Three Joys of Three Boys:  Parenthood in My Early 20s

This post originally appeared on my friend Chris’ blog Millenial Evangelical back in June 2015.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was sitting in our small bathroom in our one bedroom apartment in the early hours of July 4th. We had been married for three months, living blissfully with all of our secondhand furniture and hardly any money. I remember the conversations we had in the weeks before that morning, discussing how we wanted to be open to a plan we hadn’t really planned for. It was the morning I took my first positive pregnancy test.

Nearly four years later, and my husband and I are the parents to three boys at the age of 24. Don’t you know how this happens? Was this your plan? Yes, of course I know how this happens. And no, this was never my plan, but that surely doesn’t mean it’s a bad one. It may be hard to see through the craziness as an outsider:  the tantrums, the never-ending interruptions, the crying. But the joys of getting to love and teach my little boys hold much more weight than the difficulties.

1. Having babies at an early age means I’ll be 42 when my youngest is 18. Maybe that means I’ll be a hot mom? The least of my worries. But it will mean that all the traveling I’m not doing right now can happen once my boys are out of the house. It means we’ll still be “young” and hopefully agile. It means that while our peers have 10 year olds and are dealing with never-ending after-school activities, my husband and I will be able to spend a lot of uninterrupted time together. And when you have three kids aged three and under, you pray on your knees that you can conquer the next 18 years gracefully (or just the next 18 hours).

2. My toddlers teach me about the gospel everyday. The gospel isn’t out of reach for anyone my age, and having kids doesn’t make it more applicable. But on days when I am tangled in the thick of my worries, my oldest son will bring me back to Jesus. He’ll forgive me quickly and easily when I’m angry. He loves fiercely and without reservations. He learns about Jesus and says to me, “Mom, Jesus is number one!” and I am reeled back into the grace of my Savior with those words, praying I can find the zeal he has. Some days I pray so I can keep my sanity, while other days I pray because these little boys remind me of how gracious God is.

3. Kids connect people. Everybody loves a funny story about your kid. They’re great conversation starters. They’re also great excuses for getting out of lame parties or weddings. But when it comes to connecting with others, especially young, newly married couples, it can be awkward and uncomfortable. So sometimes it’s easier to fill in that weird silence with a funny story about that one time my 20 month old decided to wield a bread knife (which is a true story). Granted, I don’t only talk about my boys. But they sure do serve as a gateway to connecting with others when the task feels daunting.

Being young and having three boys is insane, tiring, surprising, messy…it is a lot. It is good. It is a glorious work that I am grateful I was chosen to do. And if I had the choice? I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Parenthood in my early 20s has been everything I wasn’t expecting. And frankly, I think that’s the best part.

The Weird & The Wonderful

When I started this blog two years ago, I had a little tiny idea in my head. I had two little boys to take care of, and I needed a place where the words swirling in my soul could escape. I could type faster than I could journal on paper, so I chose to write when I could. Whenever a kid was asleep, whenever a movie was on, or whenever I needed to feel remotely like myself, I was typing.

I started and never really tried harder than I needed to. I took my time. I warmed up to an audience I didn’t know. I opened up about my life because it’s what I know how to do best. It’s weird:  I have zero fear in vulnerability. God placed the pieces of my soul together and made vulnerability an easy one. I can reach within and find it like a familiar door in my house.

So I wrote. Never consistently, always only because I wanted to, never because I was asked to. Sometimes I would go months without it. Some weeks I would never pick up a pen and paper.

This year has been different in so many ways, and I don’t know how to explain it. I cannot pinpoint a moment in time where I realized what I needed to do and just did it. Mostly because it wasn’t me. It’s never been me. I went into 2016 thinking I could make it my best year ever, and then I just released it (no, shoved it) into God’s hands and said, “Yes. Let’s do this.”

It has been wonderful.

Weird in that I don’t know where this glory came from, because it feels like it just arrived like a sunny day. Wonderful because I know God brought it, He delivered, and then some.

The weird and the wonderful isn’t waiting for the year you turn 26 like me. It isn’t waiting for you to have kids like me, have more time like me (which isn’t true), or have everything I have. It isn’t waiting. It’s right here. This, whatever is yours, whatever God is crafting before your eyes, that’s the weird and wonderful.

I would spend a lot of time looking over my favorite bloggers’ and Instagrammers’ lives via the internet and think, “I can’t wait for that to be me. I want to be them. I want to have that. I want to preach it like they preach it.” Can I let you in on the secret? They’re not far off in front of you. Their lives are not unattainable. Even more, their lives are not the epitome of perfection. If I can be the woman to look back at those who are on this path too, this is what I would tell them:

You can preach it right there. Your audience could be one, and that is an audience worth the Gospel. You can stop reaching ahead and instead soak in the earth right under your feet and say it too: Yes. Let’s do this. What happens when we stop looking at everyone else with longing eyes and thinking we are not who God says we are? What do you think happens? I think you already know.

The weird happens. The wonderful. The things that don’t seem to make sense, and you start looking around and realize God is working, because you’re giving Him free reign. Your eyes are fixed on heaven, and don’t think I’m lying about that. The purpose of everything shifts to glory, and you can see your way. It doesn’t have to be clear, you just have to believe it’s there. The wonderful arrives, and you realize that this is all God, this is all His glory, and you get to relish in it.

God is doing something right here on Soul Strings. Most of me is looking around thinking, What? Surely this isn’t happening right now?! because it’s weird and wonderful. I’ve got my eyes up, gaze transfixed, path in front of me. I can’t see a thing, and you best believe I’m still running.

The Hidden Word

When I was younger, I would find random Bible verses in the Bible, write them down on a piece of paper, and tape it to my bedroom wall. I remember writing with red ink, using fancy scissors that cut in patterns to cut them out, and continued to never actually look at the verse again once I put it up on the wall. I wanted the Word to be all over the place.

This fall, Evan & I are teaching our 7th & 8th grade class a different Bible verse each week for them to memorize. We’re trying to instill the wisdom that hiding the Word of God in our hearts is a strong, worthy thing to do. It is a double-edged sword, and having it in our minds and hearts is like no other weapon against evil; it slices through it like butter.

Reading my Bible comes and goes in seasons. Sometimes it comes so naturally and easily that getting to my Bible each day is easy. I don’t push it off. I don’t struggle to hear the words and hide them in my soul. Other times I get to the Bible and wonder what the heck I’m even doing. The evil one knows how to make doubt an easy reason to ignore the verses, so he uses it against me. And sometimes the circumstances of my day become these giants that fight my intention for making every day for God’s glory.

Friends, whatever way you make it to the Word doesn’t matter, just as long as you get there. Find what you need to get the Word in your soul and hide it there. On days when getting the Word feels like a battle, you can remind yourself that it is the two-edged sword that God so promised, alive and active (Hebrews 4:12). You can give yourself grace because nothing in this world can separate you from the love of God, even if you’re struggling (Romans 8:38-39). You can know that your King is the king He said he is. We read His Word to be filled to the brim with the knowledge of His great and endless promises.

I’ve recently had the opportunity to use an Alphabet of Praise Scripture Card set from Scriptionery that has brought such a great dynamic to my daily study of the Word. It’s a set of praises organized by the letters of the alphabet found in scripture. I use them to remind myself of why I praise God, reasons for praising Him regardless of myself, and giving myself room to remember to praise Him, which is crucial when I spend a lot of time praying for myself and others. Plus they’re beautiful to look at!

I’m also excited to begin using the A to Z Scripture Memory Cards, not just for me, but also for my oldest son. It’s an invaluable resource that will serve us well in the years to come.

If you’re worried that you’re not doing enough to read the Bible, today is the perfect day to start. You don’t have to have everything figured out for the Bible to apply to you. You don’t even have to “study” it. Just read it, friend! It is the same with my word. I send it out, and it always produces fruit. It will accomplish all I want it to, and it will prosper everywhere I send it (Isaiah 55:11). 

 

Use code SoulStrings2016 for free shipping on all your orders from Scriptionery now until the end of the year!

First Day of School

This week, it happens. The first day of school thing.

I’ve been excited for my son for weeks, up until last week when it became real, and we got to see his class. Part of me wanted to run with him and his little brother out the door. The other part of me committed immediately to never ever sending him to school ever. I didn’t want this to be his class, his teacher, his place to grow up a little more. At least once a day, I touch his face and look into his big blue eyes and smile to myself as I wonder, How is this my firstborn son?

I’ve prayed a lot for this moment. Writing about it felt easy. Just let them go. We teach them so they can learn to fly on their own. But saying it is so much easier than following through. He’s about to do this big, brave thing, and I’m about to watch him go, and I’m holding back a lot of tears here. A lot of memories are far too close to the surface that are threatening to overtake the smile I want to plaster on my face.

But this week, it happens.

God consistently finds ways to remind me of a truth that I didn’t know quite so well even five years ago. I don’t have to be prepared for what is coming for it to arrive. I don’t have to have a real, overjoyed “Go, honey!” attitude or smile on my face while I send my firstborn son to school. It doesn’t mean I’m not filled with joy. It doesn’t mean I’m not excited for what it is to come. It just means I can live in reality, and reality means that sending my son to preschool has made me cry, because I remember him as a baby. I remember holding that little boy and teaching him to run. And somehow, we’ve arrived at the moment where I’m suppose to let him fly. It makes me want to praise God for everything that He has given me, yet weep for the time that is too quick to pass.

Motherhood is so raw and sanctifying. I remember when Liam was born, and I just couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that I had pushed an 8 lb baby boy into the world and into the arms of so many people we loved. I remember the first few nights of being a mom for the first time and thinking I was not fit for it. I was not going to survive, probably, and if I did, it would be by a miracle I could not produce. And then we did, and it was like fear had a lesser meaning. Liam taught me so much in so little time. That’s what motherhood does to you.

We have arrived here. I have this boy who is smart and inquisitive, quick to build incredible space ships with Legos and giggles whenever daddy chases him. He leads his brothers with confidence and the surefire attitude of a firstborn. He loves his brothers. He teaches them when I’m not around, and he fights with them just as much. But I am so proud that I get to be his mom. I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

I get to watch him fly this week. And if you see me, I’ll be trying to smile, but probably failing because I’ll really be trying not to cry my eyes out. It’s because I’m just so proud of my son.

Liam, fly high and go far. I can’t wait to hear of the adventures waiting for you.

Little Shadow

My littlest is a little over a year old. (I honestly hate trying to count the months exactly, I iust know he’s not 18 months yet, but he wears size 24 mo/2T clothes, so I don’t know. He’s age large.) He’s also proven to have a little bit of a temper and tantrums hidden up his sleeve. He’s a screamer. He is also the baby, so all of the above seems to happen much more frequently.

Today he follows me closely. I don’t always notice his feet scurrying behind mine until I turn around and crash right into him. He grabs my legs and pulls up so I can snatch him up in my arms. He is my big baby boy, who isn’t so much a baby. I’m still trying to figure him out; what his personality will be like, how to tame those tantrums, what his little noises mean. And sometime I stare at the picture we have of him on our wall where he was so little and squishy and deliciously happy and think, How? How is this my baby now?

I am always asked if we’re done having kids in small talk. I wish I could put a projector in my brain and show you everything that happens when I try to formulate an answer. I’ve never felt more sure of a calling than the one to have children, so deciding to just stop because three is a normal, healthy number? It’s difficult. I get squirmy. As in, how can I squirm my way out of answering this without saying we’re absolutely going to have more?

I don’t care. That feels like the right answer.

I care about having children and babies and having all that love. But I don’t care to give answers about how many or when to stop. I care about making sure we’re responsible. But I also don’t care about the how’s. As in, how will we ever have space? How will we have the money? How will we adjust? And why would we? I don’t know, and I’m okay with not knowing. I don’t care to know answers because God already knows. I willingly shove it in His palms and say, Yes Jesus. You know. You control. Whatever brings you glory. 

I like this season now. I like that my little shadow, aka my youngest son, follows me and wants me to guide him by holding his hand as we walk through the house. I like not knowing what the whole of our lives holds because I like this, right now. The caring of these boys. It is simple in its chaos.

He sits with me now as I write. He just wants to be close and snuggle a little before he goes to make the next mess.

In short, maybe I’ll just open this post on my phone next time people ask, Are you done having kids? and hand it to them while I chase after big/little Finn as he takes on the next adventure. When I know for sure, I’m sure I’ll answer more confidently and give you all the sound advice I have on what it’s like to have children.

But for now, walking around my house, feeling my shadow in my wake, staring at photos of my baby who just isn’t anymore…This season feels like glimpses of heaven all over the place.

Letters to Your People

I don’t know how many marriage advice videos, sermons, or books I have to read before I truly understand this statement:  Your husband cannot read your mind. As in, if you want something, most times, he isn’t going to just know. And dang it, I want him to know without me moving an inch, before I open my mouth to speak, and before I even know what I actually want. I know. I’m working on it.

This concept actually spills into most of my relationships, it just manifests itself in a harsher way in my marriage. It took me some time to realize that you just gotta talk. Communicate. When you appreciate something, tell someone. When you have a problem, discuss it. When you want someone to understand, explain. When you want someone to read your mind and know what you want, tell them. (Hint, they will never read your mind.)

It’s hard to discuss the hard things, like when there’s conflict or when someone is hurt. You know what can be harder? Telling someone just how much you appreciate them. That you care. That you think their lipstick looks great. That you believe in them. Once I warmed up to the idea of how much joy it brings to tell people how much they matter, how great they look, or how much of a blessing they are, it gets easier. It becomes important, to care about people so much that you have to tell them. It makes the Gospel alive.

One of my favorite ways to love people well is to write letters or notes to tell them how much they care. In high school, I used college-ruled notebook paper, but these days I’ve stepped it up a bit.

I’m really excited to share about Scriptionery, a scripture stationery company. Yvette, the company’s co-owner, reached out to me a few weeks ago on a whim, and after exchanging a few emails, I quickly realized just how much our stories were alike.

I’ve been using their beautiful stationery to write letters to some important women in my life because 1. Who doesn’t love a letter? and 2. Who doesn’t love to look at a letter on beautiful stationery? Their Psalm 23:1,2 and Colossians 3:14 stationery are some that I almost want to frame and hang on my walls. But, I’ve got people to love. Letters to write. So, they find themselves in more important hands than my own.

If you’re looking for some new stationery (or maybe a new piece of art for your walls), head over to their website and look at their work. Yvette was such a joy to work with, and I couldn’t recommend them more highly.

In the meantime, don’t withhold your words when they can be life-giving. Tell your mama friend that she is a good stinkin’ mom and that she is brave. Tell your dad that you’re grateful he’s your dad. Tell your pastor that he and his family are prayed for. Tell that girl in the checkout line that her lipstick color looks amazing. Tell your friend just how mighty the Lord is in her.

Write your letters. Let’s litter this world with a lot more joy than we came with.

Not So Quiet

Can we talk for a minute? Just me and you, the reader. As if the whole Internet isn’t watching.

I came across an article yesterday that made my heart ache. It was so beautifully and painfully written that I wanted to hug the author at the end. And I also wanted to grab her face in my hands and say, “I wish you knew just how much you are so loved.”

Our world is a crazy one, although, I would argue that every generation before us has said the same. You may argue that we have come so far in so many ways, and I would agree. This isn’t the 50s. Heck, this is not even the 2000s. We have arrived at a time where there is daily dialogue, openly, of the trial it is to be a woman in this country, right now. Women have seized the opportunity to get loud in their corners and say no when they want to say no. Women have arrived, some would say.

And I love that.

Some people think they were meant for a different time or era, but not me. This one is just right for me.

I was raised to not be so quiet. My mom, even if she didn’t say it straight to me, taught me to be strong, confident, bold, and unafraid to speak what’s on my mind. Have I always? No. But my family gave me that permission. As a writer, it gave me some hefty wings, and I am always grateful for it.

I read an article yesterday that came from a woman who was angry for men telling her what it was like to be her. Exhausted from thinking she needed to be a 24-hour woman, she felt required to be a woman who goes to work, comes home and makes dinner, and even finds the time to give her husband her all once the kids are in bed. Women are being told what to do with their bodies by the government, that they aren’t worth the same paycheck as a man, that we all should be drinking wine to deal. And she wasn’t having it.

I don’t even want to get into details. It’s too heavy, to take that route. I want to grab that woman’s face and tell her what makes us free. But before I do, I’ll give everyone the background they need so they can yell at me for being ill-equipped to talk about this.

I am a woman who stays home with my children every day, all day, every year. I don’t make any money by doing this, and I don’t go out of my way to find work. I have enough to do here, for right now. I wake up every morning to feed my children, take care of their every need throughout the day, while simultaneously writing for my self-titled blog and cleaning up spilled water for the tenth time. I do everything there is to be done that my husband does not do, which is a lot, but also not too much. I am always the cook, the first one to hear someone cry in the night, and the one to take care of bills every week. I am not single, in the workforce, around men consistently (except for the four I see all day), or drinking wine every day to deal.

But here’s what I want to say to her, the woman who is in that place, the woman who is not me, and the woman who sits in front of her screen reading this:

You are not defined by whatever you do. You are not defined by what men think of you. You are not too small, you are not too cute, and you are not ill-equipped.

But the hustle isn’t worth it. Fight for you rights in a company, but your life will not be fulfilled because you climbed a ladder and broke a glass ceiling and told a man what you think of him. You fight for your place in this world, and this world will only hiss back at you and call you every name you wish never existed.

I know what Jesus says of me. And it matters. GIRL, it matters. Shut up those other voices, those other men who you think have valid words. Shut up those other women who are in your head who define who they think you are. Jesus said that if we belonged to this world, the world would love us. BUT WE DON’T. We don’t belong here. We belong with a King who let His blood puddle on the earth because He loved you a heck of a lot more than any man or woman on this earth ever could. That’s why you’re so hated. That’s why you feel like you’re less than. It’s because the world hated Him first.

It is valid and needed to stand in hard places and be women, uniquely ourselves, where others think a man would do a better job. Discern where that’s needed. Don’t grow taller and shout your opinions just to hear your own voice. Shut up for a minute and listen.

You have arrived already. You are valuable and good right now. Stand where you need to stand. Be who you need to be, because it matters. There is a reason that God created women like me, women like her, and women like you. He didn’t make you just for a showpiece. He made you because you have a world to shake.