Wednesday, January 27, 2016

A Letter to my Little & Mighty

 
Mack and Levi, YOU are my Little & Mighty
 
 
You've been coloring my world with laughter and joy, tears and tantrums for 7 years.  Oh, what a life you have given me. What an adventure!  I could not be more grateful! 
 
A few weeks ago I had the brilliant (ha!) idea to take a family trip to the mountains for a mini snowstorm photo shoot.  You would have thought I had learned my lesson during the Christmas card fiasco of 2015.  Or perhaps the tree cutting down saga that nearly sent you, Levi, to the home for inconsolable toddlers. 
 
Nope, it took just one more lesson for this momma before I realized -- we are summer people
We are warm weather picture taking people.  We grit our teeth and make lots of unflattering noises during winter photo shoots.  It's balmy weather photo shoots from here on out Baker babes! 
 
 
On this photo shoot day ... It. Was. Freezing.  There was lots of begging, pleading and bribing involved.  Nothing like a good cold photo shoot to bring out the mighty in the two of you! 
 
But oh, you're both just so darn cute in your winter gear and your Little & Mighty apparel
 
 
Yes, even when you're screaming Levi. 
 
 
 
Pretty girl, you may be little oh you have so much might in you!  Your smile and joy for life radiates through our home.  You have the energy of one thousand 6-year-olds and good heavens, you wear your momma out.  What a gift you are! You are going to change the world with your big heart and your old soul Mackenzie Leigh.   
 
 
 
Little man, some words to describe you are strong willed, funny, charismatic and adventurous.  I was so scared to raise a boy!  Petrified actually! You have replaced those fears with excitement and anticipation.  This Little & Mighty long sleeve t-shirt could not look better on any other boy.  I can not wait to see what this year holds for you Levi Kyler!
 
 
As it turns out, you're both much more photogenic when you're warm and have a sugar laced drink in your hands.  Who knew?
 
 
 
Cheers to a new year of laughter and seeing the world through your eyes.  I can't wait to adventure through 2016 with the two of you.  I love you my little mountain babes! 
Love, Momma
  
** Little & Mighty is an adventure inspired children's apparel line that I absolutely adore.  
 
Little & Mighty strives to design children's clothing that inspires adventure.  Their mission is to "encourage Littles to explore and marvel at the great big world around them, and by doing so, to discover their own Mighty abilities." 
 
Right now through Thursday, February 4th use the coupon code LITTLEMOUNTAINMOMMA for free shipping on any purchase. Also, stop by Tuesdays with Jacob for a chance to win a $20 store credit to Little & Mighty!
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Friday, January 22, 2016

Learning to Flourish in Sorrow

To flourish in sorrow is a bit of an odd paradox. 
 
To flourish means “To grow or develop in a healthy vigorous way, especially as the result of a particularly favorable environment” (Webster’s Dictionary).  To flourish sounds lovely and sweet.  I think of my wedding day and walking down the aisle in white towards the boy I had loved since thirteen.  To flourish evokes images of a warm sun and my yellow haired daughter twirling in a sea of brightly colored wild flowers. Flourishing reminds me of my son meeting the ocean for the first time, his squeals of delight as the waves crash cold upon his toes. 

T
he word sorrow makes me wince.  It is painful to write.  
Each of us can recall moments or seasons of sorrow in our lives.  The first experience of saying goodbye to a pet.  The news that your parent’s marriage is crumbling.  The phone call to let you know of the tragic passing of a friend.  The medical test results that came back far worse than you ever imagined.  The SOLD sign on your family home after months of failed attempts to climb out of the debt pit.  
It goes against everything innately in us to associate sorrow with flourishing
And yet, I find myself currently in a season of such.  A season of flourishing in sorrow. 
And it is both bitter and sweet.  It has been a season of tears that seem to flow like milk and honey.  A season of grief and heartache and days so dark that I haven’t wanted to get out of bed.
At the same time, this season of walking through grief has been oddly beautiful.
And, dare I say – Holy. 
I’ve spent the past 5 months mourning the loss of a second baby to miscarriage and riding the emotional roller coaster of trying to grow our family.  For any of you who has ever lost a baby and (or) have spent time trying to get pregnant – I’m sure you can remember how emotionally charged this season is.  It is a season accompanied by sadness, disappointment, frustration and bitterness. 
A few weeks ago, after a particularly rough morning, a friend said to me, “I don’t think getting pregnant again is going to fix anything for you.” 
Her words stung.  But she was right.
The truth is, often times when we are faced with pain, grief and sorrow, the temptation is to seek out the shortcut that will take us to the next season of joy as quickly as possible. 

Perhaps it's time we give ourselves permission to sit in the tension of grief for a while. To press into it even.  To allow ourselves to rest and just be.  To be sad.  To be angry.  To mourn the dreams that have been lost. I believe that allowing ourselves the ability to grieve with no timeline is ultimately what God uses to grow and change us. 
To be pregnant right now would without a doubt bring joy.  But I believe the joy of new life would overshadow the growth and the stirring in my soul that God has been doing since September.  I am not the same girl I was last summer.  There's new depth and an understanding of suffering and pain that I can't say I had fully grasped before.  And the ability to walk with others in their suffering and to truly understand pain is a gift.  Suffering alongside others is no small thing and I am humbled that God would teach me to how to do so. 
Fellow MOPS momma Ashley Lande writes in the latest issue of Hello Dearest magazine, “Noticing goodness means a surrender, a yielding to the new vision that eclipses old, cataracted sight.” 
I believe God has been giving me new sight.  He's been giving me the gift of epiphany moments in which I am given glimpses of the redemption He is doing through this season of my pain.  And when I’m really looking with wide eyes, when I stand with open hands, willing to receive all that He has for me, I am able to see the flourishing in the sorrow.  I am noticing goodness and glimmers of hope in the midst of my brokenness.   
I have noticed flourishing in many aspects of my life -- in my marriage, my parenting and my friendships.  But most poignantly in the way He has allowed my heart and ministry for other mommas to flourish. 
After our loss, I did the only thing I know to do best.  I poured my grief onto paper.  I held nothing back because I believe words have power and they heal people.  And I knew that writing about my sorrow would mean something to another momma going through the loss of a baby.  I watched in awe as God took those words and shared them with thousands of women who were also hurting.  All I could do was acknowledge the flourishing that was being cultivated in spite of my brokenness and my sorrow.  All I could say was “Thank You, Jesus." 
After my blog post "Shattering The Silence" was shared, I was contacted by a non profit organization called Hope Mommies. Hope Mommies walks along side grieving mommas who have suffered the loss of a baby through miscarriage, birth defects, still birth and SIDS.  I was able to share more of my story and after reading some of my past posts, I was asked to join Hope Mommies as a writer for their organization to create Bible studies and book reviews for grieving mommas.
I share these things not for any glory of my own.  Because really, I did nothing spectacular.  I simply shared words from my heart. It is not lost on me that, had I not experienced this miscarriage, I would not be writing and speaking truth over thousands of women who are also hurting. God has been doing what He does best -- He is bringing beauty from ashes. 
In the winter issue of Hello Dearest Magazine, Ashley Lande shares in her essay "New Eyes", “Noticing goodness in another, and in ourselves, doesn’t mean negating or glossing over our brokenness.  It doesn’t mean calling the brokenness good.  It means lamenting that it can be redeemed.  It means to look toward the light without pretending the dark isn’t there.  It means recognizing the beauty that could be within the beauty that is.”

If I'm really being honest, as I look back on the past 5 months, I don't think of this season with negativity.  Truly, I am more in awe than anything.  I am in awe of a God who would use me as a vessel for redemption.  I am in awe of how the enemy meant for brokenness and sorrow to cripple me -- but God has empowered me and made me brave. 
With that in mind, I have had this thought --
What if perhaps, this life isn’t about me?  What if it never really has been about me?  What if I am simply a vessel and every season of joy, every season of sorrow is really meant to point others towards Jesus?  What if, in my most broken places, I were to acknowledge that redemption is what’s at stake – for the heart's of others who are daily crossing my path.
Perhaps it takes walking through the valley of the shadow of death for real life to begin -- for holy flourishing to take place.  While I grieve the loss of both of my babies daily, I am certain the flourishing that has taken place has brought great glory to God.  And for that, I am so incredibly grateful. 
My eternal perspective has also flourished.  I have daydreamed on many occasions what it will be like for me the day I will finally hold my two babies, kiss them and tell them how much they were missed.  But more than that, my longing for Jesus has flourished.  My longing to see redemption and pain disappear from this world, for all things to be made new has flourished.  I am learning to grieve with hope for a future that is far more fulfilling than this life. 
In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith — more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire — may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. (1 Pet. 1:6–8)
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Wednesday, January 13, 2016

5 Things Things My Son's Life Threatening Food Allergies Have Taught Me About Motherhood

They say that motherhood changes you. I don't know that any of us really quite understand just how much until we are given the role of "Momma".  From the second we see those two pink lines, we are different.  No longer are we responsible for the health and well being of one precious human life -- but now two (or more)!  It is a privilege and an honor to raise tiny humans. 

We take care, making sure that our babies are healthy and strong from the second we find out we are carrying them.  We cut back on caffeine, we stop drinking wine -- (that's a big deal, friends).  We swallow ginormous prenatal vitamins to make sure that our babies are getting all that they need as they grow beneath our hearts.  Once they arrive, we do everything possible to make sure they are safe.  We wash tiny baby clothes in expensive, dye free detergent, we check the labels on the soaps we use in their baths, we debate -- to vaccine or not to vaccine, we buy organic and are certain that we're feeding them the very best. 

So what happens when we are forced to face the unthinkable?  The food we have been feeding our children has actually been harming them.  That it could kill them
 
For years my husband and I watched our daughter writhe in pain from the food she was eating.  For three long years we questioned what we were doing wrong.  And then one day we finally, thankfully, got answers.  You can read Mackenzie's story here

Today, I am honored to introduce you to my friend Lindsey.  This past year, Lindsey discovered that her youngest son Bowan has life threatening food allergies. I have watched Lindsey as she has had to reconfigure what motherhood looks like for her in light of this revelation. Lindsey is strong and brave and she is an amazing momma.  She is the best momma for Bowan, even on the scary, hard days.  Today she shares the 5 things she has learned since Bowan's diagnoses. 

 
When my youngest son, Bowan was diagnosed with multiple anaphylactic food allergies, it changed me.  it broke me.  It impacted me in a way that not many things have or probably ever will.  But, in the pain I’ve also found good.  Managing my son’s life threatening food allergies has taught me a lot about motherhood + for that I am thankful.
 
1. Motherhood is hard.

Before Bowan’s food allergies were diagnosed, I would think, why is motherhood so hard? What am I doing wrong to make my motherhood experience so difficult? Now,  I’ve just accepted that motherhood is hard.  Anything worth doing is worth doing well.  I want to love my kids well.  With the added pressure + responsibility all that goes into my son’s allergies - research of how foods are processed, keeping my toddler out of reach from his allergens at all times + the understanding of an action plan if anaphalyxis occurs.  With this acceptance has also come the surrender of my previous conception of motherhood.  To now knowing that motherhood just plain includes hard times.

2. Motherhood is joyful.
 
There is so much joy to be found in motherhood.  The tiny voices, the soft sweet skin, the crazy + creative ideas they come up with, the sibling bonds.  It’s all beautiful.  It can be hard at tamest believe that joy is everywhere in motherhood.  But, it is.  The joy is in the big + small moments.  Joy is found in watching my oldest son practice using the Epi Pen trainer.  I absolutely wish the food allergies didn’t have to be part of our life.  But, they are.  It brings me joy to see my oldest son, Breck take responsibility + care deeply for his little brother.
 
3. To just be.  

Motherhood has taught me to just be.  Be in the here + now.  Be in the what is.  I’ve learned to not wish away my present circumstance. This is so hard + it takes time + commitment to be accepting of what is.  I can often struggle with this.  But, I can’t wish Bowan’s food allergies away.  And, if I get stuck + start wishing them away, it does nothing other than make my present experience darker.  His allergies are a reality of my life + it is my responsibility to be vigilant + care for his special needs that his allergies require.  I’m just learning to be the best I can be in the current circumstances.
 
4. To listen to my gut.

When Bowan was first diagnosed with anaphylactic allergies to peanut + egg, my gut said, he must have more allergies.  I already knew that allergic kids typically have multiple allergies.  I thought, I know he has more.  That’s why he’s refused so much of the food I’ve tried to feed him.  That’s why he throws food across the kitchen.  To our first skin testing appointment, I brought a list of suspected foods that I wanted him tested for.  The allergist said, I only have 1% of my patients allergic to many of these foods.I thought, that 1% of your patients are still people + they are someone’s kids.  And, just because the allergies are more “rare” doesn’t mean they don’t exist.  They still impact people.  My voice inside wouldn’t quiet.  I knew I needed to do something.  I knew my gut feelings were there for a reason, even though I didn’t want to believe them.  I found a new allergist that would listen to me + confirmed my gut feelings were right.  The more I listen to my gut, my own voice, the clear that voice is.

5. We can be strong.
 
When Bowan’s allergies were first diagnosed, I didn’t want to be strong.  I didn’t want to find the strength to accept that my son can die from a tiny amount of peanut.  But, an experienced allergy mom gave me incredible advice that helped me change my perspective.  She said, Lindsey, you have to be strong.  You can’t be afraid of giving Bowan the Epi Pen.  I know it’s terrifying to put a large needle in your son’s leg during an emergency.  One day you’re going to need to do this.  And, when you do, you will save Bowan’s life.  You can do it.  With each day, with each success + failure + difficult experience + beautiful experience, I find my strength.  I try to build on it.  Most importantly, I try to remember it’s always there.  Things that are hard are meant to change us.  They are meant to make us grow.  Through the difficult times in motherhood we can find our strength.  In our strength we can do great things.

 
Lindsey Lee is a Michigan farm girl at heart, turned Colorado mountain mom of boys.  She has more toy garbage trucks in her house that you ever knew existed.  She loves skiing and hiking with her husband, Andrew + two boys, Breck + Bowan.  She's a yogi that's learned she needs to get on her mat + get upside down to be the best mom + woman she can be. Lindsey is embracing the fact that she is a creative at heart + loving it.  Lindsey's two sons are healthy + strong + so lovable.  Her youngest son has multiple life threatening food allergies.  Lindsey is a food allergy + health advocate. 
 
Say hi on Instagram @lindseyleeleigh to see the new adventures of Breck + Bowan and to also hear some of Lindsey's authentic motherhood experiences.  Follow @lindseyleeandco for allergy friendly ideas + healthy recipes for your whole family.  Lindsey blogs at Lindsey Lee & Co.
 

Friday, January 1, 2016

Don't Blink

I have a theory.  There are two types of people when the New Year rolls around.  There are those who have been on their knees praying for and counting down the days and minutes until the ball drop and the sparklers can come out.  The promise of a new year means a blank Hobby Lobby chalk board to write out goals and a fresh start to erase mistakes from the past year.  Oh, and lots of fruity cocktail drinks (or milk and cookies if you're my kids).


And there are those hanging onto the kite tails, heels dug in, being straight up dragged into the New Year.  I must confess, I've totally been this girl lately.

Our family's 2015 was characterized by a lot of grief.  We lost our cat Belmont, our daddy bunny and 3 baby bunnies.  We said goodbye to two grandparents and also lost a baby.  And especially after the loss of  our baby, it has at times felt as though my grief is the only thing still connecting me to this little life. 

You would think that, after this type of year, I would be more than ready for the promise of a fresh start and a blank slate.  But for me, looking ahead to a new year, of moving on and starting fresh has somehow seemed more bitter than sweet. Part of me feels like a new year means moving on without our baby and letting his little life become a thing of the past.  I've realized that I have to be careful that I don't just magically expect my heart to be healed because of a new calendar year.  It's got to be okay for some of my grieving to spill over into a new year.  It is okay for you too if you've also been feeling a similar heart tug. 

1 Thessalonians 4:13 tells Christians to grieve with hope.  I'm clinging to this verse as I look forward to the new year.  I can't help but think there are some other mommas out there who've been hesitant to move forward as well.  Let's grieve our losses of 2015 and move forward together in hope. Hope for a year of healing and redemption in our stories.  Let's place our hope in the Father heart of a God who loves us and wants to see joy return to our eyes.  Let's grieve with hope mommas.
 
 
Another side to the ringing in of the New Year is the chance to look forward to exciting upcoming events; to make goals and wishes for what is to come.  The danger I see for myself though is that I sometimes wish my present life away as I'm yearning for the new.  I've found this to be true as we've been trying to grow our family for the past half a year. 

I find myself counting down my present time while waiting for a better time.  Maybe you do this too?

Our family will feel complete when we hold our next baby.  I'll be the happiest I've ever been when that last credit card is finally paid off.  I can really relax if I can just make it to that big vacation we've been anticipating.  When I'm done with school my life will really start.  When this baby weight is finally gone I'll celebrate by buying myself a new wardrobe.  This week -- this is the week we're going to successfully potty train. I'll forgive her when she finally comes to her senses and apologizes.

You see, we live in a world where there are two different types of time.  There's Chronos time and then there's Kairos time. In her short essay Don't Carpe Diem, best selling author Glennon Melton Doyle explains the difference between them,

"There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. It's regular time, it's one minute at a time, it's staring down the clock till bedtime time, it's ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, it's four screaming minutes in time out time, it's two hours till daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slow passing time we parents often live in.
 
Then there's Kairos time. Kairos is God's time. It's time outside of time. It's metaphysical time. It's those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day. And I cherish them." (Glennon Doyle Melton)

Jesse Davis of Red Rock's Church calls Kairos "The golden moment" -- the moment that, if we aren't looking for and expecting, we will miss and it will be lost forever. 
 
You see friends, I've realized through my year of practicing intentionality, that I spend so much of my life counting down the Chronos, the slow going minutes of every day mundane life, that while I'm waiting for the Kairos moments I BELIEVE God should be bringing me, I miss the Kairos moments that are happening now.
 
The most tangible and honest example I can give you is that I've been waiting for the moment I'll finally hold my third baby and all the while missing Kairos moments with the two babies I have.

 
Kairos will be my "word" for 2016.  I desire to continue practicing intentionality, and in doing so my hope is to embrace the Kairos.  To look for those golden moments, the once in a lifetime moments, and bask in them.  Because once these moments are gone, they are gone forever. 
 
Kairos moments are those moments that stand still in our minds like book marks between the pages of our life's stories.  They play out like a photo real, flashing quickly through, highlighting the most significant and life changing moments of 2015.
 
It is Valentine's Day and my husband is reading through the boxes of cards and letters that we wrote to one another back when we were 13.  The flashes of light on his face and in the eyes of our children as he recounts our love story. 
 
It is late April, and I am running along the Coast of Big Sur, California.  I am smelling the salt of the sea and I am pumping my legs along mile 25 and listening to the voices behind me cheer, "Remember why you are running.  Think of your sister.  Don't stop!" I am crossing the finish line and am told I've shaved 30 minutes off of my personal record.  The flood of emotions in that moment as I embrace my husband and our friends Gayle and Jason who have flown to support me.  That Kairos moment is one that will remain with me for the rest of my life. 
 
It is drinking margaritas at a little roadside Taco Bar in Sausalito during a week of exploring San Francisco with precious friends.  The laughter and sounds and tastes and the pure joy of that night will be etched vividly into my mind forever. 
 
It is Heidi's back porch along the foothills in late summer with 6 momma friends.  We are eating Lemon Blueberry Cheesecake and savoring the last days of summer.  It is deep sense of feeling loved and believing more than ever that God has brought me 2 am friends I have been praying for. 
 
It is September and I am holding a positive pregnancy test.  I am bewildered and overwhelmed and I know this moment will change me. And I am wondering, am I ready for this change?  To be a momma to three little ones? 
 
And then I am sitting on the side of our tub seeing red and praying for miracles and holding on to hope for the life inside of me. 
 
It is pouring my grief onto paper and watching the words of my heart go viral in my most vulnerable blog post, reaching thousands of women. It is realizing that even the most painful Kairos moments are meant to bring life.  That sometimes, we are called to walk through the valley of the shadow of death if it means bringing life to others.  And so, for the Kairos moments of September, I am oddly grateful. 
 
All of these moments are once in a lifetime.  Sure, some of them may be recreated.  But not with the purity that experiencing these moments when they first happen would bring.  We must catch them in Kairos time, at just the right time.
 

You see, I'm beginning to understand that we have been chosen for this life. This life.  It doesn't always look like we would have imagined.  It doesn't always feel how we think it should.  We are surprised by the messiness of life...that it does not always come packaged perfectly with a bow on top. We grieve and our insides ache in ways we didn't know possible.  And yet, I believe that even these moments are holy.  Even these moments are Kairos moments. 

So this year, I'll be operating more on Kairos time and less on Chronos time.  I'll be looking for the "breathe deep and inhale moments." The "blink and you'll miss it moments."  The warm fuzzy ones and the ones that have me on my knees, crying out for healing and deliverance and growth. 

I'm so excited to share all the God reveals and teaches me in 2016.  I hope you'll follow me along for this journey. 

Cheers to 2016 -- to the Kairos moments I'll experience as a Little Mountain Momma to these two babes!
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