When Life Barks at You

Ezra fell down the stairs yesterday.

I heard him crying as I was changing out of my church clothes and in a moment of panic, wondered if I had forgotten to shut the door to the basement after laying Jonas down for a nap.

Coming around the corner into the kitchen and realizing that the door was indeed open was one of the scariest moments of my life.

I ran. I ran so fast that I don't remember how I reached him. I only remember the way I felt. I picked him up and held him close and checked him all over.

I was shaking and crying and terrified.

He was fine. Truly, I'm not sure how, but he was and is completely fine.

I, on the other hand, remained a mess. I ripped myself apart with thoughts of my incompetency as a mother. I felt like the worst mom in the world, negligent and forgetful and guilty.

The only counselor I ever saw pinpointed me from the very beginning: "You are way too hard on yourself, Gretchen." This was one of those moments. I curled into myself and fixated on my failure.

I felt sick all afternoon. The "what-if's" and "what-could-have-been's" terrorized me. I allowed them to. Logically, I knew that Ezra was okay. I knew that he was safe and healthy and perfectly perfect. Yet I was allowing my thoughts to reek complete havoc on my peace.

Then there came a moment of decision for me. I was watching a video of our worship experience yesterday morning at church. The worship that day was powerful, anointed, and broke some chains off of me. As I re-experienced that moment via video, one of the lyrics jumped out at me: "You rescued me so I could stand and sing, I am a child of God".

Rescue. I knew that God had rescued my boy, again. I knew that with my whole being. I just didn't know why. Then, in that moment, it hit me. God is rescuing Ezra for Himself and some greater purpose that I cannot yet fathom. Something in me just knows it. I don't need to fear losing a boy that God seems intent to rescue.

Even in my failure, I cannot break what God intends to keep whole.

I knew then that I had a choice to make. I could keep ruminating on what could have happened, or what could happen the next time I forget to do something important. I could tie myself up in knots with question after question, the worst case scenarios building a grim future for my life.

Or I could choose to see God's mercy in the situation. I could see His saving hand and pour out my gratitude to Him. I could laugh in wonder at the amazing protection that God has ordered for my precocious Ezra. That was a moment of distinction for me:

Choosing to see God's protection in my failure.
Choosing to see God's protection, and not my failure.
Choosing to see God's protection.

And then thanking Him with all I have.

A couple of nights ago, we were visiting my aunt and uncle who live on a beautiful piece of land in Canton. They have an adorable golden retriever named Jack, who is still quite puppy-like in his behavior. Jack is sweet and energetic and BIG. My boys love dogs, but they are not used to dogs that big. So when Jack bounced around with them, barking, they got scared. They ran. Jack, who thought they were playing, ran after them. This caused terrified screams and cries from their cute little faces.

There was one time in particular that Finn was running from Jack, screaming. Matt called out to him, "Finn! Finn! Just run to me!" Matt knew that if Finn would run to him, then he would be able to protect him. He would handle the dog and keep Finn safe. When Finn kept running farther and faster away, it was difficult for Matt to do anything. He needed Finn close to protect him.

However, Finn couldn't hear his daddy calling. The dog was too close and the barking was too loud. Those teeth were too big and the situation was too scary. So he cried and screamed, powerless to do much else.

This was such a vivid example to me of how God responds to us in the barking chaos of our lives. When circumstances are overwhelming, He calls out to us to come close, to draw near. He wants to enclose us in the shadow of His wing so that He can better protect us. Yet sometimes the noise and the size of our circumstances just drowns out the voice of our Father and Protector. In our fear, we end up running further away from Him Who alone can help us.

Ezra falling down the stairs was life barking at me. Barking at me about my greatest fears and my most intimate failures.

When I drew close through prayer, it was then that God could speak the words that would restore my peace and dismantle my anxiety. I could have spent many days tied up in knots and broken over what almost happened. I know myself enough to know that I could have spiraled into a hole of fear and guilt.

God is speaking. He is always speaking. I choose to stay close to Him so I can hear Him above everything else and so that He can handle the noisy dogs of life for me. Dogs chase and bark, but God draws and whispers. Dogs will demand our attention but God will invite it.

It takes desire and true intention to focus on God over the chaos of our circumstances. But when we do, we will find a Father willing and capable to protect.

Faith is a Shield - Armor of God

I was not prepared for how the week of faith would test me. This is otherwise known as the week of Ezra and the nickel.

God is faithful. I know that and I think that most of the time I live it. Yet there are those times I live defeated and broken. There are times that I do not live as though I know God is faithful. Mercifully, that does not affect His faithfulness. It simply affects my victory stance.

Hebrews 11:1 lays out faith for us as so: "Now faith is the reality of what is hoped for, the proof of what is not seen".

Those words - reality and proof - speak of certainty. Faith is certainty in God. It is confidence in God's promises despite circumstances or consequences. It persists in trusting God.

"Faith is acting like it is so, even when it is not so, so that it might be so, simply because God said so."  - Shirer

A simplified way of looking at it is faith = trust. Faith and trust both begin in the heart, but they are both proven in action. They are shown in obedience.

"Faith is acting like God is telling the truth...it is the process of adapting your behavior, your decisions, and ultimately, your whole lifestyle so that it accords with what God has asked you to do - without needing to see the evidence that it will all work out in the end...The act of faith is what becomes a shield of protection to guard against the enemy's attacks" - P. Shirer.

It was 3 days before I taught on faith that my sweet monkey boy Ezra decided a nickel looked tasty to eat. With a nickel lodged in his throat, we drove him the ER and waited for 4 hours. I held him through the night as they admitted us, as that was the only time he would really rest. I waited the next morning as doctors changed shifts and no one could fit the surgery into his schedule. I clung to him with tears trickling down my face, out of fear and sheer exhaustion, and listened to the surgeon explain the risks. I handed him over to the nurse so they could anesthetize him.

In that awful, scary moment, I felt God speak to me about faith.

I could have walked around the entire hospital or called everyone in my phone and told them how fantastic the doctors were. I could have gotten on the speaker system and lauded their abilities. I could have talked myself hoarse about my belief in their knowledge and education.

But if in that moment, I chose not to hand my son over to them, I never really believed in them at all. My faith in the doctor and nurses was proven when I gave them my son.

I knew that I needed to hand Ezra over to them because their abilities to help him far exceeded anything that I could do.

They said the nickel had to come out, so I believed them.
They said they had to put him under to get it, so I let them.
They said I couldn't go with him, so I had to let him go.

So it is with God. If we never hand our mess over to Him to deal with and allow Him to work out what needs to be worked out in our lives, do we really trust Him? Do we really believe Him? Do we really have the faith in Him that we profess?

Paul chose to describe faith as a shield. Shields are meant to protect us and act as a covering for us. That begs the question, what is faith meant to protect us from?

Paul says faith protects us from flaming arrows.

"In addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one" - Ephesians 6:16

You might be thinking, "Phew. It's been awhile since I've seen a flaming arrow."

It was revelatory to me when Priscilla Shirer pointed out that in Roman times, flaming arrows were not necessarily meant to take out an enemy. When someone was shooting a flaming arrow, it was meant to be a distraction from the real battle at hand. The intent was to get the other side so busy putting out those fires that they were disabled from fighting and vulnerable to attack.

Your enemy wants to distract you from the real battle. He wants to take your attention away from his strategy of war and he's relentless in the ways he will use to do it.

So, what's distracting you?

Arrows of condemnation? "You're always going to struggle with that sin and shame"
Jealousy? "You'll never be as pretty or talented as she is"
Insecurity? "Nobody wants you and you have nothing to offer"
Worry? "You're going to be sucked under that mess"
Sadness? "There's something wrong with you"
Doubt? "God doesn't love you, He just puts up with you"

There's a weapon for that.

This is where faith goes to work. As Shirer says, "We need to give our faith a job". Faith extinguishes flaming arrows, we are told.

Holding up the shield of faith renders Satan powerless. Trusting God is who He says He is and will do what He promised to do protects you from every single flaming arrow that Satan wants to use to distract you.

"If you want to see insecurity quelled, doubts suppressed, fears quieted, hate overpowered, or intimidation assuaged, move forward in obedience. In faith" - Shirer

Condemnation tries to get us to look at our sin. Jealousy tries to get us to look at others. Insecurity tries to get us to look at ourselves and all we lack. Worry tries to get us to look at our circumstances.

Faith looks at God. Faith sees His power and His goodness and His overcoming love for us.

And that's what makes us able to step out in action.

"If you are struggling to move forward in obedience to God, you do not need bigger faith. You just need to realize how big your God is. The more faithful and strong you believe Him to be, the more wiling you will be to depend on Him. Your level of faith will always be tied to your perception of God...you don't need more faith; you need a more comprehensive and accurate view of the faithfulness of your God" - Shirer

Rejoice, dear friends! Our shield of faith means that there is nothing with which Satan can come at us. Faith shields, protects, covers us - every day, every situation.

Fatherhood

I was newly pregnant and very hormonal when Matt leaned over to me in the middle of a church service and said, "I hope that our baby is a little girl, because I want to be the daddy to her that you never had."

In that moment, every emotion in my body tried to punch its way out of my body at the same time. It was powerful and memorable.

We have never had that little girl we thought we would.

But on this Father's Day weekend, if there was one thing I could say to my husband, it would be:

He has been that daddy to our boys.

He is present.

I asked Finn today what is his favorite thing about his daddy. He said, "I love that he wrestles and plays and swims and flies a kite with me. And that he lets me go to church with him at rest time sometimes."

It is Matt's presence that matters to his son(s).

In all of my experiences with fathers, I realize more and more that so much of fatherhood is presentness.

And not simply being in the same room. But being present with one's presence.

I could sit in the same room with someone for 5 hours, staring at a tv, and not feel like I matter at all.
But give me 10 minutes of invested conversation, and my value goes through the roof.

I have been reading in Exodus lately. At the beginning of chapter 26, God outlines the blessings that he longs to give to His people (vv. 3-13).

In these verses, God promises immense blessings if His people obey Him.
He promises fertility in the land (vv. 4-5, 10)
He promises living in safety in the land (v. 5)
He promises removal of dangerous animals and of the sword (v. 6)
He promises victory (v.7)
He promises His favor (v. 9)

When I was reading this the other day, I caught a glimpse of God's Father heart towards us.

The essence of these verses show the role a father ideally plays for his children: provision, peace, and protection.

Lastly, and most beautifully, God promises His presence: "I will place My residence among you, and I will not reject you. I will walk among you and be your God, and you will be my people." (v 11-12).

God's ultimate promise to bless us was His Presence.

This leads me to believe that God's plan for earthly fathers is to provide their children with the same:
Provision. Peace. Protection. Presence.

Fatherhood at its fullest:
- teaches
- leads
- disciplines
- invests
- asks questions
- notices what is unsaid
- provides
- brings peace
- protects
- SHOWS UP DOG TIRED AND SELFISHLY WANTING TO REST BUT POURS FORTH THE LAST BIT OF WHAT HE HAS SO THAT HIS CHILD KNOWS THEY ARE LOVED, VALUED, AND TREASURED.

Simply being present with one's presence makes all the difference, however much of it one have to give.

Fatherhood is presentness.

A Treadmill Tale

Almost immediately once Ezra was born, I was eager to get back on the exercise horse. Baby weight does not magically fall off my body, so I was very ready to put in the work to get my body back to where I was before the pregnancy. I am always so tired of maternity clothes and cannot wait to fit back into my "normal" clothes.

About 4 weeks post-pardem, I squeezed into my exercise clothes. I strapped on my running shoes. I dusted the cobwebs off our neglected treadmill. My goal was to "just run a quick mile". I got on and set the treadmill pace at a familiar number that I used to run at before pregnancy.

Ha. Hahahahaha.

My body laughed at me. Or rather, screamed at me. I grudgingly kept pushing buttons to slow the treadmill's pace. I had barely managed half a mile. My expectations were too great and my pace too fervent. Because I had started off at too fast a pace, I was too spent to complete my mission.

I had hopes to hop back on the treadmill after a casual 9 month break and be able to do what I used to do with ease. Those expectations were unreasonable and, ultimately, unkind to myself.

I had forgotten all of the hard work that I had put in to be able to run at that previous pace. I had forgotten the hours I spent building up my ability to be able to run at the rate and distance that I could before the pregnancy nausea and fatigue set in. I had forgotten that I would probably need to start from scratch.

I tackled the treadmill again a couple of days later. That time, I set the pace at a slower rate with the goal to complete a mile no matter what. It wasn't super easy, but because I was moving at a slower pace, I was able to complete a mile.

My battle with the treadmill reminded me that if I didn't run a mile yesterday (or anytime in the last nine months), it's going to be harder to run a mile today. I can't expect to achieve a goal when I didn't invest the work needed to meet it.

I can't expect where I don't invest. 

One of the main questions I have been asked since Ezra's birth is, "How is it going with three?"

If you had asked me that 1 week, 2 weeks, 5 weeks ago, I would have smiled and said, "It's going much better than I thought!"
And that was true. That was true.

This week has brought a bit of a six-week slump.

I'm tired, I'm stressed, I'm tired of being stressed and tired. And what's more: there is no end in sight. There is no end to the list of things that need to get done. Boys need to be fed and changed and taken care of....daily. Laundry and dishes and toys need to be cleaned and put away....daily. I need to shower....daily. 

When Ezra first joined our family nearly 7 weeks ago, I felt strong right out of the gate. I was eager to prove that I could tackle being a mommy of three and do it well. And I really feel like I did. I remember the feeling as I drove to church for the first time with all three. All three were dressed and changed and happy. Even more, I was dressed and showered and happy. Life was good, man.

But this week something has changed. I feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of the to-do. And I just don't feel like I can. I just can't even.

I realized this morning that, like that first day on the treadmill, I spent these last 6 and a half weeks at a fervent pace. Eager to prove that "I got this", I spent energy that I did not have. I spent my reserve supply, and it has been showing. In my emotions, in my parenting, in my relationships, it's showing.

If there was a slow down button to push on life with three kids, I would be pushing it. Again and again. That's not really an option when it comes to being a mommy, however.

When I run, I hit my stride when I am focused on something other than the fact that I am running. I set a good pace and work on breathing correctly, and then I try to focus on something else completely. A sermon, a song, a problem. Some of my easiest runs have happened because I was trying to work out a problem or bad day in my head. If all I think about is the fact that I'm running and can't wait to be done, I will end my run much sooner than if I'm able to fix my gaze elsewhere.

Focus matters.

So what do I do when I'm overexerted and can't get off the mommy treadmill? Sticking with the running theme, my only option becomes to re-set my pace. Correct my breathing. Fix my focus.

I can slow down and take deep breaths in order to deal with the task before me. But even more importantly, I can fix my gaze onto something greater.

For me, that means fixing my eyes on God through gratitude. I become busy giving thanks and there isn't enough room for the icky stuff to creep in and settle down.

Where I can see my boys' energy as overwhelming, I choose to see it as a reminder that they are healthy and strong.
Where I can see the crumbs on the floor as a never-ending means of visual torture, I choose to see them as a reminder that we have food to feed our family.
Where I can see frustration that my body isn't whipping back into shape like I wish it would, I choose to see the miracle in my arms that it brought forth.

When I do this, I invest in my joy and peace, and can therefore expect to see increased joy and peace throughout my home.

Because I know, I can't expect there to be joy and peace when I haven't done any of the work to invest in it.

A steady pace. A fixed focus. A happy heart.

"God pays no attention to our natural individuality in the development of our spiritual life. His plan runs right through our natural life. We must see to it that we aid and assist God, and not stand against Him by saying, 'I can't do that'. God will not discipline us; we must discipline ourselves. God will not bring our 'arguments...and every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ' (2 Corinthians 10:5) - we have to do it. Don't say, 'Oh, Lord, I suffer from wandering thoughts.' Don't suffer from wandering thoughts. Stop listening to the tyranny of your individual natural life and win freedom into the spiritual life." - Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

Gratitude, the Fair, and My Nostrils

I woke up this morning grateful to be able to breathe through my nose. It's something I take for granted too often, these nostrils of mine. But they really are a gift! Like, they just work, open for my breathing pleasure, and I don't have to think twice about it. Miraculous!

The past few days, my nostrils were not working so well. They were totally and completely clogged, congesting my breathing and causing my eyes to spring forth tears like a plentiful fountain. Many times did I protest in that time, "I JUST WANT TO BREATHE!"

I woke up this morning, breathing, beautifully breathing through my nose. It was fabulous, and I actually thanked God for nostrils. I'm not usually cognizant of my gratefulness for nostrils, in fact, I almost always take them for granted. 

Being taken for granted is something most parents understand all too well. All of the little things we do on a daily basis go completely unnoticed. Shoot, many of the BIG things we do go unnoticed and thereby unappreciated. 

This past week we took our boys to the fair for the first time. We figured Finn would love the rides and Jonas would love the food. Sure enough, the first couple of rides, Finn's face was a bright beam of sunshine and he excitedly and sweetly waited for the next ride.

But then something peculiar happened. Instead of lavishing us in thanks and adoration for the fun time he was having, he began to get a little greedy. He began taking the whole experience for granted. Suddenly his sweet, eager waiting became sour, impatient whining. He became picky about which rides to go on, begging us for whatever looked like the next big thrill.

We had to say "no" to a lot in that stretch of time. Every "no" was for his good.

"No" to the sleazy pirate fun house.
"No" to the funky looking roller coaster.
"No" to the spinning craziness his daddy can't bear to ride with him.

Eventually, due to tiredness or overstimulation or what have you, our boy was a crying, screaming, demanding spectacle. Long gone was the bright-eyed boy who was eager just to get to ride any ride. The joy was gone, the thrill was gone, the gratitude was gone.

It was evident to me in that moment exactly why gratitude is so important to God.

When Jesus healed the 10 lepers and only one returned to thank him (Luke 17), he most certainly noticed, asking, "Were not ten cleansed? Where are the other nine?" The one who returned received a special blessing.

Without gratitude, we become spoiled brats: looking for the next thrill to get our adrenaline pumping, demanding the next big thing as though we deserve it, and forgetting that there is a gracious Hand behind it all.

Like the Israelites after their dramatic rescue from the Egyptians, we begin to whine and complain and focus on all that we do not have.

We take our eyes off of the God who parted the Red Sea for us and center our attention on ourselves.

When we forget to be grateful for the abundance of things He's already given us (breathing through one's nose, for example), we become instantly greedy for the next big blessing. "More, more, more!" becomes the cry of our heart, rather than the quiet beauty and strength of a soul surrendered to Him.

Choosing to be grateful puts us in proper relationship to God, humble before Him, acknowledging that every good thing is directly from His hand and out of His love for us.

It is remembering all that He has already done, the many ways He is presently showing His love for us, and all that He has promised to do.

Gratitude helps us to not take the little motorcycle ride for granted, and reminds us that if we are told we can't ride the Tilt a Whirl, it's most certainly for our own protection.

The fact that Finn acted demanding and selfish did not change my love for him in any measure. However, his behavior did require some discipline and reminded me that maybe he will need a bit more preparation before we try something that grandiose again.

There are reasons we do not have everything our hearts desire. There are reasons we go through times of waiting. There are reasons we feel lousy for being demanding and selfish.

"And have you completely forgotten this word of encouragement that addresses you as a father addresses his son? It says, 'My son, do not make light of the Lord's discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son'. Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children. For what children are not disciplined by their father? If you are not disciplined - and everyone undergoes discipline - then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all. Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of spirits and live! They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it." - Hebrews 12:5-11

When we remember to be grateful for all that has been, all that is, and all that will be, our joy in this life is tangible. We honor God, but it's really just another strategy He uses to bless us and make us more like Himself.

That's His goodness, and that's what we choose to remember.

Talking with Finn About His Uncle Matt

A couple of weeks ago, we were on our way to our 24 week doctor's appointment and we happened to drive by Woodlawn Cemetery. Finn, for the most part, knows what a cemetery is. He gets the gist.

He also knows that I have a brother who died in a car accident when I was 13.

On this particular day, the drive past the cemetery awoke a flurry of questions within my curious 4 year old. He was wondering about his Uncle Matt.

Finn: What did he look like?
Me: He was tall and skinny. He was handsome, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he loved to dress like a cowboy.
Finn: What did he like to eat?
Me: I remember him making cinnamon applesauce. And I remember that every time Mummy True or Kiki made cookies, he always tried to sneak some of the cookie dough. So he must have liked cookies!
Finn: When will I get to see him?
Me: We won't get to see him again until we get to heaven.
Finn: Will you be happy to see him then?
Me: So, so happy.
Finn: Will you run to him?
Me: You bet I will.
Finn: What would he do if you yelled at him?
Me: Uhhh, he probably would have laughed at me! He was not afraid of me. He was a protector.
Finn: Now you have a new protector.
Me: I do? Who's that?
Finn: Daddy.

Throughout this conversation, I got to talk about my brother Matt, which I don't get to do all that often. I like talking about him. I answered questions about him that I really had to think about, questions I've never been asked before. The whole thing brought about a bubbling in my heart as I spoke. I loved every moment.

While we were waiting in the doctor's office a few minutes later, Finn, who rarely talks to anyone that he doesn't know very well, struck up a conversation with a lady who was also waiting. He told her about heaven and how he was going to see his Uncle Matt there someday.

This is called hope, and this is why we walk this clumsy walk of faith. There is a hope that propels us forward, a hope that a better place awaits us, with the King who created us. A place free from pain and loss and suffering.

This hope is why we talk to our kids about God and try to instill in them a purpose outside of themselves. It's why we continue on in the face of darkness and confusion.

This hope is why we worship, why we pray, why we seek, why we love.

Honestly, it's why we can wake up each morning and keep trying.

There is more, so much more, than this world alone offers us.

When we got home that day, I found some old photos of my brother to show Finn what he looked like. It's the face of one that I can't wait to see again someday. It's the face of one that I want my boys to know, even if they don't know.

My big brother would have been 42 years old today. There is no getting back the time that we lost on this earth with him.

But there is the hope that remains.

One day: when I reach heaven, right after I throw myself at Jesus' feet, I'm searching for that face.

Guilt as a Terrible Parenting Strategy

If you had to ask me what is the single toughest task for me as a parent, it would be easy for me to pinpoint:

Reacting.

I react with my emotions all wrapped up in my children's behaviors. Whether they disappoint, shock, or please me, it is written all over my face and expressed in every word from my mouth.

I've never really considered myself an impulsive person...I love plans and schedules and order. But the impulsivity of my emotional reactions is swifter and more powerful than what I've learned to control.

Too often, I've reacted before I have even processed what happened. If I could just. slow. down. I know that wisdom is lurking around in my brain if my heart would just simmer for a single second.

I'm attending a parenting class on Wednesday nights currently (taught by my mama, nonetheless), and it stuck with me a few weeks ago when she said how important it is to not parent from our emotions. As a parent, it is crucial that we remain in control of the situation by acting, not reacting. Our children get a bit of a free pass when it comes to losing it, we do not.

A couple of weeks ago, I was driving away from a park with my sons. We left on a semi-sour note, as Finn and one of his cousins had been going at it a bit. As we drove out of the parking lot, Finn and I talked about what had happened. He didn't feel like his cousin was being very kind and was upset that I expected him to still be nice in return.

I said to him, "I understand. I understand that it is really tough to be kind to others when we feel like they aren't being kind to us."

He sighed and said, "Yeah, it is."

This was good. We were off to a great start. Let's dig deeper!

I said, "Maybe next time before we hang out with your cousins, we can pray and ask God to help us be kind at all times."

I felt a puff of accomplishment in my spirit. I was utilizing what I was using in the parenting class and it was working!! Until....

Finn says, "I'm not praying. If you pray I'm closing my ears and not listening."

Well, he may as well have taken a dagger to my mommy heart. Absolutely nothing on this earth means more to me than my faith and the hope that my children will share the same faith. It triggered a big old emotional reaction in me.

"Finn Matthew, why would you say that?! That hurts my heart! I am so disappointed in you."

Suddenly what could have been a Level 3 incidence between us escalated to a Level 8. Not because of Finn; Finn is a child and a 4 year old who loves to push buttons sometimes. This one was all on me.

I allowed myself to get so worked up that by the time I got home and told Matt about it, I was actually in tears. My mommy heart felt broken and like a total failure....again.

By the time an hour or so had passed, my brain caught up with my heart and the guilt began to rise.

The next day, still baffled, I asked my sister what she would have done in that situation. She responded, "Well, I probably would have said that sometimes I don't feel like praying either..."

Oh yeah. Duh. That's simple enough. If only I had to been slow to respond (James 1:19).

My children are absolutely not going to come to a relationship with Jesus because I guilt them into it by saying I'm disappointed in them when they don't feel like praying.

No manipulation, no coercion, no willing it to happen will help my children believe that Jesus loves them and wants relationship with them. It may lead them close for a moment, but will ultimately push them away.

Finn and I let the discussion on prayer cool for a couple of weeks. The most I said to him was that prayers don't have to be long and complicated. I told him that one of my favorite prayers was simply, "Help, God."

Yesterday he surprised me.

He had gone outside to wait for some friends that were coming over to our house. When Jonas and I walked outside to join him, he says to me,

"Mommy I was talking to God."

My heart grew 3 sizes, like the Grinch.

"Oh yeah," I tried not to seem too excited, "what were you saying to God?"

"I was praying for the dead mouse (in our window well) and the dead bird (on the street)"

My sweet son was praying, from his own heart, about something that truly matters to him. 

It was a reminder to me that God can touch my son's heart without my help. I don't need to strong arm my faith into him. Sometimes, mommies need to get out of the way so that their children can cultivate their own relationship with God.

Pray. Lead by example. Love with everything I have. Talk about God's goodness and faithfulness.

And then?

Release the reins and get out of the way!

Fear and Ice Cream

If there was one thing that I could wish for my boys to absolutely not to inherit from my gene pool, it would be my tendency towards anxiety and fear.

I can say, with relative certainty, that Finn inherited my olive skin tone, my stumpy legs, my sensitivity, my timidity......and my fear.

He is a typical first-born in many ways: he likes to be in charge, he benefits greatly from a strong schedule, and he likes to know everything that is going on - at all times.

What that looks like lately is that he asks questions when a situation is new to him. Lots and lots of questions.

Where are we going?
Why are we going?
What are we doing?
Who will be there?
Will you stay with me?
What do they have there?

He is a kid that likes to be prepared. He prefers to have knowledge of what he is walking into.

My mom tells me that I was much the same way. Before she would take me somewhere, she would prep me with all of the details so that it would lessen my anxieties. For example, when we would go to the doctor she would say something along the lines of,

"We will walk in to the waiting room and will wait there for a few minutes until they call our names. When they call our names, they will lead us back to the doctor's office where they will weigh you and check your height. The doctor will use a really cool tool to hear your heartbeat. Then it will be time for a nurse to come in and give you a shot. It will hurt for a second, but the pain will be over with quickly. I will be with you the whole time, and then we can get ice cream."

I found such comfort in knowing each step. When it was laid out all in front of me like that, it felt manageable and something that I could undertake. My anxieties would lessen. 

That is the kind of inherited fear I see in Finn - an anxiousness that lessons when one feels prepared and feels like he can manage whatever he is about to face.

So yes, some fear is inherited. 

But I am learning the older my big boy gets, that some fear is also learned. 

He can latch onto fears simply by watching the way that I act and react to the world around me. 

For example, I have a big old nasty fear of spiders. They are gross, they are ugly, and they have 8 spindly legs that they use to haunt my dreams. Don't even get me started on the webs they are able to create. Sticky, stretchy, yuck. 

Finn knows well my fear of spiders. It used to be that when we would play in our basement, where the spiders feel extra homey, I would screech at the sight of one and he would hop up and kill it for me with toilet paper. "My HERO!" I would exclaim. 

But there came a day a few months ago when all of a sudden Finn didn't want to kill the spider. He, too, wanted to run from it and stare at it in disgust, wishing it would drop dead from a evil glare. He began to shake his head and cower in the corner at the suggestion that he kill it. 

From curiosity and zero fear to cowering in a corner; I can only surmise that he learned this by watching his mommy. 

 - Fear as a personality trait can be inherited. This includes a certain tendency toward timidity and a fondness for being in control. When my mom would give me that speech before we ventured out, she was helping me to trust myself that I could handle what lay ahead. I do the same thing with Finn so that I can prepare him and cut way down on the chances that he might have a meltdown when he feels overwhelmed. This is a natural proactive parenting response. 

However, God does not treat us in the same way. He does not wish for us to trust ourselves, but leaves us in the dark about so much that lies ahead so that we may trust in Him. He does not lay out a step by step plan for us to take, but guides us one foot in front of the other. He does not give speeches like my mom gave, save for one line: "I will be with you the whole time" (Deuteronomy 31:8). This alone is to be enough to quell our fears of the unknown future. We are never left alone or unloved. 

 - Fear as a behavior can be learned. Our kids learn so much from watching us, maybe too much sometimes. They learn how to treat others, how to react in certain situations, how to spend their free time, and how to work through the chaotic world of emotions. What do you do when you are angry, or sad, or overwhelmed, or fearful? That will often be the first thing your child tries when he or she feels something similar. It honestly scares the bejeebers out of me that my boys are learning so much from me, because I know how short I fall in so many areas. I wish I could send them to my sister's house for two weeks and say, "Watch her instead. That's how it should be done." Behaviors are learned. Therefore, behaviors can also be un-learned and re-taught. 

I don't want my boy to prefer cowering in a corner, so I am going to try my hardest to squash the next spider I see as quickly as possible and with the biggest wad of toilet paper I can get - even if it kills me (and it just might). 

We don't have control over what our children inherit from us, but we can do something about the behaviors that they learn from us.

I can teach my son that faith stands up to fear, be it a new situation or a nasty spider. The best way I can teach him is by showing him how.

And that even though I can't prepare him for every little thing he might face, there is One that is always with him.

Also, if he's been a good boy, there can be ice cream afterwards (because Mommy will probably be wanting it too)!

A Common Plague

I'm just going to come right out and say it: I've been fighting discouragement.

Discouragement is a common plague, a nearly daily deluge of bad news sent to make us feel that our circumstances are unconquerable, impenetrable, and fantastically beyond our ability to deal.

Lately, my source of discouragement has been parenting. This pregnancy has zapped me of so much energy, that I have to physically fight myself off the couch multiple times a day. I wipe little butts and feed faces and keep everything else fairly picked up, but when it comes to going above and beyond that, it has been a battle. At times, I can almost feel an invisible hand holding me down in my seated (or lying down) position, like a magnet planting me to the couch. This week I've just been down; I was finally getting an iota of energy back, and then I got a cold so I still feel blah and lousy. I just want to feel normal, like myself, again.

I'm tired. And nauseous - I just don't feel good. But I know I do not have it that bad really, so I mentally challenge myself to not complain.

However, in my heart, I feel down and easily discouraged. I hear thoughts prance through my brain:

"Your house is tiny, how is it that hard to keep clean?"
"How will you possibly have energy to take care of another child?"
"You are going to be tired and overwhelmed forever"

We have been talking about discouragement for the past few weeks in the young women's group I lead at our church on Wednesday nights. The unique thing to me about this topic is that, unlike many of the other issues we have discussed (fear, insecurity, shame), this one admittedly affects US ALL.

Let's be honest - it doesn't take much to get discouraged. Sometimes it only takes one small mishap or misstep. Sometimes we get discouraged when we are overwhelmed - we feel like there is no way we can possibly do everything being asked of us. Sometimes we get discouraged when we're bored - we feel like there's no greater purpose or calling for us. Sometimes discouragement comes from being disappointed by other people, and sometimes is materializes from within ourselves.

Discouragement leads us to ask ourselves, "What I'm doing is not working, so what's the point?"

A couple of weeks ago I was pondering discouragement in order to prepare for group. My mind wandered a bit to the human video drama that we had done in church a couple of days before. I thought about several of the really nice comments that I heard from people and was encouraged. But there was a part of me that was a little baffled, because when I create and do human videos, my head tends to tell me, "Gretchen, you're just putting random movements to music. What's so special about that?"

I have acknowledged for years that the movements certainly aren't special because I create them. They are special when, and only when, God works through them.

Without God, they are simple movements. With God, they are anointed and point people to Him.

And it was then that a thought hit me - discouragement occurs when we neglect to factor God into the situation.

When I look at the human videos I have created, it is easy to feel critical and doubtful that they will be any good at all. Even ones that I have done numerous times, I find myself praying for God to use it again, because if He doesn't it will look like a 3rd grader creating a dance to an Amy Grant song (which I maybe used to do).

Likewise, when I feel exhausted and blah and nauseous, it is easy to feel like I will never feel normal again. But when I intentionally look to God, I am able to remember that He has promised to give me the strength I need for each day. I remember that He has blessed this pregnancy and He will give me the grace I need to parent three children. He will meet me where I need Him, every time.

I had kind of a fun exercise looking at places where I get easily discouraged to see if this was true across the board - that discouragement happens when we neglect to factor in God. And sure enough, each of my discouragement triggers were all about my own lack:

 - As a mother, I get discouraged by feeling like I daily fail my boys. But when I factor God in, I am reminded that I am the exact mama that my boys need and though I am far from perfect, I am present and engaged and loving. What I lack in calm demeanor, I make up for with effusive love.

 - As a singer, I get discouraged by feeling like my voice is not strong or controlled enough. But when I factor God in, I am reminded that His glory is all that matters and I have nothing to prove. I am a vessel to display Him, and there's nothing I love more than displaying Him.

 - As a wife, I get discouraged by feeling relationally needy or exhaustedly removed (sometimes at the exact same time!!). But when I factor God in, I am reminded that He has given me everything I need to be a good wife and I just need to be obedient. I need to engage, support, and love my husband well, and that may look different in different seasons. God has also given me a patient husband, who responds so beautifully to me when I am honest about how I am feeling.

These are things to be thankful for and encouraged by, not burdens by which to be brought low.

The list goes on and on, truly. The things that discourage me about being a counselor, or a leader of Bible studies, or a friend.....they all completely transform when I factor in God and His wondrously true promises. If discouragement happens when I am focusing on my lack and everything I don't have to conquer the looming mountains ahead of me, then certainly focusing on the abundance of the Lord corrects my perspective.

There was a sermon I heard awhile ago that centered on the story of David and Goliath. There was one very cool realization from it that has stuck with me still. The Israelite army were utterly discouraged and defeated by the presence of this 9 foot tall giant that was taunting them. They had no will or drive to fight the Philistine beast. But David was different. He did not focus on how big the giant was or how small and young he himself was. He was focused on God. When the giant shouted out his taunts one more time, David shouted back:
"You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied...All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord's and he will give all of you into our hands." - 1 Samuel 17: 45, 47

Though the threats against us loom large and can easily discourage, sometimes we just have to shout back at them about all that God has promised us in His Word. We are more than conquerors indeed (Romans 8:37). You've got to know His Word to speak His words. Read, memorize, and yes, actually speak them out loud!

Finn is getting to the age when he loves picking flowers for me. He recently picked me a bouquet of dandelions - "They're yellow! My favorite!!". I placed them on the counter so I could look at them and let him know how much I appreciated his thoughtfulness. However, the next day, he saw them there and was bewildered when he saw the flowers (weeds?) wilting. He was a little sad about it, so I had to explain that the flowers died because they were plucked from their life source. This was a brilliant illustration to me that all things die when they are plucked from their life source. When we picture a world without God factored in, of course we get discouraged. This world is all kinds of mess. But when we factor Him in, or rather, when we center our lack and our resources around Him, we are connected to the Life Source from which we have everything that we need.

Discouragement is simply writing God out of the equation. So next time you feel discouraged, write Him back in. Even better, write everything else around HIM! Remember that He formed you and loves you and is with you. Speak His promises over your situation and see if you aren't immediately encouraged.

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

Tough Questions

Finn is big on the idea of bad guys. He is at the developmental stage where he understands things as being good or bad. Black or white.

Because of his daddy, he knows by heart who Superman's bad guys are, who Batman's bad guys are, who Flash's bad guys are. He's fascinated by the whole thing! He even has a made-up game called "Bad Guys" that he loves to play - especially with his two grandmas. There is a part of him that even thinks the bad guys are cooler than the superheroes they fight.

The other day, he was playing with his superhero guys at our kitchen table. Then I hear him ask, "Mommy, who is Jesus' bad guy?". Caught a little bit by surprise, it took me a second to find the answer in my mind. After a pause, I replied, "Jesus' bad guy is Satan." This just led to more questions:
"Why is he bad?"
"What bad things does he do?"
"What does he look like?"

Uhhhhh...

These questions each stretched my brain more than I would have guessed. I almost called Matt and asked him to tag in for me. In my head I know the answers to these questions, or at least an idea of where to find them in the Bible. But putting the answers into comprehensible words was new for me. I've never had to answer questions like these because, for the majority of my life, I have been surrounded by other Christians. It has been years and years since I have been asked to explain my faith. One of my favorite things to do is to talk about Jesus, but it is always with other believers.

My life has been mostly surrounded by my family, my youth group, my high school friends (all my best friends were Christians), my Christian college friends, my Alaskan church friends, my Arkansan Chi Alpha friends, my current church friends. Christians.

The closest I have come to an experience of tongue-tie-mania like this one was with my good friend from Minneapolis, Eric. Eric and I worked together as servers at Old Spaghetti Factory. He was one of my favorite people to work with because he was almost always happy. We both loved to laugh and sing while we were preparing salads and getting drinks. We sang so much that we began to label each night we worked with a different theme: one night would be strictly Broadway songs, another would be songs from Disney movies, etc. He was my good friend. He is gay.

Eric knew I went to a Christian college. We often had deep conversations about God and theology. One night he looked at me and asked, "Gretchen, do you believe I am going to hell when I die?"

I felt like someone had simultaneously sucked all of the air from my lungs and the thoughts from my head. I gave him an honest answer and our friendship only grew stronger.

The Word teaches us that we need to be ready for when people ask us the tough questions.

1 Peter 3:15 - "But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope you have. But do this with gentleness and respect"
Colossians 4:6 - "Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone"

I know why I live a life of faith: I love God and I can see evidence in my life of His goodness and faithfulness. But can I explain it to others? I need to be able to articulate:
A) so I can appropriately teach my children about God and
B) so that I can answer others' questions about Him as well.

I know my own testimony and what God has brought me through. My experiences with God give me a good start but they are not everything I need to know.

My oldest son is just reaching the age where he is beginning to ask the tough questions. I have years and years of tough questions ahead of me, and it's not something I take lightly.

I pray that I not only provide the answers to point my boys towards Jesus, but that I also am able to live what I speak.

One thing is certain: I cannot do it all on my own.
"If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him." - James 1:5

Deeper Waters

It's no secret to most who have read my blog before or know me in person that I like to play it safe. I've written about it on numerous occasions - I like the consistency and comfort of doing things the way they "should" be done. I color inside the lines, obey the rules, and sing the song the way it was written.

I looooove organization and everything in it's proper place. It's why I still enjoy playing Tetris (sorting?? Yes please!). It's why I beg Matt to let me alphabetize his music at church. It's why, when my sister gave me several pairs of funky, purposefully non-matching socks as a gift and declared, "You can mix and match how you want!", I paired them with their best possible match and have stuck to those pairings like glue.

I think, up until now, that God has been good with this facet of my personality. And I'm almost positive that He has used it to protect me from numerous situations. After all, those who play it safe and use discretion are often operating in wisdom.

But lately, He has been revealing to me how much more there is. There are deeper waters, where feet can't touch the bottom and one must use trust as a flotation device to stay above the water.

A couple of months ago, Matt had the opportunity to sing in the wedding of a couple of our young adults. I had gone back and forth about whether or not the boys and I should go. Originally, I was going to go, but the closer the wedding crept, the more hesitant I became. After all, wouldn't it be hard to go camping with the boys? Especially if Matt was playing through the whole ceremony and I would have them by myself? At a wedding? Where I had to keep them quiet? Or risk humiliation? Wouldn't my boys lose out on sleep and be cranky? And like, cry and stuff?

These were my thoughts. I went back and forth in my head and ruminated for weeks about whether or not to go. When the time came to finally make a decision, I played it safe. We weren't going to go, because the boys are so much easier to manage on our home turf. We could have our routine, and our comforts, and our pretty little scheduled nap times. We would just have to do without daddy and the joy of seeing two of my favorites get married.

However, through a series of fortunate conversations, I changed my mind. I kicked my butt and my thoughts into action and I started envisioning the fun and the adventure versus the possible stressors and mishaps.

I look back on that trip now and I cannot believe I almost chose to miss it because it might feel a little hard or unsafe. That trip was a fabulous blast. It was a fablast!!

There have been a couple of our young adult women that have truly inspired me by their boldness and unabashed desire for God. I want to live like that. Not timidly shirking scary situations, but embracing God's plan in them.

The other day, Finn was looking at a children's book that had an illustration of a mermaid whose illustrator had forgotten to draw a bikini top for her (a kid's book…are you kidding me? Take a moment and draw a top on the nude lady, illustrator!!!) When I saw it, I took a permanent marker and nonchalantly colored a top for her myself. Finn wasn't very happy with me.

I allowed him to cry and vent at me for awhile,  but then I invited him to sit in my lap. Once he had calmed down, I told him, "Finny, it is mommy's job to protect you and keep you safe". Although he initially furrowed his brow and stated, "I don't need 'tection", eventually he accepted what I had done and we hugged it out.

Likewise, I need to walk more often in the truth that it is not my job to protect myself or keep myself safe.

I don't need to stay on the beach or even close to shore just in case a storm comes in. Rather, I need to allow myself to be drawn out where my faith can be strengthened amidst the waves. It is vital to learn to trust in God's protection and care of me. I know this. I know this. I know this.

I'm stepping out into deeper water here, folks. But the craziest thing is that, the further I walk, the more secure I feel. The deeper the waters, the deeper the peace.

There is freedom waiting to be gained when we can trust God more than our safe places. He is the ultimate safe place.

After all, it's His job to 'tect us…

especially in the most adverse of conditions.

"The Lord will fight for you. You need only to be still." - Exodus 14:14

"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power and of love and of a sound mind" - 1 Timothy 1:7 NKJV

"You can only be marked as safe if you've fashioned for yourself a God small and tame. And what the world desperately needs is more dangerous disciples of an unsafe God" - Ann Voskamp

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.

"Love, Mom"

My mom always made Christmas magical.

Not like Santa and flying reindeer magical.......

....but just super, super special.

Back when I was a little girl, I had no idea just how hard she worked to make it all happen.

She saved all year long in order to be able to buy us just the right things at Christmastime. Each gift was wrapped impeccably and had a different personalized tag on it: For "Gretchie-Ketchie-Netchie-Setchie-Betchie-Detchie" or "Grrrr-Nin" or "Gretchen Noelle".

"Love, Mom".

But it really wasn't about the gifts, even then. They were simply the icing on a Christmas-flavored cake (what does Christmas taste like, you say? Mint.....and egg nog......and love).

It was about the traditions that she birthed and fostered and tended every year. It was about all being together. It was about listening to Christmas music and reading Luke 2 as a family and eating caramel rolls in the morning. It was about taking turns opening gifts so we wouldn't miss anything and playing games and putting on plays about the nativity story.

Mom handmade each of our stockings, delighted in getting us matching pajamas, and made 5 different kinds of cookies every year because, well, we each had our own kind that we would sit and make with her of course! If baking cookies meant quality time with mom, we were there. 

Being the youngest child, the older I got, the further away my older siblings moved. However, nearly every year without fail, they each returned home. Christmas was our time to be together. So a house that had been quiet burst with joyful noise. The driveway filled up. The table became crowded. There wasn't a chance of getting to watch what you wanted on TV. It took about 2 days for all of us to start getting on each other's nerves............but wow, those first 2 days were pure bliss!

This year as my own little family was decorating for Christmas, it hit me that this is the first year that Finn kind of "gets it". He loves anything to do with Christmas. He loves any movie with a Santa in it, wants our tree lit at all times, he lets out gasps of delight at seeing lights on others' houses, and He even calls snow "Christmas". 

He also is beginning to know who Jesus is because we talk about how Jesus is with him at all times. Christmas isn't Christmas without Jesus. 

With his new awareness, I feel a certain kind of pressure, a good pressure, to not only make Christmas special and memorable for my boys, but to also keep the discussion central on Jesus. 

Because Jesus is cooler than Santa. 

As much FUN as Christmas is, THIS is the time to begin teaching them:

"In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God, 

did not consider equality with God as something to be used to his own advantage;

rather he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, 

being made in human likeness. 

And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death

 - even death on a cross!

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and 

gave him the name that is above every name, 

that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,

 in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 

and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, 

to the glory of God the Father."

- Philippians 2:5-11

My sweet, squishy boys: this is the most important thing that I could ever teach you. 

Love, Mom. 

Wild Rumpus

"And when he came to the place where the wild things are they roared their terrible roars and 

gnashed their terrible teeth and 

rolled their terrible eyes and 

showed their terrible claws till 

Max said "BE STILL!" and 

tamed them with the magic trick of staring into 

all their yellow eyes without blinking once and 

they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all..." 

- Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak

We have been dealing with a most formidable foe at the Fjerkenstad household the last few weeks:

Fear.

For the first time, Finn has been truly fearful of certain things. Most of these fears seem to matriculate when it is time for bed. Even for a two year old, life is scariest when one is alone and things are dark.

I have been admittedly a bit baffled by this fearfulness, if only because it seems to have come on so suddenly. Where did my brave, independent boy go? He who used to revel in being given the freedom to play alone in the basement now frantically chases us up the stairs if we start to leave him. Is it just a developmental phase or is this fearfulness a byproduct of something else in his life?

Since this is all new for us, I have been treading carefully when it comes to handling Finn's fear. Essentially, I want to teach Finn to manage his own fear. I don't want my big boy to face his life afraid and shrinking back from things.

In other words, I don't want him to handle fear the way that I did for many, many years. I've learned it doesn't go away if you ignore it......it just gains more power and grows more frightening.

The way I see it, starting now, however we help him deal with fear builds the foundation for how he will deal with fear for the rest of his life.

No pressure.

I feel as though it is a balancing act between listening to him tell his fears but not allowing him to dwell in them.

I want to seek to understand without fostering the fear and making it worse.
I want to let him know that his fears are heard but also that they have no power over him.
I want to hold him when he is afraid but I also want him to know that he is brave and strong and can conquer them on his own.

I want to throw one arm around him in comfort and use the other arm to equip him with a weapon to fight back the fear.

My best friend was over a few weeks ago while I was putting Finn to bed (Bachelorette finale - woop woop!) In his fear as I laid him down, he wanted me to leave the door open and the hallway light on. I did, but as I wandered out to Chanelle in the living room, I sought her advice on how she handled this phase with her own 3 sweet kids.

She quickly asked me, "Did you pray with him?"

Ummmmmmmmmmm..........no.

How had I not even thought of that?! I have prayed for him but I had honestly never thought to pray with him. Praying with him welcomes him into the process and it teaches him through my example.

If I am going to equip Finn to face and deal with his fears, then prayer is the first and last of weapons that I need to be giving him.

Duh. Thanks Chanelle!

The way that I see it, if our fears are like the yellow-eyed, gnashy monsters from "Where the Wild Things Are", then prayer is yelling "BE STILL!" directly at them.

"...Yell a loud no to the devil and watch him scamper. Say a quiet yes to God and He'll be there in no time..." - James 4:7 (MSG).

Now when Finn feels the very real and intense emotion of fear, I pray with him. I am beginning to teach him that he is not alone because he has a Heavenly Father who is ever with him and for him. It is my hope that as he matures, he will realize this truth in greater and increasing measures.

'And now', cried Max, 'Let the wild rumpus start!'" WTWTA

Not For a Moment

I love being a mommy to two boys.

Two sweet, squishy, lovable boys.

The transition from mommy of one to mommy of two was not everything that I pictured it would be.

I knew it would be hard. I was prepared for it to be hard. One consistent thing that I had heard from others is that the transition from one to two is hard.

I kept trying to prepare Matt for it to be hard, but Matt just wouldn't even go there in his mind.

That is why we are married! My realism meets his optimism in a happy, beautiful balancing act.

Yet even though I was prepared for it to be hard, I was not prepared for the right kind of hard.

The hard that I was expecting was actually quite easy. Perhaps I over-prepared myself by dwelling on worst case scenario possibilities. That's definitely been known to happen before :).

These things went easier than I planned:
 - I worried about how Finn would react. However, Finn loves his baby brother and is fascinated by him. He wants to be near him. He is not jealous but is sweet and obedient and eager to please 90% of the time. When he gets excited or revved up......its a different story. He is Matt's son after all! I love him in all of his moods.
 - Since Finn was a fairly easy baby, I was expecting my second one to be tougher. However, Jonas is the definition of content. He sleeps well, nurses well, and only gets fussy when he has a toot or a poop. He is fairly gassy.....he is Matt's son after all! :)
 - I was worried that with family in town that Jonas' entry in the world may be inconvenient or imposing to others. However, having extra family around was a gigantic blessing and it was wonderful getting to share those first few days of Jonas' life with more people.

I am so blessed and grateful that those worst case scenarios did not pan out. Once again, I wasted time mentally preparing for things that did not come to fruition.

However......there was a different kind of hard to deal with that I was not prepared for. There really would have been no way to prepare for it even if I did have some foreboding feeling about it.

First, the good news:
I was able to have a successful VBAC! Jonas cooperated perfectly and all of my labor went smoothly. It was a fun adventure to time my contractions through the night and feel the anticipation build as they became closer together. I am so thankful that I was able to give birth to Jonas that way.

And I am also very thankful for epidurals. Contractions are no joke.

The hard part started at the moment of Jonas' entry into the world. I don't need to paint a picture on here about everything that happened or went wrong.........those who need to know, do.

But there was a series of things that did not go as they should have. The result of that being that I was in quite a bit of pain for the first couple weeks of Jonas' life. The first week it was difficult to sit or move without pain.

Thus......caring for a newborn and a toddler was hard. The hard that I was not expecting.

I had many moments of frustration. I longed to jump into being a mommy of two....I wanted to run around with Finn so that he would know that Mommy still loved him. I wanted to pick up Jonas by myself to nurse him rather than have to have him handed to me. I wanted to dive in and feel like I could tackle everything that I saw looming before me.

I was not able to. I had to sit and wait and allow others to help. I had to *gasp* ask for help.

As frustrating as it was for me to wade slowly into the "mommy of two" waters, I can look back now and see what a blessing it was. It really just feels like everything worked out the way it needed to, pain and all.

Of course it is easy to say that now that the pain is mostly a distant memory. But that's how it works: pain loses its power in time. 

Now that everything has settled in a bit, I have gotten into a new routine and groove with my two boys.

I love my days with them more than I can say and am so thankful for the opportunity to be home with them. This may seem super nerdy, but sometimes I get butterflies of excitement in my stomach at the prospect of spending time with them.....even during middle of the night nursings. These days are precious gifts!

God's gifts can often come as a result of pain.......His faithfulness is always true, not only in the midst of good circumstances.

This song is my latest obsession and gets stuck in my head nearly every day. It applies to this situation in my life and so many others.........I believe it is a song that people need to hear. Peace through the pain, comfort in the storm, love when we are unlovable.....just more gifts from God!

"Not for a Moment (After All)" - Vertical Church Band