Imperfectly Perfect Christmas

I just realized that it’s our FIRST Christmas together in our very own apartment. It’s 3:45pm and we just finished Christmas decorating. We both had to apologize for yelling at each other and the entire house is in need of a day of cleaning. More importantly we talked about how Jesus was born, and A yelled with joy to be able to decorate together. Her favorite Christmas song is “Away in the Manger”.  I also discovered that we own approximately 4 ornaments which makes me laugh! I had to hang all of them with paperclips…. The rest of our decorations are from the ‘80’s… or Walmart…or just toys! A picked out the sparkly-est ones possible today, and her ornament of choice was a Christmas Barbie (she cried because she couldn’t lift up her dress to see if she was wearing clothes underneath. And because Barbie didn’t have a name so I named her Barbie Rose Christmas… that made her mad) The tree topper A picked is actually so gaudy and huge that I couldn’t take a picture, but it’s up there and I’m going to love it.

Life is so messy; loving other people is so freaking messy. Being loved unconditionally and being given every last thing we need by God and our entire community, as we have been given this year (AGAIN) has been unfathomable. Looking at our Nativity, set you can see it’s quite a rowdy collection. A few playmobil people, a porcelain angel from my sweet friend, and the original set that’s missing quite a few people (and somehow had an extra baby Jesus... and a random pig. In the picture Barbie and Mary and A are talking (as they should be).

Our Nativity set is exactly what I need to see. Through the beautiful undoing of my attempt to control our lives these past 4 years, and the acceptance of God’s kindness and love, I have realized more than ever that He loves to draw straight with crooked lines. I would never have arrived in this raw, vulnerable place of needing other people and needing God so very badly if I had designed my own perfect adventure. Instead I have scribbled and scribbled, and God has taken all the scribbles and put them into His giant beautiful story.

Merry (almost) Christmas! Let's start celebrating now!

(Having a child on my head at all times is normal)

Tears of Joy

           I haven’t wanted to say much of what has been happening in my life because it seemed wrong with my news feed blowing up with so much tragedy and pain. It has broken my heart to see the suffering and grief of other people close to me and in the rest of the world. But today is Thanksgiving, and I have to share.

It’s embarrassing to say there were times this semester when I came close to giving up, specifically in the matter of school. I came close to a few months of allowing depression and self-pity and of course just good old exhaustion to wear me down so far and almost win. I have never felt more overwhelmed in my life.

I am thankful today because there were so many people that stood with me during this time and will continue to stand with me even when they have to crawl down in the hole and drag me out.  

                                     

-Thank you to the kind person who because of their belief in God saw fit to provide Avalon and I with brand-new snow tires and then give more money to me than anyone ever has before. I am speechless and still cry when I think about it.

-Thank you to my coworkers who have daily carried my burdens in more ways than I can count.

-Thank you to my friends who have given premade dinners to us and overwhelmed me with your love.

-Thank you to my Maggie, who has taken A several times overnight and provided me with actual sanity.

-Thank you to my big brother who has never given up on me and thinks I am smart— For coming over even when he’s exhausted and helping me with homework problems.

-Thank you to my mom, dad, and sister-in-law for providing such love and care for A and me that A begs me to go back to your house.

-Thank you to the person who has provided the most beautiful apology I have ever heard in my life. I forgive you with my whole heart.

-Thank you to my new family who have always found ways to love us from across a distance.  I can’t wait to see you again/meet you.

                                       

-Thank you to all of you, you know who you are, who have listened to me rant in person and over text and listened and allowed me to “cry ugly” in front of you. Even the smallest phrase of encouragement has helped. There’s too many of you to list. I love you.

-Thank you God for being my best friend, my Father, my comforter, my hero. You have been the greatest Friend of all. You are the reason I live. You have completely wiped away my sins and the massive debt I could never repay with the mercy of the gift of Your Son. You have made sure that I never forget how much you love me. You have answered every prayer, You have written my name on Your hand, and You have bottled my tears. And I’m only just beginning to know You...

                                                 

-Thank you to my little daughter. You are the one thing I never knew I needed. You have saved my spiritual and physical life more times than I can count. 

                                                

Faith

"When God told Abraham, who was a hundred at the time, that at the age of ninety his wife, Sarah, was finally going to have a baby, Abraham came close to knocking himself out—'fell on his face and laughed,' as Genesis puts it (17:17). In another version of the story (18:8ff.), Sarah is hiding behind the door eavesdropping, and here it's Sarah herself who nearly splits a gut—although when God asks her about it afterward, she denies it. 'No, but you did laugh,' God says, thus having the last word as well as the first. God doesn't seem to hold their outbursts against them, however. On the contrary, God tells them the baby's going to be a boy and they are to name him Isaac. Isaac in Hebrew means "laughter."

Why did the two old crocks laugh? They laughed because they knew only a fool would believe that a woman with one foot in the grave was soon going to have her other foot in the maternity ward. They laughed because God expected them to believe it anyway. They laughed because God seemed to believe it. They laughed because they half believed it themselves. They laughed because laughing felt better than crying. They laughed because if by some crazy chance it just happened to come true, they would really have something to laugh about, and in the meanwhile it helped keep them going.

Faith is 'the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen,' says the Letter to the Hebrews (11:1). Faith is laughter at the promise of a child called Laughter."

Frederick Buechner, from Wishful Thinking: a Seeker's ABC

http://frederickbuechner.com/content/faith

Letters to my Daughter Part One

            

           A, I want you to see yourself now, the way I see you on our best days. You’re sitting in the backseat, holding a piece of wadded up gum-wrapper, a leaf, an Elsa Barbie doll, a My Little Pony, an arm of a Potato head doll, or even just your own wiggling fingers, and you’re talking to them like they are your both your closest confidant and naughtiest child. “Do you know who dat is? Dat’s my mom! Dat’s Towie. You may NOT have a tweat befo’ bedtime. You dit a spankin! Dat’s naughty! Do you know we dwiving someweaw? We doing to daytair.” A, I just wish I could describe to you your voice right now. It’s magic and music. It’s tinkling and bubbly and silly.

           Your minuscule, chubby pink hands are perfection. I reach back when I’m driving and just hold on for dear life, because when I blink you grow a little bit— the car seat is getting smaller and smaller, you've learned a new trick, you’re putting on your shoes now, you’ve figured out how to floss your own teeth, you’re not scared of the dark as much as you used to be, you walk in to preschool without any tears, you're fearlessly jumping off furniture and swimming in the bath like a fish. You walk with a purpose, flouncing your tutus, proud of your flashing Frozen shoes or your clicking red cowgirl boots. More than anything you are proud of when you make a choice, and I do not. I try to remember to offer as many choices as I can.  

            I read somewhere that a chemical released in a mother’s brain makes it nearly impossible to stop kissing her baby’s face, that her baby just “smells” delicious. Weird, right? I’ll be the first to say, I definitely still have that... I kiss your forehead and your little nose and the top of your head. For some reason you are really ticklish on the top of your head, especially at bedtime when it’s the last tactic you have to keep me in the room. You thrash and wiggle through your Frozen blanket screaming with laughter. “Stop mom stop!” Then, “Mo! Mo mom! Teekle me adain!”

           You have a LAUGH. This laugh is something I find out about every day. Your laugh is ever-multiplying. You could write the Book on Laughs. So there’s the tinkling-brook, high-pitched laugh, typically utilized when you make a discovery in a book you are reading to yourself, like, “Oh Mom, isn’t that just HILARIOUS and RIDICULOUS?”                                                                                                            

            Then there’s what I call the Including Laugh; this is the laugh used for making anyone nearby feel included into your circle of friends or your personal bubble, accompanied by friendly body language and wide-open eyes. It is the toddler call, an enticing invitation for companionship and bonding: “Come laugh with me over this and we can be friends”. This is followed by the “Can you even believe we just experienced that together? My GOODNESS...It is so good to be alive right now!” Laugh. There is the out-of-control Tickling Laugh, usually open-mouthed and with some amount of drooling. There’s also the mischievous laugh, which reminds me of a sneaky elf. “Hehehe” you go, right before you poke someone in the ribs or grab someone’s belongings, and run with hopes of being chased, tackled, and loved.

                Another laugh, which is a show-stopper for family, friends, and strangers alike, is the Belly Laugh.  If Scrooge were around today, his icicle-ridden heart would be warmed instantly upon hearing this. This laugh could make anyone believe in Christmas or miracles or God. It is the warmest, purest joy. It comes out a lot when you are overtired and something really funny happened in a book or a movie, something beyond hilarious in Toddler World. It starts out with this quiet chortling that rises in volume and pitch into full-out howling with laughter and shortage of breath.

               You get so glowing, bright-pink mad sometimes, just recently becoming a threenager possessing unmatched wisdom. And though she be but little, she is fierce, I whisper to myself in shock (along with my “Help” prayer I learned from Anne Lamott.  Your rage is definitely not cute, but the passion your tiny face exhibits cheers me on. Why? Because I need to be awake in every way-- to keep thinking, moving, breathing, trusting God—not so I can tell you to be quiet, but so I can guide you into your future. It’s not a sin for you to be angry. I’m glad you are angry and that I’m a safe person for you to yell no at. I tell you that anger is okay, yelling no at Mommy is not. I never know what gets in between your perfectly shaped elfin-princess ears and through the mass of tangled Merida-Shirley Temple-Annie curls, but a few weeks ago you said, “Mom, mom, mom. Even when we aw mad at Dod, He ‘till yuv us!” When I try to pray for you, you always emphatically say, “NO, Dod does not yuv me, but I yuv Dod sooooo much.” 

                 A, I’m not scared anymore of raising you, but I am scared of how it is raising ME to raise you. I have watched you come into the world. I have spent hours upon hours praying and thinking about what is best for your future. It’s funny that since I’ve been able to move on from fear about your future as a child, teenager, and functioning adult, I have been attacked with fears about everything else. My fear of failure is sitting on my shoulders; it is a burden so heavy that it feels like a house, and I cannot breathe. I have tried and tried to get rid of it on my own, but I can’t. I know... I know down to my bones and in my crumbly, fearful, tired soul that you are what God sent me to help me keep fighting.

Like Peter, I said, “Master, if it’s really you, call me to come to you on the water.” 

Father, Prove to me that you are real. Prove to me that I am worth saving.   

And God said, “Come to me, my love”.

So I thought about it for minutes that felt like hours, and then I closed my eyes and made myself jump. The dizzying fall, the sensation of knowing it’s too late to go back, the sudden arrival…

“Peter walked on the water to Jesus. But when Peter looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost his nerve and started to sink. He cried, 'Master, save me!'"

Suddenly, I’m sinking, and His hand reaches out. 

The story takes my breath away, because in the worst moments of my life, I have found that hand… Far more than coincidence, today I was praying and I felt and held that hand again. 
Come on, courage, dear heart. Get up.

My friend took this one of me on a tired morning. This cracks me up; it is how life feels on a daily basis. 

A loves to "help" me put on makeup

This is one of my favorite pictures. It is so real. Bathtime is an act of love. It is usually not fun and games for us. And the tummy pouch is in plain sight. This is motherhood. 

Tooth-brushing. 

All pictures taken by NaphtaliKate Photography. 

All scripture taken from Matthew 14, The Message. 

Dayna Gives Another Kick to Cancer's Butt - Louisiana Trip, Part 2

There are so many emotions and memories tumbling around from the rest of our trip. I hope you can see what I saw. I’m trying not to write a novel, but share a tiny piece of the unspeakable joy.

Dear friends, I need to ask you to hear something before you go on, something that is really important. The same day as my last post, I had a conversation with Dayna’s mother Dori. She has poured out everything she has, and more. Dori told me that some friends have asked her why she doesn’t hate God for what is happening. But Dori looked at me, with this intense faith-light in her eyes, and she said that although she has been a believer her whole life, right now, in this messy, seemingly hopeless place, she has never loved Jesus more. She said, "We are not responsible for the outcome; we are responsible for the faith we exhibit on the journey." This is a powerful miracle in itself, another miracle that makes me thankful that I could go on this trip.

When I specifically asked her, Dori told me that funds for Dayna’s treatments are running low. I’m asking you to consider praying and helping Dayna with funds so that the tumor will keep shrinking. It has already shrunk 40%, something unheard of for Stage IV Glioblastoma Multiforme, and she is far beyond the 4-12 months the doctors gave her to live.

I sat down in the hotel lobby with rays of the best Louisiana sunshine ever streaking through on to me. Finally after a few hours of schoolwork, it was time to get ready! I opened the hotel room door and saw Dayna in a dress with her hair and makeup done. She was so tired, but was enduring the photographer’s requests for more smiles, relaxation of the stern Dayna eyebrows, and an open-mouthed laugh-smile (the completion of this feat thrilled the photographer to no end; apparently this request is not always met with such talent and enthusiasm). Then it was time to don another brilliant and colorful dress her mom had bought for her, with, of course, matching jewelry. It was fun to watch all the fuss being made over her; we all knew that Dayna must look beautiful and feel beautiful to her core. And she truly looked like a queen. 

We drove to The Healing Place church where the single moms’ group is located that Jennifer Maggio originally founded, starting out as a small group and growing to many, many single moms!! Upon opening the door, instantly my eyes began to leak (just allergies, of course). I was immediately enveloped into a giant, warm hug by someone kind who then handed me a card and money, thanking me for nominating Dayna.

 I don’t believe that anyone has it easy in this life on earth. I believe that married moms and single moms both have nearly-impossible mountains to climb; we both need God or we just won’t make it. But I do believe that ministry to single moms is overlooked in many faith-based communities, and the biggest tragedy of all is that their children are forgotten. (Just google children of single mother statistics; it’s not a bright outlook). This is what Satan wants.

 Here, through The Life of a Single Mom ministries, they are connected with solutions and resources for financial, parenting, and health problems, and then they are given a support group to help them go through that. Most of all they can learn about God, and begin to HOPE again.

Then the music began. I don’t remember what it was, I just remember feeling overwhelmed that so many seats were filled with single moms of every race, age, and background. I looked around and watched their hands lifted and their eyes shut tight, singing as loudly as possible to God, their friend, their helper, their Savior. Allergic reactions ensued and I found my face wet again.

Dori and I enjoying this sweet time

Finally it was time. Dori, Dayna, and I all held hands tightly, and laughed and wept as we heard these words while a slideshow from Dayna’s beautiful life with Maddie and her family was played.

“Before I speak a word let me hear Your voice

And in the midst of pain let me feel Your joy

I want to know you, I want to find you

In every season, in every moment..

I want to seek you first…”

(Lauren Daigle- First)

They couldn't have picked a better song to express Dayna's heart. When it was over Dayna went up and accepted her award. She makes fun of herself when she tells the story because she didn’t prepare at all; she said “We’ve got God, so we've got this single mom thing, you guys”, and somewhere in there she said loudly and proudly that she was going to kick cancer’s BUTT (A true Dayna statement if I’ve ever heard one, can you hear her voice?). Her face had been getting more radiant since we first left for LA, and it showed; she was there to give God's hope to every mom in the crowd. 

Beautiful, radiating Dayna

It is easy for me to watch my friend from the distance of six hours away, and feel thankful and happy that she is “doing so well” according to Facebook and a few texts I get from her. Dayna’s sickness is not like one of those movie-star cancer scenes. She is living, she is flourishing, she is kicking cancer’s butt in her own words. Here’s the thing, though (to borrow another one of her phrases): This is NOT normal. This is God. This is hope. This is Dayna living out the following verse:

“Your eyes are windows into your body. If you open your eyes wide in wonder and belief, your body fills up with light. If you live squinty-eyed in greed and distrust, your body is a dank cellar. If you pull the blinds on your windows, what a dark life you will have!” (Matt. 6:22-23, MSG)

Dayna has ripped off the blinds on her windows and allowed the Light of Jesus to keep her eyes wide open in wonder and belief. She is actively and bravely fighting, breathing, and seeing: she is seeing God move.  The reason she is able to keep walking is because she can receive naturopathic treatment along with the chemo and because she is surrounded by a kick-ass group of supporters, friends, and family. In order for her to keep receiving treatments that allow her to function, flourish, and be an incredible, patient, loving, understanding mother to Maddie, she needs us. She needs finances. I am hoping that these posts communicate God's truth, and a funny and marvelous adventure to the readers, but I am also shamelessly asking for donations for my friend. She never complains, but it is really hard to watch her experience the icky, debilitating, sad symptoms of chemo and cancer. Honestly, on this trip I promised God that I would do anything that I could do to help her. 

Find out how you can help Dayna and Maddie at Hope 4 Dayna.

Until next time, friends! 

Dayna and Kallie Go To Louisiana! ~Trip Update, Part One~

For those of you don’t know, earlier this summer I nominated my sweet Dayna friend for National Single Mom of the Year. Dayna has stage IV glioblastoma multiforme (brain cancer). It’s not the fact that was she was given this diagnosis that makes her an incredible person. It’s the fact that she gets up every day and FIGHTS it, holding on to her Heavenly Dad’s hand, walking with Him, and raising her daughter to know Him and believe in Him. Dayna is the strongest girl I’ve ever met. I get to brag about her because she’s not here right now; she’s getting a facial and massage somewhere in Baton Rouge which makes me SO happy!

Her agenda today includes spa time, a shopping spree, hair, make-up, and a photo shoot. Tonight is a dinner and awards ceremony where she will be giving a little speech. More about today later. J The first part of our journey has been kind of hilarious. I arrived at Dayna’s at 11 PM after 6 hours of driving; she woke up, we talked, crawled into bed, and fell asleep till our alarm went off at 3 AM! We woke up with bleary eyes and excited hearts, and on our way to the airport wished we had made coffee! We arrived at the airport but because Dayna had needles and prescriptions with her, she had to be detained so security could make sure she was okay to travel. Throughout this, she was incredibly kind and gracious and of course, made a new friend in the security guard.

We had two different seats and before the trip and I had been praying that God would make it possible for us to sit together. I honestly prayed that I wouldn’t have to ask anyone to switch seats, that it would somehow just happen on its own (I was so tired, haha). I sat down and IMMEDIATELY the lady next to me looks up and goes, “Is that your friend Dayna up a few rows? I just made friends with her in line! Do you want to switch seats?” Just in this little moment I see how God cares so much about us and is watching over this entire trip!

We finally got on our flight and I promptly fell asleep for almost the entire flight. It is hard for Dayna to sleep without help due to the cancer treatment she is taking, so instead of sleeping she drank 5 cups of horrible airplane coffee and made friends with literally everyone in the surrounding area, and continued to do so, in all three airports and two flights. She is a LIGHT wherever she goes. She can’t help but talking about Jesus and what he has done in her life to the many people God puts around her. More on that later.

We arrived in Houston, Texas and missed our flight! God went before us though, and we were immediately able to get on another flight on a very tiny plane! I wish I could explain how kind and wonderful and hilarious the German flight attendant was, but I’ll have to ask Dayna how to best describe him. This time Dayna and I weren’t sitting near each other but I could hear her happy laugh periodically as she made friends and swapped stories with someone else.

Throughout all our airport times we have both been exhausted, especially Dayna, but so full of laughter. We simply cannot stop laughing, and just thanking God for what He has done in her life (and mine!). When we arrived at the Baton Rouge Louisiana airport I almost started sobbing but had to minimize it to a few tears because waiting to see Dayna was the most kind, wonderful, excited group of ladies from the organization The Life of a Single Mom, with signs and balloons and gifts and one of Dayna’s many gifts, a $500 check! We were hugged repeatedly by each of them. They gave Dayna her INCREDIBLE itinerary, and overwhelmed her with love.

We got to her luxurious hotel room at the Hyatt Hotel and then we were both taken to dinner at Ralph and Kakoo’s (Idaho/Washington friends, you've gotta check this out!) It was an incredible experience tasting the variety of Southern foods. 

At this point I have to stop and share that this was so special to me because of SOMEONE WE WERE HAVING DINNER WITH!!!! Two years ago I was searching the internet for single mom books. There wasn’t much to choose from. One book, Overwhelmed: The Life of a Single Mom by Jennifer Barnes Maggio, looked promising. To summarize a long process, I read it and my life was changed forever! By the way, I later ended up liking Jennifer’s Facebook page, The Life of a Single Mom and then one day they posted something about nominating a single mom for National Single Mom of the Year, and the rest is history….

ANYWAYS, to summarize, we got to have dinner with Jennifer Barnes Maggio, the founder of the Life of the Single Mom, and the lovely vice president, Suzanne (I don't know her full name yet but she is so wonderful!) I got to talk to Jennifer and tell her how much her book meant to me and hear about her work, something that I am extremely passionate about and something I'm interested in pursuing in the future (she began an incredible ministry to single moms which God has blessed so much!). 

We tried hushpuppies for the first time, and the most amazing crab bisque and gumbo and ate until we were stuffed. Suzanne told us we shouldn’t bring our gallons of leftover food home because we are going to get even more food tomorrow, but we couldn’t imagine leaving without it so we brought it all home! Both Dayna and I had an amazing sleep in a king-sized bed after enjoying the company of her sweet, gorgeous mama Dori who had arrived on a flight later! Sweet Dayna woke me up by bringing me breakfast in bed, and we all sat around in our pjs and talked until Dayna was picked up . I am feeling so refreshed and thankful to be here!

One thing that has really struck me especially on this trip is that God really loves His single moms, no matter how we arrived on our journey as a single mom or what our mistakes and failures are, He is FAITHFUL to each of us, and faithful to love us and our children. Many of the workers at the Life of a Single Mom were single moms themselves in the past, and as a result they have this heart for those who don’t have the support and love that they need. They understand that single moms don’t need bible verses shoved down their throats, they need someone to walk beside them, support them, and be Jesus to them! They need patience, acceptance, and resources..The rest can follow after that crucial, unconditional display of love. I have been beyond LOVED throughout my entire single mom journey, but I know far too many who haven’t been. It has blessed me so much to know this ministry exists!

"We are not responsible for the outcome, we are responsible for the faith we exhibit on the journey."
 -Dori, Dayna's mom

To find out more of the Life of a Single Mom ministry, go to their website here.

To find out more about Dayna's incredible story and how you can help Dayna continue her treatments (because of which, she says she is far less exhausted and far more healthy than most cancer patients), go to the link above. 

“I do believe; help my unbelief”

A is bringing me countless play-doh creations-- showing me them and then dumping them in my lap. They are getting squished into a giant, icky ball. The colors are all mixed, and they look like colorful, gross pieces of spaghetti mashed together. Every time she brings them over, I praise her and tell her how good at play-doh she is and how much I like them, so she doesn't stop. This is how I picture my relationship with God right now. I keep bringing Him crap, just shoving it at him like, "Here you go God, do you still love me? Really?? Are you sure?"

I don’t know about you, but I have been living so many of those days where God doesn’t “feel” close by. Exhaustion, stress, my own failures, my past, and hurtful things happening currently, all have a way of blinding me to my Dad’s hand reaching out to lift me up out of the pit. Yet here He is, more than ever. Throughout it all, to know that He SEES me is what gives me hope, even though I don’t see Him sometimes. My prayers reflect the plea of one father, watching his demon-possessed son suffer repeatedly (can you imagine anything worse for your child?): “I do believe; help my unbelief” (NIV, Mark 9:24) Even while that dad had Jesus standing directly in front of Him, he still couldn’t “see” or believe Jesus could heal his son. He still asked Jesus to help his unbelief. I don’t see Jesus in front of me, but I pray that prayer too. My faith does not come from me.

Even just today, I already received two answers to prayer; things that I had long ago given up hope on and then sadly forgotten about completely, but God still remembered and answered in obvious ways. So friend, wherever you are in your life, you are not condemned for your failings or your lack of faith. You are loved regardless of whether you feel “all spiritual” and like life is going splendidly, or your spiritual life is about as warm as a frozen lake (don’t ask me where that terrific metaphor came from… It’s just great, isn’t it: J Disclaimer: I just took a midterm! And all I listen to is the Frozen soundtrack).

Lastly, I've been singing this song for a week now; it brings me hope and freedom! 

You delight in showing mercy

And mercy triumphs over judgement

My past embraced

My sin forgiven

I’m blameless in Your sight.

My history rewritten

Oh love, great love

Fear cannot be found in You

And there will never be a day

You’re uncertain of the ones You choose

So I will wake

And spend my days

Loving the One who has raised me up

From death to life

From wrong to right

You’re making all things beautiful

Mercy, sung by Amanda Cook

Pictures of Avalon from this summer, because, why not. 

On This Day

Tomorrow morning is my little one’s first official day at preschool. It’s not even her first day of actual school, and I’m already thinking about it so much; it symbolizes so much growing up for both of us. A will always be the person who taught me the most about God. She is and was the bright light shining onto the path of having an actual relationship with God, instead of thinking He was angry rule-giver father up in the sky who was just so darn disappointed and disgusted with me and my behavior (He’s not).

She is sometimes my last reason for trusting God to break me free from destructive thought patterns which I have carried on since childhood; on some days, she is my last resort for remembering why God chose me and why He will be faithful to hold my hand on the hardest days. I was talking with my amazing wise friend Nancy, who was once a single mom, and it went like this:

Me: “A’s first day of preschool is tomorrow. I don’t think I can handle even walking in there.”
(Nancy’s eyes start filling with tears.)
Me: “Motherhood really messes you up.”
Nancy: “Yes it does because 30 years from now you will STILL remember walking her in, what she wore, how she acted, and you will never, ever forget it."

Anyways, I just wanted to say, the marvelous invention of the “On This Day” Facebook thingy has led me to have some bursts of faith and things to share:

5 years ago, I was 2 days away from making one of the worst decisions of my life..I no longer wanted to live “the Christian life” if it meant faking a smile and faking the rules to fit in. I officially broke free and made a decision which initially devastated me, but I can now say with total joy and healing, God has used it for good times, one hundred!

3 years ago on this very day, I was shaking in my flipflops, swollen cankles and all, after being told I had to be “induced” (The word carried power, I tell ya what! But it was fine and beautiful and wonderful and marvelous!).

2 years ago (yesterday), I was 22 with a 1-year-old, literally shaking in my boots as I was handed a full ride scholarship to college.

Today, I’m still shaking in my boots at the prospect of the word TOMORROW. Tomorrow is preschool, tomorrow is change, tomorrow my little girl is going to grow up one more day, tomorrow is another day of unknowns and faith exercises, of schoolwork that threatens to extinguish my light completely, of work, of meeting new people who are experiencing hard and painful things, of feeling compassion for the lost ones, the hurt ones.

Once again, the quote that I taped to the maternity home wall, across from the chair where I would nurse and rock  Avalon, is still perfect:

"I have held many things in my hands, and I have lost them all; but whatever I have placed in God's hands, that I still possess." -Martin Luther

Go fly, little girl. You belong to Him.

Before Abortion: Loving the Unlovely

I want to share a rather disorganized follow up to All Babies are Wanted is the Worst Pro-Life Argument which I wrote a few weeks ago. I am truly moved by the images of these 7 and 8 week old miscarried babies (originally posted on Mindy Raelynn Danison's facebook page), and touched by the courage of the mother for sharing them.  It breaks my heart that the reason for these photos is because these babies passed away. However, it is incredible to see what I’ve only seen before on ultrasound... I’ve shared before that I first saw my baby at 7-weeks-old via ultrasound. I had received a pregnancy test a week before, and it didn’t feel real at all until I saw the fast flicker of a beating heart, a little hummingbird heart, I called it. Before the ultrasound, it still felt like just a “pregnancy”; honestly, it felt like it was just a condition,  a UTI or a toothache that my body was going through. I did not feel motherly. But suddenly, in the ultrasound, pardon my french, shit got real.

 It is all a blur now, but in my counseling session I remember refusing to hear about abortion, while saying repeatedly, “I understand why women get abortions now”. Before all of this, two acquaintances had come to me and shared with me that they received abortions; It felt so random that they would tell me this news, and I experienced grief and compassion for them that I had never felt before. I don’t believe it’s right or any woman's best option, but I still understand- I “feel”-, why women get abortions now—As a girl pretending to be what I thought was the definition of a Christian, I still remember the feeling of panic, fear, shame, longing to "erase this mistake", depression, hopelessness, loneliness, abandonment, and my own unyielding, persistent sense of selfishness of not wanting to have to give up everything— and this is why it bothers me when people say I am “brave” and a hero for “choosing life”.

There were understandably many suggestions to place her for adoption; there was huge amounts of stress, the father wasn’t sticking around, and everyone was generally discouraged and upset about my pregnancy. However, NO ONE was threatening me, coercing me, or telling me to get an abortion, unlike so many other women. I wasn’t sitting there thinking, “I’m getting an abortion now”, I was sitting there thinking, "Oh, #%$%". To be totally honest with you, and as painful as this is to admit (now, at the time it was a perfectly acceptable thought), there were days where I wholeheartedly wished for a miscarriage so that "it"--my baby-- could die at the hands of God, and not mine (ahem, this is not a heroic thought). But back in the clinic on the day of my ultrasound, I could see a way out, and my way out was to move away from old patterns, get away from my negative relationship with her father, get out of the area where my abuser (an ex-boyfriend, not her dad) lived, stop alcohol and drug use as a coping method for pain, and try to better my life. Something that was less of a priority, but still on my list, was to "find God". I'm proud of that decision to move away. It was courageous. It was the hardest I've ever made; I guess it's heroic in my book.

I was fully supported 100% by hundreds of people in this choice. They said: We will walk beside you. We will hold your hand. Whatever we need to be for you, we will be for you. They are the heroes.  

What would it be like to see more passion about pursuing relationships with young people who are "not doing well” (whatever that looks like to us), especially those within the church. You know them... the ones that avoid eye contact, the ones “acting rebellious” or whatever term you want to use, the ones breaking the rules, having sex, flirting, asking for attention, wearing black, showing skin, dyeing their hair blue, whatever they are doing that appears to be bad. As one of my older friends said in reference to my "rebellion" and pregnancy, "I could see it coming since you were in elementary school." I clearly remember moving back to Moscow with baby-in-tow, and being told by a well-meaning church lady, “A few years ago, I remember seeing you and thinking ‘Wow, she looks like she is doing so badly’. But now, you’re doing great! Do you want to come over for dinner?!” It was hard for me to not say my angry response, “Well, why didn’t you invite me over for dinner back then?” 
I’m no longer angry and just have to laugh at that scenario, but I am disheartened. What would it be like to overlook behavioral issues for the moment, while we are in pursuit of a connection and relationship, so that the HEART issues can be revealed, so that trust can be built, so that vulnerability can happen, so that Jesus has a chance to move through our hearts and hands.  

Why don’t we invite “them” over for dinner now?

Please don’t think I’m blaming everyone else for my own sin. I repeatedly hurt and damaged my own family and friends; I pushed them away…my heart was so hard. At the same time there was this longing in me to be unconditionally loved, to fill the hole in my heart, to find a place to rest and just be. I hated myself and everything about myself; I was mean and cruel to those who tried to love me. And there were so many people who did try their hardest to love me. All I am saying, and this is for myself as well, is can we please try to look past the outward things we see, to look on into the secret, hidden, broken hearts. Can we try not to judge behavior? As I said before, 

What would it be like to overlook behavioral issues for the moment, while we are in pursuit of a connection and relationship, so that the HEART issues can be revealed, so that trust can be built, so that vulnerability can happen, so that Jesus has a chance to move through our hearts and hands.  

For those of you who have been hurt by the church or by others, I’m so sorry. I am so, so, sorry. I know the sting, the pain, the tears, the bitterness, the helplessness of being a victim of people who claim that they are God’s people. I know what it feels like to be a victim of people who have psychologically, emotionally, spiritually, or sexually harmed you. I have experienced each type of hurt. Please talk to me more about that in person, if you can.

But I want you to know that when you say yes, God will give you the grace to let it go, and He will provide the healing that follows. You are right, it is impossible to forgive people. There's no psychology book, no science, no “time heals” message, there’s no “being the bigger person”, “letting it go” (sorry, Elsa...), nothing that can help you forgive...  Why? Because forgiveness is not human. And I can say from experience that it is so sweet to forgive... It is so freeing to walk around without the weight of un-forgiveness on your shoulders dragging you down. Remember, they are just humans. We are just human. We all have the capacity to damage each other- to inflict burning, venomous wounds. And God.. He has the ability to take us for a ride, a ride that will shake us to our core, clean us out, and redeem that pain. I am sorry if it feels like I am glossing over the pain you are experiencing now, but believe me I can understand (again, please ask me in person).  

In closing, thank you for reading this. I love you. I love you for caring. I love you for trying.

Surrender.. to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling.. to Him who declares that He is “the God who sees”, to Him who will wash you whiter than snow, to Him who loves you regardless of any failings…to Him who will NEVER leave you...

Food for thought:

The Lord will guide you continually, giving you water when you are dry and restoring your strength. You will be like a well-watered garden, like an ever flowing spring. Some of you will build the deserted ruins of your cities. Then you will be known as a rebuilder of walls and a restorer of humans. Isaiah 58:11-12, NLT

So humble yourselves before God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come close to God, and God will come close to you. James 4:7-8

Apologies for this rather disoriented post, I'm on painkillers and it's been quite a week!!!

Baby A at 22 weeks old in utero, 11 weeks old in utero, 5 months old, 15 months old, 2 1/2 years old. My little human. My little hero. 

A Letter to the Guy Who Made Me A Single Mom at Age 20*

Dear X,

I never thought this would be me, but here I am.

I met you at a party in 2011. We were both losing at life... you were my next bad relationship, and I was your naive, six-years-younger, blond girlfriend who was easily charmed, equally addicted to partying and whatever made me feel numb. You didn’t try to coerce me into anything, and you were the kindest pathological liar I’d ever met. You disappeared for weeks at a time, but always found a way back to me with your sweet talk.

It was only a matter of time, really. The moment life happened, I knew I was pregnant. I’d always read about people “just knowing” they were pregnant, and I never believed those stories. But I knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt. I got up and went home with a sinking feeling. You disappeared again to who-knows-where, for almost a whole month this time, and once again I believed whatever excuse you gave. I texted you from my grandparents’ bathroom with two positive Dollar Store pregnancy tests in my hand.

“Oh my God, baby! Are you okay?”

“No."

“Whatever you want to do, I support you."

In my heart, I already knew that you were going to fail us, but I just didn’t know how painful the fall would be. For a while, you and I pretended. We even made a plan to move closer to your family. You stroked my tummy and whispered lovely things to our 6-week-old baby. You missed my first appointment and her first ultrasound. You so wanted a little girl; I wanted you to want us. I wanted this mistake to be okay. You called your mom and told her the news, and over the phone she offered pregnancy advice for me. It almost felt…normal.

Sadly, actions speak louder than words, and my first maternal instinct kicked in, piercing through my safe cloud of denial. I’ll never forget an image that played over and over in my mind…a little girl standing in a window and waiting for her daddy, waiting, waiting, waiting, for a daddy who never came. The image haunted me as much as your face would haunt me in the future.

You seemed confused by why I would want to leave you and my family and my hometown, and move away into a maternity home to try to make my ruined life better for our baby. I was so confused and broken by your tears. Was I wrong to do this? To “keep a father away from his child”? Did you really care? But still, I left.

While I was away, my mind grew as much as my belly. Yet I still held on to our few false memories. I desperately hoped, waited for your texts, and believed your empty promises; I went to visit you in the hospital, fought with you almost every week as you continued to lie.

“I love you and our baby so much.”

 “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“I just mailed a check.”

“I’ll buy you a crib.”

“I quit drinking.”

“Did you pop that baby out?”

Finally, it was enough. She was 1 1/2 months old, you lived 1 1/2 hours away, and yet you never once tried to see her. You posted the baby pictures I sent you on your Facebook account like you were there with us, and I finally had the courage to stand up on my own- to stand up for my daughter’s heart. I changed my phone number, and this time it was my own choice to never hear from you again.

X, I want you to know I am so thankful for you for staying away. I’ve watched my friends go through horrible custody battles; they've faced degrading language, abuse, control, manipulation, and even neglect, all in the name of co-parenting a child. I’ve watched them cry, their natural protectiveness defeated by a court order, as they packed their little children off in a car or on a plane for visitation with someone they once thought they knew. I’ve watched their legs shake sitting before a judge, and I’ve hugged them while they sobbed at the unfairness and injustice. And I’ve heard, again, and again, from friends and strangers, “You don’t know how lucky you are. You don’t have to share her.”

But you see, it’s not just your lack of trying to get rights….

X, thank you so much for our daughter. I remember the first time I looked her over in the hospital. All ten fingers and ten toes, and somehow, I knew there would be a striking reminder of you. And there it was: when I tipped her tiny face upwards, there was that same little cleft in her chin, so familiar to me. She got a lot from you… your athleticism, your perfect blue eyes, the gorgeous hair that your mom told me runs in your family, even in the shape of her face I see you.

X, thank you for not sticking around. It was because of lack of you that I gave my heart to Jesus in a church one day, holding my tiny, fatherless baby girl. It was rock bottom for me. A single mom just turned 21 with a very different future than I'd ever imagined. A precious baby with a “deadbeat dad”. Left to my own devices in the past, I had failed, again, and again, and again. I truly don’t know where we would be now if you had made good on any one of your promises. I finally surrendered to God.

X, thank you for not being there for the first years of her life. I have been with her 24-7 for three years. I sometimes resent that very much. I've gotten up with her ten times a night, I've gotten up with her six times a night, and now I get up with her two times a night sometimes. I’m the only one she cries for when she has a bad dream, and I’m the one who experiences those perfect moments when we fall asleep holding each other. I've hated you for this part... the thousands of dirty diapers, the sleepless nights, having no idea what I was doing, being solely responsible for nourishing a human being, trying to function at work and school. I hated being so alone, out-of-my-mind tired. But once again, X, I thank you. The loneliness, the exhaustion, the confusion of it all has brought me to my knees every day and night. “God, please help me” is my constant prayer. Truly, there are days where I have nothing left. I never would have been that humble if you were there. I never would have allowed myself to depend on God. I never would have searched through my Bible during nap times, desperately seeking answers and encouragement and words of affirmation and love. I never would have begged friends and family to please come take her for awhile, and in doing so, become so loved that I was able to love her...and myself... again. 

X, thank you for not being her dad. In your absence, I have met countless friends under the same label of “single mom.” I have been given more gifts that I can count- huge gifts- gifts I only dreamed of in the past, like a full-ride scholarship, my apartment, two cars, the list goes on. I’m a college student, X! Can you believe that? I have my family back, friends that have become family, I have Jesus, and I have grace. Your absence has left a gaping hole which has been filled to the brim with such wonderful things. Your absence has made all of the verses in the Bible about fatherless children become applicable for my very own daughter, and you can bet that God has come through with every single one of them. She does not lack anything, and as I raise her, God raises me! I finally get it, X. I finally understand the love God feels for me. I finally understood when I was trying to teach her to walk that God was teaching me to walk too!

X, thank you for your family. They are normal, imperfect people who have found enough love in their hearts to call me their daughter and think the world of me and A.  I’m not keeping her away from them... they belong to her. They send cards and boxes of presents for her, and they will be in love with her while she grows up, excited for her on her first day of preschool, cheering for us and supporting us, planning elaborate camping trips every summer, skyping with her regularly, and someday present at her graduation and wedding. I never imagined that for her. What a gift.

X, thank you for not being near me. Someday, there’s going to be a guy. I don’t know who he is or when he will come. I pray for him as much as I pray for you. In the past, I might have missed him as I searched for a wild, exciting romance in which I felt deeply known. But this man, he is going to be different. He’s going to love A as much as he loves me. He’s going to be a tender, loving, consistent, present dad, and he doesn’t even know it yet. And you know what? I would have missed him. I wouldn’t have given him the time of day. Now I picture my wedding day and I get tears in my eyes because I KNOW our marriage won’t be perfect, but I will never, ever, take that guy for granted. Every moment of pain I have experienced..when she asks (frequently) "Where's MY daddy, Mom?", when I see other dads with their kids..Well, like everything else in our lives, the pain will be fully redeemed. This man is already my hero, and every day God grows us a little closer to each other. Thanks to you, X, I know what kind of man I’m waiting for. 

The other day at church I put my hands above my head and sang my heart out. Five years ago, I was the girl who just couldn’t get out of her seat due to the embarrassment of someone labeling her as a Jesus-freak. What if someone thought I would lose all my composure for Christ? What if someone thought I wasn’t cool? A few minutes later, A ran out from the church nursery and grabbed… my butt. She laughed hysterically and then we danced together, both of us jumping for joy, our sweaty hands tightly together, her bright eyes filled with wonder and happiness.  

There's one thing I never got to say to you, and that is, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said about God when I got pregnant. I'm sorry that I told you far more about a judgmental God than a loving God. I'm sorry I told you I would get excommunicated from church. I'm so sorry. I wish I could take that back. I know differently now. 

But I’m learning, X. And I’m just so thankful for my beauty from ashes story. So thank you.

Encouragement for Single Moms:

“He heals the brokenhearted
He binds their wounds
He is love
He finds those forgotten

Those who've been abused
He is love
He knows your name

A father to the fatherless
A healer of the brokenness
You've make beauty from the ashes

And You're a helper to the helpless
A fighter for the hopeless
You love those who are alone
Those who are alone

He comforts the lonely and hears their cry
He is love
He holds our children throughout the night
He is love
He knows your name

A father to the fatherless
A healer of the brokenness
You've make beauty from the ashes

And You're a helper to the helpless
A fighter for the hopeless
You love those who are alone
Those who are alone
(Taken from the song Esther, by the band Esterlyn.

Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/esterlyn/esther-lyrics/#eMAWPDmXbrH7btlT.99)

He will feed his flock like a shepherd.
    He will carry the lambs in his arms,
holding them close to his heart.
    He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young.” (Isaiah 40:11, NLT)

 But God heard the boy crying, and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven, “Hagar, what’s wrong? Do not be afraid! God has heard the boy crying as he lies there. Go to him and comfort him, for I will make a great nation from his descendants.” (Genesis 21:17)

She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: "You are the God who sees me," for she said, "I have now seen the One who sees me." (Genesis 16:13)

"Comfort, O comfort My people," says your God."Speak kindly to Jerusalem; And call out to her, that her warfare has ended, That her iniquity has been removed, That she has received of the LORD'S hand Double for all her sins"… (Isaiah 40)

You did not anoint My head with oil, but she anointed My feet with perfume. For this reason I say to you, her sins, which are many, have been forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little, loves little. Then he said to her, “’Your sins have been forgiven.’” (From Luke 47)

One day old in the hospital

*The idea from this blog came from an open letter I found on the web awhile ago. I am unable to find the original link, but I found another blog which quotes her entire letter here: http://www.singlemomscoffeebreak.com/thank-letter-19-year-old-single-mom.html