WOW. The blog has basically been on vacation for a year. I've been doing a lot of living and not a lot of writing. Namely, welcoming our sweet baby girl, Norah Gwendolyn Engelking into the world on December 6, 2015! 

Baby girl at 11 weeks old 

Three months ago I was working on staff at our church in full time ministry with high school students and young adults; a job I'd been doing for 5.5 years. I love my job, I'm passionate about that ministry. There were definitely some hard seasons and times when ministry was brutally exhausting. But my perspective on my ministry job has shifted a little bit in recent months. You see, high school students can be difficult, but at least they can feed themselves and wipe their own butt. When they cry because they are mad or sad you can often talk it out or reason with them logically, or simply pray with them and write them an encouragement note. All better (not really but kind of). 

But my ministry has changed a little bit recently. I've been on maternity leave for almost 3 months from my full time job, and am currently unofficially employed by someone who weighs 11ish pounds, poops her pants, can't pay me, and cries often, but I'm pretty obsessed with her. 

However, I started this new job extra tired. For starters, take 38 weeks of pregnancy (she was born early, hallelujah) + 40 pounds of weight gain (yep, 40). Then add difficulty sleeping at the end of pregnancy to the equation. And then a surprise two-week early baby with a 27 hour total induction/ labor and very little sleep in the hospital. Nothing could have prepared me for the physical tiredness I experienced in those first weeks home, and am now just cumulatively experiencing, a new "normal" of tired. But I didn't get vacation time or "sick leave" like I did at work. I just had to "mom it out."

Thankfully we had SO much help - having our parents each live three minutes away is THE best, we're so thankful!  But day after day, my job is to take care of this precious baby. Some days my mind just reels at the forever-ness of it all. I'm not sure I'll fully grasp that reality, except for to just keep doing one day at a time. To be there, to meet her needs, to be her mom. A lot of people can do a lot of other things I can do, but no one can be her mom like I can. 

I think what I'm realizing, in my most exhausted moments (and rare moments of clear thinking like this one) is that parenthood is servanthood. A unique ministry that happens mostly in my home, for hours on end with no one else watching. Norah doesn't say things like, "Gosh mom, you're so awesome. Seriously, thanks for pumping so I can have nutritious breast milk since I really didn't like breastfeeding." 

"OH, and those 200 times when you got up in the night when I was mad, I'm gonna write that down in my baby diary because we were totally bonding. Good times right there." 

"And you know what else? You're like a REALLY good diaper changer. Thanks for pasting all those creams all over my sensitive little booty when my diaper rash was so bad. I really appreciate it." 

"And thanks for letting me use your shoulder to spit up on, I just didn't want to do it anywhere else." 

No no. She can't thank me. At least not right now. But I don't think that's the point. Or the goal. The goal is to take care of my daughter, to humbly admit that it is incredibly important - although largely unseen - work. Every mom is a "working mom." Some moms just have another job, too. 

She needs me. Spending my days catching spit up, never feeling caught up on laundry, wondering How in the world would I ever manage more than one child? Washing bottles, changing diapers.

At the end of the day when my husband comes home, I find myself wanting to justify what I did that day: "guess what? I showered, and I folded laundry, oh AND we took a walk." What did YOU do today, babe? Or when he walks in from work and finds me sitting on the couch feeding the baby and watching Netflix or the Food Network or HGTV AGAIN, I'll say "I promise I don't just sit here all day! I do stuff!"

I like to-do lists. I like measureable goals. I like progress. But then this tiny miracle came crashing into my life two weeks early and changed the scale on me. On nights when she's sleeping well, I excitedly think, "We've arrived, I think she's got the sleep thing down! Go us, our baby is totally the exception in the world of newborns, she's like a sleep genius." 
And then the next night, she cries, "3:15, 4:15, 4:50, 5:30, 6:15, 7:00." Hubby can virtually sleep through all of it, I can sleep through exactly NONE of it. And we've backtracked. 1 step forward, 2 steps back. Semblance of routine. But then it changes. 

I remember one night when she was about 4 weeks old, feeling mad at my baby for not eating well, which means she wasn't sleeping well. I was MAD. At a 4 week old. As if she was maliciously, purposefully trying to make me so tired. I knew that feeling wasn't good. 

But I think what I realized, and I'm not proud to admit it, is that deep down I wanted to be able to control her. To be able to control something. Because if she wasn't sleeping well, it must have been something I was doing wrong, right? If I was in control, then I was the one to blame when my "system" didn't work. Guilt. Shame. Insecurity. You name it. I felt it. I'd read books and Google things like "how to help your infant sleep" because I just wanted to figure her out. In the past couple weeks she had some really fussy feedings, so what did I do? Get on the internet an order a new, different kind of bottle of course. After a long night where she woke up too many times what did I do? Get on Amazon first thing in the morning to order another book about baby sleep. Always looking to fix, always searching for solutions. I like it when things are that easy. But babies don't roll like that. 

But I'm learning that she's a PERSON. Not a person I'm to control but a sweet girl I get to raise. 
Train? Yes. 
Teach? Yes. 
Instruct? yes. 
But control, no no no. 
"A of all," I can't. Duh. 
"B of all," that's not what I'm called to.

I think a part of me knew I had some control issues, and then I became a parent and thought "OH MY GOSH I HAVE ISSUES." Luckily, Norah isn't old enough to realize it, she just thinks I'm awesome and funny and really great to snuggle with. We're gonna ride that out as long as humanly possible. And when she figures out that I have a little bit of basket-case-ness in my mothering, we'll teach her about GRACE. Yep. 

Even though the days kind of blur together right now, and some days I feel like I don't get anything done, I have to remind myself that these are important days. My version of "getting things done" doesn't really work anymore. The achiever in me likes to cross things off a list, pat myself on the back, and think, "I totally crushed today." Working in as a High School Director for several years, I already knew the feeling of 'bringing work home' with me sometimes, having a hard time checking out mentally from the burdens and responsibility that come with caring for people. 

But now I'm not just bringing my ministry home with me at the end of the day. My ministry IS home. Rather than texting a bunch of people to plan meetings at coffee shops, talking about church vision with precious friends and co-workers of mine, I talk to a two month old all day most days. I sing to her, I say brilliant things like, "Hi Norah!" 
"Good job baby" when she hits a toy while laying on her baby gym play mat.
Or "Please eat baby, you're doing such a good job eating. Can you burp? Are you gonna have some burps?" 
Or "Why are you so sad? I want to help you but I don't know what's wrong." 
And "You're so cute, baby. Is daddy coming home soon? Daddy is coming home soon, YAY!" 

Sometimes I'm tempted to try to prove myself, like show people that I remember how to do other things besides be a mom and that I am still good at other things too. 

There's a scene in The Office where all of the Dunder Mifflin employees are having a dance off in a hotel room the night before Jim & Pam's wedding. With each person that goes into the middle of the dance circle to show off their best moves, a couple people yell out, 
"What ELSE you got?" 
"Yeah, what else you got?!" Challenging the dancer to step up their moves. I feel like that is the question that plagues me. No one is literally asking me, "What else you got?" as they observe my mom life. But my inner critic taunts me with the feelings of not-enough-ness in moments of weakness. As if keeping a baby alive 24-7 is like minor job. Right. Maybe its just because I'm used to my work being acknowledged, encouraged, complimented, validated, PAID. 

Pastor and author John Mark Comer in his book Garden City refers to parenthood as "the art of unfolding humans." I love that. My main ministry now is to cooperate with God in the shaping, training, unfolding and growing up of this little person named Norah Gwendolyn. 
And right now teaching my baby about the love of Jesus mostly consists of just, get this - LOVING HER. Humbly serving her even though she literally can't do anything for me in return (except smile a lot and sleep through the night. Those might be my new love languages). And wiping her bottom. And holding her when she's sad. And choosing to live and rest in the reality that the time I spend with her is wildly important and always will be, regardless of who sees it, regardless of how easy/ hard the day is, and regardless of  if she "appreciates" it or not. 

Motherhood is ministry. Legit, valuable, brutally hard, amazing, beautiful ministry. I get to watch her grow and change every day. And the thing is, I'm changing too. 

I'm two and a half months in to this mom gig and I have a long ways to go and encyclopedia-length amounts of information to learn. But what I'm learning right now is to embrace the ministry I've been given. This was a job I prayed for, longed for, and dreamed about for years of my life. And I'm living it. Its messier, harder, and more incredible and fun than I could have imagined, but I'm doing it.

I'm a mom. 

Life after miscarriage

If you haven't read Part 1 of our story, this will all make more sense after you do (click here for Part 1).

My miscarriage really began taking place the day before New Year's Eve while we were on vacation with our family (exactly at the end of the two weeks my doctor had allowed me to wait it out). For me it was a long, slow, physically brutal, off-and-on process that lasted about three weeks. I was exhausted. But, in a sense, it was good closure and I was thankful that my body knew what to do. 

I felt betrayed by my body. Betrayed that my body convinced ME and itself for 14 weeks that it was pregnant. I felt like it had betrayed me by a) not growing a baby and b) not figuring it out SOONER that baby Scout wasn't growing, leading me to believe that I had a healthy pregnancy. Overall it was a LONG process. At the most carnal level, it felt like the longest, cruelest joke. Like my body played a prank on me. I know that sounds crass but that's how I felt. Looking back, every time I looked at any one of my THREE pregnancy apps on my phone, baby Scout was never the size of a sweet pea, a raspberry, a blueberry, a lime, or any of those other produce items used to tell you how big your baby is. Its painful to look back on the moment that I sat on my couch alone in my house and read baby Scout a story book out loud, knowing now that sweet baby probably couldn't even hear me at all then and I'll never get to read him that story again.

From October 21-December 16th I was a mama. I didn't know at the time that my little one had stopped growing, but God began something in my heart that I know is truly just the beginning. I know that for someone with lots of kids or a newborn, being a mom to a tiny, barely visible life might seem trite and maybe even offensive to those who have carried babies in growing bodies through second and third trimesters, through labor and delivery. But for me, in my small little world, I was a mama to a sweet little baby nicknamed Scout, and even though my body couldn't do what I hoped it would for him, God did something in my heart through baby Scout that only He could do for me.

I will never hear a miscarriage story the same. Or a story of infant loss. As I've talked with friends and heard stories like never before about all the people in my life who have walked through this, I'm realizing that miscarriage (at many stages and for many reasons) is painfully common. When the doctor tells you, "this is very common," it is NOT helpful. But when a friend sends a text and says, "I'm so sorry, I know what you're going through," it IS helpful. And the thing that has given me such comfort in all of this is hearing about other mamas who've walked this road, reading stories of mamas who have gone through this. It is an incredibly personal and private journey, but I won't not talk about it. It would be too lonely to feel like no one else has been through it before. At my follow up appointment with my doctor, she told me that one in three pregnancies end this way. One. In. Three. That's a painful statistic. And sadly we don't get to choose whether we'll be the one who walks through it or the other two who walk alongside and comfort and encourage. 

When you hear miscarriage stories pre-miscarriage you think, "Oh that's so sad," but secretly hope you will be spared from involuntary initiation into that "club" of women. But we don't get to choose, unfortunately. A couple of sweet friends who also miscarried this year said to me (at separate times), "I'm sad we can relate to each other but thankful to have each other at the same time." Those friendships have felt like the tangible, pure grace of Jesus to me in this season. They have given me the gift of empathy and compassion when it would have been easy to just focus on what I have lost. They remind me that I am not alone, and they also remind me that God is a generous and gracious Father who connects His daughters to each other when they need a very specific sisterhood. There is a sisterhood of women with loss in their story. It is a sad sisterhood but one where empathy and compassion grow like crazy.

And even in the midst of all this, I'm still SO thankful for the healthy babes growing in the bellies of several friends. Life, ALL LIFE, is an absolute miracle. The physical odds of a baby being conceived are so unique that any conception, and any baby growing, and any baby born will never be the same to me.

Michael and I resolved, even in the waiting, that we would still praise Jesus either way this panned out. And we meant it. The thing that is comforting and annoying all at the same time is that i KNOW that i know that I know that I know that God is using this in our lives, and will use this in our story and use this to minister to others in our future. It has not been and will not be wasted. That's just how God does things. We are confused and hurt and mad, in some ways, but in our heart of hearts, we know that the character of God has remained exactly the same, even though our world has been rocked.

One of those sweet friends who reached out and shared her story of her own miscarriage with me recently summed it up so well. She described so perfectly that, after miscarrying, "Your life will never be the same, and yet nothing has changed." Back to work as usual. Chores, as usual. Groceries, as usual. And yet I'm different, we're different. And that's okay.

To those of you who have seen me and asked a quick, "How are you?" of me recently and had no idea about our loss, please know that I wasn't trying to lie or be dishonest when I replied, "I'm doing well, I'm doing good." It's just that "not great, we just had a miscarriage" isn't exactly church lobby or grocery aisle chit chat. So thank you for understanding that time and place have a lot of bearing on the way we chose to share this news.

Sharing our loss also makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. I feel like it may have been "easier" to share a ways down the road if/ when we have another baby. I feel like that would tie a nice pretty bow on our journey. But we don't have the bow yet. This is the unfinished, to-be-continued, very raw, still-waiting version of a miscarriage story. And that makes it vulnerable.

What I'm hoping comes from our sharing is this: I'm hoping someone else reads this who has either experienced miscarriage personally, or has a loved one walking through it, and will feel understood, seen, not alone.

What I'm hoping does not come from our sharing is this: people feeling awkward when they see us. You can ask us about it, but you don't have to. You can say, "I read your blog, I'm so sorry," but you also don't have to say anything. We're still Michael and Kristin. We know that everyone is carrying burdens around with them; burdens of grief, tragedy, loss, and longing. We know we're not the only ones walking through something difficult or experiencing loss. 

I need to be careful how I say this next part, but I'm also hoping that maybe well-meaning people will be more sensitive, toward us and other young couples, before asking, "When are you going to have babies?" or "Any little ones on the way yet?"  I know most people mean so well, but that is, in fact an incredibly personal question. Like, you would never just ask someone, "So, when are you gonna stop taking birth control?" But for some reason, "When are you going to have babies?" has become a casual question. Knowing friends who are facing infertility, friends who have been trying to get pregnant for a few months and are frustrated, friends who are living in the aftermath of miscarriage, and friends who are waiting to have kids until they're ready financially or have been married a little longer, I want to honor and even protect them from having to fake it and smile or make a joke like I do and say "not today" when people ask when we're going to have kids. If you are deep, personal friends with someone, then yes that may be an appropriate question to ask. But again, "When are you going to have kids?" should probably be disqualified from church lobby and grocery store chat. Just sayin'.

The baby journey is a messy one. Its an emotional one. We know that God has a plan. We know that God's timing for our family is perfect. And we also know that the power to give life is not in our control. So we trust Jesus. We are praying that we will someday have a healthy pregnancy, but we know that that's not a guarantee. God doesn't "owe us" a healthy pregnancy or a healthy baby. We pray for those things, but we know that His goodness is much bigger than that. The scope of His plan for our life and our family is bigger than that. We have hope for a baby in the future, but our ultimate hope is not in any particular set of circumstances. No no. Our hope is ultimately in a God who loves us and is doing things for our good that we simply cannot see at this moment. 

I can't help but still keep track of the milestones in my would-have-been pregnancy. Earlier this month I would have been about 20 weeks along, and we would have likely found out baby's gender (Michael and I "felt" like baby Scout was a boy, who knows). We went away that weekend which was so good on many levels. . . bittersweet reflecting on the fact that exactly a year ago, on a similar weekend getaway, we prayed about our hopes together as we decided we were ready to start a family. It's been quite a year. But we were thankful for time away to be together and slow down and continue to heal in the midst of the turn this journey has taken. 

Praying that whoever you are, wherever you are in your story, specifically if you are walking the baby journey in any form or fashion, that you will know that you are loved and seen by God, and that you are not alone.

When pregnancy doesn't go as planned

We've decided to share a part of our story that is still fairly raw and recent. We know that many people go through something like this, and some choose to walk through it very privately and prefer that no one knows about, which we can absolutely understand. But for us, reading and hearing stories about friends and acquaintances and even random bloggers who have walked through something similar, has been very encouraging and life-giving in the midst of intense heartache. Also, this post is long. This is our story. 

Here's the short version: 
10.21.14 - We're pregnant! The test was positive, we're thrilled! Baby's estimated due date is 6.24.15 (which also happens to be Michael's birthday). We nicknamed baby "Baby Scout." 
10.31.14 - We tell our immediate families the baby news, they are THRILLED obviously!
11.17.14 - 1st appt at the OB/GYN. 8.5 weeks pregnant. Confirmed pregnancy, all labs look normal.
12.5.14 - 2nd appt at OB/GYN. 11 weeks pregnant. Can't find the heartbeat. After 3 ultrasounds, can't see/ hear baby. There was only what appeared to be an empty gestational sac in my uterus. Told to come back for follow up ultrasound in a week to see if our dates were off and maybe baby was just too early in development to see. The following 10 days were grueling. 
12.15.14 - Follow up ultrasounds. Not much different, from what we can tell. 
12.16.14 - Doctor calls. Baby stopped developing early on. I would have been nearly 13 weeks along by now. She gives me two weeks to see if I'll miscarry naturally. 
12.30.14 - Miscarriage begins, goes on off and on for nearly 3 weeks. Brutal, exhausting weeks. 

{bought this little stocking for baby the week before we found out anything was wrong} 

Here's the long version - part 1: 
(*I started writing/ processing while it was all going on...)

December 6, 2014
This weekend has been one I've looked forward to for a while now. On Friday afternoon we had our 11 week check-up at our OB office, where we would finally get to meet our doctor and, hopefully, hear baby's heartbeat! We had Christmas pictures scheduled for Saturday morning, pictures we were planning to use to announce Baby Engelking to the world the following week.

Our weekend didn't really go like that. As I anticipated our OB appointment, I hoped so desperately that we would get to hear baby's heartbeat, and that maybe, just maybe we would get to have an ultrasound. I knew those things would make it all feel even more "real."

We did have an ultrasound that day. Three ultrasounds, in fact. But none of them were for the reasons I'd hoped. When we arrived at the doctor, excited and a little anxious, the nurse checked my vitals, asked lots of questions, and then we waited for the doctor to come in. When our OB arrived, she was very kind and very helpful in assuring me that any symptoms/ questions I had were very "normal" for this point in the pregnancy. She stepped out for a moment so I could slip into a gown and prepare for a full physical exam. When she came back, she did the first part of the exam and then grabbed the doppler to check for a heartbeat. I was so excited. She squirted some COLD gel on my belly, and began to search. We could hear the "whooshing" sounds of the little machine doing its job, and then when we finally heard a somewhat rhythmic pulse, she said, "That's you." Good news, my heart was beating. I laid there and tried very hard not to get anxious, just waiting and looking at the walls, mainly. She assured me that, often times, baby is moving around a lot in the uterus and it can be hard to pinpoint them to find their heartbeat. Again, not too worried. She then said that if they still couldn't hear it, they had an "ancient" ultrasound machine they could wheel in and find the heartbeat that way. I liked that idea, knowing I would probably get to see AND hear baby!

They rolled the machine in and turned off the lights so we could see the screen better. I saw my uterus and then a little black shape inside of it. I didn't really know what I was looking at. Doctor told me that what we were looking at was the "gestational sac," the place where the baby would normally be, but in my case, we could see no such thing. She said that the main Radiology department at the hospital had much better machines, so she called down there to see if they could squeeze me in to get a better look at things. Still trying not to freak out, she told me that there were a couple of options at this point. Option 1: our dates were off and maybe the pregnancy was not as far as long as we thought, in which case the embryo might still be too small to detect a heartbeat or ultrasound image. Option 2: the embryo had stopped developing at some point and the pregnancy is no longer viable. Okay, nothing is certain. Don't panic. Trust the Lord. Another ultrasound might help clear things up. She said for now they would hold off on the rest of my exam, and instead sent me straight to Radiology to try to get some answers.

We checked in at Radiology reception and then sat and waited. I wanted to not be scared. I wanted to not jump to conclusions. I wanted it to be clearer than this, easier than this. The ultrasound had not been the euphoric, "There's my baby!" experience I had dreamt up in my mind. A lot of people go through things like this, I reminded myself. And suddenly in that moment I felt a deep sense of compassion for all of the friends and acquaintances in my life who have lost a baby or a child at any point, even though that wasn't for sure happening to us. But how could my dates be THAT off? We had been trying to get pregnant for about six months so I had tracked everything pretty carefully. As we sat there and waited, I started crying. Again, really wanted to not be crying. Really wanted to stay positive. But everything in me was trying to balance all the reasons to continue to hope with all the reasons to prepare ourselves for bad news. Michael texted our families to update them, and simply asked them to pray.

Finally the ultrasound technician came to get us. She was like the sweetest woman ever, and I'm sure could tell that we were anxious. She remained very calm and committed to explaining exactly what she was looking for. She started with a normal abdominal ultrasound. I didn't really look at the screen. But the longer she searched around, the more I knew that she wasn't seeing any baby in there. She than told me she wanted to do a "trans-vaginal" (or internal ultrasound); lovely wording, I know. They insert a camera inside of you to examine everything up close. Kind of incredible, although uncomfortable. She said that would allow her to see really clearly what was going on in there. She mentioned the possibility of an ectopic pregnancy (a pregnancy in which the embryo implants somewhere outside of the uterus. . .a possibility that can be very risky and often requires medical intervention and almost always losing the baby to protect the health of the mother). She also mentioned that we could be looking at what is called an anembryonic pregnancy (a pregnancy in which an egg was fertilized and implanted in the uterus but never developed; the body continues to believe it is pregnant and a gestational sac develops, but nothing else). I asked her before she began the internal ultrasound, "So, I'm not sure if you can answer this, but is there ANY way at this point that this turns out good?" She paused. And then said, "I'm going to let the doctors answer that one for you. I really can't say."

In my heart I was beginning to realize that there were probably no good outcomes. I was preparing myself for the fact that it might be all over, just like that. She did the internal ultrasound and was very kind and, again, explained everything she was looking at while she was looking at it. "I'm going to take a look at your cervix... now your uterus...now your right ovary...now your left ovary." I lay there, trying hard not to tense up, trying hard not to tremble. I felt bad for my poor husband who just had to sit there and look at the screen and watch me lay there. After she finished (and we could tell that things were still rather dire), she told me to get dressed and that she would have us wait in the waiting room so she could send my doctor the results and see if she might be able to talk with us before we went home. 

Okay now its for sure bad news, I thought. Conclusive, "here's what's wrong," bad news. They must know what's wrong if they don't even want us to go home yet. So we waited and waited and the technician finally came out and said, "Okay, you can go home. Your doctor will call you."
"Soon?" I asked.
"I'm sending her the results now, so I'm guessing she'll call you soon."

So we went home. To wait. We had been at the hospital much longer than expected. We canceled our evening plans. We had multiple offers from people offering to bring food and keep us company, which was so kind and so appreciated, but we just needed to be alone to process. I could hardly stand the thought of waiting to hear from my doctor until Monday, especially because we were supposed to go out of town on Monday. If something was horribly wrong, I didn't want to be far away. So I finally called the doctor's office, and the nurse was able to make sure my doctor had seen the results of my ultrasounds and she transferred me through to my doctor. The doctor very kindly, but matter-of-factly, explained basically the same two options she had explained earlier. Either baby was much earlier in development than we thought, or baby had stopped developing at some point, in which case I could potentially start experiencing signs of a miscarriage. 

The doctor ordered another ultrasound for the following week, so we'll see if anything has changed by that point. In the meantime, we just wait. Wondering if I'll miscarry at some point in the coming days. Wondering if there is, or ever was, a developing little one inside me at all. Wondering if maybe the doctor is right and we're not as far along as we thought and maybe baby is just incredibly small. We prayed. And cried. And texted friends and family to update them and ask them to please be praying. We know that a miracle is not out of the realm of possibility. We could go in next week and see a healthy little life and heartbeat on the screen.

Again, I'm waffling between feeling hopeful and feeling realistic. What I do know is that no amount of worry will change a thing. I just have a lot of questions. Why did I get a positive pregnancy test on October 21 if I'm not very far along now? Why did my lab/ bloodwork look normal when I went in for my first appointment at (what I thought was) 8 weeks and 5 days?

Part of me felt embarrassed that we told as many people as we did (immediate family, some close friends, our high school staff, some extended family). But Michael reminded me that those are the people that we want to be praying for us and supporting us. He is right.

So for now, no Christmas/ baby announcement pictures. If we are pregnant and not very far a long, it will be a while now before we make the news "public." If we lose this baby, then having taken pictures would just be too painful.

I went to bed that night and read some Psalms, consciously trying to remind myself of all the things I know to be true about God even in the midst of fear and unrest. I listened to worship songs to try to flood my mind with truth. I prayed honest prayers, even though sometimes I don't know how to pray in all this. And I cried before the Lord. Knowing He cares. And even the fact that any life developed in me at all for any length of time is incredible.

So for now we trust and believe and pray and hope. 


Those ten days were long. Turns out we couldn't get in for another ultrasound until the following Monday, instead of the Friday we were hoping for. Apparently at the end of the year everyone is trying to squeeze in all of their medical-everything-scans because they've already met their deductible. Who knew? I kept reminding myself that those 10 days mattered. We could have been sent home from that first appointment with definite bad news. Or with definite good news. But even after 3 different ultrasounds, the conclusion was "inconclusive." So those 10 days mattered. They mattered for the process. I didn't want to waste those days. I knew that whether those ten days meant the difference between an empty sac and a visible baby, or whether those days were simply to prepare us for the very real possibility of hard news, there was something the Lord wanted to do in those ten days.

In those ten days we prayed. We cried. We updated all of our friends whom we had told around 9 weeks, 10 weeks, 11 weeks, when we thought it was "safe" to tell them and could assure them they wouldn't have to keep a secret for much longer. We had enough people praying for us and encouraging us to help us feel supported and not alone, but there were also still tons of people who had no idea about Baby Scout and just helped our life feel a little bit "normal" during the waiting - simply by their not knowing.

We went away to the beach with my in-laws and nephew for a few days, and that was fun and restful and a good distraction. I was so fearful of miscarrying. But I had no symptoms whatsoever. I read way too much online about misdiagnosed miscarriages, blighted ovums, anembryonic pregnancies, and tilted uteruses. Michael and I concluded that we could build a convincing case for either possible outcome. We had plenty of reasons to believe that Baby Scout was still in there, still growing, just being a sneaky little ninja and making it hard to find him in an ultrasound. We wanted to believe that maybe he would get big and get brave and be the star of the show on the next ultrasound. But we also knew that an empty gestational sac at an 11 week ultrasound was not good. We should have been able to see something this far along. The possibility that my dates were off was unlikely to me. We had been tracking and planning and trying for six months and I was pretty aware of everything. But how everything could have gone on this long with no miscarriage symptoms was beyond me. Before that 11 week appointment, we had no reason to believe that anything was truly wrong. My pregnancy had been healthy up to this point, and although I was not naive about the risk of miscarriage, I kind of figured that if I had gone 11 weeks with no miscarriage symptoms, things were probably alright.

When we got home from our beach trip, our sweet friends had gathered up encouragement notes, bags of our favorite coffee, flowers, and even a cinnamon cobbler and left them on our kitchen counter for us to come home to. Many of the notes were from our high school students who had no idea what was going on, but were just asked to write us encouragement cards "just because." When I saw it all, of course I cried. It meant so so much to us.

Pregnancy and complications and miscarriage are very personal things and can be very isolating as it is. But I can't imagine having walked through all the uncertainty alone. We didn't tell EVERYONE, but the friends and family walking with us were such a gift to us in that little season. "You don't get this if you walk through life alone." I told Michael. "If you choose to walk through the hard stuff alone, you don't get the blessing of the outpouring of love and comfort and encouragement. We would miss out on this." 

As Monday grew closer, I concluded that I would be surprised with either outcome. If there was a baby on that screen, I would be shocked and thrilled and elated, like, "Really?!" And if that screen still showed just black emptiness in the should-be baby space, I would be sad and confused and disappointed like, "Wait? Really??" But overall I felt peaceful and hopeful as we drove to the hospital that morning. I felt like Baby Scout really could be in there. I also knew we might drive away that day with more, "wait and see" kind of news, since we wouldn't actually be seeing my doctor.

Our ultrasound technician came out to get us. It was the same woman who did our initial ultrasounds. So sweet, so kind. She took us into the dimly lit ultrasound room and I lay down on the bed, unsure of what were about the see... or not see. She squirted the warm jelly on my stomach and began to look around. This time she turned on a big TV on the wall so that Michael and I could look at what she was seeing. She didn't say much. She would move the device around on my belly, type some things in the computer, and it would take a picture. We're not experts, but we were pretty sure that if Baby Scout was alive and healthy, we would have been able to identify him. Not to mention, I'm sure the ultrasound technician would have said something like, "There's your baby! Strong heartbeat, healthy as can be. Looks like you're officially ____ weeks along." But she said very little. After looking around my abdomen for a while, she decided she wanted to do another internal ultrasound. She looked around for a while more, typing things in and pausing to "capture" certain images. These are not the ultrasound images you ask for a print out of and post on Instagram. Nobody posts the pictures of the empty womb, the bleak picture of a gestational sac with no evidence of a developing baby. You only get to see the pictures of the healthy ones. I don't think anything can ever prepare you for the feeling of looking on the screen at your long awaited ultrasound and seeing... nothing. I'm not sure I even knew that was possible.

After the ultrasound was finished, the tech told us she'd send the results to my doctor and we'd hear back in a couple days. A couple MORE days. More waiting. Michael said that, from where he was sitting, the only thing that looked different about this ultrasound was the shape of the sac... he compared it to a quotation bubble on a cartoon. Comic relief, I guess. So we left the hospital and went to work. We kind of had to "move on" for the day. I went to a Pastor's Wives gathering and updated the girls there with my lack of updates, but still kind of just held it together because I didn't KNOW for sure. By late afternoon I was finally alone in my car and started crying. It was a hard reality that there was MORE waiting... and probably bad news to come. I walked into my house, only to discover that my dumb/awesome dog had chewed up some pages of my BIBLE in the living room while we'd been gone. I can't even. Maybe on a normal day I would have yelled at him. Or thought it was even a little funny. Not today, Mozzie. I couldn't. Handle it. I walked straight into the bathroom and just got in the shower and cried and cried. And asked my husband to clean up the Bible mess. I know it was only a few pages, and I know technically I could get a new Bible. But that particular Bible, my precious copy of it, the one Michael had given me when we were engaged, the one I had underlined and marked up, was like my one treasure, the thing that brought me so much comfort in all this. It was just too much. I crawled in bed after my shower and just laid there until I absolutely HAD to get up and get ready for our staff Christmas party that night.

We woke up the next day and went to work like normal, because there was no reason not to. Michael and I were in a meeting with his dad (who also happens to be one of our bosses) and my phone rang. It was the doctor's office. I stepped out to take the call. As I walked down the stairs to my office, my doctor said from the other end, "Well, it looks like still nothing has developed." My response was simply, "Okay." I hope she didn't think that I was absolutely the most heartless mother. I just didn't want to fall apart on the phone because I knew there was more to talk about, and I had only met my doctor once, and we needed to talk about my "options." I think I just said "okay" a lot. I wasn't ready to "do" anything about my failed pregnancy. So she said I could wait it out two more weeks to miscarry naturally (mind you I was almost "13 weeks" on paper by this point) and then choose one of the other two options if nothing happened by then. I asked if I should come in for another blood test and she said, "No, no, we already have our diagnosis." Our diagnosis. My sweet babe whom I had loved and talked to and prayed for was now just a diagnosis. It sounded so final.

From what I've read and learned from my doctor, this is essentially what happened. . . The egg was fertilized and even implanted in my uterus (signaling hormone production, which signals the growth of the placenta and gestational sac, and also leads to morning sickness, fatigue, all the "normal" symptoms), but somewhere early in development there was likely some kind of chromosomal abnormality, so my body recognized that (amazing, really!) and the baby stopped developing. Technically our baby never even became an "embryo." We believe that life begins at conception, so Baby Scout's life, personhood, value, DNA, and unique genetic makeup were very much REAL. It wasn't a "fake pregnancy," I really was pregnant, but the life inside of me simply stopped developing very early on and my body took a LONG time to realize it. 

I texted Michael and told him I wouldn't be coming back to the meeting. He came downstairs. I was crying and trying to explain. Then his dad came down to check in and we told him the news, and he just started praying for us. There was so little to say. I went home for the day after that. We had sweet offers from people asking if they could come over or bring dinner, but I just needed to be alone. After a couple days of hibernating, we decided we still wanted to host our high school staff Christmas party that weekend. We needed to laugh. We needed people in our home. We love that kind of stuff.

I know that Christmas can really magnify loss or pain of any kind, but I was still so grateful for Christmas in all of this. Thankful that it allowed us a pause from work and ministry. Thankful that there was still so much to enjoy... our new home decked out with cozy Christmas lights and decor... time with family... gifts. But by the end of Christmas day I was kind of a mess. The whole day had been wonderful. I was thankful that the day felt "normal" with our families... it was lighthearted, and no one made it weirdly serious or sad, including us. But when I got home that night I realized that, for a whole day, I had the luxury of pretending that everything was "okay." When, in fact, it was not. 

I had a good Christmas night meltdown. I didn't like any of my options. Miscarriage is already emotionally painful, but the fact that your body has to go through something difficult physically (whether its natural miscarriage, medically induced, or a D&C), only adds insult to injury. My miscarriage had barely started, and I was scared of what the process might be like for it to complete on its own. I was scared thinking about having a D&C if it came to that. Christmas had provided a beautiful buffer from our current reality. Michael came in our room to find me laying in bed, and I sobbed as he just held me and I said, "I don't want to do any of it. I just hate this so much..."



xo, Kristin 

My prayer for the next generation

Dear Jesus... please help them know what college to go to... please help them get a job, please help them on their tests this week, help them pass their driving test... please help them and their parents... please help them make church a priority... please help them in their friendships...please help them make wise decisions... please help them to stay pure with their boyfriends... Jesus please help me know how to encourage/ challenge them/ know what to say... please help them read their Bibles... 

Those are just a few of the prayers I've found myself praying over the months and years for the girls in my life that I'll call the "next generation." The high school girls I love and see week in a week out. Sometimes life gets busy or heavy or crazy and I find myself just reeling with burdens for them. For their lives, their hurts, their hopes, their own personal relationships with Jesus. I found myself praying for a few of my own small group girls one night recently, just on my own in my bedroom, feeling especially burdened for a few of them. And as I was thinking of all the specific ways I should/ could pray for them, Jesus kind of helped me narrow it all down to the heart of it. Although I value bringing specific prayer requests to the Lord, in that moment, I realized that the heart of all of those specific things was one bigger thing. There was one thing that both trumped and included all of my other burdens for them. The one thing, in all the things, that I deeply desire for them and have been praying lately for this next generation of girls is this...

That they would love Jesus more than they love ANYTHING or ANYONE else. 

To simply love Jesus above ALL else. I know, it's not flashy. Not super wordy, not super elaborate. But that's it. When all my prayers for them come down to it, I am just praying that their love for Jesus will be THE driving force in their lives.

That they would love Jesus more than they love their future plans, more than they love themselves, more than they love their friends, more than they love their boyfriends, or their schedules, or their schoolwork, or their accomplishments, and more than they love our youth group or our church or even this city.

Yes I want them to know God's word, to walk in purity, to make wise decisions about college, to honor their parents, to be loyal friends, to be honest, to work hard, to persevere, to be committed to the community of believers in the local church. Of course I want all those things for them. But I really truly believe that if Jesus is their biggest passion, their number one love, their first priority, and the axis around which their whole life revolves, those other things will become symptoms of that great love.

To love Jesus more than anything or anyone else. I pray that God's Word and what HE says will mean more in their lives and carry more weight than their own feelings, than what their best friend says, than what I say, than what their boyfriend or their crush thinks, than what a celebrity says, or even than what they read in any good book.

I believe that if they love Jesus with all they are, obedience will follow. That saying yes to God's best for their lives - in their relationships, in their future plans, in their families, in their decisions - will be something they're compelled to do, HAVE to do, even when its hard.

There have been so many decisions I've made over the years, even decisions that weren't fun at the time, that were simply motivated ultimately by my love for Jesus. That love motivated my trust in Him. That trust compelled my obedience to Him. And as I obeyed more, I loved more, and trusted more, and then obeyed more, and loved more, and trusted more. A beautiful cycle.

As we ended our small group discussion last night, that's what I prayed for them, "Lord, I pray that they would love you more than anyone or anything else."

I heard Beth Moore say in a Bible study once that, in her own life and for the lives of others, she had begun simply asking the Lord for more love for Him. And as I thought about that, I've been so convinced that I need to be praying that in my own life and for the people I love.

I think about John 14:15, when Jesus tells His disciples, "If you love me, you will keep my commandments."

Sometimes I pray for others, in more specific ways, that they'll keep God's commandments. That they'll obey Jesus. But I've often neglected to simply pray that they'll love Him like crazy. The kind of life that takes over their whole hearts and lives and transforms the trajectory of their decisions, relationships, and dreams for the rest of their lives. We prioritize what we love. Sometimes it really is that simple. We'll make time for the things and the people we are absolutely obsessed with. For this next generation of girls, I'm praying that obsession is Jesus.

The other thing that happens when I begin praying that my sweet girls would LOVE JESUS ABOVE EVERYTHING ELSE, is that I come face-to-face with the reality that I have absolutely no control over that reality in their lives. I mean, I can encourage them to obey Jesus, to follow Him, tell them that He IS worth following, challenge them to read the Word, and walk with them through the practical, nitty gritty life stuff. But I cannot MAKE them love Jesus more.

I can inspire and encourage behavior-change, but I can't do heart change, I've said for a long time that IF heart change was in my court, it would be way too tempting to take all the credit when someone said YES to Jesus and walked with Him faithfully and, conversely, unbearably devastating when they decided they didn't want to follow Him. Only Jesus. Only Jesus does the heart level change. Only Jesus can affect and transform them and LOVE them in a way that will ultimately change the extent to which they love Him back. I hope with everything in me that I would love Jesus in a way that would help them WANT to love Jesus with their lives, and that I would love them as Jesus would have me love them, but I can't do more than that. That's a Jesus thing.

It's something I want to begin intentionally praying over my own life, praying over others, both in their presence and when I'm alone. And to speak that prayer into their lives in hopes that, when it all comes down to it, they would KNOW that that is my hope and dream and biggest prayer for their whole lives. The one thing that matters more than anything else.

Even when you feel like giving up, don't.

Back in September, my husband and I attempted an eating plan called Whole 30. Basically, for 30 days, just you take all the JOY out of eating. Not really. But kind of. No grains, no dairy, no sugar, no processed food, no ingredients that you can't pronounce. Its actually a super healthy way to eat. Really, it is. But by day four I was putting cream back in my coffee, you know, because plain coffee just isn't a pleasant start to the day. I kept saying to Michael, “It’s not that its too hard, I just don’t want to do it.” To which he would reply, smiling slightly, "So then it IS too hard." Days went on, and we debated giving up lots of times, but I was just generally a little cranky and so hungry and sort of bitter toward the whole thing. So on day 17 we had cake from Konditorei and called it good. And we felt something. . . happiness. Oh yes. Essentially, we quit. I was a quitter. BUT I’ll never know how great I COULD have felt after 30 days because I didn’t give it enough time. It got “too hard” so I quit.

But I bet I'm not the only person who has ever quit something. If we're honest, I bet we all have things in our lives that make us want to give up.

Maybe for some of us its a class at school. We feel like we’re just NEVER really going to understand geometry, so we stop trying (I mean, does anyone understand geometry?) Or maybe you've been playing on a sports team for several seasons now, and your coach still hasn't made you a starter. So you're tempted to just be done. Or maybe its a friendship, and you keep arguing, and it seems like one of you is always mad, so you wonder if it would be easier if you just went your separate ways. Or maybe it feels like every time you go home your family just doesn't feel like a family, and it's never easy to be there. So you wonder if, when you’re 18, you should just move out and send ‘em an annual Christmas card and call it good. Or maybe you’ve been wrestling with a certain struggle or sin or weakness, and you just can’t seem to get past it. And you’ve started to wonder, “Maybe I’ll just always be… angry… anxious… depressed… addicted… lustful… a liar…”

I think a lot of us freak out when we've decided to walk with Jesus, and hard stuff and scary stuff still happens in our life, and we think "I didn't sign up for this God. I'm done with you." Or maybe there's some of us who have gotten so frustrated because we can't "feel" God's presence with us and other people are talking about how they can FEEL God near them and HEAR God speaking to them and we just wonder if maybe the whole thing isn't for us anymore because its not “working,” (whatever that means). But you know what? Here's what I'm finding: at some point, if it hasn't happened already, your life, my life, whether you know Jesus or not, will get difficult. Even if just for a season.

Walking with Jesus won't feel "fun" at some point. So how can we prepare, so that when following Jesus gets tough, our only option isn't "Well, it's just too hard. I give up"? When that happens, here's the ONE thing I want you to remember:

Even when you feel like giving up. . .don’t.

Thankfully, God's Word encourages us by telling us ahead of time that 1) life might get tough, and 2) there's some things we can keep in mind when that happens. Take a look at Hebrews 12:1-3:

 "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

*First of all, the "great cloud of witnesses" sounds mystical and mysterious, but really it's just a fancy way of saying "an awesome group of people who have walked with Jesus before us." Take a look at Hebrews 11 when you have a minute and just read about ALL the people who trusted God and obeyed God LONG before we were in the picture, even in spite of their sin and doubt and weakness. When I read Hebrews 12:1 I hear, "Soooo, since there have been, like, A LOT of people who have followed Jesus before you, YOU CAN DO IT TOO!"

What I love about this group of people being mentioned is that it makes it IMPOSSIBLE for us to truly believe that we are alone or that we have it the hardest.  I believe one of Satan’s greatest tactics in 1) keeping followers of Jesus from stepping into the fullness of God’s plans for them AND 2) keeping many people from wanting to follow Jesus at all is to convince them that their life is THE hardest. I think many believers are stuck believing some things like this: No one has EVER had as difficult of circumstances as I have. OR No one has had a worse past than me, I'm too broken to be able to follow Jesus. OR All THOSE people can walk with Jesus, but I can't. You don't understand. OR No one has ever been as tempted by this sin as I am! OR No one has ever screwed up more than I have. Satan wants to keep our eyes fixed on our circumstances and on ourselves, so that we won’t fix our eyes on Jesus and move forward.

Okay, let's move on. What do we do with all of that other stuff in Hebrews 12? For starters, the mental imagery we're given here is of a race! The call: RUN. WITH PERSEVERANCE. THE RACE MARKED OUT FOR US. If you were hoping the Christian life would just be fluffy and cheery all the time, I hate to burst your bubble. The fact that the word PERSEVERANCE is used here to describe the way we are called to run tells me that I might not always WANT to run. Spoiler alert: we might, at some point, feeling like giving up. There I said it. And that’s okay to admit.You don’t NEED perseverance for easy things. But perseverance is the thing that kicks in when you want to quit and says, “Even when you feel like giving up, don’t.”

I'm guessing that some of you reading this LOVE running, and some of you HATE running. I tend to side with the second group, no offense, runners. I have mad respect for you.  But growing up, I was always a sprinter. The 100 meter dash was my jam. And when I say “always,” I mean, in the Jaycee Relays, on the Crossler Middle School track team. I was ALWAYS a sprinter. But my sister was a cross country runner. She and every other runner raves about something they call “runners high.” They say its just SO euphoric and amazing. I say, I’ll believe it when I see it. So often when I see runners finishing a long race, their face is contorted by pain, they are wheezing and heaving and then they fall down at the finish line. Soooo yeah. Sign me up.

You know what, though? I appreciate that the author of Hebrews compared our Christian life to running...the kind of running that requires perseverance. Don’t we all kind of feel like those runners sometimes? Like someone might just need to carry us for a bit? Perseverance means we keep going even when it sucks. Following Jesus is not a sprint. This is a long-distance, long term thing. More like a marathon. Which, in any other context of my life, I have no desire to participate in. But the marathon of following Jesus? I’m in. We have to run, even when it isn’t fun. Keep going. Even when we come to parts of OUR RACE that we don’t care for. Hills. Mud. Hard trails. Twists and turns we didn't see coming.

I KNOW there are those of you who have some really dark places in your story. In your past, in your right now even. There are some very-not-fun places in my story as well. There are twists and turns in my race right now that make me want to pull over and sit in the grass and pick daisies and stop running. But I can’t give up. I won't give up.

Even when you feel like giving up, don’t.  Because you know what? There’s a race marked out for us. But what’s the key to being able to KEEP RUNNING? Look back at Hebrews 12:2, “FIXING OUR EYES on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.” Fixing our eyes. Not looking over here or over there but just looking to Jesus. And running. And looking to Jesus. And running.

Let me give you an example. If you have your driver's license, you may have heard of a concept called object fixation.  Essentially that means that, where you look, you’ll go. If you don’t want to crash into that tree, look at the road, not the tree. So it got me thinking. If I’m constantly thinking about my sin, I’ll probably keep messing up. If I’m constantly dwelling on my past, I’ll have a really hard time moving forward into what God has for my future. If I’m constantly looking around comparing myself to other runners, I might get discouraged that I’m not as fast as her or as in shape as him and wonder, "Why am I running at all?" But if I look to JESUS, I remember that He is the one who created me to run, and the one who will help me keep going! If we bail, we don’t get to experience all that the PIONEER and PERFECTER of our faith is just waiting to accomplish in our lives if we’ll just keep running. If we’ll keep looking to Him.

Looking to Jesus gives us perspective. Jesus, “...who, for the JOY set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted.”

I'm not over-dramatizing when I say this, but Jesus did the hardest thing in all of human history. He entered our world as a human. He became the ultimate sacrifice for every sin you and I have ever done and will ever do, and every sin in all of human history. He died the most brutal death in the form of crucifixion, to take on himself the punishment we deserved for all the times we’ve messed up, all for the JOY set before Him. All so that WE could have life and forgiveness and hope and relationship with Him. Jesus was able to look beyond the immediate to the ultimate.  Why?  SO THAT we may not grow weary or fainthearted. He endured so that we can endure. When it feels like the world is crumbling in on you, remember that Jesus never gave up on you.

Even when you feel like giving up, don’t.

You guys, running in this race called following Jesus is the most epic, significant, worthwhile thing you will ever do. But what does this look like in real life? In YOUR real life, in your family, at school, at work, when you and I wake up tomorrow morning? Let's take this to a really practical level.

When you’re suffering some kind of massive loss or heartbreak, and you feel so sad you almost can’t breathe and the idea of giving God any praise feels like the most unnatural thing in the world… don’t give up. When struggling for sexual purity feels impossible and requires more self-control than you even feel like you have, don’t give up. When you’re trying so hard to restore a relationship and it feels like a lost cause, don’t give up. When you’re wrestling with questions and doubts about who you are, and who God is, and you feel like its useless… keep asking questions… keep having conversations… but don’t just give up. When you feel suffocated by the weight of depression and have started to wonder if it might be better just to end it all… please. . .don’t give up. When you feel isolated and alone because no one else in your family knows Jesus and shuts you down every time you try to talk about Him, just keep living for Jesus one day at a time... but don’t give up. When everything in life seems like its going wrong and it FEELS like God is far away, this is the part of the race where perseverance gets real and you might even hate it... just don’t give up. When it seems like everyone else is having more fun because they don’t care about right and wrong and they think you’re “lame” and they stop inviting you to things because you’re no “fun,” and you wonder if you just “did this” or “dressed like that,” maybe you could fit in, don’t just give in because everyone else is… do the right thing...don’t give up. When the temptation to (insert sin here) spread a rumor, drink, gossip about your friend, go to that party, lie to your parents, smoke that weed, cheat on that test, look at that website, is almost unbearable and you feel like you HAVE to give in… Consider Jesus… and don’t give up. And when you HAVE given in to temptation and feel defeated and feel like you’ll never be able to run this race like you hoped you would. . .Consider Jesus… and don’t give up. And when there’s something you’ve been praying for and praying for for so long and it doesn’t feel like God even hears you and day by day your hope is dwindling… don’t give up.

And if you're reading this and you aren’t yet a follower of Jesus, and you still just aren’t sure about this whole Jesus thing, I want to invite you… don’t give up on Him yet. Maybe there are other things in your life right now that you are tempted to give up on (goals, relationships, hopes, dreams) and I can still challenge you, don’t give up. If you're a high school student, come join us at RIOT next week and hear more about Jesus. Continue to consider that He loves you SO much and offers you a personal relationship with Himself and forgiveness for every way you’ve ever messed up.

My prayer for each of you, whether you're in high school or college or a full on grown-up, is that you would choose now to walk with Jesus for the rest of your lives, no matter what your future holds. I know for me, I want to be a part of that “cloud of witnesses” one day. I hope that someone might be able to look at my life, and say, “Kristin walked faithfully, not perfectly, but FAITHFULLY with Jesus all her days, even when it got really hard... You know what...I can walk with Him too!” One day, at the end of our lives, after we’ve persevered, we will finish the race and it will be a glorious thing.

But for now, just imagine with me for a minute…

What if we became the generation who did not give up? Who didn’t walk away from our faith just because sin is tempting and persecution is real and opposition is scary and being different takes courage? We could be the next generation’s cloud of witnesses.

The people who help the reverse the statistics of the number of people who walk away from their faith after they graduate. Maybe more middle school students would get to high school believing that it is possible to KEEP walking with Jesus through high school into adulthood because they’d seen it done by you guys. More high school students would graduate with some resolve that they could KEEP walking with Jesus in college. 

Maybe we could be those people whose very lives are making their friends think twice about Jesus because they’re drawn to what they see in us.

What if we became the generation who kept walking with Jesus even when a few months go by without being able to “feel” His presence, because we choose to TRUST that if He says He is with us, then He’s with us?

What if other people saw our lives and gave THEIR lives to Jesus simply because of the way they saw us run and keep running?

Imagine if we became the generation who stopped letting our feelings determine whether or not Jesus is worth following, and who let JESUS demonstrate the hope and the truth and the reality THROUGH US that there’s nothing and no one else worth giving our lives to!

What if we became the generation who just DID NOT GIVE UP, EVEN WHEN WE FELT LIKE IT?

You can do this. It will be worth it, I promise.

Even when you feel like giving up . . . don’t.

When You Realize that Your "Busy Season" is More Than a Season

I've started noticing a pattern in my life over the past few years. I've started realizing that somehow nearly every season feels like a busy season. Granted, each year has kind of a natural ebb and flow depending on what we have going on in ministry, and there absolutely are seasons that are more full and seasons that are less full. January-March is generally pretty busy as we gear up to send our high school students out on up to four different missions trips over spring break. May-July tends to be pretty packed with student transitions and summer camps. And September-November have the potential to fill up quick, since they are the months that we've been waiting for to do other retreats/ events that we didn't have time for in the summer. April is a breathing month. August is a breathing month. December is a breathing month. I look forward to those each year. Time to take a step back, to get organized, to plan ahead for the next season. But sometimes I find that I'm so tired (physically, mentally, spiritually, emotionally) by the time those breaks come around, that I miss out on the opportunity to simply "enjoy life" during those months.

I can't blame it on ministry. I can't blame it on my job. I mean, I could, technically, but not really. Ministry can make for a very full life. But believe there's more to it than that. This is bigger than that. I think this comes down to how I do my job. How I live my life.

I slowly realized that my investment in relationships had slowly dwindled...when friends and I would try to make plans, I often said, "yes! Lets do it, maybe after _______________ when my life slows down a bit." And then I was tired. And things didn't really slow down.
I hate when people approach me or send me a Facebook message or plan a meeting with me and start their initial invitation with, "I know you're super busy, but..." That's tough to hear. Is that the impression I give? Because that certainly doesn't make me super approachable. Not to mention, I don't want to just be busy as a way of life. Sometimes in ministry there is an ongoing pressure to achieve, to perform, to be "doing" things in order to "seem" effective. Sometimes the pressure comes from others, but sometimes it simply comes from inside of me. The pressure I put on myself is often the heaviest to bear. Sometimes I feel stuck on a hamster wheel of yeses in my life, committing to things, agreeing to things, and then resenting ALL of those things for not LETTING me off the wheel that I'm CHOOSING to run on -- and I don't even LIKE running! Oh the irony. Welcome to my brain. Exhausting, I know. We're working on it (and when I say "we" I mean Jesus and me; He's doing the work, I'm cooperating)!

As this past summer was winding down and we looked ahead to the Fall, we started making plans and dreaming about all the things we could say yes to now that our "busy season" was wrapping up. An international missions trip, a retreat with our students, vacations, seminary for Michael, performing in a Country Music night, launching a big relationship/ sex series at our weekly high school gathering, and definitely slowing down were on the horizon for us. But for some reason it wasn't all adding up. We couldn't figure out how to make it all work. The slow season was beginning to feel ... not slow, already. Not to mention, we had just bought our first house over the summer and so renovation/ moving took up much of August - our other "breathing month."

Something's gotta change. Otherwise nothing will change.

One afternoon, Michael and I were in our weekly meeting (yes, we have weekly meetings. With each other. Even though we're married. Since we work together full time, we have to schedule meetings as well as dates). I can be a little emotionally inconsistent when it comes to schedule stuff. Sometimes I want to slash everything out of the calendar. Sometimes everything sounds fun and doable. On this particular day, Michael and I were doing the dance - the balancing, scheduling dance, trying to get on the same page about the next few months. In the moment, I was suggesting that we do some kind of Fall retreat with our students. I was suggesting adding another thing. I know, right? After all of that! Told you, I'm inconsistent sometimes. Michael looked at me and said something like, "Why is it that sometimes you want to add more to our schedule? And other times you don't want to add any more? I don't want to do one more thing." He had a point.

After processing lots of this with a good friend over some Panera, Michael and I went back to Panera (which is apparently a great processing place, specifically the outdoor patio on a nice day), and began asking some of the hard questions.
What if our busy season has become more than a season? 
Why does it feel like we are always in one? 
What can we do about it? 
How do we say yes to God in the ways He wants us to? 
How can we say no even to good things? 
If we say no to something as good as a mission trip, is that considered being disobedient to God? 

That was an important conversation for us to have. One that we'll probably revisit lots of times. For us in this season it meant saying no to the big mission trip so we could say yes to doing all of our already-committed-to, weekly ministry really intentionally and really well. It meant saying no to planning an extra student retreat so we could have say yes to a short getaway with our volunteer discipleship staff and invest extra deeply in them so that they feel encouraged and equipped as they invest in students.

I've been reading through Lisa Terkeurst's newest book, The Best Yes: Making Wise Decisions in the Midst of Endless Demands , and I've been challenged to think critically about the things I say YES to. In her book she quotes Louie Giglio who says, "Every time you say yes to something, there is less of you for something else. Make sure your yes is worth the less."

Growing up, my mom had a similar saying that always stuck with me, "Whenever you say yes to something, you are saying no to something else." You may not always be aware when you say yes, but because you said yes, it may mean that you have to say no to something else that comes along. Conversely, whenever you say no to something, you leave room and space and margin in your life to say yes when an opportunity arises. There is always an exchange. My wise mother also always used to compare life to a piece of notebook paper, the kind with margins. She likened it to writing a paper, leaving white space in the margins, so that if you need to add an idea or make an adjustment, you have space in the margin to do so. But if you write from edge-to-edge, using up every inch of that margin, editing, adding, or improving that writing becomes difficult. It gets messy. Margin is good. Space is good. A schedule that is not packed edge-to-edge is good.


There are seasons of my life where I feel like I'm doing a really good job at this. And other times where, all of a sudden, I realize that my "busy season" has become my normal. And there is less of me for so many good things. Less of me emotionally, mentally, physically, for people and tasks God has put in my life, and even less of me to really invest in my own walk with Jesus. I'm learning. I'm growing.

I'm still asking a lot of questions. The Lord has my attention and I truly, deeply, want to know more about what this looks like lived out. And it will change, again and again, but I want to keep asking those questions. I don't want to be the girl who is always in a busy season, I don't think that's what any us really crave. Living on purpose? Yes. Being willing and available? Yes. Living life for Jesus to the fullest? Yes. But busy? No.

I think whether you're in high school, college, working full-time, single, married, parenting, serving in ministry, or even retired, this is something we all wrestle with. It is, as Andy Stanley would say, "Not a problem to solve, but a tension to manage." I don't know that we will figure it out, once and for all, this side of Heaven. We live in the tension created by our schedules, our desires, our dreams, relationships, commitments, ambitions, and the mundane tasks of our lives. The give and take. The push and pull. And managing and surrendering and pressing in and stepping back works differently for each of us.

I don't believe there is a formula for exactly how this looks in everyone's life at all times. I wish it were that simple. I'm thankful for the Lord's grace in helping me navigate this, and for the friends and family who walk alongside me as I do.

But it's worth asking the question, no matter who you are, "Has my 'busy season' become more than a season?"