Love Does, My Story

Is there such a thing as too much information?

You may be surprised to know that sometimes I struggle with what’s appropriate to share…

I always want to honor the story of our girls, the work God is doing in our lives and the place in your heart that you’ve invited me into.

Over the past four years you’ve carried me through some of the deepest waters, fears and even heartbreaks that you may not have known occurred along the way.  I seek to be transparent in as much as I am able to share, and honest with the depths of my heart as I journey through life.

I’ve gone back and forth with how to share without being totally awkward – because it’s pretty personal.

It’s not that I don’t want you to know, but sometimes I struggle with whether it’s helpful for you to know… but at this point I realize, it’s helpful for me and my girls if you can come along side us and pray this week.

About fifteen years ago I began to really struggle physically with recurring cysts on my ovaries and what we later discovered to be endometriosis.  I had surgery eleven or so years ago and at that time my doctor recommended I decide sooner rather than later if I wanted to have children, because I really needed to consider a hysterectomy.

Now, I know some people have wondered if we have walked a path of infertility which led us to adoption, but I can honestly say that’s not how we ended up here. Whether my uterus worked or not, either way I was convinced I didn’t need to have a baby.  It’s apparent now much of my decision was based in a need for control- but also the simple fact that I wasn’t sure I had what it takes to keep another human alive… especially if they needed to be fed daily.

I’ve always been a bit of a procrastinator, so I delayed making the decision for many years.  But here we are, less than 48 hours away from a major surgery.  Tonight I held each one of my baby girls as they cried at different times, trying not to let their fears be known but they just can’t hold it in any more.

If you read one of my recent stories, you may recall that we don’t have a lot of room in this house for my weakness.  It triggers something I can’t fully understand.  But God does. He sees and knows the depths of their pain, the fears in their hearts and the innocence that has been lost.

On most days I am good, I can be strong and hold it all together.  But if I so much as take a vitamin, I’m questioned about the state of my being.  We had one therapist that suggested the girls “give me medicine” so they could see it’s nothing to be scared of.  As she handed them a bottle of advil and I sat bewildered by her recommendation –  I realized I didn’t want a four year old to be comfortable with pills and decided to fire the therapist.

“It’s not me – it’s you.  Bye Felicia.”

I share this because what I know is a routine procedure also has the potential to be a major emotional event in this house of little women.  It’s already starting to bubble up.

As I’ve sought to prepare my own self for the surgery, recovery and hopefully a new normal, I am faced with my own fears.  If I’m totally honest, it’s not a fear of the surgery itself or even the recovery which I hear is pretty brutal –  at a gut level the question I have stirring is, what if something were to happen to me?

And obviously you can’t see my eyes filled with tears as I write this…  but it paralyzes me. It’s a much deeper pain that I can’t prepare everything for such a situation – and I must not believe God can figure it out either.  Both pain me.  My fears and my underlying doubts.

When I rationally think about this I can bounce back up and know, this is no big deal.  People have surgery every.single.day.  I don’t have cancer. I don’t have major risks.  I just have three kids that have already lost one mother and I feel like I have to do everything in my power to make sure they don’t lose another one.

Clearly I’m not rational anymore.

Don’t worry. I won’t leave you hanging here.

As I walked into church this morning, longing for an encounter with God, my heart found peace as we sang a song I didn’t even know I liked… reminding me who is the King of my Heart and how good he is.  In the bridge the band echoes these words:

You’re never gonna let,
You’re never gonna let me down

With tears falling from my eyes I was reminded of his incredible goodness to my girls – his supernatural provision for things we didn’t even know we needed.  (Have you ever read this story about When God Shows Up ?)  And as I sang these words I could truly believe that not only is he not going to let me down, he will never let my girls down.

Tonight, as I lay next to each one in their bed, I reminded them that it’s ok to be scared – and then I try to point them back to Jesus.  Remember when you were brave before? We can be brave together. Sweet girl, you make me brave.

I’m humbled by God’s goodness to meet me in my own fears so that I’m able to speak truth to the hearts of my little ones.  I’m grateful for the ones who have come along side us with offers to help our family, my mother who will be carrying a heavy load these next two weeks and my sweet husband who has his hands full with a lot of ladies.

I’m at peace going into this.  I trust God with all the things.  I’ve given Daniel a list of all our accounts, passwords and what to do if something happens to me.  I’ve even told him who I’ve picked out to help raise the girls…  but I need to go on record saying – if he shows up with some Brazilian paddle board chick, that is not who I picked out.

And if I didn’t already feel like I have zero control over my life, mother nature decided to throw a stinking hurricane into our week – one day post-op.  If you look at the radar, it clearly says “Abby’s house” on the present course.

Jesus take the wheel.

I’m going to bed.  Sweet friends, please pray for my little people.  Please pray for my doctor and my body.  I kinda need all the things to go right… and the hurricane to turn. No big deal.  I’m totally chill.

and I can’t drink wine.

So here’s a song I leave you with… because I need to be reminded.

Much love, from a broken girl.

PS… we’re kinda hoping once these ovaries are gone I’ll stop crying so much.  fingers crossed!

 

 

 

Love Does, Uncategorized

When Life Gives You Poop

It has taken me more than a week to write these words… sometimes your heart needs time to process before it can share.  In my previous life I would never have imagined writing something about poop… but alas… here we are.

I’m listening to a book The Whole-Brain Child to better understand the interworkings of my children’s brains and the impacts of trauma.  In one chapter it shares about a whole-brain strategy called “Name it to tame it – telling stories to calm big emotions”.  One of the best ways to heal from a painful, disappointing or scary moment is to help retell the story of the experience.

My friends, it’s time for you to know what happened…

It was the second day of fall, a blistery 96 degrees on a Sunday afternoon.  My soul was longing for cool weather but instead was sweating out of every pore of my body.  We were at a dear friend’s birthday party and the girls were swimming to their heart’s desire when the unexpected happened.

I have this one little fish that for reasons unbeknownst to me, tends to swallow lots of water as she plays – despite my constant request to spit it out. She has no cares about the germs, bacteria or living creatures that may share the body of water from which she drinks.  She laughs in the face of fear – I cannot scare her into not drinking the water.

Let me set the scene for a moment, I have no intentions of swimming this day. I am dressed in a linen off-the-shoulder sundress and dripping in miserable sweat hoping that I will cool off enough before we go out for a family dinner and fondue to celebrate Daniel’s birthday.  Sipping on a cool glass of Pinot, I see the wiggle dance of my youngest fish as she announces she needs to go potty really bad!  I jump into action, open the heavy bathroom door and close it behind her.  It’s a matter of moments when I hear on the other side of the door “Mommy, I need you.”

The smell hits me in the face before my brain can catch up with my eyes.  It’s a dark bathroom, with no windows, ventilation or even access to air.  On the center of the floor is what I finally identified as a pile of pool water induced excrement.  I can’t comprehend in the moment of sweat dripping, eyes burning, gag inducing hysteria how this pile ended up on this floor, until her sheepish little eyes look up at me and say, “I’m sorry mommy.”

::  remain calm. you are the adult here. do not breathe. do not shame. do not lose your $#*%   ::

I see that as she attempted to pull down her swimsuit bottom, the proverbial “bottom fell out” and there was literally poop everywhere.  I momentarily contemplated whether it was appropriate to burn this place down.  Instead, I calmly stick my head out the door and invite Daniel to come assist me in parenting hell.  We’re in this together buddy!

As he steps into the sauna of shishkabobs I quickly brief him on the situation which has hit him in the face.  I am gagging, but he is strong.  I attempt to remove the fully loaded swimsuit bottom from my tiny human, which then acts like a rubber band and flings said poop all over my bare legs, the potty and more on the floor.

Holy Spirit come quickly…

I.am.dying.

I have to put her on the toilet, because despite the evidence all over the bathroom, she wasn’t finished.  I believe everything she had eaten in the last two weeks had waited for this moment in time.  I wipe myself off enough to retrieve clorox wipes from the closet, return to the chamber of torture and begin trying to scrub a pebbled floor with a handy wipe.  I clean the toilet and all the things that have been desecrated.  Wipe my own body with clorox wipes, pray to Jesus and thank God for the husband he gave me.

That cute heart trimmed, two piece swimsuit was abandoned.  There’s no way in hell we are trying to recover its dignity.

Sweet Daniel goes to the car and grabs the tiny bottle of thieves hand sanitizer and we bathe ourselves in it.  There are not enough essential oils in the world to aid in this recovery process.

However, we dress the tiny princess in her normal clothes and we exit the gates of hell hoping no one else needs to enter for a good 20 minutes or so.  We rejoin the party just as he is blowing out his candles and my sweet little fish is handed none less than a chocolate cupcake….  y’all I couldn’t even handle the look of that things.  I will never ever see chocolate cupcakes the same.

The twins were utterly devastated as we left and they found out we were not having our fun family dinner and fondue outing as previously planned.  They were spared the bathroom experience and couldn’t understand why mommy and daddy looked like we just returned from the makings of a horror movie.

Sweet girls, there are just some things we cannot speak of.  Trust me when I say we cannot go to dinner tonight.

Straight home. Hot showers. All the oils. More wine, please.

This morning, on my facebook feed a memory pops up from four years ago.  I’m quickly reminded of the dazed and confused feeling I felt as I faced this new season with my first baby.  She moved in with us October 2, 2014 –  and here we are – 4 years later.  I never could have imagined all our adventure would hold.  I had no idea how to raise children, much less a baby.  Despite my explosive poop stories, God has been oh so faithful.

We all know how the story goes, I’m living the life I never dreamed of.  I can laugh at the shock I experienced four years ago as I became a mother to three little girls, all of whom we call our first child.  It’s like we’re raising each other, they just had a head start – and we’re the adults because we have jobs and a background check.

I’m not entirely sure how to wrap up a poop story.  I apologize to anyone who feels violated by my sharing.  Trust me, you have the good side of the experience.  I promise to one day write something that has a bit more heart and a few less explatives.  I’ve been a bit busy lately keeping tiny people alive.  As they have begun urgently praying for a baby… I’ve been forced to make a new rule:   no more humans or things that poop.  I draw the line.  I hope God is listening 😉

There is a lot going on in this mommy heart of mine.  We could use some prayers for the coming weeks.  If I find another minute, I’ll share more.

May your coffee be strong, your wine be smooth and the oils be healing.

Much love to you.

 

Love Does

A guide to the pain that slaps you in the face – and what not to do

          “That must be a heavy burden to carry…”

His words touched deeply, as if they uncovered a piece of truth I was trying to keep hidden – but he saw it.

I apologized as another tear made its way down my cheek.  Somewhat embarrassed by my own emotion – somewhat surprised I was even here.

When he first entered my emergency room he was taken aback to find me alone.  He asked a few questions which I simply answered about this unknown pain I was experiencing.  It was minor, yet confusing enough that I needed to make sure there wasn’t something major behind it.

“When did you start feeling the pain?”  –   When I woke up yesterday morning, it was piercing.
“What took you so long to come in?”  – I needed to put my girls to bed first  [the water begins building in my eyes]
“What kept you from coming yesterday?” –   [as a single tear escapes my burning eye, I explain]  I have three little girls, adopted, and I’m not sure why… but they fall apart if anything is wrong with me.

I needed to wait.  I needed our weekend to be a perfect rememberance, a celebration of this family built from a dream.  I needed to make space for the good days that would overcome the ones that are hard.  I just couldn’t be the trigger that makes everything fall apart.

I need to protect them from my pain.

They’ve felt so much.  I can only piece together parts of the story that I read in their case or I’ve heard secondhand.  I don’t know if they even understand what they saw in those early days, or what about it makes them glaze over into a trance-like state that seems void of life.

One time, at our dear chiropractor’s office, I attempted to get an adjustment.  One twin screamed uncontrollably as I lay on the table.  When all was done and I knelt down to calm her, she came close and slapped me across the face – something I had never experienced in my whole life.  Yet it came from a 3 year old and ultimately stung my heart more than my cheek.  She had no idea what she had done.

Another time, when my toe met the black-iron bed built for a queen,  I screamed in pain, certain that I would never walk again… her eyes turned to glass and she began hitting me over and over until she was pulled away.

There’s a place she goes that I cannot see –  there are no words spoken – just a fear that overcomes like a blanket.

And I silently vow… I will never be the cause of her pain.

I realize now the cost of that vow.  I will be strong; there’s no room for weakness. 

I’m setting unrealistic expectations and there’s no way I can deliver.

We can’t be a family that avoids the pain.  Hers or mine.

He spoke gently to me as I tried to pull myself back together.  He laid out our next steps to evaluate and medicate to bring relief from the mystery in my abdomen.  I assured him I was ok with the pain, I can handle it… I just need to know if there’s anything important that could be wrong.

“You are important….  you are important and you are in pain.” 

His words diffuse my deeply ingrained protective strategies and allow me to believe I am worth seeing… even though I can’t seem to make eye contact for fear of more tears.

I can’t take those pain meds that make you sleepy.  There’s a tiny person back home that is bound to wake up because she ate her weight in watermelon… I have to be able to help her sleep walk to the potty – time is of the essence.

They draw all the blood, fill me with fluids, give something mild for pain and deliver a “cocktail” that falls far short of my definition.  All my major organs come back clear, I breathe a sigh of relief and promise if the pain returns I’ll come back for further testing.  He didn’t say it in so many words… but I know the truth… camping is killing me.  [i joke]  The truth is more likely that I’ve given myself an ulcer.

I drive home in the darkness of night turned morning, check on the little people tucked in tight and crawl into my own comfy bed next to the guy that holds my world together.  But I can’t stop hearing the doctor’s words…

…That must be a heavy burden to carry…

They’ve replayed in my head over and over today.  It’s almost as if he saw my dark circled eyes, my clenched jaw, my broken pieces and called out the truth… I’ve taken on a burden that wasn’t mine to carry.

I’m gently reminded of the scripture in Matthew 11

28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Our burden is real, there’s no doubt.  But it isn’t mine to carry alone.  It was an invitation, in the most unexpected place, to come weary and trade this burden for rest.  It was a gentle reminder that I don’t have to hold it all together.  I can’t undo the pain of a past or avoid the pain of the present but I can trust that the one who was there continues to carry the weight and will be faithful to heal.

Sweet friend, you’ve made it this far in our story.  I wonder what burden you may be carrying yourself.  You’ll know what it is when you feel the sting of tears in your eyes.  Like me, you may scramble and try to keep from falling apart.  Dear one, let them fall.  These tears are signs of something deep within.  And there’s an invitation that says, come to me, your burden is heavy, but I have rest.  You do not have to walk alone.

*
*
*

And just in case the guy in the E.R. offers you a cocktail… don’t fall for it.

Much love,
a broken girl.

My Story

To See is to Love

I wrestled with whether or not we should go… we had been gone all weekend, we would certainly be late.  The greater risk of staying out past bedtime threatened my already fragile sanity.  I wasn’t dressed to impress, the girls were mini-hot-messes themselves and I had every reason in the book why it would be easier to just stay home.

But I’m married to this extrovert and we are raising little social butterflies who would sell their sister out if it meant going to party with friends – especially on a school night. oh my.

“We can go for thirty minutes” I said – knowing it would be at least an hour.  Everyone promised to be on their best behavior, there would be no fights when it was time to leave or crawl in to bed. Promise!

Of course, it was everything they hoped for, kids running, music playing, a fruit table with whipped cream, endless juice boxes, adults relaxed and enjoying each other’s company –  why had I even thought to resist this?  I’ve prayed for community for years and God has literally dropped it right outside my door.

Why do I fight what my heart has longed for?  I know you’ve read it before, and it is a daily battle with this underlying fear I carry… we are too much.    If you really knew…

I quickly relaxed, sank in to a comfy seat and was catching up with real live adults, knowing the fenced in yard could at least contain the little people that were not within eye-range.  Plus, there were lots of parents and an unspoken code that we’ll all work together to keep these tiny people alive.  Just breathe.

But then it went off and quite frankly scared the crap out of me.  Children screamed and we saw the shining burst of fireworks that were not quite expected but sure to be fun.

Except… we carry a different story…

…and fireworks sound a lot like gunshots.

There’s no doubt you could see the fear in my eyes. I even felt the burning sting of tears. Then Daniel came around the corner and said… “the girls are good. it’s ok. they are screaming but they just want to know what that was.”

And as I fought to to bring myself back down, the friend next to me looked me in my tear-filled eyes and said, “I knowI know your story, I know what’s going through your mind right now.”  and all of a sudden, what I so often fear is too much, was gently held, tenderly covered and in ways even celebrated – because look how far we have come.

We didn’t fall apart.  And it would have been ok even if we did.  But the shrills of excitement from my girls who have not been secure enough to see fireworks allowed me to see the redemptive thread that is being woven through our lives.  We have fought for healing, we have held closely, loved deeply and when we were thrown a surprise test … we passed!

I learned a lot that night.  Our girls are resilient and they are healing.  I may get discouraged in the little things, but we’ve come a long way.  There’s a growing realization that what I try to hold together, guard and protect others from seeing in our lives is the very thing that God uses to see and speak into my life.  Words that say, you are seen, you are loved and you are not too much.

12_06_17_AbbyMandella_Family_GraytonBeach-24

Friends, we all need places that are safe to bring our stories.  We need people that know how to hold our hearts, our pains and deepest fears, our hope, our joys and our deepest desires… we need to be echoes of truth reminding one another, you are not too much.  Not only that, but you are worth it.  You are worth knowing, you are worth loving and you are not alone.

Sometimes we don’t have those places.  Maybe the people aren’t near.  Maybe the story is too painful to be spoken.  Maybe your heart can’t bear to risk…

I find in those moments, Jesus himself draws near… and his tender words say, “I know.  I know your story.  I have seen your pain.  I know the fear you carry that feels like weights holding you down. I gave everything that you would know… you are worth it.  You are deeply loved and you are not alone.”  

I absolutely love to be an echo of God’s voice to someone else.  Just like the friend who spoke to me, I know your story, was just as if Jesus said to me I see you.. you don’t have to hide.  Your yoga pants and messy hair are just fine.

Just this morning as another shared her struggle with fear, the unknown and quite honestly a bit of unbelief… I turned to the story of the father in scripture who longed for his child’s healing and said with tears, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” {Mark 9:24}  And God gently reminds us, He sees.  He can handle our doubts, lean in, he is the perfecter of faith.  Your tears are ok.  Your doubts are understood.  He is gentle.  He is kind. And he longs for you to see his goodness.

Friends, you love me well.  You have been a safe place to bring my story, my fears, my pain and my joy.   You speak life into doubts.  You share love when I feel so undeserving.  You are my village – and I’m thankful the Lord continues to grow it.  I pray that these words today bring you hope, give you a glimpse of a Father that loves you deeply.  So much so, he will set off fireworks just that you may know.

 

Love Does, Uncategorized

Your Heart was Worth the Pain

“Just point me back to Jesus…”

These simple words I spoke in response to a friend’s question, how could he support me in the moment?  Knowing there was nothing that could be done to change my circumstances, I cannot deny that having people who remind me of the goodness of God changes how I engage.

There are times we will face struggles that seem beyond hope and we simply need to shift our focus.  Not because it changes the struggle, but it changes what we see.

When I see a field, You see a harvest
When I see the winter, You see the spring
When I see the orphan, You see Your child
My God how great You are…

When I’m in a battle, You see a victory
When I see the storm, You see a promise
I see the stars, but You know their names
My God how great You are…

I stand amazed that You stand unchanged
I give my life for the glory of Your name…

 lyrics from “My God How Great”
written by Nate Kelly, Destiny Worship Music
hear the full song on iTunes
used with permission –   sort-of 😉

These words pierced my heart Sunday morning, reminding me that circumstances don’t shape my hope – His promises frame my journey.  I can rest knowing there’s no mountain too high, no rival too great, no ocean too deep that he can’t reach me… or you.

I stand amazed… he stands unchanged.  The stories long ago of a sea split in two, a son that squandered everything yet was met by grace, a people who entered the land promised generations before, a tomb found empty – fulfilling every promise of hope to come … this is the same God today as the one in the book.  He has not changed.

My sin was great, Your love was greater

I have reflected on this holy week and the journey from the donkey to the cross.  It is more than my Sunday school, child-like perspective can take in.  I have to be intentional to not just read through the story, but allow myself to wonder what was that like?  One day He is hailed as king and people literally fall to their knees.  The next thing you know he is sweating drops of blood… knowing what tomorrow brings.

What was worth it?

His friends failed him. His father turned his back on him. People mocked him.  The thorns pierced him.  The cross nearly broke him.

What could he see beyond the grave?

He sees you…      12_06_17_AbbyMandella_Family_GraytonBeach-4

He sees me too.
As tears fall from my eyes I have to remind myself, I am what he sees on the other side of the darkness.  I see my falleness, he sees my redemption.  I see my fears, he sees courage.  I see my frailties but he sees beauty.  Where I see my weakness, the struggles, the disappointment –  he sees strength, love and the glory he created in me.

In Max Lucado’s book, And the Angels Were Silent: The Final Week of Jesus he writes:

You can tell a lot about a person by the way he dies. And the way Jesus marched to his death leaves no doubt: he had come to earth for this moment.

From the fall to the manger, from the tabernacle to the trial he always knew his purpose.

Grace to Grace

In a previous life, I was a worship leader.  I know what goes into a Sunday morning set or a weekday service – building a team and shepherding hearts.  I’ve always said, I can’t lead where I’m not willing to go myself.  Even though I didn’t have all the skills or talent, you can bet I had heart.  My heart was first to honor him, but second to point others to Jesus. His wonder.  His glory.  His goodness and his love.

It has been at least 5 years since I’ve touched those keys, close to 15 since I’ve led a service.  Life looks drastically different these days.  I now have the privilege of leading 3 tiny hearts to the feet of Jesus.  {More often than not, they send me straight there too}

My heart still leads but it’s not from a stage.  I set the atmosphere in my home even as we sing of his reckless love while tucking into bed, or how great our God is as we eat cereal or by shepherding little hearts to share kindness, love and laughter.  I have built a new set list.

This week I’ve been soaking in the weight of the cross, the pain in the journey and the promise of redemption.  I realize, often we do not know what the other side looks like.  We see the darkness that feels like death and are left to wonder what is worth it?  what could possibly be on the other side?  I honestly don’t know. I can’t help but believe that walking into the pain – no matter how deep –  embracing suffering and even facing death – that there is glory on the other side.   He certainly saw something worth it.

“When I see that cross, I see freedom
When I see that grave, I’ll see Jesus
And from death to life, I will sing Your praise…”

So I leave you with this song dear ones.  Take a moment to consider the cross this week and ask him, what made it worth it?  As my heart fumbles to find courage to enter the pain, and as you face your own journey, I pray these words indeed point us back to Jesus.

PS…I highly recommend checking out our dear friend Nate’s song “My God How Great” (quoted above) on iTunes by Destiny Worship Music.  We are total fangirls…

 

 

 

 

Love Does

Not My Child

My heart is breaking as I try not to imagine the unbearable pain so many parents and families are feeling today as they wake up to the nightmare of yesterday’s school shooting.  It’s every parent’s greatest fear, but today it is reality for 17 parents.  I almost can’t breathe.

But this isn’t about me.  Despite the feelings manifesting themselves in my inner being, the trembles that I seek to control and the simple knowing, that was not my child – I cannot help but feel.  So many feelings.  I want to curl up in a ball and hide from this broken world; gather my little chicks and create a safe place where I can protect and control who comes in.

Jesus save us.

As I try to wrap my head around the news – in the same breath I try to avoid the news. I don’t want to feel. I won’t ever understand what drives one to such a crime. But as I sat with Daniel last night and questioned, how does this even happen?  We wondered together, where were his parents?  Then it hit me like a wrecking ball…

Please don’t tell me he was a foster child.

Please, for the love of all things tell me a different story.  Please don’t let this hit so close to home.

But it does.  As I read this morning what barely surfaced last night, this young shooter was adopted, [I can’t confirm] from foster care.  His adoptive father died a few years ago and his adoptive mother passed away in November.  An orphan again.   And just like that, all my tender places are pierced, fears triggered and thoughts… that could have been my child – except for Jesus.

I’m not here to paint a picture or stigmatize children in foster care.  My heart is simply to shine a light on a crisis we face that goes beyond the cries for gun control.

Church, we have a problem and it starts with the family.

Our nation is in crisis and it’s bigger than just a national budget, gun control and gender issues.  Satan has attacked us at the core. He is relentless.  He is taking aim at marriages, families and the most vulnerable of people – our children.

What is the cost? We don’t always see it as clearly, but today we see – one child, through his own pain, intentionally took the lives of 17 more.  We will never be the same.  Something has to change.

I can sit on the outside looking in, hopefully through a lens of grace, and consider that this one child acted out of his own pain and broken story.  I can’t ask the parents of the seventeen others to share that same grace.

I can pray for an overwhelming peace to comfort the hearts of those who mourn, heal the pain of trauma, loss and violation.  I will search for a redemptive thread of grace that one day will surface but today, right now, I will let my tears fall.  I will give one extra squeeze when I say good-bye.  I will say yes to one more piece of candy.  I will commit ever-more-so to fight for the hearts of families, to stand in the gap for children and to be a voice for the ones that are choosing to enter into the hard places of foster care.

We are too much

You see, when I really stop to consider what tender places have been pierced, I have to be brutally honest.  Deep down I question, is our pain too much?  Are we too much? Will what happened in the past dictate our future?  Or can I believe that the incredible grace that built our family is enough to change our story?

Sometimes I look at our girls in their big brown eyes and think, if you only knew… I can’t wait to tell you all he has done for you.  Your story, sweet child, is one for the books.  He has big things in store for you.  You will change the world. 

But sometimes, in the midst of front-yard tantrums and mid-night meltdowns that point back to a season of pain, a loss, an experience or trauma – a lack of development or skills that still need to be refined… I wonder, will we ever be whole?  Will I ever stop trying to protect the world from us?  Will I believe we’re really worth it?  In all our glory 🙂

I must choose to believe our story will be different.  Not because I get it right, not because we’ve built a bubble, simply because I carry a hope that God’s heart is good.  No matter what we walk through, what pain we experience, I can trust his promises are good.  We are fighting for the hearts of our children, we are surrounded by people who love us deeply and walk with us through every battle.

Recently I experienced a mommy meltdown that brought to the surface those deep fears that we are too much or we will cause pain – a dear sweet friend looked me in the eyes and said “that is not your girls.  Your girls are kind and {a little bit crazy} but their hearts are good.  You have good girls.”

Her words brought healing to my mommy heart.  Her words give me courage to see the beauty that grows out of the pain.  I am reminded that I don’t walk this road alone.  Friends, we need each other.  There’s a battle for our families… and there’s a lot at stake.  Today, we mourn with those who mourn but don’t let this loss be in vain.  Rise up. Something has to change.   What’s your part?

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photo credit:: littlemisscreative
My Story

What Dreams May Come

girls at bay

These are the things dreams are made of.  Dreams I never knew I had.  I have only begun to discover the deeper desires of love, protection and purpose turning into dreams of this life filled with giggles and pink.  I’m in over my head, no doubt.  This picture captures our current dream in many ways.

Friends that have known me forever are trying to grasp where this all came from.  Who am I?  What happened to the girl that said she wasn’t having children?  honey, I feel ya!  My head is spinning too.  There are days that I still wonder what happened.

I can trace it back to three things…

Have you ever seen the movie Despicable Me?  I remember watching this with Daniel some 4 or 5 years ago.  When the three little girls walk into Miss Hattie’s House for Girls (orphanage), approach her desk and the little one asks “Did anyone come to adopt us today?”    Yep, that moment caught my heart.  Sure, it’s an animated movie but deep down I heard the cry of the orphan that longs to belong.  God clearly used this to begin stirring my heart.  I was reminded of the call of believers to look after orphans and widows.

The second thing?  I have a dear friend –  I can’t call her my best friend because she didn’t come to my wedding – but she is dear none-the-less.   {That’s an inside joke}  She experienced incredible pain in her life and as she has shared parts of her own story with me I found myself asking, why wasn’t she protected?  What would life look like if she had known that she was worth protecting?  She had a loving mother and father, don’t get me wrong, but life was hard and pain was real.  Her story stirred in me an intense desire to protect the innocence of children who are so often victims of circumstances that they cannot control.  To swoop in and rescue, to speak words of truth that you are loved, you are worth protecting and you are safe.  Why is that so significant? I didn’t know either until I discovered the significance of knowing it myself.

In 2011 I began a journey into my heart.  A battle.  A process of uncovering the depths of my heart and a growing awareness of God’s incredible love for me.  It’s called the Battle for Your Heart and it has been a 4 year process of uncovering the lies I’ve believed and replacing it with the truth of who God says I am.  In that process I’ve seen the framework of 4 Spiritual Realities:

  1. There is a Larger Story
  2. You have a part to play that is yours and yours alone.  If you don’t find a way, no one will.
  3. Evil is hunting you
  4. There is a Fellowship that desires to protect & propel you into your part

As I have discovered my own deep desires of being loved, protected and safe I can see more clearly why I am motivated to do the same for others.  These have been the cries of my own heart, but I am fortunate to come from a family that provided these in so many ways.  I see how God has crafted my life, my marriage, my family to be a piece of his redeeming love for the children he brings into our lives.

In the four years of battling for my own heart I have seen how to fight for the hearts of others – to bring freedom.  As fear has been unraveled in my life so has my carefully constructed protection of control.  And as control was released I began to see how God was inviting me in to so much more than I could imagine.  My part in his larger love story.  A story that has pursued my heart and pursued the hearts of three little girls that he longs to see know the depths of his love for them.

I am in awe, every day, as I consider the story God has written for me and the way he has moved to position us for this moment.  I can’t help but hope for the happy ending because I can’t imagine it being anything less.  I am fully aware that we are embarking on a path filled with resistance.  But I also know that I have a fellowship, a community that loves me well, supports us and propels us into this story.  You make me brave.

So now we dream.  We dream of the territory God is calling us into.  We dream of the days that we aren’t battling the uncertainty of not knowing where they belong.  We dream in a forever kind of way.

As we wait, as we pray, we remember God’s promise and in his promise there is provision.  He will not leave or forsake us.  We will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.  And what dreams may come, he will be faithful – not just to us, but to these girls.  Whether the dream fulfilled looks as we hope or not, he is faithful. Dream with me friend.