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Write! Part 3

brittanymputman

Here On Earth…

The seizures gripped her. That’s really the only word to use to describe what seemed to be happening in that moment. The tumor in her brain caused all this. Her husband was close by and she turned her gaze towards him. Her eyes pleaded, ‘Help me.’ As I stood to the side, I watched a man full of love for his wife and faith in his Creator, call out for Lynette’s relief. Even though she was on medicine to dampen the seizures, they still overtook her left hand and arm multiple times an hour. I don’t know how frequently they came, I just remember how hard it was to watch… over and over again. The seizure would start, her husband knelt down by his wife, grabbed her hand and helped in the ways they had discovered limited the pain. As her hand would clamp down into a fist, Shaun worked to open it back up. This was helpful and gave her a bit of relief from the pain. At the same time, she locked eyes with the one she pledged to spend her life with. He locked eyes with her and prayed. He commanded the seizure to stop. He released healing over her brain and nerves. He sought the Lord to intercede and bring healing in the name of Jesus for this time and this place. Over and over again, I watched this dance between Lynette, the seizure, Shaun, and God.

What a powerful image I beheld. The way they locked eyes spoke volumes of not only their love for each other, but the trust they had for each other. Lynette found safety in Shaun, and Shaun found safety in Jesus. Their gaze communicated all that needed to be said. They derived strength from each other and from God to make it through another seizure until it subsided. Eventually, Shaun was called away to help with something in the home. With another seizure ended, Lynette and I could start back up with our conversation. I loved having these moments with her. Just she and I, sisters. We didn’t talk about too much, not anything too deep. We were just with each other, together, side by side. That was enough. That was the space we needed to fill in those moments. 

Then it happened. Another seizure came, but Shaun couldn’t come in to help this time. I was there. It was my time to help. I grabbed her hand and asked if she needed me to open it. She nodded with pain in her eyes. As her hand tightened around mine, I worked to pry open her fingers. The wrestling was real and she was unable to control it. Her tumor had taken over and caused her body to tense and tighten. My hand was the only thing between her fingernails digging into her own palm. And then I prayed. “God, would you heal Lynette. Right now Lord, remove this tumor from her. Seizures, STOP in the name of Jesus. Tumor SHRINK in Jesus’ name. Health and healing come. Let the Holy Spirit’s healing be released over Lynette’s brain right now.” I continued to pray in this fashion until finally her muscles began to relax. Her fingers and arm released the tight hold and fell back, slumped against her side. The seizure had passed. This happened a number of times while I was alone with her. It was hard to see my sister in pain.

Unto Life…

It reminded me of back when I was 15 years old and it was Thanksgiving day. We had just finished up a wonderful meal with my aunt and uncle and Lynette and Shaun. Lynette didn’t eat much that day. She was in a bit of labor, but not enough to head to the hospital. Her first child was going to make her debut soon! We were all so excited and were just waiting for the moment when she’d need to rush to the hospital. But, it didn’t come during dinner and it was time to say goodbye to our guests. While Mom and Shaun walked my aunt and uncle out to the car, Lynette said that she needed to use the bathroom before they headed home. I was still in the house when I heard Lynette scream. “Ah! My water broke! Brittany, get me a towel! Tell Shaun!” A flurry of activity hit our house and before I knew it, Shaun had whisked Lynette off to the hospital. Mom and I followed suit as quickly as we could.

Soon we were ushered to the labor and delivery room where Lynette was dressed in hospital garb and hooked up to a few monitoring machines. I had never been in a room with a woman in labor before. What was all this stuff? Lynette explained that one of the machines monitored her contractions. She always found ways to teach what she knew, even in the rests between contractions. Then I heard Shaun say, “It looks like another one is coming,” his eyes watching the paper read out. He sat down next to her. He took her hand in his and looked deeply into Lynette’s eyes. She locked her gaze to his and then we heard him count, “1…2…3…” and so on. As he counted, Lynette breathed in and out. She looked to Shaun to regulate her breathing and therefore her pain. She hadn’t taken any pain medicine! This was how they chose to start labor, trusting each other, eyes and hands locked, and understanding and loyalty that transcended the pain of the contraction. Afterall, each contraction was unto something. Each one brought them closer to meeting their first child. 

Brittany visiting Lynette after her third child was born

At some point, Shaun needed to step away from Lynette’s bedside and I was invited to sit near her. I happily chatted in my 15 year old, little sister way. She listened and responded, weary as she was. Suddenly, her stomach began to contract and I felt her hand in mine. She held tight and looked into MY eyes. At 15, I didn’t know what to do. I had never seen that look of pain mixed with a bit of trepidation and pleading from her. She bored  into my eyes and I knew it was my turn. I had watched Shaun, I could do this. I squeezed her hand back and counted, “1…2…3…” As she breathed, I felt her nails dig into my hand. For a moment, I shared a small amount of her pain. She needed me. My big sister needed me and I rose to the challenge. Quickly, Shaun returned and glided into place. Her gaze switched to him, and I felt relief wash over me. I had done my part, but it was so intense. I hadn’t expected that. That little bit seemed to empty me out and grow me up all at once. My sister needed … ME! I had something to offer her after all those times she helped me. Wow!

Some time later, it was time for her to push. I took a position near her shoulder and had the privilege of seeing my niece come into the world. What a miracle! The miracle of LIFE! It was beautiful and emotional and exhausting. To this day, I am so thankful that I was allowed to be in that room, to experience that moment. Throughout her life, Lynette was an advocate for pregnancy and childbirth. She cherished each of her ten births, children that filled her home and her heart. Ten times, she repeated the process of pain unto something… unto life! Ten times, she and Shaun did the dance of locking hands and eyes and breathing together as partners. So many things go unspoken in big moments, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they go uncommunicated.

And Into Eternity…

Whether unto life or unto death, Lynette communicated in the most painful moments. She showed her love and commitment to Shaun and received it in return. She shared her trust with me, even though I was inexperienced. She invited me to come alongside her and learn and grow. Through her sickness, she also showed her unwavering faith in Jesus Christ. She turned to him in the most painful moments. She spoke with him in the quiet moments of the night and when her worry threatened to overtake her. Her favorite playlists were songs that reminded her of Jesus and his goodness. She immersed herself in worship music day and night. Through all the hardship, she looked on HIM, Jesus. And in the end, I imagine, He was the one who took her by the hand and their eyes locked with one another. The unspoken communication that said, ‘You are safe, healed, and whole. You are now home and you have run your race so well.’

Ultimately, her final pain wasn’t unto death, but unto eternal life. She made a decision during her lifetime to make Jesus her Lord and Savior. He was the leader of her life. She believed in him and that he came to earth and died as a sacrifice for her sins, and the wrongdoings of the world. Jesus, the only one worthy to take our place because he was perfect. He never did anything wrong or sinful. God’s one and only son, chose to give up his life so that we could have our lives for eternity. Jesus chose first and Lynette chose next. In the end, her death was actually a welcoming into a new part of her life, her eternal life. If you want that life, you can have it too. The Bible says, ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved.’ All you have to do is call out to Jesus.

You can say, ‘Jesus, I believe in you. I want to live eternally with you. I believe that you came to this earth and died in my place to pay for all the wrong things I have done and will do. I accept your sacrifice on my behalf. And I believe that you rose to life again and are now seated in Heaven with God. I choose to make you my leader, my Lord. You are my Savior. I want to be forever yours. Please guide me in my life and teach me how to follow you. Amen.’ 

If you said this prayer for the first time or if you are rededicating your life to Jesus, then I recommend a few steps. Find a Bible and read the book of John (towards the last third of the Bible). Find a Christian friend and a church that can help you connect with other people who have made this their life choice too. God loves a family, and it’s so good to follow Jesus with other people. One day, you too will have the Lord take your hand and say, ‘You are now home.’

(To be continued in a future blog post)…

Click the links to view Write! Part 1 and Write! Part 2.

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WRITE! Part 2

brittanymputman

The Departure…

I stepped out of the car and onto the busy airport sidewalk. Grabbing my bags from the trunk, I kissed my husband goodbye and gave the fastest goodbye hugs and kisses to my children. Wheeling my suitcase through the crowded sidewalk, the tears started to prick at my eyes. I turned around once more and waved goodbye to my family as they drove off. Then, I was alone. Tears slid down my cheeks as I made my way through the airport doors. I was afraid and overcome with emotion. Here I was navigating the busy airport on my own and with the crushing weight of knowing what awaited me on the other side of the country. I couldn’t hold back the emotion any longer. I didn’t need to be brave for my kiddos, or appear strong in front of them. It was just me. Me and a crowd! After letting those initial tears spill over, I was able to gather myself once again and march onward towards security and my sick sister, Lynette, on the East Coast.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I made it through security and settled in at my gate. I did it! The rest would be easy. I just had to get on the plane and let it take me to my sister. But I hadn’t anticipated the small talk that comes along with flying. ‘Oh, it’s so nice to meet you. Where are you headed? Oh really, what are you going to do there?’ With a blank look, I quickly replied with a very general answer. ‘My sister and her family live there. I’m heading out to see them.’ Phew! That was enough. The kind seatmate didn’t ask any further questions. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I had to answer anything more in depth. Would I have cried right there in front of all those passengers? Would I have lied? Would I have become stoic or nonchalant, emotionless as I answered the question in truth? I’m just so glad I didn’t have to find out. Putting my noise-canceling headphones on, I blocked out the rest of the world for the duration of the flight. 

The Arrival…

After a slight delay during my layover, I made it to my destination. Calling my friend to let her know we landed, she drove the 40 minutes out to the airport to pick me up. I’d also be staying at this friend’s house while visiting my sister and her family. I was so thankful for how these accommodations had worked out. Not only did I get to see my good friend, Vanessa, but I also got to see my wonderful sister, Lynette. The three of us had become great friends when we lived near one another back in Illinois. Together, along with my sister-in-law, Joy, we made a home-school co-op together during the height of Covid. It was an amazing set of women and kids. We needed community during that time and it worked out so well that the four of us and our kids could meet regularly to make that community happen. Even though our families now live far from each other, we still get along and enjoy one another when we get the chance to be together.

Vanessa and I spent a few hours talking and catching up before we turned in for the night. The following morning, I woke up and slowly got ready for the day. I just didn’t want to face what was to come. I kept delaying the inevitable. I talked with my friend while I ate a slow breakfast, hoping I could draw some inner strength as I inched towards the time to leave. Finally I was ready. Vanessa hugged me and encouraged me that I could do this as I got ready to head over to my sister’s house. I’d have a little time with Lynette and the family before my Mom and brother, Jesse arrived from their trip out here. 

My Destination…

As I stepped into my sister’s house, I was welcomed by cheers of “Aunt Brittany!” There were so many hugs! My sister has ten kids and at that time most of them were still living at home. Oh those hugs were scrumptious! I accepted all the hellos and welcomes and gave a bit of talk time to the family. Usually, at this point visiting my sister, I’d make my way to the kitchen where I would inevitably find her baking bread, prepping for the next meal or helping the youngest ones with dishes from the meal that just passed. Lynette was the picture of domesticity. She loved being in the kitchen. It was her happy place. She adored being able to feed her family good and healthy foods. She welcomed the times when she could teach them how to bake or do something ‘just so’ in cooking.

I know this first hand. I have vivid memories of being at my 7th grade home with her in the kitchen. We were adding all the dry ingredients to a stainless steel bowl. She reminded me to take the flat edge of the butter knife and run it over the measuring cup of flour to ensure that I had the perfect amount of flour that the recipe called for. Then we got out the handheld electric mixture and together we mixed the ingredients until they were combined and ready for the next step. As we baked together, we sang to whatever music she currently loved and we did a little dancing to keep up the energy. She was patient with me. I don’t understand how she could be so patient, but I think it must have been not just our relationship but also her love of the process of cooking, not only the outcome. Side by side, we produced some very tasty baked goods in my younger years. 

Now what awaited me was a kitchen with no Lynette. Her family carried on the cooking and cleaning, but it still felt empty without her welcoming smile and flour-covered hands. She wasn’t dressed in an apron, looking out her kitchen window and delighting in her children running around the yard. She wasn’t silly-dancing to her favorite music and bringing an upbeat feeling to the space. She was asleep in her bedroom; medicated and still experiencing symptoms of this brain tumor – no mobility on her left side and seizing from time to time. I had to wait to see her until she was awake. That’s just how things were. Waiting in the unknown space between what I knew and didn’t know while still being in a familiar place with familiar people was tough. I tried to stay present, but I just wanted to see my sister. Now that I had arrived, I was ready, but not ready… Perhaps I should say that I was as ready as I could be. 

“Auntie Brittany, she’s awake. You can go in and see her now,” my oldest niece told me. Now was the time. It was here. I didn’t know what to expect, but I did know who was on the other side of the door. I entered her bedroom and there she was, propped up on pillows in her bed. She looked over and we made eye contact as I approached her bed. I felt shy and unsure. But she looked at me with such love and joy that I knew all was okay for the moment. I opened my arms and wrapped them around my sister. We cried. It was so good to see each other again. Nothing needed to be spoken as we just hugged each other. Here I was across the country from my home, hugging my sister and offering whatever morsel of support I could for her and her present situation.

Settling In…

“You came!” she said through tears and with a tired voice from all she had been through. Yes, I came. I was there, I was with my sister. I looked on the woman who was always larger than life to me. My big sister who seemed to have the answers to just about any question. My big sister who took me under her wing so many times. We were connected. We were connected through childhood memories, shared music, our faith in Jesus, and our desire to be the best Mom’s out there! We loved one another deeply and all that past stuff linked us in this moment. I could be strong because here was my sister who needed me. She needed me to be there and show her that I cared too. I could help be the one to take care of her when she had done that for me so many times. I could sit with her and not say a word or I could ramble on and fill the silence. Whatever she needed, I wanted to give that to her. I wanted to take care of her because she cared for me. I wanted to be there for her because our bond was out of this world. She was my big sister and it was my turn.

As a musician, I have always been interested in the power of music to heal the brain and body. So as soon as I heard that my sister was sick with a brain tumor, I started to compile a playlist of music from our childhood. There’s something about music from our past that hits us in a different way than music from our present. It’s like those songs get embedded for decades and can bring us back in no time. I laid down next to my sister in her king-size bed and I told her about the playlist. I asked if I could play some songs for her. She graciously said that I could. As the first song played, tears formed. She looked at me and tears formed in my eyes as well. We brokenly sang parts of the song and held on tight to each other. It was a warm moment of connection with my sister. It was a connection that spanned 4 decades and here we were, together, reliving a moment in time. It was beautiful. I can’t actually remember what song it was that I played, but it was powerful and so, so good. 

I’m so thankful for music and the way it can connect hearts. The Lord gave us such a precious gift in music. Hans Christian Anderson is known for saying, “Where words fail, Music speaks.” I have experienced that close up time and time again. Even as I’m writing this, I’ve chosen to listen to the instrumental soundtrack for the 1985 PBS/Wonderworks Film, “Anne of Green Gables.” The music reminds me of the many times that Lynette and I watched this sweet story together. We’d pretend to be an orphan and get taken home to a loving family. As we grew up, the story had other meanings for us, deep friendship being one of them. We could be Anne and Diana because of how close we were. We knew our depth of relationship would always be strong and it is.

The Lord has been so good to put us together. He knit our family and our sisterhood into an intricate weave, one that was added to year over year. Although my sister is no longer with me physically, I still carry that piece of her with me. I know that is cliche, but it’s cliche for a reason! She’s in my heart and my mind. She’s in the recipes I make and the music I hear. We are Anne and Diana, Elsa and Anna. We are sisters through and through. She’s the only one that carries this unique bond with me and death doesn’t make that go away. I know that I’ll be reunited with her one day. She’s with Jesus now, praising him. I can see her wearing white, hands uplifted, face turned towards the light of Jesus. She’s praising him with all of Heaven. She’s in the glory of our Lord just like the picture that the Lord gave me on that Worship Night. She is where she is meant to be for all eternity. I’m so thankful for her joy in the Lord.

(To be continued in a future blog post)…

Click the links to view Write! Part 1 .

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WRITE!

brittanymputman

How to get started?…

“WRITE! Brittany, you need to write, write, write. Keep writing. Whether you share it publicly or not, keep writing.” This is essentially what my counselor has been telling me for the last few years. I’ve tried. I have a couple half-started, half-finished posts in my files. But each time I tried to sit down and write I drew a blank. I especially had a hard time writing about my sister, I just couldn’t. What could I say? What hasn’t been said by others? What still needs to be said? What am I feeling? All of these are questions I couldn’t bring myself to contemplate. I had no answers. It’s like the trauma of what was happening with my sister and how it affected me caused my memories and thoughts to scatter like a box of spilled puzzle pieces. All the parts were there, but I couldn’t piece them together. They were so jumbled up and maybe even one or two had slid into some sort of hiding place (like under a sofa). I just couldn’t make the picture come into clarity. 

Emotional pain, fear of judgement, and deep loss kept me from being able to really dive into the subject matter that hasn’t been discussed in this blog yet. Some of you reading this post already know the events of the past 3 years, but others of you are just getting to know me and don’t really have any idea of what transpired for me and my family.

History…

I suppose I’ll start by saying, I have a sister. Her name is Lynette. I love her deeply and she treated me like I was her baby. She was seven years older than me. She loves to share the story with me that she wanted a baby sister so badly and then I finally came along. She was overjoyed and from then on our sisterly bond formed. My big sister, my second mother, my first teacher, my baking buddy, my reading buddy, my music buddy, my encourager, my defender, my cheerleader… what a list! It’s not an exhaustive one either.

Lynette holds me, with our big brother nearby

Lynette played a big role in my faith journey too. When I was four years old, after our parents had put us to bed in our shared room, we started talking. From the bottom bunk, I told my big sister up on the top bunk that I wanted to ask Jesus into my heart. I don’t remember what we had been talking about before that part in the memory, but I bet she was asking me about Jesus, or at the very least, answering my questions. Immediately, she knew we should get a parent. Dad came in and as he held my hand, I prayed for Jesus to enter into my heart and lead my life. I can still sense the tears falling at four years old from saying, ‘Yes’ to Jesus. My sister was witness to all of it.

Throughout my life, she shared her ‘cool big sister’ Christian music with me and helped me to know what books were especially good to read and which weren’t. When I was in college, she and her husband paid my way to a major missions conference called, Urbana. And even later in life, when I was pregnant, she shared her philosophy of how beautiful it is that God allows us to be part of his creative process by carrying our babies in our bodies. Sure, our bodies change and reshape, they hurt and ache, but the joy and conviction Lynette shared with me about sacrificially giving our bodies to the Lord for the process of creating new life, gave me a new perspective. I was doing something holy!

The one and only time we were pregnant at the same time; 2015

Lynette saw things in ways that were so different from me. Yes, we had a lot of similar core beliefs, but the way they fleshed themselves out or the nuances of them were always interesting to discuss. As we both entered the same adult stage of life, we sharpened each other. She challenged me in my thoughts and actions. She encouraged me with her one-liners that were ingrained in her, but felt fresh and vibrant when I heard them. It was just a natural way of how she lived out her convictions, and spoke them out, that taught me so many things. I learned so much by watching her simply live her life. She was a no frills, direct speaking, conviction living gal. She was opposite from me in so many ways, yet we fit. Sister and sister… yellow and pink, vegetables and fruit, country and suburban… we fit. Like the jigsaw puzzles we loved doing together so much, our pieces matched and fit together. 

When Time Stands Still…

Then the unthinkable happened. As she was busy raising her ten kids, keeping herself in excellent nutrition, and living her dream on 10+ acres, she collapsed. I wasn’t there. I was over 700 miles away! She had just moved only a little over a year before. I was so far away and my sister was having a medical emergency. I couldn’t rush to the hospital to see her. I couldn’t ‘take over’ at home until she got back. I couldn’t hug my nieces and nephews and my sister. I was stuck at home. I knew they could manage without me, but I still felt helpless. Even if they didn’t need my help, I still wished I could be there. All I could do was wait. I talked on the phone with my Mom. I shrugged off the possibility of anything really bad happening and just assumed that whatever caused her to collapse would be easily solved by the doctors. I mean, the medical community really has come up with so many ways to solve health issues. I kept myself from thinking the worst and thrust myself into my work and tried my best to ignore the ‘what-ifs’. 

After some time, Lynette went home from the hospital and eventually they got her results. It was a tumor. “Okay, she’s got this. The medical community has got this. I’ve known people who had brain tumors and I never heard of anyone who hadn’t had it resolved.” I prayed for her healing and I expected the best outcome. Why shouldn’t I? What I didn’t know was what kind of tumor she had and what the life expectancy was. I didn’t grasp the gravity of her situation. As much as I hoped for the best, I still felt the deep worry and concern. Our church at that time was having a Worship Night and I knew I just had to go to it. We went as a family, but I needed a bit of space. I felt the tears coming and I just wouldn’t be able to really interact with the Lord deeply if I was worried about my kids seeing my tears or interrupting me while I was processing with the Lord. So, I stepped away from our row and walked over the other side of the auditorium. The tears came. They dripped down my face. I turned my face heavenward and let the presence of the glory of God fall on me. I needed him. I needed his strength because I was scared. 

We continued to worship. The room was dark, but there were some spotlights being used from time to time. As I looked to the right, across the room, it felt like time suddenly stood still. I saw a woman in the crowd with brown hair, seated while everyone else was standing. Her arm was lifted up as was her head and the spotlight shown on her just at that moment. She was highlighted to me and I felt an impression from the Lord. “This is your sister. She’ll be worshipping me in Heaven, surrounded by many others worshiping along with the angels.” I quickly shook that thought off because it felt imminent. It felt like the Lord was showing me that Lynette would not find her healing here on earth. I couldn’t accept that. I had to keep believing that this tumor would not be the end of her. 

Facing Reality Up Close…

The time had come. She was going to have surgery to remove as much of the tumor as they could. I wrestled with whether or not I should go see her before or after the surgery. It was likely she’d live through the surgery, but I had no idea what state she’d be in at that time. I spoke with a pastor and friend who had had a family member go through a similar surgery and she was able to give me some great perspective about the situation I was facing. My husband wanted me to go and was ready to do whatever was needed at home to make that possible. But I didn’t want to go. The truth is, I was so afraid. I was afraid to fly alone for the first time. I was afraid of the emotional toll it’d take on me to see my sister as she was. I was already in a fragile state because of some previous losses I had suffered and I hadn’t bounced back yet. I was afraid to see my sister in her immobile state, still suffering from regular seizures in her hand and arm. I didn’t want to face reality up close. I just felt so much fear and panic.

But, I had to. I had to go. I had to see her before her surgery. I didn’t know what things would be like after, but I knew what things were like at that point. For a person who was suffering with underlying anxiety, I was doing something incredibly hard. It took all my strength to agree to make the trip plans out to see her and on my own to boot! I can’t put into words the trouble I was having with taking these steps to do something that seems like it’d be so simple and straightforward. Who wouldn’t want to jump on a plane and visit their sister before a major surgery? Who wouldn’t be able to do that? Why would that be hard for anyone? What would keep someone from doing something that others do every day? That person was me and I was bound up in fears, anxieties and so much grief. 

Photos from the last time we were together before the medical emergency

I had to face the truth that I wasn’t fully recovered from the major transitions of life. (Yet another topic I haven’t been able to give much writing towards because of the knotted mess that it all became inside. There had just been so. much change and so fast) I still had to do more hard things in the midst of such inner turmoil. I had to face my fear of being unable to cope with the present reality. I had to face my anxiety that I would melt into panic as I took steps towards that awful truth that my sister was … different. I had to face the grief that what she and I had was gone… at least for the present. I didn’t know if it’d ever come back. I didn’t know if she and I would ever have the chance to have a carefree conversation again. This tumor, this cancer, had come in and obliterated the road we were on. From now on, we’d be taking one jagged step at a time. We’d be jumping over potholes, and getting our footing on the slippery grounds of medical feedback. We’d be racing ahead only to abruptly put on the brakes. Our inching forward would one day turn into a standstill. Gradually that standstill would steadily begin to move backwards. Backwards in progress, backwards in hope, backwards towards the end. 

(To be continued in a future blog post)…

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Mothers Matter – Mother’s Day 2025

brittanymputman

Left Behind…

There was a time when I felt left behind because of my role as a mother. So many other people, women and men, got to go off and do ‘church stuff’ and ministry. Yet there I was at home with my young kids. After all, someone had to feed them at a decent hour and get them to bed. This feeling of being left behind, of being less than,  was especially hard as my husband’s ministry and role at church was increasing. I noticed how exciting things were becoming for him. I wanted excitement. I realized how many of my friends were attending different events. I wanted to be free to attend too. I saw the recognition being given to those pressing in for more of the Holy Spirit’s presence. I wanted recognition too, at the very least for being at home with my kids. I felt like I was really missing out and even more deeply, I didn’t want to miss out on the big things that God was doing.

It wasn’t always hard to choose my kids over ministry. I absolutely LOVED my kids (and still do). I always wanted to be a mom, I just didn’t know all that I’d have to give up. I’m not sure we ever know the extent of that until we’re actively parenting. I also never experienced the complete fulfillment and satisfaction of spending time in the presence of the Holy Spirit and praying for other people until I had already become a mom. That’s just how my faith journey turned out. Feeling like I couldn’t have it both ways, being a Mom and participating in ministry, was really hard. It became easy to count all the things I was giving up and it was so easy to get into a ‘woe is me’ attitude. In one of the harder moments, I went on and on with the Lord about how I was feeling and what I was longing for. I complained and I whined … and you know what? He listened. I was thankful that he didn’t chastise me for all the complaints I sent his way. In his loving kindness, he let me tell him the pain and sadness I was experiencing. He was a safe place. A safe place to share, a safe place to cry, and a safe place to process my feelings. 

That morning, I headed into my daily Bible reading. I happened to be reading 1 Samuel 30.That’s when David and his men went off to fight a battle. Well, some men stayed behind to keep watch over the baggage because “they were too exhausted.” When I read that line, I could immediately relate. Boy was I feeling tired and exhausted during that time of my life. Sometimes it felt like I couldn’t go on either. Those little baby to Pre-K kiddos really kept me on my toes! As I kept reading, the story goes that David and his men had victory in the battle and they returned with the spoils of battle! Accusingly, some of the men who went to battle said, “Because they did not go with us, we will not give them any of the spoil that we have recovered.” Ouch. That’s not really nice. The Bible actually called those men ‘wicked and worthless.’ Yikes! 

Anyway, David, in his wisdom said, “For as his share is who goes down into the battle, so shall his share be who stays by the baggage. They shall share alike.” Wait, had I just read that correctly? The people who stayed behind because they were too exhausted and so they looked after the baggage… they were going to get a share of the spoil/plunder/rewards as if they had gone out to battle? When I read those words that day, the Lord filled my heart and mind with the knowing that what I was doing as a mother was important. Staying with my young children sometimes felt like ‘staying behind with the baggage’. And when I might have a chance to actually go out and do something, I was often just too tired and exhausted to do it! But here was God impressing on me that being a mother… mothering my kids was really important. He was telling me that I wouldn’t miss out on the rewards of doing ‘spiritual battle’ (ministry)  just because I stayed behind with the kids. No. Indeed, I would still have a share in the rewards! I too would be rewarded for my choice to be with my kiddos… to minister to my kiddos through my calling as a mother. Whoa! The Lord said emphatically to me in that moment, what I was doing mattered. My heart was full. ……….

Mothers and Mothering Matters…

Recently, I was looking through some prophetic words I have received over the years. I came across one from August of 2020. In it, the person who was hearing something from the Lord for me, felt like God was highlighting the words ‘Mothers Matter.’ I couldn’t agree more. As I reflected on that, I knew this is what I wanted to share today. 

Mothers Matter. Whether you’re a Biological, Adoptive, Foster, or Desiring Mom; an Auntie, Big Sister, Grandmama, or Spiritual Mom… all ‘Mothers’ Matter. Because it’s not just the fact of being a Mom, but it’s the ACTIONS of mothering that really matter. 

Mothers and MOTHERING matters. 

Mothers, Do you know this? Women, do you? Do you know that what you do and do not do matters? You have an impact on each and every person you come into contact with. Whether or not you’re a mother, there are still so many ways that we leave a mark on people… for the good or not so good.

Every heart longs to have loving mothering. Years ago, a close friend and I were talking about the most recent sermon she had heard on the subject of  ‘Father Wounds’. She said, “You know, everyone talks about ‘father wounds’, but no one talks about ‘mother wounds’.” That statement took me off guard. First, I hadn’t expected it, but second, when I really thought about it, I hadn’t heard any teachings about wounds from a mother either. She went on to say, “I have mother wounds that need healing.” What were they? I didn’t know exactly, but I did know that she was sincere in her request for healing. Her heart had been wounded along the way by a LACK of mothering. She was hurting … because mothering matters. She needed a kind of mothering that she wasn’t getting from her biological mother. This got me asking the question, “Could she get this needed mothering elsewhere?”

Yes! Yes,the Lord can raise up mothers from anywhere! Another time, a young woman came to me and asked for prayer. Her prayer was for her mother to rise up and support her in a time when she deeply needed her mom. In the past she had been able to rely on her grandmother for all that support, but Grandma had passed away and now another round of need was creeping up. She desperately wanted her Mom to be the mother that she needed in that moment. And as I prayed for her, I felt the Lord prompting that whether or not her own legal mother rose to the challenge, the Lord was inviting me into mothering her. No, not to become her mother, but to have mothering actions toward her. There was no need to do anything extravagant or in-depth, but the invitation was to be available in that moment, to be ready to love, and to speak LIFE into her! I had the opportunity to encourage her as a mother would and to hug her as a mother would and to come alongside of her in her need, as a mother would. It was beautiful and lovely. I found out later that her mother DID come around to meeting her needs. She was so thankful that her mother responded in this way and also thankful that there was someone safe that she could share those needs with in the first place. I’m so glad the Lord made space that day for the two of us to connect. It wasn’t long, but it was enough. It made an impact on her and it made an impact on me. 

Biblical Examples of Mothering…

What’s so important about mothers? What sort of actions do they take that we long for? What good are they? Well, I submit to you that we need mothers around us to hold us up when we’re weary. We need mothers who will give us a hug, a human touch. We need mothers around us to call things out in us. Mary did this to Jesus when she prompted him to do a miracle about the wine at a wedding. (John 2:1-11)

We need mothers who will pray for us when we are at our lowest. We need mothers who will seek God for his saving power when our lives are in the balance.  The Shunammite mother in 2 Kings 4:18-37 did just this to save her dying son. She knew the power of God and his faithfulness and when her son was dying, she went after Elisha, the prophet of God. He prayed over her son and he came back to life!

We need mothers who will step in when our own mothers cannot. Not every mother is able to care for their child for one reason or another. We see this in Pharaoh’s daughter who pulled Moses out of the river and raised him as her own when his own mother couldn’t. We need women to do just that today! (Exodus 2:1-10)

We need all sorts of mothers doing all sorts of roles, because God created mothers and mothering for the benefit of humankind. He put his own nature of nourishing and nurturing into humanity because it is part of his image… And it is good. Mothering is good. 

We see that Jesus loved mothers too. He healed them and their children… yes… and even his own mother he held close to his heart. As Jesus was close to death he saw his mother and his disciple, John and he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son,”  and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” Jesus blessed his mother and John by making them a family in a few short sentences. He knew they would need each other. (John 19:25-27)

Ralph Pallen Coleman | Waiting For The Word | CC BY 2.0

So, today I say, MOTHERS MATTER. We need all types of mothers in our lives. We need a multitude of mothers. As I think about my own areas of interaction, I can see so many types of mothers around me. Biological, Adoptive, and Foster Moms. Mothers who hold the dream of a child in their heart. Aunties who come alongside children to encourage them. Big Sisters who look out for and teach their younger siblings. I see Spiritual Mamas who speak prophetically into our hearts and release callings over us. And I’m sure there are more! God has put motherhood into his people.

So, would you rise to the actions of mothering for those around you today? Would you pray for others, call out the talents in others, seek healing for others, and with Jesus, even pull those out of the water who desperately need a mother? 

It’s clear to see that Mothers Matter…and…Mothering Matters… Thank you to all the types of mothers out there.  We need you and we are thankful for you. Thank you.

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It’s Baby Time!!! … or is it?

brittanymputman

Today is the day! It’s time! I’ve packed my bags and I’m heading to the airport to await our newest child. Who knows when baby will come?  I’m so excited to meet him/her! I’ve been eagerly awaiting this trip for two months, when we first found out about baby. Honestly, I’ve been waiting for this moment since 2019 when we were approved to adopt. If I’m super honest, I’ve been waiting my whole life… it’s a dream come true. It’s finally happening! I’m going to be holding my newborn, soon-to-be-adopted baby. My heart is so full. It feels like it might explode, but thankfully, it won’t. There is just so much joy!

The Reality…

I wish all that was true. Part of it’s true. Today IS a significant day in this journey and we have known about him/her for two months. We did say, YES, to adopting this little one. But, I’m not on my way out to meet him/her. Things have gone a different way…So much hope and anticipation followed that YES… and a huge flurry of activity – gathering official documents, filling out forms, getting fingerprints and doctor’s visits, writing a biography, meeting our new social worker, and so much more. When I say flurry, I mean it! We had two months to start and finish our home study! The front end stuff was on track to be done in 2-3 weeks if we really dropped everything and focused on this. Sure enough, we did that! We had to get this first step done fast because once our adoption agency approved our home study, we had to send it to the state. That’s the part that we had little control over the timing. State approval can take anywhere from 4-6 weeks… or longer! We really wanted to have an approved home study by the time baby arrived. … And we had almost met that goal… just a few more boxes to check and we’d be there. We could do it! I couldn’t believe how much progress we were making. 

Two and a Half Weeks Earlier…

A week before we said YES to this little one joining our family, we were not making any moves towards starting up the adoption process in our new state. We were biding our time until we felt like our life was settled enough… settled enough from the move two years earlier… settled enough from the new church plant that we and our team started two years prior… settled enough with our kids finishing up their 2nd year back in school (as opposed to homeschool). We were finally getting settled and I could feel my thoughts shift towards adoption. I had internal space to catch up on my many adoption blog podcasts. I was leading the baby/toddler ministry at our church and realized that I still remembered a lot from my young parenting days. I could offer words of encouragement and advice to the moms of young kids. I even found that I enjoyed sharing about my experiences and bringing up those past memories. And then there were the conversations. People started asking me more frequently how things were going on the adoption front. I had to really give some thought to how it was actually going. Was it moving forward, backward, stagnant? Was it something we still wanted to do? Would it look the same? How about foster care, should we consider that option instead of private adoption? I found myself thinking about adoption more than I had in the past two to four years. I asked myself, “Is the Lord turning my thoughts towards all this adoption stuff again because it’s getting close to the time to do something about it? Or am I just thinking about it and there doesn’t need to be any action yet?”

You can imagine how I answered that question when we received a call that a birth mother remembered us from way back in 2020 (Read more at this post) and was wondering if we’d be interested in adopting her baby! I was blown away when I heard that! What was God up to??? There were so many swirling thoughts in my mind. How did she remember us after all this time? How was it that she kept the text number of our previous adoption social worker? I mean… that agency had closed. There wouldn’t have been a way for her to find us or the social worker otherwise. Whoa! …And since the agency had closed, that could mean this adoption would be able to go through as an agency-assisted adoption which would likely reduce our costs since there would be no large placement fee. Also, I always felt like we would adopt from the state we previously lived in. I was sad when that didn’t happen and certainly confused and disappointed. But now, we might even be able to finalize the adoption IN THAT STATE! What?!?!? It really seemed like things were lining up to be accomplished in a way that was what I had hoped and dreamed and planned for… albeit a bit veering from my original plan since I had moved away and it was 5+ years after our initial home study approval. But who cares about all that when it’s finally about to happen? I certainly didn’t. All I knew was that hope was rising in me once again. 

With such a big, life-changing decision to make, we immediately started to seek input. We talked with people who had adopted, we talked with mentors, counselors, family, friends, you name it! We sought out prophetic words from the Lord, we prayed for the Lord to speak directly to us, we used human wisdom in our discernment. We reassessed whether or not we still wanted to make adoption a part of our life story at 40+ years of age. Did we still want a newborn after all this time? How would this affect our kids? How would it affect our church? How would it affect our work? There was just so much to consider.  Thankfully, we had a week before we needed to give our decision, but that still felt so quick. Our lives were quickly heading in a 180 degree direction. But was it a complete turn around? I mean, we had been considering this in our PAST. Were we really so far along on our present trajectory that adoption would turn us right back around?

We came to the conclusion that, no, it wouldn’t be out of the question for us to adopt. So, with anticipation and some trepidation of the unknowns, we made the call to the adoption social worker. We said, YES! She didn’t hide her enthusiasm. She really wanted us to say yes. She told us that she was hoping we’d agree to adopt because we were who the birth mother really wanted and it’d fulfill our dreams as well. We talked about the next steps, the aspects we’d need to figure out with the lawyer and the agencies in both states. We called and texted the people who had prayed with us over this decision and shared the news. There was SO MUCH rejoicing going on. We were all ecstatic with JOY! Just about every part of this felt like the LORD! Praise Jesus! We were finally going to adopt a baby. It was really going to happen. We really were going to change our lives for so much good, and we could foresee so many interesting positive outcomes by taking this step. We said YES with our whole hearts and we jumped in! That’s when the flurry of activity happened that I mentioned earlier.

What Came Next…

Along with that flurry of activity came an unexpected swirl of chaos. It completely took us off guard. We noticed an instant anxiety rise up in our kids. Their emotions were all over the place. Along with this, the main stone fell out of my wedding ring. This was a first for me. I had no idea when it happened and after searching through so many places, I never found it. Then, we discovered that the required pool fence was going to be more extensive than we originally thought and that we’d have to find some way to make our 15 foot oleander hedge inaccessible to a child – either that or take them out completely. The final blow was when my doctor refused to fill out my adoption form without an appointment, even though I had just seen her the previous month. Luckily, our adoption agency recommended that we go to a certain clinic. So, I did that. When the nurse asked me why I was there, I said, “I’m hear to have an appointment so I can get this adoption form filled out.” She flat out said, “We can’t do that.” [blank stare] After some discussion with her about how our agency literally told us to go to this clinic and her trying every which way to find a way to allow them to fill out the form, I walked away empty-handed. I was so disheartened. This was the final item that I needed to do on my  individual list and then just a handful on our joint list left to do. We were so close to getting our home study sent off to our agency for approval. Why was this so hard? What was happening? Even our adoption agent was confused at the lack of help we were receiving from these medical providers. What was going on?

That night, I got a text from our out-of-state social worker asking if we could have a phone call. We made the space in our schedule and got on the phone with her. She proceeded to share about the recent midwife visit our birth mother had and gave us stats from that appointment. Then she shared more information about what she’d learned about the birth parents and their health histories. I was thankful to receive more information. I had been waiting for two and a half weeks to hear more about how things were going and I was eager for a glimpse into how the pregnancy was progressing and to learn any additional information that we could about our baby. But there was more. My husband sensed it from the beginning of the call. Sure enough, there was something there that was cause for concern – at least on our end. Ultimately, we learned that the birth mother was starting to question her decision. She was going to take the weekend to think about things and had a counseling appointment scheduled for her at the top of the week to help her with this process and the decisions she needed to make. It was Thursday.

The next morning, my husband and I finally got to work on our non-adoption related things. It seemed like it was the first time in a long time that we had been caught up enough to devote some time to our usual work. Just before lunch I received a call from our out-of-state adoption social worker. I took that call and my heart dropped. “I hate to have to be the one to make this call, but the birth mother decided to parent,” she said. Shock. Tears. Disbelief. Confusion. What?!? She didn’t need the weekend or the counseling appointment to process her thoughts. She made the decision overnight, thanked us for ‘stepping up’ and went on her way. Devastated, that’s how I felt. I felt devastated. I finished the call and then sobbed. Sobbed for the lost baby, the dream put on hold again. Sobbed for all the stress and time, energy, and money we had put into the past weeks. Sobbed for the future decision about whether or not we’d continue with the adoption home study process. Sobbed that we’d have to break the news to our kids. Sobbed at the prospect of telling all those who rejoiced with us that now it was over. I was heartbroken. I shared the news with my husband at lunchtime and he too had obvious emotion over this. His was a bit more towards the angry side of things. This was really hard news to stomach. Oh man, it was hard.

Just as quickly as it started, it ended. Just like that, it was over. No more racing, no more rushing, no more taking the next step. And no more dreaming, no more excitement, no more anticipation. It was just a bunch of ‘no more’. It was empty. I was empty. Every place that I had filled with adoption, suddenly had holes poked into it and everything leaked out. What a pain I carried. What deep pain that I hadn’t experienced in this way before. It was sharp and dull at the same time. It was deep and shallow. Pain that was acute and yet, chronic too. My heart and soul weeped. I wept. … I wept.

…….

‘Jesus wept.’ It’s the shortest verse in the Bible. That’s why we know it. ‘Jesus wept.’*** I wasn’t the first one to come to this place. Jesus had been here too. He wept over a loss also. He wept over a person too. Jesus wept over people who were like family, although not legally so. Jesus wept. I am not alone in weeping. I am not the first to weep. Yes, I’ve already said that only a few sentences back. But, I must remind myself. I must remind us. We must remind ourselves. We are not alone in our sorrow. We are not the first ones to experience deep loss. The King of Kings has WEPT! His life wasn’t without pain. Although he was perfect, he still experienced the sadness that life brings with it. Because of this, I can trust Him again. I gain my strength from Him! If He can rise up from this, I can too. If He can find strength to pray again, I can too. Dare I say, if He can seek for a resurrection, I can too. I can seek for a resurrection of this dream. I may not seek it immediately, though.  Sometimes it takes time to heal from the battering that comes with loss. But, someday, when my heart is healed, I will hope again. I’ll feel that gentle nudge, “Brittany, will you follow me into the world of Foster/Adoption? Will you let your heart hope and dream again? Will you trust me as I lead you through this narrow way?” I’ll tell you, HE is the only one I will trust with this. He is the only one who can make a way when there seems to be no way. He is the only one who can turn ashes into beauty; sorrow into rejoicing. So, I choose HIM. I choose Jesus. I will follow Him. I will say YES to Jesus once again.

A gift from friends that I’ve displayed in my home over the years of waiting.

Update…

After some time had passed, We made a decision to continue with finishing out our home study. We don’t know what will come of it, but we feel it’s good and right for us to continue forward on this path. So, we’re starting our adoption journey afresh here in our new state. Our lives are so different now, but that doesn’t bother God. We’ll trust him to keep leading us and we’ll keep our hearts tender towards HIS dreams for our family.

Adoption Triad…

I would be remiss if I didn’t say that although this blog post is about my own personal journey through adoption as a Prospective Adoptive Parent, there are two others in this adoption triad – the Birth Mother, and the Adoptee. It is found to best for children to be raised by their birth parent(s), in their family of origin, if at all possible. This birth mother has chosen to parent and if I take a step back from being a PAP, I can see many positives and benefits for them both. Congratulations to this birth mother. I wish you the best as you continue on as mother and child.

*** You can read the story of Jesus weeping in John 11:1-44 in your Bible or at the link.

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