Pray for your kids.

IMG_7922.jpegI bought three small spiral notebooks with the intention of writing out my prayers for each of my kids. It’s easier to pray for the kids as a set. RubyMollyMack. I can pray for all of them to walk in God’s purposes, pray for all of them to have good days at school, pray for all of them to want to read their Bible, pray for all of them to honor, respect and obey their parents. A-hem.

But there is something about drawing a distinct line between each of them and seeing them as they are— individuals that have specific needs and challenges, individual areas of struggles and strengths. Somehow those three little spiral notebooks have helped me to zero in on what God wants me to pray for 15 year old Ruby. For 14 year old Molly. For 12 year old Mack. 

I even left the notebooks open on the island last week and asked them to write out something they want me to pray for them about. What a gift. I won’t share those requests with you, but suffice it to say that it was revealing of where each of their hearts were. It was eye-opening and helpful for me as their Mama. My heart softened as I saw their own handwriting spelling out their cares and concerns. 

Mamas, I know your to-do list is long. I know the laundry will not quit. I know your family will be hungry at dinner time and likely will look to you for the food. I know you feel overlooked and undervalued lots of days. But if I could sit across from you, I would boldly grab your precious face in my hands and say YOU ARE SO VALUABLE AS THE MOM. {Ok, so maybe I wouldn’t grab your face because that could be weird, but I would want your full attention.} No one else does your job quite like you. God sees you. God cares for you. God also hears your prayers for your children. He knows what they need before you do. Entrust them to your faithful Creator who loves them perfectly. 

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He is my burden bearer…and yours, too.

Grief is a burden. Webster tells us a burden is “a load, typically a heavy one.” Some days the load feels heavier than other days. Yesterday was a day like that for me. 

I had time at home alone, so between some laundry switching I spent time in my office taking a short online course, reading, and writing. In the process, I looked over the books on my shelf and pulled out GRIEVING A SUICIDE by Al Hsu. I ravenously read his words upon my return from burying my mom this past May, so I knew opening the book to see what I had underlined and circled could be painful. I opened it anyway. The similarities are striking in his story and mine in that he, too, was going to visit his mom and dad and was just hours away from seeing him. He, too, wondered if his visit pressed his dad to make this decision. He, too, questioned why he couldn’t have gotten to see him one more time. He, too, doubted the people who would say, “Your mom loved you so much and if she had been in her right mind she would have never done this.” He, too, has to come to the end of wrestling with questions and realize there are no answers. He, too, is pained when he thinks about all the things his dad won’t be a part of in his life or his kids’ lives. He, too, carries a burden of grief and trauma for the rest of his days. Thankfully, he, too, knows Jesus Christ as His Lord and His Savior and can find a place of rest and comfort and healing and hope.
Psalm 68:19 says, “Blessed be the Lord, who daily bears our burden. The God who is our salvation.  Selah.” (selah= pause and reflect on what has just been said.)
In The Message translation it reads like this: “Blessed be the Lord—day after day He carries us along.”
It feels like I am carrying a burden of grief day after day. But the reality is that God is carrying me. He bears the burden when I unload it on Him. And I have to do that over and over again as the weight can sometimes unknowingly build and build. He is carrying me up the mountain and carrying me through the valleys and along every trail in between. 
So last night as Ruby sang this song I was moved to tears. Partly because of gratitude to God for this season of life and the opportunities He affords my kids. And partly because there were a couple of grandmothers in front of me doting on their grandchild. Ruby and Molly didn’t have that last night and it made me sad. I tried to reason in my mind, “Well, Mama lived in Augusta and probably wouldn’t have been here anyway.” But the absence of her is felt deeper and heavier some times, no matter how I try to talk myself out of feeling horrible. So I pray. And I pray some more and find God to be right there with me. It’s my prayer for you today–no matter what you’re walking through, be reminded that God is with you, carrying you even. He’s worthy of our praise in the highlands and heartache all the same.
Oh, I will praise You on the mountain.
I will praise You when the mountain’s in my way.
You’re the summit where my feet are.
I will praise You in the valleys all the same.
No less God in the shadows.
No less faithful when the night leads me astray.
You’re the heaven where my heart is—
In the highlands and the heartache all the same.

This is what LOVE looks like (and a very tired mama)

It’s just a regular old Wednesday in November. I just finished walking my dog. I am now doing laundry and wondering what I should prepare for dinner and leaning more towards picking up Chick-fil-a. It’s not Valentine’s Day or our Anniversary, yet I am finding myself overcome with gratitude for Josh. He is such a great husband and fabulous Dad. I was thinking back about the different seasons we have been through. From newlywed carefree-ness to job changes and big moves. Kids and finances and hurtful words and forgiveness. Lots of ups and lots of downs and even more just mundance in-between days. 

In my mind, this photo popped up:

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Dear goodness me. This photo. It was taken by PawPaw Dorminy as he and Deb were leaving to go back home after staying one night with us after Mack got brought home from the hospital in late March 2007. So that means Mack was four days old. I was one day into my 30’s and obviously quite tired. Exhausted and overwhelmed would also describe me. And large. Swollen, maybe? Not sure. But wow. Look at me looking so rough. Ruby was 2. Molly was 1. And they both look like little boy orphans. Josh was also not seeing his greatest days. Even if we had filters, which we did not, there wouldn’t have been one that could cover up the hard truth. We rough.

Worn out might best describe this season of life. 

But we loved each other. Josh never made me feel anything except deeply loved and wanted. Never, meaning not one single second. Josh was working hard for our family. I was keeping three little people alive. We had hard days—it was challenging to make time for just each other, but we gave our all to this less-than-glamourous season.

Now the kids are 15, 14 and 12. Josh and I are comfortably in our 40’s and still giving our all to this current season. We took a family photo recently and —thank the good Lord above—we don’t appear to be quite as frazzled. Josh is still working incredibly hard. I am still doing my best to manage the home and our kids. And we still have to fight hard to make time for just each other. DorminyIMG_3987.jpg

We are still worn out a lot of days. Maybe more mentally and emotionally than physically, but worn out, nonetheless. It is still a less-than-glamourous season as we coordinate schedules, help with Algebra and fuss at the kids about feeding the dog or washing their clothes or taking shorter showers. 

Though some nights we fall in the bed exhausted and hardly able to finish a conversation, we are still here together. Still fighting for time together. Still desiring each other. Still supporting each other. Still listening. Still talking. Still interested in each other. Still hopeful for our future. Still giving it all we have because we know our marriage is worth it. Our marriage that represents Christ and the Church to our kids and anyone else that takes a look.  Our marriage that provides stability and comfort to our kids. Our marriage that gives us both a safe place to land on those rough days. It’s worth the effort. It’s worth the time. It’s worth the work. And I hope we never give up on God’s plan for marriage. It truly seems to get better and better.

Maybe today–this regular old Wednesday– you will take a look at your spouse and tell them what you love about them. Remind them that you’re in this thing for the long-haul. We can all use some encouragement and words that lift our spirit. Say those words today.