Pressing Pause

I’ve been pretty silent here and on social media since my daughter was born. The transition to two children has been simultaneously beautiful and wild, and 2021 was one of the best and hardest years I’ve experienced so far. Insomnia, postpartum depression and anxiety, and Covid brought hardship, while some other things that I’m not ready to talk about publicly yet led to deep restoration within our family.

This week, I finished reading Jodi Picoult’s latest novel, about a Manhattanite stuck on a tropical island as the Covid pandemic hits New York City and the world. The main character shares a realization halfway through the book that resonated with me during this season:

Here, I can’t lose myself in errands and work assignments; I can’t disappear in a crowd. I am forced to walk instead of run, and as a result I’ve seen things I would have sped past before—the fuss of a crab trading up for a new shell, the miracle of a sunrise, the garish burst of a cactus flower.

Busy is just a euphemism for being so focused on what you don’t have that you never notice what you do.

It’s a defense mechanism. Because if you stop hustling—if you pause—you start wondering why you ever thought you wanted all those things.

As a former New Yorker who traded deadlines for diapers, I so feel this! It’s not that I’m not busy anymore but that I’ve stopped hustling. My productivity looks different. (I’ve talked about this before.) And since giving birth to my daughter, I’ve finally allowed myself to pause.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been striving. I’ve been working to answer the question, “Am I enough?” Having a lot on my plate and pushing myself to be “the best” is the easy way out for me. But focusing on the present and finding contentment in Christ alone? That’s a lot harder. That’s when I start to gaze at myself and wonder if I measure up.

Perhaps you can relate to the thoughts below, some of which are my own and others are what I’ve heard from friends:

• If I'm not freelance writing and continuing my professional career, am I enough?

• If I’m not blogging and sharing God’s Word publicly, am I enough?

• If I’m not exercising regularly, am I enough?

• If I’m still single and so desire to get married, am I enough?

• If I’m struggling with infertility, am I enough?

• If I’m living paycheck to paycheck, am I enough?

• If I keep getting passed up for that promotion, am I enough?

• If my relationships are on the rocks, am I enough?

• If I don’t have enough saved for my kids’ college and my retirement, am I enough?

• If I don’t know what God thinks about me, am I enough?

Friend, you are enough.

In Jesus, you are enough. Christianity is the only religion in the world that says you don’t have to do it all, you don’t have to check off all the boxes, because God already has. He is the perfect one, not you. He created you, purposefully and intentionally. You are precious in His sight. And He guarantees (yes, guarantees!) your salvation through your faith and His grace. Not through anything you’ve done or anything you feel.

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience— among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the bodya and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. (Ephesians 2:1-10)

I’m so thankful for God’s grace and for the reminder that I am enough, even when I don’t feel like it. That I can come to Him with all my burdens and worries and find rest (Matthew 11:28-30).

My prayer this year is to live more like Jesus. In the words of Kristi McLelland, I want to stare at God and only glance at myself. “He must increase, and I must decrease.” (John 3:30) Yes, yes, yes. Thank you, Father.

Dear Future Daughter, Part Two

Five years ago, I was living in New York City and figuring out my newfound faith and zeal for the Lord. Five years ago, I was two months into dating my husband and had no idea what the future would hold. Five years ago, I wrote a letter on this blog to my future daughter.

Today I’m resharing that heartfelt letter because the dream of a daughter is no longer some far-off, maybe thing. It’s a God-given reality. We’re having baby number two this summer—a girl.

I still can’t quite believe it. I was completely convinced we were having another baby boy, and that I would always be a boy mom. I was looking forward to (even more) baseballs and fire trucks and playing in the dirt. But God surprised me with this good and perfect gift, and I’m praying now that our son and daughter would be the best of friends—running the race toward Him together.

All glory be to God!

---

Dear daughter,

Today is May 11, 2016. I’m sipping my tea, writing to you from my desk in New York City. Yes, The Big Apple; I’ve lived here for three and a half years now. I am 26 years old. I’m not engaged or married, but I write this letter looking toward a future with you in it.

I don’t know when or where I am going to meet you. I don’t know when I’m going to give this to you. What I do know are a few things to be true about you. Things that will never change, no matter the circumstances.

You are, quite simply, a gift.

You make me happier than I ever thought could be. I wondered about you for years and years. Now you’re here, and I don’t know how I lived my life without you.

I spent a long time—too much time—wrestling with fear and doubt, with voices in my head that made me feel unworthy. I listened to those statements. I heard lies that I wasn’t worthy because I wasn’t enough—successful enough, smart enough, pretty enough, good enough. I had my heart broken and discarded. I felt alone, and I didn’t love the woman I was.

“The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.”

— 2 Peter 3:9

That season of my life was difficult, painful, sad. It included many ups and downs. I didn’t know how I’d make it out of the darkness. A family of my own seemed like such a silly desire when I couldn’t seem to take care of myself. I wasn’t sure if I would ever have you. So I put that dream on a shelf, tucked away and collecting dust without much hope for a future.

But I want to tell you today that that season ended. The cold, dark winter melted away, and the world felt a little more like springtime. I began to blossom. I began to hope. I found faith in a God who never really left me, who continually called me back to Him. He watched over me all those years; He was writing my story in the most beautiful way. He gave me a new life that I might one day share that life with you.

Soon enough, the darkness dissipated, the depression diminished, and my anxieties started to fade. The Light of Christ came in, slowly but surely illuminating my world once again.

And I took that dream off the shelf.

I dreamt of you, daughter. I dreamt of your big, bright eyes; your curly hair; your sweet smile and infectious laugh. I dreamt of your tender heart, your wisdom beyond your years, and your generous spirit. I dreamt of the radiant beauty that stemmed from deep down in your soul.

“Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.””

— John 14:6

I dreamt of how I would speak to you, teach you, care for you. The more I dreamt of you, the more I began to love myself. Because dreaming of you helped me think of the woman I was designed to be: wholehearted and full of grace. I thought about how I would care for you and point you back to the Father. I will never lie to you, or say that you are unworthy. I will never tell you that you need to be smarter, be prettier, be better, be more. I can promise you that. So why would I listen to those lies myself? Dreaming of you meant I started talking back to the lies, answering them with truth. I filled the space with God and with you.

I dreamt that you, too, would stand firmly in the Light.

I know there will be times when you experience your own hardship on this earth. The world might try to hurt you. It might even try to break you down. You’re going to fall and feel weak. You’re going to fail. But when you accept Christ, you have steadfast strength and courage within you. That’s the Holy Spirit.

Stand firm in who you are. Remember the things that really matter in this life. Remember that your identity is secure in our great God. Set your heart on all that sheds light.

“For “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.””

— Romans 10:13

Your dad and I cherish you more than anything. We praise God for your existence. We know you are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139). You are lovely in all your imperfections. You are gifted uniquely and with great purpose—nothing about you is a mistake. From your head to your toes, you are created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27).

We are here for you no matter what. You encourage us and make us better people just by being you. I’m so honored to call you mine. I admire you and look at you with more joy than I ever knew possible.

I want you to know one more truth, daughter: Christ’s perfect love casts out all fear (1 John 4:18). He loves us so deeply—so flawlessly—that He enables us to love you in return. I strive to reflect His love to you each day so that you, too, know He’s calling you into His arms, guiding you and protecting you every step of the way.

I love you, sweet girl.

Mom

Lessons Learned

This past weekend, we went on a snowy, winter hike. It was a short, relatively easy one mile to the top, where a beautiful, icy glacier awaited us. We’d done this hike a few times before but always during the summer. We all dressed in warm clothes and boots, and we set off excitedly on our journey.

We took some incredible photos, like the one above. It looks like a winter wonderland, right? And in the photo I shared on Instagram where you see our faces, we look super happy.

What our beautiful photos don’t show you is that we ended up being pretty unprepared for the frigid temps and strong winds that met us at the top. My husband and I both forgot our gloves. (Oof.) Even though our son had on his warmest mittens, coat, boots, and hat, he still looked pretty darn cold and windburned halfway through the hike. Right before we headed back down, I started to feel anxious and worried for him. And unfortunately, I took my frustration and fear out on my husband by yelling at him. Never the way to go. Our son started screaming and crying.

His crying picked up as we began our descent. And it was the awful, sad, high-pitched kind of cry that comes with lots of tears and a very runny nose. It hurts my heart just thinking about it.

Charles took him out of the hiking backpack to instead hold him close. He used his bare hands to warm our little guy’s face, while going as fast as he could down the hill. Twenty minutes later, we’re back at our car, all trying to warm up and calm down. Our son was still screaming, and Charles’ hands hurt so bad, I thought he had frostbite.

The next thing we know, the car starts blasting air instead of heat—and then it shuts off completely.

Well, THANK THE LORD my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and three of her kids were with us. They took a separate car, so praise God we could all pile in their vehicle to stay warm. At this point, Charles realized our car wouldn’t start because it was out of gas. We were stuck. Cue another angry outburst from me. Yikes.

My angel sister-in-law drove us all a half hour to the nearest town, where we picked up a tank of gas. And then she drove us all back up that mountain so Charles could fill our car. Did I mention she is an angel? 😊

After a few unsuccessful starts, and more shivering in the freezing temps, Charles was able to fill up our tank with those two precious gallons of gas. It was just enough to let us coast down the mountain into the nearest town to fill up with a full tank. After that, we all headed safely back to my sister-in-law’s for a delicious homemade dinner and cozy night in.

It was a crazy afternoon, one that taught me a few valuable lessons I want to share with you here:

1. Never let your gas tank get below half a tank during the winter, especially if you’re traveling at higher altitudes.

2. Always keep an emergency kit in your car.

3. What you see on social media is almost always a highlight reel. We took some beautiful photos on our hike. But like I said when I shared a picture on my Instagram, a photo only depicts a small snippet of a story. Social media is a platform where most of us, most of the time, show off our very best selves. Remember that whenever you’re tempted to compare yourself to someone else. You never know what their full story might be.

4. My attitude as a mom has the ability to affect my entire family. This goes for every one of us moms, and I would argue for anyone helping lead a family. I remember reading this in a motherhood book, and this weekend I learned it is so, so true. My temperature affects my husband’s and my children’s. I want to be a mom who parents with joy and who trusts in the Lord as much and as often as I humanly can.

5. Last but certainly not least: Despite my turbulent emotions, God is always stable. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). When I’m fearful, when I’m anxious, when I’m angry, when I’m out of gas—God is my rock (Isaiah 44:8). He is my anchor (Hebrews 6:19). He’s the only One I can tether myself to for true protection, provision, and peace. He is the Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6). Thank you, Lord!

“Do not tremble, do not be afraid. Did I not proclaim this and foretell it long ago? You are my witnesses. Is there any God besides me? No, there is no other Rock; I know not one.”

— Isaiah 44:8

Becoming a Stay-at-Home Mom

Back in July, when my son was almost four months old, I officially resigned from my full-time marketing job. I had proposed a remote work arrangement with my bosses, but they turned me down. As much as my pride was hurt, I knew in my heart that their decision was for the best. Frankly, I didn’t want to go back to work, and after having five different bosses in a year and a half, I felt my time there had come to a close.

“Who knows, perhaps you have come to your royal position for such a time as this. ”

— Esther 4:14b

Charles and I had prayed about what I would do once the baby came, and the decision became abundantly clear as I spent weeks at home with our little love. I couldn’t imagine leaving him at home with someone else or enrolling him in daycare.

I knew without a doubt that God called me into motherhood, at this specific time, for His specific purpose. And I knew I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom.

I love being a SAHM. I love staying home with my son, and I feel incredibly grateful to have the opportunity to do so. I know this isn’t the case for many moms who desire to stay home but need two incomes to support their families. While, yes, we’ve had to make some financial sacrifices—like continuing to rent rather than buying a home and driving one car rather than two—the choice has been easy. This is what is best for our family.

Yet the prideful, approval-loving part of my heart still felt wounded when I was straight-up told no to my offer to work remotely. Since handing in my resignation letter, I’ve reached out to my editorial contacts to begin writing again, something I very much love to do. I’ve either been denied or ignored, and it’s frustrating.

Working is what I’ve done my whole life—from school to college to full-time career woman in NYC and Nashville. It’s what I know. It’s what’s comfortable. I enjoy working, and I am constantly striving to be “successful.” (Goodness, whatever that means.) I also tend to compare myself to others, so when I’ve been asked what my son and I do all day, I instantly turn from confident to sheepish.

“Well, we wake up, and I nurse him. Then I eat breakfast and try to read the Bible. He usually wants to nap by the time I finish, and he’ll do that for an hour or two. That’s my chance to finish reading, maybe journal, shower, and get ready. Depending on the day, we’ll go to a Bible study or mom’s group, or we’ll stroll Target or hit the grocery store. Pretty soon, it’s lunchtime, then nap time again, and before I know it, I’m prepping dinner. Evenings can be tough, and my baby is usually extra fussy. I might try to take a walk, I might give him a bath and read him a story, and then I put him to bed around 7:30. I crash by 9 or 9:30 p.m.”

I share my answer and then immediately tick off in my mind all the stay-at-home moms I know who also:

• Run successful, money-making blogs

• Freelance write

• Write books

• Consult with clients

• Teach yoga

• Run a styling business

• Work remotely for their company

• Host a podcast

• Cook gourmet meals most nights

• Bake homemade desserts most days

• Lead Bible studies or discipleship groups

I want to be like those women, too. I want to be uber-productive and more than “just a mom.” Even though I recognize my job is incredibly important and a gift and something I love, I can still feel that tension.

During the last few months of transition, I have felt like I have to somehow justify the statement: “I’m a stay-at-home mom.”

Why? Why do I feel the need to add that but/and statement following my declaration of stay-at-home motherhood? Why do I want to assure people that I have a blog and I write and I do all these other things in addition to momming full-time?

Oh, my pride runs deep. Perhaps you can relate. It took words from my husband to wake me up and realize the truth:

“Mags, you are productive, simply in a different way. You’re producing our son! What could be more important than that?”

I’ve needed to hear my husband’s words, plus the encouragement of other moms and ultimately the encouragement of God’s Word to wake up and realize this is the greatest job I’ve ever had. My husband is right. I’m more productive than I ever have been—but it looks a lot different than writing articles, producing reports, and leading meetings. I’m not getting words of affirmation from coworkers and bosses. There’s no paycheck coming into my bank account every two weeks, no pat on the back for a job well done.

Instead, my feedback is the sound of laughter from my son. The smiles that are so big his dimples pop. The beginnings of words: “Mama.” And yes, many times I get tears and screams and spit-up and blowout diapers. But there’s so much sweetness in that. I’m growing my son from a baby to a boy. Feeding him (a full-time job in and of itself). Cleaning him. Playing with him. Teaching him sounds and words and movements. I have the rest of my life to work outside the home. These days are fleeting.

“Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation”

— 1 Peter 2:2

Just as God birthed His Spirit within me, now He’s birthed my child. He’s given me the privilege of raising him and teaching Him to walk in the Way of righteousness. God has cared for me and held me. He’s sacrificed for me, and He calls me beloved. He looks at me the way I look at my little one—as precious, fearfully and wonderfully made. He’s showing me more of Himself than I ever knew possible through motherhood.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”

— James 1:17

I am watching my son now as I type these. He’s rocking in his swing, chewing on a teething toy, and smiling at me with that adorable gummy grin. It warms my heart in a way I’ve never known before. Thank you, Father, for this good and perfect gift.

Becoming a mother, and a stay-at-home mom at that, has been both the hardest and greatest thing I’ve ever done. Or rather, that God has done for me. God is using motherhood to refine me every single day. He’s molding me and helping me see more of His character. He’s making me more like Him, through all the diaper changes and tears and sleepless nights along the way. God is holding my hand, sustaining me in this new season and reminding me of His goodness to provide this precious child to us.

I am my son’s caregiver, teacher, provider, and nurturer. I am his mother, and I am so, so thankful.

Father, give me joy and peace in my new calling, knowing my identity rests in You alone, Lord. Not a job title or paycheck, not more blog posts or more freelance work. In Christ alone. Thank you for Your faithfulness. Thank you for making me a momma. Help me to trust You in all areas of my life. Help me to disciple my son. Use me to be a light and bring glory to your Kingdom. I pray all this in Jesus’ name, Amen.