Pangs

I felt it the moment I heard her first cry. It’s almost as if I could physically feel it take root deep within my heart, and it was strong. It was such a strong desire to just make her tears stop. I had a sudden need to make her feel better at all costs and I somehow knew this would be a desire I would never let go of.  I just didn’t know the battle that it would entail.  On that day I could stop her crying just by cradling her in my arms, but even then her cry was not without purpose. The same tears and wails that broke my heart encouraged her to grow.  They filled her sweet little lungs with air and grew them to be strong.  Yet, I longed for them to stop and I felt the pang with each yell.

The infant cries soon turn into toddler disobedience.  The cries got louder and turned into screams and the battle of time out began, and ever so quickly, there it was again. The pang.  I felt it every time I pulled out the time out chair and she sat there in tears with her little white blanket and a thumb in her mouth. 

I knew she deserved the time out, but I could rarely get my heart to agree.  I could just let her get away with it one more time. I could count to three…and four…and four and half….I could just not be inconvenienced and just let it slide, but despite the screaming pang, I knew better.  If you are in battle with a toddler, you better win. Even despite the pang.

Years go by and there are more things that feed the pang.  She eyes cute dolls, sparkly shoes and dress up clothes in the store and her little heart desperately wants them all and my heart desperately longs to buy them for her.  The pangs say “give in”, but the parent I knew I needed to be says no.  She needs to learn contentment as much as her lungs need to learn to be filled with air.  And once again, this job called Momma is not about me.

Disrespect, sibling fights, lost nights that I was prepared to watch a movie and cuddle on the couch, turn into disappointments of extra naps and early bed times.  My heart screamed “No!”  I wanted the perfect night of popcorn, Beauty and the Beast and cuddles.  Why couldn’t she just listen?  My life would be easier if she did.  The pang grew and it also changed.  You see, the pang not only was a deep desire to make her happy anymore, but it also became one that desired my own happiness.  Do I hurt my own heart and lose out on my desires or do I hurt hers and allow the necessary consequences?  Did I want to make this night easier for me or do I want to make her life easier for her? I chose to grow her character.

Time continues to fly and middles school arrives. The pang returns in full force.  My heart screams “Protect her! Protect her! Protect her!” If I could only know every detail of her life, keep her safe in my home and keep her from hearing, seeing, or experiencing anything negative or hurtful I would feel so much better…. BUT, it’s not about me.  The way I mother her is about her.  After all, I wasn’t raising a child, I was raising an adult. And so the battle ensues a little longer.  I can choose to protect her in my own frailness or I can choose to allow her to experience bumps and bruises from the world and find her dependence in God and not me.  I chose God.  It hurt but He grew her even while I felt the pang.

The teen years came in full force.  I wanted to bail her out of everything.  I wanted everything she experienced to be awesome. I wanted her to have the best friends, the best grades, the cutest clothes and the safest car and I was desperate not to let her fall prey to the world.  I wanted…I wanted..I wanted.  Alright Lord, I remember.  This is not about me.  You gave her to me because her life is about You.  You know the friends she needs, the grades she needs and even the clothes and car that’s right.  Every experience she has is for a purpose that you have called her to for your glory. No Lord, I don’t want to stand in the way of that just because the pang or the selfishness in my heart is too great. 

 Now I sit here, a mere 2 days before this precious crying baby leaves out into the world for college.  And oh is the pang cutting deep!  The cries aren’t coming from her any longer, they are coming from me.  I know this world, I know what’s out there and it’s not so pretty, but even more than that I know my God and the God she loves ever so much.  His ways for her trump my ways every single time and yet again, despite my whaling heart, I trust Him. 

This parenting gig is not for the faint or weak of heart.  My heart is screaming “Stay, oh please stay” but I would never crush my beautiful girl like that. I’d rather have my own heart ripped out of my chest before depriving her of what she was created to do.  I have learned so painfully well over the years that parenting her was not about me and my comfort.  And now, all of a sudden I am so grateful, that even though not executed perfectly, I didn’t let things slide because it was inconvenient for me.  I didn’t keep her from time out because her tears broke my heart and I didn’t hold her back from doing scary things and I didn’t hold her back from failing or from making a bad grade.  I am grateful I was a tough mom filled with an endless amount of love that taught her how to make good decisions on her own.  More importantly, I’m grateful Jesus claimed my heart so I could show her how to desire Him to do the same for her.  Nothing I did as a parent was ever in my own power. I would have failed miserably.  It was the grace of God and the understanding of His ways and the reasons He disciplines those He loves.  I followed Him while she was following me.  And despite the pangs, I would do it all over again.

My sweet little Taylor, you have gripped my heart from the moment I heard your little voice and saw your little frog legs.  You are the most delicately strong, loving and compassionate child that I am desperately proud of.  Your shyness never has held you back, your inner quiet strength has shown through every challenge you allow yourself to face and I am fiercely proud to be your mom.  I will forever worry about you, cry over you and give you unsolicited advice, but I will do it all trusting in the calling God has on your life and the protection He has over you.  I will always allow Him to trump me. 

I hope I have parented you well and prepared you for this day. May I have richly blessed your life as you have mine.  Being your mom has been my best gig ever!! Now go out in the world and make His name known!   I love you forever…and don’t forget to take the kissing hand with you!

The Beauty of Violet

Imagine, what it would be like to be a young teenage girl and 

you have already spent your entire existence staring poverty, neglect and abuse in the face.  It runs after you so hard that you can barely catch your breath ..day in and day out. There's no one there to meet your basic physical needs, there's no one to encourage your dreams, quite possibly because you don't know to have any, and there's no one there to ever tell you that you are loved.  To top things off, at your lowest point you are carried up and strapped down to a roof to be lit on fire.  The pain is so severe and yet the fire doesn't kill you, it only leaves you agonizing for days untreated.  Now remember, you are a child. Your entire life has literally become a pile of ashes.

Meet Violet

Then enters God.  The lover of your soul you never knew you had, the Father your little girl heart screamed for, the Master at creating beauty from ashes. 

He entered in through The Mercy House, an organization I love that exists to rescue babies and their beautiful young mothers.  

You see, Violet's story doesn't end on that roof top.  That is where it began.  Yes, the road ahead would be bumpy, major surgical needs were necessary ($10,000 was met by YOU supporters within 24hrs) and her journey to understanding who she was created to be was sure to be a long one. But dear friends, God is good and He is the Master at creating beauty from ashes and there's nothing He loves more than using His people in the process.  

It's so easy to question God and asked why He allowed such a tragic beginning for Violet, but couldn't He question us the same?  Why did we allow it? Perhaps, why DO we allow it?

Here's a clip of beautiful Violet's story. Violet's Story


If you're not currently involved in supporting a ministry or running one yourself.  I ask you to consider The Mercy House. Every dollar you contribute invests in the life of a child and their mom. Every purchase you make at The Mercy Shop and every prayer you lift matters.  It all matters. Do something today.  

A Beautiful Love Story

Valentines Day is approaching and love is in the air! Date nights, fancy dinners, roses, chocolate and whispers of I love you. It seems so wonderful and yet at the same time so common and simplistic. 

What if this year we celebrated Valentines Day a little differently? 

Each year I pour out my undying love for my husband, praise him for who he is and what he means to me.  We take the time to celebrate each other and our marriage. In a way, I just let him know that I love him in a little bit bigger of a way than normal, but really, I just give him the love that he is already aware of having on the other 364 days. My husband knows I love him. I tell him and I show him. He knows.

This year my thoughts are drawn to those that may not have or know the love he has. The ones who feel forgotten and undesired and truly believe that they are. What about them? What is their Valentines Day like?  

As an advocate for The Mercy House , a ministry I believe in with my whole heart, I'm choosing to make this Valentines Day about something more.  I'm choosing to make it about the most beautiful LOVE story ever told. The sacrificial love of a Redeemer that knows and loves the broken, the impoverished and even the, dare I say, unlovable. 

As the week goes on I can't wait to tell you more about the love this Redeemer has poured out and the true redemption He has brought forth, but for now, I will share my own story of seeing firsthand this Redeemer's work in the life of a very special young woman.  

A few years ago my heart was broken and immediately lit on fire when I met a precious young woman from Kenya named Maureen. My oldest daughter served in ministry with her over a summer and pleaded with me to meet her. She said "Mom, seriously, she is going to change your life". And my goodness, that she has.  

I came to meet Maureen one day by first seeing her in a parking lot. It was instantly as if we had met many times before and were being reunited.  I vividly remember us running to one another and embracing in the most beautiful hug. She had never seen my face but yet instantly knew who I was. In that moment, I knew I would love her like my own daughter. 

Maureen is a tiny, beautiful girl with a smile bigger than the rest of her body.  Joy abounds from her. I was given the privilege of spending the day with her and hearing her story.  Maureen was once a sponsored Compassion child (another ministry I love). She told many stories of the extreme poverty she lived in.  Barely a roof over her head, a father who left, a mother, a sister, 2 brothers and a nephew all crammed in a house the size of most of our closets. No running water, no food, no plumbing and no money to pay the $3-$4 rent expected of them every month.  I cringed at the mere thoughts of her story, but Maureen didn't. Instead, she spoke of them with great power and triumphant joy. 

There I sat, literally looking poverty in the face and it smiled and gave praise, it was life changing. 

Maureen had been rescued from poverty, BUT, her rescue didn't look like we might expect it to. You see, she still remained in her shoddy home, she still had little food and she still walked in filth and stench every day of her life and yet if you asked her she would tell you she was rescued.

Maureen's rescue was real and it came in the form of love and when love is complete it is enough.

Love healed. Love encouraged. Love restored.  Love redeemed her life.  

I suppose you could say that Maureen was healed by the power of one. There was one sponsor who chose her and wrote letters telling her for the first time that she was loved, but there was also The One who ultimately healed her. The God who came down and humbled himself to death on a cross out of His great love for her, suffered far greater than she ever did or ever would, and Maureen knew that He did it willingly for her. He was her Rescuer. (By the way, He did the exact same thing for you!) This changed her life much as it should ours. It is that kind of love that outweighs any hardship or circumstance, even the deepest poverty. Maureen knew that. 

So, as I sat there during our time together, unable to finish all that was on my lunch plate knowing it was about to go into the trash, my heart broke. It just broke. Images of my pantry and expired food that I would go home and toss, flashes of my closet and my "posh car" as Maureen called it. All of it. I saw it all as loss. What was it worth? What good were all those things? The thought of a little girl never being told she mattered or was loved, this previously un-thought of notion could no longer be denied. That little girl now sat before me. It was in that moment that I knew I also had to become "one".  I had to become one that would make a difference. 

The Mercy House was also established by the power of one. Maureen was one. My friend Kristen Welch of We Are That Family was one and then before you knew it a lot of others decided to become ones. I don't know if this will encourage you to explore and become involved with The Mercy House or not, I hope it does, but more than that I hope it encourages you to become involved in something greater than yourself. After all, if one poverty stricken Kenyan girl and one beautiful Texan mom and wife can come together and create something as wonderful as The Mercy House, then who knows what more God can do with your one. Don't underestimate the power of your one...just don't. 

Check out The Mercy House here... 

     
Mercy House Kenya from The Fellowship at Cinco Ranch on Vimeo.