Last But Not Least

I am so thankful for the mama that spent her time pouring into my little boy's life while I was terrified about being a full time working mom and he wasn't breathing in his sleep. She changed our life. She took a CPR class, loved on him, cared for him, and I'm confident she prayed for him even on the days that he wasn't visiting her home on the weekends. She cared for him like one of her own. My B is who he is today because of her impact in our life. We saw love, felt love, and learned real mama love from her. So thank you Nana (and Beau). We love you.

Lets thank the mamas who are waking up alone today, and her kids are needing every minute of her attention from sun up to after sun down. The mamas who are doing this thing called life by themselves and raising little world changers without the help that we can easily take for granted. The single mamas who are stronger, braver, and more tired than we will ever know. You are so loved.

We also can't forget the mamas who are raising littles or grown ones who were not physically from their own body. They welcome them into their home with love, care, and safety. Whether they are helping raise their grand babies, foster loves, or relatives..you are a mother. You are pouring your heart into others so that they can have a better life. You are loved.

And heres to the mamas who go to work at schools every day and love on 20 something children like their own. The mamas who really are single working women, married without biological children, moms with your children in childcare, or even empty nesters. You mother these babies day in and day out at a place called school. And we all know it's the best when they accidentally call you "mom" and they blush and you just grin. Because you are their mamas when their's are not with them. You are teaching them about their world, how to love learning, and that you are brave enough to help them be the best they can be. Its not easy to teach, and you do it well. Thanks for being their mama.

To the mamas who are waiting for their babies on the other side of the world to come home. HOME. Because your heart is breaking daily and you can't stop thinking about their smile, their tears, and their hugs. You are loved. You are a mama. Your love goes beyond oceans, countries, and paperwork. Your love is bringing them home.

To the birth moms who made the decision to let your baby have a better life with a new family. Your heart told you they needed more, and your love is limitless. You are celebrated today even though your heart aches.

To the mom who won't get to see her baby face to face, and see them grow up because they went to heaven way too soon. We love you and we see you. You will have the best mother's day party ever in heaven. Because you have been a mama from day one. Nothing can ever change that.

To the moms who wipe the tears, kiss the boo-boos, make the meals, clean the house, and go to sleep to do it all again the next morning..thank you. You are the glue.

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms, because you are not forgotten.

You are so loved, and you make the world go round.

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"I Set You Apart"

You were seventeen. 

Seventeen. 

When I was seventeen, I had a terrible boyfriend. One who called me things no girl should ever have to hear. And for some reason, I still kept thinking there was good in him. I thought I was big and brave enough to make my own decisions, and I made some bad ones. Ones that I still pay the price for today. Ones that resulted in a shattered self esteem and ruined friendships. When you were seventeen, you had to decide what life really meant. 

You thought it was love, and he ran away. You were left alone to decide what on earth to do with this baby growing inside of you.

Your family wasn't perfect. Your family income and living situation wasn't perfect. And you knew there had to be a better life for that baby inside of you. You knew it was life from the start. 

So you decided, at seventeen, that you were going to give me a life that you didn't have. 

For nine months, n-i-n-e months, you carried me and still tried to be a teenager. 

I wonder if you even went to school after that. I wouldn't have. The shame, the looks, the "advice" I'm sure you received was anything but welcomed or loving. But then again, maybe you were loved on and held onto. Maybe thats why you knew there had to be a better way. 

I don't know if I made you sick, or extremely uncomfortable as I grew, or what on earth you thought about when you felt my little baby body rolling around inside of yours. It was anything but normal, but from the day you found out about me you knew that life wasn't about you anymore. You knew that your decisions impacted the future. You didn't know how, why, or what on earth that would look like 5, 10, 15 years down the road but you made selfless decisions that most seventeen year olds would never be able to make. 

You recognized that my story was bigger than a moment. It was bigger than an emotion, an event, a birth, or a future you might have wanted to provide for me. 

You let my story be bigger than your fears. 

You wrote me a letter, and probably didn't know if I'd ever get to read it. Your letter talked about your decision to place me for adoption, and without you saying it with your words you desperately wanted me to know that nothing about my birth was without love. I didn't even know teenagers could write like that, but you did. 

So, thank you for giving me a birthday. Without your brave decisions, I wouldn't be in this moment celebrating with my sweet little family today. You are part of my story. 

My birthday is a reminder that from day one, even from conception, my story had meaning and a hand in every detail that I would never understand the gravity of until I was older, and maybe not even until I was a mom myself. 

Your decisions as a teenager remind me that nothing about anyone's life is insignificant. One decision can change the course of an entire life, or lives for that matter. 

Nothing about our days are insignificant. Nothing about our decisions are insignificant. Nothing is insignificant. 

So how on earth do we keep convincing ourselves day in and day out that our lives don't leave a mark? Its a lie. 

Your life matters. Lets live like we really believe that. 

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Heres To The Tired Mommas

For two days in a row I've been sick in bed with nothing better to do than to drown out the noise of what sounds like the lost boys taking over my house with mindless time spent on Pinterest and Facebook. And. let. me. tell. you. something.

I have never felt more overwhelmed and angered by how often social media is being used to platform this crazy idea that us moms are supposed to have this thing figured out by now. And if we don't, theres a blog for that.

Can't potty train your unruly child? Google it.

Can't figure out how to fit some good ol' fashioned time with Jesus into your day? Check your facebook feed and you'll find something catchy that will remind you that you aren't doing enough of it.

Have no idea what to make for dinner? Better Pinterest that. Im finding out that we don't really pin and post about the nights that we order pizza from the cheapest and closest location to our house just because we'd rather not walk into the grocery store with wild pirates in tow.

But theres this thing... this thing called real-life that people aren't face-booking, or blogging about, or pinning on Pinterest.


We start forgetting that being a good mom isn't about meeting everyone else's standards.


And in the middle of it all, somehow we let all of those opinions, mommy blogs, pinterest boards, and everyone's "just sayin" opinions take over our  hearts and we convince ourselves that we will never be able to do this mom thing good enough.

Heres what I do know:

I know that if we keep listening to everyone else's ideas and opinions on how we can be the best parent there is, we will live miserably and we will drown in our own self doubt. Most of us mommas are already drowning in what everyone else is telling us to measure up to and we just can't quite admit that.

I know that no Pinterest board, extra spiritual blog post, or any special parenting book will be the magic cure for my children staying out of a therapists office. Every family has their crazy, lets just be okay with that for a moment.

I know that its unacceptable that I feel the need to justify to people and family around me whether or not I chose to work full time outside of the home, or stay at home with my kids. Whether my kids go to full time daycare, have their own nanny, or I stay at home with them all day shouldn't be an open door for other's opinions on what might be best for our family.

Whether or not I decide to cook an organic meal from scratch for my kids (who probably wouldn't eat it anyways) or order take out for the third night in a row because its not grocery shopping day yet shouldn't have any bearing on my worth as a mom, but it does.

And in the middle of all of these Facebook shares, pinning on Pinterest, and comments that we let yell so loudly into our souls, we forget what on earth we are doing. 

Y'all. We were not created to be everything to everyone.

Lets chose our people wisely.

Lets find some women in our lives who can speak truth in love to us when we might not be ready to hear it.

Lets meet with friends who will encourage us, and laugh at our ridiculous mom stories without fear of judgement.

Lets be people who stop listening to everyone and everything around us and drown out the noise with the absolute truth of who God has created us to be.

Lets find our identity in who created our identity and stop looking for the next great book to fix that for us.

Lets be people who stop judging and start loving.

So heres to you mom who made it to bedtime. It's not easy, and you are doing this thing well. You will not be perfect at it, and you were not created to do this thing alone.

Its time to drown out the noise, find your people, and love your people well.

We're Not That Different From Each Other

Hebrews 12:1-3 (The Message)
Do you see what this means—all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on? It means we’d better get on with it. Strip down, start running—and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins. Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right alongside God. When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he plowed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls!

Hebrews 11 
1. Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for.

By faith Abel..
By faith Enoch..
By faith Noah..
By faith Abraham..
By faith Sarah..
By faith Isaac..
By faith Jacob..
By faith Joseph..
By faith Moses..
By faith the walls of Jericho fell..
By faith the prostitue Rahab..

I walked through the front door of my house and had already changed my mind. I had already doubted, I was sinking in fear and all of the lies that I allow to direct my thoughts on a daily basis and they had all consumed me. I wasn't sure I wanted this as badly as I had thought I did before. 

Surrounded by 1,200 women in downtown Austin this weekend we were filled, challenged, and sent forward to run our race. We watched leaders hands trembling on stage, admit to standing on a rock unsure of what the future will hold, but completely in assurance of who holds our future. We were reminded that we are the generation who can either choose to shrink back or to get in the race and run hard. We can run this race together. 

Its amazing what being around other women who are authentically processing inwardly and outwardly how God is changing their hearts can do to your heart. It gives you strength, courage, and fills your heart with an authenticity that seems to be missing in daily life. It gives you real people to run your race with. You know that you are not alone. 

And then I walked through my front door. 

I remembered that I had valued an easy paycheck over my dreams. I remembered that there were bills to pay, nice furniture I dreamed of owning one day, and a plan for my future that had no place with these dreams I had thought about all weekend. I was still processing what I was carrying on my heart this weekend and the more I thought about it, the more it became much easier to set those dreams aside as "crazy" and be done with it. 

I feel absolutely crazy. Dreaming big dreams feels so unnatural. My deepest insecurities are rising to the surface. And then I remember....

I remember that this hall of faith we read about in Hebrews was made up of sinful, insecurity-filled people who chose something different.. obedience.

They put their toe in the race, not even running full speed, and God did the rest.

They decided that crazy was going to have to be okay with them.

They trusted in a God that was greater, that His promises were stronger, and they may not even get to see the end result of their obedience and faith in their lifetime. They trusted, and they obeyed.

By faith, they obeyed.

My dreams feel absolutely crazy. They feel impossible. I am writing them down, because tonight Im doubting. Tonight I tried to convince myself that it was much easier to ignore this dream, and it probably is. I keep remembering my insecurities, my past, the lies that tell me I will never be good enough..and I am ready to shrink back. I keep telling myself that this isn't part of the big plan. It isn't part of my plan.

I am burning with an unfulfilled responsibility to challenge our generation to get real with their life. To get real with where they've been, and where they are going. To throw off the shame, the regret, the judgement, the fears that come with telling our stories. Because stories can change lives. Stories reveal what is true, what is tough, and what God will always work through.

Stories change people.

Somewhere along the way we've make it seem okay to tell ourselves and the generations coming up behind us that our stories are something to be protected, to be hidden, and to pretend like they never happened. Stories are not valuable to us, they shame us.

These stories, these people we read about in Hebrews, their stories are real. The prostitute, the crazy man building a boat because he heard God tell him about a flood coming, the murderer, they were all used by God in these amazing ways because He redeemed their story. They could walk forward because they refused to be defined by the shameful parts of their story and they were confident in their future.

Its time.

Its time to start dealing with our past, and our future. Its time to start telling our stories. Its time to stop hiding from the shame, the approval of others, the hurt and the time it will take to really deal with what our life from birth to now might have looked like. Its time to start getting real with the people around us.

If we can't show people a God who works through real life, through our sins and imperfections, who takes whats disgusting and completely redeems it, what can we show them?

The funny thing is, once we start sharing our stories we begin to realize that we aren't all that different from each other. The stories may be completely different, the circumstances, the words we use, but at the end of it all we find this common thread. We are all imperfect people searching for what our purpose is. We are empty, and need to be filled.

I listened to two women share their stories this weekend, and not even their complete story. Just a part of it. It was just enough to show everyone listening that a former prostitute and a girl growing up in a safe and encouraging home life could both find themselves at the same exact crossroad and a deep need for Jesus.

You see, we're not that different from each other. So let's stop hiding our stories.

Let's stop letting Facebook and Instagram be a substitute for real life.

Lets get real, because how will others see a real God in our fake stories?

If God is Real, Then What?

In less than 24 hours I will be sitting in a venue with one thousand other women who are expectant, terrified, and ready to unleash on dreams that feel way too big all at same time. I can say that because for weeks and months leading up to this event I have been hearing and reading their stories of how they found a ticket, how they felt called to come to Austin, how all signs have pointed them to this place. These are women who know that there has to be more, that dreaming bigger isn't breaking any special code rules, and that dreaming bigger is meaningless unless we move forward. We have to move forward.

We are grouped into a generational stereotype that says my generation of women, or 20-30 somethings in general, are self centered and the most over parented generation of our time. While those may be true, generalizations are what gives us a good excuse to sit on the back row. It gives us an "out". But this weekend, and from here on out, we refuse to sit on the back row.

This twenty to thirty-something generation, including these women gathering together tomorrow for a weekend of who-knows-what-will-happen, are ready to show others and the generations coming behind us that we believe God is real, He is moving, and that we are a part of that story.

This is not by accident. Our stories are not by accident, and we can chose to get on this train or get off at the next stop. But I can't miss this, and I don't want to miss this.

So as the true introvert that I am, afraid to talk to strangers because of another new conversation that takes so much energy to have, I am going this weekend expecting nothing and everything all at the same time. How could you not? Surrounded by dreamers, by visionaries, by ordinary and imperfect women who recognize that we can either sit around and watch others live out God's purpose for their life and cheer on the sidelines or we can jump up and run with them. We can run our guts out, because we are doing it together. We were made for community.

This weekend we are meeting together, regardless of whether you are watching the conference on a computer screen, a church venue thats hosting the simulcast, or if your sitting on the front row at Austin City Music Hall  .. this weekend is about community. This weekend is built on knowing that God's story and our story..it isn't for nothing. This weekend is a reminder that we can't do this alone. This weekend is a visual example that every single individual, uniquely made with gifts and stories, with hurts and hopes, will have to recognize that we can't do it by ourselves.

I'm going this weekend knowing that I am a sinful, imperfect person with a story full of pain and promises, and I know my story wasn't an accident. I know my story was meant to be used for God's glory. I have no idea how, why, or when. I have no idea whether that means it will affect one person or a thousand. I don't even care. I know that there is purpose, there is promise in pain, and there is a God who is real.

And if God is real, then what?

What I Didn't Know a Year Ago

Im doing that awesome thing where you copy the idea of someone else.

It's allowed, I think.

That someone else is another piece of my heart who lives in Africa, and after reading her blog post What I Didn't Know Four Years Ago I couldn't stop thinking about how absolutely crazy it is to look back on this past year at all of the details of my story that have all led up to this very moment. I think I taught myself how to fear looking back into my past, and believed that looking back would keep me from moving forward. Its almost embarrassing to recognize the casual lies we let ourselves believe, and ultimately we let those lies turn into truths. We let those lies hold us back.

The farther backwards I began to look, the braver I felt. The farther back I began to remember and to process, I was willing to move forward. I was ready to move forward.

I didn't know a lot a year ago. I still don't know a lot, but looking back makes it a lot easier to walk forward with blindfolds on. I couldn't be more excited, terrified, and open to what this means.

A year ago I had no idea how God would redeem my moments of pure burnout and exhaustion and turn them into fuel for my dreams.

A year ago I didn't know that my deepest hurts, the things that were said about me, the things that I let define who I was, were the very things that I can now look at and squelch with the truth of who I am and who I was created to be. I didn't know that I would be able to believe that with confidence.

A year ago I didn't know that I could keep doing ministry. I didn't know that I could smile on a Sunday, or any other day really. I didn't know that it would get better.

A year ago I questioned every day that God laid out in front of my family. I questioned the big and the small, and I doubted. I doubted that there was more. I doubted that God knew how I was really feeling. A year ago I believed that every feeling I had was insignificant.

A year ago I wasn't sure what God was doing to my story, and I was so angry.

A year ago I could not have imagined that I would be find myself surrounded by challenging and encouraging movers and shakers who were ready to run full speed ahead with me. People who were ready to run forward and still be willing to look back at the same time.

A year ago I had no idea I would be up until 2am talking about my dreams with my husband, and that my mind would be spinning with this stirring inside that told me I was ready to move forward. I didn't know that this year I would be dreaming big, without limits, and be willing to throw my hands in the air and say yes. I didn't know that the word dream would even be in my vocabulary.

A year ago I didn't know that I would find myself sitting in a book study that would rattle everything inside of me. A study that is keeping me up at night, reminding me that we were created for this very thing, and one that might change the entire course of what I thought my pretty planned out life would look like.

I am so ready to dream.

That was all a year ago. This is now.

That year that I doubted, that I hated, that I cried and cursed, that year was meant for this very day. Without that year, I wouldn't be able to dream. I wouldn't be able to look forward.

Its easy to say it on a mountain top, and its hard to believe it in the pit. But those years and those days that feel absolutely impossible, they are all part of your story.

Your story can help you dream. Your story will be why you dream.

Ivy League Parent Confessions

I know it's not just me. It can't be.

In the past few weeks I have found myself swimming under the insane pressure to decide what my child's future will look like at the sweet little age of five. Yes, five. Call it crazy mom syndrome or call it real life decisions..I'm really not sure just yet.

The educational options within a fifteen mile radius of our home are unlimited. The schools, the curriculum, the teachers, the classroom size, and the tuition. Oh. my. lawd..the tuition. The thoughts of whether or not a year surrounded by twenty-two new tiny little strangers will scar him for the rest of his ever-loving educational life, or if you'd rather work three full time jobs so that your child can have educational possibilities that you never dreamed of having at the age of five. That my friends is what my poor husband is listening to right now.

Call me crazy but its a trap I am already finding myself falling into and my little man still has another six months to go before he stands tall as an official kindergartener. The trap begins with that insane fear that every decision you make for your child's future will ultimately screw. them. up. and leave them laying on a therapy couch in a few more years blaming it all on mom and dad. I'm sure it's more like a first-child, momma's boy, control-freak type of fear..but whatever it is..its for real.

The best part about these bizarre conversations I'm having with myself (and my poor husband) on a daily basis is that I am a teacher! All of these years I thought to myself that by the time my child would be ready for "big-kid school" I would handle that situation with calmness, ease, and even a slight arrogance that comes with "knowing" exactly what kindergarten looks like, because I taught it. Put motherhood into the equation and it turns you into a complete lunatic. Im not kidding. There is something about those momma emotions that just suck the fun out of some things. Maybe it's just me, and if it is..don't tell me.

Crazy aside, I am so thankful that I have the time and resources to sit down and read pure wisdom from other moms just like me when really all my mind can think about is making a t-chart of pros and cons of schools. I am absolutely in love with Jen Hatmaker's devotional Out of The Spin Cycle, and although its intended to be a 30 day momma devotional, I've cycled through it multiple times. I mean multiple. It might actually be an issue. There is just so much goodness and so many momma confessions that remind me that I am not alone. In one specific devo she talks about some momma moments that weren't exactly her proudest, and it was tempting to let those isolated events define how she viewed herself as a parent. But in true JH form, her words right after those hilarious stories hit me across the face.

"The right schools, the right clubs, the right teams... not enough. Perfect systems and by-the-book methods...not enough. Superior advantages and strategic positioning..not enough."

Yes. Yes. Yes.

They will remember how we lived in community, or how we chose not to. They will remember whether or not we chose to respond like Jesus, or if we chose to respond based on what they might have deserved. Sure, choosing the right schools, clubs, and sports will all influence our kids in different ways but allowing that to dominate my thoughts and parenting is beyond what God ever desired for me. I believe that God gives wisdom in those decisions, big or small, and I also believe its easier to try to control the situation as the momma-in-charge instead of waiting for that wisdom. I can let the ivy league parenting take control over my thoughts and decisions, or I can choose to remember the bottom line....I want my kids to grow up knowing how to love people, and love Jesus.

Thankfully, I also don't think that I am the only momma who struggles with this way of thinking. Its easy to get swallowed up in ivy league parenting mode. We put ourselves in the middle of these mom circles where we find ourselves in conversations that are swallowing us and sending us home re-evaulating all of our parenting choices because someone else isn't doing things the same way. We find ourselves second guessing decisions we've made or might make in the future because its not exactly aligned with the kid down the street's family. Or even better, we start reading things on Pinterest or other blogs that that steer us in a different parenting direction and has moms everywhere wondering if they can ever do "enough".

Its time to breathe, throw away the t-charts, get off of Pinterest for a while, and remember the bottom line. Am I showing my kids what living and loving like Jesus is about? The big stuff, the small stuff...it will all fall into place and most likely not on my time schedule. I can chose to pursue ivy league parenting, wear myself out, and try to control every external situation possible so that my children have the best possible life ahead of them, or I can trust God. I can love my kids well, and love God even more.