devotional thoughts at a long-awaited baby shower

photo credit: Linda Carreira

photo credit: Linda Carreira

Last Saturday we gathered at the beautiful home of a friend, surrounded by floral arrangements and soft blues and yellows and joy as abundant as the women joining to celebrate her baby boy. All baby showers are reminders of God’s miracle of life, but this one was a particular celebration as we had cried and prayed with her as she waited months that became years. And now – she is weeks away from delivering this miracle baby.

Words were in order. A combination of celebratory thanksgiving and thoughts from a mom four years into the lovely, hard journey of motherhood. And so I wrote a devotional for her, part of which I’ll share with you here:

May you never forget that as long awaited as this son is, even more so is the Son’s birth that gives you and your husband and son life, hope, and salvation.

As joy has come in the morning, let it remind you to wait for morning’s light even after the longest, darkest nights. Not only metaphorically referring to times when parenting feels exhausting, or you’re at a loss of what to do next, or struggles unique to motherhood (or related to it!) arise. But not just metaphoric long nights is it important to remember the surety of sunrise, but especially after sleepless nights of endless crying or feedings or illness! Let each sunrise be a reminder that it will get better and mercies are new every morning.

Motherhood will be wonderful, using all of your gifts in so many ways. And yet … there will be times when even you and your capable husband will feel at your wit’s end. Be quick to ask for help – to remember that Jesus is there, and so are all of us. As much as you’ve been showered with gifts, you are even more so showered with love and with friends who would delight to jump in and help at any point in time. Pick up the phone and call or text or email. Those of us who are moms have been there – guaranteed – and those who aren’t yet might have extra energy to help out (just as you’ve done so many times for me!). And sometimes it may simply be the act of reaching out that will help you to remember you’re not alone. Many days, a phone call with an adult was just what my heart needed to get through a particularly challenging moment.

Finally, use each of the abundant beautiful moments with your son – of peering into his face, making eye contact, catching his first smile, discovering what makes him laugh, snuggling him tight as he drifts to sleep – let all of these moments be a reflection of the love God has for you. James 1:17 says – “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights …” I pray you will be closely tuned into the music of motherhood. I’ll close with words from a motherhood memoir I’m currently reading by Lisa-Jo Baker:

On our quietest, least interesting days, I got better at hearing the music of motherhood. Because I know what typically plays in the background is the chaos of squabbles and coats never put away in the right place or muddy boot tracks across the carpet. There are the to-do lists that never get done … In the dark and the tired and the everydayness of those moments, I started to feel it – the weight of glory, the glorious ordinary that is a gift to us who are knee deep in a world where it can sometimes feel like we have lost all the parts of ourselves we used to know like the back of our hands, our favorite jeans, our own names. A gift from God who names every part of who we are and what we do significant. Because “he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” There is no part of our everyday, wash-and-repeat routine of kids and laundry and life and fights and worries and playdates and aching budgets and preschool orientations and work and marriage and love and new life and bedtime marathons that Jesus doesn’t look deep into and say, “That is Mine.” In Him all things hold together.

day 31: leave

photo credit: theguardian.com

photo credit: theguardian.com

Waving good-bye is always bittersweet. It signals leaving someone I love, for whom I’m traveled miles and miles and now it is time to return home.

Sometimes I wonder what my impression is on others after I leave. What do I leave behind when I exit a room or a party? Love and encouragement and kindness? Or a “whew, I’m glad she’s gone because WOW she was in a bad mood today”? I am sure that it is both. Depending on the day, the occasion, and my interaction with others.

When family or dear friends who have become like family leave our home after a visit and gets back in their car, it is hard to see them leave. Long-distance refers not only to miles but in time between face-to-face relating. And it is hard for your heart to live in so many different places. South Carolina; Georgia; Philadelphia; Chicago; Hershey; Florida; Savannah; New Hampshire; Singapore; Kenya … to name a few.

Leaving of all kinds awakens the longing for a time and an eternal day when there will be no more leaving. It will be staying and celebrating and laughing and loving. A place I’ll never want to leave, and never will have to leave.

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The final post in the 31-day writing challenge (of which I wrote almost all 31). Read all of them here. And it’s also a belated Five-Minute Friday post, too {five minutes of writing on a prompted topic with a fabulous link-up of other bloggers}.

day 29: wake

As I approach the end of the 31-day writing challenge, I have to admit that I am feeling a bit weary of this type of writing. I am eager to share with you, my readers, what has been on my heart. And this format does not best lend itself to that. Plus I’m realizing that I would much rather blog 1-2 times a week with what’s flowing from my life than to write every day. Quality v. quantity. I did take a break last week to share about Seasonal Affective Disorder, and I look forward to following up on that soon. Other topics in my head and heart –  generosity Macedonian-style,  a few book reviews of Teach Us to Want, Simplicity Parenting, and In Our Lives First, and the ever-present reality of embracing imperfection. So, thank you, dear readers old and new for following along this 31-day journey. We’re nearing the finish line! (And I was also happy to know that even the Nester who organizes write 31 days posted about her break, almost simultaneously with her sister, Emily Freeman, writing the same. I am not alone. !)

But – back to today’s word. It’s a good one. Here I go – five minutes of writing unedited:

***

photo credit: fitsugar.com

photo credit: fitsugar.com

What will it mean for you to wake up today? What will it take for you to be awake? Fully awake in your life, generously opening up your hands, your heart, your mind, your gifts to the world around you? For me waking starts with a shower, quiet reflection and journaling, reading the words of life (Scripture), and then a good, strong cup of coffee with French Vanilla creamer in it. I wake so that I can be present with my ever-energetic 4-year-old twin daughters, so that I can engage with the friends I will meet today and the strangers whose paths will cross mine. I wake in order not to miss life as it passes me by.

Spiritually, I must also daily wake my soul. There’s a quote in our home painted by a friend years ago that says, “We who would be born again indeed must wake our souls multiple times a day.” It is so true. I must wake up to my life, to the spiritual realities within which I dwell. For battle – we wage daily against the spiritual forces of darkness whether aware or not – and for love. Love requires all of my faculties to be awake.

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For the rest of my 31-day writing series, click here.

day 27: free

Monday morning comes rough and early and with the background of a scream-crying 4-year-old who can’t find the flashlight I gave her as a reward for good behavior yesterday. {And now I wish I’d never done that.} I feel a hair-trigger anger in response. How dare you interrupt my guarded, quiet half hour? This is all I will have of that commodity [quiet] today. And you are robbing me of it. 

It’s too familiar. The anger because my agenda is interrupted, my will has been crossed, what I thought I needed for my day, for my week, is being taken away. By my child.

I hate my anger. And I hate the selfish heart from which it arises. I want to be free. Really free. And I know I am promised that in Christ, I am free. The old has gone; the new has come. … Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, for the law of the Spirit of life has set you free from the law of sin and death. … Stand firm, therefore, and do not be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. 

photo credit: pixgood.com

photo credit: pixgood.com

So why do I feel the weight of the shackles still? I am in Christ by faith, and his life is in me. I am free from sin’s power, but I still live terrorized by it in moments like this. Perhaps “free” is to be the battle cry of my heart to press in to what is truer about me than my anger and my selfishness. I am free, and I will be free completely one day. Let me live in this hope in the in between place (the already and not yet).

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Part of the 31-day writing challenge in October. {Five minutes of free writes from a daily word prompt.}

day 25: enjoy

photo credit: christianbook.com

photo credit: christianbook.com

“Taste and see that the Lord is good.” But what if I don’t sense the Lord’s goodness? Too often, my conclusion tilts toward – “well – God must not be good and the Bible isn’t true then.” Instead of the more obvious assessment that my tastebuds must be off. One of the best conversations I had with a new friend in seminary was when we discussed this verse and the fact that a prayer out of this verse must be, “Then, Lord, change my appetite! Teach me to enjoy you again.”

It’s not unlike the way my physical tastebuds can get spoiled by too much sugar and junk food, taking away my taste for what’s healthy and good. The few times that I have given myself a sugar fast, I was amazed by how much more I enjoyed all of my food – the healthy vegetables, for example, and the fresh fruit. And when I did eat something sweet at the end of the fast, I savored that even more so, too, because of the way my tastes had been “reset” as it were.

I think the proper prayer for my heart, and perhaps yours, is to ask God to help me to enjoy what is truly joyful. To reorient my joy and my attitudes to what brings eternal delight rather than merely temporary pleasure. As I lay down my life, I will discover true life.

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Read the rest of my 31-day free writes here. Six days to go!

day 24: dare

photo credit: vallartasport.com

photo credit: vallartasport.com

I’ve never been one for risks. I trembled when standing on the edge of the 10 foot drop, about to leap into the lake below behind my teenage friends. I likewise hated the twice-ever rappelling down the side of a mountain as part of summer camp. I like to hang behind, assess a situation, and then gradually ease in. No surprise to tell you that I’ve never been one for high diving boards, and sky diving is not on my bucket list.

But there are ventures that I have dared to attempt. I’ve been on overseas mission trips to Haiti, Mexico, and Ireland with hardly a second thought. It terrified me, yes, but I still did it because there was something worth risking for. I entered into marriage relatively quickly – only after 1 year of friendship, 6 months of dating, and 6 months of engagement – I walked down the aisle and say my forever-and-always yes. It felt daring but safe all at the same time. I trusted my husband, but most importantly, I trusted God.

Then there have been risks and dares that I’ve been given. Like raising twins. And beginning a book proposal. And shifting careers, and a few break-ups before the marriage-to-the-man-of-my-dreams. So I may be more careful in calculating risk, but then that might make me more brave when I do perform a daring act.

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Part of Five Minute Friday and the 31-day writing challenge. Read more here.

day 23: pumpkin

They line the front porches cheerfully grinning with hollow smiles, lit up one evening in October. Their appearance initiates autumn’s inception. And we count them on our neighborhood walks. Lost in a field of pumpkins is my favorite fall picture. And it was one of Alethia’s first words. The bright orange globes noticeably glow, matching the leaves of the trees surrounding them.

The first fall after having twins, I lined up four small pumpkins on my mantel, and I felt like this gesture was my re-entrance into a rhythm outside of round-the-clock feedings. They were barely six weeks old, and family came in town to meet the twins for the first time. And I remember the line of orange, leading the way to more creativity one day.

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Ending earlier than 5 minutes, for once. This was one of the topics I chose, and as I’m writing, I realize I really can’t write that much about pumpkins. Their poetic nature expires after about 2 minutes. So in interest of my boredom with writing about pumpkins and yours with reading about them, I end there.

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More in my 31-day writing series in October found here.

day 22: expect

photo credit: churchleaders.com

photo credit: churchleaders.com

It implies hope of something certain. Yet what happens if what you expected clashes with the reality of what you’re given? Like the wife who says – “I never expected him to work so much,” or the husband who can’t understand why his wife is so distant. The parents who come quickly to their wit’s end with their 2-year-old or their teenager, and they say with desperate pleading, “I didn’t expect parenting to be this hard! When will it get easier?”

The hardest can be when I myself turn out differently than I expected. I never thought I would be the mom who struggled with anger, or the wife who wanted more alone time, or the friend who went “off the grid” when life felt too hard, or the pastor’s wife who would resent the church at times, or the counselor who grew cynical. But I have been all of these and more. And it’s surprising to me, yet not to the God who made me, who wrote out each of my days before they began. Though I do not meet my own expectations, God’s love for me always exceeds what I expect of Him. This brings hope – that there is a Love to carry me through all that I do (and especially what I do not) expect in life.

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Part of a 31-day writing series on various topics – 5 minutes of free writing each day. Read all of them here.

day 21: color

photo credit: dvdreleasedates.com

photo credit: dvdreleasedates.com

I call the summer between my sophomore and junior year of college the summer that my faith became technicolor. In my previously black-and-white faith,  grace was a word used merely to excuse sin – “it’s covered by grace! Praise Jesus! I can keep on being rude to my family and hating those different than me, plus do everything I want to do and know that I’m still saved.” I didn’t have a high view or a very personal view of grace, amazing though I professed it to be each time I sang the words of that familiar hymn. 

And then I began to feel my futility in being righteous enough according to God’s standards. I started losing sleep out of anxiety that I was not doing enough for God and under the burden of trying to do everything right all of the time. I cried out to God in my first grace prayer that sounded like this: “God, I can’t do it anymore! You must help me!” 

And wow, color flooded in like the Technicolor scenes of Wizard of Oz once Dorothy leaves Kansas. Grace was everywhere and in everything I read and many conversations I had that summer. Grace carried me and infused strength to me when I had finally professed that I had none left. Grace brought renewed joy to me in the God of my salvation who did my impossible at great cost to Jesus – rescued me from sin and set me free in hope to be a new creation in Christ.

Grace was on every page of Scripture. Romans, Galatians, Colossians, even the Old Testament pointed to it with promises in Ezekiel of a new heart and God’s invitation to his people over and over again to return to him, for he had redeemed them.

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Part of the October 31-days writing challenge. Read the rest of my posts here.

7 heart-revealing truths about Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)

Last night I had a hard time sleeping. I tossed and turned until finally I did what you’re never supposed to do: I reached for my phone from my bedside table. I began browsing about SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), and it confirmed what I’ve suspected for several years now. I struggle with seasonally affected moods. I learned that I have many of the hallmarks of SAD:

  • Begins in September-October with a noticeable dip in mood
  • Worsens until March
  • Disappears with an elevated mood and renewed energy almost overnight – within 1-2 weeks when spring arrives in April/May
  • Characterized by carb cravings, decreased energy, increased sleeping, general sense of irritability and loss of enjoyment in previously enjoyed activities
  • 70% more likely for women than men
  • Less common in countries close to the equator (Might this include states, too – any of my Florida or So. Cal. friends struggle with SAD?)

The next question is what to do about it? The almost unanimous agreement is that light therapy is the #1 way to combat it. (Outdoor exercise and healthy eating are also helpful.) So next on my list is purchasing a light lamp. For you my readers, do you have any experience with a light lamp? Any particular one you would recommend or not? I have a friend here who loves hers, and says as long as it’s 10,000 lumens, I’m good to go. Worth noting from my middle-of-my-sleepless-night research is that optimal light therapy looks like 30-45 minutes of exposure to the light lamp first thing in the morning, with noticeable results within 3-5 days and for as long as you continue with light therapy.

This got me thinking about what’s the spiritual benefit of my struggle with SAD. What SAD does for me is reveal my heart, exposing aspects of my life that I wouldn’t choose to see if I stayed relatively emotionally “happy” or positive most of the time. I came up with 7 heart-revealing truths about SAD:

  1. SAD exposes my tendency to overly depend on my emotions instead of God
  2. SAD reveals how I idolize happiness
  3. SAD demonstrates my over-desire to escape all forms of suffering instantly (get me a light lamp STAT!)
  4. SAD reminds me that my natural bent is to turn inward and isolate myself instead of reach out for help to God and others
  5. SAD forces me to accept the reality of a world in which all is not perfect – where brokenness and literal darkness exists
  6. SAD shows me in living color the way that I try to blame those around me for the problems within me (exhibit A: increased irritability toward my kids and my husband)
  7. SAD becomes a metaphor for life without light – a built-in reminder that as much as my body and emotions need physical sunlight, even more so my soul needs the Light of the World, the Sunrise from on high, to dwell within me and illuminate my life.

I will continue to research a good light lamp, but I want to also engage God with my heart – bringing to him my struggle, complaints, irritability and asking for grace to repent, to reach out in love to others even when it doesn’t feel as “easy” as in summer, and to humbly remember my place as dependent on Light in all its forms.

light