How to See Others

We all feel a little invisible from time to time. Whether we're drowning in schoolwork or diapers or meetings, sometimes the things that we love and work hard for are the very same things that cause us to feel a little erased.

We can be in a crowd of thousands and still not feel seen.

Encouragement is an act of seeing others. 

I used to be afraid to encourage others. It felt uncomfortable and awkward. I would see all of these wonderful, amazing things about other people, but would not speak it out. It felt like risking too much to speak it out; it exposed my inner world in a way that made me feel too vulnerable.

The older I get and the more I go through my own seasons of feeling invisible, the more I realize the absolute necessity of encouragement. Encouragement is a breath of fresh air, a hand lifting another up, and a salve for a hurting soul. The right word at the right time can make all the difference.

I have come to know the truth that when I see something awesome in another person, it is not mine to withhold, but a gift to give.

"Watch the way you talk. Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth. Say only what helps, each word a gift." - Ephesians 4:29

When I see something great in someone else but choose to withhold it, it only makes me feel smaller. It makes me pick myself apart more, not less.

But when I speak it, it expands my ability to love and be loved. The more I do it, the easier it becomes.

"So then, we must pursue what promotes peace and what builds up one another." - Romans 14:19

My boys are learning the art of encouragement and it can get pretty hilarious at times! So hilarious in fact, that they serve as excellent examples of encouragement that doesn't exactly encourage.

The other day Finn said to me, "Mommy, you're the prettiest girl...in our family."

I laughed at his sweetness and said, "I'm the only girl in our family!" He just shrugged his shoulders. His heart was in the right place, but the encouragement fell a little short. It was honest and well-intentioned, maybe a little too honest? It was kind, but didn't exactly help me feel special. I believe true encouragement calls out something specific in another person. It recognizes gifts and goodness that God put into a person, and for a moment it is seeing a person through God's perspective, with all of the hope and purpose and love with which He packaged them.

Now Jonas, my little sweetheart in every sense, is a natural encourager. It is a gifting I already see growing in him. Any time I give him a compliment, he shoots it right back to me. This is a daily occurrence in our home:
"Jonas, you're the best boy in the whole world!" (I say this to all my boys...sssssh!)  And without fail, Jonas smiles back, "You're best boy in the whole world too, Mommy!"

Uhhhh, thanks?! Encouragement like this rings a little insincere. It is spouted off quickly with little thought or intention. It can almost make the receiver feel like the person saying it doesn't really know her at all.

Then there's Ezra. He's a baby, so he doesn't talk yet :) . But for example's sake, he doesn't encourage others at all. Every positive thing about other people is met by him with silence. This is the very worst kind of encouragement because it is that which is not spoken. It is the kind that festers within the mind of the one who could have given a great gift. The encouragements that are not spoken block the light from entering someone's day.

What isn't spoken out, dies with you.

Fortunately, my boys have a phenomenal daddy to teach them. A few weeks ago, Matt stayed home with the boys while I had a full day of counseling groups and a women's leadership meeting. I popped in to nurse Ezra, then popped right back out. He was in charge of every meal, every diaper change, every mess clean up.

When I walked in the door that night, he's collapsed on the couch. He looks at me with tears coming to his eyes and says, "I don't know how you do it. I could never be a stay at home dad. You love us so well, and you do such an amazing job caring for our boys. Even when you think you don't handle situations well and get frustrated too easily, that's not true at all. You are very patient. I appreciate you so much."

His words were so sincere and specific, my heart melted in a puddle and tears came to my own eyes as well. You can tell encouragement is accurate and timely when it shows all over the receiver's face. All I could say in response was, "Thank you. That means so much to hear!"

I felt more seen that day than I had in a long time.

I encourage you to encourage others, as kind thoughts about them enter your mind, speak them. Let the person know that you see them.

You might just change someone's day.

"Show family affection to one another with brotherly love. Outdo one another in showing honor." - Romans 12:10

That One Time Jonas Fell

Last night, my boys had beans so I did what any mommy of bean-filled children does on a nice night: we went to the park!

At this particular park, we typically park on the street because its parking lot is on another planet.

We played, we swung, we had a mah-velous time.

As the time came to leave, my boys took off running toward the car. My competitive boys were racing because, of course. As they got closer to the car, I realized that while Finn knows well enough to stop at the car and not run into the road, Jonas may not.

The worst case scenario ran quickly through my mind and my 35 1/2 week pregnant body started trying to walk a little bit faster. Let's be honest, I hadn't moved that quickly in weeks.

Before I could trick my body into a full blown trot, a beautiful thing happened.

Jonas fell.

I caught up to him quickly, picked him up, and wiped his tears. As I did these things, I thanked God that my son had fallen.

Because even though he had gotten a little hurt, it could have been so much worse.

He fell in the soft grass when he could have fallen on the harsh and unforgiving pavement of the street. I hate even going there in my mind, but he could have been hit by a car.

He suffered a minor wound and was spared a potentially mortal one. That fall, however unpleasant, was a blessing.

Naturally, it made me think about how God allows negative things into our lives. Because He is all good and all loving, it is vital to see our own falls in the grass as pockets of grace that save us from far worse fates.

These past few months have not been the easiest our family has ever seen. There have been stressors of many kinds: financial, physical, emotional, spiritual. It has been easy to become discouraged and beaten down.

Then I remind myself of Who God is: in His very nature He makes no mistakes and everything that comes from Him is overflowing with love,  and I cannot despise these difficult days.

Last night's fall o'Jonas reminded me that God will often allow soft trips in the grass, if it helps us to avoid death in the street.

He will allow a heartache if it will prevent a mistake that can't be taken back. He will allow a disappointment if it will prevent a lifelong regret. He will allow a failure if it will prevent us from falling away from Him.

When I look at myself and my circumstances, I see some hard stuff. When I look at Him and His goodness, I see only situations that will arise to bring Him glory.

On Rejection

For years and years and years, as long as I can remember really, I have had this insecurity complex where I brace to be rejected. I had this feeling that unless someone explicitly shows they like me, they probably don't.

If someone didn't specifically tell me I was doing a good job, I assumed I wasn't meeting their expectations or was letting them down.

Even further, if someone actually rejected me, even jokingly, I took it hard.

I cowered in the face of rejection.

Please like me. Please, please like me.

At times this has led me to extreme perfectionism. Because you can't get hurt if you do it best, right?At times it has led me to extreme apathy. Because you can't fail if you don't even try, right?

I don't know if I even really realized this about myself until the last year or so. I just thought I was super sensitive. I was going through some really personal battles, and by praying and studying and listening, I discovered a deep root of rejection in my life.

As has been typical since I became a mother, I have recently become privy to how rejection affects me in my most important role of being a mother. We bring our baggage everywhere, especially into parenthood.

My relationships with my two sweet boys are pretty different. From the time Finn was born, I absolutely loved him. I couldn't wait until the moments when he got older and would cry when I left. I stated on numerous occasions that I wanted to be his #1 person; I was his mommy after all. But Finn didn't show his love for me in the way for which I was longing. He was typically happy to leave my side, especially if he was staying with one of his grandmas. He lit up whenever Matt walked into the room, but not usually when I would. He was used to me. I think he maybe cried once when I dropped him off at nursery, but otherwise he was like, "See ya, mommy! I'ma gonna play!"

Because he didn't show his love for me in the way that I was expecting/hoping, the slightest feeling of rejection from him rocked me. I didn't feel loved, and what kind of mother isn't loved by her own child??? When he would openly prefer someone else, I would feel humiliated. The first time he said he didn't like me upon being disciplined, I shattered. When I would go to pick him up and he would cry to stay where he was, I would bite my lip and try to wait until I got to the car to cry. I felt unloved and unwanted, by my child. Children are supposed to fill our love holes....right?

It's tough acknowledging my frailty in these memories. It's tough to document.

On the other hand, Jonas has always preferred me. Even as a newborn, he clearly wanted me more than anyone else. He lights up when he sees me and looks for me before anyone else. He bawls when I drop him off at the nursery. He always, always comes to me when he gets hurt and needs comfort. He loves me the way I always expected my child would.

But.

A few weeks ago, Matt's mom watched the boys while Matt and I helped with the women's conference at our church. It wasn't until last week, however, that I saw a note hanging on the fridge:

My heart lit up. "He thinks that about me?! Wow!" I had no clue that Finn felt that way about me. It touched my heart more than I can really express. It may seem small, but that kind of indicates how much I needed to hear something positive. I feel like a failure much of the time.

When I mother from a place of rejection, or trying not to feel rejected, it doesn't inspire affection in my children. My kids are going to show they love me by their own unique personalities. Jonas is social and effusive - ask anyone. Finn is shy at first and then blossoms.

It is impossible to compare the two - each so different, each so special.

I truly believe that both of my boys love me and look to me as their safe place, they just show it in different ways. It's taken awhile to get there, but get there I did. I am learning to operate from a place of believing that I am loved.

When I mother from a place of knowing, truly knowing, that I am loved, it frees me up. I don't need to try to earn their love, because it's all mine already. I don't need to prove myself worthy as a mother; God has made me a mother, therefore I am anointed to be a mother. I am still learning confidence in mothering, but I can say this - the more confident I am, the more confident, secure, and stable my boys are. I've seen it.

Entering our relationships from a place of insecurity always leads us down a road where nothing will ever be good enough. No affirmative word will last long enough. No quality time will be perfect enough. No gift will be thoughtful enough.

I remember when Matt and I were dating and I felt insecure in our relationship, afraid of being rejected. I couldn't wait to have a ring on my finger to prove to others (and myself) that this wonderful man really did want me. But then as soon as we were engaged, I started counting down the days until we were married. Because you see, if it was legal, then there was no getting out it for him!!

It was three months into our marriage when I started getting hit hard with insomnia and anxiety. Looking back, I know that a big part of the anxiety for me was - once again - fearing that he wouldn't want me anymore if I fell apart on him. Well, fall apart I did. And yet - he still wanted me. He still pursued my broken heart. He was steady in all of my unsteadiness.

That year taught me that Matt can see me at my lowest.....and still love me. Because of that year, I know that Matt will stick with me through it all. My insecurity in our relationship slowly dissipated. I was no longer waiting to be rejected.

When I relate to others from a place of brokenness, it only begets more brokenness. It breeds insecurity and jealousy and striving for my selfish ambitions. I constantly try to protect myself.

WONDROUS NEWS!!!! I can relate to them from the place of fullness that Christ offers me -  I do not need them to fill me because, honey, I'm full. Let me pour out. I can know that I'm not enough on my own but I'm enough in Jesus. Let me be available when you need me, I can be there.

This is when I have the joy to do the tough task set before me. I have peace that I am doing a good job and don't need nearly as much outward approval.


1 John 3:18-22 :"My dear children, let's not just talk about love; let's practice real love. This is the only way we'll know we're living truly, living in God's reality. It's also the way to shut down debilitating self-criticism, even when there is something to it. For God is greater than our worried hearts and knows more about us than we do ourselves. And friends, once that's taken care of and we're no longer accusing or condemning ourselves, we're bold and free before God!! We're able to stretch our hands out and receive what we asked for because we're doing what he said, doing what please him." MSG

Safety in Darkness

Jonas' new favorite thing to do is to climb up onto his big brother's toddler bed. Maybe it is because it has a cool red blanket strewn on top of it in order to create a fort-like atmosphere. Maybe it is because Finn's bed is more fun to bounce upon. Maybe it is because he has been told over and over again NOT to do it. Judging from his mischievous smile when he gets caught, I think it may be the latter.

Last night, I followed him into the room and shadowed him as he climbed up on the bed for like, the 15th time that day. Since I am battling a nasty sore throat and fever, I just did not have the energy to lift him off again. So I joined him. I laid down in the bed with him, and if he got too close to the edge, I mustered the power to steady him.

It wasn't too long before Finn joined us. To a three year old, a situation like this screams, "PARTY IN MY BED!!!!!" Finn laughingly turned on the noise machine and turned off the light, delighting in the fact that we were having a 'sleeping party'.

Unsurprisingly, Jonas was not a fan of this new twist. The lights had been shut off for him and the fun had stopped. I could feel him in the dark grappling to find his balance because he could know longer see where he was. I felt him, ever so slowly, sidle over to me. He touched my face and my arms to make sure it was me, and then he clung to me. I spoke to him as he searched and told him he was okay.

I enjoyed every second of the snuggles, however brief they were. Because 5 seconds later, Finn bounded to the light switch again and turned the lights back on. Just like that, Jonas started scooting further away from me again. He felt safe with the light back on and so he went back to doing whatever he wanted.

Until once again, Finn hysterically shuts the light off and we are basked in darkness. Then the searching and grasping for my arm and face resumed.

This hilarity ensued for a good five minutes before mommy regained the strength to put an end to the madness.

In the light, Jonas giggled and played and made daring attempts to fly past me off of the bed. In the darkness, Jonas cuddled and clung closely to whatever part of me he could find.

And I'm laying there thinking, isn't that what we too often do with God?

When the light is on and we can see where we're going, when things are rosy and sunshiny and going our way, we edge away from Him by pursuing our own desires or whatever is making us happy and fulfilling our needs in that moment.

But when the lights go out on us, what then? We suddenly feel alone and afraid. We struggle through the darkness to find any piece of Him that we can. When we find Him, we hold on tight to His love, and strength, and peace. We know we are safe with Him in the dark.

But oh….to know that it is safe with Him in the light as well. To know that the best place to be on the brightest days of our lives is STILL right by His side, clinging to His hand.

When we remain by His side, we do not need to be afraid that the light around us might suddenly go dark.
When we remain by His side, we don't waste time trying to struggle in the darkness by ourselves.
When we remain by His side, we get to experience the brightest highs and the darkest lows with the One who loves us stronger and knows us better than we could ever imagine.

There's no safer place than that.

"For anyone out there who doesn't know where you're going, anyone groping in the dark, Here's what: Trust in God. Lean on your God." Isaiah 50:10 (MSG)

"'Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine! When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, nor will the flame burn you. For I am the Lord your God, The Holy One of Israel, your Savior; I have given Egypt as your ransom, Cush and Seba in your place. Since you are precious in my sight, Since you are honored and I love you, I will give other men in your place and other peoples in exchange for your life. Do not fear, for I am with you." Isaiah 43:1-5 (NASB)


"There are many out there taking other paths, choosing other goals, and trying to get you to go along with them. I've warned you of them many times; sadly, I'm having to do it again. All they want is easy street. They hate Christ's Cross. But easy street is a dead-end street. Those who live there make their bellies their gods; belches are their praise; all they can think of is their appetites. But there's far more to life for us. We're citizens of high heaven!" Philippians 3: 18-20 (MSG)

Jonas' Birth Story

When Finn turned 1, I wrote down his birth story as a way of commemorating. I thought it would be fun to do the same for Jonas Rips. Two very different stories, two very different boys!

Even my pregnancy with Jonas was very different. Finn's was tough, a struggle through the entire third trimester.

Jonas was easy to have in my belly. It may have helped that I was finishing my graduate degree and completing my internship, so my mind was often focused on other things and I wasn't allowed to dwell on the fact that I was pregnant.

By the time I sat through a 3 hour graduation ceremony praying that I wouldn't need to pee, I only had a handful of weeks left to be pregnant.

The last couple weeks of pregnancy, my sister and her boys were in town. We spent those days keeping busy with them. Finn enjoys running around with his cousins more than just about anything, so we pooled it and parked it to our hearts content.

Jonas' birthdate was projected to be June 24th. About June 17th, I started having some irregular contractions and knew the time was getting close. Since Finn's delivery had been such an expected surprise (emergency c-section), I was very hopeful to have a successful VBAC: counting contractions, labor, pushing, the whole shebang.

On the evening of June 20th, my sister and I planned to have a sister date night. We rented a cheesy movie, and carefully picked out our favorite junk foods to enjoy along with the movie. As we were walking around Lewis Drug shopping for these things, I kept having random pains in my lower gut. They weren't truly consistent yet, though.

We went back to my house, ate, and vegged to our cheesy chick flick. As the movie was on, I remember starting to time those random pains because they suddenly weren't feeling so random anymore. Some were about 7 minutes apart, some 11 minutes, some even 20 minutes apart. My hope was starting to kick in that THIS. WAS. IT!

When my sister left that evening, I rolled into bed with Matt and hoped that the anticipation would allow me some sleep. It did…kinda sorta…but not really.

I fell asleep on and off for about 4 hours, waking periodically to the tightening in my stomach. I began keeping mental track of how often the contractions were occurring. Just before 4 a.m., I moved out to the couch so I could more officially count how far apart my contractions were and how long they lasted.

At that point, my contractions were consistently 10ish minutes apart and lasting about a minute each. I knew that things were kicking into gear!! When Matt woke up about 7:30, I told him, "I think this is the day!"

He was much calmer this second time around, maybe because he knew we had time as we watched my contractions. Finn played and Matt packed a hospital bag, and I laid on the couch and continued to count my strengthening contractions. I called my OB/GYN to let her know labor was beginning and she asked me how far apart my contractions were.

When I told her they were about 5 minutes apart, she basically told me to get my big ole prego booty to the hospital. At this point, I was having to brace myself through some of the contractions and wasn't always able to keep moving during them. At this point, I still thought the whole "counting contractions" adventure was…….fun!

What was NOT fun was riding in a car while contracting. Before heading to the hospital, we had to drive across town to take Finn to my mom's house. By the time we made it to the hospital, I was getting a little nervous. We had been to the hospital a couple days earlier for a false alarm. The one thing I knew was that I did not want to get sent home again. I prayed and prayed that after these hours of contracting, that I would be dilated.

And I was!! To a 3!!

At this point, I was still relishing the excitement of it all. I loved being able to count my contractions and enjoy the anticipation. Although I had been up most of the night, I was not tired. I felt invigorated. Because Finn's emergency birth had been such a quick surprise in every way, the gradual building of this birth was beautiful and I was enjoying every moment.

We got checked into our room and settled in a bit. My mom arrived, and took her place beside me as resident hand squishier; her hand took a serious beating that day. For another hour or two, I labored the old-fashioned way. Contraction: pain. Break: rest.

This was when my exhaustion started creeping in. That, coupled with the fact that I hadn't eaten anything since dinner the night before (about 18 hours previously), meant that my body and my mind were tired. Just when I was reaching the point where I was about to scream through my next contraction, a lovely man entered the room. A lovely, lovely man named an anesthesiologist came into the room carrying a pretty, pretty needle.

It took about 5 minutes for my epidural drip to kick in, but even then it was only working on about half of my body. The other half still….well….hurt. After a few physical adjustments, the pretty, pretty needle's job was officially done.

I was able to get the rest and physical replenishment I needed. For the next couple of hours, I laid and watched "Wreck It Ralph" with my husband and my mom. I may have gotten a couple of brief naps.

Finally, at about 6:15, the nurse came in and said that I could begin pushing. I had briefly met the on-call OB, but from my understanding she wouldn't be present again until the big shebang. So like a good girl, I pushed when they told me to push and laid back to rest when I could. Because of the epidural's constant drip, it wasn't painful and I couldn't feel the contractions. As the time got closer, however, I could feel the baby moving downward inside of me. It was crazy awesome.

This is the part of the story that goes off the rails a little bit. According to the nurse, Jonas was beginning to crown. She still had me pushing. Little did she know, the OB was not currently available as she was assisting with two other births at the exact same time. But I pushed because she told me to push.

However, then Jonas obliged and he began to emerge. The nurse freaked out a bit and tried to hold him in with her hand. Seriously. She blocked a baby from being born. What?!?! After a few weird moments, she realized there was no option to wait for the OB and she delivered my sweet Jonas Rips. He was beautiful and perfect and so so amazing. He was mine and he was here!!!

THIS is the part of the story where the details get a little gory. This is your fair warning.

Yes, my baby boy was here and he was healthy. I still had my epidural drip in so I was not feeling anything yet. However, I was still in stirrup city. Several nurses shuffled in and out and each one took a concerned look at…..that area. When the midwife came in to check me over, I think she sat and stared at…that area….for a few minutes with a concerned look on her face. Finally someone communicated to me that I had torn fairly badly. Jonas had apparently had his arm up over his eyes during birth and it created one big ouchie. Well, at least I couldn't feel it, right?!

After a brief examination and more concerned looks, the midwife informed me that she didn't feel qualified to stitch a tear of that magnitude. Because of that, I had to wait for the OB. The OB that hadn't delivered my baby and who I still hadn't even seen since our first meeting. Since the nurse thought that the doctor would be coming in shortly, she turned off my epidural drip.

From that moment forward, I moved my feet at least once a minute, trying to see if I was gaining any more feeling back on my bottom half. I was petrified that I would regain feeling in my lower half before the doctor came to stitch me back up.

I waited and waited….moving my feet…still in stirrup city. I was still exposed to anyone who walked in the room. I was shaking due to the physical shock and loss of blood. After about half an hour, my mom got MAD. She started muttering that she had never seen anything like this and asked for a blanket for me at least. After being briefly denied, they finally covered me up a bit. I laid there with my anxiety building that the epidural would wear off.

About 1 hour and ten minutes after Jonas was born, the OB finally made her way to my room, frantic and stressed. It took her about 45 minutes to stitch me up and while she stitched, she actually opened up to me about her rough night and how stressed she had been. I had compassion on her for sure…she couldn't help that 3 women had gone into labor at the same time. I was just tired and so desperately wanted her to be done so that I could snuggle with my baby and welcome family in to meet him.

She finished and scooted off to her next duty. Lastly, the nurse on duty told me that I needed to use the bathroom before they could move me to my maternity room. I shuffled along beside her and sat on the toilet. Suddenly, I began feeling very light-headed. Having fainted before, I knew the symptoms and told her that I thought I was going to faint. She had me hang my head upside down.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up blurry-eyed back in my bed. I had fainted, due to the blood loss and lack of food in my system.

Could I seriously just hold my baby now, please?

Finally finally finally, I got to just hold my sweet boy and welcome other family members in. My stepdad brought me McDonald's and it was maybe one of the best meals of my life.

Finn met his baby brother and was so very sweet to him. That was a moment that I will never forget. Suddenly, Finny Matt seemed SO BIG, as though he had grown immensely in the few hours since we had last seen him.

There were still some bumps in the road during the remainder of our stay at Sanford. Although I did have one excellent  nurse that made me feel taken care of for the first time. I suddenly had a new realization for the vital importance of a nurse's job. I knew what having a poor nurse felt like, and I knew what having a fabulous nurse felt like. Nurses - please know: your job is so, so important and valuable!

Full recovery from labor took a good month. It was probably 3 months before I didn't feel any pain. But I had such a wonderful support system that stepped in just when they were needed and stepped back out the moment they knew I was ready.

Yes, I have two boys with two very different birth stories. Both stories involve some dramatic moments and lengthy recovery, but each time I received an amazingly precious gift to hold in my arms.

Sign me up for #3! Are you ready, Matthew?!

A Daddy's Day Post

Growing up, I was never super gung ho about Father's Day.

I mean, it was fine.

I would get a card and make sure I told my dad that I loved him. I think I bought a gift a time or two.

My dad just never seemed very into celebrations…which takes some of the fun out of celebrating.

I loved my dad, but there wasn't always a desire to celebrate him.

My mom, on the other hand, was the queen of celebrations. Because of this, as well as her stellar care of us that went above and beyond what was required, us kids would often get my mom a card on Father's Day as well.

I say all of this to explain why it is a big deal that I am really looking forward to CELEBRATING Father's Day tomorrow.

Matt is a father worth celebrating.

He is a father who rocks Finn nearly every night before bed, all while singing the exact same 3 songs (in the exact same order) that Finn insists upon.

He is a father who gets Finn to brush his teeth by laughing, which gets Finn to brush even longer and harder, if only to make daddy laugh some more.

He is a father who has cleaned and scrubbed pukey sheets and held feverish boys.

He is a father who will stop while mowing the lawn just to catch a frog so that Finn can play with it.

He is a father who goes out of his way to stop and get "superhero" juice.

He is a father who drops what he is doing to help walk us out to the car after church so that we know that he is there for us even when others are wanting his attention.

He is a father who will sit on the floor and foster imagination by telling elaborate superhero stories.

He is a father who lets Finn sit on his lap nearly every morning as he drinks his coffee and gives him the coveted egg from his breakfast sandwich.

He is a father who doesn't shy away from a poopy diaper.

He is a father who cares enough to discipline his sons and teach them right from wrong. He leads by example, yet corrects when needed.

Maybe most importantly, he is a father who loves his boys' mother. They will know how to be amazing husbands someday by watching and learning how their daddy does it. He values and prioritizes us, and lets us all know that we are special to him.

Fathers like these are rare, a true gift. I am so thankful that my sons have a father that they can look up to and trust his leading.

These things are not to be taken lightly, no matter how menial they may seem.

By watching their daddy, Finn and Jonas will know how to love others well, how to be men of integrity, and how to live a life that glorifies God most of all.

In many ways, I feel like God is restoring the lost relationship that I had with my father by giving me a front row seat to watch Matt father our boys.

God doesn't skimp on blessings, after all.

Letting Go

My oldest son, even with his abundance of energy and independence, has always been a snuggler. The other day as we cuddled after he woke up from his nap, I asked him,

"Finn, will you promise to cuddle with me forever?"

With all seriousness, he looked at me and perked up immediately and responded,
"I have to fight lions and monsters first!"

But of course! So…

I let him go.

He exploded off the couch and brandished his styrofoam sword and ran off to conquer those pesky lions and monsters.

He is an adventurer at heart.

He is feisty and sweet and shy and social and loathes loud noises. He is one hundred other, unique things; and he is an adventurer at heart.

Because of that, I know that I will spend the rest of my life letting him go.

Letting him go to preschool, and then school.
Letting him go hang out with friends, and drive, and date.
Letting him go to move out and move on and head to college and career.

And every time I let him go, a little piece of me will go with him.

There is so much inside of me that wants to cling him to me and keep him close always. I dread the days when he will leave me with an actual aching in my heart.

But the older that my boys get, and the more independence that they exert, the more I realize that when I love them the way that I need to - with kisses and cuddles and spoken words - it doesn't always resonate with them.

When I cuddle and coo, it is mostly just an expression of what I am feeling in that moment. When I say, "I love you" to my boys 639 times a day, it is because I truly feel it at those moments. Those kinds of things meet my need to express my love to them.

However, to truly speak the language of looooove, it must be communicated in a way that the receiver knows it and feels it.

When I sit on the floor and play Little People? When I let Finn use his superpowers to turn me into a princess and the kitchen table becomes my castle? When I pick Jonas up from his crying in the middle of the night to comfort him when all I want to do is pull the pillow over my head and sleep?

That's love in their language.

My own mom has become an expert at this as my siblings and I have gotten older. She actively seeks out our worlds and when she spends time with us, she wants it to be doing something that makes us feel attended to. That's why she sits and watches tv shows with Missy and shows care for her animals. It's why she goes shopping and sips coffee during conversation with Kiki. It's why she engages in football games that she watches with Josh, asking questions so he can explain it to her. It's why she speaks with me about music and psychology and allows me to pick her brain about everything.

Parenthood is a continual letting go. But there is an upside of letting go, and that is when you grasp the opportunities to step inside your children's worlds and be active participants in them. I guarantee you that they will never feel more loved or invested in than when they feel that you care about the things that interest them.

It's speaking their language.

Rescue

Confession:

Sometimes I let Jonas cry because I think he has THE cutest baby crying face. Ever.

Now I never let him wail or scream when something is really wrong. I'm not a monster :) .

But sometimes, when he is just starting to want something, I let it linger. So he puffs out his lower lip. Then he timidly starts to whimper a bit. Then his face starts changing and his cries get louder.

Sometimes I just like to watch him. Sometimes I let him cry a bit.

Sometimes, I even take photos so that I can document his exceptional sad face for posterity:

Just getting started

I said "NOW!"

Not so happy

Oh squisher

I could really eat him up

Finn mastering the sad face

The calm after the storm

It's not because I don't love him. On the contrary, I love him SO much that even his sad faces are nothing but adorable to me.

And it's not because I can't rescue him. I can.....but I know that he will be okay in his sadness for a bit before I pick him up and comfort him.

It's also not because I don't want to help him. At these times that I am delaying his rescue just a bit, I still long to pick him up and give him what he is seeking: food or rest or a clean diaper.

I do not always save him from his baby hardships when he wants to be saved. I see a bigger picture than he does and I know that he will be okay.

So it is with God and us.

Now, God's reasons for not rescuing us on our timetables are much more mighty and intimate than any reason of mine for not picking up my son the moment he begins to fuss.

But it is the same idea. Because God sees a bigger picture, He knows that we will be okay in our fuss while we await his rescue from any current situation.

He doesn't not rescue us because He doesn't love us, or because He can't rescue us, or because He doesn't want to.

On the contrary, He DOES love us and He CAN rescue us and He does WANT to.

He simply sees a bigger picture and knows that we can wait until the right time, when He can receive the most glory for His good pleasure.

"Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him." - Isaiah 30:18

I think though, that there is another reason that I love my son's sad face - besides its utter adorability.

My son's sad face serves as a reminder that he desperately needs me.

Likewise, our grievances, fusses, and pains are a reminder that we desperately need God.

He alone can pick us up and provide the comfort and rescue that fulfills. Though we may have to wait for it and it might not come at the exact moment we want it to...........it will come.

On His time, not ours. In His way, not ours.

So in those moments when we feel all alone in our sadnesses, we can still trust in His rescue. In every cry of loss or pain, we can take heart and know that those are only a reminder that we still need Him and His rescue is imminent.

He is with us, He hears us, He loves us, He will rescue us.

Mostly Stay-at-Home Mommy

Welp, tomorrow I officially become a working mommy!

I begin my first post-masters job, my first job where I hold the title of "Counselor".

Excitement ensues!

I am so very thankful that God blessed me with a job where I can work 5-10 hours a week as a counselor, yet still be mostly a stay-at-home mommy to our two amazing boys.

Which is crazy, because I never ever saw myself as the stay-at-home mommy type.

When I was in my lower twenties and would think about having kids, I would find myself thinking that  having kids would be much more suitable for me if I could bypass the baby, toddler, and preschool stages. School age kids were my forte, my niche. I wanted the freedom to send them to school and out to play with their friends. I did not want the responsibility of a little person shadow.

I wanted to work. I wanted to send my kids to daycare and school. I wanted my independence.

Even when I was a little girl, I only kind of sort of enjoyed playing with dolls. I much preferred playing with Barbies because I could pick out super cute outfits, style their hair, and take them to lavish parties. Or if no Barbie threw a party that weekend, the mall.

My Cabbage Patch dolls, meanwhile, hung around - mostly neglected - in the corner of my room.

I was not exactly a nurturer.

But then I got pregnant. And the thought of going back to work full time sort of made me want to vomit.

So Matt and I talked about it. He wanted me to stay home. I wanted to stay home. We cut way back on the way we lived to make it work.

God has provided every single step of the way. Now that we have two boys at home, God provides in even more amazing ways.

He is faithful.

I am so grateful that being a mostly stay-at-home mom is even an option for us. I realize that there are many mommies who do not have the choice but who have the decision made for them by a myriad of circumstances.

I know that while I am working, I will miss my two scrunchy ones at home. I will wonder what they are playing with, what they are laughing at, and why they might be crying.

But I also know that I will be doing good work. I will be giving support to other kids who really need it. I will be spilling forth from the overflow of love in my life.

As a pre-freaky Miley Cyrus once sang, it will be "the best of both worlds"!!

I will get a taste of being that working mommy that I always assumed I would be.

A taste is enough.

As much as I enjoy leaving the house without a diaper bag and car seat in tow, I really really love driving home to my adorable ones. And walking through the door at home?

Whew. Nothing like it.