Right Where I'm Meant to Be...Waiting

"Most Sacred Heart of Jesus I Trust In You"

Those are the words that have stained my chalkboard.  I spent a considerable amount of time drawing them up there more than 5 months ago, outlining with different colors, accentuating certain words. I usually quickly toss a bible verse or quote up there and it stays for a few days or a week until something else comes across that I want to replace it with. But this phrase I just couldn’t erase.  Maybe it’s because I felt erasing it would mean I didn’t trust God. Maybe it’s because I thought M would come home before I had to erase it. Most likely it’s because I still need the reminder. Some days I believe it and it makes me happy to see it. Other days I doubt and I need to remember that I believed it on the day I wrote it.

Of course I trust God, my whole life has been scene after scene of Him showing me He is trustworthy, and especially when things look bleak. When it’s the darkest has often been when He has chosen to create light. But it’s so easy to get caught in the “waiting place” as Dr. Seuss calls it. When something bad happens and we wait for it to get better. We wait to feel better again. We wait for a new friend or boyfriend to come along. We wait for a new job or a new opportunity. We wait for our pain to heal. And sometimes we get impatient in the waiting. It takes longer than we think it should. And that’s when we start to lose hope. We start to think maybe He isn’t coming. Maybe He won’t calm this storm. Maybe this is too trivial for Him to concern Himself with. Maybe He doesn’t care.

It’s been more than 5 months since I read M a bed time story. It’s been more than 5 months since she ran and giggled through the house. It’s been more than 5 months since she said she was thankful for “mommy” at meal prayer or played hide and seek with Dan. I stared at those words on the chalk board today realizing I never expected to need them for 5 months. I thought it would be better by now. I thought you would heal this situation or heal my pain. But here I am, 5 months later, still figuring out how to navigate each day with one child absent, still waiting for you to step in.

She visited us this weekend. It was such a blessing and incredible joy to hold her and see her smile and giggle and play with her brothers and sister. And yet, it’s so heartbreaking to watch them and know we are saying goodbye in a few hours, to see the hurt in her eyes when I know she’s wondering where I’ve been. How do you grieve someone who is running around laughing in your living room? How does this become the new normal where my daughter lives with someone else? How do I laugh and play with her while my heart is breaking? How do I pull her onto my lap and read books through a cracking voice and fighting back tears?

Life is messy. It doesn’t stay neatly in the lines we’d like to draw where joy begins and sorrow ends. We have this desire for perfection that someday I believe we will experience in heaven. But I’m more and more convinced that learning how to live in the “mess” is what we must do here on earth.

The Sacred Heart of Jesus teaches us that it isn’t a simple waiting time of pain that will be erased as soon as the situation changes or I am given the grace to heal. But that right here in this place is where God needs me to learn how to be. That the Heart of Jesus always feels, at the same moment, an incredible love for us and an incredible sorrow for the pain of losing those He loves and the pain we inflict on each other in the world. The joy of love and the pain caused by sin. The heart of Jesus feels these on such an amazing level. ALL THE TIME. Maybe then, He is calling me to enter into His heart itself. To understand a tiny fraction of the way he loves and hurts all at the same time. To realize that it doesn’t come and go, it’s not something we can wait for it to pass, but that we must learn to live and thrive during.

I caught a short segment of a PBS special the other day where an author was talking about how differently they used to treat the season of Winter. Everything they did on the farm was because of winter. They labored all summer, spring and fall to make sure they had what they needed to survive winter. It forced them to always focus on winter, because if they didn’t, they wouldn’t survive. Because of the way our lives have changed, we have lost this “respect” or focus on winter. Our lives aren’t ordered to it, it’s simply something we endure or get through for a few months.

What if we are missing something? What if the very season that we hope to just quickly pass through, is in fact the most important one we are meant to live? What if the mess, the suffering, the heartbreak, the most unthinkable pain and loss are really the main events that God is using to change our hearts?  

And if so, if suffering is my focus, then I must re-order my life to prepare for it. Because it’s probably not what will physically happen to me in suffering that will be the end of me, but instead whether or not my soul is conditioned for the elements.

“Most Sacred Heart of Jesus I trust in You”. I wrote those words on the chalkboard 5 months ago. A few weeks ago I decided it was time to erase them to put up a new phrase. I washed the board with a wet cloth and left the room while I waited for it to dry. When I returned, the words were still there. They had been up there so long they had penetrated the board and couldn’t be easily erased.

 

We must learn, and grow and develop our faith, as desperately as those storing food for winter. We must etch into our souls our trust and love and faith in Jesus so when life gets difficult our hearts are ready, and we can not only survive but really LIVE in the mess, where nothing can erase our trust in God.

 

The Worst Thing to Do...Nothing

I recently heard a recording of Dr. Edward Sri speaking about the role of Pilate in the gospel. He highlighted that the gospels are very specific in noting that Pilate did not believe that Jesus was guilty and he did not want to crucify him, but because of his fear of the crowds, he allowed it. He had it completely within his power to save Jesus, but he did nothing. He looked out for his own interests at the expense of another.
I admit, there have been times I have heard the gospel story and even felt sorry for Pilate, the poor guy just trying to do his job and not cause trouble, and now for eternity his name is being drug through the mud as the man who crucified Jesus, even though he wanted nothing to do with it. It was the Jewish people who wanted Jesus dead, and yet, not one of their names is mentioned in the bible. But Pilates name is mentioned many, many times. Actually, we remember his sin every Sunday when we recite the creed at Mass..."[Jesus was] crucified by Pontius Pilate, suffered, died and was buried." Why is there so much focus on this man who never lifted a finger to hurt Jesus?


Because he did nothing.


We can see from the way his sin is highlighted in the gospels and in the church that this is one of the worst things we can ever do.


But this is all of our struggle. We see injustice every day, and we do nothing. We see friends and family living outside of the faith and struggling and we are silent. We see neighbors children neglected and we close the curtains. We see news stories that tear at our hearts, and our solution is to turn off the TV.


The story of Pilate was meant to be a message to us: if you have the power to do something, you must!


He is held responsible for the blood of Jesus, even though he "washed his hands of it". He is blamed for crucifying Jesus even though he never swung the hammer. He did nothing.


This message hits us hard doesn't it? Because we know it's true, and we know we are guilty.


There's a place in this where I told my friends last night that my heart gets tangled up: When to pray and give something over into God's hands and when to act. I thought todays first reading was a good answer, basically to pray AND speak if the spirit moves.


"With all prayer and supplication,
pray at every opportunity in the Spirit.
To that end, be watchful with all perseverance and supplication
for all the holy ones and also for me,
that speech may be given me to open my mouth,
to make known with boldness the mystery of the Gospel
for which I am an ambassador in chains,
so that I may have the courage to speak as I must." Eph 6:18-20


I think often we can easily "do nothing" by saying we will pray about something. It's such an easy answer and makes us feel like we are doing something. A good friend reminded me early on in ministry, "if you are going to tell someone you are praying for them, then you better make sure you are following through!" How often do we tell people we will pray and then actually pray? And how often is our prayer "Holy Spirit please guide me to know how you would like to use me to help in this situation."
Don't misunderstand, prayer is powerful and important, we must invite the Holy Spirit to move. But if we are using it as an excuse to do nothing, we are missing the purpose. Instead prayer is where we start, and find our strength, and maybe the spirit will direct us that prayer is all He is wanting from us. Maybe though, there is something that we are being called to do as the spirit leads us and gives us courage and strength. You'll notice the early church writings are full of a lot of prayer but also a lot of action as the Spirit used people to spread the gospel, heal and drive out evil. They didn't gloss over real problems by simply saying "I'll pray about it" and then going on about their lives.


I believe there is a delicate balance in the place where we offer things out of our control to God and where we act on things we can control where we feel called, rooted deeply in prayer. I feel I am still in the process of learning this balance and gaining the peace that comes in finding it.


This week it seems the sky is falling, there has been a lot of heartbreak in the world of a lot of people close to me. The presidential election and future of our country looks bleak and no one knows what to do with their vote. Genocide is happening again in another country. Here in America we are killing our own children. And we are too busy to stop to think about any of it much less do something about it. I suspect Pilate was quite busy too.
This week and this election are red flags that we need to stop "doing nothing" because the devil is doing something. I'll leave you with the first part of the Eph. reading from today, I pray that it encourages you on your journey, no matter what you are doing:


Brothers and sisters:
Draw your strength from the Lord and from his mighty power.
Put on the armor of God so that you may be able to stand firm
against the tactics of the Devil.
For our struggle is not with flesh and blood
but with the principalities, with the powers,
with the world rulers of this present darkness,
with the evil spirits in the heavens.
Therefore, put on the armor of God,
that you may be able to resist on the evil day
and, having done everything, to hold your ground.
So stand fast with your loins girded in truth,
clothed with righteousness as a breastplate,
and your feet shod in readiness for the Gospel of peace.
In all circumstances, hold faith as a shield,
to quench all the flaming arrows of the Evil One.
And take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit,
which is the word of God. Eph 6:10-17

I Must be Doing This Wrong

"I must be doing it wrong, because other people seem to do this so much better, so much more gracefully, and with so much more joy." That's a summary of what I told a friend recently as we discussed the struggles of parenting as she nodded in agreement. It was reassuring to know I wasn't the only one that felt this way, but I think we both were hoping the other might have the secret that those other mom's who seem to have it all together must know. You know, the ones whose kids actually LOOK and smile when they're taking their photo...
Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my kids. I appreciate and understand the GIFT that they are. I know that through the love of my husband and I, the addition of them into our family is a mirror image of the Trinity, where the love between God and Jesus creates the Holy Spirit. I know that just like the lines of a song they are "my heaven" here on earth, my family is a glimpse (imperfect of course) of the unconditional love and joy I'll experience someday in union with Jesus and the whole church.
But lets be honest, a lot of days come up quite a bit short of looking like heaven in this house. A lot of days the toddlers have short naps and cry more than smile. On those days, I'm not the mom I always thought I would be. I'm the cranky mom who speaks too harshly to her precious "gifts" (read between the lines...I yell; pre-kid me would be horrified...5 years experienced me still is). I'm the annoyed mom who has prioritized some other task over playing and lets it ruin the day when it doesn't get done. Some days, I'm just the mom stuck in the rut of every day being the same and not sure how to break out of it. Sure there are a lot of great moments and lots of great days that I do sit back and marvel at this gift of "heaven on earth" that I am allowed to live. But its those bad days that don't sit well with me. They fall so far short of the person I know I am called to be.
I look into the eyes of my tiny people, and I know they deserve better. But there is this grand-canyon-size gap between the mom and wife I want to be and the one I am on my worst day, or even my best. And it seems no matter how hard I try I can't make the leap to the other side. My patience, forgiveness, gentleness, and unconditional love all seem to run out. Sins that I thought I had long put behind me pull me down once more, and sins I never knew I had come to the surface magnified times ten. Parenting isn't the only thing that brings this out in us. Stress at work, disagreements in families, feeling judged or unloved seems to push us to the worst version of ourselves. We often feel like we must be doing something wrong in life when we hit those moments.
My conversation with my friend left me pondering that day just what exactly it could be that we were "doing wrong". As I prepared for an upcoming confirmation retreat I was leading, the answer hit me right in the face.
"Beloved: I remind you, to stir into flame
the gift of God that you have through the imposition of my hands.
For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice
but rather of power and love and self-control.
So do not be ashamed of your testimony to our Lord,
nor of me, a prisoner for his sake;
but bear your share of hardship for the gospel
with the strength that comes from God." 2 Tim 1:6-8


I don't know why I need so many reminders. I seem to figure this out every few months and then forget again. The Holy Spirit. That is the secret that's not really a secret. The bible shouts it to us over and over again, "our advocate", "our helper", "our reminder of the truth".
When I worked as a youth minister and encountered students every day who needed to experience, in me, the love of Christ, I prayed desperately for the spirit to guide my words and actions. I prayed desperately that they would see Christ and not me.
Now, when I prepare to speak at events or lead a retreat I spend hours in prayer, completely relying on the Holy Spirit to work through me. Because truthfully, I'm terrible on my own. Its incredible to see the difference between when I practice a speech to when I give it with the grace of the Holy Spirit. On my own, I fall short. The ingredients are there, but it just doesn't come together right. I have always known that I am nothing but an unqualified mess of a person who desperately needs the Holy Spirit to share the gospel with others.
The problem, is that for some reason I think I can do parenting on my own. I must have thought I had the right gifts or talents? Or figured that's the way everyone else does it so it should work for me? Or maybe it's because it's every day and every waking minute instead of a work day or a one hour speech?
But I realized as I prayed desperately for the Holy Spirit to help me with the retreat, that this is what I have been doing wrong. I have not been praying for the Holy Spirit to help me share the love of Christ with these tiny people. I think we assume it should come naturally to love our children. It comes naturally to have affection for them, but the love that they require, a selfless, lifegiving, completely sacrificial, unconditional love that imitates the love of Jesus is just not possible for the average sinful person without the working of the Holy Spirit. It's ridiculous really that I have neglected to ask for the help of the Holy Spirit for the most important job I have ever had. It's ridiculous that I have spent 5 hours in prayer to the Holy Spirit to give a one hour speech and don't spend even a few minutes for a full 24 hours that I spend each day wanting to share Jesus with the hearts that are the most dear to me.
I love all of the hearts I encounter and I want each one to know the truth, to know the incredible way God loves them. But these hearts that live in my home have been especially entrusted to me. It's my job to make sure they know the love of Jesus, and the only way I can possibly do that is to get out of the way and allow the Holy Spirit to love them through me in a way I never will be able to myself. And in order to do this, I have to pray desperately. Because the Spirit won't take over my free will, He has to be invited to move.


Its a beautiful gift He gave us.
"And I will ask the Father and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive because it neither sees him or knows him. You know him, because he abides in you and he will be in you. I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you." Jn 14:16-18


I will not leave you orphaned.


Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and enkindle in them the fire of your love.
Send forth your Spirit, and they shall be created, and you shall renew the face of the earth.
Oh God, who instructs the hearts of the faithful, grant that by the same Spirit, we may become truly wise and ever rejoice in his consolations, through the same Christ our Lord. Amen.


I'm praying this prayer often. I'm breathing in "Come Holy Spirit" as I take sips of coffee. I'm relying on Him for every toddler tantrum, every time the baby empties a basket of folded laundry, and every time the five year old is stubborn. I'm remembering often that I really can't do this on my own and remembering always that the Holy Spirit does it so incredibly better, and with peace and joy.


Come Holy Spirit!

I'm Still Watching the Clock

Dear Nathaniel,
Today was your second day of Kindergarten. You didn't want to go. You had fun yesterday, but "it was too long" you said. "Tell me about it" I wanted to reply. You see, when we kissed you goodbye and you walked out the door your brother pointed and begged to go with you, and when I said you were going to school and he had to stay home, his eyes told his story of devastation and he cried his biggest, saddest sobs. I cried right along with him. Because we both knew it would be too long before you were back. He missed his hero and best buddy and I missed a piece of my own heart.
I watched the clock all day. I prayed through the time you were getting to the school and into your classroom. I prayed when playing blocks with your brother and sister because your absence was so noticeable. I prayed when I knew you would be going to lunch because I know new places with a lot of people are very scary for you.  I prayed a lot in the early afternoon hours because I knew the day would start getting long for you. I watched the clock often as the day was getting long for me without you too. I prayed unceasingly when the dismissal time came and I knew you were getting on the school bus for the very first time. I prayed your whole hour bus ride home. I watched the clock all day waiting for you to come back to me. And when you stepped off the bus with a smile I prayed a prayer of thanksgiving.
The truth is, I really don't want to send you to school. I really want you to stay home with me every day. So when you look at me and tell me you don't want to go, trust me, I don't want you to either. Your entire 5 years of life I've been battling to keep you with me, watching the clock whenever you were gone until you would come back home, when all would be right in my world again.


We were bringing you home from Pierre in an April icestorm navigating slushy roads when you were one month old. I road in the back with you because I was sure if I couldn't see you you would stop breathing. I watched the minutes tick by on the digital clock on the dash, praying you would stay sleeping another half hour before we could stop. I desperately wished time would go faster so we could be safely home. You were a great traveler (first and ONLY time) , you woke up to eat and be changed and went back to sleep as soon as we got on the road and slept all the way home. When we got home, Dan held you in his recliner and you slept a very long time. I kept watching the clock, telling him to let you wake up so you would sleep at night, but he just couldn't put you down.


It was 3 am. We hadn't really slept all night because you hated your crib and woke up every time we put you in it. We both looked desperately at the clock and then decided to let you sleep in the swing if that would do the trick. We finally all drifted off to sleep at 4.


5 pm never came soon enough so I could pick you up from daycare. When someone walked in at 4:55 with a problem I tried not to let my sadness show. A year ago I would have been thrilled to solve it and enjoyed the challenge. Now I just wanted to pick you up, the day had been too long to be apart.

It was 2 am, you were 5 months old, the date quickly approaching when you were supposed to leave us to go live with your birth-mom. I was so glad you woke up, so that I could hold you and spend more time with you. There were a lot of nights I wished for sleep, but lately I treasured this sacred nighttime hour with you, with a bottle and rocking chair. I soaked in every breath, every sound. I remembered how quiet the house, our life, used to be before you. I never hated sleeping all night more. I watched the minutes tick by knowing they were going too fast. Knowing the day was coming when you wouldn't wake me at 2 am anymore, when I wouldn't be there to answer your cries.


24 hours. That's the time we got to say goodbye to you. Six months you had lived with us, but you weren't just a roommate. You were a part of us. How do you say goodbye in 24 hours? We played all day. We left the room to cry. We tried to memorize every tiny touch, every hug, every movement. We watched the hours tick by, each one bringing us closer to our worst nightmare. The time came, we had to put you in the car. The car had always been a safe place and always brought you somewhere safe and then back home, but this time was different. It felt like a lie buckling you in. This time I couldn't promise you'd be safe. I couldn't promise you'd come back home.


5 days you were gone before you could come back and visit. I watched the clock all week, wondering what you were doing at that moment, wondering if you were ok, wondering if you were missing us. I prayed you wouldn't be sad and that you were being taken care of. I prayed I would figure out how to live without you, without the constant worry tearing me apart.


When the call came to come pick you up, time stood still. I left work and rushed down to get you, the hour drive an agony knowing once I get there I could hold you in my arms and bring you HOME.


We watched the clock as your months turn into years and we treasured every one individually as a gift of one more day, one more month, one more year with you. We had no promise of the next year.


This May, when you were five years old, we were at the courthouse with all of our family and friends, and I watched seconds pass as time slowed and we waited for our turn. Five years of anticipation builds up a lot of anxiety. But our turn came and then it went quickly and before I knew it, the judge was announcing your adoption official. Five years of worry slipped off my shoulders and fell to the floor like I tossed off a heavy winter coat.


Today, you went back to school for the second LONG day. I still watched the clock all day. I still counted the hours and then minutes that you would come back home. I still breathed easier knowing you were ok when you got off that yellow bus.


I know I'm the crazy mom who can't let go of her child and I know I worry too much. Maybe the difference is that I HAD to let go of you once, and it was horrible. Maybe the difference is that I treasure every moment because I had to find out what the moments were like without you. Maybe I don't trust that anyone else loves you the way that I do. And maybe most of all I know that even a court document can't guarantee me another day with you. So I want all of this day, not just the last few hours.


The good news, is that Jesus doesn't promise us tomorrow, but He does promise us eternity. Eternity with you sounds so incredible. This is why we have nothing to fear. Because being separated is really our ultimate fear. The thing that causes us the most pain. But because of Jesus we will never be separated forever. So until then, I'll keep watching the clock while you're away from me. And I'll keep watching the clock while we both wait for heaven, anxiously awaiting the day when I'm not watching the clock anymore.
And I'm sorry buddy, Daddy says you have to go to school tomorrow.

Sorry I Didn't See You

I was honored to speak with some wonderful ladies yesterday at the diocesan Council of Catholic Women about Modesty and Theology of the Body. It's hard to summarize a teaching in just an hour that Pope John Paul II devoted much of his life to sharing with us, but the main message I shared is that the secret to understanding modesty is to realize the value and dignity of ourselves and EACH and EVERY other person in the world. When we can see ourselves and in turn others as the gifts they are, we easily value and appreciate our bodies. I know I still struggle as I let sin get in the way of seeing each person as God intended. But I'm expanding today on the reality that sometimes it's not the sin of judgment or envy or comparison but busyness that I struggle with.
It's our culture's favorite word to use lately: How's your summer going? ....Busy! How's work? ....Busy!  How's life at home? ...Busy!
We seem to feel being "busy" is what we should be else we be considered "lazy". When we had three one-year-olds all we ever heard was "you must be busy!" We still hear it often with our family of 5. And I know people are affirming our sacrifice, which is a really beautiful thing. Sometimes "busyness" is inevitable, especially when it comes to the demands of a family. But sometimes we create "busyness" because we feel a need to. We run everywhere and sign up for everything and everywhere we go we tell people we are "busy" when they ask.
The problem with "busy" is that when I'm too busy I don't "see" you. I don't encounter people the way I'm intended to. When I'm taking 3 or 4 children out in public, I don't see anyone except them, because I'm completely focused on keeping them safe, getting our tasks done with the fewest amount of meltdowns and making it home with the same amount of children I left with. I often go in and out of a store without making eye contact with a single person. I MIGHT have noticed you were there, but I didn't really SEE you.
When we run from activity to activity on such tight time lines, thinking about work or a million other things on our to-do lists, we visually see a lot of people but we rarely ACTUALLY see them. To see the dignity of a person is to look in their eyes and encounter their story.
Yesterday I spent an hour telling a group of women the beautiful gift they are, and even though I wasn't accompanied by my usual baby gang, I failed to truly "see" them and learn their stories. I've become so used to "busy" that I couldn't snap out of it. And that is NOT ok with me.
A few years ago when I was interviewing someone she told me when asked about a struggle in a previous job where she cared for people: "this is going to sound bad, but when you care for people every day, you can sometimes forget that they are human." She had an incredible heart for the work that she did, and it was refreshing to hear her honesty in seeing the challenge and committing to make sure that she DID see the person she was caring for.
But the conversation came to mind as I was reflecting on dignity and the way we must be sure our children know their own value. I wonder how many times this week did I really SEE my children? How often do I answer their questions while I'm doing dishes or folding laundry without ever looking up? How often do I sit right on the floor playing with them while I'm thinking of work? How many times do I not notice the boys' missing their sister while I am busy missing her? How many times did I look in their eyes today? It should have been hundreds, it was probably only a few. And that is NOT ok with me.
I have been given this incredible gift of these beautiful eyes that show me an unconditional love like I can't even fathom. They have see my ugliest moments and they still gaze upon me like I'm holy. I feel like the most loved person on the planet when I can see their sparkle and fun and intense love all wrapped into a look. They see only the good, only the most beautiful parts of me, the way I want but don't deserve to be seen. Isn't it funny, that I wanted to look into their eyes so that they would know their value and dignity, but it is in their eyes that I have found mine? Not funny I suppose but exactly the way God intended: for it is in giving that we receive. I know that same gift is waiting for me as I slow down and encounter others that God is placing on my journey.
Praying I SEE you soon!

It's Going to be OK

Two months ago, I was driving to my son's preschool conferences towards the end of his school year when something caught my eye. There on the side of the road was a picture of Jesus, put out on the curb for the city-wide clean up, or "junk days" as we call it. City residents can "spring clean" and set large amounts of garbage on the curb for the city to haul away. You can imagine this didn't sit well with me that someone had put a picture of Jesus to be thrown away. I made a mental note of it's location and planned to "rescue" it on the way home from the conference. I wasn't in need of another picture of Jesus, but I couldn't allow it to be treated disrespectfully.


After the conference, Nathaniel and I got in the van and I told him we'd be pulling over to pick up a picture because "Jesus isn't junk". I was in a hurry, needing to get home in time for my babysitter to leave on time. I grabbed the photo not thinking anything of it, but the second my hand touched the   photo I was overwhelmed by the smell of lilacs, stronger than I had ever smelled them. I looked around and there were no lilac bushes close by, the smell seemed to be coming from the photo, and I knew in that instant that St. Therese had sent the heavenly smell. I carried the photo to the car and set it next to me and I knew God was saying "everything is going to be ok."


You see, we had gotten news recently that our girls were going to be transitioning to live with their bio-parents. I was worried about them. I was worried about the effect on our family of losing them. I was wondering what God's plan was and if He really was in control or if the evil in the world was winning this round. And I had been reading the story of St. Therese the Little Flower and knew of her habit of sending flowers or the smell of flowers to people in answer to their prayers. Except I never expected to be one of those recipients. I never imagined that a small insignificant person like me could matter in heaven. I know it sounds silly to say that but even though I believe it about others, its hard to feel that important myself.


So here's the thing, I totally understand if I've lost you because you rarely believe in "stuff like this" because honestly, I'm one of those people. I'm not quick to believe the stories of others "feelings" or miracles they believe happened. I tend to need to experience things for myself and rarely rely on the experiences of others. Except that, while we are usually skeptical of those types of stories, deep down we really WANT to believe them. We want to believe that the Holy Spirit is still alive and working in the world. We want to believe that each of us tiny ants and what's happening in our lives really do matter to God.  But if we believe that some people have had these encounters, miracles, etc, then it also puts our faith to the test as we immediately question "why has God reached out to this person and not to me?"


I have been in that position a hundred times, wondering why God saved someone's baby, but not mine. Wondering why he spoke so clearly to someone else, but left my question unanswered for years. Wondering why some are blessed so greatly and others suffer so much.


As I've become a parent I have learned the answer to these questions.  God is the greatest parent of all, and he knows what all parents come to know: we stop trying to be "fair" to our children by giving to them all equally, and instead we give them what they need. I heard a parent say this long before I had children and I disagreed. We have this desire in us for everything to be fair. Except our parents, and our amazing God know that what is good for one child will not help another. This is hard to understand for our children and for us "big kids" who are still keeping score of who got what. But when we remember how much our God loves us, how can we doubt that he knows what is best for us? And when we remember that we were made for eternity and not this earth, we can appreciate the work He is doing here to mold us and change our hearts, especially when it comes in the form of sacrifice.


I was reading "The Story of a Soul" by St. Therese shortly after we had gotten the news of our girls leaving, wondering where God was in all of it. And I came across " Do you believe that though your prayers are really not heard on earth, though Jesus separates the child from its mother for a few days, that these prayers will be answered in heaven?"


When we lose sight of heaven, something as terrible as losing a child seems unbearable. But when we have faith like St. Therese to know that truly it is only a "few days" in the realm of eternity that we will be separated then we can do it for Him if He asks it of us. We can have hope in the confidence of knowing that someday we will all be together in heaven and nothing will ever separate us.
St. Therese goes on to say in writing to her mother superior "your desire, I know is that I carry out at your side a very sweet and easy mission; but shall I not be able to finish it from the heights of heaven?" If you are interested, go read more about St. Therese and the many miracles accredited to her as she continues to bring souls to Jesus, a work she began at the young age of 15 and continues to carry out long after her time on this earth was done.

So, to finish the story: I got home with the picture and brought it inside. On closer look, the painting is a depiction of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. I've heard of it, but wasn't very familiar with the history of the devotion. I started to read a little about it and then got pulled away from the article. I needed to schedule an appointment for B, the last one she would have with me and her bio-parents before leaving me. As was on the phone rescheduling, the only date they were able to get us in was the girl's very last day with us. So I began writing the appointment on the calendar right underneath where I had written "girls return home". But then I saw it, right below where I was writing the appointment there was bold lettering on my Catholic Calendar that said that day of June 3rd was the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. I knew in that moment He was reminding me that He sees me, that He is in control. I know He knows exactly what He is doing and that "it's all going to be ok."


I started praying the Novena to the Sacred Heart leading up to the feast day, praying for God's will for the girls and our family. A week later, we got news that B won't be returning home and that we may get to adopt her. This is difficult news to process and share because it's incredibly joyful, and the news that her sister is still leaving us is incredibly hard. Yesterday it rained off and on quite a bit of the day and at one point it was sprinkling while the sun was shining. Nathaniel said "it can't be raining while the sun is out!" And I quickly corrected him and said "It can! Then we can see rainbows!" And I knew I was being reminded as I struggle with this odd place of sadness and happiness that its possible to be both at the same time.


We visited M with her birth parents at a park last weekend, and my heart wrestled with the joy of being with her and the hurt of not being able to take her home and seeing her with another mom. But as I wrestled with this place, I knew heaven was just a few days away, where we will all be together, we can all love M and each other and not from separate homes.  Until then I can learn to love more like the Sacred Heart of Jesus, who experiences great joys and great sorrows, always at the same time.

It's not exactly how I would have envisioned my prayers being answered. But He didn't say "I'll give you everything you want" but that "everything would be ok." And that's all I really NEED.


Thank you God that you love me enough to give me what I need. Help me trust you, especially on days when I let worry creep in and steal my joy. It's all going to be ok, it's just a few days anyway.

Where Joy and Sorrow Meet

"Eye of the Storm" by Ryan Stevenson has been playing on my phone all weekend, because that's kind of where I feel we are. We are losing our daughter. After being in our family for almost an entire year, she is leaving. She was only a baby when she came, just learning to walk, starting to use words. Now she's grown into a talkative toddler who charms everyone she meets. She loves swinging and racing her brothers through the house. She sings "let it go" every time I wrap her Frozen towel around her after her bath. She goes to show my husband when she gets her hair done or a dress on and says "pretty!" with a proud smile. She plays hide and seek by covering her eyes and making the voice inflections of counting without knowing the actual numbers and then says "here come!" and goes to find her giggling brothers. She says "bye daddy, I love you" when he leaves for work and chants "mom...mom....mom...mom" until I answer back her name in the same tone. There are a thousand other things I could tell you about her, but all you really need to know is the incredible way that I love her.
And now, I'm being asked to say goodbye to her. It's a horrible, impossible thing to ask a mother to do. How can I possibly look into her precious eyes and say goodbye? How can I, the one person who is supposed to be dependable, let her down by never coming back to get her? How do I explain to her siblings that she's leaving and comfort their tender hearts? How can I be a good mother to my children as I am consumed with grief of losing another? These are the questions I've been pondering.
On Saturday she left for her longest visit, not returning until Wednesday, and then transitioning permanently next Saturday. After she left Nathaniel came over and laid his head on my shoulder and cried. Dan came and wrapped us both in a long hug.
Here is the place where my heart is: I trust God. I know He is good and faithful and I know that if He isn't intervening then He is using this as a part of His plan, for her and for all of us. But even though I trust him, I'm still so sad. It's been a while since we have experienced loss, and I had forgotten just how much it hurts. And its easy to want to close in to that sorrow and let it cover me up. It's easy to isolate and let grief consume me. But God is working to teach me once again that I can't separate life into separate boxes that are convenient for me, and that there's beauty in the place that sorrow and joy crash into each other.
Thursday morning when I found out a final date for her leaving, I was about to walk out the door to a "Girls Day Getaway" planned by my dear friends. I struggled to fathom leaving after receiving news like that, but I knew I would end up trying to hide my tears from the kids all day otherwise so I opted to share them with my friends instead. I was blessed to be allowed a safe place to cry and talk. And by the end of the day, floating on the lake, I was able to laugh harder than I had in a long time while my heart was still heavy.
Saturday morning we said goodbye for the long visit, and then left for a college friends wedding. I had been so looking forward to getting to see so many of my good friends who I rarely see anymore, but after the news it was hard to imagine celebrating. But good friends truly have healing powers and their joy was infectious. By the end of the night, we were dancing with the kids on the dance floor. Nathaniel running and spinning around, Samuel shaking his butt and laying on the floor trying to do the worm, and B kicking and waving her hands to the music and lights. It was so much fun to watch the kids dance and enjoy it so much. And in the exact heartbeat that was flooded with joy of watching them I felt the pain that our family wasn't whole, wasn't all there. Neither emotion drown out the other, they just existed simultaneously.
The song that I've been playing "Eye of the Storm" has been pointing me to the reality that joy and sorrow, chaos and calm, can exist together. Not only can they, but maybe they are meant to.
The refrain says: "In the eye of the storm, you remain in control. In the middle of the war, you guard my soul. You alone are the anchor, when my sails are torn, your love surrounds me, in the eye of the storm."
In my limited knowledge of storms, I know there is a calm in the middle, while the storm is raging and creating havoc all around, right in the eye there is usually a calm. I believe that's where God is calling me to go. I can try to tough out the storm on my own, I can take cover and protect myself, or I can seek God who is always at the center, always in control. The closer and closer I can get to Him, the more peace I will find in this storm, because the two can exist together. But in order to get to the eye I have to head straight into the storm, not try to hide.


I was blessed to be able to read one of my favorite verses at my friends wedding:
Phil 4: 4-9
"Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice! Your kindness should be known to all. The Lord is near. Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.Keep on doing what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me. Then the God of peace will be with you"
In the midst of my grief I am constantly reminded of my blessings. "Think about such things". Today I watched Dan playing with the kids, they were all laughing so hard they were almost tipping over. But there were only 3, again someone was missing. The joy and sorrow found their place together and I felt I was being given the opportunity to learn more about the heart of Jesus. As I studied their beautiful smiles and took in the sound of their laughter, I realized that each one of them had come out of a storm. And I remembered why it is so easy to trust Him in the storm, because He's always met me there and always seen me through. It looks so scary and impossibly hard and honestly I really don't want to do it, but I'll trust Him, and I know He'll be here in the boat with me the whole time, always in control.

To the Women who Made me Mom

To my children's birth mothers on Mother's Day:
I thought of you all day today. The country celebrated mother's day, they celebrated me. Except I've always felt a little bit of an imposter on this day. Its a day that has brought so many tears and hurt for so many years as I waited to be a mom and as I mourned the loss of the children I did have but never got to hold.
You changed all that. You saw me and thought I should be a mom. Not just any mom, but a mama to your baby.  Your precious child that you loved for 9 months as he grew inside of you. That you had hopes and dreams for. That you marveled about what he would look like and what his laugh might sound like. You held him when he was born and touched his beautiful skin, felt the miracle of his heart beat and heard the incredible sound of his cry. And you gave the greatest gift you've ever been given...to me. I still can't wrap my head around it. I can't even take in the way that you love him. I think I will spend my entire life marveling at your love and selflessness.
Today, all the moms stood at church to receive a blessing and be honored, but I sat. I sat not because I am an imposter. I know I'm a "real" mom too. But I sat because I thought all around the country there were women "sitting" in pews holding back tears because they want so desperately to be standing. I sat because I knew seeing me standing and juggling my 15 month old in a strapped on infant carrier while I hold my 20 month old on my hip and try to keep my 2 year old from falling off the pew would be like flaunting my blessings in front of someone who still prays to be blessed. I sat most of all because somewhere out there I wondered if maybe you were sitting, not sure if you deserved to stand because your child doesn't live with you. I sat because I realized this day has probably become harder for you now than it used to be for me.  And I prayed that you would know, that you deserve to stand more than anyone else I know. Because you understand what it means to be a mom more than many. Putting their best interest before your own with the absolute greatest cost of giving your child.
I sat and prayed for the other mothers standing, and I prayed that God would bless you greater than you have blessed me. I prayed that you would know His peace and that your sacrifice would not go unrewarded.
I will send photos and letters and visit from time to time and each time I will tell you that I love you, but I don't know if you will ever understand how much. And I will say "thank you" and give little gifts but it won't ever come close to expressing what my soul can't put into words. You made me a mom. Right along side my job as wife, it's the greatest (and hardest) but seriously, GREATEST job I will ever have. To be the one they want to snuggle with in the morning, to kiss a scraped knee, to cut their sandwich just right, to tell their secrets to and give all their best kisses too, just to be the one that they call mom, that is the greatest blessing.
You are, and forever will be, my hero. Happy Mothers Day, to one of the greatest mom's I know!

There Is a Resurrection

Here is the truth that I know: there is a Resurrection. The truth is that from the complete darkness God created light. The truth is that on the darkest day of the world when we killed our own God and it appeared that evil had triumphed, our awesome Father created life from death. The truth that I know is that God doesn't want death or evil or hurt in our world. He never created us for any of it. But He uses it. When it happens, He uses it to for something incredible.  I have seen this played out in my life a hundred times. I have faced difficult, impossible hurts. I have watched him turn them into beauty in ways I could have never imagined. In the darkness of the hardest moments of our lives, it's so difficult to see what He is doing. That is where I am today. Today looks more like Good Friday than Easter. Today it feels like evil is winning and pain and sadness will reign. But there is a truth I will hold on to on days like today: there will be a resurrection. God will bring greatness from this too. He used the death of one man to make it so all men would never die. He spoke light into darkness in the beginning and He still does it every day. He will grow a huge tree from this tiny mustard seed. This is the truth I know because it's written on my heart and because I have lived it over and over again. It's ok that it doesn't feel like it today. I have cried too many tears today. I am watching-my-world-fall-apart sad today. But I'm writing this because I need the reminder, and I think we all do, that God still reigns. When the news is full of stories that rip at our hearts, when every time we turn around someone new has cancer, when kindness and honesty seem like they've become rare traits, we have to remember God still reigns and He is using it, we just can't see it yet. I will proclaim it daily. I will whisper it every hour or every minute on days like today. There Is A Resurrection.

Finding the Moments

I would have classified it as a "bad day". You know the kind... when the people around you are crabby, you are crabby and everything seems to go wrong? Those days I remember I would often tell my husband when he got home to see a completely exhausted shell of the woman he married trying against all odds to just make it through the next few hours until I could crash into bed that "it was just a bad day, tomorrow will be better." Until I started to realize, I seemed to have more bad days than good lately. And if I have more bad days than good am I doing something wrong?
Yes, I was missing it. The most important parts lost in the "bad days."  I want life to be so black and white. Easy to figure out and easy to control.  But what if God knows the real blessings live in the gray? That's when I started noticing MOMENTS. I started realizing that I couldn't classify my life in terms of good days and bad days, but instead in moments. Moments of beauty in the midst of complete chaos. Do a lot of days have more bad moments than good ones? Maybe. Are there some good moments that make up for a hundred bad ones? Yes.

Like when M was giving B kisses in church on Easter. Yes, the whole entire service was a disaster of kids crying and making noise and throwing things and pretty much ruining church for the entire area around us, BUT there was a moment when M so gently leaned across me to give her baby sister the sweetest of toddler kisses and both of their faces were almost touching mine and I just soaked it in. What a beautiful thing to be so close to this precious tiny love between sisters that is so pure. All the chaos was worth it for that moment.

Or last week when 6 inches of snow melted and then it rained for two days making our yard a muddy mess but the kids were desperate to go outside. It was a scramble of running around picking kids up out of the mud, trying to get boots back on in the middle of puddles and wiping off muddy toddler hands without dropping the baby. It was a complete disaster, and yet, at one point Nathaniel was helping Samuel and I asked him to hold his hand to help him walk. He does this so gently and lovingly like only my Nathaniel can. I was holding M's hand and the baby but I managed to get a picture to capture the special moment. This is one I don’t want to forget. Watching them walk hand in hand, Nathaniel helping Samuel along, it’s another moment in the chaos that makes it all worth while.

Later that day, after dragging screaming kids in the house, covered head to toe in mud and freezing but screaming because they still wanted to be outside, I found a bunch of other beautiful moments in the mess of cranky kids before supper. Samuel's proud smile as I cheered for him as he "raced" his brother through the house. Samuel and M's eyes lighting up at the sweet taste of their hot chocolate. M's pride at completing a puzzle. And in between those moments they were taking turns crying, clinging to my legs and fighting. I couldn't wait another minute for supper so we ate early so they would settle down. If this day had been a few weeks ago, when Dan got home I would have given him "the look" and he would have asked if everything was ok and I would have said "it was just a bad day" in my most defeated voice. Instead, I greeted him with a shrug and a laugh about what our life looks like right now, and he gave me a big squeeze and reminded me how much he loves me and just how lucky we are. Right on cue, M walked by proudly wearing her brothers coat backwards, smiling ever so proudly. "I love our family" Dan said, smiling just as proudly, soaking up the moment.

There are so many moments I know that I miss because I’m thinking of something else or I'm worried about something or I'm in a bad mood because something has gone wrong. But I’m reminded today that I can’t judge a day as bad or good, there is no day that’s bad or good, but days with moments that are bad and moments that are good. And it's most likely the contrast of the two that makes life so wonderful. And it's even more likely that the bad moments mixed with the good ones can make something even more beautiful than they can on their own. Like the way the sun and rain create a rainbow. The really magical stuff happens not in the black and white, but in the gray. In between the happiest days of our lives and the hardest is the real beauty. The days that are exactly the same as the one before. The days when the kids fight and the supper burns and the laundry pile is taller than our oldest child. These are the beautiful days when we stop to notice the moments. Like M saying "watch" and showing me how she can walk down the stairs by herself, beaming the whole way. Like B learning how to clap and then laughing so hard about it she almost tips over. The way Nathaniel lays his head on my shoulder when I carry him to bed in the middle of the night or watching Samuel drive his tractors on the window sill and hearing him making the engine noise with his lips for the first time.

It's a good thing we aren't in control. Because if we were, we'd schedule a full life of sunshine and "good days". And we'd never get to see a rainbow. There is beauty in the place that you are now, if only for a moment. Find the moments and you will find joy, not just for a moment but enough for a whole lifetime.

Todays Christian Message Brought to you by Taylor Swift and One Direction

I know what you're thinking...she needs to get out of the house more.... and you would be right. But, first let me explain why I even know who those people are to begin with...You see, every day at 4 pm my kids start melting down. I suppose it's a long day and they are ready for Dad to be home, ready to eat supper and mostly I think it's just become habit and we would hate to break routine. Anyway, at a crucial time when I also am ready for Dad to be home and trying to make supper, the dreaded 4 o'clock hour has been known to make or break my day. I have come up with a few remedies, one of which is to crank some music and have a dance party in the kitchen while I make supper. It's pretty awesome watching my littles attempt to dance by running in circles or bending down and shaking their butts. Plus as they laugh at my INCREDIBLE dance moves, I get an extra endorphin boost from doing physical exercise to get me through the rest of the hour. I found the Kidz Bop station on Pandora to be one of the best for these awesome 4 o'clock parties, and then often download a few of the kids' favorites so we don't have to rely on Pandora, which is why Taylor Swift and One Direction have made their way onto my playlists.

So now that my musical reputation is back in-line (or ruined forever...) we can get to the heart of this message. We had few laughs at the retreat I was recently on because right after the theme song for the retreat, being caught up in the prayer of the moment, I would forget to turn off the music and immediately after the theme song, on came the very upbeat "What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction. Great for dancing in the kitchen, not so great in the chapel for prayer. Or so I thought. Except today, I let the song play since I was home with my kids and not in the chapel, and I actually listened to the words for the first time. I wished I had let it play through on the retreat.
If we listen to the lyrics as how our God feels about us, it's a great reminder: He's crazy about us!
How perfect for Lent when we focus so much on our sin and trying to make ourselves better, to hear Him tell us we are beautiful even though we can't see it. That we "light up His world like nobody else"
"If only you saw what I can see,
You'll understand why I want you so desperately,
Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe,
You don't know, oh oh,
You don't know you're beautiful"
We could all do better to see ourselves how He sees us, not as we do, not as the rest of the world does. Lenten sacrifices and taking a good look at ourselves to try to rid sin from our lives are great things, but we can't focus only on the bad. See the beauty of YOU that God created, of Jesus living in you, of one person that God wants so desperately. Don't believe me? Just look at the cross. He wants you that desperately that He got up there for you, because He sees your beauty even when you don't.




Ok, so if One Direction has something to share, we have to give Taylor Swift a chance, too... are you still with me? The second song in line on the playlist: Shake it Off. Again, great for dancing with toddlers...and to my surprise, great advice for our Christian journey.
"I stay up too late, got nothing in my brain
That's what people say, that's what people say
I go on too many dates, but I can't make 'em stay
At least that's what people say, that's what people say

But I keep cruising, can't stop, won't stop moving
It's like I got this music in my body and it's gonna be alright

'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play
And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate
Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I shake it off, I shake it off
Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break
And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake
Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I shake it off, I shake it off"

Here's what happens: We come home from a retreat full of fire for Christ and wanting to put it into action. Or we slowly grow more and more in holiness with daily prayer and reflection. And then, something happens to completely deflate our sails. We encounter resistance when trying to work with people at our church. Our friends or family aren't at the same place and can't relate or support our newfound faith. Most often, new struggles pop up in our life as the devil's desperate attempts to keep us away from God. Maybe you're struggling with your Lenten sacrifices or a specific sin. Maybe you're discouraged by the people or events in your life right now. Good news: Taylor's got your back. She's so right. That stuff is all going to happen, we can't let it consume us or discourage us, we just have to keep going and "shake it off". You know the "music" you have with you all the time, the Holy Spirit, and it's reminding you "it's going to be alright." So just keep cruising.

I hope this was funny to those of you without toddlers, I sometimes think my sense of humor has changed considerably since I rarely talk to someone older than 5. ;)

Prayers for you all that you can see yourself today the way your Father sees you, and cruise past the devils attempts to separate you from that incredible love!

When Winter Gets Long

I just spent 4 days working on a retreat in the middle of the state. I didn't realize until I started driving that it seems our small little corner of the state has a LOT more snow than everywhere else. The further I drove the more it looked like spring. While I was there, I quickly forgot about the snow at home. The retreat itself was a wonderful spiritual refresher, but like any other great event, it had to come to an end (and it was good it did because I was really missing the 5 people I share a house with!!). The closer and closer I got to home the more and more the snow was piled up and I felt like I was driving from spring back into winter. For those on the retreat, myself included, it probably feels like that with their spiritual lives as well. We get an opportunity to shut out the rest of the world and focus only on Jesus. To be surrounded by other people who love Him too and therefore love us. We let Him break through the cold in our hearts with the warmth of His grace. And we promise ourselves we won't let the cold back in.
But then, we have to go back to winter. We have to go home. Back to the same struggles, temptations and heartbreaks. We have changed, but our world has not. And even more difficult, we are asked not just to survive the cold but bring warmth to others.
Yesterday, I got outside with three of my four tiny humans, and my four year old just had to get to the top of this "mountain". My 1 1/2 year old thought it was also a good idea. Off they went, and as I watched them going, I couldn't help but stop to take in the beauty of it all. There was nothing but pure white snow in every direction. They looked so alone and tiny out there, but neither one seemed to notice as they trudged on, determined to get to the top.
We could all take a lesson from them, I decided. They don't see how small they are or how big the snow is. They see where they want to go and they know the only way to get there is to take steps in that direction.
I came home from the retreat with the goal of being a more patient, sacrificial mom, making more time to pray and determined to find more joy in my sacrifice. I succeeded at this in the morning....for four hours. And then I was right back to my old self. Watching my boys reminded me that the change from winter to spring is a slow process, that lasting change takes time. I can't get discouraged when I don't instantly change, just like they can't quit because their first steps don't get them to the top. I just have to keep moving in the right direction, and eventually I'll be able to look back and see all the progress I have made, even if I am still surrounded by snow.
In addition to taking steps in the right direction, the other key element to the boys confidence and success was that they were not alone. Having each other on the journey helps them feel safe and gives them encouragement. And they knew I was right there watching when Nathaniel would turn around to say "look at me mom!" or Samuel would cry because he had fallen down and it's just so hard to get back up when your layers of clothing are almost as wide as you are tall.
We need to encourage each other and pray for each other on this journey, especially when we're walking through the difficult times, or just the mundane times. And we need to remember that God is  right there to pick us up when we fall or point us in the right direction if we lose our way.
Winter really is almost over here in Minnesota even if it doesn't look like it. Jesus speaks the same truth in our hearts today, that the difficult things we face won't last forever. Just keep going in the right direction, encouraging each other, and know that He is there. You'll make it through your winter, and you might even enjoy the journey.

The Only New Year's Resolution You Need to Make

It was just after breakfast on a cold day and my four year old was bartering for time on our iPad. "Please can I play the iPad?"
"Not right now, maybe later if you can be a good listener." I replied
"OK, in five minutes?"
"No," I laughed, "you have to show me you can be good ALL day and then you can play it tonight."
The moment I finished the sentence I was met with a very whiny "no-ooo not ALL day!" followed but a very distraught four year old temper tantrum. I could see on his face and hear in his voice that he didn't believe for a second he could be good ALL day. It was too large of a task, too much to give up. Five minutes he could do. Maybe even until lunch time he would attempt. But ALL day seemed impossible. I stood there watching him melt down thinking just how silly he was. He wanted to play the iPad, I told him exactly what he needed to do to get what he wanted, and yet because he thinks it's too hard, he's not going to get to play at all, he's not even going to try because he thinks it's too hard.

It really wouldn't be that much of a sacrifice to be "good" all day. He could still have a lot of fun playing, he might even discover that it's more fun to play nicely instead of fighting with his siblings and ending up in time out or getting toys taken away. But because all he can see is the sacrifice, he's missing the prize.


So why is it that I can see this so clearly when I watch my four year old, but throw my own tantrums all the time when God asks difficult things of me?


"Now someone approached him and said, “Teacher, what good must I do to gain eternal life?”He answered him, “Why do you ask me about the good? There is only One who is good. If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments.” He asked him, “Which ones?” And Jesus replied, “ ‘You shall not kill; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; 19honor your father and your mother’; and ‘you shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”The young man said to him, “All of these I have observed. What do I still lack?” Jesus said to him, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to [the] poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” When the young man heard this statement, he went away sad, for he had many possessions. " Matthew 16-22


As I watched my son whine I thought about the young man who went away sad.
Did he ever even try? Did he just say "it's too hard, the sacrifice is too much?"
How often do I think that what's being asked is too hard?
How often do I acknowledge to myself that I know what's being asked but it's too scary?
How many times have I walked away sad because I didn't believe I was capable of the task?


Jesus' disciples ask the question of our hearts:


Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Amen, I say to you, it will be hard for one who is rich to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I say to you, it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for one who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astonished and said, “Who then can be saved?” Jesus looked at them and said, “For human beings this is impossible, but for God all things are possible.” Matthew 19:23-26


This is why we see this verse posted everywhere, because we need a constant reminder that He is with us and that even the most difficult things are possible because He is helping us.


Today is the first day of 2016. All over the world people are making lists of things they'd like to change about their lives. Habits to break, habits to start, goals to achieve. We are all under some kind of assumption that doing these things that we have deemed important will help us to be happier, better people. I do it too. I make New Years Resolutions every year, put them on my fridge as a daily reminder, and in October or November I find them hiding under a coloring page and realize I haven't thought of one of them since January.

I'm sure most or all of the things we all put on those lists are good for us and do make us better people. But I'm proposing a different strategy for 2016. How about instead of trying a whole bunch of our own ideas of things that will make us happier, better people, we take Jesus' advice instead?


What if the only thing we have to do is follow Him? Even if it's scary, even if it's hard, even if we have to give up A LOT. Because the sacrifice is small compared to the prize.


Then Peter said to him in reply, “We have given up everything and followed you. What will there be for us?” Jesus said to them, “Amen, I say to you that you who have followed me, in the new age, when the Son of Man is seated on his throne of glory, will yourselves sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel. And everyone who has given up houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands for the sake of my name will receive a hundred times more, and will inherit eternal life.  But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first." Matthew 19: 27-30


And we might just find we have more fun in the sacrifice anyway. (Ask any Mom you know if you need proof!)


So, let's make it public...


Ann's New Year's Resolutions for 2016:
1. Follow Jesus. No matter where He leads, no matter what He asks me to leave behind.


Man, that is seriously so hard to write. I kind of feel like saying a nice whiny "no-ooo" when I think of any of the things He might ask me to give up. But He's never let me down, and I know He won't this time either. "for God all things are possible." This is going to be fun, as long as I don't throw a tantrum - pray for me!

Prayers for you on your journey in 2016!