Brave Safe Loved

How I wish I could protect them from the evils of this world.

How I wish I could shelter them from any more traumatic events.

How I wish I could erase the pain from their past.

But I cannot.

Instead I can continue to point them to a Savior who never leaves us when the evil feels overwhelming. I can lead them to scripture when the past tries to consume us. I can show them through my actions a reflection of Jesus.

I cannot heal their hearts. But I have a personal relationship with the One who can. And thankfully, that is enough. 🤍

Have you ever felt crazy guilt for wanting a break from the medication and therapies and appointments and case workers?
You’re not alone.

Have you ever stayed up all night, hoping that your child will live to see the next day?
You’re not alone.

Have you ever dreamed of days before you knew the level of trauma that can live inside a person?
You’re not alone.

Have you ever rocked your toddler to sleep apologizing over and over for all the adults in their life who have harmed them?
You’re not alone.

Have you ever lost the words to pray so instead you just mumble “Jesus Be Near” over and over?
You’re not alone.

Have you ever wondered if you’ve made the right choice? If you can handle trauma parenting? If this path is too much? If someone else would be a better parent? If you could’ve prepared better or learned more or advocated harder?
You’re not alone.

This trauma parenting gig is hard work. And acknowledging that it’s hard is heathy. Acknowledging that we need Jesus to guide our every step and hold us because we are weary is necessary.

I don’t have the answers for all the hard in this life. But I’m mumbling over and over as I rock my heartbroken child “Jesus be near, Jesus be near, Jesus be near.” 💔❤️

Adoption. It’s all the things.

I think slapping a smiley face on my hand would be a vast disservice to everyone. I’ve been pretty open with how hard our adoption has been. How deserted we’ve felt. How angry and isolating and hurt we’ve been because of adoption. I’ve shared how poorly I believe adoption agencies are trauma informed. You know my pain with hurtful language and comments.

Yet, it’s not only those things either. We have seen redemption and blessings and healing. Our children are a great blessing and we are so thankful to be given the privilege of parenting them. Jesus has been faithful and shown us first hand how he desires adoption to be. There is such joy.

is so much more than a smiley face. It’s all the faces, all the time.

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

I’ve heard it again and again in different forms. Praise for our strength in this never ending storm.

“I’m amazed by your strength.”

Like somehow, just barely surviving is a feat to be attained.

I honestly feel like I’m in an underwater battle in the middle of the night and don’t know the rules. There is absolutely not a clue what I should be doing.

But Jesus promises that his grace is enough. He promises that his strength is made perfect in my weakness.

Where you see strength, I see a Jesus who hasn’t given up on me. When you see me fighting when I have nothing left it’s because Jesus sees my weakness and gives me His strength. Where you want to be amazed, I want Him to be glorified. There is no other way to survive these hits than proclaiming loudly the name of Jesus.

I dislike playing games. Card games, board games, strategy games. There is nothing fun to me about playing games. I could go my whole life and never play another game and be a happy human.

But. You know what I love? Connection. Attachment. Saying yes. Building a relationship. Seeing my children giggle and spend time with me.

It’s not natural to be selfless. I have a sin nature that wants me to say no to go-fish seven hundred times a week. I don’t love having to do the work of relationship building. But being like Jesus means doing things that aren’t fun for me, but necessary for our family.

This child will likely not remember these coffee and card game dates. But I hope he remembers a mom who went out of her way to build a relationship with him. ❤️

I am heartbroken and hurting and angry. This morning I was crying out to God and begging for my mustard seed of faith to be enough to sustain my family through this valley of fire.

Immediately the Holy Spirit pressed so clearly upon my heart: it’s not just my mustard seed of faith. We have a community of farmers with mustard seeds. This community is helping to sustain our family. I was clearly shown a field with thousands of people with tiny seeds in their hands standing in supportive prayers on our behalf. Even when I’m lonely, I’m not alone. And even when I’m heartbroken and cannot speak, your prayers are heard.

If you’re part of this farming crew holding mustard seeds of faith on our behalf…thank you. Thank you for holding us up and not forgetting our family. The Spirit so clearly reminded me how powerful your prayer is. My mustard seed of faith is enough for now. ❤️

Your child’s behaviors are not a direct reflection of your parenting.

Your true friends do not judge you based on your child’s behaviors.

Your child’s manic episodes do not define who he is.

Your worth is not defined by your child’s behaviors.

If you’re parenting kids from hard places, or kids with big feelings and big behaviors, or trauma consumes your home. Please hear me. Mom guilt is not biblical. It’s not healthy. It’s not the life Christ called us to. He asked us to parent hard kids, and asked us to rely on Him and Him alone for strength and wisdom and peace.

I know it feels impossible. Some days, if not most days, you have no clue how you’re still standing. It we cannot let the “what if’s” and decision fatigue consume us and define who we are.

You are a wonderful Mom. God has called you to this particular place in motherhood to show others how powerful and mighty He is. Rest in the promise that this season, it’s not about you, it’s not even about your kid, it’s about your Savior. ❤️