Dear Angry Toddler: A Letter of Repentance

Dear Angry Toddler,

I know that you don't hate me.

I know that you may actually prefer to be naked and free.

I know that putting on clothes may make you feel hindered and uncomfortable.

I also know that you may just be grasping for control wherever you can find it.

Dear Angry Toddler,

I'm so sorry.

I get so angry when you make my life less than easy.

I get so angry when you won't just listen and obey me.

I get so angry when I wonder if another mom could do this better than me.

I get so angry when I wonder if after giving you all of myself, you don't even like me.

Dear Angry Toddler,

I'm sorry that you see your anger reflected back in me.

We are cut from the same cloth.

We are both carrying the deepest need of serving the all-mighty me.

We are both sinners, and we hurt each other daily.

Dear Angry Toddler,

Please forgive me.

May the mercy I constantly receive begin to flow over to you when you are angry.

May I be an instrument of Jesus in your times of need.

May I set aside self to servant-lead.

May I lead you to Jesus, and his mercy seat.

Dear Angry Toddler,

We have the same need.

Jesus, forgive us and take the lead. 

A Happy Birthday for Mom?

Last Thursday was my birthday. I turned 31--pretty awesome, right? Yeah, no need to congratulate me. Since I became a mom almost five years ago, birthdays haven't been the best. There's really nothing to look forward to, right? Unless my husband whisks me away for an unexpected trip sans kiddos, a birthday is just another day of work. The needs of my children don't vanish for the day so I can lay in bed all day watching movies. Even my dreams of the perfect birthday have been diminished to something as mediocre as watching movies!

If I get really honest with myself, even before motherhood, birthdays were often a let down. I have always expected to get everything I wanted on my birthday, and it pretty much never happened. I think I cried at every birthday party I had as a kid, usually because another child added "cha-cha-cha" to the birthday song when I had specifically requested no "cha-cha-cha's," or something equally horrifying.

Motherhood has only heightened the tension between birthday expectations and birthday realities. A day spent doing whatever you want whenever you want with whoever you want when you're a mom…it's an oxymoron. By definition, the majority of our lives as mothers is spent worrying about what our little people want and need. For years this felt like a death sentence on my birthday happiness, but not anymore.

This year, I decided to give myself a Happy Birthday by choosing to find happiness in whatever I needed to do that day. To celebrate turning 31 I made breakfast, read my Bible, went child shoe shopping and only managed to find 1 of 3 necessary pairs, changed diapers, ate lunch with my boys and MIL at Panera, put a son down for a nap, got a surprise gift of a kiss and an I Love You from my preschooler, helped a toddler stay in his room during quiet time, packed for the cabin, let my sons watch a TV show while at Noodles for dinner, entertained children in the car for 3 hours, received gifts and ate cake and let my boys stay up way too late once we arrived at the cabin, and even managed a few chapters of a book.

It was an average day of motherhood, but this quiet little life of mine is a gift. There's plenty of happiness and celebration to be found in these little people I serve. It might not be everything I imagine I would want to do, but it could be enough. Enough to be a Happy Birthday. 

Why Not Getting What I Wanted was the Best Thing for Me

We put our house on the market last week. As I prepared the house to list, I encountered countless stories of quick sales. Apparently we are in a seller's market where houses on the market receive multiple offers in only a few days. I was delighted. I couldn't imagine keeping my house "showing ready" for weeks with my 3 busy bodies. I was confident. We have a pretty standout home; I knew it would sell quickly. We planned to be out of the house except to sleep for the entire weekend. Then we had one showing the entire weekend. One.

I'll admit it: I tantrummed. I know why my kids do it--a little tantrum can feel really good. I wallowed. I cried. I laughed with exasperation. This was not what I expected.

Sunday night God got to me. If you're new here, be prepared to hear me talk a lot about what happens when life doesn't meet our expectations. New friends and old, I didn't get what I expected and I'm not proud of my reaction. But I take this comfort: it didn't last all that long. God really is getting to my heart on this. I'm quicker to turn back from my disappointments than I was before. On Sunday night, he taught me a little equation:

God's Sovereignty + His Love for me = the Best for Me

It's kind of like a proof in geometry. Remember proofs? I'm sorry if you hated math, just stick with me. If God is sovereign, and he loves me, and he works all things together for my good, and I didn't get what I wanted, then not getting what I wanted was the best thing that could happen to me.

Do I know why this was best for me? Nope. I once thought there was a perfect little lesson for every disappointment. When I didn't get what I wanted, I aimed to discover the lesson asap. Learning the lesson was my tool to motivate God to give me the thing I wanted. 

I know some of you might be thinking, but she didn't lose a friend, a mother, a child. That silly non-geometry proof is too simple for my complicated and painful situation. I get it, this is just a little, minor want of mine that I didn't get. Yet it's these little things, these minor unfulfillments where we step up and trust God's equation, that weave faith deep into the fabric of our hearts. Then when we walk through the shadows, our faith may waver, but it will not fall. Not because we are faithful, but because we know that He is.

I'm glad I didn't get what I wanted, because I know it's God's best for me. I don't have a perfect lesson to tell you, I just have faith in a sovereign God who does what's best for me. 

We Decided to Sell our Forever House for an Old Dream

For a lot of people who know me, and know me well, this is going to be a surprise. Five years ago, we moved into our Forever Home. We couldn't believe how blessed we were to hit the market at the perfect moment to buy the home we wanted to live in for the rest of our lives. We unpacked and really settled in. We spent hours making the style just right for us. We let our mothers pass along all of our childhood boxes. We were here to stay. Forever.

Two and half years ago, a few unrelated events got us thinking. Well, not really us, mostly my husband. His dream, from his small-town childhood, was to own some land and animals. I grew up on a family farm and loved the experience. We put that dream aside when we realized how expensive it would be to make it a reality while staying within the Minneapolis area. He was certainly a little more sad about it than I was at the time. I got my dream home--my Forever Home--out of the deal. I was content here, and he was working on it. But slowly life circumstances got him dreaming again (I knew he was a dreamer when I married him, so I shouldn't have been surprised). At first when he started talking about a family farm again, I was 100% against it. I hate change. I love financial security. I was in my Forever Home!

Then we got pregnant with our third boy and the family farm idea became significantly more appealing. But the decision felt too monumental. I didn't have the resources to make such a life-shifting, game-changing decision for our family. I remembered that Wes and I had established guidelines, called core values,  for how we would make decisions for our family shortly after our wedding. So we revisited our values, because we had chosen them before children were in the picture. But they still made sense for how our family looked now, so we didn't change them.

Our core values are Glorifying God, Family Togetherness, Lifelong Learning, Hard Work, and Hospitality. As we reviewed them, I was amazed by how a family farm could help us achieve those goals for our family. Yes, we could have valued the same things in our current home, but we could see how a family farm would bring each of our values to the forefront of our everyday life. Suddenly the decision that felt overwhelming, scary, and complicated became simple. If God would provide us a path toward a family farm, we would take it.

About two years ago, we started looking for land. It's been a hard search. I'll be honest, I have high standards. My parents live on one of the most beautiful pieces of property I had ever seen, full of collections of trees, spacious pastures, soft hills, and a serene pond. Ten acres of flat farm land just didn't compare. We also struggled with location. I knew what it was like to live in what everyone considered the boonies (my parents live just outside an established suburb now, but it was certainly the country when I was a child). I wanted to protect my husband from an even longer commute. No matter how hard we searched, we couldn't find the right place at the right price. It was frustrating.

When we first began our search, we asked my parents if they would consider letting us live on their land. They were flattered, but just not ready to tackle the complications of that plan. But as we looked, my heart couldn't move on from it. My connection to my childhood home, the farm I grew up on, only deepened. I realized how much I wanted to not just have a family farm, but have it in that place. It seemed silly to establish something new when my dad already needed help managing his current farm. Why double up? So we asked them to reconsider. Now my dad is a business man and a land developer and a slow thinker. But while we prayed, God got his busy brain churning. I'm not sure how it all happened, but I know it was God. Slowly but surely, my dad figured out a plan. It wasn't going to be easy, but it could work. And the work would be worth it.

So friends, I'm so stinkin' excited to share that we are in the planning process to build a new house on my parents' land. I can't believe the blessing of it. The place I've felt the safest and happiest in the world is going to be my place again. It's going to be the place I raise my boys up. The place I called home will be the place they call home. My boys will get to build a farm not just with their dad, but with their grandpa. How my heart overflows.

When I was a preschooler, I naively proclaimed I was never going to get married. I would just live with my parents the rest of my life and take care of them. Well, friends, that's not exactly how my life went. But I like to think that our new home will allow me both my beautiful family and the opportunity to live in community with my parents and care for them as they grow older. I'm going to have my cake and eat it too.

In all seriousness, I feel like after the hardest season of my life, God is putting me in a season of blessing. It's not a season of ease--there will be plenty of work to do as I finish and promote my book, build our new house, help my husband plan and establish the farm, all while raising 3 toddler/preschool boys--but it is a season of blessing. God is so abundant in his gifts. I still can hardly believe any of it.

Now--does anyone want to buy our (once was) Forever Home? I'm not kidding. It's gorgeous and happy and totally available. I hope it blesses another family the way it blessed us.

Dear Overwhelmed Mommy

Dear Overwhelmed Mommy, I am praying for you. People say you will make it through this season, but it sure doesn't feel like it. Today it feels like endless pressure and  struggling to keep your head above the water.

Dear Overwhelmed Mommy, I am praying for you. Because seasons can feel like prisons or hospitals or psych wards. Because suffering through with grit and determination isn't enough.

Dear Overwhelmed Mommy, I am praying for you. Because I know that while you feel lonely, you aren't ever alone. When you feel like you can't take another step, he is waiting to carry you. When your own weakness never ends, his power begins.

Dear Overwhelmed Mommy, I am praying for you. Because this season will change you. Because you'll never wish it again, but you won't wish it didn’t happen either. Because God will use it to transform you.

Dear Overwhelmed Mommy, I am praying for you. That you will know Jesus better through your suffering. That these endless hours of monotonous, exhausting work will be where your relationship with the Timekeeper and World Builder becomes a connection to your Abba father, your sustainer and helper.

Dear Overwhelmed Mommy, I am praying for you. Because I know God has endless strength to see you through. Because his faithfulness never ends. I know these things because I experienced them too. 

Dear Overwhelmed Mommy, I am praying for you. Because I have been you, and because many days I still am.

Dear Overwhelmed Mommy, may I pray for you?

Leave a comment below or on my Facebook or Instagram and I would love to pray for you by name this week.

I am praying:

• That your soul will find rest in God alone: Psalm 62:1
• That you will set your mind on the things of the Spirit and experience life and peace: Romans 8:6
• That you will experience God's nearness by calling on him: Psalm 145:18
• That you will receive God's strength from your weakness: 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Redeeming My Deep Daughter Desire, Part 2

I have always wanted a daughter. To be honest, I hoped for two. I didn't have a sister growing up and I thought it would be a neat experience to be a firsthand part of a sister-dynamic. But I didn't get sisters, I got 3 boys. And I love those boys in heart-spasm, overloading-kisses, embarassing-mom kind of way. I can't even believe they are mine, and so cute and funny and endearing and wild and nuts, and I get to have them. This desire for a daughter has nothing to do with them.

I believe that my desire for a daughter is a beautiful thing. There's no shame in it. The desire to mother a little sweet pea up into womanhood isn't wrong. But I let it get really ugly.

I treasured the idea of a daughter. I loved that desire so much that when I found out I was having a third boy, and would probably never get my daughter, I got possessive about it. I decided to put it in a little closet in my heart, tucked away from the light of the Gospel. I didn't want God's sovereignty to touch it. Then I visited my desire--a lot. I sat in that windowless closet with my beloved dreams and refused God's light.

I know that God is sovereign. I know that He is good. And I know that He loves me. But I just didn't want to know those things about being daughterless. Because I thought that if let the light of the Gospel into that dark little closet, God might try to make me be ok with my loss, and I didn't want to be ok.

I was wrong about the whole closet thing though. There are no closets in our hearts. We don't get to push the Gospel out of one area and keep it everywhere else. The Holy Spirit permeates us. If we start pushing him out of one place where we don't want to be healed, we start losing his fruit everywhere else.

When I wrote that post about giving up my daughter desire for Lent, it was because I knew I HAD to do something. I had pushed the Gospel away and my heart had gotten dark. I couldn't live like that anymore, because I knew the goodness of a Gospel-drenched life.

So I gave it up, mentally kicking and screaming, but unable to resist the siren-call of the Holy Spirit any longer. Now a year later, I'm so glad God refused to leave me in that darkness.

I still long for a daughter. Honestly, there are usually tears once-a-month, occasionally a full waterfall tear-fest, but more often a few drops during worship. I'm not even a crier, but this is a deep grief for me. But now when the tears come, I'm not alone. I once scoured the internet for women who would understand me, but I was avoiding the God who searches and knows everything in me. I pushed him out when all He longed to do was swoop me into his arms and comfort my sorrow. Through the good news of the Gospel--that Jesus came to bind up the brokenhearted and set the captives free, that can make my old pain into a new creation--my grief has a purpose. 

Now when I cry over the loss of my dream, the Holy Spirit groans before God on my behalf and Jesus intercedes at his right hand. They aren't petitioning for me to receive my daughter, but that I would receive more of God through my loss. Because a daughter doesn't give me life, Jesus already did that. Because a daughter isn't the only way God can fulfill my calling to minister to women. Because a daughter won't guarantee that I'll never feel lonely or left out. Because not having a daughter doesn't mean I won't have a best friend. Because the purpose of my life isn't motherhood. And because my desire for a daughter can still serve a purpose, even if I never get one. Not having a daughter keeps me pursuing more of God, and that is the best gift my soul can receive.

So I may always be sad, but I won't ever be alone. This grief doesn't have to be meaningless. May it serve its slow sanctification, for my good and for his glory.

"Sovereign" by Chris Tomlin

In your everlasting arms

All the pieces of my life

From beginning to the end

I can trust you

In your never failing love

You work everything for good

God whatever comes my way

I will trust you

Why is being a mom so HARD?

It's been one of those really rough weeks. We've been sick for two weeks, none of us are down and out anymore, but everyone is holding on to a little of something. I want to blame the yuck of this week on the sickness, but I know that's not really it. There's just something about sickness that brings out our sinness. Sickness strips down our patched-up exteriors until the sin shines through a little brighter and bolder than an average day.

Motherhood does the same thing. It’s the combination of the physical, mental, and emotional needs of my children that gets to me. The day-in, day-out grind of Mom Life that leaves me stripped down to the base of who I am. I'll be honest, the base of who I am is so ugly. This week I haven't been any semblance of the mom I want to be. The pressure of my children's needs has pushed open the cracks I constantly patch over.

The real problem isn't that I've been angry mom, that I've yelled at my kids, that I've retreated into a book when I should have played, that I've ignored, that I've complained, that I've been lazy, or that I've been anxious. Those are all bad and those are all sins. But if I work at those, I'm just putting a small patch over the broken gaping hole. The real problem is what Brad Bigney calls "the sin beneath the sin." It's the idol that I've set up on the throne of my life.

It boils down to this: I do what I do (like all those ugly sins mentioned above) because I want what I want (my idol).

I've idolized all kinds of things in my life, but lately my biggest idol is EASE. I've always valued safety and boundaries and quiet space. Those are good, life-giving things. But I don't get much of them as a mom. Over these past few weeks, the systems I have set in place to give me those things has been completely destroyed. Everything is uncomfortable, complicated, and difficult when I want it to be easy and simple! I want motherhood to be manageable by my own strength and with minimal effort, but it never is. Mothering littles is grueling physically, emotionally, and mentally. This makes me crave ease and comfort to the extent that I look to them for my salvation. I cling to the hope that once motherhood gets a little easier my life will be better. I put my trust in physical comfort instead of the true source of rest. That's the sin beneath the sin, the idol of my heart.

So many elements of the mothering process are difficult, but it's really the spiritual stripping down that makes life feel like a battle. It's impossible keep idols hidden and sins in check in the challenges of motherhood. As we try to put out fires by our own strength, they burn away all the pretense and pretend, leaving us hanging on to what we really worship. Then our sins pour forth, as we fight and kick to hold onto the last bits of our idol burning up in the fires of life.  But if we toss the idols to the side, if we give up those worthless hopes for momentary salvation and cling to Jesus, the Author of Hope and the Giver of Salvation, the fire may surround us, but we will not be consumed by it. Our strength will be renewed in Christ, the unshakeable foundation. When Christ sits at our center, the impossible days or rough seasons still come, but as our simple jars of clay crack, our Hope spills out in gospel grace. 

Paul David Tripp explains that we don't just suffer the difficulties life throws our way, we all suffer how we experience them. It's not just hard to be a mom because of the unending needs of our children. It's hard to be a mom because we suffer the ugliness of our exposed idols. Motherhood is downright impossible alone. That's why I'm heading into my weekend giving up the battle over all my little sins and resting in Christ's power to win the war for the throne of my heart.