The Heart of a Mom: Part 2

Every woman has the heart of mom within her. We were designed to nurture life. The way we walk that out, though, looks different for each of us. Some women choose not to have kids; some nurture life in a doctor's office or classroom. Some women nurture the lives of natural children they birthed and others nurture adopted children who were birthed in their hearts.

While Mother's Day is for all of us, it's especially hard for some of us. For some women, each May reminds them of the child(ten) they lost. For some it's a painful memory of a decision to end a life. For so many among us, Mother's Day with empty arms reminds them of the depth of their hurt. For these women, Mother's Day is a balancing act. They want to rejoice with friends and family; they want to celebrate the women nurturing life around them. But you can be happy and sad at the same time. You can rejoice for her while your heart is breaking. For so many women I know, this holiday is one of their hardest days a year.

The last thing a woman wants when she's hurting is to be alone. But so often, the loss of a child - whether by miscarriage, still birth or abortion, whether intentionally or by accident - makes you feel just that. It's like an invisible line is drawn in the sand and you're on one side or the other. You've been there or you haven't. You know that pain or you can't imagine it.

But every woman has the heart of a mom. We were designed to nurture life - especially in one another. We were created to bear each other's burdens and carry each other's loads. We are never stronger than when we walk hand-in-hand, when we pick each other up when we fall and carry each other when one is too weak. To do that, we have to be real - we have to honestly share with one another and be wiling to walk through even the stuff that hurts.

If you, like me, are on the side of that invisible line that hasn't experienced the loss of a child personally, let me say on behalf of all of us....we say dumb stuff. We don't meant it, but in our self-absorbed happy perspective, we don't stop to think about what this day means to some. We ask questions that feel like salt on an open wound. We make comments that pierce like a knife. My hope is that this Mother's Day can be different.

Here are a few suggestions. These are not meant to be exhaustive or concrete but rather a starting point - a way to think a little differently and make her day a little brighter.

1. Don't ask "When are you going to hurry up and have kids?" It's really not a good idea on any day, but especially around this day. If she has no kids, there's a reason and you don't need to know it. More importantly, she doesn't need to say it. Imagine the pain of being asked that question when all you want is a baby of your own. Imagine the answers she wants to give you when you imply that it's her choice.

2. Similarly, don't ask "Why don't you have kids yet?" if you aren't prepared for the answer. You've backed her into a corner. Either she can smile and lie or say in the middle of brunch that her uterus isn't capable of carrying a baby to term or she does have children but they live in Heaven. Just don't make her. Just talk about the other ways you see her nurturing life around her. Compliment her giving spirit, her tender heart and her willing hands.

3. Don't say "You know what makes babies, right?" (or any derivative of a similar joke) Anyone over the age of sex ed knows what makes babies. And I assure you, she isn't doing it wrong. While it may be meant in jest, it hurts. The stress a marriage endures through infertility and/or the loss of a child is indescribable. The last thing she needs is to defend publicly the relationship she's trying desperately to hold together through sadness, pain and anger.

4. If you know she's experienced a loss, don't ignore her. Don't assume she doesn't want to be invited or wouldn't have something to add to the conversation. Don't think your joy makes her sad. Her loss makes her sad. Your joy might just pull her through. So don't enforce the invisible line. Cross it. Love her. Hold her hand. Walk beside her regardless of what it looks like.

My prayer is that we learn to see the world through each other's eyes. My hope is that we get stronger as we walk together - that we lift each other up, wipe each other's tears and hold each other's hands. Because every woman has the heart of a mom.

Lay Down

I have a friend going through an extremely difficult trial. I absolutely hate knowing that someone I love hurts, and I can't make it better. But those are the times my prayers are most raw. Those are the times when I pray not out of obligation but out of the heaviness of my heart. My heart literally aches for her. I want to take away the pain and sadness, and I can't. There's no better place to know God than when you're helpless. It dawned on me today that she is not the only one hurting while loved ones stand nearby. And like my friend, you, too, may be holding that love at arm's length. It hurts to be wounded, but it's a pain like nothing else to let that wound be reopened. So we keep people at a distance who make us feel vulnerable. And that's what love does. It exposes a wound - not to cause more hurt but because you have to let Love see it, so Love can heal it.

One of my favorite stories in the Bible is in Mark chapter 2. I talk about it a lot not just because it's a great story; it's my story. It's about a man who was sick. He didn't have the flu; he was paralyzed. You can't really put make up on that and pretend everything is ok. It's visible. It's obvious. Everyone could see his problem, exposed for the world, and that he was helpless to fix himself. And sometimes we have to get to that place, too. That's why if you cover up the headaches, eventually they will become so debilitating that they can't be ignored. If you keep the abuse a secret, it will isolate you from the world. If you hide the turmoil in the marriage, it will grow until it feels like it will consume you. If you cover up the wound, the infection will continue to grow under the surface. Often, the infection has to become evident to others before we address it. This man's problem was clear. And a solution was no where in sight...to him.

When you're paralyzed, your viewpoint is limited to what you can see from your incapacitated position. From his mat, the man saw nowhere to turn. But his friends could see Jesus. From where they stood, they could see the answer that alluded their friend. But it's one thing to see the answer. It's another thing to get there. These men could tell the man about Jesus all day long. They could preach of other miracles he performed and people he healed. They could describe how great the man's life would be if he would go and let Jesus heal him. But all that talk would be meaningless to a man who can't move. He couldn't get himself to Jesus no matter how hard he tried or how bad he wanted to go. It was literally impossible for him to get to Jesus..on his own.

So the man did what we fight against so fiercely. He laid down, and let his friends carry him. He didn't tell them where to go or what to do. He didn't know the best route to take, and he had to admit that. He had to err to their wisdom and better view of the situation. He had to trust them. Getting to Jesus wasn't easy. The friends had to go to great lengths to help. Because they couldn't get through the crowd, the friends made a hole in the roof of the building and lowered the man to Jesus. That man couldn't walk; forget about climbing a building, making a hole and lowering himself through it. He couldn't see where to go until he let them lead him. He would have never gotten to Jesus if he forced his friends away. He would have never experienced healing without admitting he couldn't make it better on his own.

And he did experience healing. He was made completely whole! If you look closely at verse 5, you'll see one of the  most beautiful promises. It says "When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, 'Son, your sins are forgiven'." Did you catch it? He saw THEIR faith. It didn't take just the faith to believe Jesus could heal. It took a man being willing to let his friends carry him. It took all of their faith. It took steps the man couldn't see or take on his own. It took walking, climbing, digging and lowering. Together.

Sister, those people aren't standing by to watch you squirm. They are waiting and pleading for you to let them help. When you love someone, you want what's best for them. That friend or family or doctor or therapist doesn't want you to hurt anymore than you do. But they can't do anything if you hide that wound from them. They can't comfort, encourage or enlighten what you won't share. They can't carry you to Jesus if you won't lay down and let them.

Someone wants to help. Her heart is aching because she can see where you need to go and that you can't get there alone. She loves you enough to carry your cot. Will you let her?

Treat Them Like Babies

I watched the movie The Decedents last night. There are several themes in the movie, but the thing that kept pulling on my heart was the relationship between the dad (George Clooney) and his daughters. Their relationship is so deteriorated that at one point he asks his 17-year old daughter’s young friend what he’d do to reach the girls. It’s not even the crux of the movie, but I found myself yelling at the screen, “Let them be babies!” (Watching a movie with me is never a dull experience.)

Few things make me passionate like the treatment of children, so for one moment, allow me to step up on my soap box…

They are babies.

I don’t care how old they are, they need you to hold them and hug them and tell them they are safe. They want you to protect them so they don’t feel alone. Children are a gift. They are entrusted to your care for a brief moment. They do not exist to comfort you, provide you friendship or partner with you. Even as they mature. Even when they rebel. Even when they make seemingly adult decisions. They are babies. They need you to care for them not the other way around. They need you to teach them and give them boundaries.

When you come to a place of doubt in this messed up, crazy hard thing called parenting, remember one thing: they are babies.

That doesn’t mean “baby” them. They don’t need your condescending demands. But treat them with care. Set boundaries and kept them. Make rules and enforce them. When they don't know, teach them!
The same care you gave them at 2 months is the same care they need at 2, 12 and 22. They are babies.

I headed for bed after the movie ended with these thoughts in mind. As I plugged my phone in, I saw a tweet with this photo. Taylor had run across a picture from her graduation and shared it. I call Taylor my daughter-in-love. I did not birth her, but she grows under my heart just as Brynna did. She’s a college graduate and proud new homeowner. She’s getting a master’s degree and has a job. But when she’s lonely or nervous, those things don’t matter. From her “mom,” she just wants to be a kid. She wants someone to tell her she’s safe and loved.

no matter the age...they are my babies

Regardless of how old he is, what she’s done or said. Hug her. Hold him. Pray for her like you did when she was a baby. Because from her mom, she’ll always need to be.

Armor Bearer

I’ve heard the term.  I’ve seen it carried out.  I’ve read books on the subject.  Armor Bearer.  It’s a military term that’s become a church word.   Originally, the biblical term was translated from the Hebrew word nasa – to figuratively or literally lift up, support or help.  When leaders went into war, the armor bearer would go before them, carry their weapons, fight alongside to aid and protect.  Today, armor bearers are the topic of much debate.  Do pastors and other church leaders need someone to follow them around and carry a glass of water and a Bible?  Does speaking to a group of people require military-like protection, even if figurative?  I’ve debated both sides of the issue.  (One of the best results of my years spent in Speech & Debate; I can argue pretty much any side of any issue.)

But today, the concept took on new meaning for me.  God called me into battle not to fight on my own behalf but to protect His chosen leader.  I can almost see the metaphoric battle ground.  Think less Gladiator and more G.I. Jane…

The Commander chose a leader to empower troops and conquer ground.  He trained the leader, put her through boot camp, gave her all she’d need to win battles, nurtured her until the leader was strong enough to go.  And just as she was putting on her gear, a bullet came out of nowhere.  Not even on the battlefield, and the enemy took a cheap shot.  The blow was less painful and more distracting, but it did the trick.  The leader momentarily stopped moving forward to deal with the attack.  But what the enemy didn’t anticipate was that the Commander, knowing the other team plays dirty had prepared one to fight alongside the leader – not to take her place but shield future blows, carry extra weapons and wipe away the blood, sweat and tears when necessary.  The armor bearer, not understanding the importance of her job, was also caught off-guard by this first minor attack.  Rather than standing ready, she stopped to get the leader a Band-Aid.  And for a moment, the enemy didn’t need to fire another shot.  He didn’t need to wage an attack.  The leader wasn’t a threat if she wasn’t moving.  And the armor bearer was nothing to worry about if she wouldn’t fight back… 

…until she did.  And just as the Commander designed, once the armor bearer began to fight fire with fire, the leader was able to regroup, press on, rally the troops.  It didn’t mean the bullets stopped coming.  But it did mean the leader had someone in her corner, watching her back so she could begin to conquer ground as she had been trained to do.

Armor bearers weren’t much of an issue to me before today because I was never asked to be one.  I serve my pastor; I support and honor my leaders.  I’ve even fought on behalf of others or a cause. But I’ve never been asked to stand at the ready, in the heat of battle and fiercely defend someone else’s ability to obey.  Today, I got those marching orders.  God told me my job is not to bend down and get Band-Aids.  My job is to be ready for the next attack, be it a cheap shot or straightforward.  My job is not just to hold a glass of water and a Bible.  My job is to pray – hard – not for myself but to protect the calling of God’s chosen leader.

People argue about armor bearers because they say leaders are arrogant to allow someone to fill that role.  But it’s not about the leader.  It’s not about the armor bearer.  It’s about the ground she’s been sent to conquer and the glory the Commander will receive when she’s successful.

My Sisters' Mother

She's all the things I want to be when I grow up - refined, poised, proper, wise and discerning.
She's the kind of mother I aspire to be - nurturing, unwavering, steady and strong.
She's a friend to those in need.
She's a comfort to those who mourn.
She has a way of drawing out the better person in you without making you feel small.
She won't gossip with you; she won't get all your references about pop culture.
She won't be your buddy because she knows what you need is more than that.
She won't compromise or change who she is.
Her presence is calming even if only felt through a phone call.
Her voice is solace; her faith is contagious.

She is not mine because I was born of her.
She is mine because she was shared.
She is my sisters' mother, and I am forever grateful to Tonya and Janay for sharing her with me.

Top Ten Things I'll Miss the Most: The End

#2 and #1 – My Cot Carriers and My Girls

I have struggled to write the last two of my Top Ten, so I’m just putting them together.  They bleed into each other.  They are so close to my heart it hurts less to try the denial tactic when thinking of saying goodbye.

Several years ago, I sat across the table from Cheri (whom I call my spiritual mother) and cried.  I had faced hurts before, but the road in front of me at that time was more than I could bear.  Cheri assured me that, yes, it was more than I could bear alone, but God never said I had to walk alone.  She read me the story in Mark 2 of the man who lay paralyzed on a mat.  Jesus assured the man that his own faith had healed him but when he was incapable of doing so on his own, it was his friends who carried him to Jesus.  Cheri promised to carry my cot at the times I was incapable of getting through on my own.  She kept that promise ten fold.  But one person alone can’t carry your cot, so others came alongside me and poured out their love, care, affection, kindness and grace.  God used Mike, Mikele, Deb, Dr. Jim, Janay and so many others to carry David and I as He strengthened our faith and healed us. 

Each of those people holds a piece of my heart.  They saw me at my worst and carried me anyway.  They knew the cost and still chose to love me.  That is a rare gift.  Everyone needs to know that feeling.  My feelings for the friends who carried my cot are deeper than words can express.  How do you say goodbye to the ones who carried you to Jesus?  I can’t.  All I can do is trust and know that the Jesus in me has seen the Jesus in each of you and that makes every mile between us Holy Ground.  And Holy Ground makes us family.

Sometimes your family carries your cot and sometimes carrying your cot transforms friends to family.  Hope and Brandy will always be my sister-friends.  I have the rare privilege of calling their girls my goddaughters, and I hold that responsibility with the utmost honor.  It makes me sad to think I’ll be farther away from gymnastics meets and first steps and birthdays, but I know we will remain connected as we have for almost 20 years because our hearts are linked. 

But now I have more than just two to miss.  When I moved to Dallas I thought I’d never again know the type of friendship forged over time.  I assumed that only someone who has known you since you were 12 can feel as close as family. I’m so grateful God proved me wrong.  I am sad with a hole in my heart but because there will be a void in the absence of my girls.  I will miss being there the day Kelly, Kelli and Tania bring home their first babies.  I won’t be there when Lisa finds her wings and really learns to fly.  I will miss comparing shoes with Kris and dancing with Cassandra, Brittney and Kemi.  I will miss laughing about life’s messes with Stephanie, Jami, Kim and Yanci.

And then there’s Janay.  We laugh that on the outside we couldn’t look more different but somehow people continue to mix up our names.  We just chalked it up to the fact that we’re so alike on the inside it spills out and confuses people.  When I inspect myself through a raw and honest lens, I know that my life would look completely different without my sister-friend.  God used Janay to open my ears to Him.  I couldn’t have learned many of the lessons I have in the past several years or grown and matured as I have without her friendship.  We have sharpened each other as iron but more importantly, she was the laughter I needed in the midst of hurt.  She understood my jokes and my life experiences.  When I felt alone, she was the one with whom I could be my real, authentic self.  She understood the color of my heart.  That safety and security softened me to hear God’s voice. 

I can’t begin to understand what life is going to feel like without my girls.  It doesn’t seem possible that I’ll wake up tomorrow and they won’t be down the street.  I keep hearing in my mind a poem by E. E. Cummings.  It ends with…

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Top Ten Things I'll Miss the Most: Part 8

#3 – Northpark

I know what you’re thinking.  You’re wondering if this Top Ten was done in order of importance.  You’re hoping it wasn’t so that of all the things in my life, I didn’t put shopping in the Top 3 above some other pretty amazing things.  Well, the list isn’t completely in order of rank.  But if it were, this would still be near the top.  I love to shop, and Dallas has some of the best in the country.  I’ll miss the options, the proximity and the size.  (The adage is true: Everything really is bigger in Texas.)  But this goes beyond shopping.

When Janay and I had a day off of work, we would go to Northpark and sit for hours.  We’d get some food (Auntie Anne’s for her, Panda Express for me) and people-watch.  Sometimes we talked, we always laughed and once we even helped a group of women competing in a scavenger hunt because they realized we knew where all the shops are located without looking at a map. 

I have had some of my best mother-daughter talks with Taylor in Northpark.  We would walk the loop talking about her day, her friends, her thoughts on life.  I know her better because of those talks.  I know her likes and dislikes; I know her inside and out.

Each time my brother visited, we took a trip to Northpark.  He shops once a year so we’d stock him up on shirts, jeans, pants and shoes. We would laugh til it hurt and confuse people at each store as to how siblings could have that much fun together.

I’ve had many a lunch at the Mermaid Bar with my mother-in-law.

Mikele and I have celebrated birthdays and Christmases at the N Bistro.

The week before the crazy year of Zoe’s treatment began, Vikki and I had the best day together.  For my birthday, she gave me a day for just the two of us that wouldn’t have been the same without our Nordstrom Spa massages.

Hope, Brandy and I bought our matching outfits at Northpark.  (Yes, we’re grown.  Yes, we wore them on the same day.  No, we weren’t embarrassed.)

I went into labor at Northpark.  Since then Brynna and I have spent countless hours quacking at the ducks and marveling at the water fountain.  We’ve met friends for lunch in the food court and Daddy for dinner at Maggiano’s.

I have often joked that the mall is my happy place.  That is true, but Northpark is more than the mall.  It holds more than clothes and fabulous shoes.  Northpark holds some of my greatest memories.