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.
have a mother’s courage.
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.
šIt means so much that you’re taking this journey with me.ā¤
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Knowing you may not hold someone you love for much longer leaves the days feeling fresh and fragile. I remember sitting next to my Poppa when he was passing away. I listened carefully for the next breath, knowing any moment the next breath wouldn’t come. I wanted to be with him, inhale deeply next to him, sing to him, pray with him, hold his hand while it was still warm.
I find myself watching our foster daughter with similar thoughts breaking ashore–just allow one more day with her; Father God, give me more than one more breath.
With our baby girl, I can only plan for her needs six months at a timeā¦because that’s how long it is between court dates and decisions. I turned down bigger sized clothing, walkers, and high chairs when she was first placed with us. Now, I’m turning down toddler beds and trikes. I don’t plan for her life past April, our next court date. I find myself thinking, “this may be the last time we (fill in the blank) with this sweet girl.”
I’m waking up. I want to be as diligent and intentional to soak in every life around me, not just my foster daughter’s. We’re not guaranteed one more breath with anyone. Many of us know this truth well. Life can change in a flutter.
This journey has taught me to stand in awe, awakening to each day as one more gift from God. The sunrises are stunning, snoring husbands are cute instead of irritating, stinky soccer socks cause me to pause and give thanks for healthy children, and every baby milestone feels magical. Seriously. Baby girl shoving puffs into her mouth (and all over the floor) makes everyone in this house party like it’s nineteen ninety-nine. It’s so stinkin’ cute.
We’re trying to dig into every day over here. And although we cannot plan out the future, God is teaching me three things we can do: Pray, Prepare & Play.
Pray for God’s purposes.
What if we don’t know God’s purpose or plan for our lives? Instead of trying to force the future into the box I’ve delegated for itāI can lay that all down and pray, “Lord, I ask that your perfect purposes for the future be accomplished in my life and the lives of my loved ones. Let nothing stand in your way.”
Prepare your heart.
God’s plan may not line up with my limited ideas of perfection. We can remember God’s good and always trustworthy. This helps us prepare our hearts to accept whatever the future holds. Since we’ve become a foster family, I often pray, “Lord, please prepare my heart (and the hearts of my children) for whatever lies ahead. Give us peace.”
Play with the people you love.
Grab the people you love and take pleasure in them. We may not have tomorrow, but we have today! I’m not sure why we don’t memorize this scripture in Sunday school, but maybe we should make it a thing (especially the part about bread and wine),
“Seize life! Eat bread with gusto, Drink wine with a robust heart. Oh yesāGod takes pleasure in your pleasure! Dress festively every morning. Donāt skimp on colors and scarves. Relish life with the spouse you love Each and every day of your precarious life. Each day is Godās gift. Itās all you get in exchange For the hard work of staying alive. Make the most of each one! Whatever turns up, grab it and do it. And heartily! This is your last and only chance at it,,”Ā (Ecclesiastes 9:7-10 MSG)
Dear Lord,
Ā Ā Ā I don’t know your purpose or plans for my children and loved ones, but I pray for it. I ask that you go ahead of them, paving the way for peace and provision. I pray you are parting seas they don’t see. I pray you are planting people of godly influence in their path before they get there. I pray for wisdom when they are pressed against the hard rock of life.
I pray for forgiving friends who point them to your love. I pray for protection over their hearts and bodies. I pray faith rises fiercely in their soul when doubt pushes down. I pray for eyes to see your blessings when they feel cheated. I pray they run to you, instead of away, when their hearts are broken. I pray they love bravely because that’s why you made them. I pray your voice reaches them when mine cannot and whispers, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” I pray they know love because they know you. Amen
It means so much that you’re taking this journey with me.ā¤ I’d love to send you a FREE SEVEN-DAY DEVOTIONAL: CLICK HERE FOR DEVOTIONAL
I heard the click of his light and waited for the invitation. Silence. Why wasnāt my Eli calling for me?
Maybe heās praying, or stretching, or reading with a book light? Was something wrong?!
Iāll tell you whatās wrong – my boy is growing up. And Iām not ready.
I crept out of bed and peeked into his room. He looked longer, his jaw a bit wider, with those man-boy feet (now bigger than mine) sticking out from his Star Wars blanket,
āAre you okay!? You didnāt call me to āKentuckyā you inā¦ā
He opened his eyes, cracking a smile. Had he lost all his baby teeth?
āOh, my goodness! Youāre freaking out, I just thought it was too late to call you.ā He laughed. Apparently, my mama-meltdown was hilarious.
But something squeezed at my heart, āNever. Itās never too late. You can always call me!ā
And just like that, I realized my longing to be understood was much like my Heavenly Fatherās. How many times had he sung the same ancient truth over my life- Itās never too late, you can always call on me.
āThe Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. Then you will call, and the Lord will answer you; you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am Iā (Psalm 145:18 NIV).
Being a mother reminds me Iām made in the image of God. And although the love I feel for my kiddos is a teeny glimpse of His love for usā¦thereās nothing on earth more consuming and eternal, besides God himself. Itās that big. At times when Iām desperate for my son to hear my words, God confirms -He feels the same way about me. His Spirit pleads, “Why arenāt you calling on me, daughter?”
Heās listening at the door of my heart while I sit in the dark, cold and unsure. Always present, but desiring me to utter His name, to invite Him to turn on the light. But I make excuses- Iāve waited too long, my need is too great, or the most dangerousā¦my need is too small.
What areas of your life do you hold back from Godās loving comfort? In what space do you prefer Him not to come? Where have you cuddled under the lie, āMy longing is too insignificant for Him to careā? Push these things aside; theyāre smothering your access to child-like faith. All we need to do is, ācry for help, and He will say: Here am I.ā
P.S. I reserve the right to tuck my “babies” into bed as long as they live under my roof. I’m fairly certain it’s in the Constitution somewhere…or a Dr. Suess book. Either way.
I was a cheerleader. Not the cool kind. When a routine called for the splits, Iād lower my skirt to hide the fact I was several inches away from nailing it. I couldnāt do a toe-touch. Iād routinely jaunt across the quad with my skirt unknowingly tucked up under my backpack. Yeah.
One of our important cheerleading jobs was painting the ārun-thru” for the Friday night football game. This was serious stuff. We had to make life-altering decisions like: What should it say?! What colors should we use?! If we use too much paint, will it be too hard to tear?
A stampede of sweaty teenagers ran through this thing before theyād compete. It signaled the battle of Friday Night Lights had begun; they were ready to face their opponents and build a legacy.
God asks us to do the same thing at times. He’ll require we charge towards a stronghold before announcing, āYouāre ready to step on the field.ā
āThere is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavensā¦A time to tear down and time to buildā (Ecclesiastes 3:1,3b).
Sometimes we must tear down before we can build up. The Hebrew word for ātear downā in this verse is parats. In the tense used it means, to break or burst out (from womb or enclosure). So another way to understand this is, thereās a time to burst out from whatever youāre stuck inside of.
Weāve got to break-through in order to build.
I found the same Hebrew word used nine other times in the context of increasing blessing or territory.
āThe little you had before I came has increased (parats, break or burst out) greatly, and the LORD has blessed you wherever I have beenā (Genesis 30:30a)
Thereās a blessing when we press past our comfort zones into new territory.
Whatās stopping us from making that phone call, having the hard conversation, going to the adoption seminar, applying for that job, taking the first step towards healing our marriage? Maybe weāre too busy staring at the daunting banner in front of us, forgetting we have a banner over us. Moses declared, āThe LORD is my Bannerā (Exodus 17:15). We are to lift up His name and bravely march forward.
Perhaps weāre too prideful thinking we can run through the banner by ourselves? Listen, it took a herd of sweaty young men to burst through our epic signs. Call the counselor or friend. Get in a small support group or Bible study. If you have a stronghold or complacent spot in your life, gather some people around you and address it. Life is moving forward with or without your participation.
Maybe weāre unwilling to put effort into breaking through our fears, selfishness, insecurities or haunting grief.
Itās a shame really.
Because thereās an epic battle going on among us, and we werenāt made to stand on the sidelines. God can heal and equip, and he passionately desires to do so.
Letās do the hard work of identifying the banners holding us back. Letās be brave and learn to run full force at them, knowing on the other side is where weāre called to be living our lives. On the field, with our brothers and sisters, co-laboring with Christ to build things that are ātrue, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, graciousāthe best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curseā (Philippians 4:8-9 The Message)
Weāve got one life on this earth. One. Get in the good fight for the kingdom. Ask God to show you which areas you need to have a breakthrough and CHARGE!!
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 OKā¦but it’s not OK. We have to take responsibility for checking the condition of our hearts when we enter our safe spaces. We canāt treat our people like itās 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. Ā 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, āBut what comes out of the mouth gets its start in the heart. Itās 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- itās the āvomitā collecting in our hearts. We offer astounding love when we help our kids notice thereās 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 weāll need a safe space to wash up. But showing someone our dirty hands is different than shoving it on them.
Itās my instinctual reaction to yell, donāt you dare say that! or apologize right now! But Iām 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 Iām asking you to apologize?
If we donāt teach our kids, (and ourselves!) how to āheart checkā in the midst of bubbling emotions, weāll 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.Ā Check out these Bible verses for inspiration: God’s Word Marked by Love
He didnāt ask me to tuck him in last night.
I was a cheerleader. Not the cool kind. When a routine called for the splits, Iād lower my skirt to hide the fact I was several inches away from nailing it. I couldnāt do a toe-touch. Iād routinely jaunt across the quad with my skirt unknowingly tucked up under my backpack. Yeah.