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12/2/2016 0 Comments Being A Mom Doesn't Define Me I remember the first time our eight-year-old realized I had a name other than Mama. And his dad had a name other than Dadda. We were sitting at the dinner table and my parents were visiting. Of course, they do not call us Mama and Dadda. It was as though a light bulb went off in his growing brain. The fact that we were people before we became parents was new territory to be explored. Questions came pouring faster than he could formulate words. I smiled, but made sure he knew that to him, my name would always be Mama. Or Mom. Or some variation of it. But never, Abby. I wear the title of Mama proudly like a badge because motherhood changes us, doesn’t it? And yet at the same time, I don’t ever want to let it define me. There are times when I have to remind myself that my identity exists outside of the roles of wife, mother, and friend. These different roles shape me and mold me, but they don’t determine who I am. Some of you reading this might be puzzled, so let me explain. My search to discover who I was at a core level began after I became a mom. I remember those first days when I couldn’t get my newborn to stop crying, and I would cry right along with him. Everything about my supposed birth plan had failed. Instead of forgoing the epidural, excruciating back labor made me decide to take one in the early stages. Instead of delivering naturally, I had an emergency c-section. I clung to breastfeeding like a lifeline, but when the nurse thought I had a pulmonary embolism a few days after leaving the hospital, I almost had to give it up too. In the days after family left, and my new baby and I were alone, I tried to cling to something stable. I had always clung to labels, but they were eluding me. Student, worker, daughter, wife, and now mom. I felt like I was failing miserably at the last two, which were both new to me. And because I felt unsuccessful in my roles, I didn’t think my life was worth anything. To be quite honest, there were times when I thought my new child and husband would be better off without me. Somewhere in my darkness I sent up a simple prayer: “Help.” And because God doesn’t care about the eloquence of our words but the heart behind them, I got my answer. Not in one lightning bolt of truth, but in a slow, constant rhythm. Although I couldn’t see them at the time, his answers were like fingerprints on the story of my life. Over time, He showed me I would never know who I was until I learned who He was. And the more I learned about Him, His love and unchanging character, the more I discovered my own unique identity. I learned these different hats I wore—mom, wife, friend, employee—were meant to enhance the person I already was, but never define me. Because if you hang your identity on a finite role, you will never discover who you are as an eternal being. He created each one of us to leave an eternal mark. And while our families are a huge part of that, they are only one part. It is up to us to discover the distinct gifts He gave each of us, every one given to reflect His glory. Do I love being a mom? Yes. Over time, I’ve grown to love it more and more. But when my children are grown and it’s just me and my hubby, I will still be me. And if it takes me a lifetime to discover who that person is, it will be worth it. Word of the Day: “In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him.” 1 John 4:9 ESV Prayer: God, help me to remember that you alone define who I am. The roles of mother, wife, friend and writer help shape the unique attributes you gave me and mold my character, but my identity always starts with you. I am a child of God and your creation. In Jesus’ name, Amen. Author: Abby McDonald
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11/23/2016 0 Comments When Your Plea For Help Is Ignored I find that people often expect too much from people and too little from God. Only God can be God, and people can only be people. (Christine Caine) I expected empathy. I expected nods of affirmation that I am not alone in my struggle, a warm exchange of words after leaving my heart lying there on the floor. What I didn’t expect was silence. But it’s what I got. Immediately, I wanted to retract my words. I wished there was a delete button, but this wasn’t a hasty post on Facebook. It was a plea for comfort, and there was no taking it back. Instead of turning to the One who knew me best, I sulked. I sat in the recliner eating dark chocolate, robotically scrolling through pictures on Instagram. I retreated to my pit of gloomy thoughts and self-pity until, like any good Father, God pulled me out. I realized I’d been looking to others for the peace only God can give. I realized I expected too much from others who were struggling to find their way just like I was. Most people see only a reflection of the person we truly are, but God sees our whole being. He sees the imperfections, but He also sees the person we are becoming. He sees the struggle, but He also sees the refined, beautiful masterpiece on the other side of it. I turned to the pages of Genesis and found the story of Hagar. A woman who felt forgotten. A woman who was obedient to her master, Abraham, even to the point of conceiving a child for him a child out of wedlock and was then shunned for it. (Genesis 16:5-6) As she ran into the wilderness to find solace, she thought no one saw her or knew her pain. But God did. He not only knew her ache, but He knew the blessing waiting on the other side of it. He came to her in her weakness and her vulnerability, and told her what she needed to hear the most. He saw her. He knew her. He wasn’t going to abandon her or shun her. His encounter with Hagar impacted her in such a profound way that she gave him a new name: The God Who Sees. She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.” (Genesis 16:13, NIV) Friend, I don’t know what you’re going through today. I don’t know who has disappointed you or made you want to lock away all your secrets, vulnerabilities, and struggles, so that no one can ever see them or judge them. But can I tell you something? God sees. He sees your heart, scars and all, and He loves you just the same. Don’t write off friendship or authenticity. Both are sacred, crucial elements of this thing called life. But remember there’s only one person who sees us completely. Come to Him with your scars, and let Him bathe you in the healing salve only He can provide. Word of the Day: She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.” (Genesis 16:13, NIV) Prayer: Lord, help me not to expect others to understand me the way you do. You have searched me and know me in a way no one else can, and you designed me to crave the unique relationship only you can give. When my expectations of others fall flat, help me to extend the grace you have shown to me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. Author: Abby McDonald 11/18/2016 0 Comments When We Compare The shouts echo from the family room, and as much as I try to avoid them, I know I’ll have to referee. I can’t see what’s taking place, but I know. My rising blood pressure is a sure sign.
As I stand in the doorway, my suspicions are confirmed. There are hundreds of toys strewn across the house, but my three-year-old wants the one his big brother is playing with. It doesn’t matter that the airplane is missing a wheel and a fin. The reason he wants it is quite simple: His brother has it. As I kneel down before his tiny frame and try to reason with him, mustering as much calm as I can, I can see how I’m going to have to divert his attention elsewhere. But to divert a determined, strong-willed child’s focus is no easy task. Every mom goes through it—the stage of “mine.” Everything has the “mine” title and there is no discernment about it. If the child sees it, it is his. And am I so different? Sure, I do a better job of controlling my fits of anger and masking symptoms, but the jealousy and coveting still threaten to overtake me when I don’t guard my heart and mind. Often, my gauge for how well I’m doing is comparison to others in a similar role. I look at what they have. I take mental notes on the goals they’ve achieved. When I think they’re moving forward at a quicker pace than I am or are more in the spotlight than I am, the flesh often takes over. What about me, God? Haven’t I been faithful? Didn’t I do what you asked me to do? It isn’t that I don’t want them to be blessed or to see their dreams realized. I know how hard they’ve worked. I’ve witnessed the sweat and the tears firsthand. No, it’s how my mind distorts their progress. I see their success as somehow taking away from my movement forward. I take my eyes off my ultimate goal, Christ, and instead begin running down a rabbit trail of discouragement and self-defeat. The truth is, when I compare, I am resurrecting my old, dead self. I am saying my new identity in Him isn’t enough. That I would rather be a clone of someone else. But friends, God doesn’t create clones. He creates unique masterpieces. Paul knew the temptation to resurrect that old self. But he also knew the power of the One who was working in Him. He would not achieve full transformation in this life, but he kept pressing ahead, not looking at what was behind or in the other lane. I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of the resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death…Not that I have already attained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ took hold of me. (Philippians 3:10-12) To take hold of that for which Christ took hold of me. Friends, there is nothing more than this. It is perfect love, unblemished by the world. It is everything. Today, if you’re tempted to divert from the path God has called you to and chase after someone else’s dream, look up to your Author. Look up to your Finisher. Confess with your mouth what you’re feeling. He already knows. Praise Him for the work He will finish in you. He’s not done yet. And then wrap yourself in the grace of knowing that even when we lose our focus, He’s right there to pick us back up. Word of the Day: I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. (Philippians 3:10-12, NIV) Prayer: Lord, before the night of your death you prayed for unity, not division or jealousy. I don’t want to look at my fellow sister or brother and covet their dreams and accomplishments. I want to carry out the unique plan you have just for me. Help me to keep my eyes fixed on you, the Author and Finisher of my faith. In Jesus’ name, Amen. Author: Abby McDonald  I have a love-hate relationship with HGTV. And Pinterest. And all of those fixer-upper shows.
My husband and I moved into a fixer-upper several years ago, and while we’ve done a lot of cosmetic upgrades, there are still things I’d like to change. But life doesn’t stop for remodels, and the kids don’t stop needing new shoes, so for now we pushed the pause button. Most days I’m perfectly happy having friends over to eat in my 70s’ kitchen. But every now and then, I hear those voices saying what I have to offer isn’t good enough. It’s a dismal truth, but it’s there. Those voices interrupted my thoughts several weeks ago when I was having a dear friend fly in to speak at our local MOPS group. She was staying overnight, and in the weeks leading up to her arrival we made some preparations to ensure she was as comfortable as possible. I was excited to have her visit and for the chance to connect in person since she lives several states away. That is, until I visited her home. A couple of weeks before her visit, I joined some friends at her house for a weekend retreat. Her place was beautiful and looked like a spread straight out of a Good Housekeeping magazine. Since her kids are grown, her floors weren’t perpetually sticky. Her windows weren’t smudged with fingerprints or dog slobber. It short, it was perfect. When she came north a few weeks later, her welcome was anything but perfect. As I was speeding down the highway to pick her up, the GPS drained my battery and my phone died. I had forgotten my charger. After finding her at the airport, I could not locate my car. We circled the parking garage on foot several times before discovering an airport car finding service. I wish I was kidding. And yes, the service does exist. It was like we were living an episode of Seinfeld, except I wasn’t laughing. I was worrying about my cell phone, getting home to pick up my son, and making it to our MOPS meeting. When we finally got back to my house, I realized we didn’t have time to eat the meal I had been so careful to put in the crockpot before leaving. In the midst of all the running around and the chaos, my friend didn’t complain. She was gracious and patient, and when we finally arrived at MOPS I realized something. Her message was about making the most of the time we have with our kids, but the message God had for me was different. As I sat there listening, I realized time is all we really have in this life. We can spend it worrying about the age of our kitchen appliances or we can open our kitchens with love. We can spend it stressing about having the perfect, Pinterest-worthy treats, or we can savor the sweetness of each bite. Yes, the details make a difference. I love a beautiful plate of food. But don’t let the details keep you from looking your guests in the eye. Don’t let them keep you from sitting down and having a conversation. The perks of a magazine-worthy home can never replace the warmth felt within it. I’m reminded of a poor widow the Lord asked to feed his prophet, Elijah. She and her son were about to eat their last meal, but at the word of God, she gave everything. She gave what she had, and the Lord blessed her for it. (1 Kings 17:8-16) God can take what we have and multiply it into much more than we could ask, think, or imagine. When I visited my friend’s home down south, it wasn’t the décor that left an impression on my heart. It was the welcome. It was the love. It was the what’s-mine-is-yours hospitality. Those modern appliances? Well, I won’t tell you they don’t make you happy. But I also know joy comes from a deeper place. A soul-level place. A belly laugh, strolls at sunset, tears-over-coffee type of place. That’s the place I want to keep my eyes fixed on. It’s the place I try to remember when the weight of this life tries to drown me in forgetfulness. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality. (Romans 12:13, NIV) Prayer: Lord, help me to remember it’s not the size of my home or the age of my appliances that shows hospitality. It’s how well I love those who walk through my doors. May others see the love You have shown toward me when they enter and not my anxiety over the small things. Author: Abby McDonald  Last night I talked to a friend who told me she turned off Messenger notifications on her phone. After I asked about a message I’d sent several weeks ago, she realized it had gotten buried under piles of other messages and she’d never seen it. I completely understood. If she’s anything like me, she’s familiar with the epidemic of “now.” I have severe anxiety over that little “1” which shows up on your phone. And since the notification is showing now, I have to respond now and have an answer now. Sometimes I’m not even sure how to respond, but I figure if I type something they’ll at least see those little dots moving… Those dots mean you’re thinking, right? Or do they mean you’re typing? In any case, they mean a response is coming and that you haven’t forgotten about the urgent message which needs an immediate response. Or does it? Lately, I’ve been thinking about priorities. And many of the things I consider a priority should be nowhere near the top of my list. Like those little “1”s that show up on my phone and drive me crazy. I get so wrapped up in the “now,” I forget there is also a “later.” I forget this season is not the season for every project, pursuit or endeavor. I forget how God-given dreams don’t have an expiration date. A couple of years ago, I sensed God calling me to go on a grand adventure with Him. I knew he wanted me to write and share with others, to step out of my comfort zone and walk with Him into unknown waters. Every step along the journey has been beautiful. Even the missteps where I’ve fallen and needed grace to stand have molded and shaped me into the woman I am today. But you know what? Not every piece of the grander vision is meant to be attained right now. Sometimes, God gives us a glimpse of the future to give us endurance in the present. He desires to keep us moving forward. He wants to let us know our labor is not in vain, and that he has plans and promises which stretch further than our imagination can take us. But now is not the only season. And everything can’t be accomplished in one day. So why do I stress myself out, thinking I’ve missed the invisible boat? We’ve all heard the saying. “Don’t miss the boat.” We think this boat holds all of our hopes and dreams, and sets sail for some far off land, never to be seen again if we’re not on it. Let me get a little southern here and tell you something. It’s hogwash. It’s a made up figment of some person’s imagination, and it serves no purpose other than to cause anxiety over God’s timing, which can’t be controlled. Paul says it right here in Romans: For God’s gifts and his call are irrevocable. Romans 11:29 NIV God did not call you, purpose you and place his gifts within you to simply throw them away. He who called you is more than able to see his plans through. And what do we do? Take the next step of obedience. Not ten steps or twenty, but the next one. If the mistakes of humanity could revoke God’s plan, He would not be sovereign. So take a deep breath, relax your shoulders, and wave farewell to the invisible boat. If you were meant to be on it, you would be. Author: Abby McDonald Used with Permission from https://abby-mcdonald.com/ |
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