your mother's pearls

There is so much I want to give, so much I want to impart, instill. Like a hammer striking a stake into the earth, I long to secure some foundational truths in my girls.

Four little women and a plethora of shoes, hair ties and nail polish, and all the female trappings strewn haphazardly through my life, my home.

What lessons do they learn?

What message do they receive?

What value do they place on their lives, their destinies, their relationship with their Maker?

A mama can only hope and pray, in the wee hours of the night, during the early morning feedings, in the exhaustion of the hustle and bustle. Feels like I swing from limb to limb at times, stretching far, reaching high, hoping we make it, hoping they all make it to wherever it is that God is taking them.

I know this much, it is greater and higher than here. It is more than what I can give, more than what I've ever had, more than any of us can even fathom or imagine. Their portion is greater, their inheritance to be more than I have ever touched or tasted. God is a God of 'more than' and for that, we are eternally receiving more.

So I teach.

As I learn, I teach.

And they teach me.

Oh, how they teach me! Life is the test and the Word of God is the answer key.

Every day scenarios, jotting out left and right, "Use me! Use me!" Life is chock-full of lessons and tests. Life is the curriculum. I bring it before the children and I say, "What do you see here?" And they astonish me. They amaze me. Out of the mouths of babes...

Then I say, "You see rightly." And other times I say, "You are not seeing this." And then I teach, instruct, train up, drive them nutty with my teacher-y tone. And I do it so weak. I do it so messy. I do it with whatever grace He has allotted me. I know there is much more for me.

God, pray I do not forfeit the very muscle you've given me to be who you've called me to be, to do what you've called me to do. I am raising little women who will one day be wives and mothers, leaders and teachers, missionaries and servants. I'm to raise heaven up and pull hell down. Lord, help and do in spite of me.

Boys. Men. Four times over we will do this. Who will you give your heart to? Who will you give your body to? Who will you give your life to?

This is the subject matter. God, first and foremost. God, above and ahead of. God, perfect and without disappointment.

He will keep you, girls. He is 'more than' able to keep you, all of you. Yes, even the most vulnerable parts of you. You are a garden locked, a spring enclosed, a fountain sealed.

You are worth the waiting for. Do not awaken love before it is time. Who you enter into marital covenant with is the biggest decision you will make in your life, outside of following Christ. And so here are a few pearls, girls. Kiss them, draw them together as a treasure, wear them, hold onto them. You are adorned with truth.

Marry a man who can tell you no, who does not fear you more than God.

Marry a man who is what he does, and not what he says he is. The words of men are fleeting. They do not stand. A man's deeds will speak for him.

What is potential if not sanctified by and set into action by God himself? It is nothing worth hoping for as it will be only hoping you will do the rest of your life.

Marry a man who fears the Lord, whose hands and heart have been dipped in the Blood, washed in the Word.

Marry a man who honors and blesses his mother, his grandmothers, his sisters.

Marry a man whose reputation speaks of his integrity, who works with diligence, whose hands and work are established by the beauty of the Lord.

Marry a man who cares for the poor, as his household will never go without.

Cleave to the man who fights for your honor, who would never compromise your name, who brings good to you, always.

Give yourself to a man who has kept himself pure, for you, as you have for him. A man who has made a covenant with his eyes, before the Lord.

Hold tight to the man who calls you higher up in the things of God, who calls you out in tenderness, who draws you low with him in acts of humility and service.

Say yes to the man who defends the innocent, the weak, the alien.

Hold fast to the man who when he speaks, men listen.

Hold out for the man who has been hand-crafted by the Lord to lead you, guide, you, speak truth to you, protect you, provide for you.

You are worth it and he is worth waiting for. God is not holding out on you, He is holding you up so that you can see all the greatness and goodness He has laid up for you.

Your worth is far beyond rubies.

You are cherished and a delight in the Lord's heart.

Believe it.

Receive it.

Live it.

real

for the hard places

a moment

I found myself taking deep breaths this morning, wanting to suck up all the atmosphere, every  single moment, to hold them in my chest, force them through my veins, keep them with me where they can't be taken. This is holy. Life is holy.

I hear my grandparents' wind chime singing to me outside from the front porch.

"Re.mem.ber...re.mem.ber..." That's what the chimes beckon. I hear my grandma's voice like an angel's. I agree that I will. I will remember.

Found myself confessing to a daughter that I am quite ridiculous at times; yes, forgetful and ungrateful. I'm sorry. I don't deserve this good but He says otherwise. I must always agree, especially when it doesn't add up. Easy to do when it falls in my favor.

I've kissed cheeks extra long and hard today. I looked a bit longer at eyebrows and teeth and freckles. Subtle changes, I don't want to go unaware. I've cried at least three times now. Mother's Day. A day to be. A day to see. A day to remember.

I was given a compliment so generous it made me blush. When God says this is who I am, in all of my weakness and inability...blatant deficiencies...in all of my begging to not do what is known, to be something that I've not yet known...just agree. Just agree with grace, in faith, that you will be just what he says. That you already are, in the greater reality.

My hands, heart, home, all full. I look longer the shorter my days become. It's such a whirlwind but there are altars that will not be moved. There are moments that are consecrated in my heart, unto the Lord. And in between the few of these are many, many wasted moments that I cannot recoup, that I cannot even recall. What I gather, in all the fullness, is really just a handful. I simply cannot take it all in, in the span of this one life. I am blessed. Unashamedly I say, I am blessed.

The Tale of the Traveling Teal Maternity Top

Once upon a time there was the perfectly teal maternity top. This wasn't just any top, let me tell you. She {yes, she} was fairy-tale ideal in texture, length, color and especially fit. She covered the bulging belly modestly when none other could. She seemed to be the top that went the distance. In Jesus speak, this top went the second mile - you know, the ninth 'inning' stretch, through the end times of pregnancy when all the bowls (take your pick: ice cream, salad, noodle...) are being poured out. Yet, this maternity shirt was clearly sealed by God himself, having no stain or residue to speak of. {A moment of silence for all the maternity tops lost to oil and vinegar salad dressing. *pause*...and a Shout stain remover 'Spray Salute' in remembrance.}

If memory serves me right, (it most often forgets to serve me at all) this bargain beauty has humble roots, being a yard sale find, rescued by Mom Karum - or something of that nature. Despite this rocky start and clearly being underestimated by the yard sale SELLER, this shirt has held her weight (and ours, too!) with the perfect blend of polyester and cotton, having both give and comfort. It's kind of like heaven and earth kissing but minus the sloppy wet kiss part. (or unforeseen kiss, per the radio version) Now, there was a somewhat outdated crocheted, scalloped collar, {don't we all have a little something we'd like to change about ourselves?} but given all of her pros, it didn't deter us from proudly sporting her at our longest hour. Oh, no. This girl has got some miles on her! She has journeyed through nearly every child (roughly 11), has been to Thailand and back, has endured leaks and snot and tugs and crushing weight, without even so much as a whimper. She's been an old, faithful friend that has grown right along with us, through thick and thin. {but mostly thick}

And so, this old gal has done a tremendous job of covering our backs (pun intended) and surely deserves some sort of glorified preservation ceremony in not only our hearts but also our childbearing stories. She has been a part of every season of the pregnant (and nursing) soul. Been vollied back and forth and shall finally be laid to rest with the best of 'em. {In good fashion, I might add, which is fitting. Oh, another clever pun!}

And so we pay tribute to the Traveling Teal Maternity Top that has loved us so well, held onto us as we held out for nine months. We honor the Honors brand and say, THANK YOU, from the bottom of our bellies, for always covering ours, no matter the season or fit! Rest in peace, treasured pal and tale.

With mucho respeto,

Tab and Amy