It is always an honor to get to share more of our story and help continue the discussion about pregnancy loss. This month, I had the opportunity to chat once again with The 700 Club Canada. The interview was aired on Friday, just before Mother’s Day — which was such special timing. For so many of us, Mother’s Day is full of blended and complex emotions. For those of us who have experienced a pregnancy loss, we feel the weight of what this day could have looked like. But while our babies may not be seen, while we may not get to hold them in our arms or kiss them goodnight, we will always be a mother.

You can watch the interview with The 700 Club below. I had a really lovely time sharing a family update and chatting about my book, Embrace: Clinging to Christ Through the Pain of Pregnancy Loss. To order a copy of Embrace for yourself or a loved one, please feel free to contact me. (Embrace is also available on Amazon, here.)

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When the wounds of this world sting like countless paper cuts against my heart, it’s easy for me to lean into “unforgiveness.” It’s easier for me to bring bitterness, rather than grace, to the table. It’s easy for me to forget that I have been forgiven all.

“But they were wrong. They should apologize to me!” I try to justify my anger. Stewing and steaming, I toss and turn in my bed. Their slights against me dig deeper.

“My child, how much have I forgiven you?” The whisper calls me out of darkness and into the light.

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Take heart, dear friends because God's not done

Dear friend, I don’t know what you’re struggling with today.

I don’t know what battles you’re fighting or what sort of weight you’re carrying. I don’t know what news you’ve received or what valleys you’re slogging through. This world feels heavy sometimes. You may be battle-weary and bloodied from the fight. But take hope, sweet friend. Because God’s not done.

The pages of our lives don’t always read the way we wanted them to. Our life stories are significantly messier, more scarred, and more tearstained than we’d like. And this year, it may feel like you’re sinking — struggling to keep your head above the waves.

But in this midst of this current season — in the disappointment and the rejection, the searing pain and the devastation, the loneliness and the brokenness — I pray for that flickering ember of hope within.

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The shepherds didn’t bring gold to the manger. They didn’t bring frankincense or myrrh or costly treasures.

They didn’t bring a gift at all.

They knelt before the Savior of the world with empty hands. Their skin still creased with dirt from the nearby fields. Their worn cloaks still smelling of the flock they so dutifully tended.

With nothing to offer but their adoration, they came to the stable.

And there, they met the King.

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On the days I’m feeling most empty and broken, I remember the woman who reached out to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment.

The one whose touch He felt amidst the jostling crowd.

The one He stopped to not just look at, but to truly see.

The one He called “daughter.”

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“Thy will be done.”

The words are familiar to us. Memorized and held close against our hearts, this prayer was given to us by Jesus himself in Matthew 6. It is a simple but weighty instruction manual to prayer.

“Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come, your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.”

Matthew 6:9-10

But those words, “Thy will be done.” My sinful self finds them much harder to say.

It’s difficult to say, “Thy will be done” when faced with tremendous pain or suffering. How can I pray “Thy will be done” knowing that I may not be comfortable with the answer? Or when faced with the realities of this world — with sickness and job loss and injustice and brokenness? Can I trust His will even then?

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It doesn’t matter who they are. As soon as she sees them walking towards her, the little hand pops up over the edge of the stroller, waving hello.

She sees them.

The neighbours. The dog walkers. The ones busily shouting into their phones. The ones walking alone. Old. Young. The ones I’d chose to avoid eye-contact with.

She sees all of them.

And I can’t help but wonder what life would be like if I stopped to truly see them too.

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A year ago today, we said good-bye.

In an ugly hospital room, surrounded by friends and family, my mom gave up her failing, earthly body for the arms of Jesus. And if I’m honest, it felt too soon. This wasn’t the script I’d written. There were more grandbabies for her to hold. More laughter and smiles for her to wrap us in. More life.

It seems fitting that this one year anniversary falls on Good Friday: a day marked by death and sorrow. A day for tears and mourning. A day when the clothes are black, the mood somber. But what man meant for evil, God meant for Good — even death upon a cross.

Because Good Friday holds such GOOD news.  Read more

If you’ve been following along, you’ll know that we’ve spent the past two weeks working our way through the Fruit of the Spirit! Originally, I’d planned for more low-key lessons but, with a global pandemic and who-knows-how-many-weeks of self-isolation, we had to ramp things up for the sake of staying busy. (And let’s just say that these lessons are even more pertinent when you’re crammed together in close quarters for so long!)

Overall, these activities and discussions have been “fruitful” reminders for the whole family. It’s been a joy to watch our children grow in their understanding of scripture and what it means to follow God!

Galatians 5:22-23: But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness,gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.

(For those who are just joining in, be sure to check out Week One!)

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We had big plans for this spring break but alas, with travel and playgroups, pools and playgrounds, libraries and kids play areas all closed for a global pandemic, plans changed — causing my son to declare this “the worst spring break ever.” (A sentiment which honestly, just made me giggle a little since he’s in kindergarten… This is your only spring break experience, kid!)

Nonetheless,  I did want him to be able to look back on a fun (albeit low-key), first spring break. I also needed projects to keep him from getting bored while we’re stuck social-distancing at home. Learning about the Fruit of the Spirit is a great way to integrate numerous Biblical lessons throughout the day, all the while having fun with crafts and activities.

Each day includes a verse, an activity, Bible reading, and a few other suggestions for how to tackle each “fruit.” I may not be a “homeschool” mom but we’re trying our best to keep learning and have fun doing so!
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Remnants of breakfast muffins sprinkle the floor. Toys dance across kitchen counters as I appease hungry babes with slices of vegetables and bits of bread. I search for the holiness permeating the mundane. The transfer from ordinary into missional.

It’s here. The call to more.

Not to do more but to be more. To look closer. To scrape off my blinders and truly see.

A call to holiness.

A holy call.

The dishes and the diapers. Toilets in need of scrubbing and laundry still to be hung. Downy hair softly caressed as sobs make way to comforted sniffles. Sibling arguments broken up and consequences meted. Snacks diced into perfectly-sized bites. Midnight prayers offered as patience wanes and exhaustion sinks deep and grace abounds. Everyday moments with Kingdom potential.

Look up, sweet child, fix your eyes on Him and see all that which He is calling you to.

A call to more. A call to holiness.

A call to intentional living in the ordinary. Missional motherhood. A holy calling. A call to follow and serve and love. To see HIM in each of these otherwise unremarkable seeming snapshots of life.

A call that transforms the everyday into eternal promise. Never by our works but His. This redeeming, life-altering act of grace that touches everything.

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This is the face of someone who was riding the rollercoaster of “pregnancy after loss” emotions: excited and anxious, nervous and confused, joy-filled and overwhelmed.

The day I found out about this baby, I was at the hospital. It was nothing scary, just my GP being cautious and a fun, human puzzle for the doctors to unravel.

But as I waited on bloodwork and tests, the nurse gave me a little, “Congratulations.” Because those very faint positive pregnancy hormones showed up in my bloodstream and it was official. We were expecting again.

For someone who’s lost five babies, this wasn’t the way to start a calm pregnancy.

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