The Story Behind the Bump

Its no secret that I am clearly bump obsessed. I’m sure by now that the constant #bumpupdates and #babygirlbump photos are somewhat annoying to some…okay, maybe most. But, I just cannot help myself. I love being pregnant! Everything, and I mean everything, about this pregnancy has brought me such joy. I’m sure that seems odd to a lot of people. I know a ton of women have difficult pregnancies, so the idea of loving pregnancy seems impossible. And yes, I have had two other babies (albeit many years ago), and I wasn’t nearly this baby bump crazed. So, why is this one different, you ask? Well, that’s because there is a story behind this bump.

When people find out we are having a baby when our youngest child is 10 years old, we get some interesting responses. Most give a sweet and well-meaning, “What a fun surprise!” Some have even come right out and asked, “Was this baby a surprise?” and then there have been the not so pleasant, “Oh, I’m so sorry! I’m sure you are dreading starting all over again!” But there has been one common response when people find out that this baby was not a surprise at all, but was, in fact, actually planned: shock. Why in the world would we want to start over again? Especially when our oldest daughter is almost a teenager? None of these remarks have bothered me at all. I’m sure it does seem odd and strange to have a baby so many years later than the others. I am sure I have even been the giver of such remarks at times to others.

And if I’m honest, this wasn’t the way I would have planned it myself. But, it was God’s plan, His way, and I have learned over many years that His way is indeed always better…even when it doesn’t look normal… even when it doesn’t line up with what I had planned or dreamed. So really this is as much His story as it is this baby’s story. A journey that we have been on for many years. A journey in learning to open our hands for the Lord to give…and to take…so that we might find ourselves walking in the center of His plan for our lives.

When Matt and I had our first two children we were young, scared and immature. Still mere babes ourselves (physically and spiritually), we trudged along through baby and toddler years, enjoying them, but also not really fully appreciating them. They were sweet years, but hard years. We were learning how to be adults, how to be a husband and a wife and how to be parents all at the same time. So when our youngest was at the age where you would typically begin thinking about baby number three, we were NOT ready. We had our hands full with our two babies, and we were satisfied. By the time Grace started school and the thought of another baby wasn’t completely overwhelming, the Lord was working heavily in our lives. We felt called to give our children a Bible-centered education; so Christian school was a must. Matt also was feeling God’s call on his life into ministry, so he was working full-time and attending seminary full-time in preparation to leave corporate America and transition into full-time ministry. Again, the time just didn’t seem right. A few years later Jackson started school and it was at this time that I truly begin to feel the ache for another baby. But again, life circumstances seemed to be in the way. With two children in private school, it seemed best for me to go back to work, so I began teaching full-time at their school. Adding a baby now seemed impossible. But it was during the next few years that God began really working in my heart over this issue of family.

At one time, when my kids were small, I was really content with our two children. We had had them very young, and so I liked the thought of being in my 40s with no children in the home. I thought it would be great to have that freedom and time alone with my husband. But as I grew in my relationship with the Lord, He began to give me a different picture of family and raising children. One that portrayed family as ministry, my primary ministry- my greatest opportunity to impact the world for the sake of the Gospel. Yes, I had a vibrant, thriving ministry at my school, but I began to see my children and their children as a greater way to shape generations for the Gospel. And it was then that I began to long for more children. At the same time through relationships with several dear friends, I also began to dream about adoption. The Lord began to put a deep desire in my heart to see our family grow, both biologically and through adoption. But there was just one problem: my husband did not feel the same way.

I can remember going to Matt and asking him to pray about growing our family. And I can remember the hesitant ‘yes’ that he gave me. We have found after many years being married that the Lord will often move one of our hearts first and then bring the other one along at the right time and in the right way. So, I resolved myself to prayer and to waiting.  When our children were 9 and 7, we began to feel that God was calling us to homeschool. At the same time, Matt left his job in corporate America and became the youth pastor at our church. In the back of my mind I began to wonder if now that I was home, we could have another baby. But again circumstances seemed to be in the way. I had just quit my job and now Matt was taking a huge pay cut. Plus we had no maternity coverage on our insurance plan and to add it was ridiculously expensive. So, once again, I stuffed down my desires and went on.

Over the years I had learned to bury my desire for more children. I can distinctly remember going on long runs and dreaming about what I would name another baby should we ever have one. I can also remember one time hearing the news that a friend was pregnant with her third child. And after being excited and joyful for her, I had the sharp realization that I was experiencing another feeling: jealousy. I remember going for a run that day and crying most of the run. But I would always find a way to shove it down deeply and find “reasons” why I was ok with not having more children. One morning I was on Facebook and a friend of mine, Bethany (who has 6 precious children!), had posted this on her wall:

“Along this journey if He wanted to provide something for us (material or otherwise), it has gone something like this…I would have to think about it, dream about it, determine ways to make it happen…but eventually end up frustrated because I couldn’t make it happen. That’s exactly where God wanted me, I had to lay my hopes, ideas, and plans down completely (and for certain things many years)…GOD then decided when and what to pick up, and then He would deliver in miraculous ways…He wants to move mountains for us, sometimes we just need to move out of the way!”

I felt as if her words were meant just for me that morning. I realized that this is what I had been doing. Holding on to MY dreams so tightly, trying to figure out how to make them happen. I believed in my heart that these desires were from the Lord, so I thought I needed to somehow make them happen. And so that day I wrote her words down in my prayer journal. I then made a list of the things I believed the Lord had put in my heart. The first thing on the list was: More children, either adopted or biological or BOTH. And one by one, I surrendered my hopes, plans and dreams to the Lord. That day I opened my hands and I gave them to Him. I also made another list that day of things, circumstances, that I felt like were preventing us from having the things I believed the Lord wanted for us, and I gave those things to Him as well.

Over the next few months and years, God began to work in miraculous ways. He began crossing things off of my “obstacles” list in unexplainable and miraculous ways. He also began changing my husband’s heart. He came to me one day and asked me to pray with him about growing our family. We would pray individually for a few weeks and then discuss how we felt God was leading us. I’ll never forget that conversation. We were sitting in our favorite breakfast spot in Blowing Rock. The Lord had brought us to the same conclusion that day: adoption. While I still wanted to have another baby, there was no doubt in my mind that God was asking us to answer His call to adopt. And so that day, once again, I gave him my desire for a baby. I knew that moving forward with adoption may mean that we never had any more biological children, and so I handed him my desire and asked Him to let me only desire His will for our family. We began praying and seeking God on what adoption would look like for our family. There are so many options out there that it can be completely overwhelming. Through a year of praying, researching and seeking the Lord, we finally came to a decision this past fall. (All of this is another story for another day!) We decided to adopt siblings from the Philippines. We found an agency we liked and trusted, submitted our deposit, began paperwork, told friends and family and eagerly awaited God’s working through this process.

Imagine my surprise when just a few months into the process I began to feel God stirring my heart. The longing I had had for another baby begin to creep back into my thoughts and dreams. I instantly felt guilty. “But God, we know that you have called us to adopt. We are certain this is part of your plan for our lives. Why am I feeling this way now? After handing it over to you and finally finding peace and comfort in moving forward with adoption and letting go of this dream?” For a few weeks I said nothing. I just prayed that the Lord would remove this desire from my heart, but the feelings just kept getting stronger and stronger. I kept feeling like the Lord was purposefully and intentionally placing those dreams back into my heart. So I finally blurted it out to a friend one day while shopping. Her response was so simple and yet so profound. She said, “Well, why can’t you just do both?” A simple solution, and yet one I had not even considered a possibility. The next day I tentatively broached the subject with Matt, expecting his usual response, that it wasn’t something he felt led to do. However, he completely shocked me by echoing my friend’s response. Why couldn’t we just do both? That maybe it was time to have another baby. (After all, we weren’t getting any younger!) And so I went back to the Lord in prayer. I was torn. My heart was already prepared for our adopted children. I prayed for them daily and dreamt about them regularly. I knew that deciding to have a baby would delay the adoption process…something I was certain we were called to do. Was this really the right thing? Once again God used wise council to help me see the simple answers. My sister reminded me that only God could create life. Even if we decided to do nothing to prevent pregnancy, only He could ultimately decide to give us another child. And so, we opened our hands. We decided to let God determine the future of our family. We continued to move forward with adoption, even submitting a request for a sibling group of three, and we stopped preventing pregnancy.

Our request got denied and three and a half weeks later I was holding a positive pregnancy test! The Lord, in his goodness and faithfulness, answered our prayers immediately. He confirmed our decision and said, “Yes, this is my plan for your family right now.” I cannot describe the overwhelming joy I have felt every day since seeing the word “Yes” on that pregnancy test.  In that moment the Lord whispered, “Yes” in my heart. Yes, this has been my plan all along. Yes, I am now giving back to you the very thing I asked you to surrender to me so long ago.

I know without a doubt that if the Lord had given us this baby a long time ago, we may have never come to the conviction that He is calling us to adopt. I might have never begun to long for those children the way I longed for another baby. But now I do. Even in the midst of this pregnancy, I am still longing for my adopted children. But now I know that His timing is absolutely perfect, and He will bring them into our family at just the right time, just as He did with this precious little one.

I can look back now and see how silly and selfish many of the “circumstances” were that for so many years prevented us from growing our family, but I can also see how purposeful those years were. How the Lord was teaching us to open our hands…to give Him our plans and dreams, along with our worries and circumstances. And this lesson goes so very far beyond just determining the size and make up of our family. It transcends into every part of our lives. Learning to live with open hands in every aspect, giving Him all things, letting there be nothing we are holding onto and letting Him determine what to place in our empty palms.

When you have given something to the Lord, and I mean REALLY surrendered it, then when He gives it back to you, it becomes the sweetest gift, a true treasure. That’s what this pregnancy has been for me. And I believe this is the way God desires us to see our children, as blessings and rewards from Him. I have a completely different view of my family now, and I am so thankful for the process that He took me through in order to get to this place. I do not know what He has planned for our future as far as children go, but I am eagerly awaiting and expecting all that He will do. No agenda of my own this time, just trusting Him to lead us step by step. Trusting that He will give us the children He has planned for us, in whatever way He sees fit. And in the meantime, I will cherish every precious kick, I will savor every tiny movement, I will dream about meeting this precious baby girl, and I will even love the sight of my expanding waistline. Because this baby is a gift, an unexpected, undeserved, miraculous gift from a good and gracious God.

The story behind this bump is one of God’s faithfulness to His children. So I hope now that when you see my #bumpupdates you can smile knowing they are a testimony to God’s grace and His goodness. They are a reflection of the Father’s love to His children. They are a reminder to live open-handed so that God can lead you into the beautiful plan He has for your life.

Living a life of "Yes"

I have to confess. I have greatly struggled with finding the words for this blog post. And most of you know me well enough by now to know that being at a loss for words is not something that I am accustomed to. But time after time as I sat down to pen my thoughts, the words just wouldn’t come. To be honest, the Lord has been moving within my heart in so many ways over the last few weeks and months that most of the time it feels like a jumbled mess inside my head. And yet at the same time, I feel like I am seeing things more clearly than I ever have before.

It actually started a couple of summers ago when a few moms and I decided to do a summer book study by the pool. So we grabbed our books, our sunscreen and our kiddos and met to discuss it. While the kids splashed in the water, we were challenged and convicted about what it truly looked like to be a disciple of Jesus and to follow him in “Radical” abandonment. That summer something began to stir inside my heart and has been churning ever since. I have been constantly wrestling with the thought that there just seems to be more to following Jesus than what is proclaimed in America today. More than what my life looks like on a regular basis.

I live in a pretty “Bubble-wrapped” world. I homeschool my kids. My husband works in ministry.  Our friends are primarily other church-going, home-schooling families with similar ideals, values and standards. My parents, siblings and the majority of my family members are Christians. I don’t watch a lot of TV (except for Fox News, of course!) and have very little interaction with my neighbors. To be honest, I don’t have much meaningful contact with people that aren’t a whole lot like me. I find it very simple to surround myself with people and influences that line up with what I believe. It’s safe. It’s easy. It’s comfortable.

I go to church. I sing on the praise team. I help lead a small group of teenage girls weekly. I attend Bible study and co-teach the teen group. I go on mission trips and youth retreats. I read my Bible regularly and know it well. By most peoples’ standards, it would appear that I have this following Jesus thing down pat. And yet, I have to ask myself…is this really what Jesus meant when He said, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me”? Is this really what it looks like to live out the Gospel as a disciple of Christ? Don’t get me wrong…all of these things are good things, and even important things. And yet, I feel like Jesus has been whispering in my heart…there is more.

A couple of Fridays ago the Lord showed me a glimpse of what this looks like. That Friday morning I stood with a few friends on the sidewalk in front of one of Charlotte’s three abortion clinics. For two and half hours, we watched women, hurt, broken and lost women, walk in through a set of double doors to murder their babies. We pleaded with them to reconsider, to just come and talk with us. We offered them resources, support and kindness…and yet, one by one, they all walked through those doors. I don’t know that I’ve ever been able to tangibly feel evil and darkness like I did on that Friday standing on that sidewalk. It invaded my heart and my “bubble-wrapped” world.  It hung heavy in the air over a place where darkness reigns and Satan claims victory as he blinds eyes to see and deafens ears to hear the truth. But what I came away wondering is if his greatest victory isn’t in the death of those babies, or even in the destruction of their mothers, but perhaps it is in his ability to blind the church to their peril. I am often too busy doing “church” to actually be the church to a lost and dying world.

I think when Jesus said “Follow me” He meant for us to do more than sit in comfort and security. He meant to go into the world and enter into the suffering and brokenness around us. To do life with them. To love them in spite of the fact that they may seem unlovable. To step out of our comfort zones and into the reality that there are so, so many out there who truly have no hope. And yes, it’s messy and dirty and inconvenient. And yes, it is costly. It may cost me my time, my resources, and my security. And, yes, it may even shatter my “bubble-wrapped”, comfortable life. It certainly cost Hudson Taylor, who in his desire to see the unreached people in China come to hear the good news of the Gospel lost a wife and multiple children. Or what about Katie Davis, who at 19 gave up college, skinny jeans and lattes, and the basic American dream to move to Uganda to share the Gospel and raise 13 orphan girls. Or how about Jim Elliott, who gave his life in the Ecuadorian jungle so that the Auca people might know the name of Jesus.

I can’t help but think that these people got it. Jim Elliott famously said, “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose”. He knew that the cost of following Jesus, whatever the cost, was indeed worth it. In Matthew Chapter 13, verse 44 Jesus tells us that “The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.”

Did you catch that? In his joy he sells all. ALL. Not some, not half, not most of, not everything except this one thing…ALL. The question I have been asking myself is, do I truly believe that He is worth it all? Is Jesus really enough for me? I can say that He is, but so often the way I live my life says otherwise. Because if He truly is enough, then I will joyfully give all that I have and all that I am to the task of proclaiming the Gospel in this world, however dirty, however messy, however costly.

At a conference I attended a few weeks ago, I heard a phrase that has been ringing in my head and heart ever since. Jesus just wants you to put your “yes” on the table. You don’t have to know all the details. You don’t have to know all the answers. You just have to be willing to say, “yes” to Jesus. Yes, I will follow you-wherever you lead me, I am willing to go.  And it may not look like Africa or a sidewalk in front of an abortion clinic. It will look different for us all. He just wants us to say, “Yes, Jesus, you are worth it”.

And so that’s where I find myself today, standing at the edge of a precipice, looking out into the vast unknown before me. And I have to admit that I am afraid. I like my bubble-wrapped world and the safety and security that it offers. But I find that more and more I am becoming more afraid of not leaping- of not putting my yes on the table. David Platt said it this way, “My biggest fear, even now, is that I will hear Jesus’ words and walk away…content to settle for less than radical obedience to Him.” And I don’t want to settle…I don’t want to miss all that the Lord can and will do with my simple “yes”.  And in my flesh I know that this won’t be a one-time thing. I may have to say it over and over again, every day, every hour, every moment. But more than anything I want to know that when I come to the end of my life and look back that I will see a life characterized by saying “yes” to Jesus and believing that He indeed is worth it, whatever the cost.

Don't miss it!

So often I miss it. I get too tied up in the day to day “to dos” to see it right in front of me. I rush around, hurrying from one activity to the next, completely oblivious to it. In fact, most of the time I get caught up in complaining about little things or distracted by minor inconveniences that I have the audacity to label as “problems”.  And there it is; right in front of me, all around me, God’s grace.

Grace. An undeserved gift. Oh, how my life has been characterized by this blessing! It’s there first thing in the morning when I open my eyes to the sound of children laughing and playing across the hallway. Or right beside me in a husband who knows me fully, flaws and all, and loves me unconditionally. It’s all around me in a home that provides shelter and food to fill our bellies. It’s in the squeals of children enjoying the beautiful spring weather at the park and the companionship of girlfriends to do life with. It’s in the sound of my feet hitting the pavement and the quickness of my breath in a body that is healthy and strong. It’s in the freedom to homeschool my kids and teach them about Jesus, openly and without fear. And I could go on, and on, and on.

And yet, how often I miss it. Satan is the master of distraction, of causing us to look around at the brokenness and chaos of the world rather than looking up at the One who with a whisper stills the winds and waves. And when I take the time, I realize that His grace is also in the midst of the storms. How often He has used them to shape and mold me, to make me more like Jesus. Oh, that He loves us too much to let us persist in our wandering! That He will send the trials to turn our eyes from worthless things and back to Him.

 I am so thankful that this morning as I sat quietly in my bed with the Word, He showed me a clear picture. One not crowded with lists and schedules or silly trifles that claim my focus. But One of His making. As I began to praise Him for who He is and what He has done, I was overcome with gratitude.

Perhaps the undeserved gift that I miss most often is the greatest one of all. The gift of my salvation! “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me!”  1 Peter 2: 9 says “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness and into his marvelous light.” Oh, how sweet the sound of grace to a sinner like me.  To know that no matter how great the joy here on earth-the smiles, the laughter, the shelter, the love- it is a mere shadow of the joy to come for the believer!

I know the storms will come. I know the trials are waiting. But today I am thankful for a season of “happy”.  And I am thankful that though there will be valleys that we must walk through, His grace is just as sufficient in those times and joy is possible always in Christ. And the seasons of “happy” are just grace upon grace and mercy upon mercy. How loving and faithful our good God is.

This is It!

I've been thinking a lot this week about the true meaning of Easter. Even as Christians I'm afraid that the glorious resurrection story often gets overshadowed by bunnies, spring breaks and family gatherings. Church on Easter can become just another thing to check off the Easter "to do" list. And let's be honest for just a minute here. Those of us that have grown up in church have heard this story just about a million times. And whether we want to admit it or not, during the hectic pace of the Easter holiday, we can lose sight of what truly matters.

I don't want the Gospel story to be just another story I know or Easter to be just another holiday we celebrate. To borrow the phrase being used by our church for this Easter weekend- This is It. If we miss this, we miss everything. This is it. Not just the point of this weekend or this holiday, but the very point of our lives. Without the cross, without the empty tomb, there is no point.

As Christians our lives should revolve around this one moment in history. If we really understand the Easter story, then our lives should be radically different. Since the moment Adam and Eve fell into temptation and disobeyed God, their gracious Creator, sin has reigned on this Earth, and all men since have been separated from God, deserving death as their punishment. ("For the wages of sin is death" Rom 6:23) But God, being gracious toward us, sent His Son to come and live a perfect, sinless life and to bear the weight of our sins. He took the punishment we deserve upon himself on the cross. God-in the flesh bore the weigh of wrath that we deserved. ("But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed." Isaiah 53:5) But the best part is what happened next. Because Christ was sinless, the perfect, spotless atonement for our sins, death could not hold him! ("God raised him up, loosing the pangs of death, because it was not possible for him to be held by it" Acts 2:24) And now through his resurrection, those who turn from their sin and themselves and trust in him will NOT suffer the punishment of death as we deserve. No, we now have life! ("But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ-by grace you have been saved." Eph 2:4-5)

I don't know about you, but this makes me want to jump out of my seat! Even as I read this I am overwhelmed by the goodness and mercy of a God that could love us so much! And truly for the believer the best is even still yet to come one day when our Savior returns! So, I don't want Easter to be just another story...truly, how could it be??? It is THE story. The greatest story ever told. So I want to share it. I want to live it. And I want my children to know it.

So as I pondered how to show them the greatness of this story, I found an idea on Pinterest (of course!) that I thought would be a great way to emphasize this to them. Last year we made resurrection cookies and I thought that they were a wonderful reminder of the beauty of the Gospel. This year I wanted us to  share the Gospel with others. I mean, if we truly believe this good news, how can we keep it to ourselves? So thanks to Pinterest, here's what we did.

  We filled our eggs, making sure to leave 1 empty!

Then, armed and ready, we headed out to the neighbors!

This is what they will find when they get home today!

What a simple and fun way to share the Good News...That He is Risen Indeed!

"But the angel said to the women, ' Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay.'" Matthew 28:5-6

Empty Hands

This past weekend I attended a conference given by one of my very favorite mentor moms, Sally Clarkson. I was "introduced" to Sally the summer before I began homeschooling. I read her book "Seasons of a Mother's Heart" and it profoundly impacted me as a mother for many different reasons. So when I had the opportunity to hear her speak, I knew I had to be there.

There were so many wonderful things spoken at this conference. The wisdom, the beauty, the truth and love poured out by Sally and the other speakers was truly life-giving to my soul. I wish that I could share all of it here. I could list the things that I found most memorable or tell you the LONG list of things I feel like I need to do or not do now as a result of this conference. But as I have been processing this weekend, I have realized that would be the most dangerous thing for me to do. You see, I am very pragmatic. I love systems, lists, schedules, goals, and practical applications. I am always coming up with a new system for how to discipline, to keep my house clean, to plan meals, to organize my closet, my home or my life! There is a great temptation within me to come away from a conference like this and set out a plan of action...a way to implement all the changes I want to see in my parenting and in my children. But there is a huge problem with this. A pragmatic approach to my motherhood ignores the truth at the core of it all. I can't accomplish what I truly want to see in the lives of my children.

When I look at my children, I have to confess that I have no idea how to be the type of parent that I believe God wants me to be. I know the type of Biblical mother that I long to be, but I feel completely incompetent and unqualified for the task. I feel formless, void and empty. I don't have a reference for what that looks like or a model to look to as a guide. And the enemy knows it. He whispers to me that I am not qualified, after all, I have made so many mistakes. He tells me that its too late, that my children are too old.  He reminds me of my many fears, flaws and failures. He points out that I have very little to offer that would benefit my children. And the truth is, he's right. But there was one moment at the conference this weekend  where Sally referenced that story of the little boy who brought his 2 fish and 5 loaves to Jesus. You all know the rest of the story. Jesus took his meager offering and miraculously used it to feed over 5000 people. I think that's how it is with us. We may be unqualified. We may not have the background, resources or ability. We may be scarred, wounded and broken. But He is able. When we bring our shortcomings, our failures, our insecurities, and our brokenness to Jesus, He is able to take them and make them into something worthwhile. I may not have much to offer, but when I place all that I have and all that I am in the hands of Jesus, He multiplies it and it becomes more than enough.

The truth is the more that I think about it, I have nothing at all to give Him....just empty hands. But when I come to the end of me, that's when He is able to step in and do something miraculous. After all, He is a God that specializes in making something out of nothing and making beauty out of dust. So, I won't make lists. I won't come up with a plan. I will just press into Jesus. I will abide in Him. I will offer up my empty hands and trust that He will fill them. I will place my children into the capable hands of Jesus because He indeed is able.

There are no words

Over the last few days I have read several blogs, articles and posts from bloggers and friends all trying to make sense of Friday's tragic events. The writers, all trying to sort through their own feelings and emotions, offered words of comfort, advice, wisdom, or even condemnation towards other's responses to the horrors of Friday. Writing is therapeutic, so I could understand the need to try to sort through emotions and form them into some type of order in the midst of chaos, to try to make sense of sheer madness, to try to cope with grief completely unimaginable, to try to find a way to prevent something like this from ever happening again. And yet even as I understood and felt the need to myself to put pen to paper in order to work through the myriad of thoughts swirling chaotically in my mind, no words would come.

How does one even begin to express grief so great? Are there words truly adequate enough to convey this type of loss? When I first heard the news on Friday I was on my way home from lunch with a dear friend. And all I could think of was that as we sat laughing and making merry, children lay dying. 40 parents in Connecticut were being told the most unimaginable, horrific news possible. And there were no words. I wanted to cry, to shout, to make sense of it all somehow and yet as I opened my mouth, all that escaped was a deep moan that I didn't even recognize as my own voice. And then one word. Over and over again. It was all I could say. "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus."

I so admire the Godly men and women who have since Friday been articulating the truths found in Scripture that we so desperately need to hear right now. God IS good. God IS in Sovereign. God is NOT the author of evil. God can use anything, ALL things for good. And yet as I KNOW with every fiber of my being that these things are true, in my humanity, I don't understand.  I don't understand how this could be good. How can it be ok that these moms and dads will never hold their precious babies again? That presents under the tree will remain unopened? How can it be ok that the surviving children have experienced terror that will haunt them for the rest of their lives? And as I wrestle with these questions and search for answers my heart groans again, "Jesus. Jesus. Jesus."

Friday night I couldn't sleep. I lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling. Taking it all in. Children quietly sleeping in their beds. The rise and fall of Matt's breath beside me. Even the gentle snoring of my dog on the floor by my bed. Peace, calm, quiet. And yet somewhere in Connecticut there were mothers who were probably longing to close their eyes and wake up to a different time, where the nightmare was gone, where their babies were safe. Tears, flowing down my cheeks at the thought of a grief so crushing. How would they survive this? And there it was again, like a whisper to my soul. "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus."

As a follower of Christ, I know the answer to the question most are asking. Why? Why did this happen? We live in a fallen world where sin has stained every heart, where every inch of this ground is cursed and broken. We shouldn't be surprised that it happened, and yet we are. Even as believers who know this truth, that the world is ugly and damaged, we can easily forget just how shattered it really is...until we come face to face with it ourselves. We know that children are starving in third world countries, that babies are being murdered every day just down the street at abortion clinics, that dictators are relentlessly killing their neighbors or their own people, that young girls are being sold into slavery and prostitution around the world, and yet we go about our daily lives: busy, happy, fulfilled, blissfully ignorant because its not on our own front door. Until it slaps us in the face and we can no longer ignore it. The groaning of the world around us; hurting, bleeding, crying out for release. "Jesus. Jesus. Jesus."

This season of Advent has been more meaningful to me in the last few days. Advent. Waiting. Eagerly awaiting  the arrival of the Messiah, the Savior. As we hang each ornament on our Jesse tree, my heart whispers it again, "Jesus. Jesus. Jesus." He is there in every story. He is there from the beginning. Coming to make all things new. And He has come. The great 'I AM' who was there from the very beginning. He has come in the flesh. Immanuel, God with us. And when He came, he took all of the sin, the brokenness, the loss and grief upon himself when he was nailed to a cross of wood. And death was nailed to that cross. And sorrow was nailed to that cross. And small caskets were nailed to that cross. And all of it that doesn't make sense to me in my flesh was nailed to that cross. And so I don't have to understand. I just have to trust.

Advent. Waiting. Yes, we are waiting. For He will come again. The One who was pierced for our transgressions, He will come to make all things new. And we will experience the full consummation of what He did on that cross. When the old order of things will pass away. No more tears. No more grief. Death, swallowed up in victory. "Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!"

So while I admittedly don't understand. While my heart still aches and groans with sorrow, I hold fast to the promise of Jesus. And He holds tightly to me. So, I don't need to know. I don't need to understand. I just need to know one thing. And there really are no other words necessary. Just one. "Jesus. Jesus. Jesus."