God Has Answered

I saw a mommy blog recently where a mom said, "I was promised a village. Where's my village?" I have compassion for the lonely mom who asked this question, but my gut says she wouldn't really like my answer to her problem. I was transplanted to my current home with a six week old baby and no friends or family in my new town. My heart longed for a community, a village. What happened from there is miraculous but was also really hard work. My answer to that lonely mom is you have to be the village before you have a village, and sometimes you have to be the village over and over and over again before you find yours. As a former lonely mom who now has an amazing, better than I deserve village, here are my suggestions: 1. Show up - I am an introvert. New places full of strangers and small talk are uncomfortable for me, but in order to find my village, I had to show up every time I was invited. I met one of my now closest, most treasured friends when I showed up to a church

 I almost missed it. Even after spending the last week thinking about God's response to Cain in Genesis 4. How God again and again pursues Cain's heart. How God again and again tries to let Cain re-engage in relationship with Him. How God offered Cain chance after chance to repent. For the past week, I've ruminated over God's heart and purpose even in the life of a bad offering bringer and brother killer, and yet, I still almost missed it. Her angry words at the dinner table and her refusal to readjust and rethink were met with discipline, time in her room and an early bedtime. Given the words spoken, the tone with which they were spoken, and the decibel level reached, the discipline was fair and warranted. But as I cleared the table, I knew we couldn't just be done there. The Spirit soothed my frustration and urged me on to chase after the heart and re-engage in the relationship. The Spirit urged me not to miss our second chance. A second chance in the form of a nu

Today is my second anniversary as a foster mom. So far I have not been showered with balloons or congratulatory cards. Honestly, I didn't notice the significance of the date until someone asked me yesterday how long I had been a foster parent, but since I have now made the connection I will choose to celebrate the milestone after all. Perhaps a venti latte is in my future.  Even Minecraft can't occupy my girls long enough for me share everything I have learned in the past two years, but I would like to share some practical, easy "hacks" I am currently implementing to improve my nurturing skills. Parenting kids from hard places is different than parenting healthy, typically developing kids who have always had reliable caregivers. My bio girls have faired fine with what I have learned is my dismissive parenting, because I have consistently shown up and provided care, my presence, and my affection. If I happen to be one of those moms that tells her child to &quo

If Attention Deficit Disorder had been a common diagnosis during my childhood, I might have qualified. While I have never been hyperactive like my friends with ADHD, I have some classic ADD symptoms. As a kid, I would frequently look up in class and realize I had no idea what the teacher was talking about because I had been immersed for who knows how long in my daydream scenario sparked by her comment on a topic that had long since been left behind. I was an incredibly slow reader because a character in a book could raise a multitude of questions in my mind that simply had to be answered before I could continue reading. My fellow drivers may find this disconcerting, but sometimes I still experience this phenomenon while driving. I set out on my journey and multitask by thinking through a situation as I drive. When I arrive at my destination, I have no idea how I actually got there. I just hope that while my autopilot kicked in to allow my mind to solve the world's problems

When Matt and I were dating, I casually made the comment one evening that if he wanted a big family like his own (he's the oldest of five), then we probably weren't the right match. I have one sister, and at the time, I considered two to be the perfect number of children for any family. Since I knew everything in my twenties, no one would have been able to convince me otherwise. Matt sweetly responded that two kids sounded good to him. Today, as five precious little girls get into my mini-van in the school car line, I wonder what God thought then. Did He laugh at my small dreams or just shake His head at my ignorance?  Fifteen years ago, if you had told us that God would take us on a roller coaster adventure of infertility, ministry, and parenthood that would ultimately lead to a home filled with five little ladies between the ages of five and nine, I don't know if we would have laughed or cried. However, here we sit, a year into our foster parenting adventure the bi

 Receiving helpful criticism from Mrs. Ditty I am by nature a critical person. Add to that being an all-knowing, confident oldest child and studying to be a therapist in college where I honed my observation and analytical skills, and you have a world class critic. I can tell you what's wrong with any person, situation, or system. In this society where everyone has an opinion and thanks to social media platforms everyone has a voice, we have come to believe that everyone has a right to criticize. Now, the truth is that everyone can criticize openly and freely, but the question is, should we. Criticism is a tricky thing. I have benefited from helpful criticism that was intended for my good and growth, that was delivered carefully and deliberately by people who had earned a place of respect in my life, people who had spent infinitely more time delivering encouragement and affirmation. This kind of criticism when given and received well can be invaluable, and I am grateful for th