Running and Hiding.

"You're not a good Mommy!",  she shouted from the dining room table last night.

You see, I was making her eat what I prepared and that wasn't she wanted so she was going to let me know.

I looked at her with stern eyes but a quiet voice I said, "Emily, that breaks my heart to hear you say that".

We've been reading her toddler Bible and when we read about The Fall, I always tell her that Adam and Eve broke God's heart. I want her to lean into the relationship with our Father and not obedience only put forth for fear of punishment.  I want her to know God loves and wants best for her and when we disobey, it makes Him sad.

What happened next caught me off guard. She got up, ran from the table, hid under an old record cabinet and cried.

Who told her to run from me? Who told her she needed to hide? Who told her to use cutting words with a piece of my life that I am always bringing to the feet of Jesus?

You and I both know exactly who.

It's the one who saw that Eve had a desire for the tree and her attraction to the thought of feeling powerful and coaxed her into disobedience.

It's the one who told her and Adam and Eve to hide from God out of fear. God had never harmed them but yet, for some reason, they were afraid. Someone told them to be.

In a matter of seconds, as this wave of the spirituality of the moment passed,  I approached Emily and told her to come out of hiding.  I picked her up and she collapsed into me, sobbing.  She said she was sorry and she didn't mean it. I told her that I love her and she never needs to hide. Nothing she says or does can make me stop loving her.   We hugged for several minutes and when she was calm I said, "I need you to go eat what I have made for you."  We hugged some more and then she ate her dinner.

Joke's on the enemy because, through my reaction to the exchange he meant to harm me with, I turned the tables. The Holy Spirit allowed me to take a flaming arrow lodged to discourage me and turn it into a holy moment to show my child what grace feels like. I was being a good Mommy. I don't get this parenting thing right all the time but this one made me kinda proud. I was proud because I believe, at that moment, I parented the way God parents us.

He sought Adam and Eve out, He seeks us out and it isn't because He doesn't know where we are. It's because He wants us to know we've been sought after. 

He doesn't condemn when our heart is still in pieces. He picks us up and we feel His love first. Kindness leads to repentance.

Then, when the tears are wiped away and our spirit is a peace, He guides us to go and live in the way He has prepared for us.

The liar whispered those hateful words that my daughter spoke and overwhelmed her with shame when she said them.  We have all been there in our own way, haven't we? We're enticed by choices outside of God's best, we give in and then quickly realize the damage we've done. Then we hide or we build our own walls. Left undisturbed, these walls or hiding places actually become graves because we've given up on the idea that Jesus wants us to have life and have it to the full.

I don't know where you're at and maybe this lesson was just for me but there is someone who desperately loves you. He died to hold you and His arms are open. Dear friend, fall into them.

From Shattered to Shining: Our Adoption Story

This morning, Emmy and I had the pleasure of selling cookies and lemonade at an adoption yard sale for some sweet friends of ours. Since we live in a new place, many of our friends here don't know the amazingly ordained story of our Emily.  Every time, I tell the details of our adoption journey, their mouths drop open and agree that only God could write something that beautiful.

So if you haven't followed our blog for the last 4 years or you just love hearing about how Jesus works all things for good, grab a snack and I'll share my favorite story, the story of Emily.

It was this exact week, 4 years ago when my world shattered.  We had waited and waited through the adoption process, had been matched with a potential birthmother, went to appointments, met family and began our plans to finally be parents.  Four years ago this week, my dream came to a screeching halt. I wrote about it here. I was so broken. I still remember the pain.

My heart started to harden. I remember telling God that I didn't think He was being a good Father. Why was He withholding when everything is at His fingertips? That was in October.  Pay attention to that date. 

Thanksgiving was blur because I wasn't thankful at all. My Grandpa who I dearly loved was in his last days and Sully was traveling a lot playing drums. My soul felt like the gray of winter. I sat at a Christmas Eve service, crying and being so thankful that it was dark in there so no one saw me. I was hurt and I felt overlooked.

On my way to say goodbye to my Grandpa, I listened to Ann Voscamp's A Thousand Gifts. In her book, she expresses this idea of open hands to whatever God gives and to practice giving thanks even in the hardest times.  I cried as I drove and opened my hands with our journey. I finally resolved in my heart that God and eternity with Him had to be enough, even if I was never a mother. I finally felt at peace. This was in December.

We said goodbye to my Grandpa and he met Jesus face to face. I left the hospital with my sister and Sully. When we got to the car I said, "Maybe Grandpa will tell God to send us a baby?" 

You won't believe me, but I have witnesses. Two minutes later, Sully's work phone rings and he sends it to voicemail. We listen and it's a girl, expressing through tears that she would like to make an adoption plan and got our number from someone at the hospital named Kristy Branson. Two minutes!

Here's the catch, I didn't know anyone named Kristy Branson and I didn't know anyone that worked in that part of the hospital. Naturally, I went to Facebook and looked up Kristy Branson. We'd never met. I connected with her and she was surprised.  You see, it was now December and she met that girl at the hospital in October. Guess when?  Right after I wrote the post about our failed adoption. We lived in a small town so a friend of a friend shared it. She read it and then picked up a PRN shift in the ER. For the non-nurses, that kinda means like "as-needed".  Kristy got called into a room that wasn't her patient and as soon as she walks in, the girl says, "I would like to make an adoption plan, do you know anyone?"

Are you following this?! In October, my world is crushed and I write about it. A friend shares it and this Kristy woman sees it. She is touched by it. Goes into work and then gets called randomly into a room where someone asks her if she knows anyone wanting to adopt. CRAY.  Kristy didn't have our number but she knew the place where Sully worked, so she gave the girl that number.

She didn't call....until December. Right after I say, "Maybe Grandpa will tell God to give us a baby?".

Divine, y'all.

I shared with my sister what was going on and she said, "Wow, if that works out, thats going to be an incredible story."

It would be an amazing story even if the story ended there. But it didn't.

March rolled around and it was time for Emily to make her entrance.  We get the call and head to the hospital. Let me just lay out what we were met with once we got there.

-The doctor who delivered Emily? An adoptive mother.
-The nurse that helped our birthmom through the delivery? She was adopted.
-The nurse that took care of Emily? Emily Ann. No E. The SAME NAME we picked out months before she was born.
-Emily was born on my Dad's birthday, once again connecting her to my Grandpa.

I could not have written a better story.

I am so thankful that the Lord closed one door so that I could walk through the journey of bringing Emily home. I will never doubt she was meant for us and I will never doubt God's hand in all of it.

As long as I live and as long as people will listen, I will tell the story, my favorite story, of what God has done.

My heart was shattered to make way for Him to shine and I am so thankful.

Mini Me vs. Mini He

I've always loved to write.  A Young Authors award in 4th grade may be my highest writing accolade but I'll take it. 

Published writers are always encouraging aspiring writers to spend large amounts of time to bringing words to life.  I wish I could do that.  

I write when prompted by the beauty or tragedy of a moment.. 

I write when given inspiration by the Spirit. 

The timing isn't always convenient. 

So in my phone, lives voice memos and notes of inspiration because you can't blog while you're driving. #safetyfirst #handsfreegeorgia

I felt a prompting this morning, a wave of inspiration came and it looked like this. 

If you've follow my social media, you have been inundated with pictures and videos of my silly little Emily.  I even made a profile for her videos on Insta (@emily_ann_says) so I could catalog it all in one place.  I have received so many messages about her charisma and spice. 

One message in particular came from another adoptive momma. Knowing she would understand I began to share with her about adoption. I told her that I over share and don't care because I am so amazed by her. She doesn't have my DNA but man, she holds my heart. 

I am surprised at this little entertainer she is becoming but I am not sure why. 

If you know me, you know I am a nut that doesn't meet a stranger and I have a flare for the dramatic. I LOVE to make people laugh.  

That is Emily, hands down. 

Yet, I find myself wondering in amazement about how she could be so funny and where she gets it from?  Was her spice knit together at the same time as the color of her eyes or is she a reflection of me, the person God graciously chose to raise her? 

As I drove, I thought a lot about her birth mom. I don't share much about Emily's family of origin because it's her story to tell but I always wonder what she was like as little girl. 

What parts of who Emily is reflect the home she is living in or the woman gave her life?

I questioned the same for myself. 

At certain times in my life, I find myself reflecting the one who gave me life and then other times I find myself reflecting the one who seems to rule this "home" we're living in temporarily. 

I pray for more times when my heavenly Father looks down and says, "Yes, that love in her heart for.....she got that from me". But if I am honest there are times when I act in such a way that I am not reflecting the one who gave me life. 

You see, it really is nature vs. nurture.  We're all born a little broken and a little prone to wonder, Lord I feel it.  I didn't get to chose that. My nature will constantly pull me in a direction that says, "God doesn't know best."

But I do get to choose what I nurture and who I emulate.  

I choose my spirit and I choose Jesus. This is what I hope Emily gets from me. 

Which do you choose?

While I would LOVE for Emily to be my mini me, I'd being doing the job wrong if she's not a mini He.  

Maybe I am giving her humor and personality but as the words of the hymn I sang to her last night  go, 

Give me Jesus, Give me Jesus.

You can have all this world.

Just give me Jesus. 

Back To Hell

I've had some words lately...Okay, who am I kidding, I have always had words. But lately, I have felt the need to put them out there even if its unpopular or raw.  I've shared about mom guilt, active shooters and mantras I disagree with.

This Ford/Kavanaugh story is no different. People, I really tried. I wanted to stay out of it, if only for self-preservation. The public discourse is heartbreaking. I've heard it said that every time new allegations arise of a public figure, in a way it revictimizes those who have been abused or assaulted.  In a way, it can take the victim back to the moment they felt helpless or objectified.

I wasn't there. I don't know who is telling the truth. I don't know their story but I know my story.

What "they" say is true. For those of us who have walked through things that you wouldn't wish for your children, will all agree. For many, this situation is bringing up past hurts or highlighting scars that haven't been thought about in awhile.  

If we were sitting down for coffee, maybe I could share all the details. But I can't write them and I don't want to. So instead of words like abused, assaulted, taken advantage of or objectified, I am going to use the word hurt. That word represents situations ranging from degrading, demeaning words to awful actions.

I was "hurt" in Elementary School by a peer. 
I was "hurt"in Middle School by someone older than me.  
I was "hurt" in High School by someone I trusted.
I was "hurt" in College by a coworker. *I actually told a female manager and she blew me off. Let's do better and expect better, ladies. 

For the last 15 years, I have not thought about these things daily. But lately, I can't shake them because, social media.  Recently while getting ready, I was thinking through the ways that I have been "hurt". That rabbit trail led me to the dark spots I have been in even by my own choices. I found myself appalled by it all, ranging from sad to every shade of mad.  If you knew me than, you would have never thought, I'd be a pastor. 

But then I was reminded of the words I heard from a fiery southern woman this weekend as she spoke at her son's funeral. Speaking about lies or things that are meant to harm us she said, "We need to pray and send that right back to Hell, where it came from!" 

You see, this whole highlight of abuse in the news was taking me back to the times of hell in my own life. The times I felt alone and separated from God. So at the advice of the bold, grieving daughter of Christ, I claimed that I was made new and sent those memories straight back to hell. 

My "hurt" was a strategy that Satan tried to used to harm me. But y'all, my Creator is a Master Restorer. This week, I taught about Revelation 21, you know the amazing part when God makes everything new and "everything sad comes untrue"(Sally Lloyd Jones).

But did you know friend, that our hearts can be made new right now.  I was so shocked when I was recalling the past because when I look back, it doesn't even feel like my life.  Shoutout to Jesus and EMDR Therapy.  

2 Corinthians 5:17 makes a beautiful promise. "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come."

So there's my new mantra y'all.  When I am reminded of the harmful choices of others or the mistakes of my own, I will send the enemy scurrying when I claim, "Behold, the new has come".