A resurrection story

Last year around Easter, I found myself compelled to poetry by Good Friday, that beautiful contradiction. 

This year, for whatever reason, I was inspired by the time in between Friday and Resurrection Sunday, when all the disciples had to show for all their learning was a dead rabbi and a hostile community. What would it have been like to walk home after Jesus' burial, anything but assured of his resurrection?

In particular I wanted to explore Peter's perspective, and the complex emotions that I'm sure he was wrestling with after Jesus' death. He wasn't just a passive observer of the event. He'd been intimately connected with Jesus, the only disciple recorded as being confident enough in Jesus to say that he was the Messiah. And even after all that drama, all that conviction, in Jesus' time of suffering, Peter had still denied him to preserve his own well-being.

It must have tortured him. Imagine the relief, then, when Jesus came back--not only justifying all the disciples' faith in him, but willing to embrace Peter as a brother and to empower him to share the fulness of the Gospel with anyone and everyone he could. What a comeback story. And what an encouragement to me it is to see Peter's cowardly yet all-too-relatable failure turned so magnificently into Spirit-driven fire. 

Without the resurrection, we're all stuck in our failures. But Jesus defeated death so you too could rise up out of it and become his champion. 

Saturday

The world was ending.

more precisely,

the world had ended yesterday

a few hours after noon—

the visible simply took time

to catch up

with the invisible.

The Truth, invisible to so many,

still cloudy, even to his closest friends,

had been marched to his death

only yesterday afternoon.

His body,

heartbreakingly human,

lay lifeless, empty as a shattered vessel.

His blood had been red as it poured out,

no more extraordinary than a loaf of bread.

What was it he had said? 

For you I am broken, drained. 

Remember me always.

And as he passed the bread Peter had thought,

I would sooner forget my own name 

than You.

But he had been wrong. In weakness he’d failed

even while praying for the courage to fight.

Now his one hope, his redemption was gone,

hidden away in a tomb

whose stone, rolling to seal it,

had lodged itself in his throat

and would never be exorcised.

Don’t be afraid, he’d said. I will return.

But it couldn’t be true. 

Even if it were,

surely Peter had soiled his portion.

That wine-red blood was on his hands.

And the rooster had crowed his death sentence

even before they had condemned his Christ.

What sacrifice could cover the shame 

so real to him now, 

so much more piercing than any fable of forbidden fruit?

No, the golden hour had passed.

They had killed him,

and he had died like any man.

The dawn of that Sunday

Peter’s mind was an island,

a sheer, desolate crag.

A place no miracles could grow.

Blasphemer or coward, he’d earned

his reward. 

Someone burst in the door–

doors still existed, even in a world at its end--

Mary had been running.

She stood, eyes bright with tears,

catching enough breath to utter two words.

Two words,

and Peter’s legs couldn’t take him fast enough.

Two words:

He’s alive. 

Happy Easter!

Pregnant again

Yes, we are having another baby! Our new baby boy is 17 weeks old and growing! 

And yes, this is a good, good thing. 

My husband and I are blessed with three children now, two who have been born, and we couldn't be more grateful for the love and support we have found over the last couple years in starting our family. 

After the first baby, a lot of things are different, and one thing that's stuck out to me in this most recent pregnancy is the change in tone when people find out. 

I just want to say this isn't a complaint. I'm very excited to have another new baby join the club, and I don't need others to validate me because I know all new life is a gift from God. But it's weird how the negativity seeps in further with each new addition. People will be happy for you, but there's a wariness to them. A fear that maybe this time the new baby won't be a blessing but a burden.  

I'm past the point of wanting people to say different things. Everyone's going to say something, and I shouldn't expect them to shape their though process to what fits my worldview best. There's been plenty said to me by the few people I told about this pregnancy early, and all of it varied widely--even though everyone in my life we shared our news with is supportive and wonderful.

I said before I don't want to expect people to change their words to suit me, and that's true. But I do think the way we talk about things matters. It matters because our words shape our perceptions more than we'd like to admit, and the words we hear from others operate in the same way. In our society we're accustomed to labeling children as a burden. When we Christians, who should know better than anyone what a blessing a baby is, who follow a God who has never said anything but positive things about children, start to absorb this worldview, it comes out even when we are happy about a pregnancy.

That's how you end up congratulating someone on a new baby and in the same breath saying,

"Children are expensive." 

"Pregnancy is traumatic."

"When are you going to be done?" 

"They'll be so close in age, you'll be exhausted!"

"Bet your husband is planning his vasectomy already!"

"I'm just glad it's you and not me."

These are all things I've heard people say to expecting moms (most of them to me) upon their pregnancy announcement. As if they feel compelled to temper their joy with a dose of reality. And I've been guilty of the same thing myself. Why do we feel we have to do this? 

I think life so often disappoints us that we feel the need to buffer our happiness with a layer of doubt. We stop ourselves from diving in to the joy of life because we don't want to be taken by surprise when things are hard. We project our own fears or struggles onto other people because we don't want them to suffer. We fear that if we experience joy too fully, it might seem to others that we don't see their hardships. 

This kind of thing is not only unhelpful, it's dumb. I say that from experience. It's dumb not to allow yourself to appreciate blessings, for any reason. It's dumb to let your anxiety taint the joy of others. It's dumb to look at a good thing and, because it isn't easy or because we live in a world full of bruises, to say that it might actually be bad. Good things are good, and they can be good even here.

Our mindsets need to change on this. Yes, having children isn't all rainbows all the time. Nothing is. That doesn't mean every child isn't a masterpiece handcrafted by God. 

If motherhood has taught me one thing it's that I can't control everything. I actually pretty much control nothing. And any time I start feeling it's my responsibility to ensure that everything is the way it should be for my babies, God sees fit to remind me that ultimately it is He who takes care of all of us.

He's taken care of me my whole life, and He takes care of my children. 

He takes care of the children whose mothers don't. Who've been abandoned by their fathers or shunted into the system. He watches over every soul on this earth, the forgotten, the lonely, the impoverished, the enslaved. He knows their circumstances better than even their parents could. And He loves them better than anyone. Children are precious to the Lord, their Creator. So how can I see them as anything but precious, a thing to be cherished, a gift to be in awe of every day?  

Not every mother can see this, or has ever even heard this truth about her children. But we followers of Jesus are ambassadors of His truth, His light. We should take this responsibility seriously, not using our words to discourage, but to uplift. 

You're worried a mama you know is going to have a hard time--so what? It's the perfect opportunity to ask her if she needs anything. To come alongside her and let her know you love her and her baby and want the best for both of them. To not discourage her by saying something negative. 

Next time you speak to a mama, encourage her. Affirm that her baby (or babies) are loved and created for a purpose. Rejoice with her! Let God open your heart to her. If she has needs you can meet, give generously to her family. We don't have to let joy blind us to need--we should joyfully participate in the will of God to meet those needs. That way, we don't keep our joy hoarded away, not to be shown. Instead we get to share it with others, and point to the One who makes our joy complete. 

Adieu, '22

Now that you're done barfing over my cheesy rhyme for the title of this post, let's get to the real reason you're here: to read a list about my favorite things from 2022.

My word for 2022 was INVEST. God showed His faithfulness to me in so many ways this year, big and small--I definitely deepened my understanding of the richness of investing in good things. 

I continued working for Christian Student Fellowship, and God opened so many new doors for us this year! I can't wait to see what He's going to do in 2023. 

My husband started work as a cable installer and it suits him well. I'm very proud (when I'm not worried about him climbing ladders mounted to cable lines). 

We got to meet our baby girl, the sweetest dang thing to ever grace the planet. She's a little burst of chocolatey sunshine. 

We updated our bathroom upstairs; my mom lent me her artistic know-it-all-ness to help me turn my vision of a Mexican-inspired mural on the wall into a reality. The bathroom is much improved. 

I started making my own flour tortillas regularly instead of buying them. Which, if you know me, should be pretty impressive to you because baking generally repulses me. 

We visited my in-laws in Western Nebraska over the 4th of July, and discovered that Lydia is a water baby--just like her dad. 

I turned 25. Now I can round up to 30!

I totaled my car a week after my birthday. No one was hurt (except my pride which probably needed a little shakedown anyway), and we were able to replace the car with one that fits our growing family a bit better. God redeems everything!

I had a sinus infection over the summer, and one day it manifested in a fever that made me and others around me question my sanity, but out of this came one of my favorite stories to remember and laugh hysterically at--when, in the car with a delirious me, my husband told me that he'd had the seat heater on all day (it was about 90 degrees out) thinking it was an air conditioner. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard than when the mystery of why he was so sweaty was finally solved. And I still laugh whenever I think about it. 

My sister gave birth to the muscliest baby boy I've ever seen, with the cutest little elf nose. He's a big sweetie.

We celebrated our 3rd anniversary with a huge slice of tiramisu. 

The babies and I watched Zac run his SECOND marathon!

Zac and I took our kids on a vacation to all the nostalgic haunts of our college days (they even got to meet a few of our old professors). 

My sister and I celebrated our first annual Hogsmeade Day, a celebration of all things (but mostly food) Harry Potter!

We went to the pumpkin patch not once but 3 times! And finally achieved a fall-themed family photo.

Lydia tried to eat at least a million pieces of fuzz off the living room floor (and only succeeded about half the time). 

We went trick-or-treating with the babies for the first time! Salem made a handsome mini mailman. 

Salem learned how to pretend everything is a car. Or a gun. 

My husband built me a wall of bookshelves in our bedroom as an early Christmas present. 

We used the kids as an excuse to go see a 40-foot-tall Christmas tree in a museum in town. 

My boy turned TWO. What a nutcracker this guy is (meaning he's nutty and full of wisecracks). 

Our family had our first Christmas morning since Salem learned what presents are, so that was the best thing ever. And it was a white Christmas, so I really don't see us improving on that. 

We took the kids to see my piano teacher and her friend's Christmas recital.

I got an iPhone after years of suffering with the cheapest phones available to me. So far, it's been worth it. 

Zac and I invited an insane amount of people into our home for a New Year's/Christmas party, the first of hopefully many more. 

For 2023, the word I'm choosing to focus on is GO. I pray this will be a year of courage, of action, of bold obedience to the Lord's call. 

Jude 1:22-23

"Have mercy on those who doubt; save others by snatching them out of the fire, to others show mercy with fear, hating even the garment stained by the flesh."