When Life is Heavy

This week was hard. Yes, hard in the sense that I’m an American, middle class, white girl who gets to stay home with her babies kinda hard; certainly there are plenty of people who have it harder. I know that, but still. No matter who or where you are in life, we all have days and weeks that are “sanctifying”—this was one of those weeks for me.

Before I go any further, let me say that I’m not sharing this to complain, get pity, or create drama. There’s redemption in the end and that’s the part I’d like to get to but truuust me when I tell you there were a lot of high fevers, crying babies, sleepless nights, poo (I am now referring to Monday as “poo-pocalypse”), long road trips that fell at the worst time, concerns I didn’t anticipate raised by the doctor, and the most humbling trip I’ve ever made to Target that ended with a shopping cart full of groceries abandoned while I did a walk of shame from one end of the store to the other with a baby on my hip and toddler in tow.

It was not a stellar week.

And none of this accounts for the hard conversations about life with friends and family that go far beyond just one hard week.IMG_20180413_194821_948.jpg

If I could sum life up in one word right now it would be heavy. My heart is heavy. My mind is heavy. My body is heavy beneath the weight of it. And I’m weary. I’d like to say that’s all and drop the mic before I give up and walk away. But again, this story doesn’t end that way…and for that I’m so thankful.

I’m learning something right now, especially about how I pray and ask God’s help and blessing over my life. I used to pray, “please let this day go okay” or “please help me get through.” I was seeking immediate relief from immediate circumstances that felt hard and overwhelming. The only “right” answer then would be a day that went smoothly, enough sleep to manage, or not feeling overwhelmed.

But the thing I’m learning is this: Truly growing and putting down deeper roots in my faith means not just praying for a good day but rather praying for the right heart attitude, grace sufficient, and God’s work to progress no matter the circumstances.

20180512_104421.pngImage from @desiringgod

Yes, I would like the days to go smoothly too. But the key is how I respond when everything goes awry. How do I react when, even after I’ve prayed and asked for help, the days are still exhausting and hard? What do I do when I’m frustrated by circumstances out of my control or humbling moments of motherhood that make me question if I’m doing anything right at all?

Whether or not the days go smoothly says almost nothing in comparison to how I react in my heart, mind, and attitude regardless of the circumstances. Growing in my faith means trusting in the heart of God even when life feels like a brick wall on every side. Is God a magic genie I conjure up when I want to wish something away or is he someone I love and trust even when I’m asked to walk through deep waters in order to know him better?IMG_20180510_114445_195.jpg

It’s easy to walk through life thinking everything will be okay on the other side of_____you feel in the blank. Life will be easier once my kids are in school. Life will be easier once my baby sleeps through the night. Life would be so much better if we could just move or if I could just land that certain job.

I find myself doing this in a million smaller ways day-to-day, too. I seek comfort and reprieve in an iced coffee, online shopping or getting five uninterrupted minutes to myself. I tell myself, “I deserve this” or “I just need to get through this day and start over tomorrow.”

But the truth is, no change in circumstances, no temporary pleasure or comfort is actually going to fix anything if I’m not already surrendered in my heart and present situation. Troubles will resolve, one season will change into another, what feels impossible today will nearly be forgotten tomorrow. But where one weed is pulled out in this life to make room for flowers, so more weeds will continue to pop up.IMG_20180503_211214_754.jpg

The truth of my heart and nature is this: The more comfortable I am, the easier it is to drift away from God. Knowing I need God every waking moment also draws me closer to his heart. So while I’m thankful for the simple pleasures that dot this life—the iced coffees and spring flowers—I’m learning to be thankful too for all the hard things that draw me nearer to my true hope and help.

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day, which makes me laugh a little considering how this week has gone. In truth, all I want from the day is Chinese takeout and maybe a nap. But regardless of how the day actually goes, I hope I will remember where my hope rests and carry that truth with me into a new week—regardless of the circumstances.

 

Broken Better: Finding Healing in Motherhood—A Guest Post by Rachel Kaye

Today I’m excited to introduce you to my friend (and also, fun fact, my husband’s cousin). I first met Rachel in college and have thought ever since that if I’m ever half as artsy and hip as she is then I’m on my way haha.

Rachel recently had her first baby and after reading some of her words about motherhood on Facebook, I knew right away I wanted to share her heart with you as well.

I’m so thankful Rachel took the time in this busy, sleepless season to pen these words and share a raw piece of her heart with us ❤


There’s a lot of brokenness in motherhood, I’m learning. I see it all around me. Friends who suffer through infertility and miscarriage, long-awaited children born with special needs, adult offspring who alienate themselves from their parents. It’s a joyous thing, motherhood, but it’s also the most violent rending your heart will ever experience.

My own fractures appeared early. First, there was the waiting, the hoping that each new month would bring a baby. Then, there was the expectation. A baby was in my womb. My heart was torn between excitement and fear. How could I care for this new life? Who was I to take on such a momentous task? That fear nearly crippled me.  

We lost that child. I remember hemorrhaging blood on the bathroom floor in a foreign country, far away from my home and family. I learned then just how broken my own body was. I had failed to protect the life developing inside me.

We lost three more babies after that one. With each pregnancy, I opened my heart to love. With each loss, I fled the heartache. I pretended I was a hardened whole, worn but unbroken.

After the years of uncertainty and loss, our beautiful daughter came. I thought the experience would heal me. Instead, I felt the last vestiges of control slipping away.

I saw it first in my body. The terrain of my physical self had changed, stretching to contain a new life. I wrestled with the knowledge that who I was is permanently altered. There was a child within me, and that was magical, but it was also disconcerting. That physical change mirrored emotional and mental ones. I no longer existed merely for myself but now for another too. I’ve long clung fiercely to my own independence and identity, in part because it’s taken so long for me to feel at home in my own skin, but that identity was splintering. 31351501_10155281681741426_5063599612569321472_n

My daughter is now nearly six months old, and I’m just beginning to come to terms with my bruised, torn heart. It’s scary to love this little life. At times, I’ve tried to run from this love. I fear a shattering so complete that I lose myself entirely. The funny thing is, though, as much as I fear it, it’s in losing myself that I’m truly finding myself.

Muscles tear and bones break before they grow stronger so too with motherhood. This daily death to self is where theological concepts like sanctification get fleshed out. By becoming more like Christ, I become more fully the person God created me to be. I’m more me than ever before.

It occurred to me recently that God knows a lot about parenting. He chose me, loved me despite knowing just how much I would hurt him when each of my sins was heaped on him on the cross. The self-sacrificing love I fear was embodied perfectly by the God who rightfully could have walked away.

Love means heartache. It’s an inevitable consequence. I can’t run from the heartache I’ve already experienced. I can’t run from the potential for heartache to come. At some point, my daughter will hurt me. When she does, I’ll heal, but I’ll heal a little different than I was before. That change isn’t a bad thing, though. Each time my heart stretches and tears for love, I have the potential to be made stronger if I just let God do that sanctifying work.

There’s a tendency in our culture to glory in brokenness. As Christians, we should have a slightly different goal. We live in a messed-up world. That’s not something to celebrate. But we should celebrate the God who takes the pieces and makes all things new and whole.

I was created for a purpose. I’m here to glorify God. God is love. I think a large part of glorifying him is modeling his attributes to a hurting world. True rubber-meets-the-road love isn’t easy, though. To love like that, I have to become more myself, more like Christ. I have to take up my cross and follow him. I have to fall apart in order to be made whole. I have to let my heart break in order to love again.


31318374_10155281688306426_3375813839042904064_nRachel Kaye calls Maine home but currently lives in South Carolina with her husband and daughter.

As a child, she promised herself she would never forget what it was like to be young. As she’s grown older, she’s also grown more childlike. Quick with tears and laughter, she endeavors to embrace life in all its joys, pains, and inconsistencies.

At heart a wayward, wandering, restless soul in need of a Savior, Rachel Kaye looks to Jesus, the author and finisher of her faith to direct her path.

You can follow her musings on Instagram at afreckledrachel


 

These are the Days

I wasted a lot of time this winter looking around wishing I could be someone else, doing something else, somewhere else. I spent too many hours looking around watching other people live bits and pieces of their lives while I questioned and struggled against my own beautiful story. I forgot for a while that this beautiful life of mine is just that—mine. A precious gift in my hands. A beautiful story to be told. A blank canvas for life and imagination to be lived out on. All mine. IMG_20180408_170242_475.jpg

Our pastor on Sunday used an illustration about how you might be running and winning a race while you’re looking ahead focused on the goal, but as soon as you start looking around, looking back to see who might be catching up, you veer, you slow down, you begin to lose ground. We need to keep our eyes on the road—our road and not on the person beside us. IMG_20180408_170617_175.jpg

I always seem to be at a different place in life than a lot of the people around me. When I was working, my friends were having babies. When I am having babies, my friends are going back to work. I catch myself always grasping for that next step—for leaving my job and starting a family when I still need to work. For wishing my kids would grow up and go to school so I can go back to work and be with grownups again.

IMG_20180408_093110_222.jpg Only I’ve started to see things differently of late. As spring slowly (ever so slowly) begins to spread frosty green fingers into these last cold days of winter, so a bit of spring has begun to bloom in my heart toward motherhood, home, and the season of life I’m in. I don’t want to run away anymore. I don’t want that job or desk I’ve spent far too long dreaming about while rocking babies and washing dishes.IMG_20180408_153147_326.jpg

For the first time in a really long time, I see what’s right in front of me—and I’m excited about it. I want to be home and “make home.” I’m happy to be “just” a wife and momma. It feels like an adventure I get to dive into instead of a to-do list to check off so I can move onto the next step.

And I find, the more I open my heart to being right where I am, the more I want to put down roots and dive deep into all the possibilities this blank canvas offers. I am beginning to see all I can do with these precious days and hours rather than all I have to do.

IMG_20180408_152731_156.jpgNow of course it’s not all unicorns and rainbows. I find it funny that all day yesterday I had this post I wanted to write tumbling around in my mind—sharing my new love for home and motherhood—and yet it turned out to be one of the absolute hardest days I’ve had as a mom involving a lot of vomit, poo, crying babies, and one frustrated, impatient momma who had espresso for dinner. Just because it’s beautiful doesn’t mean it’s easy.

IMG_20180403_200830_145.jpgBut I’m learning to hold on, to really grab hold of these crazy days and years when life feels like noise covered in dirt. I’m so tired but time is moving so fast and I don’t want to look back and realize I wished it all away or hurried through something I’ll never get back. IMG_20180408_163644_897.jpgThese are the days—long, hard days, but also days filled with laughter, toddler hugs, and baby snuggles. Days watching my husband love not only me but our children in a way I never imagined. Days when we’re all together—sharing the same house, mess, and story.

IMG_20180408_155411_001.jpgSomeday, my children will move away and I’ll sleep through the night, have a house that stays clean, and margin to do some of the things I want but have to set aside for now. But I know when those days come, I will miss the beautiful chaos of today. I’ll miss having my arms full of family and my days filled with the noise of life and growth. IMG_20180408_192924_294.jpg

Today is a new day—hopefully a better day than yesterday. I type these words as my son sits beside me disassembling a lamp (he says he’s fixing it; it’s not broken…yet 😉 ). I see my daughter on the baby monitor, rolling around in her crib cooing and trying to make words. These are the days and I hope I never forget it in the crazy middle chapters of this story we’re writing day by day by day ❤

 

Staying Inspired as a Stay-at-Home Mom

I sit here curled up with my second cup of coffee for the day. A sunshiny morning drifted into afternoon rain and now gives way to chubby flakes of snow. Ahh, snow on the 3rd of April—perhaps I’ll cry some chubby teardrops onto my keyboard while we’re at it.

Both my babies are asleep which has become the case more and more lately. I remember when I was expecting, wondering how nap time would work with two kids and two conflicting schedules. Basically, it was a zoo for eight months but now we’re getting somewhere 😉

It feels like a really long time since we’ve had good weather here. Last summer was kind of a dud—cool, rainy, Gypsy moths stripping the trees so bare it looked as brown as winter in the middle of July. Our days outside were limited and few compared to our normal summertime routine. Summer cooled into a very sickly fall and we were still in survival mode with our newborn. Then winter came as winter always does and has sat on us proud and stubborn ever since.

We are legit stir-crazy and I find myself every day trying to think of an excuse to leave the house and escape these walls for which we’ve spent so much time over the last year. Which in turn has me thinking about this life as a stay-at-home mom and ways it can be enjoyed a little more.

I realize it’s a privilege to stay home with my kids. I know moms who would love to spend their days with their children and with enough time to really “make home.” I’m thankful I get to do what I do—but you guys, sometimes I still want to burn the house down. I like to stay busy, go places, see people, talk to adults sometimes. So being home almost all day every day between these same walls with these same crazy humans can get to you after a while.

In the summertime, I’m a rock star mom lol. We go to the park, the lake and ocean, take long walks, play in the backyard….the TV is almost never on and we’re almost always outside. Then winter comes and I curl up and cry for nine months while Netflix keeps asking if I’m still watching. Rude.

Here’s what I’m trying to say…I am (still, right now, currently) learning how to make these long days at home a little more enjoyable and I wanted to share a few ideas in case you’re curled up crying, too:

Go Places…Even if You’re Alone

I didn’t do a very good job getting out of the house this winter, in part because I couldn’t find anyone to go with. Most of my friends have jobs or homeschool so they’re not available in the middle of a weekday to hang out. But I’ve realized it’s still fun to go places even if it’s just me and my kids. We go to play places, children’s museums, Target (give your kid a bag of that Target popcorn and they’ll ride around happily for a bit while you lose your mind in the $1 section). I love bargain shopping so we go to Marshalls and Home Goods and dig around for deals. I make sure Roman gets to spend some time playing in the toy aisle so it’s fun for him too.

And once it warms up there will be tons of stuff to do outside so it will be even easier to go places together. All I know is, the days and weeks get really long when you stay home all the time so even though it’s work and can be intimidating to go places alone with littles, just throw your stuff in the car and do it; it’ll be good for all of you.IMG_20170519_214606_556.jpg

Stop Hustling for a Minute

I hate the word “hustle,” just for the record. You hear it talked about constantly like the most virtuous and admirable thing you can say about a person is that they’re “hustling”—busy, getting stuff done, moving up.

It’s hard when you’re home and see both how much can be done and how much everyone else seems to be getting done (via social media mostly) to ever feel like it’s okay to sit down and not do anything. This has been a hard lesson for me because I’m a doer and like to be moving and accomplishing. But I’m learning how important it is to my kids and my days just to slow down and hold them or play in the dirt or go for a walk and not constantly be moving onto the next thing.

I think too, that telling people you’re a SAHM can feel a little small and intimidating and it’s tempting to puff your life up with something more—a project or an at-home business so you don’t feel like you’re “just” a mom or “just” a home-maker. I’ve struggled a lot with this and have wrestled with my purpose and identity as a mom. But I’m learning that filling my days with hustle and stuff doesn’t fill a void—it just distracts from what I’m actually here to do—make home and raise a family; the rest needs to fit in secondarily during this season of motherhood.IMG_20180403_161709_370.jpgIMG_20180403_161556_913.jpg

Find Time Alone + Together

Find some time alone away from your house to change up your surroundings and get some fresh perspective. My husband and I try to trade off every few weeks and let each other have a night out. I like to grab dinner (without having to share with anyone, what?!), get a coffee, walk slowly through those bargain stores undistracted, or go to a café and write. And if I can’t get out of the house alone, I try to take advantage of naps and spend some time reading or writing instead of just moving onto the next chore or mess—that stuff will always be there waiting, trust me.

Also, find some time with your husband. Get a sitter and schedule a date or order pizza and have a fun dessert after the kids are in bed. Whatever it takes, make your relationship a priority and keep things fresh.

Love Your Space + Change Things Up

Since you’re going to be spending a whole lotta time at home, make sure you actually like your home as much as possible. I’m not saying things have to be perfect but don’t be afraid to spend some money decorating if you can or shop your own home and change things up every now and then.

Our master bath has been driving me crazy so the other day I decided to move stuff around and borrow from other rooms to get a fresh look. It’s amazing how much of a difference a fresh coat of paint or moving things around can make.

String some twinkle lights up in your bedroom for ambiance, light a candle, buy a cute throw pillow, or put some fresh flowers in vases around the house. It doesn’t have to be elaborate or expensive to have big impact.

Get Up Before Your Kids

This is the game changer for me. If I sleep until my kids wake up, the day always seems to descend into anarchy and chaos. No matter how tired I am, it’s worth it to start the day before my kids even if it means trying to take a nap later while they nap or trying to get into bed a little earlier.


A couple other things that help me are getting out of my yoga pants and in real clothes, making my bed and keeping things clean and organized, and having a hobby that doesn’t revolve around my kids (for me, writing, decorating, bargain shopping).

So if you, like me, are struggling to stay inspired during these last painfully long days of winter, I hope this will be an inspiration and encouragement to you. And if you have any other ideas, leave them in the comments—I’m always up for trying something different! ❤

A Piece of the Puzzle

I’ve written a lot about how I’ve struggled as a mom—with my temper, with depression, with regret. I knew motherhood would be hard, I just never imagined how it would be hard or how I would struggle.

But along with all I’ve said about the tough times and the learning curb, I don’t want to fail in sharing the good stuff and the victories too.

Eight months ago today, our daughter was born. Eight months. How do the nine months of pregnancy feel like a small eternity while the first year runs like water through your hands? It’s not fair but here we are with a baby who is trying to give up her morning nap, crawl, pop two teeth through, and laughs at everything her brother does.IMG_20180308_145354_700.jpg

We, all of us, adore her; but that doesn’t mean the last eight months have been easy. If we struggled with our son before our daughter was born, we just about sank after. Bringing our daughter home took every last gain we’d made with our son two steps back and it was discouraging, frustrating and downright heartbreaking at times.

And yet, like so many times before, it was here that I met with God. God is seen in all the beauty and goodness He offers, for sure. But no doubt about it, God is felt and known in the midnight hour when our souls are cracked open and raw with hurt and want.

These last eight months I have needed God in a way I simply didn’t before. And while I fought and wrestled against Him at first, for a while to be honest, I have found God to be waiting with open arms on the other side of the struggle. Mostly, I just needed to realize how much I need Him and to taste and see how willing He is to meet me with hope and answers in the struggle.

Have you ever prayed a prayer and known without question that God answered you—that there was simply no other explanation beyond Him moving and working on your behalf? I had a moment like that a few weeks ago.

I have long prayed for wisdom about how to reach my son’s heart and how to build a relationship with him. I reached out for help and read lots of books and tried to be open to advice when given. But still, everything seemed to fall flat and end in more frustration and heartache. But still I prayed. What else could I do? I knew I desperately needed wisdom and help only God could give so I asked Him for it and hoped, someday, I would find an answer.

One night we sat at dinner, struggling to get through the meal as we often do with lots of, “I don’t like this food” and “sit down and take a bite.” Without ever thinking about it before, honestly, until the words were coming out of my mouth, I told Roman he should hurry up and eat because after dinner and getting his sister in bed, we could stay up and have a special time together eating popcorn and ice cream and watching a show.

I’ve never seen a kid change his speed so fast. He might not want to eat his dinner but he fo sho wanted to stay up with us watching shows. After I said it, I wasn’t even sure if we had ice cream or popcorn or if Darren would be up for him staying up late. I put his sister to bed and came downstairs to find Roman all set up in the living room with his snacks, show picked out, and telling his dad that they couldn’t start the show until I was in there too. I thought I would tidy the kitchen quickly while they started but he insisted I be in there to begin :] So we piled on the couch together and had a super fun night spending some time focused on just our boy.

It seems like such an obvious thing, spending some special one-on-one time with just him while his sister sleeps but somehow it had honestly never occurred to me how we could make that work before this moment. But here we are, a few weeks later and every single night, as soon as I start prepping dinner, Roman starts telling me about how after dinner and baths and jammies and once sissy is in bed, we’re going to stay up together watching a show and eating ice cream and popcorn—and we do. And he is such a different kid from the little guy we were struggling so hard with just a few weeks ago.IMG_20180320_122227_888.jpg

Is everything perfect and easy now? No, not at all. After all, he’s still just 3 years old and we’re all still sinners. But I can’t even explain what a difference it has made in our relationship with him, his relationship with his sister, or the overall vibe of our family. It’s a “God did this” thing for sure and an undeniable answer to my prayer for wisdom.

God knows each of us, made each of us. God knows the workings and makeup of this 3 1/2 year old who so mystifies me at times. And in that, God knew what his little heart needed— t i m e.  And that is perhaps what has moved me the most—not just that God saw and heard me and my heart but that he also saw the hurts and needs of a little boy and met even him, a little child, in his need for time and attention.

When you are parenting a small child, you are the face of God. I don’t mean that irreverently but it’s true. A child does not know or understand much about God and in fact a lot of what you tell your children about God they will believe simply because you said it. If I tell my son God loves him, as I do, and then fail to show him the love of God in my attitudes and actions toward him, what have I now shown him about this God of mine? It’s a sobering, humbling thought—that my life, for a time at least, speaks God (the true God or lies about that God) into my children’s hearts.

But God is good and gracious. He answered me in one small way for now at least. And in doing so, He is showing His heart and love to both my boy and his needy momma ❤IMG_20180321_130404_078.jpg

It’s Supposed to Be Hard

I’ve been wrestling with God lately—pushing hard against him as he pushes right back. I’ve asked him why things have to be so hard. Why, if I’m doing what I believe to be right and best, am I struggling so much? Being where you think God wants you to be and doing what you believe he’s asked you to do is supposed to bring peace and joy, right? Well, yes and no.

I didn’t recognize the answer to this wrestling until I said it out loud in a conversation with my husband. We were talking about parenting—about all the well-intentioned advice we get and all the books we’ve read looking for answers. So much information is available saying, “Do A, Get B.” Only none of those formulas work on our son and we’re starting to wonder if we’ll ever figure any of this parenting stuff out or if we should just start saving bail money now (I’m kidding…sort of 😉 ).

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I told Darren I knew parenting would be exhausting and a ton of hard work—and I can handle that part of it. It’s all the not knowing what we’re doing and fearing that we’ll never reach our son’s heart that really scares me.

And that’s when it hit me—I can handle the hard work and exhaustion—so God gave me a little more than just that to remind me of my need for Him—to draw me close to his heart as I turn to him for the help I’ll find nowhere else. I need wisdom that’s beyond me and the advice others offer. I need strength beyond my physical ability and fortitude. I need hope and encouragement beyond the easy answers and quick fixes people offer to make me feel better. I need Jesus and struggling with my son reminds me of that every single day.

There was a time in my life, before I was a mother, when I very clearly remember thinking, “I can do this without consciously needing the Lord’s help.” I didn’t mean it to be an affront to God; I was simply in a place in life where I could ride the waves and do my job and everything went pretty smoothly whether or not I chose to include the Lord in my day-to-day. After I thought, “I can do this on my own right now,” I also thought, “but God’s not going to let that last forever.” I knew my comfortable status quo would change and I would likely come into a place of need that I didn’t really want to experience.

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Enter motherhood.

From his incredibly difficult birth right up until today, my son is God’s hand of change in my life. Every single day I’m made aware of my failings, weaknesses, and need. Every day I fight to start at the feet of Jesus because I know how much I need his help to get through each hour before me.

So why does it have to be so hard? Probably because I’m stubborn and self-sufficient and can handle a lot of pain. Probably because God knew this level of frustration and insufficiency is the only thing that would get my attention and draw my heart close to his.

So its not punishment or God mocking my efforts as I have sometimes felt. It’s mercy, it’s grace, it’s God reaching into my life, grabbing me by the shoulders and saying, “I’ll help you every step of the way but first, you need to know you need me.”

As I’ve wrestled through these thoughts, I’ve pictured myself not so very different from my son. Struggling against God as my son struggles against me. Twisting and fighting and demanding my own way. I see God’s arms around me as constraining and confining—just as my son sees me. But God is not constraining me; he’s fighting to hold me close. Not crushing my will or spirit but leading me to surrender willingly out of trust and obedience. All the same things I try so hard to communicate to my son only to have him fight back in anger—yes, how very much we’re alike and how profoundly patient is my God.

I see his Father’s heart now and finally, I think I’m learning to be at rest in his arms—not twisting and fighting his power but seeing his good plan for me; his love and care in not giving me my own way. My need is my greatest asset because it opens my heart to the all-powerful, all-sufficient God who loves me and desires good things for my life. Just like I want to give good things to my son if only he will listen and trust me, so God desires the same and so much more for me. So my prayer remains, “Lord, help me trust when I can’t see. Help me hold on when I don’t understand. Help my unbelief”

Unraveled

After a night of winter rain, I watch the dawn break in pink clouds and sunshine. The morning sky deepens into cobalt blue set off by gray clouds moving fast to the east. I’m thankful for the sunshine; for the hope of a bright, clear day to contrast the dead winter palette.

All day I watch the sky shift moodily from crisp blue to heavy gray clouds. The changing light plays games in my living room, dancing across the floor where my children play. It feels like life—sunshine and rain, sunshine and rain.IMG_20180131_223914_609.jpg

I’m an orderly person. I like to see everything in terms of black and white—manageable, predictable. The good times purely good. The bad times purely bad. The two never mingling together to confuse or interrupt the other.

Only life is not at all that way. People are not at all that way.

Winter is a hard season. The cold, the gray, being cooped up in the house with restless, unhappy little ones. Everyone I’m close to is busy with work and school and I’m doing my best to pass the long days and short nights with heart and mind intact. I feel frayed, unraveling—like my hands are full of beads falling all over the place and I’m unable to gather them back up before they roll away.

I don’t want to wish this season away—the days when both my kids mostly just want to be in my arms and half the battle is figuring out how to meet all the needs for attention and affection. The days when my three-year-old climbs on everything and walks around with his toy moose ever tucked under his arm, feet dragging on the ground. I don’t want to forget the stories he tells or the way his big brown eyes look so wild and intent as he does. He sits beside me as I type these words, intermittently trying to push buttons and asking a million questions about the words I’m writing and why.IMG_20180207_203806_458.jpgWhy? Because these days are hard and I’m tired and these words are scribbled in a fog that settles over my mind after one relentless night after another of almost no sleep. But still I want to remember. I want to record these words and this gray season so I might look back and remember these days gone by and the lessons I learned and the ways I changed when I thought I might never be myself again.IMG_20180122_190739_449.jpg

Motherhood is the hardest, most humbling thing I’ve ever done. Sunshine and rain. Never could I love more. Never could I be more discouraged, unsure, or afraid. I want to read a book and know the right answers but instead I find a million times over that the answer remains: Watch, wait, and try again tomorrow. I will get some things right; I’ll always get some things wrong too. I don’t know anymore if there is a right answer or if the answer is simply to trust and pray and grow through all the hardness of these years.IMG_20180125_161516_767.jpgPerhaps the best lesson I can teach my children after all is simply obedience one step at a time, day by day, doing the next right thing. Maybe this lesson will teach them more than having all the right answers packaged up and tied with a tidy black and white bow. They will see me struggle; they will see me fail. But I hope in all of it they will see God’s relentless mercy and grace. I hope they will see me get back up and learn to do the same.

That’s all I can offer for today in this hard season of gray.

God Made Me: Permission to Be—A Guest Post by Lydia Vogt

Today I’m excited to introduce you to my long-time friend and fellow writer, Lydia. Lydia is someone I’ve always felt thinks deeply through an issue rather than simply taking someone else’s word for it—and I can see that’s exactly what she did with this post. I hope you enjoy this glimpse into her beautiful heart and words ❤

thought-catalog-214785Hello, there! I’ve known Kari since the age of hide-and-seek in summer cornfields. She is my younger sister’s lifelong best friend, but Kari and I have always had the writing itch in common. It’s my privilege to meet you here, in that refreshing Outside Air.

I have to confess, though, that when Kari suggested I write about how I “maintain personal interests and pursue ‘things’ outside mommyhood,” I literally laughed out loud; the kind of incredulous laugh I imagine 90-year-old Sarah belted when she first heard the promise that she would give birth to a son.

I can’t write about THAT! Seriously, I don’t have the foggiest idea how to do that well! I need to read that miracle blog post, not WRITE it. Sheesh. Come back to me in 10 years.

But Kari kindly insisted that maybe I do a better job than I think I do (generous soul), and I also decided that if I truly don’t have anything to contribute on the subject, then maybe I should spend some solid QT with the question.

And I did. But I wasn’t really prepared for the web of nuanced beliefs, shame, fear, and hope it would uncover.

So I did what I usually do when something feels too big: I tabled it. I kept jotting notes, but the more jotting I did, the more complex the issue became in my heart, and internal door after door seemed to fly open, begging an attentive walk-through.

That is how this little blog post became a beginning place for me, a sort of baseline premise bolstering my personhood during this very demanding chapter of mothering.

I sincerely hope these thoughts are a useful springboard for you too, as you make space for yourself, His beautiful creation:

WHY DID GOD MAKE ME? (CLUE: IT WASN’T FOR YOUR UTERUS)tanaphong-toochinda-267381

Did you notice the subtle shift? It starts in pregnancy when people begin to swap your given name with “mommy” before the baby even arrives; when people completely bypass you to get at your bundles of cuteness as quickly as possible; when casual conversation completely revolves around the welfare of your husband and children; when people start sharing comments suggesting that your life actually began with motherhood: “Now, now you know what life and love is all about.”

Can I just stand up to all this well-intended nonsense?

Being a mother is wonderful, but it doesn’t make you more human than you were before. Hear me: it doesn’t make you more capable of love than you were before. Because love comes from God, and that means every one of his children (mother or not) has equal access to both experience and extend God’s love. That’s because God designed you to be a life-receiver before you ever became a life-giver. He cares about who you are becoming, not just who your children are becoming. If you slip away from conscious connection to His love for you as His bride, daughter, and friend, mothering becomes overwhelming, dull, and discouraging really quick (I know).

The love we have for our kids is the fiercest kind of natural affection. But true love is SUPERnatural; we need true love to empower our affection, otherwise we become the source of our affection battery, and our mom affection batteries do fritz — don’t they — but we can’t afford for them to fritz, right? So what do we do? We start sucking the life out of our relational attachments to try and get more juice back in our natural affection batteries, so we can pour it back into our relationships, but the cycle never leads back to life and true love. It leads to disappointment and desperate dissatisfaction (again, I know all about it.)

So what does all that boil down to?

How are you receiving life?

How are you welcoming the love God and others have for you?

If your answer is “I don’t know,” well, what a beautiful invitation to open! Start looking for little moments of life and love coming your way, and nourish them the same way you nourish life and love in your children. And if you feel life and love aren’t coming your way, take just a teeny step toward Him, and you’re facing life and love itself.

WHAT IS HAPPENING? BEWARE THE DEATH DECOY!

If you also happened to grow up in a circle that elevates motherhood to sainthood, in an effort to offset its devaluation elsewhere, you’ll hopefully understand what I’m about to say.

Sainthood is usually accompanied by martyrdom, literal or figurative. If your motherhood feels like relentless martyrdom, the wrong parts of you are dying.

While there is plenty of death-TO-self in motherhood, don’t confuse it with death-OF-self. To make a distinction we have to know what we mean by self, right? We always have two selves in play: flesh (false self) and spirit (true self).

God the Father made you in His image, and although sin corrupts, it could not destroy His own image in you. You are hard-wired for abundant life, and that’s exactly what Jesus is bringing you. There is plenty of sin to come to light, but your imagination, and creativity, and gifts and abilities, are not sin and are not useless. They are very good, because you are good in God. And God gives you great permissions to practice and share with Him and others all of who you are.

True death of false self (flesh), always results in more life in our true selves (spirit). 

God does not intend for your spirit to be crushed alongside sin, so if “death to self” in your mothering is leaving you fearful instead of free, and paralysed instead of purposeful, it’s man-made religion whispering in your ear, not the true Lord Jesus.

 TEMP PLACEMENT: PREPARE FOR THE END AT THE BEGINNINGjenna-norman-292397

We are eternal beings on temporary assignment with eternal beings.

Erich Fromm says it well, I think:

“The mother-child relationship is paradoxical and, in a sense, tragic. It requires the most intense love on the mother’s side, yet this very love must help the child grow away from the mother, and to become fully independent.”

Motherhood is not a permanent place for me, even though part of me refuses to even “go there” emotionally. My boys are already taking baby steps further away from me, as quick as they can. Because living always means growing, doesn’t it?

They will always be my heart beating outside my body, but I will not always be their everything.

You know what comforts me with that pending heartbreak looming in the distance and keeps me from making them the perfect little love gods of my mama heart?

God doesn’t love children more than adults.  

Wait, what?! What in the world? How does that have anything to do with anything?

Well, we love puppies more than dogs, and kittens more than cats, don’t we? At least I do! Babies are precious and trusting, children are filled with light and wonder. We can still trace innocence and generosity in them, before the broken world and cursed sin-seeds begin to really entangle them, mandating bloody redemption and restoration.

Do you think God loves children more than mothers? I did. I didn’t know I did. Until I did. Do you think he sacrifices you, for them? He sacrificed Himself for you.  

To accept my motherly responsibilities as a temporary investment with eternal dividends, I need to believe God will love my boys as young men just as much as He loves them now. And to believe that, I first must accept that He didn’t stop loving me, or withdraw from me, or resent me for growing up broken.

The crux is this: we can only pursue things outside mothering when we know our children are safe. And we can only know that when we trust that they are safe in Him. We can only incrementally release them from a place of freedom. And we can only give freedom that we’ve first received.

What does it look like to walk in that freedom? It’s beginning to look like me living out of my true self while engaging my little lovelies. To be honest, I don’t know exactly what will begin to form and take shape as I continue to pursue personal growth and joy opportunities in my life, but I am learning that I have so much more internal space and permission to be me and a mom, than I ever knew.

So let’s be mothers and babes growing up together in love, shall we?


lydia_vogt_200pxLydia Vogt is a Kansas City native living in Northern Virginia with her husband and two little boys. She is a Jesus-loving former HR professional who has been writing for the joy of it since she could hold a pencil. Lydia is a Compassionate Entrepreneur with Trades of Hope, a self-professed second-hand interior decorator, and a sorry-not-sorry Pinterest party planner. You can find her arranging words about life and love on her blog: BeforeTheAfterBlog

Follow along on Instagram and Facebook to see more.

Why Inspiration Matters

IMG_20171022_221813_524.jpgOnce a week, Darren takes the kids out of the house so I can sit and write. It’s magic and I’m so thankful for his help. Occasionally though, this doesn’t work out and if I want to write, I find myself doing so in all the moments I can find in between—like right now.

The house is quiet for a few more minutes before my son wakes and starts his day like a hurricane. He’s equal parts motion and noise so any activity requiring concentration or quiet must be done during the precious early morning hours before he wakes or while he naps in the afternoon (both assuming his sister is cooperating at the same time 😉 ).

Sometimes though, when the house is quiet and I have these valuable minutes to get things done, I feel a little guilty using the time to write a blog. I could be doing many other things, like pulling my life together for instance.

Is this a waste? Am I being selfish? Avoiding more pressing responsibilities? All of these are questions I’ve grappled with while hiding away with the laptop to tap out words. Words I write mostly for myself and will share with only a handful of people. Certainly I’m not changing the world over here so am I right to use my time in this way?

The answer and release of guilt I needed came for me after a few weeks of that evening alone I mentioned. I found that having a few hours to myself to do something I love refreshed me and filled my heart and mind with new inspiration. I’ve found too that being refreshed and inspired helps me be a better wife, mom, and homemaker.

Why?

Because burnout is no joke and can happen fast when all day every day you’re busy meeting the needs of other people (be it as a mother, teacher, doctor—whatever your vocation and calling may be). While our lives certainly shouldn’t be lived fully and exclusively unto ourselves—we are called to service and sacrifice without question. We also shouldn’t be so busy taking care of everyone else that we completely minimize the need for reasonable self-care.

I think we all know this, really. But I’m here to argue that finding and doing whatever it is that sets your heart on fire and fills your mind with energy and excitement for the next thing is a worthwhile endeavor and not a selfish waste of time.

I shared the picture of my daughter asleep in my lap, computer open, because this is often what writing looks like for me in this season. I write in the scrappy moments in between all the living and doing. And every word I tap out here gives me a little fresh energy and excitement to invest back into my family. My people are my top priority but I’m a better person for them when I take care of myself as well.

For me, this looks like getting up early so I can start my day slowly and quietly with a cup of coffee and my Bible. This gives me a minute to collect myself and prepare my heart before the day is underway. I get dressed in real clothes and put some mascara on because as tempting as yoga pants all day may be, they really don’t help my self-esteem ;). And as I said before, I try once a week to have a few uninterrupted hours to write and create.

Creativity is really so instrumental in raising children and running a home. Have you ever considered how often you, as a wife and mom in particular, use creativity day-to-day with your kids and in your home? In the meals you serve, the way you decorate, how you dress yourself and your family, the projects you do around the yard, house and with your kids—all of these are creative expressions of yourself—of what inspires you and makes you tick. So how worthy an investment then is the time you steal away to nurture your own heart, mind, and creativity? You’re helping yourself for sure but the dividends get invested right back into your home and family too.

Trust me, your family enjoys a happy, healthy wife and momma a whole lot more than a depleted one—I should know because I’ve been both and the difference I see in my family is staggering.

So if you’re struggling with guilt over making time for yourself, feel creative pursuits are a waste when there’s so much else to do, or just feel burnt-out and depleted in general, I hope you will give yourself permission to pursue something you love. This will look different for everyone—for me it’s this little corner of the internet where I can tap my heart onto the page once a week and connect with like-minds. What is it for you?

I can tell you for sure that sitting here writing and having some time alone to think is the fuel that powers so many of my other creative outlets. Typically by the time Darren leaves with the kids, I have made several threats about never having any more children and burning the house down. By the time he gets back, I’m ready to try again with the whole wife and momma things for another week at least 😉

Go do it. Get a cup of coffee. Give your babies to someone else for a minute and find that inner whatever that sets your heart on fire ❤

On Being an Angry Mom

I’m soft-spoken, reserved, shy even. I’ve never thought of myself as an angry person or someone who yells. But motherhood has a way of breaking down all your walls. Both the walls you build around yourself with other people and the walls you build up inside to hide the things you’d rather not face.

My first year as a mother was really good—hard on the outside with difficult circumstances in life, but good on the inside with quiet days spent at home with my son. I didn’t understand then what all the fuss was about motherhood being so hard. Sure, I was tired. Sometimes I didn’t know what to do when he cried and I was very lonely staying home after leaving my job. But motherhood itself seemed pretty magical. I spent that first year with my son almost constantly in my arms or asleep on my chest and I loved it.IMG_20141112_195626Then he turned one and decided he was the Roman Emperor. He had always been busy but now he was defiant too. No problem though, I knew what to do—I had heard all about it and read all the books so I was all set, right? Hahahah. Tears. No.

I did all the things I was told and still he disobeyed and defied me. I didn’t yell at him then because he was just one and still basically a baby. Everything would straighten out once he was a little older and understood who was really in charge.

Then he turned two, terrible, TERRIBLE two. This is the part where I started yelling, where I exhausted all the stuff I “knew,” and started hating being a mom. I remember more than once when he sat on the floor and cried and I sat on the floor and cried with him. I didn’t understand. I had done everything I’d been told to do and still it felt like everything was falling apart.

That year started to break me down but eventually we made some headway with him and the terrible two’s seemed to be officially behind us. So I decided to have another baby.

He turned three. I brought his sister home. And everything went to hell in a hand-basket. I started yelling again, more than ever, actually. He pushed me harder than ever before and I pushed back every bit as stubborn as he is—determined to establish my authority and let him know who was in charge.

I knew having another baby would shake things up and be hard. I never imagined I would sink so fast or so deep in not only frustration, but FEAR. Fear that I actually had no idea what I was doing and that my children were going to grow up hating both me and God.IMG_20171107_090720_562.jpgThese last four months since I had my daughter have been hard. But the feeling of total loss and helplessness is actually what helped me see my true need and the source of my true help. A few things happened to help me leave anger and yelling behind:

I Prayed for Wisdom

Not just a quick, trite prayer for wisdom in general but a humbled, “God, I’m lost. I can’t do this. Please help me before it’s too late” kind of prayer. I’m not even sure if I actually expected God to hear and answer me or if it was just a desperate plea from the bottom but God did enter in and respond.

I Opened my Bible

Not just here and there when I had the time as I have off and on all my life. But every day with a heart searching and seeking wisdom and direction from the heart of God.

I Asked for Help

I got over myself a little and reached out to some moms I look up to and started asking for help and ideas on what I was dealing with.

I Read and Read

It’s amazing when you’re seeking wisdom how you realize how many resources are actually available. I started reading books recommended to me and listening to podcasts and sermons from people who have gone before me or are right in the trenches with me and can offer wisdom and insight into what felt like a hopeless situation.

I Learned to Deal a Different Way

One of the things that helped me the most was this post by Allie Casazza. So much of what she said resonated with me and helped me stop and think about why anger and yelling had become my knee-jerk reaction to stress and frustration. She gave me pause and helped me understand that learning to react differently actually takes practice and a very conscious choice every time I’d normally lash out in anger.

She also helped me understand that trying to gain control and demand respect by yelling was completely counter-productive. Yelling only shows my children how out of control I am of myself. Demonstrating unkindness and disrespect through raised voices and angry words is never going to produce kindness and respect in my children.

For the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. James 1:20 (ESV).

I Began to Grasp How Dangerous Anger Is

This podcast by John Piper and the Scripture he shares was a big help to me in realizing that anger isn’t just a “struggle” or a “weakness”—it’s deadly serious. Not only is it sinful to lash out in anger, but if unchecked, it could destroy my marriage, home, or relationship with my children.

I Saw the Difference in my Family

Not that I master this perfectly all the time even still, but the difference in my relationship with my son in particular, and my family overall, is massively different when I leave anger and yelling out of things and deal with issues in a controlled, loving manner. Wild and busy as he may be, my son has a soft heart and my anger and yelling did nothing but shut him down and teach him to react with plenty of anger and yelling of his own.

I Saw the Heart of God

A passage I often run over in my mind is Lamentations 3:22-23

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness (ESV).

His mercies are new every morning—are mine? I have a patient, loving, forgiving God who greets me with new mercy for every single day yet how easily I forget to be merciful with the people I love most.

The heart of God towards me demands a loving, controlled response from me towards the people he’s so graciously placed in my life—including my children.


This was a hard post to write. I thought several times about sharing something else today instead but my heart and mind kept coming back to this not so pretty topic. I don’t like to admit I’ve lost my temper or especially that I’ve yelled at people I love. But I share all this to offer hope to anyone else, mom or otherwise, who’s struggling as well. It’s easy to feel alone in this. No one wants to admit they freak out, lose control, and take anger and frustration out on other people, especially our own children.

But trust me, you aren’t alone. And there’s hope.

One thing I’m learning every day as a mom is if God requires something of me, he also enables me to do it. If I’m expected to deal with the stress and frustration of raising children without anger, then God will give me what I need to do that. I may need to humble myself first. I may need to slow down, dig deeper, or ask for help—but if I’m required, I’m also enabled.

While I don’t like what I found in my heart as a mother, I’m thankful it was brought into the light because only there could it really be dealt with and rooted out. God’s not through with us yet. Don’t lose hope in the struggle.

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. Philippians 1:6 (ESV).


And if you’re looking for resources to help, the following are some of the best books I’ve read on parenting (no affiliate links, just helpful resources). And if you have any recommendations, I’m always looking for good books and podcasts so feel free to leave those in the comments as well.

Boundaries with Kids by Cloud and Townsend

Don’t Make Me Count to Three by Ginger Hubbard

Love Lives Here by Maria Goff and Love Does by Bob Goff (not parenting books but deeply influenced my perspective on living out love in our home in both words and actions).

Duties of Parents by J.C. Ryle

The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis (a strange recommendation for parenting books, I know. But this book helped me think through the myriad of ways Satan would like to hinder God’s good work in my heart, home, and family and I have thought of it often when struggling through hard days as a mom and homemaker).

❤ ❤ ❤