Happy 47th Birthday to Me!

Nov 30, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom, Writing

After writing posts for both of my daughters on their birthdays, I thought it only fitting that I do the same for myself!

Happy Birthday to me!

This has been a full, rich, painful, beautiful, long, amazing, surprising, miraculous, arduous, labor-filled year. I have known many tears, much frustration, and deep anguish. I have also known more laughter and life than ever before. I have been struck again and again by how amazing it is that both can coexist and frankly, be enhanced when juxtaposed to one another.

I’ve had many conversations with Emma and Abby this past year about what it means to let more than one thing be true at the same time: disappointment and hope, sadness and joy, frustration and desire. And this has been a year of that being enfleshed within me – on their behalf, certainly, but powerfully, on my own.

I have found much strength within me these past twelve months; strength that has enabled me to make difficult decisions and then live with the ramifications of such, strength that has allowed me to survive – and even thrive – in places I’d feared (and avoided) for many years. And that strength has, amazingly, not made me tougher, harder, or colder; rather, its enabled me to feel more tender, compassionate, and “present” to my own heart and the heart’s of others. I’m grateful.

Last year at this time I could have never been convinced of or prepared for the twelve months that were about to commence. Note to self: be glad you don’t know the future! Out of curiosity, I went back to the past – to my blog posts from about a year ago to see what I was writing. I came across some October, 2006 reflections on the women of Proverbs 1 and 31 that were amazingly prophetic for the year that was to come:

These women – metaphorical and real – are who I want to be: wise, listening to and living with those on the margins, gaining strength through perseverance and struggle, dignified and fearless, forever laughing with the abandon of a child. God knows and loves this woman. I am becoming this woman.

Indeed, I am. I feel more wise, more able to listen to those who are unseen, forgotten, or harmed, strengthened through perseverance and certainly struggle, more dignified, more fearless, and often laughing both with the abandon of a child – and with my own children.

I am this woman. Amazing.

That’s a year worth celebrating in the midst of acknowledging and grieving its losses and pains.

Another year older. Another year of being the grateful recipient of consistent, unpredictable, mysterious, and precious life.

Happy 11th Birthday, Emma Joy!

Oct 31, 2007 | Mothers and Daughters

It is hard for me to remember anymore what life was like without you.

I remember deeply longing for you; well, for a child. I remember the grief, the darkness, the sadness, the numbing reality of infertility. I remember the disbelief at the pink line on each of the 7 or 8 home pregnancy tests I took. I remember the slow and cautious hope that grew within me as you did. I remember your birth. I remember holding you for the first time and weeping with joy. Indeed, you have lived into your name already: Emma Joy.

Now that I see even this paragraph I’m tempted to go back and edit my beginning sentence. There is much that I remember about life without you – all of which I’d go through again if I knew that the transition point of that past into the eleven years since would be you.

Eleven years. Amazing. So much has happened. You have grown into a girl who is nearly a teen, who shows glimmers of the woman she will become. You have brought me and many much joy.

In these past twelve months I’ve been struck by so many things about you. Time, space, and my exhaustion level at the end of this day will keep me from listing them all; but I can spend a few minutes and a few paragraphs typing down what I reflect on most – all of which fill me with such joy.

You are amazingly smart – not just academically, but in common sense, and also in humor. I am stunned by how funny you are and not just in a goofy way (though that is delightful to see when it emerges) – in a sophisticated, cunning, witty way. That is not to say I’m not also stunned by your intellect. Seeing you learn in a realm that appreciates, affirms, and accelerates your gifted brain is a joyful experience every day. I can only imagine what you will do, who you will impact, the worlds you will change, who you will be. What a joy you are – and offer.

As we’ve walked through this past season of much change I’ve watched you balance your own heartache with levels of awareness, sensitivity, compassion, and candidness that belie your age. I’ve watched you care for me and your sister. You’ve listened deeply and well. You’ve assimilated new information and emotions into your heart and mind, sifting and sorting through your own experiences and feelings, holding much and bravely, honestly expressing much. Though that process has and continues to be painful in many ways, it is also such a beautiful and profound picture of who you truly are: a young girl, soon-to-be-teen, nearly young woman who knows herself well, can stand her own ground, and still both experience and bring joy.

You are something, Emma. The amazement I felt at knowing you were even a flicker of possibility in my wildest dreams has not lessened for a moment. You continue to exceed my loftiest dreams and move me into realms of hope – and joy – I’ve never known before.

My deepest prayer for you is that you will come to know how much you offer and that others in your life will have the capacity to offer you the same; that relationships will not be one way but that the very strength, presence, and joy you offer will be returned to you. You deserve that, Emma. I will do all I can to give that to you – with the same level of care and nurture I offered before you ever emerged on the scene. It’s the least I can do. You are joy for me. And I know even more of such in being, offering and showing joy to you.

It is not hard for me to remember what life was like without you. Though I knew much joy it wasn’t you. I love you, sweet girl: Emma Joy.

Happy Birthday.

Happy 50th Anniversary!

Jul 11, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters

This past weekend my siblings, our families, and nearly 100 others celebrated the 50th anniversary of my parent’s wedding. Stunning. Mind-boggling.

Given that I’ll never celebrate that milestone, and knowing even some of what I do about the complexion and landscape of their years together, I find it even more amazing. All the hearty congratulations, the expressions of pride and honor, and the tears of joy and love that were shed do not even begin to signify the reality of what those 50 years have held. How does one even begin to capture or understand all of what this means? It’s impossible, really.

And it would have been completely impossible for my parents to ever imagine, 50 years ago, what their celebration would look like and feel like. How could they have known of the story that would be told in their lives – separate and intertwined? How could they have known of both the heartache and joy that awaited them in the birth and then life of the three of their children – and then four grandchildren? How could they have anticipated the ways in which they would disappoint, wound, celebrate, surprise, and care for one another?

It’s impossible. And that’s what I love about it. In a world that often leaves us skeptical and doubting; wanting assurances, answers, and safe bets, their marriage embodies blind faith…not always their own, but always God’s on their behalf. Sometimes because of their efforts and perhaps more times than not, in spite of them, their relationship has endured, stretched, and grown. Amazing. Stunning.

And maybe not so impossible. Maybe celebrating 50 years together reminds us that we’re really not in control and still, beauty, life, and love exist, survive, and even thrive. Maybe just being in relationship period – any relationship is completely impossible but sometimes, many times, it’s something that happens, lives, breaths, and continues anyway…a good news of sorts that calls us again and again to something larger than ourselves, Someone larger than ourselves.

For me, my parents 50th was and is the gospel lived out. To celebrate their years together renewed my belief in and commitment to God’s crazy love for us; a love that is amazing, stunning, and impossible – and frankly, is the only thing that enables our own.

Happy 50th, Mom and Dad. I’m so proud of you and love you very much.