a lament of hope

I would say my ideal social situation is hanging out with 3-8 people where my voice can be heard and where, frankly, I am often the center of attention.

Situations I often find myself in and which I don't necessarily love is when I am one in a crowd of voices.  I tend to retreat and push down my feelings because I don't feel like anyone cares what I have to say. 

This week my social media was flooded with brilliant words and thoughts on the shootings this week.  And a LOT of people just lamenting how things are. 

I just retreated because in a sea of voices, who cares about mine?

And then in church this morning our friend and pastor asked God to forgive our apathy and then proceeded to pray for each victim and their families by name.  Big wet tears dripped into my lap.

I don't have the right words and I feel like I'm flooded with unjust killings every single day, so it's easy to retreat and let other voices do the talking.  

What else can I do?!  Black lives not only matter to me but they enrich my life! I kind of want to jump up and down and say "It's not me!  It's not me!"  But yet my friends are posting about their husbands being thrown down to the ground unjustly and not feeling safe when they drive.  My eyes are opened to thought patterns outside of my own.  And I can't do anything but love those around me and teach my children to do the same.    

On the flip side, my sister, who I guard like a mama bear, is a wonderful cop who feels the tension rising each day she goes to work.  I want her to be able to do her job AND return to her daughter after each shift.  The emotions of these senseless killings have spread like wildfire and it makes me fear for her life.       

I think I am not and never will be surprised by the disregard for life  or the evils in the hearts of others...and especially evil in my own heart.  It is how it always has been and will continue to be until heaven comes to earth.  

Why do people around the world run to the edge of the ocean with their toes dipped in and stare out at the vastness.  

It's because it declares the glory of God and gives a glimpse into a time when for eternity, peace and love will flow.

Why is my beloved forrest being overrun with thousands of people walking to the edge of a mountain and letting their heart be opened to the smallness of themselves?

It's because it declares the glory of God and points to His powerful love and his caring for each of His children no matter what their color or job.

Why do I run to the river every time I can't think or when my heart is sad? Standing there at the edge with my toes in freezing cold water and the rushing current washing away the groans and hurts of my heart?

It's because it declares the glory of God and for a moment reminds me that this, this tumultuous life full of painful decisions and sick friends and unjust killings is not how it is supposed to be.  

God is grieved.  His wrath for the unjust evil in the world is just how you want a father to react. 

So until then I will keep singing and praying these words to my favorite hymn, 

"Tune my heart to sing thy grace"

I want to be so bound to the heart of God that His grace comes out of me.  Grace for people who are blinded to their own evil.  Grace for those who act out of fear and not love.  

So if you see me by the ocean or on top of a mountain with my arms outstretched and tears streaming down my face, come up next to me dear sister and brother and grab onto my hand and weep with me and hope with me.   

amy | breathing me to life

It's no secret I struggle with seasons of deep and paralyzing depression.  Whether it's in my genes or caused by my sensitive soul, who knows.  There are seasons of life that feel like walking through mud to get through.  

I'm a lucky girl to be surrounded by amazing people that champion me on and who tell me "You're doing your best!  Don't be so hard on yourself!  Give yourself grace."

One evening I left my chaotic home to slip away to a girls night at a local restaurant and I showed up frumpy, hair unbrushed and thrown in a bun and an aching heart.  

That's when Amy saw me.  

Amy is a friend of friends that I knew casually and who happened to be sitting at the other end of the table on this particular night.  Somewhere at the end of the evening when many had trickled back to their homes, I just burst into tears and said, "I just suck at life."  Many hands touched my back and comforted me and told me "No you don't, Helen Joy.  We love you."  

But Amy looked at me and saw me and in a beautiful confidence she said, "I will help you."  

We decided to do a trade.  Pictures for coaching sessions.  

The first day she came we sat on cushions on my messy living room floor, we walked through the kitchen with left out peanut butter and jelly and crusts left over from the school morning rush. We sat on those cushions and I cried and Amy listened.  Then came her first,life giving breathe.  She said "I believe you can be better."  Said so lovingly and compassionately, not discounting the work ahead.  She did not clip my wings and say, "Be thankful!  You're doing the best you can!"    

She heard my longing and she gave weight to it.  

I told her the silly longings that seemed so out of reach and she didn't blink.  She said, "Why not?!"  She didn't flood me with cheesy quotes about motivation or steps to achieve my goals.  Every week she came to my messy home and sat with me and listened and she gently lifted me to the sky.

It started with little things like finding shoes the night before and packing lunches in the evening.  Things that come easily for most people but to me seem like mt everest.  She came over one day and stood in my laundry room with clothes up to our waists and we sweated and worked for hours and found a system that works well for ME.  

Little by little tiny bricks have fallen into place and I feel more and more comfortable in my own skin and in my own home.  It's like a ripple has started and I don't even know where it will reach.

This doesn't tie up in a bow.  I still struggle getting out of bed in the mornings, my laundry room is up to my knees because I've been editing this week but I am not paralyzed by it.  

Amy, these pictures show just a hint of your genuine warmth and the love you so beautifully give.  

Thank you for seeing me.  

To contact Amy, go to www.amybracken.life

leah's story | the birth of roan oliver

This birth was such a blessing to me.  I loved being Leah and J's doula but I found so much that I was able to step back quite a bit and watch J support Leah so tenderly.  Leah is an incredible athlete and is always running or biking.  Labor was quite a challenge because the first 9 cm went really fast, but the last bit of labor was much longer and she had SO much back labor.  As mentally strong as she has to be to be such an athlete, labor took every ounce of that and truly sometimes it wasn't enough.   It was like watching a dance, every time she lost belief in herself, J stepped right in with words and physical support.  And so contraction by contraction she made it through.  

It was brutal to watch her do everything right but to still be stuck at 9.  We kept telling her it was almost over and that didn't turn out to be true.  I think it would be like moving the finish line several times at the end of a marathon.  

After a while her awesome nurse gently coached her to start pushing gently even though she wasn't complete yet and baby boy was born not much after.  

The gender was a surprise and it was so special to watch baby Roan Oliver be born and for his parents to meet him.  

Thank you J and Leah for letting me be part of this sweet experience and for letting me share your beautiful photographs.