August 29, 2017 · 5:39 pm

Sophie’s Story: Left Behind

Hundreds of thousands of five year olds are headed off to kindergarten this week. But not my five year old. I see dozens of first day of kindergarten pictures cropping up on the newsfeed. But not on my wall. And it hurts every bit as much as I thought it would. My sweet Sophie is left behind. Several of my close friends also had children the same year that Sophie was born, and I am watching them all head off to kindergarten this fall, as Sophie prepares to go back to preschool for another year.

Last spring we labored over the decision of whether or not to register Sophie for kindergarten this fall. And we (wisely) chose to wait, giving her one more year to grow and progress with her fine motor skills and social skills in preschool. We know we made the right decision, the best decision for Sophie. But that doesn’t minimize the pain of our choice. If you are a special needs mom, I guarantee you know this dichotomy well. We don’t doubt that we made the right choice, but sometimes the right choice is still one filled with pain. Yes, I feel peace and a certainty that I’ve done what’s best, but not gladness. I wish I didn’t have to make this choice for Sophie. I wish that she were going off to kindergarten with all those other babes born in 2012. My heart breaks that she’s not. Yes, of course I love my daughter just as she is. But I find that at each new stage of life, acceptance is a new process to start all over again, especially in these moments where Sophie seems to be left behind.

I really feel like I’ve been watching her get left behind her whole life, as her peers sat up and crawled, then walked, as babies. As they began to talk. As they began to make new little friendships. Left behind. It’s painful. And it leads to the fear that she will always be left behind, throughout all of her life. Never take for granted the gift of having your kiddos be doing the right thing at the right time. Everyone always says, “It’s ok, she’s just doing things on her own time. She’s perfect the way she is. Don’t worry.” And I smile, always appreciating the sentiment, for sure. But the reality of having a child who doesn’t do what society says is “normal” or “on time” will never not be hard as a mother. Please realize that. It will never not be hard for me. If she’s 5 and not ready for kindergarten or 16 and not ready to drive… it will never not be hard… acceptance will always be a process.

I am equally sure that she will have a wonderful year of growth this year in preschool. We are so happy with the all day program that she’ll be in. And her teacher and aides are WONDERFUL! I expect to see her much more fully prepared for kindergarten after this year, and that brings my heart a lot of peace. Her fine motor skills are growing in leaps and bounds. She’s actually interested in writing letters now, even though she still can’t do it. Interest is always the first step, so I know her writing skills will begin to emerge soon. She’s become quite a whiz with the scissors this summer, too. (My floor is often adorned with multi-colored construction paper confetti!) And I hope that her social skills will also improve this year. Hopefully they’re just lagging behind, like other things, and not another serious red flag to consider.

So where is God in all of this? I’m not sure. Usually my Sophie Stories are full of faith and how God is leading me to trust him. This, my friends, is different. This is raw. This is the sanctification of my soul through mothering Sophie with all the delays she has had and continues to have. And God is in this too. But it’s a different kind of journey. It’s less of a faith journey right now, and more of a battle for my soul to look more like Jesus as I labor through parenting Sophie. I’m ok with that.

I’m also reminded that I’m playing, once again, at the dangerous game of comparison. I learned early on as Sophie was left behind that the comparison game did little but steal my joy. So I’m choosing to turn my eyes, or at least my hurting eyes, away from all those adorable pictures of new kindergartners. I’m choosing to look instead on the beautiful child God gave me, and I’m trusting that he knew what he was doing when he gave her to me, just as she is, just as I am. I’m trusting that the eye of Jesus is never turned from Sophie, and I’m remembering that he loves her more than I do. I know this year may hold some difficult things for Sophie as we head back to her developmental pediatrician in the fall. My mama’s heart is already aching. But I’m trying to beyond all of that, searching for that big picture faith that helps me walk through all of it.

Jeremiah 29:11 “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.”

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August 9, 2017 · 6:41 pm

Battling for Transformation

Motherhood is not for the faint at heart. It presses upon a woman in a way that few things do. My days are not my own. They are run by three tiny bosses who think they own the joint. And these bosses, my children, threaten my sanity on a daily basis. On one particularly rough tear-filled, attitude-riddled day when Hannie was less than two months old, I sat down to a lovely fresh salad at noon, my stomach growling in anticipation. Four poops (a contribution from each and every child of mine) and a nursing session later, I sat back down to a slightly wilty salad at one o’clock. On top of fighting the hanger, there is, of course, also the sleep deprivation, as well as everyone’s adjustment to our new little baby joining the family. And, of course, it’s also summer break.

As much as everyone is all “oh yeah! it’s summer break!” and I’m cheering that school is out too, there’s this other component of my life that just goes to shambles without the structure of school.

It’s named Sophie.

I hardly recognize my daughter right now. If you know Sophie, you know her as the sweet and inquisitive little girl who will take your hand and be your friend, the helper, the complier. Not so this summer. She is now the foot-stomper, the door-slammer, the “NO” shouter. With the intensity of a new baby and summer break falling together, Sophie has just spiraled into chaos. I told my husband one morning as we talked about how to discipline her, “I’m just worried that her behaviors are getting out of control. We’ve got to do something to get her under control.” I felt in my spirit that day the urge to pray about this concern (yes, I should have been doing so all along). And so I began to pray and ask God for wisdom in how to parent Sophie, how to be a better parent to all of my children, really.

So this is motherhood for me right now. High pressure. I’ve been pushed to the max at times with a new baby and sleep deprivation and Sophie’s changes and a three year old. I’ve lost my temper. I’ve yelled. I’ve spoken to my children in ways that are embarrassing and ugly. And I’ve asked God to help me with this. I want to parent my children, especially Sophie, whose needs require infinitely more patience most days, in a way that reflects Jesus to them, rather than a crazed woman teetering on the edge of insanity. So I’ve reinvested in my journey of transformation as a mother and also just as a follower of Christ. Our journey as Christians is mean to be transformative, but sometimes we forget that. We forget that we have to work at it.

Part of my reinvestment in this journey is a commitment to God’s Word and to spending more time in it. God has been leading me in a study of the book of Colossians which has been rich and deep, eye-opening and soul-refreshing.

So, I’m praying for wisdom about how to transform my parenting, particularly for Sophie (and how to survive this season with my sanity in tact and all my children alive) when the words of Colossians suddenly come screaming back to me:

“Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.”

This admonition comes after Paul teaches for two chapters about the power of Jesus and how it sets us free. He says, “While you were dead in your sins… God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the written code with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us; he took it away, naming it to the cross.” Wow. That gives me pause every time I read it. So, because of what Jesus did for us, we are free from the curse of sin. And that’s where transformation comes in. Because of what Jesus did, we can be free to “set our minds on things above.” But what does that mean? How do we do that in real time?

Paul goes into detail about what our former nature, the sin nature, would produce in us — things like rage, anger, malice, filthy language, lust, etc. And he says that we should put those things to death. Pretty intense.

And then he explains what it looks like to “set your minds on things above.” He says we must “clothe ourselves” with things like compassion, kindness, gentleness, patience, humility, forgiveness, and above all, love. Clothing ourselves calls to mind the realization that we must put these things on, like our clothes. They are not just part of who we naturally are, unfortunately. But we have access to them because of Jesus, because of his Spirit in us.

So all these words come screaming back to me as I’m praying for wisdom about transforming my parenting. And it all just clicks. This is what it looks like in real time. To be transformed as a mother, I need to set my mind on higher things, not just on my emotions telling me to fly off the handle. I need to clothe myself with the traits that the Spirit gives me access to as I’m dealing with my children. I had the realization this day that I’m not enslaved to my anger or to the filthy words that might try cross my lips when I’m pushed to the breaking point with my children. As a woman set free by the death of Christ who nailed the written code opposing me to the cross, I can instead choose patience, gentleness, kindness, and so on, as I deal with my children. Not an easy choice, no. But a good one. I have to make the choice to take my mind off of my feelings, off of my anger and impatience, and to instead put on compassion, kindness, patience, love. This is wisdom to parent my children.

And it’s also wisdom for a whole variety of other life circumstances you might be going through. Whatever you scenario is, it fits there too. Trouble with coworkers? Set your mind on things above when dealing with that coworker. Trouble with your marriage? Set your mind on things above. You, too, having trouble with your kids? I know you’re out there… many of us have vented together this summer about our battle with insanity during summer break. Join me. Set your mind on things above. Don’t be enslaved to your feelings, to the voice of your sin nature telling you how to act. Choose to clothe yourself instead with all the gifts we have because of Jesus.

 

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July 28, 2017 · 6:13 pm

A Love Story

Once upon a time there was a little boy and a little girl. They grew up in the same world. She watched him poke at bugs and toads with a stick. He knew her as the tall girl. Sometimes they played at mutual friends’ houses or carpooled with each other. But they were always at a distance, coexisting in the same sphere. And so they grew up. And life got in the way, and the boy moved away. The girl went on, unaffected by his absence.

Years passed and the boy and girl were no longer little. The teenage years arrived. And the boy moved home again. In friendship they walked through these years together. Often she was more “one of the guys” but still always a lady, guarded by her brothers in Christ. They played hockey together and went on missions trips. They did everything with the youth group and went out to lunch every Sunday after taking up the first row at church. There were concerts and conferences, sporting events and holiday fireworks, camping trips and movie nights. There was so much laughter. And the girl dated. She laughed and loved. Her heart broke a few times. And that boy was there to pick up the pieces.

And through those years somewhere like turned into love and friendship into romance. And the boy and the girl began to date. The storms of life hit hard in those years, and the girl thought of walking another way, an easier way. There were difficulties with their families. There were many tears. But in her heart she heard her Father’s voice, “this is the one I have for you.” And so she stayed through the years. But the boy never wavered in his devotion. I think he knew even at 16 that she was all he ever wanted.

And when the girl moved away for school, they made promises to stay together. And through the ups and downs of long distance, they wrote love letters and shared weekend dates. No one else ever turned either of their heads or hearts.

So they bid farewell to the teenage years and walked together into adulthood. And before long they knew that they didn’t want to walk separately anymore, but together, always together. And so the boy bought a ring and asked a question. They planned a big party and invited all their friends and celebrated their love to the tune of Pachabel’s Canon and Cotton Eye Joe.

And in the blink of an eye, ten years passed. New homes, new jobs, new babies and new roles as mommy and daddy. Life changed. And their love changed. It grew deeper, richer, and more. The man loved his wife as Christ loved the church and laid down his life every single day to serve his family. And the woman knew how blessed she was to call him her own for these ten years (and more). And she looked to the future with joy and peace with him by her side. He was her best friend and the love of her life. No, every day wasn’t happily ever after, but it was a blessed and beautiful life.

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July 25, 2017 · 11:28 pm

Two Kinds of Bottle Brushes And the Spiritual Truth I learned from Them

We recently brought home a new baby. A sweet little girl. At six weeks old she pretty much has down the eat, sleep, poop routine. She makes a lot of laundry, and a lot of dishes, mainly bottles, to wash. In just six weeks I’ve learned that there are two types of bottle brushes in this world: those that CAN and those that CAN NOT. Because our sweet baby came a week early, there were a few items that were not yet purchased or readied for her arrival. The bottle brush was one such item. So I asked my dear husband to pick one up when he went out for groceries. He made some flippant remark about the ones at the grocery store not being good enough, but I insisted we “just needed one right now” so he should get what they had. And so he did.

Let me tell you, this bottle brush was one of the CAN NOT brushes. It was an epic failure at its life purpose. I mean, a bottle brush has essentially one job to do: Clean the bottles. Right? It’s not like I’m asking it to scour my pots and pans or fix dinner. It would be like a fly swatter that was unable to kill bugs, or broke after the first swat. The spongy part on the top of this bottle brush ripped off within a week of use. A week! Come on!

When I brought home the second bottle brush, similar in nature to the first, my husband questioned my logic. If the first one proved a failure, as he had predicted, why would I buy another one? Because, simply put, I am Marian Halstead’s granddaughter. Why would I ever spend six dollars when I can spend three? (Since most of you don’t know my grandmother, I’ll add that she was the type of lady who washed and reused her tin foil, her plastic baggies, and — get this — her saran wrap! Seriously?! I don’t even like to deal with it the first time around, let alone to wash and hang up to dry, then fold and store to reuse the darn stuff! Oy! That was my grandmother. Frugal to the core.) Although, if you’re doing the math like I am, you’re realizing that two bottle brushes at three dollars does in fact equal six… So… we can chalk that one up to sleep deprivation?

So anyways I brought home the three dollar bottle brush. And what did I get for it? Well, this one did last a wee bit longer than the first, maybe two weeks, but it did me a worse wrong, because it cracked in half while I was using it, the entire scrubby portion disattatching from the long handle. So here I am with my fingers pinching this short stubby bottle brush top trying to wash out my bottles. Insert eye roll. It was an obnoxious way to waste my precious time by making the bottle washing process even more laborious. When my husband came home from work and I showed him what had happened, he chuckled at me and insisted on buying the “nice” bottle brush. Amazon Prime will have it here in two days. Perfect. Until then I tweedled with the insy-weensy top of my bottle brush to get the job done.

So I’ve been using my new bottle brush for about a week now. It’s so luxurious, guys! I love it! Not showing any signs of breaking down, this one. It is definitely a CAN bottle brush. It can fulfill its life’s purpose with gusto. And I am pleased.

So as I washed the bottles tonight this really got me thinking about what I’m investing in, other than stock in the bottle brush market. Is it the cheap-o stuff that really just CAN NOT make me a better person, or is it the CAN stuff, which will fill me and feed my soul?

I feel like I don’t have a lot of free time right now, but I do spend a lot of time feeding my baby, which requires me to just sit and be. While I am often using this time to referee my older children, there are many minutes where they are entertaining themselves, and I actually do have some quasi-free time. Imagine that. So I’m evaluating what I do with this quasi-free time, because I kind of feel like my life is complete chaos right now, and I don’t really like it. Some of that just goes with the territory of having a new baby at home. We are all adjusting and finding our way to her addition to the family. I am sleep deprived and not functioning at my finest. And before you try to tell me not to be too hard on myself, trust me when I say I’m not. I recognize the transition we are in and that there is much grace for my shortcomings. However, I would still like to do my best through this transition. I would still like to bring my A-game as I raise these precious babies that God has entrusted to me. And I don’t think even my C-game has been showing up. Nope. And I’m not good with that. So, back to my free time which I was evaluating. I’m realizing that I’m filling it up with a bunch of meaningless time-wasting junk (aka, playing on my phone, darnit). Not exactly a soul-filling activity.

There’s a passage in Isaiah that says, “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare.”

Why, oh why, am I investing my time in stuff that does not feed my soul?

Just like the bottle brushes, there stuff that CAN feed my soul and stuff that CAN NOT. The stuff I’m filling my time with just CAN NOT cut it, just like my cheap-o bottle brushes. This stuff won’t fill me up to meet the challenges of my day. But God’s Spirit, his Word, those CAN. I don’t want to settle for the three dollar fix that just can’t cut it. I don’t want to spend “money on what is not bread” and “labor on what does not satisfy,” to invest my time in that which will never feed me. It’s like I’ve been using the lousy bottle brush time fillers instead of investing in what really works — spending my time in God’s word, in prayer, in worship. These things will do the job to fill me up, to make me capable of the tasks before me. No more wasting my time tweedling around with stuff that’s less than, that’s in the CAN NOT category. Time to invest my time in a way that feeds me and fills me.

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June 28, 2017 · 3:46 pm

Overwhelmed

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.

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June 15, 2017 · 2:04 am

Hannah Jean

2 Corinthians 1:9-10
“Indeed in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves, but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us.”

We have all had moments in life where we felt the sentence of death. For some of us, it’s the diagnosis of a fatal illness for someone we love or for ourselves. For others, it’s the death of a dream or the future as we watch our relationships fall apart, the loss of a job or career, financial ruin, in some way, our dreams become forever out of reach.

In my own life, I have experienced this feeling at least twice as an adult. First, I felt the sentence of death when we received Sophie’s apraxia diagnosis. We did not know at that time if she would ever speak. It was a heavy diagnosis. A life without speech is not at all what we pictured for our child, for our family. In that moment, everything about our future picture seemed to shift and go dark. Sophie’s future was suddenly so uncertain, once again. Yet, God met us in this moment reminding us of all the he is able to do in the midst of our weakness. God reminded me of the story of Moses who had a speech impediment, yet was used by God to free the nation of Israel from the enslavement of the Egyptians. A speech disorder is no match for God’s power. In our moment of hopelessness, he was able to quickly restore hope. And in fighting for Sophie’s speech these past two years, we have seen him bring so much life and goodness.

My stroke diagnosis also felt like a death sentence. I know, I lived through it, and it was nothing major, truly, but it represented the death of a dream. Last March (2016) when I finished a months-long barrage of testing begun because of lasting episodes of vertigo, there was really nothing clear except that I’d had a stroke, and most likely during pregnancy. So the doctors’ recommendations were all the same: No more children. This was a devastation for me. I battled all through the spring and summer to accept this, to find contentment, to see my very very blessed life with two sweet children was more than enough for me. I found his grace in each moment as I worked to accept our reality. And I truly became content with my new vision of my life, my family of four.

During this summer, I wrote a Sunday school series entitled “Heroes of the Old Testament.” There were lots of manly heroes in this series, but I also wanted to include some ladies, and as the series came to a close, I felt like there was one more lady hero that I was meant to search out. That August I found myself in I Samuel reading the story of Hannah, and I saw myself, the woman longing for (more) children. God’s words to me could not have been any clearer as I processed Hannah’s story: When you give to me, I give back in abundant generosity. I have seen this truth over and over again in my life when I’ve given my resources to God. But in Hannah’s story, it wasn’t just her resources she was giving. It was her pain, her dreams, her unfulfilled hopes that she poured out to God. And God was exceedingly generous towards Hannah. He blessed her with her son Samuel, and with other children after him as well.

I felt strongly as I studied this story that I needed to lay down my dream for more children again, once and for all, and accept whatever way God chose to be generous towards me, believing that he could give me fulfillment as a mommy in so many different ways. We still were not planning for more children, and my heart was very much at peace with this decision. I saw this desire to mother more possibly being fulfilled in another way, maybe through teaching, fostering, or just mothering my kids’ friends. So I once again laid down my dreams, my hopes, and my pain, just like Hannah, giving our Burleigh family future over to my loving Father, believing I would see his generosity.

This was August. And by the end of September, I was pregnant with our splendid surprise.

Why does God do things like this? Why make life look impossible? Why let us feel the sentence of death? Because that way we have to rely on him, on the God who raises the dead. He is the God who can resurrect any dream, any future, any person back to life again.

In our death sentence moments we feel an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. Whatever dream has died, whatever has come crashing down, whatever destruction is taking place, it robs us of hope. But we serve a God who is able to raise the dead — the dead dreams, the dead relationships, the dead future, the deadness in our hearts. On him we place our hope. In hopeless moments, he is the one who can restore our hope. No, he may not choose to resurrect a dream or a relationship or a life in the way we imagined, but he can restore and resurrect life and hope in our hearts.

And so I offer you the story of our Hannah Jean. Our unplanned and much loved blessing. When I laid down my dream for more children before the Lord, I knew in my heart I would have another daughter. I did not know what that would look like, because God creates beautiful answers to our dreams in many different kinds of ways. But this generous gift he has given to our family is truly marvelous. And so in October when we learned another child was coming, I chose her name, confident of a baby girl. Named for Hannah, Samuel’s mother, and for my sweet mother-in-law Jean, as well as another dear family friend, who has blessed me immensely, our daughter’s name means favor, grace; gift from God. Truer words were never spoken in a name.

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May 22, 2017 · 6:51 pm

Baby Update No. 3: It’s the Final Countdown!

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!

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May 14, 2017 · 5:56 pm

Sophie’s Story: Apraxia Awareness Day on Mother’s Day

This morning we gathered our clan and headed out to church early. It was our week to volunteer, which means arriving early for the volunteer meeting. When Andrew and I serve on the same week, we bring out kids into the meeting with us, since neither of us can watch them outside of the meeting. As you would imagine, they create distractions, they whisper too loudly, basically unaware of “sitting quietly while the pastor speaks.” But we do our best to contain them through this brief meeting.

At the end of the volunteer meeting, we always circle up for prayer. We bring our children with us into the circle because they are an extension of our service, and to keep tabs on them. Sophie especially has a hard time being still and quiet for prayer. As we circled up, I shushed her, but our pastor’s wife, aware of Sophie’s journey, commented, “It’s just so good to hear her chattering.” And so I shared with her that today is Apraxia Awareness day, on top of being Mother’s Day, so it is an especially meaningful day for our family.


Two years ago, when Sophie was three, she was still completely unable to speak or even imitate sounds. Just after her third birthday, we took her to a private speech facility for evaluation, and she was diagnosed with Childhood Apraxia of Speech (CAS), a speech disability where the brain fails to coordinate the muscles of the mouth properly for speech. We were told at the time of her diagnosis, and as early as her second birthday actually, that she would require years of speech therapy if she ever were to speak. IF. That was such a devastating thing to hear spoken over our child. At that time we had no idea what Sophie’s journey to speech would look like. But we held on to God’s promises and his truth that nothing is too difficult for him, that he does all things well, and that he is indeed a good Father, no matter what Sophie’s future might hold.

Now five years old, Sophie is our little chatterbox. It is an inexpressible blessing to hear her chatter. She is a living testament to God’s goodness. Just as she showed each of those volunteers today how much she loves to chatter, she showed them how good God has been in her life. Apraxia is a difficult diagnosis, but it is not bigger than God.

So today I am especially thankful for the reminder of God’s goodness to our family, to me as a mother, and to Sophie, throughout her whole journey. Last year on Mother’s Day, Sophie painstakingly told me, “happy mother’s day” for the first time, and I cried tears of joy. A year later, I am greeted each day with her incessant chattering. It is a gift to be her mother (and Micah’s too).

Today, I am standing in faith with other mamas who have yet to hear precious words from their children who suffer from CAS. May they feel peace as they wait and may they never give up as they battle apraxia with their little ones.

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May 13, 2017 · 1:50 am

Sophie’s Favorite Word

My dear sweet Sophie has finally mastered the W sound, after a year of working on it in therapy. A YEAR! It seems like such a simple thing to do, to form the lips into a round shape and then open them — “Wwwaaaa” — but it has been anything but simple. It’s really been rather painstaking!

Painstaking too has been her newfound love of the W sound in the form of the word “why.” I’ve always heard about this “why” stage that kids get into. “Mommy, why is your shirt green?” “Why do we have to go to school today?” “Why is granny not coming over today?” Everything. All. The. Time. WHY?

Here’s a conversation we had just the other day that mirrors what my life is like right now (literally, all day, every day).

Sophie: “Mommy, what are we having for dinner?”

Me: “Spaghetti.”

Sophie: “Why are we having spaghetti?”

Me: “I don’t know, because I wanted it and daddy asked for spaghetti this week.”

Sophie: “But why did he ask for spaghetti?”

Me: “I don’t know, because he wanted to eat it.”

Sophie: “But why did he want to eat it?”

Me: “I don’t know because he just did.”

Sophie: “But why did he?”

And so it goes. With every. single. conversation. None of my answers can ever satisfy her whys.

So it’s gotten me thinking about all the times I’ve asked God why…. I wonder if I annoyed him. I wonder if, to him, my questions seemed pointless, unanswerable. I wonder if he got tired of hearing “why?” I wonder if I was the small child who was never satisfied with the answers he tried to offer me, though he owes me no answers. Never satisfied …

It’s actually not a question that I frequently ask of him anymore. I asked it A LOT in the early days with Sophie. A LOT. But as I’ve walked through her journey in particular, I find that I trust him more than to ask why most times. But lately my family’s journey has tempted me to whisper the word why?

I’m watching my father and mother who have faithfully served God for their whole adult lives (they are 80 and 70, respectively), go through a devastating season of mental illness for my father. And I hate every minute of it. It feels unfair in so many ways. And it feels so pointless. That’s when the quiet why? rises up. What good can possibly come of this? It just feels like suffering and stress and sadness. What good can come from something so horrible?

I don’t have an answer. But I do have faith.

I do know that every single time God takes someone into the wilderness in the Bible he has a purpose. Hagar. Jacob. Moses. The Israelites. David. Elijah. Jesus himself.

And I know that God shows up in the wilderness.

And when he brings us out of the wilderness, which he never fails to do, we are never the same again. So I’m holding on, hiding myself in the cleft of the rock, listening for the quiet whisper of God’s voice, here in the wilderness.

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April 4, 2017 · 12:49 am

To Quote My Dad

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.

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