Blessings and Raindrops

seeking joy in the midst of the ordinary

fight for the beauty.

Discontentment, jealousy, comparison, disconnection. Thieves of joy have been cropping up in my heart lately.

It happens slowly, doesn’t it? I hardly notice at first. Busyness. Rushing in the morning. Sidestepping my spiritual nourishment. Running on empty. Interrupted sleep. Harsh words. Sharp edges.

When I start to skip my time with God, in His word, seeking His voice, I notice how the smallest things can creep into my heart and cause disillusionment. I find myself comparing my life with the lives of Facebook friends posting all their good things and big adventures. I start to feel burdened by the weight of so many responsibilities instead of empowered by the opportunities fueled by passionate pursuit of God’s best. I start to question my abilities and my purpose. I start to feel small in a vast sea of voices and opinions and needs and wants and hurts in this great big, broken world.

Over the past week or so, I’ve felt a pull to stillness and toward actively seeking gratitude.


Last night, while nursing Charlotte back to sleep, I read this article as tears gently slid down my cheeks. These words were my undoing:

“This is the season of boo-boos and spit up and dirt. It’s the season for 10 minute showers, half shaved legs, and one eyed mascara. You will get lonely. And jealous. And maybe sometimes you’ll begrudge your life and wish you had someone else’s. You’ll get frustrated and angry and you’ll want to escape. This will be the most unglamorous and unappreciated time of your life, and sometimes it just totally sucks. That’s ok. But have peace in knowing that this will be the season you look back on longingly. One day, we’ll gladly give up all the friends in the world to have our babies small again. To be able to fit them on our laps and read them stories and go on adventures and eat pancakes at every meal.” – Kristen {When at Home}
Oh my heart, such truth. This is an unglamorous time. This season can be painfully lonely, even when you are never, ever actually alone. Yet, the crux of it all lies in the fact that these days are fleeting and precious. The memories created in this season will go on to build the foundation for the lives my littles will lead. 
Someday, and that day will come sooner than I’d like, they will stop asking me to lay down with them at night and sing songs and tell silly stories. 
Someday soon, they won’t need me to kiss their boo boos or wipe their noses. 
Someday soon, they’ll put shoes on the right feet and pants on in the right direction. 
Someday soon, they’ll stop thinking that hanging out with their momma is cool. 
Someday soon, they won’t spend hours digging in the dirt pile I consider an eye-sore and they consider a mound of buried treasure waiting to be discovered. 
Someday soon, they’ll stop asking how to spell a word or what a phrase means. 
Someday soon, playing the rhyming game in the car will no longer be considered fun. 
Someday soon, they will run right out that door to conquer this world and chase their dreams. 
If there were ever a time to fight for peace and contentment, it is now.

It is right smack in the middle of these hard and lonely and frustrating days. It is right here in the heart of tickles and giggles and ice cream in the afternoon and dance parties. It is right now when laundry and dishes beckon from indoors while we choose bike rides and adventures outdoors. It is now when my coffee is cold and my calendar is marked two weeks in advance for a night out with the girls. It is now when my sentences are interrupted and my thoughts are scattered. 



It is now. In these beautiful, messy joy-soaked days. Often, we have to stop, count to 10, and look up to see the beauty right there in front of us. Beauty that we would have missed if we hadn’t intentionally fought to look for it.

Let’s be the mommas who keep on fighting for that beauty.

* I have a brand new Facebook community for Blessings & Raindrops. Join us for discussion and encouragement there!

on mission.

While we were waiting for Sylvie to come home, I was clinging to God each day, in each moment. It was my only choice. Life moved on all around me while I begged for Jesus to be near. Oh, how He was. How He showed me such mercy and grace and abundant love during that painful time. As hard as the waiting was, I felt closer to God than ever before in my life. I heard from Him, I felt His nearness, I earnestly devoured His Word.

Today, in this season, I often look up and realize that days have gone by without the pages of my Bible being turned. Life moves on all around me and I just move along with it. 

I know this is perfectly normal. Life isn’t meant to be lived solely on the mountaintop or in the valley.

But, here’s the thing: this may be normal but it’s not okay. I don’t want to be disconnected or stagnant. I want to seek Him with my whole heart and mind and soul. I’ve tasted the goodness of His love and I don’t want to go back to living life in auto-pilot.

For several weeks now, I’ve been seeking clarity on an upcoming trip, asking for direction and discernment. Quick backstory: Dave and I had both planned to visit Haiti this summer with one of my absolute favorite organizations, Help One Now, alongside some of my absolute favorite people. It felt like exactly what God was calling us to. The chance to get back to serving and loving on the “least of these.”

Yet, the stress and anxiety of leaving our kiddos was keeping me up at night. I knew the boys would be fine without us. Yes, they would miss us but they have a blast with Nana and Papa. I was very concerned about Charlotte. She is in a “mommy” phase right now. As in, if mommy isn’t around, I’ll just scream until I vomit. You can understand my concern. Also, Sylvie. Dave and I recently went away for a few days for our anniversary and the aftermath of the trip was brutal. Sylvie had a very hard time with us being gone – much more so than we anticipated.

The plan was for us to all fly to Florida together, stay for a couple days to get settled and then Dave and I would fly to Haiti from there while the kiddos stayed behind with my parents. If you’re doing the math, you’ve concluded that this would be Sylvie’s second ever plane ride – the first of which was that time she left everything and everyone she has ever known to fly here. And, similar to that first flight, the people who loved her would leave her in a new place. Yeah, soooo, I’m not an attachment expert but I feel like that is a recipe for disaster.

This morning, after praying about this for weeks and receiving the same message from multiple places {God knows I am a little slow and need to hear from Him several times to get the point}, I’ve decided to stay behind.

I feel peaceful in this decision yet I’m also sad to miss out on the experience. Now that I’ve made the decision, I can see that the answer was clear. Yet, I wanted to go and do big things for Him. For the Kingdom. I wanted to serve. I wanted to be reminded why we work so hard on Feeding Tummies.  I wanted to get out of my comfort zone.

I wanted. I wanted. I wanted. 

This servant-heart thing is not about what I want. It’s about what He wants. He has placed these little hearts in my life. Little hearts that need to be shepherded. Little hearts that need to feel safe and loved and secure. Little hearts that need to be taught who He is. Little hearts that need to learn how to drown out the loud clanging and flashy desires of this world and learn to seek the still, small whispers of His Truth.

The other day, I happened upon these words by Jennifer Ebenhack and what a confirmation they were for my soul:


*******************************************************************************
“I have been created, gifted, and trained specifically for these children, today. I am their mother, for “such a time as this” (Esther 4:14).

No, you and I aren’t in the times of Queen Esther, and our roles feel much less glamorous than hers, but can we stop for a moment and try to grasp the times in which we live?
Never before has the family been so brutally attacked by western culture. Never before have godly men and women been so few… so ridiculed… and, around the globe, so persecuted.
We mothers are the keepers of our homes. And while we may long for some noble calling that others will applaud on Facebook or in an auditorium, the battle is raging in our family room.
We’re not just soccer moms, homeschool moms or working moms.
We’re called to be warrior moms.
We’re called to use our gifts, talents, passions, and time to save our marriages, to save our kids, which can in turn save our churches, our countries, and our world.
Your day will come, as mine recently has, when you see your children’s desperate need for Jesus. When it hits you like a lightening bolt: Nothing in the world could be more important than this job I am doing today.
Yes. We long to do greater things than making another dinner. But out of obedience, we serve. We are here. We are present. And when our kids’ hearts break, when the moment comes that they’re ready for His Spirit to work, we will gasp in wonder. We’ll fall onto our knees with the heavy knowledge that God prepared and equipped us for such a time as this. This calling is worth it all.”  

– Jennifer Ebenhack
{read her full post HERE}:

*******************************************************************************

It’s not always easy to follow Him. It’s not always an adventure – sometimes, it’s a sacrificial way of living that allows Him to work in and through you in the midst of very ordinary circumstances. Sometimes, it’s seeking Him while surrounded by piles of laundry and dishes and homework papers. Sometimes it means putting aside the desire to go and serving and loving right where you are. The greatest mission field can look a lot like our very own homes.

Today, I’m choosing to place on the full armor of God and become the warrior mom I am called to be. On mission. In my home. For their hearts. 

spring has arrived.

Spring appears to have arrived to our little corner of the world. Windows have been opened and cool breezes fill our home, freshening the stale winter air. 

Yesterday, we hurried outside to get our hands in the dirt and place shoots of green life in the ground. Mounds of winter coats and snow boots were abandoned for short sleeves and rubber mud boots.

As I watched little hands cover new life with fresh dirt, I was reminded of the words Amber Haines shared at a women’s retreat I attended last year. Her message was focused on holding onto Hope in the wait. My aching, weary heart clung to every word.

Amber said something very powerful in her message that resonated with me in that particular season, “Winter always comes before Spring. Every time.” 

Don’t you just love that imagery? The words Amber shared were a calming balm to my heart. At that time, I was desperately longing for the cold, lonely winter to end and for the joy of spring to arrive. 

Planting a few bulbs in the newly thawed earth may seem simple, ordinary. Yet, I saw the miracle of that beautiful moment yesterday. I saw the joy that had come. The answered prayers. Spring had indeed arrived. 

surprising.

I find this season of my life to be wonderfully surprising. It’s also abundant, fun, and hectic. But, mostly, it’s surprising.

I had all of these ideas of what our life would look like once Sylvie came home and we became a family with four children ages four and under. I don’t even have the words to articulate these made-up ideas. They were just there on the edges, floating thoughts of how things would be. Our family would finally be complete. We would finally be able to rest, to breathe, to focus on anything other than the void in our lives while she waited on the other side of the globe. I knew we would be busy. I knew we would likely be overwhelmed and a touch crazy. But, we would be together. That would be enough.

It’s funny, as I sat in the gorgeous great hall of the 21C Museum Hotel this past Sunday night and listened to the striking voices of Penny & Sparrow as they performed during our latest Bentonville Session, I was taken aback for a moment as I realized my life had taken paths that I never saw coming.

Photo Credit: Sluyter Photography

God is like that. Once you open up your palms and release all that you are to Him and for His work, He fills your life in ways that you couldn’t possibly imagine on your own. You suddenly find yourself on an adventure and completely surprised, in the best possible way.

He has taught me that enough isn’t really what I thought it would be. My family finally residing under the same roof made me realize that only He is enough. No other person or experience could make me whole.

There wasn’t a grand finale to our story on the day she came home. We didn’t stop pursuing Him or stop seeking His direction for our steps. Quite the contrary, God just kept on opening doors and placing our little family in moments that are undeniably orchestrated by His hand.

Because, if I’m being honest, when we said that first yes to adoption years ago, we had no idea where He would take us. We also had no way of knowing that the hesitant, shaky yes to those big, brown eyes would lead to a very long, very intense spiritual battle. We weren’t aware that we would see Him in new ways, or that we would experience His love and grace in such abundance, and we certainly didn’t understand the depth of which we would feel His presence in the midst of our great fears.

We just kept walking forward. Hesitant at times. Shaky at best. One day, one step at a time.

Now, we continue doing the same. We stand on these shaky legs. We hobble forward. We pray for discernment. We ask where to next place our feet. We walk forward into unknown territory. We feel unequipped. We question our ability. Yet, we press on.

We are amazed each month when the money is transferred across the globe that nearly 180 children will be eating three meals a day for the next month. Every month. We pray we don’t grow numb to the miracles of this provision.

We are humbled and grateful as we watch our community rally around this cause of caring for the orphaned and vulnerable children of this world. We walk alongside friends as they work tirelessly planning a concert each and every month in order to keep these little tummies full.

We laugh at God’s sense of humor as we work to ready the fields for planting on our soon-to-be Feed Their Tummies Blueberry Farm. Last year, we moved to the Farmhouse at His leading, not knowing that He had bigger plans for this move. We sensed He would use this space in a big way but as the plans unfolded for this new farm, we continued to be awestruck at His ability to change our lives and flip them upside down. We never saw ourselves as farmers, {well, I never did. Dave may have had this seed planted long ago} but here we are rolling up our sleeves and getting to work.

As I read Shauna Niequist’s new devotional, Savor, this morning, I was struck by the powerful truth of her words:

…”Life is like that, twisty and surprising. But life with God is like that exponentially. We can dig in, make plans, write in stone, pretend we’re not listening, but the voice of God has a way of being heard. It seeps in like smoke even when we’ve barred the door, and it moves us, to different countries and emotional territories and ways of living. It keeps us moving and dancing and watching. And with the surprises comes great hope.”

I just love that… with the surprises comes great hope. Amen. 
You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand. 
– Psalm 16:11