Faith | Walking Redeemed

why i write about the good stuff

28 Jan posted by Kasey

**The following is not a plea for pity. The note I received from a reader was kindly written and received without offense. I’m sharing a snippet of it here, with permission, because I believe it’s worth addressing.**

Here is what she said:

“While I believe you have a knack for writing, I’m bothered that your stories always have a happy ending. What about those of us who don’t get to the happy part for any number of reasons? What you mean for encouragement is somehow discouraging to me since life in my home rarely looks like what it seems to in yours.”

Herein lies the danger of the internet. We only see what we’re shown. You only read what I write.

You can’t possibly know how very real my life is. You couldn’t begin to imagine how different it probably is in my home than it appears in my feed. You can’t know because I don’t come here to saddle you with my burdens but to encourage you in yours.

Because, yes, real life is filled with failures. It’s full of falling downs and not wanting to get back ups. It’s all part of the revised plan and has been since sin was first introduced.

We’re all wading through the same mud. It’s deep and it’s slippery and it doesn’t even have to be raining for us to suddenly realize we’re knee-deep in a heap of it.

If you took an honest peek in my home you’d find toddlers having meltdowns, girls spouting tears for no conceivable reason, boys with way too much testosterone, teens with mood swings to rival any PMS out there, and a baby who clearly believes it’s child abuse if he’s not being held. Every single day carries its own struggles and trials and moments where I want to throw in the towel. Some days even find me melting in my own tears as I lament to my husband how we’re ruining our children.

Graceful mothering at its best, right? Obviously, no. But there’s more to the story. And if we stop reading we’ll never get to the good stuff.

Sadly, we’re so much better at wallowing in the bad stuff.

I use this space to write largely of the victories because that is where my heart thrives and grows. When I slow down enough to take notice of how God is at work, my faith sprouts and begins to blossom. Enduring the rough patches is simply the process of weeding out snares before they can take root. And if I’m faithful to weed, dirty and sweaty as the job may be, I can count on Him to water and provide the light necessary for good growth.

But if I’m so busy moaning about the weeds they’ll never get weeded.

Not long ago my daughter wrote me a note that said…I’m becoming a jerk and I don’t know what to do. I’m no different than any other mother in that I don’t want to hear my little girl is becoming a jerk. But the Lord was giving her a glimpse of her own soiled character and injecting her with a desire for change. That, my friends, is a victory. And it’s the kind of victory that opens the door to more victories.

I can choose to stew over the fact that my little girl is hyper-sensitive or too quick to cry or a bit hard on her younger sister. Or I can choose to celebrate the fact that she is seeking after change. That her heart yearns for cleansing. That she’s reaching the age at which she has begun to be responsible for her own spiritual condition.

Totally worth celebrating and absolutely counts as a victory.

We all smell suspiciously of mud on occasion. Whether it’s the art of parenting or marrying or working or resting, we tend to make a mess of it on our own. Because it was never, ever meant to be done on our own anyway. Keep reading your story looking for the good stuff and He’ll keep writing it until you find your happy ending, at last!

And please don’t ever be discouraged by anything I write. Take heart knowing it takes a whole lot of yuck to get to the yum in this house, too.

——————————–

Consider yourself humbly invited to stay connected with us through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Google+…or you can have our latest posts delivered directly to your inbox via email.

5 Comments
Filed Under: Faith, Family, Keepers of the Home, Parenting, Prayer, Relationships

when nursing your baby is just hard

29 Dec posted by Kasey

It’s supposed to be such a beautiful thing, this whole nursing experience. And it can be.

But sometimes it’s not and for me, that sometimes is now.

He’s my 8th child which also means he’s the 8th child I ‘ve breastfed. You’d think I’d have it all down by now. And maybe I do but my little guy sure doesn’t. It’s been a rough go from the start when my milk refused to come in. A normal lactating experience for me is that my little nursling has ample amounts of colostrum in those first few days followed by ridiculously-more-than-ample amounts of milk about 4 days in. Only this time the only thing I had in ample supply was stress because the milk part just wasn’t happening.

Determined not to supplement with formula I scrambled to find ways to stimulate production. My darling husband drove far and wide in his new-dad haze of exhaustion gathering supplies I had deemed necessary. On my list were the following: Fenugreek, Brewer’s Yeast, Oatmeal, Mother’s Milk Tea and copious amounts of bottled water because I am the biggest water snob you’ll ever hope to meet. He also threw nearly $200 into the hands of a retail shop carrying the pump we were both sure would save the day. Maybe it has but most of the time I just want to toss it down and stomp on it.

Sorry, but I feel you should know the truth. Even about my fits of irrational rage directed at inanimate objects.

Anyway, equipped with my arsenal of milk-inducing ammunition I commenced on my journey. And while my milk did indeed come in, this whole nursing thing is is still just hard. So hard, in fact, that I recently saw a magazine advertisement with a mother serenely nursing her peaceful baby in a quiet room amidst perfect order and I got teary eyed. Like tears flowing down my cheeks while I gulped back the frustration of my failure kind of teary eyed. If only my body would produce milk the way my eyes can produce tears, we’d be in business.

But unlike that glossy ad, my home is not serene or quiet. It’s bustling and busy and energetic and chaotic and loud. (Yes, it’s fine to use different words to say the same thing 5 times in a single sentence…but only if you really, really mean it. And I really, really do.) And my tiny baby is not a champion nurser by any stretch. I mean, unless by champion you mean one who thrashes and cries when you attempt to feed him. Because in that case he’d be top dog.

And therein lies why I hate my pump. Because if I express the milk after he won’t nurse he’ll gobble down the bottle like nobody’s business and the next nursing session is even harder because he then wants the rapid flow of the imposter. But lest you’ve begun to think my baby simply hates nursing let me assure you that many, many times it’s his happy place. His sweet spot. His comfort.

Which translated means he gets so cozy he goes right off to sleep and cannot be roused. Little scamp is determined to thwart my efforts from every angle.

He’s been checked by the doctor multiple times and he’s very healthy. He’s on the skinny side but still on the skinny side of healthy. We’ve gotten lactation help and tried pretty much every trick in the book. Nothing. We’re basically help-resistant, it seems.

So here’s what I know. It is God who created the nursing relationship between a mother and her babe. And He alone has the ability to provide me with adequate milk and my tiny one with sufficient patience to accept it. So while I continue to do everything within my power to stimulate supply and encourage healthy feeding habits, I am at the place where all I can do is trust that He’ll give us both just enough…one feeding at a time. I don’t love the hard times. I detest trying to sit down to nurse only to feel like I’m scrapping with a 3 month old who is otherwise probably the happiest baby I’ve ever known. I hate that I am the starkest contrast to those perfect breastfeeding mom photos. I’m the bumbling middle-ager with worn out nursing pads, sour shirts and a plethora of lofty aspirations that rarely materialize.

But I am his mom. With his milk. And so long as God continues to allow just enough to get us by, I’ll praise Him and be thankful for it. Because sometimes just enough is exactly what we need so we remember who’s providing it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: It seems seemly to add that nobody should be concerned. If we ever thought, for even a moment, that our baby was suffering from lack of nutrition or dehydration, we would supplement without hesitation. This is not a matter of stubborn pride but rather a matter of humble acceptance. His diapers are carefully monitored as is his growth. And we have the kindest doctor who understands our desires and is collaborating with us to see to it that our little guy continues to thrive under our very best efforts and the unfailing grace of God.

——————————–

Consider yourself humbly invited to stay connected with us through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Google+…or you can have our latest posts delivered directly to your inbox via email.

5 Comments
Filed Under: Faith, Nursing, Parenting, Prayer

on raising world changers

18 Dec posted by Kasey

Her little heart is soft. So very, very soft. And it’s not because of me, that I know for certain. I can only surmise it has happened because God is walking next to her, whispering into her heart, and she’s choosing to listen.

Because when we listen…really listen…the voice grows louder.

Last night we were driving the few quick miles to the small mountain church where 5 of our children will be taking part in a Christmas pageant. Earlier, my husband and I had escaped with just the baby for a rare date that consisted of shopping for some simple gifts to slip under the tree. We arrived home just in time to gather the children and usher them over to practice. In a teasing mood as he so often is, my husband made mention of the presents we had spent the day purchasing when her sweet voice piped up, “You didn’t need to get us presents. We could use that money to send to people who don’t have much. There are even people who don’t have water they can use.”

We live on a modest budget and extras are typically only handed out on gift-giving occasions. I know that and I know she knows that. And yet she feels compelled to go without because she already has plenty. The reality of her plenty is speaking louder than the desire for that new dress she asked for.

And she’s listening, so she hears.

Sometimes I am so humbled by these children He’s given me to raise that I plain forget He’s using them to raise me. To show me the simplicity of simply doing the next right thing.

Because we don’t need to do great, big things. We just need to do everyday small things with a great, big God.

Small things like she did the other day when she read and re-read a Christmas card we had received. It certainly wasn’t the only one we’ve gotten and I had no clue why she was so drawn to it. Even when she shyly came to me later with a letter she had written to the sender of that card and asked if she could have a stamp to mail it, I didn’t understand. And after her little envelope had been secured with the proper postage and I saw her grab her coat and a flashlight, I still didn’t get it.

She was determined to get that letter in the mailbox, now. That very night. Not about to let her make the trip, in the dark, all the way down to the end of our driveway on her own, I joined her on the porch and she slipped her hand in mine. Happy. Because she was about His work and Mama was in on it with her.

And that’s when it hit me. She’d heard Him again. It wasn’t about the letter, or the stamp or the dark. It was about obedience. It was about changing her own little world one small action at a time. That’s what it’s always about.

That’s what it’s only about.

I’m wondering now how many times I’ve rushed my kids passed true obedience because it didn’t look the way I wanted it to. Maybe it was inconvenient or time consuming when I felt I had no time. He’s working to grow me so He can use me to grow them.

And then, sometimes He grows them in spite of me.

Because I’m not raising world changers. He is. And He does it one next right thing at a time.

___________________________

Consider yourself humbly invited to stay connected with us through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Google+…or you can have our latest posts delivered directly to your inbox via email.

3 Comments
Filed Under: Christmas, Faith, Family, Holidays, Keepers of the Home, Parenting

because fear

17 Oct posted by Kasey

I’ll be honest. My human nature–my natural tendency–is to worry. And if I run out of things to worry about (as if!) just give me a minute…I’ll dream something up. Yet I know it’s not only a waste of time but it’s also flat wrong.

Because you see, it truly is a human tendency to worry over that which we feel bound by responsibility to control. By the grace of God, we’ve been equipped with a desire to provide for the basic needs of ourselves and our families. And that’s a good thing. A very, very good thing–but under one condition: We must never lose sight of the fact that we can only protect and provide for those things He enables us to. Anything and everything we accomplish is purely and simply because He allowed us to.

It’s a collaboration of our human will being willing to persevere with His infinite wisdom tempering our efforts for our very best good. We certainly play a part but only because that’s how He designed it.

The wrongness of worry isn’t with the fear itself but what we do with that fear when faced with it. Our response makes all the difference. Take a quick drive through the sludge of current events and you’ll find yourself tempted to park where your thoughts are constantly feeding the meter of anxiety.

Consider it, instead, a no parking zone. You have no business hanging out there and neither do I.

Ebola can’t take anything from me that He can’t redeem.

The enterovirus has no power of its own. The body can become sick even while the spirit is gaining in strength.

The president–even of the United States–cannot take down a people or a nation unless it’s all part of the greater plan.

Terrorists cannot force us to succumb to terror unless we open the door and allow them in. They can destroy buildings and shorten the days of our temporal lives but they cannot keep us from Jesus.

I’m inclined to believe satan (am I the only one who has trouble capitalizing the first letter of his name?) is in panic mode. If we can sense and urgency and shortness of time, surely he can. He seems to be working furiously to abduct as many souls as possible and his greatest and most effective weapon is fear. If he can immobilize us and paralyze us and confuse us, he can control our minds and distract our hearts.

Our defense is simple: Don’t be still long enough for him to capture you.

Matthew 6:25-34 tells us exactly where our focus should be and it isn’t on the preservation of this life. It’s all about the next life. The better life. The life that will make all the trials, temptations and tears we face here fade away.

But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. {Matt. 6:33-34 KJV}

Our focus should be on Him. On eternity. As we move through this life, we can and should do what we’re capable of to maintain health and well-being. We’re to use the wisdom He imparts to us as we care for our families. We ought to be taking measures to safeguard against illness and disease but even more so against moral and spiritual decay. It’s insanity to battle a virus or bacteria with fear and trembling while giving little thought to what is going into our minds or those of our children. THAT should have us shaking in our boots.

One of my very favorite quotations I’ve ever come across was one I found just this week.

“He gives most who gives with joy. If in your work (for me, that’s motherhood) you have difficulties accept them with joy, with a big smile. The best way to show your gratitude to God and people is to accept everything with joy.”

You know what I love about it so much? That it gives me something practical to do. Give with joy. Accept with joy. Show gratitude with joy. Because a life well-lived is one lived with Jesus and with joy.

Purpose to show your children joy today. Dig deep until you find it. Hit your knees and ask Him for it. Seek it out and share it well. Do not live with a spirit of fear. You’re only stealing your own joy and that of your family while denying God entrance to your heart. Embrace each moment. Savor the beautiful people you’ve been given. Do not sit over them in fear you may lose them…determine to extract the joy from every moment you’re granted with them.

No more excuses. No more validating your anxiety by saying it’s just your genetic makeup. No more wasting today by worrying over tomorrow.

Smile–and seek Jesus with me.

______________________________

Consider yourself humbly invited to stay connected with us through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Google+…or you can have our latest posts delivered directly to your inbox via email.

6 Comments
Filed Under: Faith, Family, Health and Nutrition, Keepers of the Home, Parenting, Prayer

because making home beautiful matters…a $50 giveaway

24 Jun posted by Kasey

As many of you know, we are currently between homes. Drifters. Gypsies. A well-loved “homeless” family. But once upon a time, I was a modern-day homemaker with walls to decorate and shelves to fill and cupboards to stock. Lord willing, one day soon we will find the home He has waiting for us and I will once again take up my favorite role.

In the meantime, I’m learning many lessons and unlearning many bad habits such as lack of patience, selfish desire, wanting my way (and wanting it now!!) among others. I do so hope and pray I’m a quick learner.

A few weeks before the move that led to the last move (if you’re confused, don’t worry…so are we) I was contacted by a sweetheart from WiseDecor. She asked if I’d be willing to review their product and then share it with my readers. I was more than happy to oblige, having no idea what was just over the horizon. The poor lady doubtless regrets ever contacting me as I’ve been nothing but a headache and my review is months late. But I will say this…

The products this company produces are top-rate! And they WILL be gracing the walls of my soon-to-be-by-the-grace-of-God-home.

The following are some samples from the website:

The customer service is terrific. The design options are seemingly endless. The quality is impeccable. The finished products are gorgeous!! And no, she didn’t bribe me to say so. She simply waited patiently for me to get around to sharing the truth. Here are a few more samples…

And now WiseDecor is offering a $50 credit to the randomly generated winner of the giveaway you’ll find below. Just click to enter…no catch and no gimmicks.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Leave a Comment
Filed Under: Faith, Family, Giveaways, Keepers of the Home

let me tell you a story about a very stubborn woman (that would be me!)

16 May posted by Kasey

I haven’t had much to say around here lately. I’d like to claim it’s because I’ve been otherwise occupied, but it would be a lie. Actually, maybe it wouldn’t. I have been fully occupied by bitterness.

I’ll start at the beginning. Don’t worry, I’ll edit so it doesn’t get too long.

We moved about 3 1/2 months ago into a house just a town over from the Walton’s Mountain home. The house wasn’t aesthetically pleasing but it was on a well, could be heated by wood and sat on 15 acres. This added up to a huge savings in utility expense and a great outdoor space for our active kiddos.

Only we quickly learned the well water was a wreck. It stunk (let me be clear, it still stinks!!), tasted horrible and discolored our belongings. It was a dream come true. I know, I know. Sarcasm-liness is not next to godliness. It’s something I’ve been begging the Lord to help me work on.

We asked the landlord if something might be done about the water situation. We were (and still are) having to buy bottled water for drinking and cooking purposes. And apparently our children are a very rare, pale and skinny breed of water buffalo. Who knew? The expense was adding up.

The landlord came by with a sandwich baggie and collected a sample from the sink. She assured me while she was there, that she believed the water to be just fine and that all it likely needed was bleach poured into the well. This is called a shock. Believe me, I was shocked.

After two weeks and no word on the sample, we called and asked about it. She wouldn’t disclose the findings but instructed that we needed to shock the well. We have our flaws but we’re generally obedient and so we did.

The stink changed to a different kind of stink and our belongings weren’t being as badly discolored. However, our kids started getting a rash when exposed to the water for more than a few minutes. This, by the way, is an excellent excuse for a child looking to get out of doing kitchen duty or looking to avoid bathing. We have children of both kinds.

However, being slow to connect the dots between the bleach and the rashes, we shocked the well again two weeks later after being instructed to do so, since the effects of the first had worn off. I believe I failed to mention that each shock process leaves us without water for 24 hours or more. I don’t have to tell you how much fun that is with 9 people living here.

Anyway, after the second time we finally made the connection to the bleach being added to the well causing the rashes. I’m not even going to lie…I was pretty much livid. I’d struggled through 3 months of dealing with gross water that we weren’t warned about and now this?

Skipping over some details that would bring no glory to God, I’ll just say we received a very unfavorable response to our written request for something to be done about the undisclosed water situation or for our rent to be adjusted to make provision for the additional expense and hardship of dealing with it . Things swiftly spun out of control as the landlord became more volatile by the day and within little more than a week we were informed we were being evicted

We were being evicted for asking for clean, usable water in our rental house. Unbelievable.

After our attempts to talk through our differences was met with flat denial, we finally contracted legal counsel in order to protect ourselves from an unjust lawsuit. That meeting was on Monday of this week. We’d been beaten (figuratively speaking), badgered, bullied and threatened. We were exhausted, stressed and angry.

Did I mention we were angry? Because we were. But that brings me to this morning.

I woke around 4 am, just before my husband had to leave for his shift at the station. We’d been dealt another blow last night and we’d had enough. After talking briefly and saying goodbye, I sat down to my Bible study. Comfortable with the knowledge that in just a few hours we were contacting our attorney to let her know we would not be caving to the landlord’s demands and that we’d be filing a countersuit if she chose to pursue it, I opened my Bible.

As God would have it, though it wasn’t in the study plan for today, I read 1 Peter 3:9.

Not rendering evil for evil, or railing for railing: but contrariwise blessing; knowing that ye are thereunto called, that ye should inherit a blessing. (KJV)

I began to waver. Was it possible we were wrong?

We weren’t wrong about the water, of that I was certain. Whether it was considered a health hazard or not, it was not clean or usable and that is a basic right of a tenant. At the very least we had the right to be warned of those conditions before being bound by a lease. What could we be wrong about?

Determined to assure myself of our rightness, I dared to type into the google search bar the following: is it ever right for a Christian to sue?

And up popped good ol’ John Piper with a video, not just on lawsuits, but offering an example of people who had bought a house with undisclosed issues. I’m not even terribly familiar with Piper but I nearly cried watching the video because it was so very much like God was speaking directly to me. Wait a minute, let me rephrase that. God was speaking to me as He lead my morning study into areas I hadn’t intended. And I felt Him asking, “Why aren’t you willing to be wronged?”

My husband called when he reached work and we talked about it. He agreed that we needed to proceed as Christ would have us rather than as our emotions were beginning to lead.

We will not be having this go through the courts. We will pack our belongings and move all 9 plus 1 of us out of here. We will leave the house in excellent, better than we found it condition. We won’t stand and fight for a home that can’t meet our needs anyway. We surrender. We’re over here waving the white flag. Not because we’re weak but because He is strong.

He’s strong enough to find us a new home and provide us with the money we need to secure it. He’s strong enough to help us through a separation as the children and I likely head to another state to stay with family as my husband remains here for work. He’s strong enough to get me through the rest of this pregnancy even under such circumstances.

But mostly, He’s strong enough to use this situation to work for good in the life of a woman who may not know Him. And He’s strong enough to help us walk away, pride in check and heads held high as we extend forgiveness and trust that He has a plan. A really, really good one.

This is the prayer I wrote in my journal this morning. I share in case any of you are needing to be emptied of pride or bitterness.

Dear Lord,

I am a prideful, sinful woman. I am filled with a bitterness I don’t even recognize. I anger easily and want my way. Subdue me. Save me from myself. Give me a desire to be more, better. Equip me with a heart for that which is right and empty me of this darkness that has me chasing down my rights. Help me learn to be willing to be wronged and teach me to be able to return evil with kindness. Thank you for not discarding me, as I do others when I can’t find the good in them. Amen.