Bella Grace and Grace in Basketball

Bella has been playing basketball this winter.  It has been so fun to watch her do something all on her own and enjoy it.  She has gotten pretty good at dribbling and shooting and it is the most adorable thing ever to hear her yell at her teammates, “I’m open!” 

It’s been really good for her to be on this team.  On the first day of practice, she was in tears in the first three minutes. The first drill was to dribble the ball around the court.  She must have bounced that ball on her shoe 14 times and it went flying across the room every time.  When she got back to the starting place, she just broke down.  And I wanted to run over and rescue her.  I wanted to make sure, in that moment, that she felt known and loved and every bit of the amazing little girl that she is, even if she wasn't great at dribbling.  But Loren gave me a look.  I know that look.  It’s a look that says, “Let her fail a little.  Let her figure it out.  Let someone else speak into her life.  This is good for her.”  Her coach walked over and gave her a hug and then they talked for a minute.  Bella told me later that she said, “You know, Bella, everyone is just learning here.  Nobody expects you to do it all perfectly.  We’re gonna learn together.”  Words of life for my little one. 

When I watch her now, eight weeks later, I can see all the ways that she has grown.  Sure, she’s gotten better at the game, but I can see the ways most don’t know about.  I know how important it is that she has learned to go for the shot, even if she doesn't always make a basket, because I know she struggles with a desire to never disappoint anyone.  Though it may seem strange, I love watching her dribble down the court, accidentally bouncing the ball off her shoe, and just running after it, picking it up and continuing on with a smile.  Because laughing when you make a mistake like that means that you know those kinds of mistakes aren't who you are.  They’re just mistakes.  In basketball.  And we don’t always have to take ourselves so seriously. 

You know what else? Not once, has one of her teammates been annoyed with anyone who made a mistake on the team.  They have been the most gracious little 1^st and 2^nd graders.  And I have loved watching her settle into the freedom of that grace.  That kind of grace makes you excited to try something new instead of fearful.  It lets you giggle when you make a mistake instead of dissolving into tears. And it has been such a gift to my little girl.  

Her coaches are another gift.  I love that they ask each member of the team what the best part of their week was.  Then they ask if everyone is doing well in school, if everyone is obeying their parents and staying out of trouble.  They begin each practice by reminding these kids, in subtle ways, that their whole life matters, not just how they do on a basketball court.  They remind them that their teammates are other kids just like them.  This is little kid sports at its best and I’m one grateful Mama.

Bella has loved playing basketball, but I don't really think it's the sport she's crazy about.  Last week after her game, she said to me all sing-songy, “I love basketball so much.  It’s so fun!” And I told her that I was so glad!  Because I love seeing her enjoy herself, and because I fully understand what a gift it is for her to be able to love something, even when it is a challenge for her.  Then I asked if she thought she wanted to play again next year.  “Oh yeah…for sure, Mom,” she said.  And I said, “Well, what if you aren't on the same team as Lilly (one of her best friends in the whole world).  “Oh…probably not then,” she said.  What?!?  But, I should have known.  Bella may throw herself into something and enjoy herself silly while doing it, but that something has always only been as good as the friends that are doing it with her.  That’s what matters most to her. I love that about her. And really, what fun is bouncing the ball off your toe and sending it flying, if your friend isn't there to giggle with you about it?

Bella is going to be tall.  She's already tall.  But, it remains to be seen if God equipped her with such height in order play down low under a basketball goal, rebounding easily over those other shorties and laying it up nice and soft for two more points.  I know why he equipped her with such a big heart, though.  And as she lives into all he has planned for her, my prayer is that what she is learning in basketball translates into the rest of her life as well.  That she would know grace in such a way that it would give her the freedom to take risks.  That she would experience that same deep grace when she fails.  That she would know that her whole life matters, not just a moment.  And I hope that she continues to believe that relationships are much more important than all we can accomplish.

If she’s on a basketball court someday, you can bet I’ll be there to cheer her on.  But in life, there are bigger fish to fry.  And I pray I’ll get to be there for those, too.  Encouraging, cheering, praying, giggling, and reminding her that grace isn't just her middle name. It's a way of life. The ONLY way to life.  And we'll be thankful together for the friends that come alongside us and make everything a whole lot more fun.   

Learning to Remember and Making Peace with the Proverbs 31 Woman

I write so that I will remember.  I am a forgetful person.  Not just birthdays and directions and the name of the person I met 5 minutes ago, though I forget all of these things all too often. I forget what God has said.  I forget, in the light, what he said to me in the dark.  And I forget in the dark, what he has said to me in the light.  And so I need a reminder. 

I’m a stay at home mom, with 2 kids in school and 4 year old at home. She is old enough to have given up naps but young enough, and squirrelly enough that she needs to be watched all the time, engaged all the time or bad things happen.  Irrevocable things with permanent markers and scissors.  So, I spend the large majority of my time playing hide and seek and memory, reading books and playing a game called freeze (a game she invented that is a lot like freeze tag…though she swears they are different and plus in this one you freeze each other with fake guns, so she’s probably right).  I get almost nothing else done. 

I also lead a ministry for teen moms called YoungLives.  We walk alongside teen moms, living life with them and earning the right to be heard as we share the gospel with them.  It’s challenging and time consuming and transformation happens slowly.  So, so slowly.   

And so, as such, I have been struggling hard with value.  It’s not a new struggle with me. But, this time, the wound seems deeper because I thought it was gone. I thought I had licked it. 

But Satan is like a crouching lion.  He is roaming around and ready to pounce and he is the Father of Lies.  Lies like… “you are not that valuable” and, my current favorite… “you should try and do something to make yourself more special.”  I can usually handle, “you are not that valuable” because it just sounds like a lie to me.  I can usually wave that one off.  Several scriptures flood my mind and shield me from its grabby hands.  But, “you should try and do something to make yourself more special?” That sounds like it could be true.  I mean, maybe I should do more. And facebook and blogs and our ability to see all that everyone else is doing can add fuel to the fire.  As much as I love some of those witty blogs that encourage us to more, sometimes they can feel like a scissor kick to the gut.  I mean, some days, when that adorable 4 year old decides to fingerpaint on her sister’s bed with lotion and toothpaste (yep…it’s happened) I feel maxed out just being at home.  Getting the floors mopped seems a distant dream, so I know meaningful wisdom isn’t gonna flow from my fingertips and I’m certainly not starting a non-profit that will change the world anytime soon. How can I do any more?

I’ve struggled often with Proverbs 31.  I mean, who was this gal?  How did she get all this crap done?  And why, why is there a whole 21 verses in the bible dedicated to touting the accomplishments of this woman who obviously had perfect kids, a wacked out Circadian rhythm (who rises while it is still night?!) and a small sweat shop in the back of her house where the fine linen for her bed coverings and the scarlet clothes for her household were made.

And so it startled me, as I lay on my bed praying one night, confessing to the Lord that I had believed the lies and asking him to teach me the truth, that Proverbs 31 came to mind.  “I am hearing in my head, Lord, that I need to do something to make myself more special.  But I want to hear what YOU say?” I said.  “A woman who fears the Lord is to be praised,” came the answer in my spirit.  “I do, Lord.  I love you, and your holiness and sovereignty both thrills me and scares the whooey out of me.”  “I know,” he said.  And that was all.  

As I lay there and let it sink in, it resonated in the deep places.  And also, just like that, I made my peace with the Proverbs 31 woman.  Because it’s not that there aren't things to do.  We are called to live out our faith.  To experience and bring the Kingdom of God to earth.  There is work involved.  But the work isn't what makes us special.  It isn't what made her special. Her value was directly linked to her relationship with the Lord.  Her fear of the Lord informed her work, her wisdom, her desire to care for others, her ability to laugh at the days to come. Her fear of the Lord was the thing worthy of praise. Everything else comes out of that.  Whatever it is, whatever we are called to, however big or small it is, begins and ends with knowing Christ. Our value is firmly fixed in Him, so knowing Him is the greatest pursuit we could ever undertake.

So, my struggle has magically disappeared, right?  Wrong.  Satan isn't put aside so easily.  And he has continued to do everything he can to steer me away from that truth.  So, I am battling hard.  The fiery darts he throws sometimes cause me to retreat.  He knows just where my scars are and his aim is true.  

But the greater truth, the one I learned in the dark, remains.  And I am learning to remember.  A woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.  It is my shield of faith, my belt of truth, my helmet of salvation. And in beautifully divine moments of clarity, I even find myself able to laugh at the days to come.    

Out Loud

Picking jello up off of the kitchen floor with my bare hands is not what I signed up for when I decided to become a mother.  But I’d have to say it’s not even close to the grossest thing I’ve done.  Not even the grossest thing I’ve picked up off the kitchen floor. Actually, I don’t want to talk about my kitchen floor anymore.  It is NEVER clean, not even seconds after I mop it, and the thought of it makes me shudder. Clean floors were just one of the minor sacrifices I made when I became a mother.  The major ones are a lot messier than my floor, and can’t be remedied with bleach and a little elbow grease.

We go bravely into motherhood, armed with only a vague inkling of all that we will be asked to do.  It seems better that way. After all, nobody wants to sit around at baby showers and tell of the shameful amount of times we have thrown up a little in our mouths because of something the darling child in our family photos has done.  Some things are better as a surprise. 

But some things aren’t.  And no one sits around at baby showers talking about all the ways that those little ones will break your heart.  But maybe they should.  Oh, we know it won’t be rosy, chocolate-covered kisses all the time. We aren’t that naïve.  But we also aren’t expecting the feelings of hopelessness or irrational anger, the tears.  We aren’t ready for the feelings of inadequacy about our ability to do the very thing we hoped and prayed that we would be able to do. It can feel, at times, like we are barely hanging on.  And there is deep shame buried at the bottom that feeling. And the feeling that we are alone in this. That no one else feels this way.

And that’s why we don’t share it, with new moms or anyone else.  That’s why we skirt around the edges of our frustrations with our kids and say things to our friends like, “Billy is really giving me a run for my money lately…I just don’t know what I am going to do with Sally…Jack is going through a rough phase right now,” instead of what we want to say, which is, “I feel like I am drowning…I feel so angry sometimes that it makes me afraid…I feel like I cannot do all that I need to do….I am really hurting.”  Instead we offer up more palatable versions of our pain, certain that the truth would be too much to ask of our people.

And this isn’t just true in parenting.  Obviously.  We don’t tend to share about our other struggles…in our marriage, in ministry, in every day life because we are certain someone else is worse off than us.  That’s definitely true.  That someone else might judge us.  That might be true.  That we shouldn’t burden someone else with our problems.  That’s not true.  In fact, that’s the opposite of true.

That’s a lie.

The truth is, we are meant to bear each other’s burdens.  (Hello, Galatians 6:2… “but I’d rather be the burden bearer…not the burdener,” you say.  Tough luck, sista.  We’re both.) When we look each other in the eyes and speak about the painful truths of life, and when we hear and receive as someone offers us the good and deeper truths of the Gospel, we minister to each other.  We remind each other that we are not alone, in our pain or in the grace that is enough to cover it.  We remind each other that we are not made for this world.  We remind each other that Christ lives in us, is working in us, for our good.  Both of us.  Ministering to each other.  Christ in us, the hope of glory.

Recently, Loren gave a sermon at church about living within the New Covenant.  He talked about how, as the church, we are to be an example of New Covenant living with each other. Part of that means this offering of grace to one another…that we represent Christ as we say, out loud, to each other, “you are not alone…you are loved…you are forgiven…God is working good in you.”  Big tears well up in my eyes even as I write this, because as he spoke I felt a deep “yes” well up in my soul at the thought of fellow believers speaking Christ’s truth over me.  Out loud.  Reminding me of what is most true.

In this way, the Church becomes the New Covenant version of altars.  We are set up in people’s lives to be reminders of the truth. We are the BODY OF CHRIST, anointing each other with this truth and with love and peace and forgiveness.  His voice, speaking words that heal and sustain and move us forward in love. His hands, reaching out to hug.  His feet, walking alongside, making certain we know we are not alone.

A dear friend did this for me last week and it was powerful.  The hope of Christ in her, speaking His words over me.  “You are not alone…His yoke is easy and His burden is light.”  My husband did this for me two weeks ago when I had an especially hard parenting day.  “You are forgiven…God loves you so much.”  On either of those days I could have spiraled downward…could have spent all day replaying my mistakes, sinking beneath the burdens I carried.  It’s what I would typically do.  Instead, the truth of Christ made all things new.  I was able to receive his love and then move forward, confident in his good plans for me, in his ability to carry the heavy load.

The work of parenting is far more difficult than I ever imagined.  And life is filled with burdensome things.  It just is.  And the undeniable joys of it all don’t negate the fact that, sometimes, I feel at the bottom of a deep, dark well made of disappointments and brokenness and fear and my own unreasonable expectations. Saying it out loud almost always feels like freedom.  And I know, thank you Jesus, that there is grace enough to cover it all.  Sometimes I just need to hear it. Sometimes we all need to hear it.

Out loud.

Halloween!

Here were our three adorable trick or treaters:

Hope the popstar.  Her own idea, her own creation. I have nothing more to say about it other than this. I'm in trouble.

 Ava as Madeline.  Ava loves Madeline books and cartoons and we had this cute dress hidden away in the back of the closet.  Score!  P.S.  I think she partly likes Madeline because she says, "pooh, pooh" when she doesn't like something...and Ava isn't allowed to say that, generally speaking.

 And Bella as Supergirl...or some version of a girl super hero.  Her most powerful weapon is that cute smile!

Hope you all had a great Halloween!

Ava Elizabeth is 4!

She is a whole lotta happy.  Her laugh is infectious and her desire to chase me around tickles my funny bone without fail.  She is full of BIG FEELINGS.  She is sensitive and a gift giver and thrives on physical affection and words of affirmation.  She makes us laugh with her funny faces and her grown up words.  And she runs faster than any three year old I know.

She has also been my most...uh...challenging child.  STRONG-WILLED. I would put her up against any strong-willed child on any day.  I used to say my other kids were strong-willed when they threw tantrums or did something out of their ordinarily compliant nature. I had NO IDEA what that meant before Ava Elizabeth. She's the one who has won me a morning all to myself every week.  That precious Thursday morning that my husband offers because he knows it will help to preserve my sanity.  And even though her...ahem...art projects on various inappropriate surfaces has both drained our pocketbooks and our sensibilities, almost nothing brings me more joy than her ability to knock me over with a fierce hug from a full sprint. (Did I mention how fast she was?  I am literally knocked to the ground.)

I could never have imagined how our life would change when God added her to our family.  She has brought such a focus.  We have thought more about how to love intentionally and how to parent in a way that leads our children to Jesus...because we know he is her greatest hope...AMEN, parents of strong willed children???  Of course, this is true about our other kids, too.  We know it is.  After all, I was our other kids...those people pleasing ones (aren't they dreamy sometimes?) and I know how much I need Jesus...because of that people pleasing part, among other sundry things. We are better parents, more thoughtful, because of her.  We are better people, reminded daily that we need Jesus. We are far better as dependent, needy people on our knees than we were as independent people thinking about how great of a job we were doing.

Because of her, we have learned more about the freedom that comes from recognizing all the ways in which we are screwed up. We have learned to repent. We have learned to throw up our hands and exclaim, "Sweet Jesus, she is yours!"  Because that is actually true, even when we don't recognize it.  She has taught us that our parenting leaves a little to be desired but that we are loved just the same.  And we are learning how to live out of that place, rather than the "trying to be perfect parents" place. It's teaching us to relax and to be content with what Jesus is doing in us and in her.  That he is always at work for our good.

She's taught us all of that in only 4 years and there isn't a minute I would trade.  I'm tempted to erase that.  To say that, of course, I would trade all the minutes that I have made her feel less than wholly loved.  I would never want her to feel that.  But I also know that those moments, recognized and confessed and waking her up to ask forgiveness, have humbled me, have been places where Jesus met me in the face of my daughter.  "I forgive you, mommy." Hugs, tears (mine), and forgotten.  She is Jesus to me in those moments.

My hope is that she sees Jesus in me, too. That for all the times that I fail her, one overarching theme of her spunky life is that she has a mom who loves her fiercely.  That she has a mom who always forgives, who sees the incredible beauty in her, who is quick to hug and begin again.  And that, above all, my life points her directly and indirectly to Jesus, who meets all of her needs and who never fails to perfectly love all of her.

In Latin, Ava means "bird-like".  It fits.  She flies high, flitting here and there and is almost impossible to keep up with.  But, she likes her nest.  She likes being home and snuggling up.  Plus, did I mention how fast she was?  So fast that she may as well have wings.

In German, her name means "desired."  I can tell you without a doubt, she was that.  We wanted and loved her from the beginning.

In Hebrew, the language from which her name originates, Ava means, "breath of life."  She has added life to our family in so many ways, especially by deepening our life in Christ.  My prayer for her is that she would find real life in Christ and that her whole life, every breath, would be lived in praise to Him.

Happy Birthday to my sweet, sassy, filled with LIFE, Ava Elizabeth Marey!  In quiet moments at your bedside as you've slept, Jesus has whispered beautiful things to me about your life and your future.  I'm so glad he chose me to have a front row seat!