To my baby girl

By Mary

You're four months old already, pushing five. I truly don't know how time flies by so quickly.
You're the dearest thing. You watch everything quietly, intently. Sometimes I'll look over and catch you ducking your head with a huge smile on it after catching a glimpse of one of us, seeing the dog walk by, or watching your siblings play. I'm sure it's just because that sweet little curly head still gets heavy sometimes on your wee shoulders, but it honestly looks like you're so happy you could burst and that's the only way to contain it.

You are so tolerant of your big sister and brother clamoring for hugs and kisses and smiles from you, sorely neglecting to give you any kind of personal space, and generally abusing you with the utmost love-you even seem to like it all most of the time.

You're so content and cheerful, you talk with the sweetest coos, laugh the cutest belly laugh, but sometimes you'll just cry with the saddest of sad faces, tears welling up in your eyes (which remain a mysterious and indescribable color for the time being)

Everyone asks how life is with three of you dear little monsters and I always say that it's no harder than two except for the logistics occasionally...when taking you all out of the house somewhere or in those moments where you're all three hungry and making it well known while somebody (or two) needs changed and somebody else spilled something the dog wants to lick but shouldn't and the phone is ringing too. Because other than that, you're just easy as pie.

Sometimes I try to warn myself not to get too comfortable with such a happy little camper-who knows when you'll hit a crazy phase and I'll bemoan these precious months with you (just like I'll one day I'll bemoan the crazy phase too) But no matter what somehow I know you'll always be mi Carina, my little darling. I love you.

blessings

by Alanna

Having two kids just fifteen months apart seems to bring comments from people.  Some positive, some negative, and always questions.  Are you going to wait for the next one?  Are you going to have more at all?  Have you ever heard of natural family planning?  You know there's things you can do right?   I have always believed that I'd just have as many kids as God gives me.  But lately I feel pretty alone in this view, and it makes me wonder if I'm crazy.  Maybe I didn't realize that I'd be able to get pregnant again so fast, even while breastfeeding.  It's one thing to say you trust God and that kids are amazing, and another thing to put that into practice when your body feels so weary caring for a two month old and you are taking a pregnancy test, just to be sure.

Just when I had been wondering if anyone leaves this up to God, I overheard an encouraging comment from an older lady at our prayer group.  She stepped into a conversation about fertility awareness and gently pointed out that it is God who opens the womb. And He is trustworthy.  Yes, He is.  And I really believe it.  Crazy or not, I believe that God creates life.  I know, God gave us wisdom.  I know He gave us the ability to have knowledge about our bodies and what is going on, when we are fertile and when we're not.  But no matter what we may think it is not us who creates life.  We don't decide when to have a baby, and birth control methods can fail.  God is the author of life.  It's what His word says.  He is not only the Creator and the Sustainer and the Giver of strength when I'm weary.  He is also the God who gives good gifts.

Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward.  Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth.  Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them!  He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate."

I've heard the arguments, that this verse was written back when children were an asset, contributing more to the household, etc.  But I believe that it reveals God's heart.  God's heart for children, reflected again when Jesus welcomed them into His arms.  And I believe it too.  That children are a blessing.  That we are blessed to have a household full of them.  That God will give grace for what He gives.  That I don't have to try to be in control.  That I don't have to fear.  Whenever my next baby comes, and however many come after that, I want to welcome them with open arms.  To be a testimony to the world that God is good and He gives good things.  That He opens the womb and that He is trustworthy.  That children are a blessing!

  

   

hope

by Alanna

There's been so many different things on my mind to write about, so I'm hoping to blog a little more often these coming weeks. But we'll see. I've decided to blog about hope tonight, because I haven't been feeling much of it lately.  Just a little story that I don't want to forget.

We went to visit my mother-in-law a few weeks ago. She and Isa picked flowers in the backyard for me, while my husband worked on her lawnmower, blessing her as usual. In her house she has various plants and flowers, but this time she pointed out one to me in particular. She doesn't speak fluent English but she told me that she had this plant for two years, and it never had any blossoms. She had given up on it.  But just when she was going to throw it in the trash, it blossomed all in a day- six if I remember right- six beautiful white blossoms hanging from a single stalk, with purple and yellow in their centers. They were beautiful. Not just the flowers, but the reminder to me to not give up hoping and praying.

Sometimes I am hit with the impossibility of a situation. Humans say this can't be done. And for a day I stop praying because it's impossible. And then I'm hit with this awesome and humbling awareness- our God is not bound by the possible. He is the God of miracles and the God who does impossible things. So the next time I am tempted to give up something because it has taken so long, because nothing is changing and no flowers are appearing, I will remember those flowers in my other mom's house. I will remember hope. And open my hands again, pleading to the God of miracles.

the souls of people

by Alanna

Well we've officially added baby number two to the mix at our house.  It has been a joy and still I've cried in exhaustion once or twice.  I've been learning some hard lessons, am learning still.

I make these long to-do lists for myself, great expectations.  Believing somehow that if my floors were clean and the laundry all put away that I could believe I was a good wife, a good mom.  I've wrapped my worth all up in clean dishes and homemade tortillas.  And the fact is, floors are dirty and the moment I've put away the last piece of laundry I turn to find more dirty in the hamper.  My husband tells me to rest, tells me that these things on my list don't have to be done on Monday.  We will all survive until Tuesday without tortillas.  Once that to-do list is complete I will come up with more anyway.  Sort through the baby clothes, make some freezer meals.  It never ends and I'm tired and I wonder if I inherited this or if I just acquired it over time. Looking to prove myself by what I can do, always.  I wonder if this is the definition of workaholism or perfectionism.

I heard a song borrowed from my dear cousin called Rest Easy.  About how we don't have to work so hard because Jesus has already done it all.  He already holds our heart in His hands and we can rest in that. Then my brother reminds me of Hudson Taylor's spiritual secret, the greatest wonder that he had to share with the world.  Abiding in Jesus.  Not fighting, not striving to become or conquer.  Just abiding.  Just letting Jesus abide in us.

My thinking is warped because I've put my worth in the wrong place.  Thinking that if I accomplish enough that can be noticed that I will prove myself to be someone.  When really I am poor and needy, but the wondrous thing is that the Lord takes thought of me.  My thinking is wrong too because I place all this value on things of this world.  The fact is, only three things are really eternal.  God, God's words, and the souls of people.  The soul of my husband, the souls of my children.  My baby girl asks me to read her bible stories, and I almost turn away because today's the day for cleaning the bathroom.  I can't let my husband hug me long in the morning because breakfast has to be made.  I don't want to be this way.  I want to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen to Him.  I want to be filled with Him so that I can pour out to others in joy.  I want to love deeply.  I want to value the souls of people more than clean dishes.

expecting

by Alanna

I meant to write this before Christmas, but never got around to it. The Christmas snow outside still hasn’t melted though, so I feel that it’s still the season. I feel like Mary this Christmas, waiting for a baby. Hoping, wondering, treasuring up things in my heart. What will this son be like?  I think a lot about my little one these days.  He is not so little anymore, turning seven this coming May.  I pray hard for him, that this year would be the one where he begins to really hunger for God.  I pray that his heart is soft and open and that He wonders and asks questions and seeks the Truth.  And I pray for this new little son growing inside of me.  That he would be dedicated to Jesus and that I would have the courage to surrender him; courage like Mary’s.  I am so excited and so ready to welcome this new baby.  I’ve made up his little bed, packed the bag for the birthing center, froze dinners, lined up someone to watch baby girl.  Now it’s just expectant waiting.  And I know that God, in His perfect timing, will bring this baby into the world.  He is the fulfiller of expectations, the answer to all our hopes. 

There’s all these stories in Luke about rejoicing in long-hopes fulfilled, and I love them. To read the song of Mary and the prophecy of Zecharias and the way that Simeon got to see the Savior. That Ana waited for so long because she had been promised, and then she too got to see Jesus.  I’ve been seeing hopes fulfilled too around here. Not passed down hope through generations, but things I barely dared to hope in the dark.  For my heart, for his, for our marriage. It’s beautiful and I’m going to rejoice this Christmas.  No matter how many things we still hope for, God is the fulfiller of promises.  He is faithful and true and doesn’t ever lie.  He is worthy to be waited upon, and worthy to be rejoiced in even when we just see a small glimmer of hopes fulfilled. 

Christmas, for me, is when we celebrate this.  The God of hope sending His Son after so many generations of hoping.  His Son come to rescue us.  Worthy to be worshipped, when we wait and when we rejoice.

life and joy

by Alanna

My mom and I went to visit a happy mom with her new little son this weekend. He is one month old today, and so beautiful. Half Congolese and totally African, with dark curly hair and gorgeous eyes.  I just held him in awe, wrapped up in warm soft blankets. His momma is happy. His life seems somehow more precious to me, sacred, because of the way he was snatched from death. Months ago, his mom was at Planned Parenthood for an abortion, and a Christian there talked to her and offered her help. She changed her mind, left, and decided to love and carry her son. His birth was a hard one, not easy. His mom is so young and there is no dad in the picture. But her joy is so evident.  Her happiness and her love for her son couldn’t be contained.

This precious little boy makes me think of the others. The survivors, and the ones who didn’t make it. The ones for whom the womb was not a safe place, but a place where they lost their lives. I wonder sometimes who weeps for them, who prays for them. How often do we believe that abortion is entrenched, here to stay forever.  And like poverty or evil it seems hopeless because it will never be overcome. Hopeless might be a word you can apply to the worldwide eradication of abortion, because sin will be here with us until Jesus comes back. But the little ones scheduled to be killed tomorrow, here in our midst? There is hope for them. There is always hope. Hope that some Christian will be there to speak on their behalf. Hope that their mother will hear, turn, repent. Hope that another little baby will be born, months from now. Hope for a baby’s life and a mother’s joy.

I don’t know what things God has called us all to, or those He has called us to love. We have families and friends and ministries and we do our best to seek God’s will for us. But I for one want to hope for the babies. I think they are forgotten sometimes because they are hidden away, because we can’t see their faces and we don’t know them and it is an overwhelming tide. Holding this little baby in my arms forced me to remember. To rejoice in his life, to hope for others. I want to pray and to hope and to be a voice for them when I have the chance. Because while the tide of abortion might not be stopped, someone made a difference here. To the baby, his very life. To the mother, her unbounded joy.

Open eyes

by Alanna

Once again I hold joy at arm's length, refusing it until I'm granted that one thing I think I need to be happy. There is always something right? It's sinful, this refusing joy. Like my baby throwing a temper tantrum because the yogurt is all gone, even when her plate is full of other food she loves. This is me.  

I wanted to remember good things that God has done, so I read over my answered prayer list. I started it on December 18th- almost a whole year ago now. Seven pages now, full of things I asked God for and He granted me. In His grace, in His mercy, in His goodness, in His love. If the Israelites were forgetful, then I am Dory from Finding Nemo. I forgot. When things look bleak, He is at work. When I have laid on the floor and cried and cried for my son, He heard and He knew, He always knew, what He was going to do. He was going to do good.  When I asked the Lord of the universe to help my baby nurse happy, He granted my petition. When I asked Him for joy He gave it. For wisdom, for peace, for my attitude on so many days. For my siblings' restoration to my parents, for a job for my husband, for another baby growing inside of me, for hard nights redeemed and hard mornings where I was rescued.  For safety the night I found her sitting up in bed crying, enclosed in her blanket, trapped.  For working internet when I needed to skype, for things to do when I needed to keep my hands busy. For joy for baby girl, and the way she laughs and laughs. For her birth and all my fears dispersed and pure joy come into the world.  For a trash can, a double stroller, safety all these miles in the car.  For affection, reassurance.  For things surrendered that He let me hold again.

And I remember too, that sometimes He says no. But the joy today is in knowing that He hears. That any suffering, any good thing withheld, is part of His sovereign plan.  He knows what it is like to cry out to the Father and hear only silence.  To be slain.  I want to learn from His submission to the Father's will. And from His joy.  Job said it- "Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?"  I don't want to complain anymore about the things I don't have. I want to ask my Father, and to wait. Then I want to rejoice. To remember when He gives, to be thankful. And to bow my head in submission when the waiting is long. To rejoice in knowing that He hears. To trust His heart for me.