For When You Feel Less Than Good Enough

I can be a hypocrite of the worst sort.

Whenever I hear my children belittling each other or, worse, themselves, I am quick to instruct. I tell them to never forget that they are God’s design. That they are His masterpiece. And that when they talk badly about each other or themselves they are calling God a liar, telling him that He made a mistake when He created them, and tearing down God’s beautiful work.

And yet, I often talk as if God made one big mistake when He appointed me as their momma. I set expectations for myself that are impossible to meet and then I berate myself at the end of the day for not meeting them.

I didn't realize how much this had become a pattern until a night, not long ago, when Matt became angry with me. He does not get angry with me very often. He usually has infinite patience with my crazy but that night I saw frustration in his face and heard it in his voice.

“Would you allow anyone to talk about your best friend like that? How about your daughter? Why do you talk about yourself like that, then?” he asked me, clearly irritated with me.

Someone asked me recently what God has been teaching me lately and I didn’t have to think too hard or too long about this: shortly after Matt’s challenging question we were listening to a masterful preacher’s sermon. He stated that most Christians believe IN Jesus but precious few actually believe HIM. He asked us to pray and ask Jesus what promise of His we were having a hard time believing. 

I knew right away: that I am a good enough mom for my children.

The story of how my children came into our family leaves little doubt that they were placed with us by God. When they found themselves in need of a family, God chose Matt and me to raise them. I know that from the depths of my heart.

And because I am so deeply conscious of this I take the responsibility very seriously. I did not grow up in a Christian home; raising children God’s way is something with which I’m not familiar. So I read parenting books and blogs, I pray daily for wisdom, I ask Matt to help me find my blind spots. 

I am doing the best I can possibly do to be a good mom and I know that…in my head.

But my heart has a hard time believing it, especially when I have a hard day and feel like I've blown it as a mom. Then my doubt and insecurity manifest themselves in ramblings about my shortcomings and questions about my ability to parent well.

Which is what I was doing, out loud, the night Matt lost his patience with me. I guess I was going on and on about what I had not done right as a mom that day and wondering, out loud, if these children would not have been better off with a different woman. 

And then Matt raised his voice and shut me up.

So, the afternoon of the sermon I prayed for the faith to believe Jesus’ promise that I am the right mom for my kids. That He does not make mistakes. He talked to me about grace and reminded me that grace is hardest when it is self-administered. 

God is more interested in my obedience than in my skills. He has made this clear in many areas of my life in which He has asked me to serve when I felt less than equipped. 

Mothering is one of them.

None of us are perfect mothers and I think that is by design. Knowing that I have to rely on Him for the wisdom, strength, and skills that I need keeps me sensitive to His promptings and His guidance.

This is true.

But...I’m learning that there is a great difference between being realistic about my limitations and my need for His help, and focusing so much on my shortcomings that I forget that He has chosen me to parent my kiddos. 

The One who made me, who knows all my virtues and my flaws better than I know them myself, thinks enough of me and trusts me enough to place these two treasures in my care. 

And still often I don’t offer myself the same grace I would offer any of my other mom friends to be…well, flawed mommas in need of Christ.

The night of the tirade Matt had had enough of hearing me talk about how I blew it that day. He asked me to tell him some of the things I had done well as a mom instead. 

I was quiet and he was sad. 

He told me that what he sees is a woman who loves her children, who works hard at raising them well, and who has much to offer them and teach them. And that God sees me that way as well. 

It is not by accident that those children are mine and I am theirs.

Extending myself grace can be a struggle, especially on the days when parenting seems the hardest, but with Jesus' help, I'm working on seeing my efforts with the same love-filled eyes with which He sees them. 

Not like Hannah but blessed still...

My sweet friend is pregnant after four years of trying unsuccessfully and a failed start down the path of adoption. It is a miracle to be sure. And to God be the sole glory for it. We rejoice when a barren woman finds life within and we call her “blessed.” And we remember that the Bible teaches that children are both gift and reward and we say “the Lord has bestowed favor on you, sister.”

And I look from the outside in wondering how God chooses those whom He blesses. And this (mis) understanding that the gift of life that we call miracle can only come from your own womb breaks my heart for I have not been favored.  Have I not been found faithful? Have I not asked with enough fervor? And forgetting that God’s blessing finds many paths I fail to remember there are miracles in adoption as well.  

I have watched friends eagerly answer the call to adopt after mourning the loss of their biological children never to be. I have watched them fill the paperwork, take all the right steps, answer all the right questions, and, finding themselves “paper-pregnant,” have gestational periods that last years. And years.  And years. Empty arms, once eager to be filled, now disillusioned again by yet another path to parenthood that does not seem to bring them the desire of their hearts. And still they wait, even today.

I have known of friends matched with a child, hope soaring high, nursery ready, only to be denied the dream at the last minute or, worse yet, after a few weeks of experiencing it. I have seen loss, and wait, and disappointment, and shattered dreams.

Yet I have experienced none. Our first adoption took two months. We had not yet settled into waiting. We had no nursery, no baby-gear, not even much of an expectation when the call came. Two days later we were parents. Papers signed. Full arms.

Our second adoption was a surprise. We did not pursue it. It fell on our laps and three weeks later there was a boy. Papers signed. Arms even fuller.

So I think about this as I ponder why I don’t belong to the favored group of barren women who have seen their tears wiped away by God in the secret whisper of life in their wombs. It’s true: I have not been blessed like Hannah, or Sarah, or Leah, or Rachel. 

But I have seen my children come to me in miraculous, unexpected, God-ordained ways that I could not have predicted. There may not be a great number of scriptural examples of my type of favor but you can definitely call me “blessed.”

We are daily aware of the ways God moves in the life of infertile women who beg to conceive and are granted their deepest desire. Our hearts are moved and turned to the Lord because of their stories of faithfulness and we praise Him for His love and mercy in their lives.

But adoptive mother, rejoice! 

Miracles happen in adoption too, and you have seen plenty of them. You have lived them; you are experiencing them now. And your story counts! You, also, are a testimony of His promises and His goodness. He has seen your tears and He has not forgotten them. He has answered your prayer and given you what you most wanted. 

Sister, God has blessed you, and favored you, and honored you as well. You have been gifted and you have been rewarded. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

A Christmas prayer for our children

Our sweet babies,

This Christmas we wanted to write down our wishes for you so you would know how we have, are, and will continue to pray for you since you came into our lives. More than any material present we can give you, it is this prayer that will be our gift to you day after day as you grow up.  

May you always seek to know God and be known by Him in all the aspects of your lives. May you understand early and deeply the importance of reading the Word and spending time building a relationship with your Creator and Savior. May nothing in this world be of higher importance to you both and may you never be ashamed of it, even if you are mocked, criticized, or rejected.

May you take the education we are giving you and seek to find God’s plan for your future career so you will always be fulfilled. May you allow no outside influences to direct you in this journey, neither money, nor renown, nor any other frills this world might offer you. Let Christ’s calling be the light that guides the path to your future and we will support you no matter what He asks you to do.

May you discover how faithful God is in providing for your every need if your career pays little and if your job pays much, may you understand the joy of sacrificial generosity to others who have less than you. Remember you have been blessed only to bless others and all you have is really His. May you remember the world in need begins in your backyard and extends around the earth.   

No matter what God leads you to do for a living, lawyer or missionary, doctor or teacher, policeman or pastor, may you never be a slave to money and may you always remember where your daily bread truly comes from. May you never forget that He who loves you more than He loves the sparrows and the flowers in the fields will always be faithful to provide for you and yours.  

If you choose to marry, may you find mates who love Christ more than they love you; who will put God at the center of your relationship and consider you as more important than themselves. May you look beyond their social status, physical appearance, and other trappings of the world and find a true mate of the soul who understands the values you have been taught and shares your love and passion for Jesus.

When, and if, you have children may you choose to raise them in the Word as you were raised. Whether you choose to have one or ten, may you always know that children are a blessing from God and that we will love all your children as we have loved you.

May your heart always be generous and your hand always be open, not only to those you love but to anyone you encounter in need. May you seek to serve, to love, and to respect those around you. May you find in fruit of the Holy Spirit all that you need to live well: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. May these be the characteristics that describe you.

May you always remember that our pride and joy in you comes not from what you do, how much money you make, how well-known you are, what degree you hold, but from who you are and how closely you follow the path of the One who made you. This is what you will take with you and be remembered for by your children and grandchildren when you are gone.

Make us proud by being known as a godly person who walked closely with Christ and you will have fulfilled all our desires for you.

We love you unconditionally.

Mami and Daddy.

What makes a mother?

Today I have the privilege of being a guest at Christy's place. She is One Fun Mom and she is doing a series called Baby Days with stories, advice, and encouragement for new moms. She asked me to write about my experience as a mom and I chose to highlight how we are all the same even as we are different...

I had a very short pregnancy with my first child. In fact, it was a three day pregnancy.

We received a phone call from the adoption agency on Tuesday and we brought Isabel home on Friday. A few weeks before that, when the last signature was placed, and the last document submitted, we were told the wait would be at least several months.

“We have time,” we thought.

But my wise sister-in-law gave us a car seat and said: “you just never know.”

So a car seat is all we had that Tuesday night the social worker called and said, “there is a baby…”

Please click here to read the rest and visit Christy's place. 

When He goes before you.

Last week I wrote about waking up to the new life God had dreamt for me more than a decade ago. Here is the other side of the story...

Quit your job, he said.

Lord, I hear you but…the budget does not add up.

Quit your job, he repeated.

You know best, Lord but…we would have to have private health insurance and that is expensive and no dental insurance and that is scary.

The time has come to stay home with your babies, he prodded.

I want to, Lord…but in this economy?

It took another year of praying, discussing, adding, subtracting, saving, finding faith, and getting courage for us to realize that yes, the budget would not add up; yes, we would have to get personal health insurance and lose our dental one; yes, this is scary but yes, the Lord spoke and we must obey.

So I quit.

After six years of teaching high school, the only grown-up job I’ve ever known, I walked away. I was near the top of my pay scale, I had a position of leadership, I had great benefits.

But I quit.

At a time when other people were desperately looking for work, I purposefully resigned. It was not easy and it was terrifying and many friends were puzzled and many others were frustrated with our seemingly illogical timing.

Still, I quit.

It seems to me that after walking with God for so many years, having experience after experience with his faithfulness and his provision I had finally learned to trust that He has a plan, that his ways are truly higher than my ways and that, when He requires we have faith and obey, He has begun working on what the future will hold.

I just quit.

But this God, this God will not be explained, this God will not be controlled, this God will not be fully known. While I sat comfortable in my knowledge of him, He had yet another lesson to teach me about his Holy character, his incredibly organized mind, his deep understanding of our journeys, and his perfect, oh so perfect, timing.

I entered my freshman year in college with the idea of becoming a journalist. After taking my first journalism class I dropped the major. It simply was not for me.

With not many ideas and little direction, having a love of theatre, public speaking, and teaching, I decided to major in Communication Education. It was a prayerful decision and I felt comfortable declaring the major.

I knew I wanted to teach but I had the opportunity to further my education before entering the workforce. With a student visa about to expire, with the threat of having to return to Ecuador before I was ready, and with an offer to earn my master’s degree for free by teaching undergraduate communication courses, I enrolled in a master’s in Communication Studies program at a large state university.  My elective courses were spent taking Spanish-related classes to enhance my teaching license.

Two and a half years later, with two diplomas in hand, and a state license to teach both communication courses and Spanish courses, I left for South Carolina with my newly acquired husband.

I never found a teaching job that required my communication knowledge. I was quickly hired as a Spanish teacher and, while my master’s did help me to climb the pay scale, my two diplomas were put away in a box in the attic, never to be brought out again. When people would ask what one does with a master’s in communication studies I would shrug and say: “beats me.” For years I taught Spanish, loving every minute of it.

Quit your job, God said six years and two kids later. 

I closed my classroom door for the last time in May of 2009. In faith, we began the journey of living with one income, of making ends meet, of re-arranging our priorities.

In June we took a trip to Ecuador and we spent time praying about how our lives would be different when we returned to the States.

In July I received an e-mail from an accredited, well-known online university. They required someone with a master’s in Communication Studies, with two years of experience teaching at the college level, who spoke Spanish, to teach from home. This job was made for me. Perfect. The pay is equal to what I was making before, the work is less demanding.

In September I was hired. God spoke again.

I’m glad you quit your job; I had better plans for you.

As He always had.

He knew what I would need right when I needed it. All the things He guided me to do all those years ago that I could not understand were part of a plan I could not see coming.

When I quit my job I knew He would be faithful, I knew He would provide, I knew He would come through.

I didn’t know He had already been faithful, He had already provided, He had already come through for this very moment, years ago.

This is the dependable God, the Creator of the Universe who still has enough time to worry about where I have been, where I am, and where I will be all at once; He understands my every need and orchestrates it all just as it needs to unfold. All I have to do is trust and obey.

I have been home for almost two years now and this is right where I need to be. As I think about how God’s handprint shows up even a decade ago to make my today what it is, I start to understand what Moses was trying to teach Joshua in the 31^st chapter and the 8^th verse of Deuteronomy:

"The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you" (emphasis mine).


**Linking up with Jen and the Soli Deo Gloria sisters this week. Visit to see what other wonders God is doing in their lives**

A memorable date

Linking this to Mama Kat's Weekly Writers's Workshop...

June 21^st,. 

This is the day we became a family in the eyes of the law. We had been together for three months by then, but it was not until that hot June day that the state declared “The Johnsons” no longer a family of two.

The building was crowded. The faces around us were mostly long and sad. Divorce proceedings, custody battles, child-support disputes. We were dressed like the lawyers: suits, ties, high heels. But among the somber faces, the angry stares, and the desperate wringing of hands our countenance was dissonant for we could not keep a smile from our faces. 

A young couple with a small baby. A happy young couple, with a happy baby, with a smiling lawyer with easy laughter, and many hugs and kisses. Such as that we were that morning like a ray of sunshine through a cloud of rain.

We waited in the lobby, laughing, making plans, cooing the baby and passing her around. Then they called us in. Neither of us had ever been inside a courtroom. It felt so formal and so real we became serious and thoughtful. The judge looked at us with narrow eyes, studying us, as if trying to figure out what this case would be about, what new dissension and conflict would she be called to mediate. Then her eyes traveled over the dossier on her desk and she looked back at us with a broad grin on her face.

She motioned us forward, said a word or two to our lawyer and asked us to sit down. She read some preliminaries and told us how pleasant it was to do our case in the midst of a morning of strife and broken families. Next she called us to the stand…

Our lawyer had prepared us. He told us we would be witnesses in our own case. Standard procedure, he said. Technically we are suing the adoption agency for custody of Isabel, except in this case everyone wants you two to win the case. It’s just a formality, he said.

So I went up first. Like the movies, I sat on the witness stand, raised my hand, swore against perjury. I was asked my name, my age, and some biographical information. Then the judge asked:

Why do you want to be this child’s mother?

I was not prepared for that question. My throat closed and my eyes became blurry with gratitude. For what seemed like an eternity I could not speak.

How do you sum up the hope with which we filled out the paperwork for a child we had not yet met but already knew we would love? How do you explain the wistful waiting time of a paper pregnancy, preparing a wardrobe in neutral colors, imagining the hue of a pair of eyes never seen before, and the tones of a skin that was unfamiliar yet surely just as soft and sweet as that of any real or imagined baby?

How do you state in words the feelings “the call” ensued in our hearts? The joy that filled our ears as we heard the details of this angel we were being offered? The longing to jump in the car to go bring her home right then and there and having to wait two never-ending days to get to her? The heartbreak of knowing our joy would be another’s pain?

How do you answer a question that encompasses the first time our eyes met, the first time our arms held her, the first night she slept under our roof, the first moments she was our daughter?

How do you describe the strong bond, immeasurable love, incredible memories, wild protectiveness, fierce possessiveness and immense togetherness the last three months had brought to our world?

How do you put that in words? How do you define the depth of emotions that is parenthood?

Because she is ours…

That was good enough for the judge. That was good enough for the adoption agency. That was good enough for us. That was good enough for the Lord. All in agreement, papers were signed.

A little over a year later, one November morning, we did it again. The same courtroom, the same lawyer, different judge.  I would like to say it was easier this time. I thought it would be. I assumed it would be.

We are old pros. We have been there. This time no tears, just joy.

I was wrong. I knew the question was coming. I had rehearsed a more cohesive answer. One that was more complete and would do better justice to the vastness of my feelings. But I was wrong. All that came were tears of gratitude. All that came out was the same answer.

Because he is ours…

But yet again, and forever, that was reason enough.