ENOUGH.

Today we gave a stranger Elijah's shoes. But let me back up.

It started with A Hole in the Gospel. That was 3 years ago, but was quickly followed by Radical, then Not a Fan (which was given to me by a perfect stranger on an airplane, after he caught me not-so-subtly reading over his shoulder). Next came The Missional Mom and, now, 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess. With a smattering of great books on adoption in there too.

All of these books reach into the deepest places of my heart, address the parts of my life that feel off-balance, and force me to face head-on the uncomfortable discrepancy between saying I'm a Christian and truly living as a follower of Jesus. I gobbled up every word, marked them up with highlighters and question marks, nodded along in agreement as I read, talked to my friends about them (ad nauseam), and prayed for God to change me from the inside out.

Then the prayers turned to pleading. I felt paralyzed. Overwhelmed with the need to act but clueless about where to begin. The other night I literally felt like I prayed in my sleep (that's the Holy Spirit for you, huh?). And God, in His faithfulness, began to prompt me. In such a powerful way that I could not ignore it.

So, this morning, as I was sitting on my couch reading 7 while my kids ate breakfast, I knew what needed to be done. As much as I love that book, I nearly threw it across the room. ENOUGH reading. I've read it all before. Hello...I've read it in the Bible for decades. This is nothing new, just the same point God has been hammering home since the beginning of time: This life, if you are a follower of Christ, is not about you. It is one gigantic opportunity to take up your cross (read: die to yourself, because we are not that great to begin with and what we get in exchange is ridiculously better), allow the Holy Spirit to be alive and active and at work in us, and live with gratitude and joy as a bond servant to Jesus. ENOUGH reading. Time to start doing.

So right then and there I made a decision to make today different. I didn't have a clue what I was doing, or where I was going, but I packed up the kids in the car with this one thought: If we want to reach the world for Christ, let's start by getting out of our nice, air-conditioned house. 

My first sign that there would be resistance came from my 5 year old: "But, mom, I wanted to do something fuuuun today." Oh boy. Sweet child of mine, get out of my way and get in the car. This mama was on a mission and nothing--not crying, nor whining, nor breakfast dishes, nor lost shoes--would keep me from carrying it out. (I wasn't sure what it was, but come hell or high water we were going to find out.)

There are a lot of things that keep me from acting. My kids take slot numero uno. Why? Because doing things with them is hard! This is legitimate. But today, today I had clarity. Today I knew that we could do whatever God called us to together, and that they would learn right along with me. Lesson #1: Sometimes we get in the car for reasons other than self-gratification (Sub-lesson: "Fun" does not have to happen at Pretend City, it can take also take the form of offering bananas to hungry day laborers...more on that later.)

So we prayed. We asked God to match our resources with people who had need. We asked Him to lead us, to show us where to go and who to talk to. I passed by the first 2 men we saw who looked like they might need something. But they were super scary and, um, God told me to keep driving. Next: Two teenagers making out on the corner. Hmmmm....nope, probably not a good stop either with babies in the car. 

After a series of random decisions I ended up in a not-so-bad area of my 'hood, wondering why in the world I was here and, oops, aren't I supposed to be finding people with need? Probably not going to happen here in the land of plenty. Then we saw them. A group of men that I've passed a million times before. Day laborers hoping to get picked up for some work. Think what you want about immigration and taxes and all that, but here's what I saw: Men trying to work to feed themselves, their families. Honestly, I almost kept driving, but I'd already prepped the kids to be on the lookout for people with a need, and Ezekiel kept shouting "There they are, mom! Stop for those guys! Those guys!"

So we stopped. And we asked some questions. And, dang, I need to brush up on my Spanish. But when I asked if they needed food or clothes for their kids, they said "Yes, all!" (That is what "Si, todo!" means, right?!). 

And 20 minutes later we were back with bags full of overflow from our own pantry and closets. They took everything. We exchanged smiles, and blessings, and they were eating bananas when I left. And I hope that, somehow, Jesus is glorified in that. 

We will do this again. Get out in our community and meet people, meet needs. Without any other agenda. Share Jesus in words and actions. This is not radical. This is how Jesus lived, and how many people -- who are far ahead of me in understanding the implications of the gospel -- live. It is my hope and prayer that this will one day feel less blog-worthy, and more normal-life.

In the meantime, may we continue to "stir up one another to love and good works." (Hebrews 10:24).

Are you with me?

Love letter to my baby.

I love Elijah's hand in this picture. And his feet. And his lips...



You know how parents of older children will often tell us younger mamas "It goes by so fast..."? Well, I just want to say in reply "I believe you!" And I am trying my darndest to heed your advice and soak up as much of these "little years" as possible. I get that even though this season of life is hard, it is fleeting. And in a blink of an eye their chubby little feet will be wearing man-sized cleats and unprompted kisses on the lips will be replaced with a side hug. I get it.

So will someone please tell Elijah to just stay little forever? How, oh how, is he turning 2 tomorrow?!

Elijah, your 2nd year of life probably took a good decade off mine. You have stopped my heart more times than any other child of mine. Sometimes in good ways: When you're so cute that it literally hurts my heart to watch you...I am just so in love. And, sometimes, in not-so-good ways: Like when you nearly burnt the house down by putting your sister's Care Bear in the oven, or when you decided to escape from Grandma's backyard and go on your own little adventure without notifying your mother...those moments just straight up scared me to death.

God was so merciful to us by keeping you stationary for your first 16 months. Once you started walking, my son, it was game over. You quickly figured out your two favorite speeds - running and jumping - and you've pretty much never looked back.

Yes, you keep me on my toes. Yes, you are my busiest boy. My most mischievous, most strong-willed, most stubborn. But, oh man, that twinkle in your eye, that laugh, that contagiously cute way you frantically wave and say "Hi!" at the most random times....I am a completely and utterly head over heals for you. And I can tell you this now, because you're only two and can't actually read, that I basically think everything you do is adorable...and it takes everything in me not to laugh at your naughtiness.

I absolutely can't wait to see the man you will become, my Elijah. The passion you have for life, your determination to overcome challenges (like climbing the ladder at the playground even when your little legs are shaking), your strong temperament...all of these will be wonderful qualities in a man seeking to serve Jesus with his whole heart and life. 

You, so far, remind me the most of your dad. (He disagrees because he says he was an angelic child.) But I already see your great sense of humor, and I think you may share his strong sense of justice and full-throttle approach to goals you set. You have a super sweet side, too, just like your daddy. And if your devotion to your beloved "puppy" is any indication of your future devotion to your wife...well, you are definitely on the right track to following your dad's example and excelling as a husband!

You are a delight and a joy to us every day, Elijah. I love taking you outside before bed to say goodnight to the moon ("Night moon"...I could listen to you say that a million times over, with your chubby little finger pointing up at the sky, and your lips forming a perfect little "O" with every "moon"). I love hearing you whisper, and sing, and watching you practice your long jump. You never stop, and I never stop marveling at how amazing you are.

You are my baby, and it's no secret that sometimes babies get babied. May God give me the strength to help you grow into the man He wants you to be...and to let you fly (or jump) when the time comes. 

Happy 2nd birthday, our beautiful boy! We love you!