Faith

The Painful Side of Mother’s Day

Blog_CactusFlowerMother’s Day is not a bouquet of fragrant flowers for everyone. For some, it feels more like a fistful of pain-inducing thorns—an unwelcome reminder of things lost. A day meant for honoring mothers becomes a time of remembering the one who was never there, or the one who left to soon. Or it maybe it awakens the droning ache of unfulfilled longing for motherhood.

For many years, that ache was my Mother’s Day companion. Though I was blessed with a good mom who inspired in me the certainty there was no greater calling than motherhood, I was unable to have children in the biological sense. Adoption was always something my husband and I had desired to pursue, so it was no hard decision to journey in that direction. The process, however, was another story.

While the outcome of adoption is always beautiful and miraculous, the process is the emotional equivalent of the pain and exhaustion involved in pregnancy and labor multiplied exponentially and drawn out for years. Despite all the toil and sacrifice, there were times when I wondered if it was ever going to happen. And more times than that I was tempted to give up.

This month, my daughter turns seven. Her favorite past-time is playing with her two year-old brother. I sit here now, laptop on the kitchen counter, surrounded by bags of clothes they’ve outgrown. Exhaustion is setting in after a full morning at the laundromat and an even fuller afternoon of dishes, diapers, and more. I spent the evening cuddling my son and reveling in my daughter’s smile, knowing God turned all my tears in to songs of joy. My children were worth the wait.

Through all my waiting, I learned that every tear sowed waters the ground for joy to spring forth. And that is my prayer for those who suffer on the painful side of Mother’s Day. May God give you eyes to see through your sorrow, and ears to hear him speak peace to your storms. May you know that our God is the lifter of heavy burdens and the comforter of all who mourn. He is able to sustain the weary, uphold the weak, and repair the broken… turning tears of sorrow into seeds of hope..

Embracing Change

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The dog wasn’t happy when the baby came home. For weeks she sulked on the armchair looking lost. I’d never seen her so sad.

Prior to that, she’d happily occupied her place on my lap, assured of her purpose in our family. She was a lap dog, devoted in her mission to comfort and cuddle. Now, it seemed, the baby had taken that role. My sweet puppy lingered in her saddened state for much of the baby’s first year, despite our consistent reassurance of love.

As the baby grew, things started to change…again. The dog seemed to sense it. Suddenly, her little rival was transforming into a friend—someone new to cuddle and play with. Soon they were inseparable. And when the second baby came along, the dog was unfazed. She knew the little lap-thief was a future companion. Unhappy as she was when things first changed, she’s now reaping the benefits of two pint-sized best friends.

Change is never comfortable when it comes. We lose our bearings and struggle to find our footing. But if we can look beyond the moment of change to the ultimate outcome, we may more readily embrace it. Faith enables us to see change as a seed, piercing the ground and transforming the soil. Our response is to patiently wait, knowing the seed will transform into something beautiful in its time.

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Pondering Life in the Produce Section

Eat healthy fruits and veggies bowl | Flickr - Photo Sharing! www.flickr.com1443 × 1103Search by imageHave you ever thought about life while shopping the produce section? It’s a pretty inspiring place, if you stop and look around. Color, beauty, flavor, order, variety—it’s all there, row upon row, for our enjoyment and sustenance. Processed food has nothing on fruit and veggies.

Just think of how unique each is in appearance and flavor. Like works of edible art. Beyond that, they’re filled with all we need to benefit our health in different ways. And they carry seeds to reproduce more of their kind.

The grocery store is filled with aisle after aisle of processed food and we never stop to question whether there was a maker behind it all. We wouldn’t doubt the little bowtie pastas, fish-shaped crackers, or cream-filled cookies are man-made. And we wouldn’t tell someone the boxed, canned, or packaged food we consume is the result of some random explosion.

Yet many walk through the produce section thinking it all came about by chance. Yeah, we know there were farmers, gardeners, and grocers involved. But really? Would we believe that all the amazing deliciousness that grows on trees or on plants or in fields, came about by accident?

Whenever I see such order and beauty I know there’s a maker behind it. Where there is uniqueness in color, shape, and size, there is creativity, and where there is creativity, there is a creator. The flavor, the goodness—all reveal the gentle care of our loving creator, who cares for our needs and desires. And every good and perfect gift has come from him.

When it’s Time for a Change

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I’ll always remember the first time I decided to make a change in my life. It was nothing profound, yet it was a challenge because when you’re young who you are is often tied up in what you do. Change meant letting go of something that had become part of my identity. Still, that minor revolution in my high school years taught me something important that has resonated through the years to follow.

My dad was a coach, so my older sisters and I spent much of our childhood frequenting basketball courts and football stadiums. As a result, my sisters gravitated toward cheerleading. I followed like a little duckling, though it was something I endured more than enjoyed. I was never really good at it—just cheerful enough to make the squad. And I didn’t exactly like the weekly routine of freezing out of my skin and screaming at the top of my lungs all for the glory of the game. Not to mention that all but two of the girls on the squad were the stereotypical mean girls.

It wasn’t until my junior year in high school that I decided to stop torturing myself. Why waste my time doing something I didn’t enjoy and wasn’t good at all because it was what my sisters did, what I’d always done, or what was expected of me? The time for change had come. And the only thing I regretted was not having done it sooner.

From that experience, I learned to never waste my time doing what I clearly wasn’t wired to do, and to never be afraid to change. It doesn’t matter what people expect or what your past dictates. Life is too short to be squandered on things that steal your purpose.

Because of that choice, I’ve found what I’m truly passionate about: music, writing, and teaching. And I’ve been more sensitive when seasons shift—unafraid to say goodbye to the old and welcome the new. I know now that change means leaving behind the known and embracing the unknown, which is most often the pathway to what’s best.