But I’ve also seen what it looks like when true community is forged from shared surrender to God, and it has ruined me for ersatz versions. Compelled by the self-giving love of Jesus, it always looks just like one disciple opening the door to another to welcome them in fully and completely as family – because in him, that is what we are meant to be for one another.
Read MoreIt was almost a year after Jacob’s sobering request that I saw him for the last time. Rachel and I lifted his frail body into a hospital bed that had been set up in his bedroom. Jacob was unable to do it himself. I stopped and rested my hand on his head, covered with stubble that had begun to grow. Rachel went about the business of organizing the space for Jacob while calmly giving the kids instructions about how they should play in the room where daddy was resting. Of course, Jacob, it will be my great honor to help take care of your wife and children.
Read MoreIn the shalom that God designed for his creation, my mother was to be more like Mary, my father was to be more like Joseph, my life was to be more like Jesus’. I look at this passage and this time see how dimly our dingy triptych stands in comparison to the ideal. I can taste the absence of his kingdom and I am hungry for it with a deep ache that cuts back through the years to my earliest memories.
Read More"There is something about generational blessing that I think is important. It is a way of passing on something mystical, a deep calling another deep, a spiritual DNA of sorts. I believe all parents should bless their children and, at the proper time, all children should bless their parents. I took it upon myself to bless him whenever I saw him. I secretly hoped that he would bless me in return. And perhaps he has. As I write this, I wonder if perhaps he has. Blessings have a way of boomeranging.”
Read MoreAnd, the number of people who pleaded with the Father for my son (who is currently healthily crying upstairs. His life may be an answer to prayer, but that doesn’t mean he wants to take a nap). When I visited my sister’s church in Austin, TX in January of 2016, nearing 7 months and clearly great with child, the woman who came up to me and put her hand on my belly and said, with boldness, “I am invested in this child!”, I knew without a doubt she and so many others were.
Read MoreWhen Max died, we suffered for something. Our suffering was redemption because we did it with our hope in Christ. God redeemed the very act of suffering not by negating it, but by bringing meaning and purpose to it, making it more whole than it was, more complete and holy. When we lost our plans for a future missionary life, I didn't have the faith to believe there was purpose or meaning. In this way, the pain and anguish from this loss quickly overtook my pain for our son. It became the less bearable of the two, and the one I avoided.
Read MoreWhat happens when you find yourself squaring off with an angry toddler trying to cash a massive emotional check from an account with far too few deposits in its balance history? These moments have been peppered throughout Zeke's time in our family, and they have been moments of deep grief for me as a parent. Grief for all that my son lost before he came to us. Grief that my gut reactions to his angry behavior are often selfish and lacking compassion. Grief, and even shame, that I should have to work so hard on something that I feel should come naturally (namely, motherly love and affection). And grief that even after two years in our family, my son is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, still keeping a lookout for the next upheaval, still guarding his heart.
Read MoreI was not the first woman to mother my son. Not the first to kiss him goodnight, or comfort him when he cried, or carry him on a hip. I didn't see his first steps, hear his first word, or celebrate his first birthday. By the time I met Zeke, he could kick a soccer ball, drink from a cup, and throw a right wicked tantrum. I had missed a lot.
Read More