I’m fascinated by Kristen’s story. Her story could be my story…and it could also be your story. She’s a normal girl like you and like me. She’s a mess, she’s funny, she doesn’t get life right all the time. Her kids fight, her house gets messy, and her marriage has seen its moments in the valleys.
Her story is our story, and I wanted to know more. Because where Kristen’s story takes a sharp turn is at the very moment that she uttered a tiny word.
YES.
Kristen and her family felt a tug to help the struggling young women living in the slums of Kenya. With fear and trepidation, they took steps forward, saying Yes to this dream that seemed impossible, and out of their Yes, The Mercy House was birthed, offering freedom and grace for 12 girls, and 12 babies. The story is miraculous, awe-inspiring, and challenging. Kristen and her family are just like your family and mine. They’re a ordinary family who chose to say yes, and they are doing extraordinary work.
When I began reading Rhinestone Jesus, I worried that it would make me feel inadequate. I feared that maybe I would be more confused, more unsure of what my next step should be.
Instead I was reminded of that which I already knew, but I so quickly forget:
I am the mess, and Christ said Yes to me.
I am prideful, and judgmental. I’m the girl who yells at her kids, who grows idle with her time. I’m the girl who spent a decade wrapped in the ugly talons of an eating disorder, who was freed from that prison, but who can still look in a mirror and find too many faults to list.
But the beauty of receiving Christ, of accepting His Yes of me and all my flaws, is this – Because of Christ:
I am humble and repentant when I fail. I’m quick to ask my children for forgiveness when I yell, and I fight the desire to grow idle with every fiber of my being. I am free from the confines of that eating disorder, and when the lies press down, I have the wisdom of the Spirit to help me fight back.
I look for opportunities to serve, and I long to give freely.
When I throw my frustrations at God, He meets me with Grace and Mercy through His Word, every. single. time. He takes my doubts, and He strengthens me in weakness.
Because Christ said Yes to me, I am able to say Yes to Him. I could say Yes to adoption, even when it was scary and expensive, and our decision wasn’t fully supported by everyone we knew and loved. And when it all fell apart, I was able to say Yes to disappointment, to knowing God deeper through brokenness.
I say Yes every day when I fold my laundry, hug my children, serve my husband, live my life. My Yes isn’t always big – it’s a simple response, because the Big Yes was offered on my behalf with Christ’s death, burial and resurrection.
I write this today to encourage you. We are all broken. We all feel a hot mess, and I want you to know that Christ said Yes to you, for you. You can embrace that and cling to it on the days when you don’t feel like you’re enough.
I also have the privilege to give away TWO of Kristen’s books to two of you.
I cannot recommend this book strongly enough. If I could afford to give one to every single person I know, I would.
To enter for a chance to win one of two copies of Rhinestone Jesus: Saying Yes to God When Sparkly, Safe Faith is No Longer Enough,simply leave a comment. Let me know how God has redeemed you in your mess. Share how you are able to say Yes to Him in return. Tell me anything you want to share – one comment will enter you to win.
The comments will remained open until Thursday, May 1, when Rhinestone Jesus officially releases. You can, however, purchase the book already in pre-release. If you’re anxious to own your own copy of Rhinestone Jesus, you can purchase it at the following places:
This post was long. Sorry – I try not to do that too often. Thanks for sticking with me until the end. I am pleading blessings and grace over all of you as you enter into this weekend. I pray that you feel the power of Christ’s Yes to you, and that you, in return, will know the power of saying Yes to Him.
*The giveaway is now closed. Winners have been notified. Thanks everyone for entering!
Disclaimer: I was given a copy of the book to review, and two copies to give away. All opinions expressed are my own.
Whether your children are still at home with you all day long, or you send them to school for long stretches of the day, motherhood can feel like a solo act.
We wander lonely as Clouds from time to time, don’t we?
I’m here to encourage you moms who are feeling lonely, who feel you lack purpose, you are not alone. It’s hard to push ourselves outside the boundaries of motherhood and seek the Daffodils of life.
If you Google the phrase “Do Mothers Feel Fulfilled?” you will see countless articles speaking to this very natural struggle that takes place when we become the caretakers of small children. We love them dearly, and we know that we have value in this world through them, and yet…
We so often struggle with this feeling of not being enough. We aren’t doing enough. We aren’t contributing enough. We aren’t good enough.
I’m here to tell you (and myself) that these feelings are completely normal and natural, and they will ebb and flow through the years. Earlier this year, I felt ballooned with purpose. I was excited to get up every day. I felt fulfilled both in work and at home. I felt like I was on my game.
This last month? Not so much. I’m bored. I feel like my career is at a stand still. I feel like everyone but me is accomplishing goals. I feel frustrated as a mom, as a writer, as a human being.
Motherhood comes with seasons of great joy, and moments of loneliness – of wandering and of dancing. Just don’t give up, Moms! Don’t give up on your dreams, don’t give up on your house, don’t give up on the kids, and whatever you do don’t give up on the laundry, because you will never be able to crawl out from under it.
Sometimes we dance like the daffodils. Other times we wander like the cloud.
But my gosh, our job is important. Whether we work inside or outside the home. Whether we have one or ten kids. Whether our kids are grown and living independently or still in diapers. We are doing amazing work – even when we don’t feel amazing.
So this one is for the moms who are feeling down, who are feeling like they just aren’t enough.
Dance with the daffodils, my friends. You are enough.
I’m posting at Mercy Found Ministries today. Join me there? Thanks, friends, and Happy Monday!
This post is written to the parents who have walked the heartache of a terminated or disrupted adoption. It’s a unique situation to be in – a club no one wants to join. I want you to know today one very important thing:
Your grief is real, and it is valid.
Perhaps you’re right in the midst of this trial. Maybe it is something you experienced long ago. Either way, the loss of a child through a disrupted adoption leaves a lasting scar.
It’s a mark on the heart that heals, but never really leaves.
When our adoption was terminated, I struggled with exactly how to process it. I wondered if perhaps I was overreacting, if my emotions were displaced and over-dramatic. I feared that people saw me as whiny, and perhaps more emotional than necessary considering the fact that we had not even met the child we were hoping and praying to adopt.
For the most part, this inner strife was self-imposed. I didn’t have a string of insensitive remarks being flung my way to back these these feelings of inadequacy. This was my own struggle, and it gnawed at me for a long time.
Did I really deserve to be so sad over our failed adoption attempt?
I walked through those early days after it all fell apart in a fog. In fact, I can barely remember the month of January, 2013. It is very hazy. Grief does that – it clouds the mind, and shrouds the memory with a sense of heartache that you never really escape.
Every day, I was sure that the people around me rolled their eyes behind my back, ready for me to get over it and move on. I questioned God, trying to make some theological sense of our predicament.
Did we really lose a child, or was there never a child planned in the first place, since He is All-Knowing, and He knew from the beginning that we would not be able to complete the process?
My mind spun throughout the long, dark hours of the night, trying to break it all apart, to make some sense of it all. It was a “chicken or the egg” riddle without a clear-cut answer, and it made me crazy….
We decided early on that we wanted to find out the gender of this baby, but we also wanted to take advantage of the fun developments that have occurred in the last six years since we had our last child. (And by “We,” I assume you all I know I mean “Me.” Lee is, graciously, along for this crazy ride).
There weren’t gender reveal parties when we had babies earlier. This is a new development, and a fun one to boot!
Last Thursday, I had an ultrasound, and I kept my head turned and my eyes squeezed shut while the technician pushed and moved the baby around looking for the right shot. She got a clear view, and handed me a sealed envelope with the results, and thus began the most stressful 24 hours of my pregnancy.
I held the results in my hand, but we had determined to find out together as a family.
Do you know how many times I considered opening them, then resealing them in another envelope?!
Roughly 168 times…
But I resisted, and I handed off the envelope to my friend Jenni, who was tasked with pulling the surprise together. And I spent the second 24 hours talking myself out of texting her to see if I could get her to slip up and offer me some clue as to the results. I’m glad I waited, though, because the surprise?
Oh it was sweet.
I had my mouth open for most of the pictures. Good grief, I have a huge mouth…
Truthfully, I’ve felt for most of this pregnancy that I was carrying a girl, but there was a part of me that feared I was wrong. Of course I would have been equally as thrilled to have another little boy, but here’s the thing:
I feel like this little girl is just a whisper of God’s sweetness to me.
It’s no secret that the termination of our adoption was one of the most difficult and heart-wrenching experiences I’ve ever walked through. While I mourned the loss of a child I had prayed for, dreamed of, and envisioned for so many years, I lost something else, too.
I lost the guarantee of a sister for my Katya.
These past 18 months have been some of the hardest of my life. Not only did I say goodbye to my dream of adoption, and to the child that we had already prayed for and loved, but I also experienced personal heartache within my own family, and it all became a lot to process.
I longed for a sister in the last year. I see the relationships that so many others have with their sisters, and I wished I had the same.
Adoption had been a way for me to answer that dream for my daughter. I dreamed of giving her a sister, and by adopting a little girl, I felt like I could at least give her that gift.
See the thing is – Stuart men are not known for producing little girls. Our Tia broke a long history of strong male lineage, and I feared that we had already struck the X-Chromosome gold, so to speak, and it seemed fairly far-fetched to think we might be able to have another girl on our own.
So I had prepared myself to bring another (amazing) little boy into this world, and to pray that Tia would be blessed with sister-friends instead.
This is my very favorite of all the photos.
But God is so good to hear my deepest heart’s cry. He knows that I still ache a bit over the failed adoption, and perhaps I always will. Perhaps that experience will always sting just a little.
But He provided a balm by answering the smallest of prayers.
Please give my girl a sister.
What a joy it was to experience this moment with our families, both near and far. Thank you modern technology. Yet another advance from the last time we did this whole baby thing.
Having a baby in 2014 is F-U-N!
Thank you to everyone who celebrated this day with us virtually.We opted not to have an in person gender reveal, because I just felt like it would be too much, but the online virtual party we had was even more fun, because all of my worlds, past and present, collided in that one moment, and it felt like the most special day in all the world.
Social media, man. It’s pretty awesome.
And, of course, a big, huge, GIGANTIC shout out to Jenni of Avodah Images for keeping the secret, bringing the balloons, and taking the photos. I’m so grateful that she and her family were there with us for this day. What a blessing.
I answered the phone in my matchbox apartment as I unpacked one last wedding gift. A set of dishes that I thought were the coolest thing I’d ever seen when I was a 21 year old college student dreaming of setting up her own home. A set of dishes that I no longer love with the same fervor that I did then.
My husband of three weeks was on the other end.
“I got the job,” he said.
“Great!” I answered. “Congratulations.”
When we left for our honeymoon, we thought he had a job lined up, but we’d been surprised to return home and find out the job had fallen through. This was a hasty interview set up at the last minute for a job selling printers for Hewlitt-Packard in the Dallas-Ft. Worth area.
There are some many days that I miss those early years when we lived more on love than on cash. We had so much fun, and between his salary, and my earnings as a gymnastics coach, we had just what we needed to enjoy the newlywed life. We knew even then that we were beyond blessed, and that we had more than we really needed.
As life has moved forward, and careers advanced, we have, naturally, been able to increase our earning capacity, and with each salary raise, each new job, I find myself missing more and more that feeling of freedom that comes when you don’t have a lot of money.
It’s ironic, isn’t it?Ironic to equate having less money with freedom. Granted, we had no children, which made our lower earning less of a strain, but there is still a sense of freedom that washes over me when I remember those early days.
Freedom from want. Freedom from the desire for possessions. Freedom in contentment.
When children enter the picture, you naturally amass more “stuff.” The bills increase with each sports team joined, each new endeavor tested. These aren’t bad things, of course, but I find myself slowly and methodically being chased.
Chased by the want of more.
The more we’re blessed with, the more I find myself wanting.
I want to take this vacation.
I want to purchase that new furniture.
I want to buy my children this new toy, or that new outfit.
I want to eat out because OMG THEY NEED TO EAT THREE TIMES A DAY EVERY DAY!
I want, I want, I want…
When the “wants” start to close in, Lee and I ask ourselves a few questions:
First, is this something that we need? This is often the toughest question to answer, because sometimes the answer can legitimately be “Yes,” but the item may still be more frivolous than we’re willing to really admit.
Second, can these funds be put to better use elsewhere? We have two children poised to enter the world of orthodontia. We got the estimate for Phase 1 the other day, which has now taken precedence over a few of the other things we were hoping to spend money on. It is what it is, even if it’s not fun.
Third, will this purchase hinder us from giving freely? This is the area in which I feel God has most freed us as a couple in the last three years. While we used to think of ourselves as joyful, cheerful givers, often when the time came to actually do the giving, we had a hard time pulling the trigger, or we gave less than we actually could because we were afraid to let go.
I often feel chased by wants. There so many things I want to do, places I want to go, changes I want to make.
But before we fulfill any of those desires, what I really want is to make sure my heart and motives are checked first. Because there’s a fine line that separates just enough and too much, and with three (soon to be four) sets of little eyes watching closely, the want that I must place first and foremost, is the desire to show them that life is so much more full when you give it away.
And that is a want I’m willing to surrender to, every. single. time.
I am prideful, and judgmental. I’m the girl who yells at her kids, who grows idle with her time. I’m the girl who spent a decade wrapped in the ugly talons of an eating disorder, who was freed from that prison, but who can still look in a mirror and find too many faults to list.
