Minismith

Just some shots of our past two weeks. Lots of adjusting for everyone, but Jesus is faithfully navigating us through the wild waters.

Levi narrowly avoided a trip to the ER the other night after a slip in the tub resulted in a busted eyelid. The poor guy is having a pretty rough time adjusting to being misplaced as the baby of the family. He’s finding great comfort in his big brother, which is pretty sweet to see. Even though he’s been shunning me lately, he’s getting his fill of hugs and cuddles from B…as well as forced ones from me that he doesn’t necessarily want, but I’m not letting him have that option :)

Lucy had a great weekend of rest during the daytime hours, which we all desperately needed as a family. Just some time to feel “normal” as a family. We’re just hoping her evening gassiness and rough patches begins clears up over the course of the next few weeks. Thankfully, my meds have started to kick in and I’ve had many more hope-filled, encouraging days over the past week. Thank you all so much for your encouraging words and many prayers. 

Little Lucia Eloise Smith joined our family at 3:40pm on Monday, August 28th. Weighing in at 7lb 8oz and 20in long, she was absolutely perfect. After a relatively quick and easy birth, we were suddenly staring at our new, beautiful daughter. We fell hard and fast for that little dark-haired bundle.

We loved that Lucy’s name meant “light”, as that’s what she is to our family after these past years of much loss. She is our little gift of light from Jesus and we believe that’s what she’ll be to many others in her life, beyond just our family.

Her middle name, Eloise, is a combination of both my maternal great-grandmother and grandmother’s names. The first, who was Elsie Louise, and the second, Louise Elsie. When we found out the meaning of Eloise was “famous warrior”, that seemed fitting as well. Our little famous warrior of light. Just like Lucy, in the Chronicles of Narnia, we believe our little girl will be a tender, strong warrior in the kingdom.

I realize that this post is long overdue. With almost two weeks past since her arrival, it’s been a bit of a unique whirlwind here at our house. As with all newborn arrivals, the house is turned upside down quite a bit, which we were expecting. What we were not expecting was the degree and intensity to which serious post-partum depression and anxiety would hit me with within a day after Lucy’s arrival.

You would think by baby #3 you’d have it all figured out and know what to expect. But the first night I woke up with a severe anxiety attack, the first one I’d ever experienced in my life, I knew this was not going to be the same road to recovery after a newborn that I’d walked two times previous.

It has been an uphill climb the past two weeks, but we are slowly starting to see some hope, thanks to the amazing support of Matthew, the incredible help of my family, an amazing post-partum doula, and the help of my doctor.

As Jesus leads our family through this difficult season, we would love any prayers you would be willing to offer up on our behalf.

- for complete healing, mentally & emotionally, for myself

- for deep, anxiety-free sleep at nights to promote that healing

- for energy, strength and hope for Matthew as he carries our family – me, the boys, Lucy – through this season in the midst of a heavy work load. He has Lucy from 9-2am (usually even later) every night the doula is not here and has had many rough nights of trying to get her calmed to sleep for hours. Pray in the nights for mercy and grace for him…and sleep for Lucy!

- for energy and strength for my mom & dad as they support & help us after just moving to Greenville to start a church plant. A lot on their plates as well.

Thank you all for your love, prayers, and encouragement as we walk through this season. As everyone keeps reminding me, it is just a season. Jesus is faithful and will “gently lead those that have young” (Is.40:11).

For those of you who’ve experienced mental illness, it can be a brute beast, and sometimes you just need everyone to believe and speak the truth to you over and over when it doesn’t seem true in your own weak mind.

A song I’m clinging to these days by Rita Springer, I Have To Believe:

I have to believe
That He sees my darkness
I have to believe
He knows my pain
I have to lift up
My hands to worship
Worship His name

I have to declare
That He is my refuge
I have to deny
That I am alone
I have to lift up
My eyes to the mountain
It’s where my help comes from

He said that He’s forever faithful
He said that He’s forever true
He said that He can move mountains
If He can move mountains
He can move my mountain
He can move your mountain, too

Oh, I have to stand tall
When the wind blows me over
I have to stand strong
When I’m weak and afraid
I have to grab hold
Ahold of the garments
The garments of praise

Cause He said that He’s forever faithful
And He said that He’s forever true
He said that He can move mountains
If He can move mountains
He can move my mountain
He can move your mountain, too

I have to sing praise
When the hour is midnight
He unlocks these chains
That bind up my soul
My sin and my shame
He has forgiven and made me whole

I have to believe
He’s got everything under control
I have to believe
Lord, I believe
Help my unbelief
I have to believe in You.

It has been a famine-like day.

Plans of waking early for some alone time before the demands of the day begin. Plans of escaping to the gym for some endorphine-release. Plans of happy, healthy children enjoying our various outings. Every one of these “grand” (for a mother especially) hopes for my Friday was quickly tossed aside as the alarm failed to go off, a visit to the Charter office was more tedious and drawn-out than expected, a flat tire landed us at Firestone for two hours, and my boys continued to hack up a storm, run fevers, and bicker with each other constantly. Even the sweet relief of nap time was an epic fail.

A typical day in the life of a mom. But today, for some reason, the normalcy of interruptions feels unbearable. I am tired. Tired of my overly pregnant body. Tired of of the heat. Tired of full days of bickering kids. Tired of cleaning. Tired of cooking. Tired of laundry. Just plain tired.

I want escape. I want to go to Starbucks and drown my annoyance with the day in a Venti iced mocha. Or a new pair of shoes that I can’t afford from Piperlime. Or a stupid movie I can escape from life in for at least two hours. The immediate appeasement is a guarantee. And for a few moments I know I probably would find relief…of some sort. Yet also guaranteed is a soul that is still left aching and empty. Because sometimes life is just plain hard and there is no escape, bevergage, food, or masseuse that can replenish what’s been stolen by the fall.

In these famine-like days, I want to just grit my teeth and survive until I can fall into bed. And many days, that’s just what I do. But there is another option. Another promise I can claim. A guarantee I’ve been given to feast in the midst of what feels like a famine.

They feast on the abundance of your house;
you give them drink from your river of delights.
For with you is the fountain of life;
In your light we see light.

Psalm 36:8-9

Feasting on the abundance. When I think of the house of God, I think of a wildly, extravagant party. Where the love flowing around the Trinity is as overwhelming and uncontainable as a stormy ocean. Where that wild love for each other flows in abundance. Love that can be feasted on by their weary children. A river of delights that can refresh souls worn out by the battle of life, in a way that no other earthly thing could.

A fountain of life. I don’t know about you, but I have yet to find anything of this earth that fills these aches and voids in my soul for more than a passing moment. As sweet as marriage, mothering, and friendship can be they still have their cracks and painful qualities that remind us that we’re all living in a broken world as broken people. And with that unfulfillment, we hear this whisper that there is another way. A way for our souls to find actual rest. Tangible nourishment for our deprived souls. Peace in the midst of a day or month or years of chaos and disappointment. This does not mean plastering on a fake Pollyanna-esque Christian smile and robotically repeating, “God is good ALL the time!” to ourselves. Instead I think it means admitting the exhaustion of life. Recognizing our fallen state. Admitting we want cheap fixes…that aren’t always a bad thing! And in that weary state, looking to one place we can be refreshed deep down. In the Fountain of Life, the overflowing abundance of love that Christ has for us. That is unchanging, regardless of what our circumstances are screaming at us. In His light, we see light. I see cheap fixes for what they are…cheap. Bandaids over wounds too deep to be patched up by earthly things.

These past few days, I haven’t felt too intimate with Jesus. I haven’t wanted to wake up early or spend time with him. And yet these are the very best moments to soak in His love and enjoy Him for who He is. When feelings are gone and the thrill just isn’t there. These are the days training my soul to claim what is true, regardless of what I feel. That when I feel alone and defeated by the tiring routine of life, He is with me, He is a Mighty Warrior who saves, He is taking great delight in me and rejoicing over me with singing. (Zeph. 3:17) That in my weakness and failure to get a grip some days, He still declares me lovely. That he isn’t waiting for me to have an emotional response to him, he just wants me. And today that looks like a me who is cranky, irritable and feels like a pathetic excuse for a mom. Who is using every last bit of energy to crawl in his lap and flop my head on the shoulder of my Daddy. I may not experience a rush of emotional relief, but my soul finds rest. I’m reminded of the ocean of love accessible to me even in the pit of today. The soul-quenching waters of His fountain of life. A deep rest in being Loved by the One who fought for me before I was even born.

Starbucks still sounds pretty dang good right now, but as He comes this afternoon, an even deeper place in my soul is slowly been quenched. There are still 5 long hours left in this day, but for now I’m reminded again that don’t face them alone. And with that guarantee, my day has turned.

“I have not spoken in secret,
from somewhere in a land of darkness;
I have not said to Jacob’s descendants,
‘Seek me in vain.’
I, the Lord, speak the truth;
I declare what is right.”
-Isaiah 45:19

You, Jesus, have been reclaiming the stolen territory of my heart. You have been taking back the land ravaged by the war of life. You have been bringing freedom to the dark places once chained to old lies, fears and insecurities. You have been speaking the truth about who I am into the chasm that years of lies had created. Lies I spoke to myself and lies spoken over me by the enemy and others.

But with as much freedom as you have graciously offered me of late, there are days the old lies come slinking back in. Old insecurities, old doubts and fears around my purpose in life, old neediness to be somebody great. On these days, the mental spiral downwards seems impossible to stop. Until I find myself paralyzed by anger about my circumstances, insecure about my role as a mom, and overwhelmed by shame and guilt that I just can’t seem to get my act together and regain my sanity. I count the hours until I can fall into bed and start another day.

Yesterday was a day my mind felt as if it were slogging through mud in an attempt to ask You for rescue. The battle in my heart so intense, it felt as if something were physically holding back my tongue from asking Matthew to pray for me as we ended our day. But I was desperate.

As he prayed, you showed me your gentle face. You pulled me into your lap and pressed my head against your chest. As I wept, you asked me, “Am I enough? Is my fierce love and desire for you enough? Is my voice loud enough to silence every other voice, or lack of voice, you hear in your life?” I knew the right answer in my head, but the chasm in my heart felt too deep and wide. All I could reply with was a defeated, “No.” Yet I felt you pull me tighter and kiss my head as Matthew’s prayer ended and I fell off to sleep. Where I would have expected condemnation for such a brutal answer, I fell asleep with only one picture in my mind…your eyes of tenderness, free of shame or guilt.

In the dark of the morning, you woke me. I felt the waves of despair from the previous day sweep over me. Sadness, frustration, guilt. Then I heard it. Not earthly audible, but audible to my soul. “I am here”. My eyes open wide. I heard it again. “Then why do I still feel this way?” was my only response. As I rose and settled in to my time with you, I wrote out my pain, but there were no answers. There was nothing I could do to take it away. To relieve myself of the brokenness I knew I carried. “I have nothing left to give. I don’t know what else to do or what else to believe. You must speak to my heart.”

Then again, in the stillness of the morning. I heard that same voice. The voice of my Shepherd, the voice I am beginning to recognize.

“You are great in MY kingdom, my daughter”

Sobs began to shake my body. I didn’t feel great. I felt puny. I felt whiny. I felt unable to believe in my heart the truth that I knew in my head. Over and over you spoke this to my soul. Kneading the harden mass of my heart into something soft and pliable in your hands. Then lies began to fall off.

Look how worthless your life is. You clean, you cook, you refill sippy cups, you wipe pee off the bathroom floor. No one sees and no one cares.

You are great in MY kingdom.

You spend hours shepherding these little boy’s hearts and look how little it matters. They aren’t changing. You’re wearing yourself out for no reason. Look at what a thankless job you do for them.

You are great in MY kingdom.

Your husband is at the top of his industry. He’s praised daily for his creativity and skills. He has more friends than he knows what do to with. No one sees your gifts. No one cares about your talents. Do you even have any worth sharing? Right…I didn’t think so.

You are great in MY kingdom.

What do you really have to offer anyone? Look at all the people you’ve hurt. All the relationships you’ve screwed up. You are a pathetic excuse for a friend. You aren’t worthy of anyone’s praise or loyalty.

You are great in MY kingdom.

The lies that felt so real, so LOUD, so overbearing just hours ago began to fade into the background. You, the Creator of all that is good and beautiful and praiseworthy in this life, believe that I am great in your kingdom. That my worth to you is priceless. But this wasn’t just a truth I was reading and trying to get my mind around again, You spoke it to my heart. The Living, speaking God. You were the power that broke in. What I could not believe last night, you declared out loud for me this morning. In a voice that silenced all other voices. I did nothing, but you came.

You do not speak in a secret, hidden place where your children cannot gain access. Your voice is not hidden from me. For as many years as I believed that, you are proving me to be wrong. I, your little lamb, know the voice of my Shepherd. And when I hear it, I am undone. For you always speak THE truth. You declare what is RIGHT. In the face of a dying world and a vicious, prowling enemy that wants to declare death and lies over your children, Your voice overcomes. It reclaims what has been stolen. Your love leads me to repentance and away from my orphanhood, into the honored stance of a daughter.

Your Love speaks a better word. It is the defining banner that soars over me. I am my Beloved’s and He is mine.

My once-tiny, first-born Brighton is most definitely not a baby anymore. Upon turning five, it seems a completely new world – full of things he needs to learn about – has opened up. Some times it’s hard as a mom knowing what to share now and what to put on the shelf for another time. But there are those moments when you’re caught off guard without a chance to sort through now versus later. And you quickly find yourself floundering through explanations you wish you hadn’t started in the first place.

The perfect opportunity? Bedtime. When Mom is thoroughly exhausted from the day and inquisitive little boys will find any way they can to sidetrack the lights being turned out and bedtime officially beginning.

As a little preface, Brighton has this preschool science book with a section on “Where Babies Come From”. It’s extremely basic and elementary. At one point it has a cartoon picture of a mom and a dad holding hands. It says that to make a baby, you need a mom and a dad. Going on to simply state that the dad has sperm and the mom has an egg. Even though that is all it says, for some reason, Brighton has come up with on his own that that means when any guy or girl hugs or kisses, the guy gives his sperm to the girl. We’ve been trying to nip that misconception in the bud for obvious social reason. “Augh, Mommy! Don’t hug that man!” We’ve tried very simply explaining that it doesn’t work that way, and that at a later point, we will explain more than he’ll want to know about it all.

With that back story, here’s how our going to bed conversation went last night as I was tucking in my sweet, little, innocent 5 year old….

B: “Mom, wear is our baby going to come out of? Is it going to come out of your belly button?”
A: “No B, it comes out somewhere else.”
B: “Where?”
A: “Just a different place.”
B: “Well it HAS to come out a hole since it isn’t strong enough to rip open your skin. What hole is it going to come out of?”
A: “Well, Mommy’s have a special hole just for babies to come out of.”
B: “Where is it?”
A: “Buddy, we’re not going to talk about that right now. It’s a private place.”
B: “Oooh, near your bum-bum? Are you going to poop the baby out!?!”
A: “NO Brighton, it’s a different hole.”

(a moment of silence and obvious musing going on in his little mind)

B: “So mama, when I give you a hug or a kiss, do I give you MY sperm?”
A: (cringing) “Noooo buddy. Only a papa can give sperm to a mama AFTER their married.”
B: “So when I’m a Papa, I’ll give a mama my sperm?”
A: “Yeh I guess.” (SOB!)
B: “How do the sperm get to the mama. Does it just fly through the air?”
A: (OH MY GOSH, are we REALLY having this conversation?!?) “No buddy, we’ll talk about that another time. It doesn’t fly through the air. The papa puts it in the mama, but we’ll talk about that when you’re older.”
B: “Does he put it in her mouth to eat?”

At this point, I am DYING. Trying to somehow stop blushing and simultaneously not to burst out laughing.

A: “No, she does not eat it (giggle). But that’s all we’re talking about tonight. Papa will tell you more when you get older.”

He was SO not happy with that response, but I was SO not giving him the sex talk at the ripe age of 5.5.

I know every mom says it, but here I am…dumbfounded by the reality that my two little guys are growing and changing so much. Just in a few short years, they go from being so tiny and boring to being wild, silly, interesting little people. Time really does fly.

Silence creates a clearing in our minds so that our hearing can become acute. We learn to listen, we learn to wait, we learn to hush our restless, busy selves and attend to what God might long to say to us. ~ W. Wright

Yesterday afternoon I sat bundled up in the front yard, as the boys ran around playing their imaginary games. Brighton had found a walking stick and was Yoda. Levi had found a broom and was “sweeping” the car and trees. It was blustery and cold, but the sun was shining, which does a lot of good for this winter-weary soul. In that moment, I felt an unusual-for-me sense of rest and peace. Instead of just surviving the post-nap, outdoor time that the boys so desperately needed…I felt something very different, a simple rest in the mundane.

For much of my life, and particularly of motherhood, I have wanted to get out and do. Sometimes it’s as light as my constant need to to get out of the house and do errands, sometimes it’s as intense as wanting to get a job to feel like I’m using my brain again. The routine of life makes me antsy. I’d see other moms who seemed to just enjoy being around their home, loving their family and friends, feeling settled and safe there, and I’d secretly think there was something wrong with them.

My take had always been that I’m just an adventuresome person and need change. Every day. Something about being at home made me feel anxious and unsettled. While the former is true, change is not what I need. Change is what I want. And while sometimes that aspect of my personality is a good thing, most of the time, stillness and rest in the routine of life needs more practice. Because this year is already showing me how little I know how to do so…and how detrimental it’s been to my soul.

To the world, and unfortunately even the majority of believers, rest equals laziness. Because supposedly rest means not doing things and focusing too much on yourself. Yet in His very upside-down kingdom, I think rest is less about doing fewer things and is more about the state of our souls. Living out of a restful spirit. Unfortunately, it seems for the most of us, we aren’t sure how to untangle those two. For me, that has recently ushered in a season of stopping. Which has involved a variety of changes.

It has been scary to stop. To turn down the noise of social media. To be forced to be homebound (through snow storms, kid’s illnesses, pregnancy nausea). To realize just how hard it is for me to be still and at ease with myself and this stage of life I’ve been given. To relinquish all the props the praise of man might offer to discover my true identity only found in the face of Jesus. To face the reality of just how terrifying it is some mornings to simply sit and be quiet with Him. Not to have a study planned or a list of prayer needs. But just to sit before the One who knows me inside and out and let Him speak to me. Through words and pictures, He’s showing me in ways I never believed possible, who I am to Him. And that is what’s changing me. That is what’s making me hungry to be a woman who knows when it’s time to turn down the noise of life and just be still.

He’s helping me see the living, breathing, tangible reality that He is in the stillness of normal life. In the seeming monotony of routine. In the day-in, day-out tasks of unloading the dishwasher yet again, doing the 4th load of laundry, wiping down the boy’s pee-soaked toilet, making beds and straightening the house. Churning out breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks and juice cup after juice cup. These things I do over and over all throughout the day.

For so long I feel I’ve just endured these things, waiting for when Jesus would really use me to do something “important” for His kingdom. But yesterday Jesus gave me a tiny glimpse of what it means to see these low things as my domain in that very kingdom. Where He meets me. Where I find rest in doing the un-glorious tasks he’s called me to that day. It doesn’t seem as sexy or exciting as what I see going on around me, but this is one of the first times in my life where I have felt Him this intimately and heard His tender love spoken over me. And I’m quickly becoming hooked.

…at some point all of us begin to hear the faint but deep whisperings of the Spirit of God, calling us to something less that is in fact something much more. ~J.M. Talbot

When we found out I was pregnant, what had been a year-long frantic race to the adoption finish line suddenly came to a startling halt. I found myself floundering. Now what? 9 months of simply waiting? I began to ask Jesus what He wanted this season to be about and I kept hearing the word “rest”. I didn’t think I needed rest. I felt lost without a defined purpose (adopting a baby, starting newbornhood again). What kind of purpose is resting? A highly underrated one in my own culture-shaped mind. I didn’t want to rest, because I had no idea what it truly meant and no concept of what waited me on the other side. But Jesus has been confirming over and over again that this is my calling for a season, and has been, as I shared above, dispelling the fear and meeting me in ways I never expected.

I’m thankful for the many of you women who are there. Who’ve settled into the role of being a Daughter, and then a wife, mom, and friend with joy and rest. You’ve challenged me, encouraged me and helped me begin taking these baby step towards healing. I’d love to hear more about your own journeys if you’d be willing to share. Partnership in taking the low road is a sweet thing.

There is nothing casual about silence. In its peace it is productive. It prepares us for whatever is to come. Our bodily eyes may or may not be shut, but the eyes of the spirit are wide open and watchful. ~W. Beckett