Posts in category motherhood

Give Me Grace : Wanderings of a Daughter

Jan 17, 2015 24 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

May our sons in their youth be like plants full grown, our daughters like corner pillars cut for the structure of a palace; – Psalm 144:12

Trailing skirts, braided hair, turrets and a tower. I never walk past the towered church on 86th St and West End Avenue in New York City without imagining myself in a period piece. Say what you will but my heart belongs to the old world. I have an affinity for the architecture and fashion, the speech patterns and peculiar graces of a society set on the semblance of propriety. Even knowing the lack of adequate plumbing doesn’t deter my kindred connection to anything Romanesque, Gothic or Renaissance inspired.

♦♦♦

I spent Friday morning sitting in a pew at The Church of St. Paul and St. Andrew. Churches in the city have been a great friend to the homeschooling community. On Friday mornings my tween and teen explore algebra with a small group of children on the third floor of this beautiful church. I have the privilege of spending a few hours bathing in the perfection of midday light flooding the sanctuary.

It’s quiet and spacious. And holy. That day I sat and cried while reading a gorgeous piece of writing by Holly Smothers Grantham. She lost her mother last year and her struggle and longing, her wrestling to make peace with the now of this transition as a daughter has been hard and beautiful…all at the same time. I’ve learned so much from it. Her struggle makes me think of my own.

“But, even at her weakest, my mom never stopped throwing open wide the doors of her heart. Whenever I crouched at her bedside to feel the heat rising from her brow or curled up under the covers and clasped her hands in mine, I was received into her deepest places. Not even disease could choke out love born in a broken body. Those fissures of cell and marrow became offerings of humility and grace and I always wept in their holy presence.”

Her words washed over me. Warmed and healed me. They did their magic, filling the wordless chamber of my heart – the silent space where I wrestle with being a daughter of an aging mother…the daughter I was, the daughter I am now. My mother is changing, forgetting. The mother I remember. The one who mothered me. I need her but she needs me more and that shift is hard.

I’m living in the tight space between two worlds. In one world I’m corn-rowed and carefree, in the other I’m doing the braiding. I’m washing hair and paying bills, wiping noses and folding laundry. I’m waking up for coffee after too little sleep. I’m sending out and tucking in. I’m planning and doing… all the things she did for me. And now I wonder and worry about her… if she’s eating well… if she went out today. If she’s afraid.

I’m thinking about legacy and living well. I want to live the example my mother set for me. I want to love and hold her up during this transition. I want to live every thing she taught. How she held our hearts by melding the old and new…her life lessons and dreams, her individual creativity and inspiration to build a family…a home, a tower of love for her children…even through change.

I am her daughter.

I wander through the complex floor plan of our relationship. I’m finding my way in the spaces between rooms my mother designed. Everything is familiar and foreign – because we’re different. Both of us. Still, this season finds me meandering through the palace she built.

But our foundation is laid solid with grace. No matter how complex I find areas of affinity, threads linking, connecting me to the home she built. I’m searching but sure. I know why I’m here.

I’m here to maintain the structure of her palace. As my daughters will do in mine.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

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Posted in christianity, faith, Give Me Grace, life, relationships, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, church, daughter, grace, mother, psalm 144:12

5 Minutes for Faith : Parenting Slow {a one word remix}

Jan 16, 2015 Leave a Comment ~ Written by lisha epperson

Plenty of people miss their share of happiness, not because they never found it, but because they didn’t stop to enjoy it. – William Feather

Just a few weeks into my One Word 365 and I’m certain I made the right choice. I feel it seeping into my heart and mind and almost constantly, new revelation on the word slow becomes part of me. This years word complements last years so well. It allows me to continue walking on the path God placed me on last year – minus the self-inflicted stress . Discipline is the result of a slow, methodical, thoughtful life path. Without the slow my discipline is easily warped – a chaotic mix of effort and plans gone wrong. And fatigue. Did I mention the fatigue?

She pressed the paper onto my lap. Six years old and full of enthusiasm for her craft, she tried to get my attention. She wanted me to see. There’s nothing like the “let me show you” attitude of a girl filled with determination. Her world is the right now impulsive energy behind her request. She won’t take no.

Where did this come from? Chailah’s measured and intentional. Her way is slow, meditative and deliberate. She naturally takes her time. She’s shy… the little sister trying to find her way out of a shell. When she wants your attention she’s thought about it. She’s already spent time processing her goal. That’s when her inner firebird feels free to fly.

That night I’d missed her process. I was too busy. By the time I got it her paper was wrinkled…her eyes told me what I wouldn’t see.

It was late and I’d already endured a bout of casual bickering between my older two during kitchen cleanup. Bespectacled, (because that’s how we mid-lifers roll) and hunkered down deep in my favorite spot on the couch, I dived into my iPad to get a little writing done. I didn’t want to be interrupted. I’m sure my body language screamed “do not enter” but she pushed past the physical and literal road blocks. She wanted to show me something.

I’m sharing a little of my parenting journey with friends at 5 Minutes for Faith. Read the rest here.

Posted in christianity, faith, life, relationships, uncategorized - Tagged discipline, God, one word, parenting, see, slow, word

Don’t Call Me Hannah {a guest post for Last Girl on the Hill}

Dec 10, 2014 5 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

I met Chavos Buycks in THRIVE, an infertility support group I co-lead on Facebook. Some of you may know her from her blog, she’s a pretty regular contributor at #GiveMeGrace. Our friendship is new but she’s got a powerful testimony. She’s a woman of wisdom, a seasoned warrior. I’m honored to offer space to tell her story.

“You have the spirit of Hannah.” One woman said to me. I smiled and tucked that word away.

I love the story of Hannah. Hannah, who was a barren mess, taunted by her husband’s second wife Peninnah for not having kids, accused of being a drunkard by Eli, the priest and a mighty prayer warrior turned mother of one of the greatest prophets of all time. Her story is inspiring.

But I was a little annoyed with being told I have her spirit, not because she was evil. But because of the anguish, turmoil and shame she went through during her barren season. Who wants to experience that?

I don’t know how long Hannah and her husband Elkanah dealt with barrenness (a.k.a infertility). But for my husband and I, it’s been a ten year barren season. We thought having a family would happen in “God’s timing” without any issues. That’s not the case at all, there’s been one issue after another. Here’s a brief look at our barren season:

We tied the knot on Christmas Day 2004.

Year 1 – We enjoyed life and each other and trusted God to open my womb in His timing. I started vomiting on my periods and I had no idea why.

Year 2 – People asked, “When are you two having kids?” We always answered, “Whenever God wants us too, in God’s timing.” We didn’t use anything to prevent pregnancy. I continued to vomit on my periods, which I thought was a normal thing.

Year 3 – We lived, loved, laughed, worked, worshipped, prayed and played. We trusted God would open my womb when He desired. We believed it would happen.

Year 4 – The vomiting episodes stopped for two months then started back up (pain-killers no longer worked). I was clueless to what was going on in my body. But encouraged and hopeful for children.

Year 5 – I experienced pain, horrible cramps, heavy bleeding along with the vomiting during my periods. And foreclosure. I found out from a relative about a female condition called endometriosis. I continued to hope to be pregnant by the end of the year and prayed like Hannah prayed.

Year 6 – My ob/gyn found a lemon-size fibroid and confirmed I had endometriosis. I had laparoscopic surgery to remove both. The pain lessened a little but vomiting continued. I continued to pray, hope and pray some more to be pregnant before the end of the year.

Year 7 – Endometriosis came back and got worse with pain, horrible cramps and vomiting. I prayerfully waited and dreamed about having children. I was discouraged and disappointed and lost hope it would ever happen.

Year 8 – I received chiropractic adjustments and started charting and using an ovulation kit. I shared with close friends about our desire for children and the endometriosis issue. I was sad and disappointed with every period.

Year 9 – We had our first consultation with a fertility doctor. It was confirmed my egg reserve was low. I had a second lap surgery to remove endometriosis and another fibroid. I was put on medication to try to get rid of the rest. My hopes of being pregnant were faint like a weak pulse. I had a bad case of hope deferred-ness and stopped charting.

Year 10 – My periods came back worse than before and the fibroid returned. My egg reserve level is still low. My doctor suggested the IVF route (I struggled with this at first) but we decided to try it. We prepared to take an IVF class but our insurance didn’t cover the clinic. I found out recently my FSH level is high (which could mean my egg reserve is failing per doctor). A second fertility doctor recommends donor egg as the only option for us. Doctors can no longer help us conceive. We need a miracle from God.

What do you do when God closes your womb, or allows you to go through a barren season? It’s not like I can go up to God in heaven and take his hands to open my womb, or make him change the season to springtime.

I’ve given up the dream of having kids and then I hope again. It’s a tug-of-war between hope and reality. I took several pregnancy tests in hopes of miraculously becoming pregnant but they’ve only disappointed and reminded me I couldn’t produce anything.

I’ve received many pregnancy announcements, went to baby showers and seen babies everywhere. One time, there were ten ladies pregnant at my church. And before we left that church, we were the only couple without children. It was like the spirit of Peninnah taunted me through those things saying, “See, God closed your womb and you can’t produce anything. You fruitless woman.” I’ve cried many tears for years over this issue.

This season of barrenness has been a difficult one to walk through. And the once dearly loved story of Hannah became a reproach to me. I was now living out the word, “You have the spirit of Hannah.” And I didn’t want to be like Hannah. I cried to my husband, “Hannah prayed and begged God for a child. Why do I have to pray for a child when other people just have kids without even asking for it? I don’t understand why I have to.”

I expected this season to last for a short period like natural seasons do. Nope, not so. Imagine having a cold, dry, lifeless and fruitless winter season for ten years. It could be really depressing if you dwell on it too much.

I choose not to dwell on it anymore. Nor sit and mull over what I don’t have in this season, but I’m learning to see the beauty in my barrenness. I couldn’t see it at first, second, or third but God has opened my eyes to the beauty of it all. The beauty of my barren season has been a deep closeness, intimacy, communication, friendship, and understanding with my husband. I trust, God will make all things (even my barrenness) beautiful in His time.

I’ve embraced my barren season and being like Hannah. Hannah’s name means “grace.” My friend made a t-shirt for me with the word “grace” on it. God is declaring “GRACE” over me and you in this season.

Now, I understand what the lady meant, “I have the spirit of grace” to endure, survive and thrive in whatever season I’m in. And year after year with each passing birthday, I’m making it by God’s grace. With each pregnancy announcement and negative test, I’m making it by God’s grace. With babies everywhere, I’m making it by God’s grace. Because He sees me as a Hannah, one who has grace. So, I don’t mind now, go ahead and call me Hannah (smile).

2 Corinthians 12:9 And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

Tell me, have you been in a barren season? If so, how are you seeing God’s beauty in this season?

this post appears as part of Last Girl on the Hill : a blog series on fertility and faith

Posted in blogging, christianity, faith, infertility, last girl on the hill (blog series on fertility and faith), life, uncategorized - Tagged Chavos Buycks, family, God, hannah, hope, Last Girl on the Hill, season

Grounding : The Year of Zero {Day 11}

Oct 23, 2014 5 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

photo: flickr cc / woodleywonderworks

Be happy in the moment, that’s enough. Each moment is all we need, not more. – Mother Teresa

Recently the littlest lovely asked, “What’s 5 + zero?” He’s processing his understanding of numbers and the concept of zero. It’s a pretty big deal in my house now. I said, “Five.” and went on to explain how, with zero everything stays the same (in addition and subtraction anyway).

I’ve watched 4 children work this out now. Sit with the concept of nothing. Only this time, I’m thinking about the simplicity and mystery of zero. In a strange way, it feels powerful. Like I’ve happened upon a life transforming secret. It’s ancient and spiritual…something I couldn’t have learned without first suffering the brokenness of spiritual relapse.

Perhaps this is my year of zero. A rite of passage where I hold close what I have by settling into freedom from expectation. A stagnant life was never an option, and quite honestly scared the bejesus out of me. I’ve always fought words like containment, believing “I” had to “do” the work of growing. But being still and walking through a season without trying so hard might be what saves me. Indeed, the grace of zero intrigues me. For now, I see grace in being neutral. I see grace in zero.

Acknowledging this spiritual cypher is a gorgeous bowing down..a sweet surrender from trying. From the bedrock of my soul I’ll look up. The pit marks not the low point but the beginning of a rise. From nothing comes grace – the free and unmerited favor of God. And from grace…gratitude.

Zero is stillness, peace…silence. In the silence of zero I hear the faint sound of laughter. I hear my happy approaching and for now, embrace the beautiful neutrality of contentment. I lay down my will and want for more. Yield my heart to his right now provision. Render my hope to a promise of enough.

Zero is going to bed early and getting up late. Making cookies every night..if that’s what I feel. Zero is sitting for an hour or two to watch my 4-year-old sleep or maybe a nap before dinner for me – falling asleep after filling myself with the words of Barbara Brown Taylor. And zero looks like saying no. No, to the part of me that still refuses submission to His song. And no to the spirit that says it should always be winter and never spring. Always tears and little joy. My zero is grace balanced discipline.

There’s grace in demanding the equilibrium found in zero. I’m grounded by the checks and balances that promise to sustain me. In this season I will want for nothing. I will embrace my year of zero. I release this trifle of nothing, this handful of human effort and trust all the more, the work He’ll do through it. Glory is found in the abyss of my offering. And it starts with zero – here… my holy home base.

Joining The Nester for the #31Days Writing Challenge.

Posted in christianity, faith, life, uncategorized - Tagged #31days, enough, God, grace, grounding, hope, year of zero, zero

Give Me Grace : Grounding – on Being Loved {Day 10}

Oct 18, 2014 29 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

photo : flickr cc / arvin asadi

You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Pslam 139:5

As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the LORD surrounds his people both now and forevermore. – Psalm 125:2

I called my mother the other day. Nearing the end of my rope, I needed grounding. A familiar voice, my matrix, my mama. I didn’t want to burden her so we talked about everything but what’s been going on with me lately. I avoided all talk of myself by focusing on the adventures of the The Lovelies.

I told her about skating and test prep. Ade’s newest alter ego and Chailah’s ballet class. We talked until I couldn’t hold it in anymore. In an exasperated rush I let go…”I’m tired.” It’s a perfect word to hide behind, suggesting more about the crazy that is parenting in NYC and less about my personal wilderness. She listened and went on to remind me I have exactly what I wanted (her way of saying “quit complaining, ain’t nobody got time for that”).

I had to suck it up…because I wasn’t being honest. For her, saying I’m tired said everything about my physical state and little about my heart – even though that’s where I’m worn the most. Still, I felt better after speaking with her. I felt the familiar I told you so and finger wag delivered with mothers wit and so much grace. I felt the comfort of her love.

And even though I didn’t have the conversation I wanted (I wasn’t ready for that), I got a healthy dose of my mothers love. I got the conversation that grounded me – encouragement to press through another season.

I am a daughter being loved by a mother.

Later that day an old friend called. And I grounded myself in the memory of our close friendship. Life has taken us on different paths and our homeschool schedules haven’t synched in a long while. The late night phone calls – equal parts encouragement and complaining sessions – have all but disappeared.

She asked me how I was doing. And out it came. “I’m tired”. She fished through the usual complaints to see my struggle and lifted my ego with the best kind of endorsement. The only kind she could offer given such limited information. In one fell swoop she blew fresh wind on the dry bones of my motherhood and offered me an opportunity.

This time, a conversation I didn’t expect, but definitely one I needed. Our conversation that day grounded me in friendship. I was reminded of my value and worth in my community. Of how much he loves me though my friends – a holy hand-picked bunch of people who ground me in community.

I am a woman being loved by a friend.

And then I read these words…on a printout from 2004. “But I will give you expression with the pen, says The Lord, to be able to write the things that pertain to the worship of The Lord”. A prophetic word from my former pastor, words I don’t remember. Because back then, if God didn’t have anything to say about my body finally lining up to achieve a successful pregnancy – well, I wasn’t interested. Ten years later, He loves me with a letter. One I hadn’t read, one He saved ( the stack I found it in was on its way to the trash), for such a time as this. He grounded me with the surprise of his blood stained love poured out in black and white.

I am a girl being loved by her God.

Today I’m grounded in a love that extends beyond the arms of my husband and children. I’m caught in the grace of community, held in a love that’s secure. Home is a haven but he’s cast my net of love wide, extending beyond the borders of my home and the handful of city blocks I travel every day. His love seals and saves. It surrounds me. In this, He loves me well.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

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Posted in christianity, faith, Give Me Grace, life, relationships, uncategorized - Tagged #31days, being loved, community, family, God, grounding, Words

Give Me Grace : Wake Up

Sep 27, 2014 34 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

waking up to the glory of a great day made greater – hanging out with Big Daddy after her 1st ballet class

Give Me Grace : Wake Up

And the angel that talked with me came again, and waked me, as a man that is wakened out of his sleep. (‭Zechariah‬ ‭4‬:‭1‬ ASV)

I’m ready, God, so ready, ready from head to toe, Ready to sing, ready to raise a tune: “Wake up, soul! Wake up, harp! wake up, lute! Wake up, you sleepyhead sun!” (‭Psalm‬ ‭57‬:‭7-8‬ MSG)

The past few weeks have been soul heavy. Overgrown with grief. Yet, I’m still on Facebook.

I post on Facebook, like we do, to connect. To check in with family and friends. To celebrate birth announcements, engagements, weddings, new jobs and adventures. All good stuff. But the dark and hard things?…I generally leave those things out. And for the most part, I think I should. Because for crying out loud this is Facebook and I’m a grown woman. I believe in drawing a line on social media. But I also feel like it’s Facebook , and it’s been here, in the past year and half that I’ve been encouraged and inspired and learned to publicly walk my faith. Where I’ve seen communities come together in prayer over the little and much of life. I love Facebook for that. So the line? well now it’s blurry.

It seems, if we’re doing life well on social media, we learn to share a skillfully nuanced painting. We show the glory and hide the grit. We share the beauty, rarely the blood. So much so that we’ve gotten used to unbalanced images. We cast our carefully crafted narratives into a sea of online engineered reality. The expectation is that it’s all good – all the time, when it’s not. The almost too good to be true is just that. The line can be confusing.

But I’ve learned everyone , every one has something to cry about, something that given a stolen moment can break through the veil we put up. Something that shatters the heart. Every one. It’s how this life is lived. Sun, rain, up, down. Broken, beautiful. Wrecked, healed. We live for the spaces between and believe God for the road to redemption. On the way we covet the peaceful moments, the holy silence, the wisdom of a redeemed after. In the middle…we rest, at least we try to.

I’m waking up to the power of a soul willing to explore crossing the line.

Last year a friend told me about an unfortunate life event and I practically scolded her for waiting to tell me. For telling me when it was too late. I don’t want to do that. Not when I have a community that cares, a community that can lift me spiritually when I’m hurting. Not when I know prayer and good love and vibes work. I have to wake up to the power of my faith.

In the natural I’m frustrated and scared and fighting my instinct to fly. Still my spirit hears his voice – in black and white He tells me He’s able, and in words preached in a school auditorium he finds me in a crowd of 200 and declares He’s the best answer for anything I may be going through. I have to listen.

I’m telling my soul to wake up. Wake up to the only answer I BELIEVE in. I’m making the choice to wake up to the everyday grace of life. Because there’s so much good. So much good. An over abundance of joy is right in front of me – if I choose it.

I want to label this thing, this melancholy covering – I want to cast it away. It’s depressive and gloomy and I want to replace it with the god glory of a smile. Because inside – I’m ready to make the shift. It’s time to wake up to His ability…He makes the hurt…hopeful.

So here I am letting you know I’m in a pit. For now, I’m covered by the full-out glory of a first ballet class. I’m focusing on my princess and her papa bonding after class, I’m savoring sweet kisses from a 4-year-old. The busyness of life that makes my marriage and motherhood amazing doesn’t end the hurt but it keeps me afloat. I will defeat this nameless ache…but I need prayer.

Here’s that layer of neutral tones where I don’t share the full story. Here’s where I experiment with highlights and shadows. I’ll brush over the details. Toy around with exposure and saturation. I’m grateful I don’t have to give it all up. Maybe over a great cup of coffee and my favorite dessert. Maybe not. I guess I’m a line girl after all. God knows and now you know too. You know enough.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight #GiveMeGrace

♥

Maybe you’re like me and need prayer too. No demand for details here, just affirm your need in the comments section and we can remember each other in grace this weekend.

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Posted in christianity, faith, Give Me Grace, life, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, community, Facebook, God, hope, love, prayer, psalm 57:7, soul, wake up

Give Me Grace : Holy Ground

Sep 20, 2014 36 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

God said, “Don’t come any closer. Remove your sandals from your feet. You’re standing on holy ground.” (‭Exodus‬ ‭3‬:‭5‬ MSG)

Our gps signal wavered in and out on the ride up to Warwick, New York. What should have taken an hour and a half took almost 3. Still, the last 30 minutes was all God glory. By the time we reached our destination we’d been cleansed and stripped. A brilliant sun broke through the veil and fields of buckwheat brushed us new…erased anything keeping us from His presence. In the last 30 minutes we took off our shoes.
And smiled.

His presence pierced our little family bubble and we felt it. This…was holy ground.

Stop.
Pause, breathe.
Enjoy the stillness
Because it’s quiet here
This…is holy ground
Everything IS – as it should be
Human arms can’t hold the paradox of this holy place
So just Let. Go.
It’s wild and perfect, groomed and broken
Listen
His words poured holy, painted on the door of hearts stained a blood bought red.
Now ready, now ripe for the reading of natures’ sacred text.

This…is holy ground.

Sometimes to survive in the city, I leave. Intentional time away helps me see and carefully turn every stone. Time away repairs tears from unexpressed hurts and helps smooth over our family mess ups. The too quick response, the hurried hug, the many ways we tell each other we don’t have time. To hear. To listen. So yesterday we packed our car, grabbed my mama and took a drive. We went apple picking, drank hot cider, walked long and unrushed through lush orchards. And we ate the most delicious apple cider donuts. Taking time to be together outside our usual grind is holy. A little country does a city girl soul good.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace ~ read more ~

Posted in christianity, faith, Give Me Grace, life, parenting, relationships, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, exodus 3:5, family, God, holy, holy ground, Listen, Words

Thinking About 50 : Manifesto for a Midlife Mama

Sep 03, 2014 32 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

because she inspires me… my favorite lady Mary

No one inspires me more than my mother. In midlife, she went back to school to earn a bachelor and masters degree. She became a teacher while raising 4 children, largely alone. What an example she’s been! As I approach 50, I think about her and marvel at the midlife transformation… already happening in me.

At 48, I’m not quite ready for AARP. But something about the frivolity of youth is slipping away. Don’t get me wrong, I’m youthful. I maintain a perspective on life with just enough humor to keep me belly laughing at least once a day. I also had a baby a few months before turning 45 and with children at home, aged 3-13, I feel engaged in a youth oriented culture. I’m still on the playground…literally.

But I’m changing.

Although I pray to let go gracefully the things of youth, I’m realizing this shift is more rebirth than death. It’s a new beginning.

But I’ve been thinking about aging and how at this point in my life…when I feel confident enough to literally soar….the world around me treats me as if all that’s left is preparation for departure. I’m thinking about how the world even the church, silences middle-aged women. No longer a babe and not yet a revered “mother of the church”, we midlife mamas get stripped of our mojo. And that’s not cool with me.

I’m praying about how we can change that.

In midlife I recognize that my story doesn’t end with Titus 2. I’m still a Proverbs 31 woman. And maybe you’re like me. Maybe you’ve grasped a god vision for your life and know there’s more. Because after all he’s poured and all you’ve learned, maybe he can use it for more than serving donuts and coffee after service. Which, of course, isn’t a wrong thing, it’s just not the only thing.

To be clear, I’m a Titus 2 woman. I’ve earned the title, fought the required battles…I’m qualified. But I’ve got years ahead of me and untapped gifts to explore and share. I’m a woman of wisdom. Use me.

I’m saying no to feeling invisible or ignored and offering a little pushback here. Let’s not take a seat…unless we feel led to.

So here it is, a little Midlife Mama Manifesto

I am a woman, created in the image of a God who loves me. I rest in the knowledge that He cares…about my dreams, my future. He cares for me. I will above all else nourish my spirit with the word of God. His word, growing in me, brings forth beautifully ripe fruit. This is a season, something I want to savor.

If I have been called to marriage, I will honor it as a gift. I will treasure and respect my husband, remaining pliable to his lordship over our home. I will guard my family and home by taking seriously my role as gatekeeper. I will pay attention. If I am single I’ll lean into the wisdom of those placed in authority over and community with me. I value them for holding me accountable for my words and actions.

I will obey gods voice without hesitation. I’ll walk out His plan for my life…with fear and trembling, if that’s what it takes. But I’ll walk. I’ll step up to roles of leadership when led to do so. I may be middle-aged but I am not middle of the road. My life screams the experience of the veteran. Is valued because of its scars, imperfections, flaws. Because I know…I will teach.

I will guide and serve as a living witness of Gods mercy to younger women in my community. I celebrate my wisdom. I will not shrink into the shadows when so much has been deposited in me. Now is the time to pull out the resources and give freely what I’ve been given.

But that’s not all…

I accept that as I need the church , the church needs me. I will pray about an area of service where I can bless the ministry with my experience and enthusiasm. I will live limitlessly…I am the right age….for just about everything. And can do, almost anything. I will continue to develop my gifts, hone my craft, grow.

I will enjoy my season of motherhood, particularly as it’s come at such a sweet time in my life. My midlife children get a mama who knows what she’s doing and isn’t afraid to enjoy herself doing it. I will show my children love. In deed , word, affection. Realizing I can’t do it alone I will pray for and enlist trusted support resources to help me raise my tribe. I will parent to my strengths. Always willing to grow but being gentle with myself in areas where I may be weak.

Whether or not I ever biologically parent I will engage with and serve as a loving nurturer for children in my family and community. If I find myself free of the responsibility of children, with time to feather an empty nest – I’ll explore this time of explosive creativity. I’ll use it to write my story and share it with my world. Whether I paint, or dance or sing or speak, this redemptive expression is my life line to all creation. It connects me – to my creator.

Mid-life is not a resting place. This is my life and God calls me to be a life long learner. I will expand and stretch to accommodate new opportunities and lessons. I walk in the blessing of my perpetual restoration.

I will seek to develop my spirit as I enjoy beautifying my outward appearance.I will embrace physical changes as part of a natural progression…leading me to complete confidence in myself and my Creator. I will work to maintain a healthy and active lifestyle. I will honor myself and my body as Gods unique creation – at every stage…a masterpiece.

If you’re a mid-lifer like me, what would you add to this affirmation? How can you tweak it for your life?

an offering to the communities at #TellHisStory and Coffee For Your Heart

Posted in christianity, faith, life, relationships, uncategorized - Tagged #TellHisStory, 50, Coffee for Your Heart, God, grace, hope, manifesto, marriage, midlife, prayer

Beautiful : May I First See Her Heart {a guest post for SheLoves}

Aug 13, 2014 7 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

flickr cc : aussiegall

My dreams kept time with the early morning song of unnamed birds. In the spaces of silence I wondered…would she be beautiful? We’d talked about her that night and every day before. Imagining life with a little girl no one would call beautiful. Would we love her? Could we? Should we say yes?

Having no point of reference for a child’s physical appearance, more than biological parents, prospective adoptive parents wonder what their children will look like. We want them to fit our family and recall hopefully, adoptive families where we’ve seen Gods hand in the match. Wondering how these mystical pairings will work out for us is where it gets tricky.

Everyone wants a beautiful child, especially when the child is a girl. For some reason, we worry less about boys.

“and then she stroked his neck and smoothed the feathers, saying, “It is a drake, and therefore not of so much consequence. I think he will grow up strong, and able to take care of himself.” – from The Ugly Duckling by Hans Christian Andersen

♥

I’m sharing writing space with the beautiful women of SheLoves Magazine today. I’d be delighted if you’d join me. You can do that here.

Posted in adoption, christianity, faith, Guest Post, life, parenting, relationships, uncategorized - Tagged beautiful, birds, child, parents, SheLoves Magazine

Give Me Grace : Sarah Laughed

Aug 09, 2014 47 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

“Sarah Laughed” by Rae Antonoff

11-12 Abraham and Sarah were old by this time, very old. Sarah was far past the age for having babies. Sarah laughed within herself, “An old woman like me? Get pregnant? With this old man of a husband?” (Genesis 19 11-12 MSG)

Sarah lied. She said, “I didn’t laugh,” because she was afraid. But he said, “Yes you did; you laughed.” (‭Genesis‬ ‭18‬:‭15‬ MSG)

Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born. Sarah said, God has blessed me with laughter and all who get the news will laugh with me! (‭Genesis‬ ‭21‬:‭5-6‬ MSG)

Sarah laughed.

We were on our way home. 4 days 3 nights. A minivan, my love and lovelies. After a few days away we were on our way home. Camping at Lake George was beautiful but one can eat only so many grilled to perfection burgers. Besides, the morning run to the bathroom with Chailah was getting old. Note to self, next time? Bring a porta-a-potty.

South bound traffic on I87 crawled but the sound of laughter filled the car. It was the sound of children responding to a few days of fresh air, good food and extra loving. They were happy. Punch drunk from marshmallows and late nights by a fire – our mini vacation had done them well.

Laughter. I laughed too. In that moment God reminded me how much my laughter has changed.

Pause. Rewind, freeze frame, flashback. Click. Click. Click. Remember. It was as if I’d dreamed the moment and in it, remembered Sarah. Sarah’s laughter. At one time it was my own. Never mind what people said, for the most part they were encouraging. Months turned years sprinkled with baby showers and holidays found me holding little more than a dream. My empty arms foretold the story of the ones I lost. At least that’s how it felt to me. I ached for a child, felt my heart-break for a child.

It was me. I didn’t believe. I was my worst enemy, my only rival. Believing the god of fertility hadn’t done its magical dance over me, I pushed aside the one true God who said He loved me. Anyway.

It was easier to toy around with lesser gods than put my hope in the all-powerful. Part of me let go of believing. Because believing hurts. But I know the body shiver of concealed laughter, of the self-deprecating laugh Sarah gave. Part disbelief, part self preservation…sometimes we laugh to dull our senses. But each time I did it, I brushed aside my blessing. Dismissed His power. Believing is hard but doubt is harmful to your health. Laughter hid the dis-ease of disbelief.

I did, I chuckled “yeah right” with Sarah. Sarah laughed and so did I.

And I would have lied about it too.

Yet, that moment was part of every longing for motherhood, every hope against denial, every reason for wanting. It was part of my souls song. My childhood memories, my destiny. And I heard it in their laughter.

Three boys and two girls. Gods great provision against my hopeless situation. Only He always knew. And held my broken winged body close whispering don’t give up, keep believing, time will heal, be willing to alter the dream, take a different path. To listen – even when I didn’t understand.

Their laughter filled me with joy. Ringing through my mother spirit as a dance I’ve known since the beginning of time. Rocking me gently, back and forth.

It was his promise manifested as a tickle in my throat. And I leaned forward to release it with a few tears. My delight in everything and nothing. The moment. I was made for it. My laughter transformed. Full and free. Lighthearted, unburdened. My doubt, like Sarah’s, redeemed as unbridled faith.

Three boys and two girls. I laugh within myself and I think God laughs too.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

♥

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*** I found the beautiful work of Rae Antonoff on Etsy.***

Posted in christianity, faith, Give Me Grace, infertility, life, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, children, dance, dream, faith, Genesis 18:15, God, laughter, mother, rae antonoff, Sarah, sarah laughed

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Give Me Grace : Sarah Laughed

Sarah laughed.

Laughter. I laughed too. In that moment God reminded me how much my laughter has changed.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

♥

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