The Ishmael Compromise

What you are about to read is the story of me trying to make things easier for God. You read that correctly. I shudder to admit it, but confession is the path to healing.

For years, 12 to be exact, my family has prayed for a bigger house. I read scriptures, sought counsel, dreamed big, and had confirmations that one day, we would be given a permanent place to dig our roots down. Something bigger than the 2 bedroom we live in now. I have enjoyed seasons of contentment where I thanked God for this little condo, and endured raw frustration when I came to grips with the limitations we have in this place. Most of the time, I've been somewhere in between the two. Here's where the ugliness enters the scene: the part where I made things "easier" for God.

I started thinking about how badly I wanted to move out of here, and how the numbers don't lie: living in New England ain't cheap. The cost of living here is higher in comparison to other parts of the country. So I took my top shelf dream, and brought it down to where I think God could "handle" reaching it. I reduced an unfathomable God to the size of a shoe box. I began compromising with Him.

"OK, so maybe NH is too much to swing. I get it, God! How about North Carolina? How about Virginia? You can totally handle that, right?"

I may not have said those exact words, but to my shame, my actions did. I started looking for real estate on the other side of the Mason Dixon line. I started dreaming of possibilities that weren't on the table of God's BEST for our family. I had subtly entered the Ishmael Compromise.

Tucked into Hebrews 11 in the Bible, and listed among those in the Hall of Faith is a woman named Sarah. Sarah had been promised a child in her old age. She had waited. She had prayed. She had dreamed about it. God made good on His promise because He swore He would, and because she had faith. But flip back to Genesis 16 and we see that she wasn't always a woman who believed that God was able. She was a woman who, like me, was waiting on God for a dream, but was growing impatient. She took her dream off the top shelf and brought it down lower, to make it "easier" for God.

"Now [Sarah], Abram's wife, had borne him no children. But she had an Egyptian maidservant named Hagar; so she said to Abram, 'The Lord has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my maidservant; perhaps I can build a family through her.' Abram agreed to what [Sarah] said." Gen 16:1-2

Her frustration came to a boiling point. In her mind she had waited long enough for God to come through. Humanly speaking, there was nothing Sarah could do about waiting. So she compromised. She took matters out of God's hands, and into her own hands. While languishing in a world out of her control, she tried making Ishmael (the child Hagar had by Abram) her "Isaac" (the child she eventually had), and wound up disappointed. Exactly where I found myself. Exactly where you find yourself.

"God, clearly I'm not getting any younger, so I'm going to throw myself into any relationship while I wait."

"God, obviously I'm not where I want to be career wise, so I'm going to resign myself to this horrible job."

"God, this dream You've placed in me is so close, and yet so far away. I'm done dreaming. Time to wake up."

"God, I'm starting to think You'll never answer this prayer request. Everything is pointing to the fact that either You are holding out on me, or You're not powerful enough."

Know what I've learned? That it takes more courage to have faith against all odds that God loves me, and that He's is able (even if He chooses not to) than it does to cry uncle and manipulate my miracle. I'm working towards that kind of bravery.

The end of Sarah's story is that she believed. She received her promised son. And God gave her 30+ years to enjoy him. That's the God she served. The same God who we serve.

My fear is that God's timing won't have us move until my oldest is moving out. I desperately want Wes (my 12 year old) to enjoy our house well before he turns 18. And I'm sad to admit that I was willing to shoot straight out of the will of God to make it happen. How short sighted. God met me in my struggle though. He showed me how I was limiting Him, doubting Him, and attempting to undermine His sovereignty. He reminded me that there is nothing too hard for Him. Not in NH, not in America, not in the universe. He gave me the directive I needed. Stay put, His grace is on us here, and we will see His hand move us in His timing.

Desperation drives people to do some wild things, doesn't it? If we were to peel back desperation's face, we'd see fear. What are you afraid of? That you'll never find out what career you were made for? That you could never afford college? That you'll never meet your soul mate? That you will never have kids? That you will never get that healing? That you will never get that breakthrough? Let desperation instead drive you to do the hardest thing of all... To wait on God. To resist fear with faith. To not settle for second best while you're waiting for the best. 1 Peter 3:6 says it beautifully:

"You are [Sarah's] daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear."

Be brave. Though your prayer looks far from answered, be brave. Though you could settle for a million plan B's, be brave. When you feel like taking matters into your own hands, be brave. Don't take the Ishmael Compromise. Wait for your Isaac. Wait for God to come through in the BEST way- His way.

What's something you waited on God for? How did He answer?

The Back to School Gift To Give Yourself

I can feel it. Lazy mornings are down to a handful. Unstructured days are going extinct. The shaking ceilings and echoing voices in the house will be quieted next week- once again, the kids are going back to school.

Last week, I found myself going from content at the fun we've had this summer to miserable. In tears. Unmotivated. Why? Well, I remembered all the stuff I intended to do to, with, and for the kids once school got out. I remembered the first day of vacation thinking that the next 10 weeks or so were my oyster. I had seemingly all the time in the world to beef the kids up on their math skills, reading skills, and people skills. I envisioned them being more prepared than boy (or girl) scouts at a Camporee to take on the school year with unwavering confidence. I was already patting myself on the back for coming up with such lofty goals. And then summer came.

The challenge of screen time reared its ugly head. I was caught up in having a few moments to myself to get stuff done in peace, and time escaped. I would print out  the math worksheets or flash cards and would be met with groans, weeping, wailing and the gnashing of teeth. I would get library books and although the older kids loved the series they began, the younger two either complained that the books I chose were too hard, or not hard enough. And when I wasn't up to doing adult, I became lazy. I tried. And tried. And tried. I realized that those goals I had were lofty, but if I tried to measure success in the acquisition of 4 perfectly cultured and educated robots, then I had failed. Epically.

What do you do as a Mom when you look back at this summer with regrets? What if the kids you thought you would have at summer's end don't quite look like the kids you have? Life is a mixed bag. Which means that even if you look back and see regrets, there are good things to see as well.

In my case, I look back and see the one on one's I've had with the kids. I got to really enjoy who they are growing up to be. There have been moments of robust laughter. When life felt like helium instead of lead. And we laughed till we cried. There were big victories relationally, like when I saw three of them weep at their brother being left behind from a camping trip because he had a high fever. Or when they self boycotted a video game because they noticed that they often fought when they played it. There were splashes in the ocean and toads caught in the creek. There was ice cream for dinner, and spontaneous jam sessions in the van. There was... Fun.

Can I shoot straight with you? I think that along with the Ticonderoga pencils and new shoes, there's a gift that you need to get yourself. It won't affect your bottom line, but it will affect how you feel when you hit rock bottom. Are you ready?

REMEMBER THE WINS.

Everyone has regrets. Everyone. We all have things we wish we could have done differently. But instead of beating yourself up for the things you did wrong, how about choosing to celebrate the things you did right? Most likely, there are people in your life who do just that. Your kids.

A few weeks ago, I was browsing Pinterest, and an article caught my eye. "10 Ways You Can Be a Better Mom". Before I could read it, my 12 year old snatched my phone away. "Hey! What did you do that for?" I declared. With his trademark singly raised eyebrow, and a calm demeanor, he said, "You don't need to read that. You're already a GREAT Mom." Children measure wins differently than we do. And maybe we would do well in following their paths.

And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise. Philippians 4:8 NLT

When regret's acidity sours the back of your throat, REMEMBER THE WINS. When comparison threatens to steal your joy, REMEMBER THE WINS. When time zooms by at a breakneck pace, REMEMBER THE WINS. When your sleep is robbed by watching your mistakes over and over, REMEMBER THE WINS. Remember all the fun you had with your kids this summer, and all the reasons they love that you're their Mom. They have no regrets; why should you?

A Tale of Two One on Ones

Confession: there are times that I look at my kids, and see them as 4 kids. To clarify, I see them as a group of individuals who need my attention, affection, and affirmation, instead of seeing them as just individuals. In the past two weeks though, I've had the gift of spending one on one time with two of my sons, Wes and Grant. 

Grant

Grant was supposed to join his 3 siblings on a camping trip with my mother and father-in-love, but a fever and cough stopped him dead in his tracks. The goodbye was agonizing for us all, as tears and words of love dripped all over Grant's hot-to-the-touch head. Steve left to drive the other three to camp, while I stayed home to care for Grant. I knew that I couldn't make up for the disappointment he felt; he'd been looking forward to this trip for weeks. So the overarching question that he and I had to answer was, "How can we make the best of a crummy situation?" 

We snuggled. We watched movies. We made s'mores dip in a cast iron pot. 

He chugged Gatorade and I sipped coffee. For the first time in a long time, it was just him and Mama. I watched as God changed my would-have-been date time with Steve to a once-in-a-great-while face time with my littlest boy. Steeped in the traffic of his sibs, his strong will often makes him misunderstood by me. But taking them out of the equation let me appreciate him for who he really is: chivalrous, compassionate, and deep. Even in his fevered state, he offered to help me around the house. He can discuss a movie plot like nobody's business. He was constantly mentioning his bros and sis, and wondering how they were doing. He has the heart of Despereaux, and I had him all to myself. 

Wes

As Evan, Grant, and Janessa went to VBS, their brother Wes had aged out of it. I had no idea what to expect when I dropped off the younger 3. Wes is on the cusp of turning 12, and my tween can sometimes be tough to read. Hear me when I say, I haven't had this much fun in a while. Wes and I joked, laughed, reminisced, and got each other, whether it was chatting over frappucino's or strolling the farmer's market.

 Our last day of sending them to VBS had Wes and I wondering what we'd do on our last day as a duo. We ended up at the mall, where I told him I was there to go in the stores he wanted to go into. He wrinkled his forehead and said, "But what about you? What about the stores you want to go into?" I said, "Nope! It's all about you today." He and I went into Game Stop and headed down to the other end of the mall. I lost track of the stores and just soaked in his company. All of a sudden, he pointed and said, "There's Yankee Candle! You like that store, right? It'd make you happy to go in there, right?" "Yes," I said, "But it's not where I want to go." "Sure you do!" he began gently pushing on my back and guiding me into the store. "Mom, I want to do what makes you happy!" I swallowed a lump in my throat. Later on that day, he paid me the highest compliment I've ever received from him: "You are a RAD Mom."

I can think of thousands of ways that I blow it. I can name you a dozen attitudes that I have that are wrong in my mothering. But the one that was brought to my attention through all this is that these one on one times are all too infrequent. I intend on penciling in Mom-and-son or Mom-and-daughter dates, but so many times I drop the ball. And yet I have a God who overrules Google Calendar. I didn't plan Grant's sickness, or really intentionally plan that I'd have time alone with Wes, and they happened: not as I planned, but as God ordained them. If nothing else, having one on one time with them encouraged me to make that happen more. But of course, there are other things I can learn from them :)

Catch Up on the Old

I loved my time with my men-in-training, because it reminded me of all the things I appreciate about them. In the day to day, it's hard to catch them doing something good when you're riding them for bickering, selfishness, or laziness...at least it is for me. Face to face time helps us as parents to accentuate the positive- to see with crystal clarity what makes our kids awesome. And the number one thing that makes our kids awesome is that they are OURS. Locking eyes with my young men reminded me of that- and I am forever grateful they get to be mine. Remember, they are YOUR kids. If they didn't do anything else, that's what makes them special.

Adventure in the New

I noticed that with both Grant and Wes, we shared new experiences together. Watching new movies, eating new foods, going new places, having new hidden jokes. Something about newness helped me see them in a new light. When we're in the same four walls, routine, and context, things can get old. Stale. Mundane. Grant and I bonded over digging graham cracker quarters into a cauldron of roasted marshmallows and chocolate. We commented on the flavors, textures, and what we'd try differently the next time. Wes and I bought strawberries at Wilson's Farm Stand, and sarcastically joked about a few of the scented candles at Yankee. In both cases, we made memories. We braved uncharted territory. Planted our flags at the top of new summits. That's what we need to do with our kids. I'm challenged to add variety to the life I have with the kids. Because it's fun. Because life can be tough. Because I want them to tuck these memories of me in their hearts just like I'm doing with them.

Let's make a summertime pledge. With the balance of the summer, let's plan one face to face per child. Even if it's something small, like a walk or a 99 cent sundae. It's beneficial, and you'll have a blast. I bid you happy one-on-one-ing.:)

Soul Seasons, Part 5: Soul Winter

Winter. No one wants to think about it this time of year (except a few snow bunnies I have as friends), but it's inevitably coming. Although winter has a few highlights for me (Christmas and my daughter's birthday), most of the time the word "winter" sends a chill down my spine. Interestingly enough, the cons that come to mind about winter can be spelled out in two word phrases such as limited travel, close quarters, less sunshine, blistering cold, tight muscles. Even the personification of Old Man Winter brings a mental picture of a white bearded, cruel curmudgeon who delights in hurling snowball grenades and icicle spears at a climate-oppressed people. The challenge that I face in the wintertime is getting through it with joy, and not losing hope. Does that describe your struggle between December and March? 

As in the other seasons of the soul, there is a winter. If you're not in wintertime, there is a high probability that it is coming your way. If you've ever been through an extended season of loss, trial, and hardship, you've been through a soul winter. Life around you seems less forgiving; the blows just keep coming like a regularly scheduled barrage of winter storms. Instead of having your arms wide open in stunning vulnerability, you find your arms embracing yourself tightly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Instead of abundance and freedom, you are scrimping and struggling spiritually. You remember with sad longing the days when you were coasting effortlessly, but now you find yourself inching up a steep incline. But if this is where these words find you, don't despair. Surprisingly, everything you've learned in all the other seasons will help you get through this rough patch. How?

Stay Warm

I spend my winter going from one warm place to another. I go from the house to the van. From the van to the store. Although I can't avoid being outside entirely, I know that the cold isn't my final destination; getting to a warm place is key. In order to stay warm in this brutal soul season you're in, you have to cover the area that loses the most heat: your head. So many battles are waged inside the mind, and keeping your mind "warm" in the midst of the icy blasts of life is like fortifying the command center of an organization. As the state of the mind goes, so goes the rest of the individual. It's a struggle to not become bitter when life gets sour, but it's not impossible. In the summer, we learned to give thanks- and that's one way to stay warm. Giving thanks isn't just for November- it's a 365 day of year proposition. In every soul season, there is always something to be thankful for. In spring, we learned to beautify our surroundings; that we can use wisdom to make any situation beautiful, and this includes our minds. 

And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise. Philippians 4:8 NLT

These words were penned by the bad-guy-turned-good-guy Apostle Paul not while he was on the beach sipping a cold drink, or in the company of friends at the lake, but alone in a prison. A PRISON. And not the kind of prison that inmates in America experience today, but a dank, dark dungeon. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, Paul was able to experience warmth in the midst of a soul winter. His arms and legs may have been in shackles, and his physical body behind stone and bars, but his mind and his spirit were free. To loosely borrow lyrics from "My Girl", when it was cold inside, he had the month of May. His mind was set on the exact opposites of what he was experiencing. His thoughts shot straight past the small truths about what he was feeling, and with the laser focus we learned about in autumn, he was able to hone into the bigger truths about God's character. Paul turned his spirit from a thermometer, subject to the changing climate around him, to a thermostat, that controlled the climate around him, and thereby he was able to keep warm. 

Keep Hope Alive

In the dead of winter, I find myself looking online for pictures of warm, lush places. I've been known to change the wallpaper of my phone to a beach, or a flower carpeted field somewhere. Am I torturing myself? Maybe. But deep down inside, I'm nursing the thought that someday, the barren wasteland around me will match the picture I have on my phone. Jeremiah in the Bible was in a horrible state when he looked around him. All he saw was pain, devastation, loss, and hopelessness. His people had turned their backs on God, and were now living out the dire consequences. His heart was dashed into pieces remembering Israel's glory days, and now seeing her desolation. The picture of the past didn't match the picture from the present. Let's crouch down to his slumped posture and feel his agony.

I cry out, "My splendor is gone! Everything I had hoped for from the Lord is lost!" The thought of my suffering and homelessness is bitter beyond words. I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss. Lamentations 3: 18-20

Pretty depressing, huh? But that's life sometimes. Not the pretty picture we are often painting on social media. Jack Frost has nothing on the searing bite life can have. And yet in the vicious soul winter squall, we see a break in the clouds over Jeremiah's head, and hope streams down in silken threads:

Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: the faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning. I say to myself, "The Lord is my inheritance; therefore I will hope in Him!" Lamentations 3: 21-24

In Disney/Pixar's film Wall-E, the earth was trashed. Quite literally. The entire landscape of earth was piled so high and so deep with trash that life was choked out. But not all life. In the midst of the mountains of debris, Wall-E finds something completely paradoxical. Somehow, someway, a tiny green plant was able to thrive in the most unforgiving soil. He gingerly scooped up that tender life form with the earth surrounding it, and placed it in an old boot. SPOILER ALERT: the rest of the movie is built around him and his companion Eve protecting this plant from destruction. Hope must be protected that vigilantly. There is so much in life that threatens to pry open the sweaty fingers we're using to cling to hope and get us to let it go. World events. Difficulties. 

Hope is outnumbered by a million and one things, and yet only a sliver is needed to overcome them all. If we place our hope in God, we'll realize that even in a seemingly eternal soul winter, His mercies do begin afresh every morning.

 With the rising of the sun, comes enough hope to get us through our day. And when we pillow our heads that night and all seems lost, we wake up to new hope the next morning. Might life still be hard and cold? Probably. But there is always hope. Answer your soul winter's bludgeoning by daring to hope. Winter won't last forever. It's a season, remember? It has a beginning, a middle, and a rewarding end: springtime. Until then, stay warm, and keep hope alive. 

Did any of the soul seasons resonate with you? Gather up your courage, and let me know in the comments below! You never know who you'll be able to encourage with your story. Also, if you've missed any of the seasons posts, make sure to check out part 1 here! No matter what season of life you find yourself in, thrive, my brave friend, no matter what comes your way.

Soul Seasons Part 4: Soul Autumn

Autumn is without a doubt my favorite season. The rainbow of leaves above, the coziness of soups and yes, cups of tea, and the sweet autumn air make it irresistible to me. But two things that are honest confessions for me are 1- I have been dreading writing this blog post, and 2- I dislike autumn as a soul season- at least I feel that way now.

You see the autumn that wraps nature in a robe of beauty, and the soul autumn I'm experiencing don't feel the same. Physical autumn is eye candy. Soul autumn is agony at times. In soul autumn, there is a dying to self, a letting go, and the close of a chapter. It was a few months ago that Steve and I felt the Holy Spirit telling us that our season at our church was coming to an end. The 9 glorious years spent there made it so hard to leave. The pastors are our dearest friends, the love is unmistakable, and we were comfortable. And yet, the direction from God was crystal clear. This journey with Jesus isn't always pretty. He will lead us into places that are downright painful; His purpose is our good, but more than that, His glory. 

When you find yourself at an end, an end of a relationship, a dream, a job, it can feel so bitter and bare. Sometimes we can see the writing on the wall when we're in a relationship/job/friendship/etc that drains us of our joy; it almost makes it easier to leave when things get sour. But what about when things are still sweet and there's an ending? It reminds me of the trees in fall. Summer begins to exit, and the bright green leaves start to turn. From verdant to gold, orange, or red. The leaves don't show any sign of distress when the change starts to happen. When soul summer becomes soul autumn, questions swirl in the air like falling leaves. "Why does this have to end?" "Why now?" "Why do things have to change now that I'm happy?" Have you ever found yourself asking questions like that to God? 

I've found myself fluctuating between excitement at this new God adventure, and feeling bare. Bare like a branch that had a beautiful cluster of flowers clipped from it forever. There is no mistaking though- those flowers are clipped because the gardener has new growth in mind for that branch. Growth like the branch has never seen before. God is leading us on from our church because He has new growth in store for us. Still though, I am grieving what was, while waiting for concrete proof that it was all worth it. The only hope and reward I have left after this pruning is God's presence, and His promises. His presence that stays with me while I'm in this season, and His promise that He blesses obedience. If this is you too, we're in the trenches together. Maybe you said goodbye to someone you loved, after asking God for a miracle. Maybe your job transferred you from one place to another, and you are faced with saying goodbye to friends, family, and a house. God has growing in mind for you. And what parting gifts is He imparting to you? His presence, and His promises. And while you're holding on to those with sweaty hands, and a lump in your throat, consider these two ways you can thrive in this season.

Refocus.

Maybe like me, you were so comfortable that you were on auto pilot. The cadence of your surroundings was in sync with your very heartbeat. And then the ending comes, and you are thrown off. Take some time to refocus. Who are you? What defines you? The things that you do, the relationships you are tied to, or the fact that you are a child of God? Remember that He gives you your worth, priceless one- not the gifts that He's given you. Lock eyes with Him- not on the beautiful flowers He's clipping off of you. His very life is coursing through your veins. And if His life is in you, you will grow anew. You are rooted and established in His love. Refocus on that truth in the midst of your grief. This might be the end of something, but it's not the ending of you. In fact, you are at another beginning. There is less of an extension of yours, but this cutback is positioning you for a comeback. 

Let Go.

Those technicolor leaves end their fiery display in being let go. I never realized that there is a double beauty in the changing foliage. Those gorgeous leaves go from bedazzling every bough of every tree to hurtling in a dazzling descent, blanketing the ground like a patchwork quilt. Those leaves are just as beautiful on the ground as they are on the tree. Their story isn't over though. As those leaves die, they break down, and bequeath their rich organic material to the soil underneath so that it's positioned to incubate new life, and enrich existing life.

So you see, the letting go of what God has called you to nourishes dreams, relationships, and seasons that are yet to be. Goodbyes are painful. Goodbyes make a heart ache. But goodbyes prepare for hellos. I find comfort in knowing that God isn't asking me to suck it up, and move on, never looking back. He is asking me to heal in forward motion. He is infusing my fingers with courage while they close this chapter to open a chapter yet unwritten. And He is happy to offer His shoulders to cry on when I'm feeling the pangs of missing out on the season I'm saying goodbye too. He fills the awkward space between the goodbye and the new beginnings with His steadfast love that makes us at home in every season. 

You can trust that as you let go, the hollow of your empty hand is the perfect receptacle for you to receive grace that will sustain you in this leg of the race. Grace that will cushion your heart in the act of letting go. 

May you see the beauty in this bittersweet season, just as I'm learning to.  I don't know what it is that you've let go of. I bet it was painful; it always is. However, in the midst of the aching, you can trust that the Gardener of your soul is taking extra care to ensure you're ready to grow, and that He will use what He pruned to nourish things yet to be. For with God, nothing is wasted.

Baptism, Courage, and Obedience

Life is all about choices. And Grant, my 7 year old, is determined once he's made one. It was an atypical Sunday; Steve and I were filling in as MC's for our church service. As a result, our kids went to their Kids' Life class for the first service, and stayed in with the adults for the second. Apparently, an announcement we made piqued Grant's interest. We gave a heads' up to the upcoming baptism service. After we finished, we headed out to lunch. Grant couldn't contain his excitement any longer. "I want to be baptized!!! Can I?" I thought for a moment, and looked at Steve, and as we considered his age, and what he knew about God, we took some time to explain what baptism was. It is an outward symbol of an inward change. He was on board 110%, and last Sunday, he took the plunge.

If I turned the clock back 26 years, I would see myself in the same and yet completely different place Grant was. My parents has recently split up, and I was joining a new church in a new denomination. In my heart, I desperately wanted to be part of this new church family, and identify myself as a follower of Christ. I hated getting my hair wet, and hated being underwater, but I was willing to look past all that to take this step of obedience. Most of my family was baptized that day; it symbolized a fresh start as a family, and a new commitment to Christ.

Grant was quieter than usual the morning he was baptized, but I could tell he had adrenaline in his veins by the confident smirk he donned. I love that smirk. It's the one he gives when he is excited about something but doesn't want to overtly show it. My husband got him changed into his swim trunks and rash guard, and the whole service, he was like a Christmas tree before its first lighting. Finally, the moment came. He carefully climbed the stairs, and I saw relief rush into his face when he sensed the water was warm. My pastors guided him into the right spot in the tank, and whispered words of reassurance to my son. Then Pastor Joe lowered my son into the tank, and pulled him out. Cheers erupted in the Gathering. The first thing he said afterward was, "I am soaked!" After the laughter had died down at his honesty, Pastor Abi declared, "He said he's soaked! Covered in Jesus' love, right?" How right she is.

The first thing that hit the water wasn't my feet that day; it was Grant's feet. Because those little feet have their own journey to take with God. A journey that will look different than mine to places I'll never go. They'll brave steep, sharp, painful places I'll never experience; and will dance dances that I'll never dance. They will rush to meet needs I'll never meet, and as they grow, will carry him farther than I'll ever see. Seeing him make the choice to be baptized, and walk in obedience was a big reminder that God has no grandchildren. Only children. There will be parts of Grant's story that will make me cringe, break my heart, and want to soak my pillow with tears. There will be moments in his life that I'll want to photoshop, delete, and expunge, and yet I won't be able to. I don't have the authority. And even the One who does, although He'll forgive Grant's sins and bring him restoration, refuses to erase the ugly altogether. Why? Because the things that Grant goes through can and will be used for God's glory, so why should they be edited out? There will be a more clear picture of grace that will come from God shining through his cracks and fissures than could come from him leading a glossy life with no mistakes. And friend, the same is true of us.

I remember talking to Pastor Abi about Grant's milestone afterward, and she remarked, "Did you notice that he didn't even plug his nose before he went under?" My eyes widened; I hadn't noticed. I flashed back to my face before I went under the water in baptism. Eyes clenched, jaw clenched, the terrifying sound and sensation of water rushing in my ears, and not only was my nose plugged, the Pastor was plugging my nose as well. That 8 year old girl was steeped in fear in more ways than one. And yet here was my son; fearless. Bold. Unwavering. Not once did he tell me or show me that he was afraid. My prayer is that for the rest of his life, he would live "unplugged". That his whole being would be submerged in the love of Christ without any fear lurking. That he would walk in obedience to God without apology or shame. For that is the life he was meant for; that is the trajectory most conducive for world changing. I'm convinced that he will teach me more as my brother in Christ than I will teach him as his Mom. As I kissed his forehead and tousled his damp hair afterward, I realized that I was in the presence of a warrior. The same King of Kings that Grant's allegiance is pledged to will be the same King of Kings that will steady this Mama's heart when that allegiance is lived out. 

May we lose ourselves in trusting God with our most rich and priceless inheritance; the next generation. May fear fall by the wayside when we realize that the choice is ultimately theirs. And may we lean into Christ more and more every day, giving our kids an imperfectly perfect picture of what to shoot for; because most likely, they will go far beyond that. 

It's my great honor and privilege to be able to introduce my beautiful friend, kindred spirit, and wonderful wordsmith Osheta Moore to you. She is a Pastor's wife, Mom, blogger, Children's pastor, and recently moved to Los Angeles from Boston. Her children, TJ and Trinity were baptized the same month as Grant, and she has written about her children's brave and beautiful journey HERE. I have no doubt you'll enjoy her refreshing take on life as much as I do! Make sure you subscribe to her blog, Shalom in the City for more nourishing soul encouragement.