Category Archives: Uncategorized

We’ve had unseasonably warm weather here in Texas (again.) I noticed several of my flowers sprouting and pushing up through the ground. I asked my gardening friend and neighbor if my daffodils would return in the spring if they poked their heads out now. She responded that they only come up once. If they come up at the wrong time and freeze they won’t bloom this season.

Flowers that sprout but don’t bloom are reminiscent of these last two years.

The end of this year and Christmas brings us to the due date of our last loss- Lane. He was going to be a Christmas baby and I thought our little miracle.

But it’s been nine months of a different kind of birth, hard fruit borne of prayer and suffering, silence and sharing.

I wasn’t sure where my heart would be at this end of year. Today is his due date- December 23, 2025. And while my arms don’t hold him- my heart always will. He is whole with Jesus. Lane had an anomaly that wouldn’t have allowed him to survive much past birth. And while he is not an angel, little Lane was created for far greater purposes- he is part of eternal plans that I can’t yet know.

This month I have contemplated on his name and the names of our others- Our first little Sparrow, who flew away, our second- Orion was always meant for the heavens. I too sought to fly away from the heaviness of those losses and press ahead. Then Lane. That loss was bewildering. Lane grounded me. He was named after the road God has asked us to travel, or rather put us on. I have slowly come to settle into this lane, this reality that loss doesn’t always hold a beautiful ending or a bow on it like a Christmas present should.

Sometimes the paths God places us on-go on and on.

There is no divide in the sea, or bend in the river. They are more than seasons- they become the spaces that shape us, change us, recreate us. We learn how to live with the loss and not so much inside of it.

A sweet friend shared a podcast about God’s delays. It was so timely. Two questions were posed regarding delays- do I trust God? And do I feel He owes me anything? Two very hard questions. The answer is yes and no. But it feels like the answer is also no and yes.

The God who flung stars across an expanse that we can’t even begin to describe, the same One who gave oceans depth that have no measurable bottom, who gave each creature the ability to produce after its own kind, granted us blue skies, and bursting daffodils, that is the same One holds everything together by the WORD OF HIS POWER.

And God asks it again. “Will you trust me to hold this with you?”

He can hold my yes and no, and no and yes because He understands the human heart. And he’ll keep asking the same gentle question. Because trusting God allows us to enter a deeper relationship not known through other paths.

It’s not a blind trust.

Jesus walked this road of suffering. He had no home, no family, no material possessions, he wasn’t liked, he was betrayed, rejected by his own people, called names, blasphemed, spat upon, and God his very Father turned his back on him on the Cross and poured out a wrath you and I will never have to face.

We don’t have to face our worst enemy- death and beyond, if we trust him.

He is a God acquainted with grief says Isaiah 53:3. (One of my favorite passages.) He has suffered with us since the Fall. He has longed for us to have our rightful place alongside him. He has fought battle after battle for our wayward hearts, and was slain on a cross after coming by way of a muddy manger. He paid the price for our sin.

God owes us nothing. And yet He gave us everything- salvation, renewal, hope, forgiveness, and redemption.

You’ll find that most every single person in the Bible has a story of suffering and waiting. But there’s a difference between theirs and ours- many of them never saw the full picture of God’s redemptive plan. Many died in their faith not knowing the fullness of what was to come.

Abraham never saw his descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky, he only received the promise of what was to come. But you better believe his faith is sight now!

When we don’t have faith or trust, we can lean on our brothers and sisters around us and those gone before us.

And most of all- we have Jesus. We can see the fullness of God’s redemption. God coming for us in the face of Jesus. What didn’t make sense to God’s people in the Old Testament now we see clearly.

And you better believe what we can’t see now, we will see fully one day.

God is long suffering with us. And He holds all the answers, the reasons, the eternal sight. He holds everything- my heart, my sorrow, my babies, my waiting, my questions and confusion, and my timid trust.

This Christmas if your heart is empty, feeling the loss of someone dear, void because of rejection or loneliness, utterly weary in this too long season of delay and no answers- hold onto this. This pain and this suffering is not purposeless. It is meaningful to God. It is telling a story. And most of all- God wants you to be in his story. One that stretches far beyond and after ours. One that is beautiful. And promises Daffodils blooming in December.

My family surprised us at our Christmas gathering. They purchased a stone in memory of our children at the Tyler Children’s Park. It means the world for others to remember with us and walk this path alongside.

This road, this Lane has my heart looking up, and not so tethered to the things of this world. Holding onto trust even when I don’t feel it. Remembering what God has done for me and remembering this:

“What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:31-32‬ ‭

The daffodils coming up that I mentioned in the beginning of this blog are ones my son and I transplanted last spring from the back of our property. They didn’t bloom in their true season either. But I am believing they will bloom in God’s season.

One day trust will give way to something greater. Trust will no longer be required in heaven, because we will know as we are fully known.

“For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.”
‭‭I Corinthians‬ ‭13:12‬ ‭

All my love and prayers are with you! If I can pray for you specifically, please let me know.

Merry Christmas and happy Holy days in our Lord!

I always wanted to marry young and have a big family. Raise six kids. Four girls and two boys. (As if could choose that part.)

But God orchestrated His plans for two late bloomers to meet later in life. I married my sweet husband, Kirk when I was almost 38.

You don’t have to do math to know that time for a woman to bear children is short after that age.

God graciously gave us a son after almost a year of trying, praying, and waiting. And what a gift he has been! So full of life and energy. We often joke that he got his genes from the other spouse when we are worn out by his almost three year old antics.

Life is full and I love being home. It’s my highest calling. Kirk has given me the greatest offering- to be free to serve my family and others out of the ministry of our home with all my attention, energy, and heart. And I have never seen God provide in so many ways.

From the outside we look like the little, happy country family. And we are in so many ways.

But we live in a broken, unredeemed world.

We first miscarried in February of 2024. I wrote a post about it, “Not a Sparrow Falls.” It was crushing when we found out at 12 weeks we had lost our baby at 8.5 weeks after feeling pregnant all that time. I ended up with complications from a D and C. The whole ordeal was traumatic and raw.

We decided to trust again.

We got pregnant after moving into our new build in mid August of 2024. It was also at the time of our would have been due date of our first loss. It felt special, redemptive. But then I began to miscarry around 7 weeks. It was shocking. The process was much kinder on my body this time, and it helped me recognize the loss as my body let go of this little life.

I began to seek answers as I knew too many women who had experienced recurrent miscarriages with medical reasons. I felt judged by comments. I sensed something was wrong with me.

What most people don’t understand is that the pain of miscarriage and infertility becomes a prolonged, hidden grief.

Turns out in my pursing answers I have a genetic mutation no know in mainstream medicine knows what to do with.

I did my own research after having labs done, because I was literally told by my doctor to “Google it.” I talked to a dear friend who’s knowledgeable, and began to change what I needed to- taking methylated vitamins for the rest of my life. In addition, I needed to avoid regular folic acid. I began to read and make changes to just be healthier all around.

In all this, I sought out a hematologist to go over my clotting factors and history. They refused to see me, because I didn’t have a diagnosis. This made zero sense to me as that was what I was pursuing- answers under their speciality.

My OB did as I asked and sent a referral to Maternal Fetal medicine (MFM). And in the process of these referrals I found out I was pregnant again. The referral didn’t go through, and so I called back and forth. Turns out the OB went back on her word, they weren’t going to see me until after my 8 week ultrasound.

I sat and waited, angry and anxious. I started to notice symptoms telling of a hormonal shift and miscarriage. I advocate hard. My OB won’t do anything, specialists refused see me, a nearby pregnancy center couldn’t see me either, I helplessly watch as,

every

single

door

closes.

I can tell in the spiritual realms a battle is waging. I feel heavy, like something is pending. I turn to the Word and my books. Everything I read is preparing me for miscarriage.

For a third time.

I called my OB office again, and was literally told to “think positive thoughts” though I’m having symptoms of a miscarriage. I headed to the ER per their suggestion. I experienced more compassion from the technician that any staff at my OB care.

We were shocked when the heartbeat was detected after I thought I was miscarrying!! I went home and tried to relax. “You’re going to have a Christmas baby,” is what the doctor said.

I can’t shake the feeling that something is off as every single pregnancy symptom has disappeared at this point. I found a new OB, but a few hours later my body begins to bleed, and I knew. I knew what I knew all along- that God was preparing us for a third miscarriage.

I miscarry a week before Mother’s Day, and 10 days before another would be due date.

And life becomes bewildering.

I carry a continual weight because you don’t know what the future holds and you fear what it does hold.

It’s hard to grieve losses that had so many hopes and dreams attached to them.

Hope is like seeing visions of children playing around you, while the warm sun beams and the waves crash with their laughter. You lay on the beach surrounded by your babies. Miscarriage is the reality of the waves and billows that roll over you instead.

And so- this is the part of life that can get really dark and fuzzy. Why does God give babies to people who don’t even want them, abort or abuse them? Why even grant a pregnancy, plant hope, and then uproot it?

There’s nothing more agonizing than carrying life after it’s gone. It’s a unique experience I wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

People think you move on. You get over it. Or you can just try again.

It has been beyond hard, and hardest on my husband and I. The valleys are deep and dark and lonely. Few people really can walk it out with you.

And then light breaks through.

I met an OB and a hematologist who actually care, explained somethings and pursued answers with me.

We decided to do genetic testing this time on our miscarried baby. Turns out he’s a boy. Just knowing that gives a little something to hold onto about him. He had triploidy- which is a third set of chromosomes. It is almost always fatal, in pregnancy or shortly after birth. The good news is that it’s an error in cell division, not related to age, genetics or a reoccurring thing.

More light. We began to heal, our marriage, our family, our trust in God.

I began to earnestly pray for a circle of friends who had gone through similar things, that circle now around me too.

God had given me the name “Glory” prior to this third miscarriage when the darkness began to settle in. I told God that I know he wants the glory… but turns out we are on a road to Glory.

Roses kept popping up on my path, and some sweet friends had given me some. We planted one in our son’s honor. I found this page I opened to in a book friends had given me:

I had felt forgotten and achingly empty. Loss drains you of every vitality.

Then God began to speak.

My brother, a missionary in Spain, reminded me that Jesus walked the “Via De La Rosa”- the road to glory is always marked by suffering.

Suffering always precedes glory.

It turns out our son was always glory bound. What peace in knowing this!

The path to redemption, to glory, is the path of suffering. Because it’s the way Jesus chose. It’s the broken world we live in. We must walk through brokenness to find wholeness in Christ.

Christ was literally broken for us. His wounds cover ours. He bore our greatest suffering- the justice of God for our sins on the Cross. We will suffer in this life, but we are promised a greater, incomparable glory in Him!!

We named our son Lane Michael. Michael for my husband’s middle name. Lane for the road God has apportioned for us.

Glory lies just ahead.

“A moment of pain is worth a lifetime of glory.” Louis Zamperini

We moved in June of 2023 to small town, East Texas. My husband graciously became a Texan a few years prior by way of the Upper Pensiula of Michigan where we met, Mississippi, and his birth place of Ohio. While moving was not new to him- I left 37 years of deep roots behind.

Let me back up some. Before Love built a home on our land- it was writing a story.

While waiting on the Lord for children- we spent some time praying about a move to East Texas. We knew we wanted a space of our own to raise our family. After my husband was offered to transfer his job to East Texas we began narrowing our search. We started exploring and fell in love with the woods, the country life, the spaces, and the salt of the earth people.

Many of the properties we looked at required a huge remodeling endeavor, while some had generations of things littering the land, and dirt roads with pot holes as wide as my CRV.

We needed something liveable and on a one income budget, especially after finding out we were going to have a son!

We had almost set our search aside when my husband found one more property. I was seven months pregnant. The land was beautiful with towering trees, but on it sat a not so quaint house. The video the realtor sent showed a lot of work. My dad remodels for a living and told us if we did this house ourselves we would probably never be done remodeling it. I had no interest in going to see it, we had plenty to do to get ready for our son. But I felt God telling me to listen to my husband on this.

So we went the next day.

The videos didn’t do it justice, neither did the description in the listing, “just needs your finishing touches.”

The drab brown house had been halted in its renovations, leaving it in varying stages of its remodel. The original cabin had over 2000 sq. feet added, to a long oddly designed floor plan. The small kitchen sat at one end of the house with the huge main living space at the far end. In the living room was a huge doorway to an unfinished “bathroom.” There were stairs in another doorway leading to a loft you couldn’t quite stand up in. The balcony had been ripped off and you could see the light through the framed in window. We pulled up a piece of plywood to inspect and found a literal hole in the floor. It was a mixture of dreams started and things already falling apart. Oak flooring lay across the floor with shiny tin ceilings, new ceiling fans and there sat the brand new HVAC still wrapped in the living room. But its fixings didn’t hide its bad bones- the patched seam in the roof, the pier and beam foundation (which had literal shims of wood between layers), the crazy plumbing, no central heat/AC and uncertain wiring. The breaker panel sat in a closet next to a window closed in by the remodel.

No one wanted to touch it.

On the way there, God had planted the idea of tearing it down and starting new.

Did people do such a thing? (In the end- it would be astronomically cheaper.)

It seemed like a lot. We walked away after seeing it, unsure.

But the sellers dropped the price that following Monday. We decided to take a step of faith-perhaps this was an unconventional way of obtaining a beautiful piece of property. Even without the house-the 32 acres, aquifer well, electric line, septic, road, fencing, clearing, and second entrance made it worth the price.

We approached our financing about wanting to make an offer. After many months of research and discussions we thought we were on the same page. In the last hour, we found out the timing wouldn’t work- we would have to sell our home right then to qualify.

So we walked away.

Sometimes God really wants you to trust Him and then simply step back. Let Him work.

The same day we walked away- an unconventional means of financing was brought to us that could only be described as God. We felt confident in at least making an offer, and letting Him confirm. So we did. It turns out we beat an investor, got a credit for a bad septic, and gained 32 acres that was becoming very spiritually significant to us.

The house and property sat for over a year as we became first time parents.

When we came out of the blessed fog of no sleep, we placed our suburban house on the market, sold it and found a rent house within two weeks of closing. It was in a town nearby (also another God provision!) where He situated us perfectly, to find a church down the road which led to us finding a church family, and the beginning roots of our community.

In the process of getting to know our new neighbors in the country we found our amazing builder, an artichect who hadn’t changed his prices since the 80s and a personal bank that was willing to work with our unconventional plan.

To save money our builder suggested burning the old house down as a training exercise for our local fire dept.

So we burned the old house down.

Our kind neighbors had helped strip anything of value from the home, giving a lot of it to them. They even cut down trees that were necessary for safety.

I did save that squeaky screen door.

Our land was ours free and clear from the sale of our suburban home. We signed our loan to build in November.

In January our builder ran into problems finding a foundation guy. He got the name of someone at a hardware store. Turns out he was an associate pastor.

We were building our house on the Rock.

The framing was done by just a few guys. We watched as walls went up and wrote Scriptures on them as a testament to the fact that this place belonged to God. Of all the places God could have brought us, we were realizing this was a calling and a gift. How else can you explain how we ended up among some of the most giving people? All mostly retired and wise to the country life neighbors- a PA, two other nurses, three master gardeners, a school teacher, a former butcher knowledgeable about herbs, and yes God even spoke to my missions loving heart. Down the road from us is a retired, widowed missionary- whose house was built by one of our neighbors just for him!

We moved in on our would have been baby’s due date, God showing us that he gives new beginnings. It’s been an adjustment to country life (I killed 18 scorpions in the house in the first two weeks!) and we have a lot to learn. But we are humbled to be caretakers of this place. Our neighbors welcomed us with a BBQ, and our church family prayed over our home- a blessing recently.

We have much work ahead of us- a lifetime of it. But it is good work- the taming of land, unveiling the hidden beauty of a lost Eden, and setting down new roots in a place where God is opening doors for ministry, hospitality, and much growth.

We very much miss our friends and family we moved away from, more than we can say. Obedience always has a cost. (It cost Jesus his life). But we are thankful for this calling, and I am thankful for a God who provides though my husband- to enable me to be home for now with our young son. And you better believe he was born for the country life!

Today is our due date had we not miscarried. These 6 months have taken me places and into valleys I’ve never been in. They have been the hardest of my life.

We found out at my 12 week appt in February that we had miscarried. I knew then that God was taking me on a long trek.

I am not one for long journeys. I am the one who longs to just be Home.

I am in the middle of that story. Or rather His. And it doesn’t always afford much sight of what He is doing.

I have battled anemia, thyroid issues, and just achingly tired days. I have felt lost at times in mom groups full of young babies, multiple siblings, and pregnancies. The most common question I get (an innocent one) is, “Is he your only one?” I have wrestled hard with the fact that every woman in my immediate family will give birth this year. Except me. And while I am overjoyed for them, there is no shared experience. In the midst of working through all this pain- I have recognized a need to let go of control especially in our marriage.

Wounds sometimes deepen before they heal.

My dreams have felt cut off.

I have cried in every single worship service. Through every song I have listened to, I have ached for the reality of no more brokenness in this life.

I can accept the fact that our baby is gone to be with the Lord, her Creator. But I can’t quite face the future and what it might hold.

Or what I might not hold.

This part of the story feels unscripted, like something you would naturally leave out of a good read.

But the Author of this story has vision for things I don’t. And everything he is doing or allows in this broken world has eternity weighted behind it. His sights are on ALL of it. And He is doing the most in the seemingly unimportant, dull, tiring, weighed down moments of life.

So let me recount the good things He has done in the hard, impossible places.

God has shown me how to have more grace. For others and myself.

He has slowed my tasking hands, and steadied me to walk at his pace.

He has strengthened my marriage in so many beautiful ways.

He has given me an even deeper compassion for those who walk out life after loss.

He has helped me to pause, simply behold Seth, our son and the miracle he is.

He has reminded me of His great faithfulness. And His enduring love.

He has granted me friendships and community in a new place. And He is giving us a beautiful ministry here.

And He has strengthened my heart with this word from the beginning- “I have more family for you, Jamy.”

This seems monumental at almost 42.

Yet over and over He has affirmed this word- from walking out of the hospital chapel (after taking a wrong turn) and running into a pregnant woman to Scriptures of the promise of children lighting my face not even looking for it. Fireflies in all the places, when they weren’t even in season (my love wink from God). And even a nurse I talked to- reminding me of Abraham and Sarah’s story.

Their story (found in Genesis) of childlessness for 25 years is astounding, when you consider they were already past childbearing years when God promised them a son. For God to grant them a son and promise more descendants than the stars in the sky seems impossible.

It resonates.

Their story has always been my favorite-they were late bloomers like me.

And yet there’s more to Abraham and Sarah’s story. They had a middle part. A long one. They didn’t know that in their waiting, God was orchestrating the timeline for a Redeemer to come through their lineage. His name would be Jesus, through whom ALL the families on earth would be blessed and God would redeem us from the curse of sin and death.

“But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name: who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.”
‭‭John‬ ‭1:12-13‬ ‭

Abraham and Sarah saw an empty cradle. God saw a Babe in a manger coming in the fullness of time to redeem mankind.

Think on this- Abraham couldn’t even see all the stars when God told him to count them.

When God tells us to look to Him, He knows we can’t see the whole picture. He does and asks us to trust Him.

And it’s a reminder that when you surrender your life to the Lord- it will look nothing like you planned.

And will be far better than you could ever have imagined. From beginning to middle to end.

The middle parts of our stories often look like wildernesses, deserts, dried up relationships, tired worn days, aching bodies, and aching hearts. They can seem like wasted days.

But there is GOD in the waking of your wake.

So often in life the very things that go wrong are leading us into the way everlasting. He is always accomplishing far more than just the thing in front of us.

“I will even make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” Isaiah 43:19

God is not done with our stories, friend. Not even death can change that. For it is never the end for Believers in Jesus. It is only the best, most brightest of beginnings.

“Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, Nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.” I Corinthians‬ ‭2:9‬

I’m writing this lying in a hospital bed in Tyler, Texas. It’s nighttime and I should be home with my husband and firstborn. Being admitted was not part of the expected outcome, but then very few things in life go according to plan.

We were excited and a bit shocked when we found out we were pregnant with our second. Marrying Kirk at 37 and hoping to have kids felt like we had missed that bus. Many of our friends had kids in high school already. Part of our shock was realizing our due date was going to be close to our home build finishing. We even told our builder our news. I mean- lighting a bit of a fire doesn’t hurt, right?

We moved to East Texas last June, the area lovingly labeled simply by its place on the map. Frankly it’s just so beautiful, serene, and so different from the hustle of Dallas, the “weirdness” of Austin, where I grew up, and even the wild of West Texas. People here are the salt of the earth kind. Strangers would do anything for you.

We felt called by God to move after my hard working husband received the option to transfer here. And if I told you all God did to bring us here, we would be here awhile.

With our second pregnancy I was quite sick, didn’t feel myself. I was down and unmotivated. But there’s nothing like a 16 month old at home to keep you moving! I was so happy about the baby, but felt things were just different, perhaps God was whispering a warning. Our first two ultrasounds were picture perfect. Our 8 weeks and 3 days one showed normal growth and a strong heartbeat.

I’m sure by now you know where this story is headed.

At twelve weeks I went into a new OB to establish care. The minute the ultrasound flashed with no heartbeat and the quiet sonographer went to get the practioner, I knew. My heart was not even a second behind my brain, as sobs involuntarily left my body.

We were days away from making our happy announcement publicly.

They were sorry. The baby had passed away in the 8th week. I needed to come back in two weeks. Try to wait at home and see if my body would do what it needed to do.

Thank God for medical care.

Almost a week went by, my body refusing to recognize the lost pregnancy of now five weeks. We felt like we needed a plan. The second OB appt confirmed that. At this point, we we were entering the arena of complications. We scheduled the outpatient surgery for the next day, after realizing the potential dangers and not wanting to go through another weekend of being on an emotional hold.

The minor outpatient surgery was not so much. The OB spent twice as long with me in the OR as he anticipated. I lost 2 liters of blood, close to half my blood volume. No one told me this until later, when I tried to get up out of bed, and nearly passed out. Overnight was needed to monitor. Thankfully my blood count was stable, but my body needed time to register the volume loss.

My heart would need even longer.

The nursing student checking me into my overnight room naively asked if I had any open wounds. I wanted to reply- “Just my heart,” but I knew that I was once her, a young RN, just checking the boxes.

Before all this has happened, I had been feeling pretty alone in my pregnancy. After all I had uprooted 37 years of my life- said goodbye to family, community, so many friendships, and left 18 years of relationships at my only place of work as an RN to follow my husband and be home with our son.

And then our little One flew away and left us. It’s the oddest space to be in. Pregnant but not.

I was lost with the change of direction, all my plans halted. I sought the comfort of God, reading His Word:

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭10:29‬ ‭

Not a single sparrow falls.

There is not one who is not under His constant watch, his ever faithful care. No creature on earth is ever outside His hands.

We don’t know what we were going to have, but the Lord told me this was our little Sparrow. Never once outside His care, or his plans. Psalm 139 says that He knew everyday of our baby’s life before yet one day had been numbered and purposed every one.

I never noticed this detail in the Bible before. People were bringing their children to Jesus to be blessed: “Then they also brought infants to Him that He might touch them…”

Babies in Jesus arms. On earth and in heaven.

God never skips a detail. Or misses a heartbeat.

“Jesus called them to Him and said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God. Assuredly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it.” Luke‬ ‭18:15-17‬ ‭

Children teach us more about God than any theologian or scholar. The kingdom of heaven is missed by so many because we believe wrongly we have to be good, earn our way, or maybe that we just don’t need God. Or want Him.

Jesus said- this, this is the way- to trust me like a Child, with all your heart, to recklessly abandon your ways, and follow Mine. To give up yourself for Me as I have given myself to you. Then and only then will you find the pure unadulterated joy of knowing me like a child does.

It amazes me that the One who upholds everything by the Word of his power- also holds the babies, the sparrows, and the oceans in the hollow of His nail scarred hand. (Hebrews 1:3, Isaiah 40:12)

My heart longs still to have this one, to hold. But I’ll wait longingly for that Day and to see what His heart holds for us in this journey.

Our little Sparrow is more alive than ever, and just has flown on ahead of us, to be with Him.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” – Jesus ‬ ‭

Thank you to our sweet new church family for stepping in, sending us tangible love and for all our friends and family who checked in, prayed, sent food, and loved us. And for Summer, keeping our firstborn so Mama wouldn’t worry.

I no longer feel alone.

I thought I was expecting all the things with a baby, especially as a NICU nurse of 16 years. I mentally prepared myself for what I thought would be the hardest part- the lack of sleep. I laughed nervously when I asked other moms, “When does sleep get better?” And their reply was, “You’ll never sleep soundly again!”

Yet motherhood startled me in many ways.

I wasn’t quite prepared for the loss of control- of my heart, my emotions, even my body.

I laid stretched out on the C-section table telling myself not to try and move my toes because it made my legs feel heavier. I was scheduled for delivery because of a low lying placenta. My mind raced. I tried to breathe calmly. The OR team reassured me of our son’s impending arrival as they pushed above the swell of my abdomen. The air squeezed out of me, tears involuntarily rolled down my cheeks. They told me I would feel pressure-I felt pain.

I heard him before I saw him. His cry was strong and marked. Music to my nurse ears. And then there he was, perfectly round cheeks and upward turned nose, his blinking blue eyes- taking in the world around him.

My constricted heart filled.

I didn’t realized just how deeply invested my heart was until this eight pound ball of a human stared back at me. I had already loved him a long time, but now it was love in my sight.

I laid partially paralyzed as the nurse wheeled me to recovery. Beeping monitors above me, I held my son, offering him the nourishment God had placed in me. My heart rate read 38. The nurse worriedly asked me how I felt. “Exhilarated!” My son was in my arms!

His blood sugar was low- so we offered him formula. No NICU drama needed here. He ate so well. He must have been practicing because he came out with a suck blister on his wrist.

I had never felt such euphoria.

We were baptized by the flooding in of parenthood- diapers, disrupted sleep, good intentions, wrong advice, well wishes and prayers, and to frame it best in the words of our discharge nurse- “At the end of the day, we are all just winging it.”

All the new emotions rose to the surface. Deeply tied to the dicotomy of his strong insistent cries was the fragility of the situation- his whole wellbeing depended on us.

We were sucked into a time vortex. I have never watched all the hours go by on the clock. I missed the sun though it was one of the hottest summers on record. Our AC bill showed it. I think I sweated out all my excess estrogen from pregnancy at night and lost all my gained weight except 5 pounds by my two week check up. “Is that normal?” “Hmm, can be,” was my OB’s non-reassuring reply.

Don’t worry I regained some with all the lactation cookies.

I thought I was prepared being a baby nurse for almost two decades. But I wasn’t ready for all the second guessing. So much felt like it was at stake.

There was the morning my heart completely exited my chest. Having gone to the bathroom for 30 seconds I ran out to find his color a shade that had me calling for help. His choking episode left me sleepless for a week.

All the hormones that present themselves as emotions came all at once that first week. My husband bore them well, and bore all of them.

I didn’t know there was such a thing as a “fourth trimester,” as my dear friend, Meredith informed me. It was by far proving to be the most difficult.

I thought I was done with the physical discomfort of bearing him, but I carried my son well past his due date. He slept on my chest often because of his colic and reflux. I carried him in one arm breastfeeding as I negotiated some breakfast. We barely slept. A few nights- not at all. It was as if my heart had grown arms because my physical ones lost their strength.

I triple fed (breastfed, pumped, and then bottle fed) for 8 weeks to try and help my supply. I didn’t know it was suppose to be more of a temporary thing. I will never again just casually encourage a NICU mom in this!

The marathon feedings gave way to a slightly more sane routine. We tried multiple formulas to fill in the gap of my supply and for his tummy upset and reflux.

I won’t quickly forget the night our cat, who literally eats nothing except his dry food, drug the specialty European formula off the counter. It had come in two days prior. I was desperate to try anything. That cat put just the right amount of holes in it. I wasn’t sure whether to lock the formula or the cat up.

“Sleep when your child sleeps.”

Sage advice for the child who actually sleeps.

I took Tylenol and ibuprofen around the clock to keep moving the first week as I recovered. My liver enzymes showed it.

But more than all the chaos of keeping a little human alive- I wasn’t prepared to feel the penetrating warm gaze of a beautiful little soul created by God Himself.

It astounded me that one egg and one tiny seed created this perfectly miniature little human being.

Reproduction it seems flies in the face of the very foundations of the theory of evolution- all chaos and chance. No explanation for the intricacies of our design and the incredible ability to replicate that design through the oneness of man and woman in our children.

That very design points to the Divine.

I wasn’t prepared for all the wonder- the new awe of God as our ever patient parent.

And for all his fragility, my son’s cries would make me move mountains for him.

As our Heavenly Father did- moving heaven to earth, through Jesus. To be known and to become one of us, so we could be like Him.

Some call a baby’s entrance into the world a “Life Event.” This makes me laugh. The event is not over. Its just begun. And though the beginning has been rough, he’s so worth it. I cannot wait to see what God does with his life in his generation.

We know he is a gift from God. We have both waited to be parents until we thought it wasn’t possible. So we gave him back. On a sunny Sunday we gathered our community and dedicated him to the Lord.

I’m learning so much everyday. I’m slowly breathing more deeply and enjoying getting to know my son in the midst of piles of laundry, feeding, pumping around the clock and just trying to find my toothbrush.

And I would be lying if I didn’t say I can’t wait for a little more sleep.

I have a sweet friend who has made a deep impression in my life of late.

As I step fully into my calling of motherhood today- she has faithfully just ended hers.

Jessica fought well her battle with leukemia the last few years. So many people who love her now carry the weight of sorrow because how she did live her life- full of love and Jesus.

I have been dwelling on the depth of her sacrifice for her children especially. Her story of sacrifice began as a young girl herself. I don’t know all of it, but the parts I do know capture the essence of her beautifully redeemed heart.

Her story stands in stark contrast to all this shouting of “rights.”

(As if one’s right should ever supersede another’s?)

As a young teen my friend found herself faced with an unplanned pregnancy.  

She chose to give her daughter the gift of life and gave her to a family ready to raise her.

My friend later married, had twin boys, and a little girl just four years ago. She was diagnosed with Leukemia a year later.

She ran her race well until the very end.

But that isn’t all of her story. For some years, she and her family went to live as house parents to love on young girls caught in the same confusion, pain, and aloneness of an unplanned pregnancy. Girls, who faced a choice that would change them forever no matter which way they diverted.

My friend chose a life of love and sacrifice many times over. I imagine it was not an easy path.

I keep thinking of what Jessica wrote with her life, through the ink of God’s grace.  She wanted so much to continue on mothering her children. But I can’t help and think that her story will impress upon her children in ways that a lifetime of words could not touch.

Life is about sacrifices and choices. And she certainly made hers count.

Jessica’s life points to our Savior, someone who gave up His rights for our own- Jesus.

The Bible says He gave up His rights and privileges as God to become one of us, so we could become His. That is the forever assurance my friend lived with and the one she has passed onto her children.

“Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and came in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross” Philippians 2:7.

If the Son of God laid down his rights and privileges as God, how much more are we to?

Motherhood is a calling.

And sometimes it is thrust upon us unexpectedly. It is a call of selflessness all of our days. We must give up our desires, rights, and even needs to use ourselves fully to raise a generation that will bring more hope and healing than we have.

What we have dared to call a choice, God has ordained for His praise.

“You have set your glory in the heavens. Through the praise of children and infants you have established a stronghold against your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger” Psalm 8:1-2.

What an infant would teach us even in their inability to speak will be used to silence the Enemy who would have us miss the lessons they would impart.

We are not gifted with the insight that God has- to intimately know all the days of a person before they are even yet born (Psalm 139:16).

We cannot forecast the impact a child will have, even a child with a terminal illness. I know too many stories otherwise, as a NICU nurse, that have deeply impressed themselves on my soul. Parents who bravely navigated their child’s prognosis and allowed them to insert their story into history, whether 9 months in the womb, or a few short weeks lived after birth.

Those children and their parents lived out their stories in the NICU, which bled into mine.

And changed me.

These precious little babies opened my eyes to a supernatural world- one where the mysteries of life, death, brokenness, and a longing for innocent wholeness dwell. And they pointed to a God who would make all this right someday for those who love Him.

I have learned too much to ever doubt the impact of an unborn child or a prematurely born one who has been allowed to tell their story every day that was ordained for them.

Their very days praise God.

Sadly abortion doesn’t allow a woman to see the story her child would have. It doesn’t offer redemption for her struggle and pain. (Though I would say loudly- there is an opportunity for healing, hope, and a new story written for a woman who has made this difficult choice.)

One life is not more valuable because of its length. Life is sacred because of Who counts our days.

 I do not believe that to be pro-abortion is to be pro-woman.

It does not change her circumstances.

Or her lack of support.

It affects her reproductive health.

She has a higher death rate among women who have never had an abortion.

It does not teach her about her glorious body.

It does not empower her to remove herself from an unhealthy environment.

It often keeps her in the abusive relationship that demanded the abortion to begin with.

It does not gain her financial support.

Abortion doesn’t allow a woman to grieve and share her grief.

Half of all pregnancies are still unintended. Over 40% of abortions are repeat. 1% are chosen for rape and incest. A little over 1% are medical reasons.

Over 95% of abortions are for financial or social reasons.

And most abortions (nearly 40%) are performed on the next generation of black children who could change the course of history. (Abortion in the U.S.: What the data says | Pew Research Center).

We are failing the next generation.

And are failing women.

My hope is that we would all help support women from having to make this choice in the first place. Woman deserve better options and community that will strengthen them and keep from these hard places.

I am praying my son will be a voice for loving and caring deeply for the whole soul of women. I have cried to know he is being born into a time in which his generation may if we allow, have a louder voice in this, than the last fifty years.

Written in honor of my friend, Jessica Hobbs, who lived her life loudly from the microphone of love.