An Unexpected, Full Quiver – Katie’s Story

I’ve always wanted a big family. Okay, well, originally I thought that meant four kids. When I was in high school I felt God distinctly tell me that He would call me to adopt someday. Those feelings were solidified when I met my husband, Tim, and he felt the same way too. After we married, we said that we would have four or five kids, but joked that we would have ten or twelve. Our first, a daughter, was born in 2007 and I just loved being pregnant. I knew then that I could happily carry and birth four or five more, if God allowed. We named her Selah, which means to “pause” or “meditate,” and I adored being able to do just that as a mother to my little girl.

What I never anticipated was having trouble conceiving or sustaining pregnancies after Selah. We began trying for our second little angel the year after she was born, but instead, had three back-to-back miscarriages over the next year. By the time Selah was three years-old and all the rest of my mommy friends were pregnant with or already having their second and third babies, I began to despair, thinking that our hopes and dreams of having a large family were quickly dwindling.

We tried fertility treatments next and it was at this time that Tim and I also began to seriously consider adoption. We researched the costs, different agencies and countries to adopt from. I became so certain that adoption would probably be where the rest of our children would come from that I was surprised when we found out at the end of 2009 that the fertility treatments had worked and we were expecting a healthy baby boy. Elijah, meaning “The Lord is the one, true God,” joined our family in May of 2010 and I was overjoyed to have another sweet little one in my arms.

After Elijah was born, we looked into adoption again, but decided that we needed to wait for more consistent finances. I took the next year to enjoy motherhood and it wasn’t until the middle of 2011 that we felt confident in beginning the process of adoption when Tim’s job was more secure. We had just signed the official adoption paperwork, requesting to adopt a sibling group from Ethiopia, when we were surprised to find out we were expecting, AGAIN, this time without the help of fertility treatments! In April of 2012, we welcomed Isaac, which means “laughter” because of the huge surprise he gave us.

We knew we still wanted those two African children, though, whoever they would be, and we eagerly looked forward to word from our agency and dreamed of whom they would match us with. Selah hoped for a younger sister to play with and Tim and I tossed around what Old Testament names we would use once we got the news. But time seemed to drag on and with each passing week without word from our agency, we grew anxious. Finally, in January of 2013, just nine months after our surprise Isaac was born, we were matched with twin boys only five months younger than him. They were born in Harar, Ethiopia the previous September and then moved to an orphanage in Addis, Ethiopia.

In April, we flew to Addis and spent ten days meeting and holding our sweet, new additions to the family, touring the country and even taking a bus to visit Harar, 500 kilometers away from the boys’ new orphanage. By July, at ten months old, they were legally ours and we flew back to Addis and brought home Moses and Zechariah, which mean “drawn out” and “God has remembered.”

For years, we had prepared ourselves from agency classes, social worker visits and numerous books and resources that the biggest struggle of international adoption would be teaching these children how to bond with us as parents and siblings. However, their connection with all of us was as instant as if I had carried and born them myself.  Instead, it seemed to us that the biggest adjustment to adopting twins less than one years-old was that because Isaac was only five months older, we essentially have triplets. And since the twins were adjusting to a new home, new parents and a new routine than they were used to in their orphanage, it was much like having newborns again. They were up every three hours at night, often on opposite schedules. And once they started crawling and walking, along with Isaac, life only got crazier! Thankfully, our older two, Selah and Elijah, now 7 and 4 have been wonderful, big helpers and we have had many, many dear friends and family step in to help as well.

But, God wasn’t done with our family yet, nor His miraculous, surprising ways. Just when I was beginning to adjust to having four rambunctious and destructive boys, 3 of them under two years-old, we had another surprise pregnancy in January of 2014. We found out that we were expecting TWINS a month later and a few weeks after that, the ultrasound showed that they were BOTH boys. I grieved this news for a short time, but God continued to bring me new mercies each morning.

Our precious new set of twins arrived via caesarian section on September 14, 2014. Noah Robert and Josiah Paul, our smallest babies yet, weighed in at 7 and 5 pounds, respectively. Their arrival meant that as an entire family we could no longer fit in our eight passenger minivan and we are bursting at the seams in our 3 bedroom, 1 bath 1200 square foot home. However, this past summer, God provided Tim with a significant and long prayed-for promotion at work, which allowed us to get approved for a loan on a new, 2015 Ford Transit nine-passenger van. He has also blessed us with a large community of family, friends and even strangers who want to help us with meals, housecleaning, childcare as well as the remodeling to expand our small house to accommodate our large family!

We are amazed at God’s gift of seven children in seven years, and it has opened our eyes to become aware of our need for Jesus, family, friends and our church to help us. He has blessed us with the chance to experience and embrace the most beautiful picture of community and the powerful testimony of His provision as we open the doors of our lives, hearts and home to experience His grace, “do life” together, and raise this pack of children with the help and love of a multitude of others. And while I cannot even remember what life was like just seven years ago with only one baby girl, God’s grace and goodness has been abundant, and we continue to trust that He will provide for all our needs.

~~~~~

Made to Mother is partnering with the Evans Project to fundraise and build enough support to be able to help expand Tim and Katie Evans’s home and assist in funding the purchase of their new family car. For years Tim and Katie have played a huge part in and blessed the lives of so many people. They have opened their home and lives to everyone who has needed or asked for help. We now see this as an opportunity to give back to them that blessing, as we donate our own time and resources and ask others for help in supporting this family.

If you would like to learn more about the Evans Project, please visit the Evans Project Page for more information and to donate. 100% of your donations will go directly to the Evans family. Thank you so much for supporting this loving, godly family and being a part of the amazing work that God continues to do through them!

When Life Won’t Slow Down

So, in the summer, life is crazy. Plans are spontaneous and vacations abound. Then the fall comes and I’m like, “Thank GOD! We can finally slow down, get back to a routine and enjoy autumn.” Yeah right. School starts and the season changes and, yes, we do have a routine, but is it really less chaotic than the summer? I don’t think so. I still have an older child to get to school on time, homeschool lesson plans to create, finalize, print off and teach, 4 different lunches to make, dinner to plan and prep, babies to change and get down for naps, and oh yes, A BLOG to write, promote and answer emails for!

And then, because it is fall, I’m crazily sorting, cleaning, tagging and boxing up outgrown clothes, shoes and toys to sell at my favorite children’s and maternity consignment sale, for which I also do the marketing and PR. AND, lucky me, hunting season is about to begin, which means I will not see my husband, and my children will not see their father every weekend for nearly the entire months of October and November. Which also equates to having fewer mommy-sanity breaks during these two months, either. (sigh)

So, suffice to to say that I am run very ragged right now and I apologize if I am not answering emails or posting amazing motherhood stories as frequently as I had hoped. I’m certain it will get better soon. Of course then the HOLIDAYS will be here. Who am I kidding? I seriously think I have this misconceived notion in my head that life will slow down, but honestly it never does! Oh well, it certainly keeps me on my toes and prevents boredom, though, doesn’t it?

All that being said, while I try to keep my head above the water at home and prepare for the AMAZING upcoming “adoption month” stories I have planned for you in November, I’d like to repost some of my favorite oldie, but goody mama stories. I hope you enjoy!

A Mentor, Teacher-Mother: Lana’s Story
You don’t have to have biological or legal children to be a mother. Sometimes, a woman can take on a mothering role in the lives of others as a mentor and teacher. Lana’s story is a beautiful example of this precious and important job.

A Life of Adventure:  Beth’s Story
Life can throw us all sorts of curve balls; teen pregnancy, single motherhood, blended families. Motherhood is an adventure and Beth’s story paints an exciting picture of how life can be full of adventure as well if we choose to never let circumstances get us down.

Grown to Mother: Kara’s Story
There are working mothers, stay-at-home mothers, part-time mothers and to each her own. But sometimes we get to the middle of our lives and wonder if what we did was right. If the sacrifices were worth it. And then we reach a crossroads; where will we go from there? Kara shares her own personal struggles with this in her powerful, ‘coming into her own’ story.

 

Living Intentionally Instead of Longing for the Past: A Little M2M Guest Post Action

If there is a crossroads between young and old, I think I have arrived there. At 34, I feel like I have one foot in my youth and one foot over the threshold of being old. Now, before you laugh and dismiss me on this, take a moment to ponder it for yourself. If you are older than me, think back to a time where you felt like you could still very clearly remember the angst of your teenage years, the rebelliousness of being a young adult, the bliss of your newlywed years, and the tenderness of carrying, birthing and cradling your first newborn. Then, as the years went on and you matured and watched your babies grow, those memories of youth began to fade and the wisdom of adulthood took its place. Life, once simple, became more complicated and although its simplicity is still reflected in the eyes and chattering of your children, it has nearly become lost on you….

Continue reading over at What Joy is Mine, where I have the incredible honor of guest posting this week. Enjoy!

Like what you see here on M2M? Want to add your voice? Share your own story of motherhood? I would love to feature you! Please contact me and I will be happy to send you the specs for content. I hope to hear from you soon!

*THAT* First Day of School Blog Post

Every year it is the same…”back to school” ads in the paper and on TV, every store window looks like the perfect dorm room, there are fewer school-age children at our favorite daytime play places and, last but not least, my Facebook newsfeed is filled with “first day of (fill-in-the-blank) grade” pictures of happy, new clothes-clad, chalkboard-holding school children.

Years ago, as a mom of babies, I hardly recognized the switch from summer to fall, save for the changing colors of leaves, the crisper air and my abundant garden needing to be preserved. When my oldest was in preschool we decided to homeschool, so the beginning of the fall school year meant 1-3 days of an hour or two at home and some fun “field trips”to the local pumpkin patch. It wasn’t until last year, when we decide to put her into public school kindergarten, that the enormity of back-to-school-ism really hit our family. We bought our school supplies, took our “first day of kindergarten” pictures and posted them on social media, just like the rest of the world. But, still, it was only half-day kindergarten. I still had one preschooler and one baby at home and it never REALLY felt too serious. Flash forward to this year. Our oldest is in all-day 1st grade, our middle child in homeschool prekindergarten and our baby in homeschool pre-preschool. This. Is. Serious. (And for those of you with ALL your children in all-day school, please don’t laugh.)

Our first grader is attending a very cool, very sustainable, very HIPPIE charter school here in our home town. School days are Monday through Thursday 8:50-3:05 and Fridays until 1:05. They have art twice a week…real, actual ART (gasp!), recess every day outside, rain or shine (and hello, this is Portland, Oregon so that means RAIN for much of the next seven months) and they take a walking “out and about” each week. So, for our back-to-school supplies this meant a $90 waterproof jacket from REI, $60 Bogs rain boots that keep footsies cozy and dry in 10 degrees, a reusable water bottle and lunch box filled with gluten, nut and sugar-free, organic items in recyclable or reusable bags and containers. (Insert husband’s gag.)

Phew! It’s only the 2nd week of school and I’m already exhausted! Not to mention, I cried like a baby when she and my husband left on the first day and I stayed home with the younger two (a scheme we devised last year on her first day of kindergarten so I wouldn’t exhibit said crying at the school and embarrass my big girl). Ironically, however, when I assumed the task of dropping her off on the SECOND day of school, the crying fit came anyway. Aaaaand, to make matters worse, I feared all day long on the first day that I had forgotten to get her. 11:40 rolled around and as I’m making the other two lunch, I panicked thinking I should have left to pick her up already, only to remember that I still had over THREE MORE HOURS. Geeeez! My days have never felt so long! How am I going to last another nine months of this! Forget that, how am I going to last the next 12 years?!!

There’s hope for me, right?! I’m ready for this, yes? (No.) YES!

 

When ‘Good Enough’ Just…Isn’t

As a writer (and probably every other profession out there), we are always looking for the next, big thing. That next, super-popular post gone viral, our 15 minutes of fame, or a new, original and undiscovered idea. And when we have it, we revel and bask in the glory, for a moment, that we have produced something quality, worthwhile and meaningful. Until the light fades and our public moves on to something newer, better or flashier. And we are left, once again, to frantically search and grasp for that next thrill, that next great idea; something that will be good enough to get the attention of the masses…again.

Every time this happen on this crazy wheel of blogging, I ask myself, what if I’m not good enough? What if I cannot come up with something else? What if eventually those great ideas and posts just run dry? What if I can never achieve that NEXT thing? What if…?

As a blogger, I compete with hundreds of thousands of other writers and websites for my readers’ attention. I’m up against very talented women who blog about family, crafts, homeschooling, marriage, Christian living, recipes, and on and on and on. Even so, I like to consider myself in a smaller niche of writers where I won’t post the healthiest and tastiest crock pot recipe, the best tips and tricks on being an organized, homeschooling SAHM, or the most beautiful, pinterest-ready image featuring my amazingly inspiring words of wisdom about godly parenting and marriage. And unless I think it is absolutely something my readers cannot live without, you won’t find shamelessly promoted affiliate links or randomly advertised products within my content.

I consider Made to Mother a ministry….a nonmoney-making space where woman can feel refreshed or encouraged in their trials and triumphs of motherhood by reading about other’s similar stories or sharing their own. But, despite this resolve, I still have to compete with the many, many, MANY other bloggers out there who want the same readers’ attention. And I admit, I dream of the day when I have thousands of hits a day on my site, so many entries for stories that I have to turn some away and even more comments, likes and followers than I can keep up with. Granted, I am not there yet, but I think that for only having started M2M seven months ago, it is doing fairly well. Still, those “what ifs” are always in the back of my mind and I am consistently forced to lay this blog and its future at the feet of the One who has orchestrated and placed a writing burden on my heart.

So, when I feel that I am not good enough, that Made to Mother is not good enough, I remind myself that He IS and I trust that He will guide both as long as He sees fit.

Living a Simpler Life

So, last week I found myself without my mobile phone for five whole days. “Somehow” the screen got cracked, rendering it completely useless until a repair shop could get the right part and fix it. Utterly unprepared, I found myself thrust into a world without data packages, instant text messaging and social media at my very whim. A world that I have grown unfamiliar with. For five days, I had no more games, emails, weather reports and calendar appointments to check from bed, in waiting rooms or at stoplights. I couldn’t take an instant picture whenever I wanted, call a friend if I needed or get quick directions on the fly.

It made me realize just how dependent I am on such a fragile technology. That in an instant, I could lose all access to my “cloud,” my daily planner and countless pictures and videos that I had saved in that little 3×5 black hole. For five days, I used my husband’s phone to make calls, I hand-wrote all my appointments for the day, complete with addresses and directions, I used only my laptop for checking Facebook, emails and the weather. And for five days, I was transported back in time, to where things were just a little less plugged-in and a little more simple.

I’m always inspired by reading blogs on living unwired and hands-free or the wistful historical fiction and Amish fiction novels which describe living a little slower, without power and all the technology that make our lives today so fast-paced. It reminds me of a simpler time just 20 years ago, being raised in the country without the internet, cable television or a million hand-held devices. Sure, we watched a lot of TV (all six channels that we had!) But we also played outdoors on my parents’ vast eighteen acres of hills and old-growth fir trees, using our imaginations and reading books.

Even seven years ago when I began having my own babies, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest an (gasp!) blogging didn’t consume hours upon hours of my day. I didn’t even have a data package on my “smart phone” blackberry. I “blogged” by writing each day in the stained, yellowed pages and fading ink volumes that I’d been keeping since the 5^th grade.

But, here we are today in a world where everything is fast-paced, automatic and viral and I find myself longing to slow down a bit, go back to my roots and do things a little old fashioned, sometimes. I love the music genre of country (cringe, I know!) and one of my favorite country singers is the beautiful and spunky Miranda Lambert, whom I’ve been a fan of since her first album came off the heels of winning Nashville Star, the American Idol for country music. Her recently released song, “Automatic” rings so clear and true for me along these lines of desiring a simpler life:

“What ever happened to waiting your turn, doing it all by hand? Because when everything is handed to you, it’s only worth as much as the time put in. It all just seemed so good the way we had it; back before everything became automatic”

Her lyrics discuss exactly how I feel torn between worlds and memories from the past…putting a quarter in a pay phone, drying laundry on the line, recording the top songs from the radio on a cassette tape, letter writing with stamps and three-day delivery times, car windows with the hand cranks and Polaroid pictures that you “shake.”

I feel like I have made feats to bring myself back to a simpler life in some ways. I am a full-time SAHM; we’ve used cloth diapers on all three of our babies and I homeschool our preschoolers. I have a huge garden where I spend most of my springs, summers and early falls and then preserve much of its produce by canning, freezing and drying for the winter months. We don’t have AC in the house, so on warm, summer days, I despise the hot clothes dryer heating up our home and hang much of our laundry on a line in the backyard. I also enjoy making most of our meals from scratch, with fewer ingredients like bread, cakes and casseroles, rather than from a can or box.

So, five days after the “black-out” I had my phone back in all it’s glory…along with three missed calls, two voicemail messages and ten unanswered texts, but I had a new resolve not to allow myself to get too attached or dependent on this fragile devise. Because even though we have in-home Wi-Fi for our laptops, smart phones and iPad and own nearly every Disney movie  ever made on dvd, it is still important to me to have a healthy balance of an unplugged life, full of the richness, innocence and beauty that sometimes only the “old-fashioned” things can offer…and that a shattered screen cannot take away. And I hope to instill in my children that despite the modern conveniences of this world, we can still live in moderation and keep some things in life a little simpler.

The Purpose in My Pain – S.L.’s Story

I didn’t become the mom I am when my husband and I decided to start a family. Like most people, God had been shaping my life for motherhood before I even knew it. It began when I was in preschool. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was sick. I’m not certain exactly when it happened because I was so little, but some of my earliest memories are painful ones. The problem with pain, though, is that you don’t realize it’s pain when you’ve only ever been in pain.

When I was 17, I spent a an unforgettable summer on a mission trip with some wonderful friends from my church youth group. I knew then I wanted to be a missionary. The warm air in that impoverished Caribbean nation made me feel so good and I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing what God wanted. It was humbling and exhilarating all at the same time to have the opportunity to daily share Christ with the kids I worked with. And though it was also hard, I loved being completely dependent on God. He daily gave me strength.

I didn’t want to lose the closeness I had with God or the purpose that I felt on that trip, so when I came home, I made one of the most pivotal decisions of my entire life, although I didn’t know it at the time. I prayed that God would continue to keep me completely dependent on Him. God isn’t safe. He’s good, but His ways aren’t our ways. I had no idea that only three weeks later, the pain that I had felt my whole life would become excruciatingly unbearable. I went from being an athlete to barely being able to walk. It was so bad, I had to crawl up stairs and it hurt even to be touched. If someone just accidentally bumped into me, I was reduced to tears.

The summer ended and I began my senior year of high school, but everything had changed. I needed all the support I could get, so gone were my plans to attend college out of state and when I lost my voice, my dreams to major in music also ended. I realized I wasn’t healthy enough to go live overseas anymore so I couldn’t go into missions, either. I was devastated. And, to make it even worse, I still didn’t have a diagnosis. I was so scared because pain like that usually means something bad. Really bad. It took a year before I was finally diagnosed with fibromyalgia; a chronic illness that has to do with overactive nerves and causes miserable pain. There is no cure for it and my case was severe, yet, I was relieved knowing that it wouldn’t take my life like some of the others diseases that were being considered. Still, I felt so hopeless and lost in darkness. Didn’t God understand that all I wanted to do was to serve Him? I felt like He took my ability to do that, but truly, I had the complete dependence I had asked for.

It took me a few years before I could understand the point of all my failed dreams. God wanted to teach me something first. I learned how to manage my illness and got it under control so I could live pretty normally despite being in constant pain. I met and married my husband, Brian, finished college with a degree in psychology, and we started a family.

I had always wanted a little girl. Desperately wanted a little girl. And we had Ethan. Then, two years later, we had Luke. Four years after that, Jackson joined our family. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my three boys! But, when I found out that I was having a third boy, I cried. All the feelings of loss crept back upon me and another dream died. I sobbed to God, asking Him, “Why can’t I catch a break? I’ve lost so much already and now I’m never going to have the daughter I’ve always wanted. Why does my life look so different from what I planned on it being? I just want to be normal!”

When Jackson was born, everything changed. I fell in love with being a mom of three boys. God started showing me how wrong I was to think that my plan might have been better than His. I couldn’t have been happier being mom to my Monkey, Gremlin, and Trouble, respectively. And I love that we laugh. A lot. There was the time that Ethan colored himself and Luke completely with a blue marker in three minutes while I was on the phone. Later,when Luke was a toddler, he drank day-old cold, black coffee, straight from the coffee pot when my back was turned. And once, at two years-old, Jackson snuck out of bed in the middle of the night and we found him watching The Chronicles of Narnia with the sound turned all the way down and the subtitles on. Yup. All we can do is laugh!

Still, my heart ached. I didn’t feel done with our family. Brian and I lost a precious baby between Luke and Jackson and I found myself wishing that I could make some difference. I’ve always had a desire to adopt, but it never worked out. The doors just kept closing until, one day, one door stayed open. Foster care. It wasn’t what I planned. It was messy, complicated even, but the need was great. I brought it up to Brian and he was immediately in. I know it makes no sense to do this. I was only 29 years old when we started the process. We have our three boys, live in a house with only three bedrooms, and I’m sick. There were so many reasons to not do it, but God put it on my heart. The desire wouldn’t go away and when God asks you to do something, you can’t say no.

Right now, I’m a mom to four. We are on our second placement with a precious infant foster daughter. God gave me my girl. I might not get to keep her, but that is okay; God is bigger than the pain of goodbyes. If there is one thing I learned from my miscarriage, it is that I am going to make the most with all the time I am given with my kids, biological or not. They are all my kids. I’ve also realized that I don’t want to be normal. My boys are amazing; they love their foster sister and are incredibly compassionate. They’ve seen so much pain as they’ve watch me struggle with illness and they want to take care of their foster sister since they understand she has lost her biological family. They are so empathetic and are learning to serve God sacrificially even at the tender ages of 8, 6, and 2.

It occurred to me once as I walked into the social services building that I actually am on the mission field. I may not have been able to go overseas, but God brought the mission field to me. The psychology degree I hadn’t planned on getting was exactly what I needed. And I might not be using my voice to sing, but I’m using it to tell others about God. As a foster parent, I get to work with these precious, hurting birth parents and make a difference. Because of my pain and chronic illness, I am open with them about how I don’t have it all together. They know I understand and so they listen to me. I never expected my pain to be so important.

Being a mom is so much more than simply taking care of kids, making PB&Js for lunch and reading bedtime stories. Being a mom means giving of ourselves in ways that we never expected and serving God even when it doesn’t make sense. My journey wasn’t what I had planned, but it was what God planned and His plans have proved far better than mine ever could.

~~~~~

S.L. Payne, a Southern Californian transplanted to the South, lives with her husband, three biological sons and foster daughter. She is thankful for God’s faithfulness in her illness as God has used to it help her see Him in everything; the three boys have supplied the humor! She loves writing, photography and laughing with her family. She writes at Rest Ministries and on her website, www.uncommongrace.net, where she hopes she can encourage others to live in grace. You can follow her on Twitter @saralynnpayne.

Saying Yes to the Adventure of Foster Care – Emily’s Story

The call came from a DHS supervisor at midnight: “We have a three-year old girl at the hospital. Her mom was shot and is not expected to live through the night. Her dad has been arrested. Domestic violence. All clothing was taken by police as evidence so if you could bring a blanket that would be great. Can you come pick her up?” Yes.

The call came from a CPS worker while I was making dinner: “I just came on the scene to find a four-year old boy sitting in the back of a police car. His clothing is soaked with urine from his mentally unstable mother; he may have lice, and he is filthy. Can we bring him to your house?” Yes.

The call came from another county as we were getting ready for bed. “We have a two-year old who is sound asleep at the DHS office now. She was brought to the ER with an injury. Her mom was so high on drugs she could hardly function. This little girl is adorable. We just need someone who can take her for the night. Could you?” Yes.

The call came from the placement desk while I was in the middle of a run. “We have a tiny, ten-day old baby boy. Things aren’t working out with his current foster home, and we need to move him. Do you have an infant car seat?” Yes.

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

My husband and I are biological parents to two young kids, as well as foster parents to a revolving crew of kids under the age of five. A friend, who also fosters, once told me that calls from DHS are like a Create-Your-Own-Adventure Game. Each “yes” takes your family on a wild new adventure you never expected. I always wonder what adventure we are missing out on with the calls we can’t take.

We say yes because these broken babies need a safe place to land. They need a mommy to wrap them in blankets and tuck them in at night. They need a daddy to hoist them up on his shoulders and gallop them around the backyard. They need clothing that fits and food that nourishes. They need to be tickled and trained and taken to the zoo. They need boundaries. They need love.

I have been surprised to find how much we need these little people, too. They are sweet and feisty and stubborn and funny. They keep us on our toes and teach us lessons we need to learn.

People tell me all the time, “I don’t know how you do it! I could never become a foster parent. It would be too hard to say good-bye to the kids once I’ve gotten attached.” And I get it, I do. I used to say the exact same thing. But now, I wonder what in the world I was thinking. Was I serious? It would be too hard for… me?

Make no mistake. It is hard. There are plenty of days when I feel like I just don’t have it in me to do this. My ideas and energy and patience fall flat. Some kids have night terrors, others have accidents. You wash a lot of sheets. You fold a lot of socks. You buy a lot of diapers. There are endless meetings and appointments and phone calls. There are false accusations and frustrating decisions. Foster parenting can be tough.

And yet these kids are forced to do hard things every single day, through no fault or choice of their own. They are abused and neglected and forced to fend for themselves. They are separated from siblings and shuffled from place to place. Kids in the foster care system have endured more hurt in their short lives than most of us will pause to think about, let alone experience, in our own.

The next phone call will come. And my husband and I will say yes. Not because we are some amazing poster family for foster care. We will say yes because these kids are forced to do hard things. The least we can do is look into their broken eyes and say, “Yes. I will do hard things with you. I will hold your hand and kiss your head and calm your tantrums. By God’s grace, we will figure this out together.”

When it is time to say good-bye, I will wash their clothes and pack their stuffed animals. I will ache and cry and wish it could be different. But I will never regret saying yes.

~~~~~

Emily is a foster mom in Portland, Oregon, who has been married to the love of her life for almost 12 years. They have two adorable kids, who keep them laughing and Googling. Emily also volunteers with Embrace Oregon.

Mom’s Night Out Critics: Is Being a SAHM Anti-Feminist?

Several months back, I got a chance to preview the movie, Mom’s Night Out, which is still playing in theaters for a few more days. You can read my review about it here, but what I want to talk about today is the mixed and even NEGATIVE reviews it is getting from many critics. While not completely surprising since it was somewhat promoted as a funny chick flick but has a very Christian message, I can see how some might have been unpleasantly surprised in the theater. But to go so far as to call it “Depressingly regressive and borderline dangerous,” “Unabashedly anti-feminist,” with “Ugly sexism” and “Archaic notions of gender roles” – hold the phone, I have to take a stand!

What bothers me about these critics’ reviews is not what they have to say about the movie, but what they have said about MY JOB. In addition to being a tiny, unpaid mommy blogger and taking some very infrequent, small-time contracts for web and graphic design, my FULL TIME job is a stay-at-home wife and mother.

Do I have an old-fashioned notion of womanhood to want to stay home and raise my babies? Is my husband a sexist, chauvinistic or demoralizing man because his job is the one that pays our bills? Am I an oppressed and stifled nonproductive member of society because I have chosen to forgo my professional career in favor of a domestic one? Mama, please!

I take HONOR in my role, I am PROUD of my job and I believe with 100% of my being that what I do is vital to our future and more important than all the VPs, Fortune 500’s, fame and power combined in the whole, western world!

Now, do I believe that EVERY woman should be a stay-at-home mom? No way! I have several dear friends who have to work because their income is needed to provide for their families. I also know other moms who have very successful careers outside of the home and not only are they good at what they do, but they love to do it! Do I look down on them because they have chosen a different path than me? Absolutely not! In fact, I have learned many valuable lessons from my working mom friends. While they may work 40 or more hours away from the home, when they come back to their husbands and children, they are more present with them than I sometimes am all week long! Seeing this encourages me to be a better mom in the place where I am at.

So, here’s my punch line: I believe every woman is called to do what is right for themselves and for their families. And as such, we are accountable to no one regarding those callings except to our husband, children and our God, if we choose to serve one. Let’s stop pushing our ideals, notions and callings onto others. Let’s let women lead the lives they are convicted to lead no matter how simple or complex we think they are. And let’s support and encourage each other in those choices instead of slapping on hurtful labels and tearing each other down.

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Mom’s Night Out is in theaters just through Thursday of this week. Get your tickets here and go see it today to show your support and tell the entertainment critic world that good, wholesome films about the domestic job we hold is NOT archaic, but is just as valid of a career choice for a woman to make as any other!

 

Grace for the Imperfect Mama – Guest Post by Author and Blogger, Jenni Mullinix

As a single woman and a newlywed, I had grand ideas of what motherhood would look like. My children were never going to watch television during the day. I was going to be cool, calm and collected in the midst of trying times. The house would stay clean. I would serve nutritious meals every night. And my children would never throw fits, especially in public. I was a perfect parent before becoming a mother. Fast forward a few years and you will find me as the mother of an infant and toddler sometimes wondering how I’m going to make it through this crazy, beautiful thing called motherhood. There are dark days caused by a lack of sleep, toddler tantrums and other stresses that bring me to the end of myself. During these difficult moments the question that all mothers wonder lurks in the back of my mind… Am I enough? I’ve been pondering this question quite a bit lately. What I’ve decided is that the answer is NO. Despite what you’ve heard or read, it’s the truth–the gospel truth. This answer may seem wildly discouraging at first, but I found found it to be quite freeing. While I strongly believe the Lord has called us be the mother of the children He has gifted each one of us with, I am also quite certain that we cannot do this mothering thing on our own. We are not enough. We need Jesus–desperately.

“I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” -John 15:5

It is only through the grace of God and the working of the Holy Spirit that we can do anything right. The Lord did not call us to be perfect mothers–He called us to be moms covered by His grace, relying on His Spirit to guide us through the mundane (and not so mundane) moments of motherhood. Did you get that, dear friend? God has called you to be a grace-covered mama, not a perfect one. It is only when we choose to accept the gift of grace and allow the gospel to permeate every area of our life that we will thrive in our role as a mother. What freedom and joy there is in realizing this and taking it to heart! May we seek to bring glory to God by living out the gospel as we embrace the wonderful gift of grace that the blood of Jesus Christ bought for us. In what area of your motherhood do you need God’s grace today?

About the Author: Jenni Mullinix is happily married to her husband and enjoys being a stay-at-home mama. She is fascinated with all things domestic which inspired her to write her first eBook, Clean Enough: Simple Solutions for the Overwhelmed Homemaker. In her free time, she enjoys deep conversations, drinking lattes, and diving into a good book. As a writer, Jenni is passionate about encouraging and equipping women to live called for the glory of God in every season of life. She would love to connect with you! Blog | Facebook | Pinterest | Instagram | Twitter.