10 Ways to Protect Your Marriage from the Pitfalls of Perfectionism

Something occurred recently that caused me to reflect on how my bent towards perfectionism has affected my marriage. Perfectionists are used to being told that they’re too hard on themselves, but what happens when that critical voice broadens its scope to include their loved ones? A recent interaction with my husband helped me see the harm that can be done in a marriage when the inner critic begins to direct its unrealistic chatter towards a spouse. 

My family was gathered around the table discussing parenthood when I shared that my husband sends the kids to me every time they have a request that requires the answer, “no.” I complained that I was tired of being the “bad guy,” and that I believe it’s only fair that we share the responsibility of setting limits and delivering answers our kids don’t want to hear. Without skipping a beat, Pete responded earnestly, “I’m scared that if I give the kids an answer you don’t agree with, then I”ll be in trouble with you, so I have them ask for your permission in order to stay out of trouble.” We all laughed at his candidness, and I didn’t argue his point. It’s true that I have a specific idea of how some things should be done, especially when it comes to parenting. The perfectionist in me admits that I tend to default to: my way equals the right way. I’ve always recognized this in myself, however, it wasn’t until Pete gave me his honest feedback that I really had an “a-ha” moment. 

My husband’s admission got me to thinking that: 

1. My tendency to have a critical nature towards his decisions can sometimes steal his ability to co-parent with me. While trying to avoid my criticism, he’s inclined to parent from behind me rather than alongside me. 
2. If I was willing to let go of the reins, I would be gifting my husband the freedom and confidence to parent our kids without my permission, and this would remove the pressure I feel to be the family’s primary point of contact for most decisions and subsequent actions.  
3. Maybe my husband and I are not alone in this dynamic. Maybe there are other fellow perfectionists who have yet to realize the consequences of an inner critic going rogue and shifting its gaze on external targets. 

I’ve heard men say that they feel like they can’t do anything right, and I’ve heard women complain that their husbands seem incapable of figuring anything out on their own. Ladies, is it possible that some of us are creating an unproductive cycle with our perfectionism and need for control? Is it possible that we’re unintentionally creating disconnect with the unrealistic, and quite frankly, unfair expectations that our husband’s live their lives and take care of the kids and the house and their work and themselves in the same way we do? Is it possible that we sometimes send a message that says, “I don’t trust you to make the right decision, therefore you should ALWAYS check with me first?” Is it possible that we’re inadvertently attempting to parent the adult who is supposed to be our partner in raising our children? In my case, to some degree, and at one time or another, I have to respond yes to a few of these questions. 

As hard as it is to admit, I think I’ve discovered that some of the frustrations in my marriage are by my own unconscious doing. I have established a dynamic, where the things that aggravate me the most are actually things I’ve unintentionally created with the, “my way or the highway” approach. Due to my tendency to often insist that things be done a certain way, the following patterns have shown up in our home, and maybe some of you can relate:

1. The popular, “go ask your mom.” 

If I’m trying to avoid decision fatigue, then I have to stop implying that decisions made without my input are wrong ones. If I criticize my husband’s choices too often, then I end up sending the message, “it would be easier for all of us if you just left the judgment calls to me.” In order for decision-making to be a shared task, and in order to divide the responsibility of giving our kids answers they don’t want to hear, I have to let go of control and remove my need to critique. 

2. The chronic forgetfulness of everyday items. 

It doesn’t matter where I set our son’s water bottle (which has gone with him to school every day for 3.5 years), my husband WILL forget to bring it with him. I’ve put it on my husband’s laptop, inside my son’s shoes, INTO MY HUSBAND’S LIVING MOVING HANDS, and he still manages to forget the cup. It’s as if he goes out of his way to NOT remember it. It’s a dark magic ladies! 

Here’s the thing I’ve realized though: As long as I insist that certain things are “my things,” the less likely it is that my husband will offer to take responsibility for them. From the very inception of our little family, I have taken on the role of packing the diaper bag, the overnight bag, the suitcase, the backpack, and so on. I’ve convinced myself that if my husband was in charge, he would forget something, so it’s better if I just take care of it. It may be true that he would fail to remember something, but with consistent practice I believe he would be less forgetful. Mommy’s with little ones pack a diaper bag every single day, and after awhile it’s second nature…it’s habit. When dads only have the opportunity to pack a bag while mom is traveling for work, it makes sense that they can’t do it on autopilot, and that they are more likely to miss something.

3. The questions I know my intelligent husband is more than capable of answering himself. 

“Where are Sonoma’s bed sheets?” Let’s see…we know they’re probably not in the fridge, the garage, the attic, the bathtub. There are a few plausible places: the linen closet, Sonoma’s closet, the drawer that pulls out from under her crib, which was made to hold bed sheets!

“Do the kids need a bath?” Honey, how do you gauge when it’s time for you to clean your own body? Do they smell? Is there sand in their hair? Has it been 4 days? Did they recently get sweaty or do anything active? If you answer yes to any of those questions, then please, for the love of God, bathe the children.

Again, I believe this goes back to deferring to me because I’ve insisted that I be in charge of certain things. I’ve unintentionally encouraged my husband to yield certain responsibilities to me because I’ve decided that I fold the linens better, I know where things “should” go, I’m a better judge of when a bath is necessary?? Really?! Who do I think I am? 

Ladies, I have no other choice but to conclude that I’m partially responsible for my own frustrations. In an effort to make sure things are done timely, and done the way I believe they should be done, I’ve taught my husband to relinquish some of his independence and question his self-sufficiency. I’ve disempowered him when it comes to certain areas of parenting, and I’ve unintentionally led him to believe that if he does anything or chooses anything without my approval, he may get it wrong, and the price to pay is my frustration, and sadly at times, my disgust. What if he says “no” to our children and I think he should’ve said, “yes?” Or worse, what if he says, “yes” when I think he should’ve said, “no?” My husband deserves better from me. The truth is that he is an amazing partner and an incredible father in so many ways, and he should feel confident in who he is.

1. He remembers garbage days and I have NO idea what days those are.
2. He gets things done quickly and does not procrastinate.
3. He takes care of our kids while I travel for work without a mention that it’s difficult or that I owe him anything.
4. He parents from a place of empathy that helps keep our home balanced and centered.
5. He’s so much fun and there is NEVER a shortage of laughter in our home.
6. He enjoys housework and does all the cooking. FULL STOP! How lucky am I?!?!?

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  He’s a loving father

• 

  He’s so much fun!

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  He’s a present father

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  He loves to cook!!!

He may not know where the kid’s bedsheets are, what time they nap, or when lunchtime has been for the last 6 years, BUT he knows what their hearts need…he knows how to love them unconditionally…he knows what makes them tick and how to avoid their triggers, he knows when I’m grieving my mom and just need to be held, he knows when it’s time for a breather and when it’s time to press in, he knows what his family needs from a father and a spouse.  

I realize now how unfair it is to expect him to take more initiative and make decisions more independently, when at the same time I often criticize him for how he does things, and jump on him for not “partnering” with me when he makes decisions without me. He can’t win this way…our marriage can’t win this way. I MUST encourage his efforts and be grateful vs. picking apart his choices. If I want him to feel free to do things without asking me how they should be done, I have to STOP insisting that everything be done my way. I’ve been too critical at times. I want to be more intentional about letting go of the reins and providing a growing space for healthy co-parenting.

As I reflect on this lesson I’m understanding that unchecked perfectionism can cause an unintentional wedge in a marriage, and I’m determined to try a new approach in 2020 for a healthier relationship with my husband. Below are some husband-approved ways we can all be more intentional about how we relate to our spouses. 

10 Ways to Protect A Marriage From the Pitfalls of Perfectionism:

1. If your spouse makes a decision or takes a course of action that differs from the choice you would have made, let it be. If it doesn’t cause harm, let it go. 
2. Start affirming. Stop criticizing. 
3. Offer encouragement when your spouse takes care of something without asking you first, even if they do it in a way you find less than perfect.
4. Make a list of all the things you love and appreciate about your spouse and share that list with them. Repeat as needed.
5. Say thank you.
6. Flip the script and ask for your spouses input, seek their opinion, try it their way. 
7. Praise/honor your spouse in front of others.
8. Check your tone. Speak to your spouse with the love, kindness, and respect you desire to hear from them.
9. Encourage your spouse to make decisions, and then provide them with positive feedback.
10. Admit your own mistakes and offer yourself forgiveness. When we’re willing to forgive ourselves, then we’re more likely to open the door for forgiveness of others.   

As I’ve taken inventory on the ways my perfectionism has negatively impacted my marriage I’ve gained insight that has helped me release much of my frustration, and I feel better prepared to move towards a healthier marriage in 2020. My hope is that by sharing this difficult lesson-learned, I can help others avoid the pitfalls I was previously unaware of. I pray that your marriage will be protected from the critical voice of perfectionism and that your partnership will be blessed with kindness, love, and grace. 

If you have other ideas that have helped protect your marriage from the pitfalls of perfectionism, please share.

How to Overcome Mommy Guilt

I think most of us would agree that there’s no such thing as a perfect parent, and yet so many of us struggle with mommy guilt. 

Have you ever thought, said, or heard and iteration of, “she’s got it all together. She has 5 kids, her make-up is always perfect, she’s lost all her baby weight, she’s always smiling…” I often wonder if we could defeat mommy guilt by candidly sharing what happens behind the social media curtain. If we posted pictures of the tantrums or shared stories of the times our decisions resulted in a train-wreck. What if we shared our lessons learned in an effort to encourage one another, help each other grow, confirm for one another just how hard this parenting job is and how messy it gets?

If sharing more openly could validate another mom, offer her hope, give her permission to forgive herself, or help cut the cord of guilt, then count me in. 

I make a lot of mistakes with my kids, and although I acknowledge that there’s no such thing as a perfect parent, I recently made a choice that caused shame to sit like a heavy stone deep in my heart. I hope this story will help you feel less alone. I hope this will encourage you to let go of mommy shame and hold onto grace. 

Our son, Isaac, recently had a sleepover at his friend’s house. My husband and I understand that the term “sleep” must be held loosely in these situations, so when it came time to pick him up, we expected that he may be grouchy, and we mentally prepared ourselves for a long day of less than stellar behavior. When he climbed into the car, it was clear that our expectations were spot on. Isaac, and the dark cloud traveling above him, shifted everyone’s mood immediately. Everything was a battle. His behavior ran the gamut…from whining, to picking on his sister, to yelling “no” at every request, and as the volume in our car intensified, my frustration boiled over. In a moment of exasperation, I spun around in the passenger seat to face him, and regretfully blurted out, 

“You know what!? This morning was perfectly lovely until we picked up Isaac!” 

I immediately felt hot shame and regret spread over my body. I quickly turned back around in my seat and fell silent. My husband (who had managed to remain calm) jumped in and attempted to remove the sting from my hurtful words. He explained that the morning was still lovely, but that Isaac’s attitude needed to change or there would be consequences. As my husband took the lead, I sat quietly, forcing back tears, internally berating myself. I could not believe I said something so hurtful, so mean, so thoughtless to my 5 year old, and I hated myself for it. As soon as Pete finished smoothing things over and setting new boundaries, I apologized to Isaac. I sought to use my mistake as a teaching moment, admitting to him that when I’m frustrated or angry I sometimes say things I don’t mean, and that I was sorry for my hurtful words. I asked for his forgiveness and although he offered it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had just wounded his precious 5 year old heart permanently. I was tearful for the remainder of the day while the critic in my head repeatedly attempted to convince me that I’m not cut out to be a mom.  

Fear was telling me that my mistake (and all the others that came before and certainly would come after) would ruin our relationship and we wouldn’t recover. I began to imagine that any self-esteem issues he may deal with in the future would be because of this seed (“your presence makes things worse”), which I planted in a moment of frustration. I couldn’t let it go and I couldn’t find grace, so I texted some faithful friends and family whom I knew wouldn’t judge me. I needed to confess to those I love and trust. I shared what I had done and that I felt like there was something wrong with me…like I wasn’t meant to be a mom. I admitted to them that there are days I make so many mistakes that I begin to wonder why God trusted me with these tender-hearted kids. I shared of the fear that whispers, “you will never connect with your son the way you hope and pray for,” and the fear that attempts to convince me that every mistake creates more relational damage than I’ll be able to repair.

It was my friends and family who pulled me up and out of my shame spiral and helped me to see more clearly. I hope that there are other moms who will be as blessed as I was by these reminders from my incredible community: 

• Every mistake is a learning opportunity and a reminder for both the parent and their children, that no one is perfect and THAT IS OK!  
• Our mistakes are perfect teaching moments! They are a chance to demonstrate vulnerability, and that being a flawed human doesn’t mean we aren’t worthy of giving and receiving love.  
• Every moment is a new opportunity to draw closer to our kids regardless of how many times we lapse in our parenting judgment.
• Every parent has said something(s) to their kid(s) that they regret. 
• You’re not the first or last mother to say something hurtful to a child from a place of anger or frustration, and as our children grow, these interactions will build resiliency along with a deep knowing of how to seek, offer, and receive forgiveness.
• When you ask for forgiveness you’re repairing what has been broken. 
• When our children know they are loved, then forgiveness is abundant.
• You can be a great parent AND be a human who makes mistakes again and again.
• Parents who are willing to apologize are modeling a behavior we hope all of our kids will learn and demonstrate in their own lives. 
• Shaming ourselves when we make mistakes teaches our kids to do the same. 
• We must give ourselves grace…parenting is not easy! 

One friend sent a beautiful prayer that brought peace to my heart, and I want to share it with you in the hopes that it will bring the same to yours. She wrote, and I now pray this for all the mamas who share in this struggle:

 “Dear Lord, I pray you give [the mama reading this prayer] love and peace in her time of struggle. I pray that you guide her through the hard times we have as parents and that you hear her heart as she aches from choosing the wrong words. I pray that you protect [this mama’s son and/or daughter] and allow [him and/or her] to receive [their mama’s] love and know that through mistakes there is an unfaltering love that outlasts and overcomes any words that are said. In Jesus name I pray, Amen.”

I want to encourage you to find someone you trust and disclose to them any mom guilt you may be holding onto. Give yourself and other moms consistent reminders to offer forgiveness and grace for your blunders. Share with other moms your imperfections as a reminder that we’re all doing our best, and we all falter. I pray we’ll help each other walk in grace rather than fall into the temptation of comparison and judgment. I pray we’ll encourage each other with words of love and truth. Let us remind each other that as we learn to give our kids grace we must do the same for ourselves. As our little ones learn and grow, we are truly learning and growing right along with them.

Grace, grace, abundant grace beautiful mamas!

The Grief Journey is a Grace Journey

In the midst of grief, grace is paramount. 

Whether you’re walking through grief or walking alongside the grieved, grace is a gift that offers space for vulnerability and healing. Grace is a gift that makes room for the pain to push its way through and out, over and over. Grace is a gift that says, “you are loved in your darkest hour. You are cared for even when the tears won’t stop. You are accepted and valued while you’re blinded by pain and tears. You matter, even at your messiest.” Grace is a beacon of light that shines on the long path of loss traveled by the grieved.

It has been less than 3 months since my mom unexpectedly passed away, and I am reminded daily how much grace is required to live through deep, heavy, aching loss. I’m reminded moment by moment that I rely heavily on heavenly grace as I put one foot in front of the other. I’m reminded that when grace slips through my fractured heart, I’m blessed to be surrounded by people who tenderly love me back to a place of hope and restoration, love and favor. I’m learning daily lessons about the surprising movements of grief and grace, and some of these lessons have been hard to tread through.

Just hours after my mom’s memorial service, I lost sight of grace, and made a decision I regret. I allowed hurt and disappointment to get the best of my weary heart. I was confused and afflicted by the lack of outreach I had received from 2 women in my life, and I could’ve let it go. I should’ve let it go. My mom would’ve let it go, and she would’ve counseled me to do the same. I could’ve chalked it up to immaturity, trauma, ignorance, or universal brokenness. I could’ve let it roll off my back, but that’s not what I chose. I chose to engage my hurt until it boiled over hissing for release. I chose to take a route that would bear no good fruit. The very same day I stood up in front of hundreds of people honoring my mom and her beautiful spirit, and claiming that I wanted to be more like her, I still chose to send a message to these women, sharing my hurt and disappointment. It wasn’t an angry message, but it was a message that carried a dose of shame, and it was not a message of grace.

It took less than one day for me to regret my decision. I quickly came to realize that I had allowed my deep hurt, my heavy grief, my exposed and raw emotions to be expressed as anger towards them, and I was heartsick by my choice. I felt guilt and shame for lashing out and I felt a dark sadness that my mom was disappointed in me. In an effort to repair the graceless mistake I had made, I sent the following message:

“I have not acted out of grace or love, and my mom was the perfect representation of both of those things. I want to be more like my mom. I’m ashamed that I’ve allowed my broken heart and hurt to turn into hurting you. I was hurt, but did not need to share it with you…Love should always lead and we love you…Grief at this magnitude wears on the nerves and can cause emotions and behavior that are outside of the norm. That’s where I’m at right now…outside of the norm. I am broken. Please forgive me.” 

Neither woman responded and I was undone. I could not stop the self-talk that said I deserved to be ignored, that my mistakes make me unlovable, that if I mattered I would be forgiven, that the only way I can be accepted is to get “it” right all the time. The shame swimming in my head was keeping me up at night, and I could not stop ruminating. Shame is toxic, and in the midst of grief it can be almost too much to bear. I had inadvertently compounded my grief by adding emotional pain that didn’t belong…pain that had nothing to do with losing my mom…pain that actually blocked my ability to get back to processing my grief. Here I was focusing on the hurt caused by my expectations rather than putting my energy into grief work and healing. Suddenly, I found myself sitting in shame…hating myself for allowing my wounds to wound others. What had started as disappointment in someone else was now a great disappointment in myself. 

Thankfully, I have friends and family who stepped in to remind me that I’m worthy of forgiveness and grace, just as much as the 2 women I had clearly hurt. A dear friend held me tightly and said, “you are allowed to make mistakes and you are forgiven.” She acknowledged that grief turns our world upside down and that we must be kind to ourselves during these times. She encouraged me to forgive myself so that I could refocus on my walk with grief. This is when I realized that the grief journey is also a grace journey, and without grace we may find ourselves experiencing additional pain and loss. The mistakes I’ve made on this path have taught me that in order for healing to move unhindered, there are 3 directions grace must flow in times of grief:

1. Giving grace to others while we grieve

Many people haven’t suffered significant and/or traumatic loss, and if they have, then their trauma may not allow for the kind of support we need. It is important that while we are grieving we make a decision to forgive others for their lack of understanding, their perceived insensitivity, and even their bizarre or misguided comments. Death is uncomfortable. It cannot be fixed. There are no words. It reminds us of our mortality and the fleeting nature of life on earth. To show up for someone who has just experienced a terrible loss takes courage and vulnerability. Try not to hold on too tightly to expectations of what people should do and/or say or how often. Expectations often lead to disappointment, hurt, and anger in a time we’re most in need of love, peace, and healing. Everyone is doing their best and as Toni Morrison said, “if they knew better they would do better.” Decide not to take disappointments personally. It is important to recognize that those who are showing up, are absolutely doing their best, and even those who don’t show up are living within their own emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual capacity…we are all doing the best we can.  

2. Giving grace to ourselves while we grieve

In the pursuit of healing, we must offer ourselves daily and generous doses of forgiveness for our mistakes. When our hearts are torn open, we are much more susceptible to overwhelm and uncharacteristic behavior. Sleep is diminished, anxiety is at the forefront, we can barely see straight let alone think straight. We are exhausted and worn out. Grief takes an emotional, mental and physical toll and we must be patient with our hearts, our minds, our bodies. The ability to focus on anything other than the pain can be impossible at times, and our minds struggle to keep up with even the most mundane activities, so please be gentle. Two hours of work may feel like 12 and two minutes of patience with our children may feel like a lifetime. As we walk through this fog, we can expect to stumble. We will make mistakes, we will say things we wish we could take back, we will hurt other’s feelings, and yet we must continue to give ourselves grace. We are allowed to be messy AND loved! We are allowed to say, “ I’m sorry. I just can’t do this. I need help.”   

3. Giving grace to those who are grieving

There is no telling how grief will impact a person or how a person will cope, but you can expect the bereaved to be forever changed. Please understand that the grief-stricken cannot see the world the way we saw it one moment before. Everything has changed…our reality has changed. We are heavy and pushing through something dark and deep…we often feel lost and disjointed. We will not be ourselves, so please offer abundant forgiveness and understanding. We are facing a long road of healing from an amputation. We must learn how to see and do things differently, think differently, live differently. Every moment carries a pulsating ache. We need love, acceptance, space to scream and pound and weep. We need space for our enormous feelings, but not distance. We need close, strong, loving arms, and undeserved forgiveness as we stumble through the haze of sorrow that surrounds us. We need tenderness even while our rough edges rub everyone the wrong way. We need to be reminded over and over that mistakes do not make us unlovable. We need forgiveness as we will do and say things that are out of character and likely uncalled for. Our world has shifted. Everything about the past, the present, and the future is now different, and we need hope to step forward. As we break before you, and disappoint you, and maybe even anger you, please forgive us. I’m begging for myself. I’m begging for others. 

As I walk the path of grief I clearly see the beauty grace has to offer. Unmerited favor and love create the conditions necessary for the grieved to move towards hope and healing. Unmerited favor and love give the grieved a chance to live with their head and heart above water, while they learn how to live without their loved one. Unmerited love and favor carry the grieved through the heaviest and darkest of days.

I have made mistake after mistake since my mom passed, and I am so grateful for those who continue to hold me close. I am so grateful for those who remind me to be tender with myself. I am so grateful for those who help me lean into grace for myself and grace for others.

I pray that you will join me in the practice of giving grace to those who may disappoint, and that includes ourselves. This journey is not meant to be walked alone, so let us surround ourselves with friends and family who allow unconditional love and favor to flow freely in ALL directions. Let us journey through grief and grace together.

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My mom: the most loving and grace-filled woman I’ve ever known

Dear Parkinson’s. Dear Mom.

Dear Parkinson’s

 

You will not have my mom.

You may take her outer strength,

but her inner strength blooms on.

You may take her voice,

but her love is loud and strong.

 

You may change her movement,

stiffer, and sometimes slow.

Fatigue may settle in,

and changes surely show,

but her spirit still shines large

and her beauty only grows.

 

You may be the reason

that she stops to take a rest,

but you can’t keep her heart from

pouring out kindness.

Our hero and our warrior

forever more, never less.

 

She’s mightier than you

in soul, and guts, and heart,

a solid pillar of peace,

you cannot pull apart.

No disease can steal the grace

that she perfectly imparts.

 

No amount of symptoms

could change her legacy.

No illness diminishes that

she’s all I want to be.

No consequence of aging can shrink

my mom, my hope, my peace.

---

Mom, you recently asked a dear friend about your value and belonging now that you have Parkinson’s. You wondered about your purpose as you struggle with no longer being able to serve others in the ways you always have. I am here to tell you on behalf of everyone that has ever known you, that your value and belonging have never been defined by what you could do for others. Your value and belonging have ALWAYS been defined by who you are and whose you are.

You are the most Godly, loving, kind, generous of spirit, selfless, peace-giving, and gracious person I’ve ever known. Parkinson’s will NEVER take away all the lovely and life-giving qualities that make you who you are!

What you’ve always given and continue to pour into your family is an everlasting love…a grace that surpasses a lifetime…an agape love that has wrapped itself around each of us for eternity…a kindness that is warm and unconditional…an endless lesson of how to care for others with compassion and servanthood.

My hope has always been and will always be that I could grow each day to be more like you. This prayer doesn’t change as you struggle with the symptoms of Parkinson’s. Parkinson’s can’t steal your value…nothing can! Mom, your value isn’t in how much you can do…how many hours you can help…how many “yes’s” you can say…how many brownies you can bake (although those are amazing!). Your value has and always will be the beautiful fruit of the spirit that you display every day of your life. Your value has and always will be the heart and spirit that God created in order for you to love others in ways they’ve never been loved. Your value has and always will be from a Father who loves you as mightily now as he did the day you were born.

You must know, and more importantly, believe that your family values you as much today, in this moment, as we did when you fixed breakfast every morning, sang us to sleep every night, attended every choir concert and ball game, took us school shopping, and helped raise our children. It has never been what you do for us…it has always been about how you love us. The love that pours from your soul has not changed with Parkinson’s, and no disease could ever steal our love from you. You belong. You are valued.

There truly are not words to describe how proud I am to call you mom. Jesus is Love and so are you! The love you share shines bright into the hearts of those who know you and that light is passed from person to person eventually touching people you’ve never met. The light you have imparted in other’s lives will never extinguish, nor will the legacy of your life.

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My Mom

 

Love pours from her so fiercely

as she wraps you in her peace.

Her arms are warm and steady,

kindness plays across her face.

 

She holds you up in prayer,

puts you first, because that’s love.

Serves hope with steady wisdom,

points our eyes to Him above.

 

An image of perfect grace.

A heart that wants to serve.

She gives with all she has,

wanting nothing in return.

 

She’s strong and full of beauty.

Wise and believes the best.

She quickly finds your worth.

Chooses service over rest.

 

Forgiveness given freely,

no judgment does she bring.

She looks to help others heal,

chasing out shame’s sting.

 

She’s mighty and she’s humble,

powerful and kind,

She’s everything I hope to be

I’m so blessed that she is mine.

 

My perfectly made, lovely, beautiful mom.                                                                                           

                                                                        

 

 

 

Fostering Refugees – The Stigma that Scared Me

A few months ago, at the height of reports showing kids being separated from their parents at the border, Pete and I came across an opportunity that immediately felt like a calling. We were encouraged to apply for a license that would allow us to foster these children until they are reunited with their parents or sponsor family, and we both were immediately on board. Since we submitted our application we have completed 15 hours of in-person training, approximately 22 hours of on-line Foster Parent College training, and amounts of paperwork that exceeded all reasonable expectations.

Last night we finished laying our hearts and our home on the line for a 4-hour foster home inspection and family interview.

Things that went well:

1. We’re now one step closer to offering a temporary home to the kids separated from their parents at the border. My heart is singing!
2. Our house is cleaner, safer, and more organized than it has ever been before. Good luck opening any of our cabinets ever again. If you need surgery, we have a platinum 250 person first aid kit that will SAVE YOUR LIFE! If you’re on fire, head on over and we’ll extinguish it immediately!
3. Pete and I feel closer as a couple after exploring our past, present, and future, our strengths and weakness, and our hopes and dreams for 4 hours with a complete stranger.

Things that could’ve gone better:

1. We could’ve done without the live scorpion on Isaac’s bedroom curtain during the SAFETY inspection!
2. Could’ve done without our Jack Russell fishing through the case workers purse to eat her hair clip.
3. When I answered that we had no weapons, Isaac could’ve forgotten (just like I had) that I have a Samurai sword from a leadership conference many years ago. #compassionatesamurai
4. Isaac and Sonoma could NOT have played their new giggle-inducing game, which consists of them repeating the words, “you’re a bad mommy, you’re a bad daddy.” #kidsarehilarious
5. Isaac could’ve avoided using EVERY innocent toy as a weapon of some sorts. The Minnie Mouse blow dryer turned full pistol last night!

We know we’re on the right path and answering a calling as none of this feels burdensome. We are thrilled for the next step and to minister love to these kids at a time of such trauma and fear and loss. #allgodschildren

Last night was also the first time we made our decision public by posting on social media. Until last night the only people we had shared with were immediate family and those we asked to be our references.

Since my post last night I have had quite a few people reach out wondering when we made this decision. I’ve been thinking a lot about why I hadn’t made our decision public until now.

The first reason I haven’t been openly sharing this decision is because I didn’t want it to look like or feel like we were seeking accolades. I knew a lot of our friends would be excited for us and I didn’t want our decision to move forward, when the movement got tough, to be influenced by the desire to please others or make others proud. I truly felt like this was a calling from the beginning and I didn’t want to be motivated or feel pressured by external sources.

Secondly, and sadly, I have been tentative to share our decision because of the negative reactions I feared we would receive from some. Due to the polarized climate we currently live in I was worried that our commitment to foster kids that have been separated from their parents at the border would require us to defend ourselves. I have heard so much hateful rhetoric throughout the year that paints immigrants as nonhuman and undeserving of love and kindness, compassion and grace. I could barely stomach the idea that our decision may be received with this level of vitriol…or any level of disappointment whatsoever. I was preparing myself for conversations with people I love and care about that would strip away my respect for them. I was arming up for debates on what “kind” of child “deserves” help. I was expecting heartbreaking backlash from at least a few people in our lives and I was afraid of how our relationships would weather the storm. But, the truth is…once an issue is made personal, hearts often soften. Once there’s a face we can touch, and a hand we can hold, putting a voice to a highly debated and sensitive issue, the dynamics begin to shift. Civility is often restored when the matter in question lands in our own backyard.

We have received an outpouring of love and support since my post last night and although it appears that some are more excited about our decision than others, there hasn’t been any nastiness or uncomfortable pushback. I must admit that I didn’t give the benefit of the doubt and for that I’m sorry. I hope our decision will help bring a name and a face to the debate around the border. I hope our decision will humanize this issue versus politicize it. I hope our decision will remind us and others of the inherent value of all people regardless of ethnicity, country of origin, race, color, religion, etc. I hope and pray our decision will be heart changing and maybe even life saving for all of us who are a part of this process.

A Daughter’s Response to an Ageless Father

My dad wrote the authentic and vulnerable poem below about his experience with aging and his hope in the Lord. I’m thankful that he gave me permission to share his poem on my blog. I’ve added a poem I wrote to him in response that he hasn’t yet seen. Dad, your influence reaches far and wide and my love for you is boundless. Thank you for allowing me to share your words with others…thank you for your courage in being open about how it feels to grow older. I learn so  much from you and mom every day!

Shrinking Man

Possibilities and dreams
the world was full of them it seemed.
Now my options fading fast,
life much smaller than my past,
Shrinking man.

Lovely wife and precious kids
Love my God for all he did,
Still feel his love as time flies past
But it remains a fact, alas
Shrinking man.

Influence fades as we get old,
Once sought for wisdom, now just told,
Powerlessness seems to creep in slow,
A mocking sense it brings of woe,
Shrinking man.

So on HIM I fix my gaze,
As my person fades away,
A day will come when I shall die,
And then I’ll see the reason why,
The process isn’t bad you see,
It’s just the path to victory.
With joy I’ll rest in His embrace,
Forever I’ll behold His face
Thanking Him eternally
That I will no longer be,
Shrinking man.

– Ron Little (my dad)

---

Larger Than Life – A Legacy of Love

My dad, my rock, my shield, my strength
grows bigger in my eyes, not weak
His heart expands, his wisdom grows
to soak it in, I draw close

In his eyes and in his deeds
God’s growing love is what I see
Each day, each year that passes by
his courage builds before my eyes

He shares his doubts, his fears, his pain
with an open heart he faces change
a vulnerable glimpse he offers us
a friend, a father, a man I trust

I’ve watched my dad grow in the Lord
evolve and change moving forward
a human life with sin and grace
reminding me I have a place

So, to my dad I want to say
as your “person fades away”
who you are to me remains
the many who taught me how to pray
A day will come when you will die
and I’ll always know the reason why
you loved the Lord with so much might
encouraged me to keep my sight
on the One of love and light
You will never be small to me
You will only be more free

– your daughter

Grace in the Trump Era

I’m about to get real about my sinful nature, so please be kind.

The election of Donald J. Trump has thrust me into a battle of flesh versus grace like I have never experienced before. At no time in my life have I felt more convicted yet less prepared to live out the message of Jesus, to love our enemies.

“…I say to you, love your enemy…respond to the very ones who persecute you by praying for them. What reward do you deserve if you only love the loveable? How are you any different from others if you limit your kindness only to your friends?” Matthew 5:43-47

I’ve read this scripture, and the many like it countless times, but it’s never called out to me like it does now. I’ve always considered myself a loving, forgiving, and tolerant person, but the emotions that have risen up in me the past 18 months have been remarkably ugly and uncharacteristic. I loathe the shadow that seems to be rising within me, the bitterness swelling inside. I fear a dangerous reunion with depression and anxiety lurking for me every night, and I realize that this way of living…this swimming in an ocean of toxicity is not sustainable. There’s a quickening in my heart every time I react to our President with disgust, fury, and despair, and I recognize this quickening as a challenge I’m woefully unequipped to sufficiently manage.

I desire to have the heart of Jesus towards Trump, not because I want to be a “good Christian” or because I have something to prove, or want to “appear” holy and faithful, but because I believe that love heals and hate destroys. I feel the tremor of the voice of Jesus deep in my soul saying, “this is your Mount Everest Renee’. This is your purpose, right here, right now. This is who I’ve made you to be…a voice of light and love in this moment, a peacemaker, a woman who learns to wholeheartedly give and receive grace because she fully grasps that every one of my creations is worthy. Your life can be a testament to how I love you and every other human on this earth without conditions, without reservations. If you will allow me to transform your heart so that you can love who you’ve deemed unlovable, then you will break this destructive cycle and breathe in the freshness of my tender spirit in a way you’ve never experienced.” I want to respond to this persistent rumbling in my core, but my human nature cannot summon it. Sealing the goal for grace in my mind has not translated to action in my heart. I pray for the Lord’s heart towards a man I believe is undeserving of grace and then I scoff at myself as I reflect on the knowledge that grace IS exactly that… undeserved favor! If he could earn it then it wouldn’t be grace.

Grace for Trump is not the only place I struggle.

I yearn to have the heart of Jesus towards myself. I intend to offer myself love and forgiveness, but every time I respond to others from a place of judgment and exasperation, my heart sinks in shame. There has been a heaviness, a sadness, a separateness that isolates me from the love I used to sense in my daily life. I fear there’s no place for me anymore. I wonder if the wilderness has swallowed me whole. I scold myself for lacking the heart of Jesus, even while I’m consciously seeking it out. My internal dialogue is not one of compassion or hope as I continually disappoint myself in the journey towards becoming love. I am dispirited by my grave inability to create a gentleness in my heart when I so badly want to be an example of the love of Jesus. This year, I have teetered between healthy accountability and severe self-shaming. I pray for the Lord’s heart towards myself knowing that no amount of good deeds could ever earn His blessings. If I could earn it, then it wouldn’t be grace.

This journey for grace is more wearisome than I expected.

I dedicated this year to grace and I am persistently tested, consistently repenting, consciously aware of every ungracious thought and action. I have hit my knees begging for the Lord’s heart towards those I don’t understand, those I vehemently disagree with, those I fear. I have grappled over how to love my enemies..truly, radically love them. It’s seemingly effortless to flippantly say, “I will love my enemies.” It’s a different endeavor altogether to react from a place of benevolence when I come face to face with an adversary’s hostile shouts, venomous words, and furious eyes. I want to behold myself and others with generosity. I want a lens of redemption to filter out the world’s perspective so that visions of love, grace and mercy are all that remain. I want an agape love to spill out of me in a life-giving stream. I want to feel the strength of God’s love lifting me up in my weakest moments so that I may lift the burden of lovelessness and isolation from those who are wounded and lonely.

I am starving for a grace that glides naturally from my being, but the war of words raging inside my head has done nothing to encourage the love of God in my heart, and so I repent. I repent for making it about me. I repent of my bitterness. I repent of my judgment. I repent of my anger. I repent of my need to be right. My flesh reminds me every day that I am incapable of transforming my heart without supernatural intervention.

Below is a visual of the candid and often unpleasant inner workings of my daily thought life. Beware that it is brutal. I am not proud of where I’m at, but I am hopeful, as I believe The Lord is working on me every second of every day. I rarely make it to column 3 (The Truth), and even when I do, it isn’t without kicking and screaming. God’s wisdom has yet to take root in my heart, but that is my constant prayer.

My Flesh = My Worldly Response = My Knee Jerk Reaction = My Sin	My Human Struggle for Grace = My Self Talk	God’s Wisdom = The Truth
Trump is evil and there’s little to no explanation for supporting a man who bullies and disparages war heroes, immigrants, refugees, minorities, women, the disabled, the dying, leaders of ally countries, literally anyone who disagrees with him!	Ugh! I hate this sin…this tendency to judge others that lives and thrives within me. I am not blameless. I am also guilty of making fun of others, laughing at jokes that are in poor taste, thinking less of certain people when I feel justified. In fact, I do this to Trump and feel TOTALLY justified! BUT, at least I’m willing to reflect on my faults and ask for forgiveness. At least I don’t live my life committing these offenses without any remorse! And, here I go again feeding the sin that enjoys its lofty place in my heart. Why can’t I get this grace thing right?! Why am I always making excuses for my lack of grace? Why can’t I will myself to love the way God loves? I’m so bad at this! I’ll never figure out how to love those my flesh has deemed unlovable!	Everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard…His gift of love and favor now cascades over us, all because Jesus, the Anointed One, has liberated us from guilt… Romans 3:23-24
I am physically ill as I observe how Trump fuels the fire of hatred! I literally can’t think of another person who can stir the malignant brew of animosity more effectively than our current President.	And yet I give myself a pass as I fuel the fire of hatred with name-calling, negative social media posts, and fruitless conversations regarding my disgust for him! I cannot fight hate with hate, so why do I keep ending up here?! Shame on me, shame on me, shame on me!	You are forgiven and so is he.
How is it possible that Trump’s Christian supporters can’t see how he capitalizes on fear to win their support and that fear is NOT from The Lord?!?!	Yet, I’m full of fear too! My reaction to his policies and vicious rhetoric sends me into a whirlwind of fitful nights and dark days envisioning nightmarish outcomes. I’m guilty of allowing fear to rule my heart, as I fear his presidency will bring us to war and/or tear our country apart. I provide fear with a playground as I watch the news, read his tweets, participate in relationships that serve as an echo chamber. I am once again doing the very thing I claim to hate so much! If my faith is in The Lord, then there would be no fear!	God will never give us the spirit of fearing men or others. The Holy Spirit gives us mighty power, love, and self-control…the light of revelation. 2 Timothy 1:7
I have yet to observe any behavior from Trump that exemplifies the love of Jesus, so why do so many “Christians” support him? Maybe I no longer identify as being a Christian when the reputation of some seems to be that of hypocrisy, intolerance, racism, nationalism, pridefulness, dishonesty, fear-mongering, hatefulness, bitterness, intimidation, un-forgiveness, belligerence, sexism…	I have not been appointed judge of moral character. Who am I to act as if I have everything figured out and anyone who disagrees is blind? Who do I think I am?!?! How many times have I encouraged others to dial back their compulsion to be right? How many times have I prayed for the softening of hearts and the opening of ears and the healing of relationships? Yet, here I am dialing into the rage and digging in my heels. HOWEVER, he has admitted he’s never had to ask for forgiveness. At the very least I have the insight to know when I’ve sinned and the ability to feel remorse. At least I’m looking for a way to show love even when I REALLY don’t want to. And here I go again with my righteous anger, my rationalization of denying grace. Once again I’ve failed!	God did not send his Son into the world to judge and condemn the world, but to be its Savior and rescue it! John 3:17
Trump’s narcissism, pride, and lack of any humility whatsoever makes it substantially difficult for me to look at his face, hear his voice, read his words. I look at him and feel evil, see evil, hear evil. He stands for everything my parents taught me to avoid: dishonesty, bullying, disrespect, dishonor, selfishness, vanity, anger, cruelty, hubris, and the list goes on and on. He represents the opposite of every quality I want modeled for my children. He is everything I was taught not to be. The things he is praised for are the very same things I’ve been punished for.	This posture of knowing all there is to know about a man I’ve never met shines a light on the sin of pride and superiority that lives inside of me too. My acidic reaction to Trump is not a seed planted by my Father. This is not a root that bears the fruit of love. This visceral reverberation spreads a twilight over my circle of influence when my desire is to bring the sunrise. So, why is this so damn hard?!?! If I want something SO badly, why can’t I just make it happen? Why can’t I turn myself into the loving and gracious human being I know the Lord desires me to be? I’m so frustrated with this journey. I feel like giving up on my search for grace. Lord, I cannot love the way you love without your heart. Please transform me! Please impart in me the Spirit of Love over the spirit of rightness!	We are both struggling sinners and yet “Christ proved God’s passionate love for us by dying in our place while we were still lost and ungodly!” Romans 5:8
If I’m supposed to give Trump grace, then he and every one of his defenders need to give (fill in the blank) grace! I can’t wrap my head around the people who stand up for his abhorrent behavior and then get defensive when someone reacts with anger in return. Trump started the racist and outlandish birther conspiracy against Obama, yet his supporters are up in arms over the Russian investigation. I hear people belaboring how upset they are with Robert De Niro for yelling an obscenity at an award show, yet these same people cheer when Trump calls NFL players “sons of bitches” and join in the chanting, “lock her up,” and applaud when he mercilessly picks on John McCain, and rallies around him when he encourages his supporters to physically harm protesters. I’m stunned and sickened that he can talk about grabbing women’s pussy’s and how easy it is to take advantage of them because he’s powerful and rich, but yet his base continues to talk about Bill Clinton. It feels to me as if deceit and sexual assault and misconduct are completely forgivable as long as you’re on the “right” side. The false virtues I’ve witnessed makes me definitively unwell. The double standard is outrageous! What is this hypocrisy?!?!	Again, grace is undeserved favor and I need it too! Grace does not wait for the person to get everything right before it shows up. It’s not even waiting for us to get one thing right. If I insist on Trump changing his modus operandi before I change my heart towards him, then I will continue to run low on peace and I will exhaust myself chasing grace. There is no positive change that can come from my despondency. Hope is is not ignited by a fire of vindictiveness. Redemption and reconciliation will never grow from a place of hostility. I must find a way to allow the permanent station of grace to take camp in my heart, but I’m finding it nearly impossible and therefore I’m afraid I’m failing at being Love.	“The Son of Man has come to seek out and to give life to those who are lost.” Luke 19:10 He is seeking us out even while we head in the wrong direction. Jesus views us through the eyes of love because we are made in His image and we have been reconciled to Him through the sacrifice of the savior. He does not withhold his love based on our behavior…He loves us in despite of it. The truth is that His transformative love is available to every one of us, and He will love me through my journey no matter how many wrong turns I take.
If you are offended for him, standing up for him, defending him, I feel like screaming, “he’s not the one that needs protecting! It’s those he oppresses and bullies and demeans and flippantly disregards that need protection!” If you can’t see the hurt he has caused, the hate he has stirred, the fear-mongering tactics he’s forced down the throats of anyone who will listen, then I don’t know how it is we are living on the same planet.	There are so many things I can do to fight injustice, protect the oppressed, love the hurting, care for the poor, and none of those things require vitriol. I only make my heart-sick and the divisions in my circle of influence more polarized when I engage in shaming, finger-pointing, blaming, outrage, and resentment. Sometimes I witness myself expending more energy on being against someone than being for those who need me to stand with them. I am so disappointed that I have come to a place where my knee-jerk reaction is to occupy a space of indignation rather than a space of love and grace. I am terrified that I will never escape this murky water I’m drowning in. Where are you God?! I beg you to lift the heaviness of this contempt that has made its home in my heart the past 18 months. I cannot move forward bearing beautiful fruit without your transformative power! This all feels impossible!	“Looking straight into their eyes, Jesus replied, Humanly speaking…no one can save himself. But what seems impossible to you is never impossible to God!” Matthew 19:26

I’m exhausted from this struggle. I’m exhausted just writing and reading about this struggle. Even while I seek His heart, strive to love the way He calls us to love, attempt to offer grace in all situations to all people, I feel abandoned to blindly feel my way through this chaos on my own. I don’t know how to give grace to Trump or to those who support him no matter what he says or does, but I do know that the Lord loves him and every single one of His creations regardless of our misdeeds and shortcomings. I know that as much as I focus on Trump’s need for forgiveness and grace, I need the very same things! I’m tempted to berate myself for my lack of love, but I know that’s not God’s desire for me. I know He is inviting me to rely on Him. Today, I feel alone. Today, I feel lost. Today, I wonder what road lies ahead. Today, I feel fatigue setting in as I relentlessly beg for a transformation. Today, my spirit is waning as I fruitlessly search for a heart I can’t create on my own. Today, I ask the creator to breathe new life into me. Today, I meditate on The Word that says, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” – Psalm 34:18.

I imagine 2 main responses to my struggle:

1. If you’re responding to me with disbelief, disappointment, or even disgust that I could have so much darkness in my heart towards a man I don’t even know, then I challenge you to consider that those are the very same feelings I share in response to Trump. If you’re feeling “column 1” feelings about me, let me be the first to acknowledge that I get it. If you’re sitting in judgement about me or anyone else during this highly polarized era of “othering,” would you join me in my effort to move to “column 3?” I don’t make this request because I need you to like me, but because I want us all to live in a place of wholeness and grace. I want us all to experience one another as God experiences us. I want us all to rest in a place of peace and joy as we face our daily lives in community with one another. I want us to find a way to give each other grace in this messy, broken, imperfect world full of messy, broken, imperfect people. I want us to conquer hate with love! I could try to convince you that I’m not a terrible person, but let me just admit that I’m a sinful human being who is seeking grace and striving to have the heart of the Lord no matter how many times I fail.
2. If you’re responding with disbelief, disappointment or even disgust that I am making an effort to “let Trump off the hook so easily,” I want to be clear that seeking grace is not justifying, excusing, or trivializing wrong-doings. I strongly believe that lies, racism, sexism, oppression, and hate all have to be addressed and consequences are necessary. Grace can be offered without brushing anything under the rug or minimizing the ramifications of someone’s behavior. I believe that in order to be a light in this world we must be pillars of truth, which requires the courage to speak against polluting messages and the willingness to condemn untruths. We must speak up and speak out, and I believe that doing so from a place of love is the only way we can escape the cancer of “column 1.” I believe rising above the fury is the quickest path to a place of unification and healing. If you connect with my “column 1” feelings about Trump, let me be the first to acknowledge that I get it. If you’re sitting in judgement about him or anyone else during this highly polarized era of “othering,” would you join me in my effort to move to “column 3?” I believe that only love is sustainable. I believe radical love and profound forgiveness are powerfully transformative. I believe there’s a path that allows us to stand up for what is right without succumbing to despondency and animosity. I believe there’s a journey ahead that doesn’t include hate, but rather calls us to practice a communion of reconciliation so that we may avoid the death of our joy and the joy of those around us. I believe we can be breath in breathless moments rather than oxygen fueling the fire.

My life is full of choices that can move me towards grace or away. If I am to be an ambassador of redemption I cannot do so by engaging in maliciousness. I am choosing to create a community that bonds over inclusivity versus causticity. I am seeking a way to stand for justice and offer grace simultaneously. I don’t believe it has to be either/or…I want to live a life of both. I want to find a way to hold the hands of the oppressed, the vulnerable, the hurting, and claim out loud what I believe is right and worthy without pointing fingers, placing blame, screaming judgement, spreading condemnation or ostracizing. I want to love loudly and stand boldly for what’s fair, just, and good without being against anyone. I want to be an example of grace’s transformative power. I want the Lord to brand my heart with the reminder that every single one of us is His creation. I want to remember that we all require healing and that love conquers all. I cannot in good conscience continue to wallow in bitterness when I know with all my being that hate will not defeat hate and shame will not fill hearts with loving-acceptance and compassion. I want to live from a place where: Justice is necessary and Grace is transformative!

As I continue to wrestle with grace in the Trump era, I invite you to join me in reflecting on this beautiful scripture:

“Don’t let anger control you or be fuel for revenge, not for even a day…And never let ugly or hateful words come from your mouth, but instead let your words become beautiful gifts that encourage others; do this by speaking words of grace to help them. Lay aside bitter words, temper tantrums, revenge, profanity, and insults. But instead be kind and affectionate toward one another. Has God graciously forgiven you? Then graciously forgive one another in the depths of Christ’s love.” Ephesians 4:26-32

And when we fail, may we remember that we are forgiven.

Grief Keeps Giving. Grace Keeps Saving.

Burt, it’s April and I miss you.

I love celebrating your life but I hate that I have to.

It’s hard to describe the shadows that creep in late at night, while I lay awake unguarded. The harrowing memories that plague my tired mind. It starts before I even consciously realize that we’ve slipped into April. It’s as if everything shifts. The air is thicker, the mood cloudier, the dreams lonelier, the heart heavier, the words insufficient. Like clockwork the grief creeps forward, relentlessly gaining intensity with each passing second. It’s difficult to explain the trembling in my voice that appears this time of year. I may have told a thousand stories that included your name, but in April I can’t even silently think of you without tears welling up in my worn out eyes. It’s as if the valiant effort my mind put forth all year to shrink that permanent hole in my life was all in vain…completely upended as the hole burrows deeper and wider overnight. I am flooded with the realness, the pain, the emptiness that comes with no longer having you here. It’s as if I’m flung back to that day 5 years ago and I have suddenly forgotten how to cope…forgotten the miles I’ve traveled in healing…forgotten how to live with the sorrow that visits always uninvited.

There are no words to adequately describe the aching I feel in my spirit to see you again…hear your laugh, hug your neck, listen to your stories, tell you mine, introduce you to your darling niece and nephews. There’s no stopping the flow of tears as I imagine how much you would love these precious little ones that have been born since you departed, and how much they would love you back. Just last night I read The Book With No Pictures to Isaac, the nephew you kissed on the knee as you passed in the stars. I couldn’t help but imagine the hilarious voices you would’ve invented while reading this book and how much he would’ve relished in your time together. I try to do it justice, to make you proud, to give Isaac a glimpse of the joy and silliness you brought into our lives. I give it my all even while fighting back the quiver in my voice.

I love that your legacy lives on in your family and friends, but I hate that you left a legacy so soon.

Your birthday is in April.

The last time I saw your smiling face and heard your voice was in April, on Easter Sunday, when we announced that I was pregnant.The last letter you wrote me arrived in April. It was red ink, with capital letters, in your beautiful architectural hand writing, clearly expressing your excitement that your baby sister was going to be a mom. You passionately described the unconditional love that comes with parenthood. This letter…the last letter you wrote to me still explodes with adoration for your beautiful girls.

Then there is May.

You left us in May. The last text message you sent the family was on May 11^th, the same day you died. While we were celebrating dad’s 70^th birthday, you were being greeted by Jesus. The call I will never forget came the morning of May 12^th. It was Mother’s Day…it was a day of mere survival because the unthinkable had happened…you had not survived. We delivered your eulogy on the 21^st day of May.

I hate these anniversaries.

Every year, for 2 months I feel myself receding into the shadows where words are meager and bitterness clings to the tip of my tongue. I’m tempted to numb the vivid memories of this trauma with hollow distractions and senseless behaviors. For 2 months a year I spend sleepless nights soaking my pillow with tears of regret, anxiety, anger, fear, heartbreak. For 2 months a year I can no longer fight off the visuals of your death, your viewing, your casket being lowered into the ground, your daughters faces as I drove them to the cemetery. For 2 months a year I’m reminded of the agony I felt completing menial daily tasks after you passed. I’m reminded of the first time I showered after your death and how I despised myself for any sense of relief I felt as the warm water poured over me. I couldn’t shake the guilt that came with knowing that you lost your life in a bitter cold river and now I was allowing this same hijacker of life…this water…rain over me as a source of comfort, washing away my tears. For 2 months a year I think back to that time I couldn’t bare to use punctuation because it felt too final. As if the energy it took to end a sentence was more than I could muster. For 2 months a year the dam breaks wide open and I can’t fight back the sobs or run from the gripping sadness.

Then, the strangest and most unexpected gift is given. Somewhere in the middle of those 2 months I find solace because you ALWAYS show up. You show up in a dream that someone shares with me. You show up in a Bob Marley song that’s playing in a random boutique I step foot in for the first time. You show up in a memory I had forgotten about. You show up in a picture I’ve never seen. You show up in a story I’ve never heard. You show up in a beautiful building that I instantly imagine you creating. You show up in a whisper reminding me that I must not take a moment for granted. I feel you standing beside me. You dare me to self-reflect on my attitude, my complaints, my propensity to take the blessings around me for granted. I picture your smiling face and imagine all I would give to prevent you from taking that hike by yourself…I imagine how many more breaths you could’ve had…should’ve had…and I’m convinced once again that I must use my time and the gift of life wisely and in honor of you. You show up during those 2 months to confirm once again that God’s grace is sufficient for me and His power is made perfect in my weakness.

It is during these wearisome months that it becomes crystal clear how God uses each heart wrenching moment to remind me of the preciousness of life. Every year, by His grace, I experience supernatural strength and peace to push through the months of tears and the nights laying awake thinking of you and what I would sacrifice to have you with us again. He comforts me in my most vulnerable time of need and assures me that one day we will meet again and it will be a reunion more beautiful than I could ever imagine. He joins me in my grief and assures me that my grief is not without hope. This year He gave me a song on Easter Sunday and it consumed my soul as I sang from the depths of my mourning heart, “death where is your sting?!” As I sang, with my arms reached high I imagined you with open arms ready to embrace me when it’s my time to journey home. He draws me into Him and I feel close to you again.

Burt, it’s April and I feel you near.

Burton James Little

“And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.” – 1 Pete 5:10

 

I Just Can’t With This Meme

You guys.

I can’t with this meme.

God “allows” violence in our schools as much as He “allows” sin in our hearts, disease in our body, natural disasters on our planet, tragedy in our lives. We live in a broken world. This place…this place is earth. This place is temporary. Death is the only sure thing in this place.

God’s goodness and grace are not swayed by our decisions.

God’s grace doesn’t come in levels based on our capacity to win His approval. God is not doling out certain amounts of grace based on our ability to please Him. The Kingdom of God is not an institution based on merit. God doesn’t use sticks and carrots. We are not earning His grace…He has already given it to us at Christ’s expense. 

God is not deciding who He will save or love. He already decided that His love was for everyone when He gave His son to save the whole world. God loves without boundaries and desires salvation for every one without prejudice. God is not punishing anyone. He is not turning His back on His creation. There is nothing we can do to earn more love from God and there’s nothing we can do that would cause Him to love us less.

God is love. GOD IS LOVE! And, if God is love and His love is limitless, then He most certainly is NOT “allowing” His precious creation to be murdered because of lack of prayer in school.

Also, if you believe that God is limited in His omniscient presence because someone said He’s not “allowed,” then we believe in a very different God. My God is NEVER powerless! He doesn’t restrain the outreach of His Spirit based on human laws or behavior.  He is ALL and everywhere and everything. He is ever-present! He is in countries that don’t allow Christians and He is in schools that don’t allow prayer. He is not bound by our limitations!

The brokenness we encounter in our life is the result of sin entering the world. God is NOT requiring a ransom of murdered children to atone for our removal of prayer from schools!! Even if removing prayer from school was a sin, the truth is that the power of sin was defeated when Jesus rose from the grave! 

He gave His son for our redemption but He does not force our hands with manipulation, bribery, or abuse. He does not pour riches on us when we choose to believe nor does He threaten us, disappear, or withhold His love when we have no faith. God is not deciding if my behavior today warrants a punishment or a blessing. He doesn’t sit idly by scoffing while our children die. That is not my God. He does not point fingers and say, “I told you so.” He is not answering our cries by responding that He can’t show up or be with us unless we’ve done all the right things, made all the right choices, prayed all the right prayers. God is merciful and He mourns with us as we endure an imperfect journey in this imperfect place.

I imagine non-Christians seeing this meme and immediately thinking, “what a limited God you believe in. What an unkind, uncaring, brutal God you worship.” I want everyone to know that my God’s love is bigger than laws. My God stops at nothing to show His mercy and grace and love. My God is not controlled or constrained by earthly governance.

This is who I believe God is and I won’t allow Him to be misrepresented. He saved me and He saves me every day. When the image of God is distorted I just can’t remain silent. He is love and His love cannot be silenced, disallowed, or removed by humankind.

Thank you Lord for being unshakeable, unmovable, and steadfast in your love no matter the time, place, or condition of our hearts!

Grace Y’all

I need grace y’all! (Nashville emphasis)

I was with my co-worker in Nashville for a conference and we were making the best of it. We were consuming All. The. Food. We were delighting in the music, the people, and the adorable boutiques.

My wallet was beginning to feel exploited as we wandered towards a stylish store named Hey Rooster. It was one of those stand-alone stores that is so cute and creative that my automatic assumption is, “there’s no way I’ll be able to afford a thing in here, but I’m going to enter with my head held high in the clouds while I dream of a day where I can purchase every precious item that catches my eye.” As we neared the entrance, my co-worker said, “you know we won’t be able to afford a thing in this place,” at which I carelessly replied, “anytime there’s only 3 things in a store I’m well aware that it’s out of my league.” It was an obvious exaggeration to make the point that this shop was too charming for me and my dilapidated wallet. It was a remark I would soon regret.

Once inside, the woman behind the counter asked, “what did you say? Something about only having 3 items in the store?” My first response was to laugh and explain how niche’ stores are typically too expensive for my blood, but how I still love to browse because they fill me with inspiration and help me aspire to a day where I won’t feel the need to joke about boutique shopping. I quickly realized that she did not find my wisecrack humorous and quite the opposite, she was deeply offended. I can’t recall all that was said, as I began to burn with shame and sadness realizing how my statement had hurt her. She commented that she wasn’t just an employee but the owner and that even the person behind the counter deserves to be treated with dignity. She pointed out that her peanut butter may be more expensive than the peanut butter at a chain store, but that her peanut butter was of a quality unsurpassed. I agreed whole-heartedly and quickly apologized for my insensitive sarcasm. I told her that her store was lovely and she continued to explain to me the quantity of blood, sweat, and tears that goes into building and running a small business. I repeated how sorry I was and that my intent was not to offend.

As I browsed her merchandise I internally hammered myself. How could I be so inconsiderate? How could I be so impolite? I have a sister-in-law who is a small business owner and I have the utmost respect for entrepreneurs. I know the struggle and the heart and the endless hard work it takes to do what this young passionate woman was doing. How could I make her feel like this? I was in pure self-disgust and disgrace mode as I brought an adorable book to the counter to purchase for my son. As she handed me the bag I said again, “I’m really sorry.”

She replied, “I can’t give you prices like you get at all those chain stores you’ve been shopping at (gesturing to the bags in my hand), but I can give quality and I deserve to be treated with respect too.”

The moment I was outside with my co-worker I began to cry. I was devastated that my words had caused someone to feel belittled. Never in a million years had I expected to make someone feel disrespected or unappreciated. I wanted this small business owner to understand that my comment was about my own financial insecurities and had nothing to do with her abilities or her store. I wanted her to know how much I respected and admired her skill. I wanted her to know me and assume the best. It was tearing my heart out that I had hurt a stranger and she would never know that I’m not the person she had decided I was.

My co-worker, being the lovely friend she is, assured me that I wasn’t in the wrong and that the store owner had been inappropriately accusatory. My response was to imagine that the store-owner’s friends would most likely console her in a similar way when she told the story from her side. Clearly, we were interpreting the exchange from a one-sided place and so was she. She did not know me, my heart, or my intentions and nor did we know hers. As much as I wanted her to believe the best about me and my intentions, I would need to do the same for her in order to break the cycle of shame. It was in that moment that I realized:

WE ALL NEED GRACE!

It’s true that my intentions were not mean-spirited and when I realized how my words had been translated I was quick to apologize. Anyone who knows me well would probably conclude that the store owner had been unfair. It’s also true that there was no benefit to me being angry with her. I have no idea what she was facing that day, what news about her business she may have just received, what review she may have just read, what negative voices she fights off, what insecurities she lives with each day. Anyone who knows her well might likely conclude that I am an unaware, tone-deaf and selfish woman who needed to learn a lesson. The truth is that in that moment we both needed grace. In that moment neither of us needed to be berated. In that moment we both required grace for each other and ourselves. In that moment “shame on you” and “shame on me” was an unhelpful dialogue and monologue.

Many times in my life I’ve chosen to point the finger at another person in order to avoid the pain of my own mistake OR I’ve carried my mistake like a cross that weighs me down with self-condemnation, but not this time. This time I felt the deep need to release the burden and embrace the truth that all people make mistakes and at the same time can be beautiful, kind, loving, forgiven, and SHAMELESS people!

There is no redemption in pointing fingers at others or chastising ourselves. There is no healing in blaming or taking blame. There is no honor in heaping shame on another or drowning in it ourselves.

GRACE Y’ALL…WE NEED IT!!!

I would like to bless the beautiful woman who owns the store Hey Rooster. Please consider ‘Paying Grace Forward’ and check out her delightful store at: https://www.heyrooster.com