You Have Gifts and I Have Gifts

My sister-in-law and her kids just spent ten days with us. While it was quite the circus around here, I got pretty used to our evening dinners together and growing addiction to Call the Midwife. Parenting alongside another mom for ten days gave me a helpful perspective I've been working through since I became a mom two and a half years ago.

There are many different kinds of moms. And that is a very good thing.

My sister-in-law is a woman of many talents. She can walk into a room and redecorate it in her mind in a matter of seconds. In fact, I sent her a picture of Seth's room before we completed it, asking for help with how to fit everything in there, and immediately she sent me back a sketch of an idea. Did I say she is quite the artist? She is. Her kids regularly ask her to draw pictures of their favorite animals or characters for them, and she gladly obliges. She can make stuff out of Play Doh. She can put together toys and build towers and train tracks without getting frustrated. She is crafty and can think of fun projects for our kids to do together. She is resourceful and servant-hearted, always willing to go the extra mile for people.

She is nothing short of amazing.

And I am nothing like her.

I like other things. I do other things. I am good at other things. Her kids expect different things from her that my kids would never even dream of expecting, and vice versa. She parents her kids out of her gifts and strengths, and I do the same with mine. We both bring something to motherhood that the other does not have, and through this we are helping shape children who will bring different strengths and gifts to the world.

The world needs mothers who are crafty and the world needs mothers who pretend with their kids. The world needs mothers who have dance parties and the world needs mothers who play kickball. The world needs mothers who do all sorts of things, because the world needs kids who do all sorts of things.

Often we see the strength of others as a commentary on our weakness, we feel threatened by them and judge them to protect our own feelings of inadequacy. But their strengths are not a threat to us. They are a gift. They are an opportunity to stand in awe of the abundant creativity of God. Just like we can't all be doctors and scientists, we can't all be crafters either. It's not cause for comparison, but cause for appreciation for how God has gifted each of us to parent the children that God has given us.

My friend Trillia Newbell says it well in her book Fear and Faith:

In our fear of being judged as lazy or of incurring the Lord's disapproval, one way we might seek to feel better about ourselves is to mock other women. Yet have we ever stepped back to consider that some women have been especially gifted by God as cheerful, thankful homemakers?

She goes on to say this in response to our comparison:

What if you rejoiced instead? Perhaps if you see women who excel in areas you do not, it can be used as an opportunity to thank God for His creative design. 

So embrace your strengths, my friends. But also, embrace the strengths of others. Every gift and ability we have been given is working together to serve the world that God has diversely created.

I've Been in This Tunnel Before (Thoughts on Baby Number 3)

It’s been eight weeks since we welcomed Seth into this world. Like his brothers, his birth was not without fanfare and a little bit of crazy. Unlike his brothers, he was five days late and I was in labor with him for over 24 hours. At 3:49 AM he was born via c-section after the doctor determined his heart rate drops were enough to warrant getting him out quickly (rather than drag it out for a few more hours).

And out he came—all 8 lbs 15 oz of him.

The transition from two to three has been easier in some ways. I know what to expect from babies. I have a full term baby this time around. He’s been a more content baby than the twins were. It’s amazing how rapidly they develop in those early days when they aren’t premature. But in other ways it’s harder, like I feel like someone threw me in the deep end of the pool and handed me three kids harder. My mom stayed with us for three weeks after his birth and the night before she left I could feel my chest tightening as I anticipated trying to do this whole three kid thing by myself. So far, I’ve survived.

But more than anything I’ve really enjoyed these last eight weeks with him. Because I’ve done it before I know that these early days—when he is waking me up at night desperately wanting food, yet also desperately wanting to feel the comforting warmth of my familiar body—these days won’t last forever. Soon he will be easily distracted while eating. Soon he will want to move around and away from me, as he starts to explore his little world on his own. Soon he will be like his older brothers, still dependent yet growing more independent by the day. Soon he won’t need me nearly as much as he does right now. These days of newborn sweetness are so very short. I know that now, and so I’m savoring every last ounce of their sweetness.

When I was in the thick of the first year with the twins my sister-in-law helpfully told me that while it feels like the season won’t end, it will. What I didn’t have, that I now do, is perspective. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel because I’ve been in this tunnel before. Weeks and months don’t seem so long when you can look back on ones you have previously lived. Often I spend my days wishing life would just slow down so I could savor every new word uttered, every new developmental milestone hit, and every snuggle that never seems long enough because now I don’t have enough arms to go around. But time just keeps on moving, taking all of us with it.

So it’s been a good, exhausting, rewarding, and fast eight weeks with our new little guy. We look forward to many more. 

Reading to Our Children

Our library has a reading program that encourages parents to read 1,000 books to their children before they enter pre-school. It seems like an overwhelming number, doesn’t it? When you break it down, it actually doesn’t require a lot of the parent. Especially when reading the same book over and over counts as reading multiple books. (A must when you have toddlers who thrive on repetition).

As I’ve thought about this program and the value of reading to my children, I’ve been struck by how many biblical connections there are to the goodness of reading to our kids. Of course, studies show that the more you read to your children the better the fare. Reading encourages bonding as they snuggle up to you for a story. Reading encourages language development as they hear you talk and associate words with pictures. Reading encourages cognitive development as they remember things they see and hear. We can all agree that reading is good for kids (and adults).

But as Christians, it’s more than that. We know that God values words and reading, too. In a post-fall world, he gave us his very word to communicate with us. Faith in Christ and his finished work comes by hearing this word (Rom. 10:7). Without reading and hearing we are unable to know the God who made us and loves us. Without reading and hearing we are unable to understand the depths of Christ’s love for us displayed so clearly at the cross. Without reading and hearing we miss the triumphant victory of Christ’s defeat of death and our coming joy in heaven.

Of course, there are a variety of circumstances (many devastating) that prevent people from being able to read, hear, or comprehend this word. And I think, in God’s kindness, there is special grace for that. But, reading matters because words matter. God speaks to us through words. In an increasingly technology saturated society it is harder and harder to embrace and enjoy reading. We are so easily entertained that it is difficult to do the hard work of slowing down and reading something of value—or that’s more than 140 characters. But we must. And we must teach our children to do the same. Without a clear understanding of the value of reading and words, and the discipline to persevere when reading gets tough, we will all miss the treasure that is before us in God’s revealed word.

So I’ve signed the twins up for the 1,000 books reading plan, and we’ll see how it goes. While I want them to thrive in this world academically and socially through reading, I care more about the outcome of their souls. I want them come to a saving understanding of the faith that can only come by hearing—hearing the very words of God.

Our Third Son

One year ago today, we walked into an ultrasound room with hopeful hearts. We walked out of that very room heartbroken and confused. February 24, 2015 looks very different than February 24, 2014. I spent the better part of that day last year packing for a planned trip to Florida and processing next steps for our unexpected loss, all while weeping uncontrollably over the baby I would never meet.

It was a harder miscarriage than our first. Emotionally it registered about the same, but physically it took its toll on me and dragged on much longer than anyone ever expected. It made us wonder if we could endure another pregnancy, another rise and fall of dreams for a child. So we waited the months that were medically necessary because of the physical effect of the miscarriage and asked God to unite our hearts around the possibility of another baby--a baby we knew in our hearts we ached for.

And God heard our prayer.

We spent the better part of the first half of this pregnancy convinced we were having a girl. All the old wives tales about gender seemed to be leaning pink, so we were pretty sold on a name for the baby should we have a girl. But a boy? We were stumped. We had already used up two names on the sons we currently have, so thinking about another name proved difficult for us. So we didn't.

When the ultrasound technician informed us that our suspicions were false, we were floored. Daniel kept saying "wow" over and over again. We are delighted to add another boy to our brood, we just weren't expecting it this time around.

For weeks we talked about names, wrote down names, looked up names, and then talked about names some more. We could not come to a consensus. As we were driving to the airport for Christmas we settled in to listen to a seminar on parenting. The speaker read from Genesis 4 and when he got to verse 25, we stopped:

And Adam knew his wife again, and she bore a son and called his name Seth, for she said, “God has appointed for me another offspring instead of Abel, for Cain killed him.”

"What about Seth?" Daniel said.

We have always liked the name, we just forgot about it until that moment. Seth means "appointed one" and in particular to the story in Genesis, he is the God-appointed son in place of the one who was lost. So much of this pregnancy has linked us to the baby we lost. We heard Seth's heartbeat the day after our other baby was due. We found out we were pregnant the month we were due with the one we lost. In many ways, we feel like Seth is the joy that has come in the morning (Psalm 30:5). After we talked about this name, and the meaning behind it, we knew that the story of how he came to be would be perfectly woven into his very name, much like the names of his older brothers.

For his middle name we went off from our normal way of naming our kids. So far we have chosen family names for our children. Luke's name is Lucas Daniel (after Daniel). Zach's is Zachary Garrett (after my grandpa), but we could not find a family name that went with Seth! When I first became a Christian I was exposed to the writing of Elisabeth Elliot. Reading her gave me a context for a female Christian writer. Prior to my conversion, I wanted to be a writer. As a new believer, she opened up God's word to me, and gave me a female example to emulate. And he also happens to be due the month my first book releases! Jim Elliot's story influenced Daniel as a college student as well. So we felt it fitting to name him Seth Elliot, to honor the lives of two people who have impacted us greatly.

As I reflect on all God has taught me in the year since our second miscarriage, like our first, I am undone by his goodness once again. In the dark days that followed our loss it felt as if I would never see the sun in my circumstances again, let alone in my own soul. But God is faithful. He restores the years that the locusts of sin, suffering, and loss have eaten. He brings joy out of mourning. He causes the sun to rise in the dark corners of our hearts when his frowning providence seems to tell a different story.

In two and a half months we will meet this precious boy, Seth Elliot. We love him already.

The Pain of Motherhood

In a recent article at The Gospel Coalition, I wrote about Mary’s coming pain in the wake of Christ’s birth. Motherhood is filled with the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, and she was not exempt from such emotions. With the joy of her newborn baby’s birth came the dark shadow of his foretold death. She felt the sting of motherhood acutely throughout his adult life, and as she stood at his cross and watched him gasp for breath.

I've said before, motherhood, like many things, is a great equalizer for women. It takes women from all walks of life, all cultures, and all time periods and brings them together under one unifying purpose—loving a child. It’s why women cry at birth stories of strangers and weep over the caskets of children they have never met. We know the joy and the pain that comes with being a mother. We feel it in our bones.

But like everything in this sin-cursed world, every joy carries with it the reality of pain. With the overwhelming joy at the birth of a baby comes the paralyzing fear of SIDS. With the excitement of watching your young toddler takes his first steps comes the all-consuming fear that he may one day get hit by a car or run into danger. With the joy of watching your teenager drive away for the first time by herself comes the helpless fear that she may not always be safe on the road alone.

We all have lived long enough to know that every happy moment we face as mothers can in an instant be laced with soul-crushing sorrow.

So what are we to do when we face these fears, sometimes on a moment by moment basis?

It’s easy to look to the temporal, tangible realities staring us in the face as our assurance of hope, like the assurance of our newborn’s breathing patterns or making our toddler hold our hand at all times in public. We feel like we can control those moments. We can put our finger on them as markers of goodness and faithfulness towards us. But those markers aren’t always there, are they? When every earthly treasure gives way, Christ is all our hope and stay.

The psalmist has this to say about our fears:

I lift up my eyes to the hills.
    From where does my help come?
 My help comes from the Lord,
    who made heaven and earth (Psalm 121:1-2).

He didn’t look to what was happening around him, good or bad. He looked away from his circumstances to the God who lovingly controls his circumstances and is working them for his good. But the truth is, it’s hard to do when everything is crumbling around us, isn’t it? Trusting God with our circumstances starts when all is well, when we are overwhelmed with joy. Mary couldn’t contain her wonder at what God did through her and for her in the birth of her son. But this wonder is what would carry and sustain her when all seemed hopeless and lost.

The same is true for us. Walking the road of motherhood carries with it more emotion than I ever knew humanly possible. Giving your life for another does that to you. With the intense love I feel for my children comes the possibility of tremendous heartache. Where does my help come when my fears seem to be my undoing? Or even more devastating, when my fears become reality? The same God who gave me these precious gifts, is the God who sustains me in my fears and heartache as well.

Be a Faithful Mom, Not a Busy One

I take the twins to a story time once a week at our local library. They love it because they get to meet new toddlers and play with new toys. I like it because I get to meet other moms who are doing the same thing as me—learning this whole mom thing one toddler step at a time.

Since the twins have turned one I have struggled a lot with what I do with my time now. One year was a big milestone for us. They finally started sleeping more consistently, which meant I had a little more freedom to do other things again—like reading and writing (and sleeping). With the new time has come a whole new set of challenges, like all changes bring.

As I talked with one of the moms at story time I was struck by the frequency with which she mentioned the other things she does in addition to being a stay-at-home mom. She is thinking of opening a small business again, does small jobs on the side, and tries to keep her foot in the career world she left behind. I get the pull to do other things. In fact, I do other things, too. So I’m not knocking the other things at all. I understand that seasons of a mom’s life lend themselves to more time for such endeavors. And those can be very good opportunities for us. But as I reflected on her insistence that she has a profession outside of her child the finger turned back on my own ambitions.

How do I define myself when I speak to others?

Or to put it even more specifically, how do I want others to perceive me? Do I want them to see me as just a stay-at-home mom, or do I need something more than that?

With this new season of time the twins have afforded me I have noticed a new struggle emerging. I want to feel like I’ve accomplished something. If I get to the end of a day with little tangible results for the labors of my day, I feel defeated. Did I do anything of value? Did I accomplish something important? Did I write enough? Did I clean enough? Did I work hard enough to justify my existence and worth in this family?

More often than not the answer is a resounding no, because even with the emergence of time, twins don’t always give me the time I am expecting. And I’m only human. I just can't do it all. Or even come close to doing all I want to do.

But I think the problem is deeper than simply wanting to be useful and productive. When Betty Friedan encouraged housewives to find their identity outside of the home the cultural acceptance of the stay-at-home mom was lessened. I agree with her notion that women should never find their identity in their home, husband, or children. But in a lot of ways, our culture has traded one identity for another. Maybe we don’t think a woman should be defined by her work inside the home, but we do define her by what she does outside of it. Feminism has made us all feel like we need to be doing something useful to justify our equality and personhood. Women have made great gains for us and we should be taking advantage of those opportunities.

This is true for the stay-at-home mom, too. The reality is we don’t often have tangible markers for how we spend our days, unless you count the fact that our kids are clothed, fed, and smiling when our husbands get home. But sometimes we can’t even boast in that. It’s easy to be discouraged when we can’t point to what we did with our day as the basis for our value. The truth is, sometimes we can’t even remember what we did with our day. We’ve given up a lot to be here, we think to ourselves, so we better earn our keep. I even often find myself telling Daniel all I did in a given day, with the secret hope that he will see that I worked hard. I did something useful. Like the mom at story time, I want him (and everyone else) to see that my busyness during naptime and playtime amounts to a lot of good old fashioned work.

But that is not how God views our work. As I’ve written elsewhere, a mommy’s worth is not marked by check marks on a task list, but by sacrifice and service. Those are not always results we can point to as evidently, but they are there nonetheless. But it’s also more than that, I think. In the same way that our culture values work outside of the home, it also values busyness. We think that if we are super busy than we must be doing something right. We are so important. We have so much to do. We are busy, busy, busy. But is busyness the standard for faithfulness? Is it the standard for getting things done? Is it true that the more we do the better we feel about ourselves?

I doubt it.

I’m coming to terms with some things with the extra chunks of time I get now that my children take a regular nap. It’s okay if I nap, too. It’s okay if I write and clean and do other things, but it’s not wrong to rest either. My children and husband are served more by a happy and rested mom than a mom who got her to-do list done. And I feel better for it, too.

One of the phrases I repeat to myself often is that “busyness does not equal faithfulness.” Work important. We were made for it, actually. But as a stay-at-home mom my work doesn’t always look like my work did when I sat at a desk all day, had lunch meetings, and wrote marketing plans. Sometimes it means I’m up all night with a sick little boy (and thus need a nap) and sometimes it means I’m cleaning, writing, and cooking during my free moments. As an image bearer, I was made to work. This is true. But I was also made to rest. And as a mom who struggles with wanting to find my worth more in my work (and not in my rest), I would do well to learn the balance of them both.

How The Church Became Our Family

Most of us can recall a time where God gives us something we think will be the end of us, only to find out later that it was the exact thing God used to strengthen our faith—or give us a better portion than we could have hoped for. Maybe it’s the break-up with the person you were certain you would marry. Yet years later you meet another person, one more suited for you and better than you could have hoped for. Maybe it’s the dream job that fell through. Yet after another unlikely interview somewhere else you get the job you never even thought to dream of. God works like that, doesn’t he? Because he is sovereign, and we are not, his hand is in the details we cannot even see, let alone attempt to control.

When God withholds something from us, his purposes are always to give us something better. Of course, we may not perceive it as better at the time, or even in the immediate future. But he is good and we are not. He is wise and we are not. He can see infinitely into the future and we strain to see what is standing right in front of us. This is why we can trust him. I know for myself, some of the darkest moments of feeling as if God has completely abandoned me have turned out to be the moments where I ultimately saw him working in ways I could never have imagined. In the desert he is working to bring water to his thirsty children. In the storm he is our strong refuge who gives us a rainbow on the other side. He does not forget us, even if we feel forgotten sometimes.

For most of my adult life I have lived away from my family. I never thought much about it except on the occasional birthday or holiday when other members of my family were gathered together to celebrate and I was left to experience the party by telephone many miles away. I missed them, but I never thought I would live near them. My life didn’t lend itself to living in their proximity and I was okay with that. When Daniel and I got married, we appreciated the forging of a new family that came with living in a city away from both sets of parents and all of our siblings. It was good for us. When we moved to Arkansas we had a church, friends, and a whole lot of time with each other that made transitioning all the easier. Again, I didn’t think much about my life away from my parents, siblings, and nieces and nephews. I cherished the moments I got with them on holidays, but was content with where God had us.

Then we had twins.

There is something about becoming a momma that makes you long for your own momma, you know? Maybe it was the fact that I was pouring every ounce of energy, sleep, and whatever leftover adrenaline remained on two very tiny, dependent baby boys. I just needed my mom to come rub my head and let me take a nap on her. In God’s kindness, my mom came a lot to help in those early months of the twins’ life. But in the interim periods between her visits to help us I noticed a recurring pattern in my own life.

When it got hard I would threaten to pack up with the twins and move to Florida. If we had a dollar for every time I said I was going to do that in that first year I’m pretty sure we would be rich by now. Some of that particular threat was rooted in my own tendency towards escapism, but some of it was rooted in the fact that for the first time in my adult life I really, really missed being around family. Of course I missed them before this time, but this was different. As I watched my little boys grow up right before my eyes my heart broke knowing that our parents and others would only be able to experience this wonder through pictures and the occasional Skype call.

But there was something more serious in my cries of despair. I was missing the treasure of hope that God was literally laying at my feet nearly every week.

During the entire time the boys were in the NICU (five weeks) our church family brought us meals and gave me rides to the hospital. Because I had a C-section, I couldn’t drive up there every day and Daniel had to keep working, so without the rides I would only be able to see the boys once a day for a couple of hours. Many women in our church sacrificed their time to pick me up, drop me off, and pick me up again two hours later. They gave me rides to the store to pick up essentials we were missing. They brought us meals so I could rest when I wasn’t at the hospital. They were our family in the absence of blood relatives.

As the time has progressed and I am in a different season, my missing of my family has only intensified. But again, we have not been left alone. When Daniel travels, friends come to help me with the boys and keep me company. When we miscarried a few months ago, many women brought us meals as we grieved and recovered.

Yes, we miss our family. Yes, we wish our boys could grow up around our parents and their aunts, uncles, and cousins. But in their stead the church has become our family. They have cried with us, rejoiced with us, and served us like we were their own. If we had received the desires of our heart, namely the seeming ease of being around our own parents, we would have missed this beautiful picture of God’s family being joined together through Christ in our own lives.

God knew what I needed in those days of despair over missing my family. He could see what I couldn’t, that the church was my family. These people who he sent his son for were (and still are) my own through Christ’s blood. And I love them like my own family.

A Father's Delight

On Saturday we took the twins to an unused baseball field to let them run around in the outfield. Both boys are at a point in their life where running is their top priority. Since our backyard is fairly uneven, rocky, and has a variety of levels, it's not really conducive for toddler activities. So we have been brainstorming about ways to help them burn their restless energy. And that is how our Saturday activity was born.

Daniel noticed the baseball field when he was playing tennis earlier that morning. He could hardly wait for the twins to wake from their nap so we could take them out to play. In his fatherly imagination it was going to be a great time. And it was. From the minute we got there both boys could hardly contain their excitement. Zach, who is a little more active than Luke, ran for the entirety of our time there. As he ran through the grass, from one end to the other, he screamed and laughed like we had never heard before. Both of their faces expressed such joy, that in turn made us joyful. As we drove home from our time there (they ran for thirty minutes straight and were dripping sweat!), we couldn't stop talking about how much fun we had. But what struck us was how our excitement was simply owing to the delight we saw in our children. For those thirty minutes Zach and Luke were filled with unbridled joy in doing what they were made to do, which for 16 month old boys is to run and run and run until you can't run anymore. And we felt every bit of that joy.

As I've reflected on this experience more I have been amazed at how kind God is to give us such beautiful, living, tangible metaphors to understand the depth of his love for us. So many of our earthly realities are designed to point us to the perfect heavenly one that is waiting for us. Through our very lives we are living these metaphors. But even more than that we get to experience a taste of the beauty the metaphor is describing. When I think of how happy I was to see my boys enjoy something so small as running in an open field, it pales in comparison to God's delight in giving us good gifts. He loves seeing his children appreciate and find joy in the good gifts he gives so freely.

But more than that his gifts to us are always for our good. We took our sons to an open field, and not our backyard, because we know what is best for them. We know they want to run. We know they love being outside. But we also know that four foot tall drop-offs and rocky terrain are not the best places for wobbly toddlers. So we took them to a place that was better for them. We didn't withhold the gift. We simply gave it parameters and a better context. If the twins had only known the rocks, broken sticks, and uneven landscape of our backyard they would never have known the wonder of a flat open field where they could run with abandon for hours.

God is infinitely more loving and wise than that. He delights in giving us good gifts. And even when those gifts are withheld or seem far away, he is not doing so arbitrarily. He has a purpose. He has greater joy awaiting us. In our finite minds we would settle for the rocky terrain and uneven landscape, when in God's perfect wisdom he has open fields just around the corner.

A Quiet Month

It's been a quiet month around here. Sorry for that! My book is due June 1...so just a few days away. I've been in the thick of editing, chasing around busy 15 month olds, and hanging out with my mom who came for a short visit. But I will be back in June. Thanks for sticking with me in the silence.

To tide you over, here is a picture of the twinsies. They seem the make the silence on this site all the more bearable, right!?!? Maybe I'm a little biased. Back to writing. See you on the other side!

Hannah's Loss

Whenever I hear someone talk about Hannah from 1 Samuel it is usually because of her great trust in the midst of her barrenness. She is the test case for infertility, really. Barren in a culture that gave women their worth by the fruit of their womb. Reviled by the second wife who bore her husband the multitude of children she so desperately wanted, yet couldn't have. Misunderstood by those around her who observed her grief over her emptiness. Yet, she trusted God in the midst of it all. And God heard her prayer of desperation.

But there is something about Hannah that I often overlook. As I was listening to this sermon the other day I was struck by something in this biblical story.

Hannah lost the son she begged for.

In the wake of her great joy over her precious son, she walked in obedience to a vow she made to God and gave her son back to the One who gave her the gift of life in the first place (1 Samuel 1:11, 22, 28). The pastor I was listening to said that it would be expected for Hannah to respond to such a loss with unimaginable grief. This was pre-Skype, pre-texting, pre-modern mail system. Saying goodbye to her son, Samuel, meant saying goodbye forever. When she left him with Eli she left with him every dream of seeing him grow into a man. Every dream of seeing him learn how to write his name, read a book, or do anything that a normal little boy does. Except for the times when they went up to offer yearly sacrifices, when she left him with Eli that was it. As she promised in that tear filled moment before his conception, she gave her son back to God.

But what does Hannah do? She worships God (1 Samuel 2:1-11). She doesn't shake her fist at him in anger. She doesn't go back on her word. She worships the One who gives all good things to his children. She praises him for his character, his goodness, and his faithfulness to his people. She just kissed her little boy goodbye, left him forever, and all she can do is look to God and praise his name.

What Hannah recognized was that her son was really not hers to claim. He was a gift. God gave him to her and he had the right to take him back. She understood that the focal point of all of her barrenness, all of her pain, and all of her joy in the birth of her son was God. It was not about her getting everything she wished for. It was about God being magnified in her life and in the life of her boy.

And oh, how he was magnified. It was through this longed for boy that God would bring his people back to himself and prepare them for a king. It was through his leadership that the line of David, the line of our Christ, would be established. Hannah's loss was not for naught. It was for us. It was for our joy. It was for our salvation.

Rarely do we see the final outcome of our losses. We don't often get to see the ultimate point of them all, but it doesn't mean it is not there. Hannah never got to see the Christ who was promised. She probably never saw the king who would carry the lineage of our perfect King Jesus. But she trusted the promise nonetheless. She knew her story wasn't the final word. Neither is ours. How do we know this? Because of the loss of another--our precious Christ. It is his loss that assures us that our losses mean something much deeper than the agony we feel in the moment. It is his loss that promises that one day all things will be made right by his once and for all defeat of all things evil. Hannah hoped in the God who would get this done in his time. And so should we. Hannah was able to look in the face of her precious boy as she walked away from him for the last time and know that God would win in the end and her loss was not in vain. The same is true for us, friends. The same is true for us.

The Gospel for Moms

People prepared me for a lot of things before the birth of my twin boys last year. I received advice on everything from sleep training, my own impending lack of sleep, the difficulty of learning to be a parent, and that in reality you are never really prepared. I was fully prepared to feel completely unprepared when those two little ones burst on the scene. And they did with complete surprise (eight weeks early!). We were as unprepared as we were ever going to be.

I knew my life would be turned upside down, but since that had never happened to me before I didn’t really understand what to expect. And no one really prepared me for the fact that even the simplest things that I once held dear (like quiet time reading my bible or a good book, or the ability to focus while praying) would be left at the hospital with my former life. The last thirteen months for me have been about getting my bearings back.

Gloria Furman knows what it’s like to have “mommy brain” and no time to think. She understands full hands and an exhausted body. She spends her days pouring out all of her energy for her husband and four kids. Yet she has learned how to trust and treasure Christ in the midst of this seemingly mundane life. That is why she is the perfect person to write a book about this very topic. In her newest book, Treasuring Christ When Your Hands Are Full: Gospel Meditations for Busy Moms, she speaks to women in the trenches of motherhood and offers the very encouragement she speaks to herself. With this book you feel like you are speaking to a trusted friend, one who knows your struggles and has real help for you right where you are at. For a busy mom, who can often feel isolated in the daily grind of caring for young children and a home, this book offers exactly what we need—more of Jesus.

I found myself wanting to write down nearly every other sentence because of the nuggets of truth that were packed into even the fewest of words. Reading this book felt like Furman was speaking directly to me, as if she knew what my daily life looked like. And that’s the beauty of this book. There is something for every mom. If you struggle to find a quiet place to commune with God, Furman assures you that Jesus is not confined to a comfy chair in the wee hours of the morning. He promises to meet you where you are at, even if it is at the changing table or the kitchen sink. If you find yourself weighed down by your endless quest to be the “perfect mom,” Furman shows that while no mother is remotely close to perfect, we do have a perfect Savior who is sufficient to cover all of our sins and failures. If you feel yourself losing sight of the goal in this whole motherhood thing, Furman lovingly reminds us that we are parenting eternal souls who will never die. Motherhood is about tomorrow and eternity, she says. While she helps us feel the tremendous weight of this calling, she also points us to the tremendous joy it affords us.

Throughout the book, Furman reminds us that while we are weak, Christ is always strong. This is good news for weary moms who simply cannot add one more thing to an already overflowing plate of responsibilities. So if you are a weak, needy, desperate mom this book is for you. You will find on these pages that Christ is sufficient, his gospel is true, and his promises are all you need to faithfully do all you have been called to as a mother to your children.

 

Children and the Love of God

As I've gotten older I've realized that every season of life affords us a new opportunity to better understand the character of God. Through every season we are given a greater glimpse of who he is and what he has done for us in Christ. When I was single I sensed his goodness as my all sufficient provider of all of my needs. When I got married I saw the depth of his sacrifice for me as my husband served and cared for me. Now that I have children I have been blown away by how much he loves those who are his own. Perhaps that is why Jesus says this about the good gifts God gives his children:

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him! (Matthew 7:7-11).

For me, having children has been the application of understanding the love of God. There is nothing my children can do that will make me not give them good things. There is no amount of sin that would cause me to stop loving them. The intensity of love that I feel for them has no end. As parents, we give gifts to our children on their birthdays and Christmas regardless of their behavior. We love endlessly. Their behavior doesn't change how we love them and care for them. And for them, that is such a comfort. Mommy and Daddy do everything for their good. Whether that be discipline, teaching, showering with kisses, or training them to sleep at night. Everything is for their good and because of our love for them.

Perhaps one of the reasons God commanded Adam and Eve to be fruitful and multiply was not just to perpetuate the race but to understand the intensity of his love. As I've grown into my role as a mom this first year I have also grown in my understanding of God's great love for me. And it floors me. Because of Christ's work on the cross, I am his child. Nothing can change that. Nothing can make him stop loving me. Nothing can make him stop working for my good. While it doesn't mean that I won't ever face trials or need correction and discipline, it does assure me that it is never in vain. God is always giving me good things because of his great love for me--even if it doesn't always feel good in the moment.

In every season I am learning more about the God who made me. And I think that is how God intended it. With every passing year he is revealing himself more to me, until that final day when my faith will be sight. Until then (and from that moment on), I will never exhaust the depth of his goodness and his character.

How to Help Your Infertile Friend: Take Her to God

When I thought about the myriad of ways to best help an infertile person one thing kept running through my mind over and over.

Take her to God.

The pain of infertility, like the journey of the Christian life, can be so cyclical. One day you feel amazing and hopeful. The other you want to curl up in a ball on the floor and cry until there are no tears left.

But taking the infertile person to God can often be a tricky thing. What the infertile woman needs, like I have already said, is not more over-generalizations about her circumstances. And reciting theology to her can come across as that way--even though a healthy theology is necessary for dealing with the sorrow of infertility. But good theology must come before the trial, so you have a sure footing when everything else around you is shifting sand. In the midst of the trial it can sound like pithy one-liners to sensitive ears.

In my miscarriage series, I said that one of the best ways to help your friend in her loss is to know her--really know her. This will give you the opportunity to know when to speak and when to listen. This will give you insight into her soul and help you know what she needs in any given moment. Sometimes the infertile person needs to know that God loves them. Sounds simple, doesn't it? But when your womb is empty, the absence of a dearly longed for baby can feel like the very nature of hatred from God. Assure her that it isn't. Maybe she needs to know that God always keeps his promises. The Bible is full of examples of God keeping his promises to his weary saints. Remind her of that wonderful truth. Maybe she needs to know that infertility doesn't have the final word in her life. Yes, her body (or her husband's body) is broken. Yes, it feels like evil is prevailing over her right now. But it won't be that way forever. The cross is the promise that the evil that seems to be winning right now will one day be eradicated and we will be given new bodies in the new heavens and the new earth.

The reality is that none of these things will take the pain away ultimately. And these aren't concrete answers for every situation. They are merely examples of the varying ways a woman needs to know that God is for her, not against her in her infertility. But what I hope you take away from this short series on helping your infertile friend is that what suffering people need more than anything is God. They need to know that you love them and that God loves them. They need to know that you won't leave them and that God will never leave them. They need to know that you are with them for the long-haul. And so is God.

Infertility is full of complexities. And every case is different. As you seek to help your infertile friend in whatever stage of the trial she is in, ask God to give you the grace to love her well. As I already said, God delights in giving good things to his children. And by his grace, may you be that good thing for your suffering friend.

Life With Twins: 8 Months Later

Tomorrow these sweet boys will be 8 months old. I can hardly believe it. Sometimes it feels like yesterday that I saw their precious faces for the first time. And then other times it feels like they have always been part of our lives. We love them so stinking much!

So what is life like with these twinsies? One part crazy. One part totally fun. And equal parts overwhelming joy. I will say, the first 5 or 6 months were really intense. With the first 5 weeks being all things NICU, coupled with the fact that they were pretty much like newborns for the first 4 months of their life, it was exhausting. Then you add the fact that we have never been parents before, and you have a recipe for a little bit of chaos.

Would I do it again? Absolutely.

Around 4 months we realized Luke had some issues with neck rotation and it was confirmed by an occupational therapist and his pediatrician. That explained his flat head (he only slept on one side). He was diagnosed with torticollis, which started us on a busy few months of therapy evaluations, head scans, and doctor visits. He will be in physical therapy until he reaches his important developmental milestones for the first year, and he will be in the helmet about as long, too. Thankfully, we have gotten into a good routine with sitters for Zach, occasionally taking them both to therapy (Luke does better with brother there sometimes), and doing home exercises. At first, I was really sad and overwhelmed with the prospect of more doctor visits for our family. Our life has been doctor visits for the last year or so and I just wanted some normalcy--whatever that means, right?

So what are the twins like?

They are so much fun! They are really happy babies for the most part. They have their usual crabby moments, but who doesn't? They love attention and people. And they especially love women and little girls. They have really started to notice each other and "talk" to each other. I love it and can't wait to see them interact more and more! Luke is much more vocal than Zach, though they both like to talk. Luke often talks himself to sleep at night time and talks himself awake in the morning. They smile all of the time. My favorite moment with them is when I go get them from naps or in the morning. They go crazy in their cribs with excitement!

They really want to move. Just this week they both have started getting on their knees and elbows and started rocking. They roll everywhere (especially Zach) and they can scoot backwards and with their legs (while their head is down), but they often get frustrated when they can't move. They both sit up well and love being able to see the world. Luke's physical therapist told me yesterday that some babies have little interest in moving, but that is not him at all, nor is it true of his brother. They cannot wait to move, though mommy is fine with them waiting a little longer! Honestly, their drive to move doesn't surprise me at all. Luke was very active when I was pregnant with them. I don't think he ever stopped moving. Zach was active, too, but nothing like Luke was.

They also aren't as cuddly anymore because they want to move. The other day they wanted to cuddle before naps and I ate up every minute of it because it rarely happens anymore. I miss it!

Growth wise they are catching up nicely. The doctor said they are doing exactly what they should be doing. Zach is still bigger than Luke, but they both are ahead of the curve, which is what we want. They love eating solids! That is a huge prayer answer for me because bottle feeding has been a bit of a challenge at times and I was terrified to introduce something new. I think they like solids better than bottles! And Zach has a tooth coming through, so that explains his fussiness the last few weeks! I am sure Luke is not far behind.

People often asking me what the hardest part of having twins is, and while I have nothing to compare it to, I think the fact that I can't hold them both at the same time is the most challenging. Having two kids is not unique to many moms, but having two infants is. And the fact that they both need to be transported by my arms poses a challenge sometimes, especially when there are over 35 pounds of baby between the two of them. I suppose it is good that I am learning how to share my love and attention early on because that is just part of being a mom, but it does kill me sometimes that I can't pay attention to both of them at the same time. If I could multiply my arms and my affection I would be golden!

So that is where we are at with these boys of ours. Most days my eyes well up with tears thinking about God's kindness to us. I remember vividly the many months and years of begging God for a child, just one child to call my own. And in his kindness he gave me two precious, precious boys. I try to remember that especially when I feel like I am losing my mind with exhaustion and sinful lack of patience. I cannot imagine any other life than the one I have right in this moment. I love these boys with every fiber of my being. They are such a gift to Daniel and me. And we can't believe how far they have come!

God Hears Our Prayers

"Answer me when I call, O God of my righteousness!
You have given me relief when I was in distress.
Be gracious to me and hear my prayer!" -Psalm 4:1

This has been our prayer as we wait for the boys to come home. God has faithfully answered our prayers when we have been in distress before, and we have confidence that he will do it again. It's not our own strength that makes the desired relief possible, but the strength of his character and his righteousness. Left to ourselves we cannot do anything, but God is powerful enough not only to bring our boys home, but to conform us more into his likeness while we wait.

I have had to remind myself of his power and character over these last four weeks. I cannot make my boys ready to come home from the hospital. I cannot make them take their bottles and nurse well. I cannot make them gain weight. Only he can do it. Having them hooked up to monitors has only further reminded me of my helplessness and his power. He sustains our precious sons. He holds them in his hands. He orders all things. And he has been doing it since the very beginning of their lives.

So we cry out to him in these uncertain days. We are asking him to work and are depending on him for the ability to endure not knowing when their days in the NICU will end. And how do we know he will work? We know his character. We know he is good. And we know that he has worked in the past and he will work in the future. He has worked in abundant ways in our lives before, and as we remember we are reminded that he will do it again.

Will it always work out in the timetable we want? Not exactly. But he will act on our behalf. And that is how we can pray. In prayer we are crying out to the only one who can and will work for our good (Psalm 57:2, Romans 8:28). We daily fall on our faces before this great God knowing that he is good and will fulfill his purposes for us. That is our hope.

Psalm 77 is a great reminder for those wanting to remember God's faithfulness to his own. This is where we want to be--remembering God's faithfulness and mighty deeds. When we get discouraged, we want to remember. When we feel like we aren't making progress with the boys, we want to remember. God has done mighty things for us and he will not stop pouring out his kindness on us.

He has done great things and we are filled with joy. Oh Lord, help us to remember this truth in both the certain and uncertain days.

These Boys Have Names

This morning we had our first meeting with our high risk doctor. Knowing that we were going to find out the genders this morning, we were excited and nervous. Would everything look okay? Would the babies be growing on time? Would they be boys or girls? So many questions that were thankfully all answered this morning.

Our appointment was at 8:10 am, but was delayed because the doctor was delivering a baby at the hospital. We were able to get in with the doctor around 9:45 and he started the ultrasound. We were both so excited! I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest. In fact, I slept even worse than normal last night because it felt like the night before Christmas!

After looking at their heads and brains he moved down to determine their gender. Since he was pretty sure they were identical, he said he would be surprised if they were different genders.

He found Baby A's gender pretty quickly. Baby A is a boy!

Daniel screamed "yes!" immediately. He would have been happy with either gender, but he was really hoping for at least one son.

And then it didn't take him long to determine that Baby B is a boy, too!

Thankfully these little boys cooperated pretty well this morning and made themselves known. There is no denying that they are little boys. I have had to really get used to the fact that we know their gender now. I have twin boys. In the same way that I repeated "I'm pregnant" or "I'm having twins" to myself after I found out, I have had to say "I have sons" to myself all day. It all still feels so surreal. I am the oldest of four children and the only girl, so I always knew that it was preparation for something. I am once again going to be outnumbered in my own house and I cannot wait!

Here's a quick rundown on the twins:

They always thought I might be a day or two ahead of what originally was thought. It turns out that I am. So I will be 19 weeks this Wednesday instead of this Friday. I don't mind gaining two extra days! Baby B is measuring a week behind Baby A, but he has always been smaller. My doctor was not concerned at all and said this is completely normal with twins. But they will keep monitoring me to make sure he doesn't lag too far behind his brother.  I will go back for another ultrasound in four weeks. After that I will go every three weeks, maybe sooner. Everything else looks great.

Now for the part you have all been waiting for--their names. Because we were pretty sure they were identical, we already had names picked out (I like to be prepared). We really wanted to give them names the minute we knew their genders because we have been calling them Baby A and Baby B for so long. These babies deserve to have more exciting names than that!

Allow me to introduce to you the newest Reissig boys.

Zachary Garrett Reissig (aka Baby A)

We really wanted to use a name that honored the great miracle God performed in giving us these twins. Zachary means "the Lord remembers". Often when the Bible recounts a story of a barren woman being given children the author says "the Lord remembered her" and opened her womb. We can relate. We truly believe that God has heard our cries for children and remembered us, and we look forward to sharing the story of our God's faithfulness to our little Zachary. Garrett was my grandpa's last name (my mom's maiden name). I was really close to him and wanted to honor him with our little boy.

Lucas Daniel Reissig (aka Baby B)

I'm pretty sure we have had this name picked out since we were engaged. We have always liked how it sounded, so we were mainly just looking for a name to go with this one. But then I found out that Lucas means "bringer of light". Our prayer for both of our children has been that they would come to treasure Christ above all else and put their trust in him at an early age. We want both of them to trust in the true light of the world, our Christ, and tell of him to all who will hear.

We are so overwhelmed by all of the love and support we have received in these recent months. These babies truly are loved by so many. But more than anything we are brought to joyful tears over God's kindness to us. He has heard our cries and has given us two precious boys to raise, love, and cuddle with. We are most excited to share this story of his faithfulness to us with them. We want them to forever know that God is the one who gave them life and he is the center of our family. And our deepest prayer for them is that they would one day embrace him as their own.

Thank you everyone for sharing in our joy. We love every one of you!

And in case you were wondering, we are going to call them Zach and Luke.

Update on the Twins: Week 13

It is hard to believe that I am already 13 weeks pregnant. Some days it feels like it is going by slowly and then other days just fly by. Every morning that I wake up pregnant I am reminded by God's kindness towards us. I don't ever want to forget to be thankful for these precious little lives.

We had another ultrasound last week. The purpose of this ultrasound was to determine if the babies were in one sac or two sacs. Thankfully, the ultrasound determined that they are in two sacs. Praise the Lord! It would have been really rare for them to be in one sac, but we still were concerned. It looks like they are sharing a placenta, which most likely means they are identical. We still can hardly believe that we might have identical twins! A lot of our conversations these days center around what we are going to do to tell them apart.

It was so fun to see them on the ultrasound. We knew they had grown a ton since the last one, but I think we were shocked to see how much. They clearly looked like babies this time, as opposed to looking like little kidney beans. We could see their hands, brains, feet, and even their profiles. It was amazing to see them move around. And boy did they move! Baby A was super active and wanted to be around Baby B. Every time the ultrasound tech tried to get a picture of Baby B, Baby A wanted to be included too! She even made the comment that Baby A obviously doesn't like to be alone. Sounds just like his or her Momma! Baby B was active too, but seemed content to stay on his or her side, probably because Baby A was all up in her/his business. Both of their heartbeats were good and strong measuring at 161 and 177.

So how is Momma doing?

Well, Momma is slowly emerging from the first trimester grossness. Within the last few days I have felt like maybe I am turning a corner, only to be met with morning sickness all over again. I am 13 weeks 3 days today, so hopefully I am on the end of it, but I don't want to get my hopes up either. The exhaustion has not let up yet. Daniel often comments that it's crazy how much I can sleep and yet still be so stinking tired. And to be honest, as much as I hate being nauseous and despising all things food related, I do like the reassurance that these babies are still going strong (especially since I can't feel them yet). I am also slowly growing out of my regular clothes. That is the strangest thing to me. I love it, but it is just so interesting to watch my mid-section grow. Right now I am in between fitting into all of my maternity clothes and busting out of my regular clothes. I am looking forward to just being able to wear maternity clothes all of the time. And seriously, why don't we wear maternity jeans and leggings even when we aren't pregnant? They are the most comfortable pants on the planet!

I was reminded this morning that my fight to trust the Lord with their little lives will be the struggle of my motherhood. When they are born I will have to trust the Lord with their lives. When they are toddlers I will have to trust the Lord with their lives. When they are teenagers I will have to trust the Lord with their lives. I am slowly learning that being a mother, like so much else in this Christian life, is an exercise of faith. It is a constant battle to believe that God is good and can be trusted. By God's grace, I want to fight this battle well.

And for your viewing pleasure, here are their most recent ultrasound pictures.

Radio Interview on the Family

A few weeks ago I was interviewed by a radio station in Pennsylvania and New York on my Her.meneutics post Mourning the Death of Family-Friendly TV. The Christian radio station specializes in music, teaching, and cultural and family issues. We talked about a variety of things related to the article, including over-programming, the local church, and God's design for families. It was my first radio interview and I had no idea how it would go. I was really nervous! Here is the link if you are interested in listening.

The Loss of Family Togetherness

While numerous studies have revealed that a shared family meal, and quality family time, can have tremendous benefits for children (especially teenagers), many families experience the reality of busyness, technology, and individualism. The concept of a traditional family time is a dying notion.

And the culture is taking notice.

The "family hour" was once a coveted spot on network television. Now it's an hour for the television history books. I wrote about this trend, and our response as Christians, over at the Her.meneutics blog today.

Here is a snippet of my thoughts:

Will we Christians who have families follow the cultural drift? I believe we can provide a counter voice to the individualistic mindset that permeates our families. While we can never be perfect in our approach, we do have a guide to show us a better way.

Scripture attests that God instituted the family as one model of not only his triune nature but also his relationship with the church (Gen. 1:26-31; Eph. 5:22-33, 6:1-4). When we lose family togetherness, we lose a valuable and crucial picture that cannot be recreated elsewhere.

The loss of family togetherness is a symptom of a culture that is increasingly embracing individualism over community. But we Christians know we were not made as “individuals” but as persons in community. Separation from the God-designed community of the family creates an environment that is not healthy or productive for us. It has implications for how we relate to others, the church, and God himself. While it might seem noble and cool to live outside the confines of a family, countless studies have shown that families where a father is absent, due to reasons other than death, face greater dysfunction and turmoil. God knew what he was doing when he made Adam and Eve and told them to “be fruitful and multiply.”

You can read the rest here.

Population Control is God's Domain

Earlier this week the world population was supposed to hit 7 billion. I was really intrigued by the reports for a number of reasons. One: because my sister-in-law was in early labor and about to have my niece (she was born on Tuesday!). Two: because so many of the reports were laced with implications that the world population is simply becoming too much to handle.

There are a variety of angles in each report about the amount of people who now populate the earth. Some see it as greater proof for the need for population control. Some see it as an opportunity to encourage and help women become better educated, believing that greater education leads to a lower birthrate. And other simply speculate on the reasons for this “population boom.”

I’m not a population expert by any stretch. I don’t follow the growth trends or theories surrounding our growing world. But I am a news watcher. One of the things that was troubling to me as I watched a number of reports on the prediction that we would be 7 billion strong by this week is that so many of the reports included questions about population control. Coupled with fear over the strain on natural resources in more depressed parts of the world, some are implying that in order for our world to be sustainable we must do something about the number of people we are now bringing into this world.

China could be a test case for this, though no one really wants to use them as the example. The Chinese government has strictly enforced a one-child policy over the years, leaving many parents to fear when they accidentally (or intentionally) get pregnant for the second time. Not to mention the untold numbers of baby girls who are either aborted or left for dead because of the premium on boys in China. The problem when we begin to tell people how many kids they can have is that we begin to think we can control other aspects of childbearing, like gender and the health of the child. When you only get one shot at it, the less than desirable is sacrificed in pursuit of the perfect.

The biblical command to be fruitful and multiply doesn’t include an ideal number. Some could say that in the best interest of an overflowing world that command should be fulfilled with fewer children. But others could say that God’s promise to keep us here until his appointed time trumps any alarming statistic that we might run out of resources.

Another study says that the population, while still growing, actually includes more gray haired people than before. People are living longer, and as healthcare improves this will continue to be the case. So if the surging population is actually due to the longevity of our elderly, wouldn’t the “population control” folk actually want to pare down that demographic as well?

Whenever we get into the details of telling people when they can and should fulfill their God-given command to procreate, or their God-appointed time to die, we are entering territory that is only to be traveled by our Creator. The world is growing at a rapid pace. There is an increasingly healthy elderly population. Some cultures are producing children at a rate faster than their natural resources can be replenished. And in these cultures some women are forced to marry extremely young and have as many children as their husband wants. As Christians, we know that the earth is groaning under the weight of the curse of sin. Ground that doesn’t produce food and water that dries up is proof that this is not how God intended it. Little girls being forced to marry at the age of 8 or 9 and then have children right after their first period is atrocious. The answer isn’t universal population control. Human beings were created in God’s image. That is why God told Adam and Eve (and every person after them) to be fruitful and multiply. When a child is conceived and born he (or she) gives glory to the Creator in whose image this baby was made. This doesn’t mean that we don’t personally make decisions that might control how many children we have, but that’s not the government’s job to do for us.

As Christians, 7 billion people in the world should not be cause for concern about the state of our resources. Rather it should be cause for prayer and rejoicing; prayer because so many of them don’t know Christ (and are giving birth to children in terrible conditions) and rejoicing because each person represents a life made in God’s image and a soul that will never die. God is still the creator of this broken and decaying world. He is not surprised by overpopulation and he is sovereign over the newborn baby’s cry in a hospital and the water source of a small village. Population is his to control.