Category: Inspiration

I Had a Dream the Other Night {the wilderness}

I had a dream the other night. It was one of those types of dreams where you wake up with strong emotions. I even felt tears in the corners of my eyes.

The dream itself was rather confusing. I was at a conference, or something like that, and a woman started talking about her walk with infertility. I didn’t recognize this person at all. I could not pick her out if I had to, but her words were ones that stayed in my mind after I awoke.

She said, “I am not barren. I am infertile, but there is not a reason why. I don’t know what I am. I have feared this wilderness, but I have also possessed faith in it.”

I woke up remembering back to my own feelings, my own sense of confusion, and the wilderness to which I feared. Am I barren? Yes, for all intents and purposes, I am. Am I fertile? No. I do not have any organs that would make me fertile. Am I infertile? Well…no…I guess not…? How can I be infertile if I do not posses the organs that are fertile?

The morning after this dream I thought about all of the perplexing emotions and thoughts that plagued my life as an adolescent. After all, I entered into adolescence after a hysterectomy. Crazy, isn’t it?

I did not even know the wilderness that was set before me. I had no clue what the landscape of the years ahead would be like. In many ways, I feared it. I remembered wondering what my own definition really was.

My own life experiences were ones mixed with immense joy, and deep sorrow. In many ways, I feared the wilderness of childlessness so much, but in my imagination, dreams, and prayers, I also somehow managed to cling onto a little bit of faith through it all.

After thinking about the dream in the context of my own life, my thoughts then turned to so many who are now meandering their way through their own wilderness of confusion.

It is ugly, isn’t it?

It is confusing, isn’t it?

You may be wondering what your own definition is.

Friends, my heart sinks for you. I wish I had the perfect words to help you through all of the muck and mud of infertility. The truth is that there is not perfection in this journey you are on. It is going to be hard. It is going to feel like a vast pit of emptiness. It is going to make you angry, make you question God’s will for your life, and make you feel like the loneliest person on Earth.

However, you are not alone. There are so many others traversing the same path you are on. Find each other. Reach out to each other. Pray for each other. I didn’t have that growing up. I always wondered if there were other girls out there in the world like me, but I knew there wasn’t.

From this sojourner who has spent the majority of her life in the midst of barrenness, I want you to know that clinging onto that light you envision at the end of the tunnel is so important.

It is okay to fear the wilderness.

It is also more than okay to hold onto your faith in it as well.

Adopted for Daily Life: A Devotional for Adopting Moms {Adoption.Com Article)

Several months ago, I was asked to be a contributing writer for a Christian devotional for moms who are in the process of adopting.  The devotional was a collaborative effort straight from the hearts of twenty-five mothers whose lives have been forever changed by the gift, and challenges, of adoption.

This was an incredibly special project for me.  My five-day devotion was on the subject of barrenness.  Obviously, this subject is one that I have lived with, and am passionate about.

Here is a link to an article I wrote for the Adoption.Com website about the devotional:  Adopted For Daily Life:  A Devotional for Adopting Moms

The book is available on Amazon Kindle and paperback.  One hundred percent of the proceeds go towards supporting children in need of permanent families in the country of Nicaragua.

If you are someone, or know someone who is getting ready to adopt, this book would make an excellent gift!

Blessings,

Caroline

Wow, God. Just wow.

There are some days that parenting is just like, “Whoa, God. Where in the heck are You? I mean the kids are driving me crazy!”

I worry about their behaviors. I wonder if my children are the only ones acting like this. I visualize massive failure as a parent.

Then, there are other days where it is like, “Wow, God. I feel You in the warm embraces of my young ones. I see You in their innocent and beautiful faces.”

I cherish the sweet moments of softhearted notes left for me. I hear their whispers of curiosity about life, and I realize that I am a good-enough parent.

Most of all though, I realize that parenting is not black and white. It is not even grey. It is full of color.

There are over-the-moon moments when I think to myself, “Yes! That lesson was learned!” There are also moments when I cry into my pillow saying, “No…no…this cannot happen again.”

These are the moments when I realize that maybe God is the most present.

For in these moments, I catch just a glimpse of the complexity of our relationship with our Father. There just may be moments when He thinks, “Yes!” Yet, there also may be moments when He thinks, “No…no…not again.”

At the end of it all, one thing is certain. Parenting requires daily attention. It requires humility, admitting our own faults, and faithfully remembering that God’s got this.

He knows our struggles. He also knows our children’s struggles.  He, too, is a Father. Remembering that, my soul says, “Wow, God. Just wow.”

The Hope of Heaven

“Earth has no sorrow that heaven can’t heal.”

This lyric is part of a song by the David Crowder band. Every time I hear this part of the song, it always seems to stay with me a bit. I’ve even thought, “Is there really no sorrow that heaven can’t heal?”

I think about the loss of children, the violence of the world, the dissolution of relationships, the heartbreak of lost hopes, and the sorrow of barrenness, and I wonder, honestly, can heaven heal these wounds?

Sometimes, the depth of despair experienced as we create our footsteps on this soil seems so deep that, perhaps, even heaven cannot dig us out of it.

But then, I think about the hope of Heaven. I think about the majesty of it all, and I realize that while sorrow visits us here, it will not stick with us forever.

On this Easter Sunday, I feel the hope of Heaven even more.  Thank you, Jesus, for You have overcome the grave.

From the Very Start

I keep You in that hiding place, the one tucked in my heart.
The place that You breathed life into from the very start.

When troubles seem to come my way that I do not understand,
I seek You in my hiding place, for You set my feet on land.

From the time I met You on that glorious day,
I knew You loved me regardless of the times I went astray.

My loving Father, doting Dad, and Creator of my life,
You are my ever-present backbone when facing uncertain strife.

When the world disappoints, and hearts break all around,
In You, my Savior, my hope and worth is always found.

Barrenness has called to me, and tried to declare its name,
But You, oh Father, You lifted my head from devastating shame.

Illness, confusion, and sadness suddenly took hold,
Yet, You poured into me that I’m worth more than gold.

To think that You have walked with me through the years,
It softens my soul knowing that You have carried all of my tears.

I may never understand the pain, desperation, and strife,
Still, I know and celebrate that You are the Giver of Life!

If I had to leave it all, my home, my life, and health,
I would follow You in an instant, for You are more than wealth.

In these days of worldly chaos and things that don’t make sense,
I do not fear what is thrown at me, for You are my defense.

I keep You in that hiding place, the one tucked in my heart,
The place that You breathed life into from the very start.

Jesus, Savior, Loving God, and Maker of us all,
In You, I find great peace and joy, in You, I do not fall.

I keep You in that hiding place, the one tucked in my heart,
For You, oh God, You have carried me from the very start.

Psalm 139: 13-18

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.  My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand – when I awake, I am still with you.

Savior, King of Kings

I’m longing to hear You, Lord, although others may not see.
I walk the walk, and talk the talk, while thinking about Thee.

Deep down inside I think of You, and talk to You each day.
But sometimes, Father, I do not think my heart knows what to say.

This world has become desperate, Lord, crying out for peace.
Still yet, we spit, and spin, and hurt each other, while yearning for release.

Sometimes I wonder if we’re blind, or do not choose to see.
The only path that You walked on was love for all humanity.

Anger, hatred, violence, and fear are trying to seep in.
This beautiful, yet confused world seems to have thick skin.

But, deep inside our tender wounds is a sadness craving to be freed. The truth that settles my heart, Lord, is that You are all we need.

We’re longing to feel You, Lord, despite these mixed up days.
Stop the World! Come back soon! These are the words we raise.

For You, Jesus, are the only One we need to seek.
Hear our cry, Your precious children, the barren, blessed, and weak.

We do not fear the ugliness of turmoil, stains, and stings,
For we believe and hold onto our Savior, King of Kings.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”   -John 16:33Jesus is Love

Comparison

As I was standing in front of the mirror this morning examining what I call my “Road Maps of Experience”, aka wrinkles, this quote from Theodore Roosevelt came to my mind:

“Comparison is the thief of joy.”

– Theodore Roosevelt

Thinking back from the past few months of the end of 2013 to the end of 2014, I realized that I have been walking rather slowly through that awful valley of comparison. 2014 had some wonderful and joyful moments, but in a lot of ways it was filled with some “what if’s”, “why’s”, and “I wish”.

As I finished scouring over my face, threw on some make-up, and got ready for the work day, I found myself feeling determined and excited about this new year of 2015.

Do I know what is in store? No.

Am I guaranteed that everything is going to be just fine? No.

At the end of 2015, will I be able to say it was a “good year”?

I don’t know.

However, I have decided that I’m done with the valley of comparison. I’ve traversed it, and honestly, it is not a pretty place to be.

Instead, I want to walk along the mountain top ridges of cherishing the unique person I am, the life I live, and the dynamic qualities (both challenging and amazing) that make up my family’s life.

Have you been visiting that self-defeating place of comparison?

If so, let’s all look to 2015 with excitement, hope, and faith to explore the landscape to which the Lord has set your feet upon!

Happy New Year, Friends

GoalsToday at lunchtime, my family and I sat around the table chowing down on our black-eyed peas, chips with cheese dip, shrimp cocktail, and “little smokies”.  Our conversation evolved to one regarding our goals for 2015.

“I want to try something new,” I said.  “What, Mommy?”, my children exclaimed.  “I think we should write down our own goals and then some family goals for this year.  We’ll seal them in an envelope and open them up one year from today to see if we accomplished them.”

They were super excited to do this.  Well, at least our older children were.  Our two-year old seemed to be too busy playing with the food on his plate!  We went around the table and spoke about our personal goals, and this is what I was reminded of.

If you give your children the silence and time to speak about their goals and hopes, you can learn so much about them.

My son and daughter both set goals that, if achieved, will benefit them both in a personal way, in a way that benefits our family, and definitely in a way that affects the greater good.  My husband and I told them our goals as well.  Then, as a family, we talked about goals for the new year.  My children exclaimed,

“I want to fill the Blessing Jar up to the very top! “

“I think we should clean up trash in the streets to help keep our environment around us clean.”

“We need to help each other more.”

“We should use calm voices more often with each other.”

As I wrote the goals down, a flow of those endearing little nudges of goodness showered me.  It seems, despite my many unending flaws as a parent, our children are precious little souls who yearn for opportunities to do good.

After lunch, we departed in our various tasks of the day.  Our daughter went to play with a friend at her house down the street.  Our two-year-old ran circles in the living room.  My husband started helping out with the daily chores involved with taking care of a family of five, and my oldest son went to his bedroom to look through a stack of books he wanted to donate.

I locked myself in our bedroom and started going through our closet.  As I pulled things out to organize and donate (if desired), a funny thing started to happen.  I realized that I get frustrated at the amount of “stuff” my children want to keep, and yet, there I was sitting in the middle of my bedroom stuffing trash bags full of gently used clothing, unused jewelry, and items I once swore that I needed.

Five trash bags of clothing, toys my children decided to rid themselves of, and other items, started to take up the space of my bedroom.  And then, my soul was stirred about the many things I carry in my heart that the Lord wants me to rid myself of.

I know there is more space in my life to donate to intentional parenting with my children.  I know that this vessel of life can do so much more.  At the same time, I also know the things that pull me away from the Lord’s wisdom.  I need to stick away these things in a trash bag, and let go of them.

With my children’s words of our family goals today fresh in my mind, here are my thoughts as I enter into 2015:

“God,I want to fill others…other jars of clay…with words that bless them.”

“Lord, I know there is a lot of trash in my life and in the streets of my thoughts that I need to clean up to keep this incredible environment of life clean.” 

“Father, help me to help each other more.”

“Savior, I pray Your voice will calm the waves of contempt in my life, and in turn, will create moments that I can be used bring peace to others.”

Here’s to 2015!  This is a wonderful time to be living on this side of Heaven.  My hope for this upcoming year is that we will all be drawn closer to Origin of Love.  

Now, that is a New Year’s Resolution we can all attain.

Happy New Year, Friends.

 

On the Eve of Christmas Eve

Sitting here on the Eve of Christmas Eve with laundry swishing around in the washer, one child sound asleep in her bed, the other engrossed in a game while resting, and the littlest calling out “Mommy” because he doesn’t want to sleep, all I keep thinking about is their birth-mothers.  Odd, I know.  I should be wrapping last-minute gifts, and getting everything “lined up” for Christmas morning, but my mind just keeps stirring about them.

On this Eve of Christmas Eve, I wonder if they are wondering about their children…their babies…to whom I am mothering.  There is a small measure of adoptive parent guilt.  It may sound strange, but unless you are raising a child to whom you did not give birth to, you may not understand it.

I did not really earn the gift of children. Who really earns the right to raise children to whom they did not birth?  

On this Eve of Christmas Eve, my mind ponders about the many mothers who are raising children to whom they did not give birth to.  Sure, there are numerous celebrities who are adoptive parents.  Yes, they are celebrated, get book deals, and featured on major media outlets, but you know something?

The vast majority of adoptive parents are just simple, ordinary folks whose journeys have been marked, perhaps, by barrenness, struggle, heartbreak, patience, prayer, sustenance, and joy.

Wrapped up in all of their journeys is the steadfastness of humble, yet hopeful hearts.  Ordinary people, making extraordinary decisions.  Ordinary people who take on the most challenging of situations – men and women who seek out to love, hold, and commit their lives to children.

We did not earn the gift of children. Who really earns the right to raise children to whom they did not birth?  I think about the birth-mothers whose gift of life, and their sacrifice of seeking a better life for his or her child.  I think about those whom were told they could not raise their babies.

And then, I think about Mary, the ultimate birth-mother, carrying, laboring, and birthing the hope of the world.  

On this Eve of Christmas Eve, my mind wanders away to her journey to find a place for His birth.  I visualize her look when she first sees His precious face.  I think about her arms wrapping around Him, holding Him tight, and whispering His beautiful name in His ears.

Sitting here on the Eve of Christmas Eve with laundry swishing around in the washer, one child sound asleep in her bed, the other engrossed in a game while resting, and the littlest calling out “Mommy” because he doesn’t want to sleep, all I keep thinking about is the wondrous gift that children are.

I think about the amazing and incredible experience of raising children to whom I did not give birth to.  There is something mightily powerful about raising children. Each child carries within him or her, the hope and zest for a better life.

And then, I think about Mary, the ultimate birth-mother, carrying, laboring, and birthing the hope of the world.  

I know that of all the pleasures that Christmas brings, the ultimate gift is

Jesus Christ.

Messiah.  

Jehovah.  

Yahweh.  

Emmanuel.  

Redeemer.  

Savior.

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. -Isaiah 9:6

 

 

Can I get an Amen to that?!

I’m realizing that parenting is one way that the Lord is reminding me that He’s not finished with me yet.

And by not finished with me, I mean…

  • not finished with tempering my sometimes quick temper,
  • not finished with refining my desire to be right,
  • not finished with comparing myself to others,
  • not finished with finding satisfaction in the small successes,
  • not finished with my futile attempt to be in control (can I get an Amen on that one?!)
  • and, not finished with my failure (often) to step back and let Him lead.

Here’s the deal – I’m a failure as a parent, or at least, I often feel like one.

I let the little things bother me. My house is never clean enough. My children are a little, shall I say, strong-willed and “energetic”. I know there are times when they are less than grateful for what they have been given in life. Honestly, I am too.

Today, I had a little glimpse of glory when my six-year-old daughter said, “You know there are homeless people without a Christmas tree.”

I sat there stewing my frustrations about the wild two-year-old who just got every toy out and threw them all over the floor, and thinking about my incredibly sick husband who was dealing with the stomach bug, and I stopped and listened for a moment.

My daughter, who had also been battling the stomach bug today, got really quiet, started smiling, and said, “What if, instead of having Christmas at our house, we go give water and presents to homeless people?”

I’m still trying to figure out the details of how we can work in our family Christmas and one that involves her idea of giving to the homeless, but I walked away from this discussion thinking,

“Thank you, Lord, for that little glimpse of parenting success.”

If most of the lessons I’ve tried to teach my kids wash away, but they grow up with compassion and faith, then maybe, just maybe, I am succeeding as a parent.

I’m realizing that parenting is one way that the Lord is reminding me that He’s not finished with me yet. And by not finished with me, I mean…

  • not finished with tempering my sometimes quick temper,
  • not finished with refining my desire to be right,
  • not finished with comparing myself to others,
  • not finished with finding satisfaction in the small successes,
  • not finished with my futile attempt to be in control (can I get an Amen on that one?!)
  • and, not finished with my failure (often) to step back and let Him lead.

Mothers who are weary, sick of cleaning up the messes, fretting your own failures, doubting your decisions, comparing your flaws, looking around at the mini-disasters in your own living room, doing your best to hold your tongue, wishing you would have said something differently than you did, and enduring hardship, remember this…

The Lord’s not finished with you yet, and He’s not finished with your children.

Can I get an Amen to that?!

“Every time you cross my mind, I break out in exclamations of thanks to God. Each exclamation is a trigger to prayer. I find myself praying for you with a glad heart. I am so pleased that you have continued on in this with us, believing and proclaiming God’s Message, from the day you heard it right up to the present. There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.” Philippians 1:6 (The Message Bible)