Category: Faith

Clinging to Jesus


Days like today I land in bed feeling like my fingers can’t hold on any longer, like I’ve just be trying all day to hold on to Jesus, and barely making it. When big plans come crashing down, when the little things seem to pile up in to something too big to carry, I know, I KNOW, that Jesus is the only answer. I know being filled up with Him and His Truth, that’s the only hope. And some days I end feeling full, knowing I have been filled up, but days like today I feel just about bone dry, but also knowing the vast emptiness I would experience without Him. So tonight I’ll fall asleep fighting to preach Truth to myself instead of repeating the lies that are endlessly surrounding me, pleading for God to give me more of Himself, and resting in knowing that He’s already given all of Himself so I can have hope beyond today.

Washed Clean

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If you’re ever looking for a really good reality check {and cry}, crack open The Jesus Story Book Bible. It gets me just about every single time I read it to Hudson.This particular children’s Bible is my absolute favorite because it really gets to the heart of the stories, and always comes back to the Gospel and hope of Jesus – and I mean, that’s the point of the Bible so we love it. Last week we were reading the stories that lead up to Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection as we were getting ready for Easter. The first story we read was The Last Supper.

The story was explaining how Jesus washed the disciples feet at their last meal together, the Passover feast. It explained that the disciples feet were so dirty and disgusting because they always wore sandals and had to walk through all the horse and cow “stuff.” It went on to explain how the job of washing feet was for the lowliest servants, the disciples were arguing with one another that they should not have to do it. Of course, that’s when Jesus kneels down to do it for them. “Jesus knew what people needed most was to be clean on the inside. All the dirt on their feet was nothing compared to the sin inside their hearts.”

There I was, sitting on the bed, reading to Hudson, trying to choke out the words through the tears. I was just made so aware of the depth of my sin, and the depth of Jesus’ sacrifice. The old hymn puts it best, “Oh praise the one who paid my debt and raised this life up from the dead. Jesus paid it all.  All to him I owe. Sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow.”

give me Jesus


Since having Hudson this song has taken on new meaning to me. “In the {often early} morning, when I rise, give me Jesus …” I have never been so acutely aware of my desperate need for Christ as I’ve been in the last 16 months.

From feeling too weak to push one last time, to thinking we’d never get the hang of nursing, to feeling there was no way I could function on so little sleep, to being overwhelmed with a new understanding of the sacrifice of God sending His only son to earth, to thinking I’ll never know how to teach him rightly, and the millions of other moments and emotions in between – I need Jesus.

I need Jesus so I can live physically, I need Jesus so I know how to teach, I need Jesus so I can understand balance, I need Jesus so I can love Jake and Hudson and everyone else rightly. I am in deficit on my own, lacking in every way. By God’s grace I’m learning, growing, changing; not left today as the same person I was yesterday.

Motherhood has taught me more about God in these last 16 months than I had learned in the previous 26 years. I’ve experienced the hight of joy and depth of sorrow in those months and learned that more than anything I need Jesus. All day. Everyday. I have Jesus – and that is what informs every. single. moment. of these days that can seem so long while simultaneously flying by faster than I can handle.

We need Jesus, and, by His abundant mercy and grace, we have Jesus.

If you came to my home tonight …

I’ve seen posts similar to this in the past, and it’s one of my favorite types. My heart in all of this is to be authentic and genuine. Life isn’t all well lit photos, perfect recipes, and adventures. Especially as a mama, life is messy (often in the best ways and often in unbearably challenging ways), it gets complicated, and sometimes it’s full of “mundane.” But I know twenty years from now I will crave this version of mundane. I will long for the days where I got to play all day with my little man, in between the laundry, and meal prep, and cleaning up, these are the days I will miss. It’ll be a different season with different callings and different blessings. But I don’t want to forget these days. They’re so hard at times, but in the end sweetness outweighs the hard 100 fold. Inspired by Casey Wiegand


If you came to my home tonight you would have been welcomed in to the sounds of drumming as you walked in to a play zone. You’d see that our front room functions as Hudson’s toy haven and he loves all these play things he’s been gifted! Once he noticed you were here he’d throw his drum sticks, start to wave, and “chat” with you. He’d throw himself in to his ball pit, laughing with excitement; I’d pick him up as I ask you in to the kitchen, and we’d all make our way back there.

I’d ask you to take a seat at our table that still has some groceries that need to be put away on it, and I’d see how your weekend was. I’d finish making Hudson’s quinoa only to find I had put way too much salt in the water. I’d begin to feed him some avocado as we chat, and you’d see him spit it out into his hand and throw it on the floor. You’d see me correct him in the best way I know how, I’d tell you I’m overwhelmed by the task of learning how to teach and discipline him in love.
I’d let him sit for a few moments before we tried another bite. After a few more tries you’d see him gobble up the entire the thing insisting he be the one to hold the spoon so he could feed himself. You’d see his fascination as he examines the avocado peel I let him have after him repeatedly pointing to it emphatically saying “dat, dat, dat.”
Once he was settled we’d chat some more. I’d tell you how thankful I am for this last weekend we had away, but how thankful I am to be back in our little home. I’d ask you to tell me more about how you’re doing, the nitty-gritty. I’d tell you our nitty-gritty has been tough, but I feel the Lord leading us through it and giving us peace unexplainable. I’d tell you the things I’m hoping for, and my moments of anxieties because I’m a planner and feeling very aware of the fact that I’m not in control of this life. I’d ask you to pray for me, I’d assure you that I’ll be praying for you. I’d ask if I could get you anything else before you were on your way out, and tell you how much I’d love for you to come again soon.


lessons from a screaming baby


 This evening as I was trying to get Hudson to sleep he screamed with frustration. This always breaks my heart, but tonight as I held him, and he screamed, I learned a few things. We’re transitioning him from formula to milk and he doesn’t care much for it. Last night he did fine with straight milk, tonight he had one taste, and wanted nothing of it. He was hungry, he had already finished anything I had to offer, and he definitely didn’t want that bottle full of milk. I knew we had a little formula still and we both needed him to sleep, so I put him in his crib, switched half the milk for formula, and came back to relieve him. He’s been drinking half and half for weeks now, so I know he’s fine with it. He however was under the impression the same milk was still in the bottle. And no matter how hard I tried to get him to just taste a tiny bit so he’d realize, he was so worked up he couldn’t slow down enough to realize I was giving him what he wanted. After a solid 45 min he gave in, tried the bottle, and quietly fell asleep. And through all of this I realized a few things I must be more thankful for this regarding this beautiful screaming baby …

He’s alive. As I hear him scream and my heart breaks (and I start to lose my mind a little) I am reminded that HE IS HERE. I know of so many families who have lost their sweet babies, and was being told a year ago that Hudson had a disease that would take him by the time he’s seven, so I am abundantly thankful that he is here and healthy.

I am with him. Mamas around the world don’t get to be with their babies. Whether it’s a mama who sacrificially gives her babe up for adoption because she knows it’s best, or the mama who’s babe has been kidnapped to work as a child soldier, or the mama who’s going to school and working 2 jobs to provide for her babe: for this moment I get to be with him, and I will be thankful.

The problem is easily fixed. Right now his greatest pains are fixed with a bottle of milk, or a few mama kisses and hugs. Years from now I know I will ache to fix his heartaches, so for now I will be thankful that the solutions are easy and I can provide them.

And finally, I was reminded that this is what I do to God on a regular basis. I have talked a bit about how life has been hard for us for a while, it could be harder – absolutely, but the hard is hard none the less. And as it’s hard I sit and cry to God that I want it easy, that I know hope does not disappoint because His love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us, but that I can’t do any more hard, and that I don’t know why it has to be hard.

Tonight as I sat holding that bottle of milk, that was exactly what Hudson was wanting and watching him push it away for 45 minutes, I realized this is what I do. I ask God to sanctify me, to make me more like His son, and when He gives me the things that will bring that – I scream, I throw fits, and I push it away. Ultimately we exist to become more like Jesus and glorify Him, but this process is not easy or painless. Like gold in the fire, we cannot come out refined without being put through the flame. So tonight I will be thankful for the hard, I will ask for the strength to endure, and pray for a mind like Jesus that asks for His will to be done above my own.