Faith

Prayers In A Tube

May 7, 2013 by LoraLynn

Last night I had an appointment for 7:50. They called just as I got dinner on the table and asked me to come early, which is how I ended up careening down the road in the rain with a plate of meat loaf in my lap.

I was getting an MRI done on a pituitary tumor I’ve had since my teens. It’s not a big deal, just something they repeat every few years. And I tried to tell myself that lying very still for an hour is what every mother dreams of.

But anyone who has had an MRI knows, lying in that tiny tube with your head held in place and a jack hammer in your ear is sometimes nothing short of panic inducing.

I took long deep breaths and focused on the tiny mirror in front of my eyes, my only window to Outside. My brain hunted desperately for something to do besides scream when I realized I could pray… uninterrupted but for the cacophany of the magnet whirling around me.

So I started in on my list, lifting up my people from oldest to youngest. I thought on their individual verses and prayed for the things I knew they struggled with.

And that sounds really spiritual and lovely, but you need to know that I wasn’t two people into my list before my head was a swirling vortex of anxiety and guilt as the Spirit convicted me of all the ways I’d goofed up loving my people that day. My heart clenched at all the problems I wanted desperately to fix, to make better. I blinked frantically and tried not to swallow or move my head while I wrested my focus back to the tiny mirror to Outside.

Another slow, careful breath (but not so big that it made me move) and I started over, praying deliberately.

And the cycle repeated. I didn’t have to get very far to realize my own sins and failures against my kids. The ways I let them down. I began to worry anew about some crisis or another and then would claw my way back up the rabbit hole of anxiety by begging Jesus to make right what I couldn’t.

And I may have had a bit of Church right there in that big ol’ magnet, if I could have only lifted my hand in praise.

Because though I was very still, in my head I had my hands wide open, full of questions, full of surrender, empty of myself. And I had them aimed right at the Only One with any answers.

The longer I had to be still, the tougher it got. I began begging God to keep me from anxiety. “Why, God, do I go to the dark places, the hard places, when I am still? Isn’t this what you want, all of us still before you? So why is it so terrifying?”

I pondered that awhile and then realized that my prayers in utter stillness… they beget more prayer. And that really is the point. Prayers in the quiet, when our hands aren’t busy and our eyes aren’t roving, they lay us open and bare before our Maker. They humble us, make us see how weak and helpless we are. And in turn, we reach out for God more.

But I’m busy. Sometimes I like to think I’m doing ok as I muddle through the day. That I’m holding up, managing All The Things, tossing up prayers as I go. But if I’m really still and lay my heart before God, I realize where I fail, where I am weak, and where He must be strong.

And that makes me lean into Him all the more.

But stillness is scary. I’ve gotten better at the discipline of prayer, but the stillness? Not so much. Because it’s scary. It makes me stare the Brokenness in the face. Yet it’s in the face of all the brokenness that He Who Heals is glorified, that His strength carries me.

But I have my pride. Being a parent, being a wife, being a daughter, being a friend… all these thing drive me to my knees regularly. But sometimes I don’t think I stay there long enough to let the bottom fall out, to open my arms wide and free fall into the strong arms of Christ. I’d rather dance around the ledge just long enough to ask for help and then lean back against my boulder-sized pride in myself for safety.

Now that I’ve laid in the stillness and felt the fall, felt utterly weak and utterly held, I know to seek the stillness more. (And preferably more often than my regularly scheduled MRI.) Today I keep returning to the feeling I had when I prayed in the tube, the leaning into the whirl, the utter surrender of my pride and freedom.

I don’t know how to achieve Ultimate Stillness every day. It feels impossible for this mother of seven.

But I know I need to reach for it more, to schedule an hour of no multi-tasking into my weeks. And to keep leaning into He Who Comes In Stillness until at last He comes in Thunder and I can face Him with arms raised in praise, unbroken and properly focused at last.

“Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!”

-Psalm 46:10

*When are you still? How do you achieve Ultimate Stillness without medical intervention?

Filed Under: Faith, Mothering Thoughts
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The Missing Piece

February 20, 2013 by LoraLynn

I could hear them arguing at my feet through the basement floor. I called them up and sat them down for a speech full of Wisdom and Gentle Correction.

Or at least, that’s the way I remember it in my head.

We discussed loving one another, your brother/sister is your best friend, etc. Then I paired them up and told them they would not do anything else until they’d done something nice for their assigned sibling.

One at a time, they came to me with their ideas. With some minor adjustments from me, they settled on an act of service and went to execute.

I was a brilliant Mommy.

And then there was that one kid…

The one who suggested that he play foosball or ping-pong with his brother for his “something nice.”

And while that was certainly a nice thing, it wasn’t the sort of “serve one another” I had in mind. He thought some more and, once again, his idea was lacking that actual “serve” aspect I was looking for.

After several more failed ideas, he hemmed and hawed so I stepped in. “Why don’t you put away a load of laundry for your brother? That’s his chore and there’s a load waiting in the dryer for him.”

This was not the sort of suggestion he wanted to hear.

After some discussion, he trickled off to serve his brother, but he was not happy about it. Not one little bit.

He argued a bit from the laundry room, accusing me of interrupting him just before he thought of a good idea only now he’d never think of it and he was just sure it was better than the laundry.

I was admittedly unsympathetic.

Meanwhile, the rest of the clan was already done serving one another and were happily destroying the living room together. Unfortunate Child dramatically dragged his laundry basket into the room, frowning and squeaking and grunting.

I seriously don’t know where he gets his dramatic streak.

I sent him to my room while I changed a diaper and then joined him on my bed.

And that’s when it just spiraled out from under me.

It was the same argument. He didn’t want to do my suggestion, he wanted to come up with something on his own.

I apologized for interrupting his thoughts, asked him to forgive me for barging ahead, and then pointed out that at this juncture, we were past letting him be creative. Now he simply needed to choose to obey. And adjust his attitude.

This did not sit well.

He scrunched up his face to cry and my blood pressure soared. I pointed to the bed and said, “Stay.”

Then I stomped out of the house and pitched my own little fit right there on the back porch.

I gripped the porch rail and all but screamed in my head while I fought for control. “What is wrong with him? What is wrong with me? Why isn’t this working?”

Cold air filled my lungs and despite the fact that I was still panting in anger, it knocked enough sense in me to make me pray.

“Isn’t this wise parenting, Lord? What am I doing wrong? I didn’t yell. I didn’t make empty threats. I simply gave him very concrete consequences and he can’t just think of one nice thing to do for his brother? Or just put away the dang basket of laundry??? What’s missing?”

One answer came crunching through the wind-blown leaves: Jesus.

Both of us were missing Jesus in this equation.

I wanted to use my “wise” parenting, my barely-controlled gentle voice to coax his heart to change. He wanted to serve his brother HIS way. But neither of us would ever accomplish anything without Jesus.

Only Jesus could take any word from my mouth and make it True, make it Wise, make it Stick. And only Jesus can change my son’s heart, make him feel Love, Compassion, and Kindness.

I let the wind cool my cheeks a bit more and headed inside.

The truth is, when I went back in, I didn’t change my strategy. But I recognized that if my child obeyed, it wasn’t because of anything I said or did. I’d been humbled. Reminded of my place in this parenting equation.

After a bit more talking and a nice long hug, my son skipped off to finish the laundry and I sat in my chair in the kitchen and let the evening chaos swirl around me. I was well and truly beaten.

But do you know what? Jesus wasn’t! And He kept working while I sat and by the time dinner was upon us, my son was a new creature. He served everyone their pizza (dinner of champions, you know), fetched cups and napkins for his sisters, and cheerfully helped clean the table without being asked, begged, pleaded with or cajoled.

And that ain’t nothin’ but a God thing, y’all.

Glory!

Filed Under: Faith, Family Stories, Mothering Thoughts
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Coffee and Convo – When Does A Busy Mommy Make Time For God?

February 18, 2013 by LoraLynn

More Coffee? And Convo?

Don’t mind if I do.

I’ll give you a topic…

(Actually, I’ll steal another topic from your facebook requests.)

When do you find time for the spiritual disciplines?

Ok, that wasn’t exactly how that question was phrased, but asking me when I do my “quiet time” is simply cause for giggling. Because it’s rarely quiet here.

Admittedly, I’m writing this at 2pm while the Littles are napping and the Bigs are outside playing and it’s fairly quiet. (Except for the opening and closing of the front door roughly 800 times as kids come in and out and ask if they can play “sword-fighting” with wood scraps.) So, YES, it gets quiet here and YES an introverted mama like me really does go to her room despite fear of the house burning down just to get some alone time.

But that wasn’t really the question.

The question (I think) was more about how do we busy mamas find time to grow spiritually when we’re being tapped dry emotionally and physically? And how can we set good examples for our kids so they learn to do the same thing?

I’ll tell you what I do and what I wish I did better and then you all can tell me what YOU do.

We’ll conversate, ok?

Prayer

Sometimes I think prayer was created just for mamas because it’s honestly the one thing we can do any time, any where, no matter how full our hands are. I’ve told you all about the Lesson of the Prayer Crickets and how I’ve translated that to praying at set times during the day. In the morning I pray for my kids. In the afternoon, I pray for others.

The benefit to having those crickets call me to prayer is that I’m not the only one who hears the Crickets. (Note to self: remember to TURN OFF THE CRICKETS during church. Jumping under the pew to find one’s phone is only funny so many Sundays in a row.) But explaining that alarm gives me a chance to talk about prayer to anyone within earshot. And it may even give me a chance to talk about the Gospel.

And just who is within earshot of me the most?

My kids.

Ain’t that a kick?

They know those crickets and they know what they mean. At 10 am, when the crickets go off, a scuffle will often ensue to be the child closest to me so I can put my hand on their head and pray for them. Or if I just bow my head where I’m at, they’ll ask me, “Was it me? Did you pray for me this time, Mommy?”

I can get up and place a hand on a child’s head, I can grab the kid that wins the scuffle, or I can just lift my hands and close my eyes and cover them all in one fell prayer swoop. I don’t always pray out loud, but they know I’m praying and they know it’s about them.

Doing this has allowed me to demonstrate the discipline of prayer to my kids, but also the relationship aspect of prayer. My kids know I talk to Jesus. They know there’s a relationship there. And I hope they want one, too…

Of course, they’re not the only people on my heart, which is why there’s that 4 pm alarm. Sometimes I whisper these prayers out loud over dinner prep and sometimes I just stop and grip the counter and grit out my worries and anxieties and sorrows in my mind.

I think the discipline of praying at a set time ensures that I really do pray. I don’t just worry over something or somebody. Sometimes prayer seems like such a non-helpful thing when you want to be Doing Something About It All but honestly? Prayer is a whole bunch more proactive than worrying and hand-wringing.

(p.s. My friend Missi wrote more practical tips about this discipline of prayer in the crazy,)

Scripture Memory:

This year, I challenged Andrew to join me in the Romans Project over at Ann Voskamp’s site. I printed out notecards because I like to SEE and FEEL my words and Andrew is using Scripture Typer. We say our verses to each other and egg each other on to keep going when we get busy and forget. It’s a friendly competition but it helps spur us on to consistent memory work.

I keep my notecards in the kitchen so I can study them while I feed Finn breakfast or while the kids are eating lunch. Finn hasn’t been as interested in breakfast lately (go figure) so I took my cards, stuck them in a ziploc baggy, and took them with me to the shower to study.

Romans 1 Verse 13?

Done before I’d even shaved my legs.

The great part is, even though we’ve purposefully left the kids out of this little venture, they’re intently watching us learn and study. I often say my verses to Sam or Ian when Andrew isn’t around to listen. They get a kick out of the banter and “friendly competition” that Mommy and Daddy have. They want to know WHY we’re doing it and we’re modeling various ways HOW to do it.

Hopefully, they’ll want to join in our fun at some point.

Sneaky, huh?

(Want to join us, too? It’s not too late. We’re almost done with Romans 1 but in another week or so, we’ll start Romans 8. Two verses a week. No big whoop.)

What I Wish I Did Better:

I don’t sit down and model an actual “daily quiet time” for my kids. I grab snatches of Scripture reading on my phone, we do devotions as part of school and we do family worship in the evening. But that personal journaling, quiet reflection, and study time?

It doesn’t happen.

I know mamas who do it and do it well. Those who rise faithfully before their kids. Those who manage it during bath time. My mentor told me to just leave the books and journals out where you’ll see them, remember to pick them up. But our house doesn’t currently lend itself to having any more book clutter.

Some day, I think it will. Maybe when Finn quits unloading the TV cabinet hourly like it’s his own personal smorgasbord of DVDs to chew on…

For now, though, I cling to the snatches of Truth I can find. I look forward to my mornings off. And I pray that by being faithful in the little things I CAN do, God will honor that faithfulness in the future with more time for quietness and reflection.

Now tell me. What’s your spiritual growth plan? Is it podcasts (something I’m only just now getting into), notecards, journaling, early mornings, or the Bible in a year plan? When do you find time for prayer?

What spiritual disciplines to you model well for your kids? What do you wish you did better?

Filed Under: Faith, Mothering Thoughts
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Standing Still In The Spin (Plus, a Spiffy Hippo Giveaway)

February 17, 2013 by LoraLynn

I know a lot of people talk about their “one word” for the year. For this life we lead, though?

There are no words.

Instead, I have a sort of mental image in my mind. First, imagine me standing in the middle of this panorama surrounded by children and laundry, and the room is spinning at a mind-blurring rate. As my little world spins around me, I can only be still and raise my hands. :

In the middle of the spinning, God’s got me with my hands up. Sometimes it’s in prayers of supplication, sometimes I’m begging for mercy, and sometimes I can do nothing but lift my hands in glory to the Creator of all things.

Because He gives us His stories to tell, I go back to my story and it’s beginnings. The girl who wanted to be a mama and thought she never would be. Who in loss and in waiting and in wailing, raised her hands and said, “Whatever You will.”

And look what He willed, y’all:

Seven pairs of feet to wash, literally and figuratively, every day. This hangs in the center of our home, our one big stone of testament to God’s faithfulness to two crazy kids who asked God to make them a family.

When I stand in the middle of the whirling, swirling dervish, this reminder of His faithfulness is at the center. It fairly screams out “Glory!!!” no matter how I’m feeling about my situation in that moment. And so I raise my hands…

*******

Our new canvas was printed by Spiffy Hippo and I hope you can take a minute with me to revel in its beauty. Such a huge difference in quality between this canvas and my last one. Spiffy Hippo is owned by dear friends of ours who put extra love and care into their work… and it shows:

They’re offering one of YOU lucky readers a chance to order your own canvas testament to God’s faithfulness in your life. Leave a comment and tell me what you’d get printed if you win one 16 x 20 canvas.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Filed Under: Faith, Family Stories, Mothering Thoughts, Sponsor Love
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A Beautiful Mess – Ezra’s Story

January 28, 2013 by LoraLynn

Are you ready to feel the hairs on your arm stand straight up?

Many, many moons ago while we were waiting to go get Mira, I shared with you all about another baby in need. Mira’s rescuer was trying to rescue Ezra, too, and they needed somebody to sponsor him so they could buy medicine and formula. You opened your hearts and within six minutes, Ezra had a sponsor.

But there was more to that story.

One of the readers of this little blog began pursuing an adoption of Ezra. Meanwhile, due to some legal issues, Ezra remained in a dangerous situation in the slums.

Andrew and I visited while we were in Uganda. Ezra was so tiny. He had a good strong cry, but he seemed too small.

He peed all over Andrew’s suit and tie and baptized us both in a new understanding of “the least of these.” And we thought we’d never see him again.

I lost track of Ezra’s story, but whenever I opened iPhoto on my computer, for some reason, it always opened with Ezra’s pictures at the top. And so I would whisper a prayer and hope that the sweet tiny little guy we held in Africa was ok.

And then, two days ago, I heard from Marci.

Just look at our sweet Ezra today, y’all:

His story isn’t what you think.

Marci traveled to Uganda to meet Ezra and to try to get him out of the horrible situation he was in. But the circumstances changed WHILE she was traveling and when she arrived, she met Ezra’s biological family who truly did want what was best for him and were finally in a position to take care of him. It was with great prayer and bravery that the Millers chose to leave Ezra in the care of his true family.

And on that trip to visit Ezra, Marci met her daughter-to-be, Thea.

You can read more about Ezra’s story and why they chose family preservation in this instance over at her blog. But I wanted you to see him now and to let you know that you all were a part of that story.

And the stories don’t always turn out the way you expect.

But they turn Beautiful in His hands all the same.

P.S. There’s a Beautiful Messy Story in all of us. Read our version here.

Filed Under: Adoption, Faith
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Praying For My People – The Return of the Prayer Crickets

January 22, 2013 by LoraLynn

Speaking of mental health, last week Andrew encouraged me to take the day off.

But the offer came with rules. First, NO ERRANDS. (You know we do it, ladies. We’re gonna go get our nails done but somehow we always end up at Target buying diapers.)

Second, I had an assignment. I was to take as much time as I wanted to just spend praying and getting some spiritual renewal. Like taking my soul’s pulse.

*That came out a lot more hippy-dippy than I meant for it to. Let’s pretend you understood me.*

Anyway, I had the whole day to pray, evaluate my life, my roles and responsibilities, and spend some time catching up on areas I’d let slide.

I intended to leave the house but, honestly, I’m most relaxed in my own space and our back porch is nice and sunny. So I grabbed a quilt, my Bible, a journal, and my headphones and sat in a happy sunbeam for the morning.

Bliss.

After praying and reading for awhile, I remembered that I’d wanted to use what I learned from the Prayer Crickets and apply it to praying for my kids. And, suddenly, I had time.

So I sat and found verses that I wanted to pray for each person in our family over the next year. Then I made myself pretty little reminders. (I texted my friend who is crafty and warned her I was using a laminator so she would understand that shift she felt in the earth’s rotation. She was grateful for my warning.)

I hung them in places around the house where I would see them often: the pantry,

the coffee cup cabinet (a popular place in our house),

and in pertinent places in the bathroom.

I put them up without fanfare, but the kids noticed them immediately and began a hunt to find their picture. Ellen demanded to have hers read to her and is working on memorizing it. (There’s no explanation for her inner drive. As long as she channels it for good…)

I set up an alarm on my phone to set the prayer crickets off at 10 am every day. I grab the child who is nearest and whisper a prayer over them. The same alarm goes off at 4 pm so I can pray for other friends and loved ones whose needs are on my mind that day.

And that’s it. My hope is to cultivate a constant attitude of prayer in my own heart, to consistently whisper the words of my deepest longings for the people I love. And to set a good example for my kids of what a lifestyle of prayer might look like.

So that’s what I did with my mental vacation.

What would you do with yours?

Filed Under: Faith, Family Stories, Mothering Thoughts, This Is How We Do It
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Making Christmas Matter

November 11, 2012 by LoraLynn

I know we haven’t had Turkey-day yet, but since I saw Christmas decorations in Target mid-October, I’m gonna assume it’s okay to start talking about it.

We’ll be moving in a few weeks and when I look up from the boxes, December will be staring me in the face. So Andrew and I are revisiting previous Christmas traditions and discussing how we want to do things this year. Some of the activities take planning and preparation that need to be started now.

Our goal is to make sure that Christmas MEANS something to our kids, that they see the truth of the Gospel in this celebration of Christ’s birth.

Here’s my “to-do” list (I’ll be checking it twice) for Christmas this year: (links to further discussion are highlighted)

1-The Vitafam doesn’t exchange gifts within our immediate family. But we’re not Scrooges, I promise. And I’m going to go ahead and admit that it’s hard not to shop for my people this time of year. I could FILL my Amazon cart at a moment’s notice. But in this case, the sacrifice is worth it. Really.

2-You better believe I’ll be hunting down a new nekkid Christmas tree just as soon as I plant my feet on the new front porch for good.

3-I also need to stock up on more candles for December dinners by candlelight. (Even if I’m not entirely surely where the table will reside come December 1.)

4-I made sure the Christmas boxes were pulled out of the attic and I’m going to watch them go on the truck so hopefully I can lay hands on our Jesse Tree Ornaments as soon as we unpack. If you haven’t bought yours yet, NOW IS THE TIME. I got mine here and I LURVE them.

5-For the gifts I do purchase, I’ll be using the Home for Christmas list. I’d like to update it for 2012, so if you’re selling something to raise money for your adoption, let me know this week.

I don’t share all these because I think we’ve got it all figured out. We tweak this a little every year and we’re always evaluating and hunting for more ideas.

To that end: I’d love to hear some of your ideas for keeping the Gospel in your Christmas. Toss ‘em at me!

Linking up with the Parenthood!

Filed Under: Faith, This Is How We Do It
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Prayer Crickets

November 4, 2012 by LoraLynn

When the idea of selling our home began to be a reality, Andrew and I both felt the weight of the decisions ahead. We agreed we needed lots of time on our knees in the coming days. To ensure this, we committed to praying, no matter what, at 2 pm every day.

I set up an alarm on my phone to remind me. I set the alarm sound to Crickets.

At first, I found the crickets disruptive. My days were speeding quickly, there was much to worry over, and I mostly felt aggravation when I had to go hunting around for my phone to turn off the crickets. But I’d always pray. Sometimes it was a quick tossed up prayer, but I did it.

The days would begin with good intentions but would quickly get away from me and by nearly two o’clock in the afternoon, I was spent, mentally and physically. I was tired of keeping my house clean or worried that the house wasn’t showing enough. I was exasperated with my messy kids and their desire to destroy our home, brick by brick. Or I was caught up in the wondering what would happen next. Where would we move? Should we pick this house or that one?

I’d feel my fists clench and my chest tighten. And then I’d hear crickets…

“Give us wisdom, Jesus.”

Other days, I’d remember to pray on my own, without knowing the time. And I’d always laugh to hear the crickets chime in to join me, right on time.

Y’all, I don’t know how it happened. But if I was praying about house stuff, I’d look up and it would be two o’clock. Somehow, the habit was creating a pattern in my spirit, a pattern to cry out, bidden or unbidden, every single day.

I’m no theologian, I don’t know if this is anything but anecdotal. But I can tell you that in the matter of prayer, it would seem that habit begets longing. I didn’t want to pray at first. I wanted to whine and kvetch and worry. But I created the habit. And the desire to pray soon followed. I grew to need that prayer time.

These days, if anyone has spent much time around me, they know what the crickets mean. My phone will go off and the room will erupt in a chorus of, “Time to pray! The crickets are calling!”

The children do not bat an eye when I’m driving down the road and answer the call of the crickets, out loud, in traffic. Or if I’m taking a rest, they’ll curl up with me an we’ll say a quick prayer for our new home.

I wonder if the kids will remember the Prayer Crickets. I know they’re watching, taking all of this activity in. They listen to our endless conversations as we negotiate a house purchase and wonder how to wisely handle our money. And they listen as I pray out loud. They hear me tell Jesus all about my frustration or beg Him for some guidance.

They don’t understand words like “appraisal” and “mortgage,” but they understand words like “help us make good decisions.”

They’re seeing our prayers be answered (never in our time and not always the way we expect, but still, we’re getting answers.) And maybe, just maybe, they’re learning how to develop a spirit of prayer, one habit at a time.

I don’t know what phones will look like in twenty years when our kids are buying houses, raising babies, and begging God for wisdom every single day. But I hope they still have a Crickets ring tone. They’re gonna need it…

Linking up with the Parent’hood today. Anybody can share anything they’ve written about the ups and downs of parenting. Join us!

p.s. This synchro-blog is open to all participants and is un-moderated. The content of other sites may not necessarily reflect the views of the Vitafam.

Filed Under: Faith, Mothering Thoughts
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Underwater

October 10, 2012 by LoraLynn

Jim Gaffigan describes what it’s like to add a fourth child to the family. He says, “Imagine you’re drowning… and someone hands you a baby.”

Maybe adding a seventh child is akin to drowning in Niagara Falls. Because this feels like drowning.

This feels like hold-my-head-under-water, lungs-too-tight-to-breathe, swirling torrents of pressure.

It’s just for a season. Let me look you all in the eye and reassure you that I know this. I speak it out loud. Often.

But I’m also telling you it feels hard.

I said this out loud to a few friends last night and I think maybe we don’t say it enough when we’re drowning.

I whispered it to a friend on Sunday and she and her family have thrown me some rope this week. (Her daughters baby-sat for me and while I was gone, they reorganized my refrigerator and put chocolate chips by my bed. Can we all just agree to raise our daughters up to be THAT kind of baby-sitter?)

Andrew has been out of town this week (it’s safe to say it because he’ll be home by the time the creepy people read this) and I was scared to death to let him go. Because drowning alone is a lot scarier.

But I discovered I wasn’t as alone as I thought. We made playdates, had folks check in on us, give us meals, and even the Domino’s delivery guy was a friendly adult face in my week.

And perhaps there’s no shame in using the Wednesday night childcare at church to be able to sit in the lobby and stare for a bit.

We’re making it through. Even when I checked Finn into the nursery and then tried to walk off with him still attached to my hip. Or when the handyman asked how long I’d been running my in-home daycare. And he was serious.

I fight to reach the surface, my arms and legs flail against the current, and somehow the time passes.

So maybe I’ll still be drowning tomorrow. Or maybe I’ll pull some oxygen into these water-filled lungs. But I’m not alone. And I thought maybe you needed to hear it, too: You. Are. Not. Alone.

Your hard stuff? It’s hard. No matter what it is, no matter if you think it seems easy to somebody else. If it’s hard for you: it’s hard. We all feel like we’re drowning sometimes.

Don’t be afraid to whisper it out loud. Reach for a rope that is thrown to you. And look around you in the water. You might find some other folks floating nearby that will hold your hand while you all tread water together.

Deep calls to deep at the sound of Your waterfalls;

All Your breakers and Your waves have rolled over me.

The Lord will command His lovingkindness in the daytime;

And His song will be with me in the night,

A prayer to the God of my life.

Psalm 42: 7-8

Filed Under: Faith, Mothering Thoughts
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Not What I Planned

August 20, 2012 by LoraLynn

A friend recently asked me why I hadn’t written more about our years of infertility. The pert answer is, “Nobody would believe it.” But the truth is, those two years made us the people we are today. They shaped our view of God. When I sat down to write about it, this is the story that came to mind:

I finished college in December. I commuted from one hour away and I had a husband and a job, so I wasn’t on campus any more than I had to be. When I took my last exam, I left and didn’t look back until five months later, when it was time for graduation ceremonies. I had looked forward to that day for years. All of my family gathered in one place, all of the studying finally over…

But the day I returned to campus, I was numb to all of it.

Four hours earlier in a tiny ultrasound room, I’d heard the saddest phrase: “No Heartbeat.”

For six weeks, I’d known The Plan. I’d carried him/her with such joy and anticipation. Because of timing and circumstances, I quit my job. I was queasy. Every day I marked off the calendar seemed to creep by until the first ultrasound.

I remember I was wearing overalls when I went in to see the doctor. (Do people even wear overalls any more?) The room was dark as the machine whirred to life. And then the room was just quiet.

My heart began to thud loudly. My heart knew long before my head could comprehend. We stared at the stillness on the screen, the little life that wasn’t. I begged with somebody to change it, to tell me words I wanted to hear.

But nobody did.

That evening, I went to the reception for history graduates. I was pale and I had a migraine. I don’t know why I even went. My family had driven from distances and we all met at the school. Nobody wanted to make a scene, so we exchanged hugs and I choked back tears. And then we went through the motions.

To a person, every one of my professors asked me what I had done with the past few months. They wanted to know my plans. I hung my head and shuffled my feet while I tried to form some sort of coherent answer. One that made sense. But none of it did. I was receiving a degree the next day and I was jobless. I was childless. I was without a plan.

The next day, I marched with a class of people I barely knew. I was keenly aware of the secret death I carried with me up onto the stage, that sat with me as we baked in our gowns in the sun. We all smiled and carried on with our party as planned, but everything rang hollow.

I don’t have a single picture of my graduation. I’m not sure any of us wanted to remember that weekend.

Andrew held me and I cried. He cried. We put away the stuffed hippo that we bought when the pregnancy test was positive. I spent a lot of time with my arms wrapped around the dog over the next few weeks. I wrote in my journal, I prayed, and we found peace.

Then we thought we found our miracle. Two months later, the test was positive once again. And six weeks after that, my heart was broken… again.

I struggled to make peace with some other identity than the one I’d dreamed of. The Plan was motherhood. And I had nobody to mother.

During this time, I fought to understand God as sovereign. I knew it in my head. But to accept it in my heart was scary. The idea that His Best wasn’t always My Idea of Good took months to ingest. And the raging hormones from all the pills and fertility tests didn’t help.

But I remember sitting on my bed, journal open, tears on my face, with my hands open to the heavens. “Your plans are good, Lord. They aren’t mine. But they are good.”

And lo and behold, they were better than I dreamed.

Not everybody’s story ends happy. I haven’t forgotten how it feels. I don’t think we women ever do. I wish I could wrap my arms around you all and cry with you. But I promise to remember. To honor the babies we’ve never met. And to give thanks, no matter what…

Filed Under: Faith, Family Stories, Mothering Thoughts
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