Lessons

Today, my perfect, little almost 3-month old taught me a valuable lesson. 

You see, up until today, I’ve held him until he falls asleep and then put him in his crib for a nap or for the night. I love these moments because I absolutely ADORE HIM and would gladly hold him FOREVER. 

I’ve been testing out putting him to sleep in his crib while he’s awake and letting him fall asleep on his own and it’s been going really well. 

However today, I settled down on the couch after feeding him and tried to put him to sleep and he just fussed and fussed. I tried all the usual remedies, all the usual tricks. Nothing. He just kept fussing. Finally, I thought that maybe I should just lay him down in his crib and see if he just wanted to cry, or just maybe he would calm down. So I wrapped him up and put him down in the crib. 

He immediately settled down and just laid there quietly. He stayed awake, looking around, for a few minutes. But before I knew it, he was sound asleep. 

I am both incredibly happy and sad at the same time. I am so glad that my almost 3-month old can lay in his crib and put himself to sleep (even without a pacifier). How amazing!

And suddenly, so sad because I realized he didn’t want to be snuggled to sleep. 

And then my physical-touch, love language heart shattered into pieces. 

Now I realize that might sound ridiculous, because tomorrow he might ONLY want to be snuggled. 

But for me, it opened my eyes to a bigger picture. I’m seeing in action, how what I want, what I think is “best” is not necessarily best for him. I have to watch and learn and understand what is best for HIM, and do that. Even if it’s not what I want. Even if it doesn’t fill my emotional need. What’s best for him is what matters. What will be most healthy for him, what will help him grow in the best way possible. Even down to his sleep pattern. Long-term, it will be better for him to be able to fall asleep without being held. And as much as I love and utterly cherish those moments, what’s best for him is more important than what I might feel is best for me. Making sure he gets lots of sleep and has a good schedule will help him feel secure and be healthy. That matters more to me. 

I’ve only been a mom for a minute period of time and already I have been shown over and over again more opportunities to die to myself. I know that’s a phrase we don’t use much anymore in today’s society. The idea of dying to ourselves is rather preposterous to most, even sometimes in the church world. We’re very big on what WE think. Because we think we know a lot. But being a mom has already humbled me in more ways than I can count. 

I don’t know best. 

I don’t have all the answers. 

I can’t have all the answers. 

I can’t let fear control me. 

I can't parent my son out of MY need. 

I have to rely on the Holy Spirit. 

I have to seek the Lord for wisdom on what is BEST for Lennox.  

I have to be ok with not letting my emotions tell me how to be a parent. 

I have to parent my son based on HIS need.

I have to practice self-control on a daily (and/or minute-by-minute) basis. 

I have to remember that His ways ARE higher than my ways; and His thoughts are higher than my thoughts* - even when it comes to being a parent (even in the nitty-gritty of nap time).  

Ultimately, I have to remember that my son is the Lord’s, and I need to hold him with open hands. 

This all might seem a little silly to you, but I look for the Lord in every situation. No matter how silly or insignificant it may seem. Because I know that He cares about the little things. He cares about the details. 

Being a parent is no joke. It is challenging me and changing me in ways that nothing else could, and I am only at the very beginning. But I love that every season of life is so intentional. I love that even the small beginnings** hold so much for us if we’ll seek it out.  

The Lord has the BEST for us, he really does. Don’t miss out because you get distracted trying to make YOUR best happen. Everything He does is perfect and right. 

We can trust Him.   




*Isaiah 55:8
"My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts," says the LORD. "And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine."

**Zechariah 4:10b
"Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin." 

Lennox Anchor

I’m not much for details. But this was too significant of a moment in our lives to not write it all out at least once. 

It was Sunday night, Father’s Day, and Sam and I had decided to watch a movie and stay up late together.

I honestly don’t even remember what movie we watched. I was sleepy half way through the movie but didn’t quite make it to sleep. The movie ended around 1:30am or so and at 1:36am I felt my first contraction. At that moment I wasn’t sure it was even a real contraction, but it felt different than the Braxton Hicks ones I had experienced. I mentioned to Sam that I thought it was a real contraction and he asked what I wanted to do. It all seemed pretty mellow at that moment so I said I wanted to go to bed and try to sleep, just in case it was the real thing.

We went to bed but I couldn’t sleep. The contractions stayed pretty consistent, so after laying there wide awake for an hour I decided to get up. It was 2:30am and I figured I should start keeping track of the contractions, just in case it was the real deal. I also had realized that I didn’t have anything ready to go to the hospital since it was almost 10 days until my due date. So I did a couple loads of laundry, packed my hospital bag, washed clothes for Lennox and re-read everything I could find about how to figure out if you’re in labor or not. None of it was helpful.

At around 5:30am I decided I should really start timing the contractions because they hadn’t gone away and seemed to be getting stronger.

I found it confusing because all the books talked about the 5-1-1 rule, but my contractions all seemed to be 1-3 minutes apart. The books didn’t talk about that at all. Nor did anyone in the birth class we took. Useless.

Around 7:20am I decided I should wake Sam up (I let him sleep, obviously) and go to the hospital just to get checked out. I figured they would be able to tell me if it was real labor or not, so if it wasn’t I could relax. So Sam got up, quickly packed his bag, lectured me about not waking him up sooner, and we headed to the hospital.

I found it funny when we got to the hospital because the admissions person asked me why I was there. I literally laughed out loud. What other reason would I be at admissions desk for labor and delivery? It was just too funny to me.

Anyway, we filled out the necessary paperwork and got taken back to triage so they could check everything out.

I got changed into a hospital gown and we settled into the little triage room and waited for the nurse to come do her thing. She commented from my demeanor she didn’t think it was real labor. I guess I didn’t look stressed out enough? Haha.

The nurse strapped me into the fetal monitor and then the contraction monitor first. A few minutes later she came back and did the internal check. To her (and our) surprise I was 4cm dilated and 90% effaced and my contractions were consistent and strong at 1-3 minutes apart (again- useless books never even mentioned that as a possibility).

She declared that I was in active labor, so they were admitting me and would get us to a room shortly.

Once we got settled into our room the waiting game started. The contractions were consistently getting stronger, but I wouldn’t say they were ‘painful’ at that point. Uncomfortable, sure, but not bad. Me and Sam hung out and talked, and tried to relax as much as we could.

A couple hours later the nurse came back to check me again, but this time, she accidentally broke my water. She had commented the last time she checked me that the waters were “bulging” (sorry, gross), so it wasn’t too surprising, I guess? 

This was my one disappointment about childbirth in the hospital; once your water breaks they don’t let you move around anymore. Since Sam and I had decided on a natural birth, being able to stand or move around was important to me to help alleviate pain. So that was a disappointment as they had me get back into bed and I had to just settle in and hope that things moved quickly.

I noticed the contractions got a lot a stronger after that. I remember being frustrated about being stuck in bed, because the only thing to look at on the wall across from me was a clock. So I was laying there, literally watching seconds tick by. But thankfully, time did pass and the nurse came back to check me again, and I was at 7cm. After that the contractions started getting a bit more intense. I would like to say that I was totally relaxed but by that time all I could do was focus on getting through each contraction.

Quick side note: I can’t give Sam enough credit for being so AWESOME the whole time I was in labor. He was the exact support I needed.

The nurse told me after hitting 7cm that we would be probably be having the baby in a couple hours. That was super exciting to me, so I tried to focus on that, and not stare at the clock on the wall, counting every single minute.

Fast forward an hour and 45 minutes, I was in quite a bit of pain, and starting to feel like I needed to push. I told the nurse and she checked me again and said I was at about 9 1/2cm, so then she asked if I wanted to get out of bed and stand up. I said YES, because that’s all I had wanted anyway. Why I could get up then and not the whole time is beyond me, but whatever.

I stood up for a few minutes, and then sat on the birthing ball and then with one contraction I knew I needed to push. I told the nurse again, and she said ok and to just wait until I was in the bed again.

Somehow I managed to get in the bed, contracting away, and got positioned to push.

The nurse talked me through how to push and said I could push on the next contraction. So that next contraction I started pushing, and that was a whole different type of pain. Not as bad as I thought it would be, just different than sitting there, enduring contractions.

Once we started that I didn’t keep track of time anymore, thankfully. I asked Sam later how long it took, and he said 45 minutes of actual pushing. So not that bad, it didn’t seem that long to me. I felt no difference in pushing, some women talk about the “ring of fire”, I never felt it. Couldn’t have told you when that happened, or when I tore (mildly). Never felt any of that, somehow.

The doctor encouraged me to push beyond the 3, 10 second rounds almost every time, so I tried to do that. I felt very determined to make it happen quick. Haha.

The only time I felt like I wasn’t sure I was going to make it was when one of the nurses told me it could take up to 3 hours to push out a baby. I remember looking at Sam and telling him I didn’t think I could do that for 3 hours. The nurse quickly assured me it would take less than an hour. I sure hoped so.

The most exciting moment before he came out was when I was pushing and Sam looked at me and said “he’s almost here!” So even though I wanted to take a break, I kept pushing. Before I even knew it, he was out and they were laying him on my chest.

There he was, all red and crying his little eyes out. I was a little concerned about the pretty good cone head he had, but he was absolutely perfect to me.

Nothing mattered as soon as I got to kiss his sweet little face and talk to him.

I didn’t care when the doctor gave me a few stitches, or when the placenta was delivered.

It’s pretty nuts how none of that is relevant once you hold that sweet baby.

At that point Sam and I hadn’t been able to settle on his name. But the nurse was filling out his little birth cards and doing his footprints so she asked us if we had a name. I looked at Sam and asked him what he thought. Without hesitation he said “Lennox Anchor.” I think that was the name I really wanted, but until he said it, I didn’t know for sure. 

And so, there he was. Our perfect little, 7 pound, 15 ounce, 20 1/2in, baby boy, Lennox Anchor Madrid.
And our lives will never be the same. 

Valleys

I had an epiphany the other day. It’s not that shocking, I promise. But I do think it’s important.

As followers of Jesus, we should be professionals at pain. Not that we’re masochists and long for pain, or relish in it. We don’t wallow and gain a sense of pride about our pain. We don’t turn our pain into our identity. We don’t become it. But we should be pro’s at facing it. At walking through it. Psalm 23 is a beautiful illustration of our walk through the valley- the valley of the shadow of death. I think sometimes we read that scripture and interpret it as once. We walk through the valley once. There’s nothing in the passage to confirm this thought process. I think we just like to think we have the hard trial once, prove our mettle and then we’re done. We imagine a time when we’ll look back on the valley with fondness because it’s a distant memory. And we will. But what if there’s more than one valley? More than one shadow of death? Here’s the shocking thought: What if we NEED the valley? Maybe we need multiple valleys, tempering us for different things. Preparing us and softening us. Calling us once again to draw close and cling to Jesus. 

We should be professionals at pain. Meaning we know how to respond. We respond with faith. We trust. We rest. We sit down at the table prepared in the presence of our enemies, and we eat in peace. 

We don't pretend things aren't difficult. We’re ok with grief. We’re ok with the tears. But we don’t allow the walk through the valley to become the road to despair. The valley is just another passage on the walk of faith. Take a moment and grieve. But then gear up. Because the valley is really one of the most incredible adventures of our lives. 

Monuments

I've been thinking. And I know that I'm late to the conversation, and the world has moved on. Harvey has come and devastated thousands of people in Texas, and our focus has shifted. And that’s a good thing. The precious people in Texas need support, so let's focus on that. 

But I want to go back to this conversation about monuments. I understand there’s a lot of controversy. I understand that it’s contentious. I don’t agree with the mob mentality that is being created in taking down these monuments. I don’t agree with the constant extremism and polarization of races. It’s not helping us. 

But here’s what I keep thinking. 

If what a monument represents is hurting someone, we should take it down. 

I understand the idea of preserving history. The removal of monuments doesn’t take away our history. Calm down. 

We can preserve and honor our history whether a monument stays in place or not. 

Honestly, I don't even want to get into the "political argument" of it all. 

Instead, consider this for a moment: 

How can I look my brother who is hurting in the face and choose a monument that is made of metal and stone over the flesh and bone standing in front of me?

That’s what keeps plaguing me. How can I say I love my brother when I choose the worth of a monument over his? 

I have friends that have told me stories of what their parents have experienced as a result of  segregation. And many of these monuments are nothing more than reminders of horribly painful experiences. I don’t like that. 

I understand that there can be a level of emotion involved in this. I understand that there is potential for it to be irrational, or illogical. I understand all that. But it’s not my job to govern somebody’s emotions. It’s not my job to sit here and point out how incorrect their emotion is, or whatever it is that crosses my mind that “needs to be said.” 

It is my job to be kind. To be loving. To listen. To hear. To respond. 

1 John 4 says that if I say I love God, but hate my brother, I’m a liar. 

The truth is, I can’t choose some monument, over my brother who is hurting. 

I want to gain my brother back, more than I want some monument to stay in place.

I don’t need a monument. But I do need my brother. 

For me, that’s what it all comes down to:
If it’s a statue or my brother. I choose my brother. 

Perfect or Process

I was looking at my husband while he was on stage the other day, and so many thoughts occurred to me. While he is not perfect, he is perfect for me. While he is not perfect, he is in process. He's not the man he was 9+ years ago when we started dating. He is better. He's a better man now than he was then. And he was pretty great. Just saying.

But I couldn't help but ponder about perfection. About process.

Sometimes we get caught up in looking for the "perfect" person. And while yes, we do want the right person- right doesn't equal perfect. Here's the truth: I know my husband isn't perfect. And neither am I.

But it's not about perfection. It's about process.

I don't like big qualifying statements like "don't look for the perfect person." Because I think that's fine. But rather, as you look for the perfect person, look for one that's perfectly in process.

I imagine we all like to skip ahead to the end, when we're all perfectly mature. When we always say the right thing. When we always do the right thing. When we're always calm. When we always communicate exactly what we should. When we never lose our temper. Where the relationship is always good, and there are never any misunderstandings or miscommunications. When we are that fantastical, storybook version of ourselves that we've imagined.

But here's the truth about skipping ahead to the end.
You miss everything that got you to that place.

And when you really break down what that means, it means you'll miss all the little moments. All the sweetness. The day after day, night after night of just being together. The laughter. The little glances across the room. All the little secrets you share. All the blow-out arguments that made you want to scream, but when you finally persevered all the way through changed everything. All the moments you have to ask for forgiveness because you were the one who was wrong. All the hard work that made you who you are.

And that’s just it.
But for the PROCESS, we would never be who we're meant to be.
It's slow, because refinement isn't instantaneous.
It's painful sometimes because refinement sharpens the best parts of you, while destroying the ugly ones.
It’s scary, because it means letting go of what is comfortable, and convenient.
It’s faith, because sometimes it doesn’t look like what you thought it would.

We underestimate the importance of process. The beauty of process.
Process is building something of substance.
Process is building something that will last.
Process is building something that will endure the end of time.
Process is refining us, slowly, one day at a time to reflect Jesus.

So the truth is, perfect is great. But it is impossible without process.
So as you're out there, fighting the good fight, looking for that soul mate, just remember: Perfect is good. Find that person who is perfect for you. But find the one that is perfectly in process. Then be ok with mess that comes with it. Commit to the person, and to the process.

We have a Father who is on our side. A Father who is an EXPERT at building a city out of ruins. A Father who can take ashes and turn them to beauty. A Father who takes process and makes it perfect.

Say It Once

Say it once so I know I've tried 

Say it once so I haven't lied 

Say it once though we disagree 

Say it once and let it be 

Say it once cause I know I should 

Say it once for my own good 

Say it once and drive the knife

Say it once to save my life 

Say it once for us both to hear

Say it once loud and clear 

Say it once even though it hurts 

Say it once for all it's worth 

Say it once and crush my heart 

Say it once or we'll never start 

Say it once and break the ice 

Say it once and roll the dice 

Say it once and say it loud 

Say it once even if I doubt 

Say it once and watch me cry 

Say it once or I might die 

Say it once with all you've got

Say it once in every thought 

Say it once into the wind 

Say it once before the end 

Say it once and say it for all 

Say it once even if we fall 

Say it once so I'll know its true 

Say it once, I love you. 

Remember The Stars

I was looking at a voice memo in my phone, one of dozens, to be sure. But I was stunned by the date. 10.22.15. It shocked me because I can’t believe it’s been nearly two years since I wrote that song. How is that possible? It seems like it was yesterday. 

I could be discouraged, I suppose. Notebooks full of songs. Voice memos piled up with melodies. All these songs and stories that no one has ever heard. Why is it taking so long? Will the time ever come for these songs to be heard? 

I just don’t understand the timing of God. I’ll never understand how destinies and timing work together to create the best possible outcome we could ever hope or dream for. I’ll never understand how some people seem to walk in their destinies with ease, and how some of us desperately struggle and fight to get to ours. It’s not a jealous thing, because I refuse to compare my life to the life of another. I’m just deep in the fight. 

And maybe the truth is, I can’t understand. Maybe it’s out of the realm of my understanding. It’s an insight too great for me to behold. All I can do is marvel at the mystery.

I suppose you could think it’s foolish, or that I’m overcomplicating things. And maybe I am. But I can’t shake the feeling, the deep sense, that I have to wait. That the timing isn’t right. Sure, I could rush out and go make an album, or pursue any number of things on the list of dreams in my heart. And there probably wouldn’t be anything “wrong” with it. The truth is, I honestly believe I would be doing it in my own strength. And it’s taken me a long time to see what that really means, and I don’t want to do it that way. 

I feel like there’s a timing to this, and it’s significant. Because there is something about the right thing, at the right time, with the right people. It’s the trifecta. And honestly, I believe it’s unstoppable. 

The truth is, I don’t know what I’m waiting for. But I’ll know when I see it. 

I believe with everything in me that I’m gonna cross a threshold, and everything will change. You don’t have to believe it, that’s ok. I believe it. And, I’ll wait. Sometimes patiently, sometimes screaming in my heart over the ‘why’ of it all. 

There’s a lot of pressure out there in the world to be “successful.” It’s got a million different definitions, but you’ve gotta have it. And if people approve, it must be right. But as always, I look at everything with a Kingdom lens (sorry, I know no other way). And success in the Kingdom is really measured in obedience, in faithfulness. The questions I believe we’ll be facing in eternity will sound like “were you faithful?” and “were you obedient?” “Were you successful?” will probably never be in the equation. Just saying. 

I’d love to be successful. Shoot, who wouldn’t? But I’d rather be faithful. I’d rather be obedient. And often, those things are quiet, and go unnoticed. They don’t get a lot of fame or recognition. They don’t get applause, or accolades. But they get the attention of the Father. 

Genesis 15:6 says Abraham BELIEVED God, and it was credited to him as righteousness. That’s a far cry from what gets noticed in today’s society. 

But it is that simple. Abraham believed. That’s it. There was no real evidence, other than the stars* in the sky. No reason for Abraham to believe based on what he could see with his eyes. He took the promise of God and believed. 

And so in turn, I believe. I take the promises of God, both in His word and the ones He’s whispered, and I BELIEVE. And when the battle is long and I can’t remember because nothing I see matches what I believe, I’ll look to the stars. 

There will always be reasons to give up. To stop believing. To walk away. 

If ever you find yourself in that place, look up and remember the stars. 

*Genesis 15:1-6

After these things the word of the Lord came to Abram in a vision: “Fear not, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.” 2 But Abram said, “O Lord God, what will you give me, for I continue[a] childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus?” 3 And Abram said, “Behold, you have given me no offspring, and a member of my household will be my heir.” 4 And behold, the word of the Lord came to him: “This man shall not be your heir; your very own son[b] shall be your heir.” 5 And he brought him outside and said, “Look toward heaven, and number the stars, if you are able to number them.” Then he said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” 6 And he believed the Lord, and he counted it to him as righteousness.