This Mother’s Day was my first time being included in the “mother club.” It felt good—if strange—to have people wishing me a “Happy Mother’s Day.” So many people assured me this past Sunday that I was indeed a mother, and it got me thinking about what truly makes a mother and why we actually celebrate mothers.
 
We celebrate mothers because of the relationship we have with them. For those of us blessed enough to have had good, godly mothers, this relationship is one that imitates God’s relationship with His children because it is a relationship built upon often unrequited sacrifice, selflessness, and love.

​Just like we love God because He first loved us, we love our mothers because they have shown so much love for us before we even knew how to reciprocate. 

The sound of “Count Your Blessings” instantly transports me back in time. I grew up singing this beloved hymn, but sometimes, in the nostalgia of the melody, I forget the powerful truth of the words. This past month has been so full and packed with good things:

• My Mom received clear pet scans and biopsies and was told, to the disbelief and astonishment of her doctors, that she is in remission after taking only half of the prescribed chemo treatments.
• My husband and I escaped for a weekend babymoon, a time for just the two of us.
• My church friends and family gave baby Lucy and me the most beautiful shower, supplying many needed baby items.
• My parents were able to visit for nearly a week. We enjoyed time together and celebrated Mom’s improving health and our upcoming addition to the family.

As I approach the beginning of my third trimester, God has been pricking my heart constantly. Everything in my life seems somehow heavier. Not harder, necessarily, just more important.

My daily habits—the working out of my faith in my life—will soon affect a brand-new little life that God has entrusted to me and my husband. 

This realization has opened my eyes to the reality of my faith in a world that will try to teach my child so many things that oppose that faith.

Who can I turn to in order to find what I need to become a good and faithful mother? The answer is simple: my heavenly Father.

​God has pushed my heart toward prayer more in these recent months than ever before.

​Growing up as a pastor’s kid sometimes made me feel at a disadvantage—ostracized in some way from other children. Expectations were different. Our lifestyle was different. Anything I did or said could come back to damage my parents’ ministry and reputation. And sometimes, this all seemed unfair.
​
As a child and teenager, I tended to see only the negative aspects of my family’s ministry. I loved my parents, but sometimes I wished I could feel just a bit more “normal.”

​As an adult, ministry has become a choice I make for myself instead of my parents making it for me. I decide how I minister and where, and sometimes I feel my own fears getting in the way.

At this point in my life, I know that ministry is worth it. I know that it is important. 

Have you ever longed to pour your heart out to God about something personal, but you felt handicapped by an inability to express what you were feeling?
 
Several times in my life, I have said “Jesus, please help me,” over and over again because I didn’t know what kind of help to ask for.

​I believe that our Father can hear all of our prayers—even the unspoken ones—because He sees our hearts. However, I have recently discovered a helpful tool to make these moments with God more meaningful to me.
 
This Christmas, one of my dear friends bought me a book called Every Moment Holy by Douglas McKelvey. In essence, this is a book of themed prayers written for specific moments, emotions, and situations that life brings our way.

Sometimes it’s hard to write about what’s going on in your heart and life while it’s happening. A testimony is easier to share when you can give it an ending that makes everyone say, “Amen!” Recently, though, God has been teaching me that life isn’t always about resolutions. Sometimes He teaches us the most when it seems like every detail of our lives is “in-process.”
​
Early in October, my husband and I learned that we are expecting our first baby. I think I experienced a mild shock. It took four tests and a doctor’s appointment to convince me that I was, in fact, pregnant.

Over the past few years, I’ve gone from terrified at the very idea of having kids to a great desire to have children. On October 1, my 29th birthday, I even wished that this year would be the year. 

When I moved from Pennsylvania to Georgia, seven years ago, one of the most daunting things I faced was the need to make new friends in a new place. I struggled. For me, the small talk and slow give and take of information, actions, and opinions that eventually build trust, love, and friendship is a hard process.
 
Don’t get me wrong, I love friendship, and I have several close friends with whom I love to talk and spend quality time. I love friendships that are already established—already tested.

I love friendships where:

• trust is given and received freely.
• disagreements are interesting instead of uncomfortable.
• distance makes us more creative with ways to stay close instead of pulling us apart.