Girl, Wash Their Feet.

There is a super popular book out right now, making the rounds through Christian circles.

From what I can tell, it's giving a voice to many who have seen themselves as less than and believed lies about themselves.

From what I can tell, the author would be a blast to hang out with and I bet we'd have a good laugh.

But, from what I can tell, the book falls short of what really helps someone feel whole and see themselves in light of how the Creator sees them.

But, it's not just this book.

The enemy has taken this idea of rest in Christ and hijacked it, labeling it "self-care".

Self-care should be things like eating well, sleeping well, making time for friendships, exercising and laughter. These are good things. This is being a steward of the life God gave you and being your healthiest to bring the most glory to Him. This sisters, is good and holy.

But that isn't what "self-care" has become. It has started to rear it's head with this manta, "Do what is best for you.''  Some authors/bloggers/personalities have actually said, "You should be the first of your priorities" or "You are meant to be the hero of your own story"

Sisters,  please tell me we know better than that.

I would have thought by now, that the enemy would have gotten some new material. Yet we find him using the same lie he told Eve in the garden. It's that whispering that God doesn't know what is best for you. You need to seize and take hold of what you want. 

I am calling a foul on all of it because it is a lie.

If you are the first of your priorities, your life will be incredibly empty. Who wants to be friends with someone who always puts themselves first?  We have met those people. We see them on TV.  Wall Street, Men who take advantage and women who backstab. But hey, they were just making themselves the first priority.

If you are the hero of your own story,  you're selling yourself short. 
The Creator who hung the stars, split seas and brought dead to life wants to be your hero and you are taking the bet on you?  Last time I checked, I am a hot mess that does my best to love my tribe hard and serve people but I still fall short. EVERY. TIME.  If I am holdin' out for a hero, it ain't gonna be me.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Don't worry, I am about to get off my soapbox.  But if you're still with me, I just want to tell you that I have been at the end of my rope. I have cried in the fetal position at night, crying and speaking the name of Jesus because my world felt so dark.

Washing my face did not help.

Jesus saved me. His words told me to press into Him and His heart. I committed scripture to memory, that was my "vision board", I sought out spiritual mentors to lift me up and I served people. I got up and went to work and I taught kids about a loving Father who is with them even when they are scared, sad, lonely and afraid.

Jesus was carrying the weight of the world on His shoulders and yet He knelt to wash feet.

If you are struggling, I promise you as counterintuitive as it seems.....Girl, wash their feet. 

Jesus truly wants more for you than you. His heart is for your eternity, not your entertainment. If we are the captains of our own ships, we will crash every time. Let Him be you anchor in times where you feel less than, overlooked and undervalued.  He sees you, He loves you and He wants you forever. Cue Lauren Daigle's new album, "Look Up Child"

You know, He had a vision board too and He willingly was hung on it because, you... in eternity...with Him. That's the vision.

I Want To Be All The Things

I want to be a devoted follower of Jesus.

I want to be a servant-hearted wife.

I want to be an intentional mother.

I want to be an impactful pastor.

I want to be healthy in my mind and body.

I want to have thriving friendships.

I want to be all the things.


All of the above are good. All of the above are ordained. All of the above are callings and all of the above have an eternal impact.

But if I am strong in one area for a time, something else seems to suffer.  It's like they are all constantly in conflict with one another.

I think it's a season, but maybe not.  Sure, I have toddlers. But while their physical needs of potty-training and  The boo-boos take time, it's nothing in comparison to the issues of the teenage years. So the season will look different but the emotional attention will only increase.

I ask God weekly, to show me which one of the things I should stop or give less time.

Update: silence. Well, that's not entirely true. It's not been complete silence. If anything, it's, keep going. 

And so I carry on with an unbalanced amount for these each week. Some weeks I am the most devoted follower of Jesus and some weeks I am the most intentional mother. However, those are the weeks, I don't take care of myself or feel like I am not going above and beyond for the church. Then there are weeks where I am a devoted wife/homemaker and an "all-in" pastor but my kids just see my working. Housework and ministry "work" looks the same to them.  I had a moment this week where someone said, "you and my wife should hang out". To which I replied, I'd like that but I don't have time for friends".  Not okay. Sure, I could make time but then its time away from Sully, or kids, or self-care or .......

Usually, with this blog, I share some devotional truth that the Holy Spirit has given to me but I don't have one this time. Actually, I am hoping you do.

If you feel pulled in 7 eternity-impacting directions, how do you manage it?

Help a girl out.

Holding A Miracle.

Two years ago today, I experienced one of my Top 3 favorite moments of my life. I experienced a day I never thought would be part of my story.   At about this time, I was sitting at Williamson Medical with my favorite people waiting for Ezra to arrive.

If we're new friends, you might not know.

You might not know that we didn't think we could have kids.  You might not know about our failed adoption and how awful that was. I will always remember the burn my eyes felt from the tears.

You might not know about the amazing story of when we found out about our birth mom.

You might not even know the beautiful picture God painted at Emily's birth.

______________________________________

So there I was at the hospital, wanting to come out as unscathed as possible. My goal was simple, not die.  I have always been terrified of birth and actually never mourned the idea of no delivery when we were waiting for children.

God did so much more than allow me to "not die".

It was about 7pm, everything was prepped and the worship music was going. "Unstoppable God" was playing when my boy entered the world.  My favorite line of that song is, "impossible things in your name will still be done".

On paper, it was impossible for me to be in the place I was that evening.   They handed my son to me and I was overwhelmed.  I held him and all I could utter was, "Thank you Jesus,  I praise you, Jesus".

 I have never felt so close to God in my entire life.  Through my body and into my hands I experienced creation.  Here was this tiny soul, entrusted to me that didn't exist before.  Ezra had been handcrafted and brought here by the power of God and I was holding that in my hands. 

The nature of our Creator was in my hands. 

                                     

I can't believe this baby miracle is two years old today. I feel like someone has hit the fast-forward button on my life.

Nowadays there is much less time holding our miracle and much more time spent chasing, wrestling and FEEDING (but for real, how can he eat so much?) our miracle.

When I was waiting with empty arms, I was so mad at God.

But, oh my word, I would have missed out on the incredible beauty of the moments I experienced when both of my miracles came into the world.

So happy birthday to my boy that it is a living reminder that God is still in the business of doing the amazing. God is still in the business of creating and God is still in the business of doing far more than we can ask or imagine.

In the words of my girl AV,

eucharisteo

More Than A Party

Last weekend we celebrated my sweet boy turning two. My boy loves balls so naturally, we had to go big with that. 

Part of me wishes I had a taken more photos with the exact right lighting and composition but toddlers are fast and I wanted to be in the moment.

What a sweet moment it was.  I had planned for us to be outside playing for a good chunk of the time but after a short time outside, a storm popped up and drove wild children with whistles into my house.

It was packed. It was loud. And I loved it.

We were deeply rooted at WellSpring. We built our life there for close to a decade. We got engaged there, married there and brought our babies home there.  Rooted.

For the first several months here, I felt like I was Dorothy waking up from Oz and trying to find counterparts for my WellSpring family. I would see remnants of my Carrie in people or try desperately to find another Scott. I found someone I can roll my eyes with and that made me think of my Becky. I even found someone who talks exactly like Jodi Barnhill, y'all.  People, I even miss my doctors. Who does that?

But none of it is the same and if I am outright honest, which I always have been on this blog, I struggle with that.  I miss my people.  Even writing this, my eyes water and my heart flutters.

But last weekend was a turning point.

I felt rooted.  I looked around and saw all these people that have blessed my heart so much and I never would have met them. I would not have Margie, who has a heart of gold and tells like it is(P.S-She is a huge blessing to Compassion Christian Kids). I wouldn't have Maggie, who walked almost the exact same journey of waiting, adoption loss and finally bringing adopted children home, 7 DAYS after I brought Emily home. Same year.  There wouldn't be Denise (also the counterpart to Kelly G), who has been so open and loving and can see my sass and raise it. I wouldn't have Catherine and Dylan that will put on the janky Moana wig when my three-year-old asks them too.

This weekend was more than a party.

It was a reminder that we are blooming where we have been planted, we are loved and that the Church around the world is really just a group of friends in places we haven't met yet.

I miss my WellSpring people but I also love my Compassion fam.

And I guess that's one of the beauties of Heaven. I will have them both.

And Jesus.

That will truly be more than a party.

Pillow Fights to Firearms

Tonight I was having a pillow fight with my soon to be three-year-old. The sound of her laughter filled our entire home.  As I was watching the twinkle in her eye and the joy on her face, I found it hard to breathe. My mind filled with thought after thought about the most recent tragedy in our country.

What if she lost her life to an active shooter, would I remember this moment and that look on her face? Would I remember the sweet sound of her little body booming with giant laughter?

Which moments are those mommas clinging to right now? What do I not want to miss? Oh, those mommas! Their toddlers turned into teens who lives were taken.  Does your heart ever stop throbbing?

What happens to pillow fight type moments, ya know the ones as a parent that make you overwhelmed by the beauty of your child when they are cut short by firearms?

I imagine I would want to remember them all. I'd keep my eyes closed until they were closed for good if it meant I could see them more clearly.

And what about the shooter? Did no one hold his tiny fingers? Did anyone treasure him before he terrorized them? How do you go from a child that pillow fights to an adult that takes lives? 

Sure, I have thoughts on gun rights and strong feelings about mental health but neither of these makes evil go away.  I am not suggesting we throw our hands up in defeat but I want to be realistic about the solution.

You may say my thoughts and prayers are trite but I don't care, I am going to say them anyway.

 There is no denying that the scenes are pure evil. Can you have evil without good?

My only hope is that there is One that gives good light in this darkness. He promises that one day He is going to mend broken things and the light will shine in between.

I pray that my children will fall in love with that good light, Jesus, and I won't have to close my eyes to see the joy on their face or hear their laughter.

A Few Good Men

It seems that a new allegation of sexual abuse hits the media every.single.day.

I wish I could say I was shocked each time I read the story. I am not. In fact, my own journey has contained some #metoo moments and I am thankful individuals who have been objectified are saying that time is up.

Last night, we watched Kesha's emotional Grammy performance. She sang a song about overcoming past hurt. When I woke up this morning, I was reminded of my past hurts. Hurts that I am not comfortable sharing in this context but they are there.

But I was also reminded of something else.

A different group of men.

A group of men that saw past my gender into my spirit and supported me. Men who encouraged me, men who provided opportunities without solicitation and men who coached me.

There are some real bad eggs out there but there are a few good men still out there. Turns out not all men are creepers.

I am who I am because of the men.

Men like my Dad, who is the ultimate prayer warrior and encourager.

Men like Nate Bush, who led camps and then gave students like me a chance to be on worship teams and leadership groups.

Men like Patrick Snow, who saw a call on my life for Children's Ministry before I even knew what it was.

Men like Brent D'Altilio, who married my best friend at a young age but let me have a front row seat to what a good husband looks like.

Men like Chris Booth, who took time to invest in me as an intern and really taught me how to be effective in practical ministry.

Men like Andy Hudelson, who took a chance on a young college graduate without a resume full of experience. Andy never limited me because I was female.  He gave me a platform to create and preach. Yes, I said the "p" word. Andy only ever did things that would make me better. Andy walked the fine line of boss/pastor/friend in the best way.

Men like Shaun Groves, who was vulnerable enough to share in his struggles. When I walked through my own anxiety/depression journey, his openness was a huge part of my healing.

Men like Brian Seay, who took the role of elder very seriously. He advocated for me for 8 years, prayed for me and spent time walking me through what Biblical discernment looks like. So thankful.

Men like my Husband, Sully Cook, who have loved me unconditionally. This man has seen me at my worst and loves me still. This man is an excellent father who always got up in the middle of the night and never felt like parenting was only for me. This man makes me laugh often and we are truly partners. And, dang that boy can play the drums!

To the men on this list, I am forever grateful.  What may have seemed like your standard mode of operation made a huge impact on me.  In a world that seems to be full of darkness, you men have been light in my life.  Thank you.

Sure, I have a list of men who have hurt me but they have not made me. Jesus used the friends above to establish who I am today.

If you haven't found any men like that in your life, I pray that you do.

They are out there.

Oh, and when you find one....thank them for being one of the good ones.

The Story of Me

Emily turns three in a month.

I have been really intentional about talking to her about adoption. We show her pictures of her birthmom and talk about how we prayed for her.   Children's books are super helpful with explaining adoption to your kids. There is one book in particular that Emily really loves. It's called "The Tummy Mommy"  by Michele Madrid-Branch

In the book, there is a wise old owl that helps the pregnant young woman and the family with empty arms.  I will read it with Emily and sometimes she sleeps with it.

This morning, I was telling her that I loved her so much and I am glad that God gave her to me. 

This was the conversation that followed:

E: "Yeah, the owl just bring me because your belly not worked." 

M: "Well, God brought you. The owl in the story represents God."

E: "Yes. Can you tell me the story of me?"

I don't know if I have a word for surge of emotions I felt when she asked that question. 

 How do I even begin to explain the 3-year journey to her? How do I tell a toddler about all the miraculous ways that God ordained her being in our life, in the five minutes I have before walking out the door? I replied with a shortened version but that question was burned in my brain. 

The story of Emily knocks me to my knees and is my constant reminder that God is present and working on our behalf even when we don't see it. 

As I was driving to work, I thought about the story of her and what I would like to say. So one day, when she has moved past learning her alphabet and counting to 10, she will hear the story. 

My darling Emily, 

The story of you is a story of the goodness of our loving Father.  Our Father is El Roi, which means "God who sees me".  Emily, God saw two women in very different places with two very different prayers and God used you to answer both of these women.  God saw me, your mommy, as I wept and prayed for a child. God saw me and showed me grace when I was angry with Him, that I didn't have you yet. God saw me when I doubted His goodness, and He still answered me.  God saw your birthmom when you were in her belly and was filled with compassion for her. God saw that she was in a place over her head and needed Jehovah-Jirah or the God who provides. You see Emily, your birthmom wanted you to have a life full of love. She wanted you to grow in a home where you would thrive. She wanted to give you everything so she had to give away her everything.  Emily, God also saw you. Remember, He was the One making you. He made your tiny heartbeat as you became my heartbeat. He crafted your gifts and passions. My daughter, the story of you is as story of fulfilled promises of scripture. Promises that you are wonderfully made, that God has a plan for your life, my life and your birthmom's life. Promises that God is a Father from which every good and perfect gift comes. Emily, your life is a good and perfect gift.  You are my answered prayer and my fulfilled promise.  The story of you, my darling, is my favorite. 

<3