Don’t Be Afraid of Emptiness

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I’ve done motherhood both ways. This body swelling all on its own and me going along for the ride. Never having to tell it what to do. Never having to tell my heart how to love because it gently grew in beat with the living soul inside me.

And then there are the times when the stretching and pulling happened to my spirit, not my belly. I expanded in ways I didn’t know was possible. And as these two babies grew inside other women’s bodies, the joy of the Lord grew inside me.

The natural and unnatural expanding of heart and life to receive another. They are both divine. And each journey has led me to the same place – the feet of Jesus.

Thirteen ((((THIRTEEN)))) years ago today I became a mother. I labored a little baby into the world. He was beautiful. None of me, all of Mark. We confidently welcomed our first born son into our home, making us a family. It’s all the years following that are teaching me how to receive life — this learning how to let someone take from me, while trusting God will fill me. And at the heart of this kind of living is exhaustion. Emptiness. Because receiving life means giving yours. Which is why, more than anything else, my children have prepared me for this life of hospitality – a heart that welcomes, a spirit that invites, and a life that is interruptible. For these children, they enter. They take. They interrupt. And there are days it feels like they are literally consuming me.

Motherhood requires greatness. Sacrifice. Few personal boundaries. Lots of resources. And this giving of my life, in order to prepare them for theirs, is what takes me to the feet of Jesus. It keeps me on my knees, praying for grace, offering my thankfulness, listening for wisdom, begging for endurance. Because sometimes the emptiness is such that even chocolate won’t make me better.

But then there’s a smile from a little one. Or a sweet conversation with the oldest. Or a hug that really embraces. Or an unprompted word of gratitude. Or a snuggle that seems to pour into me. And suddenly, miraculously, I am filled once again.

Children have a way of restoring. It must be because restoration is Kingdom work and the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these. God’s spirit dwells in children richly, and I realize just how cool it is that God is filling me through the very ones who empty me.

Receiving life – any life is the same way. Whether it’s a child, a neighbor or stranger. Whether you’re growing a garden or protecting the earth. Whether you’re speaking life and truth into a situation or relationship, or you are providing for those in need – all these life giving, life receiving acts require greatness and sacrifice. They change your rhythm and interrupt your patterns. They reshape your identity and exhaust your resources.

But here’s the promise offered in this life of pouring out: When you receive life – when you welcome God’s creation to share in you, partake of you — you will literally be given life in return. New life that glorifies God and brings you hope and satisfaction.

So don’t be afraid of emptiness. I don’t mean the kind that comes with dark places and sinful choices. I’m talking about the kind that comes from investing in love. So whether it’s empty hands, or a vacant bank account. An empty nest, or an unfulfilled heart. A tired body or an unsure future. Don’t be afraid. Because it is when you are emptied that you get to experience God’s filling. His restoring work in you. His abundant giving.

Have you heard what happens when the Lord is your shepherd?

You will lack nothing.

He will lie you down in green pastures, he will lead you beside quiet waters, he will refresh your soul.

He will guide you along the right paths for his glory. And even when you walk through dark valleys, you won’t have to fear because he will be with you. His rod and staff will comfort you.

He will prepare a table before you in the presence of your enemies. He will anoint your head with oil; your cup will overflow.

Goodness and love will follow you all the days of your life and you will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Isn’t this everything you’ve ever wanted? Rest and quenching waters? Direction to his intended places? No fear? Comfort? A feast, a blessing, an overflowing cup? An eternal fellowship with God? These are the longings of my mother heart, my hospitality spirit. For I don’t just want this for me, I want it for my children, for everyone I know.

In the Word today, I found this treasure of a scripture:

For while we are in this (earthly) tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.

I want my mortal self to be swallowed up by life! I don’t want to prevent it. I don’t want to control it. I don’t want to squeeze it into the box my culture has created for it. I don’t want it to fly by so fast I miss it. I don’t want to judge it or not have time for it. I want to be so pro life that I let it swallow me up and take me to my knees. I want to love it whatever it looks like or however hard it is. For what is guaranteed to come after the swallowing is a covering of grace, a garment of love, to clothe my consumed body. For what is guaranteed to come is a heavenly environment intended to nourish my heart and soul in an eternal fellowship with my Father.

Whatever kind of life is emptying you today, let it be so. And trust in the Lord to fill you in ways only he can.

*edited from a previous post, Psalm 23 & 2 Corinthians 5 quoted

Environments of Grace: what do they look like {for the daughter who loses her mother}?

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I know Jennifer because she married into a family whom I share a deep history, a deep love. Though miles separate us now, the foundation of friendship between our families keeps us bound together, and we delight in knowing that God is working in each other’s lives. Jennifer’s grace story comes just in time for Mother’s Day, a day we celebrate the love and beauty of this divine role. Being a mother and having a mother isn’t something everyone gets to experience or celebrate. But this story teaches us that God’s grace redeem’s broken realities, sometimes in ways we aren’t expecting.

It’s natural to look for grace and redemption in the big things. A cure to an illness, a relationship restored when all hope is lost, a down to the wire prayer answered, or some kind of grand miracle. We seem to search for something that loudly proclaims God is here and in control. Sometimes these outcomes are not always possible in our broken world. Does that mean God is not here? Or could it be that grace is somewhere we haven’t looked yet? I have learned it’s actually sweeter when God’s love redeems something that just my eyes see, and just my heart feel. It doesn’t have to be a grand miracle to make it real, and it doesn’t make grace any less powerful.

Not to rattle off a cliché, but I truly have the best mother-in-law. Let me tell you a little about her. Carroll (Palmer) Duvall was raised in a missionary family. She was the second daughter of eight children. They lived overseas – Germany and Africa – and many places here in the U.S. Carroll learned to give and receive love to all kinds of people through all kinds of situations. Her family modeled the giving and receiving of hospitality. She was raised with the belief that community was essential, whether you were blood family or not. They hosted countless people in their home, wherever home happened to be, and however it looked. Carroll had been the recipient of such love and care also. She was hosted by other families here in the U. S. while in high school and college when her parents were overseas.

After Ron and Carroll married, they learned they would not be able to have biological children. Well, it’s no surprise they decided to adopt two children. Carroll’s family had already been “adopting” people throughout their entire lives. Because of their decision to adopt, my life found love — not just in a husband — but in my mother-in law as well.

Years later, after walking past my mother’s casket at her funeral, Carroll cried the hardest and hugged me the tightest. I remember thinking that my mother would be happy Carroll was in my life, although I couldn’t really understand all that it would mean at the time. Now, I do. She has adopted me, too.

This mother in law of mine is full of life. She gives of her time and talents. Just last week we made a new cover for a dog bed with material we purchased together a few weeks prior. She is always ready to make a meal, and is even happier to meet you at a restaurant. Our blessing runs the full gamut, from babysitting our children, being a friend, shopping, and lending a listening ear.

All the things a mother and daughter would do together, I experience because of her. I truly am one of her own. I still get to enjoy a mother’s love.

How could I have imagined this would be the shape grace took in my life? I knew God gave me the husband I needed, but he also gave me the mother in law I needed. I didn’t ask for it. God just gave. Oh, how he truly loves me so!

He loves you just as much. Grace is somewhere for you also.

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Jennifer, we thank you for your story. Happy Mother’s Day to you!

We celebrate the way God gave you a mother after losing the one who gave you birth. He is faithful redeem.

Environments of Grace: what do they look like {for those coming home}?

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My friendship with Shannon started with an email about how and where to get your hair highlighted in Uganda — you know, the important details about missionary life. We started emailing each other as her family prepared to move to Uganda at a similar phase of life as we did. They seamlessly connected to the people and culture, and continue to live and work within a ministry they are passionate about. Any length of time living in another culture changes the way you experience your culture of origin. There’s an awkwardness, a re-adjusting, a frustration, a comfort, as you engage everything you’ve always known with new perspective. Many missionaries feel out of place in the very place that should feel like home. Environments of grace are critical to missionaries who live as new people in old places.

Furlough – a leave of absence from duty. A time to refresh, renew, connect with family and friends, and of course enjoy 1st world comforts.

We had been in Uganda for 16 months and the 6 weeks back “home” were so anticipated! We didn’t expect the emotions that came though. Feeling like we didn’t belong, overwhelmed by the streets that were too clean, the clothes that were too nice, the stores that were too stocked, and everything being so readily available.

We couldn’t have gotten through that time without the haven we were given. Friends opened their home to the 6 of us, we were given a space of our own, and all of theirs. When we stepped in through those doors it was a sigh of relief, and when we were out we craved being back. It wasn’t just that there home was beautiful, comfortable, and spacious, it was the attitude of the family that made it truly a gift. They were an inspiration to us, the way they are so hospitable, giving, and focused on their family.

We never felt obligated to be a certain way, or say certain things, we felt loved no matter what, safe to be us. We could let our guards down and share stories, we laughed so hard our stomachs hurt, and we watched our kids playing, laughing, being good, being bad, and just feeling at home.

We felt totally included, like an addition to their family, never like visitors. Whether it was a casual family meal, or a special occasion with extended family, like we too belonged. I found myself praying that I would also extend this hospitality when I share my home!

The more I watched our friend’s just living normal life the more amazed I was. They put each other first, always. It was obvious in the little things; dinner conversations, turning the TV off, being outside together, watching a movie, and casually saying no to social things that came up that would have taken time away from each other.

Seeing their lives made me reevaluate some decisions we’d made in our own family, change the way I saw certain things. I know God intended for us to be there for that season, and without their environment of grace I would not have taken this with me.

Feel free to respond to Shannon here. Let’s encourage each other in our stories!

What the Camera Doesn’t Show

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If this one and only snapshot I shared on Facebook is all you knew about our three days away, you would not get a clear picture of how our getaway went. This Instagram is not deceptive. I was indeed sun kissed. I was many times over husband kissed. And I really was a happy girl….in that moment.

But what the camera doesn’t show is the rain we arrived to. And the down pour we woke up to the next morning. What the camera doesn’t show is the constant cloud coverage and continual rain showers that hijacked the entire first day. What the camera doesn’t show is me crawling back into bed at 10am in a full fledge meltdown of discouragement, only to surface to redeem the rain with a visit to my favorite local coffee shop…and learn it was closed for remodeling.

What the camera doesn’t show are how the brief moments of playing hide-in-seek with the sun were shared with the love bugs, who kept landing and mating on us. So irritating {and a little inspiring}.

What the camera doesn’t show is how the brief kiss of the sun later turned hot pink on one side of my body in classic tourist fashion.

What the camera doesn’t show is how I needed this trip to look a certain way. Six months of winter and two months of emotional and physical discomfort created expectations of our getaway that I didn’t even know I had. And my tired heart was unable to respond with grace, the very gift I was needing from this trip. But here’s the thing about grace: you can only experience it, if you receive it. And pouting in bed over rain is no posture for welcome.

We anticipated nibblin’ on sponge cake, watchin’ the sun bake, and being one of those tourist covered in oil. Instead we were cooped up inside like we’d been all winter.

I never did wear those two summer dresses I told you about. Or the wedge sandals. And barely the swimsuit. That’s such a little thing, but haven’t you been in a moment where the little things seem so big?

Thankfully my mother-in-law is one of my environments of grace. She listened to my meltdown, spoke positive words, and scheduled me a pedicure! And my friend back home texted me truth which motivated a different response.

 

 

 

 

And our niece, Quinn, who we were meeting for the first time, brightened our cloudy days.

We didn’t scoot away for morning dates to the coffee shop, we didn’t stroll through the cute streets of Mt. Dora like I had hoped. We never laid pool side with no care in the world. Instead, we watched the clouds roll in, chased the sun when it peeked out, and spent much loved time with Mark’s family, who we don’t see as often as we’d like. Indeed, they were our Florida sunshine.

If days alone, without children, weren’t like gold, I might have been able to respond better. Or maybe I was looking for the sun to heal me, more than the Son. Looking back, I feel silly about my responses. But I realize now that my meltdown released pent up emotions, leaving me available for emotional connection I might not have been capable of otherwise.

Mark really was the only thing I needed for that trip. My own words, written without much thought on an instagram before we left Michigan, were a foreshadowing of truth I needed to be convinced of. Or more like a personal prophesy that I would struggle to live into.

But the truth is, I’d go anywhere with that guy. Down an isle of a church. To Guatemala to bring home a baby girl. To Uganda to live and make a home. To a foreign hospital to have a baby. To an orphanage to welcome another. To ten acres to carve out a vision. To cloudy Florida to make our own sunshine. To our future and whatever He unfolds for us.

I share all this with you to remind you that the instagrams we share don’t reflect whole realities. They are glimpses into our life, often the best moments. And that’s okay. It’s good for us to capture the moments that make us smile, even if they are surrounded by moments we are less happy about. For me, it’s like counting grace, and sometimes it’s recognizing bright spots on cloudy days. For truly, these are the moments we need to cling to sometimes. And I love how I can look back at my captured moments and remember.

I hope, however, to infuse a genuineness to the public snapshots of my life. Because it’s good for me, and good for you as the viewer. It’s not healthy for any of us to make assumptions based on what we see on our screens. There is so much more to us than our instagrams. So much more than what’s on our mind right now. So much more than the places we check into. So much more than the pictures we are {or are not} tagged in.

So I decided I’m going to start using this hash tag #whatthecameradoesntshow. Now and again on my Instagram pictures I’ll share a little bit more to the reality than what I’m framing in my lens. Will you join me so I don’t feel lonely in the messier, less photogenic parts of my life?

{I’m environmentsofgrace on Instagram — who are you?}

A Few of My Favorite Things {this Spring}

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It took a long time getting here, but I dare say Spring has come at last! This sun deprived girl is pale and ornery, so I’m counting all the things I’m enjoying right now as I get reacquainted with the warmer weather and brighter days! Last year I shared a favorite things list, so I thought I might start a tradition and do it this year too.

1. My Matilda Jane ruffles

I hope ruffles stick around for awhile. They’re feminine and sweet and make me feel all girlie. Matilda Jane clothing offers great quality for a not so great price — I recommend finding used items through Facebook groups that buy/sell/trade the clothing line.

2. Our chickens

I love the way they wander through our yard. The way they run up to us when we come outside. The way they go into their home every night before the sun sleeps. The way they provide for us. The way they give my children something living to care for. The way they give me my next favorite thing…

3. My Favorite Eggs Recipe

Half way through the scramble, I add a dollop of fresh salsa and a handful of crumbled tortilla chips. Don’t overcook, but keep them really moist. Place the scramble in a hot tortilla and add cheese. Avocado is super yummy with it! So is sausage.

4. My Vintage Pearl necklace

I bought this Eclectic Charm necklace etched with the children’s names several months ago but it’s been hiding behind scarves. I love wearing my children around my neck. Except today I sneak away to Florida with Mark for three days. No children…not even the necklace. If you aren’t familiar with the company go check it out — they have lovely things.

 5. My Young Living oils

 

My friends Robin and Tracy introduced me to the healing qualities of essential oils. I’m enjoying discovering the ways they are able to bless our family. Already, Lavender oil has proved to be a favorite because of the way it helps Luke with his congestion, coughing and Asthma. We are rubbing them on our feet, breathing them in, and massaging them over problem areas such as sinuses, lungs, bug bites and boo-boos. If you appreciate natural ways of healing and maintaining health, you may want to consider adding some yummy smelling oils to your medicine cabinet.

6. Mark’s vision for our land

…and the way he’s teaching our children about redeeming the land and using God’s created world in fruitful, productive ways. Mark is changing the way we are living and working. The children are growing in appreciation and learning how to participate with more grateful hearts. We want our children to LIVE their story, not watch someone else’s story on TV or play another story on a screen.

7. Philippians 2:15

I love this prayer Paul offered to the Philippians. I am praying it for myself. That {my} love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that {I} may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ — to the glory and praise of God. Oh that my love will abound…

8. My Toms

Even though I like to keep up with current trends, I’m usually late in the game. I finally bought my first pair of Toms and I love them. These shoes and I really will live happily ever after together since they are both cute AND comfortable. Of course, they make me think of Tom, which makes them extra special.

9. These Vintage Afghans.

I’m a quilt girl, myself, but as it turns out my children love afghans. So I looked at Salvation Army and found several cute ones. They only cost about $3-$6, which make them great blankets for kids, the outdoors or homechurch in the barn on a chilly rainy day. 

10. This Caesar salad recipe

1 bunch of romaine lettuce, cut into bit size pieces (I use the leafy green and the crunchy hearts of the stem).

Shredded parmesan

1 French baguette for homemade croutons

Caesar dressing

Toss the lettuce with a generous amount of shredded parmesan. In a large skillet heat a generous amount (cover the bottom of skillet) of oil – my preferred oil these days is grape seed oil thanks to Amy Brown. Sauté the pieces of bread in the oil, add more oil if the original amount doesn’t coat enough. Sprinkle the croutons with garlic salt and an herb like basil or oregano. Toss frequently until they brown on the edges – about 5 minutes or until crunchy. You may have to do the bread in 2 batches so the skillet isn’t too crowded.

Add the homemade croutons to the lettuce and cheese and toss with both pictured dressings. I do about a 2:1 ratio of these two dressings. 2 parts of the creamy Caesar to 1 part of the garlic vinaigrette.

Environments of Grace: what do they look like {in the darkest place you’ve ever been}?

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When you live across the seas in a place like Africa, you treasure the people who take the time and money and energy to travel to where you are. And even if those people travel to see your teammates, and not you, you STILL treasure them! We are thankful for people like Danni Langston and her husband who experienced Uganda, and the culture and people we love so deeply. It will always unite us. Danni’s grace story teaches us to be available to people when they just can’t be available to themselves. May God give us the eyes to witness when we are needed in these special situations.

I think we grow up believing that certain things in life are a given. At least I did. We’ll get older, marry someone amazing, have a perfect and always happy marriage, have kids, buy a house, get a dog, etc. One of the toughest realities of life is getting to a point where you realize….none of those things are guaranteed to us. Some of them may happen easily, but others will take hard work, cause heart break, or (the hardest realization of all) may never happen. This epiphany leaves us scrambling. What can we count on in this world? What is true and dependable? And most Earth shaking, where is our God in all of this?

My journey down this road started almost four years ago. I was enjoying life, when suddenly I turned around and realized how much I loved other people’s children. Everyone in my close realm of life had kids, and I loved them all. I cuddled, chased, colored, and played all they wanted. But when they got hurt or upset, they didn’t come running to me. They went running to their mom. She hugged and comforted in a way I never could. I longed to be the one that was wanted in that moment. Needless to say, it was baby time for me.

If you’ve been through this, you know the first few months can be exciting. Waiting to see if this is the month it worked. Months went by. I prayed, my husband prayed, we all prayed. Asking God to grant us this gift. Telling Him we’d cherish it and be responsible with it. Nothing happened. After about a year I finally got up the courage to seek medical help. This was the hardest part for me because in asking for help, I was admitting that something was wrong.

I was completely terrified that a doctor might tell me I was a broken human. That I had done something wrong, or was born wrong, and motherhood would never be my reality. But I put on my bravest face and went. I was instructed to make a few minor adjustments (which I’d already tried) and give it another 6-12 months. If you know what it’s like to be completely ready to be a parent, then you wait a year, and then are told to wait another year, you know how incredibly impossible that sounds. So I sunk. I sunk deep into a place where I couldn’t move and I couldn’t see. All I could do is dwell there. I began to question everything. Why was God so silent? Why would He not want this for me? What had I done in life to have this blessing withheld from me? Why was the woman screaming at her child in the grocery store super fertile, and I’m not?

The praying stopped. I didn’t feel like it was making a difference. It was the darkest place I’d ever been.

Here is what I learned about God’s grace is this: He doesn’t reach down His hand from Heaven and pluck you out of your darkness. Instead He is in the voices and the hands of those around you. He rushes them to you to do what can only be done by those physically in your midst.

We can experience this grace through a loved one, a family member, or even a complete stranger. When my body refused to move and my head refused to be lifted, others picked up my feet and opened my eyes. My sister nearly dragged me to a fertility specialist. She gave me deadlines to make the call, and then forgave me when I was too weak to follow through. She threatened to impersonate me and make the appointment herself if I didn’t do it. And finally she walked with me and my husband into that office, helping me shoulder my fears. We sat across from the complete stranger. A quiet, stoic doctor, confident in his work. He reviewed my file and I held my breath waiting for him to say I could never have children, or the wait would be much longer. With peace in his voice he said, I’ll have you pregnant by the end of the summer. As my jaw lay on the floor, he set out a plan in which he and I would both be incredibly pro-active in making this a reality. I left that room feeling the full grace of God surrounding me. God was not absent. His presence was full in the life of my sister and this doctor who helped me feel whole again. 

I still don’t have the answers to many questions I struggled through during this dark time. But I know this: My daughter is almost two, and I experience more of God’s grace, faithfulness, forgiveness, and life-giving presence through her life than I could have ever imagined.

We need to share our stories so that we can be the hands, feet, and voices of God when we each need it. Grace, therefore, comes not only from the hand of God, but can be delivered through the hand of one in our midst.

May we have open eyes to see who in our community might need to receive a little of God’s grace through us.

Feel free to respond to Danni here. Let’s encourage each other in our stories!

Environments of Grace: what do they look like {for the mother of a special needs child}?

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Ann Ehlert is a new friend. We find ourselves connected through Jesus, blogging and our sweet friend Courtney. Ann and her husband, Greg, live an intentional life of ministry within their family and a broader community. Her story is one that teaches us how to receive and respond to the realities of others in ways that bless and encourage. And ultimately, sometimes our environment of grace comes when we, ourselves, extend grace to the people we need it from.

Slowly but surely I have been learning how my black and white thinking is not loving or accepting. As children, we learn many unspoken rules, and you either abide by them or break them. The goody-two-shoes I have been most of my life has created these boxes to put people in, lines for people to live up to, and dark bold shades of either black or white.

My whole life I longed for a community of people who loved each other. In my heart I desired a community that truly shared everything. I don’t just mean borrowing someone’s mixing bowl or lawn mower, but bearing one another’s burdens. When someone is struggling, the whole community is there in the struggle helping them through it.

When my youngest (and third) daughter, Ada, was born with Down Syndrome, I refused to let her birth, and first weeks of life, to be a time of grief. I didn’t want to look back on her precious beginning and think we were sad that she had arrived. And, deep down, I really was content with her having Down syndrome. And I still am.

Upon the news of our daughter having Down Syndrome. people encouraged me to grieve, and even gave me permission to grieve later if I needed. I was okay hearing this. What I wasn’t fine with was the grief of others. It was hard to watch people cry or give me a look of pity when they found out Ada was different.

As I struggled with people’s reactions, I found myself keeping more and more of my baby’s life to myself — a life that looks different than the infant months of the average child. Ada could not nurse and had a hard time drinking from a bottle. I was pumping several times a day with two other children running around…and then I would have to watch the precious milk I had pumped slowly dribble down her face. There were many doctor appointments at the beginning of her life, and still now I have to take her to several doctor appointments for various issues related to Down syndrome. But Ada is healthy! She has had two echo-cardiograms. One when she was first born where they found a valve that had not closed after birth. Fortunately, a few months later when tested again, it was closed. Every child with Down syndrome has to be checked every six months by an ENT (she had tubes put in her ears at 8 months), an ophthalmologist (She’ll need glasses in the future), and blood drawn for thyroid and leukemia testing. As their life moves forward more doctors are added or subtracted.  So far, Ada has checked out well, but these appointments still fill our time. I pray for those mothers whose child doesn’t check out well during these visits — for their plate is beyond full.

The reality and shock of my child being different wasn’t new to me. Our second daughter, June, was born deaf. Those witnessing our new reality wanted me to share my feelings about her deafness. I felt as if I were being bombarded with a whole new world and possibly a new language to learn. We had a lot of choices to make, and the pressure of choosing the right path for June was overwhelming. It felt like if we didn’t choose the right one, she may never talk. When Ada was born I decided to take what I had learned from our experience with June and let it shape our new reality with Ada.

In this journey, I’ve had to let go of the expectations I once had of my community. I had already begun this process when I struggled with support during infertility. I do not do well with pity eyes or certain tones of voices. I like to be strong and independent and the idea that you think my life sucks makes me want to punch you. Slowly but surely the Lord is teaching me who I can share this “burden” of raising these children with, and how to offer grace to those who just don’t get it.

Ada, at times, is a harder child to raise. Even though she is super cute and lovable she has been stuck in baby stages much longer, and this can be wearisome. In general, I have become used to our more challenging routine withAda, and sometimes I don’t even know how to communicate with others about it because I have forgotten that it is hard. Sometimes it makes me sad that I don’t share these things with everyone because this journey is rich and at times I actually do need the support. I used to think others had to be everything to everyone…but I’m realizing that some things we need to ponder in our hearts and not everyone needs to know or be a part of it.

The Lord has shown me that some people only need to know bits and pieces of our story, and others need to know more. And that is okay. I have met some really amazing people through my children’s disabilities, and I have been able to add them to my community — a place where I can be vulnerable and weak. The funny thing is, not all of these people have special needs children or even know people who are “considered less in the eyes of the world.” But these people, who have blessed me, understand and love me in ways that I need.

I did not find this safe place in just one person or a certain group, but the Lord has given me several parts of His body to be supported by.

People often ask how they can support me, and some even ask what are good questions to ask of a parent whose child has special needs. This is different for every person. Even for myself I can’t give you a nice formula to go by. Two different people can ask the same question and I might receive one well, and I won’t the other. I pray that I will give grace to the latter.

It’s always good to congratulate someone on their new baby, no matter the reality that comes with the child. It’s also good to offer support for doctor appointments and to make connections with friends who have been through similar situations. It’s good to ask how the parents would like to be supported, and I always love the moms who give me no pressure for a play date knowing we experience four therapies a week.

Here’s what can be hard: when every positive article on your child’s disability or every new piece of information on how to help your child reach their full potential is sent to you. Sometimes I love these articles, but on hard days, not so much. I pray often that I will educate lovingly and when I don’t do this lovingly, I hope that grace is given to me for not responding the best I could have.

Ironically, my name means “full of grace” and grace is what I continue to learn to give. I am slowly learning to open the top of my box, fade the stark lines of expectations and mix those black and white colors to make lots of pretty gray. I hope this means I am growing more and more into my name’s sake.

Feel free to respond to Ann here. Let’s encourage each other in our stories!