Category Archives: Devotionals

June 30, 2015 · 7:51 pm

It’s a Messy Life

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It took 6 minutes for this many tissues to explode onto my living room floor.

Life sure can be messy, can’t it? My kids find themselves in all kinds of scrapes every single day. Sometimes you’re stuck under a picnic table or in a pot. Sometimes you fall and get a boo-boo. Sometimes you spill cereal or throw tissues all over the house. Little messes, in the big picture.

 

Sophie in a pot

Stuck in a pot.

But sometimes the messes in life are much bigger and can’t be cleaned up with a vacuum, paper towels, or a bandaid. Sometimes the messes are little, but sometimes they are big. I’m not sure which category today’s mess falls into, in the grand scheme, probably little. Although this morning it did not feel, or smell, like a little mess. Messes can be that way. They can feel pretty big when we’re in them.

There I was minding my own business (probably the instigation of the mess), fixing some breakfast. My children, I thought, were happily playing in the living room, dressed, fed, and needs met. Suddenly, my three-year-old daughter comes into the kitchen, crying. My first guess is a fight over a toy. This happens so frequently that I’m considering purchasing a referee’s outfit.

But then she holds up her hands.

“Sophie, what is on your hands, honey?”

And then the aroma hits me. It’s poo. She’s got poo all over her hands. Fabulous. Breakfast forgotten, comforts aside, my gears shift as I begin to clean her up.

Sophie made a mess, and she did not know how to get herself out of it. Thankfully she hadn’t tried wiping her hands on the carpet or the couch as we do with the grass when our hands get messy outside. She knew that this mess was going to need some assistance from mommy. Amazingly, I wasn’t mad at her. Maybe her tears softened my heart. She was so upset about what she had done, that all I could feel was compassion as I cleaned her up.

We’ve been talking in church lately about how life can be so messy. We’re all a bunch of sinners down here. Our lives are messy, no matter how much we try to control or hide the mess. Yet, in the midst of our mess, there is One who loves us so very much. When we come crying to him, the dirt of our mess all over our hands, unable to help ourselves, his grace floods our lives, and he takes care of us. No, Jesus is not just a boo-boo fixer. It’s not as though we should just continue making mess after mess because we know he’ll be there to clean us up. But, as I felt so much compassion this morning for my daughter, I was reminded that, while our messes do have consequences, God is not angry with us when we come to him in a mess. He’s not thundering down at us. When we come crying to him, he opens his arms with a love and compassion that are deep and genuine. He knows that we make messes, and he’s not inconvenienced when we come to him. Rather, he made a way, he sent his son Jesus to cover that mess. No amount of my own trying can ever get rid of my mess, but Jesus’ blood, it can cover any mess. He is the one who washes my soul.

Why do we try to hide our messes from God and from each other? Each of us is equally broken, equally sinful. Why do we thunder down judgment on each other for the messes we inevitably will make? Where is grace in this world? What if we quit trying to hide our messes and lived out a genuine life before our family, friends, co-workers? It’s not as though hiding my mess makes it any less real. And if, in showing it to others, I can also show them the love and grace of Jesus which covers my sin, then maybe they can know that his grace covers their life too. No matter what their mess is, it’s not bigger than his sacrifice.

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June 21, 2015 · 12:31 am

Climbing the Wall

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Camp: The place where many silly crazy things happen. This gem is me along with one of my oldest and dearest friends, Hilary. I had just defeated her in a fierce minute to win it competition.

 I spent many a summer at a wonderful church camp called Cross Training Camp. Countless memories run through my mind of my experiences there from age 9 onward. Even after Sophie was born three years ago, I still participated on a part time basis. I spent 20 years of my life involved with this camp.There is no other program that impacted my view of myself more than this program.

While I love nature, I’m not what I would consider to be a “super athletic” person, but camp challenged me to do physical things that I never thought I could possibly do. This camp ran a military theme with marching and a drill competition, and taught survival skills, canoeing, archery, and fire building. It’s not a “girly” camp. (Is there a girly camp out there??) Yet, I found myself never feeling more like the woman God created me to be than when I was participating with this program. Camp always made me feel so alive, so right. And I miss that now that it’s done.

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Here is one squad going over the wall at CTC. Looks tall, doesn’t it?

I remember as a child the first year that the obstacle course was built in the woods near the church. I heard rumors of this 10 foot wall that we’d have to climb. I was terrified. I never thought I’d be able to do it. But you know what, I had some awesome counselors who got me over that wall, year after year. And then, the tables turned. It was my turn to lead young ladies over the wall. I met girl after girl who felt just like me: “I can’t do that.” And I would tell each of them the same thing: “Let’s focus this week on seeing what you can do rather than thinking about what you can’t do. If you go outside your comfort zone a little, I will help you see what you CAN do. And you just might be surprised.” And girl after girl went over that wall. They faced their fears head on with the support of their team behind them. The pride they exuded in that final night of camp, racing over the wall with their team, it always brought us all to tears. It was the picture of perseverance and overcoming.

We now have a little itty bitty climbing wall in our backyard that’s part of our swing set. This afternoon I helped Sophie scale it. So many memories of camp came rushing back as I encouraged her: “You can do it! That’s it!” all the way up the wall.

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Sophie scales the wall

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Bunny does everything Sophie does

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This little wall is a huge challenge to her. I’m sure when she looks at it, that wall feels 10 feet tall. But she doesn’t give up, in spite of how big the wall seems in comparison to her small stature and weakened muscle tension. One hand hold at a time, she reaches the top of that wall. She’s so pleased when she gets to the top. And I’m right behind her, cheering her on.

The walls look different these days, but some days they still feel 10 feet tall and insurmountable. But I learned something over the years that I climbed and helped others climb that wall in the woods of Cross Training Camp. The walls are not insurmountable. Apraxia feels like a 50 foot wall to me. Can I even see the top? How will we ever scale this wall? From my camp days, I know the answer. We will climb the wall, one hand hold at a time, together, me behind Sophie supporting her, and a whole host of people behind me, cheering us on. Together, we will persevere.

You see, there was a rule at camp regarding this wall: If you helped your campers get over during the competition, then you had to go over the wall yourself, too. It’s a challenge that I would never forgo, despite the difficulty that it brings. And although this wall looks different, the same rule applies: I will scale this wall with my daughter, whatever it takes.

No feeling compares to those that rise upon seeing that determined face pop up over the wall, teeth gritted, dirt and sweat abounding, climbing that wall with all she has, team cheering her on. For many years, I’ve had a picture on my desk of one young lady in this exact moment, and the caption reads, “Always remember what perseverance can achieve.”

Camp wall 2As we scale this wall that is apraxia, our teeth are gritted. We are, some days, weary and discouraged. We will experience wounds and pains along the way. Some moments will seem so scary that we can’t keep going. But we will. And one of these days, in my mind’s eye, I’ll see Sophie’s little face popping up over that wall. Because we won’t be stopped. We will persevere. We will climb this wall.

Although camp is in my past, it’s lessons remain: No obstacle is too great. Let’s not be bound up in thinking about what we can’t do. Instead, let’s just see what we CAN do with a little perseverance.

“I CAN do all things through Christ who gives me strength.”  Phil 4:13

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June 16, 2015 · 7:05 pm

At the Foot of the Cross

crossThis week in church we were challenged to leave our burdens at the foot of the cross. As we sang our worship songs and I processed this idea, I had a striking realization. Leaving a burden at the foot of the cross doesn’t mean that the issue causing the burden is going to be removed. It’s the burden, the weight, that will be lifted.

Often I think we wishfully hope that in leaving something at the cross, it will suddenly no longer be an issue. But that’s not reality, is it? What does come is freedom from that entanglement with fear and anger and anxiety and stress and confusion. Those are all ploys of the enemy to derail us from our trust in the Lord.

As we have been processing the decision to seek an apraxia diagnosis for Sophie, my heart has felt so burdened. There is a heaviness, a finality, that comes in processing a speech disability that will impact my daughter for a lifetime. It is heavy.

My heart’s cry is that Jesus would just touch her mind and she would be healed. I know he is able. But I know that in surrendering my burden at the foot of his cross, he makes no promise to remove her disability. But he does promise to carry the burden, the weight. There is freedom at the foot of the cross.

No matter how long it takes Sophie to learn to talk, I will trust in Jesus. I will let him carry the burden so that I can walk in freedom. I will not allow the enemy to manipulate me, to consume my thoughts and my life with fear and anxiety and anger.

Let’s just say it: It is what it is, folks.

Being angry and fearful and anxious changes nothing. Those are the burdens that I leave at the cross. I lay my daughter and this wicked apraxia at his feet, trusting, knowing, believing that he is so good. His plans are so good. It doesn’t look like good to me through an earthly lens, but, oh, how limited my view must be. I will trust that it is good.

After our most recent testimony at church some months ago, a fellow church member shared with me a word that God had given her as we were sharing Sophie’s story. She said, “It is well. It will be well.” And I have held onto those words. I believe them with all that I am. My Father has a good plan for Sophie’s life. I cannot process the fears and question marks of the future, and so I’m  putting it at the foot of the cross, and I’m walking away, free.

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June 13, 2015 · 7:23 pm

Under the Fig Tree

fig-tree1Have you ever had the realization that God set something in motion somewhere, long before you were ever there, because he saw that down the road, you’d need it to be that way? Maybe you get cold chills when this happens. Maybe, like me, you cry a little, or a lot. It’s touching to see that we have a Father who sees us and our road ahead so clearly.

I love the story of Philip and Nathanael’s calling in John 1:43-50. Jesus calls Philip first, who then goes to get his brother Nathanael, wanting him to be a part of Jesus’ ministry. Nathanael is skeptical of Jesus because he’s not from the best part of town. He asks, “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?” His cynicism about Jesus could perhaps cause us to think that he wouldn’t be good disciple material. But Jesus sees Nathanael’s heart and says of him, “Here is a true Israelite in whom there is nothing false.” I would long to hear Jesus say those words of me, “one in whom there is nothing false.” That’s incredible. When Nathanael wonders at how Jesus could make this judgment, stating that Jesus doesn’t know him, Jesus tells him, “I saw you while you were still under the fig tree, before Philip called you.” Jesus says, “I saw you.” I love that. Before Nathanael ever entered that scene, Jesus saw him, saw his heart.

I often find myself wanting to know that Jesus sees me. And so, one of my favorite prayers to pray is “Lord, I need to know that you see me today.” He never fails to answer that prayer. Whether it was a student coming to help me grade papers, or a mentor encouraging me, or a friend giving me just what I needed, Jesus has always been faithful to show me that he sees me. I love these moments when my eyes are opened to see how God has seen me, back while I was still “under the fig tree” so to speak.

The last Sunday in May was just one such experience. Our sweet children were leading worship in church with their awesome little songs and fun motions. And it touched me like never before because I realized that God placed us in a church that already has a children’s program using sign language for their songs. We won’t have to ask the Sunday school coordinators if they could somehow work that into children’s church when Sophie moves up from the nursery. She won’t be out of place one bit when she signs her worship to the Lord. All of her little friends will worship with their hands in addition to their voices. Our church has been using motions in children’s church since its beginning several years ago, back when we were still “under the fig tree.” We didn’t even have any children when we started attending this church, yet God saw. He knew what was ahead. He prepared a place for us. This touches my mommy’s heart so deeply.

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Our “Little Lifers” leading worship

I’m so thankful for our church and for a Father who cares enough to see us while we are back up the road a piece, under the fig tree. He’s always working for our good. So even though I can’t see down the road nearly as far as he can, I can just take one step at a time, trusting that he’s got the way prepared for us.

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June 9, 2015 · 12:04 am

“Sharing is Caring”

IMG_0354How many boxes of cereal do you have in your house right now? The number at our house varies, but most of the time we’ve got at least three boxes going, and sometimes more in reserve unopened. Right now we have a household record 7 boxes open. Lots of cereal. That’s great for a family with little kiddos who love to snack on it. My kids are in a serious cereal kick right now. From morning ’til night it’s all they want to do — snack on cereal. This cereal fad poses a potential problem for Sophia because her brother has taken to chasing after her in an attempt to steal her cereal cup. Of course he’d rather have hers than his own. And, of course, she finds this greatly offensive. In order to help her cope with her brother’s lack of manners and social skills, we taught her just to share a piece of cereal with him when he comes hounding after her. Then he will be content and leave her alone.

At first, you would have thought we were asking her to give away gold. Perhaps, to her, cereal is gold. She looked at me like I was crazy. “You want me to just give it to him? Just give it to him?? You’ve got to be insane.” In my own explanation to her, I heard God’s truth resonating in my own heart: “There is plenty of cereal in this house, so you need to share yours with your brother.” I realize that we are never going to run out of cereal. I have, to my two small children, an endless supply. (Realistically it does have a limit, but there’s SO much more than they could ever eat by the time I get to the store in a few days.)

And so it is with our own resources coming from God our Father. He has an endless supply of whatever it is we may need. Everything in this world is his. Yet we walk around hoarding our little cereal cups, because heaven forbid we might run out! Just as my pantry is stuffed with more than enough cereal boxes to last my children many weeks, God’s storehouses are full to the brim. So why are we hoarding instead of sharing? Why are we so concerned with protecting what’s “ours”? Our fists are wrapped so tightly around our little cups of cereal. And there’s God with his giant pantry, full to the brim. We must look ridiculous.

Once Sophie made the choice to share, a magical thing happened. The cereal did not run out. She made her brother happy, and their bond grew that much closer as brother and sister. It is precious to see her take out a piece of cereal and place it carefully in his mouth. He exclaims, “MMMMMMMMM” and usually giggles. And she finds that she still has plenty to satisfy her own desires. Mommy isn’t going to let the cereal run out.

IMG_0349What if I opened my hands? What if I gladly shared what the Father has given me, knowing that his storehouse is brimming with more than I could ever need?

“Do not withhold good from those who deserve it, when it is in your power to act.”
Proverbs 3:27

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May 20, 2015 · 2:00 am

Derailed.

Some weeks we mosey into church, smiling and greeting others. Some weeks we tumble in, barely having our whole family clean, dressed and fed. Other weeks we go in soul thirsty, with purpose, seeking a word from the King. The latter was my heart this past Sunday.  And in his faithfulness, God spoke.

That whisper in your soul that can only be the Holy Spirit: Fix your eyes on Jesus.

As my week has unfolded, the meaning of this word has become more clear to me. I’ve been charging forward in this whole writing gig, trying to minister to others and share God’s truth with those who are reading, charging forward in writing for the youth at my church. Last week I kind of found myself looking around apprehensively for the enemy. Because usually when we’re doing something right, working for the kingdom, all he wants to do is derail us. But things have been going rather smoothly around here.

And then the trichotillomania reared it’s ugly head (no pun intended). And I was completely derailed.

Maybe that sounds shallow to you. Ok. It is just hair. But for some reason, it is utterly heartbreaking to me. I know others whose children suffer the same affliction, and they agree that it is heart wrenching to watch.

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Sophie sporting her new short haircut.

If you’re getting depressed by this post, please keep reading. This is not a pity party for Catherine and Sophia. Not at all.

For the past three days now, I’ve been so far away from my metaphorical train track that I didn’t even know how to find my way back. And I’ve shed so many tears. I realize in moments like this that while some parts of me are doing very well at accepting the life that the Lord has for Sophie on this earth, there are other parts of me that are still totally angry and sad and just bummed out. Hair-pulling is a major bummer. I’m sure ten years down the road I will look back and wonder why I stressed out so much about whether or not Sophie had any hair at the moment. At least I hope so. Still, living with it is tough.

But way out here in my metaphorical field, far off from my train track, that word resonated in my soul: Fix your eyes on Jesus. It’s a choice, a resolution. I may allow myself to be sad about this, and I may allow myself to grieve (yes, for hair, and for what it represents, more importantly), and I may even allow myself to be angry. But I refuse to allow myself to be derailed any longer from the purposes and plans God has for me. Three days is long enough to sit in a fog of confusion and anger and fear and sadness in this metaphorical field of mine. It’s time to get back on the track. It’s time to press in, to move towards what God has for me. If I stay over here in this foggy field, then the enemy has won. He has effectively distracted me from what God has me doing. And I refuse to allow that to be the truth.

So I will fix my eyes on Jesus. I will dare to look past my circumstances to the one who loved me enough to lay his life down for me. And I will keep moving forward. I may shed tears along the way, but I will not allow the brokenness of this world to derail me. It will not, cannot, capture my gaze to immobilize me. My eyes are on Jesus and I’m moving towards him.

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May 14, 2015 · 6:53 pm

The Strength You Have

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The epic struggle of my life has been feeling inadequate. I’m sure I’m not alone. When I was a working mommy, I felt like I wasn’t able to give 100% to either my job or my family. I felt horribly inadequate. Even now as just a stay-at-home mom of littles, it’s so easy to feel inadequate. Just this week Sophie was nearly mauled by our neighbor’s dog because Micah had fallen and was crying, and I turned my back on her for just a minute. Like greased lightening she ran around the end of our unfinished fence, unaware that our neighbor’s dog, while not mean, might just take her out. Fortunately I am swift of foot and long of leg. Poor Micah was abandoned, crying on the ground, as I sprinted to rescue Sophie. I’m sure my mad dash into the neighbor’s yard and my frantic yelling did nothing to help the dog stay calm, but my mommy adrenaline was in overdrive. For about 10 seconds, we were all terrified and unsure of what was happening – myself, Sophie, the poor dog. How many times have I wished that I could multiply myself into four or six more Catherines so that we could all take care of everything and everyone. I especially felt this way right after Micah was born. A newborn has so many needs, and a confused two-year-old who has just been unthroned in the family as the sole reigning heir has many as well. I always felt like I was neglecting someone. What a juggling act we undertake as mommies. I learned early on that I was not going to feel like enough, but I refused to allow those feelings to define me as inadequate. Yes, there are still many days that I feel inadequate, but I know that God has chosen me for this task, me specifically, for Sophie and for Micah, and he has equipped me for this purpose.

Great news for you if you’re not a mommy — this is true in all aspects of life! No matter what you spend your time doing, I’m sure many of you, like me, have felt inadequate at one time or another. But, God has chosen and equipped you for the purposes he has in mind for your time on this earth. This is another gem I’ve discovered in my study of identity. God has created each of us with unique talents, passions, gifts, abilities, etc. If you like fitness or nature or sports, great! You don’t need to be a librarian in a long skirt to fit God’s plan for you! He’s not asking you to be something he hasn’t made you to be. I used to think that I had to figure it out, to fit in this box that was what God had for me. Now I see that he’s created in me a love for certain activities and certain people groups, so it’s what’s already in me that tells me what he wants me to be. He created us each differently because he has different places and people for us to reach in a unique way. Maybe we are too concerned about figuring out who we’re supposed to be. Maybe we should just do what we love doing (not destructive things, ahem) and share the love of Jesus with those around us.

The story of Gideon (Judges 6-7) is a beautiful reminder that God sees more in us than we see in ourselves. Gideon, and Israelite, considers himself the lowest member of his family, in the weakest branch of the family tree. When the angel of the Lord finds him, he is hiding from the Midianites, threshing wheat in a winepress. He is not exactly the picture of strength. And what, you may wonder, is God calling him to do? To deliver the Israelites from the captivity of the big bad bullies also known as the Midiantes. Yikes! I imagine that Gideon must have had one of those moments of looking around for somebody else in the winepress: “Oh, you’re talking to me? You mean me? You do see that I’m hiding down here, right, Lord? Why don’t you go ask Steve over there, he’s from a much better family than me!” Oh, Gideon. He doesn’t want to do what God is asking him to do. He clearly sees himself as inadequate.

Even after Gideon accepts what the Lord has for him, he continually asks for signs and encouragement from the Lord, because he is still afraid. And what I love about God is that he gives it to him. He gives him even more signs and encouragement than Gideon asks for. In this, I see how good and how loving our God is. He’s not mad at us when we feel fearful or inadequate. He longs that we would trust him and know that he is calling us not into something we aren’t designed for, but into a purpose that he created us exactly to fill.

I love some of God’s first words to Gideon when he’s calling him forth: “Go in the strength you have and save Israel.” He already sees Gideon’s strength, even though Gideon himself doesn’t see it. God has gifted each of us and he sees precisely how we are gifted and why we are gifted that way. If we follow his leading, we will find his gentle guidance moving us into what he has planned for us to do. He is the source of our giftings, after all, and he is the power behind them. In the end of Gideon’s story, he does take victory over the Midianites, but with only a measly 300 troops, who never really even attack. They just make a bunch of noise and, as the story says, God confuses the Midianites and they basically defeat themselves.

God sees your strengths. He is not calling you into something that he hasn’t created and equipped you for. You don’t have to have it all figured out right away. Just walk with the Lord and take the next best step. When it’s time for another step, he’ll show you the way. Go in the strength you have.

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May 11, 2015 · 1:16 am

Hi, My Name is Mommy

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When I became a mommy, I had a huge identity shift. Before Sophie, my biggest identifiers besides my faith were my status as a wife and teacher, a friend and daughter, a sister or sister-in-law. But somehow all of those other parts of me shrunk down to ity-bitty little pieces when I gained the title of mommy. And being a mommy is all-consuming.

I remember talking to a friend whose children are already grown up, telling her how I had become known to many now as “Sophie’s mom.” She told me to embrace it because that’s how I would be seen for many years to come. This new part of my identity has been so wonderful for me to discover, as it is for any new mom. And eventually the balance returns and we emerge from our houses with our new little babies and once again find out how to be a sister, a friend, etc.

When Micah was born, my identity shifted again because I decided to quit my beloved job as a teacher to stay at home with my babies. Teaching is like breathing to me. I can’t help but teach. I feared that I would suffer an identity crisis of sorts when I identified myself as a stay-at-home mom rather than a teacher. But I found that I didn’t struggle nearly as much as I anticipated because my teacher-ness was still oozing out of me in other ways. That has never changed.

One of the ways that I continue to enjoy teaching is through working on Sunday school curriculum for our high school teens at church. This has literally been a lifeline to me as my roles have shifted. Our most recent study has been about identity, and I’ve gleaned some very important reminders from my study of this topic. Below is the first gem that I definitely want written on the tablet of my heart.

God knows my name. My true name. Not what I call myself, not what others call me. But who I truly am. I was touched so deeply as I re-read the story of Jacob in Genesis 27-32. Jacob was a terribly deceitful man. Most of the things he had in life involved deceit either on his part of the part of someone in his family. But one night he wrestled with God, and everything changed. I love all of the images and feelings that are conjured up in thinking of wrestling through the night with God. In my heart I have spent many a day and night wrestling with God, so I feel what Jacob must have felt that night, the fight, the angst, the fear, the determination, the surrender. Jacob was never quite the same afterwards.

My favorite moment in this story is when God asks Jacob a simple question: “What is your name?” In one simple question, God cuts through all the nonsense. “Jacob, tell me who you are.” It’s not that God didn’t know his name. Of course he did. But he’s putting his finger right down on the issue that he wants to address with Jacob, the issue that they’ve undoubtedly been wrestling over all night: Identity. “Jacob, who are you?” Jacob, whose name means trickster, must tell God who he has become because of his own sinful choices and the sinful choices of others. When he answers God, he is saying, in essence, “I’m the trickster, the deceiver.” He has to be honest with God about who he is. But then God does something that just blows me away. He cuts right through all the lies that Jacob has believed about himself and lived out in his life thus far. He says, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and men and have overcome.” When God looked at Jacob, he saw the trickster, the deceiver, but he also saw something so much more. He saw a fighter. He saw an overcomer.

The study of this passage led me to question my students and myself — What false names have I given myself? What sins have I allowed to define me? Who does God say that I am? I think if we can be honest with God about how we see ourselves and the faults we are living in, then he can rename us, too, just like Jacob. I love what he sees in a scoundrel like Jacob. I love that he could see beyond my faults to who I really am, to who he made me to be. So often we listen to so many other voices to figure out who we are. And we hear so many other names: failure, unloved, terrible mother, not a good friend, unattractive, unwanted, not smart enough, not good enough. The list goes on and on. We call ourselves these things. But what has God spoken over you and me? Loved, wanted, beautiful masterpiece, created for a purpose, overcomer. I want to choose these names for myself. I want to live under these beautiful identities rather than letting my sins and the sins of others define me. I choose to let God name me.

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May 1, 2015 · 1:31 am

To Mommies of Special Needs Children

IMG_2051(1)Today as I picked Sophie up from school, I watched another sweet mama try to handle her special needs boy. He was screaming and carrying on, and I, being some distance away loading my children into our car, glanced over, just on the off chance that something was amiss and intervention was needed. I saw her speaking softly but firmly to him, trying to convince him of whatever she wanted him to do, probably just to walk to the car. As his tantrum swelled, she hardened her face with determination and strength, and swept him up off his feet, trying to control his body that is getting too big for her arms. She held him like a baby and walked with purpose across the field to her car. My heart was moved watching this mama. I would never want her to think I was gawking, but I was far enough away that I let my eyes fix on them for a moment. But soon my vision was clouded with tears. Oh, my heart aches for this mama. When she drops her son off every day, he doesn’t want to stay and has a tantrum. But then when she arrives to pick him up, he doesn’t want to leave and has a tantrum. And she drags him to the car. I don’t know what her son has, but there is a clear communication barrier — he’s locked inside himself for some reason.

Another sweet little girl in Sophie’s class is also three, and she can’t walk or talk. She’s learning to use a walker, currently. I see her mommy carry her into the school each day and set her in her wagon so that she can go to her classroom. She always has a smile on her face, but I wonder what her heart must feel as she watches all the other children walk into school with their mommies.

Just this week, a friend at church was telling me about a coworker whose daughter has developmental disabilities. She spoke of how this mommy struggles, often feeling so alone. She doesn’t have a support system.

Of my six closest friends in college, 3 of us, that’s 50%, have children with special needs. What are the odds?

And there are so many other mommies who bear this load, and loads much heavier than mine, too.

My heart aches for these mommies.

It’s not pity I feel. No, just the ache that comes as we see the talons of sin and brokenness digging into our children’s lives.

I know the fear, the anguish, the rage that can overwhelm the soul of such a mommy. Because I am one of them. Being a mommy of littles is tough, even without the compounding weight of a special needs child. I am even more aware of this weight now that I have two children, one of which is developmentally typical. I don’t fear for Micah’s future. I don’t worry in the same way over how he will make friends and how his peers will treat him. Maybe that’s silly, because I can’t see the future, and his road could be rougher than his sissy’s. Regardless of the evident or hidden obstacles in our children’s lives, we are commanded not to worry. Still, there’s just not the same ache in my heart over Micah’s sweet life. My heart aches for other mommies who bear this load with me. It’s not an ache I can explain. I just know it because I feel it in my own heart for my own sweet girl with an “uncertain future.”

Us mommies with the special needs kiddos just want them to be loved and valued, treated with the dignity and respect that any other child is due. Sophie is SO blessed to be surrounded by people who do love her in this way. She has an extended family and an entire church family who adore her, pray for her, and cheer along side our family. What a precious gift. If you are part of our extended family or this church family, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for always treating my little girl as the treasure that she is.

So I guess part of my ache for these other mommies is because I wonder, is there anyone cheering their family on? Is there anyone loving on their special little ones? When they feel that sadness creeping in as they see the differences of their child’s life, do they have a friend to cry with? Do they have the love of Jesus helping them carry this load?

Maybe this is the point of Sophie’s journey for me. I have joined the ranks of a very special group of mommies.

I applaud these mommies.

I want to remind them, “Sweet mama, you were chosen for this child. You do have what it takes. Keep going!”

There are so many days where it feels as if we don’t have what it takes, even when our children are developmentally typical. But day after day we make it happen. Because we’re mommies, and that’s what we do to provide the best for our kiddos. And it’s hard. But there’s no other option. So we trust the Lord, and we move forward, one day at a time. I can face tomorrow because my feet are firmly rooted in God’s truth. Because I know that no matter what Sophie’s life does look like, her future is secure. Her little heart belongs to Jesus. I trust in his plans for her future. And I take joy in each moment of her life.

If you are reading this and you are a mommy with a special little one, I want you to know with all my heart that it is going to be ok. Mommies, I have bled with you. I have felt your pain. But Jesus is my peace. I know that Jesus loves Sophie even more than I do. Jesus loves you and he loves your sweet little sons and daughters. He has GOOD plans. You can trust him with their little lives. He is and will be good. He has chosen you, mommy, to raise this little child, because he knows that you DO have what it takes when you put your faith in him. You CAN do this. And if you need a friend to cheer you on, you’ve got one in me.

If you know someone who needs this encouragement, please consider sharing my blog with them. My heart is for these mommies.

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Filed under Devotionals, Sophie's Story

April 17, 2015 · 12:36 am

You are [NOT] Entitled to Your Opinion

In a recent post I shared about my struggle with emotional word vomit, aka criticism. I’ve come to realize over the years that a very close friend of criticism is judgment. In fact, I think that the former is perhaps birthed in the spirit of the latter. It’s in my judgments that I become critical. And I find that I have judgments, or, as we like to soften them by calling them, opinions, about everything. (Being an opinionated person is a real struggle. Seriously. I would love to be unhampered by my continual opinions.) I’m sure we’ve all heard someone say at some time, “well, you are entitled to your opinion.” But are you? We live with a very real idea that we are indeed entitled to have any opinions we want. From politics, to the behaviors of others, to sports teams, to social policy, to the education system, to religion, to civil rights, we all have these opinions. And I won’t say that you can’t have any opinions, but I will assert that we often form many more opinions than is healthy and in areas where we have no business asserting an opinion.

The Bible very clearly tells us how God feels about us exercising judgment on others. Jesus speaks on judgment in Matthew 7, instructing us not to judge others, “for in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you (v2). This verse gives me that slightly queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Oh dear me, I do not want to be judged in the way that I have judged others. Have you ever found that those judgments have come back around and bit you right in the butt? I have. I cannot tell you how many times I have found myself encountering a situation or acting a certain way and realized that I had previously executed judgment on another person in that situation or acting that way. Talk about humbling. I’m thankful that God allows me to experience those things though, because I need some humbling. Who am I to look at another person’s situation or actions and determine their motivations, or how out of line they are, etc?

Just today I found myself on my phone, texting, GASP, while driving. (I really really don’t condone this behavior. Please don’t get hung up on that part of the story. ) I was feeling desperate because my daughter Sophie had a very hard drop off at school, and had been struggling for a couple of days because her daddy is in China. So I was writing to a close friend, asking for prayer. My need felt immediate. Maybe I should have waited, but my mommy’s heart couldn’t. As I was carefully navigating through traffic, I realized how many times I’ve been quick to judge others who were on their phones while driving. I get so irritated with these people. Can’t it wait?! Get off your phone! I have places to go! You are putting my life in jeopardy for a silly text!? So self-important, I know. But today it hit me, what if these people on their phones, whom I assume are just so self-absorbed and addicted to technology (see that snap judgment there?) have circumstances, feelings, and needs beyond what I can see? What if they, too, are calling out for the support of a friend during a difficult moment? You see, we can never know what is motivating someone else in a situation like that. Maybe he cut you off in traffic because he’s a jerk, maybe she nearly ran you over the parking lot because she’s paying attention to twitter. But maybe, just maybe there’s something else going on.

I’ve come to realize that I only ever see in part. Even in my own circumstances, I can’t be a judge, because I’m only seeing one perspective, only part of the picture. And when it comes to the lives of others, even if they are making a selfish or sinful choice, I must always remember, there’s more to that person than what I’m seeing. And I’m not above the choice that they are making, either. John Bradford is attributed with saying, “But for the grace of God, there go I.” I love that reminder. I’m only one step away from the same types of mistakes that others may make. Only one step. It is only God’s grace that keeps me from destruction. It’s better for me if I turn my eyes to my own business, and when it comes to others, look only with eyes of love, not rose colored glasses, but love, full of grace and understanding, rather than judgment and criticism. I want to be one of those people who chooses to believe the best about others, who chooses grace, who chooses understanding, not judgment.

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