Category Archives: Life Stories

It is 10:30 AM. Today they are giving me a run for my money. (Let’s be honest, every day they give me a run for my money.) I have already lost count of the meltdowns and timeouts we’ve had this morning. It’s a green beans on cake kind of season around here with my older two children.

Micah precociously tells Sophie, “No, you’re not allowed to do that.”

Sophie shouts, “Micah! Go AWAY!” swinging her arms (and her toys) around wildly trying to remove his presence from her space.

… And the yelling continues ….

OR

Sophie tells Micah, “You’re going to wear this shirt today.”

Micah dissolves into a puddle of angry tears on the floor because he wanted to pick his own shirt.

Can somebody please just take a chill pill? Yikes.

These are the cringe-worthy moments that my days are made of right now! They’re just kids being kids, but I happen to believe it’s my job to train them up in the way they should go, and green beans on cake is NOT the way to go…

So we use this saying on a daily basis. “Don’t put green beans on your cake.”

Here’s how it began —

One day when Micah was spouting off some kind of attitude towards me and his sister Sophie, I exclaimed, “Micah, stop that, it’s just ugly!”

He was very offended, because already at three he wants to look good. “Mom, don’t call me ugly. That’s not nice.” He was truly hurt when he thought I was calling him ugly.

So I explained, “Micah, you are not ugly at all. You are a wonderful boy with so many good qualities, but when you have this bad attitude, it looks ugly on you. It ruins the good you. It’s like putting green beans on cake!”

That really got his attention! “Green beans on cake, Mom?! That’s disgusting!”

“Yes, it is. That would be so gross! It would mess the cake all up. And that’s what your attitude does to you. God made you to be a wonderful little boy who is kind and funny and smart! But when you have this attitude, you’re putting green beans on your cake.”

Suddenly it was crystal clear to him what I was saying. He realized to some degree that his sinful choices are not a reflection of who he truly is, but they are a distortion of who God created him to be. This vivid, disgusting image helps my children understand what their sin does to their souls.

And it helps me too. Sometimes they’ll even say it to me, “Mom, that’s green beans on cake when you say that.” And sometimes they’re right. We all put green beans on our cake now and then. But now all we need to do is lovingly remind each other when we’re starting to load the cake up with beans and it helps diffuse the situation, remind us that we’re not being the best version of ourselves, the one we were created to be.

So we soldier on, through these years when the children are each other’s best friend and worst enemy from moment to moment. I know I’m going to blink and it will be in the past. I won’t mind if I forget the fighting and the meltdowns, but I hope I remember our phrase, green beans on cake, because I don’t want to lose sight of what my sin does to my soul. I want to be the best version of myself that I can possibly be on this earth.

And  I hope that my kids will remember it too as they grow, so that when they are teenagers walking through school hallways, they will be kind, they will reach out to the lonely. When they start their first job, they’ll be a light for Jesus because their lives look different. When they go out into this broken world, they’ll have something to offer, something sweet like cake, that leaves others feeling uplifted instead of grossed out.

At the center of my job as a mother is the responsibility to teach my kids to know and to be like Jesus. Many days that feels like the impossible dream. But I know it’s not. Because we have the good moments too, where we’re talking at breakfast about Easter and they’re talking about how Jesus died on the cross for them, and rose again, and is coming back to take them to heaven because they have Jesus in their hearts. Some moments it’s just pure sweet cake.

Two moms sat in grocery store parking lots. A few miles separated them. But as they sat in their minivans talking on the phone, their hearts were close. These moms were having terrible mornings. One mom was awakened at 4:45 by the baby, who was grouchy all morning. Her other two kids fought like cats and dogs. She dropped an egg on the floor, her makeup in the wet sink, and a laundry basket, which took part of her thumb with it. The other mom was tired of being sassed by her pre-teen son, while being told, “I hate you,” by her little girl. She was weary of arguing, weary of disrespect. Both of these moms felt like they were sinking. Both of these moms felt powerless to change their homes. And both of these moms felt like failures, like it was somehow all their fault that their children were so screwed up.

But as these moms talked and shared their hearts with each other, they could hear the nonsense in each other’s heartbreak of “What did I do to screw this all up?” and “I feel like such a failure.” Because these moms knew that their dear sweet sister in Christ had done nothing to screw up her children, and that she was not a failure.

And as they talked, the settled on the real source of the problem: The Enemy of their souls.

He was the one messing with their families. He was the one making them blame themselves for everything. He was the one heaping guilt on their mama’s hearts. He was the one shooting fiery darts at their children. He was the one who wanted to destroy their souls and the souls of their children.

And they decided they were done.

Done listening to the lies of the enemy.

Done giving themselves too much credit, thinking that their shortcomings could literally outweigh the grace of God to sustain their children.

Done feeling powerless.

Done tolerating destruction.

Done feeling like their children were slipping through their fingers and on the highway to hell.

Done.

And they decided their best and only weapon was prayer. Their war plan and their war path was through prayer.

Every day they will pray Scripture over their children.

Every day they will pray for a wall of fire around their children and legions of angels to go with them.

Every day they will pray for Jesus to capture the hearts of their children.

Every day they will pray for wisdom.

Every day they will pray that they can be the mamas God wants them to be, even when they make mistakes.

And every day they will look for change. They will take ground with their prayers. They will take their children back from the enemy’s reaching. They will take back their homes. They will take back their marriages. They will war for the souls of those they love.

I am convinced that I am who I am because of my mama’s prayers. May it be so with my children also because of me.

In the past six months, my husband and I have had to grapple with some real-life big decisions. Adult decisions. Risky decisions. Uncertain decisions. Should we continue to carry our private health insurance which is so expensive it is literally sucking us dry? Should we sell our home and move closer to his job? What do we want to do for school for Sophie next year? Should I get a job outside the home, or a work-from-home job? I’ve felt a keen lack of direction in many of these areas. What I have wanted in each situation just does not seem to be lining up with reality, in any way. It’s been a frustrating and unsettling season of waiting. I’ve been seeking direction, figuratively and literally, as there are several “where’s” among my questions. But I feel like I’ve been casting about quite a bit in my search.

Today clarity settled on me as my eyes landed upon yet another arrow while I was browsing the card aisle. The arrow. They’ve been everywhere since November, on my purse, on a new scarf I received for Christmas, on home decor I’ve seen in stores, on cards and more.

As a new year opens, some people search for a word for the year. The past three years, I have received an image for the year instead, although a word tends to emerge in tandem. Two years ago it was the lighthouse. They were everywhere. And as I dwelt upon that image, the word beacon emerged. Jesus was (and is) my beacon, shining his light on my life, and through my life on to others. Last year the image was the bloom on my morning glory, and the word bloom accompanied it. It didn’t bloom until November the previous fall, right after we discovered we were expecting our much longed-for third child. In 2017, I bloomed as her life came to be. And for 2018, the image is that of an arrow. Each arrow I’ve seen over the past three months has drawn me in and captivated my attention in a surprising fashion. But today as I pondered our finances and our move on a more serious level, the significance of the arrow bounded to the forefront of my mind.

I think God has been placing these arrows on my path as a reminder that he is my direction. Yes, God gives us direction, but that’s not what I mean. He is the direction. Whether we move or remain, wherever we go or don’t go, he is both what we aim for, the direction we point, and also the way we move forward. Our journey needs to be less about seeking the answers, and more about seeking him, and him alone. As I press in to him, I hear again his call — just do what’s in front of you. Instead of searching out what to do or where to go, if I just do what’s in front of me, I can trust that it’s all happening because he brings it across my path. There’s plenty to do if I just focus on what’s in front of me.

I want to say that I’m done seeking answers, but I know my nature will fight hard against that. So what I’ll say is that I’m keeping the arrow in the front of my mind, letting that image direct my sight onto my loving Father, pointing me to him, and allowing him to direct my path and all that crosses it.

“Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.”           Psalm 143:8

“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’”              Isaiah 30:21

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.”            Proverbs 3:5-6

“Let your eyes look straight ahead; fix your gaze directly before you. Give careful thought to the paths for your feet and be steadfast in all your ways. Do not turn to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil.”             Proverbs 4:25-27

My son 3 year old Micah is given to fearfulness. In the summertime, it’s bees. With the warmer weather we’ve had recently, he asks me every morning and every time we go outside, “Are the bees alive yet, Mom?” In the colder months, it’s fears of ghosts, wolves, or the toilet jumping up to get him while he’s peeing. It’s easy to chuckle and reassure him, but as his mom, I see what havoc fear wreaks in his little life. And I see in this some profound spiritual lessons on a bigger scale in my own life.

Even though most of his fears seem irrational, I can relate 100% to Micah’s feelings in these situations. I have a long-standing battle with fear in my own life. God helped me chip away at some of it when he gave me Sophie. Something happens to your fear when you face one of your worst fears and survive, even grow stronger because of it. That’s another tale for another day… As time has passed, I have seen the enemy begin to try and manipulate me again through fear. Sometimes I think God gave me Micah and made him so much like me just so that I could relearn all the life lessons. We are two peas in a pod, Micah and I. In almost all of his battles, I see myself. His little life is like a mirror for all my own faults! And so it has been in his battle with fear. I have seen my own battle. But it’s eye-opening to see someone else fighting your same battle. Things snap quickly into perspective. As Micah deals with fear, I can quickly pick out the ways that fear is negatively impacting him and also myself.

Fear immobilizes. My son won’t go anywhere without me, or without his big sissy as my stand-in. Our home is small, but he won’t go from one room to the next, even if he can clearly see me in a different room. And forget about going upstairs to the bathroom or to his bedroom. He can’t move forward when he’s afraid. How often have I allowed fear to immobilize me? How many times has my journey halted simply because I’m too afraid to take the next steps? For me this is most often the fear that I’m going to make the wrong choice, so I just don’t make any choice at all. I’m immobilized. Just sitting there are the crossroads, doing nothin.

Fear controls. Not only can Micah not move freely when he’s fearful, but his activities are also determined by his fears. Many of his choices are based upon his fears. He won’t go into the dining room, where the wood floors are bare, to race his cars, because I’m in the living room, on the carpet. He won’t obey or be my helper because he’s too afraid of what I might ask him to do, or what might happen to him along the way. How have I allowed fear to control me? I’m too afraid of what God might ask me to do if I agree to obey and be his helper. I’m too afraid of what might happen to me along the way. I’m too afraid that I might fail, if I try. And I’m too afraid of the judgment that others might assign to me if I don’t measure up in their eyes.

Fear creates misery. If Micah even thinks I’m leaving the room, he begins to get upset instantly. We’re talking zero to sixty in 1.5 seconds. I can hear panic rise in his voice as he hurries to avoid being left behind, even if I’m just stepping into the next room for a moment. And in the event that he is left somewhere alone in our home, he comes undone. He doesn’t enjoy his day because he’s so fearful. This is the big one for my life: How have I allowed fear to strip away my joy? Instead of rejoicing in the blessings of my life, my mind is running rampant with fears and what-ifs. If I even catch whiff of something going amiss, I can feel my own panic rising.

Although this battle is not what it used to be for me, and, praise God, I am not nearly as controlled by fear as I used to be, I still see in myself the battle that Micah is beginning at just three years old. What I see in Micah has helped me to realize again that fear is a tool of the enemy intended to immobilize us, control us, and make us miserable. Our enemy doesn’t want us moving forward in our faith or in our ministry. He doesn’t want us to move freely, to enjoy our activities, to live our lives in abandon, secure in our Father’s love.

Something that I often say to Micah resonates in my spirit as well: “Why are you so afraid? Mommy is taking care of you. You are safe in our home,” I know God would say the same to me: Why is she so afraid? Doesn’t she know that I’m taking care of her? She is safe in my love. I John 4:18 promises that perfect love drives out fear. I think that’s the key. If we could really grasp how much God loves us, then we would be able to trust completely that no matter what happens, it’s going to be ok. And we don’t need to be frozen at the crossroads, or fearful of what he may ask us to do, or running in anxious circles mentally. If we really understood how deeply and how perfectly the Father loves us, we would recognize that we don’t need to be afraid. We are secure in his care. That doesn’t mean that bad things won’t happen, unfortunately, but it does mean that his goodness will prevail even in the bad things, and that we are always, always, always secure in his love.

I remember when Sophie’s journey first began, one of the things her pediatrician said to me that was so simple, yet has stuck with me all the way was this: “It will all be ok.” At the time that was rather maddening because how could anything be ok when my baby girl could have some life-altering or life-threatening disease or disorder? How could it be ok?! But, six years later, I have seen that truly, it is ok. As I referenced earlier, I faced that fear, and I walked head on into it. I had no choice in the matter. Face like flint is the expression that comes to mind as I recall my journey into fearful territory with Sophie. “Welcome to motherhood, please step directly into the fire, Catherine.” But as in Sophie’s journey, I cannot assure you more, no matter what your journey looks like right now, it will all be ok. I know that I know that I know my Father loves me and he loves Sophie. So no matter the things in life that most assuredly do go very wrong, will go very wrong, God remains constant, faithful, good. His deep and perfect love holds us. So we can set our faces like flint, and we can step directly into the fire if we have to. Because he is there, he will be there. And he will keep us secure in his perfect love. In this we can walk free from fear.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have summoned you by name. You are mine.”

Life with a newborn baby is busy. Newborns are so demanding, unable to meet any of their own needs. Add to that the typical daily demands of wife and mother of three and you find yourself exactly where I am most days: Overwhelmed.

There are dishes. There is laundry. There is usually at least one crying child, sometimes all three gang up on me at once. There’s food to fix, diapers to change, bottles to wash, children to dress, and a house to maintain. And can I please have a minute just to go to the bathroom alone?? The list is never-ending.

Sometimes I can cope, but other times my soul cries out, “Lord, I’m overwhelmed!” I know I’m not the only one who feels this way, although your circumstances overwhelming you may look different than mine. This morning in my state of overwhelmed, God’s gentle whisper reminded me of his truth. Maybe others need to hear these things today, too.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Cor 12:8

“I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to a rock that is higher than I.” Ps 61:2

“Come, all who are thirsty, come to the waters… Listen to me and eat what is good and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me that your soul may live.” Isaiah 55:1-3

These three passages came to my soul as I prayed for help. They all direct me back to the source of my life. Thank you, God, for your sustaining grace. May you find all that you stand in need of today in the Source of Life, our Father God.

36 weeks of my pregnancy went off without a hitch. I’ve told many people that this has by far been my easiest pregnancy. If you know my story, you know that’s miraculous! Because of past difficulties in pregnancy, I was urged not to have any more children, and we had planned to follow that advice. But God had other plans. So for 36 weeks I’ve been amazed at his kindness and generosity towards me, in giving me a third child that I desperately wanted, and in giving it to me with such ease.

On Friday everything changed. I discovered some concerning red blotchy patches on my legs. There was no explanation for the blotches, such as skin irritation or injury. And because of my history, I have a heightened awareness for things like blood clots. My anxiety was only intensified by the realization that I had stopped my aspirin regimen about 10 days prior to the appearance of the blotches. There had been just enough time for the blood thinning aspirin to leave my system before these blotches appeared.

I called my doctor and was sent for an ultrasound of my leg at the hospital to check for clots. The scan was clear — praise God! But I was still terrified! I hadn’t been seen by a doctor at the hospital, nor had my doctor seen me. I was relying only on the word of a kind ultrasound tech that I was going to be just fine.

The timing of this instances did not escape me. I was headed to a women’s conference at my church Friday night and Saturday. And I could keenly perceive that the enemy wanted to steal my weekend intended for refreshment. As I battled my anxieties on Friday, the verse that came to my mind was John 10:10: “The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” Ironically, this ended up being one of the keynote speaker’s main points — abundant life. I knew that the enemy of my soul was trying to rob me through these fears. But man was I terrified!

As I sat under the magnificent teaching of Priscilla Shirer, I listened to her teach about a God who is more than ABLE to do way beyond what we could ever imagine (Ephesians 3:20-21). And the whole time I’m thinking about my blood clotting in my legs. And I’m thinking, “sure, God is able, but I’ve lived long enough to know that doesn’t always mean he’s going to. What do you have to say about that Priscilla?” And wouldn’t you know, she answered my unspoken question. She said she received a question which was essentially what I was asking in my head, “I struggle with serving a God who CAN, but WON’T.” I know there are times when God simply chooses not to do what it is that we want him to do. And I should have known because there was fear rising up in that question that it was sent to my mind by the enemy of my soul. Maybe I did even know that. But I listened for Priscilla’s answer. “It’s really about trust,” she said. “Do you trust God, or don’t you?” Well, I guess that does get to the heart of it. Did I trust that even if God said no and any of my worst fears came true, did I trust that he was good, and that he was enough? It has taken me more time than I’d like to admit to answer these questions. I battled with these questions all weekend. But as his Spirit ministered to my soul, I found again, as I have before, that he is completely trustworthy. Whatever his answers may be to the end of this pregnancy, I trust in his goodness.

That is a little easier to say after seeing my doctor this morning! But I promise the choice to trust came before my doctor’s appointment. It came with each breath, with each time I closed my eyes to sleep, with each moment I looked at my sweet children and loved them, with each time I glimpsed and loved my husband. My life is so blessed and so precious. It feels like a lot to trust God with!

But back to the doctor’s appointment — My blood pressure remains the lowest it’s ever been during any pregnancy of mine (and really low even for a non-pregnant person). My weight gain continues to remain very low. And my blotches, whatever they are, appear to be surface level. While they “look strange,” according to the doctor, they didn’t “feel concerning.” I’m very thankful for a good report! I will continue to be cautious and to watch my leg, but there is no reason for worry right now.

Through this ordeal this whole weekend, God has continually spoken to me the words of Philippians 1:6: “being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” We definitely consider this pregnancy something that God began in me as it was not of our own planning. Before I even was surprised with this pregnancy, God spoke to me through another Old Testament Bible story about my dream of having more children, which I thought at the time was not to be. After hearing from him in that story, the surprise was less of a surprise to me, but that’s another story for after the baby is born…. when he completes this good work that he began!

Thanks to all who have prayed with me and for me and encouraged me through this pregnancy, and especially the last few days. I am so blessed to have so many wonderful friends standing with me!

It’s been five days since my dad went under for laparoscopic surgery to correct a hiatal hernia.  We knew that the surgery would probably be minor, but the anesthesia concerned us from right out of the gate. My dad has struggled with memory loss for several years now. In recent months his confusion has grown, and we have found his connection with reality to sometimes lapse. It’s all been manageable, though stressful, certainly for my mom.

As expected, the surgery was minor, but the anesthesia was not. Daddy has been horribly confused in the hospital as the medication leaves his system. Because of this, we’ve tried to be with him as much as possible to ease his confusion and disquiet. Much of the burden has fallen to my dear mom, even through two long nights when the nurses struggled to reign Dad in.

Hard as it is to be the one who is always there, I have found it is also hard to be the one who cannot be there. I am almost 30 weeks pregnant, raising two young children, working part time, and volunteering for my church. I live almost two hours away from my parents. I’ve not been able to be there for the day to day care, not like I’d like to be. So I’ve fretted and stressed, cried and prayed, and I’ve gone home for several long days to provide some respite for Mom.

We thought that Dad would be discharged today to a care facility, which would dramatically reduce Mom’s need to be constantly present with him, but a last minute change in facilities to one better equipped to handle memory care has left us waiting still for him to leave the hospital. This means more long days ahead for mom.

This news came to me around supper time, as I was trying to finish making dinner and trying to unearth the table from all the junk collecting there so that we could eat. I was feeling frayed and frazzled. And then my pie crust wouldn’t unroll for the chicken pot pie. It fought me like a stubborn child! Ugliest pot pie I’ve ever made. And as the children and I worked to clear off the table, I spilled a large container full of (delightful!) water beads, all over my table, and of course, my dirty floor. And then, of course, you know it’s coming, I started to cry. Yes, the ugly pot pie and the spilled beads were the last straw on this camel’s back.

I collected myself as best I could, of course right as my husband is walking in the door, wide-eyed, wondering what is happening with his poor frazzled wife. We had our dinner. I refocused my mind on other things. And then I got a piece of chocolate out for something sweet for dessert. (My mother and I share the same weakness for Dove dark chocolates.) I rarely read the “promises” that are inscribed on the inside of each wrapper. I probably haven’t read one in over a year. But tonight I smoothed out the paper, and I read the words:

“Quote your dad.”

Thankfully, I was mostly cried out by that point. But I smoothed that wrapper out, and I hung it on my fridge. Dad has said a lot of really amusing things in his confusion the past few days, but over his 80 years, he’s also said a lot of really wise things. And so I pondered, what would Dad say to me in the midst of this trial if he understood what all was going on? It didn’t take long for the answer to come to me:

“We’ll take what the Lord gives us.”

Daddy has said theses words to me countless time over the years. No matter the circumstances, his faith-filled choice has been to take what the Lord gives. And so we will follow what he has faithfully taught us and lived out for his 80 years. We will take what the Lord gives us in this season.

Right now we are in the wilderness. Like David, like the Israelites, like Jesus himself. God has led us into the wilderness, for a purpose, and we will wait until he leads us out of it. We know that he alone sustains us. We know he has a purpose for our wilderness. And so we’ll take what the Lord gives us.