Dear Mom:

I’ve had something on my heart. I’ve wanted you to know.

These words I’ve been desperate to share with you? They’re life giving.

So today, I wonder if anyone’s ever told you…

You are a good mom.

Yes, you.

You. are a good mom.

Remember when you were pregnant and everyone said you were going to be a great mom? You believed it, you really believed it.

Baby arrived.

You loved, and loved on that little one some more. It was awesome and it was fulfilling and it was almost everything you were expecting, but there were plenty of days when it was really hard, too.

At some point along the way, you woke up to the realities of motherhood, you realized important truth – ongoing verbal praise doesn’t come pre-packaged with motherhood. Sometimes, simple words of mom encouragement become near extinct after those hope-filled days of pregnancy.

All those people who rubbed your belly, said you were glowing and gushed on your every pregnant move? All those people who said you were going to be a great mom? Well, let’s just be honest. They still love you and all. Nothing’s changed. In fact, they’ve seen you in action, and if asked, they’d all say you’re a good mom.

But here’s the thing, mom. Life’s too busy. People take motherhood for granted. Because the truth is, none of us would be alive without a mom. Everyone just assumes – mom will be there. Everyone just assumes – mom’s going to take care of it. Everyone just assumes – mom’s doing fine. No one’s to blame, it’s just the way it is. It’s easy to take moms for granted when they’re everywhere, all the time.

So today, I want to acknowledge the void that’s longing to be filled in your heart.

I want to affirm and love on you, more than just a little.

Mom, I’m here to tell you once again.

You’re doing a great job.

You. are a good mom.

You were good from the start. You nurtured that babe way back when. You took vitamins, eliminated caffeine, made diet changes – all before you ever laid eyes on him. Your willingness to tolerate back aches, heartburn, and weight gain signified your greatness from the earliest days. You knew the gender, or maybe you decided to wait until birth – whichever way you chose, you did it for good reason – because that babe was one-of-a-kind and you wanted him to know he was treasured from the very start, whoever he was. You prepared your heart, you prepared your home, you made the place perfect for that babe.

You were a good mom.

You were amazing in delivery. Let me just tell you again. You were amazing. Whatever way you welcomed that little one – vaginally, via cesarean section, vaginal birth after cesarean, foster care, domestic adoption, international adoption, whatever – you were phenomenal, mom. Your heart spilled open wide for that child, loved in a way it had never known before. You promised yourself, now that she’s here, I’ll do anything. I’ll be the best mom I know how.

You were most definitely a good mom.

Boy oh boy, you sure paid your dues those early days. You sacrificed sleep, sanity, and just about everything else in-between. Remember when it really didn’t matter if it was light or dark outside? It was all the same to you. Day was night. Night was day. You needed to acclimate to this new child, and there was no getting around it. You rocked him, and he rocked your world. Nursing and bottle feeds, pacifiers and pumps, diapers and bibs, burp cloths and onesies – it was all new language and you managed to become fluent in days. How was that possible, mom?

Because you were a good mom.

Your baby changed to toddler, then preschooler right before your eyes. Sweet mom, you ran and chased after that little one like mad, didn’t you? She ran and ran and ran some more. You barely kept up. You picked up the toys? She dumped them out. You washed all the peanut butter off her face? She smeared it right back on. You put her back in her bed? She got right back out. Yes, those were beautifully busy and messy days, but you loved your babe to pieces despite her snotty little nose. Tonka trucks and Little People, princess dresses and peeing plastic baby dolls ruled your world. Yes, those were the glory days of color crayons on walls, daycare, preschool, ABCs and 123s. You kept on mom, you kept on. At night, you fell to the couch, pondering serious mothering questions in silence…I’m exhausted, am I doing this right?

I’m here to tell you mom, you were doing it right.

You were absolutely doing it right.

You were a good mom.

Then came the elementary years, the kid is growing like a weed years, the part baby, part grown-up years. Ya, these were the years you learned to do it all, mom. He changed wardrobes a million times and got holes in his pants the first day he wore them. Reading and math, ecosystem dioramas and homemade musical instruments, you named it, you helped him with it. Your days were filled with butt jokes and poop jokes and just about everything stupid is funny jokes. You transported like a maniac to ball practice and hockey practice, dance practice and gymnastics practice. When the principal called, you responded with as much grace as you could muster, and when he needed extra help with this and therapy for that, you agreed and obliged, all the while your heart pulling, resisting your babe’s humanness. All in all, you found relative predictability in the craziness of these in-between years…

Because you were an awesome mom.

Those teenage years crept up on you. One day she was 9, the next she was 13. One day she asked you to do her hair, the next she didn’t want you to step foot in the bathroom. One day she wanted you to tuck her in, the next she didn’t need you to help at bedtime anymore. These were the years you waited up late until she was safe back home. You didn’t pry, but when something seemed off, you weren’t afraid to follow your mama intuition and ask what’s up? You guided her well through those tumultuous years, mom, teaching her to do laundry, insisting she make her own appointments, and helping her navigate a world of peer pressure, even if she was outraged you didn’t let her go to that all-night party. And let’s not forget all the ways you got creative for the sake of your family, because you were wise enough to know that kids need boundaries and room to grow. As each year passed, you became more aware that your baby would be leaving the house, so you began teaching her about weighty matters like work, money, goal setting and faith.

Because you were a really, really great mom.

You thought your job as mom would end when they left the house, but you know better now. Because once a mom, always a mom! Maybe your daughter transitioned swiftly and seamlessly into adulthood. Even so, your support was critical, mom. You sent care packages to college, hosted the grandchildren for special weeks during school vacations, offered advice when she called for help, and gave special financial gifts that left a legacy. Even when your baby was 39-years-old, you carried her immunizations in your wallet, because hey, you carried them all those years, why not now?! But mom, I’m aware of you, too – your son’s transition into adulthood didn’t go as smoothly as you’d planned, did it? You lay awake at night with tear-stained pillows, prayed and pleaded to God – restore my baby, guide him to a life that has purpose, help him find direction, take away his struggles, his pain. Maybe you suffered in quiet, maybe the whole wide world knew every ounce of your pain. Whatever your battle was, let’s get real, it was dreadful, mom. But eventually, he overcame, you overcame. You finally breathed that sigh of relief, because even though he was all grown up, he was still your baby.

Yes, you. You. were an amazing mom.

These words, they’re for you, mom. Because you’re worthy. You’re one in a million.

And you need to know, wherever you are, whoever you are…that you are a good mom.

Amy

*This post is part of a month-long series titled Motherhood Unraveled. To read more from this series, click here and read to the bottom where all the posts are listed and linked!

Inch by inch, he grew in your womb.

You nested and prepared days, weeks, months ahead.

You knew he was coming. You knew it was time.

Tiny and precious, he rested in your arms.

Your mama heart was overjoyed. This tiny bundle was yours, a gift bestowed upon you by God himself.

Time passed – minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years.

But his time to pass came far too soon.

Your baby boy was sick, his remaining days on earth, few.

Your heart filled with sorrow. The pain was consuming, overwhelming.

You pleaded with God in desperation. Take me, not him.

And why God, why?

In all that fear, in all that pain, a wave of peace miraculously surrounded your heart.

You surrendered.

You prayed.

“Okay, Lord, you can have him. But if he must die, I want it to be for something big. I want someone’s life to be changed forever.”

After all the pain, after all the sorrow, after all the last moments together, your baby went home. Up in the clouds he went, up a little higher.

You sat in the silence.

Your mama heart ached.

Your mama heart wept.

Your baby was gone. Your baby. was gone.

You gathered up all the pieces of your grieving mama heart, brought them to the only One who knows the true meaning of life, and asked…

How can a mama bear bare to live when her baby passed before her? How does a mama move on? Now what, God, now what?

He answers your prayers in the gentlest of ways. Take his life, mama bear, bring forth life from death. Enter in to others’ pain. Enter in to others’ joy. Speak of your son. Speak of his life. Speak. life.

That blanket of grief and pain’s been wrapped tightly around you, but you do what you’re called to do when you want your baby’s life to count for something big. You begin, oh so slowly, unraveling the threads until you find hope, until you find possibility, until you find the place where your son’s life, your son’s light, begins to shine through, again.

Because you’ve learned – that place where hope shines is holy, precious, sacred space.

So you bring forth life from death. You bring forth purpose from pain.

You honor your son’s life by sharing his story.

You honor your son’s life by letting everyone know – hope is within grasp, even in the midst of pain.

You honor the hope that sprung forth from his life by ensuring everyone understands – the purpose of your life will be revealed, even in your last days, even after your days on earth have passed.

You honor the brevity of his life by encouraging everyone to live more fully –  as if this minute, this hour, this day is your last.

After a while, truth becomes impossible to deny. Your baby boy made a mark. His life wasn’t for naught. His life was short, but your prayer had been answered. Your baby’s life counted for something, something big.

Perhaps your baby was an angel, sent for such a time as this.

And slowly, little by little, you begin to believe with all your mamma bear heart, that joy comes in the morning, even in the mourning.

Amy

*This post was written for mamas whose babies have gone before them, and is in honor of Laura Sobiech, who lost her 18-year-old son, Zach, one year ago in May 2013, after a four-year battle with osteosarcoma, a rare form of bone cancer. When Zach found out he only had a short time to live, his mom suggested he write letters to loved ones he’d leave behind. But instead, Zach chose to use his love of music to write a farewell song, titled “Clouds.” As a result, Zach’s story spread worldwide. His song went viral, with more than 10 million hits on YouTube. In her memoir, Fly A Little Higher, due to release tomorrow, Zach’s mom, Laura Sobiech, shares her and her family’s journey with Zach, through cancer. Laura’s hope is to build awareness, help fight cancer, and to provide hope for people facing similar battles. The Zach Sobiech Osteosarcoma Fund has raised $746,917.14 to date, and “supports leading-edge research to find out why children get this rare cancer, and to discover life-saving treatments.” To read more about Zach’s story and purchase Laura’s book, visit the website www.flyalittlehigher.com. It’s a true honor and privilege to be a part of the Fly A Little Higher Blog Tour.

*This post is also part of a month-long series titled Motherhood Unraveled. To read more from this series, click here and read to the bottom where all the posts are listed and linked!

When you’ve been deceived, it’s crucial you find your way back to truth.

So I sat in bed with nothing but my laptop, my Bible and a pen, ready to receive revelation about this I’m too much, not enough business.

Little did I know, revelation was about to kick in because of the words on that pen.

20 months ago, I stood in line at the Women of Faith conference in Iowa, waiting to meet Ann Voskamp, my favorite blogger. They counted us off; there was time for 35 of us to meet Ann. I was 31st in line. There were only two or three people in front of me when the security guard told us it was time to shut down the line. The conference was about to resume. Those of us remaining in line wouldn’t be able to meet Ann.

I didn’t get the opportunity to greet Ann that day, but I learned something important from her, something really important. She showed me a bit of Jesus. Before she left, she looked at each one of us in line, cupped her hands in gratitude, and graciously and lovingly waved good-bye. She noticed we were there. She hadn’t forgotten us, even in the hurry, even when she was being pulled in another direction. I saw her heart, and I saw His heart for me.

After Ann left, the woman who accompanied her gave us a pen. While I could’ve chosen to view that pen as a consolation prize and thrown it in the junk drawer, I’ve treasured it for 20 months. Printed on it, One Thousand Gifts and the verse Ephesians 5:20.

It wasn’t until this Good Friday that I sat on my bed, with my laptop, Bible AND pen in hand, and read Ephesians 5:20.

As I read more of Ephesians 5, it dawned on me. This is the book, this is the chapter I’ve been living this Holy Week. This is the battle I’ve been fighting. This is the truth I’ve been trying to believe, live.

On Monday, in the first post of this series, Too Much, I stated the following…

“If we bring these lies into the light, we’ll expose them for what they are – flat out lies, false beliefs we’ve held about ourselves for way too long, for no good reason. And truth is? We’ve got to release these lies. Or the enemy will keep us right where he wants us. Flat on the ground, no good for anything, and certainly not up to fulfilling the awesome plans God has in store for us.”

And on Good Friday, there with my Bible and pen in hand, I read this…

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth, and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. For it is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is light that makes everything visible. This is why it is said: “Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” Be very careful, then, how you live – not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is.  Ephesians 5:8-17

The fruitless deeds of darkness…I’m too much, not enough. I exposed and explored those lies all week. It felt good to let it all out, and my decision to do so was intentional, purposeful. Because I’m desperate for you to know you’re not alone, desperate to rid myself of the lies and live in the light.

But putting all those lies out there with no response, no resolution, no hope, no promise, have left me, for the most part, feeling shameful, empty, purposeless. I’m pretty sure that’s right where the enemy wants each and every one of us – stuck in the den of lies.

So it’s time to live in the truth of Ephesians. It’s time to wake up, rise from the dead, live wise, make the most of every opportunity, and understand the Lord’s will. Because I want to live in the light, not in the darkness.

I proceeded to review truths that came to mind throughout Holy Week…

For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.  Romans 3:23-24

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.  2 Corinthians 12:9

For sin shall not be your master, because you are not under law, but under grace.  Romans 6:5

Perhaps it’s true. We aren’t enough, we are too much – if we live without Him.

Perhaps it’s grace I haven’t understood. What is this grace anyway?

Perhaps in all these feelings of inadequacy, I need to believe, more fully, the truths about grace.

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith – and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God – not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.  Ephesians 2:8-10

Grace. It’s key to the freedom, peace and joy we’re all seeking.

And faith? It’s about our believing – in Him. It’s about us trusting – He has us in the palm of His hand – even when this great big world seems like it’s falling apart.

So how do we live as children of light?

Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.  Romans 12:12

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.  Romans 12: 21

And we must not forget to put on the armor of God. Because this believing everything about us is too much, not enough? It’s proof we’re in battle. The enemy’s plotting and scheming, struggling to find his way in to our souls, into our everyday lives.

Therefore, put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.  Ephesians 6:13-17

And remember, before Jesus bowed his head and gave up his spirit on the cross, He uttered these last words…

“It is finished.”  John 19:30

So live in the truth.

It. is. finished.

He paid the price for me. He paid the price for you. It’s His gift, for us.

So live, knowing it’s not your good works that save you, but faith. 

Live, knowing it’s not about your performance. It’s about your growing understanding of grace, God’s free and unmerited favor.

Live, knowing you’re ENOUGH, with Him.

Wake up sleeper, rise from the dead.

You’re ENOUGH, with Him.

Amy

*This is the final post in a 4-part Holy Week series titled “I’m Too Much, Not Enough.” If you missed the first three posts, check them out at the following links…

Part 1: Too Much

Part 2: The Real-Life Implications of this Too Much, Not Enough Business

Part 3: When It’s Good Friday and You Just Know You’re Not Enough

It’s hard to live up to the world’s elusive standards.

We wonder if anything about us is enough.

We wonder if we’ll ever be good enough, strong enough, tough enough, sensitive enough, or smart enough to bear the weight of the world.

The measuring stick’s out. And we know, we just know we don’t measure up. There’s no way, no way we can meet those standards. We fall short, judge ourselves against the biggest, the baddest, the brightest on the playing field. We work hard to become better, attain whatever it is we believe will make us whole, worthy, acceptable. It’s hard work, and sometimes it’s even exciting, fulfilling and exhilarating work. But even in all that, even after we’ve done our best, worked our hardest, there’s still a part of us that feels we could’ve done better, we could’ve done more, we weren’t quite good enough. We ask the inevitable question, is it enough to just be myself? Or will I constantly have to be better, go further, longer, harder to meet the standards of this world?

Yes, that’s the space I want to address today.

The space that whispers quietly, but persistently – You’re not enough. You didn’t do enough. You just don’t measure up. You’re not good enough. Nothing. about you. is. enough. It‘s all a bunch of lies. That’s right. A bunch of lies.

Those ugly words? They leave you in a constant state of defeat. And that’s never a good place to be.

So let’s go there. Let’s unpack those dirty old lies – I’m not enough, you’re not enough.

And I’m starting with me. Yep, that’s right. I’m about to toss all those lies out, right into the trash pile. The enemy of my soul wants me to be stuck in a place of defeat, of never being enough, and I’m tired of it. He will not win this battle. So I’m tossing his lies out the door. Right now.

Let me be clear. These are lies.

This is how I feel about those lies. And this is what I’m going to do with those lies.

You’re not enough.

Kicking it in the trash pile.

You’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough. Just keep working harder and harder and harder. Don’t stop. Never stop. You’ll never be good enough. Never. Keep working until you’re dry to the bone, until every drop’s dried. Do it. Do it. You’ll never live up to the standard of good. Never. But you better keep trying because that’s what good girls do. They work hard and they always do good. Just be quiet. Say less. Be more. Do more. Work harder. Keep striving. Never stop. You’re not good enough, so keep working, keep working, keep working.

Enough. Kicking it to the trash pile.

All those roles you play? You’re most definitely NOT good enough in any of them.

Garbage toss.

Epic mom failure? Yep. Not always the mom you thought you’d be? Yep. Try harder. Never fail. Be hard on yourself, that’s what you have to do when you’re a mom. Never a break for the weary mom. Keep working mom. You’re never enough. Kids made a mistake? It’s your fault. You didn’t say enough, do enough, try hard enough, watch closely enough or pray hard enough to make the kids behave well enough. Kids had a victory? Good job! But keep working! A mom’s work is never done. No rest for the weary. Keep trying because you’ll never know when they’ll fall. You’ll never know when your best won’t be nearly enough. So never let down. Never give in. And keep your guard up. Because being a mom’s the biggest job of your life and there’s always something lurking around the corner. Don’t mess up because if they’re not enough, you’re not enough.

All those expectations, all that pressure? Tossing it out.

Epic friend failure? Yep. Totally not a good enough friend. Wasn’t there for her child’s hospital stay, had no idea how her marriage crumbled, didn’t know she was getting divorced until it was nearly complete, had no idea how this or that happened and now you feel like an idiot for asking because so much time’s passed, let the ball drop on those get togethers, let months and years pass without contact? Epic failures. Epic, epic failures. So not a good enough friend. The elusive bar you’ve set for adult friendship? Completely unattainable.

Toss the guilt. Toss those expectations, again. Toss the bar that marks good enough, not good enough.

And that house. Oh my. Never good enough. Always too dirty. You won’t ever be able to get it clean, or keep it clean. But you’d better keep working. Because you know, if you keep working, you might just be able to make it happen. There might come a time when you’ve cleaned well enough that everyone will finally say YES! That’s good enough! Great job! You finally did it! The house is clean once and for all! Excellent work! Thank you so much for keeping this house clean enough! So keep working. It’s always dirty, there’s always more laundry, the kitchen counter’s always a disaster in the making. It’s never. good. enough. You’ve never. done. enough. So keep doing. Keep moving. Keep cleaning every second you can.

Toss it. Out the door. Go. Now.

All those dreams you hope for? All those plans you have for your future? Let me tell you…you’re not good enough. You’re not smart enough or clever enough, and you’re most definitely not funny enough. You’re not nearly as eloquent, and not nearly as put together as she is. You’d never be able to motivate like that, connect like that, write like that, or speak your mind like that. You’re not Christian enough for them, and you’re too Christian for them. And you can’t keep up with any of them. So just drop it and get it out of your mind. Those not enoughs? Maybe they’re true. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

So ugly. Oh so ugly. Such horrible lies. Toss them like the wind. Toss them.

Then come all the random not good enoughs. Don’t wear high heels enough. Don’t wear sweat pants enough. Don’t wear your hair down enough. Don’t prepare homemade dinners for your family enough. Don’t buy or prepare organic food enough. Don’t worry about GMOs enough. Don’t watch your kids’ diet closely enough. Don’t chill enough. Don’t drink enough. Don’t come party with us enough. Don’t give enough. Don’t volunteer enough. Don’t keep up with the mail pile and finances, the photo albums and weeds in the garden well enough.

Blah. Ugh. What a weight. Toss ’em.

It’s enough to kill a person, isn’t it? This burden of not enough?

So you sit. You find yourself on the ground, lifeless, next to this trash pile of not enoughs. You know, there’s GOT to be a better way. You admit – I’ve had it. This. is enough.

You allow yourself a moment. To sit. And be with the trash. You call it what it is. Trash. Pure trash.

You realize – the enemy’s lies have held you captive for far too long.

You’re worth much more than this.

The trash leaves you empty, hollow, lifeless.

You must rest. And then you must go.

Get away from the trash piles and never come back.

And don’t you dare start a new pile wherever you go next.

Because you’re so enough.

You’re so enough, even when the world and all the evidence says you’re not.

So that weight of the world you’ve been trying to bear? It is not. yours. to bear.

Believe it.

Rest.

And know.

God is good. He sent Jesus to witness our burdens for Himself. He bore the weight of the cross, this Good Friday, so we could be rescued from everything about us that’s too much and not enough.

Good news is on its way, folks. Good news is on its way.

Amy

We’re working through a week-long series titled “I’m Too Much, Not Enough.” In Part 1 of this series, we talked about different ways we believe that everything about us is just Too Much. In Part 2, we went deeper into the real life implications of this too much, not enough business. In Part 4, we’ll explore why we truly are. enough. Hallelujah!!

Within hours of publishing the first post from this week-long series titled “I’m Too Much, Not Enough,” I knew this series wasn’t for everyone.

To some, the words I wrote in that first post read like a foreign language. They didn’t understand what I was trying to say. Late that night, approximately 12 hours after publication, I returned to the post, Too Much, and re-read my words. Maybe they did sound a little crazy. I made some edits to the post and it felt a little less crazy. Maybe getting a concept for a series on Sunday morning, writing and editing on Sunday night, and publishing by late Monday morning was just too quick.

When I returned to re-read and edit the post, Too Much, I wanted to type it all out, provide explanation so every one of my readers would understand the heart and logic behind the post. The things I typed here aren’t actually TRUE. They are LIES, false beliefs I’ve held about myself for way too long. I’m sharing them here so you understand the battle I’ve been facing, and I’m sharing them here so you don’t feel alone in all the ugly things you’ve thought and said about yourself. Please, understand.

But I didn’t type all those things. I made the edits I felt necessary, and left it at that. I instinctively knew – if you don’t get this post, you don’t get it. If you get it, you get it. There didn’t seem to be much middle ground on this one.

The next morning, I received a message from a reader. The reader shared that the post, Too Much, “pulled [her] out of a den of lies,” that my words “ministered to [her] in a very dark hour.” She gave thanks to Jesus, indicating He “loved me enough to allow me to read your love words and bring hope to me.”

As I read her words, I began crying instantly.

Because I believed the words I’d written were too much.

I believed the words I’d written were not enough.

I believed my writing wasn’t good enough.

I believed I hadn’t successfully explained this concept of “I’m Too Much, Not Enough” so ALL of my readers could understand.

But here’s the thing.

The words I’d written were enough.

In fact, those words were exactly what one soul needed to hear that day, that hour, that minute, that moment. Those words ministered to that reader in the way I envisioned from the very start. Because I didn’t start this blog to expose deep dark secrets, craziness, hopes, dreams and joy-filled revelations just for fun. I started this blog so you could know you’re not alone in your pain and struggle, so you’d know hope, so you’d know we’re all in this together.

The words were enough.

God provided a lifeline for both me and the reader, when we needed it most.

And that is more than enough.

Amy

*This is part two of a four-part series titled “I’m Too Much, Not Enough. To read part one, Too Much, click here.