It was an incredibly beautiful day. Teased out of our coats by the suns rays, we momentarily, left behind the chill of winter. It was lovely. We slowly peeled off layers, adjusting to the unexpected overdose of sunshine. But that day, amidst all that sunshine and beauty –  I cried. Today I thought I’d share why I wept in front of my children.

We took a walk. As we often do. A stroll through Central Park…lovingly referred to, in our family, as the backyard. I wasn’t in the mood but I took them anyway. Space doesn’t always feel spacious in our apartment. We bump into, get in the way of and annoy each other. Sometimes the only thing to do…to break the cycle of boredom or lack of inspiration , is get out. And getting out felt good.

I didn’t want to climb their “favorite” big rock so I offered a walk through Conservatory Gardens. There’s a huge fountain, ivy covered pathways, cobblestones and a block long pergola covered in wisteria. Not as exciting as “the rock”, but that day my offer worked.

I was introduced to this quietly kept secret of the city by my sweet friend Nicole Fowlkes- Douthit. We shot a scene from her first student film there…that was almost 20 years ago. I fell in love with the garden and under one of its trees, married my best friend in 1996. Nicole passed away suddenly a few years ago. She was pregnant with her second child. Her loss still makes my heart stop. One of those things you sort of get mad at God about, even when you recognize His sovereignty.

We took the long way around, stopping first at The North Garden. There’s a beautiful statue of 3 women dancing at the center of a fountain and blossoming flowers all around. On the outskirts, wooden benches create space for reflection or rest. A row of hedges cover just enough of your view – just enough to call you in , just enough to make you wonder what lies beyond.

As we walked by one of the benches I stopped. Mid-stride, scooters and stroller halting – I bent low with gratitude – humility, thanksgiving , reverence. I was caught off guard by the lump growing in my throat.  The lump that developed into a full-out ugly cry…in front of my children. I wept.

I asked them to sit down and told them a little more of the story. The story they’ve heard me tell in bits and pieces since they were babies. The story was ripe for the telling and spilled out of me as holy ghost, flame-tested truth  – unstoppable. Because in that moment the fullness of our circle was clear. Gods answer to prayer. His faithfulness. His truth among my brokenness.

I wept as I told how, over 16 years ago, I’d sat on that very bench and prayed – for them.

After babysitting my god-daughter Ashlee, I’d left my girlfriends apartment on 116th St and decided to take a walk. Ashlee was “the baby” in my life at that time. In the womb at my wedding, I stood by her mama while she explored pregnancy as a single woman. I witnessed the perfection of her birth – the promise of beauty for ashes. Her arrival fueled my baby dreams. But at that time, for me, the answer to motherhood was “No.” And I didn’t think it was fair.

She may have been 2 years old when I took that walk. In that time I’d lost a baby and had begun my 14 year journey toward successful pregnancy. I went to the North Garden that day and cried. The ugly cry…on the bench. Alone. I wept. I told God about my dreams of a family. How I felt abandoned after losing our baby. I told him I was afraid.

Fast forward 15 years later. Me, on that bench with 4 children I didn’t want to take to the park – that day. Yeah. The cry was ugly. But gorgeous in its simple glory. I shared my testimony with them and told them about the faithfulness of God. I encouraged them to believe Him…no matter what. And in the middle of telling the story, with tears racing down my cheeks, I doubted myself…my transparency.  But God whispered to me…”nothing could be more important than this …you are living out your testimony in front of my children.” The pain and purity. The wreckage and treasure of that moment was holy. I prayed they felt the love I have for them, knew deeply of the miracle of our connection…how blessed we are. And I think they believed me..heard me…because tears from your mama are pretty powerful.

As we enter the holiday season I’m leaning in with gratitude. God is greater. His plans are expansive and wide, broad and bold. We are the fulfillment of his dream for the world and he wants to do us good and make us happy.

Don’t discount his ability to perform miracles in your life. Don’t give up on your dreams. Don’t forget the possibility of the impossible. Your story… is not over.

God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us. Glory to God in the church! Glory to God in the Messiah, in Jesus! Glory down all the generations! Glory through all millennia! Oh, yes! (Ephesians 3:20, 21 MSG)

Ephesians 3:20 was/is our wedding scripture. I love how it foretold the magnificence of what He would perform in our lives.

Oh, yes! Friends, God is good! Happy Thanksgiving!

in loving memory of Nicole

bringing in the praise with Jennifer at Tell His Story