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Tell God Your Plans

Today, I’m pleased to introduce you to Melissa who’s kicking off our month-long Special Mamas series with a guest post about her unique journey through motherhood, including infertility, unexpected medical issues, depression, foster care and adoption. I so appreciate the way Melissa shares her story with authenticity and heart. It brought tears to my eyes when I added pictures and let it all sink in. I hope Melissa’s story moves you as much as it did me. Enjoy, friends.

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“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

I had plans. As a 19-year-old newlywed, I planned for a big family and believed I had control over how and when that would happen. In my mind, we would have four kids in five years. I would deliver them all naturally and breastfeed for at least a year. I would love being a mama. It was just that simple.

I found myself seeking fertility treatment at age 21. My first pregnancy came with hypertension, frequent unexplained bleeding and weeks of bedrest. Our first daughter was born at 38 weeks; she was delivered by emergency C-section under general anesthesia, and was taken immediately to Children’s Hospital on a helicopter. She had a condition called Vasa Previa that caused her to bleed out when they broke my bag of waters. She spent weeks in the hospital and came home with a gastrostomy tube for feedings. NOT what I had planned. I had the “baby blues” for about three months, but seemed to recover quickly.

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We tried two years for baby number two. A new infertility doctor told us they weren’t sure why, but without intervention we would not have more children. More drugs, more negative tests, a pregnancy that ended at six weeks in miscarriage. We sought a new infertility clinic only to find out at my initial visit that I was already pregnant again and HCG levels were looking great. We planned for an elective C-section. Our first son was born at 37 weeks, two full weeks before the scheduled date. We named him after the two doctors who helped bring his big sister into the world. Our precious little man had “wet lungs” from being early and born via C-section. After two days in the level two nursery of our little hospital, he was transferred to Children’s Hospital by helicopter. He spent six days in the NICU. NOT what I had planned, but this time I got to take home a healthy, nursing baby. The blues seemed to last a little longer this time, more like six months, but I had my old self back after that.

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Fast forward not quite two years, and I’d told everyone who asked that two is the perfect number of kids as our son was “three hands full.” I really thought we were done. After all, it took medical intervention to get both of our kids. One day in September, I realized I was late, like five days late! Sure enough, I was pregnant. NOT what I had planned. It took only moments for me to love the baby growing inside me, even though I thought I had all I could handle. God knows what I need much better than I do. This pregnancy was the easiest by far. Our second daughter was born at 39 weeks on her scheduled C-section date, weighing a lucky 7 pounds 7 ounces. I left recovery after about 90 minutes and was handed a healthy baby who nursed like a champ from the first attempt. This was more like what I had planned.

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What I didn’t plan was to struggle so hard as a mama. Our third child was 16 months old and I felt like a shadow in my own life. I could smile when other people were around, but didn’t really feel anything. I loved my kids, but didn’t want to get out of bed. I loved my husband, but didn’t want to be touched or talked to. I have always been a “doer.” I like to be busy, and suddenly I was sitting on the couch all day. I found myself thinking that if I got in the car and left, everyone would be better off. What was wrong with me? I had all I ever wanted, didn’t I? It was my little sister who told me she thought I might have depression. I made an appointment and talked, cried, took the tests and started medication to treat my clinical depression. NOT what I had planned at all.

Time moved on and I stabilized. I prayed daily to feel. I cried when I was happy, sad, or moved by a song. I laughed and meant it. I smiled and it was genuine. I was grateful for every day. Our family of five was awesome, and we began thinking about adding to the brood. I got pregnant very quickly and miscarried at six weeks. I started working for Just Between Friends a few weeks a year. I loved my job! I got pregnant again one year later, but found out at eight weeks that it was ectopic. It took six weeks to miscarry. The tears felt like they would never stop. There was a giant hole in my heart. My husband said he didn’t think we should try for any more, he didn’t want to see me hurt like that again. Still, I was grateful to feel.

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I prayed for God to give me the desire I felt He put in my heart, the desire to fill my home with children. The answer I got is WAIT ON ME, TRUST ME. Remember those words from Jeremiah 29:11. I accepted a position as a teacher’s aide at a local preschool. I had 40 students to love on. The hole didn’t seem so big. I let go of all the baby stuff I’d been keeping, spent the “baby fund” on a pop-up camper and enjoyed the three gifts we’d been given to love. I started to understand that I can plan all I want, but my life is not my own. God is in control. So I stopped planning and started living. It seems that’s what God was waiting for.

We celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary, and I still prayed daily for God to take away the desire for more children or fill the hole in my heart. I was awed and amazed that He chose to give us two more to love. The Twinkies, as we call them, came to us most unexpectedly. My dear friend, Stacy, was fostering a set of boy/girl twins and was planning to adopt them should they need a permanent home. With three kids under four, it was clear it would be too much to take on two more. We had considered foster care in the past, and decided after meeting these sweet babies that we would give it a try. Within three months, our foster care license was in process and the Twinkies were placed in our home. More than a year has passed since we first met the Twinkies. We have been their parents for ten months now. We pray the adoption will be finalized before the end of 2015. Our house is loud, our van is full and my cup overflows.

I had planned for four kids in five years. God, in His infinite wisdom, gave us five kids in 15 years. I am overwhelmed with joy that my life has not gone as I had planned.

Melissa

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www.unveiled-photography.comThis post is part of a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. The series runs all May and is in honor of moms who have unique journeys to and through motherhood. To read all 13 posts in the Special Mamas series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the introductory post. At the bottom of the post, you’ll find all guest posts listed and linked for easy reading!

Melissa Krebs Sondrol - Feeling blessed to share our journey. Thanks Dave and Connie you are both treasured friends and I love you too! Received news today that will delay the adoption of the twinkies by more than 6 additional months. Still know that God has a plan, please pray that my husband and I are able to share God’s love with the bio dad as we come into contact with him for the first time.May 2, 2015 – 3:02 am

Connie Nelson - One of the many reasons why I love you Mel!!!!May 1, 2015 – 8:49 pm

Tom Baunsgard - Oh my! That is a story filled with trials, tribulations, love and fulfillment. God is good all the time and all of the time God is Good! Blessings Abound!May 1, 2015 – 3:29 pm

David Smit - Melissa is a awesome mom and person so glad I got to read this story, she knows just how special she is to all the people she meets, without her life just wouldn’t be the same, lots of love and hugs from Dave.May 1, 2015 – 1:48 pm

Special Mamas 2015

www.unveiled-photography.com

I dreamed of making my writing public all the way back to 2003. But my writing remained private until I launched this blog in July 2012. If you were to peek at old journals and writings of mine between 2003 and 2012, you’d see lots of dreaming, lots of free writing, lots of brainstorming about a whole host of topics I believed would resonate with others.

Among those writings was this gem from March 11, 2007.

Special Moms

I found it nestled in a journal entry titled “Brainstorm of Topics for Books on Mothering.” Yes, back in 2007, one of the books I dreamed of writing was about special moms, moms who had unique journeys to and through motherhood. You see, between 2003 and 2010, I had a long-standing dream of becoming an author of real, relevant and raw books on mothering. That dream has since morphed. I no longer see myself as a “mom blogger,” but I’m not afraid to blog about motherhood. I no longer see myself as a “mom author,” but I’m pretty sure there’s still a book about motherhood in me.

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I haven’t written a mothering book yet. Heck, I haven’t written ANY book yet. But the heart of that Special Moms vision is alive and well.

In 2013, I made the Special Moms dream come alive with a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. In 2014, I intended to run the series again, but time got away from me, so I wrote Motherhood Unraveled instead. This year, I resurrected Special Mamas as the annual guest post series I originally intended it to be, and went ALL IN!

When I extended an open invitation for posts, I set a lofty goal of 12 mamas. To my great surprise and delight, 13 mamas indicated interest.

So here we are!

During the month of May, I’ll be hosting 13 Special Mamas on the blog.

13 Special Mamas will write guest posts.

13 Special Mamas will share their unique stories to and through motherhood.

13 Special Mamas will reveal their hopes and dreams for motherhood.

13 Special Mamas will get vulnerable.

13 Special Mamas will expose bits of themselves that are raw and real.

13 Special Mamas will talk about miscarriage, infertility, foster parenting, adoption, special needs, significant health issues, blended families, widowhood, divorce and custody, postpartum depression, single parenting, losing a mama at a young age, and parenting abroad, far away from family and friends.

13 Special Mamas will uncover beauty found in least expected places.

13 Special Mamas will proclaim the hope they’ve found, the love they’ve shared.

13 Special Mamas will share the newfound perspectives they’ve discovered along the way.

13 Special Mamas will impart wisdom.

13 Special Mamas will be brave.

Friends, you are going to LOVE these mamas. I’ve found great joy and admiration reading their stories, and I know you will, too.

Motherhood is beautiful. Motherhood is life-changing. Motherhood is important. And motherhood is a calling. But motherhood is real. Motherhood is hard. Motherhood tests us. Motherhood takes us on journeys we never imagined in our wildest dreams. And motherhood brings with it all kinds of special situations and circumstances. When we whole-heartedly embrace our unique journey to and through motherhood, beauty emerges, hope emerges. Motherhood produces fruit in us like nothing else can.

Let’s be real. Let’s be raw. Let’s be beautiful. Let’s learn. Together. Because the truth is, we’re all Special Mamas.

Tell God Your Plans by Melissa

www.unveiled-photography.comThis post serves as the landing page for Special Mamas 2015. ALL 13 guest posts in the series are listed and linked at the end of this post. I put the Special Mamas graphic in the right sidebar of my blog’s home page. Anytime you want to read a post from the series, go to the blog at divineinthedaily.com, click on the Special Mamas graphic, and it will bring you to this post. We’ll be writing a little book here throughout the month! Come. Enjoy. Be filled with beauty, hope and truth about motherhood.

greensig

 

 

Tell God Your Plans » Divine in the Daily - […] I’m pleased to introduce you to Melissa who’s kicking off our month-long Special Mamas series with a guest post about her unique journey through motherhood, including infertility, unexpected […]May 1, 2015 – 7:40 am

When All Else Fails…Blow Bubbles

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When life is overwhelming…

When you can’t get out of your funk….

When all you can think of is heavy, deep and real…

When you’ve been disappointed…

When your dreams have been dashed…

When everyone seems happier and more peaceful than you…

When you can’t remember the last time you laughed hard…

When adults act like kids…

When kids act like babies…

When people are just annoying…

When you’re tired of drama…

When you have no clue how to answer the problems of the day…

When winter lingers longer than it should…

When you’re tired of seeing brown…

When you need sunshine, blue skies and a gentle, warm breeze…

When the to-do list never ends…

When the house looks like you never lifted a finger…

When there’s junk all over the kitchen floor and you just vacuumed it yesterday…

When you need some time alone…

When you need some time away…

When you need community too…

When you need someone to sit with you for hours and know it all…

When you want to fly away, zone out, drift off to a place where everyone just gets it…

When you need more time to do what you love…

When you wonder if you’re on the right path…

When life feels like a big question mark…

When all else fails…blow bubbles.

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Jodi Herickhoff - I concur – bubbles! The pictures made me smile! :-)April 23, 2015 – 6:50 pm

Bearing the Weight of the World

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Most of high school I weighed 126 pounds.

Most of college I weighed 132 pounds.

When we got married in June 1998, I was down to a new low of 126 pounds. (I lost 5 pounds the week of the wedding due to crazy busyness. That was, no doubt, a one-week low.)

After college, but before babies, I weighed a steady 141 pounds.

After my first two babies, I hovered around 146 pounds.

After my sister’s first baby, I weighed 151 pounds.

After four months of intense personal training right before I got pregnant with our third baby, I was super happy with a new low of 143 pounds. (But let me tell you, that was really hard work and I was watching my diet like a mad woman.)

After our third baby, I got back down to 146 pounds, but it wasn’t easy. With very regular exercise, I still waffled between 146 and 151 pounds.

By the time I stopped working as a speech-language pathologist, I was at a new steady high of 151 pounds with all the stress.

And after two months of poor eating, poor sleep, and tremendous stress due to my husband’s eye cancer diagnosis, treatment and recovery at home, I was up to an all-time non-pregnancy high of 158 pounds.

I felt like junk, to be honest. The pounds were piling on for no reason. I was beginning to get worried, in fact. My body was taking on a life of its own. It seemed like all I had to do was step on the scale and another pound would be there. Permanently. Like it wasn’t going away anytime soon. Like I had no control over how this body of mine was reacting to life. Like I was barely fitting into my pants.

One day in early March, when I was at that all-time high of 158 pounds, I stopped by the personal training desk and spoke with a trainer. I’d been working out 3x/week like normal, but I was convinced that all the stress and life changes had literally blown my metabolism to shreds, that my body needed a major re-boot. I’d heard good things about some new metabolic, hormone, stress & vitality tests my gym had available, and wanted to see how much they cost. I had a conversation with the nicest, most helpful and kind personal trainer in the world. Heck, after we chatted a while, he even brought me up for a meeting with the gym’s nutritionist so we could look closer at those tests I was hoping to run. Needless to say, the tests were out of my financial league. No personal income to speak of and many doctor bills left me realizing I’d have to walk through this weight problem on my own.

The personal trainer offered me a Sunday afternoon friends and family class for $10 a session, but between family events, my son’s basketball tournaments and my daughter’s volleyball practice and tournaments, I haven’t been able to attend. He also said I’d fit nicely in a group personal training session he runs weekly, but to be honest, I don’t have an extra $50 a week to put into group personal training right now.

Since we met briefly in early March, that personal trainer has been the nicest, most supportive guy in the gym. When he sees me he says hi, and asks how I’m doing. He stopped me on the track the other day to let me know the tests are on sale this month. And he reminded me again with all sincerity, “let me know if I can help you with anything.” A couple weeks ago, I shared that I’m down 4 pounds since I talked to him in early March. “Keep up the good work,” he congratulated.

I’m down to 154 pounds. Still an all-time non-pregnancy high. The pounds are still coming off my body like molasses. But hey, I’m 4 pounds lower than that all-time high of 158.

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The past four weeks, I’ve begun lifting weights more than I have for several years. When I spoke with the personal trainer, he reminded me I should be lifting at least a couple times a week. And I promptly reminded him that I hate weight training, that I avoid it like the plague. But I knew I had to change something. I knew I had to kick this body into a whole new realm. I knew I had to do something different. So as much as I hate weights, I began integrating lifting into my workout program again. I’ve actually been lifting 3x/week for the past month.

But yesterday when I was lifting, I realized something. I remembered WHY I hate lifting. I remembered why I STOPPED lifting during my sister’s first pregnancy in 2010.

Because life feels weighty enough in itself.

Too often, I bear the weight of the world on my shoulders. I sense deeply. I feel deeply. I live far beneath the surface in my heart. Lifting extra weight adds burden to my already worn and torn body and soul.

I knew that was true back in late 2010 when my personal trainer was pushing me beyond my limits with weights, when I crumbled in tears and she couldn’t understand why. I knew that was true yesterday when the weight of the world just felt too heavy to lift, when I couldn’t even curl two 10-pound dumbbells three sets of 12 reps.

Yes, it’s all becoming crystal clear. This is an unintended consequence of slowing my life to a new pace, an unintended consequence of shifting directions. It’s all crashing down on me, or should I say, it’s all piling up on me?

I’ve spent a lifetime bearing the weight of the world. I’ve been bearing the unrealistically high expectations I set for myself. I’ve been bearing the unrealistically high expectations I set for others. I’ve been bearing the unrealistically high expectations others have for me. I’ve been bearing the unrealistically high expectation of doing what the world thinks I should do, and being who the world thinks I should be. I’ve been bearing the unrealistically high expectation of thinking I can help, fix, restore, renew and remove everyone’s burdens.

Yes, it’s becoming crystal clear. A lifetime of mental, emotional and spiritual weight bearing has taken a toll on my physical well being. I haven’t known my boundaries. I haven’t honored any boundaries.

158 was an all-time high.

Now I’m at an all-time (lower) high of 154.

What weight do you carry?

What weight do you carry physically?

What weight do you carry mentally, emotionally, spiritually?

Just because we can feel the weight of the world, doesn’t mean we need to bear the weight of the world.

How’s that for a revelation?

Let’s lift the weights we’re meant to lift, and loosen our grip on the weights we’re meant to set free. You and me, friend. Just you and me.

greensig

 

 

 

Susan Baunsgard - Hi Amy
Very interesting insight. Real physical weights vs emotional weights. We can simply walk away from those 10# weights. But those emotional weights? They are hidden in our hearts and minds. They can’t be walked away from. Instead we need to deal with them in a different way. This is where our loving savioMay 1, 2015 – 8:53 pm

Carol Forsberg - I love your writings …you are blessed with an amazing gift.April 28, 2015 – 12:17 pm

Barbara Matalamaki - Good article…as always!April 28, 2015 – 12:05 pm

Jennifer Johnson Camp - Amy, this is so powerful. I am so grateful for you–for your willingness to lead in your vulnerability, for the sake of loving people. You are so beautiful, sister. Thank you.April 26, 2015 – 3:44 am

Kris Camealy - Good words here Amy. You’ve been on my mind, friend. XoApril 26, 2015 – 3:10 am

Sarah Swanson - Wow! You have brought me to tears! Love love love this. Thank you thank youApril 22, 2015 – 3:26 am

Carol Femling - You spoke about your mom (me) perfectly!! I know that’s why I am at a personal high for my weight. The last 10 years have weighed me down in every way possible BIG TIME!! I need to start doing the exact same thing you’re doing or I will continue to fall down. Thanks for sharing!! Love you! Mom :)April 22, 2015 – 12:59 am

Monica Anderson Palmer - Amy Pederson my prayer for you is that you see the intensely brave person you are. First, you posted actual numbers (something I would never be humble or vulnerable enough to do. Secondly, you expose areas of yourself that again, I’m not sure I could admit to others out loud much less write about and post on a blog…so I pray you know in the very deep parts of your heart how brave you are. You will help someone, you’ve certainly helped me.April 21, 2015 – 8:58 pm

When God Calls You Behind the Scenes

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I hadn’t known grace. I hadn’t known surrender. I hadn’t known what it looks like and feels like to be okay with God’s approval and God’s approval only. That is, until the Dominican Republic.

The most important day of the trip found me highly emotionally unstable. I was about to spend several hours with our Compassion sponsored sweetie, Meranyelis, and it just so happened that every perfectly planned thing went wrong for me that morning. To make things worse, I brought my camera, but forgot the charged battery back in the room. That left me without a functioning camera, the ONE physical possession I really thought I needed that day besides a swimsuit. Knowing how much I love and treasure pictures, God, in His infinite wisdom, provided Lairs, a photographer, to capture beautiful moments during my visit with Meranyelis.

It was awesome to have Lairs as my one-and-only photographer, but 40 other child-sponsor memories were waiting to be memorialized too, so there were plenty of times when it was just me, our sponsored sweetie, her tutor and the translator. No photographer. No camera of my own. Nobody else capturing moments from the sidelines.

Those moments were quiet, intimate, precious.

I vividly remember the moment when God’s still small voice stirred in my soul, the moment He asked me to work quietly behind the scenes, for Him and Him alone. It happened somewhere between our first swim in the big pool and our Dorito-stained fingertips in the treehouse. Meranyelis and I were off the beaten track, walking down a dusty, dirty, rocky hill towards a swimming pool with a waterslide.

As we walked down that hill, just the two of us with the translator and tutor following behind, I knew there was a good chance Meranyelis would be going on a waterslide for the first time. I was desperate for Lairs, my cameraman, to be there to capture the moment! I didn’t want to miss this! I wanted to be able to send Meranyelis a photograph of the first time she went down a waterslide! I wanted her to be able to show her friends and remember how fun it was for months and years to come!

But I had no camera. I had no cameraman. Lairs was nowhere to be found, and I wasn’t about to waste precious time chasing him down.

There was, in fact, nobody in sight with a camera.

This moment of grandiosity was NOT going to be captured.

And that’s when I heard God’s still small voice. As I held Meranyelis’ hand, as my bare feet walked the uncomfortably rocky, dirty, dusty soil, I heard it in my soul. Just be with my child. Will you love her? Will you serve her? Will you forget about everything else, just be with Meranyelis and enjoy the moment, even if the only evidence is in the recesses of your mind? 

There was no other choice. God put me in this position for a reason. I needed to surrender. I needed to know what it looked like and felt like to REALLY serve with my whole heart, for no other reason than to faithfully love the person in front of me. I needed to love this girl, to serve this girl, to be with this girl because she’s God’s beautiful creation, on loan to me for such a time as this.

I whole-heartedly accepted God’s invitation to work behind the scenes.

Extravagant cameras were nowhere to be found. Cell phone cameras were nowhere to be found. NOBODY was to be found. It was just me, Meranyelis, the tutor, and the translator. On a hill. Together in the Dominican Republic.

As we continued further down the hill, Meranyelis decided she didn’t want to go down that waterslide. We stopped to ponder the reality of climbing those stairs. I showed her the slides and explained we’d ride down on a tube, that I’d be with her every step of the way. But she was hesitant. She didn’t want to do it. She couldn’t bring herself to go that high. She was, in fact, afraid of heights.

It’s interesting, really, how God chose to speak to me in that particular moment, how He asked me to work quietly behind the scenes without cameras, without spectators, without physical evidence of it ever happening.

It wasn’t a picture-perfect moment. It was just me and my sponsored child. In what turned out to be a very vulnerable moment. Meranyelis came face to face with her fear of heights. I was there to let her know it was okay. She didn’t have to conquer that fear today. She didn’t have to do it. I wasn’t forcing her to do anything. We were just there, together, as we were – faults, fears and all.

Nothing needed to be documented. God seared the moment in my memory. It will never fade, it will never wear, it will never tear. That moment He first asked me to work behind the scenes? That moment He asked me go, do and love just because? It was holy.

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So it came as no surprise when God called me to work behind the scenes again.

On February 23rd, 2015, just 5 1/2 weeks after I returned from the Dominican Republic, God cracked open another chapter in the book He’d begun writing in me long ago. The chapter was unfolding like mad. It was literally writing itself. It was beyond me. I was simply along for the ride of my life. And I was determined to let God lead. He was clearly in control and had a plan. I knew it from day one.

By April 2nd, just three days before Easter, I was convinced and had proof on multiple fronts that this was actually happening. I was convinced of my role in this thing. I was convinced I was 100% in for the long haul. There was no turning back.

Everything had unfolded in private. It was incredible, miraculous, and delightful. Nobody knew what was going on except me, my husband and the few key parties involved. But things had progressed to the point where I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep this inside anymore. I needed people to know. We were going to need help. And I knew that if this story kept going down the road it was on, that I’d have to make it public sooner rather than later. So I started sharing the story with a select handful of people – my parents, my mother-in-law, my God-size prayer and support team, a friend, three individuals from my writing group, and one other person who just really needed to know what was going on. Heck, I even shared a vague prayer request on my blog’s Facebook page the week leading up to Easter.

But the story took a turn.

I’d been belly deep in this thing since February 23rd. I’d experienced the fullness of God’s provision and love for His children. I’d witnessed a multitude of miracles. I’d been brought into a story that was ridiculously rich, fulfilling, challenging, rewarding and completely in line with who God created me to be. But by April 10th, I very clearly sensed God asking me to step aside, to begin working behind the scenes instead of on the front lines.

It wasn’t an easy decision by any means.

It means I won’t be sharing the story on my blog the way I planned.

It means I’ll have to break my promise to you, a promise I made the Tuesday before Easter that I’d share this whole story with you someday, that I’d invite you into all the details from the very start.

It means my role will change.

It means, at least for now, that I’ll be working and loving behind the scenes without anyone else knowing details except my husband and one family from afar.

It means, at least for now, that this story will continue to unfold largely between me and God.

It means I’ll have to trust that God folded me into this story and is now sending me behind the scenes for a reason. It means I’ll have to trust that He’ll work it all out, that He’ll carry it out to completion, that He’ll draw me back into the front lines if and when He sees fit.

I’ve been working behind the scenes for 9 days now. I’ve experienced moments of sadness, uncertainty, wonder and even a little doubt that there’s a bigger purpose in all of this. But I’ve also experienced peace. And joy. God’s shown me other ways to love, other ways to serve, other ways to give that are perfectly tailored to the deepest desires of my heart.

This is where I’m supposed to be. For now. For such a time as this.

So I’m wondering about you.

Are you on the front lines, or are you behind the scenes?

What are you doing in the quiet, to love, serve, and give, that nobody knows about besides you and God?

Maybe you’re caring for a disabled child.

Maybe you’re letting an elderly parent live in your home.

Maybe you’re loving a friend when they’ve fallen off the wagon yet again.

Maybe you’re donating to the crisis nursery, the homeless shelter, or the United Way.

Maybe you’re forgiving the person you abused you, betrayed you.

Maybe you’re setting aside time to mentor someone in need.

Maybe you’re giving your spouse a weekend away.

Maybe you’re serving at the soup kitchen.

Maybe you’re watching children in the nursery.

Maybe you’re bringing a meal to someone going through cancer treatment.

Maybe you’re sending a note of encouragement to someone who’s doing awesome things with their life.

Maybe you’re sending a note of encouragement to someone who’s down in the dumps.

Maybe you’re housesitting, dog watching, or cat watching.

Maybe you’re making big decisions on a nonprofit board of directors.

Maybe you’re wiping butts and cleaning toilets day after day after day.

Maybe you’re caring for kiddos all on your own.

Maybe you’re loving, honoring and conversing with elderly in a nursing home.

Maybe you’re making warm chocolate chip cookies for kids in the neighborhood.

Maybe you’re singing, writing, painting, photographing, creating…because you must.

Maybe you’re running marathons for a cause.

Maybe you’re running marathons because you can.

What is it? 

What do you do behind the scenes? What do you do when nobody’s watching?

How does it fill you? How does it encourage and speak life to others? How does it make the world a more beautiful place?

“…do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” Matthew 6:3-4

greensig

 

 

 

Amy - Sandra, this is the story I very vaguely referred to in my message to you and Kris.April 19, 2015 – 9:01 pm

Sandra Heska King - Puddled.April 19, 2015 – 4:46 pm