Struck down, but not destroyed.

This is to my friend who struggles with PTSD. This is to the woman who cries in secret and hates herself for not being all that she thinks she should be. This is to me. This is to us all.

It's frustrating that healing takes so long.

There was a time, eons ago, when I was a young, know-it-all teenager and I really thought that I was pretty awesome. I had it all. My life was pretty together, God was close and active in my life, and I was blessed and "whole."

And then everything changed. I was abused by a man from the church I was attending. It left me reeling, questioning everything. Who was I... now that I wasn't pure and whole? Who was God, and why did He allow this? What was my attitude toward the world now that life wasn't "safe" anymore?

To some degree, we will all ask questions like this sooner or later. Life is full of pain and brokenness. Good people die. Innocent people are hurt. Trusted friends betray. Evil invades. And once the damage is done, we are left to process and heal.

I am really glad that God only asks us to face into our broken parts a little at a time.

10 years later, God is still working on my broken pieces. Yet, even in the midst of the messy, healing process, somehow I am still whole. I am not perfect, but I am holy, set apart and called by God to be HIS child.

This passage from 2 Corinthians 4 has been repeating in my head today:

 "We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed,but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed... Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

That is TRUTH. We are hard-pressed, but NOT CRUSHED; struck down, but NOT DESTROYED! 

It's easy to stuff down the hurts and broken parts from our pasts, but hiding doesn't bring healing. It takes courage to face into the pain. With deep hurts, there is no way to process all the healing at once. It takes time, patience, and the grace of God. 

As C.S. Lewis says, "We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

So DON'T LOSE HEART! Fix your eyes on the eternal. Though life is hard, there is renewal and healing. Be brave. Even pain has a purpose. Physically, pain is merely the alert system for injury. Mentally, pain is also the alert that we have sustained injury, which allows us opportunity for healing. God can use pain powerfully. 

So tonight I am praying for healing. For my friend. For me. For us all. And more than healing, I am praying for a strength that is all the greater because of the fight. Hard-won victory is sweet, and we have the truth of God to help fight the battle.

Love, 

Your fellow-warrior

Do you trust Me?

This week was rough for me. It was long, stressful, and exhausting. I was wrestling with trying to be everything that I "needed" to be, feeling woefully inadequate, and I wound up sitting on my floor this evening trying to organize my paperwork stack... because I needed some victory, even if it was small. As I sat in a heap of papers, my sister called. My sister who is overwhelmed with her own chaos and small business and new baby son. And she listened to me pour out my heart. Even when my passion is to serve and follow God, life gets messy and confusing sometimes, so I laid out all my reasonings and fears to her, and she set me back with one question:

"If you're doing what God is calling you to do, even if it hurts and it's scary, how can it not turn out right and good?" 

Bam. I had no answer. She was totally right. I needed the perspective that sometimes life isn't EASY, but the hard times are battles that God is allowing into my life. I can lace up my boots and do battle with a whole heart knowing that the outcome will be Good. When my eyes can't see the good, God does. And I trust Him. 

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. John 14:27

It takes a village!

Dear Village,

   I love being a mother. Even when I am so exhausted that I can't remember my own name, even when my to-do list is so long I'm tempted to lose it, even when the kids are in the back seat bickering, even when a kid pops a fever in the middle of a crazy work-week... even at the worst of times, I love being a mother.

   Not much changed about mothering once I became a single mom. The main difference is that I have to work more now, so my approach to everything has become more focused. We might not have much family time, but every weekend we head to the woods or somewhere to get away and connect with each other. I can't eat dinners at home with the kids often, but Friday is "Fancy Family Fun" night, and dinner that night is something we look forward to all week. I have very little time to relax now, so instead of popping a movie on and vegging, these days I tend to invest time into things that renew and refresh my soul. I ruthlessly carve time out of my day to spend time with God and be still. These are all positive changes.

   But there is one change that I love the most. It's not something that I wanted, and it's actually something that causes me a lot of stress, and yet God has used it as the biggest blessing for us. The change is that I went from thinking that I was a self-sufficient mom to realizing that I needed a village. A much bigger village than I realized.

   This weekend I found myself (yet again) in a freaked out panic to find child care. The babysitter had fallen through, so with hours until I had to clock in, I frantically started messaging my back up sitters. They were all busy. I pounded out a Facebook status begging for help, posted it, and hit my knees on the kitchen floor praying, "God. I hate this. I hate having to ask for help. I hate being stressed out. You know I work my heart out for my kids. Why is this so hard?"

   As I sat there, my mind started thinking back over all the stressful moments that I had hit the floor praying over this past year. I've shed my fair share of tears kneeling in that exact spot, feeling totally overwhelmed, and every time, the problem that seemed so big has worked out. I smiled and started praying again, thanking God this time.

   As I picked the kids up from a friend's house after work that evening, they were bouncing and giggling, telling me about all the fun they'd had with their new friends. Before I even started backing out of the driveway, they were pestering me to set up another time to visit soon.

   Tonight, my kids get to have a sleepover with another little friend, and they're buzzing around packing backpacks with super-hero PJs, favorite teddies, and glow sticks. (Only the essentials for my crazies.) And yet again, I am realizing how amazing their village is. They've made friends for life. They've gained mentors, "bonus family," and a huge sense of community that they wouldn't have if I had been able to structure things my way. We're heading to church in a few minutes, and my kids are totally at home there. Their faces light up when they see their favorite people, and they launch into waiting arms for hugs and love.

   So this is me, tired-but-happy super-mom, thanking YOU for being part of my village. Some of you take my babies and love them when I have to work. Some of you love, listen to, and laugh with me. Some of you are our prayer warriors, and without you, we'd be weak. ...so THANK YOU! You're an awesome village.

Lots of love,

~Bethany~

Christian's thoughts on dentists...

   Christian recently knocked a tooth loose, and since the adult tooth was so close to coming in anyway, we got to visit the dentist today to "wiggle" out the tooth. The pediatric dentist was so nice, but Christian wasn't understanding all their "baby talk."

   For example, they asked him if his mouth was getting "all tickly" yet. "Do you mean numb?" he asked. "Sort of, but I still have a little sensation right here."

   "Make sure you're flossing every night so the sugar-bugs aren't growing on your teeth, ok?" they cautioned him. "Sugar bugs?" he queried. "Are you talking about bacteria? I know that bacteria feeds off of sugar, but there aren't BUGS in my mouth."

   While they were working in his mouth he started pushing them away, so they asked what was wrong. "Sorry, but I really have to expectorate," he explained. Their faces were priceless.

   After he was done, he was sitting up and drooled. "Oops," they said, "Don't touch that red stuff. We'll wipe it up." "Do you mean the blood?" my son clarified. Then he reassured them, "Don't worry. It will clot soon."

   Oh, this kid of mine. :-)

   On the way home, we had a detailed conversation about the mechanisms of blood clotting, and I used an analogy of building a temporary dam across a creek with mud and rocks (blood clot) to hold back the water while you poured a concrete dam (tissues healing).

   Later on that afternoon I almost sent him to his room when I caught him saying "That damn thing in my mouth hurts." Yeah... he meant to say, "That dam-thing in my mouth," referring to the clotting analogy. Sigh.

   I am off to work tooth-fairy magic before I collapse for the night.

"How DO you do it?!?"

This Mother's Day a friend gushed to me, "I don't know how you DO it as a single parent! I barely get everything done myself."

Here's the secret to getting everything done... 

...JUST KIDDING. I have no clue! Parenting is a juggling act at the best of times, and I've never been great at juggling. I drop balls all the time. There aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done, so I prioritize which balls to drop and which to keep in the air. 

Sometimes the homework gets dropped and the kids' teacher asks me if the homework packets have even been making it home. 

Sometimes my budgeting time gets dropped and I thank my foresight in setting up all automatic payments. 

Sometimes I don't sleep nearly enough. I glanced in the mirror at work last night and jumped. The reflection in the glass looked like a homeless hag who had a terminal case of crazy.

Sometimes I pour the kids' cereal into cups because all the other dishes are dirty. Shoot, sometimes we skip the cereal and just eat fruit and granola bars. I tell the kids that it's a breakfast picnic. Because I'm THAT awesome of a mom.

Sometimes my car looks like Storage Wars exploded inside it because I don't have the energy to carry both kids, all the backpacks and shoes, the groceries, AND everything else into the house. I've thought about making a regular car-cleaning day of the week, but when I try to find an empty space to plug that into my schedule, there isn't one.

Sometimes my kids act up because they miss focused mommy-time when I am too busy trying to keep all the other balls in the air. This ball is one that I really try not to drop. Even if the house is a war-zone, even if the dirty dishes are looming in mountainous proportions, even if the backpacks are stuffed with undone homework, sometimes the Most Important Thing is a tickling match or a bug-hunting expedition. 

Parenting is always a game of priorities. No matter what your parenting situation, raising kids is difficult and exhausting. It requires strategy and discipline (neither of which is my strong suit). I don't get everything done, but I usually make time for fun and love in the midst of the chaos. 

My social networking posts tend to be positive and fun, and too many people tell me what a perfect mom I am, so consider this a peek into the "real" world of this mama. The world where we push the clean laundry to one side of the couch to make room to cuddle and read together. The world where we leave the house and go hiking because there is too much work to do at home, and the kids need my attention more than the kitchen counters need my attention. The world where I promise my kids' teacher that the homework will all get done... someday. The world where I sigh in relief when I log into my bank account and see that all is well, in spite of my neglect. 

But one thing is true: I am a perfect mother. Perfect for MY kids. God knew what He was doing when He designed me with my unique skill set and passions, and He knew what He was doing when he formed my children. 

Perfect mothers love their children sacrificially. Perfect mothers teach their children priorities in the midst of real life. Perfect mothers see the big picture and realize that sometimes it's ok to let balls drop for a season. 

...and sometimes perfect mothers let their children watch cartoons while the housework goes unattended in order to carve out time for some devotions and a little blog-rumination about how perfect mothers manage to get everything done. 

Hats off to you perfect mothers! I don't know how you do it! Please feel free to share your secrets with me. 

Mothers, Mothers, Everywhere!

There is an old African proverb that says:

It takes a village

to raise a child.

But when I was asked for parenting advice by a friend who was planning on starting a family soon, I wanted to give her my own proverb.

It takes a village

to raise a mother.

"Find mentor-mamas!" I told her. "You'll need them."

Some mothers are practically perfect in every way, but then there are mothers like me. Mothers who love their children and delight in rearing them, but who sometimes hide in the bathroom to close their eyes and pray for patience. Mothers who put their kids in their room for time out to buy time to brainstorm, "WHAT do I DO with this kid???" Mothers who laugh and cuddle their children in the morning and pray in exhaustion for their children to fall asleep at night. Mothers who are human, with all the shortcomings and weakness that comes with being human. Even when our kids think we're super-heroes, we're just tired mamas, trying to raise champions in the midst of chaos.

Mentor-mamas are your super power. Get at least three of them. Your own mother or grandmother might be one. You might find a mom just a little further along in her mothering journey who is able to give you valuable feedback. I have a couple "bonus moms" who mother ME as I mother my babies. Their love is empowering and humbling. To be able to call a mom and get gentle, experienced advice when I'm having a mini-meltdown is invaluable. I also have mama friends who are in the same age and stage that I am, and they are like an army of allies beside me. We giggle and sigh and share about our children, and our experience as mothers deepens.

This Mother's Day, I have a list of cards to deliver. My own mom might be in heaven, but I still have mothers. Mothers who encourage and support me. Mothers who pray with me. Mothers who laugh with me when my kids are just too much. Mothers who text me just to see how life is going. Mothers who I love.

It may take a village to raise a child, but it also takes a village to grow a strong mother. If you don't have a village, parenting is harder. Develop your village. Love your village Encourage the mothers around you. Make some extra cards this year for the "bonus mothers" in your life.

Happy Mother's Day to all you beautiful mommies!

Questions for Heaven

It's been a little over three months since my mom finished her battle and got to go home to heaven. The kids wanted to go "say hi" today, and they were really excited to see the new stone. They traced all the grooves with their fingers, asked if we could write notes on it with chalk, hopped on it to "make sure it was solid enough," paced around it to see how many steps it took, and were generally too energetic and squirmy for a cemetery. I was glad that nobody else was around to be offended.

But for a few moments, they held still. They sat beside the stone (or on it, as the case may be), and they asked questions:

- Is it fun up there, Moogie?
- Do we look funny down here?
- Do you miss us? Because I miss you.
- Can you ride jaguars and tigers up there?

...and they they started wiggling again. But that one, still moment of questions has had me grinning all day. Things look so different through the eyes of my kids. Thank God for children and their perspective.

Mystery group strikes again!

This week was CrAzY. As in, I forgot how many hours of overtime I worked, I forgot that it was Easter until the day before, and I may have forgotten my name once or twice through my haze of fatigue.

At one point I was sprawled on the floor in the middle of the night, surrounded by Legos and laundry. The kids were asleep for the night, I had worked a full shift and should be asleep too, but I was trying to catch up on some of the housework. I had no energy left to even get up and brush my teeth for bed, much less conquer the mountain of laundry that was on the couch. I whispered, "God, if I could just have a couple more hours in the day, I might be able to keep up..."

A few hours later I woke up and crawled into bed. 

The next day I got a phone call. As it turns out, a mystery small group from my church had answered my prayer without even knowing how specifically they were blessing me. They literally gave me some extra hours in my day in the form of housekeeping services to come over and help me catch up. When I realized how amazingly precise of a need this had met, I burst out laughing. I am still grinning ear to ear. 

You guys, I don't know who you are, but you answered my midnight prayer. So, thank you! I can't wait to tackle some Spring Cleaning with Theresa. Catching up on the housework will be amazing, but what I can't stop smiling about is how amazing God is. He heard me and answered through YOU. How AWESOME is that?!?

My Baby is Turning FIVE!

It seems like just yesterday that I was pregnant with Ariana and cuddling this sweet boy.

Then, on Easter morning, my little baby bunny was born. 

She was teeny-tiny, but oh-so-precious. I hadn't settled on her name yet, but as I held her in the special care nursery and sang her to sleep, I kept thinking of the story of Hannah from the Bible. She dedicated her son, Samuel, to God's service, actually leaving him to grow up living in the temple after he was weaned. I looked down at my precious daughter, the one I had prayed for, and I couldn't fathom giving up my child. She was MINE, right? But I did want her to be set apart for God's use, so I named her "Ariana," which is Greek for "holy." Her middle name is "Lindsie," which technically means "island of the linden trees," but I like to mash up her two names to mean "A holy island." 

This morning she will turn 5 years old, and she wants to be dedicated to God on her birthday. I asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. "I don't know for sure," she shrugged, "But probably an astronaut, doctor, or school bus driver." 

One thing I know for sure, whatever she ends up doing as an adult, I pray that her life will be set apart for God's use, special, and different from the chaos in the rest of this world. 

I love holding her, but I am learning that God is really the One in control of her life, and His love is so much greater than mine that she couldn't be in better hands.

She will always be my little girl, but I love that she's also a PRINCESS, by right of being a daughter of the King. Her identity should primarily be as His daughter, not mine. 

This is Ari on her first birthday. She was so chubby and sweet!

She turned TWO, and the fun continued...

She turned THREE...

And last year she turned FOUR, and our love for her grows more and more.

Tomorrow my baby turns FIVE, and I am learning to hold my little ones with open hands, trusting their lives and experiences to the Father who loves them more than I do. 

Happy birthday to my sweet, sassy, silly little princess!

Glimpses into the future

  I just had the sweetest moment with my son. I was helping him put his socks on for school, and he spontaneously threw his arms around my neck and held on tight. "It's going to be hard to leave you someday, Mom."
   "Yeah? Where are you going, Son?"
   "Well, my kids are going to need me a lot. At the dinner table they will want me to sit and talk with them, and they will want me to build lots of Legos with them. Can we save all my Legos for my kids, Mom?"
   "Sure! We'll keep all the best ones and they can play with them when they come over to visit my house. Then I can tell them, 'Grandma and your daddy used to play with these Legos when he was a little boy.'"
   He hugged me tighter. "I'm going to miss you, Mom."

I am Sparta too!

   I've always fussed about how the men in most churches get way cooler retreats than the women do. Sure, the women's retreats are usually decorated better, more comfortable, and they usually smell a lot better, but the guys always come home posting pictures of awesome adventures. I sit there and look at images with sweat dripping from their Spartan brows, and I fume. I am Sparta too! Why can't we play fun games like the boys?

   Well, this year, they did it! It was amazing! There was lots of girly bonding time, but there were lots of adventures too. (With a theme of "Brave," how could they not spend some time practicing archery?) I wish every women's retreat was like this.

LOVE AMBUSH!

   So, these sneaky friends of mine blessed my socks off today. <3 I called AutoWorks Plus to see if they could clean the chocolate protein shake that Ari spilled all over the front seat. But when I got there, my sneaky TintPro friends had arranged for them to detail the ENTIRE INSIDE of my car, put 4 new hubcaps on to replace the set of 2 that I was sporting, and fix the ceiling of my car that was loose and hanging down despite my efforts to fix it. It sparkles! I don't know if I will ever let my kids in it again. To top it off, these sneaky friends of mine would not let me pay. Not even one dime.

   And I was totally at a loss for words. I am NEVER at a loss for words. I could feel my eyes filling up with tears and my heart filling up with love.

   As I blinked in shock, they pointed out that that the exterior still needed work, so they'd drop me off at work tomorrow so that they could finish it while I was working.

   I still don't have the right words to say "Thank you," but I love you sneaky, wonderful people. <3 ((Hugs!))

Headline: Little Philosophers Avoid Chores. Mom in Stitches.

Chores are always a battle around here. Today I was tired of telling the kids to clean (after the first 100 times you tell them, it gets old.), so I summoned up my best "Mean Mommy" voice and declared, "You clean your rooms RIGHT NOW."

As I stormed off into the other room, I heard them start debating.
Ari: "When is 'right now' anyway? Like, 'right now' isn't 'right now' anymore by the time you say it."
Christian: "Yeah, it's totally a relative time frame. How are we supposed to know when to start?"

If I wasn't laughing so hard from the hallway, they'd have been in deep trouble.

Facing into death

Mom's death has forced me to face into fears that I hadn't considered before. I've never been scared of death. Mostly, I only worry about what will happen to my kids if I die while they are young. I live differently when I have kids to live for.

Thinking about death since my mom died has weighed me down. Beyond the loss of not having her here, it's made me face my own mortality more. She asked me lots of questions while she was sick. She wanted to know what my plans were. She wanted to know what I believed. She warned me about pitfalls that she thought I'd encounter in life. She asked and warned and prayed because she loves me and wanted to help me process death better, and also because she wanted to leave a last bit of legacy in my life.

This is what I've learned:

-I'm more scared of death than I thought.
They say that times like this make you face into the truth of whether you really believe what you say you believe. While I know the "God of my daily life," I've seen Him work, I talk to Him constantly, and I trust Him with the things I hold most dear in life, I have no experience with the "God of after death." I know that's an odd (and not theologically sound) way to define God, but there's no way to experience the afterlife other than to, well, die. There is only what God has said and revealed. It sounds stupid, but I'm so comfortable with surviving in this world that going to the Unknown is a little scary, even though I know Who is there. I laugh even writing this. Who would worry about going from the "Shadowlands" into "reality"? If this world is only a shadow of good things to come, why the hesitation? Maybe I am holding onto a false sense of control here. I don't like leaving my past. I take thousands of photos, keep silly mementos of past times, and value my "history." If my house was burning down and I could save one thing (other than my kids), I might die because I wouldn't be able to choose between all of my precious mementos and photo albums. Leaving all this "life" and stepping naked into the Great Unknown is a tough thought for me.

-I'm scared of not living well enough in the time that I have here.
At the end, I guess it really doesn't matter in a way. If I love God, I live forever in Heaven. I could be miserable, or evil, or kind, or loving, or selfish... no matter how I succeed or fail, as long as I love God and end up in Heaven, I win, right? But I don't want to leave a legacy of broken relationship, wounded hearts, and disbelief either. I don't want to have people shrug or even sigh in relief when I die. Not that I care on a selfish level, but how have I wasted the hours of my life if my love hasn't reached others? Death is final. There are no do-overs. You can't reload the game and try to play it differently the second time around. I want to be strong and deeply beneficial to the people in my life. In the battle of life, I want to be a good warrior, not just some weeny who enlisted and wore the uniform, but didn't really contribute to the unit. I want to be the one who makes people feel stronger when I am fighting at their side. I want to leave a legacy of hope and life.

-I'm scared of not being able to tell everybody everything that I want to say before I die.
Which is also a little dumb. Who do I think I am to think that my words are so valuable? Mainly this is directed at my kids, I suppose. I always hate when I'm reading a book series and the author quits writing before I feel satisfied with the outcomes for all the characters. What if that one girl doesn't find love? What if that guy never finds his father? I want to know that they all lived "happily ever after." I want to see my kids grow up, live well, be happy. I want to snuggle my grandkids and to see them grow up and be happy. But none of this is my job. It's cool if things work out that way, but I'm not in charge of the universe. I have to trust God enough to trust him with my children's future, and their children's future, and their children's children's future.

I think this whole ramble boils down to one thing: Losing my mom has shown me that I have too tight of a grip on this world and not enough trust in God. If I really believe what I really believe, I can rest in the knowledge that God is in control. My job is to spend all the hours He's given me wisely. That is all.

"A good legacy always beats a good time."

I went to a marriage conference this weekend. It was a little awkward. Ok, a LOT awkward. From the moment that I tried to register and the online form wouldn't let me continue unless there were two conference attendee names, I felt out of place and debated going. The speakers were Mark Driscoll and his wife of Mars Hill church, and it was a simulcast of their "Real Marriage" tour. I stared at the event description online and felt God nudging me to go. I enjoy listening to Pastor Mark's blunt and funny take on marriage, and I'd wanted to go to this tour for years, so I shrugged and registered.  I was the only single person there, despite the fact that it was advertised for anyone in any relationship status.

What a rich message! If you are married and happy, married and miserable, single and wanting to get married someday, or even sorting through the rubble of a broken relationship, there was truth here that will challenge you. Check it out.

The first night, I drove to the church where the conference was supposed to be hosted, and the lights were all off and the parking lot was empty. Did I get the dates mixed up? I was secretly relieved as I thought I'd gotten out of attending. This week had already been long and exhausting, and I had my son's birthday party the next day to prep for. The last thing I wanted was another late night and even grumpier kids. Just as I was internally high-fiving my chore list about freeing up time to get work done, my friend texted me that I was at the wrong place, so I corrected course and made it there in time, tossing up a prayer, "God, please don't let me fall asleep during the lesson." The first two sessions were good. They were funny and honest. I enjoyed them, but debated coming the following day. As we were leaving that night, my friend asked, "So, are you coming tomorrow?" "Sure," Crazy Bethany answered. (I don't know how to turn crazy Bethany off sometimes. She just takes over and doesn't think through things.)

 So, there I was, sitting there on the second day of the conference, heavily caffeinated, surrounded by married couples holding hands, giggling, and elbowing each other pointedly, and I doubted my decision to be there. I'd laughed a lot. I had squirmed a little. I had gotten some better perspective. But why had I felt so convicted to attend?  I was anxious about getting everything finished before people showed up at my house expecting a cool party. During the break that morning I thought about picking up the kids early and leaving before the final session so that I could finish my work at home. Again I felt God prompting me to stay. "Sure, why not, God," I thought. "I guess I could use an extra hour of sitting still after the crazy week the kids have given me. ...Hey, speaking of which, what are you going to do about those kids of mine anyway? I love them like crazy, but how do I control them? I need a bigger vision for our family right now. And maybe a nap. How can we bring joy and wholeness from the brokenness that we've come from?"

The final session started and Pastor Mark started describing his family history. Drunken alcohol pirates from Ireland, they moved to America to escape consequences from their pillaging. They settled into a life of potato farming, drinking heavily, beating their wives, and breaking their children, which continued until Mark's mother got pregnant. She didn't want to raise a child in that atmosphere, so she and his father moved. They broke the curse to some degree. Mark remembers visiting his grandfather with his parents as a child, and his grandfather was a miserable, lonely, broke, alcoholic, old man. Mark swore to never end up like that. When he grew up and became a Christian, he started thinking about how to build a better future for his new bride and their future family. He was the first link in a chain of generations who have the opportunity to say that they were raised by solid, godly, loving parents who had a vision for building a legacy of love and wholeness.

As he talked, I realized that this was why I needed to be there. I hadn't verbalized it like this, but I had been struggling to see beyond the broken past to the future legacy. Hope kindled in my heart as I saw a different path.

We are all selfish. Left to our natural instincts, we will only care about what we want, not what others need. In a family setting, this leads to a legacy that harms, not blesses us. Was it a blessing to grow up in your family? Did they make family choices in light of love or selfishness? Many homes are more harmful than helpful because they operate out of selfish brokenness. Rather than intentionally making decisions that equip their children to live in strength and wisdom, it ends up being more "survival mode" where the parents are just trying to be happy. "A good person leaves a legacy for their children and their children's children." What legacy do you want to leave? We need a vision so strong that we can hold every decision against that standard.

Life give many opportunities for a good time that can destroy your life legacy. A GOOD LEGACY ALWAYS BEATS A GOOD TIME. How many marriages are destroyed by one spouse ignoring their vows and choosing a "good time" over faithfulness? How many young people regret caving and choosing an exciting relationship rather than sticking to their standards for a spouse?

One of the biggest lies that I hear is that we "deserve to be happy." We have the right to pursue happiness, we're told, and if we aren't happy, we need to get rid of what is making us unhappy and find something else that will make us happy again. WRONG. God isn't in the business of making people happy. He's primarily interested in making people holy. Happiness is a byproduct of right-living. If you are making poor choices in a quest to be happy, you will end up with the opposite of what you desire. Yesterday my daughter wanted some candy that I had promised her for completing her chores. Rather than doing her work and waiting for me to get it for her, she climbed up on the kitchen counter to get it for herself. I caught her in the act, and guess who lost the promised reward? Today she came and asked me if she could try again. She finished her chores and got her four M&Ms. As I handed her four candies in her favorite colors, her eyes lit up, she threw her arms around my neck, and exclaimed, "Oh thank you! I love dem!" The best part of this choice was that she not only earned her candies honestly, she earned the joy of celebrating with me.

This week I am going to start praying and prioritizing differently. I am going to start drafting a "family legacy" for our family. What do we want to stand for? What do we want to accomplish? What do I want my children to teach their children? What stories do I want to tell my great-grandchildren someday?

What are some things that are included in your family legacies? What are some things that you want to change?

Strength to the powerless.

My life has been beyond chaotic lately. Some days I just stand still, so overwhelmed that I can't even move because I don't know what to do. But I know Who I follow, so after catching my breath and silently begging God for direction, I look around, smile, and do whatever my hands find to do with all my strength (which isn't much, quite often).

"You are so strong, it's amazing!" say my friends. Ha. I don't feel strong at all. I feel the opposite of strength. I feel out of control and powerless. My own failures prick and prod at the corners of my mind. Shutting them out takes effort... more effort than I have sometimes. I am tired. I am disorganized, always. I snap at my kids instead of disciplining in love. I can't keep up with the laundry, the kids' homework, or chores. My to-do list is so long that I need to upgrade from sticky notes to a scroll. My life isn't what I planned.

I smile, pray, and work. I hug my kids when I don't know what to tell them. I play "positive, encouraging K-love" when I need to hear truth. I bury my nose in God's word and find this:

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He gives power to the weak

    and strength to the powerless.

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Even youths will become weak and tired,

    and young men will fall in exhaustion.

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But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength.

    They will soar high on wings like eagles.

They will run and not grow weary.

    They will walk and not faint.

And that is the secret to strength. We are all weak and deeply flawed. But we aren't called to be strong and perfect. We are called to draw strength from the only One who is perfect. When we don't know where to turn or what to do, our Father still has everything under control. Talking to Him has a way revealing perspective and giving peace where we only saw problems and pain.

Turning to God in those moments is like sucking in deep breaths of air while running. Breathing correctly while running has always been a struggle for me. I tend to hold my breath while running. Yeah, I know, it doesn't work for long. Breathing is important, if you want to avoid fainting on the side of the road. Luckily, we have a Father who loves for us to come before Him with all our mess and craziness, and to be WELCOMED, comforted, and strengthened as often as we need it.

Our strength is simply in knowing how to breathe.

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Amazing princesses

I really love mornings with my princess. She served me imaginary tea in bed this morning (which did me more good than a stiff cup of coffee). Then she cuddled up next to me, patted my cheek, and asked me if we could wear "fancy" dresses all day. Yesterday she made my heart pitter-patter with the best compliment I've had in ages. She indignantly huffed at people who don't appreciate her mommy as much as she does, "I don't know why everyone doesn't love you, Mom. You're the most beautifullest woman in the world." My little sassy Sissy has her moments, but that vote of confidence made my week. 

In honor of princesses everywhere, I'm re-posting some notes about princesses that I wrote a while ago. Enjoy!

(Re-posted from Jan 13, 2014)

I love good princess stories. But without Darkness trying to ruin the good, it's a boring story. Cinderella's humility and forgiveness shine through her evil step-mother's schemes to ruin her happiness. Belle's sacrifice and love for her father was demonstrated when her only option to save his life was to offer her own. (And there was no magical spell that was broken when she made that sacrifice. It only began a longer journey of difficulties for her as she was imprisoned, lonely, and terrified. If you read the original version, she prayed and begged God to give her strength to endure the horrible death that she was sure awaited her.)

I have some amazing friends and mentors, and as I was thinking through the common denominator between all of them, what is most noticeable is that they have all been through some really dark, difficult times. They've been broken, crushed, and despairing, but because of this pressure, they've grown into something beautiful. Times of pressure are never fun, but those moments are the most important times in our development. Without difficulty, we don't grow. 

I've been trying to think of lots of good stories about "champions" to tell my kids this year. There are some insane, courageous, inspiring people who make gloriously "good" choices and are memorialized by those big moments in time. But if you look at their life as a whole, it was full of failures and hardships and learning. How they dealt with the darkest moments were just as weighty as how bright their shining triumphs were. 

This gives me hope. Sometimes when things are dark, I despair. But the darkest moments are where the adventure is about to get real. Those are my moments to choose truth and love. 

This morning I asked my daughter, "Who are some of the Most Amazing princesses?" Her answer was not what I expected. Instead of her favorites (Rapunzel and Ariel), she didn't miss a beat before grinning and declaring, "You. And me. And all of the other girls who love Jesus." (Out of the mouths of babes...)

So today, I'm hugging my little princess and thanking God for His strength in the hard times. 

Here's a snippet of my little daily devotional book:

"You would like to see a map, showing all the twists and turns of your journey. You'd feel more prepared if you could somehow visualize what is on the road ahead. However, there is a better way to be prepared for WHATEVER you will encounter today: Spend quality time with Me. 

I will not show you what is on the road ahead, but I will thoroughly equip you for the journey. 

A life lived close to Me will never be dull or predictable. Resist your tendancy to search for the easiest route through each day. Be willing to follow wherever I lead. No matter how steep or treacherous the path before you, the safest place to be is by My side." 

What really matters?

   My little champs and I were discussing how important it was to keep one's room clean today. Christian believes that it's really helpful to be organized when you're trying to find Lego parts. Ariana retorts, "Well, if I couldn't find the parts I wanted, I'd find something else and do something even cooler!" (Her cleaning philosophy is reflected in the explosion of baby dolls and tea party dishes covering the entire floor of her play area.)

   They don't really agree on, well, much of anything (except hating bed times). Most of our daily household chatter is debating who should get to play with the plastic sword first, whether Cinderella or Cars is a better movie, and how overrated bathing is. Those are the EASY topics. Then they starting asking the tricky stuff. They want to know where babies come from, why the sun is so bright, why apple cores mold when you put them under your bed for a week, and how the world came into existence.

   In listening to a scientist debate "old earth vs new earth" theories recently, I was thinking back to some heated discussions that my mom and I had about the topic a year or so ago. At the time, it seemed really important, and we were both a little heated. Fast-forward to the time after she got her diagnosis of terminal cancer though, and our conversations weren't even remotely about things like creation debates or theological differences. In those precious few months, it didn't matter. It wasn't important. What WAS important were people and relationships. It's crazy how the things that Really Matter surface when time is limited. It suddenly didn't matter at all that we disagreed on how old the earth is.

   Reflecting on how drastically my conversations with Mom changed in the months before she died has made me question my conversational content in all other relationships too. We all have limited time in some way or another. We have family and friends who only visit occasionally. We have chores, homework, and jobs that leave little time for our kids and spouses. We see each other for ten minutes after church before we have to head off to nap. What do we talk about? HOW do we talk? Sometimes the content is just an excuse for contact. Love is what matters.

To infinity... and beyond!

   The little champs and I have been working on something fun this morning. We randomly found a purple table that was the perfect size for a Lego table at a thrift store. I was going to repaint it black, but our Lego baseplates (green and blue) looked so much like Buzz Lightyear's colors when I started eyeballing the potentials that we just rolled with it, and here's how it turned out.

 Ari (dancing and squealing around the new table): Do you love it, Christian? Do ya!? How much do you love it?!?
Christian: I love it... to infinity and beyond!

"How are you?"

   A week ago today was my mom's final day on earth. It was miserable. She was tired and in pain. My dad was an emotional wreck, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I was wearing out the knees in my jeans praying for God to give Dad strength to cope and to give Mom strength to endure.

   I called her Monday evening to tell her that I loved her and goodnight, but she never answered. The next morning she died in her sleep. (What a way for her to wake up! She spent the night in pain and trying to sleep, but she woke up to LIFE! It's like the verse in Psalms that says, "There may be pain in the night, but JOY comes in the morning.")

   A week later and we're still trying to adjust. We cleaned out her room last week, and the last call on her cell phone was a missed call from me. That was sad. I found that she used a silly picture of me as a bookmark in the Bible on her nightstand. It made me ache because I missed her love.

   I have been overwhelmed with love too though. I totally dissolved into a puddle when one of my mom's closest friends was praying with me and said, "Lord, I assume this daughter for as long as I am on earth." Another one of my mom's very close friends checks up on me to make sure that I'm eating and functioning. (Which makes me laugh, because my mom always fussed at me to make sure that I was eating too.) Yet another mother came by and did my dishes in spite of my protests.

   But I still don't know how to answer everyone who asks, "How are you?"

   I am sad. I am blessed. I am shocked, grieving, and hurt, but I am also confident, joyful, and hopeful. I feel like a zombie sometimes, too tired for any more emotion. Other times I am so overwhelmed by emotion that I can barely move. I am happy that her suffering is finished. I am more aware of how my life impacts my children and what it means to "leave a legacy."

   Wow. What a week.

   How am I?

   I am ...recovering.

   Recovering like after a crazy workout when you're almost too sore to walk or move, but it feels good because you made it and you know how much stronger your muscles will be. All that's left to do is rest, eat, stretch and let healing happen.

   Thank you all for the love and prayers this week. My babies thank you too. :-) Christian summed up the week like this: "We had a really hard week, didn't we, Mom? It's a good thing that week is over. Now we can get on to the Good Stuff."

Pumpkin Pies

I just showed Christian the new blog.

"Oh, how CUTE!" He exclaimed. "Let's write on it."

Me: What do you want to write?

C: Can we use pictures and letters?

M: Sure. What do you want to write about? You choose something that is important to you and talk about it, and a lot of people can read what you have to say.

C: Tell them that I love pumpkin pie. And then tell them where we live so they can drop pies off here. And then put a period at the end of the sentence, Mom. Oh, and post a picture of pumpkin pie. Why don't we just name this blog "Pumpkin Pies"?

Introducing....

Guess what, friends! Under heavy pressure, I have finally agreed to create a blog to share some of our adventures. In all my spare time, I promise to semi-faithfully do some writing, and YOU have to promise to respond so that I am not just talking to myself! Goodness knows I do enough of that already.