Life After Babies

I am a total sucker for the “On This Day” feature on Facebook.

Each day, it shows you what happened on the same day in years past. It’s fun to read old blog posts, cringe at terrible status updates about my “difficult” teenage years, and of course, seeing photos of my boys as babies. It’s true everyone: it goes faster than you think.

Basically, I’m almost always in tears because of these pictures of my babies.

It hit me hard when a few days ago, a memory came up from two years ago. They were pictures of me pregnant with Finn. And I nearly threw my phone across the room.

HOW? My baby is almost TWO? Liars! You are all LYING.

But Facebook never lies (this is where you laugh). At least, not in this case. It really was two years ago. Which means I haven’t been pregnant for almost two years.

In these two years, God has been teaching me a lot about myself and lot about purpose. It almost feels like my anthem, knowing purpose and walking in the identity Christ has given us. I wish I could talk to women about it everyday. It’s what brings a fire in my belly.

It’s also been the hardest journey.

As women, we struggle to know our worth and how much we are loved. We don’t always believe what we know is true about what Christ has done for us because we think we aren’t good enough. Diving deep into this and figuring myself out after having three boys felt like my mission, and I took it gladly.

But just the other day, I got swallowed up. I felt like I didn’t know who I was at all.

Talking to women about their identity and purpose does bring a fire in my belly, and it also makes my belly ache. There isn’t a baby there, and the realization that I have been without a baby for this long feels like a twist in my gut. It’s who I was for years. It’s the job I had for years. It brings fear into my belly, too. The doubt creeps in. I’ve always been a mom of babies and toddlers. What am I supposed to do when I’m not that person anymore?

My baby turns two in April. You know what’s also true? Your baby will become the clearly favored child. I cannot discipline him the way I do my other boys. He’s just too cute and squishy, and I just want to pretend he’s not as old as he is and still innocent. Also, I know, I’m working on it, he’ll be well-rounded. But I can’t get over him. I can’t get over how much I love him, and how much I love my other boys. It feels other-worldy. It brings something out in me that I never knew I had.

I forgot for a moment that I have been this woman, the woman without babies for almost a year now. I’ve been the woman I’m scared will fail.

In the midst of having such young children for so long, it’s easy to think that it will never end. That we’ll always look like we never sleep or wash our own clothes while our children are clearly well-fed and dressed to the nines. It surprisingly gets easier. And then you’ll be like me, on the other side of the difficult time, and actually swimming above the water and doing your make up every day.

Life after babies? It’s the same. The love for my boys only multiplies every day, and I kiss their cheeks as many times as they allow me.

Even as my boys grow, my role in their lives changes, and I have to give up that they just aren’t babies anymore, I’m still me. God still says that He loves me, He cherishes me, and that I am His daughter.

My prayers have just changed from, Lord, help me to survive this day and this week and these small people to Lord, draw them to you so we can serve shoulder to shoulder. I want to bring these little boys into the Kingdom, and I want to call them brothers in Your Name.

4 Monday Truths

I woke up this morning in a panic. It’s Monday, need I say more?

I don’t like to wait until last minute to get things done. I like to have a plan. I like when people tell me what to do and give me a deadline. I like being able to see what needs to be done and executing it well.

This morning, the list of things I needed to accomplish felt like a mile long. I had a moment of sincere regret for having a restful weekend when I could’ve been crossing off some things I needed to do today.

You know what I mean, right? We reach the beginning of the week after spending a weekend disconnected from responsibility, and we almost give up before we begin. We walk in an air of less-than.

So I got right with the Lord for a minute. I prayed in the quiet. I got loud and honest, and I didn’t hold back from a God who knows my innermost being.

I came back with truths for this week and this month, even this day. And I think they are truths I hope not only for me, but for all women. Especially on a Monday that feels too much like a Monday.

1. We have the ability to walk in freedom.

I had a few meetings earlier today, and I got that itch in my stomach. I get it when I feel out of my element, intimidated, or self-conscious that I’m going to mess up. And I said to God, “I don’t feel up to par, but who cares? You call me up. You call me out. You give me things to pour into, and Lord, I know this is of you. What do I have to be unsure about?”

It sounds almost too simple. But the freedom He offers us is so sweet and so accessible. It isn’t for those who know the Bible front to back. It’s really for you and me. It’s really for those of us who arrive in His presence right after sinning for the hundredth time.

We can walk into the world knowing we’re known by the only King. You are perfectly up to par.

2. You’re part of the grand vision of Jesus, and you fit in.

Truly. I don’t care how you look, how you say it, or what the world has ever said about you. You’re part of this. You get to be. And you fit with the “us” we tend to be intimidated by.

The Church is a big, mighty vessel, and it isn’t made up of separate bodies. We’re all part of the same sainthood, we all get to sit with Jesus and know Him well. So join in. Your place isn’t in the back, behind the “more important” ones. You belong. You fit here.

3. There is true satisfaction in the Lord, in all areas.

I think I have always limited the satisfaction in Jesus to what was “spiritual”. Like, I knew only He could satisfy my need to be fully loved. Only God could ever give me true freedom. But I didn’t realize that transcends into everything.

Things like the money I spend on new coffee mugs or another lipstick. He can satisfy the joy I receive from being thanked by others. He can satisfy my longing to be beautiful. He can satisfy my desire to be confident. He can give me freedom and completeness in wanting to have purpose.

Only God can fulfill. Only He can satisfy. Only He can grant freedom that surpasses our worldy chains.

4. The more we pray, the less we’re overwhelmed.

The continual conversation I have with the Lord is truly continuous. It does not end when I stop talking out loud. It doesn’t end when I am working. It doesn’t end when I’m mothering. It doesn’t end when I get a moment alone. It can’t even end when I turn the TV on.

I only feel peace and rest when I’m talking to Him. I only feel true confidence when I’ve entrusted all my fears and worries to a great Father. I begin to believe in truths like freedom, satisfaction, and belonging when I never stop talking to the God who created those terms.

The more I pray, the more I feel like I’m walking shoulder to shoulder with Him. The words I say are more filled with His vision. The things I think start to encompass His compassion. The works of my hands start to reflect His mercy.

So what if it’s Monday? Praying these truths start to echo in your mind today, friend.

Soothing Lullabies for a Weary Soul

So here I am in the place of worship, eyes open,
drinking in your strength and glory.
In your generous love I am really living at last!
My lips brim praises like fountains.
I bless you every time I take a breath;
My arms wave like banners of praise to you.
Psalm 63, The Message

I’ve been going back to Psalm 63 since January 1. When I was looking over what I wanted to write about this year, I kept returned to two key places in scripture: Psalm 63 and Colossians 2. They were chapters I came across that felt like a salve on my soul, a cool drink of water after being thirsty.

You don’t need a telescope, a microscope, or a horoscope to realize the fullness of Christ, and the emptiness of the universe without him. When you come to him, that fullness comes together for you, too. His power extends over everything.
Entering into this fullness is not something you figure out or achieve. It’s not a matter of being circumcised or keeping a long list of laws. No, you’re already in—insiders—not through some secretive initiation rite but rather through what Christ has already gone through for you, destroying the power of sin.
Colossians 2, The Message

Today, the scriptures feel like a soothing lullaby on my weary soul. I am weary in a great way. Each day feels like a chance to swim deeper in His grace.

I love what David says in Psalm 63: In your generous love I am really living at last!

Most times I’m living in a small circle of love. I’m working on loving myself, on loving other people. I’m pouring out for others and being loved on by people who are dear to me. It is rich, but it isn’t rich enough.

That God…that’s what I say when He does something that doesn’t make total sense to me. Which is often. His plans are always so perfectly intricate. They fulfill the details I always miss. His generous love is one of those details. He is beyond generous to me.

I read in a book yesterday a sentence that made me feel knocked over: God wasn’t created for you. You were created for Him and His glory.

He is generous in giving me a love that I never earned. He is generous in each breath that fills my lungs and escapes into the air around me. He is generous in His showers of mercy and grace. All things that I didn’t have to ask for in order to receive. He decided I needed them all, and He just gave it away.

I get to live in that love. I get to swim in it like an endless ocean, and He is never withholding. He keeps filling the waters.

And Paul in Colossians: Entering into this fullness is not something you figure out or achieve. It’s not a matter of being circumcised or keeping a long list of laws. No, you’re already in—insiders—not through some secretive initiation rite but rather through what Christ has already gone through for you, destroying the power of sin.

I think of a woman raising her hands and closing her eyes, knees hitting the earth as her face crumples with emotion. That’s what these words evoke out of me.

I don’t have to figure this out. This whole loving Jesus and turning around and trying to be like him thing.

I wish I could gather the amount of time I spent believing that I was outside of the fullness of God’s purpose, the destined life for me. I feel like the display of all that wasted time would be too much. It’s a display that would convict me over and over to never believe for a minute that it’s up to me to be within the fullness of God. That I have to race around to be like Him. That I have to chase after ideals that are simply unachievable. That I am a woman who will always be lacking.

We’re already in. We’re already in. We. Are. In.

I’m not going to get kicked out. There isn’t someone waiting in line waiting to fill my spot if I flunk out of loving Jesus or loving others. I am not just filling space.

This spot is mine, written on by His blood, and He spelled my name out permanently. Right here. I am in His fullness, because of what He already went through to get me here.

In His generous love we can finally live at last, and we are in His fullness because of what Christ has already done for us.

It’s the aroma of freedom. The salve of salvation. The soothing redemption.

We’re okay. We’re in. We’re swimming in generous love.

And we never earned it. He decided we deserved it.

When Voices Are Loud

I have rewritten this several times because I just can’t seem to get the words right. I return here a little less filtered.

Over the past week, I’ve had my eyes glued to my phone. Haven’t we all? I can’t stop reading news stories or refreshing my Twitter feed.

I’m not an openly argumentative person. I do argue with my husband weekly, but he’s my closest friend. I’ll pick a fight with that man over how he hits the brakes when he’s driving.

But, I’m not talking about my marriage. I’m talking about the people I associate with in my faith.

I think Satan is having a hey-day with us all.

If you are against whatever is happening in our nation, you’re most likely yelling about it to someone. If you’re more openly argumentative than me, you may take to Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram to spread your message. If you are in agreement with whatever is happening, it’s the same. We’re all shouting our convictions, and we’re all spewing spit in each other’s faces, wiping the spit from our chin, after we berate people on the Internet.

If you’re silent against anything a Christian should be for, you might as well just be against it. If you are siding with the “un-Christian” side, you’ve lost the way. “Go read your Bible! Apparently you don’t know it well enough!”

Our fingers are pointing, wagging, shaking as our fury is taking hold. Our fear is like a boulder we’re willing to run into over and over, and we’re willing to behave as if the world is our home.

In 1 Samuel, the people ask for a king. They’re tired of listening to God, obeying Him, and they want a king, just like every other nation across the land.

Samuel knows better. He knows the Israelites shouldn’t have a king, and he goes to God and says so. But God allows it. He gives His people what they want. For eight verses, Samuel warns the people of the outcome. If they have a king, they’ll lose their freedom. They’ll lose their rights. They’ll lose some of their grain, their livestock, their workers. They will long for relief.

And the people choose a king anyways. Even after the warning, even though they know they will be begging for relief in the years to come.

We think we know what we need. We think we have the greatest opinions. We think our beliefs are the only ones that should be heard. We’re wagging fingers, spitting in each others’ faces, and harming any chance we have of loving like a Christ who was killed on your behalf.

I can’t compare the king that God provided to the Israelites to our current president. I don’t even care to. I do care to point out just how much we are like those Israelites, the ones who believed they knew exactly what they needed, the ones who won’t be silent long enough to fully hear a God who speaks.

There’s a lot of voices right now. A lot of yelling. I think I’d be a fool if I didn’t shut up and listen for a minute. I would be a fool to yell back and never hear what people are saying, simply because I don’t agree. It would be foolish of me to only listen to everyone else’s voices before I hear God’s first.

He’s a sweet Savior. He isn’t absent or silent, and now, especially, is the moment to listen for His voice. It frustrates me to no end that I can’t turn off the news, that I can’t avoid the chaos of the world right now, but I know that I can turn to my God first. I can hear Him first. I can listen for His lovingkindness and His grace over me, and I can turn around and extend it like a helping hand.

I’m tired of the spit from others’ loud voices. My eyes are downcast as I see Christians berating and insulting one another all over the place, and it’s especially discouraging when they’re doing it to each other. It’s Satan’s dream, you know?

Hopefully tomorrow I can write less about politics and more about things that hold less fear and a little more simple joy.

Two Years, Seven Months

I was making soup while I cried. My boys were running around behind me, my husband working steadily on his work, and I wanted to throw the pan across the kitchen.

“Why does this always happen to us?” I asked.

I concentrated on the butter as it melted in the pan, disappearing into a yellow puddle. In my fury, I willed myself to concentrate on the butter. To see it for what it is. I analyzed its color, texture, the way it spread across the pan as the heat slowly crept upon it from underneath. I didn’t want to pray. I was standing with my back to the Father, just as I was standing with my back to my husband and my boys.

Don’t let them see you lose it. Don’t let them see the tears. Don’t cry, because you shouldn’t be surprised. You should be able to withstand the frustrations of being in the toddler stages of starting a business from beneath the earth. Don’t let them see you like this.

So I looked at the butter. I gave it all my attention. I swallowed my anger and finished my task of making soup.

My son came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my legs as he said, “Mama?” I scooped him up as he smiled his toothy, squinty-eyed smile.

The fury melted away.

Traces of it remained, though. I was thinking about the current issue of being at the mercy of my husband’s clients. But, for the first time, I actually felt no fear.

Sometimes I wonder if people think our life is glamorous or easy because my husband and I spend every waking and sleeping minute together. It isn’t. Sometimes I wish there were a 9-5 job somewhere for people like us, but I also know people like us aren’t meant for jobs like those.

This life is not for everyone. It certainly isn’t for those who squirm in fear. Except, I’m one of those people. I have been that person since day one of the creation of Evan Delagrange, Freelance Designer. It doesn’t mean I don’t believe in my husband. It means I’m terrified of losing everything.

The soup was bubbling on the stove, and I wasn’t afraid. Even though I could feel the heat of the remnants of my burning anger in the background, it was as though fear had just left the premises. It made my anger look like only a little fire next to me that could be easily quenched by my foot. So I stomped it out.

Two years, seven months.

That’s how long its taken for me to actually feel the bravery of my brave face. This is how long it has taken for me to fully believe in the power of God’s hand in my life.

It doesn’t mean I haven’t been believing Him. It means I’m finally right in the center of His palm, and I haven’t lost focus of His purpose.

I turned my back on Him for a moment. I let fury rage like a wildfire through my mind, but I let Him in quicker than I have in the past.

I’ll admit, I am on to burn in my anger for hours. I have ignored the coaxing of my husband to just talk about it, and I have shut down in front of my boys. I have lost myself to fear and to fury. I have turned my back on the almighty Father because I didn’t want Him to see me like this. I didn’t want Him to see His girl lose sight of His purpose.

Two years, seven months after the biggest jump of my life, and I willingly crawled into the Father’s lap. I let myself cry for a moment, and I looked Him right in the face. I acknowledged my frustration, my fear of what could be, and it was like He grabbed my face and willed me with His own smile. He’s a Father who isn’t shocked or discouraged by my crumbling. He wills me to lift my head up and to crawl up, grasp the Truth, and stand in the center of His palm. No where to go from here; this is where He wants me.

I have seen you in the sanctuary
    and beheld your power and your glory.
Because your love is better than life,
    my lips will glorify you.
I will praise you as long as I live,
    and in your name I will lift up my hands.
I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods;
    with singing lips my mouth will praise you.
Psalm 63:2-5

How to Hear God

As a 15 year old Christian teenager, I listened to the band Barlow Girl on the regular. I downloaded all their music, burned it to CDs and listened to it almost everyday.

I loved the song “She Walked Away”. It kind of tells the story of the lost son in Luke 15. It quoted a few verses from the chapter at the end of the song, so naturally, I had that part memorized too.

And one day, something came up with a friend of mine where those verses were needed. They were verses I had unknowingly hidden in my heart, and I spewed them out to my friend because they overwhelmed my mind. I knew they were what was needed. And someone said to me, “How old are you? You are wise beyond your years.”

Looking back on my life, I feel as though for most of it, I didn’t know how to hear God. I didn’t know what I was looking for. I thought there would be a miraculous sign, or that I would just know what to do.

A few months ago, I felt like I learned. It seemed that for the first time in my life, I was hearing God.

And then He fell silent. He felt like a way off voice, silent and ambiguous among the stars.

That night when verses from Luke 15 came to my mind (also while I was singing Barlow Girl in my head), God was speaking to me. It’s funny; I think we often assume that God speaks only in words, through our own thoughts. But I think He speaks in a multitude of ways, saying what He wants us to hear in a way that is unique to us.

It takes more than just listening to hear Him.

Hearing God is easier when I look back at what He has done in my life.

When we lost a baby in 2013, it felt like a blow I wouldn’t quite recover from. And only a month after I had surgery from an ectopic pregnancy, we found out I was so blessedly pregnant again. God is a God of second chances.

The fall of 2009, I was a free agent. I had no agenda, plan, or idea what I was going to do with my life. Within weeks of returning home from college, doors were flying open left and right. If I hadn’t returned, if I hadn’t decided I was scared out of my mind and that home sounded better, I wouldn’t have the family I do now.

In May of 2003, I remember the way the stage looked at the church I was at. The lights were hitting it just so, and I was standing next to a friend as a girl walked up to me and smiled. She asked me if I wanted to know Jesus. If I think about it long enough, I can still feel the dozens of hands covering my back and shoulders as they prayed with me in hallelujahs over deciding Jesus was my Savior.

I hear Him best when I have remembered just how good He has been to me.

Hearing God gets easier as I read His Word more and without agenda.

I used to need a devotional to get my mind moving. I would read a paragraph in a book of the Bible and would wonder why it was important. I would read expecting whatever passage was before me to speak to me loudly, be applicable to my life, and encourage me. I often only read seeking to gain.

I hear Him best when I’m just reading to listen. Something that changed my view of the Bible before me was this idea: The Bible is the telling of His people’s obedience. It’s true. All that happens in the Bible is because His people decide to be obedient to Him. Reading about it, soaking in their stories, makes me see that I’m not so different. I can be just like the greatest of those in the Bible simply by being obedient.

I hear Him best when reading the Bible is a get to, never a have to.

Hearing God is easier when I’m in an ongoing conversation with Him.

The summer of 2014 sticks out greatly. It was a summer of fear, anguish, and distraught all wrapped up in a lot of giant leaps of faith. My conversations with God were continuous chatter. I never stopped talking to Him because I didn’t want Him to leave us. I was scared. So I talked all the time. I prayed with my husband all the time. I cried. I hugged my kids. And I prayed without ceasing.

I have a tendency to talk His ear off. I tell Him all about what I need, what I want, what would be nice. Sometimes I forget that He and I are in a conversation, not just a confessional of me saying every thought that comes to mind.

It’s truly difficult and occasionally uncomfortable to just sit in silence with Him. He doesn’t always say something to me. Most times it isn’t in the form of audible words. It’s like the Spirit takes hold of my heart, and He brings stories of my past to mind, or visions of what is possible.

I hear Him best when I’m always connected to Him.

Sometimes hearing Him means the Word coming alive. Sometimes it means another person saying something that brings us peace, answers prayer, or gives us a sense of guidance. Sometimes it means waiting.

He never leaves us, you know that? He isn’t ambiguous and among the stars. He’s always near, always in our hearts. Don’t stop speaking to Him if He only seems silent. Don’t stop reading His Word. Don’t think He hasn’t had a hand in your life since the beginning.

Converse with Him always. Read the Word everyday. Look back on what He has already done in you.

And you will hear Him.

Second Chances

I’m really thankful that no one can hear the thoughts that bounce around in my head.

Sometimes my face gives me away, but I can act differently than I’m thinking. I can slander someone in my head and say something out loud that only sounds like love.

It happens when I’m scrolling through Facebook. It happens when I go to church on Sundays. It happens when I’m trying to take care of my beloved boys.

Like, hallelujah. You all don’t know how mean my mind is.

Today is Monday, and I want to start new. I want to start rooted. I want to start thankful.

I was reading in Colossians and came upon this in chapter 2:

My counsel for you is simple and straightforward: Just go ahead with what you’ve been given. You received Christ Jesus, the Master; now live him. You’re deeply rooted in him. You’re well constructed upon him. You know your way around the faith. Now do what you’ve been taught. School’s out; quit studying the subject and start living it! And let your living spill over into thanksgiving. [Colossians 2:6-7, The Message]

So, our thoughts are scattered. We may be rejoicing or grieving over what happened this weekend in Washington D.C., both Friday and Saturday. We may be scared. We may be looking at others with thoughts that are running wild, without love.

This is a crazy time.

But we’ve got this. We have Christ. We’re deeply rooted in Him. We’re constructed upon Him. We know the faith. We can live in the freedom we were given.

And we can praise God.

Rooted. Thankful.

I’m thankful today for second chances. I’m thankful that my mean, sometimes ignorant, thoughts only bounce around my head, heard by myself and God. I’m thankful that I’m given a second chance to actually speak in love. I’m thankful God is full of second, third, fourth, fifth, etc. chances for me. His grace is unyielding.

With my own boys, I only give them so many chances to listen to me before I discipline them. I want them to hear me, to obey, and to respect me as their mom.

I have much to learn from my Father.

There’s beauty in how He is so kind to us, how He gives us almost endless chances to do the right thing. To say words in honest love and to be people who actually bring honor to His name. He deserves the honor, doesn’t He? After all, He gave us more chances than we’ve ever given anyone else.

It’s Monday. I’m rising up from my bed, with my feet intricately constructed upon His gifts of grace to me.

Rooted. Thankful.