Never stop running like Phoebe

Twelve years ago I went on a trip to Washington DC with a group of students from Mercer. We were taking a class on the Holocaust and Genocide, and a visit to the Holocaust Museum in DC was an optional learning excursion. I ran across photos from the trip recently and, no lie, excluding my roommate who was in the class with me, I didn't recognize one. single. face... much less names or experiences from the trip. When I really sit and think about it, I can vaguely remember bits and pieces from the museum... but that's all.

These are the things I don't remember... details, people and experiences that I know I enjoyed.

And these are the things I remember:

Being the "shy girl" and being asked throughout my childhood and into adulthood why I was so quiet... and shrugging my shoulders instead of answering. I could feel the looks I knew my various answers would receive.

Because one time I did answer... I told my new friends at my new big school that I was quiet because the boys in the small school I grew up in were brutal... and the looks I got the moment I answered their question were brutal... even worse were the looks I got when those girls returned to tell me that one of those boys laughed at me in response to their gossip... that's why I was so quiet.

Or maybe because of the looks I got in a high school class when I called a group of boys I lived with "guys," and one single stupid boy in the class mocked the way I said that word. I swore I would never say another word in that class... that's why I was so quiet.

Or the look I felt from the other side of the city and through AOL Instant Messenger the time I asked my high school crush if he had "seen any good movies lately?" Could I have asked a more pathetic question??? I immediately wanted to crawl under a rock and never again see his face to confirm the look I knew he was giving me from miles away... that's why I was so quiet.

Or when I started calling myself introverted instead of shy, and hoped this new label would magically make me comfortable in my own skin, but instead I continued to feel small and uninteresting when attempting to hold even brief and simple conversations with peers who claim this same label. The way they responded, they way they looked at me... that's why I was so quiet.

Or the time I mistook one sister for another, and watched an acquaintance nearby roll her eyes and walk away, and I swore I would never speak to this family again... that is why I was so quiet.

Or how I blamed private school for not socializing me well enough and for making me shy and socially awkward, but continually saw my sister and friends who grew up in the same school easily make new friends and hold conversations like it was second nature... and realizing it wasn't private school. It wasn't the fabricated looks and words that I had been convincing myself were real for years, and it wasn't even the looks and words that were real. It was me... it was me.

That's why I was so quiet.

That's why I ate dinner on the staircase at my best friend's house when I was ten years old instead of at the table with her family and the boys who lived with them.

That's why I ate lunch in my mom's office at my new big high school instead of the lunchroom, fearing I would be lost in a group of acquaintances who I knew would be judging my silent awkwardness the moment I showed my face.

That's why I refused to go to Sunday school with my peers well into adulthood, avoiding any chance of being called on and having to say any words whatsoever.

That's why I have one single memory of attending my church's youth group growing up. I felt out of place, uncomfortable, uninteresting, not spoken to, unwanted, judged and looked at. I grew up at this church, I grew up with these people, the youth pastor was great, but I never went back.

That's why I struggle to build genuine friendships and have a very small circle of relationships that are real and comfortable to me.

And that's why I hated every. single. person. who ever asked me why I was so quiet.

"IT'S ME!" I wanted to scream.

"It's because I know you won't care about me once you get to know me!"

"It's because I know I have nothing interesting to say, and even if I did I wouldn't know how to say it in an interesting way!"

"It's because I don't have the right hair or the right clothes or enough money and even if I did I still wouldn't be enough!"

"IT'S. ME. And I know you won't like me. Please don't try to like me, you'll only get my hopes up."

This is painful, friends. Kinda baring my soul here, and I would be lying if I said my keyboard isn't wet with tears as I type this.

Reliving hard memories and raw, extremely personal emotions is just very painful.

And to be completely honest, I still experience many of these same emotions and fabrications often. This probably has a lot to do with why we don't venture out too often. It's tough to get out there with all this luggage. It's heavy, I don't like carrying it around, but when I walk out of my front door it seems to just jump right on my back for the ride... and it's easier to just stay home... maybe we'll stay home this time, maybe it won't be so hard, so painful tomorrow.

What's even more painful than carrying my own luggage is seeing my girl, my four year old, precious, wonderful, sweet, silly, extroverted, never-met-a-stranger daughter showing herself to be exactly who she is: my daughter.

"How can I preserve her spirit? How can I protect her from losing who she is the same way that I did?" I asked Chris recently, after having seen her succumb to a friend's stronger personality and sit in gloominess for quite a while, the whole time promising me nothing was wrong.

This made me wonder... why was I so insecure in who I was? Why hadn't I bought into the truth? All those years I fabricated every look and reactions I truly believed were happening or would happen if I let a word slip out of my mouth, and I never searched for and embraced the one and only opinion that mattered and who He says that I am: Redeemed from the person I believed I was, claimed as an image bearer of the King. Never laughed at, never mocked from the Heavenly places. Known as beautiful, known just as He created me... known as HIS.

Very early in my life, somewhere along the line the truth got lost in all of the fear, worry and tears. Maybe it's chemical, maybe it's genetic, I don't know... I do know that it's lies. Every bit of it. And in every way possible, with Christ in front of me, I am intent on fighting these lies in my children's lives and minds and hearts.

She was barely three years old when she came home from school and asked her daddy why she wasn't pretty, and just four years old when she solemnly shared that her best friend was "replacing" her...

Believers, these are lies the enemy is constantly throwing at us, pelting us with discouragement, ugliness, looks, judgement, anxiety, fabrications... lies that tell us we are less than who we are.

Can we hand our luggage over to Christ and walk in the truth of His grace for ourselves and our families? Can we remind our children who they are through reading the words of God their Father to them? Can we pray His Scriptures for them daily? Can we even embrace the very parts of our own personalities that we have believed to be faults for our entire lives? Can we embrace them as gifts and teach our kids to do the same?

So... how did Chris respond when I cried to him over protecting sweet Mercy's spirit?

He brought Jesus.

Of course he did. Who else could teach me how to preserve her spirit and protect her from the enemy's lies?

Only Jesus can... only her Creator, who so fearfully and wonderfully knit her together. (Psalm 139) Only Jesus.

One of our favorite books is Praying the Scriptures For Your Children*. Jodie Berndt has compiled scriptures to pray over our children as they grow and go through different seasons of their lives. These days, I'm praying these specific words over my little ones, and as I pray these scriptures for them, I know these words are piercing my own heart as well:

When I was sixteen years old, my best friend and I decided to start running together. Two steps into our first run, she just about fell over laughing. "Why are you running like that??" It was about sixteen more years before I could convince myself to run again, and it required a lot of emotional work to get myself outside to do it... When I watch my girl running crazy in the backyard, complete freedom in each step, not for a second concerned about what looks someone might give her or what anyone might be saying, I find myself feeling a little envious. She has no idea that she runs like Phoebe, she's just being Mercy...

via GIPHY

...and I hope she never stops running like Phoebe, reminding me what it looks like to live this life the way it was intended to be lived: abundantly.

In John 10:10, Jesus tell us, "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly."

Let's memorize that, friends, and recite it every time we want to hide and go silent, when the enemy attempts to steal our spirit, kill and destroy our joy and abundance in Christ. "Come on! That's not living! Let's go!" ...if we don't practice living abundantly in the skin God gave us, how will our kids learn to? So today let's commit to running forward, praying His scriptures, memorizing His promises and speaking them over our kids, remaining confident that He is working in this magnificent life He's given us!

---

*the link in this post to Praying the Scriptures For Your Children is an Amazon affiliate link

Sitting in a circle saying words

I went on an adventure a couple of weeks ago! An actual real-life adventure in the most beautiful place in the Texas hill country... Possibly my favorite place on earth, but to be honest, it would probably be a fight to the death with the Smoky Mountains.

At the beginning of this adventure, I was so looking forward to reliving my old pre-kid days in the youth ministry, getting to know some students better and having the opportunity to speak the Gospel into their lives... What ended up happening was pretty unique, pretty special. It ended up being a week that was completely ordained for me in this very specific season of my life... and I'm so grateful for the girls who joined me on this journey, speaking the Gospel to me, listening to my rambling words and saying so many of their own words, sharing their hearts, their lives, their trials, sadnesses, adventures. It was beautiful. I am changed because of these moments... these 2:00am, sitting in a circle saying words, stinking of sweat and dirt, barely able to keep our eyes open, laughing til we cry, crying til we laugh, heart sharing, love giving, prayer filled moments.

Incredibly blessed, humored, refreshed.

If you know me well, you know that I like to cry every day. It's my actual preference, and to be honest, I think the days I feel my healthiest are the ones when I have cried at least once. I'm not talking about weeping or bawling my eyes out every day, some days there may not be tears that actually fall, but just ones that well up, a moistening of the eyes in a brief emotional moment, and other days it looks like uncontrollable tears because I just cannot. stop. laughing. I come from an incredibly emotional family, and I like being emotional... most of the time I consider it a gift.

With that in mind... I have entered a new and unique season of my life. After our son's adoption about a year ago, I spent some time breathing, resting, feeling secure, grateful, blessed... and then I sat on my couch one day and just. couldn't. get up. I sat there in my security and realized: I had nothing to cry about! Everything was just... good! Life had completely normalized and I literally had no reason to cry. It felt very unnatural, almost sad... so sad that I began to cry while I was stuck on the couch and I just. couldn't. stop. This was not the "everyday-tears" gift that I love so much, this was depression, and it was ugly. I spent several months on the couch, barely thriving as a mom and a wife, not in the Word, spending little time in prayer, not sleeping, overwhelmed to my core and feeling very confused about why this sadness had overtaken me when life was just so very PERFECT. Somewhere around August, God granted me some relief from this bizarre despair, and has since been steadily guiding me through some big ups and downs, showing Himself in some very unique situations, closing doors, asking me to close doors, giving me tears, giving me conviction, giving me Himself... and asking me if He is enough.

"Am I enough?"

I heard this question all week as I contemplated this season of my life... a season that has been covered in discontentment.

"Am I enough?"

Obviously not...

I finally got it. At 2:00 in the morning, sitting in a circle saying words with seven teenage girls whose lives look an awful lot like mine did twenty years ago and an awful lot like it still looks today...

...sitting in a circle saying words, life-giving words of hope, encouragement, affirmation in Christ as our King, God as our Father, and begging each other to recognize Him as ENOUGH. More than enough, and all we need in the insanity, fear, and unknowns of life and growing up.

I have been there, and I'm still there..... growing up, experiencing all of this craziness one day at a time, learning (slowly) how to be content when my plans and my life-fillers are trampled underfoot and replaced with simply Him. Allowing Him to become everything... and watching Him work out these beautiful, sometimes confusing, but always perfectly ordained details.

I'm feeling very blessed, probably a little emotional, to know these precious girls on a deeper level, to know their hearts and for them to know mine. I'm feeling convicted, thinking about the transparency and openness of our words that brought us closer as a group and gave us insight into each other's hearts, minds and lives... and what a picture this is of walking closely with Christ. In the same way I had neglected truly knowing the students in our youth ministry, I have put too little work into knowing Him over the course of the last nine or ten months. As I got to really know these girls for the first time, He was revealing that I have been making the very same mistakes, relationship-damaging mistakes, with Him. I have become lazy, not sharing my heart with Him who has redeemed it... not learning who He is through His word... not giving all of myself to Him... I have tried so hard to become opaque, not embracing transparency in our relationship despite my total knowledge that He knows my heart better than I even think I know it myself. I have tried to fill it where I felt it was empty, and all along God has been overflowing it, asking again and again: "Am I enough, Anna Kathryn?"

So... this is where I am today... life is still completely amazing and totally "normalized" and most days I don't have any reason to cry. That still feels incredibly unnatural, so to keep myself healthy, I'll do some reminiscing, watch a sad movie, or listen to a song that I know will bring tears to my eyes. Some days I feel like I've lost my purpose in this season of life outside of foster care, but He is faithfully showing me what true purpose is: "To glorify God and to enjoy Him forever." (Westminster Catechism)

I'm incredibly grateful that in this unique season, not only is He renewing and refreshing me as a growing mommy, but He is giving me the opportunity to glorify Him and enjoy Him within the youth ministry again, and I so look forward to the sanctification He will achieve in my heart through the students He has brought into our lives!

I have several exciting things going on right now... one is this brand new webpage that I am slowly figuring out and the regular posting I plan to resume over this summer. And in regards to that, I think I'd like to start a 'here-and-there' style series for the junior and senior high girls He's given me the opportunity to hang with... past, present, and future. I'm still going to write regularly about family, foster care and adoption, the NICU, and random things like anthills, but these will be different, these words will be for Y'ALL (and y'all know who you are.) So, tucked in and around my normal posting about my mama-life, what I'm learning and how I'm growing with my little family, the "Saying Words" series will begin showing up here and there, especially for you, sweet girls.

 

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
be acceptable in your sight,
O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

Psalm 19:14

 

You're going to cry

Considering foster care, but worried about the risk it may pose to your heart and your family if you move forward?

Perfect. I'm glad you're here!

And since you're here, let's go ahead and get one thing straight...

You're going to cry.

Let yourself.

Because there is nothing joyful about families being torn apart.

Broken homes and broken bodies are not a laughing matter.

Because you might be the fifth family the one year old has lived with, and she will have a hard time attaching to you, she's never learned to attach, and the idea is overwhelming for her fourteen month old heart.

Because who knows when the last time that little bottom has seen a baby wipe or a fresh diaper, and the three and four year old are hoarding food under their beds because they have never experienced enough, much less abundance.

Because the fourteen year old has been in more homes than she can count, and since she's never connected or attached to a secure adult, she fears connection, she refuses attachment for fear of the rejection she has come to expect. And even though you will love her with every fiber of your being, the minute she begins to feel something resembling love, she will fight, run, yell, scream, do everything she can to prove to herself and to you that you cannot and you will not love her. She will do her best to sabotage what you've worked so hard to build... and there will be tears.

Let them fall.

...because children who grow up in dysfunction often do not know any other way to live. They raise their children in the same dysfunction that raised them, and those children will likely grow up and raise their children in the very same devastating generational cycle of dysfunction.

Because mental illness is a terrifying, debilitating disease that tricks it's victims into thinking they're well when they are so very not well.

Because addiction is a ferocious monster who devours everyone it can get it's hands on.

Because no matter how much they want to be healthy, it is nearly impossible to climb out of the hole they dug for themselves so many years ago.

And if they could travel back in time, they would go back to the day they made that one awful, life-altering decision that has taken their children from them. They would unmake that decision, they would raise their children and they would live happily ever after.

But time travel is for movies. Not real life. And that decision that was made years ago will always be part of their lives. And that is something to be mourned.

Mourn. Weep. Cry yourself to sleep and wake up in a puddle of tears.

Keep crying.

Expect it, own it.
...maybe even love it.

Because eventually you're going to realize that you were lied to. The enemy placed a stronghold of fear on your life, he convinced you that foster care would put the health of your heart in grave danger and that the decision to proceed for the sake of families in crisis, would in return put your heart in crisis.

At some point on your journey the reality, the truth, will hit you....

...maybe when the baby is sleeping safely and peacefully in your arms after weeks and months of struggling through withdrawals due to months of prenatal drug exposure.
...or when the seven year old's walls begin to crumble and he finally let's you side-hug him for a quick second after months of pushing you away, and you begin to notice his tears and tantrums are slowly transforming into smiles and laughter.
...when the ten year old falls asleep with her light off after weeks and weeks of needing it on at night to feel safe. She's safe now, she knows that, you've shown her that.
...when the seventeen year old sits down with your family, smiles, sighs in relief, and tells you this is the first time she has ever had a family dinner.
...or when your foster son's parents turn their lives around, fight their demons and come out on top, and when they pick him up one last time to take him home forever, they hug your neck in gratitude, tell you how very much they love you for placing their hearts above yours, for not only loving and taking care of their son, but for loving and supporting them too.

And get ready, because you're going to cry that moment when it hits you, when you realize how long you bought the lie, and the vast number of capable parents and families that continue to buy it and allow it to keep them from these children... The truth is that YOU being involved in foster care is not dangerous at all. Alternatively, your heart is the safest piece of the foster care puzzle the Lord is building piece by piece in your life.

Take a step back and glance at the big picture. The risk involved in foster care isn't about your heart.
It's about the families and children in your community who are struggling, and what their lives will look like if we take the risk of not stepping into their world and loving them. It's about risking their health, their well being, their futures in order to spare our hearts the risk of being sad. The two are not even comparable. One of these risks is not so risky after-all, is it? The other risk is life-altering for children and families who so desperately need the safety your heart can provide.
The events that lead children and families into foster care are dangerous.
And the reality that there are far more children in need of safety than there are families willing to BE their safety.... that's dangerous. That's risky.

I'm not going to lie to you, though.... the utter sadness of foster care will break you and turn your life upside down. You're going to cry more than you thought was possible. That's not going to change when you recognize that it isn't your heart at risk in this situation.

...but those tears are sanctifying tears and God is using each of them in a powerful way, echoing the work of the Gospel in your journey on this earth, as you step into another family's mess, put aside your own comfort and convenience, and sacrificially love each of these family members He has placed in your path, supporting redemption and reunification along the way. And then, right in your deepest moment of brokenness, you're going to realize that the tears, the children, the families and the hard did something completely unexpected. Foster care didn't break you.... foster care built you and turned your life right side up.

And don't get me wrong, you're going to keep crying...
...but you're going to go forward differently, knowing that these children and their families matter and they need to given the same grace that you have been given, to be loved so much that hearts would be willing to grieve so that their livelihood wouldn't be risked, that they might have a second chance at being a healthy family. And your tears will continue as your heart walks this messy path, recognizing the depth of it's own ugliness maybe for the first time. As God continually sanctifies you, healing you from the sins of distrust, anger, and fear, you will deeply understand with incredible confidence that every tear that falls on this journey is absolutely worth it.

As you consider foster care, please keep in mind the risk and danger it may pose to the hearts of  children and families in your community if you don't move forward. And if you feel the Lord is nudging you ahead, please pray, ask questions, find a foster family in your community, or contact me. I would love to pray and walk this journey with you.

---

Six reasons I want to skip church this Christmas

I said to Chris the other day, "Do you think we should have birthday breakfast in bed for Jesus' on Christmas?"

He responded, "We'll have to figure out how we want to do Sunday, since church is at 10 this week."

My heart literally sank.

"Oh, that's right. Sunday."

Do y'all see the problem there?

I mean, is Jesus the reason for the season, or what?

Ugh... I think I have some work to do.

Mercy and Jaiden know all about the Santa character and they think he's great, but we don't do the actual Santa bringing gifts, naughty/nice list stuff. However, even without that little piece of Christmas cheer in our lives, I certainly can't lie and say I don't deal with other idols getting in the way of celebrating Jesus this time of year. For awhile my idol was, get ready, SANTA himself. More accurately, my idol was my commitment to not doing Santa. Unless Mariah Carey was singing about him, his name or face couldn't be found anywhere in our home (except that one year, but only if he was wearing hot pink instead of red.) And if I'm honest, it's pretty easy to go back there... Most December days I feel like Santa Claus has hijacked Christmas, St. Nicholas would be devastated and appalled to see what his legacy has become, as Santa and his elf continue to teach kids about moralism and being good for the sake of getting stuff, not for the sake of being grateful and being God's. So there's that bitterness harboring under my grinchy skin every December... and believe it or not, I've lightened up A LOT on that issue. What's poking it's head out much more often these days is the idol of my family, being sentimental, and creating traditions and memories... basically making this season look the way I want it to look as opposed to how Jesus would have it look. And just because His name is placed right where I want it to be in my plans and traditions, doesn't mean He is in them. As indicated by my clear disapproval of meeting Him at His house on His birthday.

So I'm writing this for myself, because I'm a mess... Because I need to be reminded of why we go to church, why we celebrate Christmas, and the awesome opportunity we have this year to enjoy these together.

So here it is...

Six reasons I want to skip church this Christmas, and why each one falls on it's face:

1. Because I want to have sweet family time.

    I hope that you have a church family like we do. This Christmas season has really been a time of reflection for me about the family I've been given in Louisiana and the opportunities we have to worship together... These people are a beautiful part of our lives. These people are not related to us, but they are our brothers and sisters. (Matthew 12:46-50) God is our Father, and we are the bride of Christ. When we attend church, we are in God's house with His family, with our family. How much sweeter does it get than spending birthday mornings with our family? This is a birthday sweeter than any other birthday we will celebrate. This is the day we celebrate the birth of the Savior, a baby boy who lived a perfect life, died on the cross and rose from the dead, making atonement for our sins, giving us the opportunity to be adopted into His family and celebrate this very day. Family time doesn't get sweeter than this.

2. Because the kids will be so distracted by everything they know is waiting for them at home.

   Y'all, our kids are SO excited to open all their gifts. I know their heads won't be at church... but I'm not convinced that's the point of bringing them this Sunday. Maybe this is an opportunity for them to see our heads and our hearts being there, even though their's won't be. What better way to show our kids that we believe what we say, "Jesus is the reason for the season?" On the other hand, if we skip church to open gifts and enjoy family traditions first thing in the morning, what will that show our kiddos about what we truly believe the reason is for the season? Not Jesus, that's for sure. Altering our regular Sunday morning routine of worshipping with our faith family, simply because it disrupts our Christmas traditions this year would show my kiddos the opposite of what we've been trying to teach them. Instead, that decision would very literally show them what it looks like to remove Christ from Christmas. We would be celebrating the nameless holiday the world has begun celebrating. It looks like Christmas, it's the same day as Christmas and it even acts a little like Christmas... but it's not Christmas.

3. Because we are going to church on Christmas Eve... So why go again Christmas Day? Let's take the day off!!

    So Christmas Eve isn't Christmas Day, right? If the reason I want to skip church this Christmas day is because I'm going to be there the night before, I might have a problem. I would never skip Chris's planned birthday dinner, and when he asked me about it, argue that I had dinner with him the night before and we talked about his birthday a lot. No. That would never ever ever happen. Never. And the real issue here? Have I really come to a point in my faith and life where worshipping God in His house two days in a row is just too much? Do I really need a day off of worship and gratitude?? Have I really begun to prioritize family over Jesus, who, by the way, is the only reason I have the family that I have?? Oh man... that is an ugly mess.

4. Because December 25th isn't Jesus' actual birthday, so I shouldn't feel obligated to go to church to celebrate it...

    Come. On. Is that a real thing? Is Easter Sunday (the day that changes dates every.single.year.) the actual day that Christ walked out of the tomb? No. It's the day we celebrate it. Here's the thing... the church body gathers together in worship every Sunday... <--that gathering right there was on Sunday before Christmas day was on Sunday... So it isn't some big schedule shift for my family and I to go to church on Sunday. The awesome thing about this particular Sunday is that we get to do all those things we do every week with our faith family ON THE DAY WE CELEBRATE THE BIRTH OF OUR SAVIOR. That. Is. Awesome. I mean, it really is. And I think it's important for my kids to see me excited about the opportunity to enjoy the union of these two celebrations. After all, it's not happening again until 2022, Mercy will almost be ten and Jaiden will have just turned eight. After that, it'll be 2033 and they won't be quite so young and impressionable by then. This is one of very few opportunities that we have to show our kids that what we say about Christmas and keeping Christ at the forefront is actually how we live. And you know, God might just use this Sunday to plant a seed that might just take root and sprout and blossom and change the lives of our children and their children and their children. And maybe in 2033, when they're all grown up, they will decide for themselves to worship Jesus on His birthday with their faith family.

5. Because I don't want church to become an idol. I think we're treading a fine line here... I mean, church on Christmas day?? 

    Jesus, because of Who He is, cannot be an idol. He. Is. God. And there is no such thing as idolizing God. God is... well... GOD. And there's something about idols and God in the ten commandments... oh yeah. The first (and greatest) one (Exodus 20:1-3.) So the church is God's house, where His family meets to worship Him for Who He is and what He has done for us. Christmas is when we celebrate the birth of God's Son and as Christians, we are the bride of His Son. This opportunity to worship Jesus on His birthday, in His house, is a rarity. Let's not pass it up under the faulty reasoning that we are "making church an idol." Let's not go to church for church's sake, just being at church isn't the point of being there any Sunday of the year. If I'm going to church to worship Jesus in His house, then I'm convinced I am not making church an idol, because, again, Jesus cannot be idolized.

6. Because I don't want my kids to think they have to go to church to be saved.

    I know this isn't how we do Christianity in our house. This isn't Biblical and it's bad, ugly, moralistic, works-based non-sense. They know this isn't how we live out our faith, they know we don't go to church on Sundays to earn our salvation or their's, they know about their sin and they know what Jesus did on the cross. So... surely going to church on this one Sunday won't erase all of those truths they have learned in our home.... right? I mean that would be crazy... But if Mercy asks why we're going to church on Christmas, and I say, "Because it's Sunday so we have to," that might be a good step in that direction. So instead, I hope my answer this Sunday will look and sound more like, "Because it's Sunday! And it's Christmas on the same day!! Isn't that neat?? Let's go to church and worship and sing and dance and talk with our church family about how awesome it is that Jesus was born all those years ago so that we can celebrate Him together today!"

The bottom line is, in my original reasoning and defensiveness, my idols were being revealed to me, as well as my lack of commitment to what and Who I tell my kids that Christmas is about. And not only that, but also what I tell them regular Sunday morning worship is about. And don't think they aren't noticing just because they're two and three... Mercy listens to (and repeats... and remembers) every word that comes out of our mouths, and Jaiden is taking every bit of it in as well.

So while they're watching and listening so closely, Christmas this year is just such an amazing opportunity to make a big deal about Jesus, how many hours we have in the day, that all our gifts and traditions will still be at home in the afternoon, and that for these couple of hours, we are going to a big birthday bash!

And you know Santa would totally be there if he was, well... you know. 😉

What about you? What has God been revealing to your heart this Christmas?

A Thrill of Hope

I met my son for the first time two years ago today.

I'm not going to share the details of the how and where of that moment, but I will share this...

It was dark when I peaked in the back driver's side window of a social worker's car and the words that came out of my mouth still come out daily.

"Oh my goodness. His cheeks!"

His. Cheeks.

...and they have only gotten better and better.

It was a uniquely perfect day. The day we met the baby who would become our son.

I remember it like it was yesterday. The drive to pick him up, my phone call to my aunt on the way, the way I felt when I saw him, peeking back at him the whole drive home, introducing him to Mercy, the way she instantly fell in love with him, what we had for dinner with our good friend who stayed with Mercy, giving him his first bottle, and the snuggling that first night...

But one specific memory stands out when I think back... Grabbing him out of his carseat, kissing those amazing cheeks for the very first time, pressing his eight pound eight ounce frame tight against me... and that moment when my life fell together at the very same time that somebody else's fell apart.

Right in that second, our need for abundant HOPE became more clear than ever before. He needed hope, we needed hope, and his mama needed hope more than anything... because it was nine days before Christmas and she just lost her newborn son, and that had to feel pretty hopeless.

This year especially, as we approach our first Christmas with Jaiden as our son, having seen our hopes for our life with him come alive, I think I'm understanding the gift of hope in a new light.

The hope we have for Jaiden's life... It's not just there, something we pray about and experience peace through.... Our hope is thrilling. And it is every synonym of thrilling... Breathtaking. Exhilarating. Electrifying. Inspiring. Mind boggling. (merrian-webster.com) It's exciting, it lights up our hearts and fills us with joy. He has given us hope and made us understand it in a brand new light. In His light.

Because many years ago on a starry night in Bethlehem, He brought a newborn baby boy into the world. His boy, His only son, and that baby boy gave this weary world hope.

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth." (Ephesians 1:3-10, emphasis added)

When I read Paul's words about our adoption through Christ, I hear him defining the thrill of hope. And in a year and month and day that so many feel weary, down, depressed and hopeless, how we need the thrilling hope that He gives us! Hope for every spiritual blessing. Hope that He chose us before the creation of the world. Hope that because of His Son Jesus, we will stand before Him one day, holy and blameless. Hope that we were predestined to become His children, adopted out of our sin, out of this weary world and into His glorious grace. Hope for the redemption found in the blood of His son, who He gave up, forgiving our sins and lavishing His grace upon us. This was His will, His perfect purpose for us, to unite His children to Himself for all of eternity, and friends... how thrilling is that??

Today I am praying the thrill of hope for my son's first mommy, even on this day that brings devastating memories and loads of guilt and regret. That she would look to Christ for the hope of redemption and that when she does she would experience His grace flowing over her, her soul feeling it's worth and knowing her position before Him. Holy. Blameless. Guiltless.

Today I am praying the thrill of hope for my son. That as he grows he will become acutely aware of his need for the riches of God's grace. That it would be God's will to adopt him into His eternal family, lavishing His grace upon him and making him an heir of the King.

Today I am praising God for showing us the thrill of hope through this child He brought to us two years ago. That he gave us an earthly experience of adoption so that we would understand on a deeper level how great our adoption into His family is. Completely undeserved, granted by the blood of His only son, and sealed for eternity. Redeemed, forgiven, adopted. And I'm praying that when we're weary we would remember this thrill, that our hope would become alive again, that Jesus would continually remind us of the eternity of hope that He provided for us on the cross.

Would you pray with us today and in the days leading up to the celebration of the thrill of the hope the Jesus? Would you pray for renewal in our hearts and yours? Would you pray that the thrill of hope would be found and clung to in the hearts of the children and families affected by foster care this Christmas?

“Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!”

— O Holy Night

Merry Christmas, friends!

Thank you for all you do for us and how you have loved our family so well!

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