night with sweet Molly Brown.