Essa Mayne

Once again, I write for memory’s sake. I hate the idea of forgetting a moment in time so special and significant. 

We’ll rewind a bit, just to help get in the mindset of where we were. 

The majority of my pregnancy with Essa was really easy. Very little nausea, or discomfort the majority of the time. While fatigue was a constant and heartburn came with a vengeance; there was very little to complain about. 

That is until the last 5-6 weeks. Then it all seemed to kick into high gear. I went from being fine to suddenly being uncomfortable no matter what I did. Sitting, standing, lying down, it didn’t seem to matter; everything was miserable. 

Not to mention, with Sam leaving for a 10 week training academy 6 days after Essa’s due date, I was just ready to be DONE. 

So we’ll fast forward to February 6. To me, it was like every other stinking day going by, without a contraction in sight. At that point I had done everything possible to start labor, from jogging to scrubbing floors on my hands and knees to eating any spicy food I could get my hands on. Nothing seemed to do a thing. 

Sam had come home from work and we were sitting in the living room chatting when all of the sudden, I felt my water break. 

This was quite a different experience than with Lennox, as my water didn’t break until I was in the hospital already well into labor. 

I went to the bathroom just to make sure I hadn’t involuntarily peed myself (pregnancy sucks y’all), and was quite positive my water had broken. I came out and told Sam who sat there for a second before he asked “do we need to go to the hospital right now?” I laughed and said “no way, I’m not even having contractions.” 

So we waited. I finished packing my hospital bag and packed things for Lennox who would be going to spend the night at his grandparent’s house. Contractions started but were really nothing, so I didn’t worry too much. 

A couple hours later we headed into the hospital, handed Lennox off to Grandma (Eleanor), and went to get checked in. 

The nurse who checked us in informed us that it was busy night, and she was not kidding. We sat in triage from somewhere around 9:30pm-11:45pm before finally getting taken back to a room. 

I was rather annoyed because we sat in triage for so long, but mostly that labor did not seem to be progressing in any real way. 

Finally we got settled into our room, and we decided to try to sleep, since we didn’t know how quickly things would go. 

Unfortunately, I only closed my eyes for about 30 minutes before real contractions hit around 12:30am.  

I let Sam sleep as long as I could, but around 2am I woke him up. It was getting too intense to try to distract myself. As usual, he came in clutch and talked to me, told me stories and made me laugh as much as possible. 

I was SO tired around 3am, and momentarily considered getting an epidural just so I could sleep. But I quickly dismissed that thought and determined to stick it out. 

Around 3:55am the nurse came in and checked me and said I was about 7-8 centimeters dilated. She commented that I’d probably be having the baby in about an hour or so. That gave me serious hope. Haha. 

However, I kid you not, about 30 seconds after the nurse walked out of the room I sat up and told Sam “oh my gosh, I need to push.” 

He called the nurse ASAP who booked it back into the room and checked and was shocked to say I was at 10 centimeters. Quick side note, I had no idea you could jump from 7-8 to 10 centimeters in literally 30 seconds flat, but that’s a whole other thing.  The nurse then told me I needed to wait to push until the doctor came. This is my one GIANT frustration with hospital birth. I did not like being told to wait to push, and there was little direction on what to do while I was waiting. I lost track of how I was breathing and commented that my hands were going numb to which I was told “you’re not breathing.” Trying to connect that to something logical whilst being 10 centimeters dilated and told not to push is asking a lot. But somewhere in the midst of that rational thought kicked in and I started taking deep breaths again and the numbness disappeared.  After what seemed like an eternity (I’m sure it wasn’t) the doctor showed up and I got to push. 3 pushes and less than 5 minutes later, our perfect Essa was born. 

She was little and petite and exactly right for us. 

I said two things immediately after seeing her face the first time. The first was “she looks like Lennox!” and the second was “Babe, she is totally Essa.” That might sound dumb, but I like to see their faces before I know for sure if the name we picked out is right. As soon as we saw her, we knew her name was exactly right. 

All in all, it was a very simple birth. No complications, tears or anything else. Just funny, because it went so slow until it didn’t. There was nothing until it kicked in, and then it was high gear. I rather imagine that’s like our Essa girl. 

We'll Tell Them

I sat for a quiet moment today, just thinking about things. Babies asleep, sweet and peaceful.
I've wondered what to say, or share these days. Everyone seems quick to speak and share opinions. But as we stare this new disease in the face and the world seemingly closes in on itself...I don't care to be frivolous with words.

To be sure, this is an old enemy we're facing. Sure, the disease is new. But our enemy is not. He never is. So we don't have to be afraid. We know this enemy has been defeated. But it's up to us to obey the word of the Lord. We won't fear.
The Lord is not shocked by Coronavirus, or earthquakes, or fires, or floods, or anything else.
He doesn't fall off of His throne.

So as I sat quietly today, I thought about my kids. And someday, when they're older, we'll tell them about all this. They're innocent and unaware now, but someday we'll tell them about this. We'll tell them about the year the world changed. We'll tell them how it shifted us, and changed us. We'll tell them how our collective priorities changed. We'll tell them how our lives were altered in the course of a moment.
But most of all, we'll tell them about what the Lord did. We'll tell them about who He was in the midst. We'll tell them how He was faithful. We'll tell them how He sustained us. We'll tell them how He was near. We'll tell them how He was good. We'll tell them how He was kind. We'll tell them how He loved us. We'll tell them how He never changed, not even a little. We'll tell them about His peace, that truly passes all understanding.
We'll tell them how we leaned in closer than ever before, and we'll tell them how He led us.

And honestly, I can't wait. I can't wait to tell them about the world they grew up in. I can't wait to show them that our God is the God of then and now. The same, always. Every story in His word isn't just who He was, it's who He is NOW. I can't wait to tell them that He can be trusted, even when we don't understand.

Really, all I'm saying is, we're living in the times we're going to tell our children about.
So let's open our eyes wide, and ask the Lord to show us all the things we need to see.


We will not hide these truths from our children;
we will tell the next generation about the glorious deeds of the Lord,
about his power and his mighty wonders. 
Psalm 78:4

Spark

We don’t believe the lies 

We don’t let them in 

We won’t let fear beat us 

We know it loses in the end 

We won’t give up in the battle 

We have the fighter spark 

We won’t run away in the losses 

We don’t lose faith in the dark 

We’ll hold our ground steady 

We sing our victory song loud 

We follow the fire 

And hold firm for the cloud 

We’ll believe beyond reason 

Even with darkness covering 

We’ll hold onto Your goodness 

Even when nothing is all we’ve seen  

We’ve walked in the valley 

And through the deep of night 

We keep moving forward 

Because this is faith- not sight 

We may not know what’s next 

It’s not for us to see 

But we’ll trust You more than ever 

As You make us who were meant to be 

Drift Away

I see you drifting far away

Far from where we are 

I wonder why you drift away 

Headed for a different star 

I see you drifting far away 

There’s nothing to be done 

I’ll watch you as you drift away 

Until the light is gone 

I see you drifting far away 

As you sing a different song 

I still see you drifting far away 

Choices pulling you along 

I see you drifting far away 

As far as I can see  

You keep drifting far away  

Far away from me 

I see you drifting far away

No more tears to cry 

Forever drifting far away 

I’ll always wonder why 

I see you drifting far away 

What’s left is running dry 

You’re still drifting far away 

Into a different sky 

I see you drifting far away 

The end is coming now 

I wish you wouldn’t drift away 

I can’t stand to watch you drown

Drift away my little star

There’s nothing left to be 

Farewell, my little star

Someday come back home to me 

Frustration

My heart, O God, is steadfast, my heart is steadfast; I will sing and make music.

Psalm 57:7

I’m so thankful for scripture. It’s a refuge in every season. It rights our perspective, comforts our hurts, shifts our attitude, humbles our pride, and brings us back to where we need to be: a submitted heart. 

IF we’ll let it. 

Today I found myself dealing with frustrations. Circumstances, people, you name it. 

So I went to the Word, and I went to prayer. Because, well, that’s all I know how to do. 

I simply told the Lord, “I’m frustrated. And I don’t know what to do.” 

And as I just stood in silence for a few moments I felt the Lord remind me that the biggest frustration I’m dealing with is ME. 

My own expectations. I want MY way. I know best. I have the answers. 

This is the real problem. Not the other people. 

I felt the Lord remind me to just be faithful. To serve. To do so with JOY. 
Because this is what the Lord is presenting me with. 

He’s not extending me the opportunity to have my way or fix the problems. 

The opportunity he’s giving me is to faithfully serve, with joy. That’s it. 

It's actually a simple thing. And I'm always reminded of 2 Kings, where Naaman is told to go wash in the river and he almost refuses until his servant says "If the prophet had told you a difficult thing, wouldn't you have done it?" 

Why do we always reject the simple thing? 
But I digress.

You know what happened next? 

All the frustration disappeared. 

It’s not that it won’t come back. It will. But then I can CHOOSE to be self-disciplined. I can CHOOSE not to be frustrated. I can CHOOSE to joyfully fulfill my assignment in this season: EVEN IF IT’S NOT THE ONE I WANT. 

It really is a choice. 

Is it easy? No. 

Fun? Not always. 

Does it bring accolades or spotlights? No. 

But that's not what we're here for. We're here to serve.

Sitting down, Jesus called the Twelve and said, "Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last, and the servant of all." 
Mark 9:35

Idols

Why do they matter? What are they? We’re not too familiar with this idea anymore. We tend to think that idols are something passed away, from a long time ago. Not too many of us are out in the backyard constructing some sort of golden calf, as it were. 

Is this still relevant? 

I think the answer is emphatically, YES. 

It’s true, we’re not out building statues of wood or metal to pray to. 

But often do we devote ourselves to something other than Christ? 

Devotion is a confusing word. We don’t really put anything we do in the same category as Christ. But don’t we let so many other things shape how we think?
How we think about life, how we think about others, how we think about ourselves? Doesn’t our thought process drive our actions? 

We think or we feel something, and then most often, we do something based on that thought. 

Let’s think about a tangible example: 

We think “I’m fat.” Or often, more accurately, we feel “fat” and then thought and feeling drives us to an action. And of course, we all react differently. Maybe your reaction is to eat more, eat more unhealthy things, and spiral into an emotional eating habit. 

Or maybe your reaction is to go the other way. Instead you begin to discipline yourself in the name of getting healthy. You work out a lot. You don’t eat anything “bad.” You feel guilty when you do. So you get more strict. Maybe you stop eating some meals altogether. In the name of “health.” 

There are many examples, and other avenues this can take. But ultimately, we’re letting something have a throne in our lives other than Christ. 

Why does it matter, you might ask? 

Psalm 115:2-8 (emphasis added) 

Why do they nations say, 

“where is their God?”

Our God is in heaven,

he does whatever pleases him.

But their idols are silver and gold,

made by human hands.

They have ears, but cannot hear,

noses, but cannot smell.

They have hands, but cannot feel, 

feet, but cannot walk,

nor can they utter a sound with their throats.

Those who make them will be like them, 

and so will all who trust in them. 

The biggest reason this matters, is we become like the idols we allow in our lives. We stop hearing. We stop feeling. Our perception is interrupted by a new perception that we think is truth, and in reality, it’s a lie. 

I don't know about you, but I don't want anything to take the place of Christ in my life. I definitely don't want to have ears and not hear, hands and not feel because of my own choices. 

This is why we need trustworthy friends. That person we let say the hard things; the things that sting. We need that friend who knows what we’re capable of and encourages us to not live like we’re anything less.
I think it’s interesting that a popular topic these days is accountability. We’re in a generation that rejects accountability on the “don’t judge me” concept. Accountability isn’t judgement. Accountability says “there’s more in you, there’s better in you than this.” It’s a call and helping hand to propel you to the greatness that’s in you. Accountability isn’t “wow, look at all the terrible things you did”, accountability is “wow, look at the amazing things you are made to do.” If you don’t have that in your life, you are truly missing out.

Obviously, these are two separate topics, but not really. Because good accountability will alert me to an idol in my life. If I can just be humble and hear them out, instead of immediately justifying and getting defensive.
If I can have ears to hear, accountability might save me from the idol I’m building. 

Prison

I keep thinking about Paul. So many critical moments and teachings came from the prison. 

Yet he had joy. He was full of joy actually. He had peace. He was content. 

Sadly, I find myself completely dissatisfied in my own life when I’m not where I want to be. 

What if the prison is where we’re called to be? What if we never leave it? Will I be content? Full of joy? Peace? Sometimes the prison doesn’t have bars or walls. Sometimes it’s a season of life. We want it to be over, but it lingers on. 

I find myself relating to Paul. Don’t worry, I’m not that arrogant; I know I’m not in chains for the gospel. But the place I’m in seems very disconnected. Isolated. Out of touch. I feel like I’m out of the game. On the sidelines where no one even remembers I used to play. As a person of action, this is tough. I’m an all or nothing person, and when it comes to Jesus, it’s ALL. 

But here I sit on the bench, longing to get back in the game and do something useful again. 

But I look at Paul. Not once do I get the impression that he felt like he was out of the game. If anything, he rejoiced that he was in the will of God. He never counted himself out. How? What is this perspective?

I know that where I am is where I’m supposed to be. It’s time to quiet the questions. Because if I never leave the prison, I don’t want it to change a thing. That no matter what happens, I conduct myself worthy of the gospel of Christ. 

Paul never gave up. He never despaired. What if he wasted time comparing himself to others outside the prison? What a different story he would have told if he had. There’s a reason Paul was chosen for the prison. It couldn’t have been just anyone. What an honor. I want to live that way. I want the Lord to entrust difficult things to me. Not because I’m so awesome, but because I’m faithful. Because I’m a good steward. Can he trust me with the prison? Even if I never leave it? Lord, help me, I hope so. 

I just want to be faithful where he’s called me. One day at a time. I want to rejoice. I want to be full of joy. That every cell mate would see Jesus in me. Not despair. Not hopelessness. Not defeat. Not frustration. Just Jesus. 

And really, this is who we’re supposed to be. As believers, hope is our thing. Joy is our thing. Peace is our thing. We’re not like those who don’t know and are tossed around by everything that comes their way. No matter what we face, we have the option to choose joy. To choose hope. To choose peace. To choose to be content. It’s up to us. 

So here I sit on the sidelines. Patiently. Joyfully. Gratefully. Thankfully. Content to be here. 
And believing that even here, I’ll live to the fullest every moment the Lord gives me.