It’s been in her a while now, this yearning to break free.

She’s spent a lifetime doing just what she should. But should brings with it a heavy weight of expectations, and when you live under a burden as heavy as that, eventually you have to get out from under. Because expectations filled with should never satisfy.

She’s always known what she should do.

That path she should take? She’s been on it.

The decision that would be most responsible, most noble? She’s right on it.

The next step that would make sense and be best for everyone? She understands it.

But at some point along the path of should, she found herself in a place that wasn’t her own. The good girl veil of obedience and doing everything she should became heavy and it was hard to see through. She knew her true life’s path was still good, likely even great, but different. And not that of others’ choosing, but of God’s choosing and her own.

She began to struggle, she sat in the pain. Hints, glimpses of another path were there, but she was so unsure.

She wrote in desperation. There must be a way to write out of this, to reason out of this, to make sense of this. She scratched and sketched in those books for years. On and off, they were her solace, her place to express things no one else understood. The questions, the unknown paths, the wanting to be free of should, she wrote it all there.

As she wrote, she birthed new lives. And with each new life came a little more clarity about how to get off this path of should. She began to make wishes and dream big dreams. In-between the pages of pain were pages birthing hope. She dreamed big, really big. The pages were free, open spaces for her to be who she wanted to be. The burdens of should had no place.

She wrote just as she needed, and the years added up. She didn’t write because she should, she wrote because she could.

After a while, it was hard to deny. The far-flung wishes she had scratched on pages were becoming the daydreams of her heart. In-between doing all she should, she dreamed of all she could. And it set her free, if only in her dreams.

She sought wise counsel from one who knew there was a different path to choose. And for the first time, she was freed to follow the call of could rather than the burden of should.

She followed the call, without inhibition. It was wonderful and glorious, and she felt right in this place.

But after a while, she found herself straddling two paths, the path of should and the path of could. She felt a bit desperate, stuck. She wanted to jump out of the should right into the could, but the forest was thick and dense between the two. It didn’t seem there was a way.

Quiet moments led her to pages she scratched in those books all the way back to 2000. She saw with fresh eyes God’s master plan embedded within the pain-filled pages of should. On one page, confusion and a wanting out. The next, His master plan, in detail. She knew clarity came only because she read the books in their entirety. The significance of each page would have been lessened if not read in the context of the next page, and the next, and the next.

And on that day, in the midst of her confusion and near desperation, she discovered even greater detail that helped her trust God’s master plan is in place, even when it’s hard to believe.

She found this, scratched little on one page of 30 brainstormed visions from March 2007 – No more supermom. 

It was April 2013, and she had just written this, Turning Capes Into Gowns. 

And she found this, also scratched as vision in March 2007 – Special moms.

It was April 2013, and she was about to launch a month-long Special Mamas series on her blog. Her wish became a dream come true thanks to the willing hearts of Jennifer and Tamara and Jessica and MNAutismMom and Jennifer and Lisa.

And she found this, a detail she had not recalled from conversation with one who affirmed her vision and dreams – Walk and follow the lily pads of grace. One by one God will place them for you if this is His call.

She knew she needed to trust. She must proceed with abandon towards the path of could. Because the expectations of what should be always disappoint, while the possibilities of what could be provide hope.

So she’ll make wishes, she’ll keep dreaming, and she’ll keep following the lily pads of grace. And maybe one day, she’ll discover all of the scratches and sketches came true.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”  Jeremiah 29:11

Amy

I’ve grown to hate this picture.

I spent hours, maybe even days of that October, 2010, searching for the matching superman and superwoman costumes that now hang lifeless in our closet. We put them on, and it was oh so cute as my mother-in-law took our family picture, but later that night I felt the burden bear down on me hard as I walked in the doors of that adults only costume party.

You see, there was something about that costume that represented right where I was – fulfilling that role of superwoman, supermom, being everything to everyone, doing everything for everyone, being a hero to everyone but myself and my God. But that night, as I played the role of superwoman-supermom at that party, I became keenly aware it wasn’t working anymore. The room was filled with bar maids, vampires, sexy bunnies, and who knows what, but I didn’t feel sexy, I didn’t feel scandalous, I didn’t feel cunning, I didn’t feel clever, I didn’t feel cute, and I didn’t feel like superwoman-supermom either. To be honest, I felt like an out-of-place goodie-goodie girl scout who just wanted to hide away in a tent somewhere in obscurity.

And to make matters worse, I quickly discovered that not just one of my neighbors was pregnant, but three, and bless their souls, they were all there in their pregnant glowing glory. I had been battling this desire, this conflict in me for years, as to whether or not we should have a third child, but these women seemed to know so quickly, with such certainty, this destiny to parent was theirs. In the years that had passed since we had our first two children, I had seen the dark forces of this world, and I wasn’t so confident I could be that superwoman-supermom to raise another precious life safely through to the light.

So I left that party, hung the superhero costumes in the closet, and have since marked it as a turning point, a moment I needed to see the light, to see the truth about myself and who I wanted to be.

See, I don’t want to be superwoman. I don’t want to be a supermom. I CAN’T be. It’s impossible. It’s an unrealistic burden I don’t want to bear anymore.

Because a superwoman-supermom is a hero. She does it all, she’s brilliant, she’s clever, she has all the answers. She works full-time, loves her job and prides herself on doing what she needs to do; or she stays home full-time and has no longings for anything but tending her home, her husband, and her children. She buys all organic and prepares homemade dinner every night, she makes all the beds every morning, does a few loads of laundry every day so she’s always caught up, and dishes are stacked back on the shelves before bed. Oh, and her house is always clean (her toilets are always sterile and pristine white). She wakes up happy every morning and makes a hearty breakfast for her children before sending them off to school; she packs the kids’ lunches with healthy choices so they can grown up big and strong. A superwoman-supermom? She knows how to parent just-right, she disciplines and her kids listen the first time, she runs for disinfectant and bandaids when her kids’ knees are bleeding, and her kids’ principal would never think of calling. She has lots of “besties,” she’s organizes girls’ night out religiously, and she exercises five times a week in stylish LuLu Lemon gear she bought the day it arrived in the store. She volunteers and she’s needed and people are desperate to get their hands on something, anything, she has to offer. She gives and never grows weary. She’s battery operated, like an energizer bunny, who just keeps going and going and going.

I can say with confidence that on most days I’ve tried hard to be that superhero, wanted desperately to be that supermom, envied that superwoman who embodies one or many of those qualities. And that’s just WRONG.

Since formally rejecting the superwoman-supermom notion and becoming pregnant with our third child five months after the above described Halloween incident, I’ve been in transformation. I’m ready to do life differently, ready to step out of the status quo box. I’m slowly, but surely taking off the cape and am stepping into the garments of the woman I was created to be. And through faith and experience, I believe the woman I am growing into is wise, she is grounded and values depth rather than breadth, she sees into souls, she knows what she is called to do and what she is not called to do, and she knows when she needs help.

See dear ones, we’re not superheroes. No, I’m coming to embrace a notion that’s just as controversial and discussion worthy as superwomen and supermoms, but makes more sense in my new reality of cape-free living. Yes, I believe there’s truth in the notion of princess.

Marriam-Webster online definition of princess: 

2. a female member of a royal family; especially a daughter or granddaughter of a sovereign.

Here’s my premise – if I believe God is sovereign King, He knit me in my mother’s womb in His image, then I’m His daughter. Knowing this truth, I should have much more confidence as princess than I’ve ever had as superwoman-supermom.

Something rings true about this princess concept. Perhaps it’s why Disney has made millions capitalizing on princesses.

Cinderella had faith in her dreams, that “one day her rainbow [would] come.”

Ariel has “who’s its and what’s its galore,” but wanted more. She wished she could be “out of these waters,” “part of that world.”

Belle longed for something more than “this provincial life.” Immersed in stories about far off places, “behind the facade,” she was even perceived as peculiar.

And Rapunzel escaped the tower she had been trapped in all her life. She “[saw] the light,” “the fog was lifted,” and the “whole world was somehow shifted.”

There’s something deeper, something better we women, we moms long for. We want to be authentic, we want to be honest and real. We want to be known. We want to be loved and  cherished, and we want to know we are beautiful. We want to be mamas that make a difference, we want to grow souls that thrive and find their special place in this world. We want to be beautiful examples of grace and truth for our children. We want to escape the superhero cape, step into garments designed especially for us, and dance in the beauty of our true life purpose.

So two days from now, I’m launching a series titled “Special Mamas” in honor of women who want to be mamas and women who are mamas. In this 5-week guest post series every Wednesday in May, you’ll hear from a real mama who bears her heart and soul to uplift others, a mama who steps up to the plate and fights daily battles for her child, a mama who exudes joy and peace in her “bigger-than-normal-sized” family, a mama who steps outside of the traditional mama box to share her love, and a mama who endured years of trials in search of the thing she desired most – to become a mama.

Take off your superwoman-supermom cape and put on your princess garments of beauty and truth. Step outside of your box, leap down from your tower. Sit still in comfort on your Father’s shoulders. Dance with faith. Be real with me in this place. This month is dedicated to you, special mamas.

All glorious is the princess within her chamber; her gown is interwoven with gold.  Psalm 45:13

Amy

It had been a long day at work and I was on my way home, driving on the open road. The sunlight was coming through the trees just like it does in the movies, and David Crowder Band’s “How He Loves Us” was playing loud on the radio. They wrote a song from their hearts, then, there. My heart received it here, now.

I clicked on the post, just like every day, nearly three years now. Ann Voskamp, the one who has been my lifeline, the one who directs me to true north. This time, what I needed from Ann, from God, was hidden. A click within her post brought me back five months to a post I needed that day, words about God’s call. She writes the song of my heart, then, there. My heart receives it daily, here, now.

Jeremy Camp’s “Overcome” played on my iPod as I ran the track overcome by such truth, and a few minutes of complete understanding washed over me. He wrote it one day, then, there. My heart was desperate for those words, here, now.

God knew I needed the words of an ordinary woman, one that’s so human and feels a little flawed and is in need of divine direction. He brought me a humble, loving, kind one who is Simply Striving, Nikki. Her blog, a welcoming and faith-filled place, and this week, not once, but twice, the words I needed. She shared her heart, then, there. My heart needed to know it’s not alone, here, now.

These ordinary and extraordinary human beings? Courage led them to share their heart through the mediums of song and word. And I can’t help but think this is the story of my life.

It’s been one year this week since I decided to move forward, follow what I believe was a nine year call to write. Because messages and thoughts came in, and I couldn’t get them to go away. They came again and again, and I couldn’t stop thinking about all of the things I wanted to share, the things I had to say. The song was in my heart, and I began composing sentences and paragraphs in my mind. And at that point? I knew those words could no longer be stuck HERE. in my brain. NO. Those words needed to be shared. That was the call. That was God’s call. I have something to say that you need to hear. Here. In this place. On this blog.

And although maybe more posts that not this year have been more about my growth, my development, my movement towards Him, my perception of our current reality, I want YOU to know this place is for YOU. This is not just my hobby, this place has something to do with my calling. I share words from my heart, here, for YOU.

Hopes that YOU will no longer feel alone. Hopes that I speak truth, to YOU. Hopes that YOU come to this place and find rest and peace. Hopes that YOU can find depth, something greater, something better. Hopes that I speak straight to YOUR heart.

Here.

My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.  John 10:14

Amy

It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last hour of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the words of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.

The word of the week is HERE.

 

It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last hour of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the words of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.

The word of the week is AFTER.

 

 

My natural inclination is to walk rather than run. I walk fast, I walk hard, I walk long.

But since October, I’ve been running, more than ever. And I get it. I understand why a runner runs.

For when I run, I’m running from something, through something, for something, to something. There’s power and there’s healing in running. One foot in front of the next, hard against the road, I’m propelled by something greater. Nothing can stop me. And after a run like that, all I want is to do it again.

That dream of mine, to run a marathon? It’s no longer so far fetched. Because now I understand the power of the race.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.  Hebrews 12:1

Amy

This girl, this woman in the making? Her name is Haylee. Half my years, I could have a daughter her age if I’d been a teen mom. But this young woman? She inspires me more than most twice my age.

We met three years ago. I didn’t expect to meet such a girl, but we clicked like that. Like we’d known each other forever, like we planned on knowing each other forever.

I passed barns and horses roaming free. I passed that house on the hill, admiring the open fields and tranquility. And then I discovered Haylee. She was part of it all, and it was as if I was meant to meet this girl.

Sometimes quiet, unassuming, not quite sure of her next step.

But bold and free is what I see.

Horses and riding she adores without shame.

Loves her friends and family with abandon.

Exudes energy I barely remember having.

Her faith years beyond mine at that age. A Rock she can call steady. She clings to that, and it’s clear.

No longer afraid to be the woman He called her to be.

Takes chances, follows His call wherever it may lead.

You see, she once said to me “You’re such an incredible woman. I look up to you and hope someday to become a great mom like you are.”

But I say in return, “You’re such an incredible woman. I look up to you and hope someday to become a great woman of character and wild abandon for life, like you.”

Two women. A generation apart. I, a role model for her. She, a role model for me. Just the way it was meant to be.

But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.  2 Corinthians 3:16-18

Amy