Default: Joy

Where have I been on this little space of mine for the last several months

So many thoughts, so many emotions and this is my most beloved way to express it all. With words on this blank canvas of a MacBook screen.

I have found over the past several months that when my thoughts are many, or should I say more than usual, the harder it can be to express exactly just what I feel. You know, those small squares that make up my life as seen through the scrolls (and sometimes trolls) of the social media world. That includes this blog, my own little corner diary of the cyber world.

I receive one question on Insta and Facebook more than any other. It isn’t always phrased exactly the same way but it always has the same face to the question.

Many different backgrounds. Maybe it’s the young girl. Maybe a single woman. A new wife. A mother juts beginning the new season of parenthood. Sometimes a ministry spouse. Sometimes it’s the infertile sister.

“How do I find joy?”

I know the answer, the only answer and it’s always the same. It’s Jesus. But there’s a big difference between knowing and doing. I know how to find joy but do I always look for it? And when I do look for it, am I looking in the right place?

No. As ashamed as I am to admit it, I don’t always find the joy even though I know exactly where it can be found.

Recently, I’ve found that my mind has been caught up in a fog. My mind has been on the receiving end of the emotions that seem to be residing in my heart.

Yes, I’m a Christian. Yes, I’m a Pastor’s Wife. No, joy doesn’t always come naturally. However, recently I have found myself on the receiving end of the encouraging words meant for another.

God has a special way of doing that you know. God has an indescribable sense of knowing exactly what our troubled heart needs and just when it needs it. You see, He cares about the littlest of sparrows and if He cares about them why should I ever doubt that my best interests aren’t always in His plan for my life.

I have no control over others but I do have control over myself. My words. My thoughts. My actions. My reactions. My joy. Or lack thereof.

God’s word tells us and on more than one occasion that by His stripes we are healed. I read that and immediately I find that my mind settles on physical ailments such as cancer, wounds, breaks, fevers and other sicknesses easily diagnosed and hopefully treated

But what about the hurts of the heart? The wounds that no-one can see.

He didn’t just take the stripes upon His back for the healing of the body, He took them for the healing of the heart and of the mind.

By His stripes are we healed, physically, mentally and emotionally.

A physical healing isn’t always obtained on this side of Heaven. But often times found in a Heavenly reward, granted by The Creator when the body is made whole, as eyes are laid upon The Savior for the very first time.

But an emotional healing, now that is one which can always be obtained on this side of Heaven.

I wish I could say that some thoughts, memories or even past situations could be erased from ones thoughts. Words better left unspoken could be just that, unspoken. That however is not the case.

Joy, though is always optional.

Joy doesn’t always feel like the most natural emotion to choose. Not when a veil of sadness feels as though it longs to consume the inner most thoughts and erase the peace that God longs to place within the spirit.

Joy doesn’t feel natural when hurtful words are spoke. It doesn’t feel natural when disappointments arise. It doesn’t feel natural when those the heart holds near are taken far sooner than the mind was prepared for. It doesn’t feel natural when the worst kind of diagnosis is spoken aloud. It doesn’t feel natural when the bill exceeds the bank account. It doesn’t feel natural when the arms that long for the weight of a baby are still absent of their desire. It doesn’t feel natural when loneliness knocks on the door. It doesn’t feel natural when the weight of pandemics and government issues seem to be ever on the arise.

It’s far more sensible for the heart to accept the default emotion of fear and doubt. Which is can feel far more easier than choosing joy.

I do believe my Biblical brother, Paul knew exactly what His Sister, Sarah, along with many others would experience many years after he found himself penning the letter to the church of Phillipi from a prison cell.

Contentment can be found in any state. Not geographically speaking but the conditions of life you may find yourself in.

And contentment and joy go hand in hand. Just like joy, lasting contentment can only be found in Jesus Christ.

Find Jesus, I mean truly find contentment in Jesus and joy is possible. Despite the circumstances of life, joy really is possible.

People cannot bring peace. Only Jesus. Things cannot bring satisfaction. Only Jesus. This, that, more and stuff cannot bring security. Only Jesus.

The sin nature of life has disrupted the beautiful plan of bliss that The life giver Himself has purposed for each and everyone of us.

I, as Paul have found that contentment (and joy) truly is possible in any state which I may find myself to be in the midst of.

Friend, hear me when I say that you were not created to live a joyless life. Life happens, but joy can happen too. Some things we have no control over, but we can control our joy.

It can be found in the faithfulness of God that I find myself waking up to every morning. As I pull my bedroom curtains open and the first rays on the morning sun smiles down upon my face, I’m welcoming the fresh dose of the new days endless grace. Unmerited. Undeserved. But most certainly welcomed.

It can be found as I watch the sparrow out my kitchen window, reminded yet again that if The Creator cares about the little animal, how much more He cares for me as His word reminds my weary soul.

It can be found in my hairs I find that old, time to be replaced hairbrush of mine. Why? Because God keeps track of just how many are still attached to my head. Who else could possibly know such a personal and intimate detail that belongs to me alone?

It can be found in the simple Psalm “Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation.”

It can be found in the knowledge that His love for me ran so deep, it ran red as my sins were washed away by the blood of the cross.

Because of Jesus, my reader friend, joy can be your default emotion.

Parenting From the Church Pew

If you were to ask me what my favorite topic to blog about is, it would hands down have to be church with children.

The importance of children in church.

I am a pastors wife, yes but I am also a mother in a pew full of children.

If an olympic award could be given for the record number of times a mother has gone to the nursery in a singular church service, every wall in my house would be filled with gold medals.

But, the season I am in right now of little distractions is just like any other season.

Quickly passing.

I find the season of tiny babies, evolving into toddlers, quickly passing into school age children.

I find the nursery rocking chair, quickly becoming a memory of yesterday as I somehow blink and see those tiny babies, growing before my very eyes.

Now, don’t let this particular blog hoodwink you.

Any given church service, you gonna find your girlfriend sweating like a pig on a July, Texas day while breaking up two of my boys while they apparently try out for the Jr. WWE on the church carpet.

More times than I can even begin to tell you, I leave service red faced. Feeling defeated, discouraged, while scraping my brain to remember just two words from my pastor husbands, sermon.

But there will be a day and it’s coming sooner than I even realize, that these babies will be grown.

And years from now, will I look back and regret a single moment of raising them on the church pew?

Absolutely not.

Studies have shown that a child’s mind is the most moldable in the first seven years of their life.

Children will be influenced by many things throughout their lives and the importance of regular church attendance, is at the top of my parenting to-teach list.

There will come a time in each of my children’s life when I will have no say so over the coming and going, what they choose to fill their time with and who they choose to have influence over them.

But right now, I do.

As a parent, I don’t know which path they will choose when they stand at the crossroads of life, one day.

But I pray they choose a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

And I know that today’s lesson will stay with them for all of their days.

Proverbs 22:6 “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart.”

My children will never be able to escape the knowledge of the love of Christ.

I can teach them many things, but the power of God that can be found in his sanctuary, among His people, is something that can be found at church.

The memories of Sunday school lessons with Sunday school teachers, is something I look back on from my years as a child, fondly.

My children are living those days, right now.

The sacrifice of time devoted to church attendance is something that God recognizes.

And He blesses.

The sacrifice of a frazzled mama, wrangling her babies into the church pew, is something that God recognizes.

And He blesses.

Anything that is done to honor God, will never be something that is done in vain.

Don’t wait until your child is out of the newborn phase to take them to church.

Don’t wait until the “terrible two’s” are finished.

Don’t wait until they can sit still, listen better or whisper quieter.

Now is the time to take them to church.

Teach them to kneel at the alter. Teach them to amen the preacher. Teach them to respect the pastor. Teach them to worship. Teach them about the body of Christ. Teach them to love your church family.

Teach them that God’s house of worship is Holy and sacred.

Teach them that our sacrifice of time is a small gift in return for the sacrifice of God’s only Son.

So yes, if someone asks me what my favorite topic to blog on would be, I could give many different topics.

But the topic of teaching children about a love that runs deep, for God’s house will always be at the very top of my favorite topic list.

Blessings, Sarah.

Motherhood in a World of More

I will never hold a doctorate in early childhood education and I will (probably) never write a book on how to navigate the mind of a tiny human.

I am no expert, nor do I claim to be, when it comes to parenting but I feel like I do have a few notches on my belt on the topic of navigating my house full of little people.

I have found in my short few years of living my life as a professional mother that the idea of needing more is not something that has to be taught. It comes naturally.

YouTube and their ever famous toy reviews, teaching this current generation that moderation is not good ENOUGH.

Not to settle until the garage is loaded with every ride on toy accessible.

Not to be content until there’s an in ground swimming pool with three slides and four diving boards.

There won’t be joy ENOUGH until each room of the house is loaded with the latest gaming system.

That a family vacation won’t be fun ENOUGH until we visit Disney every year.

That a family birthday party with a homemade cake isn’t adequate ENOUGH.

But, it isn’t just YouTube with children.

More is something that I find myself struggling with from time to time. Pretty often, actually.

Facebook and the ad’s that are continually popping up, if you simply think about something.

Instagram and the homes and clothing and lifestyles of influencers that seem so out of reach of our humble bank accounts.

Your living room decor doesn’t have to contend with the cover of Southern Home’s, to give you comfort from the elements.

Your cooking abilities don’t have to win The Next Top Chef to leave the belly’s around your kitchen table feeling happy.

Your favorite cozy sweater doesn’t have to be the same cozy sweater that is selling out on every website.

You don’t have to “add to cart” to be worthy.

You don’t have to choose next day shipping to compete with someone you’ll probably never meet.

Every child in the family doesn’t have to color coordinate on Sunday in order to snap that picture.

A family stayca can make just as many valuable memories as an exotic vaca that leaves you reeling in debt.

And a cozy little Christmas tree can give your child just as happy of a childhood as garland hanging from every wall in the house.

Paul penned the forever, famous words he wrote to the church of Philippi, while sitting in a jail cell for preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ.

“Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.” Philippians 4:11

Wow. Convicting, aye?

A guy who had been thrown in jail for something he should’ve been praised for and here he is, not complaining but writing to encourage others that joy can be found in any state.

It can be found anywhere.

Contentment isn’t something that chooses you, you choose contentment.

And you can find it in any home, with any decor (or the lack thereof.)

Contentment isn’t found in a BOGO deal, the clearance section or in a package delivery.

It can’t be found in what you don’t have but it can only be found in what your heart already does have. In the blessings that are at your fingertips.

So mama, before we can ever begin to teach our children that more and things and stuff, does not or can never equate to lasting satisfaction, may we strive for that knowledge take root deep within ourselves.

Inside the Anxiety of the Pastors Wife

Maybe it’s because of shame.

Maybe it’s because so many Christians feel as though committing yourself to a relationship with the Creator of souls, does away with normal human feelings and emotions.

But being a Christian doesn’t make you a super hero. It doesn’t cause you to suddenly inexperience, well, life.

And then maybe it’s because people simply don’t like to talk about or they don’t know how to address it.

Experiencing anxiety doesn’t make you any less of a Christian.

But if you’re a Christian and you experience anxiety, know that you do not have to live in a continual state of anxiety.

I experienced it, the night I found out my mom had cancer. I experienced it, while in the waiting room of her bone marrow testing. I experienced it before I walked back to her first round of chemo. The moment before my sister literally shook me by the shoulders and told me I had to be strong. I experienced it, walking out after that same chemo session, as my sister and I held our mother up on each side.

I experienced it the night I realized I was miscarrying our second child. I experienced it at the doctors office when I was told I was no longer pregnant. Again, when I was told I was pregnant and yet again, when I was told I wasn’t. I experienced it with each pregnancy I had, thereafter. Worrying that each baby would meet Jesus before they would meet their mother.

I experienced it when our three year old daughter lay lifeless, without answers in a hospital bed. I experienced it when she was vomiting sixteen times a day. I still experience it when I hear her make a whining sound in her sleep, so scared that I’ll relive those horrible months, again.

I experienced it during two seasons of my life, that were completely out of my control, tore my heart in two.

I have experienced anxiety and I am not afraid or ashamed to talk about it. Because many others who have experienced it or do experience it need to be assured that they are not alone. They need to know that they are not a “less than” Christian for experiencing what is a human emotion.

This year, the year 2020 has been one of unknown like never before. This pandemic. The government. The economy. The election. So much unknown.

When quarantine first took place, I found myself losing sleep. Not just one night but many nights. Our children attend public school, which has come along with a whole category of its own worries and questions. More than enough for this mother’s heart to grow weary in wonder.

But God.

He has been and always will be the ultimate balm for my anxiety filled heart and mind.

He was the God of my yesterday and I wholehearted have confidence that He will be the God of my tomorrow. But, I can’t overlook that He’s the God of the right now. The very moment I’m living in. This moment of unknown, uncertainties and unanswered questions.

What would faith be if I had all the answers to the tough questions? What would trust be, if I never had a worry?

I must place my unanswered questions in the hands of God, for my heart, my mind and my mental health.

He held yesterday in His palm and He holds tomorrow but I need to remember that I am resting in that same big hand, today.

Binding the Broken

Hey Sarah, why do you talk so often on miscarriage and infertility?

You may ask yourself that sometimes and maybe I would too. If I had never experienced it for myself.

You know, some people just don’t need to talk about their emotions. They’re fine to think about for a bit and then move on.

But I am most definitely not one of those people.

I am not only emotional but just everything, I feel like hits me on such a deep level. I used to think it was a terrible trait but over the years, I’ve learned to embrace it and because of that, I have this blog that I pour my complete soul in through these words I type.

I’m not one for shoving pain under the rug. I’m not one to ignore heartache or act like everything is going to be just fine.

Because even though things may be fine one day, it just releases peace to my mind to unleash whatever hurt may have crept into the crevices of heart.

I’m here to let you know that you don’t have to just get chug along on your road to healing.

I’m here because I remember chugging along on my road to a recovered heart and I needed a few people along the way to load my train back up with some coal to get me over that mountain.

Embrace those who are closest to you. And I’m not just talking a hug kind of embrace but an emotional embrace of the encouragement they’re aching to give you.

Your spouse. Family. Friends. Church. And most definitely, your Creator.

You don’t have to hurt, alone. In fact, you shouldn’t hurt alone.

I remember my husband, grieving alongside me. The man who knows better than I know myself but yet, he just didn’t have the comfort that my soul was worn out, seeking for.

It was in the dark hours, literally and mentally, that my mind and heart found solace in the arms that are unseen.

Your very being may feel wounded, bruised and just downright exhausted but remember, it’s the wounded that no other but God can bind up.

“He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3

Growth of the garden

It stormed last night.

Sunshine one minute and thunder the next.

Wind, lightening, thunder. Everything short of the tornado touching down in my backyard.

Isn’t it just like the storm to disrupt the calm?

We needed it. We needed the rain. My garden needed it’s thirst quenched but it didn’t feel good. The worry over what would survive and what may not, didn’t feel good.

The unknown is usually like that.

If I’m honest, over the last few months, I have felt very real fear. The kind of fear that weighs heavy on the chest and keep’s one awake at night.

Fear over this unknown virus that seemed to appear overnight. Fear over being able to find enough food on the store shelves to feed my family. Fear of finding myself hesitant to go into a store simply because there’s such division in this world we call our temporary home. Fear over the future.

Fear over all of this. Fear over everything I find to be completely out of my control.

What is this madness that seems to surround me? This chaos that has over taken this world I was born into.

It’s nothing new but it seems to have erupted before my very eyes.

Identical to the storm that came in from the West and drenched my feet. Brewing Long and blowing steady, before it ever opened up from the heavens.

I find myself praying hard. Praying harder than before. Seeking refuge from the only truth I’ve found to remain constant. This conversation with my Maker can’t end. It won’t end until I receive the answer the answer my heart requires.

But here I am in the midst of the unknown yet I find myself growing.

This unwanted storm is fertilizing my fear’s, unknowingly in the best of way’s. But how can that be possible?

It’s taking my unwelcome call to fully trust in God, in the midst of this world filled with such chaos and it’s producing roots.

Roots planted so deeply in the garden of my Creator that these wind’s don’t feel quite so troublesome.

Storm’s are inevitable. They will come. The dark clouds will pass over my life.

The storm of fear. Confusion. Worry. Panic. Doubt.

But the rain can induce growth.

I find that I’m seeking shelter in the refuge of the Known while I’m standing before the unknown.

Growth is up to me.

If I fertilize with soil of the Spirit in the garden of my soul, I can flourish in the midst of the storm.

I’m choosing to growth. I am choosing to bloom in the peak of this storm.

I’m choosing put away the safety the umbrella has to offer.

It’s time to dust off the watering pail. It’s time to fill it to the measure of overflowing. It’s time to allow this rain to drench my soul.

The Downfall of the First Time Mom

There are no two children who are the same.

It’s something that as a mother you know so it’s time you start believing it.

As a mother, especially for the first time, it’s easy to compare your children.

“But that little one is walking, already.” or ” They’ve already cut their first tooth.” or “that baby is already saying words.” or “their baby is sleeping through the night.”

Comparison without realization.

As my daughter grows older I find myself comparing her school Valentine’s box to another, comparing the snacks I send in to school parties or comparing her academic level to another.

It’s ridiculous really and absolutely unfair.

Unfair to your child and unfair to yourself.

The unrealistic mind game that comparison can play is just that- unrealistic.

Because the reality is this, your child will enter the next  new milestone in their own time which is the perfect time for them.

I do not claim to be an expert in motherhood but I do know a thing or two as a mother of four and one of those things being the fact that life is short. The year of an infant, the few years of a toddler, the handful of years as a child and the many years of a teen, will pass before my eyes all too swiftly.

So go ahead and smack me across the face and call me unthankful if I am to be caught, sitting on the sidelines of my motherhood, holding the measuring stick up to my child.

Compassion truly can be thief of not only joy but also of a contented childhood so go ahead and fold that mental measuring tape up and shove it far back into that junk drawer of your mind.

 

The Part No One Talks About

“The bags under my eyes have bags” I told my husband early one morning.

A refreshing night sleep is at least two babies ago.

My seventeen year old self wouldn’t even recognize my almost twenty nine year old self who is very fragilely hanging onto my twenties by a thread.

It’s not always easy to remember that the days I’m living in truly are the best days I’m in when I can’t even remember if I ate breakfast and I know I haven’t touched my hair since the previous night before bed when I carelessly knotted it on top of my head. And not like one of those cute mom buns. One of those that makes me look like a founding father of America.

The days when I woke up and put on a neatly ironed scrub top is a thing of the past. I’ve traded those days for wearing the same t-shirt I wore to bed the night before.

And then I scroll social media. The vain of my mother existence as I look down at my forever mom pooch.

I’m lucky if my kids leave the house in a pair of the same shoes so the whole family matching is for sure a thing of the past. I remind myself of that as I wash the same load of laundry twice in a row and empty the dishwasher only when it’s time to fill it again.

Motherhood is messy. It’s exhausting. It’s chaotic. It’s emotional. It’s at times, overwhelming.

And it’s ok that you don’t cover that up. It’s ok to admit your tired. It’s ok to admit that you don’t always have your act together. It’s ok to embrace motherhood for what it is and it is ok if you’re not one of those Pinterest worthy moms but more like one of those Pinterest fail moms.

If you didn’t make your bed today, it’s ok. If you ordered pizza for dinner, it’s ok. If you didn’t fold the laundry that’s in the basket, hiding in the corner, YOU’RE OK.

If all you did today was love your baby, it was a productive day.

The Beauty of Imperfections

“Oh, the hypocrite that I am.”

That’s what I tell myself as I post yet another picture perfect moment. One of those pictures that I would compare myself to if I were someone reading this.

With the picture, I beat my heart in the form of these letters that make up the words that just don’t feel like quite enough to adequately describe this heaviness I feel to remind some woman or girl that you’re not alone.

I share my burden of encouraging other mamas, wives, girls and women in general when I so need the encouragement myself.

I stress the joy stealer of comparison, when I find myself once again doing just that.

I lay myself raw before you in these little squares of my life in hopes to prove that perfection is not needed for contentment.

I lay in bed only to read these words that I somehow laid before you, because I need the reminder that the woman I am is enough. The wife, mother, friend and person that I am is enough because I’m giving it all I’ve got and that’s what makes it enough.

I’m emotional. I care too much over the things that don’t really matter. At times, I wish for the clock to just move ahead so I can have a full nights sleep again and a day filled without meltdowns and tantrums. I feel guilt as I compare my style or weight to another when that very way of thinking goes against all that I share about.

So, I go ahead. I go ahead and click “share” and unload my heart for you and for apparently myself too.

And I remind myself once again, as I seem to do with each post that my imperfections do not make me a hypocrite.

My imperfections simply make me human.

The Secret to Being the Best Mom

The real reason why I post what I do is because it’s what I need to hear.

I wish I were one of those mom’s who always put their kids in matching outfits or made the little Christmas cookies with the Santa hats but that’s just not the kind of mom that I am. I’m kind of the just make sure you have clean socks and here’s the bakery cupcakes for the class party kind of mom.

There are day’s that I myself feel like I was too hard on my kids or may have expected too much out of them whether at the grocery, at a restaurant, at church or maybe even at home.

As supporting and uplifting as my husband and family are, there are day’s I feel like I’ve totally bombed as a mom.

I go to bed sometimes feeling SO guilty over a situation I think I could’ve or should’ve handled differently.

Sometime’s social media makes ME feel like I need to be twenty pounds skinner, have smoother hair or make all those pinterest worthy crafts for school projects and I just don’t want any other mama out there to ever second guess themselves like I do- more times than I care to admit. But here I am, admitting it for the whole world to read.

Some days I don’t have a lot of self confidence and I wonder if I’m everything my kids need and you know what that is? Total and complete whispers from the devil. That is nothing but a lie because I am exactly what my kids need.

And YOU my friend are exactly what your kids need.

Because God’s word tells us that we are not only fearfully and wonderfully made but we are made in His image. In the very likeness of God! The very same God that created every ocean and island, thought that this world wasn’t complete without one of you.

So don’t wonder for even one more second if you’re everything your babies need, because you’re all that and so much more.

You show them everyday that you are enough by just being there. Kissing the imaginary boo boo’s, rocking them, smoothing their hair, tucking them in, making sure they’re fed and clean and comforted is what they need from you.

They won’t look back and remember what that first grade Valentine’s box looked like or if you missed day of spirit week.

What they will remember though is that they were enough for you. That they made your life better. They’ll remember that they didn’t have to go above and beyond to make you proud. That you were just proud that they were your kid. They’ll look back and remember you gave them a safe haven of not only your home but in your arms.

You. You, just the way you are is enough for your babies.

And that my friend, is enough for the world of social media.