I don’t think that we crave recognition as much as we want to see what we’ve planted, what we’ve done, to grow. We are delighted when they say thank you, not because we need it, but because in hearing it we know that we have done a small part of our job. To teach them to notice. When they shower us with hugs or presents, the presents are not our delight. (Well. Maybe the hugs are.) But not even as much as the thoughts that they had to think in order to get to the place to give them. The way they wanted to honor us, to see at least some of what we’ve done. To appreciate it.
I think more than ever, that the whole of what I’ve done will, and probably should, remain unnoticed. My son said I’m good at praying. My daughter said I’m good at being a mom. And most of all, those two answers both hit the nail on the head of my heartbeat and make wants me to get better at both of them. I see they are the most important. Even though I’m “good”, I want to excel. And I can’t do that on my own.
I know that the best of my work will be done there, in the secret place of my heart, and in prayer. Bringing myself before the Lord. And bringing my family and kids there before the Lord, too.
My best “work” is not going to be what is done in the kitchen, or the bedroom or the living room or laundry room. But in the prayer room, wherever that happens to be. It won’t be in how I dress them or bathe them, how I feed them or care for them just in their bodies. But in how clothe them in honor, how I Love them with prayer and how I can shower them with mercy- all His gifts- again and again. They might fill my mind with things to worry about or my house with things that clutter, but I can use this unique opportunity to fill their hearts up with Love. His endless Love. The same Love that I need constantly, too.
Even as I’m folding some laundry or cleaning up the dishes or watching a game of soccer. Finding God there, and asking for help. Asking for His help and guidance, asking for His hand to be upon us all.
My best “work” will not be what I have done or will continue to do that takes care of or addresses any of their physical needs or even the emotional ones by myself. My very best work will be when I connect with God on their behalf, and bring to them whatever bread He’s given to me, too. To help them notice and see Him, too. Him, most.
When I bring their whole -little or big- beings before His throne, and I mention their names in breathless wonder and prayer. When I hold their tender bodies. They’re priceless souls. Their complex hearts, their unfolding dreams before Him. When I carry them, in my body or my heart. When I bring them before the Lord, and like Mary with her alabaster jar, and I pour them out before the Lord, I am doing the best job that I can.
They are not mine. They were and are, His, first. It’s my greatest honor and joy to bring them back to Him and partner with Him in how I parent them. He is the Lord. I am their parent. We are both His children.
I cannot do it well without Him.
It is one of my deepest, truest life missions, not only to care for them, but to carry them, always before the Lord. The One who knew them first, who knows them best, who loves them most. It’s hard to imagine sometimes, but I also know that it’s true. When I run out of patience, He doesn’t. When I run out of Hope, He doesn’t. His stretches longer and higher an deeper and wider. His love is endless and spotless and priceless. It beats ours, every time, and with the way that we love our kids, that’s saying a lot.
He lays out a table, stretches out a blanket of Love, and He wraps us all in it. No matter what, we will never-all!- run out of it. Not out of His Love. When my heart or my flesh fail, He doesn’t.
So, it is my honor, my duty, to bring myself, and to carry them with me too, back to His feet. Again and again.
I will find myself there and I find them too. I find all of us, as we’re meant to be. Held in His arms, forever.
Forever and just as we can be, Today.
I guess the thanks I love to hear from them, the closeness, is what God longs for, from all of us too. And so I can give that, I can do, my best “work” by giving it all back to Him, too. He knows just how to Love us all best, too.
He knows. That sneaky devil, he knows. That if he gets to you, he can get to her. He knows that if he steals your joy, you won’t have enough to give. He knows that if you doubt your worth, that she will likely doubt hers. He knows that if he puts you down and lets your feel crushed or be crushed by the cares of this world, then she will too.
He knows that if you rise into the fullness of your calling, she might also. He knows that if you rise into the fullness of love, she will too. He knows that if you know what it means to be ROYALLY loved, so will she.
He knows. That’s why he’s trying to crush you. To bring you down, to destroy your confidence. To trade in everything that’s good and lovely just so you can wallow instead in filth and regret.
HE knows that if you rise up, Beloved, and take your place, take your Savior’s sure hand, that things will never be the same.
He knows what blood courses through your veins and it is a curse to him. Let it be.
You have royal blood. You are royally, seen. A crown, a jewel, in your Heavenly Father’s eyes.
You are not despised or rejected, you are held and seen. He’s coming back for a pure bride, and you my friend, are one of them. So are your kids too..
Show them. Tell them. Let them know.
Tell your sister. Tell your daughters. Tell your neighbor. Tell your friends. Tell all who are coming up behind you. Around you. In front of you even. The mothers who came before you and lost their way a little. It’s not too late. Tell them all of His love.
You were not discarded. You were hidden. For such a time as this.
There is no lack of love, there is no lack at all. You are His. You have everything that you need, right here in The Hand that you hold. He holds everything. Hold it. Fast and firm. Hold on and don’t let go. The time of rejoicing has come, the time of singing and celebration is here. You becoming His, really His, is reason for great celebration. Great celebration.
Rejoice friend, you are His. You are all His. That is MORE than enough. And hear Him sing His song of victory, over YOU. His beloved🫶🏻☀️❤️.
I took the morning off one day this week. By “off” I mean to say, I took a break from my coaching work, my mom work, my house work, my home work, my wife work, my life work.
All of the busy, busy, good work.
I sat in my car and prayed. And cried. And listened for what God has to say. For a couple of hours, tucked in between drop off and clean up, I did nothing but wrestle and rest and worship.
I sat in my car for a long while and read the Bible and prayed. I didn’t peruse the isles of Target. I didn’t buy myself a new pair of shoes. None of that would have really helped. None of that would have eased the ache in my soul. There was nothing I could find there that would erase or ease the tired ache.
I prayed and fought and pleaded with God. For His help. For His healing touch.
For my family and for what each of our inheritance is in the Lord.
I spent almost 2 hours alone with the Lord in prayer. I set aside the distractions. The striving and instead I just surrendered.
Into the weariness I was feeling. But not to stay there. To be met there. To be healed there. To be loved there.
Right where I had been hurting right where I was making the mistakes. The placed I couldn’t even see for what they truly are. But I sure could feel. From that place. I prayed. I wrestled. I gave up, trying. And I just said “help”.
He did for me what no one else can or ever could.
When it was all done, I turned in the backseat and I saw my daughters water bottle there. It had dropped out of her backpack. She hadn’t known it then, nor had I. I was too busy trying yo let her know how she could help me and improve. But when I saw it, I realized her need, too and that I could help. So I went back over to school, not too far away, and I dropped it off .
I took the chance to borrow a sticky note and I scribbled a note on it for her. All it said way basically, “hey, I love you.”
The lady at the front desk said with ad much sincerity as I could hear, “You’re such a good mom.”
And at one point in my life, that would’ve been everything I needed to hear. It would have meant the world to me. But the more time goes on, the more truth I see, the more un-truth I see in me, and the more I really learn. This is not about me. I can’t do it ever well enough on my own. So, instead of being filled up by that statement, the immediate thought came to my mind, and flowed out of my heart, and overflowed into tears that came to my eyes is “No, I have such a good father.”
Because isn’t that what He just did for me? He knew I was thirsty. He knew I needed a drink. He saw my need and he filled it.
He was right there all along.
I delighted to help my daughter.
Even when she had a rebuttals or a response for everything that I told her this morning.
Even if it didn’t seem she could really hear or understand everything I was telling her. Even if a level of maturity was lacking and she couldn’t seem to follow my directions. Even with so much that is mature.
I was delighted to help her. I was delighted to love her. Of course I’d give her a drink. She needed one, and I was right there, after all
Just like He did and does for me. Not because I earn it with perfect behavior, but I get what I need because of His perfect love.
Depending on where you are in life or shat your style is, your time off might look different. It might be at night after the kids go to bed or a few hours on the weekend for yourself. For me it looks like a week day morning, a slice of time for what matters most. For what my soul needs most
It doesn’t always take hours sometimes it might be 10 minutes.
But it’s what my soul longs for. Let’s normalize running to the Father for peace and contentment that our souls need. Not target. Not even to our friends or social circles. Just to Him.
And friend, whatever you style is, I guarantee it’s what your soul longs for too. To be understood deeply. To be seen. To be forgiven. When no one else will do it for you, Jesus can and will. And He does it best. So next time you’re feeling depleted and you have a little slice of time, why don’t you let yourself carve out some time for what your soul truly craves.
What makes a woman is not how she wears her hair or what kind of skirt she wears or doesn’t. It’s not if she has a husband or even wants one, not if she likes makeup or her feminine name. It’s not if she plays sports or does not, not if submits to others or not, not if she runs a house or a company or barely just her own heart.
What makes a woman is not how she behaves or doesn’t.
It’s not how she feels or does not.
What makes a woman is what she carries.
What makes a woman is her womb.
No even how she carries it, what she carries inside of it or not, or for how long.
But that she in fact, does.
What makes a woman is a sacred part of who she is. A woman is a womb.
She has one, she is one. Whatever she ever carries, what she carries brings something to life.
In her womb, both physical and in the seat of her soul, she can carry things and ideas and people.
She can nurture them from within and bring them into being. Perhaps the most interesting thing about that is, sometime, or maybe most times, she has no idea what it is that she really carries.
Until well after it’s lost or years after it’s birth and continuous unfolding.
There are people we birth and get to know for a lifetime- theirs or ours.
There are ideas we may carry for years and birth only to what appears to be a cacophony of silence. There are restless dreams that we wrestle with, hopes we dash upon, seeds we grasp. In our strength, or theirs, sometimes we come to bear a thing. Unexpected or not. A promise, maybe, a threat.
And we don’t know the shape of its face, the thrill of its laugh, the echo of its days. No, not yet.
Not the tears that we’ll cry or others may too. Not the push or the pull of destiny, not theirs or ours.
We don’t know fully what we bear. Never while we bear the weight of it, not the fullness of it, no matter how heavy. Never while we bear the weight of its beginning and growing and birth. Its awkward way it has of expanding us.
But oh what a privilege it is to in fact carry it, to hold it. (Even if we are honest, here is where we bow but don’t break, under the weight of its coming.)
Long before we’ll ever know the breadth of its growth or the grace of its frame or the fire in it bones. The sheer joy and beauty of being able to hear, its song in voice.
No, we cannot imagine any of that. But when we see it or feel it or hear it, even in just a part, it takes our breath away.
More than all of the ways its weight took our breath and slowed us down, when we couldn’t even imagine what it would ever become. This one takes our breath away in a way that brings us life., and hope. Others too.
That is why women and wombs are amazing.
When she is open and intimate- with God especially- she will be, she will become, and she will give birth to, more than she could ever imagine or dream. She will give birth to what is, already, HIS.
Standing with feet at the edge of the ocean, I turn to my children and say, “I wonder what gift the ocean has for us today?”
Fully believing myself, that each next wave might bring a treasure- a shell, a promise, a hope- tumbling out upon the shores where we stand. In that special moment, with the breeze on our face, our toes in the deliciously warm water, our feet sinking into the soft sand, that something very good was possible.
(You know, like in Moana. When the ocean chooses to give her a gift, which also becomes a calling. But that’s a whole other layer of the story. Or is it?)
In hopeful, barefoot expectation, I breathed it in and waited.
But then, as more persistent and consistent waves come bubbling up and over my toes, some fears that I wasn’t expecting come inconveniently bubbling up, too.
Where they came from, I don’t know. Whoever planted them, I can’t be exactly sure, but somehow, they took root and they grew. Now here, they reared their ugly heads. As I stand here on the edge of possibility, they tell me of all that possibly could go wrong. What might come swimming up to hurt me. How we might stub our toes or get stung. How my kids might be swept into the waves and tumbled around in the salt. What I might lose, how I might hurt.
How “it” will never work, this whole brave, more daring thing. So much could go wrong. It is, so messy after all. My hair is blowing around in the wind, every which way. We just got sand in our eyes. It’s kind of unsettling.
I’m sure I don’t need any of this after all, not really. The shore is fine. Further back, that is. Part of me wants to retreat to my comfy, cozy spot, away from all of this. Who needs gifts that just make you need to be more brave, anyway?
Wait.
No.
I am, different, now.
I have dealt with so many of those fears. Frankly I am surprised and disappointed by the ones that find me here. I didn’t choose them to come bubbling up today.
But they came here, now, to go. Because I don’t choose them anymore. I’m still here. I still my breathing. I tell my mind to be calm. I remind myself of who I am. (Now, at least.)
Or always who I was somehow, before all these ideas of scary things came rushing in.
I can’t be just the same.
I don’t want to be. I am so different now that I ever was. Though a part of me that I don’t like unexpectedly rises up, I get to choose. I am not my fears. I am not the fears that were whispered in the dark or shouted at full daylight. I am someone different. Not because I am so strong.
But because I remember different.
Because I think I’m finally unbecoming whoever I was, and becoming who I was supposed to be. Who I was, before all the fears came rushing in, bombarding me with the “what if”s, commanding my full, or partial attention. Now I remember who I am. And who I am really never is alone. She is never overwhelmed, she ever underprepared or unequipped for whatever lies ahead.
Because He who made me is perfect, and He never gave me any of those fears.
So, I’m giving them back to whoever or whenever they were given to me. I reject them-instead of forever rejecting myself, and who I’m meant to be.
I’ll take a deep breath and reject instead, the worries, the lies, the regret and the fears. I can remember. To choose faith, not because I am so strong, but because He who lives inside me and who beside me sure is.
Now that I can see the lies that tell me that is not enough, now that I can feel their collision here, where my feet stand but heart shrink? This is where I get to choose. To cling to these thoughts of what might lurk, or maybe, to let of them go and be free. Amidst the expectation of generations past. The whispers of worry. The proclamations of doubt. The stories of misfortune. I may have collected them, unknowing or not. But it’s a terrible collection and I don’t want it anymore.
All the things that could go wrong, right here at my feet. Sure, it’s ocean tide of terror in many practical ways. But it’s meant to be an ocean of more. Full of Hope, and Love and an expectation for good.
So that’s what I want to look for.
Remembering then that no matter what comes up, with You we can get through. The ocean tide that seems too strong, the jellyfish that might sting, the sharks that might bite.
It’s hard. I know. It’s really hard, to hope, for better.
But Jesus, take my fears. No, that’s not quite right. You deserve better. You’re not just the clean-up crew, you’re the Victor. So take me. All of me, and with that, replace my worries that I’ve carried now, for years.
I don’t want to expect what you won’t give to me. I want to expect You. You will be with me wherever I go. You will provide for me, whatever I need. You will always be enough. Take every thought I may ever have that says otherwise. Because they simply aren’t true.
With you, I want to be. So, THERE, with my feet at the edge of the water, this time…
I went for a run yesterday. I ran through a new, paved neighborhood. I knew there was still an unpaved part that would connect to another neighborhood that I know in the area. I could head that way, cross over into the next one and connect the two. It would make it a nice, new, fun little run.
The connecting unpaved part was super muddy and super fun. And if I’m being honest, I love a good trail but rarely go alone. This one was adventurous, though only much too brief. After it was over, a funny thing happened. When I made it through to the next paved neighborhood, it was not the one I thought it was at all. I looked around and realized I was in a completely different neighborhood than I had imagined. I had imagined the one north of where I ended up, and found myself in one I had forgotten about. It was a lovely spot. It was a lovely run too. It was just a bit disorienting for a while. Like how did I get here and how was this all connected. I felt mixed up for a minute. Then it was completely lovely.
Have you ever felt that way? Things eventually connected but not like you imagined, not how you thought at all. And Sometimes you have to cross through some unpaved muddy paths to find the next spot, to fit the pieces of your path all together.
Looking back on this year it’s hard to imagine. Hard to imagine if last year I had any idea of where I was going or what was to come. Things happened I couldn’t have imagined. Life is messy and wonderful and humbling and kind and this year was all the things that a normal year is. Including, a Training ground for the next year. This past year specifically I feel like I stepped into some plans that were in the works for a while. My whole life, maybe. Beyond the main ideas and pursuits of wife and mom, daughter, sister, and friend, a lot happened this year. Gently, though. Slowly and suddenly all at once. Nothing that I went for head-first and full bore. But yet, plans and dreams I couldn’t even have put into words were realized. Things were birthed that I’d been carrying as seeds (and there’s more to come.) But the best part is, I don’t feel as though I chased a single one of them. I chased Him. And He took me on adventure. Adventures (!!) I never saw coming, not really. But yet I felt it all along, too. When I got “there”, it felt normal and natural and like home in a lot of ways. Because He’d been preparing me all along. That’s what He does.
Whether you like that mud or you prefer more solid trails, they’re all there for a reason. They’re all there for you discover something, to go somewhere you need to, and then to keep going. Following God’s path is always like that. As much as you allow, He will take you from one muddy, smooth, unpaved or cleared road to the next. He will connect all the dots. He will bring it all together. You just have to keep going. And if you do, He will use it all for His glory.
The mud, the tears, the imperfect, and most profoundly, the SURRENDER. But don’t just surrender to the path or the process. To the humility or to the strength that will be needed for whatever is ahead. Surrender -to HIM.
He knows how to get you where you’re supposed to go. Even when you don’t know where that is exactly. He will and can get you were where you’re meant to be. To the good places He has planned for you.
Looking back over this year, none of the great “things” that happened were a part of my plans. I didn’t set them as goals. (How could I for things that I had yet to see?) But I think I set the year off deciding and wanting to follow hard after Him. Because He wooed me. Because He loves me. Because in Him I found the One my soul desires. Because I’ve learned that I can trust Him.
I can’t wait to see what He’s preparing for me again this year. Am I setting goals? Yes and no and not really at all at the same time, too. I have some ideas, some general aims, but I hold them all loosely. They are not my master. Christ is, and I am first, most, His servant. So, my main goal? It is to follow hard after Him, in a non- striving, actually anti-striving way. In a natural, super- natural way, to meet with Him. Every day. To let Him guide me, let Him shape my character and my desires and to see where He takes me with it all. I’m “in it to win it”. I’m in this life, to WIN- whatever He has planned. Most of all to “win” Him, who won it all. This year, May He win, again and again, my heart. I hope He can win yours too. He’s worth it. All.
You can trust Him too, friend. 🙌🏻🫶🏻✨❤️🥰. And I can’t wait to see where He takes you.
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love.
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love. 