Savor it! Riiiiiight...

One of my favorite mama friends and I just had a conversation about the term 'savor it'. These words seem to frequent the mouths of an older generation, normally directed at our age group. And we write it off because we've heard it a million times. 'Yes, I know these are the good ol' days.' 'Right, I get it.. my babies will be grown before I know it!'
And we may feel just the tiniest bit sarcastic about it all because, honestly, in the midst of diaper changing and sleepless nights and deciphering the thought process of a two year old we're not exactly feeling sentimental. 'Savor it. Riiiiiight...' And in the early years of marriage we try to find our place in this world. As we try to navigate the waters of home buying and business starting and family raising all while avoiding the sinking of our ship in credit card debt.. well, yeah, it's difficult to wrap sleep deprived minds around the fact that this is in fact 'the good stuff'.
But we do know they are right.

I know in the not-too-distant-future I will desperately miss these days. My babies are growing up at the speed of light. Derek and I are rapidly approaching anniversary number SIX! Life is a whirlwind. And the days can seem tedious and I want to stomp my foot in two-year-old style and declare that I 'just WON'T clean up any more toilet paper strung all over the bathroom.' (How can such tiny people make such colossal disasters, anyway?!) And we dream of days where we won't feel the weight of the world on our shoulders as we make these really, truly HARD grown-up decisions about life.
But I'm starting to realize that if 'that day' ever arrives, the day we have life all figured out and the mortgage is paid off and everyone is potty trained and sleeping through the night (and probably off at college....sob!) we'll reminisce, with longing, the crazy days of right NOW!
We'll giggle about all the times we had to whip off the highway and, in Chinese-fire-drill style, wrestle Owen out of car seat, pants, boxers and, yes, even shoes for a mandatory pee break. We'll remember Daniel's sweet baby laughter and the big, gummy smiles and the way these boys needed us with every fiber of their being, for even the tiniest details of life (all while demanding that they can do it 'all by myself'..) Derek and I will rock in chairs on the porch and talk about, believe it or not, the days when we absolutely did not have it all figured out. And we will miss it.

We visited my Grandma in her retirement home a few months ago. We brought our high decibel noise levels to a place of quiet and tranquility. We brought our messes of epic proportions to a spotless space. We brought excessive splashing to the swimming pool and inappropriate comments to the dining hall. And you know what these people said to us?! 'Thank you!' They thanked us for bringing our family, our life, our chaos in to their midst and reminding them of days gone by. They said 'Thank you for sharing with us..' and they gazed with longing as we hauled out approximately 32 bags (for a one night stay!) hollering, 'Owen, buddy, you only need to push the elevator button ONE time!!'
They looked at our crazy and missed it, missed every bit.
And then Owen whispers it to me, as I crunch my way through the peanut M&M he just handed me, 'Savor it, Mom!' And this giggle bubbles right out of me as realization sets in. This idea, this message of relishing the present, is being preached from both sides of the age spectrum; both young and old, trying to help me grasp the beauty of now. As Jim Elliot said, 'Wherever you are, be all there!' 
The key to this, I believe, is perspective. At the beginning of my motherhood journey, my sister-in-law told me, 'Everything is a season. Don't forget that.' And I am forever grateful for those words and the gentle reminder that life's only constant is change. In other words, may I refuse to let a certain phase overwhelm me.. for it shall soon pass. And may I be intentional about showing up for each day and savoring moments, regardless of whether they feel spectacular or mundane, for they shall soon pass. Take everything in stride, laugh a lot- even at especially at the messes- and be all HERE, wherever that may be!
When we realize the beauty of each moment is fleeting, may we squeeze a bit tighter and linger longer. When we live with the knowledge that this particular phase we are in will not be forever, the hard becomes conquerable and the good becomes that much sweeter! And today I refrained from rolling my eyes when that term 'savor it!' was thrown my way in the store. Baby talking in high pitched pterodactyl voice, toddler swinging from the cart, my crazy lunch lady hair in full swing as I try to figure out what we will make for dinner... and I step back and I take a mental picture, grin a silly grin and realize, yeah.. this IS the good stuff.

'For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.' Ecclesiastes 3:1

Chasing time, John Lennon and an exploding fireworks shop!

Today John Lennon reminded me, via my Good Earth tea bag, that 'Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.' I mulled that over for awhile, sipping my sweet & spicy goodness, and decided he was on to something! See, I'm the one over here waiting for the free time, the quiet space and the organized schedule to give me permission to 'truly live'. I find myself awaiting the perfect opportunity, the invitation, if you will, to write, to dream, to explore. And all the while life continues to happen all around me. Time waits for no one, not the scholar or the frenzied mother or those punching the clock every 9-5.
Babies grow up faster than a mama ever wants and toddler silliness turns into real-life questions about the hard and the confusing. The crunch of autumn leaves fades into the magic of snow. Wind howls and the chill bites but, before I know it, spring is poking its head out in buds on every tree and the promise of summer hangs in the air. Time marches on, whether I gave permission or not.

Stories pile on top of stories and lessons learned blur together as I chase time and scramble to keep up, record and remember. May I focus more on being present in the moments; each gummy smile and tickle fight and tiny hand held safe in mine. May I savor each kiss pressed to my forehead as hard-working-husband heads out the door to carve out our place in this world. I long for the day I will 'have my act together' and take cookies to the neighbors, organize the perfect play dates and be whisked away by my husband on a desperately needed date night. But I need to realize that time is not something we will ever truly be able to master, it will always be a step ahead. So today is the time to DO, to live, regardless of the convenience level. Time marches on, in spite of my keeping up or not.

The other night, elbows deep in my cauliflower soup prep, I realized I was short one stick of butter. (Yes, a whole stick... stop judging and go make this amazing soup already!) Insert large exhale; this would mean a walk down the street and around the corner to the garage where the extra freezer holds the extra butter. Not seeing any way around this inconvenience, I shrugged on a jacket, made sure Derek knew where both boys were and ventured out on mission: retrieve butter and get back before the soup boils over.
As I rounded the corner and faced the mountains, my brisk walking came to an abrupt halt as I beheld the sight in front of me. Mountains, dark and brooding, were framed by an explosion of crimson red, burnt orange and golden highlights. It legitimately looked like an entire fireworks store (you know the ones, right on the Wyoming border, that Derek insists we stop at for contraband explosives!) had blown up right on the other side of the Sangre de Cristos. It was magnificent. The colors were glorious. A gift from my Heavenly Father, beckoning me, 'Come, enjoy, savor!' And I could do nothing but stand in awe at this masterpiece because it would literally be gone in a matter of moments. There would be no scheduling in a convenient time to watch this sunset, it had to be right then!

"Jesus said, 'No procrastination. No backward looks. You can't put God's kingdom off till tomorrow. Seize the day.' " (Luke 9:62 MSG)

Now, I'm not advocating the trashing of all your to-do lists; the issue is not with having a plan. (Help us all.. I wouldn't even remember to take a shower if it hadn't been scribbled on paper at some point.) But we can't spend our whole life in the planning stage and we can't wait for time to slow down because it simply will not ever bend to our will. Jesus says His kingdom can not be put off. It is here and now, as we live out the lives He created us to live. As we spread the knowledge of Him, as we love those around us, as we step into the role of ambassador for our King, He is glorified and His Kingdom comes. 

"Now having been questioned by the Pharisees as to when the kingdom of God was coming, He answered them and said, "The kingdom of God is not coming with signs to be observed; nor will they say, 'Look, here it is!' or, 'There it is!' For behold, the kingdom of God is in your midst." Luke 17:20-21

Whatever God has given you to do in this season of life.. embrace it! Work, school, home building, diaper changing; it matters, may we give it our best. May His kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven. And as we're up to our eyebrows in said work, in the life that continues to happen all around us.. let's not forget to laugh, swing on the porch swing and initiate those watermelon seed spitting contests! I want to love my people well, serve without expectation and not wait around for a special occasion to wear my pearl necklace or bake a pie or learn how to water ski. That day, the special occasion, ever-illusive 'free time' may never actually come. So what if I just live right now, making the most of whatever season I find myself in?! What about waking up everyday with the intention to truly live?!

John Lennon tells us to live right now, instead of simply making the plans to live, and I agree. But what he didn't say, and what I believe even MORE, is that before we know it this life will be over- whether it went according to 'plan' or not- and then eternity begins. And we will each be asked to give account. What did we do with the days we were given; were we good stewards of our time, our gifts, our relationships, our opportunities? Or did we spend our whole life in the planning stage, longing for what was just out of reach, failing to see the spectacular potential of the moment right in front of us?

For we must all appear before the judgement seat of Christ, so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad. 2 Corinthians 5:10

Life beckons.. come, live, this moment is fleeting! What we do today will echo into eternity, 'whether good or bad'. May we stop chasing time, stop planning to live 'someday' and choose, instead, to be fully alive right now.

Yes, each of us will give a personal account to God. Romans 14:12

Today Matters.

The morning begins a little earlier than I'd prefer. But when you're consistently in and out of bed, the line between night's end and morning's start is pretty foggy, anyway. Bring on the extra large mug of Kona coffee! My brother told me, way back at the beginning of this motherhood journey, not to keep track. 'Knowing how many times you were up last night or how many diapers you've changed today certainly won't make the situation any better and might even make you feel worse.' Words of wisdom, my friends, words of wisdom.
Both boys are sick and every day this week I have opened up my planner only to draw a big line through whatever was scheduled for the day. The post office will have to wait, the library will always be there, we actually have plenty of groceries and a trip to the city would not be in our best interest. Wiping snotty noses and rocking feverish babies takes priority and it's messy work but I'm here to tell you that it matters. Three months postpartum I'm learning to view the events of the day with 'new eyes'. I'm beginning to grasp the eternal significance in the mundane tasks of right now.

A friend from church shared with me a story of cathedrals; a fresh perspective on embracing the work set before me. For the most part, those who build cathedrals remain name-less. These massive buildings, grandiose and towering into the sky, intricately decorated and rich with significance both spiritual and historical, started small. They began as a thought in someone's mind, these magnificent structures. They were once simple lines on paper and their construction was completed one laborious step after another.
Brick on top of brick, board nailed into board, tedious and time consuming; cathedrals could take centuries to complete. Not much is known about the architects, the builders and those who showed up day in and day out to get their hands dirty and make things happen. But one thing is for certain, they mattered! Their work and commitment made the finished product possible. The results of their labor, mundane as it may have seemed, will impact history for countless generations.
And then she looked at me, this friend from church, and she said, 'Bethel, you are building a cathedral!' And I wanted to cry right then and there but, I didn't.. I cried later. Because it's so easy to loose sight of the importance in the work set before us. The finished product, the fruit of our labor, is sometimes so far out of sight that we grow weary of the daily grind. But today matters.

A video was shared online about moms caring for their babes. They picked their little ones up when they fell, cheered them on at the hockey rink, warmed up frozen toes, held them when they cried and so on and so forth. At the very end you see these babes as athletes, all grown up and competing in olympic events, and there's their mama right at the finish lines. These women are cheering them on just as they have been doing since day one. And the unsaid, obvious message of this commercial is that these kids turned olympians are who they are largely because of that crazy lady at the finish line screaming for all she's worth. And I watched this over and over because I need to remind myself that today matters. Kissing the scraped knees, pulling them up and having them start again, praising the smallest efforts, staying consistent, being their biggest fan.... this enables kids to soar.

So, don't give up. Maybe you're sailing in my boat. Perhaps the work set before you is entirely different than mine but you're realizing the same truth; things which have eternal significance and the utmost value are built one brick at a time. And yes, I am in the thick of a construction site over here. I smell like Baby Vix and Bordeaux's Butt Paste. I have play doh stuck to my shirt and I've worn these leggings for four days straight. I am frazzled by day's end and thanking Jesus for a husband who came home announcing, 'We are ordering pizza for dinner!' I definitely do not see every disaster and melt down as the ideal opportunity to teach. But I won't give up. Today matters. I am building a cathedral. I am cheering on olympic athletes (or astronauts or carpenters or whatever else they might possibly make up their mind to be!). And this work set before me is hard and messy and absolutely necessary and of the highest honor. 

And then our pastor preached directly to me; squirming-in-my-seat-me. (How do they always know just what I don't want to hear?!) He spoke of a society so focused on end results, preferably quick and easy ones, we're all about seeing fruit if we're going to be doing any labor-ing. But in the midst of this scrambling for instant results and quick fixes, Jesus calls us to a different way of life. Jesus teaches the slow and steady tending of our seeds that will, eventually, way down the line, maybe not even in our life time, produce much fruit! We are called to be faithful to right now, to the nitty gritty digging of our hands down into the soil of whatever work He has put before us. And He whispers to my weary heart, 'Daughter, THIS WORK will make all the difference! Today matters.'
What is the work set before you, my friends? Don't give up on it, don't let the mundane feel of the day in and day out detract from the knowledge that your work is of the utmost importance. Know that each brick matters. Build your cathedral!! Tend your seeds! And above all, hold fast to the knowledge that 'He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.' Philippians 1:6 Because if He's not giving up on me, who am I to give up on today..

The Hard

'This is what people often forget about adventures. They are exciting, and they are hard.' 

-Leeana Tankersley 

Isn't that the truth? We long for the adventure but immediately begin balking when the road becomes rough. We dig our heels in and immediately question 'the hard'. Why does it have to be -12 when I woke up this morning? Why is this adjustment to being a mom of two so HARD? Why is God not revealing more of 'the plan' for our future? The thing is, whether I like it or not, this 'hard' is exactly the material required for a grand adventure! When I reflect on my life it becomes glaringly obvious that my favorite stories to tell, my best memories and the journeys of epic proportion have never been times I would define as 'easy'. Quite the contrary, actually.
Easy is nice; easy is comfortable. Sitting on the beach, sipping margaritas is easy. (And, don't get me wrong, I could go for some sitting and sipping right about now!) But the times that are painfully hard, frustrating and even a little bit insane usually end up being our best adventures. The fact that it is, indeed, an adventure may not be immediately realized. But, without fail, the best times of my life have always formed out of the messy, the exhausting, 'the hard'.

Before getting married, Derek and I had the privilege of spending several months in Surfers Paradise, Australia as we studied with YWAM. I absolutely loved the touristy experiences, kangaroo petting, early morning surf sessions and delving deeper into Aussie culture. But one of my favorite memories is actually the time when, in preparation for the 'outreach' practical phase of our schooling, each team was dropped off in the middle of nowhere with a few bottles of water and a map to our campsite for the night.
Upon arrival at said campsite, we were instructed to build our own shelters, figure out how to light a fire and cook our dinner. We were rudely awoken in the middle of the night and instructed to pack up camp and move to a new site. And we couldn't do any of this at a leisurely pace; if we didn't complete each set of instructions in a set time there were consequences in the form of push ups and crunches stacked up against us throughout the entire weekend. It was insane and exhausting and... completely exhilarating! We tight-rope-walked across rushing rivers, completed obstacle courses with bleary eyes and learned how to open cans of pork and beans with nothing more than a rock. Every ounce of me was required in order to endure and conquer. I was absolutely convinced our leaders had lost their minds. Now I reminisce with the most ridiculous grin on my face.

I then had the privilege of spending my two months of 'outreach' in the rugged country of Papua New Guinea, which made three days in 'the bush' seem like a vacation. Those two months were both emotionally and physically draining. An unbelievable amount was required of me every single day and you better believe I balked on more than one occasion. We jostled along for hours in the back of trucks, accompanied by men with machine guns, in order to reach remote villages. There we would perform rehearsed skits and share our testimonies through a translator (sometimes more than one, depending on the dialect of the area) and stay up until all hours of the night attempting to converse with and pray for all the locals. We never stopped. Always another place to go, another market crowd to preach to, another bug infested hut to sleep in, another fried fish (complete with eye balls) to 'enjoy' under the scrutiny of village elders. We bathed in rivers, climbed mountains and came up against witch doctors and a spiritual opposition that was almost tangible. I slept for two full days upon my return to 'civilization'. The experience had been absolutely unreal in the fact that it was the most REAL thing I had ever done. I had been pushed completely out of my comfort zone; I wouldn't trade those two months for anything.

(Yes, that was the bathroom....)

As you all know, and have so graciously followed the journey, Derek and I moved to Hawaii after being married for a year and a half. We trekked into the middle of an overgrown coffee field, weed whacked our way to a greenhouse that we would call home for the next six months and then set up camp! We worked those coffee fields from sunrise to sunset, then drove to the beach to shower and eat our ramen noodles. It was the most difficult physical labor I have ever done. It was certifiably crazy. And we loved it! Or rather, looking back on it now, I love that we did that!

After two seasons on 'the farm' we found other work but ended up staying on the Big Island for 3.5 years; our adventures could fill a book. The perfect beach days were absolutely glorious and I was definitely longing for that sand and surf as I chipped ice off my windshield this morning. But what will go down in our memory books will be the conquering of those coffee fields. We'll tell our boys about the rainy nights of 'camping' with a tarp over the back of the truck, waking up soggy and cooking our oatmeal over a propane burner. And I KNOW they'll ask over and over to hear the one about their mom running through the jungle, armed with nothing more than a kitchen knife, the night Derek trapped, killed and butchered a wild pig. We were pushed to our limits, we experienced countless frustrations, we (mostly I) had to battle homesickness. It was the hardest of hard. And it changed our lives, solidified our marriage, grew our faith and instilled in us the knowledge that 'the hard' is exactly what makes this life excellent.

The real mystery of 'the hard' reaches deep into my faith and my marriage and parenting and the fact remains: the most difficult seasons are exactly what make these relationships so true and rich and irreplaceable. 
So here I am, literally up to my knees in snow and trying to figure out how to entertain a two year old without giving my two month old pneumonia. When the sun comes out we chop and load and haul and stack firewood and then burn it all hours of the day in order to stay warm. (In case you were wondering, splitting wood with an ax is just as therapeutic as clearing jungle with a machete! Only difference is the frostbite in my toes!)
Derek shot a deer and, with help from our incredible family, turned it into a freezer full of hamburger and steak! He leaves for work at 5am and comes home at 7pm. The days are long for both of us. On the weekend we drill holes in the iced over lake and go fishing! Dates take the form of leaving the boys with Nana so we can drive up into the mountains before sunrise to track herds of elk. It feels like we are pioneers or participants in an arctic, survival show! Other times it feels like I'm suffocating.
So yes, I'll be the first to admit that I question 'the hard'. But I am beginning to glimpse the makings of an epic adventure in all this. And, dare I say, if 'the hard' is where the best, the most fulfilling and the life changing are formed, then... gulp... why would I ever want the easy?
Why would I settle for anything less than the most excellent path which God has prepared in advance for me, for us?! [Ephesians 2:10] The days may stretch long as the cold traps us inside and we search for direction but I take heart at the realization that we will look back on right here, right now and say, with confidence, how we wouldn't trade it for anything. May we each rise to the challenge in front of us and embrace whatever form 'the hard' may be taking in anticipation of the adventure that we are currently living!

Toddler Life Lessons

'Sorry, Mom, it was an accident.' He says the right words, but I don't know that he quite grasps their meaning because we seem to be finding ourselves in this position quite often. Now, I need to clarify right away that our toddler is exceptional and one of my very favorite human beings. Owen is smart, adventurous, kind and hilarious. But he's also two years old and going through an unbelievable amount of change right now.

These are just a few of the things we've put him through in the past three and a half months: moving across the ocean, road tripping through seven states, potty training, being introduced to what feels like a million new people (and we're related to them all, Mom?!), bringing Baby Brudder home, experiencing winter for the very first time, learning to share Dad and Mom and sleeping in a big boy bed. Safe to say, some bumps in the road are to be expected; this last week those bumps took the form of regression in the potty training area.
God teaches me many lessons through my sons. Seriously, who would've thought one could discover deep spiritual truths while scrubbing poop stains out of tiny, little man boxers?! But it's true. I'm coming to believe that we are all just toddlers living in big people bodies. We try to act like we've got it all figured out and 'I can do it myself!' when we obviously can not and do, in fact, desperately need assistance. We try to run before we learn to walk. Everything is more catastrophic when we are hungry or tired. And if it wasn't so socially inappropriate we would all throw enraged-toddler-style fits from time to time, complete with crying so hard we turn blue in the face.
And yet...
God loves us.
And yet...
I love my toddler.

So, back to the poop issues. The revelation of the week came as Owen stumbled out of his room post-nap, looking about as fragile as Grandma's china and with pants looking more than a little...well, soiled. I walked him into the bathroom and at this point he usually gets 'the talk' about how disappointed I am and how big boys go potty in the toilet, yada yada. But this was different. He was so obviously broken by the events that had just transpired that as I helped him step out of his pants, tears started rolling down those sweet, sweet cheeks. I didn't utter a word; he was inflicting more than enough punishment on himself. I wiped him off, helped him step into new boxers and then gathered him into my arms and we sat on the bathroom floor together and rocked back and forth.
Sometimes I am so blatantly disobedient to my Father. Like, Jonah-style, catch a ride on the boat going as far from Nineveh as possible kind of disobedient. And then I need to be told that my actions were not those of a 'big girl' and were, indeed, unacceptable. I am capable of so much more. But other times, life just happens and I find myself in a world of trouble and I tip toe out of my room, head hung in shame and whisper, 'Sorry, Papa, it was an accident.' And you know what He does, like the Father of the prodigal son, He comes to me with grace that is stronger than any punishment. He gently wipes the gunk off as tears roll down my cheeks and then He sits with me, right there on the floor of the bathroom, and holds me close.
I am so thankful for grace.
Ephesians 2:8-9 'For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast.' 

I regularly ask Jesus to teach me SO THAT I can teach my boys. I have much to learn. But one of the biggest lessons I am trying to apply is that I am called to raise, disciple and love my boys like He loves me. 1 John 4:19 'We love because He first loved us.' This way, when I have any doubt on how to handle a situation I turn my thoughts to myself, toddler in a big girl body, and the countless ways I screw up each day. And then I try to respond to my boys in the way that God responds to me. Sometimes I need a serious time out. Sometimes nature simply takes its course and the consequences of my actions become the best form of teaching. And other times, drowning in my own shame and guilt, I need to be scooped up and held close and told that I am loved. Regardless, grace always wins.

Every day is something new with these boys and, although sometimes I fail to see it, there is almost always a lesson for me involved, too! Owen wants to swing high, 'but not REALLY high, Mom'. He is so brave and tough but he also likes the door left 'just a tiny bit open, Mom' when he goes to bed at night. This is so like me; ready to spread my wings and soar, and yet desperately needing to know that I have a soft place to land, strong arms that always catch me. May I have the child-like faith that Owen shows me each day. May I extend grace as it has so richly been lavished upon undeserving, little me.

Owen runs up to me from time to time, completely out of the blue, to say, 'Jesus lives in our HEARTS!' And then speeds off to resume playing. Seriously, he may be the one teaching me, here. (Just don't tell him!) May I live with the remarkable trust that he daily exudes. He also jumps off the couch yelling a line from one of his latest memory verses, 'SONS OF GOD!' and we joke that this is probably what David's mighty men yelled as they charged into battle. But what if I brought my faith into every detail of life, even couch jumping, with such reckless abandon!? Wouldn't God be pleased?!  I'm telling you.. I could go on and on. Life with a toddler equals life lessons in abundance. Just when I thought I had life figured out, God gave me boys and said, 'Daughter, we are JUST getting started!' I have so much to learn. Thank goodness for GRACE.
In conclusion, this morning Owen informed that he was starving and needed to have, and I quote, 'Yogurt and a bagel and a banana and pancakes and.... SALSA!' :) I haven't exactly gleaned the life lesson from this request yet, but it did allow me to start the day with a chuckle and maybe that is a lesson in itself. Why not begin each day with joy? Why not be outrageous with your breakfast orders? Why not..

Voices

When people claim 'voices in their head', we tend to take everything else proceeding from their mouths with a grain of salt, or maybe an entire salt block! But lately I've been hearing a few voices of my own and, therefore, decided not to be so quick to judge. (Funny how that works, right?!) In fact, I'm starting to believe these voices may exist in every head; the varying factor simply being the volume we allow each voice, the ones we choose to listen to.
Now, I'm no expert. I don't claim a degree in 'voice classification'. But, as far as I can tell, there's at least four basic categories: the voice of the world, the voice of the enemy, the voice of my self and the voice of Truth. Those all break down into more specific classifications, of course, but let's not get in over our heads here.

The past few months of my life have been extremely beautiful and extremely hard. And, yes, those two can co-exist... but that's a post for another afternoon. From the depths of postpartum blues and several rounds of sickness that left me with nothing left to give, I started hearing devastating phrases echoing through the corridors of my mind. 'You don't have what it takes.' 'Your boys deserve a better Mom.' 'How pathetic, you can't take care of your self or your family.' 'All the other moms seem to have it all figured out.' 'Your husband deserves a wife who has her act together.' And so on and so forth.
You get the picture; it's not a pretty one. Typing these words makes me cringe and yet, in the moment... head ache pounding, babies screaming, temperatures below freezing.. I believed them. I bought into the lie. I turned the volume up on the wrong voices and I let them run rampant.
I knew what was happening; understood that these feelings and thoughts were welling up from the mass of emotions and hormones and 'new' in my life. This knowledge didn't stop me from allowing the taunting voices to take over my mind for a time. It was easier, simpler perhaps, to let them talk than to rise to their challenge. The weapons needed to fight were at my disposal, I knew exactly what would send the depression packing: the name of Jesus, a thankful heart, opening up to those around me and admitting my need for help. But the mountain of emotions (and laundry and dishes and dirty diapers) seemed insurmountable.

I was driving down the mountain for a doctor appointment when God spoke to me right through the radio station. It was the Casting Crowns song 'Voice of Truth'; these lyrics released the pressure within and gave me the courage I needed to take a stand. Telling the stories of Peter's attempt at water walking and David's facing of Goliath with simple sling and stone, this song contrasts the voice of the monsters, the insurmountable and the terrifying with the only Voice that truly matters.

But the voice of truth tells me a different story

And the voice of truth says, 'Do not be afraid!'

And the voice of truths says, 'This is for my glory!'

Out of all the voices calling out to me,

I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth.

-Casting Crowns

It was no coincidence that 'voices' were also mentioned in the very next sermon I heard and the next chapter I read in my book. Okay okay, Papa God, I hear You! 

It matters not what battle you are facing, my friend. I understand that not everyone reading this is in the same boat as I am. But the voices of the world, of the enemy, even the voice of self- they don't care what season of life we are in. They will use any opportunity to utter their opinions, their lies. They start as a whisper, confirming deepest fears that we are, in fact, not enough or maybe we are too much. Comparing us to those around, preying on our weakest points, these voices twist reality and feed into fear and doubt. Reminding us of a life we once wished for, they stir feelings of discontent and hopelessness. They are relentless and must be turned off. May we not forget that we control the volume!

'My job was to put the good words on repeat so the bad words couldn't compete.' 

-Leeana Tankersley

The thief comes only to steal snd kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. John 10:10

The voice of Truth, it will never force itself, but is capable of changing everything. We must choose to turn up that still, small voice [1 Kings 9:12]. This one and only Voice that matters; it makes those mountains surmountable and gives the courage necessary to face up to the terrifying seasons of life stretching out before us. And if we listen to Truth consistently, let it penetrate the darkest pockets of our minds, it will begin to transform. I'm learning ways to thrive in this season instead of simply surviving. Some days may still feel impossible and leave me depleted of all resources. But that doesn't make me a failure. If I listen closely I can hear the voice of Truth telling a different story. He whispers that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be and this will be for His glory. 'Daughter, I am with you. I am for you! Don't give up the fight.'

Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. John 8:32

Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. Psalm 119:105

May we turn up the volume on Truth; let His light shine in the darkness. I know it can feel impossible, but we DO have what it takes, with the help of the Helper! And we are able, my friend, to rise to the challenges before us. Allow hope to enter in; choose life, grace and beauty over the suffocating voice of darkness. May we choose to listen to the right words; believe that this season, hard as it may be, has massive potential to also be beautiful. 

xo

To My Boys!

Sweet, baby boy! You are already one month old. How in the world did that happen? We were just making our very hurried trip to the ER, weren't we? You were just brand new! I don't want to forget the buttery soft feel of your skin, the heavenly scent of your baby-fine hair. Your ears and tiny fingers are absolute perfection in their unbelievably, miniature forms. I love everything about you, Daniel Wayne. I don't want to see this sweet newborn phase disappear but, at the same exact time, this front row seat to your development and growth is remarkable!
Your eyes open wide now and focus in on Daddy, Brother and I. You smile and stick out your tongue in response to our wild antics and you pick out our voices from all others. You crane your neck to stretch and see all you can see. You are strong and smart and handsome and we are not biased. Just kidding. But you ARE all those things, ask anyone around!
Owen is warming up to the idea of you sticking around. He loves to 'pet' you, bring your pacifier when you are crying and read you stories, specifically the one about going on a bear hunt. He can not wait until you are a little tougher and he can wrestle you and teach you how to blow bubbles and jump off the couch and tackle the packs of toilet paper. He is an excellent big brother and you will have endless adventures together.

Owen, my brave, strong boy! You are growing into such an awesome young man. I love your heart and the compassion within, I also admire your drive and persistence- even when it is the cause of some teeth gritting on my part. I am inspired by your imagination and wild sense of adventure. You like bizarre foods like artichoke hearts and black licorice. Your favorite Bible character right now is Gideon and you want to read his story every night. You've memorized Proverbs 15:1, Matthew 5:9 and Colossians 3:20. I am SO very proud of you. It's awesome to watch you choose right over wrong, help without being asked and adjust to all this 'new' with such courage and an open heart. There are countless lessons I can learn from you. I love hearing you comfort your teddy bears, or tuck them into their beds and put them to sleep; amidst all that rough and tough and wild-as-can-be is a genuinely kind-hearted little man.

A month has passed since I started writing this! Time is literally FLYING by. We've been to Florida and back and you were both excellent traveling buddies. Quality time with family was wonderful; it is absolutely incredible watching you bond with grandparents, aunties, uncles and cousins. Not to mention, we were all in desperate need of sunshine and humidity. Now we are back to Colorado and still in search of a new 'normal'.  This season of life is hard and excellent and I'm learning that's okay.. those two can co-exist.

Daniel, you are much more alert now; smiling and 'talking' to us, making our day everyday! We've found our routine (for now) and it feels good. You've had your first taste of watermelon and definitely approved. You're fighting a bit of a cold and have a love-hate relationship with the 'booger sucker'. Thankfully, you are handling it all like a champ. We are so thankful for your life and the blessing you are to each of us. We look forward to all that is to come and watching you grow and change each day.

Owen, you are now sleeping in a big-boy bed and continually amaze us with your gigantic vocabulary and remarkable ability to communicate. I just asked you if we should shoot hoops or do a puzzle and you replied, 'No, none of those options..' Your prayers melt me into a puddle and when you came running up to me to announce, 'Jesus lives in our HEARTS!' I thought my heart might explode. Have I mentioned that we are proud of you?! You also make us laugh all the time with your silly antics and well-timed movie quoting abilities. Don't ever stop being you, my little man.. because YOU are awesome.

I thank God for the privilege it is to be Mama to you both. Owen and Daniel, I love you with all of my heart. I'm so far from having any of this figured out and, lets be real, sometimes I'm a total wreck. But we can take this life one moment at a time; choosing laughter and grace as we journey together on this wild adventure.
xo