six!

Y'all this past year had some big growth opportunities!

 Early on in your days of being 5 y'all navigated the loss of a great grandparent.  We saw again how deeply empathetic you are, and the questions you asked about life and death revealed how much you think about things that are hard.  While I was in Michigan and daddy explained about hospice care, Lincoln, you were convinced that we should take grandpa to a different doctor so he could get better.  You couldn't begin to imagine why we weren't trying.  I hope you always have a determined spirit that wants to fight to make things better.

Over the last year, there were many headlines with a phrase that caught your attention - "black lives matter."  We don't shy away from conversations about our different skin colors, so innocently when you heard the newscaster say "black lives matter," Franklin you said, "I am a black life."  And we agreed that you are.  For the next few days you would casually categorize the people around you as a "black life" or a "white life" and as awkward as that felt, it was good for all of us to enter into the conversation.  We talked about the things that make us the same and the things that make us different.  We talked about how sometimes people treat people differently because they are not the same.  You looked at us like that was a crazy thing to do. We hope you'll always be aware of the beauty of the people around you, whether you are the same or not, that you'll recognize the uniqueness of each soul God puts in your path.

You completed pre-K like rock stars, and it feels like so long ago! You did so well in your first "school" environment!

And although it was quite hard on momma's heart you headed off to Kindergarten like you have been ready your whole lives. 

We are so proud of you as you go to school each day - to your separate classes.  While you seem glad to be together at home, you haven't once asked to be in the same class.  You seem to enjoy having space and getting to be your own person.  We are so grateful that you have teachers that love you both so well - and that send the same homework home each week!

Its a joy to hear about how you are doing in your school work, but also as you socialize with your classmates. Now that you are in Kindergarten, you have practiced tornado drills, and fire drills, and even lockdown/intruder drills.  Each of these drills have had follow up conversations at home, and as much as it feels like you are too young for some of these talks, it is also a gift that you come home and want to ask us the hard questions.  We pray that we will always be a safe place for hard questions.

This turning six, it feels like a weird milestone for a momma.  So big, but still so small.  There is a little more letting go, sending you off to grow, and welcoming you home to refresh.  Little increments now, that will continue to ask for more letting go as you grow older.  I sense it now, especially on the days when you try something new.  Like how you were afraid of the ocean at first, but then couldn't stay out of it.  Or when you did the Spartan Race and I worried that it might be too hard, or you might get hurt.  You just go out there with all you have and do your best. We are so proud of you!  We are so glad God made us family.  We pray that you will always seek Him in your life, listening for His voice and following where He leads! Happy happy happy (belated) birthday!  I know SIX is going to be great!

today

We have a poster-sized frame near our front door.  Its right above the very first piece of furniture Brad and I bought - an oak phone stand.  On the phone stand sits a typewriter that belonged to my Grandpa Lewis, he was a collector.  I scribbled "write your story" on a piece of paper and put it on that typewriter.  I had received a poster in a Causebox awhile back and that frame fit will in the space so it worked.  Last Christmas I wanted to letter something Christmas-y for the it so I did.

 I feel like its a bit amateur-ish but I love that song and I believe those words, so it came back out this Christmas too.  Last week, I decided I wanted to put something else in the frame as we started the new year.  I wanted a message for the boys as they went out the door.  {And maybe a message for me as well.}  I did what I always do when I am on the hunt for a new idea.  I went to Pinterest.  I searched "entry way signs."  I couldn't find anything with the right words though.

That night I couldn't sleep.  I found out the hard way that frozen coke has almost the same amount of caffeine as unfrozen coke.  Sleep is often elusive for me, and it takes very little to nudge me toward the wide-awake side of the spectrum.  I thought through my Facebook feed and wondered if I had forgotten to pray for anyone, so I prayed again for all the things I could remember that I said I would pray for.  Then I started thinking about that entryway sign.  I knew I didn't want it to be cutesy, but didn't necessarily want it to be dramatic either.  Sometime in the wide-awake-middle-of-the-night God reminded me that I could just write my own words for our boys.

So Wednesday morning, the last day of our glorious Christmas break, I started writing some words out after Brad left for work.  I prayed for guidance, but it wasn't a long or elaborate prayer.  I settled on something I thought might be just right + began sketching out how I might space it on the paper.

As the boys voices grew louder outside my bedroom, I knew my lettering time was ending for now. I left my papers and pencils and pens on my table and wandered into the house to see what the boys were doing.  I don't remember many details, normal stuff, I guess. When Brad came home around lunch time, he didn't feel well.  He had chest pain, and didn't feel right.  He mentioned that the flu was going around in Georgia + Alabama. He had chest pain the day before too, so it was a bit concerning.  I thought he had a respiratory infection or something.  He couldn't get an appointment at our clinic so they told him to go to the ER.

Sometime later, after the text that said he was done with triage came a text that said his EKG was fine. I was relieved, and also grateful that perhaps the chest pain complaint would get him in and out of the ER quicker.  Eventually the texts told me about the labs they were running and what not.  In a round about way he mentioned that he had an IV and that they had given him nitro and aspirin as a precaution as soon as he arrived.  The next text said, "they are admitting me".  And then there is a whole string of back and forth texts. Brad confessed that he thought it was going to be heartburn and I replied that I surely would have gone with him if I had known.  I wondered what to do.

Its now late afternoon on the day before the boys return to school after 20 days off.  I decide nobody would go to bed on time if I left right then. I sent some messages out to framily.  I called my parents, each phone call a new opportunity for me to burst into tears, while my mom + dad had to endure awkward silence until I could get a word out. I told Wilson, as chill as possible, and asked him not to tell his brothers just yet.  I tried to take deep breaths and prayed for Brad.  And then I saw my papers and pencils and pens all laying out on my table.

I read the words I had written that morning.

"Today, you'll walk out that door and it might be amazing, or it might be horrible, quite possibly something inbetween, we can't know for sure.  But we know the Maker of every day.  He is Good, He is Kind. He is True. And He has prepared YOU for this very day.  He goes before you.  He is with you.  Seek Him. Love well. Give grace. Spread hope.  He will lead you home."

I would have never guessed that Brad would be in the hospital later that day.

But God knew what this day would hold.  He knew it when I looked on Pinterest for an entryway sign.  He knew it when I was wide awake the night before.  He knew it when I sat down to write some words that morning.  I saw those words.  And peace rushed over.  Of course, by this time, we had a lot of people praying for us too.  I knew I didn't need to panic.  I knew He was with me. I texted this picture to Brad.

By the time I was able to get to the hospital to see Brad that night, we were pretty sure that all was well.  They continued labs overnight and every test indicated that his heart was fine.  He was released the next day. This week he followed up with his primary care manager and he is starting some meds to help lower both cholesterol and blood pressure.

We've all eased back into our daytime schedules and I was able to finish up this print.  I had to wait longer than I wanted to have it printed, but I think it was worth it. I was so excited to get it up on the wall.  I was hoping it would match with the colors in our living room -- bonus points because it looks pretty good with my Grandpa's typewriter.

And while I liked the words that morning when I wrote them, they are even more special to me now.  I am grateful for the way God revealed His faithfulness through this hard day, and the reminder that He will carry us through each day.  Amazing or horrible or something inbetween.

P.S. I will likely add this to my etsy shop in the next week.  I am finishing up a custom order before I do any other etsy work.

welcoming

"is wishing I could give my husband a hug."

That was my facebook status 8 years ago today...back when you updated your status in some sort of first-person sentence or some such. It pops up in my timehop each year now, reminding me of the day that Brad's Aunt Linda passed away. He was deployed, we were in Oklahoma and our family was in Michigan.  I wished more than anything that I could give him a hug that evening.

It has become a habit to spend some time thinking about her on this day, remembering the moments I had with her.  We didn't have a long history and we didn't spend many occasions together.  But the time with her lodged deep within and I carry it with me.

I admired that she was a creative; how she embraced her art and shared it well.  I felt I could have asked her a billion questions about all of it, but I never did.  I hope I told her that I adored her work.

a lampshade Aunt Linda painted, it brightens my workspace

Beyond her creativity though, was an inner warmth that drew you in.  I will never forget a particular time when she encouraged me so deeply.  We were at a family wedding, Brad was deployed.  I was there in all my social awkwardness. As we entered the reception after a few family photos, I felt alone and on edge.  The immediate family was all in the bridal party so they were all seated together on stage. My in-laws were occupied with parents-of-the-groom things and I didn't even know where to sit with my boys.  I sat nervously at a table by myself with Wilson - The Non-eater; and Walker - The Unpredictable. Aunt Linda and Uncle David came up, and Aunt Linda graciously asked if anyone was sitting there. The way she phrased the question allowed me to invite them to join me without it seeming like I was a loner. When they sat with me, others joined us soon after. As the meal got under way, I wondered if somehow Wilson's lack of appetite or Walker's lack of table manners would be off-putting to Aunt Linda and Uncle David.  I was a bit of a sweaty-wreck over it.  They had five well-behaved children and I was feeling all sorts of insecurities.  As we ate, Aunt Linda told a story about when her kids were younger, about how Uncle David had been travelling a lot; and someone did something absurd in public.  I wish I could remember the whole story, I can't.  All I remember is that as she shared with me, I felt welcomed and accepted and loved. My insecurity melted away and the tension in my shoulders faded. She simply shared a story and in doing so, she touched my heart in a profound way that I will never forget.

When December 15 rolls around and I think about her, I pray God would make me a bit like Aunt Linda, that He would weave a welcoming spirit into my soul, that I would be one that makes those around me feel accepted and loved.

Preparing a Table

"You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
6 Surely your goodness and love will follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever." Psalm 23:5-6

A new school year is always a time of reflection for me.  And this year, the time for reflecting has been unfolding slowly.  I have felt rushed and stretched more than ever, which has been surprising because its the first time that all four boys are in school all day.  I've been hustling and reaching my goals for each day, but its felt pretty hallow and instead of feeling accomplished I have been left feeling frantic.  My soul was not made to make lists and crush goals.  I crave quiet and creativity.  If I forget to leave space for those things, it doesn't matter how many things I mark off of my to-do-list, I will still feel incredibly empty at the end of the day.  I know this about myself, yet I forget.   Or I think "its a new season, maybe it'll be different."  But no matter the season, my wiring remains true.  

So this week, I didn't go to any group fitness classes.  I went for long walks with a few soul-feeding podcasts, and I made time to sit and read.  I let myself doodle without an end-product in mind.  

Not surprisingly, I felt less frantic, less stretched.  God meets me in those quiet, creative places and I miss Him when I don't remember to slow down.  I had this vision of sorts, of Him setting a table before me.  With the boys all in school, its as if the table has been completely cleared.  And everyone has asked me "what will you do now that they are all in school?"  So I kept trying to figure out what to pile up on this table.  I felt an urgency to have a satisfactory answer for how I fill my time.   

And, finally, this week God said, "Let me set the table.  Trust me to put what is best before you.  Just stay at your seat, don't grasp, don't hustle.  Just wait for me."  

If I am honest, the things He is setting before me aren't necessarily the things I expected.  It reminds me of when the boys come in before dinner to set the table and they ask, "plates or bowls?"  My answer will give them a hint about what we are going to eat but they don't know fully yet.  

I don't know fully yet either.  So I am trying to just sit before the table and allow Him to set it before me.  I need to trust Him to prepare this table before me -- in the presence of my enemies.  And I realized sometimes, "my enemies" are inside my own head. This week I have felt a clear call to find my voice again, to write down my words; and that sends me to a familiar place of self-doubt.  A place where questions begin with "why would you think your words matter?"  "what do you have to say that hasn't been said?" 

I also began a part-time job at our church in the spring.  This is certainly not something I sought out for myself.  I have all kinds of doubts about whether I am able to do this job well and take care of the needs of my family everyday.  My inner dialogue continually berates me for not being more organized and more driven.  Yet, when I look back on how this job came to me its obvious that God chose it for me.  So I need to trust that He has a plan for me in this position for this time.  I need to trust that He has prepared this table before me and I can tell those inner enemy-voices to shush it. 

I certainly do not have it all figured out after a week with less hustle.  I do have a renewed hope that God is able to accomplish what He desires in my life and that He is able to do it in ways that I can't predict. I feel less pressure to get it all done and more peace to trust that He can make a way.  I have less guilt about building quiet and creative time into my day.

on turning forty

It's true, I am turning 40.  And I am surprisingly OK with that.  Although its taken some time to get here.

When I was younger, I thought 40 was so old.  {Didn't we all think that when we were younger?}  I thought by the time you turn 40 you have your whole life figured out.  And as I got closer and closer, year by year, I thought "Dang! I do not have my life figured out, I cannot be approaching 40."

But over the last few years there has been a subtle relenting of that idea of a "figured-out life."  I am more at peace now with what I don't know.

My understanding of God and the sovereignty of His ways has dwindled.  I have accepted that He is so far beyond me that it is lunacy to ever believe I could have him figured out.  And this acceptance has brought floods of peace in the midst of dark days + swirling questions.  I don't have to figure Him out, I don't have to explain away His motives, I only need to walk with Him.  I only need His presence, not His reasons. I've come to Him angry and broken and disillusioned and every time He has met me in that place and His presence has been enough.  When He hasn't given answers, or changed circumstances; He has proven faithful anyway and it is enough.  More often than not, I lay down my questions and sit quietly with Him.  It is a tender place to be, and my younger self wasn't quite humble enough to be comfortable there.

Mothering has been a place of challenge and joy and laughter and tears.  I gained three more boys in this last decade of life.  I think for sure, I thought 40-year-old mothers had the gig all nailed down.  Turns out, I am still learning.  And I recognize that I will continue learning how to mother my whole life long.  I use to think that mothering should look a certain way, but now I know every mother emerges differently.  We are a spicy family and I have let go of the dream of "precious" ever being a descriptor for the way I mother.  I love who my boys are growing into.  I appreciate the gift it is to see them grow.  I try to savor the moments, I really do. If I am being honest, certain moments are harder to savor than others.  For example, some nights I sit and watch "Dr Who" with The Biggest simply because I know someday he won't want to sit and watch anything with me. {Full disclosure, some nights I sew instead because I can't even with all the alien things on that show.}

In many ways I feel a contentment with 40 that I didn't anticipate.  Sure, I am still a little mad that my metabolism has finally made it obvious that I cannot eat junk all day and get away with it.  And yes, there are gray hairs here and there that refuse to be hidden. [I don't mind really though, because my much younger husband still has a few more grays than I do.]  {Thank you, Jesus, for your tender gifts.} I love this life that God has granted me.  I like the way He has made me, and the intentional way in which He calls me to Himself.  I am confident that He will continue to lead me in the way that He has designed for me and I no longer feel responsible to map things out for Him.  Its much more relaxed this way.  He has blessed me with a husband that loves well and listens long.  He has given me these four amazing boys that are such a crucial part of His redemptive work in my life.  I have friends that pour Truth into me. And sisters that have accepted that I am the worst when it comes to phone calls. I am so loved, by God, by my family; and I know it -- which is a treasure in itself.   It would be madness to not be content here.  So bring it 40, I'm mostly ready.

birthday boys!

Once upon a time I was pretty good at math.  But right now, I can't for the life of me figure out how it's possible that y'all are FIVE.  I mean, really.

You continue to be some of the most absurdly adorable kids around.  And I am not even close to the only person that thinks that - although I might think it the most because I am your momma.  Just today, the lady at the front desk at the YMCA gave me bubbles to bring home for y'all.  She was so disappointed that you weren't with me. We never go to the commissary without someone wanting to catch up with y'all. I am not saying y'all are perfect, because we know that is not true.  But you sure do bring some delight with you wherever you go, and you spread it around to anyone that is looking for some. 

    

 Franklin you are a mastermind.  You are constantly thinking.  Sometimes you are trying to figure out wht is for dessert so you know how to approach dinner.  Other times you are wondering about why the wisemen brought Jesus "Franklincense."  You ask a lot of questions about how things work and why things happen the way they do.

You love to help.  Recently you've shown interest in wiping off the table after dinner, and I know Walker is hoping you'll end up taking the job over for him.  You are usually the first to volunteer if Daddy or I ask for help with something, and you generally like to finish a job once you've started -- unless its picking up your own bedroom.

You love your brothers quite fiercely and you'd take their side over anyone else's almost every time.  You really love spending time with your big brothers in their bedrooms.  Its a rare treat for you and its adorable how much you like it.   You like to win, but you don't want to work for it.  We are hoping maybe the feeling of winning will eventually be a motivator for you.

You still love the sweets better than just about anybody else in our family {possibly the world.}  You can still eat them faster than anybody else too.

Lincoln, son you are so sensitive.  And not sensitive in the "oh that hurt my feelings" sort of way, but in the way that means you feel things down deep.  And not only do you feel them, you think about them -- for a long time.  You ask hard questions and you are patient with me when I struggle to give you an answer that satisfies you.  When I had some sad, sad days you would sit close to me to make sure I was OK.  You love your family, and not just the ones that live here.  You love your WHOLE family and you make big plans about us getting ALL together.  You often ask if we are going to "meme's house" or "yaya's house" or "grandma's house" and you never seem quite happy with the answer when we tell you its far far away. 

You are a defender of justice, in big and small ways.  If Franklin doesn't get a treat, you'll split yours in half.  If Wilson shoves Walker you'll run at him full-steam ahead to retaliate.  You like things fair and predictable; which isn't always practical here on earth.  You are pretty fearless most of the time.  You try new things and meet new people.  You are especially brave when Daddy is by your side. 

 You two are absolutely unique in the way God made you.  People still occasionally ask me "which is the bad one?"  This question always makes me wonder What On Earth?  But I almost always answer "depends on the day."  {And honestly, some days my answer should be "me."}

 Occasionaly you "trade" personality traits.  Like in the pictures above, Franklin is being silly in the first one and Lincoln is in the 2nd.  You refuse to be labeled and we don't mind a bit.  We love you both so very much.  Its fun to see you get bigger even when we tell you to stop growing so fast.  You are stuck with us forever and always no matter what.

honor your pace

So I have carried this post around in my head for weeks.  And I have hesitated to type it up because I didn't want to write another post about running.  Truthfully, its not r-e-a-l-l-y about running, but the half-marathon is the backdrop.  I hope you'll hang with me even if running is the last thing on your agenda.  Ever.  Because I learned something humbling from this half-marathon + I think it might encourage you with whatever goals you set.  

As you know I set out to run a half-marathon in November, I printed a 12 week training plan and followed it pretty closely.  Then 10 weeks in to the training, I got weird + panicky and felt like I should set a finish-time-goal.  As if somehow running 13.1 miles all at once, for the first time ever was not a clear enough goal for myself.  

On race day, I completed my 13.1 miles.  Honestly, it was mostly magical.  Brad snapped this picture as I crossed the finish line.  You can see I was happy.

But this really weird thing happened when I found out my time.  I was a 1 minute 34 seconds behind my goal of finishing in 2 hours + 30 minutes.  And it really bothered me.  So much so that I told nearly everyone that asked me about the half.  This disappointment colored the whole experience.

Its weird to think that I ran 13.1 miles and ended up mad about a minute and thirty-four seconds.  Its like it wasn't good enough.  It got pretty awkward inside my head.  When I reflected on my run, it was so great, lots of joy.  Yet when I thought about my finish time, there was discontent.  I wanted to just move on from it, but God kept urging me to explore this space between the joy + the discontent.

As I prayed, this phrase about 'running well' kept coming to mind.  I knew it was a verse but didn't know where, and I wanted to find the context.

"You were running well.  Who prevented you from obeying the Truth?  This persuasion did not come from the One who calls you."  Galatians 5:7-8 HCSB

In reality, my novice half-marathon training plan didn't have any goal times or speed work. All along I just ran at a pace that was comfortable for me.  My goal was to run a half-marathon, but as race day approached I decided the goal should be to run a half-marathon in under 2 hours + 30 minutes.  It was a mistake.  I only added to the original goal because I thought "all the other runners" had finish-goal-times, and I should too.

As I reflected on this, I realized that we do this kind of thing ALL THE TIME in all different sorts of ways. We add to our goals to somehow make them more measurable -- a way to make ourselves measure up. At times, we even allow the enemy to influence these decisions.

Perhaps we set the goal that we want to eat dinner at home more frequently, so we make the meal plan and the grocery list and we cook three nights in a row.  Maybe the fourth night the brown rice is crunchy and kind of gross.  Rather than celebrate the first three nights, we focus on that dumb rice.  The goal was eating at home more frequently, but then we decide after-the-fact that the goal should've been to cook perfect meals every night.  And our joy withers.

Or maybe we branch out and launch a crafting group.  We plan the activity, we gather supplies, we invite some friends, we set the time.  And two people come.  Rather than celebrate that we took a brave step to host a craft group we feel badly that there were only two people.  The goal was the crafting group, but after-the-fact we decided that goal should've been 7 people showing up.  And we feel a little embarrassed.

We decide that we'll get all caught up on laundry Friday.  As each load finishes, we fold and put away, all day we are ON IT.  Then the littles wake up early from their naps.  So the last load stays in piles all over your bed until you are ready to fall into it at 10 pm.  {Look, 10 pm is late for me!} Rather than celebrate that the hamper is empty we fuss because we should've remembered to finish that load before 10pm.  And we get crabby.

Here's the thing, there isn't anything wrong with setting goals.  And its even OK to set specific, measurable goals.  The problem is when we should ourselves. We edit our goals in a way that leads to discontent even if we accomplish our original goal.  Perhaps the edits would be excellent in shaping our goals for the future, but setting that bar too high, too late can cause us to be hesitant to try again.

So let's stop.

Let's honor our own pace.  Let's accomplish the goals God has set before us, and not be distracted by the goals of those around us. Let's consider what He has called us to, and ask Him how we can bring Him the most glory in getting it done.  Let's stop worrying about what everyone else is doing and look at what He has done.  Let's celebrate the goals we reach as we adjust to reach further. Let's stop shoulding ourselves into places of discontent. Let's kick the joy-stealers to the curb and keep on running well.

training

Alright, y'all.  I need to tell you something.  And for reasons I can't quite explain I feel a little weird about telling you.  But today is the day, so here goes...  

In November I started training for a half-marathon. Race day is January 30, 2016.

There are a bunch of reasons that I decided to do it. One being that I had started out to do it before but never made it.  I wrestled a lot with the decision.  Back in October while I was weighing it out, I was running with a couple friends frequently as we powered through the Couch-to-5k program.  I realized that the way I encouraged my friend, Amanda, as she ran was so very different from the way I spoke to myself when I ran.  Its probably no coincidence that Andrew Peterson's new album had been playing on repeat for weeks at that point and the song "Be Kind to Yourself" was slowly becoming an anthem for me.  

Meanwhile, my sister-in-law, Dunia, wanted to run a half too, and the timing of this January 30 race was perfect for her because it'd be before she started nursing school. So we looked for a training plan and got started.  After her first week of training she realized she needed foot surgery.  So I was down a running partner.  I discussed with Brad about whether or not I should go ahead and keep training.  It seemed like a terrible time for me -- weather-wise anyway.  If you have known me for a minute you know I don't like the cold.  Even southern cold. But I decided to pray about it anyway.

And had the distinct feeling that I should keep on training.  Even in the winter.  I told Jesus He was going to have to meet me on those long runs if He expected me to do this.  And He said I would need to be kind to myself.

Quite honestly, I kept giving myself an out.  The registration price doesn't increase until next week so I reasoned that I might as well wait to register.  Those first few weeks each long run had been preceeded with this declaration, "If I feel too bad after this I will just train for a later race."

I had felt a bit disappointed all along that this half-marathon wasn't for a "good cause."  It wasn't until I read this blog post by Kristen Welch that I finally decided I was really going to aim for this January 30 half-marathon.  When the opportunity came along to pair my goal with fundraising for Mercy House I knew it was just-right.  [You can read the post here.  Kristen could still use more people to join her in this fundraising adventure.]

I've been following Kristen probably ever since The Mercy House started.  I love the work they are doing with pregnant women and new mommas in Kenya as they partner with local churches.  Also, Fair Trade Friday is a global ministry of Mercy House that empowers women around the world.  Artisans create beautifully crafted fair trade products that are shipped off to monthly subscribers.  I love, love, love this model, its a win-win in so many ways!

Ten days before Christmas I decided to do this for real.  And I told a few folks about it.  And set-up a fundraising page too.  {Click here to find the fundraisisng page.}

But I waited a bit to tell all y'all.  Because sometimes goal-sharing can feel a little braggy to me.  Is that just me?  Or can you relate?  Maybe its because I am the opposite of Type A?  Also, sometimes all the goal-setting-talk in January can feel like a little much, right?

Either way, I am telling you now because I wanted to tell you about something I learned this week. As I stepped out the door to run on Monday, I said out loud {to God + myself} "I do NOT want to do this."

I really did NOT want to do it.  But it was on my Hal Higdon Half Marathon Novice 1 training plan.  So I ran 5 miles anyway.

And as I ran, God kindly pointed out that its important to do training runs if you plan on running a half-marathon.  Of course, I agreed and I knew He was right. But God, in His kindness, always teaches us about more than just the obvious.  He reminded me that I need to do the work for other goals too, whether I feel like it or not.  While I maybe wouldn't call some of my creative ventures "goals," He kinda nudged me toward thinking of it that way.  So I thought about how often I think I should write more, but I don't really "feel like it."  Or think I should get out my sketch book and hand-letter while the boys nap, but scroll Facebook instead because I am not "feeling inspired."  I put off these things waiting until "I feel like it", instead of getting in the practice when I have the time.  Granted, there aren't printable "Novice Training Plans" available for every goal, but there are so many resources available to me in 2016, I  can't really use that as an excuse.  So I had a little shift in my thinking as I finished that cold run that I did NOT want to do.  And wondered if it might help some of you as you think about some of your dreams for 2016.

So I am telling you about my half-marathon + I am asking you to consider donating to the fundraising page because I believe in Mercy House and the work they are doing in Jesus' name.

But I am also telling you because you might have a thing you want to do.  Call it a goal if you want. You might need to make a training plan. I promise there will be days you don't feel like doing the training, but you might just do it because you planned it.  As you keep training, you might find further incentive to keep heading toward your goal {like I did with the post from Kristen about Miles for Mercy!} And eventually you might be brave enough to share your goal because you think someone else might be inspired to set up a training plan of their own.  Let's do this!

This is a link-rich post, so I am listing the links down here too, if that makes it easier to find what you are looking for.

My fundraising page: https://www.crowdrise.com/amandasmilesformercy
Mercy House:  http://mercyhousekenya.org/
Kristen's post about Miles for Mercy: http://wearethatfamily.com/2015/12/im-feeling-43-help-me-celebrate-with-a-run/
Miles for Mercy page: http://www.mercyhousekenya.org/node/634
Be Kind to Yourself video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sYiM-sOC6nE
Buy the song here: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B014M2KA4W?ie=UTF8&*Version*=1&*entries*=0

be brave, be light, be love

Friday night Brad and I went on a date!  {Hallelujah!}  But it wasn't an average date, we went out to dinner then went to a meeting with FaithBridge to talk about foster care issues.

It was reported that there are currently 524 kiddos in foster care in Muscogee County.  And there are 67 foster families.

That averages to approximately 7.8 foster kiddos per family.  And since we all know there is no such thing as .8 of a child we'd need to round up to 8. Obviously the numbers aren't working here.

Its a bit disheartening.  But at the same time its an exciting time to think the church can step up and fill this gap.  This is our time.

While we sat in that meeting I kept thinking we all need to "be brave, be light, be love" in our communities.  Jesus showed us the way.  He didn't tell us to hide from hard things, instead He promised that we wouldn't walk in darkness because He is the Light of the World. {John 8:12}

We let fear hold us back, yet our Bible repeatedly says "do not be afraid."  There comes a time when we have to decide to just let the Spirit guide us and trust that Jesus is with us.  Not unlike when he told the disciples not to be afraid in Matthew 14:27.  "But immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying, "Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid."

All of these thoughts were swirling before I heard the news about the attacks in Paris.

Devastating.

Horrific.

Detestable.

Then on top of those horrors begins the ugliness the unfolds on the internet.

The you-pray-for-Paris-but-you-don't-pray-for-[fill in the blank with other horrific events in the world]-rants.

The outcries to stop refugees from coming here.

And I just want to shout, "will y'all just stop it!" Its just too much.  You know?  And I think my voice will add nothing to the conversation at this point.  So I doodle the phrases that have been on repeat.  I ask Jesus to lead me in His ways.  And I quietly invite you to join me -- in your corner of the world, with your people.  Let's just do these simple things.  Let's just ask Him to lead us in His ways.

There is enough fear in the world. Let's be brave.

There is enough darkness in the world.  Let's be light.

There is enough hate in the world.  Let's be love.

Let's tell a different story.  Let's sing a different song.  Let's ask questions and truly listen for the answers.  Let's make space for differing opinions, trusting that those differences will help us find balance.  Let's celebrate the giftings of one another, trusting that another's strength will counter my weakness. Let's believe that the body of Christ is made up of different parts; some that are hospitable and some that are organized; some that pray, some that give, some that go.  Let's trust that together we can offer Hope to the hurting without fear -- in our own communities and on distant shores.

Let's seek after Jesus and trust that His ways will never lead us astray.  We won't be here long.  So while we are here let's bear witness to His goodness, His truth, and His salvation.  Let's be brave. Let's be light, Let's be love.

hard running

As we settle into our school routines, I am savoring a few moments of quiet on pre-k days.  I am trying hard not to fill up the time but rather to accept the quiet as a gift.  Today I was finally able to put this parenting lesson into words. Kids are such great teachers!

Walker recently brought this picture home from school.

Its kind of hard to see, but the title is "Things I like" and he drew a long road with two people running.  Its him + me running. Of all the things he could draw, he chose this.  It melted my heart a little bit.

Its funny because our runs together aren't always a great time.  We've had our fair share of "come-to-Jesus-meetings" while running.  Both of us are similar in that at times we believe we can't do it.  Our bodies are fully capable, but our brains are acting like we may die at any moment. I recognize it in him, because its my default running style. Of course, when I run with him I can't allow my default to take over.  If he is having a good day I have to chase him down, and when he is having a bad running day I have to persuade him to get over it. So there is no time for me to start panting and believing that I am near death.  So I do prefer running with him. I'm just not sure how much he likes running with me soemtimes.

When we ran the 5-miler in July, we had a goal to finish in under an hour.  That is a 12-min/mile pace.  Its not fast, but its not walking the whole thing either. We trained a little but probably not as much as we could have.  We planned to run a mile, walk a minute throughout the race. Just after the 1 mile marker there was a hill.  It wasn't a long hill, but it was fairly steep and at the top of it there was a long, gradual incline. I remember this part of the race like it was yesterday.  We walked up the hill and then Walker basically decided that he was done.  I started reminding him that we had just run 4.5 miles the previous Saturday.  I told him his body could do it he just had to convince his brain. He was not listening to any of it.  I told him we could walk the rest of the way.  I meant it as a threat. He accepted it and said "fine."  I was dumbfounded.  And a little mad. I think I threatened to leave him and run the rest of it myself.  As I said it, another runner gave me a glance, in my mind the glance was something like, "what kind of mother threatens to leave her 9-year-old on a race course alone?"

At this point I said a little prayer.  There's nothing like being judged by someone to make you rethink your strategy, right?  The weird thing is that I felt peace.  God assured my heart that I knew my son and I knew what he was capable of.  I even had a sense of solidarity with God.  Not to sound flippant, but it was almost like He acknowledged that He gets those side-eye glances all the time in His parenting.  I thought about all the times I've heard the questions that start with, "if God is so good why would He allow...[fill in the blank with bad things]?"

So I told Walker I was going to start running and he could keep walking or run with me.  He ran. He decided to believe me and not himself and he ran.

photo credit: Mike Haskey/Ledger Enquirer

We finished the race just a minute over our goal. It was hot and hard but we finished.

And when Walker is asked to draw a picture of "things" he likes, he draws us running. He sees the big picture and enjoys the time together even when its hard sometimes.

This blows my mind. And also speaks to my heart. This morning when we read our proverb at breakfast these verses resonated with me.

"Do not despise the Lord's instruction, my son, and do not loathe His discipline; for the Lord disciplines the one He loves, just as a father, the son he delights in."  Proverbs 3:11-12

I thought about that moment out on the 5-miler course.  I thought about this picture Walker drew of our time together running. I thought about how desperately I want to be a child that doesn't despise instruction but rather accepts it.  Even when its hard and I don't think I can do it.  I want to be a child that trusts my Father, that believes He knows best even when my faith feels weak.

My kids are continually teaching me so much about myself.

rescue

Seven weeks ago while Brad and Wilson were at camp, we met friends at their neighborhood pool for a cook-out. The kids swam while the food was cooking. We all got out out of the pool to eat, the little dudes needed their puddle jumpers taken off because they couldn't get their hot dogs to their mouths otherwise.  Lincoln finished eating first and forgot that he didn't have his puddle jumper on -- he jumped in without it.  My friend Amber saw him go in and jumped in just after him. I turned around to see the last few seconds before she grabbed him. In reality, it was less than a 30-second incident; it did shake us up a good bit though.

We talked about never jumping into the pool without a puddle jumper on.  Lincoln got right back in the pool -- with his puddle jumper on -- and swam around as if nothing happened.

But a week or so ago, he saw something on TV that reminded him.  And he said, "when I was in Miss Amber's pool and I was drowning, you didn't come get me."  I was so surprised that he brought this up after five weeks had passed, and the way he stated it caught me off guard.   I replied, "I know, honey, but Miss Amber got you right away, didn't she?"  And he sadly whispered, "why didn't you come get me?" My heart was breaking.  He was tearful.  We went back and forth on this a bit and then I realized something -- Lincoln could see me the whole time.  He couldn't see Amber because she was behind him.  He called out for me. By the time I heard him and turned around, I could see Amber on her way in to the pool.  The whole event was less than a minute, likely less than 30 seconds.  I turned toward him, screamed his name, and moved toward the pool as Amber grabbed him.  I don't know how long he saw me before I turned around.  I can only imagine what it looked like from his perspective as he went under the water and saw me standing there.

I tried to explain that I could see Miss Amber coming for him, that I knew she was on her way.  But it didn't matter to him.  He was devastated that I didn't come get him.  As we discussed it, he hit my arm a few times emphatically puncuating his questions, "why didn't you come?" "why didn't you get me?" It was all I could do to hold back my own tears.  I assured him over and over that I could see what he couldn't see.  My words didn't seem to offer much comfort, so I just snuggled him close.  I asked him if he wanted to talk to daddy about it and he shook his head no as he cried into my shoulder for a good long time.  I held him tight. I kissed his head.  I felt his little heartbreak down deep.

I am still reeling from that conversation with my precious boy. I struggled with whether or not it was a story to share.  I hurt for Lincoln's heart that was so puzzled because I didn't come to his rescue.  So I find myself praying that Jesus would reassure his little heart.  I am asking God to make his heart brave, and fearless and certain; that if someday Lincoln finds himself in a mess and can't see me coming, that he would always know the Rescue is on its way.  In a way, I am praying God would do the same for my heart too.  And yours.

Many of us have been in those deep waters.  And we've looked for the rescue to come. We can't see the bigger picture, we just see the part where we thought we'd be pulled from the depths.  And we wonder why it isn't happening the way we thought it would. Sometimes its a small thing and we shake it off, and say, "well God has His reasons" and move on.  Other times, its hard to even breath, hard to even have complete thoughts, harder still to try and whisper prayers asking God to come rescue us -- begging Him to pull us through. So I decided to share this story for you, my friends, in those depths today. I am telling you that Rescue is coming.  It may not come the way you are hoping and it may take longer than you would like, but I promise you that Rescue is coming. Our Savior sees you and knows every detail, He is with you always. Even in your biggest mess, even if you've made the mess yourself.  He will never leave you.  He will lift you up.  You will not always flounder, your weariness will one day subside.  He will restore you.  Hold firm, dear one, Rescue is coming.  If you cannot see it from where you are, I pray you believe me when I say I can see the Rescue coming.

"Israel, The Lord who created you says, "Do not be afraid - I will save you.  I have called you by name - you are mine. When you pass through deep waters, I will be with you; your troubles will not overwhelm you.  When you pass through fire, you will not be burned; the hard trials that come will not hurt you."  Isaiah 43:1-2 GNT

twelve

I just cannot believe you are twelve.  Today you are wearing pads and getting hit for the first time this year at football practice, so it seemed like a good time to be all nostalgic about my baby growing up.  And also because your birthday was three weeks ago.

When I met one of your teacher's last night, and she put her hand over her heart and gestured toward you and said, "he's just...{big content sigh}... well, you know."  It made my heart happy.  It never gets old hearing a teacher compliment you and your hard work.  I am so proud of how well you transitioned to middle school.  You repeatedly astound me with your confidence to go after things -- football included. You work hard, you play hard, you give your best.

You continue to surprise me with your big brother skills.  I know you mostly hear me critique you and remind you that you are setting an example.  But sometimes I see such tender moments unfolding between you and your brothers {I rarely say anything about it because it might just wreck the moment], just know it makes me feel all mushy inside when I see it.  You are tenderhearted toward your brothers most of the time and generally try to help them out when you can.  I especially realized what a big helper you are when you were at camp.  Its fair to say that I had taken your helpfulness for granted up to that point!

As you get older I see new parts of your personality emerging.  You have a snarky sense of humor.  You make me laugh pretty easily, occasionally at the wrong time.  We've seen some hard things unfold this past year.  When the tears come easy for me, you are comfortable to just sit with me in the quiet.  This takes a special kind of maturity.   Its been delightful having you with us in church service this year, I love looking over at your notes in your notebook -- even if you won't let me take pictures of your doodles. I hear growth in your prayers and trust that your faith will continue to grow as you do.

You probably don't know this because you aren't a parent, but in some circles there is a lot of dread about children getting older and turning into horrible creatures.  The teen years are characterized as something you brace yourself for and hope to make it to the other side.  I want you to know that I hope for more.  We are just on the edge of those years, and we've hit some attitude bumps for sure.  I am guessing there will be more. But the truth is, I still like you and you still like us.  I love that last hour of the day when you are the last one awake. Sometimes I want to start on a sewing project or get the laundry folded, but mostly the idea of sitting on the couch with you wins.  Its a joy to be your momma, son.

I hope time and again you will go after life with confidence; trusting that God has big plans for you and believing that He will lead you well.  Always.