Your Lighthouse

I love lighthouses.  Their history, beauty, courage and tenacity.  How they stand strong on solid rock as waves of crashing water and foam circle round.  A pillar of strength, set in place to provide warning and guidance under the stars.

If we are the LIGHT of the world, then wouldn't it be true that our homes are a lighthouse?  That we carry a torch, a flame, a hope in the darkness?

As of lately, in many places and spaces, fear, anxiety, shame, guilt, worry, and confusion threaten to extinguish the flame.  We see and hear the scrambling, the exhaustive running, the disabling lies.  We talk to those that are breathing scared, feeling lost and lonely as the waves overwhelm.  What do we do?  How do we keep rising above the waves?

Simplicity is a quiet teacher.  Slow, small, humble.  Partnered with the holy pages, her discipline breathes life into the little things.  The seemingly insignificant things.  Her wisdom tells us to do the thing before us, even if that thing is picking up a dirty sock from the floor.  To wash that dish, brush those teeth, hold that hand, call that friend, be still and know.  Every little action matters and is celebrated as we commit to put one foot in front of the other.

If we want to test the recesses of our heart, we stay home to discover what we are hiding from the world.  And as keepers of the lighthouse will tell you, it takes time and perseverance to live on that rock, to stay committed to the post.  To realize that loneliness is only lonely when we forget that we're not alone.  To build trust that the walls are strong enough to endure the ferocious, violent winds that twist and scream outside.

HOME.  Take time to shelter the light today; to give it heat, fuel and oxygen.  Most importantly?  Remember, your fight to keep the flame burning is not alone!  That you, brave keeper of the LIGHT, are more than enough and that shining bright from where you are is piercingly courageous!

Written by Finding Simplicity Farm -- find them on Instagram @findingsimplicityfarm.

He Is Enough

It would seem that the theme of motherhood for me has been the realization over and over again that
I am not enough.
And that’s a good thing.
I will never be everything my children need, or even want.
I cannot protect them from every hurt and disappointment.
I cannot and will not because of one simple reason.
I am not God.
That place of finding complete satisfaction, safety and fulfillment is reserved only for Him.
The most freeing feeling for me right now as a mother is knowing that He is enough not only for me, but for my children!

Written by Katie Millen, mama of three little beauties.

Praising for Pieces

There are days that God reveals a lot about His workings.  You probably know what I'm talking about -- the days when He brings many things together all at once and you sit back and marvel at how good He is.  When multiple areas of your life suddenly have clarity, and you see how those seemingly-unconnected areas actually do meet at some point. 

You wonder when He'll let you in on what He's doing; when He'll show you the reasons behind things He asks of you and situations He leads you to.  When you'll see the bigger picture.

And then you have a day when suddenly so many things make sense, and you bask in His glory.  You're overwhelmed by His goodness and thoughtfulness. 

More often than not we want to see the whole picture.  We want to know the whys and the why-nots and the reasons we're involved in what we're involved in with the people who keep showing up.  We search for answers in prayer and the Word and through mentors -- but it's always His timing that reveals.

And I have to wonder, what would happen if we actually knew all that He knows?  What would take place in our minds and hearts if we knew all the whys and the why-nots?  Maybe you have a different story, but God never reveals everything to me.  He gives me pieces; pieces of varying sizes depending on the season, but pieces nonetheless.  What if He gave me more?

I don't think I could handle it.  As it is, the pieces He does give overwhelm me.  They cause me to physically stop moving and allow my mind to think in gratefulness.  There aren't words to express, no arrangement of letters that seems adequate to thank Him or appreciate what He's done.  He goes above and beyond.  My heart swells to exploding and I wonder, Could I really handle any more? 

I may want more -- and surely, if He gives bigger and bigger pieces I will readily accept them.  But He gives the right balance every time; enough to overwhelm while keeping my mind in a functioning state.  Too much and I may pass over it all in fear of missing it all.

He gives pieces to bless us, to grace us, to grow us, to strengthen us.  Pieces He desires we'll hold onto and remember.  When those pieces come, He wants us to take the time to bask in them and thank Him even if we can't find the words.

"Come, let us bow down in worship,

let us kneel before the Lord our Maker;

for He is our God

and we are the people of His pasture,

the flock under His care."

Psalm 95:6-7a

Written by Amy Parsons

The "Why's" in Motherhood

(I wrote this article a last year, when our first son was a little older than one.)

Some days I wonder why.  Why my life looks like it does.

The past four days or so have been rough; Levi came down with fevers and couldn't sleep, which means we all haven't had good nights of sleep.  His fevers stopped but a rash showed up - little pink/red spots all over his body.  His throat has been hurting and he hasn't been eating.

The fevers started in my body and wiped me right out.  Now, as I sit on the couch with a burnt out overhead light and cold rain falling outside -- I too have the little pink/red spots.

I sit here questioning, why.  Being a mother is hard work; I didn't know the full extent of the work until I was in it, which is a good thing.  It's exhausting.  It's so many days of being home, just Levi and me, trying to be creative and get his juices flowing and help him learn.  It's lonely.  It's constant housework, cleaning in circles, trying to relax when things break and little hands put foreign objects in places they don't belong.  It's going to parks and playgrounds and seeking out venues that may have other children he can play with.

It's a separation from life before.  I think maybe this is the hardest part.  So many times I ask God why He surprised us with a baby so soon.  We wanted kids, absolutely, but we wanted some time first.  Time to get to know each other as married people, instead of just dating; time to explore and go on dates and have a flexible schedule.

For the most part, our friends and former classmates are still in the single/dating phases of life.  Many of them are traveling the world, going to parties, having dinners out, going on road trips at the drop of a hat.

And here I sit next to a pile of toys strewn across the floor, having just scrubbed the bathroom down.

I traded the traveling and exploring for kid's museums and loud playgrounds.  The dinners out are so few and far between; instead, we try to convince a toddler that green food is okay and I rarely spend an entire meal in my seat.  The orderly, cohesive home I started out with quickly became overrun with toys -- toys that have even made their way to centerpieces on the coffee table.

It's only been a little over a year, and I wonder if maybe this parenthood thing is a lifelong adjustment -- it's not a one-and-done thing the moment your child is welcomed into the family.  Your heart and your mind and your strength rise and fall with the ebb and flow of this new life.

It's a new life that many of our friends can't relate to; and we can no longer relate to theirs.  It's the separation that plops me on the couch or leans me against the table and begs the question, why? 

Why now, why not a little later?  Why first -- why not after a couple of our friends?  Why the feeling as though our freedoms have been stripped, my identity and interests put on the back burner until who knows when?  Why is it so hard?

I'll admit, I took a break from writing this post.  First because nap time was over, but also to process and pray some more.  Sometimes these life changes hit me hard.  I decided to let my creative juices flow, regardless of what Levi was doing.  So we rearranged the living room while he ran around and delayed our progress.  But it helped perk me back up and show me that my own interests are still valid and necessary.

Some days I wish I could go out with friends, walk through the city at night, have a day to myself.  But I've realized and reminded myself of a few things that I think are important --

1. Just because it's a "no" right now doesn't mean it always will be.  And as babies get older and more self-sufficient, outings and flexibility can happen.  And, babysitters are there for a reason.
2. Instead of waiting for the empty-nest years to do the fun things, do the fun things now -- with kids.  It can be fun if I choose to make it fun.
3. Motherhood is a gift.  Children are gifts.  If I have been privileged enough to have a child, I want to make the most of this calling.  It's a blessing to have a little one to raise, nurture, direct, and provide for.  It's a greater depth of love and sacrifice than I'd known before Levi came to being; in all its hardships and struggles, it's an incredible love.

The dirt and messes and shrieking may not get easier.  But I pray my view of them continues to change, even if it's a slow adjustment.  Instead of fighting the new normals in my life, I think I'd do best to allow God to soften me and change my focus.  To see that He's given me the gift of motherhood, and to embrace it and learn to wholeheartedly love it.  It's one of God's most amazing gifts -- I certainly want to cherish it.