When love is disguised as pride

It’s been an unusual winter, no snow and so much gray. The darkness not only covered the sky, but lingered on over everyone, causing people to ache for even just a little sunshine. The clouds hung so low, the heaviness they carried could be felt on the shoulders of many. She waited by the windows and begged for the light to break through the clouds, even if but for a minute, to find relief from this atmospheric burden. While she was too busy looking out the panes of her old brick farmhouse, she was too blind, however, to see the spiritual burden she was unknowingly carrying, too, and that was robbing her heart of peace. And there she sat in her living room listening to the pastor’s wife and seeing the dark be exposed for what it was by the truth of this wise woman. She, the wife of the carpenter, had expressed a fear for one of her children that she had only shared with a handful of other people. She believed the Bible when it said we have the power to bring life and death with our words (Proverbs 18:21) And because her words mattered, she didn’t want to birth life to that which so deeply distressed her heart. But for years as she wrestled with the Lord in prayer over this child, about this anxiety, she was never given any sort of peace or resolve or feeling that her burden was lifted. And she didn’t know what to make of it.

The pastor’s wife listened keenly to her, reminding her of what she already knew, but had not applied in this situation. The mother of young children knew what it meant to say, even if many times to her fears, in fact it had become her mantra. She had had to say before, “even if we lose this baby” “even if my husband has cancer” “even if I don’t get that job” that God had a way of working out His plan in His timing. But like Peter, this young mother was blinded, in her love for the Lord, thinking that because in her own mind that she was a master of faith, and had no need for encouragement in faith by others.

And like Peter, her pride got in the way.

Peter boastfully shouted that he would die for Jesus, and that he didn’t need to have his feet washed by His Lord that he loved. But in his effort to show adoration of his Master on his own strength, he was actually disobeying Him. And that’s what she was doing as well. What must have Jesus thought when Peter said those things, knowing that Peter would actually disown Jesus not once, but three times. And that Jesus would actually be the one to lay his life down for Peter. She had failed in this situation, to submit this fear to the truth of God’s Word, fighting her own battle and not surrendering this encounter to the Lord.

And so, days after her meeting with the wise pastor’s wife, the mother of these three little munchkins, walked outside into the gloominess of the winter day. And it was right there she felt the need to wrestle in prayer like she had so often, feeling the enemy encroach on her life right there, breathing in her ear this fear, these lies and so she did what Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego had done, “even if, this fear comes true,” she stated, “ I know my God is good. I will trust Him. I do not trust that I get through this situation on my own strength if it would come to fruition, because it would break me, but I know God is good. I know He is great, I know He can bring beauty from ashes, any ashes, and I know what you intend to do to bring me harm, my God HAS, CAN and WILL use for His good and His glory (Genesis 50:20).” And as she walked back inside, she peered up in the sky to see for the first time more than 7 long days, a break in the clouds, and the light had finally broken through the darkness.
#raisingchickensandchildren
#todayisagift

Have you ever sought an answer, a job, an alternative and after all you did, you were told no?

Yeah, me, too.

All day I had been anxious.  My stomach was in knots waiting for the answer.  Food had lost its taste, and I really lacked focus.  The previous 10 days I had been able to be focused in prayer, and by God's grace, I wasn't trapped with anxiety.  But the time for the answer was closing in and it was difficult to keep my thoughts focused any longer.

It was 3:45pm and I called Galen to see if he had heard any news. He replied with the response, "The doctor was relieved to tell us it's Chronic Mylogenous Leukemia and not Acute Mylogenous Leukemia."  Tears burst over my eyelids like broken dams. Relieved?  I didn't want the lesser of two evils.  I didn't want cancer at all!!

I felt the pain of a stake break the glass of my heart. Its' chards piercing deep into my lungs, preventing my body to do what its supposed to do. It was at that moment I had to tell myself how to breathe because it was no longer possible for me to do it without thinking.

Somehow though, in my own stubborn defiance to cancer, I refused to give into such crushing news at that moment and let my voice quiver. 

I would be brave. 

I would be courageous.

I would not allow cancer to steal anything more of what it already had set to do.  With as much guts as I could muster, I only uttered a few short words.

"Okay" I replied. "I'll see you when you get home.  I'll call your family."  And so I had to switch roles to be the bearer of bad news to inform a mother and a father and sisters that their son and brother had the cancer we all prayed against.  But I couldn't do any more refusing to answer the "how are you?" question.  I couldn't go there.  I wouldn't go there.

Not yet anyway.  Quite frankly, I didn't know how I was.  I wasn't sure of my feelings. I didn't know how to answer this "no".  I was just trying to stand.

----.

But no?  How no? Why no?

I didn't feel angry.  Instead, when I relive so much of that moment, which is now a part of me, I see the 5 year old version of myself.  The one with long brunette wavy hair, in her Sunday dress, fresh faced and full of innocence. This girl was asking her daddy why the answer was "no?" while peering down at the ground trying not to express the extent of how much her heart hurt.  It's not that I wouldn't have my moments of rage, anger and lots of swearing because I did, it was just at that moment, I didn't understand.  I was so sad, so disappointed, so confused because I didn't understand why my faith wasn't enough.  Why my fasting wasn't enough.  Or why my belief in God wasn't enough.  I didn't know what I could have done more to get God to say yes.  I was perplexed and as I cried out I could hear my Abba Father whisper in my ear, "I know baby, I know you don't understand.  I know this doesn't make sense, but please just trust me."  I felt Him wrap me up in His arms and sit me on His lap.  I felt the warmth of His kiss on my cheek as He also wiped away the streams of tears.  He knew I didn't understand, but his patience and compassion for my broken heart was great.

So yeah, I've heard "no".  And it sucks. To this day, I'm not exactly sure why God allowed my husband to develop leukemia. I don't know that I see the bigger picture always.  I hate cancer and I wish it was a tangible "thing" because I would cut it.  I would throw it.  I would pour out my anger all over it.  

But over these last two years, He's taken that shattered heart of mine and He is rebuilding it.  He has provided bills to the exact dollar amount.  He has given my husband one of the most caring, knowledgeable and compassionate oncologists. Somehow, by God's grace, I have been able to share our story with countless others and more importantly about God's faithfulness.  He has replaced areas in my life where I lacked empathy and helped to give me more compassion (although I still have an enormous way to go!) He even took a dream that I had in college to speak to large groups of people and tell them why they should trust Jesus and He allowed it to happen 3 times that year. He has given us both more boldness about our faith in Him.  I have found through this whole time, that even though I don't understand why, I am thankful for the opportunity to grow in Him and to know the He is worth trusting. 

Two years later and I am thankful for "no".  

#TwoYearsAgo

#cancerSucks

#GodisGood

#ItsGoodToRemember

I am afraid

In my devotions this morning,  I was reminded about the need to pray about any ungodly fear in my life.  I tend to believe I am not an anxious or a fearful person.  I don't often find myself consumed about the potential what if's life may or may not have in store for me.

That is until about 2 years ago when Galen was diagnosed with an incurable cancer, I totaled our SUV and I had to give my 5 month old son, Boaz, life saving CPR.  My life was so frightening and incredibly overwhelming as the waters of terror fell upon me.  I was so consumed that I had no idea what was next.  And that was the most terrifying part of all.  I just didn't know what was waiting to crush me.  I didn't know what was finally going to be the last straw and break my spirit. And as long as we can be afraid of the future, we allow the enemy to rob of us life and joy (John 10:10).

But that was 730 days ago and my life has gone back to normal, hasn't it? Outward appearances may suggest that, but over the last few years I found I have to actively protect my mind against ungodly fright.  In part because I have experienced incredibly scary events in my life and ones that all happened in quick succession to each other.

It wasn't until we had Keziah late last Fall that I felt those fears begin to circle me again.  I didn't realize there was residue leftover from Bo's incident.  Over the last month and a half, Keziah has slept 8 - 10 hours (Praise God!!) but it has also haunted me.  There have been times in the middle of the night I have woken up out of sheer panic as if trepidation had me gripped by the neck. Without clear thoughts I quickly slam my hand on her belly to check for her life.  My chest hurts and my stomach aches as I slowly feel relief enter back in my body.  Thank God, not again.  It's a fearful thought to any parent, but especially to one who has seen and found their child blue, limp and lifeless before.

I go to our bathroom where I see Galen's medication laying on the counter and am tempted to wonder how long will it last? 

No, he is not in remission.  

No, he is not cured.  

No, he is not healed. 

And so I wonder how long will this treatment work until I'm told heartbreaking news again? My best friend's dad died of this SAME cancer.  How long do I have with him? And then there are the times I am driving and I'm overcome with the thought we are going to wreck our vehicle again only this time maybe I won't be so fortunate to bring my kids home with me.  

Fear has been attacking me like a roaring lion. 

I find myself in fear of a year from the pit of hell again. 

But with apprehension comes a CHOICE.  An option to succumb to those fears or a decision to live in the hope and freedom of Jesus Christ.  A decision to remember God's faithfulness and to trust in spite of my fears. But I can't fight these fears unless I put on the helmet of salvation where I guard my mind against such terrible thoughts.  Or if I don't pick up the Sword of the Spirit, God's Word, to counter the enemies lies.  Or if I do not praise the Creator for, well, everything.  That's how I prevent fear from encroaching on my life, something that locking doors, using baby monitors and driving the speed limit can't do.  Because you see doing all the "right" things doesn't prevent real tradegy from happening.  Even being a believer in Christ doesn't prevent us from trials, however, it's knowing He's got the whole world in His hands that gives me peace no matter the circumstance.  It's knowing there is more than this life to think about.  There will be a day when trials, tribulations, sadness, injustice will all disappear.  And my heart longs for that day when Jesus returns.

So today and every day I CHOOSE to battle with my fears with weapons of war and that will win.  I wage against these thoughts with Scripture and thanksgiving.  

Today my fear will not be given permission to permeate my mind.

Today my fears will be taken captive.  

Today my fears will find themselves answering to the Almighty God.

Today I will fight these fears with the truth of God's word.

When I am afraid, I am reminded to cast my cares on Him because He does care for me. (1 Peter 5:6 -7)

When my heart is faint, He is my God and will strengthen me. (Isaiah 41:10)

When I pray and ask God He will provide peace to guard my heart and mind (Philippians 4:6-7)

If I experience my worst fear, I know He will never leave me nor forsake me. ( Deuteronomy 31:6)

and my favorite one, the verse I recite often aloud in my home is a deep meaningful, descriptive passage in which I love:

Even when I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I don't have to be afraid because my God is with me and will bring me comfort (Psalm 23:4)

These promises don't guarantee that I won't see my fears come true, but they give me hope that I am not alone, and that no matter the outcome my Jesus is in control.  And it's at that moment, after my heart experiences relief as I have again checked on Keziah, that I remember why we named her that.  Keziah was a gift to Job after he experienced his own hell.  

"The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,

    because the Lord has anointed me

    to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

    to proclaim freedom for the captives

    and release from darkness for the prisoners,

2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor

    and the day of vengeance of our God,

to comfort all who mourn,

3     and provide for those who grieve in Zion—

to bestow on them a crown of beauty

    instead of ashes,

the oil of joy

    instead of mourning,

and a garment of praise

    instead of a spirit of despair.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,

    a planting of the Lord

    for the display of his splendor."

Ashes for beauty, friends.  Ashes for beauty.

Lessons in Parenting: Childlike faith

It was a few weeks ago I found myself at home with the boys for an evening.  A night that no doubt had to be filled with heroes and villains.  An evening in which champions had to learn to share and scoundrels had to be put in timeout.  It's the joy of being a mother of boys.

 

Anyway, Benaiah was getting his gang of Buzz, Thomas, Batman, Jessy and Woody together to fight against the forces of the evil Dr. Porkchop.    But as he was gathering his posse, he gazed at me and said, "Mommy, where's Woody?"  Woody had been lost for quite sometime and after extensive searches I knew Woody had to be at someone else's house or even worse, the place where socks who go missing go.   It really seemed hopeless, but Benaiah is a pretty persistent kid.  After five minutes of searching, he kept asking me where his final star hero was.  I wish my response had been sooner, but sensing his desperation, I quipped, "Well, bud, you'd better ask Jesus to help you find him because I have no clue where Woody is".

 

And before I could finish my thought, Benaiah turns around and says, "Jesus, please help me find my Woody."  Oh how I felt the strings of my heart be tugged.  The faith he had to just ask God to help him because I told him He would.

 

Earlier that week, I was reading in a book about a scientist who was doing an experiment on dementia patients.  One of the studies he was doing was to see how much they could or could not remember depending on past experiences.  So the man begins the experiment by walking in and meeting his patient who had severe dementia.  He introduces himself, sits down and talks with her and leaves after a short little bit.  He repeats the scenario consecutively, each time the woman has "never met him before".   So it comes time for a test, and when he holds out his hand to greet her, he had a little pin in his hand that pricked her finger. She let out an "ouch" and clearly it had caused her pain, even if it was minor. Their conversation continued to go on as usual.  However, the next time he walked in, her demeanor was very different.  She was very hesitant with him and through many of her behaviors it was evident she didn't trust the man.  When asked why, she didn't know why because as she put it, "had never met him".

 

This story came to the forefront of my mind as I watched my little boy go on and play with his evening.  This idea came floating down in my head as I was trying to make sense of the situation at hand. I heard Benaiah's plea replay in my mind, that I asked God to listen to Him.  "Lord, I really don't know that in the grand scheme of things this prayer request really matters to you or even to Benaiah.  But Lord, hearing Him trust me that He could get help from you, well that just gets me God.  That's got to get your heart, too, doesn't it?  He didn't even ask why like he likes to, God he just in his mind, said, okay and did it. You now God, it is kind of like that woman that couldn't pinpoint what it was in her past that made her not trust the doctor, maybe this situation, which Benaiah would never be able to remember on his own,  would only help Him trust you later in his life.  You know I don't want to tell you what to do, Lord, but I simply, humbly ask, if this prayer request matters, if this builds his faith, if this builds on what he can comprehend of you, then Lord, please honor his silly two year old request."

 

I have learned in my life not to tell God what to do, so I left my prayer as that.  Trusting it as God saw fit. Benaiah, Bo and I went into the playroom to see how good vs. evil would play out.  Would Dr. Porkchop learn to share?  Would Buzz be able to save his friends?  The suspense was killing me as I am sure it is you right now.

 

We played and well, Thomas got derailed, Buzz got kidnapped and while Jessy and Batman were looking for them, like in good hero fashion, I opened up a racecar station which hasn't been opened in forever, and there, crammed in the back, was Woody.

 

I literally gasped.  

 

Li-char-ally, like a disbelieving fool.

 

I screamed, "Benaiah!  Look! Look what's in here!" 

"It's Woody, mom!!"

"I know buddy, who did you ask to help you find him?" 

"I asked Jesus mom.  Thanks Jesus for helping me find my Woody."

 

And I am pretty sure in that moment, my faith grew in a way I didn't know it could. And I learned a lot in that moment.

 

1. God cares about the little things.  Even toys.  Maybe it's not until we pray about it, that we will get an answer to our requests.
2. Every single prayer matters to God and is heard by God.  Remember, we thought Woody was lost for good. Even the ridiculous ones from a two year old who won't remember this story, but will know it because I will tell him about it for many years.
3. And lastly, God desires to build our faith, whatever spiritual situation we find ourselves in.

 

 

Oh, and in case you were wondering what happened to Thomas and Buzz,  thanks to our cowboy friend, Buzz was found and Thomas continued to deliver his mail around Sodor.  And Dr. Porkchop got put in time out.

 

But more importantly, my son's faith in God was strengthened, so that one day He can trust God with so much more.

There is always hope

I am more stale than a bag of week old, off brand Doritos. I am tired, worn and and frankly, kaput.  I am a busted up record. I am every bad cliché about being depressed.

And if you don't want to read anymore, I understand.  Truly, I do.  Who wants to preserve and read through it when I don't want to write about it anymore?  And believe me, I have beaten myself up over it.  The self - talk has been awful.

Dwelling on my past isn't who I am, yet looking ahead is impossible. I am stuck.  I haven't moved on.  I can't move on.  For me, a naturally driven person, a do it yourselfer, an A type personality, has been exchanged passion for paralysis. I feel weak, I feel immobilized and defeated.  I don't give grace naturally or easily and don't worry, I'm giving myself the same medicine I have secretly judged others with for probably the majority of my life.

And it is bitter.

I have decided that the darkest days don't come in the heat of battle, but the murkiest of hours come in time long after the wounds were inflicted.  Or 380 day after "it all" began, if you are one to keep track of numbers and stuff.

And I was moving on this year until I got the news about Bo a few weeks ago.  Hearing the words, "he needs to be seen right away" and "we will need to schedule an EEG" was just overwhelming for an already fragile state of mind. The doctors are suspecting my one year old little boy is having silent seizures.

I can't write the words that went through my mind, as I have learned discretion is a gift, but I'd be lying if I didn't utter something along the lines as, "Seriously....................? Again......................? More..................................?"  All I can say is before I blinked, I had tears stream down my face. It's not that God isn't able, it's not the seizures are deadly.  It's that it seems its time to walk the road of trial yet again.  And so soon.

This isn't me and yet there is nothing I can do about it.  I have tried.  I have tried losing myself in TV shows, eating and shopping.  I have tried to escape my reality, somehow believing I only needed God for the heat of the battle, not knowing the days, weeks and many months ahead are actually more scary and the light now shines a little less brightly than before.

I am in my lowest place.  I was here once before after the loss of our first baby. It's an unwelcome familiarity. 

And I. Hate. It.

And yet, I know in the depths of my heart, buried below the heavy pains in my soul, I know. His gentle spirit has been relentlessly calling me back.  It's Romans 2:4 coming true, ”Or do you think lightly of the riches of His kindness and tolerance and patience, not knowing that the kindness of God leads you to repentance?”  That His kindness is what draws back into relationship with my Heavenly Father.  That His gentle spirit beckons me to crawl back on my Daddy's lap and just find peace as I rest in His arms.

I know Jesus is worth trusting. I know. Tears steam down my face because I know. He can help me overcome. I know He is my peace. I know He is my comfort. 

I have been doing a lot to deaden myself, and my feelings, lately. Drowning myself, knowing full well the consequences of my actions. But the other day, I was doing the dishes, turned on Pandora, and I felt God speak to me through a song.

The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning
It's time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me
Let me be singing when the evening comes

[Chorus]
Bless the Lord, O my soul
O my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul
I'll worship Your holy name

You're rich in love, and You're slow to anger
Your name is great, and Your heart is kind
For all Your goodness I will keep on singing
Ten thousand reasons for my heart to find

[Chorus]
Bless the Lord, O my soul
O my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul
I'll worship Your holy name

And on that day when my strength is failing
The end draws near and my time has come
Still my soul will sing Your praise unending
Ten thousand years and then forevermore

My words fail to utter the stillness and calm that has come over my soul when I've simply allowed the worship of God into my home. Binging on television shows, double stuff Oreos or shopping has left me empty and wanting.  Always disappointed and never satisfied.

 

I am the worst version of myself right now and yet I am reminded that's when God can do His best work.   As the words sank into my heart, in poetic fashion, the piercing bright light of a winter sun cut through my cold, dead soul. I felt a renewed sense of hope, even in the midst of it all, I could see it.  I remember the joy of having light in my life.  How it breathes into me.  How it renews and refreshes me. The light golden hues cut through the frozen colors of winter, like a sharp knife, it doesn't waste time  and cuts straight to my heart.  And I feel how itchy this skin is and my desire to shed it is real.  In Isaiah, there is a chapter and a few verses that talk about the deliverance of God's people.  He says, "Do not call to mind the former things, Or ponder things of the past. 'Behold, I will do something new, Now it will spring forth; Will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, Rivers in the desert.…'" (43:18-19).

And maybe being made new is getting a humbling lesson in grace and relentless compassion.  Maybe in spite of my pain and hurt, I see even more clearly how loving my Heavenly Father truly is.  Even when I have no grace for myself.

 Lord, make me new.  Make me completely new.

Haunted

Some days I feel haunted.  More recently actually.  I find myself walking down a hallway and before I know it, this path looks all too familiar.  The light dims and somehow I feel alone. Something is lurking.  "It" is following me into my new year, my fresh start seems to have an unfriendly visitor.

And I feel guilty some days.  Like what happened last year shouldn't be on my mind and shouldn't be conversation pieces with people anymore.  "It's in the past Kelli, let it go.  You're not over this yet?  Seriously?"  The voices in my head whisper quietly, slowly poisoning my mind.  "Pull yourself together.  Stop being dramatic
. Nobody understands you.  Just be happy that's what they want you to be.  Over it, Kelli.  Get over, it.  No one cares anymore." 

That's how I feel about myself.  And those voices tell me that's just how the world feels about me. 

There are days I feel that time has been a healthy distance since my last big scary day.  But that's the thing about traumatic events, they don't obey the laws of time and space.  In fact, all it takes is one small reminder of the pain, and before I know it, it feels like March 10th or June 17th all over again. The words, the sights, and the unforgettable parts of those days come back as real as ever. Pain can cut through time and space, paving a highway right back to that day.  You know, the day that changed your life.  The day you found your life in shattered pieces.  The day you couldn't catch your breath and your legs were cut out from under you.  That day. And that day was months away, but the news of friends who have had their turn in the boxing ring with life and I see how life has taken its toll and robbed them of their health and family members becomes all to real for me. And within seconds I weep for them, remembering like yesterday the pain of those days last year.

I'm not superstitious at all, but this year is feeling to eerily familiar, too much like deja vu already.  Last year, I was reading a book by Mark Batterson, this year I am reading his book The Graverobber.  He mentioned something about have you been challenged in your faith and I had to shut the book.  Stop it before it starts again.

And I look outside, and the weather is absurdly cold, ridiculously freezing.  Just like last year.  Bo's birthday came this past weekend, and while it was a joy to celebrate his life, it was a reminder that day was the first of what seemed to be a crazy set of events.  It was last year at this time that Galen was getting his medical exam for life insurance.  Insurance later he would be denied because of the cancer diagnosis.  And guess what, this weekend I'm going through the medical exam for life insurance.

And I'm overwhelmed and anxious.  I can't control anything and that hallway I started down all of a sudden feels like a slippery horrifying slope all over again.

This morning, I got off the phone with the nurse and I just teared up at the possibilities.  At all the future tests, at all the what if's.  I hang up the call and the tears break my eyelids before I can ben think of trying to hold myself together. "God this is a new year, this year was supposed to be a new year, but it's already starting to feel like a nightmare I can't wake up from! Please not something new to deal with, I am not ready. I can't."And I go on with my day and into my classroom. My day comes and goes and I am sitting in my classroom, grading papers as I look up from my desk and out the window.

Breathtaking.

Not words I say often enough as Old Man Winter has brashly moved in.But the soft golden gleams of the warm sun pour into my room and pierce through the subzero temperatures and through the trees flocked in white winter snow. God's breath wisps by as more twinkling flecks of glitter joyously dance as it makes it way to earth.The sight is peaceful and beckons me to turn off the lights in my room and to enjoy the scenery.

I pause.
"Peace. Peace." I hear whispered in my ear. As the words are breathed into my ear, they begin to anchor in my soul, an antidote to those unwelcome voices from before. How wonderful and beautiful is God's creation. I close my eyes and enjoy the embrace of my God who loves me. A scene that is a welcome reminder of His peace. I needed that today, God. Thanks.

It feels as if the voices in my head are silenced, even as I sit there in my darkened room.  As those words of peace are breathed over my spirit, the voices in my head run away, unable to withstand the peace of God I experienced time and time and time again last year.

And maybe some of those thoughts of needing to pull myself together are the thoughts of some people, but it reminds me that the only voice I need to listen to is the one who was faithful to me over the last year, even when I wasn't.  The voice of One who was patient with me, even as I struggled.

And I can't help but think, even as eerily similar this year may be to last, Peter, Jesus' disciple, had gone through something comparable.  He denied Christ, his lord, his leader when Jesus was in his most desperate human moment.  Can you imagine the pain that came alive in the heart of Peter every time he heard a rooster crow?  Everyday he was reminded of his failure, his pain and his own disappointment in himself.   In John 21, after Jesus is resurrected he comes back and restores Peter. He asks him three different times if Peter loves him.  It's the start of reconditioning Peter.   It's the journey to make Peter new.

I'm reminded of the verse in Isaiah, which is my verse for this year,

“Forget about what’s happened;
    don’t keep going over old history.
Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new.
    It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it?
There it is! I’m making a road through the desert
    rivers in the badlands.” (43:18-19).

 Lord, this year make me new.  Make me brand new.  I'm trusting that You can and that You will. And  at that moment I no longer feel haunted anymore.

Happy birthday, Bo!

Dear Boaz,

Three hundred and sixty five days ago, your birth was a miracle.  You came unexpectedly. You came during the start of one of the coldest, snowiest winters. Your entrance into this world, brought me incredible joy. You are a shameless flirt, too, often times playing the bashful game, you really like the attention of others. You love people and you love attention. And you don't hide it. :) It's so funny because when you meet people it's like you are already trying to make them laugh as you start a game of peekaboo. While of course you love to show them just "how big" you are (..... So big!) You are even more laid back then your brother was, a very content baby.  You even mastered the entrance of 6 teeth with ease.  You don't let a whole lot bother you.

I love watching the relationship with your dad and brother.  Benaiah cares so much for you and you reciprocate it, well, as long as he isn't sitting on you. It's been so fun to watch on the video monitor how Benaiah will climb in your crib and I hear you guys giggling together.  About what?  That's the part I'm not sure I understand.  But it's so cute.  Your dad and I often pray for your relationship and that you'd be great friends.  Watching the two of you together brings us as your parents a lot of joy, more so than I realized it would.

I think about your name and why we gave you the name we did.  One, we liked it.  Two, Boaz was a great man in the Bible who had great compassion on a widow.  While the Bible doesn't go in depth about his many other relationships, my guess is he was that kind of compassionate man all the time.  We prayed you'd be a man who sought justice, like Boaz did for Ruth, that you'd be kind, and that you'd have a generous heart.  We had another middle name picked out for you, but then weeks before your arrival I heard Billy Graham's name.  And we liked Graham. So, we prayed that like Billy Graham, you'd also have a heart for people and a boldness for Christ.  These aren't our expectations for you to live up to, but we hope to instill purpose and meaning in your life early on.

I think back on this last year and today, the day we celebrate your birth and it reminds me of my prayers to you and what I hope to provide for you as your mom.  I promise to raise you by putting God first, your dad second and your brother and you next.  I promise to pray for you and be honest with you about my faith and the God that created you.  I promise to say sorry when I mess up, and I will. I promise to be your biggest fan, even if that makes me the crazy mom, but I also promise to make sure you know there is more to your life than just you.  I promise to show you others, and to help you develop a heart of compassion for those people.  I promise to help you raise you to be God's man and not accept the definition of what this world tells you to be.  I pray that you'll understand right and wrong pretty clearly, but your depth of compassion for those who lie in between will be great.  I pray you will have the gift of joy as life isn't always easy, may you know how to laugh even in the midst of trials.  I pray you'll always know you are loved, even when I or your father have to discipline you and correct you.

I am not perfect and I am a work in progress myself, but your dad and I, with God's help, promise to raise you the way God wants us to.

You are a gift to all who know you, may you continue to grow in wisdom and in stature, and in your relationship with God and man. Praying big things for your life, buddy and that you'd learn early on that Jesus is your friend.

I love you sunshine,

Mommy