Pull your husband close and dance barefoot in the kitchen.
Cradle your littles and kiss those chubby cheeks.
Hug your tweens and tell them they’ll always be your baby.
Grab that teenager and tickle those stinky feet.
Pray in the car.
Point to Jesus.
Serve when it’s hard.
Choose love when it hurts.
Be thankful.
Gather your family for meals every day.
Speak life every chance you get.
Choose worship over worry.
Live,
Read,
memorize,
and teach your children
The Word.
Give honor to the One who created your family.
Fall in love with Jesus by falling on your knees.
Courageously pour hope into your home.
Stand your ground, mammas.
have a mother’s courage.
đIt means so much that you’re taking this journey with me.â¤
Drop your email for a FREE SEVEN-DAY DEVOTIONAL: CLICK HERE FOR DEVOTIONAL
It’s Foster Care Awareness Month. To be honest, I wouldn’t have known that if we weren’t a foster family. But I’m thinking, for those of us living in SoCal, it would be good for us to start paying more attention because Los Angeles has the highest number of foster children in the NATION!
The. Nation.
Thirty-thousand kids are currently in the foster care system in LA. I had no idea before I started this journey. Our sweet foster daughter is from LA, and they called us because NO ONE WOULD TAKE HER – This is common. There are not enough foster families in LA, so the overflow calls get sent to Orange County and beyond.
On a side note, she just turned one and we couldn’t be more in love with her!Â
I’ve had a lot of people ask me what it’s like– if I’m worried how it will affect my kids, and how we’ll feel if she is reunified with her bio parents. I’ve found it’s common for people to misunderstand what foster is and assume we “get to keep her” now that she’s been placed with us. I shared many of the same misconceptions about the system before we started this journey, so I thought I’d share some thoughts on the subject.đ
I’m attempting to keep this non-emotional (not a typical blog post for me!), and as informational as possible. However, this is how I perceive the information based on my personal experience with foster care thus far. Also, when I approached my Facebook Foster/Adoption group with the questions of misconceptions, there was a much longer list than what I’ve included here. This blog is just scraping the surface of a deep and complicated subject. But I will say, for the sake of complete transparency: The system is incredibly broken.
Misconceptions about Children in Foster Care
Foster care means adoption.
I’ve had well-meaning, precious people say, “Congratulations” âŚnot understanding that a kid who has been removed from their bio parents by DCFS, was taken because they were in danger of, or were being neglected or abused. However, the goal of the foster care system (judges, attorneys, social workers, therapists, investigators, rehab centers, parent educators, foster families) is to reunify these precious kiddos to their biological families. Adoption is the last resort and a result of their biological family not being well enough or safe enough to take them back home. For most of the foster families I know, if the adoption took place, it took two to three years to finalize. I have friends who’ve had children living with them for two years, and then they reunite with their biological family.
2. Parents who have their kids taken by DCFS really don’t want their kids.
In my experience, nothing could be further from the truth. The court has given them a “case plan” designed (in theory) to provide them with the tools and healing to be the parents they want to be. I’ve heard many foster families say they wish they could take in the biological parents into their home, too. They need love and a family to support them. Unfortunately, with a large percentage of foster youth parents having been in the foster system themselves, that support is usually not set in place. And let’s be honest, no social worker, attorney, judge, or therapist can replace the healing power of a loving family, leading a child to a loving God.
3. Once you have a foster child in your home, you won’t have contact with the biological family besides court dates.
Biological parents are usually granted visitation with their children (even if they are in jail or rehab). We started with seeing our foster daughters’ mama four hours a week, then it was increased to nine hours a week. Some foster agencies will transport and monitor the visitation for the foster family. We, however, have been responsible for transporting and supervising the visitations for baby girls (until recently). The parents have court given time to work on their “case plan” and towards reunification–attending visitations and bonding with their children is typically part of that plan.
  4. Foster families are emotionally stronger than other families.
The number one comment I receive is, “I don’t know how you do it, I would get too attached.” Guess what? I am super attached. I’m no different than you, no foster family is. We aren’t stronger than anyone. Surrendered, yes. Strong, no.
If you are a person who would get too attached to children in foster care, then guess what?! You’re the perfect candidate to be a foster parent. Attachment is what these kids need.
Things you may not know:
*Statistics from CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates)
It means so much that you’re taking this journey with me.⤠I’d love to send you a FREE SEVEN-DAY DEVOTIONAL: CLICK HERE FOR DEVOTIONAL
Last week, I had a –how did my walls get this dirty?! – kind of day. Our adoption social worker was coming over to redo our home safety report (because they LOST the original. Yup.)
I can’t even. I found myself, knees pressed to the wood floors, scrubbing off fingerprints…or maybe they’re toe-prints? I don’t even know.
One smudge rallied so hard against my efforts- it was like a caveman painting fighting to not be erased from our home history.
So how did my walls get so dirty? Because people live here; little dirty people and big dirty people. This is our safe place; our “come as you are “place.
Let’s be real- Our safest walls are always the messiest.
When they walk through the doors of this house, I don’t demand they clean up right away. I don’t insist on showers the second they burst through the door from hours of bike-riding, or soccer-playing or middle-school surviving.
I let them rest a bit. Breathe a bit. Eat a snack. Grab a drink. I let them just…be. And although this is a picture of grace, it’s still not excusable for them to intentionally wipe a muddy cleat on my hypothetical white rug, or smudge a happy face on walls with their grubby fingers.
Our home parallels our relationships. The more intimate the relationship, the messier it can get. The safer we feel, the more careless we can become. There are days my hubby comes home and I soil his spirit with careless words, sarcastic comebacks, and hurtful eye rolls. All the junk that’s clung to my shoes and wedged under my skin from the day, I carry straight to my people.
It’s OKâŚbut it’s not OK. We have to take responsibility for checking the condition of our hearts when we enter our safe spaces. We canât treat our people like itâs their job to stand still and let us wipe our junk all over them.
When my kids come in stinky and tired, it’s true, I let them rest. But eventually, they’re getting in that shower y’all! It’s the same with our attitudes and spirits.
The home is where grace and discipleship should be profoundly weaved together. Healthy homes cannot have discipleship without grace, and grace is not effective without discipleship.
I try to hold my tongue when someone spills in my home. It’s simply human nature to mess up, but even more so, to sin. There’s no value gained by verbally ripping into my family, “Sin is not ended by multiplying words, but the prudent hold their tongues” (Proverbs 10:19).
However, I don’t allow them to walk away without taking responsibility to clean up. When the mess is dripping off the table, soaking my rug, I’ll snatch another towel and jump on the floor with my kiddo to help. At times, the stain is so tricky, I’ll need to explain how I know white wine gets out most anything. Â Our kids are still kids. We need to guide them on how to clean up the messes they make.
This same model of discipleship can be used when our kiddos verbally smear their siblings. I’m struck by The Message’s version of Matthew 18, âBut what comes out of the mouth gets its start in the heart. Itâs from the heart that we vomit up evil arguments…”
As parents, don’t we get it?! I know I struggle to remember this! It’s not the words we should be scurrying to mop up- itâs the âvomitâ collecting in our hearts. We offer astounding love when we help our kids notice thereâs a well from which they draw their words. Harsh words and attitudes don’t pollute the heart; they ooze from a polluted heart.
We all have days that leave our souls caked with mud-like frustration. It’s expected weâll need a safe space to wash up. But showing someone our dirty hands is different than shoving it on them.
Itâs my instinctual reaction to yell, donât you dare say that! or apologize right now! But Iâm praying for patience and wisdom. Maybe the question I should really pull my kiddos aside and ask is, why do you think you just said that? And instead of demanding a flippant apology, challenge them to think, why do you think Iâm asking you to apologize?
If we donât teach our kids, (and ourselves!) how to âheart checkâ in the midst of bubbling emotions, weâll be spewing all over our beloved home asking, how did our walls get so dirty?!
God’s word beautifully reminds us that our words have the power to give life. Check out these Bible verses for inspiration: God’s Word Marked by Love
I have baby onesies with no pudgy legs to fill them. I have space where I hung dresses for a job I didnât get.
Having empty space in our lives, doesnât mean weâre called to endure emptiness. Once a woman wept outside an empty tomb and was met by the hope of the world.
Remember Mary, the shamed woman whose heart was seen by Jesus? In Him, she was most likely cherished for the first time. Then she witnessed the desire of her heart mocked, beaten, and nailed to a cross.
Maryâs new identity was mercilessly pinned to a piece of wood. Her hope was in Jesus. And now it hung lifeless for the whole world to see.
Our desires may be holy and epic! For me, wanting to adopt is that one desire I feel Iâve been watching die a gruesome death. Itâs out of my hands. All I can do is stand aside and feel the fool for believing. Have you ever felt this way; that God entrusted you with a longing but it seems itâs a no-go?
Iâm guessing Mary may have felt this way. She proclaimed the hope of the world had come, and the next day they rolled a stone sealing His grave.
Still, she knelt outside the tomb, where her unmet expectations lay buried and dead.
Dying to self is a true death. And itâs OK to treat it that way. As long as we donât forget: We worship a God of resurrection!
Mary went to Jesusâ tomb, terrified and confused to find it hollow. She pleaded with the angels, asking where theyâd taken him. (John 20:11-18). Itâs not that she wanted Jesus to be dead, but itâs what she expected.
Sometimes, we’re so busy focusing on the hollowness of a situation…we miss the hallelujah!
Weâre so much like Mary. If weâve watched a desire of our heart be abused and buried, we visit the grave expecting it to stay that way forever.
We forget what hope looks like. When this happens, we can miss it staring us in the face.
Hope looks like Jesus.
Hope is Jesus.
Mary didnât even recognize Him when he appeared to her outside the tomb. She mistakes him for the gardener! (John 20:15) She was seized by the fact things didnât remain irredeemable. The world was whispering, “Whatâs the point? What you hoped for is still dead.”
But the world lies. Thereâs always a resurrection!  Whateverâs  lifeless, looks different after revival.
Jesus looked different. He was glorified. (Philippians 2:20-21) I think itâs why Mary didnât recognize Him right away.
Itâs the same with the desires of our hearts. Itâs not that they arenât lovely, but God has something planned to take our breath away! Something we havenât considered. Something impossible.
This. Is. Faith. Standing outside a graveyard and believing resurrection will come.
Weâre completing our Foster Certification. Something mind you, we said weâd NEVER do. God, through the past five years of loss and frustration, has been tirelessly crafting our powdered dreams into something completely different than what we expected to see. The idea of becoming Foster Parents was our equivalent of Mary mistaking Jesus for the gardener. We initially flipped out, âWhere have you taken our dead dream?!!â I just wanted to remain face down, ugly crying like Mary.
Sometimes, itâs easier to sit in disappointment then to step into the unknown. This is a big unknown for us! But I know the sweet face of hope. I refuse to mistake Him.
Weâre approaching a desolate space and expecting the impossible to happen.
Weâre expecting God to resurrect all that was lost.
Weâre expecting desires to look different.
Standing right in front of us, could be the glorified, holy, resurrected will for our lives.
Once, I swung open the front door of my mini-van, jumped inside, heard a growl, peeked over my shoulder and found myself face to face with two black dogs.
Seriously, who the heck put their stinkinâ dogs in my mini-van?!
Um. Yeah. Not my mini-van.
Itâs a bit terrifying how long it took to realize my mistake.
No one in the van was happy…and somebody definitely peed a little.
Hereâs the deal: Donât climb into someone elseâs mini-van uninvited. It doesnât matter how much it looks like yours. Same goes for our lives. Someone may appear to have a similar life, outlook, circumstance, parenting triumph or woe – but until youâve entered in, youâve no clue whatâs really going on inside.
Never assume. Itâs a waste of time. And donât barge in. Itâs too risky.
Wait to be invited.
This can be so tricky. Especially if the door of their life appears wide open. Â Dusty goldfish are pouring out, the leaking juice box under the backpack has puddled next to a runaway credit card. You just want to offering a suggestion…right?! Stop. There could be some snarling teeth in there. Someoneâs going to get hurt.
I canât tell you how many friendships in my life have been strained because weâve felt judged by one another. Â It makes all of us shut down and pull away. Ask yourself two questions:
Have I established mutual trust with this person?
If you havenât known this person long, and you get all up in their business, it can feel like judgement. It may not be your heart! But remember, they donât trust you yet. Itâs not fair to expect them to know your intentions. Be wise and hold your tongue. But love them like crazy. Be a constant in their life.
Has this person indicated they want your opinion?
I have friends who I know donât want my opinion- even though they love and trust me. Bummer is, Iâm still prone to give it. Weâve got to know our audience yâall. Â Itâs hard for this Italian/Irish girl to shut it down! Iâm learning at the speed of molasses â I need to discipline myself in this area.
Does your friend let her kids watch rated R movies at the age of nineâŚguess what?!
Thatâs not your mini-van!
Or maybe a friend doesnât believe in vaccinations, or home-school, or private school, or public school, or any school!!
Yeah. Thatâs not your mini-van either. Get out girl!
Itâs hard to be a mom these days. Everyone and every book out there hisses, âYouâre doing it wrongâ or, âYou can do it better.â Our generation has trouble trusting God can equip us properly.
We turn to the next, âHow to…â book, before we turn to Godâs book.
We ask Siri before we ask the Spirit.
I believe the enemy’s in this; undermining our God-given instincts to parent our children well. He uses social media, articles and most aggressively- he baits us to tear each other down. We don’t need to be another blasting horn of judgement towards our sisters! Godâs heart is for us to, âEncourage one another and build each other up.â(1 Thessalonians 5:11)
Donât know how to do this? I think it starts with less worrying about getting into someone elseâs life, and inviting them authentically into your own. Living out grace is a powerful witness and gift; loving people regardless of their parenting choices. If a friend does ask your opinion, it’s a safe place to practice honesty. Any fiery pups in her mini-van should know you well enough not to snap.
We call it, âThe Dark Hole of our Marriage.â I was thirty and had birthed three kids in 2 ½ years. Everyone around me was a total jerk. Everyone. Other mammas, my mirror, the mailman, and especially that speed-walker dude on Kellogg. Trust me – but donât trust me. I hadnât slept and each day was a blur of diapers, feedings and potty accidents. It wasnât until I was thirty-three that I began to feel a bit human again. Kids were sleeping more; playing in the toilet less. I finally understood; maybe everyone around me wasnât really a jerk. Maybe the honking lady in the Sprouts parking lot truly cared my baby was rolling away with my shopping cart. Maybe.
Perhaps, they were just offering an oxygen mask to a suffocating girl.
Life’s truly a canvas of mountains and valleys. One of the greatest dangers for extreme mountain climbers is lack of oxygen to the brain. When this happens, they get disoriented and canât think clearly (Hello, motherhood!). They become incapable of ascending or descending the mountain alone. A fellow climber must place their own oxygen mask over the climberâs mouth and physically help them down.
This is how God designed fellowship to work. Because we all have âmountainsâ to climb, dear ones!
On some mountains, youâll be stronger than me. Your faith wonât falter. Youâll have a week when all the kiddos are healthy, and youâve had bunches of quiet time with Jesus. Your oxygen tank will be 100% full with a backup in the mini-van.
On other climbs, I might be honking at your kiddo in a runaway shopping cart.
But what is our spiritual oxygen tank filled with? Encouragement? Wise words? Dinner on the doorstep?
All of these are precious and certainly loving. But weâre talking about our sisters SUFFOCATING!!! I donât care how epic your baked pasta dish is, itâs not going to cut it.
Two things are made from the breath of God in the Bible: Mankind (Genesis 2:7), and Godâs word (1 Timothy 3:16).
This is no coincidence. When our spirits are gasping for air, we need the breath of Godâs word poured into us. But what happens when weâre too worn out to lift relief to our lips? Youâre not the only gal who struggles to find time to read Godâs word. But you donât need to collapse on the trail and declare it hopeless.
Look around for other climbers – other believers. Use what’s left in your lungs to cry out, âSomeone, please speak the word of God over my life right now!â
This is not shameful. This is brave.
Your life, your children, your marriage, your sanity, in some way, depend on your ability to recognize, youâre too exhausted to ascend higher by yourself. Some days, weâll need a sister to hoist us up, press the word of God upon our lips and carry us straight to Jesus.
And if this isnât you right now, get ready for a search and rescue season! I guarantee thereâs someone with an empty oxygen tank on your trail. Scoop them up, speak Godâs truth into their life and take them to the King.
Sometimes Mammaâs need help. But all the time, they need grace.
Once upon a time, at Trader Joes, I allowed my three angels to push their own mini-carts. SoâŚthey decided to play bumper carts down the aisle of wine bottles. Smack in the middle of the horrific scene, another mom sauntered by, her two children peacefully pushing one cart and said,
âYou know, itâs really not the best idea to let each of your children have a cart.â
I donât remember what I said. But I did not say,
âWow, thatâs such wonderful advice. Youâve helped me feel like a non-idiot. You clearly care about me and the six shattered Merlots Iâm about to pay for.â
Yeah. I did not say that.
Moments later, a heroic Trader Joeâs worker, rushed to my side as I confiscated the horrid mini-carts. I was attempting to balance all three on top of my big one. She gently offered the kiddos a sucker while I completed my mission.
I look back on this day and ask myself-Â Which character in this embarrassing story do I want to be? Our words and actions, even well intended, are pathways.
Here are key questions Iâm learning to consider:
Is what I say or do, leading someone down a hallway to Godâs love? Or, is it a route to my own self-validation?
Will this help them feel better, or me feel better?
Which corridor am I nudging people towards when I come to their aid?
I donât think the mamma at Trader Joeâs had a heart to help me. Â She wanted to make it clear, she knew more about this parenting thing than me. Iâm super guilty of behaving this way, too. We all struggle with insecurities when we seek validation outside of God’s love.
Once I shamed a mamma for packing her daughter marshmallows as a âhealthy snack.â Not my finest moment. But advising her how not to feed her children, validated the way I chose to feed mine. It was vain. Godâs word makes it clear, âDo nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves.â (Philippians 2:3)
Holding my tongue is just as hard as the Bible says. Godâs shown me, sometimes I donât really want to help, I want to be heard. If being heard by others becomes more important than loving them, weâve missed the mark big time. This is true in our friendships, marriages and everyday encounters.
Jesus didnât say, the greatest commandment is, âLove the Lord your God with your heartâŚAnd the second is to give judgmental advice to all the tired moms on your street.â
Nope. He said, ââLove the Lord your GodâŚÂ  And the second is like it: âLove your neighbor as yourself.â(Matthew 22:37-39)
How did you feel loved when you were in this bleary-eyed stage? Consider those thingsâŚand then do them for others. Next time you see a crazy mamma balancing mini-carts in Trader Joeâs, help her get the third one up with a smile.  She doesnât need your advice, she needs your grace.
I have one big brother; and he is all brother. When we were kiddos, his love language was messing with me. I believed his Every. Single. Word. Stuff, like-
At the age of 12, Iâd be sent to live on an Indian Reservation to make bead necklaces for the rest of my life–because I was a girl.
AndâŚ
Dr. Pepper was called âDr. Pepperâ because you were supposed to pour red crushed peppers in before you drank up.
Iâm relieved my parents forgot to send me away, and eventually, I traded sucking red crushed peppers through stubborn straws for my beloved non-fat, with-whip, mochas.
My whole life Iâve had the ‘fun’ of knowing what it means to have a brother…but not a sister. Last week my daughter received a letter with the precious words crayoned,
âCiana, you can call me Sisterâ.
I read it over and over, and all the feel-goods sprinkled over my spirit. My cousinâs daughter had written them. Sheâs adopted from Uganda and understands more than most, love makes a family. And God is that love. We enter a loving relationship with God; strike down genetic laws; and become sisters with other believers. But it doesnât always feel that way.
If someone at church referred to me as âsisterââŚI figured theyâd forgotten my name. Honestly, there are times when hearing it from random ladies makes me roll all my eyes. Why can it feel so patronizing? When itâs stripped down: we may be sisters in Godâs family, but we often struggle to treat one another that way. It’s not on purpose! We’re busy. We’re tired. We’re overwhelmed keeping precious little humans alive and forget to really pray when we say we will.
When someone in a family struggles, it affects the whole household. If something is lost, all grubby fingers dig under the couch cushions to find it. If one kiddo hurls their body into the mini-van late, all the kiddos run like hyenas to get to class on time. If youâre in a healthy family, your lives are intertwined. But if you donât live under the same roof, this gets tough. I think of the letters between Ciana and Milla. At such a young age, they’re making an effort to keep their lives intertwined. And thatâs the keyâŚthey’re intentional.
True sisterhood speaks these words:
When you struggle, my spirit will wrestle in prayer for you.
When youâre lost in an area of life, Iâll search Godâs word for answers with you.
When you feel youâll never make it to the finish line, Iâll carry your heavy diaper bag.
But how can we authenticate our spoken words of sisterhood when life is so….much?
Here are three things Iâve found to be practical, powerful & completely do-able:
1. Fast together.
When a friend lays out a deep concern over coffee, I offer to fast with them for a week over the issue. Fasting doesnât have to be dramatic. It can simply mean going without something you enjoy and replacing it with specific prayer. I typically choose to stop eating sugar. The struggle is so for real. Every time I’m all cravy, I stop right there and pray for whatever unique trial my friend is dealing with.
2. Pray at the same time everyday together.
Most likely, you donât see your friend every day. So set an alarm on your phone to remind you both to stop what youâre doing and pray. I had a friend who was struggling with her husband when he came home from work. We set our phones to alert us to pray thirty minutes before he got home. When we were done praying, we would simply text, âAmen,â to each other.
3. Dedicate a prayer journal to your friend.
I love to do this! I buy thin journal packs at TJ Maxx or HomeGoods, sharpie a friend’s name on the cover, and fill it up with prayers over their life. Some fill up faster than others and I donât do it every day. Sometimes Iâll take a quick picture of the cover and text it to my friend saying, âYou were just covered in prayer.â I imagine when I go home to Jesus; my children will find them and deliver them to my living friends.
Iâm praying these practical tips spur your relationships to a deeper level. Itâs not easy when youâre in the jungle of âAdultingâ. But thatâs why itâs so important, isnât it? We all need to know someone is genuinely in the thick with us. We all want someone to take the time to say, “Friend, you can call me Sister.”
âCarry each otherâs burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.â (Galatians 6:2)
I have papers filed, stuffed, and strategically tucked awayâŚmuch like the grief attached to them.
I have official binders of completed Home Studies, one for Ghana, one for Domestic. Another folder filled with the remnants of our Ethiopia dossier. Love letters addressed, “ToOur baby from Africa, From Big Sister Ciana,” randomly skydive out of shelves when I tug at a book. Itâs routine for me to tenderly tuck them back in the crevice they escaped. Itâs routine for me to cry as I do it.
God pressed my heart yesterday,
Why are you keeping all these papers?
Papers have no power.
I struggle releasing the hope that the International Adoption Program in Ghana will re-open. What if it did?! Even if I made gazillion copies of these documentsâŚtheyâre all expired.
Yet, thereâs no expiration date on hope.
When God calls the Israelites to enter the Promise land, He tells them…
âYou have stayed long enough at this mountain.â (Deuteronomy 1:6)
It was time to move forward to the new place God had prepared; A land of hope. If youâre familiar with the story, they had major trouble trusting in Godâs promise. Theyâd rather be literal SLAVES in Egypt then to trust Godâs call to move forward.
We all do this. We make ourselves slaves to the past. Weâre terrified God doesnât have a better way. So we remain on timed-out mountain-tops and needlessly wander the wilderness.
His word reminds us, âAs for God, his way is perfectâ (Psalm 18:30)
Donât hoard what couldâve been. Â It devours valuable soul space.
Stop asking, Lord, what-if…
Start asking, Lord, what- now?
If we donât, we may miss the new thing God has for us.
â See, I am doing a new thing!   Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.â (Isaiah 43:19)Â
Snapshots of the past 5 years have indeed, looked like a spiritual trudge through wasteland. I want to perceive new things Godâs springing up in my life. Physical things can clutter the halls of our spiritual house. Iâm making room. But it’s not easy.
I couldnât bring myself to throw all the papers away. Iâm constantly handing my heart over for God to complete his work in me. However, I did consolidate them and move them into a garage space. Now they canât ambush my peace. Iâll only revisit them if God calls me to.
God’s faithfully held me as I’ve mourned on this mountain for a season. But Iâve been here long enough. Itâs time to follow Him to new territory.
Honestly, there’s still sorrow in the descent.
Honestly, I have no clear vision of where He’s leading.
I know it’s a land of hope.
I know in order for him to make a ânew wayââŚHe’s asked me to move all the papers off the path.
When I was a kid, some lady bundled me in winter clothes and threw me into a swimming pool. I think she was my swim teacherâŚor an escaped mental patient. Either way, the struggle was real.
I donât recall having any legal representation or signing a waiver. Â I just heard the zip of a puffy jacket, felt my feet lift off, and everything went silent as my head sunk under water. I tried to kick, but the snow boots cemented to my feet were SOO-AAA-HEAVY. Luckily, I had freakishly strong arms.
I fixed my eyes on the side of the pool. My muscles were burning. My mom was cheering. She saw an ability in me I didn’t know I had. If I wanted to make it to that edge, I had to forget about the weight on my feet and focus on my strength.
Iâve never been able to shake the memory of this day. Not because it was mildly horrifying, but because I made it to the edge of that pool. Even though Iâd been thrown into an unknown circumstance, bearing the weight of unwanted burdensâŚ
I did it.
I knew I could do it again.
How many times has it felt like God has thrown you into a cold pool with a Patagonia jacket and a pair of UGGS?
How many times has it felt heâs standing on the side watching you struggle for air?!
It can feel cruel.
Feelings lie.
God sees the strength in us we forget to claim. He sees HIS spirit in us, the same spirit that raised Jesus from the dead. (Romans 6:10-11) He wants us to see this truth, too!
He wonât allow the world to throw us in a pool and watch us drown.
He knows thisâŚbut he needs US to know this. We canât fathom how the power of God can propel us through the waves, unless weâve endured numerous storms.
It has nothing to do with our freakishly strong arms, but everything to do with our fiercely strong God. When we are weak, He is strong. (2 Corinthians 12:9-11) How can we claim this, if we havenât lived this?
Iâve experienced Godâs supernatural ability to carry me through some goopy gunk. I know on a profoundly personal level, âthose who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.â (Isaiah 40:31)
We all find ourselves floating in unknown circumstances, bearing the weight of unwanted burdens.
We all have a choice.
We can focus on the weight pulling us down, or focus on our strength– Christ in us.
Focus on Him, and we claim our holy ability to endure and press on.
We begin to trust we can survive deeper waters, swim a little farther, stay in the fight a bit longer. We begin to believe God keeps his promise to never leave us nor forsake us. He will always deliver us to His perfect willâŚeven if it takes wearing soggy snow boots to get us there.
