motherhood, Uncategorized

There’s Beauty In the End Of A Season

Sarah Faith

Last night we had what could be the last snowfall of the season. Spring is here promising sunshine and new life, and I’m so excited, yet last night I found myself marvelling at yet another snowfall. It wasn’t unique, yet it seemed important. Something to be savoured, simply because it could be the last of the season. 

I stared out my window, taking notice of the gigantic snowflakes as they seemed to fall in slow motion. Pure magic. And the trees! Each branch coated in sparkling white. Just stunning. 

Dusk fell and I couldn’t help but think about how familiar this feeling is. Soaking up the last of seasons. Stopping and savouring moments because they just may be the last, or maybe just the last for a very long time. 

This is motherhood.

A few years ago my four kids were clamouring to sit on my lap while we watched TV. It sounds sweet, but if I’m honest, I didn’t love it. I often felt smothered. Personal space was a faint memory and all too often my kids desire to sit in the coveted space on my lap incited a brawl. It was exhausting, but where we are now is so different. 

One of my kids used to be so snuggly, but now he’s rarely around. Always off with friends or disappearing to the basement. It’s a new phase and I don’t begrudge his newfound independence, it’s a part of growing up, but it’s causing me to pause. To savour the rare and special moments that mark the end of his childhood. 

The other night I popped into his room to tuck him in. He was already drifting off so I whispered goodnight while I gently pushed his hair to the side. Just as I was about to walk away he turned over and groggily reached out his arms. I leaned in and he held me. He was half asleep and yet he held me so tight, letting our embrace linger like he was soaking it all in too. I found myself trying to lock in this special moment. To freeze it in my memory. This beautiful embrace so filled with emotion. 

Moments like these seem rare nowadays.

The very things that once felt overstimulating and smothering are now the things that I hold most dear. Just like the snow. In the middle of the winter it’s often endless and overwhelming. But then there’s the last snowfall. Some may not even notice it, thinking that only the first snowfall holds magic. But they’re wrong. The last snowfall stops you in your tracks and demands your attention. It beckons you to pause and appreciate all of its beauty. 

Motherhood is the same.

It starts off calm and quiet with gentle flurries and then overwhelms you like a storm. And though the beauty is always there, it can be hard to see it. That is until the end of a season. The end of the seemingly constant battle to sit on your lap and smothering you with hugs and kisses. You don’t really realize it much at first, or maybe you do and for a moment you relish in your newfound freedom, but then there’s a shift. 

You slowly begin to take notice. 

To pay attention to how much has changed. So much. So fast. It’s bittersweet. But just like the spring brings new life, you know that your next season promises growth. And as the last snow falls, signalling the end of another phase of motherhood, you savour each moment recognizing it’s significance. Lingering just awhile longer.

The end of the season. 

The beginning of something new. 

Isn’t it beautiful.

Trauma

It’s Time to Drop the Curtain on Sexual Abuse in the Church

Sarah Faith

There’s a myth that’s invaded the church that must be addressed, the lie that the we must hide abuse to protect the faith. That cover ups are necessary at all costs to shield the church from condemnation and finger pointing cynics. I debated whether to even write about it. I am a victim and I have endured abuse within the church. Sadly, it wasn’t handled well. It wasn’t a cover up per se, and I’ve been fortunate to have support from some very godly and compassionate people, but at the core of it I was deeply wounded.

Headlines are constantly popping up about abuse in the church, and on Monday I woke up to another shocking account. I read about the Southern Baptist Convention’s cover up of abuse and the vilification of victims. As though they sought out being violated so that they could do the devils work. As if the carnage of lost souls that lay in the wake of their abuser was on their conscience. I was furious. Not just because of the abuse, and the massive cover up, but the insidious lie that victims are doing harm by coming forward. A lie that has enabled abusers.

Honestly it shook me. I sat in bed nearly all day, triggered. In the afternoon, I went downstairs and met my husbands gaze, eyes wide, completely overtaken with emotion. “What?” he said, with a perplexed grin. I tried to choke back the tears. He had no idea I’d been wallowing all day and I was a little embarrassed by it all, but my attempts to conceal my pain were useless. A tear betrayed me as it trickled down my cheek and then it all burst out. “I’m just so tired of this fallen world!”, I blurted out between sobs, “I want to do something about it, but I’m just too terrified.” 

There it was. The barren truth. And it wasn’t just my usual fears of my abuser, it was the pervasive lie that drove the SBC scandal. That victims who speak up are responsible for the wake. For the wreckage when believers walk away and skeptics say, “We knew it!” The narrative is victims are dangerous and they are damaging the gospel. I wiped my tears and tried to busy myself by ruffling through the laundry, but internally I was praying, “God will it be my fault? Will I have sinned against you if I tell them the truth? Will the outcome be on my conscience? Will I be responsible if they walk away?” 

The lie was so pervasive it was there all along and I didn’t even see the guilt that I carried.

I’d always felt that one day God would use my story, but in a way I thought I couldn’t or shouldn’t speak until it was prettier. And I realize that’s a strange way to frame abuse, but to some degree in Christianity we wait for God to make our pain pretty. To wrap it up all nicely with a big bow. We use metaphors like a “beautiful mosaic” to tell of God’s restorative work. But what about me? I don’t have that. I’m not even sure I know what that looks like, aside from a miraculous apology and character change from my abuser. I used to hope for that, and I still pray for it, but with free will I’ve come to terms with the fact that even though God is at work, He won’t force it. So here I am left with a story that looks just plain ugly and doesn’t meet the standards for a safe testimony with little chance of collateral damage. 

The experience and aftermath of it all has left my own personal faith hanging in the balance. I can’t help but feel I don’t qualify as being spiritually mature enough for my story to be a witness. Maybe, I’m too broken. I see God at work in the midst of my trauma, but I’ve been spiritually battered. And as a pastors wife, I’ve struggled to admit it because we’re supposed to have it all together, yet I’m suffering spiritually. I feel disconnected from God. My abuse has created a chasm, and I know that ultimately I’m responsible for my faith, but the beauty in it has been tainted. After years of the Bible being weaponized against me, it’s become hard to read. And with so much pain inflicted within the church, it’s been hard to trust spiritual leader’s intention and call. Simply put, I am the carnage, my faith is in the wake.

Churches are so hell bent on “protecting” the gospel and preventing a so called spiritual decline, yet there I sat on the ground praying to God and asking if I was going to hurt him with my story. If the words welling up inside of me, desperately needing to pour out of me like the tears still wet on my cheeks were shameful. I wondered if I was the sinner for wanting to break my silence. For wanting people to hear my story, so that healing and change could come not just for myself, but for others.

Here’s the flaw with all of this. The stories keep coming. Abusers keep abusing. Headlines are popping up left and right. It’s there, whether or not we speak about it. Whether or not the church chooses to acknowledge it, and you know what, it needs to be exposed! Sin is no less sinful in the darkness, in fact it grows like an insidious mold in the shadows. 

As much as guilt and shame plague me, deep down I’m positive God was grieving with me that sullen afternoon in my living room. I’m certain He weeps with victims like me. I’m sure He is filled with righteous rage when institutions protect power over His beloved children. Worse yet, when they do so in His name. I know He stands with us, even when the optics aren’t good. Jesus walks with us even when it makes for messy PR. His Spirit stands with us when the cost is high. 

Jesus died for sinners. He is a God of freedom and choices. He waits with open arms for the oppressed, and the abuser just the same. His love is redemptive and restorative, but only if we accept it. That’s what the church needs to model. Justice that stands with the abused and protects, yet fierce love and grace in the midst of it. It’s a long process that begins with recognizing that forgiveness happens in the light. It looks like reporting to the authorities, so that the cycle ends here. 

Sure, it will be unbelievably messy. The optics won’t be great. People will walk away and the cost to the church will be high. I have no doubt that it will get worse before it gets better, but it is without question necessary.

My denomination loves to speak of revival, and I’m not usually comfortable with the word, but tonight as I lay awake it popped into my head. The church has been dying under the weight of scandal and hypocrisy. Preaching love from the pulpits when so often it’s been hard to see on the ground floor. We’ve been wallowing in a world that has turned away, blaming humanity for their unwillingness to surrender to Christ, but what if the flaw isn’t with them, what if it’s with us. With the shoddy job we’ve done at being image bearers for Christ. It’s a hard pill to swallow, and I too am guilty, but I think this realization is our key to restoration. Maybe it’s time to accept that we’ve failed at what God has called us to. That we’ve abandoned His message for our own comfort. 

I read those articles and I was angry, but I was also encouraged. I read accounts of people who were speaking up and it restored some of the faith I had lost, because I could finally see Jesus in the midst of it. The report is devastating and it comes too late in the sense that it could have prevented so much if action had been taken sooner, but I still have hope. I see a denomination that made mistakes, but is finally acknowledging it. I see repentance and church leaders bearing Christ’s image. I see His perfect love modelled as they stand with victims like me. I see revival in the change. In the messy overhaul. 

To be frank, people are not stupid. They aren’t falling for our cheap patchwork curtains that we use to create illusions of purity and holiness. So called “cynics” have been hardened by the lies, by the painful sting of hypocrisy. They’re tired of it and as lovely as Jesus sounds, too often they can’t reconcile Him with His people. That’s the struggle of victims like me too. So many of us love Jesus, but don’t see Him in the way we are treated. Like a faulty puzzle, try as we might we can’t put the pieces together to see the beautiful image. We only see a smattering of pieces that look nothing like the picture. 

The testimony is found in the truth. In a church that seeks healing over self preservation and gain. That sees the gospel not just as a message to be preached, but one to be lived. 

Secrets have a way of rising to the surface and creating a mess when they finally are brought to light, but I can’t help but wonder what would happen if the church was the one to do it. Could it be that silence is actually damaging the church? That accountability is the answer? I know that’s what I need from the church, and I think others do too. And yes, it’s risky, but growth never happens in comfort and despite my hurt, I believe that there is still hope for God’s church. There’s a chance for a whole new era of revival, but it starts when we drop the curtain and step out from the shadows and into the light. 

Uncategorized

We Are Enough

Sarah Faith

“I am just a lunch lady.”

The words glared at me from my phone screen as I read the pain of another mother who felt rejected. She had been sitting by herself for her daughter’s whole gymnastics class longing for connection and acceptance, and feeling all alone. The other mothers were career women, and she figured that they were ignoring her, because in her words, “I am just a lunch lady”. 

Now you may be thinking she was just being insecure. Who knows why they ignored her? She was just reading into things. And you may be right, yet as I processed that statement I became angry. Enraged for this woman who felt less than because of her job. Like it determined her value and her place in the world. I began to write a comment, and then I just paused and sat there, sad.

I realized how much I resonated with that statement. Not as a lunch lady, but as a mom. How many times I had felt less than, because I am just a mom. 

Just a mother. 

Not enough. 

Less than. 

Unworthy. 

I too have fallen for the lie. 

You can’t measure my intelligence, because I never finished college. You can’t measure my hard work and ambition, because I never chose a career. You can’t measure my value, because I’ve never cashed in a big paycheque. Never. Those are the markers of success in this world and I don’t have any of them. 

This is why we insert the “just”. The subliminal “not enough”. Because when you add it all up, mothers like me, women like me, fall short. On the surface we don’t seem to measure up, because the method for calculating our worth is flawed. 

I AM ENOUGH. I am not “just”. 

And so are you. 

We are enough just as we are, because God made us. He determined our worth when He called us His own. And all of the rest doesn’t determine anything. 

If you have the degree, career, and pay check, well done! You go girl! I’m proud of you. However, there is no hierarchy. No pyramid of worth and stature. How you choose to fill your days and pay your bills has no bearing on your value. And thank goodness for that, because that is a ton of pressure! 

We are all so much more than our titles and roles. And to believe any different is shallow. 

Our value is spoken for by God, but there are still a few things that matter. Measurements that truly count. Character and integrity. Like when you put your all into making those kids lunches and serve them kindness as they come through the line to pick up their food. Like both of us as we get to raise up tiny humans and we do our best to model respect and humility each day. We get to teach them what counts. What an amazing privilege we have, because those are the things of substance. The things that matter.

So you are not just a lunch lady and I am not just a mom. And we shouldn’t even feel the need to say that, because “just” has no place in who we are. 

You are a lunch lady. I am a mom. We are enough. 

Uncategorized

Focus on the Best, Forgive the Rest

Sarah Faith

I remember the feeling of pride as a young mom, conquering my first tough phase. I felt like I was on top of the world, like I could handle anything that life would throw at me. Then came a rude awakening when my son moved on to the head banging meltdown stage and I was clueless, again. It felt like I was always figuring out how to manage one phase of behaviours only to be slammed with another. 

There was always something. 

Ten years later it’s the same story. Success and struggle in an endless cycle. It can be overwhelming and exhausting to say the least. 

Not long ago, my youngest was having a tough day. It wasn’t entirely her fault. She had been sick all weekend long and had spent the morning in the emergency room, but she was cranky, and the whole evening was spent teetering on the edge of category five meltdowns. 

At the end of the day I was feeling low. I stood at the kitchen sink washing dishes mulling over all of my hurt and frustrations and wondering if I had messed things up as a mom. I had poured so much love and attention into this beautiful child of mine and yet in that moment it felt like all of my efforts were in vain. I went to sleep feeling heavy, weighed down by an intense desire to parent my kids right and my deep fears of failure. 

The next morning was blue skies and I’d like to say I woke up happy and refreshed, but the truth is I woke up stressed. Expecting much of the same behaviour as the day before I awoke in a state of frustration, but instead of the cranky child I was anticipating, I was pleasantly surprised. My daughter was in the best mood. Turns out a good nights sleep was just what the doctor ordered. Her giggles brought a smile to my face as she told me silly stories and later that day she even saved a caterpillar she lovingly named Callie from being run over in the road. 

The truth is she was just being her sweet self. That giggly kind hearted little girl is who she is in her purest form. The rest was just a product of a bad day. 

Everybody has those. 

I was talking with my friend about the roller coaster of emotions as a parent (you know the one). The gloriously high highs and the desperately low lows. How mom life feels like bliss Monday night as you dance through the kitchen with your kids and laughter fills the air, and yet feels entirely draining and discouraging Tuesday as they meltdown during the morning routine. You never really know what you’re going to get. 

Through it all though, I’m learning to show my kids grace, because the truth is as adults sometimes we have tough days. Sometimes we’re going through rough seasons and we’re not ourselves. Sometimes we cringe at our own snappy replies when we get one too many requests for cookies or stall tactics at bedtime. And if we’re being truly honest, sometimes we just straight up lose it, but we would never want to be measured by our worst moments.

All of us want to be known for our best parts.

Sure, it feels easier to focus on the negative. I’m pretty sure every mom has their days where they can instantly list off the many reasons their kids are driving them crazy, and I’m no different. Life as a mom is tough, and it’s easy to dwell on our frustrations. Kids can be inconsiderate, temperamental, and just plain rude! But overall I think most of us would be willing to say that they’re still great. In fact, I’d say my kids are pretty amazing!

These beautiful kids of mine are witty and frequently make me burst out in laughter. They know their manners well, and though they sometimes forget them at home, I’m always getting compliments on their behaviour. Even as they grow older they shower me with hugs and snuggles, and they still let me kiss their heads at the bus stop each morning. They’re kind and compassionate, and often bring me to happy tears as I marvel at how thoughtful they are. 

Best of all they have a way of softening the hardest parts of me. 

Sometimes they drive me crazy, but I’m going to try and focus on the best parts and forgive the rest. After all, it’s what I would want, and it’s what they deserve.

Uncategorized

Listen, Please

Sarah Faith

Today I am shaken. I have a mix of emotions.

Yesterday my husband read me the report of Ravi Zacharias’s many accounts of sexual abuse. Ravi is deceased now, but many years ago a woman spoke up about her abuse story. I remember hearing about it and feeling a mix of emotions that day too. I believe her, but then many sadly did not. Her brave story was ignored by most and pushed under the rug. Ravi continued on as a respected spiritual leader and she was deemed a whistleblower, an attention seeker, a liar.

So silence…

This is the way of so many of us. Silence. Often if we use our voice we will be shamed. If we use our voice we lose it. Many times, we lose everything.

So we stay silent, we seal our lips tight. We dare not speak because we’ve been threatened and warned what happens to those of us who do share our stories. We’ve seen it time and again, and we’re terrified of losing even more than what has already been taken from us.

And so we say nothing.

Yesterday I heard the report. The extensive record of manipulation, grooming, rape. And I was sad and relieved all at once. Relieved for this woman who finally has her voice heard and the support that she is long overdue. I was also sad, no angry, for all the women that are silent. Women like me.

Those women that have had so much taken from them, and yet don’t even have the voice to express it. The women that like me must stay quiet because of the threats that linger. I’m angry for the women that have lost relationships with family and friends, because no one believed them. Because suddenly the story spins and now she is crazy, and cruel, and dramatic.

Ravi used his position and power to abuse women and then used it to keep them silent. I have experienced it firsthand, not with Ravi, but with my own abuser. I’m mad, not just because of the abuse, but because of people like Ravi, people like my abuser who just get away with it. They abuse their power and people let them do it. They make excuses for them, they ignore what’s right in front of them because it’s too damn uncomfortable.

We stay silent because we have to, because no one is there to support us. Because even when all of it is so obvious, people refuse to see what’s right in front of them.

So we live in a box. We put up walls, because how can you let people in when you must live in silence. How can you connect with anyone when your story is off limits.

Victims live lonely lives while abusers draw crowds.

I haven’t spoken much about my abuse. Years ago I was threatened with words like “lawsuit” and “slander”. Those words sparked fear in me. They still do.

What power do I have? I’m just a woman crying in my bathroom wondering if it will ever be safe to speak up. If I do, will anyone listen?

People like me will never feel safe until we are free to speak. We already live in fear, because of our abuser, so we cannot possibly feel safe as long as powerful people like Ravi are protected. We cannot have a voice as long as the voices in power carry more weight than our own.

Over ten years ago, I broke free from my abuser. I was a young woman taking control of my life, and all I asked for was peace and space to process and heal. Instead my abuser harassed me. He used his power and position against me and my husband, and he didn’t do it alone. He rallied other influential leaders and used every ounce of power he had to try and ruin me. He used his position to try and tear apart my marriage, going so far as to go after my husbands job. We felt so scared and alone, because he used his reputation and status to vilify us. We were no ones, and it was used to his advantage.

To be clear, I wasn’t even trying to speak out. I simply took back control of my life. I refused to be a possession, and suddenly the victim became the defendant. I lost a lot then and I learned to keep quiet.


That’s the way it goes when you’re a victim of abuse. Your only safety is in silence and isolation. So that’s what I’ve done for over a decade.

I’m not sure I’m ready to share my story. It still hurts too much, but things need to change. We can’t speak up only to be silenced and then vilified. Too often when we use our voices we are only met with shame. We need support and safety, and most of all we need to be taken seriously.

I can only hope that we can learn from this high profile situation. Abusers come in many forms and we need to recognize that, or they will continue preying on victims.

So today I’m asking you to do something different. Uncomfortable even. Listen. Listen to what we’re saying as we tearfully struggle to find the words. Listen to our voices, quiet as they are, because we’re scared and we just need someone to hear us.

Uncategorized

Cling to the Rock

Sarah Faith

I have been following the coronavirus since it was beginning in China. I had wondered if it would come here, and if so would it be a concern. For the last month I’ve been the crazy lady saying that the “sky is falling” and yet here we are and it all feels so surreal.

My kids are home for the next couple of weeks (at least), church is cancelled, we’re social distancing, and the economy is falling apart at the seams. It’s hard not to be afraid, especially for a “worst case scenario” worrier like me. It feels as though our world is crumbling beneath us and it’s terrifying, but today I am reminded to cling to the Rock.

Two weeks ago I taught the kids at church the Bible parable about the wise and foolish man. It was a lighthearted lesson with LEGO figurines and houses, sand, a rock, water and lots of giggles as the kids watched me tell it. But as I was food prepping, God reminded me of how relevant it is today. To this very situation.

If you’ve never heard this parable here it is,

“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.” Matthew 7:24-27 

So basically, Jesus was teaching us that we need to build our foundation on God. Now how does this apply to today you may ask? We need to remember that! When the ground is shaking and we are afraid, we need to remember we are built on the Rock that is God and we need to cling to Him. We need to build and strengthen our relationship with Christ, so it can weather this season, just as we would build and reinforce our homes to weather any storm. And if by chance you haven’t built your foundation on the Rock, there’s no greater time than the present!

Will that give us immunity? Nope! I’m not one of those Christians who are going to preach about how God saves the faithful. Don’t get me wrong. We are saved, our souls are redeemed, but we are not immune to disease and death. God has not promised us immortality, so therefore we are not exempt from this. Good Christians have and will be infected. Faith filled believers have been and will continue to die, but what we as Christians have is hope! Hope in a God who loves us enough to hold our hand and guide us through the unknown. Hope because though there is so much uncertainty and all of this social distancing, with Christ, we are not alone, no matter how stormy life gets.

We don’t know what lies ahead. How many will be infected? What fate awaits us all, but we do know God is present and He is faithful. So when it feels like the ground beneath you is crumbling, remember to cling to the Rock, because when you do you can weather any storm.

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Let’s Talk About Mom Guilt

Sarah Faith

Guilt is a heavy emotion, but my oh my does it ever kick in in motherhood. A bad day and a flurry of emotions results in moms everywhere wondering if they’ve ruined everything. Thoughts spiral as we contemplate the worst case scenario. Do they know how much they’re loved, or will our whole relationship crumble into a sea of resentment?

Heavy? You betcha, but conversations with friends have showed me that this is a burden that most moms bear. Mom guilt is universal. Every mom I talk to wrestles with it on some level, the difference is some of us feel it heavier than others. Some of us carry it, and let it overwhelm us day to day.

The problem with mom guilt is that it is incredibly unnecessary, unhealthy even. A little self awareness is important. It’s great to be accountable for your mistakes, but we don’t need to be weighed down by them.

The amazing thing is that grace covers all. My kids have shone in strengths that my husband and I just don’t have. Despite ourselves, despite the baggage we carry and sometimes pass down to them, they are turning out pretty great and that’s the grace of God. As Christians, we don’t parent on our own or in pairs, there is another Father in the mix, and He makes up for the things that we lack. When we rely on Him, He teaches our kids things that we never could. Things like grace for our mistakes and the areas that we fall short.

Mom guilt isn’t healthy. It’s heavy and burdens us with feelings of failure and regret, but what is healthy is being accountable for our actions. Yes, we will mess up. Lack of sleep, meltdowns, and messes are a recipe for disaster. We try our best, but the truth is sometimes our frustrations pile up, anger takes over and we lose it. All is not lost though, we have an opportunity in these moments. We can teach our kids how to deal with conflict as we own up to our behaviours and apologize. We can model good behaviour for them as we choose to acknowledge our weaknesses and make changes. I think thats a very healthy way to raise our kids. Acknowledging that sometimes we as people make mistakes. Sometimes we don’t cope well, but we don’t deny it. In our family we will recognize our issues, be accountable, and most of all, we WILL change!

We’re not perfect, but perfect isn’t what our kids need. They need to see parents who stumble and yet get back up again. Donald Miller writes a whole chapter about this in his book Scary Close (I highly recommend it). In it he says, “If you think about it, parents who are open and honest with their kids create an environment in which children are allowed to be human.” See our kids need to see us struggle and then grow. Make mistakes and then make changes. The beauty in this is it creates a safe place for them. A place where it is clear that they don’t have to hide from their mistakes either, but know they will be accepted and loved through them.

Our guilt is a heavy burden, but we can channel it into healthy growth that’s a model for our kids. With God’s strength and grace, our kids can watch us work through our weaknesses, and learn by our example. Not only will they know that they are safe to make mistakes, they will know that they can talk them through with us and we can grow together.

The moral of the story you ask?

Mom guilt has no place here! Instead we need to replace it with a healthy dose of self awareness, accountability, change, and most importantly rely on God for His strength and grace. Worrying never achieved anything. Chances are our kids aren’t holding every mess up against us anyway, so it’s time to let go and move on. There is lots of growing ahead, for all of us. Progress isn’t made dwelling in our past, but in the steps we make toward changing our future. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to do a lot less looking back and a lot more moving forward, and it starts with letting go of all the mom guilt!

Scary Close, Donald Miller p.158

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Trust Your Gut Because Mama Knows Best!

Sarah Faith

The other day I had an amazing experience. Exhausted and tired in the ER for the second time that week, I had the opportunity to thank the doctor who admitted my daughter just a few short years ago. She saw my sick daughter and the fear all over my face three years ago and she admitted her. She admitted her even though the doctors the night before had dismissed my concerns and sent her home. I had a chance to thank that sweet doctor and tell her what happened after she made the decision that saved my daughters life. Twelve days of spiralling diagnosis’s, a night in ICU, and then two weeks of outpatient antibiotics. Truth be told, it was a terrifying ordeal, one where the doctors almost discharged my daughter more than once because they couldn’t see what I sensed, that my daughter was extremely ill.

So the other night, as I sat there watching my daughter, I got a chance to thank that amazing doctor for not just seeing the symptoms in front of her, but trusting my instincts as a mom.

There I was with the same child that she had treated and had a role in saving years ago, when she said something that meant more than she could ever know. “I always tell the other doctors”, she said, “Mom knows best! If what she’s saying isn’t making sense then dig deeper, because mom knows best!”

I’ve experienced some wonderful moments with doctors in the emergency room, in fact I once had a doctor who held me while I cried, but this meant so much. Her words will reverberate in my mind for years to come. See each time my kids get sick, I worry and I watch them closely. I have to. With four kids I have no choice but to pay attention and advocate for them, but boy can that be hard! I often question myself, and nearly every time I rush my kids into the ER I worry that I’m being irrational and the staff will think I’m burdening the system. It’s hard not to question yourself when your kids have to go the ER so much. At least it is for me.

My kids have severe food allergies which makes me the annoying mom always asking people to wash their hands. Each time I hover and give my awkward explanation it makes me cringe, it feels un-natural and overbearing, but I’ve got to do it. It turns out being the annoying mom helps keep my kids alive.

Then there’s the asthma, every cold and flu season we frequent the ER, often with symptoms that go undetected by most. In fact the other day I waited six hours in the ER because my son was having an episode. Triage didn’t detect the severity of his situation and I questioned my judgement with each passing hour, but with each breath his throat tugged deeper and I knew in my gut he needed to be seen. By the time my son finally made it to a room at 3 am, he needed oxygen.

I say all of this to say, sure we don’t always get it right. We all have days when our mom radar is faulty. Sometimes we’re just so tired from all the sleepless nights and being overcome with worry that we’re just plain paranoid, but most of the time we see what others can’t. Most days we see the beginnings and know what’s coming. We wait for six hours even after a good triage because we can sense that our kids need to be there, even if nobody else knows it yet.

Sure it’s hard! Our instincts keep us up at night as we watch them breathe and mull over what to do next. Sometimes we rush them into the ER, only to discover that we were better off at home, but for most of us, those moments of paranoia are few and far between. Most of the time our gut is spot on!

So Mama, keep up the good work! You know what to look for. Your instincts can sense something is wrong even when nobody else can see it, and thats just what your child needs. That nagging feeling that you can’t shake may be a pain in the butt, but it’s a gift that saves lives. So I’ll echo the words of that lovely doctor and say trust your gut, do what you’ve got to do for your babies, because “Mamma knows best”!

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Cast Your Parenting Anxiety On Him

Sarah Faith

My son is nine today! He’s my firstborn, so his birthday always makes me extra sentimental. His birth signifies the beginning of parenthood for me. This means nine years of laughter and joy, but in my case it also means nine years of worrying.

I’ll never forget the intense anxiety I experienced as a new mom. My sons life seemed so fragile and I was worried about everything from SIDS and choking to random disasters. I remember constantly sticking my finger under his nose to make sure that he was breathing okay. I was so afraid all the time and emotionally I was feeling the weight of it all.

When I became a new mom I realized just how much of a control freak I am. Not with everyday things, I’m not one to try and micromanage, but with life. Trusting God was easier when it was just me. I could resign to His plans pretty easily, but when I became a mom trusting God felt a million times harder. Trusting God required me to let go of control of my baby and say, “I trust you with him God. I trust you no matter what happens. Good or bad.” It required surrender and I wasn’t ready to do that. I wasn’t ready to surrender. I wanted to control everything and naively thought that I could shield my son from pain.

It’s funny, because we never really have control, and yet we believe we do and try desperately to keep it. The truth is though, life was going to play out whether or not I liked it, I just had to choose who would walk us through it. Would I be driven by fear and constant worry, or trust in the God who would lead me through?

After months of worry and wrestling with God, I finally surrendered. Little did I know just how much I would need God to guide me through. The following years brought us three more babies, health scares and troubling diagnoses. In fact on more than one occasion I wondered if I would lose the precious babies that God had given me. Did surrendering my babies to God make me stop worrying? Nope! But it gave me hope.

When my daughter was in the hospital, tubes everywhere and progressively getting worse, I would sing and cry out to God. I was terrified, but I knew we were not alone. What a comfort that was. What a comfort that is to this day.

The truth is being a parent is scary. Kids are accidents waiting to happen and that can increase any parents anxiety tenfold, but we serve a God who is with us through it all, and He wants to lighten our load. 1 Peter 5:7 says, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” What a comfort this is! I don’t know about you, but I’ve been worried lately. I’ve been reading one too many news articles and the world seems overwhelmed with fear over another possible pandemic. I can’t help but worry about all the implications it could have on us, but I’m reminded that God can handle my worries and fears. I know that whatever comes, we will not walk it alone.

I have experienced God’s comfort and peace my whole life, but never more than in the past nine years of becoming a parent. So today, on my oldest son’s birthday, I will not only celebrate him, but all that God has done, and how I found comfort in the surrender.

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What’s the Gossip?

Sarah Faith

I’ve got to confess something, I struggle with gossip. I’m not sure when it all started, but somewhere along the way the line between healthy and toxic conversation got blurred. As I started to notice this about myself I realized a few things. Gossip grows bitterness, anger, and pride, none of which are beneficial.

There have been times in my life when I have needed support. I’ve needed a friend and that’s okay. I don’t have to do life alone. I can share my pain, grieve, and work through my circumstances gleaning advice.

With the right person, this can be fruitful. I have friends who have offered me so much wisdom and perspective. That’s great! The thing is, a good friend won’t let you live in your hurt and pain. See bitterness grows when we stay there. When our lives become one big long rant our perspective becomes narrow. We can’t see past ourselves, so no matter the situation we’re in we are always the victim. Even if we are the victim, gossip keep us from working through it. It traps us in self pity and makes it impossible to move on, forgive, and extend grace.

Not too long ago, I was ranting to my husband about someone who hurt me and he said, “You can’t just talk bad about someone to make yourself feel better.” His words hit me hard. He was right! I’d felt slighted and belittled and I wasn’t just hurt, I was angry! The words said to me by this person made me feel small, so in return I was picking them apart. Who am I to do that? What does that even achieve?

Over the years as I’ve wrestled with this, I’ve wondered where the line is. I’ve heard it said, that it’s not gossip if it’s true, but I’m not sure it’s that simple. Like I said, we are all entitled to a little support, but just how big is your circle? Do they challenge you? Or are they always on your side? Why are you telling the story? Is it even your story to tell?

I’m proud to say that though I sometimes gossip, I am a good secret keeper. Confidentiality is important and I respect that. Yet I’ll admit I’ve found myself participating in conversations I have no business being in. It’s an easy trap to fall into. How many times have you been in a room when somebody told you the latest news in somebody’s life and you just sat there and listened or chatted away with your opinion. It kinda feels good doesn’t it? Except when you feel the little twinge that somethings off. That maybe the “latest” wasn’t for your ears. Or even worse that awful feeling that it’s wrong. That you wouldn’t want someone else to be discussing all of your business, so maybe you shouldn’t be discussing theirs.

It takes intention to avoid gossip these days, discomfort even. The fact is it’s become such a natural part of so many conversations that it’s almost awkward to avoid it. As I recognize this struggle of mine I’m learning just how big a part of life it is. In fact avoiding it has meant being far less chatty with certain people than I was before. As a talker, the default is to discuss everything and anything. The thing is conversation can easily become a dangerous rabbit hole, and its not healthy. Avoiding it isn’t a simple task either. It might mean changing the conversation or boldly calling it out. It’s incredibly uncomfortable and I certainly haven’t figured it all out, but I’m working on it because it’s necessary.

In Proverbs 27:19 it says, “As water reflects the face, so one’s life reflects the heart.” I want a life reflects the heart of God and if I say that my speech needs to be loving, peaceful, compassionate, and controlled. I’m not there yet, but I’m glad that I have God to guide me along the way.

I will no doubt have to continue to remove myself from certain discussions, but I can’t wait to see what fruitful conversations open up along the way. If I want my reflection to be one that shows the heart of God, my words must honour not just Him but those around me. If I believe in God’s grace and love, my speech needs to reflect it. I need to be an advocate for people instead of adversary.

As with any struggle, the first step towards change is admitting you have a problem. Assess yourself. Think about the things you discuss, and evaluate. Are you constantly venting about how somebody wronged you? Do you find yourself chatting about other peoples business? If so join me in the decision to intentionally avoid gossip. Lets be careful with our words, and the conversations we find ourselves in. If by chance you struggle with what that looks like, follow the sage advice of moms everywhere and, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”