Our oldest, our sweet beautiful girl who flutters into a space with a gentle graceful presence just turned eighteen in January. The one who was gifted to us in a time when grief and joy mingled and became almost one melody. My much loved father-in-law’s heart ceased beating while my daughter’s boomed steady and strong tucked under mine. Our hearts were breaking yet we had to find the courage and fortitude to keep moving onward. In the span of less than two months, we shockingly lost our dad and soon to be grandpa having to release him into the arms of Jesus while simultaneously welcoming with open arms our daughter who held the fresh scent of heaven. 

In this trying time, we had to cling to one another and to God, our roots learning to sway and bend and weather the storm. In the early years of parenting, our roots were forced to dig deeper into the soil of God’s unending love and day to day mercy. 

Time is an interesting thing, it seems to creep by in some seasons and fly by in others. All in all, time is fleeting and it is precious. In a matter of six years, our four oldest children will be adults and our little Hope will be a teenager. This season holds in it both grief and joy, converging into an achingly beautiful song. 

I feel that I am living in the delicate balance of remaining present and steadfast as our children go through the ebbs and flows and growing pains of childhood and early adulthood while also providing space and freedom for them to learn to spread their wings and prepare to fly. To allow each of them the opportunities to succeed and possibly even fail while also the assurance that we are here to love, support and encourage them no matter what comes their way. 

To mark the beginning of this new season, we have decided to plant a tree, a saucer magnolia. These magnolia trees are not evergreens like the familiar ones we see with white blooms in late Spring. They are instead deciduous, shedding their leaves in the Fall. At the first signs of Spring, this tree still winter bare proclaims its splendor with a punctuation of bright pink flowers as if a flight of butterflies or a flock of birds has perched on its branches. 

We will plant our small sapling opposite its dignified relative, our seventy plus year old rambling evergreen magnolia. A path to our home between the two trees and a front window view of the newest addition’s beautiful bright Spring blooms. Currently its tender root system can fit cupped in the palm of my hands. We will tend and protect this tiny treasure as it adapts to its surroundings and establishes a healthy root system. 

Audrey Hepburn was quoted with saying, “To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.” A saucer magnolia is estimated to be at full height and breadth in about twenty years and I can imagine our family tree also growing in height and breadth. I can envision our future grandchildren growing up—playing, dancing, singing and reading under its branches. Sheltered by its shade and still awestruck by its Spring splendor.

My hope and prayer for you and for me, for my children and the generations to come is that like this new small sapling, our roots can become well established in God’s tender love and under His branches we may find shelter, solace and abundant joy. That even when the storms rage we can confidently trust that we are rooted and firmly held in His strong unfailing embrace. When life takes its toll, making us feel as if we are a caged bird who has forgotten their song, we can remember that we have been set free. Free to spread our wings and soar high on the current of our own God-given melodious song. 

“For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” Ephesians 3:14-21 NIV

“but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

Isaiah 40:31 NIV

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn. -O’ Holy Night

 Flame of Hope                    

A thrill of hope seizes and surprises me, a flicker of joy warms my weary soul. 

May this thrill of hope create a spark that ignites into a flame. 

May I become an illuminator, carrying my small flame to the dark and lonely places, the worn thin, weary spaces, the wounded and hurting faces.  

The darkness surrounds me yet Jesus, light of the world, has come to pierce and shatter the night. 

—–

May the thrill of hope create a spark that ignites into a flame.

I look and long for daybreak, with tender mercy He guides my feet into a path of peace. 

The darkness surrounds me yet Jesus, light of the world comes to pierce and shatter the night. 

I am a child of the light, born of God, His fire in me burning bright. 

—–

I look and long for daybreak, with tender mercy He guides my feet into a path of peace. 

May I become an illuminator, carrying my small flame to the dark and lonely places, the worn thin, weary spaces, the wounded and hurting faces. 

I am a child of the light, born of God, His fire in me burning bright. 

A thrill of hope seizes and surprises me, a flicker of joy warms my weary soul. 

—–

“because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace.””

Luke 1:78-79 NIV

“In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

John 1:4-5 NIV

This month marks ten years since I wrote my first post for Magnoliaheart. I began writing to share what was stirring in our hearts for adoption and to invite friends and family to join us on our family’s journey. 

Our daughter Hope has been home now for five and a half years. Her name really sums up the last ten years as we waited and prayed for her for more than four years and in bringing her home and all that has unfolded in helping her to heal and grow. Hope has grown so much, each new day she continues to surprise and delight us with her love and exuberant joy for life. 

It has truly been a journey of enduring hope, at times dark and uncertain, hard and heartbreaking yet we as a family have grown in strength and in faith. The addition of our daughter Hope has given our family the gift of much laughter and joy and we have learned to be more gracious and patient with ourselves and one another. 

I want to thank each of you for your continued support, prayers and encouragement through this last decade. This has been a gracious space for me where I have felt the freedom to come as I am and share my heart and our family’s journey. In sharing, I have discovered how much I enjoy writing and that it has been a hope-filled and healing outlet where I am able to work out my faith and learn to lean into God’s faithfulness and love more and more. 

I plan to continue to write as often as I am able and my hope and prayer is that you will continue to come as you are and that this space will be a gracious and welcoming place for you as well. May my overreaching message proclaim God’s goodness and the truth of who we all are, His beloved. 

From our family to yours, we wish you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! May your flame of hope burn bright and brilliant during this holiday season and in the New Year to come! 

If you are not on my mailing list yet and would like to receive my posts via email, you can subscribe by scrolling to the bottom of this post. When you sign up you will NOT be flooded with emails from me. Instead consider my posts as small surprise gifts from me sprinkled sparingly throughout each year.

I love hearing from you so if you’re stirred to do so, leave a comment by selecting the “Share your Heart” section below. As always, please feel free to share with a friend if you found this post to be an encouragement.

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More than a year before we were matched with our daughter in Bulgaria, God gave me her name. Our adoption journey lasted over four years from beginning our paperwork to bringing our daughter home. We had many mountain top experiences where we witnessed God provide for our needs in miraculous ways yet there were many valleys where the waiting weighed on our hearts and the darkness felt endless. Hope was hard to find at times yet hope was the shelter in which we lived under. It was the light in which we carried as a lantern, into the dark unknown valleys when our hearts ached, longing for God to lead our daughter home.

Many times, hope emerges from the darkest of places, from the grit and groining of an extended season of waiting. God gave me the name Hope after listening to this song. I had just come out of one of the lowest and darkest valleys of our waiting. The gift of her name was given to me right when the first signs of spring began to emerge from the cold bare ground of winter. In that moment, I felt seen by God and renewed in my waiting, more certain that His love and care were surrounding our daughter in Bulgaria.

The following Spring, when blooms and buds were bursting forth with new life, we received the long awaited call that we were matched with our daughter. In reading her reports, we discovered that the orphanage where she lived from birth was named Faith, Hope and Love Children’s Home. This knowledge gave us even more certainty that God’s plans are vast and His timing perfect. He was indeed sheltering our daughter inside the firm, unshakable shelter of hope, His relentless, unwavering love her one true home.

Now, more than two years after welcoming Hope into our home and family we are continuing to learn what it means to live firmly inside the shelter of His love and care. We have had numerous mountain top moments, so many milestones to celebrate yet the valleys have been deep and dark. I have filled out endless forms for assessments and appointments and when there are questions about Hope’s history, I can only write, “unknown”. There is so much of her past that is unknown and as I envision her future, I come against the resistance of uncertainty and fear.

Yet each day, I have a choice to make. Do I allow these fears to weigh me down, potentially crushing my spirit and stealing my joy? Or do l surrender all that I am not meant to carry and allow myself to live fully and freely, making my home right under the roof of my Father’s love?

When I look back on our adoption journey, I can see how God has provided in every way. When I reflect on how far He has brought our daughter, I am in awe of how much she has grown and the many ways she brings our family joy. When I remember that He created her inmost being, knitting her together in her first mother’s womb. He knows and tenderly holds each and every detail of her life, past, present and future. He has bestowed upon her a new name and a secure future in Him. When I think on these truths, I clearly see evidence of His faithfulness along every step of our journey. My heart again fills with gratitude, my strength and hope are renewed.

Faithful Father, you light the way when the path ahead is shrouded in darkness, when uncertainty lies around every corner. Your unfailing love gently leads me onward. Hope is never lost because in You, I am found. It is under Your secure, unshakable shelter that I discover my one true home. 

“Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I trust him

He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.”‭‭Psalms‬ ‭91:1-2, 4‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Note about pictures: It’s been a while since my last post so I wanted to share two mountain top experiences for our family from the last few months with you. The first group of pictures were taken on our late summer camping trip. Hope’s first time camping. She was so overtired but a very happy camper. 

The second group was taken recently on a road trip to Oregon. Our longest road trip as a family of seven plus Fritz. You can image our van was pretty cozy at best. We made a brief visit to Crater Lake and got to stay at a timeshare with an indoor pool!! So fun and a much needed getaway from the daily grind of at-home and online work, school and therapies.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours! I am so grateful that you are here, walking this journey with us. 

As a culture our default is to rush too quickly towards celebrating the joy of the resurrection on Easter without letting ourselves experience the full weight of sorrow that Good Friday and Saturday held. We can spend the days before Easter preparing for our Sunday best, put together, pretty, in plaids and pastels. Focusing on the celebration and forgetting the dark days of lamenting that preceded the new day dawning.

For our world, our country and our own lives, we can’t help but feel the weight of these dark, uncertain days that we face in a pandemic. We can’t shut our eyes to the despair and loss we see all around us. We all have something to grieve in this time, great or small—it all matters.

We may know intuitively that this too will pass, that we will at some point come back to a state of normalcy. Yet at the same time, we can not ignore the heavy sadness felt in the pit of our stomachs, the acidic regret that rises in our throats also knowing intuitively that life as we knew it, will never be the same again. This will mark us, this will wound us, this will forever change us in both hard and beautiful ways.

This grief we are experiencing, we would rather push it down and ignore it. Brushing it under the table so we can once again set our Easter tables. Our Sunday best, put together, pretty, in plaids and pastels for our friends and family to gather around.

This grief is not something to ignore and it is not something unfamiliar to Jesus. He is well acquainted with the deepest of grief. In John 11:33-35, we read that a deep anger welled up in Jesus and He was deeply troubled, weeping over the death of his dear friend Lazarus. 

Jesus, the fullness of God yet fully human, was deeply angered and troubled even though He knew the outcome. He planned on raising Lazarus from the dead yet overcome with sadness, He wept. He still allowed Himself to feel the depths of His friends deepest sorrow. He still felt the full weight of losing His dearest friend. This deep darkness before dawns first light foreshadowed the deepest and darkest two days in all of history that preceded the rising of a new and glorious morn. Jesus knew He would soon overcome death once and for all, yet He still wept.

Now in this time, our grief, great or small—matters to Jesus. He is with us in our grieving. He weeps and laments with us. We are held in the arms of the One acquainted with the deepest of sorrow. We can put aside our Sunday best and we can allow ourselves to just be held in the balance of both sadness and joy.

No matter the condition of our hearts or the mess of our lives. In our Sunday best, put together, pretty, in plaids or pastels or in our mismatched pajamas, still with sleepy bed heads—We will rise! Separated and sheltered in our homes yet united, gathered together in faith. Our truest joy found not in the absence of sorrow but in the deep and confident knowledge that we are firmly held and unconditionally loved.

“He was despised and rejected— a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care.” Isaiah‬ ‭53:3‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“When Jesus saw her weeping and saw the other people wailing with her, a deep anger welled up within him, and he was deeply troubled. “Where have you put him?” he asked them. They told him, “Lord, come and see.” Then Jesus wept.”‭‭John‬ ‭11:33-35‬ ‭NLT‬‬

This unknown, uncertain place that each of us finds ourselves in is unsettling, unnerving and most of the time feels unreal. As we face an unforeseeable future, we isolate against something that is unseen to the naked eye. We see the destruction, death and despair it has caused, around the world, in our country and in our communities, leaving no one unaffected. We feel and see the fear and unrest that this invisible invasion has created in our neighborhoods, for our family and friends, in our homes and in the beating of our own unsettled hearts.

How do we move forward when all around us there is this invisible threat living among us, holding us captive, taking up residence in our homes and hearts? How do we face another day when there is a microscopic enemy, lurking, waiting to attack, ready to steal our liberty and our very lives? This place we find ourselves in is a foreign and hostile land, where we feel afraid, lost and even abandoned.

Yet we are not lost nor abandoned, we are held and we are never alone. This uncertain time is no surprise to the One who holds each one of us, caring for and comforting the whole of this broken and suffering world.

God is with me,
He goes before me,
He will never leave me.

This I know with certainty and in this truth my heart begins to settle. I rest assured in the unchanging, unwavering love of my Father, Savior and Holy Spirit. Three in One, an unbeatable, unbreakable force, my ever present help in times of trouble. He surrounds me on all sides.

As we move into a Holy Week like no other one that we have experienced before, may we hold with hope the truth that Christ went before us. Jesus willingly suffered, died on the cross and rose on the third day so that the power of death would forever be broken. By grace alone we are not forgotten, we are never alone. We are set free, forgiven and redeemed.

With arms opened wide, He invites us in, welcoming us to follow Him. He has gone before us and He has made a way—ushering us into an abundant, eternal life in and with Him.

The words of Saint Patrick back in the 5th Century continue to ring true. This prayer has become a mantra for my days, my battle cry, a new cadence to keep time with. Quieting and calming my all too often fearful and weary heart. I hope and pray that these words will do the same for your heart.
May you go with God.

Prayer of Saint Patrick

I arise today
Through the strength of heaven;
Light of the sun,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of the wind,
Depth of the sea,
Stability of the earth,
Firmness of the rock.

I arise today
Through God’s strength to pilot me;
God’s might to uphold me,
God’s wisdom to guide me,
God’s eye to look before me,
God’s ear to hear me,
God’s word to speak for me,
God’s hand to guard me,
God’s way to lie before me,
God’s shield to protect me,
God’s hosts to save me
Afar and anear,
Alone or in a multitude.

Christ shield me today
Against wounding
Christ with me, 
Christ before me, 
Christ behind me,
Christ in me, 
Christ beneath me, 
Christ above me,
Christ on my right, 
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, 
Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through the mighty strength
Of the Lord of creation.

This year has brought with it many changes for our family that were both hard and wonderful. We have had heartache, last goodbyes, loss and letting go as well as celebration, warm welcomes, long embraces and new beginnings.

As the New Year approaches, I feel a thrill of hope rising up within me, one that I have not felt in sometime. I don’t mean the wishful thinking kind of hope. Instead a deep rooted hope that groins inwardly for that which has not yet come to pass while also waiting expectantly. A hope that rises up to meet the new day, believing that even on the darkest nights, the glorious light of dawn will surly come.

I see Him who is able to do immeasurably more than I can imagine, weaving His way through my own heart, renewing and restoring broken places. He feels so tangibly close. His gaze always one of kindness, understanding, delight and unwavering love.

I pray that whatever hardships you may have endured this year, whatever trails you are facing, whatever expectations you may have for the New Year, may you know deep down that you are not alone. Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us, is tangibly close. His gaze of sheer delight and unfathomable, unwavering love always on you. He is doing something new, weaving His way through our lives and our hearts. Bringing beauty from that which is broken.

May the truth of His birth, life, death and resurrection give you a thrill of hope that rises up from somewhere deep within. His love making way for something new, expansive and glorious.

Happy New Year with love from our family to yours!

““Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah‬ ‭43:18-19‬ ‭

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,” Ephesians‬ ‭3:20‬

“Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life.” Psalms‬ ‭143:8‬

“Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.”

One year ago today, we walked up the path to our sunny yellow house, carrying our newest addition. Our eyes heavy, overtired from twenty-four hours of sleepless travel across this great big world. Yet our heart’s were happy, hopeful, light as we opened our ocean blue door to a new season as a family of seven. Joy and celebration welcoming us home, embracing us in the arms of four eager siblings, their excitement pulsating from every pore.

Just nine days earlier, we made the journey across Bulgaria over sunflower kissed hills. On that happy day, we brought our daughter out from the the only four walls she had known into the glorious light of a future bright with possibly, love, new life.

These last twelve months have been packed full with laughter, love, living. Our daughter Hope bringing so much joy to our family. She radiates light, a song always in her heart. I can’t imagine our life without her. She is a rich gift that is celebrated each day in our home. Still unfurling, revealing more and more of her God given light.

These last twelve months have also been packed full with appointments with specialists and therapists. Hundreds of questions, filling both heart and head on how to best care for Hope’s needs. Doubts and uncertainty crowding out any peace over what the future holds. Fighting hard to see things for what they truly are in the here and now. Seeking out beauty in the mundane and messy moments. Rediscovering joy that has felt all but lost amidst a season where uncertainty and heartache also loom heavy.

Just beyond the dark clouds the sun still shines bright and constant. Joy can be fought for and found even on the darkest of days. Ones heart having the capacity to  simultaneously hold within it both sadness and joy. Jesus, the One aquatinted with our sorrow— ever present, always near, fighting for us, bearing with us. Our joy, our hope, our Victor. His glorious light shining, constant and bright.

“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.” ‭

2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

This last week we celebrated Hope’s birthday. I am so grateful to have her home with us, celebrating her birthday together as a family for the first time. There is so much for our family to celebrate. Hope has grown in every way and we are in awe of how far she has come. She has made great gains in every area of development. She continues to surprise us with new developments almost daily.

On her birthday, our family took great delight in watching Hope’s curiosity and joy in experiencing her first birthday celebration. Witnessing her face light up as we sang “Happy Birthday” to her. The cute, silly way she tried to blow out her candles with a little blow-snort from her nose. Her wonder and delight in eating her first bites of birthday cake and opening her gifts. She seemed to understand that this was no ordinary day—that this was her special day.

Yet, there is a seed of sadness with the joy that I feel. This is Hope’s first birthday with us yet she is turning three. I was not there to witness her birth or celebrate her first two birthdays. I was not there to witness her first breath, her first smile, her first tooth and many more firsts. She was alone without a life witness, without any celebrations over her birth and life, no gleeful delight over each new milestone nor silly and sweet stories told of her babyhood.

Adoption is both beautiful and bittersweet. It is a clear picture of redemption and restoration. Most of us want to believe in happily ever afters, I am one of them. Yet in the last year, I have become more keenly aware that there is also great sadness and brokenness within adoption for the child as well as the birth and adoptive families. Each age and developmental stage revealing new layers of grief and questions that may never have answers. With adoption, joy never comes without sorrow hot on it’s tail. I’m not saying this to harp on the negative, I’m only shedding light on that which is so deeply felt and experienced.

Through this journey, I am learning that it is okay to feel all the feelings, to carry both joy and sorrow together, each holding as much weight as needed. I am learning how to be more gentle and patient with myself, holding space for the mix of emotions that rise and fall.

I am taking heart, remembering that we have a Savior and Redeemer who bears witness to it all. Our Creator and Sustainer, our true life witness, from our very first heart beat to our very last. He places each star in the sky and has numbered and named each one. He knows each of us intimately, the number of our days, each tear that we have shed and every last hair on our heads. He celebrates with us, delighting in the wonder-filled moments. Yet also He grieves with us, carrying the burden of our deepest sorrow. With loving kindness, He draws near, gently holding and binding together all the broken pieces. In His time, He is making something new, something beautiful.

Verses that I drew from for this post:

“I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.”‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭31:3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name.”‭‭Psalm‬ ‭147:3-4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

“And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.”‭‭Luke‬ ‭12:7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.”‭‭Psalms‬ ‭56:8‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.”‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3:11‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.” Psalm‬ ‭18:19‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Our youngest daughter, Hope spent the first two years of her life in an orphanage, confined to only two rooms. From a lot of what we can see, we believe she spent most of those first two years confined to a crib with very little human interaction and physical touch. Her very basic needs were seen to but not much more than this. In every sense, she was only surviving not thriving, not growing, not experiencing the love, comfort and security that a family can give. Even the best of institutions can not fully provide these crucial elements that each child needs to truly thrive. My heart breaks to think of how alone she was.

In May of last year when we first met Hope, she gave us very little eye contact, she showed very little emotion. She was closed off to the world around her, a shell of a little girl—afraid of her own shadow.

I remember our first afternoon with her. I carried her outside where we were to spend time bonding with her. She began to softly coo with delight in feeling the warm sun and the gentle breeze on her face. From what we know this was her very first time outside. Her gentle cooing continued as she looked down at the rows of beautiful multi-colored roses lining the path to the playground. Her face changed from a blank expression, she became more alert and curious.

I reflect on our first playful interaction with Hope that day. I held Hope on my lap and Robert faced her, touching her gently with a textured purple ball, making funny noises and facial expressions. She began to laugh and not just slightly but from somewhere deep within, a true belly laugh. I began to cry because I was so relieved to see her smile and to hear her laugh. I did not realize until that moment how afraid I was, how I was almost holding my breath. What if this place had already stollen her joy, her light, her life?

Today, Hope is a different girl than the shadow of the little one we first met just over a year ago. She is always full of joy, laughter, chatter and movement. She loves exploring outdoors, delightfully discovering new flowers and plants. She enjoys interacting and is learning to relate more fully with herself, her environment and her family. She is curious and open to the world around her which is expanding more and more. She is learning to trust that she is safe. That she resides in a spacious place right here with us—where she is free to grow, to thrive, to find delight and to be delighted in.

Surrounded by love, she is blooming a little broader, smiling a little brighter, laughing a little louder, each new day.

Lord Jesus,
I breathe in, your love surrounds me.
I breathe out, your love knows no limits.

Your love is larger than life, a spacious place for me to grow, to bloom, to thrive. To think that you delight in me just as I am. Under your gaze—I come alive.

Thank you for being my safe and spacious place in a world that threatens to bind and break me. Amen.

In the last several months, I have felt the burden of too much, way more than I can bear alone. I have needed to find my very breath in Christ alone.

I share this podcast and this one with you. Both have helped me to gain new tools and a fresh perspective. The breath prayer is one tool that I am using when I feel anxious and when sleep does not come easy.

I hope and pray that you too will find a spacious place, a breath of fresh air, when this weary world weighs heavy. 

“I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”

Psalm‬ ‭27:13-14‬ ‭

Before our last winter of waiting, I planted fifty daffodil bulbs. I kneeled on my hands and knees, digging holes deep, my fingers sinking into the cool soil, a therapeutic balm of sorts. As I broke earth, I prayed, hoping that this would be our last waiting winter. Little did I know that the approaching season would be my darkest one yet. Darkness so heavy, pressing in on every side. Finally, when the spring blossoms were nearly fading and the warmer days were upon us, God made a way. After such a long wait, Hope was coming home!

Daffodil shoots are now beginning to sprout from the still cold and broken earth. Their yellow smiling faces proclaiming and reminding me that a new day has come, new life and hope blooming bright in this place.

Our long winter of waiting has come to an end yet waiting never seems to really end, not this side of Heaven. The tension between the here and now and the not yet glory of our promised eternity, this is our current reality. In this tension, I find myself often restless, weary and worn, waiting in big and small ways. There is a constant undercurrent, a yearning for things unseen.

In mothering a daughter from a hard place, I am learning that it is a slow process of healing and forming healthy attachments. Hope is still unsure of what a mother is, uncertain what a family looks like. She is building her trust gradually, one step forward, two steps back.

At times, she is receptive to my affection and at other times she pushes me away. I’ve been surprised at how emotionally trying this process has been. How raw and vulnerable I feel. I do my best to hold on to the sweet cuddly moments, trying not to let the times when she pushes away effect me too deeply. She has come so far yet fear constantly creeps in and grips me. I wonder, will she ever fully trust, allowing herself to love and be loved.

Just in the last week, Hope has begun to call me her own version of Mama. Every now and then, I’ll pick her up, she’ll cuddle in, gently patting my back or touching my face and she’ll say, “A-Ma, A-Ma”. I have waited so long to hear her say this, a small yet mighty name, packed with so much meaning. In this simple act, I know that she is beginning to understand my love for her and the place I hold in her world. These sacred moments cause me to pause, my heart soaking it in yet sinking a bit, thinking to myself, “Oh, daughter of mine, how long you’ve waited for me.”

We each wait for Spring in one way or another. We watch for signs of new life and  brighter tomorrow’s. We hope in things in the not yet future. We pray for healing, a God-sized miracle.This is the tension we must embrace. Our hope not resting in only what we can see but in that which is unseen.

One thing I do know for certain, I am not alone in my waiting. There is One who sits with me in the tension, holding me in the balance, gripping me tight against the undercurrent. He goes before me, preparing the way. Bringing forth new life and beauty from the wounded deep and buried dark places in my heart. The difficult and impossible relationships in need of mending.  The desires and the aspirations not yet realized by those whom I love most. He sees and knows the deepest stirrings of my heart.

Jesus is at work in the waiting. The seasons are turning, buds of hope unfurling for the waiting, watchful eye. Spring is on it’s way!

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:16-18‬ ‭