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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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Adoption, God, My Story

Play. Pause. Resume Play…

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There I was, sitting in my car in the grocery store parking lot. Between stores I negotiated another decision about a possible adoption match. These calls come in at any time of the day. They interrupt the ‘regular programming’ to insert a highly stressful, yet highly anticipated and hopeful story arc to our daily narrative. This call happened over a year ago. No, I didn’t write about it then, nay, I couldn’t write about it. The current trajectory of our adoption journey was incredibly rocky and uncertain. Emotional pain stung my heart as I turned over and over how this road might play out as we transitioned to a new assignment in our lives. Would there be room for a baby now? If we had a newborn, how would we get the much needed rest before jumping into the deep end of moving across the country and starting a new ministry? But, if we waited until we moved to our new state, we’d have to start the adoption approval process all over. I felt tired and deflated. This wasn’t how I thought our adoption story would play out. 

So, December 2021, I sat in my van with the engine running and the heat turned up and took in all the adoption social worker was telling me. Dare I hope? Dare I dream? Dare I bring this option up with my ‘other half’? The opportunity sounded too perfect. An established mother who was surprised by this pregnancy and not really able to start from scratch with a newborn. Making an adoption plan made sense to her and maybe I’d be the adoption parent to her baby. If I said yes, and if she said yes, we’d have the baby in 2 months! We’d complete this phase of our adoption journey while still living in the state we’d been approved in and wouldn’t that just put a nice bow on things? Could this be it? Could this really be the long-awaited addition to our family? Or would this be taking things into my own hands and forcing the outcome that I wanted instead of waiting on God. 

You see, I could feel it. I felt that this wasn’t the time to bring a baby into our home. I even had an inkling that this wasn’t the baby for our family. The Lord was softly nudging my heart toward saying, ‘No’ to this opportunity. I didn’t want to hear that! I wanted to feel euphoric and have this amazing God-story about adoption NOW. I didn’t want to wait any longer. I wanted my dream fulfilled. All this wrestling happened inside of me while on the phone with the social worker, while I continued my errands and while I drove back home. I hated this. I knew that what I grasped for was not going to be had. This just wasn’t going to happen and I wouldn’t allow myself to force it either. So, I hesitantly shared this possible match with my husband. Perhaps, if he felt like it was a ‘Yes’ then I could move forward with the match! But, in my heart of hearts, I knew he’d also agree that it wasn’t the right moment to add a sweet addition to our family. Sure enough, that’s how it panned out. So, with sad resolution, I told our adoption social worker that we were going to pass on pursuing this adoption match. 

Letting go is so hard. Pausing a dream feels devastating because there’s often a bit of doubt that the process will never start up again. If I let go of this in-front-of-me opportunity, would I ever get another one? And then… the people pleaser inside of me kicked into high gear. (As an aside, can I just say that I’d get along much easier without this overactive part of me? It is something I have learned to continuously keep in check while making choices that affect me, my family, my friends, and ministry. Aside over.) The people pleaser reminded me of all the people who sowed into our adoption journey. It criticized me for things I had said in hopeful anticipation… Did I lead people on by accident? It shamed me for allowing others to help us before we even had a ‘bird in the hand’… I shouldn’t have accepted anything from anyone until I knew that this was a done deal… so much for faith, huh? It mocked me for thinking that God would come through on this dream in my time-table… Did I really think I’d be the ‘special’ one and have our adoption in less than the average time frame? Oh man! It was horrible! It still hurts as I write about it more than a year later. It hurts because my dream is on pause and I still have doubts that assail me – doubts that I diligently keep in check so that I can keep this dream alive in my heart. 

You guys, dreaming is hard stuff! Dreams are so often painted in a fairy-tale, gonna-get-what–you-want, never-gonna-be-hard-when-you’re-in-God’s-will type of picture. That’s NOT it. I’m living out a dream out right now and it’s not a perfect and easy process. I’ve cherished this dream since childhood, early adulthood and beginning motherhood. I’ve waited so long and yet, when it was finally time to open up that keepsake-dream, the waiting continued. My faith has been bumped and jostled. It’s been thrown around and stretched and squished and still, I can’t see the form it will be. What I pictured at the beginning is not what I’m currently experiencing. Dreaming is hard. Holding a dream is hard. Walking out a dream is hard. I’ve even heard that fulfilling a dream is hard.

So, what do I do? I could give up. I could toss that dream away like it was a mistake. I could close it back up in the box I took it out of. It could just be a pretty keepsake on the metaphorical shelves of my life. OR… I could push so hard into this dream that I take the reins from God. I could steer it wherever I think it should go and not give a second thought to His plan and process. Growth through this process? No, thank you. I’ll just short-cut the time and keep my stunted heart and mind, thank you very much. …. Yeah, neither of those sound like great options.

Now, we’re back to waiting. But not waiting just to wait. Waiting with a purpose. Growth? Yes! I will grow as I wait. I will learn as I wait. The Lord can teach and train my heart and mind so much… as… I… wait. Waiting is a part of God’s plan and process in all this. He really does know so much better than I, what I need before cherishing a new child in our home. The baby (a fulfilled dream) is out there and I don’t know where or when. But each step I take with my arms empty only gives me more opportunity for the Lord to temporarily place other things in them to love and cherish. Who knows? These other things very well might be the things that teach me exactly what I need so I am more than ready when this dream is fulfilled. 

http://www.flaticon.com

Waiting. Stewarding. Cherishing. Preparing. Learning. Growing. These words and more describe exactly where I’m at right now. Maybe this dream is on pause, or maybe, just maybe it’s still on PLAY. Some things I won’t know before the dream is here. What I do know is that I must keep hoping. I must keep believing (cue the sung phrase  ‘Don’t Stop Believing’). I must keep choosing Christ over all else, even over my dream. He is the only one who can keep my heart just where it needs to be as I prepare.

Presently, I’m still dreaming about adoption. It hasn’t been put back on the shelf. It’s not thrown out or hidden away. But, it is certainly changing form and shape from what I thought it’d be. Like a lump of clay on a potter’s wheel, this dream started out with the idea of a specific look, but it’s taking its own shape. I believe it will be better than I could ever think up on my own. I’ll keep following the Dream Giver and look forward with hopeful anticipation to the fulfillment of this dream. Until then, here I am… walking things out day by day.

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family, God, My Story

Describe Your Childhood…

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She looked at my husband and said, “Could you explain your childhood to me? Would you call it stable or unstable?” I knew I was next to answer this question. You see, we were in the middle of a psychological evaluation for becoming church planters. As I listened to my husband’s answer, my mind wandered to my own memories of childhood. How would I respond to this question? I knew there wasn’t a right or wrong answer, yet I felt the familiar pull towards a ‘right’ response. What was my childhood like? How would I describe it? Was my experience one of instability or was it stable?

My First Home

As an outsider looking in, my life looked quite unstable – 7 cities, 9 schools, 12 houses, all before graduating college! That’s a LOT of change. Initially we first moved because my dad changed careers and had to do some schooling out of state and then we moved to another state for the new job. This makes sense. People move for their careers all the time. I mean, we’re doing that. We are moving to a new house, a new city, even a new state because we feel like God’s asking us to take this leap and start something new. I can’t fault my parents for choosing to move us.

But then the unthinkable happened – well, the unthinkable for my young heart and mind. After some rocky circumstances, my parents divorced. It was tragic to my 10 year old heart and what was worse, it necessitated a change of living. Heading into 5th grade, I started my new life in a different house, city, and state than what I had become used to. New classmates became new friends, houses changed and stability started to settle in. I had a rhythm and was coming to terms with the changes in my life that I had no control over. I was joyful and thrilled to be making friends, attending a gymnastics school, and have a great church to attend.

Things were going well until mid-way through my second school year there and I had to move yet again. I wouldn’t know the reason for this move until I was older, but all I knew was that we were heading back once again to the place we had left. I was sad to leave my current home, but excited to be going back to a place that was connected with so many happy times in my early childhood. Perhaps I was most excited to be reunited with my dad and also with my best friend. Relationships are hard to come by and I was getting two of them back! However, one thing no one tells you when you’re 12 is that things aren’t probably going to be the same as they were a year and a half earlier. I found out that my friend had moved on and found a new best friend. I had to attend a completely different school district where I once again knew just about no one. My dad remarried by this time and so even time with him was drastically different. All the things I had known in this place were 100% different. It might as well have been moving to a brand new place. I was crushed. It was really hard to gain traction here, but I dug in my heels and worked to make those new friendships. I enrolled in dance classes and even though they weren’t my beloved gymnastics, they were a great way to use my excessive energy and have a load of fun in ballet and jazz dance. 

Later, I learned that the reason we moved back so quickly is because we didn’t know how long my dad had to live. He was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. This hit our family like a ton of bricks. What would this mean for Dad? What would it mean for me? Was my daddy going to die of cancer? Would he get really sick and be bald? Would he live to see my wedding? All these questions and more would lay low in the back of my mind for the remainder of his life. I didn’t know that the reason we moved was because his initial diagnosis gave him a short time left to live. Amazingly, Dad ended up living for many years more before he died from complications of cancer. Without knowing all this, we moved to be near my dad and get as much time with him as we could because we had no idea how long we’d have with him. This was a super weighty burden to carry as a pre-teen.

Not long after, things were starting to feel stable again. I had friendships with kids at school, friends with kids next door and in my church. I was singing, dancing, and playing trumpet whenever I had the chance. We had a cozy little home and I got a dog to call all my own. The new normal was just that, normal. I knew what to expect and could depend on it. Even Dad’s cancer wasn’t so scary any more and he was in a sort of ‘remission’ for the time being. Things were looking up.

Photos of me with my mom and dad.

Then the now-familiar transition was announced. We’d be moving once again. Unfortunately we had to move before our housing would be available and therefore transition in a nearby town for 1 month. During this month the school year started and I spent 2 weeks in a new school, surrounded by new friends, and a new schedule. Our transition home was sparse and just enough to get us by until we could move into our apartment. It was such a hard month. Even harder was leaving my 2-week old school for the next one.

I had barely got my schedule down when we moved to our apartment – another new house, new school, new bus, new classmates, new activities. Ever resilient (to moving) and outgoing, I quickly adjusted. This was a fun place with neat kids and I liked where we were living. We lived in a very international community, with incredibly kind neighbors. I quickly adapted and enjoyed my final year in middle school. Next stop, high school! Unfortunately, my middle school was the one that split between two high schools. I never interacted again with my friends who went to the other middle school. This was a loss for me, but I soldiered on. I stuck with the friends who transitioned along with me to our high school. 

Believe it or not, high school was a time of stability for me. Even though we moved two more times, I got to stay in one school, with the same pool of friends, and develop some of my core gifts in one place (mainly singing) for all four years. I held down a job that stuck with me into college and I attended a college that was down the street from my high school. Can we say, ‘searching for a non-changing life’? These were happy years for me and the highlight, besides choir, was my church youth group. This group of people; pastors, volunteers, and peers; remained steadfast, gracious, and encouraging while high school drama swarmed around me. I’m so thankful for the friend that invited me to her church and the youth group that embraced me, all of me, until it was time to head off to college.

Bethel University: CLC Circle

While in college, we moved once more, but I had a lot more ability to choose my own things now. I stayed at the same university for 4 years in the same major with great friends and classmates. I loved my time during these year and even met my husband. It truly felt like I came through what seemed like a very unstable childhood into a place of security and settledness. 

So, did I have a stable or unstable childhood? With so many changes and upheavals, many would answer, ‘Unstable’. And as I thought things through, I saw that too. But, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t the ultimate answer to this question. As I sat in my memories during our psych eval, I realized that through all the tumultuous upheavals in my life, something remained steadfast in me. Something was always there and never changing, only ever growing and deepening. This was my relationship with God. 

Indeed, it was God Himself who was the Constant. As a young child I asked Jesus to come into my heart and be the leader of my life. Through music, Bible reading, prayer, and relationships, I came to know him more and more. When we first moved to my new school, I knew that God would help me find friendly people to be around and that there’d be many new people to play with. When my family broke apart I needed God to be my Comforter. My heart was so sad for so long and He was the only one who I could truly tell my deepest sorrows and longings to. He listened and comforted me while I grieved, accepted, and healed from this new reality. When I was a child of a single parent and it was really hard to have all the things a child needs, I turned to God. It was Him who I saw as my Provider. When we needed something, we asked God and He provided it for us! Even when we didn’t know we needed things, He always came through. We saw His provision through a myriad of ways, but the ones that stuck with me the deepest were through the body of Christ. 

When I think back to times that should have thrust me into being ‘a statistic’ due to being a child of divorce, I wasn’t. When I think back to times that should have taken me out due to grief, I wasn’t. When I think back to times that should have caused me to abandon all security, safety, and stability, I didn’t. During this time, I came to know God as my constant provider, my good father, my closest friend, and the ONE I could rely on no matter what. God turned the tumultuous times of my life into a steady flow of His LOVE and GRACE. He was always gentle, friendly, and trustworthy as He guided my young heart through the challenges of childhood and into adulthood. Jesus was that FRIEND who sticks closer than a BROTHER and I found much stability in Him. It was God, not just my faith in Him, but God the person who was my STABILITY. He grounded me. So, I look back on my childhood as stable, not as unstable. My inner world was rocked, but not overturned. Because of God, I knew truth, security, safety, friendship, intimacy, love, grace, and so much more. 

Now was the moment. My turn had come to answer the interviewer. “Yeah, from the outside many would say that I had an unstable childhood, but inwardly I know that it was surprisingly STABLE. Let me tell you about it…” And that’s how I answered this very poignant question. 

…And in case you were wondering… yes, my dad did live to see my wedding and hold my first child. I’m ever so thankful for that.

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God, My Story

Singing through Transition

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Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Here I am, sitting to write again. Today, I’m feeling ‘down.’ As I went about my daily chores, my feelings and thoughts seemed to come together and I found myself ‘writing’ another blog post in my mind while my hands were deep in dishwater. I find that I ‘write’ many posts while washing dishes, but, sadly, the mundane tasks of life seem to take precedence and by the time I’m done with one chore I have to move onto another task or the pressing urge to write has passed. Today, I tried to maintain that sense of wanting to write and now I’m here, trying to make space for it. 

The thing I find myself wrestling with today is transition… what else? That’s the phase of life I’ve seemed to be in over the past year or so. I find that even in the midst of a hopeful and exciting transition, there are still times when the changes become overwhelming. Today is one of those times. Creating new routines and trying out old routines in new spaces only to find that they have failed can be draining, exhausting, and discouraging. Have you ever felt that way? Well, if you have, you’re not alone! 

It’s really hard, making so many changes at once. You know, I’ve heard it said that moving is one of the most stressful things humans can experience. So, it makes sense that along with the joyful days of a positive relocation, there will also be times when I’m overcome with the challenges of navigating all this newness. New house, new city, new church, new friends, new etc…

Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.com

Often, I’ll find my mind searching for ways to alleviate the pain of the change. My mind flips through old files to see if there is anything that can help. I usually turn to music… music from my past. This music evokes the feelings and memories of when things were different, dare I say easier? Either way, this familiar music is like a warm embrace for my soul and my heart. It’s a soft blanket that soothes the stressful feelings and thoughts. Music reaches the depths of me in ways that words alone just can’t. What’s it that Hans Christian Andersen says? Oh yeah, “Where words fail, Music speaks.” This is so true in my life.

So, today, I chose to head way back to the 90s with Out of Eden’s first album, Lovin’ the Day. I can’t tell you how many times I have listened to this album over the years. I’m pretty sure every word, beat, and instrumental interlude is completely memorized. As I listened to the first song, “Lovely Day” I was struck by how accurate the intro lyrics were to my present feelings.

When troubles come my way, / I look to you and everything is okay. / When help seems to disappear, / I look to you and everything’s so clear. / When hard nights turn into hard days, / How I long to seek your face. / When blue skies turn to grey. / I look to you and then I know it’s gonna be a… / It’s gonna be a lovely day.

And as the song played on, I was carried away by the reminder that when everything seems like a hassle, like a problem, or even hopeless; then when we look to Him, to Jesus, we can trust and have faith that it WILL be a Lovely Day. I hope you’ll listen to the song below and have a very, truly, lovely day.

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Adoption, family, God, Kingdom, My Story

Life Update July 2021…What’s been going on?

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Wow, well… it’s been a while. A LOT  has happened since my last post. So much so, that I just had to put writing on hold for a while. Even now, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to get back to the consistent schedule I had before, but I do value having this space to write and share my life and thoughts. So, here’s the update!

After my February post about our adoption needs, we were so blessed to receive a large financial donation to help us get much closer to being fully funded for the adoption! Praise the Lord and thank you to the donor! We have heard very little about any matches since that time and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Of course, I DO WANT to move forward with this adoption journey, but as I look back over the past months, I can see how having a baby in the mix would have made something complicated even more complex! But, my dream of another baby or sibling set is still alive and well. Now that things are in the next stage (which I’ll write more about below), I find my thoughts drifting more towards adoption again. I find my readiness being reawakened. Maybe this is a good time, maybe it’s not, and maybe it doesn’t really matter whether or not it’s a ‘good-time’ as long as it’s a ‘God-time.’ So, we keep waiting. That’s the adoption update.

Well, let’s talk about the rest of what’s been going on. In short, we’ve moved to a new city. Yup… you read that right! About seven months ago, I shared how God was telling us that a job change was coming. We started to separate our focus from our previous employment to what God had already birthed and grew in Putty’s area of influence. But we didn’t know that another big shift was coming our way. As we worked through the process of where to place our focus and how all the complex details of that would work out, something just wasn’t right within us. It became clear that God was asking us to move out of the hometown we’d known since we graduated with our undergraduate degrees and look towards a new future. 

The trouble was that we still didn’t know WHAT exactly that future would be! We knew we had to keep taking the next step though. So, we notified the people who needed to know about this change in course and we started looking for the next landing place. Since we weren’t feeling called to any particular location, we decided to choose based on a few criteria, with two big ones standing out: 1) A good HUB airport for Putty to use for easier travel and 2) an area where we have a lot of ministry connections already. One place stood out above the rest and was still relatively close to our family… Chicago! So, we began making plans to move there. But we had no idea where to go in the sprawling metropolis. We weren’t sure what kind of housing we could afford, nor did we know where we’d eventually end up attending church. All we knew was that we were heading out to follow the Lord and this was the next step.

As we connected with a realtor who could help us find some rental housing, the reality of what we were about to do set in. She sent us many MLS pages of homes that were available for rent, but all of them made my heart hurt to even consider living in them. It was so rough. I didn’t like getting these emails and I just wasn’t connecting with any of the homes presented to us. I was keeping up a good front though. It’s easiest to do that when you just don’t acknowledge it. And that’s essentially what I did. I ignored the ‘finding future housing’ task and instead threw myself into preparing our home for sale and moving. However, I did have this fleeting thought at one point and I vocalized it to Putty. I said, “You know, I don’t care what house we live in next. I’d really like it if we could just be offered a place to live or at least take one for very cheap. I mean, maybe someone we know has a vacant house or even missionary housing! I just don’t want to go through the process of choosing a place when we probably won’t even be there long.’ 

Little did I know that this statement was actually a hearts-desire because the act of choosing was very hard for me. I chose the home we were living in at that time and we worked hard to make it a wonderful place for us to live and host people. We LOVED it. So, nothing could compare to what we were leaving. What criteria could I use to choose the next house except for letting it be God’s choice for us. With that said, I returned to my packing, donating, and cleaning up our current place. Whatever was next, we were going to leave this house in nice shape for the next owners and we weren’t going to bring along a lot of unnecessary stuff to our next resting spot. 

The time was drawing closer to when we’d be putting our house on the market. With one week to go, we still didn’t know exactly what next home we were heading towards. But, God was about to surprise us once again with his goodness, providence, and confirmation. It was the day our congregation was being notified of this new change to the status quo. With little more information to give them other than that we were following God to Chicago with no idea of what was coming next, we left a lot of questions unanswered (perhaps more of our own than anyone else’s). That was the day though, when God was giving us the next piece to our puzzle! 

Putty received a phone call from a friend in the Chicago area with a job proposition! It seems he needed to hire a new pastor, but wasn’t ready or able to make a permanent decision yet. He asked Putty if he’d be willing to take on an interim pastor position while we were in transition. We couldn’t believe it, but God was allowing us to live off of a salary during this transitional period, instead of the proceeds from the sale of our house! Not only that, but this church has a parsonage and we could live there as part of our compensation. And to ice the cake, it’s in a beautiful area and we already had a childhood friend who attended there too! We were blown away at this offer and although right away we were pretty sure that we’d accept the job, we did take some time to pray and discuss it before giving our final answer.

I admit it, I broke down in tears. I was so overwhelmed with how God was caring for our needs. Not only by helping us to stay afloat financially, but He heard my desire to have a house that I didn’t have to choose! He provided housing for me and my family. He provided a church for us to connect with while up here in Chicago. And, he provided existing friendships so we didn’t have to start from scratch. God is so good. He is so kind. He is thoughtful. He is steady and true. (You can read Putty’s perspective on our life update on his most recent blog post)

I’m so thankful we followed Him on this journey. Since my last blog, He has provided us with adoption money, gifts towards our next ministry, housing, a new job/salary, rekindled friendships, and stability. It’s these times that I will look at again and again and remember that God is good. If I doubt that we’re on the right trajectory as we transition, I look to His obvious provision and I see that He is leading us and making a way. We still are searching out the next things. We are following rabbit trails and seeking the LORD. Even though I don’t have an answer for my next stage in life… even though I can’t make a plan (which I LOVE to do!)… I know that my steps are directed by the Lord.

Thank You Note: Thank you to all of you who have generously given towards our adoption, our ministry, and our family. Thank you for believing in God’s calling on our lives and this next journey he has us on. We truly are so grateful for your support and enthusiasm as we step into our next season in ministry together!

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(If you know someone who would find this story helpful or encouraging, please feel free to share it! Thanks for reading my post!)

Bible, God, My Story

Secure and Insecure People

brittanymputman

“Being Secure Helps Others.” That was the title of that particular day’s devotional. But instead of focusing on the what the title said, my mind immediately turned it around. “Being Insecure Hurts Others.” My mind went back to the previous week when I had gone ‘off my rocker’ or so it seemed. 

The Weekend…

It was a hard week. The COVID restrictions were hitting my small business again and it felt bad. I was losing students and had so many cancelations or postponements come at me that week. I was able to hold out hope in all this until the last work day of my week when I lost yet another student. UGH! “What is going on?!” School closings, business closings, the holidays, quarantine, etc made the perfect combination for a very disappointing work week. I was so down that I got to that ‘stuck’ feeling again that I talked about in this post. I chose to force myself to do something to get through it because I still had to parent, cook, and relate to my family before the evening was done. 

Luckily, I found a way to practice my singing. I chose a sad French Song that talks about waking from a good dream and wishing to go back into it. After many run-throughs, I wanted to sing it like I was drawing others into the feeling too – performance time! So, I made a few recordings, some with my eldest daughter looking on. I was happy to share my ‘craft’ with her. It’s not often that my kids see what I studied after all. When all was said and done, I went from feeling very sad and despondent to a bit more normal again. I proceeded with the rest of my evening and enjoyed the time with my family. What I didn’t realize was that I was feeling a bit insecure about my work and our finances. I didn’t allow myself to did deeper and this weight joined the already heavy feelings of this year. … insecurity.

‘Apres un reve’ by Faure sung by Brittany Putman

But I hadn’t really went deeper with all this and it built on some things that had already been happening and which reared their ugly heads throughout the weekend. One of those was my husband’s new business. He and a friend are trying their hand at a new type of socializing over the internet and it’s taken a lot more time than originally anticipated. This has meant focus and energy away from us for an extended period of time. Of course, not all the time, but just enough that it started to feel like it was dragging on. When things take a long time to get realized (like our adoption dreams right now), it can feel really disheartening. He and the friend continued to chug away at this new venture, but these things just take time! 

Additionally, since we could only invite a few people to join us in BETA mode, I really hoped everyone would jump on the bandwagon and join us. Of course, some couldn’t because they didn’t have the necessary things in place, but others just weren’t interested. This really hurt my heart. Each time someone said, “No, not this time,” it was like I was taking it personally! I didn’t quite realize, unfortunately, and those repressed feelings began to grow. I just pushed them aside and thought, “Maybe next time.” But my heart was thinking, “Why won’t they just help us and rejoice with us?” Another weight added to my heart… another insecurity.

Putty and Andrew’s New Project: https://www.crowdwatch.app/ Feel free to ask us about it!

The hits kept coming in that particular weekend. Do you ever have times like these? I know it’s all part of the human condition, but we don’t ever want it to be part of our condition! Anyway, the next day my daughter came down with a cold. We were being careful to avoid situations where we might get sick because my husband would be preaching soon and needed to stay healthy (and COVID-free) in order to do that. I also didn’t want to cancel any lessons due to sick kids because I had a responsibility to my students, my husband, and my family to keep teaching. We’ve already had enough change-ups this season, I didn’t want anymore.

So, when my youngest got sick, I felt worried. I knew it was probably just a cold because of the other people that I knew who had it (and tested negative for COVID), but still, there’s always that feeling of wondering and worry. I worried that it would systematically go through us one by one and that my husband would get it just as he was going to preach. That would not be good. Who wants a sneezing and snotty preacher on stage in this time of Coronavirus? No one, that’s who. So, I pushed my feelings aside and focused on helping my little one feel comforted. I watched each of my other kids to see if they showed any signs of sickness too. Yet, I did not take time to really look at how I was feeling. I was insecure about sickness on so many levels. And so was added …. Another insecurity.

The Breaking Point…

Could we just be done now? Nope… the next day was coming and it held the final straw. My ‘back’ broke and it wasn’t pretty. We had to stay home from church that day. Well, the kids and I did anyway. After all, ya can’t take a sneezing kid to church right now, right? So, we tuned in to the Livestream. That was nice. It was a great service and we had a nice family time with online church. But something was bothering me. 

As a person whose husband works in the church, this tense season hasn’t been easy. After 10+ years of my husband working at our church, and over 15 years of attending that church, I’ve become a cheerleader for our church-team. Normally, this is great, but when you come to love something so much, any hurt against it can feel like a hurt against you too. 

To say this COVID time was been a challenge for the Church (at large) is an understatement. Do we meet or don’t we meet? Do we mask or don’t we mask? How do we help the greatest number of people during this time? Is any group of people falling through the cracks? How do we relate to our diverse congregation in regards to the racial incidents? How do we address the election in our politically diverse congregation? There is no one-size-fits-all approach. 

I haven’t been a part of the decision making in all of this and neither has my husband because of his change in responsibilities this summer, but let me tell you, I know it hasn’t been easy. I’ve witnessed the social media comments both for and against the leadership decisions of the church. I’ve read the fighting and arguing between my beloved church member friends. The divide has torn at me. No one alive today has had to make decisions in a time quite like this, and it’s just been plain hard. I tried complaining. I tried sympathizing. I tried a number of things to get over the feelings of pain that all this has brought to the surface in me, but it hasn’t resolved. Sometimes pain takes a while to resolve and that’s okay. But what I didn’t notice was the feeling of insecurity growing. It was triggered as I watched the Livestream of the service from home. I was feeling the insecurity of the unknown. What will church look like once we can meet together again in a regular fashion without worry of spreading a contagious disease? I just don’t know and so there was heaped on me … another insecurity.

I broke that day. While conversing with people dear to my heart, I felt that insecurity pricked – but I didn’t know that’s what it was. My feelings were triggered by some things that were said and instead of taking time to wait, feel, decide, and respond, I just reacted. My words tumbled out in a passive aggressive way – I’ll say something that sounds good, but really it’s a bit of a jab to you. I knew I shouldn’t be saying it while it was coming out, but I didn’t stop! As soon as I had said my piece, I immediately felt remorse. I knew that I should have waited. I knew that I wasn’t exhibiting love. I knew I had meant to hurt people. That’s not okay and so, I did the hard work of apologizing. I had good discussions about it with my dear people and things are good. I’m thankful they were quick to forgive. I don’t want to do that again.

“Being Insecure Hurts People.” I didn’t realize I had so many insecurities stacked up during this time. Even though I knew something was wrong, I hadn’t put this label on it. And yet, when I read that devotional title, before I even read the text of the devotion, God showed me the truth. I had had so much insecurity that I lashed out and hurt the people I loved! I hadn’t allowed God’s healing to penetrate my heart during each of these circumstances. The insecurities just came so fast, one after another and I didn’t have time to heal. I was insecure.

Becoming Secure…

But how do we become the “Secure People who Help Others” instead? From a counselor’s perspective (my counselor who told me this months earlier)… when we feel that things are insecure and unstable all around us, as is happening all over the world right now, we need to turn our focus and attention to the things that are stable and secure. We can do this by showing gratitude and regularly saying/writing out what is stable and secure at that moment. We can look to the things that are predictable – I will eat breakfast, lunch, dinner today. I will go to work, parent my children, wash the laundry, etc. We can focus on the ‘What Is’ instead of the ‘What If’ of our lives. And as one of our pastors said in her sermon, we can think of the ‘Even If’s.’

Finally, we can look up God’s promises about security in the Bible. And so, I’ll leave you with some Bible verses from Psalms and Proverbs to think on. I hope these will help you and me heal from all the insecurity that comes against us and help us to focus our eyes on the stability of Christ. Ultimately, I pray that we will all become ‘Secure People who Help Others.’

Creator: kalliantas 

Psalm 16:5 (NIV) LORD, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure.

Psalm 16:9 (NIV) Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure

Psalm 112:8 (NIV) Their hearts are secure, they will have no fear; in the end they will look in triumph on their foes.

Proverbs 14:26 (NIV) Whoever fears the LORD has a secure fortress, and for their children it will be a refuge.

The LORD reigns, he is robed in majesty; the LORD is robed in majesty and armed with strength; indeed, the world is established, firm and secure.

Psalm 93:1 (NIV)

God, My Story

Shamed if You Do, Shamed if You Don’t

brittanymputman

There’s nothing like shame to make you second guess yourself. Over the past year, it seems like everywhere I look I see shaming attitudes, comments, and actions. One person says or does something that another person doesn’t like and instead of just disagreeing and leaving it at that, shameful venom spews from their mouth against it. Then the hurt person either slinks away to lick wounds or retaliates in kind. I keep hoping this shame-fire will die back, but as soon as it starts to wane, more fuel is added and it sparks to life again. 

I have seen some real debate when both parties try to express their own views and it seems like they are listening to each other rather than combatting. But still, overall the nation seems to be in a shaming loop. I have felt that shame directed at me, directed at those I love, AND directed at those whose views I don’t agree with. It seems like whatever people do, or don’t do, they’ll be made an example of. 

This has been so hard for me personally because I dealt with shame for a good portion of my life. As an adult I have come to learn that even when shame is thrown at me from something outside of myself, I am the one who actually chooses if it gets to hook into me or not. As a child, I didn’t understand this and so attitudes and actions done to me resulted in intense shame for me. As I’ve matured, I can see how Satan is the one who really slings shame and who whispers in my ear and to my heart that I have to wear this shame. Knowing that, I can choose NOT to agree with it. And as a Christian, I have the added victory that Jesus’ blood cleared away all that shame, empowering me to walk in love and confidence. 

bible.com

But… because I am intimately acquainted with the feeling of shame, I sense it easily when it’s hanging around. I recognize when it’s trying to invade my thoughts and make me feel less than the person God made me to be. I want to share a few specific examples that have been heavy on my heart during this past year – Coronavirus response, Racial Incidents response, and the 2020 Election. It does scare me a little to share these thoughts because they are such hot button issues and I’ve stayed away from speaking about them publicly, but nonetheless, I want to express a few thoughts on them and the theme of shame I’ve seen running through them.

Coronavirus…

Photo by CDC on Pexels.com

It all started about a year ago when we heard reports about a new virus in China. Then we heard how it was affecting other countries and finally we got hit hard too. It seemed like most of the country closed down for a while and more and more health safety protocols/restrictions were put in place. Fear began to build until it was towering over our nation. Fear of sickness and death. Fear of lack of freedom and choice. Fear of hurting the common good AND the individual good. But which one is right? That’s the thing, I’m not sure there is just ‘one right thing’. And yet, the shaming began. If you go out unmasked in public… Shame on you! …If you require me to wear a mask…Shame on you! If you hold gatherings… Shame on you! …If you restrict my freedom to gather… Shame on you! And on and on it goes. 

It has become so shameful that contracting Coronavirus seems akin to getting an STD! If you got the virus early on, then people assumed you had done something wrong by disobeying the rules or being reckless. It was then assumed that you passed it on to so many people unknowingly that therefore, you were worthy to be shamed. And now, the virus is almost everywhere and if you get it, you could have picked it up at work (while following proper guidelines) or at gatherings (with or without recommended protocols). Yet, there has been enough shame around it that people still want to remain anonymous when they contract it. (Some, not all.) But how can people reach out to help others who are sick if they have no idea who is sick? How can people safely assess whether or not they themselves should take some extra precautions if they don’t know who it is that has been sick in their midst? My hope is that as this becomes more common, people will feel less shame and negative stigma around contracting it and feel free and clear to talk about their experience with the disease and get the help (can we say MealTrain!) from the community around them.

Racial Incidents…

We’ve had a number of racial incidents throughout all this time too. They have garnered an outcry from blacks, browns, whites, and so many others. Our nation aches with the injustice, anger, fear, and yes… shame from all this. I heard messages like… Talk to your friends of color and hear their stories of injustice to understand all this and if you don’t… Shame on you! …I’m so sick of white people asking me questions just because I’m black! Don’t talk to me about this and if you do… Shame on you! …You must speak out about these incidents because if you don’t…Shame on you! …You just spoke out about these incidents… Shame on you! And on and on it goes.

Photo by Kelly Lacy on Pexels.com

In all this, I am feeling some similarities to when I’ve read books on transracial adoption. For the most part, many of these books are written from a positive and educational viewpoint. But, there are a few that are quite negative and carry a feeling on them that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. As I discussed the difference between my perceived feelings on different books with an African-American friend of mine, he cautioned me about what he called, ‘white-shaming.’ I hadn’t heard this term before. But as he explained it, a lightbulb went on. Some of the things said are not only to inform and educate, but also to toss a bit of shame onto the person thinking of transracially adopting. I didn’t realize! I suddenly could see what he was talking about and from then on, it was so easy to spot this sort of thing. Since then, I’ve seen it not only in books to the public, but also directly to me – from people of color AND also plenty of whites too. I’m so thankful for the people who speak and write about this topic that truly want to educate readers and help them along what is a difficult journey. These people write from a place of hope and care. 

Election…

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

This has been the most watched and talked about election for me in my life-time. I know some will say that the election 4 years ago was just as big, but I wasn’t quite as mentally involved then, so I’m going to speak from my experience of this year. On top of the already very stressful time we’ve been having lately, we then are in the midst of a very chaotic election season and post-season. My heart breaks for the way our nation has divided so clearly. People who talk about their beliefs and ideals on either side of the ‘divide’ are being shamed back and forth. The messages are…You said a positive thing about this candidate (either one)… Shame on you! … You said a negative thing about this candidate (either one)… Shame on you! … You haven’t shown public support for this candidate (either one)… Shame on you! You have shown bipartisan support for both candidates… Shame on you! 

It seems like we don’t know how to be a nation that can hold strong ideals that disagree with one another, yet still be united. I read one politician who said, ‘Now that we’ve been divided, it’s time to be united.’ Yes, I agree, but why did we have to be so divided in the first place? Why do the politicians have to use shame in order to gather people to their side of the aisle? Left and Right I’ve heard and felt shame. I would like a leader who knows how to govern ALL PEOPLE with love and kindness. One who doesn’t have to shame and have their constituents join in the melee. We need peace in our nation and I just don’t see it. I know, I know… ‘But Brittany, it’s always been this way since the beginning of our country!’ True. But still, I can dream and hope for change can’t I?

But Hope…

So the shame in this country at this moment is at least 3-fold (virus, racial tension, election)  if not even more. We’ve been sitting under this shame for getting close to a year! How have we bared up under it? How have we dealt with the intense pressure to ‘get it all right’ in order to keep shame away? How are we monitoring our own hearts? Are we allowing the shame around us to attach itself to us? Are we struggling under the weight of the shame heaped on us? What are we choosing?

As I’ve looked in Bible to help me understand what God says about shame, I’ve found out that God does not put me to shame nor is His plan for me to live in shame. The bible says ‘No one who hopes in You will ever be put to shame. – Psalm 25:3b.’ and also ‘…hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. – Romans 5:5’ So, when I feel the claws of shame trying to hook themselves into me, I’ll pause and look to Jesus for the hope that will never put me to shame. Then that shame will not find a place to attach and I can move forward in life with my head held high.

I pray that we all experience renewed hope in our hearts today, in this moment. I pray that God’s love will be poured out even more into our hearts through the Holy Spirit and that we can use that to heal our areas of influence. I pray that we will know the Hope that does not put us to shame, but instead raises us up in God’s glory and power with confidence to take the next step in our lives. So, to all of us, let us choose HOPE!