When You Stand Outside a Grave

When You Stand Outside a Grave

I kept thinking if I waited a little longer, I might have more words. But I’ve learned over the years, that most of the time, words don’t come (at least the right ones) until my fingers hit these keys.

One of our pastors said on Sunday, “Vulnerability always comes with a risk.” It’s true. For the last six years, I have met you here, pouring out my heart in the hopes that my vulnerability would lead to your transformation. Because vulnerability without transformation is only transparency. And there is enough of that in our world these days, we do not need any more useless opinions. It’s never been my heart to share our story for the simple fact of sharing our story. My heart over these years has been to share our story so that you can see what we’ve found in Papa God, you can find too. That your family, like mine, can experience His goodness and walk into deeper places in His heart. That you can be His intimate friends, too.

The risk involved in sharing our story is that not only have I invited you into the miraculous places in our lives where we’ve found the beauty and victory of the Lord, but it’s only fair for me to share with you the sorrow too. In all actuality, the miracles aren’t really miracles if you don’t know the degree of the impossibility before.


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My Sacrifice of Praise

My Sacrifice of Praise

I was seven days late.

It’s only happened twice in my life. The other time was three years ago. The week before our foster son came home.

I woke up every morning, believing the “in due time” had finally come. That after all of these years, it was our turn. I was certainly going to see my belly start swelling in the next few weeks. I had calculated the due date and thought through every way I would tell my husband, family, and dear friends. I had imagined the look on their faces, like the ones standing around Lazarus's grave.

Even after all the hoping and all the disappointment, I knew this new season our family has stepped in, has looked so different from the old ones. He’s doing a new thing in us, something He’s never done before. And hope never puts us to shame (Romans 5:5), so I wasn’t afraid to hope. Because my hope isn’t in a miracle, it’s a person, my Jesus.

This was the third test I took that week. All the other ones said the same results. But I wasn’t going to believe it wasn’t true, until I knew. And I knew on day eight.

Right before we looked at the test, Brandon said to me, “You know this doesn’t change a word out of God’s mouth about this.” And I knew that. Still do.

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A Beautiful Unraveling

A Beautiful Unraveling

I’ve been quiet around here lately.

It’s not because I don’t have any words, I do. A lot of them really. It’s just that they haven’t found their way out of my heart yet.

Also, it’s been a really hard few weeks.

I still haven’t learned exactly how to share the hard without sharing my children’s stories. In the very beginning of our journey, I shared a lot. Probably too much. As I grew as their mama and learned more and more about adoption along the way, I realized their story wasn’t mine to share.

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