*Warning: May not be suitable content for sensitive audiences.*

We sat on the couch together. Much like we usually do. My girls all piled around me. Some on the back of the couch so they could see and others tucked in close. They couldn’t wait to see my findings. To dream with me a bit.

“I just love that cute teether… look at that flower print…” They gawked over the couple of items in an online cart. A hopeful “wish list” waiting for a further time.

“Mommy? What will we do with all this stuff if the baby dies before we get to meet her?” Her innocent nine year old browns pierced my soul. “We’d cry together and then we’d find a family who could use the things,” came my brainstorming. And I realized that I cannot protect her from the answer to the question. I can’t even protect her from knowing about the question. I cannot protect her from what she already has known and felt.

I don’t think I ever imagined parenting would be like this. The older girls and I sat in the living room chatting, per usual, before dinner. No real direction to the conversation. Nowhere we needed to be, but together. The littles ran amuck in their room, playing until the “dinner call” stirred them.

He shared some reflections he’d penned, spurring a flood of memories for us all. He left to stir the macaroni, but still stayed engaged in the reflections from the nearby kitchen. Words poured out uncontrollably from eleven and twelve year old lips. Fear. Loss. Hurt. Deep emotions reminding us all of a time we couldn’t save each other from. A time when we all floundered in a deep ocean, just trying to stay afloat until we were saved. A time of medical emergencies, uncertainty, and desperate heart prayers all falling over Christmas time.

And I was reminded again how much I cannot protect them. I cannot even protect myself. How we live in a fallen world with great and deep hurts. Ones that drive us into the Father’s arms with tear-stained faces and a stunned lack of words on our lips.

But mixed in there are the victories too. The times He has held His hand over us while we were in the cleft of the rock. Those times cannot be forgotten. They’re just as real as the hurts. We recalled those together too. In the big jumble of rambling feelings.

The time the robber came and went through the nursery window back in the states, creeping right by my two sleeping babes. And yet he took nothing, despite meeting him face to face at the foot of Matt and my bed. Matt spoke and he fled. And the girls never even woke up. No, protection did not look anything like I expected. I’d have preferred protection to look like him never entering, let alone WHERE he chose to enter and exit. But protection wasn’t mine to define. And it taught us lessons we never even knew we needed.

She talked about how joyfully they played. How she was jealous of their happiness in the midst of her internal chaos. And then we thanked the Lord for protecting “the littles” innocence despite the long night before we knew joy would come. No, his protection did not look like I thought it would. We didn’t know then what beauty could come from the ashes. All we saw was smoke rising from the ashes. How could He use this? How would He use this? And we lifted our scars, the individual ones and the ones we had received as a family, as a broken offering.

I don’t know how to answer these deep questions. I don’t have the healing words for these deep hurts. I never will. And I’m thankful that today God has gifted me with the arms to reach out and offer hugs when I have no words. Today He has given us each other to walk through the valleys together. Thank You, Father.

I don’t know if we’ll get to keep her. Or for how long. But I am thankful that we’ve had today with her. And I am hopeful that there could even be a tomorrow. Because I’ve seen Him protect in unexpected ways, pulling us from the deepest valleys. I’ve seen Him bring about healing from wounds too deep to identify. I’ve seen Him extend His hand and literally hold our very lives together with every breath and heartbeat He has given. He knows what we need. And He knows the protection, security, and depth lessons that we really need to draw us to Himself and render us better tools in His hand.

Lord, they’re yours. They were never mine. Thank You for another day with them. Thank You for another day period. Thank You for your extended hand of protection. Thank You for Your hand of healing. May we use this “one more day” that You are giving to honor You, no matter what lesson may come on the horizon. You have been and You will be Enough. No matter what is asked of us or taken from us. Thank You, Father, for holding us when the world shakes. Your hands are and will always be our greatest security. Your will be done in these lives that You are sustaining, Father. Amen.

I have been pretty quiet over here in this space. And in some ways I’ve come to miss it. Life keeps galloping on by with a husband to share life with and four wonderful girls to invest in, so many times things fall to the wayside.

I’ve actually been wrestling with my “online presence” for a while now. It has been eye opening over the past year to watch how helpful and how hurtful online voices can be when given less constructive echo chambers, spontaneous and seemingly lack of accountability, and a free license to “be raw” at the disregarded expense of others. Thankfully, the Lord has shielded me and my family from much over the years. But it has been sobering to sit back and watch the devolving of the “Western” mindset as it can and has faded into short, egocentric online interactions.

It caught my family off guard this past year at how many people appear to be addicted to devices and the “online voice” as opposed to those sitting right before them. It has brought many a reflection on the ministry of presence and the quality and sacrifice of investing in others face to face.

It has brought much self reflection on how much time I have personally devoted to distractions over depth. You will not find me blaming any society or people group for such examples set before me for I have seen that pride and arrogance is highlighted in us all, manifesting itself in us, mankind, in so many different cultural ways across so many country boundaries.

And, as I continue to encourage my girls, I find myself striving after a continual season of self-evaluation. A ridding of the unhealthy I find within me, caused by me, fueled by me and fanned into flame by me alone.

What will my legacy be? I have asked myself this question, not to elevate myself but to diminish myself to right standing. How quickly each generation forgets about the last. Our legacies are washed away with the next round of louder distractions and comforts. Oh sure, our testimonies matter. The way in which I conduct myself can and does spur others on or place stumbling blocks before their feet. But the fame and the renown are not mine to carry. And never were.

No, it’s not really my legacy at all. Nor has it ever been. It is the Lord’s. What kind of a legacy will I detract from or contribute to for His fame?

It brings much to reflection. Much more than a silly online voice. A silly distracted presence. A silly half-hearted investment in superficial relationships that never get to heart investment.

It calls me to much more than I can even define in myself or for myself. Much more than I can even acknowledge that I think I need. Or even immaturely want based on half-understanding and my limited horizons view.

Self-sacrifice is an unpopular choice.

Depth is an intentional choice of investment.

No, I don’t find myself out here chasing my own legacy.

I find myself chasing His.

What will be today’s legacy?

Mine or His?

This past week Matt and I had the privilege of celebrating 14 years of marriage.

We took the kids to a secluded beach house and enjoyed four days of whale watching from the top of high sand dunes, tidal pool exploration, and family games.

I didn’t take many pictures because the focus was more on just being together. It was really fun changing up the scenery here on another wave of country-wide COVID lockdowns. I always cherish the time spent at our favorite spot, where time seems to be in abundance and family bonding is a focus.

There were crisp mornings on the tops of the sand dunes where the girls and I enjoyed cups of hot chocolate and waking up to the whale calves jumping. There was nowhere to be. Nothing to do but just snuggle together in blankets and watch the world wake up together. (The girls even enjoyed feeling their baby sister in my belly squirming around and waking up for the day with us too.)

Amazing what 14 years has brought into Matt and my lives. So many good and hard things we have grown together through. And it was lovely just stopping for a few days to breathe in and out as a family and a couple, reflect some, and just slow down from the noise.

It was a set aside time to treasure what the Lord has brought before us, thanking Him for His provision and protection.

And a time to even thank Him for the challenges that have defined our family in ways we did not know we needed refining.

We celebrated growth and the internal quiet changes as He has continued to mature each of us in Christ. We dreamed a bit as a family. And we looked at the stars, blanketing the huge African sky and reminding us of just how Big He is and how small we are.

And we just sat in silence together, watching the horizon. Not finding a need for words, but just enjoying being together.

I wonder what the next 14+ years will hold for us.

And I smile at the future.

Knowing the Lord is already there.

Eden, how the time has flown. How are you seven already?

How simple and joyful your birthday was this year. You chose for a quiet day at home, my little introvert, to just play with your family and carry on our Friday night pizza and movie tradition.

You were thrilled to help decorate your own cake this year and chose a beloved kitty, of course.

And you highly enjoyed the Minecraft zoo your oldest sisters built you so you could feed and care for the animals (your favorite part of playing that game), the container of sour gummies from Hannah and the stick horses Daddy and I made for you.

Naturally the stick horses needed to race around the house, jump on the trampoline and got to the grocery with us.

You also joyfully volunteered to share your celebration with our new guard, his wife and their newborn baby as they came by for a visit.

Eden, we love you so much and are thrilled to celebrate another year of your life. May the Lord continue to grow you up in knowledge of Him and love for life. Your compassion for others, ease in finding delight in the simplest things, and ability to instantly make a friend are contagious to those around you. It’s an honor and a joy to get to love you, Beeden.

🎉Happiest of birthdays to our new seven year old! 🎉

What is the cost of followship? Everything. What is the cost of obedience? Absolutely everything. —Hoisting absolutely everything onto the altar. Even the unthinkable. Placing it on the altar in times of joy and in times of distress. Even when you dance beside the altar, rejoicing in the opportunity to give an offering. Even when you clutch the altar afterward and don’t know the words to pray. Even when you lay your head on the altar and just have a good cry. It all must go. It all must be placed on the altar. It all becomes a pleasing aroma.

In that moment as you watch it burn, it may feel like something is being taken from you. Or maybe you’d like to just take the sacrifice off for just a minute longer to say goodbye. To grieve for just a minute longer. But you know your feelings betray you. They are but a passing wind, strong as they may be. His promises have not changed. You can cling to His assurance that it is indeed a pleasing aroma unto Him.

The joy and the free-will offering. To the altar.

The sacrifice and the suffering. To the altar.

The hours and years of lamenting. All to the altar.

And the aroma rises.

And even as you wait for the peace, the resolution, in the silence…

The aroma rises unto the Worthy One.

As you watch it burn you know deep down that the offering never belong to you in the first place.

It may have been a beloved lamb. The best you could offer.

But it was never yours.

It doesn’t have to be a pleasing aroma to you. It’s a pleasing aroma unto the Lord.

He is Worthy.

“Therefore I urge you, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship.” Romans 12:1.