Revisiting A Teaching Moment

 

It's been a little quiet around here lately.  I'm finding that in changing seasons of motherhood and during periods of my life where God is doing intense work in my heart, it's harder for me to process and write.  In the meantime, I hope this past blog post of mine will be an encouragement to some of you mommas today. 

Little Hearts

 

I'm learning that my daughter is a human sponge.  She's watching my every move. Taking in every word that my husband and I say and she's imprinting those words on her heart.

Each night before climbing into bed, we sneak into Mackenzie's room and we pray over her.  And each night before I leave, I whisper into her ear, "You are the best thing that ever happened to me.  Don't forget that".  And then I melt when she climbs into my lap the next morning and whispers, "You know you're the best momma that ever happened to me?"  Literally, some days I am floored that a seemingly sleeping child is hearing my words and that they mean something to her.

And several times a week I smile as I hear my husband ask Mackenzie from somewhere in the next room, "You know you are loved?"  So it shouldn't come as a surprise to me when, while she and I are out grocery shopping, her hand slipped tightly into mine, she looks up at me in the produce aisle and she sweetly says, "Momma?  You know you are loved?"

Because she's a sponge.  She's hearing our words and she's taking them in and they mean something to her.

But just as our positive words are being soaked up, I am reminded daily that, so are our negative words. Last year I was introduced to fellow blogger Jen Bucker.  She is a beautiful mother of two and is an amazing writer.  She has an incredible gift and I hope you will discover her like I have.  While reading one of her posts a while back, she wrote a line that I have not forgotten and it replays in my mind almost daily.

Jen wrote, "Little hearts should not be broken by little things."

Sounds simple enough.  But is it really?

 

How often do we get overwhelmed by the constant barraging of questions from our babies?  "Mommy, can you help me with..." or "Momma, I went potty in my pants..." Or maybe your baby is so small that he or she hasn't even formulated words yet.  Maybe you hear grunts and whining, accompanied by constant pointing to objects.  And you just want to pull your hair out by the end of the day.

Sometimes, I just cringe at the sound of the word.  "Momma."   And, I just want a break from the responsibility that comes tagged to it.  Like, maybe if I pretend that the shrill sound of my title being shrieked from the next room isn't actually for me....then maybe, (just maybe) I won't have to come to its every beckoning?

How often do we trip over the dress up clothes or stub our toes on the tricycle that is lying out in the middle of the floor?  How often do we hear the sound of a plate clanking from the dining room table and then we wait, shoulders tense and holding our breaths, just knowing that we're about to hear the words, "Uh oh, I spilled...."  And then we're inevitably on our hands and knees picking up stray pieces of macaroni and scrubbing cheese off of the walls.  Huffing and puffing and thinking, "I don't deserve this."

And some days I just snap.  I holler and I yell.   I mutter under my breath, just loud enough for her to hear my frustrations.  I make her smaller than she already is.  I belittle her and I let her know she is an annoyance to me.  And it shows all over her face.  Her already big, blue eyes get even wider and more round and I can just see that something has changed by the way her lips twitch.  For a small second, I am no longer "the best momma that ever happened to me." I've become someone she is afraid of.

And it is then that, in the back of my mind I remember, Little hearts should not be broken by little things.  Sometimes I find myself whispering it deliberately under my breath.  "Little hearts should not be broken by little things. Little hearts should not be broken by little things...." 

And the truth is, maybe that one moment won't actually make a lasting impression on my daughter.  Maybe she will skip off and continue her playtime of princesses and treasure maps. And soon she will have forgotten that mommy was ever upset.  Maybe.

But a friend recently pointed out to me, that we never know the exact point or moment in our child's life when he or she begins to formulate memories.  And what do I really want those memories to be of?  The ones where she is made to feel embarrassed and belittled for simply being a kid?  I hope and pray that those aren't the memories she's making each day.

 When I think ahead to the kind of future that I want for my children, I know in my heart that it isn't always going to meet up to my ideal.  One day, my daughter is going to come home from school and she'll be fighting back tears and feeling like she's worth nothing.  Some mean girl will have made a snide comment or a certain boy will have told her she's not pretty enough.  And those days will break my heart as much as they will hers.

But here's what I do hope for on those inevitable days. Rather than my words for her as a baby and as a child, enforcing those feelings of unworthiness as a teenager-- I hope that she will come back to the words we whispered to her in the dark of night while she was sleeping. The words she hears now while she is wearing her princess crown and dancing merrily around our little home.

That, when the mean girl tells her she isn't "cool enough", she'll remember, I am the best thing that ever happened to my momma.  That when the boy she's so desperately seeking a kind word from, isn't giving her the time of day-- she'll remember my husband's words, "You know you are loved?" I hope and pray that our words- of positive affirmation and of love and security, are the words that speak the loudest to her on those terrible days.

Little hearts should not be broken by little things.  Today was a bad day.  I lost my temper this afternoon.  Mackenzie missed her nap and I snapped at all of the little annoyances of my day.  She went to bed crying.  I could be so angry at myself.  And part of me is.  But tonight, I climbed into her little white bed. I pulled her close to me and I whispered, "I'm sorry."  And she whispered right back, "It's okay momma. I love you".

 And I think it is those moments that matter the most.  The willingness as a mother to admit when I've been wrong.  The humility to let my little girl know that even her momma sometimes loses her temper.  And tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I will make new choices and I will repeat again those words, little hearts should not be broken by little things.  Little hearts should not be broken by little things.  Repeat.

 

So Long Winter Blues...

Last Wednesday Mackenzie woke up in a fit of tears.  While wailing (literally) at the breakfast table we discovered that the tears were because it was "only Wednesday" and "not Friday yet".  It was during this effort to diffuse her tears and quiet her little soul that I discovered the meaning of the term "Hump Day".  Now you might laugh-- but in all of my time on social media, I've never quite understood the meaning of Wednesday as "Hump Day". I have always assumed it was another internet attempt at some sort dirty innuendo.  Well, you learn something new every day. 

According to my husband, Wednesday is called "Hump Day" because it's that mid point in the week that serves as the "hump" that just seems to stop people dead in their weekly tracks.  The freshness of Monday has come and gone but the freedom of Friday seems still so far out of reach.  Well, there you have it.  Wednesday is Hump Day.  Today is Hump Day.  Are you feeling it? Whoo, I sure am. 

But I'm going to be completely honest.  I've been feeling it a lot lately.  And not just on Wednesdays.  I'm going to just put it out there and share that Winter is my Hump Day. 

Oh, Winter.  Seemingly endless, cold, snowy winter. 

Do you struggle with depression or feelings of depression in winter?  If you are a momma, I'm more than willing to bet that you probably do.  Heck, if you are a human, I'm willing to bet you probably do.  It's gotten so bad for me that I struggle to really look forward to the magic and the sentiments of the holidays.  Long about November 1st I start to dread the upcoming season and all of the cold bugs and stir craziness that I know is in store for the future coming months.  And right about now as we're nearing mid March, I'm on the verge of having a Lorelai Gilmore "break up"  melt down with snow.

Well, just take a look for yourself...

Yeah, snow.  We. Are. Through.  This momma is DONE.  Too bad I don't get much of a say in my version of this breakup.  I'm pretty sure that our final big snow fall last year came on Mother's Day which as I recall, ruined my plans for a sunny day of planting flowers. 

But in all seriousness, lets be practical!  How do you combat the winter blues?  How do you find joy when the snow has had you stuck inside for days, the kids are crabby and are actually refusing to watch tv (what!?), you've wiped your hundredth runny nose for the day and you've maxed out your play doh patience capacity for the entire season? What's a momma to do?

Here are some ways that I myself am learning to combat my winter blues...

Plan ahead.  I have got to go into my week with a plan.  Lately when I'm facing a new week that I know is going to be long and hard, the best thing I can do for myself is combat my feelings of depression and hopelessness by having activities and outings that I can look forward to on the calendar.  Whether it's coffee on Tuesday morning with a friends, baking cookies Thursday with Mackenzie or just having a plan of when I'm going to get my house work done.  I just need to know what I'm facing.  I need to know where I'm meeting that friend for coffee and I need to have the ingredients for cookies in my pantry and ready to go.  In case of a snow storm I don't want to be without those vital cookie ingredients. Come on mommas, you know how that happens... all it takes is to be missing the baking soda mid snow storm for your day to just unravel sometimes.  Am I right?

Coupled with planning ahead is to make sure that I'm in community with friends and family during my week.  I recently read in a book that Satan's greatest tactic for discouragement is to make us feel alone and isolated.  I could not agree more.  Some weeks all it takes is to know that I have a playdate on the calendar where I know I'll be filled up and encouraged by other momma friends to get me through that final push of my week.  Every other Thursday I know that I have MOPS to look forward to and some weeks that's just what I need to keep going.  Being in community is HUGE and I can not stress it enough.

Just as equally important as being in community is to make sure I've set aside alone time for myself.  I'm a fairly extroverted person but I will say that when I have overloaded my schedule and I find myself with no break to myself in sight...those are ironically the weeks I struggle the most.  Those are the weeks that I neglect spending time with the Lord, my dishes in the sink pile up faster than I can get to them and I'm usually fishing through a laundry pile of socks just praying to find a clean match because I haven't actually made time to throw a load in the washer yet.  Sometimes you just need to carve out some "down time" in your week so that you aren't getting so behind that it leads to depression.

Play lots of music. And dance.  Putting on some Frozen is all my kids need for a little afternoon pick me up. And just when I think I might go insane if I hear Let It Go one more time, I find myself singing along and smiling at the sweet little dance moves that Levi loves to break out. 

Long baths are my very best friend.  Not for me...for the kids.  Long baths for the kids are the best thing that have happened to me all winter. Throw in some bubbles and my kids could play for an hour in the tub.  This has proven to be a time when I can sit and relax with a cup of tea and whether they are healthy or sick this is a "go to" activity that my kids love.

Bake.  Did I mention we love cookies and we love the way they make the house smell?

Light some candles. Make the home feel cozy and a place you actually want to be. 

Come up with "theme" days. A few weeks back in an effort to spice up a cold day inside we planned a "Pirate & Princess Day".  The kids were absolutely thrilled!  We dressed up, planned a treasure hunt and ended our day with pirate booty and a pirate & princess family movie night.  When the winter days are seeming longer and longer you just have to really get creative in how you make things "fun".

And, when all else fails momma... end your day with chocolate & wine.  A few nights back I put the kids to bed and began to survey the damage around our house.  Everything was in shambles and I was really struggling for the motivation to do anything.  I was feeling incredibly discouraged and well, downright depressed. 

I ended up on the kitchen floor with a bag of chocolate and a glass of white wine.  The dishes eventually got done.  The toys were eventually picked up off the floor and the stepped on Chex Mix did eventually make it's way into the vacuum shoot.  But for a half hour I sat in peace on the kitchen floor and indulged as I day dreamed about the days of warmth that are coming....

I thought of planting flowers in the front yard and of the shrieks of laughter that accompany the joy of summer sprinklers as the kids run through them in their bright colored bathing suits. 

I thought of picnics on the lake and of those sun kissed tan babies spending hours outside in the sand box.

I could almost taste those sticky pop sickles that run down their chubby cheeks and arms.

Spring is coming. 

Summer is coming. 

Warmth and open windows and birds chirping. Green grass and new life.  It's all coming. 

It won't be long until we can all start to hum that sweet Beatles song...
"Little Darlin', it's been a long, cold, lonely winter...Here comes the sun, doo do doo do..."

Lorelai Gilmore, I'm right there with you. 

But it's only fifteen more days momma until the calendar reads Spring. Glorious, wonderful spring. 

And then it's just a sprint to the finish line. I can make it.  We can make it. We are going to make it!

Our Gluten Free Kid Of The Week: Lexi

Kristin Dustman was a close friend of my cousin's growing up but it wasn't until we both became mommas ourselves that we started to get to know one another.  Kristin and her family reside in Charlotte, North Carolina (which if you ask me-- is much too far from Denver).  Her sweet babies Lexi and Max both struggle with allergy issues just like my kiddos so I knew she would be on board to feature Lexi!  So excited to introduce to you:

 

Little Mountain Momma's

 Gluten Free Kid Of The Week

 

 

Alexis (Lexi), 4 years old in March

 
Describe Lexi in three words- Beautiful, Smart, Imaginative

How did you discover Lexi needed to go gluten free? Lexi had a severe allergic reaction to a tree nut at the beginning of this school year which left her skin itchy and extremely dry even after the swelling went away. Before this her skin was so clear and baby soft, she never had any skin issues. So we started pulling out different things in her diet and
noticed not only was eliminating the gluten helping her skin, but it was also night and
day with some different behavioral issues we were going through too.

We believe in a whole foods diet so we have known the deal with gluten for years now, but this gave us the motivation to be super strict with it in our family.
Since eliminating gluten completely all of us have seen improvements in our health!

What are the biggest challenges you find in having Lexi be gluten free? 
The biggest challenges are going out to eat (which gets easier when you know which places are safe to eat at) and birthday parties. Going out to eat both of our kids get grilled chicken and fruits/veggies. If we have a birthday party we are going to I will make Lexi her own
cupcakes or cookies to take with us. She is usually really good about it because she
doesn’t want her skin to itch!

Also, just the fact that when we go out with other people,
everyone else gets to eat the foods she used to love and she can’t anymore. It’s sad, but
she is usually really good about it.

How do you explain what “gluten free” means to Lexi?
We tell her that gluten is not good for our digestive systems and when we eat it, it has different effects on our bodies. Which for her is her skin and behavior. She has been so great about it, she doesn’t complain. She is always asking us if something she is going to eat (that she hasn’t had before) has gluten in it or if it’s gluten free.

Do you have a favorite recipe you would be willing to share
with other gluten free families? 

These Spaghetti  Squash Enchilada Boats are amazing and so easy to make!! Definitely one of our favorite dinners. You can find the recipe on the Detoxinista’s website.

Does your family have a favorite restaurant or bakery
that is gluten free or offers gluten free options?
 
We don’t eat out often, and if we do our kids usually just get grilled chicken .
We live in Charlotte, NC and I know we have them, especially uptown near the city
center. We need to try some!! One good bakery in Charlotte is the Polka Dot Bake Shop-- they serve lots of goodies and on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays they serve gluten free cupcake options with flavors of German Chocolate Cake, Banana's Foster, Raspberry Ganache...yum! Most of the time if I need bake goods, I make them. One of our favorite baking recipes to make is Apple Cinnamon Quick Bread!
 
Do you have any tips for parents who are embarking on a gluten free diet for their child/children?

STICK WITH IT!! And have patience. Shortly after we realized
how much gluten truly affected Lexi, someone told me it could take all of 6 MONTHS to completely get out of her system. That seemed overwhelming. But we just took it one day at a time. She didn’t eat a lot at first with the new diet, but now she is trying things she would have never tried before. I am so proud of her! Also, things can have hidden gluten in them
that you would never thing of, so be careful in the beginning and do some research. It
definitely takes some persistence and practice to get the hang of the new routine.

Do you have any favorite resources (websites, books, magazines etc...) that you can share to help another parent along this journey?

Embarrassingly enough, Google is my best friend! I follow some blogs on whole food diets/gluten free baking for new recipes and such. We also take our kids to a holistic doctor and chiropractor who is extremely helpful with all of our questions. Not to mention the adjustments themselves have helped tremendously too!!

 
Thanks for stopping by!  If you have any questions about Lexi's story or if you would like your child to be featured as a future Gluten Free Kid Of The Week please email inspiregfkids@gmail.com!

 

Keep Fighting

This morning our family woke to one of those magical breathtaking snows--the kind where the trees and homes have been painted a pure white with a serene, peaceful glow. 

 

It is winter days like today that make me want to light Yankee candles and bake cookies and have soup simmering on the stove while the kids play board games and we watch the flakes continue to fall heavy around our safe hideaway. 

 

 



About mid morning Levi made his way into the kitchen where I was cooking.  With music playing in the background I knelt down to him, stretched out my arms and asked, "Wanna dance?"  He leaned into me with his chubby arms up.  I enveloped him in a big bear hug as he lay his head on my shoulder and we danced for what felt like hours. 

And just like the snow we woke up to early this morning, our dance felt absolutely magical. 

Do you have those moments momma?  Those moments where you wish you could just stop time with your littles and soak them up forever?  This was one of those moments for me.

 

 

As I held my sweet boy tightly and we sang together all of the "ho heys" by the Lumineers, I couldn't help but think about how I almost never got this moment-- how fear once nearly kept me from experiencing this moment and thousands of others just like it. 

I think of the story in John 10 where Jesus speaks the words, "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."  The weight of these words were so heavy on my heart today. 

You see, if you know my story then you know that for 18 months after Mackenzie was born, I struggled with such severe depression that I just knew I was done having babies.  Or at least the enemy had convinced me I was done.  He had me convinced that there was no joy in being a momma.  I was recounting to a friend recently that there was a time when I legitimately felt sorry for mommas who had more than one child.  I could not fathom the idea of having to be a mother of more than one and those who had to do it-- I frequently had thoughts of "Man, so glad I'm not her."

And then there were the days after we miscarried. When I hung on to grief and fear as if they were knitted together a heavy cloak on my shoulders.  I was so broken by our loss that I convinced myself I was alone in my pain.  That no one else could possibly understand what I was going through. I was fearful. So incredibly fearful to keep moving forward with this dream of expanding our family. 

You see, the enemy came to steal, to kill and to destroy. 

He came to steal my joy.  The joy I should have had as a new momma.  The joy I should have had at the thought of adding to our family.  He killed.  Quite literally.  I know many would argue against this idea-- that miscarriage is a part of life and that it's normal. 

I would argue that miscarriage was never God's intent, that life has always been at the heart of who God is. And Jesus so boldly proclaimed this when he said, "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."

I have no idea where you are on your momma journey. 

Maybe you are just getting started.  Maybe you held that precious ultrasound photo this morning and for the first time your heart leapt with joy at the thought of holding your sweet baby in 9 months. 

Maybe you're that momma who is struggling with infertility.  The momma who knows more loss than she should ever have to.  Maybe you've been praying and pleading with God for years to add to your family.

Or perhaps you're the momma who is pregnant but is struggling to find that joy that everyone seems to think you should be experiencing. 

Or if you are like I was-- you're the momma who has already held the baby but just can't find the joy that everyone said there would be upon his or her arrival. I get it, I've been there.

Maybe you became a momma by way of fostering or adoption and you are aching for your sweet baby to experience and embrace the love you promised them the moment you first saw their sweet face in that picture. 

Maybe you are the exhausted momma of 3 under five and are just praying and counting down the minutes on that little kitchen clock until nap time.

Maybe you're the single momma going it alone and just trying to hold on for one more day.

Whatever your road to motherhood, whatever your journey has been-- whatever discouragement you're experiencing, whatever depression you are in the trenches of.  Fight for your joy. 

Fight for those dancing in the kitchen moments.  Fight for those future moments that the enemy wants so desperately to keep from you.  Take that promise that Jesus made to you and hold on to it tightly and claim it as your own. 

It may not come right now.  It may take years of fighting and praying and hoping.  Satan wants you to stop dreaming.  He wants your fear and your discouragement to stop you dead in you tracks and he wants to keep you from moving forward in your vision for your family and in the hope that Jesus promises you. 

Keep fighting.  Because the enemy does not win and he does not get the glory.

This morning I danced with my little boy in our kitchen and we smooched and snuggled and watched the snow fall outside of our window.  This was a dream I had deep in my heart for years but I nearly let this dream pass me by.

And today I thought about how mad this probably makes Satan.  To see me happy, to see me thriving, to see me loving on this amazing little boy that he almost kept from me. 

God gets the glory here.  Satan doesn't win. 

And he doesn't win in your momma story either.  Keep pressing on.  Keep hoping and keep fighting.

 

Our Love Story

 

(Disclaimer: This is a really sappy love story.  Stop reading if you are at all cynical of love, marriage or happy endings).

 

Growing up I was always a little embarrassed to share our love story.  Not because I wasn't confident in what we had but more because I was fairly certain our friends thought we were crazy.  But the truth is, I've always loved our story.  It's different and unique to us and I love that we beat the odds...

 

When I was 13 years old I spent a week at summer camp near Traverse City, Michigan.  My friends and I were cabin mates with several girls who were very boy crazy.  All week we kept hearing about a really cute boy named Jeremy Baker.  On Wednesday of that week during morning chapel I said the words out loud, "Who is this Jeremy Baker kid anyway?" and I heard, "I'm right here."  I turned around to find him sitting directly behind me.  We spent the rest of our week hanging out in one big group during free times and different camp events.  At the end of the week we exchanged addresses and went home our separate ways.  I think that's what all campers do-- exchange addresses with good intentions. But hey, when you're 13 years old nothing really ever comes of it, right?

 

Two weeks later I received a letter in the mail addressed from Jeremy Baker.  He wrote that I was very pretty and had asked permission from his mom to write me.  And so began years of handwritten letters back and forth.  What started as a silly little camp crush led to my very best friend living 6 hours away.  Every week we would each wait eagerly for the mail man to deliver a new letter. Every other Saturday Jeremy was allowed to call me for exactly a half hour and I looked forward to those calls as if they were Christmas Day.  

 

At 15-years-old (two years after meeting and beginning our friendship) both sets of parents agreed to drive six hours round trip and meet halfway in northern Indiana for an evening of dinner and bowling.  Looking back now, we both agree that our parents must have been crazy to agree to driving that far for their two teenagers but we are so thankful they did because it was a stepping stone to get us to where we are today.  This was also the year Jeremy wrote me a letter and told me he believed there was something special in store for us.

 

 

The summer of 16 years old was the summer I really fell in love.  That was the summer we spent three months together working at camp. It was summer of stolen kisses and dancing in the rain and falling asleep at night wearing his sweatshirt. This was also the summer Jeremy told me he was going to marry me and I believed him.

 

 

Over the next two years we continued to write letters, send emails, our phone calls became more frequent and sometimes lasted for hours. We visited each other for weeks at a time and we went to homecoming and prom together at both of our schools.  When it came time to apply for colleges we made plans to apply to all of the same schools and we would decide together where to go. We were both accepted to Moody Bible Institute in Chicago.  In the fall of 2004 we moved to Chicago and were together for the first time in 5 years.

 

The summer between our freshman and sophomore year of college Jeremy proposed to me after spending a summer in Africa and we were married the summer after that.  While we were students at MBI, our school newspaper published a story about us. We still have the article framed in our kitchen as a constant reminder of where we began. 

 

 

Under our bed is a box of hundreds of letters and cards that we love to go through every now and then.  I hope that someday Mackenzie (and maybe even Levi) will read and learn about how their parents fell in love.

 

 

 

I know that most people will say marriage is hard.  That staying in love is hard.  But babe, it's never been hard with you. 15 years and exactly 7 months ago today we met.  There has never been anyone else for me. Thank you for this beautiful life you've helped me to create.  Thank you for giving me such amazing babies. Thank you for believing in us and for always fighting for our dreams.  You always knew we were worth it. I love you.

 

 

XOXO, Mack & Levi

One of the things that I love so much about my girl is her love for all things holiday.  She is so much like her momma in that way.  My girl, the girl who has to wear cute boots and eat pumpkin pancakes and shop for candles on "Happy Fall Day" even though she's only 5 years old.  That's Mack for you.

 

Well, true to her sweet little self, she's been begging me to make gluten free Valentine's Day Cookies for weeks and today we finally did it.  While "bro bro" (as she calls him) napped, we had Mommy & Mack time.  I love the intensity that she brings to the table every single time we take on a project.

 

 

Without a doubt one of my all time favorite pictures of her.  Her smile just lights up a room.

 

 

 

Bro Bro finally emerged from his 3.5 hour slumber (Don't be jealous-- this is not the norm!)

 

I recently read somewhere that our children will not remember how clean or how messy the house was while they were growing up.  But they will remember how stressed mom was because of how clean or how messy the house was.  Such a simple statement but so much truth packed into it. 

 

On a day like today, there was flour all over my kitchen, cookie cutters littering the ground, dough balls fallen to the floor and then trampled around our house by little feet.  We had dishes in the sink, eggs dropped on the floor.  You name it. It was a total disaster zone. 

 

But I'm so incredibly thankful that I've grown to this place as a momma where the messes no longer matter.  The smiles in these pictures are what hold a magnitude of importance.  There will be more dishes in the sink tomorrow and the next day and the one after that. I could drive myself (and my kids) absolutely crazy with a need for control and cleanliness.  But what fun would that be?

 

So today, we played in the messes and we giggled and ate raw cookie dough.  And I'm certain that those moments from today will have a stamped place in our memory far longer than the dishes piled high on the counter. 

 

 

 

Mack & Levi,

You have my whole heart for my whole life. 

I love you my sweet babies,

Momma

A Season of Wandering & Rest

 

"The surrender of walking through wilderness

 is how you step into the promised land."

 

This afternoon little man was all about doing somersaults in his bed and some serious fake snoring.  He was having anything but rest.  For almost an hour he bounced around, threw his stuffed animals and blankets out of his bed, squealed and giggled until finally he hit that point of exhausted screeching and crying that usually comes just before their little bodies succumb to sleep. He wriggled around and cried those big crocodile tears. And my heart broke to hear his cries.

But as his momma, I know he needs rest.  Levi's little body has been going, going, going since 6 am and I know what the repercussions of a boycotted nap will do to him later on this afternoon and even into this evening. 

I can't help but wonder if God is thinking the same things about me. That maybe He is looking at me and seeing the pace at which I move through this life and all the while thinking, "Daughter, just rest." 

Rest from the busy pace. Rest from the voices of the world that are telling you I am not enough.  Take a break from the chatter of the other momma voices that cause you to doubt your own strengths and focus on your weaknesses. Just rest and listen to me. To my voice.

I've already written a little bit about my journey to this place.  I shared that I knew I needed to guard my heart and filter the things I allowed into my life.  I made the conscious decision to cut out media for a full year.  And in my extra time during my baby's naps and in the evenings after bedtime I had planned to spend this year really pursuing things that brought me life.  Things like writing for myself and to other mommas and photography and art.

I wish I could write and tell you that I've done perfectly at this over the past few months.  But the truth is, I may or may not have done the ugly cry while on the treadmill at the gym saying goodbye to the sweet fictional Braverly family that I've come to think of as my own extended family.   I may have also googled on occasion the words "bachelor Chris". Because let's be honest bachelor fans, cutting out The Bachelor cold turkey was not going to be easy.

But in all seriousness, I told you I would let you in on my journey, so today I'm sharing where I am.

This has been a really, really hard past 6 weeks.  I knew that choosing to listen to God's voice rather than the world's voice would be hard but I never imagined this difficult.

I'm sure you've all heard the saying, "silence is deafening".  Well, I'm here to share that it really, really is deafening. At night, after tucking the babies into bed, I have no television to drown out the silence, no secular music to jam to while scrubbing the counters and picking up toys. 

It's just me.  And what I'm finding is that often times, I don't necessarily like me.  And so, God and I are coming to grips with why.  He's flushing out the reasons I hide behind a false identity, the reasons I can never really fully rest. He's using this time of silence to hash out the ugliness and to redeem the views I have of myself and of Him.  And this is a really hard place to be.  I shared with one friend that I feel very much like an Isrealite, walking through the wilderness, waiting on God.  And this waiting and this silence has been lonely and at times downright heartbreaking. 

This morning while having coffee with a friend she asked me the hard question, "Whose timeline are you on?  Are you on Brittany's time line with this heart change or are you on God's timeline?" And like little Levi fighting sleep, I cried those big, heavy crocodile tears right there in the middle of the Caribou coffee shop.  Because as much as I hate to admit it, I am on my timeline. I've given God a deadline and I've said, "Change me, but do it fast and please don't let it be painful." I want to see results fast and I don't like the rest and the waiting and the silence.

But even through those big heavy embarrassing "scare the man sitting next to me reading his newspaper tears", I managed to get out the words, "I know this is a beautiful place to be."

Wait, what?  Beautiful?  Yes, beautiful.  Because for the first time in maybe forever, I'm surrendering to the Lord.  I'm asking Him to take all of the false senses of security and ways that I hide and I'm telling Him it's okay to do big things with my heart. 

You see, I so greatly desire to make a difference in this world.  I want to pour into the lives of other mommas.  I want to hold hands with the little old woman who is lonely and I want to do her makeup and tell her she's beautiful and listen to her life story.  I want to create things that have meaning and I want to share my creations with the world.  I want to be a momma who loves and nurtures her babies and leaves a strong legacy.  I want to be a wife who encourages and is that "safe haven" for her husband. But I can't do all of that with a false sense of self.  I can't do any of that unless I know my true identity. 

And so, I'm going to keep pressing on. I'm going to keep crying those tears and scaring the man next to me at the coffee shop.  I'm going to keep doing the hard, messy work as I go head to head with my brokenness this year (and however long it takes). I'm going to continue to sit in the silence and I'm going to watch as God takes the messiness and restores and makes the broken beautiful. 

"In the middle of the day, he asked if we could just go for a walk together & listen. 

The woods were all silence.  The quiet knows that--

 The surrender of walking through wilderness is how you step into the promised land.  

When we stood at the edge of the field-- you could hear how the wind stood still between the trees. 

There's something about stillness & knowing who He is & how He makes roads." - Ann Voskamp