You stare at the ultra sound tech, who was gentle and quick with the news, and you ask stupid questions over and over, like, “what do you mean there’s no heart beat?”
When there’s no answer that comes from her mouth, and only several unsatisfying, “I’m sorry’s,” you turn to your husband to explain.
You look at your husband and ask, over and over again, “how can this be?”
When he only answers by squeezing your hand tighter and with silent tears that stream down his cheeks, you keep asking, over and over.
You get off the table when the ultra sound tech leaves you alone and you curl up on his lap and cry hysterically, still asking the same question and shouting, “no, no, no” to no one in particular…but deep down you know you’re talking to God.
You are moved to the doctor’s room and you wait together, crying and in disbelief.
The doctor comes in, and with your head buried in your hands and tears puddling on the floor beneath you, you ask, “WHY am I still throwing up? How can this be?”
You are convinced, when you ask, that she will respond by saying, “What? You’re still throwing up? You’re still so sick? Oh, well, then of COURSE the baby is still alive. There must have been a mistake.”
But she does not.
You ask a hundred questions that you’ve had to come up with on the spot.
And then you leave.
You hold your husband’s hand and close your eyes over and over again, hoping that if you blink hard enough you’ll wake up from this reality that feels far too unreal to be real.
And then suddenly, you are grateful. You have never taken your children for granted, you have always known they were miracles, but suddenly, right then, you are more grateful to God than ever before for the two lives he has already given to you to raise and love on this earth.
Your husband says, “let’s go get our kids and hug them tight,” and you know he is thinking the same thing.
You somehow drive home, in separate cars, and walk into your familiar, messy house. Everything is the same, just how you left it, yet everything is so different.
You sit on the couch and tell your 3 year old that we are not going to get to meet the baby in your tummy as we had planned. We will not get to hold the baby or see the baby, the baby will not get to sit in the extra high chair like he talks about every night at dinner. You tell him we will meet the baby in heaven, and when he asks when we get to go there you don’t know what to say.
He asks a few more questions, that you mostly don’t know how to answer, and then he jumps up and proclaims that he wants to play.
You are sad that he doesn’t get it, and so grateful that he doesn’t have to.
You put the kids down for naps.
You cry. A lot.
You lay in bed with your husband and cry so hard together that you soon can’t discern whose tears are whose.
You sleep. Sort of.
You wake up to the sounds of your two children laughing and playing hard with your husband, and you are so grateful hear the sounds of LIFE flooding your home.
You fight your nausea and head downstairs to be with your family.
Your husband hears you and runs to greet you at the bottom of the stairs with red eyes and a kiss.
You cry a little more in his embrace.
Your children run to you, and you cling to them with tears streaming down your face.
You play with them, gratefully.
You jump and down and shout hooray when your 3 year old puts his poops in the potty.
And then you turn around and laughter spills from your heart when your daughter puts her big brother’s underwear on her head–again–like a hat.
And then you cry some more.
You grieve and grieve and grieve.
You cry with your husband.
You cry with your best friends.
You pick yourself up, get the kids dressed, and go eat sushi.
You delight in your son using chopsticks for the first time.
You delight in your daughter who boldly walks up to every stranger in the restaurant and says, “hi!”
You go to the park.
You cry on the way.
You get home, get the kids in bed, and cry with your husband some more.
You process.
You pray.
You grieve.
You cry.
You thank God, for the hundredth time that day, that you married a man who values LIFE, and who fights for life.
And then you thank Him again.
You take a pill and try to sleep.
You wake up and you remember…
You see that your husband is not next to you, and then you hear him…downstairs, in the middle of the night, crying and crying out to God for a miracle.
You go back to sleep.
You wake up after fitful sleep and see that it’s morning. Your heart aches, and then you remember why.
You see that your husband is still not next to you.
You pray. And pray and pray.
You think. About everything.
You wonder…
You call out to your husband.
He comes running in the room, with red, red, wet eyes, and proclaims scripture after scripture to you, declaring God’s goodness, declaring hope…all through a broken, broken heart.
You cry, and thank God again for your husband.
You thank God for his weakness in this moment, and also his strength.
You go back to the doctor for another ultra sound…just to see…just to see if God had performed a miracle.
You see instantly that the miracle was not the kind you had hoped for.
But you get to see your baby on that screen again, and you love your baby, somehow, even more than the day before and the day before that.
Your littlest baby…
You remember that your littlest is in the arms of the One who formed him or her…understanding and experiencing His love more than you ever have.
And you are grateful. And sad. And grateful. And so, so sad.
You realize this is all far, far too much for you to understand.
And so you look up.
Because what else can you do?
You look up.
You are surrounded in darkness, so you look up. And you see Light.
You look up through your tears, you look up through your grief.
And when you look up, and see Him, your grief is comforted. Not less, but comforted.
When you look up, and you know…you KNOW…that this sweet little one will never know pain, will never experience hurt, will never taste sorrow…when you look up and you know THAT…then you can breathe again.
Because your littlest is in the arms of the Lord. The arms of the Lord.
You wish with everything in you that your baby was still with you. But when you look up, you are okay. Because the alternative is so rich…you know the alternative is Glory Himself. In the arms of the Lord.
You wonder how you will put one foot in front of the other. Walk out of the room. Love your family well.
And then you remember…
You remember him on your bed,
you meditate on Him in the night watches.
Because He has been your help,
Therefore in the shadow of His wings, you rejoice.
Your soul follows close behind Him,
His right hand upholds you… (Psalm 63)
How quickly you forgot. But at least you remembered…as soon as you looked up.
Yes, you are in shadow, but you are in the shadow of His wings.
And so, you rejoice.
Somehow, in His strength, you rejoice.
Rejoice in His salvation.
Rejoice that One died so that we ought never need taste the pain of death.
You know there has been no eternal death here…no, your baby is with the Lord.
Your baby has passed into LIFE…life with Life Himself.
You know there is no eternal death. Only eternal life.
You believe that His goodness cannot be overcome by darkness.
You don’t know how in this moment, but YOU KNOW.
You know you will remind your soul to hope continually,
and you will praise Him yet more and more.
Your mouth shall tell of His righteousness and His salvation all the day,
for you do not know their limits.
You will go in the strength of the Lord GOD;
You will make mention of His righteousness, of His only (Psalm 71).
Though this feels very much like “the end,” you know it is just the beginning for your littlest one.
And so, while nestled in the comfort of the shadow of His wings, you look up.
By you I have been upheld from birth;You are He who took me out of my mother’s womb.My praise shall be continually of You. Ps 71:6
Oh, sweet baby, you are up in heaven now, praising Him with all of your heart, mind and soul. Yet still, our heart will ache for you until the day we can hold you in our arms, alive. Goodbye, our most precious, precious baby…Goodbye for now.
We had probably seen “Pets Rule!,” a captivating, delightful, and highly-entertaining show at SeaWorld at least a dozen times. Elliott has always been quite taken by dogs and animals of all sorts, and this show was FULL of them—dogs, cats, pigs, ducks, you-name-its–all moving to the beat of the music while performing incredible stunts. Perfectly trained animals, clearing having the time of their lives as they showed off their mad skills while the audience cheered loudly with admiration, awe, and excitement.
Pets Rule!
So there we were, probably the thirteenth time in, and we got to THEE PART. You know, thee part…? Where they cue the touching music and make their speech at the end? Well, the woman had barely spoken the first three words of her monologue before the tears began to ROLL out of my eyes.
“…But you know, not all the animals you see here today were always so happy and healthy. As a matter of fact, some of the pets you have just seen perform, like Fresco or Casey, were either surrendered by their owners or picked up off the streets and taken to shelters and had no one to care for them. Take Chad. His owners gave up on him. They said, ‘He had too much energy and couldn’t be trained.’ Well, as you can see, Chad is very well behaved. Chad responded to every instruction he was given, jumped through hoola hoops and over obstacles and threw balls into hoops…”
Chad was not just “trainable.” Chad had been trained to be an extraordinary dog. A dog who performed amazing feats and tricks that most dogs will never do in their lives. His teachability and talent were clearly qualities that had been inside of him all long…it’s just that he had been given up on.
My lip quivered like a small child and I finally stopped trying to hold it in. Brian looked at me, incredulous. “Are you…crying??” he whispered in total awe. “What is wrong??”
“It’s just…it’s just…” I blubbered. “It’s just that this speech gets me every time!!”
Now, just to be clear, I’m not really an “animal” person. I mean, they’re great and all, and I love watching them do cool tricks and I’m happy for my friends who have pets that they love…but they’re not really my thing. So, as sad as it is that there are pets who have been abandoned and given up on, my heart beats for a bigger thing…my heart beats for the children who have been abandoned and given up on.
The speech…the speech about Chad and the other abandoned animals…It’s such a reflection of how our world views kids these days…how parents, teachers, society view our children. Unruly children, exasperated parents. You see it everywhere. Children in the grocery stores, throwing fits and screaming at their parents; parents throwing fits and screaming right back at their children. Children abandoned…everywhere. Physically, emotionally, spiritually…abandoned. They have not been trained. Where are the parents?? Where are the fathers?? Where are the mothers?? Where are the ones who will, instead of giving up on “unruly, impossible, nothing-can-be-done” children, go to their knees and ask God for His grace to understand the Word—where every piece of wisdom needed to parent in righteousness can be found? What I have heard over and over from parents is, “He is too out of control. There’s nothing to be done.” Why is it that the moment someone hears I have a 2-year-old, their expectation is never that he would be the delight that he is, but instead that he would fall right into the “the norm,” which is, “naturally,” that he would be a “terrible two-er”? Why are the “terrible twos” considered a “normal,” “expected” part of aging? I have a hard time believing that Jesus would have walked by a “terrible two-er” and said, “Oh, yeah…just get used to it. There’s nothing to be done…just carry on, and hope that age 3 comes quickly.” Yet this is what we seem to believe as a society.
I encountered it in teaching every day. A father who would roll his eyes while talking about his daughter (in front of her) and telling me how impossible her attitude was to deal with. A mother who labeled her son “devil child,” and then was filled with rage when he lived up to her expectation.
And over and over I saw—the root of the problem was not the kid. The root of the problem was that the kid was not trained. The kid had been abandoned—emotionally, physically, spiritually—and now was unruly. Over and over parents threw their kids at me each day telling me they were impossible. But a little training, coated in a lot of love, went a LONG way.
Unfortunately, a teacher can most often only go a “long” way…it is very difficult to go the entire way. That’s the parents’ jobs. To love and train their children relentlessly and diligently their entire lives.
But I see it in homes, too. Homes where the parents deeply love their children and love the Lord, yet have resigned to certain aspects of exasperation because “aren’t kids just exasperating?” It’s what we’ve been taught. Parenting is already the most difficult job that there is, and I want to breathe HOPE into you that it’s NOT your lot to live with exasperating behavior, rebellion and disrespect!! It’s not good for you OR your child! God promises us more!! I have observed this resignation in many, many families where the parents (excellent, excellent parents) just didn’t have vision for this “more.” This is what grieves my heart—like the owners who gave up on Chad because he was “untrainable,” I see parents, my friends, who are at the end of their ropes, exasperated and fed up. Unlike Chad’s parents, at least they don’t send their toddlers to the streets (haha), but they do not search out for more in their homes because of this stereotype that babies/toddlers/kids can’t be trained and are just meant to be frustrating their first few years of life. It grieves my heart because I know that’s not their heart for their kids and I know they are not living in the fullness with real vision. Vision that there truly could be peace. That the fruits of the Spirit could, indeed, be alive and active in their homes…even—even—in a home filled with babies and toddlers (and more).
I don’t condemn Chad’s previous owners—that’s not the point. But there’s this piece of my heart that wonders what could have been for them, had they had vision to really train him. I imagine he would have brought an enormous amount of joy into their home.
Elliott, taking great delight in this incredibly sweet, well-trained pup.
So to say that I am passionate about the training of children unto righteousness, godliness, holiness and practically, unto respect, self-control, and love probably doesn’t do my passion justice. But if you have spent even five minutes around me, with my kids or any others, my passion will probably be quite obvious. I am inserting a mini series of “Training” posts within my “Victorious Parenting” series because, I believe, training is fundamental to being a victorious parent.
I know this because I know this is God’s heart for us as his children and also for us as parents. Not only does he say, “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6), but THE ENTIRE BIBLE is filled with training. Instruction. Teaching. If we neglect to train our children, we neglect to understand God’s heart in many areas of our own lives and the lives of our family. And that, my friends, is a big deal.
So, I will leave you with this: Proverbs 29:17 (in several different versions) to breathe some hope.
Discipline your son, and he will give you rest; he will give delight to your heart. (ESV)
Discipline your children, and they will give you peace; they will bring you the delights you desire. (NIV)
Discipline your children, and they will give you peace of mind and will make your heart glad. (NLT)
Correct your son, and he will give you comfort; He will also delight your soul. (NASB)
Now doesn’t that sound nice?!?!
The following is from a commentary I read on this verse: “Correct thy son, and he shall give thee rest,… Ease of mind, satisfaction and contentment, freedom from all anxious thoughts and cares; the correction being taken in good part, and succeeding according to wish and design; yea, he shall give delight unto thy soul; by his tenderness to his parents, obedience to them, and respect for them; by his prudent behaviour among men; by his sobriety, diligence, and industry in his calling; by his fear of God, and walking in his ways; than which nothing can give a greater delight and pleasure to religious parents.”
This Scripture speaks to a picture of a child who is disciplined, trained…a child who brings peace rather than chaos. My children are far from perfect. (Perfect will never be my goal.) But I will tell you with confidence—they are trained (and, obviously, will need to continue to be trained every day for the rest of their lives). This Scripture could not ring more true in our home, as Brian and I say to each other constantly, “Our children are so delightful!!” Not because they act perfectly all the time (again, not the goal), but because so much of the time, our children are, indeed, tender to us, obedient to us, have respect for us…Selah, even at 16 months old exhibits all of these behaviors on a regular basis. By the grace of God, in these early years where selfishness and tantrums are very real battles, our kids are already delights to our souls. And they did not just COME like that, like some people assume :). It has taken a LOT of training…but wow, have we seen fruit from that training!! Every day I am grateful for what we have invested in their early months and years, because it surely brings delight to our souls every single day. My heart is not to boast in anything I have done (because it was only through utterweakness and hours of prayer on my knees that I came to understand many of these truths), but only to boast in the truth of the Scriptures that promise us that when we train up our children according to the Word, there will be good fruit.
So, let’s join together and grab hold of the GOOD NEWS!! I hope you will join me on this journey to explore what God says about training our children unto godliness! I hope you will join me on this journey of HOPE as we take the Word at His word! Stay tuned for the next post: “It’s Not You, It’s Me.”
I couldn’t let 2013 slip away silently, without writing a little something to REMEMBER who we are as we finish out this past year and begin a new one. If I had written a Christmas letter, this is what it would have said. 🙂
There’s not a day that goes by that Brian and I don’t turn to each other and say, in some fashion, “We are so, so, so blessed…” Now don’t get me wrong…we have had QUITE the year in some aspects, and someone looking at all of our various challenging circumstances might call us anything but “blessed” this past year. But “blessed” is all we can see when we look at what matters eternally. We are so grateful for the goodness of the Lord and how He’s carried us through every trial and lavished us with AMAZING children, faithful parents, loving relatives, and deep, life-changing friendships. How could we possibly be more blessed, even when our circumstances are trying?
SELAH, 15 1/2 months
Our sweet and spunky thrill baby who is extremely passionate about her favorite things. She has a special love for hats, coats, and shoes still, often trying to put a second pair of shoes over the ones she currently has on.
“Help, please, Mama?”
She loves picking up various articles of clothing laying around the house and putting them on her head or around her shoulders like a scarf.
“Look what I found!”“I didn’t think he’d need them while he was on the potty…”
She loves to dance, especially during worship, which means she is a perfect pair for her big brother who has recently started singing ALL the time. He often breaks out in spontaneous song, and she breaks out in spontaneous dance! (Watch this cute video, and ignore the fact that I don’t really know the tune or the words…)
She, like her big brother, is very particular about the way things should be (where on earth do they get that trait from??) and tells me how various parts of our routine should go. After getting her pajamas on for bedtime, she very passionately insists that she wants to read a book and she gets very, very upset when we don’t have time to read one. When I get her up in the morning she points to the chair where I nurse her and asks for milk, then she points to the boppy and says ,”Boop!” Then she points to her blanket which she likes over her during that morning nursing time. She finds every tiny piece of trash and food on the floor and brings it to me. She also LOVES to throw things away, and I think I’ve finally trained her to only throw away diapers and trash, not toys. 🙂
She can’t get enough of the trash can…
She still climbs ON and IN EVERYTHING including our HIGH kitchen table chairs which has caused many near-heart attacks for this Mama :/.
“Just helping you with dinner, Mama!”
She loves to take a “bipe!” of anything that we are eating, and besides yelling out, “bipe!” she opens her mouth INCREDIBLY wide to show us that she means business. If you ask her for a kiss, this is also the same face she makes…so you never know what you’re going to get :).
“Can I have kiss, Selah Bean?”
She is so, so playful. I love seeing how her spunky little mind works. She has several little “games” she plays with me…one is that as soon as I go to get her in the morning, she won’t let me pick her up until I’ve played peek-a-boo through the crib slats at least once with her. She also has this funny little game where she breathes out through her nose several times, waits for me to mimick her, and then she growls. I think it is SO FUNNY.
Sometimes, if I’m in the kitchen and she’s playing in the living room, she’ll call out to me and then do the breathe out/growl thing. As soon as I do it back to her, she’ll go right back to playing :). How awesome is she?? She fills my heart with utmost gratitude, joy, and constant laughter and awe.
ELLIOTT, 2 3/4 years old
I’ve said it before…but this child just brims my soul with delight. He LOVES friends, his sister, the bible, “building a big house” with duplos, wearing his jammies, singing songs, tiny things (ANYTHING that’s “tiny,” he LOVES), his daddy’s old playmobile set, puzzles, being a “working guy,” and animals. He still has a love-hate relationship with animals: he only ever wants to eat off the two plates that we have with animals on it and loves playing with his animal figurines, but refuses to go near an animal that’s alive and breathing. Recently, he’s developed a huge passion for stickers; he will go through an entire book of stickers and stick them in one pile onto another piece of paper.
“Don’t worry, Mom, I think I can fit at least 400 more stickers on this sheet of paper.”
His super power, besides having a phenomenal memory, is noticing incredibly subtle nuances or when anything is new or different. As we moved into the winter season and I began wearing more sweaters and warm things, he noticed every time I put on something he didn’t recognize. “This is new?” Recently he has discovered the word, “Why?” which has certainly given me a run for my money as a mom :). We did have some breakthrough recently…usually every day as Brian leaves for work, Elliott asks which car he’s going to take. When Brian answers, “the truck,” Elliott asks, “Why?” and Brian explains that he wants to leave the Suburban here in case we need to go somewhere. Well, the other day he said as Brian was leaving for work, “You take the truck? You take the truck so we have the ‘burban in case we need to go somewhere?” Elliott memorized his very first bible verse at the beginning of December, and loves talking about bible stories. A few weeks ago, he put a laundry detergent clear plastic cup on his chin like a beard and said, “I am Noah!” We then built our own ark out of duplos and filled it with animals!
“Let’s build an ark!”
He LOVES, and I mean L-O-V-E-S, applesauce. He eats an unbelievable amount of applesauce in a day and we definitely have to cut him off after a while. One morning while I was putting Selah down for a nap, I could hear Elliott opening and closing things in the kitchen and obviously working on something, I came downstairs to THIS face…INCREDIBLY pleased and delighted himself:
He couldn’t WAIT to show me what he had done ALL BY HIMSELF as soon as I got back downstairs…
Turns out he had gotten a bowl and spoon out for himself, opened the fridge, took out the applesauce, poured it into his own bowl, put the applesauce back in the fridge, and enjoyed his special treat that he prepared himself. As you can see, he was SO PLEASED with himself. So then I opened the fridge to look at the brand new applesauce jar that I had JUST opened, and this is how much applesauce was left :).
I keep telling him he’s going to turn into apple sauce if he keeps eating it at this rate!
Elliott has such a tender heart towards the Lord and LOVES to read the bible. He makes sure that we read it every day in this household…talk about accountability!! 🙂 One night a couple months ago, after requesting several stories that didn’t happen to be in the children’s bible we were reading, he finally said, “Read about Jesus, God, take mine sins away….Jesus DIED!” I’m in awe of his faith already at the age of 2…a toddler who does not want band-aids or other soothing methods when he gets an “owie,” but who cries out for Jesus to heal him instead. Pure delight to my soul.
THESE TWO….
BFFs.
Having two siblings who love each other (most of the time, haha!) is simply extraordinary. I think to myself multiple times a day, “What a GIFT to have two children who LOVE, and who are LEARNING to LOVE, each other…” The majority of the time, they play incredibly well together. Elliott is such a phenomenal big brother most all day long, and looks for ways to bless, serve, and help his little sister. When she’s crying in the car (which is most of the time, haha!), he sings, “LA, LA, LA, LA, LA!!!” at the top of his lungs until she starts to sing along, too, and forgets why she was crying. When we pull into our cul-de-sac he says, “Look, Selah! See? See??? We’re almost HOME!!!” When I get Selah in the mornings, as soon as I’m done nursing and changing her she asks for “Dada” and “Elliott!!” She will ask for him until he finally wakes up and then she RUNS into his room screaming because she can’t wait to see him. As soon as I get Elliott up, one of the first things he always asks is, “Was Selah asking for me?” They are truly BFFs. Lately they have been holding hands a lot, and it is the most precious thing ever.
Running around the house, holding hands…
He makes her laugh. I love how much laughter is in our home each day!! (You probably don’t have to watch the ENTIRE video to get the point…) 🙂
They have some sort of sleeping unity that I think is CRAZY. We have video monitors in their rooms, and I’m telling you—SO MANY TIMES they end up sleeping in the exact same position at the exact same time. I’ve probably taken a picture of it a dozen times, but it happens SO OFTEN! Isn’t that crazy?! Has anyone else experienced this??? I took these pictures seconds apart…
Her.Him.
He is also super helpful with her…feeding her when I am getting dinner ready and constantly telling me what she needs.
SO helpful, and she LOVES being fed by big brother!
When Elliott needs to go sit in a time out, she automatically goes and joins him. Kind of defeats the purpose of him being a little bit isolated so he can gather back up his self control, but it’s just so dang cute that I have a REALLY hard time telling her to move…I just love her love and admiration for him so much!
“Ahh, thanks for the sympathy, Selah! I’ll take it.” 🙂
She would be content snuggling and hugging him all day long…unfortunately he doesn’t ALWAYS have the patience for that :).
“I LOVE you, Elliott!!”Though he doesn’t always have the patience for hugs, he is constantly giving out kisses…
US TWO.
I continue to be the most blessed Mama on the planet, constantly in awe of the privilege it is to raise these children and spend every single day with them. I got to help teach a parenting class during the Fall, and it stirred up my faith even more for being a mom! Of course it can be challenging to train up these little ones, but the joy just so far exceeds the challenges. I LOVE my job!!!
Brian just finished one business adventure, and is on to the next. So although we are very much looking forward to ending our year-long transition streak, we are also super excited and expectant for what’s ahead. We are realizing that our entire marriage has been one big transition after another, yet it’s incredible to see how transition has made our marriage that much more stable. Brian and I so often say to each other, “I’m so glad it’s YOU.” We have had our fair share of trials and challenges this past year, but each time we have come out with a much deeper faith, much deeper confidence in the goodness of our God, and much greater love for one another. There are SO many questions we have pressed into in the last year, regarding life and godliness, and each time we examine the Word and come out in agreement over what it says, we praise God for the rare gift of unity that He’s poured out on us. THIS Scripture has been life:
“So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you have to endure many trials for a little while.These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.” 1 Peter 1:6-7
I think I can honestly say that I do not take a single blessing in my life for granted. Each day is a gift. My time with Elliott and Selah is so precious…I will never get these little years back, and although some days seem very LONG, I just don’t want to waste a single minute of each one. Each day with my husband is a gift. I married a man who works incredibly hard at every task that is set in his hands, who serves without question or expectation of reward, who guards his tongue, who selflessly takes care of those around him, who lives with integrity of character despite being misunderstood and mistreated, who holds a high standard of godliness in our home, who cherishes me and lavishes me with praise daily, and presses me to not settle short for less than the fullness of Christ. Never in a billion years could I possibly choose another. When I said on my wedding day, “The Lord has seen to every detail of what I need” I had no way of knowing how deep and profound I would come to understand that statement four and a half years later.
Transition and loss, new days and gain.Adios to Mexico, Hello, Rocky Mountain plain.Trials and joys, sickness and healthAnd a faith that is stronger than the greatest wealthWe thank you for your lessons but bid you farewell, 2013…This entire year you showed us that we are so very blessed indeed.
With great love,
The Mobergs
Wow. We have had a FULL few months! People have been wondering if we dropped off the planet but no–I assure you…our feet are firmly planted here on earth. More specifically, we have planted them firmly in a blue-sky, clear-air little city called Denver. (Cue song: “Rocky Mountain High…”)
We decided at the end of April to settle down here for now. “Why Denver?” you ask. Because we have found LIFE here. (Now you’re REALLY starting to wonder if we have been outside the planet Earth, aren’t you?!) We have found Life in a very small church here. Our dear, dear friends pastor a small house church, and the people within it (because aren’t WE “the church”?) have brought us LIFE. They believe that church should be about true community, not just about a building that you step into once a week. They believe church should be about FAITH, for “everything that does not come from faith is sin,” and have FAITH in every aspect of who God says he is in the Word. They spur us on, sharpen us, and encourage us in this faith, in our marriage, and in our lives. Oh, and did I mention that we LAUGH a lot when we’re with them?
Life. Community. Faith. Sharpening. Encouragement. The true gospel. And JOY.
Yes, these are the things that we need. These are the things that we value. And so…we are here. It is also a huge bonus that Susanne’s family lives just a couple hours away!
Our family!Our new “extended” family!
Please come visit any time :). If you’d like our updated address, just email us here and we’ll be so happy to send it your way!
Elliott’s very first real word was, “more.” He had been saying “Mama” and “Dada,” but “more” was the first word that he used in context and consistently. And other than, “Uh-oh,” it is still his favorite word. When he’s especially passionate, he doesn’t just say, “more,” he yells, “More DA MORE!!!”
He uses it all the time, in every scenario you can possibly think of.
I’ll never forget one of the first times we were at Sea World watching the dog show (dogs are HIS FAVORITE). The “Who let them dawgs out” song blasted loudly as dogs of every type sprinted out from behind stage and into view, running to the beat of the music. I looked at Elliott and said with expectation: “Big guy!! Do you see all the dogs?!?! Aren’t they so cool?!!!”
“MORE!” he insisted, bluntly and impatiently.
This is–literally–how ALL of our conversations go:
“Elliott, did you have fun playing with your friend?”
“More!”
“Elliott, did you like going to the zoo?”
“More!”
“Elliott, was that a yummy special treat that you had?”
“More!”
Elliott, you did so great throwing that ball!
“MORE!!”
“Elliott, are you grateful that we got to take a special airplane ride??!!”
“More DA MORE!”
He is simply not able to truly enjoy or appreciate the present because he’s always looking to the future, and he wants to make it very clear that we know that he wants more of that thing that he loves.
And my heart breaks. Doesn’t he know that I long to give him “MORE”? Doesn’t he know that it fills my heart with utmost joy to lavish him with good things? Doesn’t he know that I want to spend the rest of my life giving him good gifts, whether the form of those gifts looks like special play dates, balls, a chance to serve, or every-once-in-a-while–sugar?! Doesn’t he know that his daddy has to literally hold me back from buying every thing I see in Target that I know will bless him???
But mostly, the state of his heart breaks mine because he reminds me so much of me, and my heart towards my Father.
Sometimes when I am really, really, really grateful for something, a sneaky lie creeps its way into my mind and quickly tries to convince me that that something will be taken away. So as a result, I cannot fully celebrate gifts or the ones whom I love because of this little lie that they will probably be snatched from my hands. It is a rotten trick, but nonetheless it has been trying to persuade me to grab hold of its false comfort every since I can remember. “If you don’t embrace it too much, it won’t be as hard on your heart when it’s taken away…”
I remember being a little girl and not being able to fall asleep some nights because I was so afraid that my parents were going to die. One specific night when I was about 4 years old, I cried and cried one night in bed until I finally ran to my mom for solace. And I don’t remember anything that she said, but I clearly remember what she did. She scooped me up, sat me on her lap, held me close, and rocked me. What brought peace? Not promises of what the future would hold, but the comfort and security of my mama’s love.
Fear robs. It robs from me. It robs from us. My God is not a God whom I should look upon with fear, because there is, simply, “no fear in love,” (1 John 4:18) and He is all-consuming Love. My God is not a God who tells me that I should live in fear, because He has “not given us a spirit of fearfulness” (2 Timothy 1:7).
It’s difficult to put into words how grateful I am for all that the Lord has given me in this simple life I lead. It is not glamorous or easy, but it is perfect. Perfect because of the ones I get to do this crazy life with. He’s given me a husband who adores me and lays his life down for me. Children who bring me more delight than I ever could have imagined possible. Friends who love us. Family who takes care of us. Yet as I approached my 31st birthday, and I examined the state of my heart, all I could honestly find was, “More DA MORE!!!” I don’t want more things, I don’t want more money. I simply want more time with the ones that I love. More days with my daughter, more days with my son, more days with my very best friend who has added such a tremendous amount of joy in the last few years that he has loved me. I want more giggles with my Selah and more tickles with my Elliott. I want more games of “Get you!” and more rides on the swings. I want more soccer and I want more tea parties.
And, of course, all of that is GOOD! It’s good for me to want more time with my family instead of less! It is good for me to miss my husband like CUH-RAZY when he hasn’t even been away from me for 24 hours. But it’s not good when there’s fear robbing from my gratitude. It’s not good when I am so concerned about what tomorrow may or may not bring that I can’t fully, fully value and enjoy today.
Colossians 3:15 says, “Let the peace of God rule in your hearts…and be thankful.” Don’t you love how the “peace of God” precedes thankfulness? I do. Not peace from financial security. Not peace from a known future. Not peace from the guarantee of prosperity. No, what brings peace? The comfort and security of my Father’s love. I love that it is only because I am at peace with Him, at peace with His love for me, that I have the ability to be thankful.
Peace from His perfect love, which covers and fills me. The peace of God.
Because of THIS: “If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!” (Matthew 7:11).
Ahhh, peace. HE longs to GIVE me more…more than I can fathom. Sometimes I think of Elliott and how little he really understands about the world. To him, Heaven would be a ball pit filled with every type of sports ball that there is. And while that does sound great, 🙂 he doesn’t even know…oh, he has no idea of the incredible joys that will be made known to him as he grows…the incredible gifts just around the corner. He, like me, literally cannot fathom what MORE there is to come. And that’s okay. I only desire for him to take great delight in the gifts and treasures of today, and simply trust that I long to give him more.
So this year, I desire MORE. More understanding of God’s love for me. More revelation of how much he lavishes me in love. More trust that He desires to give me good gifts. More peace in my heart that allows me to be filled with real gratitude..
Real gratitude for DA MORE…
More play dates at the park with my son, throwing balls, climbing high and swinging hard.
My morning birthday buddy.
More special treats at a cute little coffee shop, reading books together in a new, fun place.
Because SOMEONE’S gotta treat this birthday girl to a latte with whipped cream the size of her face when Daddy’s out of town!!
More HUMONGOUS, MEDAL-WORTHY tantrums thrown upon leaving said cute little coffee shop, if it means that I get to be the one to train and shape my son into becoming a godly, wise, filled-with-self-control man.
(No picture available. I’ll leave the scene of me trying to get him into his car seat while screaming, crying, and flailing next to a busy road up to your imagination.) 🙂
More scraped up knees and bloody faces if it means we were playing a rousing and hilarious game of “who can get the ball first?”
But you shoulda seen the other guy…
More special birthday outfits of yoga pants and maternity t-shirts (not because I’m pregnant! Only to hide my post partum belly!) because my crying, wounded son’s pee leaked completely through his diaper and onto my much-cuter, pre-blood and pee clothes while I was consoling him.
Well, at least I was showered when he peed on me!
More snuggles and kisses from my baby girl, who was so excited for my birthday today that she woke up earlier than she has in 4 months so we could start celebrating during the 5am hour…
Worth EVERY extra minute of missed sleep.
More ribbons and bows from my teething, fussy, adorable little blue-eyed beauty!
“If you’ll just let me chew on this spoon, I’ll stop crying.”
More laughter and love from this perfect face …
Elliott is entertaining her; can you tell she simply adores him??
More fun treats that bring the perfect end to hilarious days…
More, more, MORE of my handsome, strapping husband. More emails and text messages and phone calls from the love of my life, who has lavished me with celebration today, even from thousands of miles away. Who lavishes me with celebration every day, loving me and exhorting me and encouraging me and spurring me on and fanning me into flame and filling me with truth.
Mother’s Day
MORE. More DA MORE!! of days and days filled with the peace of my Everlasting God, which drives me to gratefully enjoy the many abundant and perfect gifts that He has lavished upon me.
Happy 31st birthday to me!! And may I have many MORE DA MORE!! 🙂
Well, amigos, the Mexican Mobergs are officially hanging up their sombreros and saying, “Adios” to Meh-hee-koe.
It was exactly a year and a half ago that we decided to completely abandon life as we knew it and take what was, for us, a bold step of faith, and become missionaries outside of this broken little city called Tijuana. We spent two months on outreach before settling down here in Mexico just over a year ago.
And what a year it has been. We have learned what feels like a lifetime of lessons in just 16 short months. As any God-given adventure should leave you, we will never be the same.
Like little children anticipating their first day of school, we had many pictures and ideas in our heads of what it would be like to be full time missionaries for YWAM San Diego/Baja. Yet all we were certain of as we hopped on that very first flight to the DR which began our journey, was that the only thing we could be certain of was that there would be so many unknowns. Isn’t that the way of faith? Sure of what we hope for, certain of what we do not see…
For us, we were sure in the character of our God, and certain that He had a good plan for us, to grow us, to teach us, to prosper us. And oh, my, have we grown. I mean, we started out with just one kid, and now we have two!
But seriously, Brian and I have grown tremendously. We have learned–so much–about ourselves and about others. He has prospered us–abundantly–in ways that we couldn’t have planned for ourselves. I never would have (though I probably should have!) guessed that our faith would be so challenged in the last year. And it has been wonderful. Wonderful in the way that you feel after you have worked out and your muscles are loose and strong. Although you are tired, you are energized. And you are ready for the next workout to begin.
We had every intention of staying with YWAM SDB longer. Not only did we have the intention of staying, but we were so excited about staying.
So, why are we leaving now, you ask?
Well, the following scriptures sum it up quite perfectly:
“Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails.” (Proverbs 19:21)
“In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps.” (Proverbs 16:9)
To us, the scriptures are very clear–we can plan our course, but it is GOD who determines our individual steps. And within the course that we plan, it will always be HIS purpose that prevails.
And thank God for that! What peace comes from knowing He will lead us in the way we are to go according to His best for us…
So we had planned our course–staffing the DTS through March–but in an intricate web of purposes that we will probably never know the fullness of, God has determined our steps. And in this case, it is to step away from full time missions and step into…. (drum roll please!)
…we have no idea.
And so here we are again, with a clean slate, no job, two perfect children and (sing with me!) a sombrer-o in a palm tree!
The last time we had a “clean slate” like this, we at least had a home! But now, we are starting from scratch in every arena of our lives…we need a new country, a new home, and a new job! Although this kind of slate may sound scary to some, we are so excited to walk this path of figuring out what’s on God’s heart for us next. His purposes for us have been so grand in the last 3 and a half years, that we would be foolish to not expect amazing purpose ahead.
We couldn’t possibly be more grateful for this last 16 months. The Lord has done a work in our lives that we wouldn’t trade for anything. Wanna hear a few things that He has done in us? Ways that He has grown us, taught us, and prospered us? Well, read on, mis amigos!
Mexican Moberg highlights from our time with YWAM San Diego/Baja
NUMERO UNO:
“Every good and perfect gift comes from above, from the Father of lights.” (James 1:17)
We have had so many “good and perfect gifts” fall down upon us in this last season. So many. We have been humbled, blessed, and oh-so-grateful for every way our family and close friends have rallied around us to support us–financially, emotionally, spiritually, practically. Although you have all certainly been part of advancing the kingdom down here in Mexico, you have also been a part of advancing the Kingdom in our hearts as the Lord has taught us so, so much. Thank you for supporting us and for journeying with us!
NUMERO DOS:
“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” (John 15:12)
Our new YWAM friends. There are so many of you, and too many to name in this post. (But if you’re our friend, and you’re part of YWAM, then we’re talking about YOU!!) It’s amazing how quickly you develop friends from all over the world when you’re part of YWAM. And though we love ALL of you, there are a few who, I’m sure, will remain dear in our hearts forever. Our DTS friends will probably always be our favorites :).
Our DTS Classmates and Staff!
Among our DTS friends, Rayel has become a part of our family. I’m really not sure what Elliott is going to do without her, as he asks about her daily and she is his favorite playmate. Rayel lived with us for (too short of) a season, and we just love her dearly. And, though I promise I will encourage her to always follow the Lord’s leading in her life, I am also fairly certain that I will (continue to) try to convince her to come live with us again :). She is just so dear, and we are going to miss her terribly!!
Drinking buddies forever!
Jarot. We love Jarot. Jarot has served our family extravagantly since the moment we first crossed the border in moving here. Literally. He helped us get all of our stuff to Mexico (which is not an easy task!), and has been here for our family every time we’ve been in need. His heart to serve at the drop of a hat is extraordinary, and we have been so, so blessed by his faithfulness to our family.
Though I could write a whole blog post on this, a few sentences will have to suffice: the other moms in this community have done nothing but lavish love on us since we’ve been here. Jamie has been my saving grace more times than I can count as she has made and given me a number of items that have made my life A MILLION TIMES EASIER. She’s like the baby stuff whisperer :). I am so grateful for her over this last year, especially as we’ve probably written an entire book through email regarding babies and their crazy sleep habits!!
Jamie, with Elliott and her son Hunter–a YEAR ago! Wow! Now we both have baby girls added to the mix.
Korrin has a heart of gold and loves others lavishly and deeply. She is a mum to the three cutest kiwi boys that I’ve ever known and spear headed throwing Selah a phenomenal baby shower despite the MILLION other things on her plate. She and her husband have included their children in their ministry, and it has been inspiring to watch. Rachel is a faithful, faithful friend whose stories about herself and her son have me rolling every time I see her. She is always real, and you will always find her serving someone. These three women (who all have boys just a bit older than Elliott) have been such a gift in this season.
Korrin, Amanda and Rachel at Selah’s shower
Giezi and Amanda. Wow, do we love this team. They have been heart friends, whom we can laugh with, be real with, share our struggles and our victories with…besides both being extraordinarily gifted, they have such tender and soft hearts toward the Lord and are some of the easiest people to just LAUGH with… We knew we loved them the moment we met them a year and a half ago (are you crying yet? because I am…), and our admiration and respect for them has only grown over time. To say we will miss them dearly doesn’t come close to communicating the reality of how sad it is to say goodbye.
Giezi and Amanda meeting Selah for the first time when she was just days old…
NUMERO TRES:
“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”(Matthew 25:34-40)
It has been such an honor to be a small part of pressing forward the Homes of Hope ministry here. Although we have only been able to focus a small portion of our time on this ministry while we’ve been here, we did get to sponsor a home build of our own for Elliott’s first birthday and Brian’s had the opportunity to oversee a number of builds for many different teams. In YWAM San Diego/Baja, you have never seen a more dedicated group of believers strapping on their tool belts almost every weekend to build homes for Mexicans who don’t have one. It’s an incredible sight, and over 125 families now have homes just in the time that we’ve been with YWAM. Isn’t that incredible?! And this all started with Sean and Janet Lambert and their three little girls. Such an inspiration to raise our kids selflessly looking outward!! We have said it dozens of times–the spectacle of this base is a SIGHT to see…and what an honor to be a part of it! (And if you and/or your family ever want to come on a mission trip, COME HERE!! You will surely, surely leave changed!) YWAM San Diego/Baja, our hat sombrero is certainly off to you!!!
NUMERO CUATRO:
So when they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love Me more than these?” He said to Him, “Yes, Lord; You know that I love You.” He said to him, “Tend My lambs.” He said to him again a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love Me?” He said to Him, “Yes, Lord; You know that I love You.” He said to him, “Shepherd My sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love Me?” Peter was grieved because He said to him the third time, “Do you love Me?” And he said to Him, “Lord, You know all things; You know that I love You.” Jesus said to him, “Tend My sheep.” (John 21:15-17)
Probably the biggest reality that we’ve discovered about ourselves through this adventure of being missionaries is that we are primarily passionate about ‘feeding the sheep.’ We have had a huge passion grow within us to fulfill the great commission to, “Go and make disciplesof all nations,” (Matthew 28:19-20). Whether we are at ‘home’ in the USA or in a foreign land we desire that our lives would be marked by the visible fruit of transformation in the lives of the people around us (particularly the ones we are discipling intentionally.) For us, as we shared in our last update, this means to press others into the fullness of the gospel, the fullness of abundant life, the fullness of the freedom that Christ died for. For us, this means intentionally seeking for true salvation in our lives and the lives of those around us–true salvation, meaning healing, wholeness… For us, this means pressing for true repentance in our lives and the lives of those around us–not just confessing our sins (those pesky habits that keep us from the love of God) but also repenting of our sins (turning away from them and not continuing to do them!). For us, this means pressing others into the fullness of their callings in Christ. We have no idea what it will look like for us to “tend His lambs,” but we are expectant that He will honor our hearts. We have gained a real burden for God’s people (the church) in the last year, believing that we, as the church, are meant to be radiant in every aspect of our lives. So although we do have a heart for missions (and might even step back into it one day!), this is what’s on our hearts right now.
And so…what of my dreams, you ask? Well, my friends, I would say this: I’m grateful my God promises me GREAT, when often I can only see GOOD. And because of that, our dreams have just barely begun…
So! Stay tuned :). Thank you for reading and tracking with our lives! We are excited and expectant for what’s ahead!
It’s amazing how when something goes right, you realize how wrong it was before. In retrospect, I have even more confidence that the c-section was exactly the right call with Elliott. I know it may sound crazy, but despite the facts, there was always this teeny, tiny lingering thought in the back of my head wondering if the c-section was absolutely necessary. After Selah’s birth, that thought is totally gone. I had contractions. I dilated (eventually). Her heart rate stayed strong. I pushed. She came out.
I also have to laugh a little (mostly at myself) for all of the research and reading that goes into creating the “perfect” birth experience. “That” experience is just so far out of our control. I have to laugh at all the people who say there is a “right” way, and “anyone” can accomplish that way… When things are in the right places and going right, you’ll probably have a successful vaginal labor and delivery. When they’re not in the right place, you might end up in a c-section. I strongly believe in the expert help of a doula and/or midwife to help with positioning, etc., assuming that there are no complications big enough to keep the baby from being birthed naturally. But this whole delivery experience (and the ease of it) has really made me calm down a bit. Why did I push for 30 minutes and I’ve had friends push for hours and hours? Not because I read a book on pushing! Because…because…? Because we’ll never know. Because labor and delivery is OUT OF OUR CONTROL… And…IN HIS…
Now, back to Selah B and her birth day! I got to hold my daughter for the first entire hour of her life. How precious, how special. Such a gift. Just after noon, I handed her off to Daddy, who finally got to hold his little princess.
So proud.The first kiss of many, many, many more to come…
I remember the nurse asking us how big we thought she was, and realizing that I hadn’t even thought about the fact that we didn’t know her stats yet. I remember having no idea how big she was. I had been so scared of giving birth to a HUMONGOUS baby because a) I had gained AN ENORMOUS amount of weight with this pregnancy (way more than with Elliott) and b) I had had two friends recently give birth to 9+ and 10+ pound babies in September. I think I guessed 9 lbs, assuming she’d be bigger than Elliott because she was my second and also because I figured hot dogs & mac & cheese probably make for chubby babies, right?
But she wasn’t 9 lbs at all…8 lbs, 2.9 ounces to be exact!
The nurse measured her at 20 1/4 inches. Although, here’s a little secret fact for you. At her initial doctor’s appointment when she was 4 days old, she very clearly measured at 21 inches. SO, either the nurse measured her wrong originally, or our baby girl grew 3/4 of an inch in 4 days. You can decide for yourself what you think Selah’s REAL length was :).
Tiny feet3/4 of the Moberg Family
Before Selah was born, I made a banner for her and hung it over her waiting bassinet as a sort of declaration of faith. It said, “Welcome Home, Selah!” But in the exclamation mark at the end, it said, “We did it!” And although I didn’t know exactly what the “it” was going to look like, I knew the Lord was going to bring us through. I looked at and thought of that banner MANY times during the last few weeks of pregnancy and during my labor, as a reminder that yes, I would soon be bringing my baby girl home…that yes, I could do this…that yes, we would soon pass this test of faith…that yes, we would soon be on the other side of this pregnancy, of this labor, of this delivery.
Note #1: Because my firstborn, my sweet baby Elliott, was born via c-section, we had to make a choice about the type of birth we wanted to have with our daughter. A VBAC (vaginal birth after Cesarean) has its risks because it is possible (though unlikely with the type of incision I had with my cesarean) that the uterus could erupt during labor. However, having multiple c-sections has its disadvantages as well. We spent *a lot* of time praying, reading, researching, talking to doctors, midwives, and others, and finally decided that we wanted to go for the VBAC. However, we fully trusted the Lord for the outcome…trusting that He would make it clear to us every step of the labor if we were to keep moving forward with trying for a VBAC or if we should stop and have a c-section. My doctor said she wasn’t comfortable letting me go past 41 ½ weeks, so we had a c-section date scheduled for October 8 at 2:00pm with a check-in time of noon. If I didn’t go into labor before then, then our answer would be clear…
Note #2: One of the things that was difficult about my first labor/delivery experience is that I had so much trouble REMEMBERING most of those initial moments that Elliott was born. I am so grateful for the pictures that Brian and our doula took because I have no memory of the first few minutes that I got to hold him and nurse him. It had been a long, very hard week leading up to his birth and then a fairly traumatic rush into the emergency c-section. Anyhow, when I went to write out Selah’s birth story, the words that kept coming to mind were, “I remember…”…becauseI did. I am so grateful for the many gifts the Lord gave me in this labor and delivery, one of them being THE MEMORIES.
The Day That Selah Came
(And the days leading up to it…)
My due date came and went, and I was desperately trying to send my body into real labor. I remember one particular day, being super determined to get contractions going. I took Elliott outside to play soccer and every time he kicked the ball past me down the street I would run down the hill as fast I could to stop it.
And he thinks HE needs water!
At one point we walked to the bottom of the hill because he wanted to see the dogs, but then he got tired and wanted me to carry him back up the hill. I gladly scooped him up and made the hike! I got home and did 5 sets of stairs (my goal was 10, but that didn’t happen!). That night I attempted jumping jacks. And although I only made it through about 3 of them, I was laughing so hard at myself that I thought my snorting laughter alone might send me into labor! But it didn’t. And I was WIPED the next day from all of my labor-inducing tricks.
So, we went to the beach. And I laid down while Grandma & Grandpa Moberg played with Elliott. I was too tired to try and force my body into labor.
My vantage point on beach day. Can you see Grandma & Grandpa with Elliott over my HUMONGOUS baby belly?
Saturday, 10.6.12. I told Brian I needed a change of scenery. You can only walk around the block so many times when you are DAYS AND DAYS overdue before you start to go a bit crazy. I was officially one week overdue at this point, and the deadline of noon on October 8 was creeping up quickly… We all decided to go to San Diego for the day, run a few errands, find a fun park for Elliott to play in, and go to dinner with some family friends who happened to be in town. Little did I know that after having dinner with these same friends, Brian’s brother & sister-in-law went into labor the next day with their first…dun, dun, dun….
Little Buddy (soon to be BIG buddy!) loved the new park!Big Brother Elliott and me, one week overdue.
I got home that night and a friend asked how I was doing, knowing that my labor deadline was approaching so quickly. And I remember relaying to her the revelation that I had recently gained conviction for in my spirit: “You know, the Lord is so in control. He EASILY could have sent me into labor by now…” In the previous 24 hours, I had had such a peace come over me that the deadline set by man could not hinder the Lord’s plan for our lives. If He wanted me to attempt a VBAC, He would make it happen. If He didn’t, He would keep my body from going into labor.
So when I woke up with contractions around midnight, I remember encouraging myself (because yes, I often encourage myself!), “See…you knew He was in control…”
Labor begins…and I remember…
I remember thinking, “I can’t do this.” A lot of times. Like when we headed across the border at 5 am and I was throwing up in the car while having back labor contractions. And then Brian stopped for gas :). Like when we got across the border and daylight hit and my contractions stopped, just like they had done with Elliott. Like when I called the doctor on call to talk to her about what to do, not knowing how long I was allowed to “labor,” and she snapped at me, telling me 20 minutes between contractions is not real labor. Like when my contractions picked back up that afternoon, with heavy, intense back labor, and were 3 minutes apart for a minute long and I knew these were only the beginning stages of labor and I could barely handle it. Like when we decided to head to the hospital and I was on all fours, throwing up into a bucket, sweating from every pore of my body, feeling like someone was wringing out my gut from the inside out and scraping the nerves of my lumbar and sacrum with a scalpel.
But let’s back up a minute…
Midnight, 10.7.12. I remember waking up with contractions that continued steadily, every 5-8 minutes. Finally, around 3 am, I remember gently shaking Brian awake with a, “Happy Birthday, my love…guess what? I’m having regular contractions! Do you think we should head to San Diego?”
I remember packing up and trying to keep down an egg sandwich despite the nausea attempting to push it back up. I remember the moment the nausea won. And I remember collecting barf bags to bring in the car with us.
6 a.m. I remember arriving at the YWAM Hospitality house in San Diego, eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes, and laying down to rest for a bit because the contractions had almost entirely stopped…
Noonish. I remember being “that pregnant woman” walking through the Bonita Mall, trying to get my contractions going again but so badly wanting to celebrate Brian’s birthday…and I remember him saying over and over, “This is the exact way I want to celebrate my birthday…preparing for our baby girl to arrive!” And I remember realizing, once again, that I married the most incredible man on earth.
Happy Birthday, Baby Daddy!
Now, back to the “I can’t do this…”
3 p.m. ish. I remember laying down to try to rest when my contractions and the scalpel-scraping back labor all came back with a vengeance. I remember pushing against the wall with each contraction–the only position that was remotely “comfortable.” I remember finally getting down on all fours, head in a bucket, and trying to drown out the “I can’t do this’s” in my head by saying out loud over and over, “You can do this, Sus…you can do this…” After an hour of this, 3 minutes apart, we decided to head to the hospital.
I remember crying most of the way to the hospital. Not “I’m-in-so-much-pain” crying (even though I was!!), but “totally-overwhelmed-with-the-(amazing)-reality-that-this-was-actually-happening” crying. I called the hospital between contractions to tell them I was coming in. The first woman I talked to was sooo nice to me (God bless good ol’ fashioned NICE PEOPLE!!) and was sooo excited for me. “Oh, you are?!” the stranger exclaimed (as if she were my best friend) upon hearing the news that we were coming in. “Let me connect you to triage. Do you know what you’re having?!”
“It’s a GIRL!!!!” I sobbed as the dam holding together my composure came crashing down with a flood of tears…almost as a proclamation from my spirit that she was finally coming…Yes, she was coming!! We still didn’t know how, but we knew she was coming…now. Months and months of overcoming my fear of what could happen during this labor were coming to an end…now. Months and months of building up my faith, of learning how to trust the Lord in a whole new way…and now, now! Now the muscles of faith that I had been building for those months would get to participate in Game Day. Now…
“Oh, congratulations!!!”
“THANK YOU!!!” I sobbed back, and would have thrown myself into a big bear hug in her arms had she been standing in front of me.
She put me on hold and I just cried and cried…the lady picked up from triage: “May I help you?”
I quit trying to hide the fact that I was a blubbering mess, and I unashamedly cried like a baby into my cell phone. “Hi! I-I’m (sob) in (sob) labor and I-I’m (sob) coming in to the (sob) hospital!”
“Yay!! Congratulations! We’ll see you when you get here!”
“Okay!!!” I sputtered back through my stream of tears.
I remember being so overwhelmed. So grateful my contractions had stayed at 3-4 minutes apart for the last hour and half…so grateful that SOMETHING was going to happen.
I remember being checked into triage. I remember the nurse telling me that I needed to cleanse, pee a little bit in the toilet, and then pee in a cup. I remember looking at her like she had just asked me to do a handstand…was she cuh-RAZY? It’s hard enough to pee in a cup when your 10+ months pregnant, but to do it while having horrific back labor and to pee a little, stop, and then get the rest in a cup?! Okay…moving on…
5pm. I remember finally getting to the bed where they checked me. I remember the nurse checking me and telling me I was… (drum roll please…)
…at a 1 and a ½.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I remember thinking. A 1 and a ½???
I remember her saying, “Well, but your contractions are so intense and so close together (every 2 minutes) that I can’t imagine they’ll send you home…I’m sure they’ll admit you. You’re about 80% effaced.”
I remember being so grateful for that, thinking back to my labor with Elliott. (“Just please, please don’t send me home!!”) I remember them taking me off the c-section schedule for the next day, because even if I were to end up with a cesarean, I didn’t need that scheduled appointment anymore.
5:59 p.m. I remember meeting the doctor on call, and not being a big fan. And why had it taken her an hour to get there?? But she admitted me, and advised me not to get an epidural (which I was very adamant about making sure everyone I came into contact with knew that I was very eager to get started) until I was at least at a 4. I remember thinking that would be hard, but it was a good goal.
6:45 p.m. They finally got us upstairs to the delivery room.
7:05 p.m. I remember my sweetest little Elliott, who got to come up to visit. I remember having a contraction while he was there, and desperately trying to smile through it for him. I remember him seeing the yellow exercise ball in the room and shouting, “Boh!!” and I remember just wanting him to laugh and run and play with it, filling the room with innocence… I remember that he wanted to sit on my lap and he kept pointing at all the “bracelets” I had on my wrist. And I remember that it was one of those moments where you are so glad he doesn’t understand that the red one is in case I need a blood transfusion and the IV in my arm is in case I have to be rushed into surgery…and his naivete brought a sort of refreshing calm to my spirit…it wasn’t his job to worry about anything other than why I was so blessed with some new “jewelry,” just as it wasn’t my job to worry about anything other than resting (well, ahem, laboring!) in the Lord’s hands. Constantly grateful for the ways my son reminds me that I am my Father’s daughter, His little girl, His baby.
“Wow! Look at all your pretty bracelets, Mommy!”
7:15 p.m. I remember getting iv drugs—Zophran to help with the nausea and some pain medication to help relax my body to hopefully help me dilate and make some progress.
9:27 p.m. I remember the nurse checking me and telling me I was at a 3. And I remember thinking I didn’t want to deal with the back labor any longer. We had decided ahead of time that it would be the best thing for me to get an epidural in case I needed an emergency c-section, and so if I was going to get one anyway, I wasn’t willing to endure the back labor anymore. I remember praying with Brian, and feeling peace about getting the epidural right then, even though I wasn’t at a 4.
9:40 p.m. I remember Dr. K. coming in to give me the epidural. I remember them telling Brian to sit down in a chair in front of me so he couldn’t see the needle, and giving him a mask. I remember the needle going in, and it feeling off-centered…like it was to the left of my spine.
10:55 p.m. I remember the nurse checking me, and relaying the news that I had made no progress. I remember being discouraged (this scenario was all too familiar…), but still at peace. They put the catheter in, and I tried to sleep, knowing they were going to relay the news to the doctor.
11:19 p.m. Dr. R (the OB) came in and checked me. I remember her telling me that I was actually still at a 1 ½. Ha!! How do you dilate backwards?? I remember wanting to ask for someone with smaller fingers to check me again. 🙂 I remember feeling like she thought I was the biggest wimp, and I remember not caring at all. She broke my water, and it was clear. A great sign.
I remember so badly wanting Selah to be born on Brian’s birthday, and realizing that it wasn’t going to happen…
I remember joining hands with my husband and praying boldly for our hearts’ desires…that God would allow us to have a VBAC.
I remember sleeping, and suddenly being woken up with panic. I couldn’t feel my left leg (which felt like it was the size of a tree trunk) at all and the back labor had returned on the right side of my back. I remember panicking…feeling so out of control…wondering how I would get on all fours if her heart rate dropped like Elliott’s had. Wondering if I could do this…feeling so tired of the whole process. I remember my husband taking my hand and I remember praying with him…I remember him boldly declaring truth over me and our sweet Selah, and I remember feeling peace. I remember asking him to get my ipod, in which I had just put on a new playlist of 4 songs specifically about the Lord’s faithfulness, specifically for Selah’s birth. And I put the ipod by my head, and rested beneath the promises of the Lord…
4 a.m. I remember Dr. R. checking me and telling me I was at a 4. Hallelujah. I remember her saying I needed to keep dilating in order for this to keep going…
I remember texting a couple people to pray for dilation breakthrough!
6:55 a.m. I remember them checking me and telling me I was at a 6…that could be stretched to a 7!
7:00 a.m. Doctor’s shift change, praise God. I remember Dr. Huskey coming in, and cheering for me. We had made it this far. I remember being in her office the previous Wednesday and I had been at a 0. We had talked through the c-section protocol. But now, here we were…on c-section day, but I was in labor. I remember being relieved that she was on call, not the other doctor anymore… I remember her saying, gently but firmly, “Okay, I’ll give you as much time as I can–until 10 o’clock—and we’ll check you again. As long as you’ve made progress, we’ll keep going. Now, if you’re still at a 6, we need to talk about a c-section, okay?”
I remember saying, “Okay,” and not being afraid. I remember simply being so confident that the Lord was going to bring Selah into this world in the perfect way…whether it was vaginally or through surgery.
Then, I remember realizing it was time to put my game face on. My Deborah face. It was time to stir up the Mama in me that was created to rise up and fight. There is this balance (that I have been learning about) of relinquishing my plans in the Lord’s hands, trusting Him to bring about the BEST way, but also knowing I was created to fight, to war, to cry out for my heart’s desires. So, I rose up. I began to pray and talk to Selah constantly. I even moved my iPod down towards…how do I say this…”The Exit” (tmi?) so that she would hear the music, singing of God’s faithfulness, and know which way to get out :). I talked her down…I told her which way to go and what to do. I prayed for her. I prayed for me. I remember being so filled with peace, and so filled with a confidence that she was moving…
And then, I remember feeling the urge to take a big poop…that’s what everyone had said it would feel like. I remember being half in and out of sleep/prayer land and feeling that and suddenly, urgently, excitedly, hopefully calling Brian. “I feel like I need to poop!!”
“Okay…” he responded. (Oh, the things my husband puts up with!) 🙂
“That’s what everyone says it feels like when you’re ready to push!”
I asked him to get the nurse, and when she came in I relayed the news with incredible eagerness to her, just like a toddler who’s potty training. “Well, I’m only allowed to check you every 2 hours. So let’s wait until 10…”
9:55 a.m. I remember the nurse coming in just before 10 and saying, “Well should we check you?! I can’t wait any longer to find out if you’ve made progress!” And I remember thinking, “You’re telling me! Check me!!”
And time paused in that moment and a heavy stillness fell in the room as if all of creation was waiting for her answer. And then it came…And I remember…oh, I remember her smiling, and saying…
“You’re at a 10. Her head is right there…you’re ready to push!!”
I had never heard those words before!! And I remember crying and saying, “Really?! Really??? I get to push?!!!”
I remember her saying, “Now don’t push yet. Wait for me to get back in here so I can show you how.” And I remember thinking, “Are you crazy? I have NO idea what I’m doing…I’m not pushing without you!”
I remember other nurses coming in and setting up the room. It was happening. I remember Brian taking notes on his phone. I remember us trying to figure out how to set up the tripod to take pictures. I remember putting one song on repeat and putting the ipod up by my ear. I remember being so at peace…I remember being so confident in our God. I remember the room being a place that was calm…not panicked…and I couldn’t believe this was how birth is supposed to be…
I do remember wondering how I was going to push since I couldn’t even feel my left leg…
10:30 a.m. I remember them getting my legs in the stirrups.
I remember asking for a mirror.
10:33 a.m. I remember the nurse teaching me how to push, and I remember doing a practice push. I remember thinking pushing was going to be so challenging, but I was so eager, ready, and excited to face it. I remember doing the practice push and asking, “Is that it?? Am I doing this right??”
I remember thinking that I would need a lot of help, but I didn’t. At one point, I remember the nurse had to walk out of the room and Brian was trying to get the tripod set up, and I just push, push, pushed on my own…so eager to see my baby girl. I remember thinking that pushing was a lot easier than I had thought it would be, and that was PURELY the grace of God…
I remember smiling the entire time that I pushed. I couldn’t help it…I was pushing!! I was pushing my baby girl out!! This was it!!!! I was filled with an all-consuming peaceful joy…serenity…
Pushing!! And smiling!!
10:43 a.m. I remember seeing the top of her head!!!!!
10:57 a.m. I remember the nurse calling in the doctor and the team…
I remember Dr. Huskey coming in and pushing once for her. Then I remember her saying, “Okay, I want her to come out on this next push, alright? Can you do it?” And I remember saying, “Yes!”
11:07 a.m. And then…oh, and then!! I remember seeing Selah’s perfect head followed by her perfect body come out, and I remember her crying right away…
…And I remember thinking, “We did it!! We DID it!!”
…and I remember watching everyone’s faces and I remember that none of them were panicked…I remember thinking, “It’s all okay…everyone is okay…”
…And I remember them putting Selah on my chest and I remember being absolutely overcome with gratitude…
…I got to hold my baby girl!! I got to hold her right away!! And I remember those first few moments of holding her in my arms….
…There she was, crying on my chest…she was mine…and I was filled with overwhelming gratitude…
…And I remember talking to her and just loving hearing her cry…
I remember telling her that she did such a great job over and over and over again…that she knew exactly what to do and she did it…
I remember holding her on my chest and loving being her mom…loving getting to see her up close right away…loving every minute…
I remember thanking the Lord…over and over and over again…I remember being so, so grateful…I remember somewhere in all that my doctor said, “You tore a little bit…to a 2.” And I remember instantly saying, “That’s okay!!!” What a small price to pay for my sweet baby Selah!! And I remember…I remember it all…
“You have given her her heart’s desire, And have not withheld the request of her lips. Selah!”
Psalm 21:2
Oh, how she isand will be a constant reminder to stop, to pause…to remember the Lord’s faithfulness and to lift up praise to His name!!!
Brian has been working in L.A. today (what does “L.A.” stand for, you ask? …a Long way Away!!!!) so he won’t be back till late tonight. After putting Elliott down, I decided to take advantage of every minute I had to be ultra productive–so I showered, got the kitchen all cleaned up and the dishes done, started a couple loads of laundry, made my second dinner (don’t judge) and sat down for a nice quiet evening with one goal in mind: get our update letter written.
Well, as I waddled on over to sit down at my computer with my second dinner, something–HUGE–caught my eye and I stopped dead in my tracks. And then I laughed. And laughed again. You know–that nervous, giggle-laughter where you’re caught somewhere between shocked and freaked out even though you know what’s happening is really quite funny but your body is somehow frozen and the only part of you that works is your giggle button…yeah, that kind of laugh.
Can you see it there? Just “hanging out” right behind my computer?
Meet our new pet:
Why, hello there.
When my limbs started working again I instinctively went to grab Elliott so I could share the creature with him–just like I did earlier when the two bunnies were frolicking outside in the street or every time a new type of bug worms its way into our house or when a flock of birds is soaring through the sky. But, he was asleep. So I went to get Brian–but quickly remembered he wasn’t home! So I grabbed my third best buddy–my camera–and we shared in this ridiculous moment together.
But I just couldn’t stop laughing…at myself! And honestly, do you know why? Because it is a gecko*, and it had me so startled I couldn’t move. A gecko. Come on, folks. There are MUCH worse things to find crawling in your house. But the fact that it had me so freaked out that I didn’t even want to sit down at my computer for fear of it doing a back-flip onto my face IS RIDICULOUS. Because it’s a gecko. Not a gorilla.
Although, LOOK–he’s the same size as my sleeping Elliott!!! Gah!!
Let me tell you a little something about me that will help you understand the ridiculousness of this in its entirety.
“Gecko” was my first word. Seriously. Ask my mom. (Right, mom?) I was born in the Philippines where geckos abound like tacos are consumed in Mexico. And I loved them. I mean, seriously loved them. I was totally obsessed with them all through my early years of childhood and I would constantly chase them around our house in hopes of catching one to keep for a pet.
And one day, I did. I did it! I caught a gecko!! And do you know what happened the very next moment???
Well if you know anything about geckos, you do…ITS TAIL UP AND FELL RIGHT OFF!!!! Yes, you’re reading this correctly–ITS TAIL FELL OFF!! I was HORRIFIED! TRAUMATIZED! HEART-BROKEN!! I had somehow knocked this poor creature’s tail off in the midst of my selfish desire to call the beautiful reptile my own! WHAT HAD I DONE?!?
So I grabbed my brother and begged him to help me tape the tail back on. “Come on!!” I pleaded with him as he disgustingly refused to be of any assistance. I specifically remember when he declined to hold the tail so I could tape it on, I said sarcastically, “Oh, well would you rather hold thegecko then???” You know, in that mocking “I’m-the-little-sister-and-I-know-it-all” tone of voice…
Well my dad heard us arguing and put an end to the gecko fiasco. Someone must have explained to me that geckos’ tails instinctively fall off when they feel endangered so as to scare off their predator (Me?? A predator??) and so although I was quite sincere in my effort to “save him,” I let it go. Literally and emotionally. And I never saw that tail-less gecko again. Mom got home later that night and when Dad recounted the incident to her she decided to write a poem about it. And guess what–she submitted it to a contest and it won first place! Soon after our home was filled with every type of gecko you can imagine–big stuffed geckos, little stuffed geckos, gecko pins…gecko parafanalia lined the walls, shelves, and clothing in the Mauss family home.
Okay, so back to current events. I am sitting here staring at a gecko as I write.
Dun, dun, dun…
He hasn’t moved since I discovered him 45 minutes ago. Do you think he’s dead? Eesh…
But let’s get back to the laughing-at-myself. Do you see now why it is SO ridiculous that I couldn’t even bring myself to come within 10 feet of the thing? Because of some creepy-crawly fear that I’ve developed in the last 25 years since I was fondling that gecko like it was a baby kitten?? Where has my joyous, care-free youth gone??
This morning I felt prompted to read Hebrews 11…ahh, Hebrews 11, the blessed Hall of Faith. A passage I’ve read, probably literally, 100s of times and a passage that strikes me to the core every single time. Oh, for faith like these heroes of mine!! And God reminded me, again, that this whole journey we’re on is simply–utterly, profoundly, magnificently–simply about faith. All day I’ve been dwelling on that, eager for new revelation that I knew He was going to show me.
Why is it that the older I get, the more I “see,” the more I hear, the more I experience, the more I’ve been hurt…the less apt I am to depend upon God?? The less apt I am to trust Him? The more apt I am to say, “Yeah, you may be the God of the Universe, but I’ve got this one covered…thanks anyway, Almighty God!”
Because faith is about believing in the unseen–that’s the whole point of it. So why do I base my faith on things I’ve seen? And heard? And been disappointed in?
I’ve been afraid this week. Of things I can’t see, of things to come. Afraid of things that I never used to spend a moment fearing. Afraid of things that are so far out of my control that it’s ridiculous for me to even spend a minute trying to figure out how I can control them because I couldn’t even if I tried to. It’s like I grew up and the big bad geckos are suddenly out to get me, where they used to be my best friends. (Now, I feel like I have to put a disclaimer in here…that my fears have had nothing to do with the fact that we live in Mexico.)
A couple of weeks ago, I had fresh revelation about how we, as women, so quickly shut off, shut down, and put on scales that could repel the hardest bullet over our hearts because we’ve been hurt and so we are afraid of being hurt again. And I really, truly, utterly, overwhelmingly believe that God has created women to radiate His glory. Read all about it in Captivating. The essence of a woman is beautiful. Simply divine. Simply radiant. That is, a woman who is not guarded, not hard, not hidden, not ashamed, notafraid.
I long to be a woman who “can still and quiet her soul like a weaned child with her mother” (Psalm 131:2). And this can only, only, only come about through faith…faith like a child. Not faith like a woman who’s watched babies die. Not faith like a woman who’s seen too many children abandoned and abused by the ones they should be able to trust. Not faith like a woman who’s seen the poor suffer. But faith like a child. Faith like my child, who’s received milk or food every time he’s been hungry. Faith like my child, who’s never known to fear in his life because he can depend upon his parents. Faith like my child, who knows he is loved.
I didn’t have any fear turning 30 last month. I didn’t have the “O-M-G-I’M-TURNING-HOW-OLD??!!-NOOOOOOO!!!!” moment. 30. Despite the fact that my friend Kari told me our bodies start to decay at 30, I wasn’t afraid of getting older.
But tonight, I am. And I’m stubbornly and adamantly putting my foot down. I refuse to get older at heart. I refuse to let my faith become that of an “adult” when I am commanded to have faith like a child. I refuse to let geckos freak me out when they used to bring me laughter and delight. Oh, how I long to be the woman who can “laugh at the days to come” (Proverbs 31)!!! Oh, how I long to not be the skeptic, the cynic, the “well-let-me-just-warn-you” old cranky fart of a woman who is so worn and tattered by this world that she can’t even get her mail without thinking a bomb is going to go off in her mailbox. I don’t want to be that woman. I refuse to be that woman. I long to be soft before the Lord, soft in my Maker’s hands, soft in the will of my God. We are called to live in this world but not be of this world, and tonight I am pushing the “reset” button on my citizenship–for it is in Heaven, for it belongs to my Creator, for it is resting in hands with holes in them. And I trust Him.
Thank you, creepy sweet gecko, for renewing my faith tonight, and reminding me who I used to be. And who I am.
Amen.
*Gecko: apparently the rest of the world calls these things “lizards” but I, on the other hand, call everything that looks like THIS a “gecko.” Just for the record. 🙂
At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me…. See that you do not look down on one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven.What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, I tell you the truth, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be lost.“
The first time I walked to the Haitian Refugee camp, it was the smell that hit me first.
I would recognize the smell anywhere. The smell of “house” after “house” crammed into tight spaces, adjacent to a garbage dump…the smell of mismatched cardboard or slabs of tin that form the walls and the roof of each said “house,” each piece carefully overlapping the one next to keep the rain, wind, and sun out as best as possible. The smell of hungry children and runny noses and congested lungs… The smell of eyes longing for love, arms longing for an embrace, hands longing to be held. It’s the smell of poverty. Poverty of environment and poverty of spirit.
This is one of the nicer houses
And every time I walk into a place like this, I am struck with the same sentiment–I am not enough. I am not enough, the five friends with me are not enough, the games we’ve brought to play are not enough…we are simply not enough.
The first week I was there we painted the girls’ fingernails and played jump rope with them.
Juliana
It’s difficult enough for me to dig up the language in my brain that has been dormant way too long, let alone understand these sweet children’s Spanish, which is not only their second language but also “Dominican” Spanish–which is quite different than Spain and Mexican Spanish. I can’t give them anything… I can barely communicate with them, and their needs are far too great.
So we sat there on the ground and painted these little girls’ toes and fingers…one by one, they chose a color and held out their hands. Is this enough? I don’t want to paint their nails–I want to buy them new clothes and give them healthy food and build them a home with electricity and running water…I want to give them an education and disciple them in the ways of the Lord…I want them to know they are loved, I mean really, really loved–by God. And I want them to really be loved by their friends and family. But all I held in my hand was a cheap bottle of nail polish. And my heart cried.
I am not enough.
And He whispered to me, “But you hold the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven.”
And so I prayed. I prayed with every stroke of the mini brush. I prayed with the faith that every prayer I prayed would not only be answered, but answered quickly. I had no choice but to pray that way–I had nothing else to offer.
One little girl was dubbed “the mean girl.”
Beautiful one
She would provoke all the others by hitting them, messing up their freshly painted nails, stealing the nail polish, spilling it every where. And then she would cry…and cry and cry…when someone hit her back or she didn’t get what she wanted. I was told she’s always like this. She was out of control.
I didn’t have anything to offer her. My attempts to love her were rashly pushed away with cries and swats. She was difficult to communicate with and she had no intention of communicating with anyone anyway. I didn’t have weeks of relationship built up with her so she could trust me. I didn’t have a corner to put her in for a time out. I didn’t know if that would be the last time I ever saw her. And my heart flooded with tears.
I am simply not enough.
And so I prayed. I prayed as if this was the only time she would ever be prayed for–I prayed for her past to be healed, for her present to be rich, for her future to be set upon the straight and narrow. I prayed with deep unction and conviction. I prayed, believing every word uttered under my breath was answered the moment it hit the air. I didn’t have the option to pray any other way.
Then there was Jonathan.
His nickname is "Chiquito"
He was constantly held the whole time he was with us and never uttered a word. We had to take him home after the program, and I got to hold him on my lap. Adrienne told me his story as she drove and as I listened to his congested breaths slowly go in and out…in and out…He was so thin, and so sick. She said that his mom abandoned his family when he was a toddler and so his father is his only caretaker. Yet he doesn’t actually take care of him…because he works every day. The neighbor woman told Adrienne to watch him carefully–since no one watches over him, the other kids rough him up whenever they can. He is so hungry. He is not well. He doesn’t waste his energy on speaking or running or playing–no, he uses the small amount of strength he has to lift his arms up towards anyone who will notice him, asking to be held. His eyes, his heart…long to be embraced. And there, in that moment, I had a 5 minute car ride with Jonathan. I knew it was my only window. And my heart sobbed.
I am not even nearly enough.
And so I prayed as my heart cried. It’s impossible to describe the agony of the ache in my heart for this precious child. How can he have a chance in this world? You know he wasn’t rocked when he cried. You know he didn’t nap and sleep well as a baby. You know no one was there to greet him with the biggest smile and warmest embrace every time he woke up. You know no one reads him books every night. You know no one sings to him. You know no one has taught him how to count. You know no one (on earth) has been speaking truth over him ever since the day he was born. I held the tears back as I asked God for big things for His son. I prayed for healing to consume his physical body and his emotional mind and his sensitive heart. I prayed for his salvation. I prayed for provision of every type. I prayed for love to surround him. I prayed every short minute that I had with Jonathan…because I knew that was the best thing I could do for him…
It is times like these that I wonder if it would just be easier to look away; to not acknowledge and turn my face towards the massive suffering and injustice in this world. Because it is all-consuming and overwhelming to choose to invest my heart in the lives of those who suffer and have need.
That is, until I can fixate my mind on the Truth of the cross, and the truth of our Savior who goes out of His way to love the one. And that’s all. Why do I underestimate that I am one, loving one? Over and over my God speaks to the importance and impact of just one. Especially one of the little ones. He calls children “the greatest”… God thinks Jonathan, this one, is the greatest. And so when I remember his eyes, I must not just remember the loneliness, the abandonment, the sorrow, and the pain…no, I must remember that his angel sees the face of our Father in Heaven. He is not forgotten.
Because my God is enough…yes, HE is enough…He is enough for these children. There is too much need for my two hands. But He…yes–HE–is enough. He is always enough. And, just like the bible lesson I preached to those kids that day–HE in ME is greater than THE ONE in the world…HE in ME is enough.
I, with the power of Christ living in me, am enough...
…Because the one is enough. The one is the greatest.
He is one God, who sent one Son, who left with us one Spirit.
For one lost sheep.
For one sandwich for the woman who hasn’t eaten.
For one home built for the family who didn’t have one.
For one toy for the child who has nothing.
For one bible lesson for the girl who had never heard the Truth.
For one gospel presentation for the boy who didn’t know Jesus.
For one prayer lifted up in faith.
For one person choosing not to avert her eyes when she sees the brokenness.
For one believer who says, “Yes” to the call of God.
By you I have been upheld from birth;
You are He who took me out of my mother’s womb.
My praise shall be continually of You. Ps 71:6
