My Cancer + Weaknesses (Part 2)

I used to feel defined by my weaknesses. Never feeling good enough. Always feeling different and less than what I was created to be. Physically my body didn't seem to function like it was designed to and I spent the majority of my elementary through high school years feeling ostracized by these differences. Cancer not only left its marks on my body, but it also left me with medical complications that I dealt with every single day. As an adult I'm not immune those issues now. I still deal with them. But overtime I've become more accustomed to them. Most people aren't even able to tell I deal with any of these residuals, because other than the scars on my body from multiple cancer surgeries I look healthy and normal.

But growing up I couldn't feel anything further from that word-”normal.” In fact, I didn't feel like that was a word that belonged to me. As a young child I remember my bedtime prayers were filled with pleas that God would make me "normal like all the other kids". The differentness I felt was exasperated by too many absences from school. So many that a teacher once asked me how I was going to graduate. And to be honest, I had often wondered that myself. Escorted by my nurse from class multiple times a day to take care of these issues, led to further questioning from peers. And I got really tired of answering those questions. Mainly because their curiosity served as a reminder of just how different I felt.

But one day God did heal me. However, His answer didn't come quite like I expected it would. You see, He healed my mind and freed my heart to be at peace with my circumstances. The medical complications that once left me feeling ostracized, like chains holding me down, I learned to recognize as a gift from God. Because not a day goes by where I'm not physically reminded of my weaknesses and my need for Christ. It was through my weaknesses and medical complications and not in their absence that I began asking questions about Jesus. It was through my weaknesses and cancer and not a part from them that I learned of the Gospel and God's love for me-a love that was so big that He sent His Son to die on the cross for my sins so that I could come to know Him and be found in Him. I wish I could say that my faith in those truths remained strong, but unfortunately they wavered. But God was faithful through and through. God was faithful even when I was faithless.

In high school my doctor informed me that I wouldn’t be able to have children biologically. As if dealing with my medical issues weren't enough to make me feel like less of a woman, there was nothing quite like finding out that kids weren't in the cards for me either. My medical issues compiled with the news of my infertility, sent me down a very dark path. I felt broken, alone, anxious and depressed.

Though I could not identify it at the time, the perceptions and expectations that I had for myself, were being shaped and influenced by society. I was looking to the world to help me make sense of my scars, weaknesses and identity. I was looking in the wrong places. It wasn’t until I moved from seeing my weaknesses as the world does and instead looked to Christ and His word to explore their meaning and purpose that healing and freedom came.

In 2 Corinthians 12:7-10 we learn of Paul’s “thorn in the flesh.” Although we don’t know for certain exactly what his thorn is, we know it was a weakness and an ongoing struggle. We know that Paul cried out to God more than once to take it away and we learn right here in 2 Corinthians that the Lord did not fulfill his request. And instead Jesus replied to Paul with: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Paul went on to say, “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

Even though Satan would long for Paul’s weaknesses to send him down a very dark path, God had another plan in mind. Jon Bloom with Desiring God says, “God’s grace is more clearly seen and more deeply savored in our weaknesses than our strengths. Our fallen natures crave self-glory. We seek the admiration of others. We love the myth of the superhero because we want to be one. So we want our successes and strengths to be known and our failures and weaknesses hidden. And since strong, competent high achievers earn human admiration, we are tempted to believe that they impress God in a similar way. That’s the last thing Paul wants us to believe. Paul knew better than most that it is not human achievements that showcase the grace of God. It is human helplessness.”

We don’t live in Eden anymore. We live on the other side of the fall where weakness, sickness and sin reside. We are imperfect people in need of His grace. To deny this truth is essentially telling Jesus that what He did on the cross was in vain. Our weaknesses and our shortcomings should move us back to the cross, back to the feet of Jesus, and should serve as a reminder to us that we can’t do this alone. We need God.

Because of my medical conditions and past mental health issues I have felt weak. Because of my infertility I have felt broken. Even though I no longer feel defined by those issues like I once did, sometimes those thoughts will resurface momentarily. And I have to remind myself to look up. I have to remind myself of where my Ultimate source of strength resides-God. My weaknesses keep me closer to the heart of my Father and are constantly pointing me back to the cross.

Perhaps you can relate. Maybe you have been viewing your weaknesses through a wordly lens. Perhaps you, like me, can relate to these feelings of “never measuring up” or “I’ll never be good enough" because you feel like you are drowning in and defined by your weaknesses. But this desire to “measure up” is a very worldly concept. We'll never measure up. If we were enough than Jesus' death on the cross would be in vain and grace would have no purpose in our life. When you have thoughts like, "I'll never be enough" look up. Fix your eyes on Christ. Let those thoughts lead you to the Gospel, to the cross, to His grace that was poured out on your behalf because God knew that apart from Christ you could never measure up. God doesn't need us to have it all together. What God desires from us is to recognize that we don't and look to Christ- the author and perfector of our faith. And as we come to Him in our weakness, He is faithful to complete the work He began in us, sanctifying our hearts and our minds into more of His likeness.

My Cancer + Weaknesses (Part 1)

My Cancer + Weaknesses (Part 1)

Over the summer I was asked to speak at a women's conference near my home town in Southern, Illinois. I've shared my testimony and bits and pieces of my story hundreds of times, but this time would be different. As I was praying through what to share with these ladies, I felt God encouraging me to include details of my story that I had never spoken about before in front of of a large group of women. Particularly, specifics about my past health issues and present medical complications that I deal with on a daily basis, as a result of having childhood cancer. I like to think of myself as someone who is pretty open and honest with my life, but I remember being a bit confused (and scared!) as to why He was calling me to include such personal details.

As I was preparing my talks for the conference, I thought perhaps I could just speak about my medical issues in generalities, like I had done before. I also toyed with the idea of how I could paint them in a prettier and more acceptable light. As I was sitting on my bed with my computer on my lap, and reading through 2 Corinthians 12 about Paul’s thorn in the flesh, I thought to myself, "Here I am writing a talk on Biblical womanhood and how God does not view weaknesses, scars and suffering as the world does, and yet deep in the corners of my heart there was this deep hesitation wrapped with fear of man. What would they think of me if they knew this?”

The inner turmoil that was taking place reminded me of a temptation many women, including myself, face in today's society. The societal pressure to emphasize our strengths, appearing like superwomen in every corner and crevice of our life, while simultaneously covering up our weaknesses.

Even though God had drastically grown my understanding of my own medical issues, and I no longer was at a place where I felt defined by them or less than in spite of them, I was a bit shocked that my knee reaction was to keep them hidden in the shadows. God gave me another glimpse into how society's view of weaknesses and even the expectations for women, were in some ways still affecting the way I viewed myself. (More on this in a post next week)

But I knew in my spirit that God wanted me to portray things as they were. He didn't need me to clean them up. He didn't need me to paint them in a prettier light. He wanted me to share them as I experience them-from the very raw, messy and painful places of their existence. And so even though I had no idea why He wanted me to share such personal things with a group of mostly strangers, I made the decision to trust Him despite my uncertainty and fears.

When I arrived at the conference, I was greeted with smiles by some familiar faces and shook hands with some ladies I had never met before. But I was very nervous. I have spoken at many conferences throughout the years, but sometimes my nerves still get the best of me. Through the years I've learned to embrace these uncomfortable feelings as a gift because they keep me reliant on God. As my hands got sweaty and my heart raced it became a very real and physical reminder that I can do nothing without Him. When the ladies were singing a hymn together, I stepped out of the conference hall and found a quiet place to pray. Just me and God. I told Him I was scared. I asked Him to help me be brave in sharing what He had laid on my heart specifically for this group of women. As I was praying that God would use my imperfect and broken words to minster and encourage their hearts, I felt His peace come over my entire body from head to toe. And in that moment He reminded me that I was not alone and He was with me.

As I stepped up to the podium and look into the eyes of the women staring back at me, I said a quick and silent prayer under my breath. It was very emotional working through the intricacies of my life story and God's faithfulness through multiple bouts of cancer, depression, infertility, loss and other health issues. But God sustained me through every word, every tear and every breath. He was working through my weaknesses even as I was standing in front of a group of women talking about that very thing. 2 Corinthians 12:9, “ But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

After the conference was over God gifted me with the blessing of learning why He wanted me to share those specific details. The very things I was afraid of sharing, (I'm talking about down to the T) were the the very things He used to minister to the hearts of the ladies in that room. How do I know that? Because they came up and told me so. I’m not telling you this so you can think I'm great or super holy or something, but I'm telling you this so you can see how great our God is. Only He could know exactly what their hearts needed. I teared up on the drive home thinking, “What if fear had won that day? What if I had let fear of what others thought of my struggles and my weaknesses, prevent from sharing what I knew God was calling me to do?”

The ladies who approached me after the conference shared bravely and vulnerably with me about their weaknesses and struggles and how God met them where they were at. After they walked away a quote from C.S. Lewis popped in my head, " What?! You too? I thought I was the only one." We didn't lament in self-pity for one another. But rather, we rejoiced and our hearts were moved to hope in Christ, in hearing about God's faithfulness through one another's trials. Those sweet ladies ministered to my heart in a way that words can not adequately express. And God used their words to remind me, yet again, that there is purpose in the pain. God wastes nothing. He works through our weaknesses (not a part from them) and in doing so, He gets the glory!

Sisters, God will call you to do scary and uncomfortable things for His Kingdom purposes. He will call you to do things that may not make sense to you (or anyone for that matter). He will call you to do things that will seem out of sync with the world. Do it anyway. For His glory and His kingdom do it anyway.

Cancer Doesn't Win

2018. What. A. Year. I turned 31 yesterday and I can’t believe how quickly the year has come and gone. It was a great year. But a painful one. Last fall we received some unexpected and shocking news: another tumor was found-this time in my leg. Our world was rocked. Test after test, biopsy, surgery, fear, uncertainty, praying and waiting-that’s what the end of last year looked like for our family. I will never forget the conversation with our oncologist: “Cancer, it’s definitely cancer, probably another sarcoma, but it’s proving really hard to diagnose.” There is something scary about being a medical anomaly, as if your body is an unsolvable puzzle. Without the diagnosis we didn’t know what further treatments would be required. We couldn’t move forward. I felt stuck, stuck in a scary place of unknowns, doubt and uncertainty about my future, about my kids future and about our family’s future. 

I was extremely scared. This was my 6th surgery. This was my 6th tumor. I’ve sat in the oncology wing many times before. But something was different this go around. There were 2 other factors in the equation: my son and daughter. My heart ached thinking about how this may affect them. I didn’t want them to see me sick. We prayed every night as a family that recovery would be fast and that God would heal my body completely. God, once again, drew our hearts closer to Him through the cancer.  Hearing my 2.5 year old twins pray unprompted for God to “make mommy’s boo boo better” and as they sang along with me to “Great is Thy Faithfulness” brought me to my knees (and to tears). Even though the surgeon took a fist-sized chunk out of my muscle, I mended up really quickly, with minimal pain and no limitations. He healed my body again! Now I just have another really rad scar-another visible reminder and story of God’s faithfulness. 

Technically we still don’t have a definite answer as to what type of sarcoma was in my leg. And we’ve been told by one of the top pathologists in the country that we may never know. The pathologists were left “stumped.” But, here’s the good news: because the tumor was so small, isolated and they were able to get it all no further treatment was or will be required. God answered our prayers! 

Physically I’m healed. Sometimes I even forget about the surgery unless I see the scar. As Ruby and Roman put it, “Mama’s boo boo all better.” And we are all praising God for that! But emotionally, living without a final diagnosis has proven to be more difficult for me than the surgery itself. I’ve wrestled with God in the dark places. I’ve cried. I’ve struggled with doubt, anger and sadness. But no matter where my thoughts go my heart keeps coming back this this truth: God is Most High. God is not like us. God is not perplexed by this situation. God isn’t in heaven twiddling His thumbs trying to figure out what this “unknown thing” is. He knows. He knows all things. I can’t help but think there is a reason He wants to keep me in this unknown space. And if He wants me to stay here than I can be certain it’s for my good and His glory-even on the days when it doesn’t feel like it. 

There are moments when I get worried. What if the oncologist missed something? What if this cancer that can’t be diagnosed will somehow come back and defeat me? Then, I stop. I breathe. And I remind myself, “God is Most High.” Everything on this earth is subject to God. Even the cancer, even the tumor, even my fears-they all bow down to Him. When worry creeps in I just visualize the cells in my body, the fear in my heart, my doubts, my thoughts, everything bowing down to Creator and The Author of The Universe. 

Regardless of what the future holds, I know God is on His throne. Cancer doesn’t win. Nothing can shake that and nothing can change that. And that’s a good thing for me. And that’s a good thing for everyone. Nothing. Not even the thing you fear the most can knock God off His throne. He is greater.

This has been a painful season. But even so, we have found great pockets of Joy in deep seasons of despair. This has been a time of learning to trust God in the unknown and with no guarantee of an answer. This has been a time of learning to trust God and His promises that are true for me even when the warm fuzzy feelings aren’t there. This has been a time of learning to trust God with my life and our family, knowing that He is the keeper of all things. Corrie ten Boom says it far more eloquently than I ever could, “When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don't throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.” So that’s what we continue doing. We continue trusting and sitting in the unknown spaces, trusting that the Master Commander knows exactly what we need and He knows exactly where we are going. 

The Flood Will Not Consume You

Two years ago today I wrote a post on the The Great Flood of 2016 that hit our home and community in Denham Springs, Louisiana (see below). Last week I wrote a post on the importance of looking back on what God has done in our life to give us strength and confidence to trust Him with our present circumstances and future. This is me practicing what I preach...

Six weeks after we adopted our twins, the Great Flood of 2016 hit our community and our home in Denham Springs, Louisiana.  The Washington Post stated that this flood dumped three times as much rain on Louisiana as Hurricane Katrina. According to the Red Cross, this was the “worst US disaster since Hurricane Sandy,” and FEMA reported that over 150,000 homeowners/renters applied for assistance.

Moments leading up to the evacuation I was cooking chicken fajitas for Obbie and I. While I was feeding our boy I looked out the front door and noticed the water line had risen quite considerably. At the time I wasn’t nervous because we weren’t in a flood zone. I showed Obbie and he went out to talk with all of the neighbors who had gathered at the edge of their driveways. When I stuck my head out the door, I saw Obbie’s face from a distance. I will never forget the concerned look on his face. I knew it wasn’t good. He came back inside and said, “Kelly, we need to pack everything up. The water will probably be entering our house soon.” I started crying. I didn’t want to leave. This was our home.

I couldn’t find a suitcase so I brought a large empty black trunk and dragged it into the twins room. As I walked in, I began to tear up. I had spent so much time preparing, decorating, dreaming and hoping in this room. As I began stuffing all of their clothes and diapers into the trunk I looked to the right and saw the huge frame that read, “I prayed for this child and the Lord has granted me what I asked of Him…” I turned it around and saw all of the names I had hand written with a sharpie marker-probably 500 or more. Every single person who helped us bring our babies home has a place in our hearts and on the back of the frame. I hoped that it would serve as a future reminder to our children of just how loved they are-not just by us but by an entire community! Little did I know that on Saturday, August 13, 2016 the Lord would use something I had intended for my children to minister to me. In those scary moments I felt like He was saying, “trust me with this Kelly…remember how I brought you through the other storms and valleys…remember…even when you can’t make sense of what is going on…trust me…”

We threw as much as as we could into the back of our neighbor’s big white truck. Although I don’t remember a lot from that day, I will never forget the drive. At that point the water was so high I could feel it splash my face. And as I looked down at the twins I began to cry as we slowly waded through the water.  There were moments when I felt like I was in a nightmare and I just wanted to wake up. I prayed, “Dear Lord, protect our babies. Please keep our babies safe…”

A few hours after we arrived at our neighbor’s house the waters began rising there too. We made the decision to evacuate their house because if we waited too long we wouldn’t be able to get out. We took the twins and two back packs full of diapers and formula and headed to the one of the only dry streets left in our neighborhood. Preparing to sleep in our mini van, we parked behind our friends on the side of the road. A few minutes after we arrived there a young woman approached us with a concerned look on her face.  "Please come stay with us.” We spent that night and the next day camped out in her living room. Her entire family welcomed us and fed us.

After a few days the water subsided. When we realized our house was going to be unlivable for a few months due to the flood damage, we thought it would be best if I took the twins up north to stay with family. (We ended up staying there for a few months while my husband continued gutting and rebuilding our home with the help of friends and strangers.) Many families lost absolutely everything.  Later we learned that many families had to be evacuated by boat because the water was so high. They had to leave everything behind. Can you imagine that kind of loss?

To the flood victims: I know so many of you are exhausted and you just wonder when things will go back to normal. You walk into rooms that you barely recognize. You try to salvage a decades worth of memories in print. You wonder how you will provide for your family because you didn’t have flood insurance and government assistance hasn’t covered a fraction of what it will cost to rebuild your home. I am hurting with you. But, one thing I do know for sure is that we will rise from this and we will grow and become stronger through it. I don’t say that to diminish the loss or pain you/we are going through. I say to encourage you and remind you that there is hope. And that Hope is Jesus Christ and that is what I am clinging to.

It can be overwhelming when you look around at what is left of your house. Memories may flood your mind of what used to be there; the room that you rocked your baby in for the very first time; that special corner in your living room where you put up your Christmas tree every year; the kitchen table where you shared meals together. Although the flood may have destroyed the physical things-those waters will never be able to take your memories. But more importantly than those precious memories is the overwhelming reminder that this place is not our eternal home. The Lord has always used trials in my life to remind me of this. I am not going to sit here and try to make sense of the flood. I can’t wrap my mind around it. However, I am quite certain through my own trials, that God does not waste anything. He is sovereign and in control of ALL things. God didn't waste my cancer. God didn't waste my miscarriage. And we can be confident that God is still at work right now. God creates beauty out of the mess and muddy waters.

Perhaps you've never been through a natural disaster. But I know through personal experience that it doesn't take an actual flood to bring on a storm. In the pain and chaos it is difficult to see God’s plan. When you are knee deep in the waters  it is easy to think that God has forgotten you and sometimes that makes it difficult to trust. But, believe this my friend: the flood will not consume you and He has NOT forgotten you. He is worthy of our trust even when we can’t comprehend or understand the chaos that surrounds us. Whatever flood or mess currently has your attention, my prayer for you is that you would cling to your Savior. When you look around at all of the unrecognizable mess, my prayer is that you would fix our eyes on Christ. Ask Him for strength. Ask Him for patience. Cry out to Him. He is listening and He is near. He will bring you out of this storm. Why? Because He is a faithful God who promises to never leave His children.

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze." -Isaiah 43:2

The Mother's Day I Didn't Want To Remember

It was a Sunday morning in the middle of May. Mother's Day. My body felt lifeless as I lay there in bed. My eyes were still sore and head was still throbbing from crying the night before. I knew that today was going to be a difficult one to face. After I finally convinced myself to get out of bed, I walked into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, turned to the side, and put my hand over my empty belly. A few weeks prior I was so excited about getting to celebrate my first Mother's Day with our little growing miracle.

We knew my ability to get pregnant was nearly impossible due to the cancer treatments I received early on in life. And so, after years of trying this was an answer to many prayers. This baby was in every definition of the word a miracle. We naively began plotting how we would tell our family and friends our exciting news. We even started thinking of names. Our hearts and home were filled with so much joy and expectancy. But as I was standing in front of the mirror on Mother's Day, the excitement and joy that once filled my heart were quickly replaced with feelings of anger, bitterness and hopelessness. I felt broken. Incomplete. And in some ways less than what I was created to be and what I was created to do.

I went to church dressed in a fake smile. I sang songs. I greeted the people around me. I held back all of my tears until I couldn't any more. I ended up leaving early just before the pastor (my husband) would ask all of the "mothers" to stand for recognition. I rushed out the back door of the church and headed straight towards our porch. We lived in the parsonage less than 10 feet away (literally), so thankfully I didn't have that far to go before I made it to my bed (again). I can vividly remember my cheeks hitting the pillows that were still wet from crying the night before as I yelled into the sheets that I had pulled over my face, “Why God? Why?”

Anger, sad, hurt, confused, bitter- just a few of the many emotions I experienced over the next year. I had many questions for God and very few answers. But He met me in my pain. He met me in my tears. He was faithful despite my faithlessness. He was with me even when I doubted Him. I continually poured out all of those big emotions, questions and doubts at the foot of the cross because I knew Jesus could handle it. I stopped trying to dress myself with a fake smile and allowed myself to be honest with others about my pain. I learned through my vulnerability that others shared similar stories of loss and grief. And although it broke my heart to know they had walked a similar road, the reminder that I wasn’t alone brought a sense of connection, peace and healing that I truly believe is a gift from God. I now had friends who could empathize and encourage me to live a life beyond my own pain.

Strictly speaking, I'm still barren. In the eyes of my doctor, I'm still "infertile." However, unlike before, feelings of brokenness and emptiness no longer haunt me. I’m not consumed by those thoughts anymore. God healed my heart to be at peace with my circumstances. Through infertility, I’ve learned that a diagnosis doesn’t have the power to define who I am as a woman. Christ does. Colossians 2:9 tells us that if we are in Christ, we have also been made complete in Him. I don’t walk around feeling like a broken woman because my heart has found fulfillment in Jesus. No negative pregnancy test or pregnancy announcement on Facebook can change that truth. The same goes for you too, my friend.

We went to the beach last week. As I sat back watching our beautiful twins running around squealing and giggling in the waves, feelings of profound gratefulness poured over me. I couldn’t stop myself from grinning ear to ear as they ran towards me from the ocean. With daddy close behind, they screamed, “Mama, mama, mama!” For a season of my life, I never thought I'd hear those words. And now look how far the Father has brought me. I'm wrapped up in the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard from my son and daughter. Perhaps if I could have seen God’s beautiful plan to grow our family through adoption, it would have been easier to trust in Him. However, we would have forfeited a season of growth, wisdom and perspective if we were able to see how this part of our story unfolded.

There were many Mother's Days that, at the time, I didn't want to remember because the sting from the pain was too great. Maybe you can relate to my story or perhaps you are still sitting in this season of waiting.  I don't know when or if motherhood will come for you through a positive pregnancy test, adoption, or some other means. But I do know the One who knows and sees all wombs and all lives. I know the One who bore the wrenching pain of suffering and loss. And He calls us to raise our eyes from our empty wombs to the empty tomb. In my deepest pain and through all of my doubting, God was with me and Jesus is alive in me. He never left. My big emotions couldn't scare Him off and yours can't either. Don't feel like you have to dress up with a fake smile on Mother's Day. Jesus understands your loss. Your pain. You don't have to carry this burden on your own. He promises to shoulder your worst losses if you receive Him as gain.

***If you are interested in learning more about adoption and the services we provide at Christian Adoption Consultants, I would love to chat! Feel free to email me at kelly@christianadoptionconsultants.com and check out Christian Adoption Consultants for more information!***

Learning To Be Present In Motherhood

Being Roman and Ruby’s mama is one of my greatest joys on this earth. They are the sweetest, silliest, and cutest almost-two-year-olds. Even though they bring so much joy to our heart and home, that doesn’t mean we’re immune to having challenging days as parents.

A few days ago disparaging thoughts clouded my mind telling me that I wasn’t quite measuring up as a mother and pastor’s wife. I was struggling with guilt surrounding what I wasn’t doing right and how what I was doing wasn’t quite good enough. The house was a mess. There were piles and piles of dirty laundry scattered in different corners of what seemed like every room in our home. The kids had made a game out of smashing banana in their hands and smearing it in their hair, which was actually really funny. But, do you know how hard it is to get a banana out of hair? I kept stubbing my big toe on random toys that were scattered throughout the living room. And at one point gave attention to the thought of throwing everything away. But, let’s be honest, the trash cans were overflowing at that point so that option wasn’t really viable!

There I found myself in a sea of antagonizing and self-demeaning thoughts swimming around in my head. I fooled myself into believing I was holding it together pretty well, as I wasn’t voicing my complaints or feelings of failure to my husband. However, it didn’t take long for those emotions to seep through and create a foul attitude recognizable by even the most unobservant person. These thoughts were not only crowding my headspace, but they were preventing me from existing in the now with the sweet little blessings running around and giggling in front of me.

It’s easy to allow the day’s stresses, worries and concerns to pile on top of each other and suck all of the gratefulness and happy right out of our heart. It’s easy to be blinded by our self proposed failures and ruthless evaluations of ourselves. It’s exhausting. These unhealthy mindsets steal our time and expend our energy, as they divert our attention and hinder us from being fully present with our kids. But, I’ve learned (and I’m still learning) that it doesn’t’ have to be this way.

Typically the stress we feel comes with the unrealistic expectations we’ve set for ourselves. When I’m consumed by the ways I didn’t quite “measure up” for the day it usually can be linked to one factor: I’m functioning in a performance mentality mode. I’m living by the law. I’m expecting perfection from myself. This is an impossible task and one we aren’t expected to fulfill.

Although motherhood has forced me to come face-to-face with my shortcomings, God’s grace covers all of these things. The Perfect One was nailed to a cross along with all of my sin, failures, feelings of guilt, comparison, and all of those “I’m not good enoughs.” Christ death on the cross freed us from having to live by the law and welcomed us into the richness of His grace and mercy. I’ve found that as I slow my thoughts down with daily reminders of the Gospel and His truth, my days follow suit. As I sit and think about the grace that has been poured out for me, my load begins to feel a little lighter. And soon the antagonizing and self-demeaning thoughts in my head dissipate and my mind is free to swim in the sea of grace poured out for me by the blood of Jesus Christ. I’m kinder to my husband and myself. And I’m more patient with my kids. All the energy that I was expending towards those critical evaluations of myself has freed up more space in my heart and mind to be connected and present with my family.

A few nights ago I walked in on Ruby and Roman reading together. They had propped the book up on the recliner and were standing side-by-side flipping through the pages. My sweeties were chatting to each other in a language I didn’t understand, but I presumed was “twin talk.” Ruby had her little arm wrapped around his shoulders and would occasionally lean her head into towards his chest. I tried to be as quiet as possible because I didn’t want to interrupt this moment. I just wanted to be an observer, soaking up every inch of the sweetness found in my two beautiful children.

These moments are God’s little grace-givings, reminding me to slow down, reminding me that my children are only little for a short time and that our time here on this earth is numbered. I don’t want to spend my days here in a constant state of evaluating how my works are measuring up on the, “Is Kelly a good mom?” meter. After all, because I’m in Christ He says I’m enough. He defines my worth.

Friends, I’m praying that God would give you the strength to throw away whatever scale you use to measure your worth because it’s not found there. Your worth is found in Christ. Being present is about “rejecting the myth that every day is a new opportunity to prove our worth, and about the truth that our worth is inherent, given by God, not earned by our hustling” (Shauna Niequist).

Let His truth and the blood Christ shed destroy all of those unrealistic and self-imposed expectations you have made for yourself. Then, may you be free to walk in the grace that has been freely poured out for you.

Another Holiday Pregnancy Announcement That Isn't Mine

As a child, I anxiously looked forward to Christmas morning. I couldn’t wait to see what Santa had brought my sister and me. When I was six years old, I remember thinking I heard Santa’s reindeer on our roof. I excitedly ran into my sister’s room and jumped onto her bed and said, “Did you hear that?!” Playing along, my older sister said, “Yes!” The remainder of that conversation has drawn blank on me. But, I can still see two little girls giggling and smiling just thinking about what the next morning would bring. For many, the Christmas season exudes a sense of celebration, joy, excitement, awe, and wonder, and it should. After all, over 2,000 years ago our Savior was born. If that isn’t something to celebrate with family and friends, then I don’t know what is. But, for some, this holiday season is a reminder of great loss and pain. Perhaps the mother who used to greet you on Christmas morning with a pancake breakfast is no longer on this earth. Perhaps sitting in the living room on Christmas Eve reading the Christmas story feels different this year with the passing of your father. Maybe you were looking forward to sharing your pregnancy announcement with family and friends, but instead you are grieving the loss of your unborn child.

One of the most difficult holidays for me was Christmas 2014. Our baby’s due date was near the end of November, and I remember the anxiety that was building in my heart as the days moved toward Christmas. We were living in Louisiana at the time, and it was 70 degrees all during the month of December—bright and sunny. But I remember my heart felt very cold. I didn’t want to put up a Christmas tree, but Obbie insisted. And so, I obliged begrudgingly. I felt like there was absolutely nothing to celebrate. The baby who was supposed to be less than 30 days old and snuggling in my arms wasn’t there.

The influx of holiday pregnancy announcements filled my newsfeed. It was complete torture, but there I would find myself in the late hours of the night scrolling mindlessly through Facebook with a sad heart. Another holiday pregnancy announcement that isn’t mine, I would think to myself. Then the Christmas family photos would come—the ones with young couples and their children smiling.

Later that night, I saw a picture of six-year-old Kelly from Christmas smiling ear to ear. In that moment, I felt so distant from that little girl who was filled with so much awe and wonder. Those feelings were foreign to me. Obbie and I spent Christmas of 2014 with friends, and even though I was surrounded by a ton of people with their excited faces and giggling voices, I felt sad, empty, and alone. 

Although I am medically deemed infertile and though my womb is barren, my heart is full. And it isn’t just because our hearts (and hands!) are filled to the brim with the sweetest and silliest 18-month-old twins running around the house. After our miscarriage and before we started the adoption process, I was reminded that joy would never come through a positive pregnancy test, a child, or anything that this earth has to offer. The ultimate joy I was looking for, hoping for, and so desperately longing for was something that had already been given to me. It wasn’t a gift to be opened under the tree; it was found in the arms of my Savior. God was faithful to heal our hearts, even though our circumstances didn’t change. And as we continually ran to Him and (sometimes) fell into His arms, He filled us with the fullness of His joy. Not a temporal kind of joy, but an eternal one, the kind that enables you to sing, “It Is Well with My Soul” through life’s deepest wounds.

The holidays can bring about a sadness that on an ordinary day may exist, but during the holidays, it can seem more apparent. You are not alone. Perhaps you feel hopeless in your sadness. Perhaps your heart couldn’t feel farther from that warm, sunny, and 70-degree day. If you need to take a break from the holiday festivities, then do so, and don’t feel guilty that you have to step away from all of the excitement. But as you step away and as you grieve, my prayer for you is that you would not grieve without hope. May Christ give you the strength to grieve with hope knowing that God is the healer, protector, and redeemer of your heart. Grieve with hope knowing that God’s love for you is insurmountable and goes deeper than the pain and hurt encompassing you. Grieve with hope knowing that one day, the load you carry will feel lighter as you continue bringing your burdens to the cross. Grieve with hope knowing that the winter won't last forever and the sun will come out again.