A Wonderful Life

Today at church our pastor Rob talked about making room for Jesus in our lives. The Spirit really moved me through the words God spoke through Rob and God's word. Rob even used the illustration of our son running laps around the chairs in church, with me chasing after him, and how Zachy paused every so often with his hand up and extended towards me with a "come on, mama." There were tears for many, including me. The Holy Spirit began preparing a response I felt prompted to share in front of the whole church, unrehearsed, raw, ripe with tears and a shaky voice. Here's what He's teaching me and I shared (paraphrased, but hopefully still true to the first raw response I shared just an hour or so ago). Ever since becoming Zachy's mama, I've been learning to "make room" for him and who he is. I've struggled with my own pride and expectations, fears and definitions of belonging. I've learned a lot and still have more to learn, but so far, w...

I wrote this in my journal a while back, after a challenging time with my little guy. I continue to learn and see that grief is rarely definable nor the same from one experience of it to the next. This is what grief looked and felt like that day, in that moment. Grief Surprising, unexpected  overwhelming waves big things, small things hard and important things. Skills gained and not yet gained and  w onder if they ever will be gained. Big wins, big losses hard conversations. Exhausted coach and referee. Daily life. Wonder if I'm doing enough when I see him struggle or others struggle with him. Broken heart at lost dreams. Repaired heart with new ones. And hope. And pride. And love. And.

Even though I started this journey of hunting for #ValentinesFromAbove during Lent two years ago, I still find it the most impactful, enriching and encouraging way for me to observe Lent. I already relate to the sacrifice of Christ more in this season of parenting two littles and working outside the home full-time, as well as being the only parent in our home with paid time off to cover all of the sick days, school early releases and days off from school. A lot sits on my shoulders, and that's okay, but I don't need to add to that unnecessarily.  What I need every year during Lent is a reconnection to God's amazing, beautiful, personal love for me; which is what fueled Christ to sacrifice Himself in our place on the cross to pay for our sins, in the first place. I need to be reminded of how well God knows me, loves me and wants to show me that He's with me all the time. I need to be shown the beauty of His creation and presence and perfect timing and plans and lookin...

 Originally posted here . This is nothing like a sister-wife. But I believe that having a pastor-husband saved me from the brink of nearly losing myself to postpartum anxiety after the birth of my second child. My steady, anchoring husband has always been the one in our relationship with two feet on the ground, while I have a tendency to float around in the sky like a kite chasing the wind. The wind in my life before children included things like honey-do lists, adventures to have, projects to complete, gardening that took much longer than planned… nothing crazy. When I got excited and ran down the bunny trail, he ran with me, but helped me remain realistic when I needed it and could always pick me up if I tripped and fell down. A beautiful example of Christ’s love, I know. Fast-forward through having a first child with special needs and the journey that led to the birth of our second, one week after my husband got his Master’s of Divinity Degree (a.k.a. pastoral degree). I spent t...

 Originally posted here . Our pastor recently talked about how he is more curious about the questions behind what people actually ask out loud than the questions themselves. He was talking about faith-based conversations, but I experience the need to practice this discipline more often when talking to adults about my husband and I parenting a child who has developmental delays. When we started our journey with our sweet now four-and-a-half year old, the following is a list of common questions and my knee-jerk mental reactions. I usually held my tongue pretty well, but not every time. Question : Wow, what a cute baby, how old is he? I would answer. Next question : He’s really small; was he premature? Thought:  Why are you asking? Do you think we don’t feed him enough and your best fat-filled diet will be the next thing out of your mouth? Answer:  No, he was two days overdue. Comment:  Oh really? My child (or I) was… and…they/I caught up eventually, I’m sure he will to...

 Originally posted here . When we were pregnant with our first baby, we explored a lot of different parenting styles and felt like the attachment mindset might fit our family well. I’ve seen the ups and downs of that since we started our parenting journey more than four and a half years ago. Here’s an example: Our kids both co-slept with us for longer than I would have liked (and I didn’t think we were going to co-sleep at all before having children). My daughter especially loves time in my arms, no matter the hour or the fact that I need to get up and work in the morning. I write this while holding her in my ring sling, on my lap, in the way too early hours of the day. Bedtime is a battlefield, like it is for many, but mine is because my daughter enjoys my snuggles so much that she doesn’t want to let go of me. That’s a good thing, but sometimes drives me a little batty. I recently realized that sometimes when I just want to be done for the day, I had been saying some unkind thing...

 This was originally posted  here . It seems like everywhere we look, thirty is the magic number. Thirty days to a new you, Whole30, thirty easy make-ahead crockpot meals, thirty-minute meals, you get the idea. For the last year or so, forty has been a much more important number for me, though, and it has recurred in my faith walk a lot. This time last year, I remember our pastor talking about how forty is an important number in the Bible. He said it’s either a literal or metaphorical death or end of one thing and birth or beginning of something else. Some sources online also note that the number forty is a symbol for a period of trial or testing. The combination of those things makes forty pretty challenging sometimes, but God is showing me that it is worth the wait (even if the wait is still happening). This time last year, forty was important for me in a lot of ways. I realized my kids were going to be forty months apart, while I waited to hit the forty-week mark with my se...