Heartaches & Boundless Love

When I first held my baby in my arms, he weighed 4 pounds, 10 ounces. My whole body was in knots as I cuddled, dressed, and fed my miniature package for a terrifying week in the NICU. I never really fell asleep, I didn't rest, my mind couldn't focus on anything else. My heart ached for my new baby. Every spasm of pain and miserable feeding, I held him, prayed over him, wept for him...

We left that NICU after one week. A short stay compared to many...

But something had lodged itself in my heart. Like a splinter of glass, there was a new rawness, a new edge. Sometimes, it quietly lets itself be forgotten. During long days of working while he was still so tiny. During nights where we both finally fell into an exhausted sleep. During those times... I forgot.

And then he smiled at me.

He had his first belly laugh.

He needed a sick-boy mommy cuddle time.

He got fatter.

And bigger.

His personality begins to peep through.

In those moments, I remember. And the ache returns. My heart aches over the little life entrusted to me. Every joy fills me with gladness, every sorrow makes me cry, my heart longs after my baby. 

And this is but a shadow of God's aching and longing for you.

In the New Testament, God is referred to as "our father" or "the father" over and over and over again. The phrase "grace and peace to you from God our Father" occurrs nine times (in my brief search through the ESV translation alone).

The Bible is a relatively short book. It is our guide in this life. Think of all the things God could have possibly wanted to cram into it: "don't do this," "make sure you do this," "remember such-and-such."

But in this short book, God chose to refer to himself as our father again and again. And as our Father, He sent blessings of grace and peace. Again and again.

If I, a fragile, fallible human parent, feel the aching of sacrificial love for my small son (and unborn baby girl), then how much more so is God's infinite aching after us, His adopted sons and daughters? He gave the perfect sacrifice to save us. He equipped us with everything we needed to become like His perfect son, Christ. And He watches our daily struggles, our fight on this earth, with the aching and longing that we would fully realize the grace and peace He so freely offers.

Revel in belonging to a God of whom it is written:

"Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens."

Because with this boundless love... He loves you.

My New List And My New Happiness

Several weeks ago, when I was feeling particularly horrible and barely able to get off the couch, I began to wonder how on earth I would get everything done. While being a stay-at-home is markedly less stressful than corralling autistic three-year olds every day, there is (nonetheless) a to-do list.

And mine was getting longer.

I would rush around one day like crazy, be couch-ridden the next, all the while with a niggling suspicion that I wasn't doing a good job loving my husband or child...

A pithy saying kept ringing in my ears: "Never let the urgent crowd out the important."

I didn't know how, but I had a sneaking suspicion that I was letting the urgent drown out what was truly important.

And so, I came up with a plan.

A list.

I had made lists before, but this was a new list. And this one was very simple. Every day it stayed the same. And every day it provided the structure needed to address the variation in my new routine, while simultaneously providing a framework to remember "the important."

It's been several weeks, and my success with my list is variable, although, I will say that I'm a happier, calmer wife/mommy.

This is my list:
1. Show love to my Savior
2. Show love to my husband
3. Show love to my baby
4. Be a good steward of this house
5. Be a good steward of my talents/employment
6. Show love to others.

Each day, many of the other things I need to get done slip right into these categories... I fold laundry and iron dress shirts, because I know that is showing love to my hubby. But maybe I do a smidge more... maybe I also make some pumpkin muffins on a whim. Because the word "love" is in my list, and going the extra mile for those I love is much different from crossing off an item on my to-do list.

Depending on the day, one category may get a more time-intensive task than the others. On days when I'm sick, the tasks in each category get shorter, but they still exist. Each category still gets filled... As seen below:

1. Show love to my Savior...by spending 15 minutes in prayer before breakfast
2. Show love to my husband... by cleaning out his sock drawer, putting away summer clothes, and hiding a note somewhere.
3. Show love to my baby... by introducing him to a half hour of bubble playtime!
4. Be a good steward of this house... by sweeping and mopping the floors.

And someone was once afraid of water!

5. Be a good steward of my talents/employment... by practicing the piano, and sending a follow-up email to new boss.
6. Show love to others... write on _________'s Facebook wall and tell her what I've seen/been encouraged by.


But what I love most is that my list is forcing me to enjoy the relationships around me in tangible ways. I want my wee baby boy to grow up knowing that he is an incredibly important part of my day, and that I am never too busy for him. I want my hubby to know that he is the forever love of my life. And I want my relationship with my Savior to deepen on a daily basis.

Unfortunately, I often want all those things, but lose sight of the daily practices I need to utilize in order to see these blessings fulfilled in my life.

We were so wet and muddy after this adventure that we needed another bath!

My little bundle of delight (who takes so much work that I was forgetting to have fun with him) has loved his new mommy play time. Sometimes it's just 10 minutes of crazy cuddles, or sometimes it's hours of water fun...



I'm so blessed to be his mommy!
I'm so blessed to have this amazing life...

Lord, help me to be a good steward of these blessings.

And Wee Squidgee Is A...

I am completely surprised. And I have no idea what I will call this little pink doll. As soon as I saw her, all the names I HAD thought I liked flew right out the window...

But I am sure of one thing... Scott will be an amazing daddy to "Baby Squidgette." (And these are the only two pink things we own... I don't have a lot of pink, and that color hasn't really come out in Grant's wardrobe. I know. Shocker.)

Loud Singing & A Bloody Sacrifice.

The spiced cider candle is flickering. Toasty pumpkin muffins are cooling on the counter. Baby is sleeping, the dishwasher is humming, and I'm curled up in my favorite bedraggled sweater listening to soothing African-style easy listening nothingness.

Today is a day of rest.

The beginning of a fresh week of battles.

But today is not about those battles. Today is about praise. Worship. Rest. Reveling in God's glory.

And today I got to do that...

The past five months, as I've struggled to remain upright, to focus, and to get through each day, Sunday was not a day of rest. Sunday was a day of more work: get up, try to look decent, clean up baby, get out the door, smile, nod, try to worship, smile, nod, remember people's names...

Worship was hard. Worship was work. Worship was draining. Exhausting. Drying. Saturation in the grace of God didn't feel real. I went through the motions.

I wasn't mad. Or depressed. Or bitter.

I was just exhausted. Drained. And barely able to focus on the words I was singing and the truth I was hearing.

One Sunday morning, as I (tiredly) wrapped Velcro rollers around another strand of impossibly frizzy hair, I began to hum... "We bring a sacrifice of praise into the house of The Lord..." And then it hit me:

My worship is to be a sacrifice.

Think about that phrase. Just think.

Worship. A sacrifice. 

A brutal, blood-spilling, emotion-draining, laying down on the alter. My worship. Slitting the throat. Burning the carcass. My worship. Gory. Bloody. Painful.

A sacrifice.

Not an emotional high. Not a feel-good fest. (Not that it isn't wonderful when God gives those moments...) But my worship should be an act of obedience. Whole-hearted willingness to shout my God's glory and revel in His Word.

Regardless of my fatigue.

Regardless of my pain.

Regardless of fears, broken relationships, betrayal, apathy, anger, or boredom.

Worship.

Set aside thoughts of you.

Focus on your Savior.

And pour out the blood of sacrificial worship.

Such abandonment for the glory of God does not return to you empty. And today God allowed peace and happiness as I sang each line and listened to each word... Focusing on the sacrifice resulted in wonderful joy.

"... let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name. Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God." (Hebrews 13:15b-16)

Guilt and Unpacking

I've just completed my 33rd day of my new career.

33 days ago, Grant and I came to Philadelphia.

33 days ago, we didn't have a home, I didn't have a job, and I couldn't find my toothbrush.

I also didn't have a clue what I was getting myself into...

For the past three years, I've worked full-time and enjoyed it (almost all the time, promise!). I loved being a speech therapist. And then I met a guy... A guy who on our third date asked me if I would ever want to be a stay-at-home mom. (I don't know about you other ladies, but for me, that was like finding the Holy Grail of manhood. I most DEFINITELY wanted to be a wife and mom first (and a therapist second).) Short story even shorter (we met and married in less than 6 months), I fell in love with that amazing man.

He was in seminary... So I brought home the bacon.

We had a baby... I kept bringing home bacon.

But this July he started bringing home the bacon.

And I was upgraded to my new position.

And I was terrified.

I began having recurring dreams of flunking out of school, failing at life, and never measuring up.

At every other time in my life, there has been a measurement. I've known where I stand.

But here? In motherhood? There is no measure. None.

So, I floundered. I alternated between panicked frenzies and helpless stupor. One day, I would unpack tons of boxes, scrub floors, and scour old wood work. Then, for the next three days, I would barely scrape by, wanting to nap, eat, and read my way through my free time. Being nauseated, pregnant, and exhausted didn't help with my motivation, but it was also a nice crutch to lean on. No one faults a pregnant lady for taking a nap.

I tried everything I could think of... I prayed, I wrote lists, I spent more time in the Bible... I was searching for a magic key. Because, deep under my mood swings, there was pure, unadulterated terror. I would wake up in the clutches of guilt and fear, and no matter how much I did, every night, I felt inadequate, incapable. I was a failure. I have never wrestled with such a intangible, internal fear. There was nothing outside me. My husband was loving. My new church was supportive. We had a house, a baby, and a future that was incredibly stable and filled with blessings.

And still I was guilt-ridden.

Was I doing enough? Was I measuring up? Was I failing at this incredibly important job of motherhood? I was miserable...

But I was supposed to feel this way.

Not so that I would wallow in my guilt. Not so that I would live in fear.

But so that Christ can be glorified.

The Apostle Paul had an amazing ministry. God allowed him to see a myriad of things... And he could have become quite conceited. In fact, he had reason to be. And God knew this. So He gave Paul a weakness... And Paul was miserable. He pleaded and prayed that it would go away. But God answered,

  “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 

I have been given much. I am surrounded by blessings and goodness and extra joy beyond joy. God has allowed this. And I could become quite complacent, conceited even, with all this blessing. And God knew this. So He gave me a weakness: a desire for success and tangible reward. And, because I did not use this as it was intended, I was miserable.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to measure up. There is nothing wrong with desiring to be an exemplary mommy. In a backlash against Pinterest, I have read countless mommy-blogs that reiterate over and over, "you don't have to be perfect..." And, while this is true, there's a piece missing.

You were designed to crave success. You were designed to seek rewards.

But we've been looking in the wrong places.

Someday, I will find out how I did as a mommy. Someday, I will be given my reward. It won't be today. It won't be on this earth. I won't be able to frame it in a cute, Pinterest-project-frame.

But it will come.

I will receive a reward.

Knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ.

If my work is the work of eternity it will speak for itself.

If the work that anyone has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward.

And Christ himself has told me,

"Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done."

So, I will keep striving for perfection. I may not have a Pinterest-board house, but I want a Pinterest-board heart: beautifully, perfectly tended, selfless, and loving.And I won't know where I stand, until the very end. The Lord has given me a desire for success... And I will pray daily for His tuning of my heart. I'm weak and inadequate. But in this God is glorified.

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses.

And someday... I will find my reward.

Although, kissing this sweet face is a reward in and of itself!