Life.

As we near the day, one year ago, that we lost our precious Number 3, I am completely overwhelmed with so many emotions...

That day tragically welcomed me... initiated me... into a 'club' that no one ever wants to be  a part of.

Can I be honest?

I had spent years.... YEARS.... basking in the comfort of 'just knowing' that we had been through enough heartache, enough pain and disappointment, that God would spare us from that.

 Right?!

Of course He would.

We had met our max... had experienced more than our fair share of failed infertility treatments, month after month... year after year of 'trying', too many failed matches, quite a few frantic packing sessions and plan making and plane-ticket-buying only to end up empty handed...

and at the end of it all, at least I could take comfort in the fact that, because of our infertility.... because we simply couldn't get pregnant in the first place... that my Jesus would save us from that... the unmentionable.... that thing that no one talks about...

miscarriage....

and ultimately, the death of a baby.

Don't get me wrong, we have lost DOZENS of babies in our 8 years of marriage...

but every one of them is walking and talking and living today...

not with us...

but they are.

And that loss, though different, never leaves you alone, either....

I know each one by name. I knew and loved their mama's with all my heart. We planned for them... prepared our home and hearts for them. They will always be part of our 'extended' family...

but they're still there... somewhere.

And I think about each one of the every single day.

And then it happened...

A surprise pregnancy came with elation and amazement at the miracles He has done in our lives...

and then it was gone.

Our precious #3.

And our world was shattered.

It took months for me to work through what had happened....

How did God think we could handle this?!

How do you have sex for 8 years... TRY for so long... and then just 'happen' to get pregnant?!

How can God bless you in such an enormous, life changing way... and then rip it from your grasp so tragically?

I was so mad. At God. 

But then it happened again...

And here we are.... 1 year since we lost our #3, 24 weeks into my second pregnancy, and about 15 weeks away from meeting our newest son...

A boy!

I've spent the past couple of months trying to figure out what to write... how to write.

I remember 'those blogs'... I've read dozens of them;

infertility, adoption, loss... and a surprise pregnancy...

and all of a sudden, all of those things that bound us... the one's we had in common... the desperate emotions I felt that were so perfectly placed into sentences were replaced with belly pictures and comparisons of babies to fruit...

those things were gone. The pain of infertility? It was somehow gone.

So I stopped reading.

I won't do that here... I refuse.... but that explains my silence recently...

As miraculous and as exciting as this time in our lives is, our precious fruit-sized baby doesn't change the fact that infertility has defined me for so long.

I'm still infertile.

And I know that that's a tough one to swallow but friends, it's true....

A pregnancy can't erase the years and years of longing and dreaming and suffering and crying out to Jesus...

because those moments, that heartache, is responsible for who I am today.

Those times define major milestones in my faith and my relationship with my Jesus... with my husband. They collected and accumulated to make me the mom I am to our 2 miracles through adoption...

they will make me the mom I will be to our newest baby, too.

So here I am...

31 years old.... 8 years since we started trying to get pregnant... 2 adoptions in to the growth of our beautiful family... dozens of losses through adoption and 1 tragic loss of our first homegrown baby... 24 weeks into our second pregnancy... 15 weeks away from meeting our second son...

and I'm still infertile.

And I'm terrified.

I know how to do infertile....

I'm a pro.

Growing a baby? Remembering with every glance in the mirror at my growing belly and with every somersault and kick that this is what my heart desired... remembering that this is what I asked for, what I longed for...

finding comfort in the fulfillment of His promises...

and trying so desperately to trust...

that we won't lose this one, too.

My heart still aches for our precious #3... and my arms ache for our #4.

I'm wishing time away, friends...

counting down the days, minutes, and seconds until I can finally hold this sweet baby boy.

And as 'that day' one year ago closes in, I've spent so much time grasping for closure to the tragedy that we experienced just one year ago... trying to find purpose in the lowest low and now the highest high of God's plan for us... trying to answer those questions of 'how' and 'why'...

and it's only recently that I've discovered something;

I will never find 'purpose' in death.

And it's actually ok that Jesus chose this to be part of our story... it's painful and I wish he had chosen to let our sweet #3 stay... but it's ok.

God never promises life on Earth...

He DOES promise life in eternity.

John 3:16- For God so loved the world that he gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him will NOT die but have eternal LIFE.

Our earthly bodies and minds will never be able to accept death... we're not supposed to... we're not built with the capacity to rationalize something as terrible and as painful as losing those we love; the ones Jesus put in our lives to strengthen and teach us and help us grow.

The purpose we can find is in life... even if that life flashed by in the blink of an eye.

Our only goal as parents is to raise our children to know Jesus... their creator... the writer of their stories... the author of the miracles that gave them to us...

and by doing that, Joey and I know that our family will one day be complete and whole in Heaven.

What greater gift can you give your family than life in eternity together and the hope that comes with knowing we'll never have to live apart?

The loss of our precious #3 will hurt every day until the day we are all together again...

but we will be together again. And that's the promise I've found in the loss of our baby... Jesus helped us fulfill our deepest desire as parents; to see our babies in eternity... whenever He's ready for us.

And that is the purpose I have found in the short, but oh-so-sweet life of our #3. That sweet baby is waiting for us, giving us purpose and comfort here in this life, allowing us to rest in the knowledge that someone is waiting for us... waiting to complete us.

And this baby... Our #4... our son?

Every wave and every kick reminds me that, while 'infertile' will always be a word that defines me... while loss still feels so close and raw... while fear and anxiety stand at the cusp of stealing my joy...

 new life is coming.

I'm learning how to do this thing called 'pregnant'... it's not easy. I'm learning that the miracles that create life inside of one and place it in her arms are full of as many unknowns and challenges as the miracles that create life inside one and place it in the arms of another.

Today I am grateful for the short life of our #3 and rest in knowing that he/she is safely waiting for me in the arms of Jesus...

and I'm grateful for the life inside of me that reminds me throughout each day that life is what we are promised...

Whether we find the fulfillment of that promise here on Earth...

or in eternity with him.

The sweet little lady at the pharmacy.... and why I want to punch her in the face

We're pharmacy frequent shoppers...

it should be a club.

Between 2 asthmatics, one puking pregnant mama and whatever else pops up throughout the year, here's a typical phone call with our local pharmacy...

"Hey "insert name", it's Lindsay... can I get "rx name" filled for Hunter, please?"

"Hi Mrs. Smith! Sure! Give me 10 minutes!"

No last name needed... no birth dates... nothin.

And I'm ok with that! These kinds of phone calls make my life much easier ;-)

Our pharmacy is part of a large chain 'drug store' that you've probably heard of.... there's probably one less than 1.3 miles from your house, in fact... on every corner.

When I combine rx pick-ups and personal care/ necessities in one trip, I like to check out at the cosmetic counter...

those girls always have coupons.

Did you know that?!?! They do... always. 

Anyway, one woman has been working at our cosmetic counter for as long as we've lived here... 8+ years. She's slightly older... a gramma, maybe? She's tiny and looks so distinguished when she slips on her tiny glasses in order to read through her coupons. She has huge giveaway baskets every week that are chalk full of super-cute body care and perfume samples and every time you check out, she enters your name in the giveaway... I've filled out thousands but have never won. But I'm not bitter. At all. Her hair is gray and she wears it in a cute top knot... 

actually, I think she invented the top knot. Pretty sure.

She always chats with my babies when we're shopping... asks Hannah about school, does her best (along with the rest of the store) to distract Hunter from the fact that he's stuck in a shopping cart (it doesn't usually work), and chats with me about her 'usuals' or the small town gossip. She's sweet.

Until it's time to say 'bye-bye.'

Our newest thought is that Hunter has some form of speech apraxia... a disconnect between his brain and the muscles in his mouth. He follows directions perfectly (correction... he CAN follow directions perfectly... but sometimes chooses not to... like his mama... or daddy ;-)), his receptive language is strong, his understanding of his surroundings and the role he plays is flawless.... you can physically SEE him forming thoughts and words in his mind... but he can't say them.

Yet.

His hearing loss compounds things slightly and we're working so hard with lots of speech therapy and we're all beefing up our sign language skills... but he gets frustrated. We do, too. He wants something and can't tell us... he got hurt and can't tell us... he wants to play with you but can't tell you... 

He can bring you a book and you know he wants to read... he can sign 'water' and you know he's thirsty... but if you're in the car and can't see him or aren't looking at him at the time, his ways of communicating are minimum.

We see his frustration the most when we play with other kids his age...

he knows he's different.

And it's one of the hardest things we've ever had to watch.

Our determination is as strong as his... helping him find ways of communicating while his language slowly develops is our full-time priority on a daily basis.

Our cosmetic counter lady...

She always says 'bye-bye' to my kids... 

sweet, huh?

She waits for a response every.single.time. Hannah will politely say 'bye' and sometimes Hunter will wave... but that's not good enough for her...

She wants the words... and every.single.time she says "bye-bye" and he doesn't say it back, I can sense her judgement.

and yesterday, I wanted to punch her in the face.

"Isn't he 2 years old?"

"He is."

"Ooooh."

Sweet gray haired lady, meet my fist.

"I don't owe her an explanation... and if I were him, I wouldn't say 'bye-bye', either!"...

My first thoughts upon quickly leaving storming out of the store.

Judging... MY KID.

How dare you.

And then my sweet neighbor of 8 years passed away...

and we didn't know that she had been sick.

We've seen her plenty of times over the past year, walking her dog or gardening, and she had lost weight... she looked amazing! And I told her so each time I saw her...

"I see you out walking all the time... you look so wonderful! Your hard work is paying off!"

And then she died...

from cancer that she's been fighting for a year.

From a cancer that had slowly been wasting her away for a year.

She never told me...

And even though my 'judgements' felt helpful and encouraging at the time... now they sound inconsiderate and cruel.

She was dying.

And I told her she looked amazing.

Sheesh.

Judgements.

I won't tolerate judgements made on my children... and I'm not above punching you in the face (ok, figuratively), should you insult them.

But maybe I DO owe her an explanation...? 

"His speech is delayed a little but he's learning! Keep saying 'bye-bye' to him and one day soon, you'll get one back!"

A simple explanation.

I sure wish my precious neighbor had given me one... and I'm sure going to miss her :-(

I stopped in to see her sister yesterday evening...

"Why didn't she tell me?" I asked.

"She didn't want any special treatment." She said.

Would I have treated her differently, had I known? Maybe. Maybe not. But I would have understood...

And that is more valuable than anything.

Maybe I'll offer up an opportunity for understanding before I punch anyone in the face...

"Ask yourself what you want people to do for you; then grab the initiative and do it for them!"

~ Luke 6:31

He's already the best big brother :-)

Coming out of the forest...

Oh my, it's been a while.

So much has happened in the past couple months that it's hard to know where to start... 

but it'll be worth the wait while I work through it all ;-)

These last weeks and days have seemed to last forever.... I've found myself in a fog of holding my breath, waiting, and withdrawing.

And withdrawing while you're waiting and holding your breath just never makes things any easier.

I've learning something huge about myself recently...

about my faith...

or lack of faith.

My heart knows from experience that when things get tough, running into the arms of Jesus is the only way to keep yourself from drowning... from sinking into whatever trap of uncertainty, anxiety, depression, or flat-out hell that Satan is pulling you toward.

Jesus.

He saves... He's patient... He's all-knowing...

He PUT you RIGHT where you ARE!

Imagine...

You're headed into a deep, dark forest with hundreds of strangers.... never met them, don't know their story, and you don't really care to. ONE person organized the trip... the ONLY one who knows the safest, most secure, single-handedly successful way out of the forest...

he never promised to know the easiest or quickest way out...

just the safest.

He created the path... he's the only one who knows the way out.

Who do you follow? 

The strangers? The one's who rely on what they 'know' and what they 'sense' to get them home?!

No.

You follow the one who just knows.

Jesus.

You follow Him because HE created the path you're on... He's the only one who knows the safest, most secure, single-handedly successful way out of that forest that threatens to swallow you whole.

But then there's me...

I've learned that when I face a forest... a path of uncertainty and terror and unknowns...

I'd rather disappear... hide... than follow the one who knows the way.

I've lost so many precious things along the path that Jesus has perfectly designed for me... sometimes the risk of losing more preciousness just doesn't seem worth putting myself out there and trusting Him, as backwards as that sounds... and as many blessings as I KNOW wait for me on the other side.

Have you ever felt that way?!

In your desperate attempts to protect yourself and the preciousness you hold so close to you, you choose to try and do it all on your own...

forgetting the One who designed that path and how perfect it always ends up looking on the other side.

Following Jesus, as many unknowns and uncertainties that that entails... following Him always means rough waters ahead. It also means unknowns and uncertainties. It means believing and surrendering to the simple fact that you have no control over HOW you get out of that forest.... zero.

But disappearing... disappearing, withdrawing, isolating yourself makes the world feel somewhat safer. Sitting quietly in your cocoon, waiting out the unknowns and uncertainties somehow makes the other side seem closer...

but it's not.

The other side never gets closer, though at times it might feel safer, because there's no way out when you don't know where you're headed.

Following Jesus.

Unknowns, uncertainties, fear... they're there.

But the other side is, too.

Always.

I've learned that my cocoon, my 'safe place' is denial... avoidance... withdraw... 

and when the path turns to a scary place, it always seems easier at first to follow the crowd into more 'what ifs'...

than to face the inevitable unknowns that following Jesus requires for me to get to the other side.

At the end of this cryptic post that will make so much more sense soon...

I'm on the other side.

My forest is still close behind me... fear threatens to suck me back in at any moment, at the first sign of hardship that is sure to lie on the other side...

because even when we find ourselves on the other side...

hardship still awaits.

It's there so we never have a chance to rely on ourselves...

we must rely on Him...

even on the other side.

Even though I walk through the valley of deep darkness,
    I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
    your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.
Psalm 23:4

I'm excited to share more with you about my most recent forest adventure...

but first, a few fun things coming down the line;

* A special baby girl who needs our help finding her forever family

* My very first Mommy's Spring Fling Fashion post

* The outcome to our On Loan From Heaven CD giveaway!! (You can still enter here) 

* A Hunter update

* A fun announcement

Stick with me, friends... and no matter what forest you're stuck in, and no matter how much easier it seems to disappear and hide, follow the One who knows the way...

you'll never regret it...

and you'll soon find that the other side is closer than you think ;-)

~ Vince Antonucci

This is no April Fools joke! .... "Jesus Told Me, Mommy!"

Today marks the anniversary, of sorts, of a day that we will never forget.... a day when our faith in God's plan for our family changed forever... it was stretched and deepened profoundly.

You see, our sweet boy just celebrated his 2nd birthday...

but 2 years ago today, we still didn't know him...

he was lying in a hospital incubator, 10 days old, fighting for his life...

And we were still waiting for our #2....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let's flash- back to April 1, 2012;

Hi friends :-) It's been a while and I sat down tonight to write a long-overdue blog post/ update ... I just can't. To admit that we are 18 months into this second adoption wait, to try and justify why it's been that long, to reminisce about how much time we've 'wasted' waiting on different situations, and to act like it's all ok because God still has a plan.... Feels kind of fake. Since I can't find words, I'll let God choose them for me...

"Love is never tired of waiting."1 Corinthians 13:4

Last week Joey and I admitted that we were both just tired of waiting... and every time we feel that way God shows up to offer a light, some encouragement, and something to look forward to. Today, we are thankful for some light, are feeling encouraged, and are looking forward... We will never grow tired of waiting for our baby :-)

That was my Facebook post earlier this week and you know, it's really true;

We haven't grown tired of waiting... because well, we'd wait a lifetime if that's what it took to bring our next baby home. Just because we aren't tired doesn't mean that we aren't frustrated or confused or even angry sometimes... or a lot of times. We haven't given up and to me, that means that each morning we wake up refreshed and hopeful and 'good-anxious'... and we rejoice in the fact that we made it through one more day that has gotten us closer to our baby. THAT is worth the frustration, confusion, and anger, is it not?

Nope, Joey and I are doing fine... living one day at a time and doing our best to trust that God's plan is better than our own (but seriously, I CAN'T wait to see HOW and WHEN His plan will be better than my own... because my own is pretty damn good!), ((Sorry I used the 'D' word :-/)), (((Does infertility and/or adoption bring out your dirty mouth? I didn't even know I had one until infertility and adoption!!)

If you're 'waiting' or if you've ever 'waited', you know the magnitude of what I'm going to say... you know that it pierces your heart, makes you sick to your stomach, and gives you goosebumps all at the same time. Mostly, it just makes me more frustrated and confused and angry when I realize that

 we are not the only one's who are hurting through this wait... who are anxious and excited and hopeful. Our children are, too.

We have prepared our sweet girl 3 (T.H.R.E.E) times this year for her role as big sister... as in; "hurry and wash the baby clothes, unpack the car seat, clean the house, and start packing" kind of preparation. One of those times was a slower process but felt just the same when those babies didn't wear the clothes, sit in the car seat, or come home. Because of how difficult this past year has been, Joey and I have been EXTREMELY cautious around Hannah... we simply do not discuss 'baby' anything in her presence. If we get an email from an expectant mom or hear about a situation through an attorney, we wait and discuss it when Hannah's napping or in bed. While we DO pray for Hannah's baby brother or sister some nights at bedtime (it IS important for her to know that when baby comes home, it means that Jesus answered our prayers!), we just want to protect her as much as we can from the possibility of being 'heartbroken'... again.

Well...

Joey and I were getting dressed this morning and Hannah came tearing into our room.... full force yelling, "Mommy Daddy Mommy Daddy!!!! I'm so excited! My baby brother is coming home tonight!!!!"

Now imagine... how do you respond to this?

Well, if you're us, you get immediate goosebumps and stand there like idiots with your mouths hanging open.

I mean, how can you not be a little shocked/freaked out?

When we recovered, we hugged our bouncing 3 year old and moved on... what do you SAY???

Our day was fun; lunch at a fun place since Daddy was home today, puzzles, books, planted a tree, and made sugar cookies. Hannah wasn't into dinner tonight so we said the customary, "You can get down from the table but you don't get any treats until you eat your 5 bites" and she ran to play in the play room.

Joey and I finished eating and about 10 minutes later Hannah came running into the kitchen yelling, "My baby brother is almost here!! He';s on his way, he's almost here! Hurry I have to eat my dinner!  I don't know what car he's in.... let's go watch for him!"

By this time, Joey and I are a little more than confused/freaked out and I finally asked Hannah... "Who told you that your baby brother is coming home tonight?"

Hannah looked sweetly from her Daddy to me and said...

"Jesus told me, Mommy!"

Of course He did....

Ugh.

In the same extremely mature and sophisticated way in which we typically communicate with our daughter...

Joey changed the subject.

(Okay really?!?! Like you wouldn't have done the same thing!)

It was then that I felt sick to my stomach... and guilty... and angry... and confused... and in some strange way...

hopeful.

Here's the thing...

Most moms and dads would hear that from their child, dismiss it, and think, "There's no way that could happen, anyway... a baby showing up on our door step tonight! Ha!"

But... we met Hannah's birth-parents on a Thursday night, and picked up our baby-girl on Friday morning... 13 hours later.

Not so crazy, after all.

Back to the kitchen tonight....  me feeling sick.... my 'inner me' started running her mouth...

"It's Easter weekend.... it's the absolute perfect time to bring our baby home! Maybe she's right... God says that we need to have faith like a child, right? What if we DO bring our baby home this weekend?"

 “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and have faith like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

~Matthew 18:3

But here's what followed...

"What are you talking about?! EVERY SINGLE STINKING DAY FOR THE PAST YEAR HAS BEEN THE PERFECT DAY TO BRING OUR BABY HOME!!!!!"

So much for faith, huh?

Joey and I talked later on about how we should proceed with Hannah since she's obviously very aware, despite our best efforts to protect her, of this long 'wait' to become a big sister. We've learned (the hard way) that Scripture is always the best place to turn when you're at a loss...

But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”  

~Matthew 19:14

We will let her dream... we'll even dream with her.

We will let her be excited... and we'll allow ourselves to be excited (once again), too.
We will learn from her flawless and perfect faith... we need it.

And we will pray that God will continue to place His loving and profound words in her heart because I have to be honest... there are days when I listen to my daughter more than I listen to my Heavenly Father and quite frankly, that's not ok.

To me, Easter represents all things 'new'... Jesus rising from the grave, our sins being washed clean, the weather, flowers, trees, fresh fruits and vegetables...

So why not families, too???

We always knew that Hannah was 'advanced' (my dad's word ;-))...



 but today she taught her Mama a much-needed lesson in faith!

I love you, sweet girl and know without a shadow of a doubt that you will be the BEST big sister there ever was.... and hopefully soon!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

That day, April 1, 2012, Hannah was absolutely convinced that her baby brother was on his way. She knew.

How did she know?

"Jesus told me, Mommy!"

Friends...

He did.

April 1, 2012 was the day that Hunter's sweet First Mama relinquished her parental rights... not even knowing if her precious baby would be alive when she could come back and visit him on Easter morning.

By all legal terms, that sweet boy was our's...

we just didn't know.

We wouldn't know for 2 more weeks.

But Hannah knew.

She knew that she was a big sister...

But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”

~Matthew 19:14

And she was right;

Jesus told her heart.

 So you'll understand when we were eating cake and celebrating our #3's 'birthday/ due date' last week and my heart started pounding, the room spun, and I broke out in a sweat when my sweet girl said sweetly...

"Mommy, I know our new baby will LOVE birthday cake on his birthday next year!"

.............

Faith like Hannah's.



** It is always our prayer that the Lord uses the story He is writing for our family to change lives... please feel free to 'share' His story to help change lives and give Him the glory for the amazing things He has done! **

Parenting, Justified.

Today was a rough day.

Like, super rough.

We started our morning on the wrong foot...

In short... lots of 'no's', lots of yelling, lots of 'growling', some throwing, some spitting, some crying, and a couple prized possessions found a new place on top of the fridge for a couple days.

(I'll leave it up to you to decide who did what...)

Our car-ride to school was quieter than usual, though I did try some small-talk...

Me: Did you know that it's supposed to snow today?

Hannah:......

Me: It would be a good afternoon for some hot cocoa! How does that sound?

Hannah:....

And so on.

I love year 5.

Thankfully, I hear those conversations get better when they're in high school....

right? :-/

I kissed her and told her I love her before she got out of the car but how do you have a good day when THAT'S how it started?!

These days make me sad... for both of us.

I was determined... our afternoon was going to be so much better!

Cue; yelling, screaming, spitting, snot, sweat, bloody nose (result of floor-throwing fit)...

(I'll leave it up to you to decide who did what...)

(And don't think for a second that our preemie of a boy wasn't part of it all, too... monkey-see, monkey-do!)

Nap/ rest-time came early today.

I love year 5.

Our evening was better... snow-playing, cereal-eating, movie-watching, cocoa-drinking, pretend-playing.

Love those moments... cherish them.

Bed-time? 

I'll let you figure out how that went...

:-(

I love year 5.

Have you had days like this?

Are you a parent?

Then yes... yes you have.

I sat outside her room after I kissed her 'good-night' and listened to her sob...

My head knew that in reality, the part of her that missed her beloved 'heart pup' was real... but the part of her that was sleepy and defiant and 5 was fake.

Still... those sobs... my heart. 

:-(

So I stood outside her door... 

 I prayed that Jesus would give me patience tomorrow... asked Him to forgive me for losing it today.

I prayed that Jesus would teach me discipline tomorrow.. asked him to forgive me for my defiance today.

I started thinking about how often we complain about 'ages'... the terrible 2's, 5 years old, pre-teen, teen...

We vent about their impatience and defiance and tantrums and disobedience often.

I started thinking about all of the different things that play into those ages and stages...

and I realized that each and every age and stage has two things in common...

them.

and

us.

Them, as in the 2 or 5 or 15 or 21 year olds.... and Us, as in, the 25 or 35 or 45 year olds.

And as I stood outside her room,I fell into a mental, momentary panic as I thought about our day, one more time...

the yelling, the impatience, the disobedience, the defiance, the stubbornness...

her.

and

me.

Oh, no.

Year 30.

With Hannah's sobbing still audible in the monitor, I came downstairs and opened my Bible... I needed some guidance... some perspective about this whole parenting gig...

because today, I failed.

It didn't take long for my big Jesus to speak to my aching heart...

Ephesians 6:1... Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. Honor your father and mother that it may go well with you and you may live long in the land.

That's about it for kids... obey and honor your parents. Simple.

BUT...

Proverbs 22:6... Parents, train up a child in the way he should go, for even when he is old he will not depart from it.

AND...

Ephesians 6:4... Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.

AND...

Colossians 3:21... Fathers, do not provoke your children, lest they become discouraged.

AND...

James 1:19... Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger;

Phew.

This parenting thing is hard, huh?

The standard is set high.

So many equations are running through my head...

In order to TEACH obedience, we have to FIRST obey.

In order to TEACH patience, we must FIRST practice patience.

In order to INSTILL wisdom, we must FIRST seek wisdom.

In order to TEACH honor, we must FIRST learn how to honor.

How many of those am I really good at?! How many have I mastered?!

How many do i work on every. single. day. ?!

Rough days will happen... and unfortunately, we are wired to remember the bad one's and not to savor each moment of the good one's.

Today was a rough day... not because my daughter is 5... and not because I'm 30...

because age doesn't matter.

Today was rough because we're both still learning... how to be patient and listen and obey and be disciplined and how to honor one another.

But at the end of the day, in this thing called 'parenting'...

age really does matter.

I am 30... and she is 5.

I will never, ever, in all my years of parenting be able to justify parenting out of anger or impatience or defiance... 

even though my human nature will want to...

and no matter how old she is.

And I will never, ever, in all my years of parenting... be able to do it 'right' every. single. day...

no matter how old I am.

Today? I did it wrong.

But you see, what God NEVER said was that parenting is easy...

Genesis 1:31... God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning--the sixth day.

A built-in do-over.

He knew... He knows. 

Tomorrow?

Do-over day.

Lamentations 3:22-23... 

His mercies never fail, 

They are new every morning.

Great is your faithfulness!

A phone call… “He’s tiny, just 2 pounds…” What exists in my memory now is fragmented; Heart… kidneys… liver… brain… lungs… short life… needs a family… tomorrow. So we went… nothing to guide us but blind faith. Some people would call that stupidity. We just felt called.

In my arms, the baby boy we had met only a few weeks earlier; born too soon, stronger than I could ever hope to be, and the one who had turned our world upside down in that short phone call.  Brown hair, wise eyes, easily held in one of my hands. His name always uttered in the same sentences as ‘miracle’ or ‘fighter’. And he was. He was fragile and sick, helpless and damaged to the rest of the world. To us, he was solid and strong, whole, with a life that was full of purpose… no matter how long that life would be.

His footsteps echoed down the hall. A doctor’s shoes sound different than anyone else’s shoes… and they bring with them the power to make or break you. Their faces, too; the stone-cold ability to make anything look and sound okay. But it’s not always going to be okay.

This time, nothing was okay.

Blood work, tests, ultra-sounds and MRI’s… all leading to one short sentence that carried with it his future… and our hearts.

“Your son will die soon. I don’t know how much longer he has or if he will ever make it home but I want you to know now so you can make plans. There’s nothing else that we can do.”

In the haze of heartbreak, questions I couldn’t voice, and with the almost weightless, but living body of my son lying in my arms, one word echoed in my mind… it’s sound was deafening.

Plans.

Panic set in. It was one of those moments when the walls close in, your line of vision narrows, and all you can hear is the screaming in your heart and mind. Plans?! How in the world do you 'plan' for your child to die?! How can I possibly make plans without my baby?!

And in the midst of my panic, the word echoed again. This time, its sound was almost as silent as my son’s body was almost weightless. This time, the word came from somewhere else… from a place so deep inside of me that when it speaks, I know to be still and listen to its wisdom.

Plans.

“For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

And in the impossible quiet in the far corner of the NICU, my head cleared, my mind hushed, and my heart listened. Our futures, our stories, have already been written... and they weren’t written by a NICU doctor, or the executives at work, or the pastors at church. Our stories were written by the Great Physician, the CEO of our existence, the greatest story-teller and prophet that ever lived. Damage simply cannot be done to God’s plan.

The word swirled around in the narrow haze of darkness until it settled snuggly in a part of my heart that has been forever changed.

Plans.

Rooted in my heart is the knowledge that God’s plan is perfect even amidst our imperfections, amidst the damage that has been done to us… from birth, through tragedy, or by the choices of someone else. In a fleeting moment in time, circumstances and opinions often cloud what our hearts know to be true…

We can always find hope in Him… even in the most hopeless moments of darkness. He won’t harm us... Even when it hurts. We do have a future… and even if it’s physicality is short, it’s eternity is forever.

It’s never safe to assume that God’s gentle and encouraging whispers will always cover the inevitable panic and chaos that is this life. They creep in and try their hardest to persuade you to yield to the noise and fear. Being still… listening… quieting the turmoil that surrounds you, that tries to convince you that the damage is done… things I’ve had to learn over and over again since the day I sat in the corner of the NICU, crying out to God, holding a life that he created perfectly in my arms.

But that day? The day that started the end of his life? That day was almost 2 years ago. Today, our son, our fighter…. He’s strong and determined and healthy. He’s our walking miracle. The damage that was done to his body is still there but what came next, what’s still coming, is more powerful than any damage that could ever be explained by any doctor…

Healing.

There are days when the damage is done- When life simply can’t hand you anything more because you’re already so broken. Our hope lies in knowing that physical damage is never permanent; totaled cars are recycled for parts, broken bodies are put back together, lies told are always uncovered, shattered souls find hope, lives lost find eternity with Him.

That day … the damage didn’t come in the form of sickness or death and the real damage wasn’t done to our son. The damage was done to our hearts and to our faith and to our purpose, and it was done in the most beautiful and miraculous of ways.  We are forever changed; forever trusting in His plan that is perfection … regardless of whose shoes are walking down the hall, whose face turns the corner, and what tragedy lies ahead. We can try and fail, believe and be disappointed, or dream only to wake up… these things, in this life, in His plan, will be okay. Healing can be found and damage simply can’t be done to God’s plan.

Intimacy in the cemetery...

They pulled in quietly and started down the winding path through families and memories... Generations of stories and undoubtably over millions of tears dried into the harsh, dried ground.

He parked his blue truck in the middle of the cemetery. 

He didn't have to... The road would wind through the stones ... but he stopped.

He got out of his truck, walked around the truck and opened her door for her. He held out his hand and helped her down... he kissed her cheek.

Her husband.

He got back in the truck and watched her... 

She had trouble walking ... age wasn't her friend, but she managed... Alone. She walked far ... always remaining in his sight.

His eyes never left her.

I wondered how far she would walk... Why he didn't just drive her all the way... Why she was walking alone.

 

I was struck by his strength... watching her walk away toward something he obviously wasn't a part of... respecting her in the deepest, most profound way I have ever seen.

 

I felt the most unexplainable mixture of emotions as I watched, waiting to see the ending of this already-beautiful scene unfolding in front of me... I was an intruder, watching from afar, but completely paralyzed... I couldn't look away.

She finally stopped... She was tired. Breathing hard.  

She bent over and touched a flower that graced the stone that sat deep in the earth... Covering a life that is so obviously deeply missed.

She knelt down to her knees... quite a challenge but important to her. She folded her hands, and placed them in her lap. She touched the earth... Looked at the sky... Bent her head...

I glance back at him... Still in his truck...

His head was bent, too.

She stood up and started her long walk back ...

I don't know who she left behind. Her mom? Dad? Was it a child she lost? A husband from before? If so, before what? 

He let her walk the path back alone but met her a few feet from the truck and wrapped his arms around her. They stood in that place for what seemed like an eternity... And then he helped her back into the car. He backed up slowly and they were gone.

But I was still there... somehow changed.

I have never witnessed such intimacy as I did today while waiting to pick up my sweet girl from school. 

His gentle kiss on her cheek. The way he watched her walk away... protecting her and wanting to respect her need to go alone, but torn as he watched his love walk away... toward something he wasn't a part of. He prayed when she did. The patience he fought as she walked back toward him, wanting to let her finish what she started... but wanting her back with him as quickly as possible. The relief even I felt when she was back in his arms. His gentle guidance as he made sure she was safely in her seat... back in his care... where she belonged.

 

Intimacy. Defined.

 

The scene has played over and over in my mind all afternoon... their story is remarkable. 

 

I don't know it.... but I know it's remarkable.

 

I don't know who she left behind in that cemetery... how often she visits... how many times she's had to walk away...

 

Their love was so genuine. His respect for her, for the parts of her story that he doesn't quite fit in to... so pure. The secrets they shared were haunting... the intimacy between them ran deep.

 

Sometimes God uses the strangest places, in the weirdest circumstances, with the most random people to speak to me.... today he used a cemetery, the only 15 free minutes I had, and a couple I now strive to model in my own relationships.

Remarkable, in deed.

"My home is in Heaven..." ~ Billy Graham

17 years ago I stood in a crowd of thousands of people in a California amphitheater. We were there to hear some guy speak. I didn't really know who he was but I knew that he was famous... and I could sense from the energy of the crowd that something huge was going to happen. I knew that God would move and my life would be changed. His name was Billy Graham. 

I was 13 years old and in 3 months I would undergo a major surgery to fuse my spine in order to stop the progress of my Scoliosis. The back brace I wore had become a part of me... something that I couldn't imagine living without. It held me together... binded the parts of me that were broken and seemingly, defined the parts of me that were not. My head knew that back surgery was 'routine'... my heart hadn't gotten the memo.

I was terrified.

When a doctor preps you for surgery, he explains the pros in depth... and quickly mentions the cons. The risks. Death always seems to be a risk. This time was no different.

I stood surrounded by friends and strangers at the same time. A man came on stage and I can't remember a word he said... but his words hushed the crowd of thousands and the world seemed to fade away. His presence was empowering... his words echoed off the walls of your heart.

I would say I couldn't speak for everyone there... but I'm certain that I can.

His words changed people. They changed me.

I remember his question; Would you like to dedicate your life to Christ? I'll help you!

But I had done that years ago. His conclusion didn't apply to me. Until...

Have you already given your life to him? Have you spent each day living purposefully? Living for him? Would you like to RE-dedicate your life to him? Let me help you...

And I did.

And my fears faded. Death no longer filled me with fear but instead, filled me with hope! My hope rested in him and in him alone. The promises I had made years ago renewed in my heart and became the anthem of my life.

All because of his words.... of the words that my Jesus put in the mouth of a man.

A man named Billy Graham.

In early October I was contacted by the Billy Graham Association. One of their head publicists reads our blog. A compliment? I think so!

The Billy Graham Association wanted to host a blogger luncheon. They were inviting some of the top bloggers in our region and wanted to clue us in on the BGA and what makes it tick, what they have to offer our community, and most of all, who this guy is. 

If you've ever heard of Billy Graham, then you know that no one in their right mind would pass up an opportunity like this. And if you've never heard of him, a quick Google search will give you some perspective.

The day was amazing! Billy Graham Headquarters... the birth-place of so many of his movies and crusades and interviews... breath-taking! The library... a chronicle of his life... of the millions of people who were imprinted in the patchwork of his heart from the day he was born... inspiring. Pieces of his life... large and small, minute and monumental... all played a part in the purpose of his life... humbling.

I didn't learn anything about the life of Billy Graham that I didn't already know. It's impossible to attend one of his crusades and lose track of him... he's just 'that guy'. What I learned had more to do with his ministry than anything...

His outreach...

The Cove...

His Library...

Ruth's Attic...

The Library, located in Charlotte, NC, has something to offer for everyone... free tours of the library that chronicles the plan God has for his life from day 1, Christmas festivities free of charge, tea parties and luncheons for kids, gardens more beautiful than any I've ever seen...

A hidden gem.

Billy Graham's life work defines 'purpose'. His library, just one small glimpse into the life of a true prophet, gives anyone who visits determination to find their own. Men like him are few... his life has been rich and full... but his time is growing short. Pray for this man. Learn more about him... visit his legacy... support his cause. 

I am honored to have been given a glimpse into his life... a life that changed lives... including mine.

My perspective was changed, my fear was squelched, and my life-verse can now be echoed through his words...

"My home is in Heaven. I'm just traveling through this world."

~ Billy Graham

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To Lisa and the many people who made opened up this opportunity and included me in the impressive list of bloggers who were invited... thank you! I am proud to be considered a Billy Graham Blogger and look forward to working with you in the future to continue the purpose of Billy Graham's life and of his library... to carry on his legacy.

Other BGA Bloggers;

Emily A. Clark
Malise Terrell
Briana Bruzali
Gail Purath 
Jennifer Schmidt
Megan Scheibner 

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A little about us...