January 2025- A lesson in hope

I was not raised in a church-going home. My attendance at my hometown Baptist church was a result of accompanying my heartbroken grandmother, who was recovering from my grandfather's infidelity and abandonment after 39 years of marriage. I rode to church with her as she cried both directions and it was there in the midst of utter brokenness that I was introduced to Jesus.

Through middle school and high school, I was surrounded by adults whose fingerprints are all over my adult life and faith. My testimony led to decades of youth ministry involvement, ultimately leading to my becoming a foster parent and advocating not only for the children in the system and those caring for them, but also for their biological parents. I am deeply moved by redemptive stories. 

In the last year, although we have backed off from consistent foster parenting due to travel, we have had one elementary-aged girl for respite care seven times as she has lived in five different foster homes. (It is easy to feel outraged when you read the headlines of her story but the details make it extremely complex.) Last week the agency called and asked if we were available for an 8th time. 

As I processed the request and wept over her story, I "just so happened" to have an appointment at work with an older pastor who recently moved to our town and wanted to start a ministry for at-risk youth. I shared about my heartbreak over this child. He stopped and prayed. When he finished, he looked me in the eyes and said, "God keeps bringing this child back because in healing her, he is healing something in you—let Him do the work."

A few days later, I found myself at a church service I had never attended with a guest pastor who had grown up in foster care. As the young man shared his story I realized I knew him--our paths had briefly crossed when his sister was in a group home where I had served 16 years ago. He had my attention as he shared from Mark 4: 32-41 when Jesus calmed the storm.

He explained this passage had been a challenge for him as he grew into adulthood as a man of faith. He wrestled with the implications-during all the abuse he endured, had Jesus been asleep on the boat, able to stop it at any time and choosing instead to nap?

It was then he realized that trusting Jesus must be about who He is, not just what He can do. The speaker used a metaphor I haven’t been able to shake since–Jesus is more of a midwife than an epidural and He calls us to do the same. The presence of a person is often more powerful than numbing the pain. We can confidently stand by someone enduring great hardship if we have the faith and hope that what it is producing is worth the suffering.

As I often do with passages that have grown familiar, I cross-referenced Eugene Peterson' Message translation and Jesus' words to the disciples on the boat in verse 40 struck me to my core: “The wind ran out of breath; the sea became smooth as glass. Jesus reprimanded the disciples: 'Why are you such cowards? Don’t you have any faith at all?'”

When life tempts us to pay more attention to the circumstances than the character of God, we must refocus on what we know to be true. My tendency is to use my life experience to predict an ending, but we serve a God Paul described in Ephesians 3:36 “able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine” HOW? “By His power at work within us.”

While pondering all of this I opened Paul David Tripp's Everyday Gospel devotion for January 20 and read these words: "The Bible is essentially a grand origin-to-destiny narrative. It's God's story...one big theme holds together all the different parts of the Bible and all its different genres of literature...redemption." 

Tripp goes on to remind us that in all the stories of Scripture--and all the ones we witness and experience in our lives--God is demonstrating His power of creation in a myriad of ways. We should be paying attention because these stories aren't just for the people who experience them, they are for us. All these stories are our stories. 

And contrary to what 'common sense' would tell me, God's grace reminds me to not write an ending without considering the limitless potential of what He can do.

TWENTY

This week my trio turned 20 years old. (I can't believe this space has existed for 19 years!) It seemed appropriate that I come back and mark the moment. 

A year of college under their belts, each fittingly was in a different place for most of their day. Both Ryland & Parker are serving at residential Summer camps and had to report early for staff training. Kate is taking classes from home in pursuit of her EMT certification. This is the season of living their own adventures. 

As is often true in life, just when we think we have a grasp on a phase, we are thrust into the next. In this case, learning to grow teens I suddenly found myself in the space of parenting young adults. A whole 5 days in, I am clearly no expert, but I did have a realization/observation I wanted to capture and share today. 

From the moment a woman learns she is pregnant, protectiveness kicks in. Our instincts are to have our heads on a swivel for threats to our babies. As Mama Bears, we are constantly on guard. It seems as our children enter late adolescence/early adulthood and are no longer in our perpetual orbit, the focus shifts from external enemies to the threats lurking within. 

A parent knows the way their offspring are wired and their historical struggles. If we allow anxiety to take those weaknesses (that we ALL have) and interpret them as a new more insidious threat it can lead to lots of relational conflict. Our worries and warnings will feel a lot more personal because they ARE.

The unfortunate irony is that unless we recognize and address this tendency, WE may become the very thing we fear--harmful to our kids and a threat to our long-term relationship.

I am very new to this chapter of parenting, but I am trying to recognize and submit my fears. I am praying constantly for wisdom on when to speak and when to zip it and let the Lord lead the lessons. 

A New Normal

Last week we dropped both boys off at their new college campuses. It was a whirlwind. My husband and son Ryland left Georgia Monday evening and drove to Jackson, Mississippi for the night. The next day they completed their drive to Ft. Worth, Texas. I stayed behind to wrap up loose packing ends with Parker then flew out to join them early Wednesday morning. 

After an efficient TCU move-in day and a requisite trip to Walmart for last-minute items (mostly snacks), my husband and I spent the night in a DFW airport hotel. Thursday morning our flight departed at 7:30. Upon arrival in Atlanta we quickly gathered our bags--including one with very suspect items like zip ties, garbage bags, a mallet, and duct tape--and drove home to Rome. Two hours later we were on the road to Nashville, Tennessee with Parker. We had breakfast in Texas, lunch in Georgia, and dinner in Tennessee!

Parker's move and drop-off were upbeat and smooth. So much so, we canceled that night's hotel stay and returned home earlier than expected. 

Both schools have clearly put a lot of thought into the move-in experience and had many opportunities for the new students to meet others and get acclimated in a positive way. 

Sunday we travelled over to Birmingham to meet Kate's new roommate and her parents for the first time. It was nice to get to know each other a bit before the craziness of move-in day.

It is a quiet week as we finalize preparations for Kate's relocation this weekend--and so far it really just feels like my boys are away at new camps. I anticipate a lot more emotion when the nest is truly empty and life returns to 'normal' in a new way. 

A Fall without football games and cross-country meets is hard to imagine--but our calendars are full of weekend travel, parents' weekends, and middle-aged adventure. It still seems surreal that this chapter of our lives has ended--but I have great peace. 

One thing my husband and I continue to remind one another is that our kids have heard everything they can hear from us. That is not to say they listened or obeyed, but we have said all the things. Now time and maturity must do their work.

When they were nine months old we baptized them--publicly acknowledging our belief that they belong to the Lord and had only been entrusted to us. This is the season for putting that belief to the test. They are His. He has plans. We desire to trust, pray, encourage and counsel (when asked). We recommit them back into His Hands. A new normal indeed.   

A Different Kind of Pregnancy

Spring is always a time of remembrance for me. I start walking back through the timeline of the last 1/3 of my pregnancy. Bedrest in March, first at home, then in the hospital. The entire months of April & May were inpatient at Northside Hospital. The delivery in late May, the ICU for me for 1 week, 5 weeks of NICU...a July release.

All of this occurred 19 years ago, and yet the rhythm and timing today is strangely similar. Waiting with anticipation for college decisions here in March. Hopeful, concerned, and trying to make sense of bad news mixed with good. Instead of weekly ultrasounds on Tuesdays, we have decisions in portals on Fridays. Information that will shape and change our lives, but yet we have no real control over what is happening internally. We simply wait to be told.

We deliver in May--then into the world as infants and now as baby adults.

So here in March I start to feel the contractions. The babies are getting crowded. There is the urge to push--but questions linger about their readiness. Anxiety lurks about how radically all our lives will change.  The difference? My ability to be present and wide awake in it now. I am not ill and on the sidelines, honestly concerned I may not survive to see them grow up. Those prayers were answered. Praise the Lord, for that.

There is a perspective I lacked before. God is sovereign. He can be trusted. His Will be done. I couldn't help but think about Romans 8. I particularly love the plain-speak of the Message translation.

^19-21 Everything in creation is being more or less held back. God reins it in until both creation and all the creatures are ready and can be released at the same moment into the glorious times ahead. Meanwhile, the joyful anticipation deepens.

^22-25 All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. But it’s not only around us; it’s within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We’re also feeling the birth pangs. These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.

^26-28 Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.

^29-30 God knew what he was doing from the very beginning. He decided from the outset to shape the lives of those who love him along the same lines as the life of his Son. The Son stands first in the line of humanity he restored. We see the original and intended shape of our lives there in him. After God made that decision of what his children should be like, he followed it up by calling people by name. After he called them by name, he set them on a solid basis with himself. And then, after getting them established, he stayed with them to the end, gloriously completing what he had begun.

Three versions of delivery--2004, 2023, and God's eternal way--and in all three, my heart is very much involved. 

What Really Matters?

Like many parents before me, I have found the challenge of handing over the reins to my young adults emotionally challenging. Too much to fast, too little too late--it all depends on the child and the situation. 

Early this Fall as I started processing the ending of this chapter of parenthood and the beginning of another, I became a bit Ecclesiastical. In my exhaustion and cynicism I wondered if intentional parenting doesn't guarantee a result, what has all our investment been for? The temptation for a person who has long believed that everything matters is to swing wildly to the other side. What if nothing matters? 

I had the privilege over the last couple of weeks to read my Seniors' college admission essays. It has been a gift to read how they define themselves--especially what moments from their adolescence they determined to be transformative. Frankly, the big memories I tried to engineer aren't their watershed moments. Instead, it has been the more mundane, organic moments they cite as formative. 

So, I have arrived at this: You don't get to know in advance what matters down the road. 

Parenting, it seems, is a lot like throwing mud against the wall. Some sticks, but you can't predict what. So we sling love, hurl encouragement, and fling opportunities against the sturdy wall of our secure bond. Then, we wait to see what stays. 

Thanks to my blog hobby, I have my own version of some of my children's essay topics. Unsuprisingly, my perspective in the moment differs slightly from their recollection years later. A nod to Ecclesiastes 3: 11 "He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men, yet they cannot fathom the work God has done from beginning to end. "

These blog posts reveal my own sanctification in the process of my children's formation. As a result, I can say with confidence that none of it is meaningless. God is always at work in the "unadorned pots of our everyday lives" (2 Corinthians 4:7)

To Him be the Glory!

Packing Their Bags

Perhaps because of the demands of my husband's career, we learned early that getting far away and off the grid was the best way to truly relax together. Travel has become a part of our family DNA.

When our children were younger, I did all the packing. As they got into upper elementary school, I would give them a fairly specific list and they would select items accordingly. In high school this evolved into me asking them what they thought they needed for the trip. I might give general reminders and feedback, but they learned to evaluate the activities, weather and length of trip to decide what they needed. Because journeys are unpredictable, there are times when we miss the mark. I am thinking of many sweatshirts, swimsuits, and shoes through the years that have been purchased at our destinations.

As I brainstormed Christmas gift list ideas last week, I thought about the bags my young adults would need. I don't yet know their destinations. Will they be mostly driving home from school or flying? Will they land in places where they might hike on weekends or settle into an urban environment? I can't predict what types of bags they will need just yet, nor do I fully understand what they will practically need to put inside them.

When we elected to give our kids a redshirt Kindergarten year, I started calling this 18-year-old Senior year our 'victory lap.' Little did I know it would actually contain its share of hard lessons that sometimes feel more like defeat. 

As I was discussing this with a friend recently she said "It's all going in their adulthood bag. These are the lessons they will carry with them. Aren't you glad they are happening when you are still close enough to really coach?"

Much like the destination, the challenges they will face in their journeys remain unknown. An encouraging older Mom friend urged me to view the lessons they are learning this year as essentials they will need in their emotional/social/spiritual bags. Especially the difficult ones. 

Another important point was made by my husband recently when I was in a tizzy about something that had barely affected one of my children. As I talked through how it triggered something from my own high school experience he wisely and lovingly reminded me, "That's your stuff. They have enough of their own. Don't ask them to carry yours too."

Sigh.

So here we are, doing the work of packing bags for adventures and destinations unknown to us, but already fully covered by the Author and Perfector of our faith.

Our Training Wheel Summer

Twelve years ago we made the decision to "redshirt" our children by having them repeat Kindergarten as they changed schools. We did this for many reasons including their prematurity, early Summer birthdays, mixed genders, small stature, and our general observation that while we knew a handful of people who wished they had given their children the gift of an extra year at home, we didn't know any who regretted doing so.

This Spring, as similarly-aged students were preparing for high school graduation, I found myself full of gratitude that we had another year. I felt strongly this Summer was going to be instrumental in giving our freshly minted 18-year-olds opportunities to experience independence, maturity, and space.  

Kate & Ryland were hired as counselors at the camps in Mentone, Alabama & Black Mountain, North Carolina where they spent their childhood Summers. Parker decided to serve on the Work Crew (doing outdoor maintenance and sound tech) at a Young Life camp in Brevard, North Carolina. By the end of July, all should return with 5-8 weeks of out-of-the-nest experience under their belts.

Meanwhile, my husband and I have been practicing a new normal herein the nest--where we eat smaller meals in a quieter house with much less frenzied schedules. We have been referring to this time as our "training wheel Summer." 

As my people start returning in the next two weeks, I want to be intentional about honoring all we have learned. I am praying about exactly what that looks like, but I am convinced the first two steps are being mindful about it and putting it down on paper. 

I have been making lists of things we need to cover when they return...from college applications to high school Summer work and haircuts and sports practices in between. I am hoping to have a couple of individual meetings with each one to debrief when they return and reinstate weekly family meetings as the Fall begins. 

But I am posting this as a pause to honor the gift of this victory lap...as the training wheels are loosened and we remain a soft place to land. I hope we can start to deliberately transition from chaperone to coach/consultant--and hope our kiddos will have grace for us as we learn to ride on two wheels too!