Thirteen Years
Thirteen years ago, I was so pregnant I could barely breathe. My toes had disappeared beneath my belly months before, and I couldn’t even bend over to put shoes on my own swollen feet. I was done. Those last few days before I could hold my baby in my arms moved like molasses. And then she was there, tiny and helpless, and everyone told me to soak in the moments. That I would blink and she would be grown. When the nights are long and sleepless and just living feels like a battle for sanity, time seems to pause. I wasn’t sure she would ever be anything but little. Today she sat down beside me, shoulder to shoulder, her legs stretching out beyond mine. My little girl, undeniably a woman-child. For a moment I could almost feel the rush of time, like wind in my...
Read MoreWhat I Need
I am needy. There. I said it. This is a label that has followed me most of my life. It has haunted the edges of every relationship I’ve known since someone first told me this in my early teen years. It’s the reason I have sometimes held back in my friendships, afraid of becoming too much to handle. And this week I got called on this fear. Three times. By three different heart sisters. Sometimes God has to work a little harder to get my attention. I’ve told my story in front of a lot of people over the years, stood behind a microphone sharing intimate and painful details of my life with complete strangers. But when it comes to being soul bare with people I really love, that’s when I get scared. Caregiving, listening, praying for others – these are comfortable...
Read MoreIn the Quiet
I love flowers. I love the way they smell, the way they bloom – the silent unfurling of fragrance and color. Some of the best things in life happen slowly, quietly, with little fanfare. Like the way I fell in love with my husband over months of phone calls, long drives, and twilight walks. There was a gentle revealing of deeper layers, a gradual intertwining of hearts, until one day I realized I never wanted to say goodbye. And years later, the growth of new life inside me. Little bodies being knit together in the quiet dark. Secret forming of souls and personalities, beautiful girls who will grow to be women full of purpose and passion. The other day while we were running errands, my preschooler asked from the back seat, “Mom, what did Jesus do with my sins?”...
Read MoreTaste
It happened again. This time it was the tip of the stylus we use with our tablet. Tooth marks and a chunk missing and a guilty looking preschooler. She destroyed another just last week. And bit a hole in a pretzel bag, letting salt and crumbs pour all over the back seat of the car. And shredded part of her blankie, and took the corner off a book, and left indentations in her stuffed monkey’s eye… It’s like living with a puppy. Or maybe a dinosaur. Our oldest outgrew putting things in her mouth very early on, but this one is still at it at almost three and a half. We’re starting to wonder if it will ever stop. This is a child who MUST experience everything with all of her senses. It’s not enough to touch something with her fingers; she has to chew on it to get...
Read MoreOpen Handed
Receive all God has. This is the scariest phrase I’ve ever heard. Receive ALL God has. Opening up to all God has for us is hugely risky. God has good things for us. Big things. But to receive big things, our hands have to be open, fingers uncurled. And I am a grasper. I want to cling to what I love – the people in my life, my plans, my comfort. It feels more secure to close my fist and squeeze tight so that none of it can slip away. I hold on to the things I’ve been given like my daughter clutches her security blanket. She loves that thing, but there are times I ask her to put her blankie down so I can hold her hand. And she does, because she trusts me, and because I’m a bigger comfort to her than her blankie is. She puts down something she can’t imagine life...
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