Manager of the Year

My husband has loved the Chicago Cubs ever since he was a kid growing up in Hendersonville, Tennessee, a mere 463 miles away from Wrigley Field. He played baseball on a little league team under the Cubs moniker in the age of Ryne Sandberg's Golden Glove. Over the last twenty five years his allegiance to the Cubs has proven it's loyalty in the face of adversity, as year after year a championship evaded the famed team. Blake pores over Chicago Cubs statistics and team news. Two years ago he made a prediction that the Cubs were on track for a winning season in 2016. Last Saturday, Blake and I enjoyed watching the Cubs play the Braves in Atlanta. As we watched Jake Arrieta pitch fast balls at break neck speeds, I realized how extraordinary this year's team truly is. We were witnessing history unfolding as Anthony Rizzo, Javier Baez, Jason Heyward, Kris Bryant, Dexter Fowler, Ben Zobrist, Addison Russell, Chris Coghlan, Albert Almora, Jr., Matt Szczur, Miguel Montero, and others took the field and played their hearts out.

Blake was keeping score and grinning from ear to ear during the game. The Chicago fans outnumbered the Braves fans 4:1 that day. We took our place in the sea of blue and cheered on our beloved Cubs. Many commentators have attributed the Cubs' success this season to their manager Joe Maddon, who has become known for his outlandish and wacky style of leadership. He intelligently manages his players while keeping the game fun. Under Maddon's authority, the group has bonded and seems more like a family of friends than a sports team. He deserves Manager of the Year just as sure as the Chicago Cubs deserve a championship. Blake and I are enjoying watching every game we can and looking forward to more wins this season from our Cubs.

This morning I held our little girl's hand on the way to the kitchen. She and I sat and talked for a little bit about Daddy and Father's Day. She climbed into her chair at the table and we made pictures and a card for Blake. Our daughters love their daddy so much. No matter how busy he is, he always makes time to get down on the floor and play with them, much to their wonder and delight. The girls and I have been sick lately and Blake has taken such good care of us. When I think of all the things we have been through - from living in a crack house, to getting robbed, then three and a half years of seminary, our first child's open heart surgery, serious illnesses, hospital stays, surgeries, deaths of family members, deaths of friends, heartbreaks, long distance moves, two babies that went to Heaven before we were ready, another three years and counting of grad school, a long distance study abroad stint, my near-death experience - these first eight years of marriage have been a "trial by fire" kind of season in life.

I am so thankful for Blake's loyalty in sickness and in health, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, til death do us part. Here we stand, two beautiful children, a few gray hairs, and four and a half degrees later, "pressed but not crushed, persecuted but not abandoned, struck down but not destroyed," eight years and nineteen days from the day we said our vows. We may be a little bedraggled and windblown but at least we're still standing, by God's grace. Today I want to publicly honor my husband, the father of my children, the greatest Cubs fan ever, for his faithfulness, his kindness, his perseverance and relentless determination towards excellence in everything he puts his hand to. He plans wisely, works hard, plays hard and keeps the game of life fun. Blake McKinney gets our votes for Manager of the Year over ol' Joe Madden every time (and we really like Joe). Happy Father's Day to our favorite Cub!

The Day Death Lost Its Sting, Part III

Part III: Easter Sunday

Jen: 

I remember an uncomfortable day of recovery in the ICU on Friday and into Saturday morning. I could not get comfortable in the bed and longed for sleep but was frequently awakened by the beeping of life saving machines and painful, confused cries issuing from nearby rooms. When the nurse told me it was time to sit up and bathe myself, I thought she was crazy. The last time I sat up I was passed out in a wheelchair and needed two emergency surgeries. With the help of my husband and a great nursing staff, I spent Saturday recovering in a room on the Labor and Delivery floor. It was bittersweet to say the least. I was mostly just thankful to be alive and wanted to see my children. My family and Blake took the girls to an Easter egg hunt with friends. Blake brought Lily to see me that night after a video chat had brought both girls to tears. There is nothing sweeter than that first hug with your almost four year old daughter after a near death experience. The next day was Easter Sunday. Blake, the girls and my family all went to church to celebrate before coming by the hospital for a much needed visit. 

I had hoped to celebrate Easter with my family and friends but was sweetly comforted by the power of Jesus's death and resurrection on my behalf as I sat in that hospital bed thinking over the events of recent days. All total, I received 14 units of blood, 7 units of fresh frozen plasma, and countless bags of fluids and nutrients to bring me back to life. To put this in perspective, a friend who is a nurse practitioner explained that a healthy person my size has 6-8 units of blood in their entire body. That blood saved my life. Truly life is in the blood as the Bible says. I have never been more aware that my life is truly reliant upon the sustaining hand of Jesus and His powerful, life-giving blood. He bled so that I can live. He died, was buried and rose again on the third day that I might have new life in Him. I can live and breathe in joy and freedom today because He rose again. I have no fear of death as the final end to my life because I know Him personally and He lives and my life is hidden in His. When I die, there will be no darkness for me, only the resplendent light of the presence of God, the loving Father who has created, cared for and nourished me all the days of my life. This life is just practice for the life to come. Here I have the opportunity to learn to love God and love others more than myself. I can live by faith and grace and enjoy the good gifts God gives us every day. I am preparing to live forever with my God and a large family of believers that will span all ethnicity, language, and time. Praise Him!

I look forward to that day when I enter that eternal joy but for now I am thankful for His continued sustaining grace that gives me a chance at life here with this lovely family He has placed me in. On Easter Sunday I was visited by a doctor who told me I could eat again for the first time since Thursday morning, a sweet gift and a means of celebration.  Monday morning I was blessed to see my doctor again and thanked her for saving my life. I am so thankful for the constant care and careful, thoughtful operations that she performed to keep me alive. She approved me for discharge from the hospital and gave me instructions for the next 4 weeks of recovery which includes a lot of bed rest and the indentured servitude of my husband in caring for the girls and me. Blake, you are my hero. We are so thankful for him!

Blake:

After the last surgery, the next 72 hours were a blur. Jen was in the ICU for another 24 hours, then a regular room for 2 days. I drove back and forth from the hospital to house numerous times to spend some time with the girls. Thanks to Jen's family, we were able to take the girls to an Easter egg hunt on Saturday and to church Sunday morning. Jen was finally released Monday afternoon. She is in for a long recovery in which she won't be able to pick up the girls or stand up/walk for any real length of time for the next month or so. However, we are thrilled to have her home. The girls are so happy to have mommy back, and our lives are starting to return to some semblance of normalcy.

Thank you all for your prayers, texts, meals, flowers, words of encouragement, etc. We have felt incredibly loved through all of this. God has been gracious to let us keep Jen, and He has shown us grace, mercy, and love through all of you.

Jen:

I am so thankful to my Marsha and Tyler and my parents who stepped in as surrogate parents for our girls when my life was ebbing away. I am immensely grateful for my amazing husband who has been dependable, strong, and so very capable through this ordeal. He is the greatest father to our girls and has sacrificed everything to care for them and me through this process. I love him more than ever and can't imagine life without his loving strong hands and kind heart. Recovery is a long hard road but I am so thankful that I am on it. I am thankful for this new day, a new chance at life. Thank you to all our family, friends, and church family who have offered love, meals, prayer, childcare, groceries, etc. We are so humbled by this outpouring of love and in desperate need of your continued support in the weeks ahead. I am thankful for the all the people who gave their blood so that I could live. Thank You Jesus for giving Your blood to cover over all my sins and wash me clean again. 

My heart if absolutely broken that this body will not grow more precious babies. Our dreams of having a biological son to carry on the family name or more little sisters that look like Lily and Eden to laugh and play with have been shattered. But God. But God has given us more than we deserve in these heartbeats and breath and bodies that live and move and have their being in Him. He has given us two beautiful little girls by His grace and goodness. He has given us hands and hearts to love and serve and care for the least of these - children who have no one to love them, no families to care for or raise them in love and truth. He has given us an opportunity to minister and relate to in a new and personal way to our beloved friends who walk the lonely, aching road of infertility. I have had two miscarriages in the past four years. My precious babies are in a real place called Heaven and they will only ever know glory, wholeness, beauty, and resplendent light. No tear will fill their eyes, nor pain grip their bodies. My soul will meet theirs in glory and together we will worship the King forever with joy and love. As for the rest of us, we don't know what the future holds for us here in this life but we are thankful for each day He gives us together. I am looking forward to the memories we will make and getting to enjoy life with these incredible people. Thank you for your prayers and support. We are blessed beyond measure and that is more than enough.

Ephesians 3:11- 21

"This was according to the eternal purpose that he has realized in Christ Jesus our Lord, 12 in whom we have boldness and access with confidence through our faith in him. 13 So I ask you not to lose heart over what I am suffering for you, which is your glory.

14 For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, 15 from whom every family[c] in heaven and on earth is named, 16 that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being,17 so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, 18 may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, 19 and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

20 Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen."

The Day Death Lost Its Sting, Part II

Good Friday, Part II

Blake:

At first, being in the ICU was not as terrifying as it sounds. The whole time we were there, I kept thinking we would be going home in a matter of hours. In the ER when they first gave her saline, I thought that would be all that was needed. Then, when they gave her blood, I thought it was a bit intense but that it would be all she needed. Then, when they said they were moving her to the ICU, the doctor said that she wanted Jen to have a dedicated nurse monitoring her blood pressure. I thought going to the ICU was a bit intense, but, hey, if that’s the only way to have someone keep an eye on her, so be it. I was convinced we’d be going home first thing in the morning. All I was concerned about was making sure I could get home for a bit to put the girls to bed somewhat close to their normal bed time. Once Jen seemed to be getting some rest, I called our pastor’s wife/resident supernurse Suzanne to come sit with Jen while I ran home. I think I ended up getting to the house sometime around 9pm. I tucked in the girls, and returned to the hospital to find around a dozen of our friends from church waiting in the chapel/waiting room outside the ICU.

Jen was awake and able to converse. Over the next couple hours I brought in one of the ladies from church in at a time to see Jen. Always considering others above herself, Jen asked how each of them was doing and she apologized for various things to them (e.g., not praying for their ministry enough). Jen’s mom and step-dad arrived around midnight. Jen’s mom is a nurse, and she quickly mastered all the data relevant to Jen’s condition. I gave Jen some time with her parents, and I visited with the remaining folk from church. I returned to the ICU, and Jen’s mom and I stayed with Jen in the ICU. The medical staff informed us that they were going to perform a DNC on Jennifer once they got her blood pressure to a stable level.

Sometime after 1am Friday morning, Jen began to feel a lot of pain. Shortly after, she began to bleed much more. Her blood pressure dropped significantly (60/19), and she teetered on unconsciousness. At this point, I have no idea how many nurses and doctors swarmed the room (maybe 8?), but I can tell you that it was terrifying. They pumped Jen with fluids and oxygen, and I’m sure they did other medical things that I did not catch. When they got her more stable (but not what anyone would call “stable” normally), they pulled me aside to tell me that Jen needed emergency surgery. Considering that they had already told me that her blood pressure was way too low to do any sort of procedure, I knew that this was a true emergency. The doctor explained to me that she was going to perform a DNC, and if she could not stop the bleeding, she would perform an emergency hysterectomy. This was completely shocking to me. I had, as of yet, not considered this possibility. But I was faced with my wife crashing and flirting with death, I knew there was no option. With a pit in my stomach, I signed the consent forms.

As we waited for the surgical team to arrive at the hospital around 1:45am, I spent as much face-to-face time with Jen as possible. We told each other “I love you” more times than I can count. Jen—always considering others—began to give me remarriage advice, saying, “Blake, I want you to remarry for the girls. I want you to marry someone like _____, ______, or _____ [three of our godly married friends]. They’re married…so you’ll have to marry someone like them.” Then, I played videos of the girls for Jen to watch as they made the final preparations for the surgery. As they rolled her out, Jen said, “Whatever happens, remember that God is good.”

Jen:

I should note that at this point I lost feeling in my limbs and experienced a creeping heaviness over my body and up my spine. I told Mom and the staff what was happening. They knew immediately that my body was shutting down, shunting my blood away from my limbs and vital organs to the most vital, my heart and brain. I was cold and afraid and yet there was a sense of clarity that ran over me. I knew that God was faithful and that whatever happened, whether I was ushered home to Heaven or my life was preserved here a while longer, God was good and we would all be ok. I didn't want to leave my family yet. I wanted Blake to be assured of God's goodness and not give way to bitterness, to instill that knowledge and faith in our children's minds and hearts. I didn't know what the surgery would entail as they rushed me toward the O.R. I remember the table being cold. They placed the mask on my nose and mouth and I welcomed the warmth of sleep.

Blake:

Jen’s mom, step-dad, and I followed Jen’s bed down the hall, until we were ushered into the OR waiting room between 2:00-2:15am. I immediately went to the far corner and called my parents to tell them what was happening. As soon as I heard their voices I began to weep. I got out the words “emergency surgery…possible hysterectomy” and a few other things. We told each other “I love you,” and I hung up. Jen’s dad wrapped his arm around me, and I lost it. Then, I sat down and texted almost everyone in my contacts list asking for prayer. I began to worry. How was I going to tell the girls if Jen died? Lily’s only concept of death was that Jesus died and then came back three days later. How would I explain that it doesn’t work like that for the rest of us?

A few friends were awake to text back that they were praying. One of my dear friends from church came and sat with us through the surgery. We got a couple updates throughout the surgery telling us of Jen's progress. After the surgery, her doctor came to tell me that Jen had made it through the surgery well. She had performed the DNC (a procedure to clean out a miscarriage), and then monitored Jen's bleeding for a while. Without giving the gory details, she then did something to put pressure on the bleeding, which seemed to significantly slow it down. She said that it was a possibility that Jen might not need another surgery, but we would be watching her closely for the next 12 hours. By this point, Jen had been given 7 units of blood (from what I'm told, that is about the equivalent of the amount of blood someone Jen's size has in their entire body). Shortly afterwards they wheeled Jen back to the ICU, I had to wait 15-20 minutes to see her.

It was such a relief to see Jen back in the ICU (which is probably the weirdest sentence I've ever typed). She was weak and tired, but she was alive (and she had her uterus!). She seemed stable enough for Jen's parents to go to a hotel to sleep for a bit (as they had been up for 24 hours and driven 4.5 hours at this point). Within 30-45 minutes, however, Jen complained that she felt like she was bleeding again. The nurse examined her and realized that she was indeed bleeding just as much as before. The doctor came in and explained that Jennifer was diagnosed with D.I.C. (You can google it, but basically it means that she was bleeding to death and bleeding for such a length of time that her body would lose the ability to clot), and that a hysterectomy was the only solution. Otherwise her major organs would start to fail, beginning with her kidneys and liver. I called Jen's parents, but they were in no condition to drive back to the hospital. Once again, I signed consent forms, told Jennifer I loved her, and followed her bed down the hall until I was ushered into the O.R. waiting room again.

This time I did not have the O.R. waiting room to myself. It was around 6am, and all the general surgery folk (tonsils, hernias, etc.) were milling about in the waiting room. I felt so alone. No one in there knew worry like I did at that moment. I called and talked with my sister for a while, and then, thankfully, friends from church began to file in. Waiting during this surgery was considerably less terrifying. Early on in the surgery they called me to tell me that her blood pressure had risen into the triple digits for the first time in a long while once they had clamped off the uterus. From then on, we waited, prayed, and talked. I am thankful for the friends that came that allowed me to talk and even laugh with them as I tried to take my mind off the hell we were living through. 

Around an hour or an hour and a half after they took her back to surgery, Jen's doctor came and got me. We sat and talked in a room off the O.R. waiting room. She was exhausted and I was exhausted, but we could both relax knowing that Jen was out of the woods. Her blood pressure was much closer to normal, and the source of the bleeding was gone. With this surgery Jen was moved from a life-and-death case to a recovering-from-major-but-semi-routine-abdominal-surgery case.

The Day Death Lost Its Sting, Part I

Part I: Thursday

Jen:

Blake and I spent the morning cleaning the house and getting ready for a much anticipated visit from Marsha and Tyler, my sister and brother-in-law. Around 12:30 I jumped in the shower, planning to eat a quick lunch afterwards and put the kids down for their nap. Within seconds of entering the shower, I realized that my miscarriage was in process. About two weeks earlier, my doctor had confirmed that our baby did not have a heartbeat. Blake and I mourned the loss of our sweet child and hoped that the miscarriage would complete itself naturally without need for intervention. As I stood with the water pouring down on me, I realized I was quickly losing a large volume of blood and became dizzy. I called for Blake and he tried his best to help. Marsha and Tyler arrived about 10 minutes into the ordeal and instantly took over as caretakers for our two little girls. I laid on the bathroom floor, lined with towels and prayed that I wouldn't pass out. Blake called my doctor and helped me to the bed. He brought the girls to me one by one to kiss me before they laid down for their naps. Eden looked at me with such concern. She knew something was wrong though I tried to hide it. She watched me intently as Blake carried her to her room and closed our bedroom door. My doctor's nurse called back again after several conversations and said that I should come to the office. I told Blake after he laid the girls in their beds.  We slipped on shoes and headed to the car. On the way out, I felt light-headed and could barely stay awake on the way to the doctor's office, which happens to be attached to the hospital. I laid the seat back in an effort to not pass out and whispered "E.R" to Blake. He thought we should stick with the doctor's orders and rushed the car toward the entrance of the doctor's office and asked for a wheelchair. My eyes were closed and Blake sounded far away as he told me to put my arms around his neck. I reached up and held on and felt my body fall limply into the chair. All was dark but I could hear the chaos that ensued.

Blake:

Once we reached the hospital, I pulled under the covered driveway entrance of the women's pavilion. I left Jen with the car running, and I sprinted to the nearest nurses' station. There I found two nurses and said with enough determination in my voice and fear in my eyes, "My wife is having a miscarriage, she is about to pass out, and I need you to get me a wheelchair to take her upstairs," that they both sprang to their feet and rushed to find a wheelchair. Wheelchair procured, we rushed to the car. I picked up Jen from the car, and put her in the wheelchair. Once upright, she fainted. We rushed her upstairs to the OB-GYN office. She was paler than I have ever seen her, and her eyes were so dilated I could barely see her irises. The nurse ran inside to get a doctor/other nurses while I talked to Jen and tried to keep her conscious. A concerned middle-aged couple stopped to ask if she was alright. (Sidenote: if a lady is pale, looks like she's unconscious, and her husband is patting her face trying to get her to stay awake, she is NOT OK.) The middle-aged man asked if she was breathing...I snapped at him that of course she was breathing...then, I checked to make sure that she actually was. Finally, a nurse from the OB-GYN practice ran out, and began speeding Jen in her wheelchair through the back halls of the practice. They were unsure what to do with her at first, until finally one of the doctors rounded a corner and told us to take Jen straight to the ER. The nurse and I ran full speed with Jen through the hospital, got to the ER, and were immediately put in a room. Jen's OB was not far behind us. She immediately took charge of the situation and got Jen on IV fluids. As they checked Jen's vitals, it became clear that her blood pressure was very low (77/36). We waited for the IV fluids to raise her blood pressure. When that didn't work, they gave Jen her first blood transfusion.
After a few hours, we were transferred to a regular room in the women's pavilion of the hospital. The ride from the ER to the women's pavilion, however, caused Jen to pass out again. Her vitals looked no better while in the women's pavilion, and within an hour she was transferred to the ICU.

Jen:

I remember Blake patting my face once and him coming into view and then going dark again. I could hear the panic in his voice and I felt the wind rushing over me as they raced through the halls. I remember feeling like I was barely in the chair but not having enough energy to raise myself up or care. In the E.R. I remember being extremely cold. They covered me in layers of blankets that came out warm but quickly felt like ice packs on my limp limbs. The nurses worked quickly with my doctor to raise my blood pressure and I remember desperately wanting to sleep but feeling dizzy and afraid. I think I passed out again when they transferred me to the new bed in the women's pavilion. My mind raced and I was in so much pain. I needed help but didn't know what to ask for, just some lasting relief from the death that breathed hot on my neck. It didn't take much time for my doctor to determine that I needed to go to the ICU. I needed constant supervision since my blood pressure was so low and the ICU staff could provide that vigilant care. ICU just seemed like a continuation of my battle. I was cold as ice. My pressure would not raise. My stomach lurched and cramped with the pain of miscarriage. They pushed medicine, blood, IV fluids into my body hour after hour.  I remember telling Blake what kind of person I wanted him to remarry after I died and not to feel guilty about it. I told my pastor's wife to take care of Blake and the girls since so many times families are forgotten within days or weeks of tragedies like this one. She reassured me that everything would be fine. I could hear people whispering about the fear of DIC and septic shock, that I might enter organ failure if they couldn't get the infection and blood pressure under control. I wondered how God could save me when nothing seemed to be helping. I thought this might truly be the end of my life. I thought about my sweet daughters' faces as I drifted in and out of consciousness. With constant attention and care, my pressure slowly began to rise but was still well below normal (80's/ 40's). Eventually, I was able to talk and even laugh with Blake and several friends from church who had come to pray and wait. It seemed like the dark cloud was lifting and there was hope that things might improve.

A Prayer for Lent

When the dishwasher is not loaded as I would have loaded it, not my will but Yours be done. 

When my children are crying and disobeying and I want to yell in anger, not my will but Yours be done.

When I can't find a matching pair of socks to save a life, not my will but Yours be done. 

When my expectations are not met and my plans fail, not my will but Yours be done. 

When I want others to love me but refuse to give love in return, not my will but Yours be done.

When my heart longs for something else, something other than this messy blessed life, not my will but Yours be done. 

When I want to sleep an extra hour instead of meeting You in Your Word, not my will but Yours be done. 

'

When I want to lift my voice and tell everyone how good I think I am, not my will but Yours be done. 

When I fall to my knees under the weight of Your holiness and am tempted to despair, not my will but Yours be done.

When I want to hold on to past hurts and load burdens on people's shoulders for sins they've committed against me, not my will but Yours be done. 

When I want to hold up in my house and hide from people desperate for real relationships and communication, not my will but Yours be done.

When I want to keep my doors locked and my family insulated from the realities of this life by withholding hospitality and grace to sinners and strangers, not my will but Yours be done. 

When bitterness threatens to weaken my love for my husband, not my will but Yours be done. 

When sin waits at my door, not my will but Yours be done.

When I pretend to have it all together, not my will but Yours be done. 

When I fail to extend Your message of hope and healing to a dying world, not my will but Yours be done. 

When I fight for my rights to enslave myself to my own passions and desires to the neglect of loving those around me, not my will but Yours be done. 

When I think I have some word to offer on Your behalf out of my own selfish pride, not my will but Yours be done. 

For Yours is the Kingdom, the power, the glory, the honor, the world and all that is in it, forever and ever. 

Lord, thank You for truth tellers in my life that point me to You. Thank You for Your Word that rejuvenates my weary, selfish soul. Thank You for Your grace and mercy that make every day new and provide us with opportunities to worship and serve You by loving others in Your name. Thank you for the hands and feet I get to wash and hold and serve each day. Align my will with Yours. Give me the heart of a servant so that I might look more like You. Thank Your for these many blessings I take for granted each day. Your Kingdom come. Your will be done on earth and in our hearts, as it is in Heaven. Amen.

Love Wins

Love is so much more powerful than fear in motivating us - toward success, toward obedience, toward respect, and the list goes on. When we understand what love is in its purest and truest form, we can love others and ourselves rightly, without condemnation, insecurity, judgement or fear. When we experience real love - untainted by manipulation, jealousy, selfishness, or greed- then we are free to love selflessly, deeply, without fear of rejection or abandonment. God is love. He loves you and me. God will never leave you or forsake you. Jesus said, "I am with you always, even to the end of the age." You are not alone, abandoned, or rejected. You are invited, accepted, adopted into a family of grace, mercy, and peace. Love wins. Love reigns. Love never ends. 

For most of my life, I lived in this state of constant condemnation. I hated who I was - a failure, a hypocrite, full of sin and this sense of sadness that wouldn't let me go. I looked around at smiling faces always seeming carefree and fun-loving and never worried about anything - at least that was how it seemed. It seemed like every person around me had a vibrant personality, lots of friends, always look like they just stepped out of the movies and never had a care in the world. My loneliness consumed me. My self-loathing ate away at my joy. Life felt purposeless, meaningless, and empty. Sure, there were moments of laughter, adventure, fun, but something black and stagnant flowed underneath the happiness in those times. 

I grew up in a Christian household, in church three or more times a week, involved in programs and activities. From a young age, I knew that God was real, that there was more to life than met the eye. I knew because I felt it in my gut and in my bones when the Bible was read and something stirred in me, a mysterious grace that rang out strong and true. As I grew older the novelty of the Bible wore off a bit. Calloused by the pain and hatred both in and around me, my heart was hardened to the words of the Bible. I didn't feel that spiritual awakening I once had when I opened the pages and read its contents. But I still couldn't shake the knowledge that there was a Creator that was pursuing me. I didn't always feel it or understand it. Why would an all powerful, omniscient God want me? What did He see in me worth dying for? 

As I have pondered those questions, His spirit has stirred up answers within me through those very words that seemed dry and lifeless days before. I am His child who was living a life of rebellion against Him. I was valuable to Him because He created me - mind, body and spirit. He wanted a relationship with me because He loves me as a good Father loves His child. And here is the kicker: There was nothing in me worth dying for, worth loving, or rescuing. Jesus Christ hung on a wooden cross, beaten and bloody, not because I am worthy of love but because He is Love. Because God so loved us, the people He created and the world that He set in motion, that He gave His perfect Son, Jesus Christ, who willingly died the death my rebellion deserved. He took on the consequences of our own rebellion so that anyone who believes in Him, who trusts the mystery of this true and glorious grace, will not die an eternal death but live an eternal and abundant, rich, full life with Him. 

From the beginning, God knew that it was love, not fear, that would captivate the hearts of his children. So He invites us over and over again through His Word - written to us through the generations, spanning time and transcending culture, language, gender, race, social status, wealth, and poverty - to come and accept His real love and live the free life. So I don't have to settle into that dark depression that I feel lapping at my heels. I don't have to wallow in the self pity and doubt that threaten to steal my joy and take me captive. I choose to lean into this grace, undeserved kindness that He has richly poured over my head. I am His child. My identity is not found in my mirror, how many friends I have, my possessions, or my job. I am purely, sacrificially, honestly loved. No more shame. No more games. No more trying to be good enough. Just Love forever. Love wins.

ISAIAH 55:1-3

1“Come, all you who are thirsty,
    come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
    come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
    without money and without cost.
2 Why spend money on what is not bread,
    and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
    and you will delight in the richest of fare.
3 Give ear and come to me;
    listen, that you may live.
I will make an everlasting covenant with you,
    my faithful love promised to David.

Disaster Area

Yesterday, when Blake came home from work, he saw it. A bright orange paper with "CAUTION! Disaster Area - Enter at your own risk." was taped to our front door. I was standing at the washing machine, throwing another load of clothes in the dryer and stealthily watching the door, waiting for his arrival. The lock clicked out of place as the door knob turned slowly round. I waited for his reaction. There was a brief smirk while he quickly removed the paper and set his briefcase down. Heaven forbid our neighbors see that wacky note and think some serious disaster had befallen our family, or, worse yet, that they see the aftermath of Thursday that covered our living room. At least 50 toys lay strewn all over the carpet. Less than two feet away, stood a forlorn toy chest, lid ajar. The toy trail stretched not so silently across the room to the sitting area. Piles of clean, unfolded laundry spanned two cushions on the large green sofa. A spiral notebook containing my hand-written, page-long, to-do list, accompanied by a pen, free magazines, junk mail, and an unpaid bill occupied the third and last cushion on that couch.

Four diaper boxes, a storage tub, and 2 baskets, filled to the brim and beyond with baby clothes adorned the floor in front of the couches. The smaller of the two couches housed the sorted contents of one box of tiny shirts, hats, pajamas, and socks. In the corner of the room, piles of fresh fabric reminded me of the new scarves and fashions I had planned to sew for my fall collection on my Etsy site. Meanwhile, here was food on the tray of the baby's high chair, dirty dishes in the sink, clean dishes in the dishwasher, crumbs and cheerios on the floor which kept migrating into the living room. The bathroom counter was covered with toiletries - deodorant, makeup, toothpastes, hair bows, lotion, aloe, bath toys, fresh pull-ups, an empty baby wipes bag, and a half empty roll of toilet paper. Every surface begged to be cleaned with hot soapy water and bleach. I could hear the germs mocking me. Our bed had become to all the clean folded laundry that could not be put in my dresser due to the storage tubs and massive layers of clothes that sat in front of the once easily opened drawers.

Loose papers, unopened mail, broken toys, a discarded beaded necklace, a bottle of bubbles, etc., etc. I won't even mention the girls' rooms or the closets. Too much stuff! So much to do! Was my life a disaster? A failure? Inside and out, I was spent and stressed out. Overwhelmed. Defeated. Done. There was simply too much to do and not enough time to do it all. Blake always helps around the house with the kids, with dishes, laundry, taking out the trash, and taking care of the yard.  Blake works hard at his job and grad school work. I work from home around 20-25 hours per week while I tend to the needs, fears, boo boos, giggles, stares, screams, fights, frustrations, hunger, and dreams of my three year old and 1 year old daughters.  I opened an Etsy shop at the beginning of the year to sell pretty chiffon scarves which I had recently learned how to sew. It has been a creative outlet for me from the otherwise routinely loud and busy life I live. But who has time for things like that? Maybe if I had a nanny or a house keeper or a life coach, I could accomplish more in a day and have time left over after all the chores, cleaning, cooking, child care, and work responsibilities to draw, paint, write a novel, or sew scarves (all of which I really love to do).

Or maybe not. Life will always have the potential for chaos, for crazy, for full, unrelenting schedules. Perhaps the lesson to learn is not how to juggle it all and smile for Pinterest in the process. Maybe the secret of life is in the enjoyment of every day - be it mundane or chaotic, ordinary or unusual. Whether it is taking time to get on the floor and tickle my kids and drink in their infectious laughter or closing my eyes during nap time for five minutes while I savor a chai green tea and an oreo, the magic is in the little moments. The wisdom that is pursuing me is beckoning me to love with all my heart, to give generously, to hold my possessions loosely and my family tightly, and to remember that the chores can wait. My children will not care that there were always dishes in our sink, clothes all over the couch, or toys all over the floor. They will remember the laughs, the games, and impromptu water fights in the back yard, reading together, and family hugs. 

Tonight, as I typed this post and hung out with my children, my three year old cleaned up her toys while eating a few fallen Cheerios off of the carpet. My 1 year old sat beside me on the couch pulling clean clothes from a pile I hadn't folded yet onto herself, over her head, and laughing. I don't want to miss the beauty of these moments because I am stressed out about the housework or my responsibilities. God has given us our work and possessions to use, share, and enjoy. This weekend and hereafter, I am choosing to love, give, and laugh instead of complaining, whining, or stressing over these gifts He has given me. There will be grace and forgiveness extended to me in the moments I fail and forget these truths. There will be a bountiful harvest of love and sweet memories to reap from the days that I remember to wonder at the gifts around me. May grace and peace fill our hearts and homes as we choose to find joy in the wonders He has placed all around us.

Against All Odds

Many people have more money than I;
Many are prettier too.
Many people are less stressed than I;
Many are dressed much finer.

Many have houses and jobs and land;
Some even spend their days on the sand.
Many people are much smarter than I;
Many are kinder too.

Many people will come;
Many people will go,
But I will stay here with you.

I don't have much to offer you, Dear.
No gold nor silver nor jewels.

I don't have the charm of a maiden fair,
Not the beauty of a violet rare,
Nor the flowery language of fools.

I don't possess the craftiness to woo and persuade a lover,
Nor have I any deep mystery that you have yet to uncover.

Still, I smile at you in the growing light
As the afternoon sun breaks through.
I confess that I know it now.
Against all odds,
No one loves me better than you.


 {Written for my husband, Blake, who loves me so unconditionally}
 Jennifer McKinney  01.28.15

Big Hearts and Big Burdens

The good news: my daughter has a big heart full of love for family, friends, and Rapunzel. The bad news: my daughter has a big heart, literally. Lily is a congenital heart disease patient. She was born with four heart defects and underwent open heart surgery at eight days old. Today Lily is almost two years old and enjoys running, dancing, and playing with babies and puppies. By all outward appearances, she looks and acts like your average toddler. That is why when we visited the cardiologist yesterday we were discouraged to hear that Lily's heart is not as healthy as it may seem. We spent most of our visit corralling the little bundle of energy and bribing her with bubbles and candy to sit still while the doctor performed an echo-cardiogram. As the doctor finished his examination, I was surprised by his sudden stern countenance. He took the time to draw a diagram and explained that the procedure that saved her life is now enlarging two chambers of her heart. A year ago a cardiologist had said that her heart seemed healthy enough that she might not need another surgery until she was a teenager. We clung to that hope for the last year and it enabled us to establish a sense of normalcy in our home. We thought of Lily as a toddler, not a heart patient, primarily. Yesterday, the cardiologist explained that surgery will most likely need to occur in about four years, when Lily is six years old. The surgeon will perform open heart surgery to set a foreign valve in place that will stop the leakage which is enlarging her heart. Additionally, the surgeon will need to close a hole in her atrium and an angioplasty may be necessary in the future to open a vessel that is narrowing at this point due to a closing shunt. After that surgery, she will require a heart catheterization every five years to replace that valve and keep the heart pumping as it should.

What was happening? A lump worked its way up into my throat and made it hard to breathe. I felt sadness and fear swelling in my chest and fogging up my brain. I peeled the veil of feelings back so I could stare the doctor in the eyes as he explained the next steps, the dangers, the warning signs if something goes wrong before that time. What was this sudden burning in my chest? Maybe my heart was breaking again over this broken-hearted child.  I felt like I had been punched in the gut. It could be so much worse. We could have been told that they couldn't fix it. We could have been told that she had an irreparable problem or that she needed surgery immediately. I am thankful but still sad that she has to go through such pain and danger at such a tender age. I don't want my daughter to have to bear that burden. Not when she is two, six, or ten, or thirteen. I want to protect her from harm and pain. I can't always guard her heart from the fear that will set in or the pain she must endure. I can't protect her from feeling self conscious about her scars and anxious about her surgery when the time comes. But today I can bear that burden for her.

I am reading The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom again for the first time in about seven years. There story she tells of a conversation she had as a child with her father in which he told her some burdens are too heavy for her to carry and he would carry them instead until she was ready. I can bear my daughter's burdens for
the next twenty, thirty, or forty years and lay them at the feet of Jesus. The knowledge of the risks and dangers of surgery are too heavy for her. I will carry them. The fear of how much pain she will feel and the terror of waking up with stitches, scars, and I.V.'s is too heavy. I will carry it. Sometimes I forget to take the burdens to my Father. I heave them over my shoulder and stumble under the weight of the guilt, devastation, bitterness, and pain. Fears and anxieties swim around my mind and anger, pity for her and for me, sorrow, and bitterness explode into a million pieces and spill all over the floor. In those moments, I weep and wail. I sometimes collapse on the kitchen counter or floor, overwhelmed by the dangers and concerns that await my little girl and weigh me down. But as I cry out, God hears me and His Spirit reminds me of His promises. He never promised me the absence of sickness, trouble, or death in this life. He promised to be with me. He said that He precedes me. He goes before me and prepares a way for me. He knows Lily's way though I cannot see it. I can not always feel His presence or understand how he is working but I will choose to trust Him and to treasure Him because He knows the way we take and when we have withstood the trials, He will bring us forth shining like gold - not for our own honor but for his great glory and fame.
is a

“Look, I go forward, but He is not there,
And backward, but I cannot perceive Him;
9 When He works on the left hand, I cannot behold Him;
When He turns to the right hand, I cannot see Him.
10 But He knows the way that I take;
When He has tested me, I shall come forth as gold.
11 My foot has held fast to His steps;
I have kept His way and not turned aside.
12 I have not departed from the commandment of His lips;
I have treasured the words of His mouth
More than my necessary food.

13 “But He is unique, and who can make Him change?
And whatever His soul desires, that He does.
14 For He performs what is appointed for me,
And many such things are with Him.

JOB 23:8-14

Lord God, I fear You and worship You for You are the One who is greater than all of my troubles, all of my torment, everything that is or was or will be. You hem me in behind and before and such knowledge is too wonderful for me. Holy is Your name. Righteous are Your ways. The whole earth is filled with Your glory. Be glorified in our pain, our joy, and our waiting. Grant healing and hope to Lily and our family as we watch, pray, and wait on You to move. Thank You that you never leave us nor forsake us. Thank You for bearing our burdens so we can bear burdens for others around us. All praise, glory, and honor belong to You, the King of Kings, Jesus. Amen.

He makes everything beautiful in time. 

"We long for the day when we shall see the heavens and the earth as they will be."

Choosing Joy

Joy does not come naturally to me. I fight for it. I choose joy because my heart's natural inclination is

to complain and mourn and grieve. Even as a young child, I struggled with negativity. My life was not always beautiful or easy and trials often threatened to steal my joy. My mom would tell me no one could make me happy or mad or sad but that I always had a choice. She was right but I was mostly just annoyed in those moments by her words of wisdom to her "eeyore" child. Later I struggled with postpartum depression when my daughter was born. I was thankful to be given the medical treatment and biblical counseling I needed at that time to help me through those dark days. But most of the time discouragement strikes, I am just unhappy because I wake up that way. We have all been there. Haven't we? The morning dawns to a gray cold mess outside. As you struggle to drag yourself out of the bed, everything seems to be monotonous and gloomy. In a nutshell, life just seems annoying-- all of it: the messes to clean up, the bad hair month staring at you in the mirror, the temper tantrums. Those are the days I want to hide form the world and run to the beach for a weekend of quiet sunny bliss. 

But the reality that I have been given, while it has plenty of difficulties and challenges, also contains

breathtaking beauty and moments of grace. Ultimately, my attitude is a reflection of the perspective from which I choose to view life. Before Christ came, the world was scarred and stained by sin, without hope, and full of desperation. When Christ died, He defeated sin. When Christ resurrected from the dead, He initiated the healing process for a decaying world and sin-poisoned humanity. We still live in a world where people choose sin and darkness over light and life. Bad things happen to good and bad people alike. The world in its present form is passing away and Christ is returning to raise the living and dead and call us all to account. May the blood of Christ plead for you on that day as you trust in His faithful mercy and atoning sacrifice. 

All that to say, sometimes, I forget that I am not that old self living in a world of despair and hopelessness. Sometimes I forget to look for the joy that God has placed before me. Everyday joy is waiting for me in the most ordinary places, calling me to stand in awe and shout out a prayer of thanksgiving or a song of praise to the God who saved me. Even in the darkest prisons and most desperate situations Christians face, Christ is there, calling us to remember the reality of the King and His Kingdom. There is so much joy waiting for us there in the presence of Christ. As we turn our thoughts toward Him, and choose to be thankful for the salvation and freedom we have been so undeservedly gifted in Christ, joy springs and wells up within us. When I choose to rejoice in Christ, I also choose to give grace to myself and towards my kiddos and husband. The challenges I face are smaller and the world brighter when my gaze is fixed on the King of Kings. Fear and anxiety flee when I remember that He is on the throne, He in control, and my sins are forgiven. We used to sing this song at Sojourn. I think it is applicable here. 

Satisfied In You (Psalm 42, Mars Hill Music)
"So when Iʼm drowning out at sea 

And all your breakers and your waves crash down on me 

Iʼll recall your safety scheme 

Youʼre the one who made the waves 

And your Son went out to suffer in my place 

And to show me that Iʼm safe. 

Why are you downcast O my soul? 

Why so disturbed within me? 

I am satisfied in You." 

Keeping It Real, Friends

Confession #1:  We love Phineas and Ferb so much that our daughter has a stuffed Perry the Platypus in her toy collection and has special dance moves she performs during the theme song. She is not quite 2 years old. We love cartoons. 

Confession #2: I don't like the feeling of licking a wooden popsicle stick. It freaks me out.  

Confession #3: If I won the lottery  I would probably spend way to much money on fancy cheese, ice cream, and Thai food. I would travel the world with my husband and baby and see all the wonders of the world. I would try to make a difference in people's lives. 

Confession #4: At least one room in my house is a mess most days and should have caution tape blocking the doorway, so as to prevent any injuries from occurring to the people that would enter.

All this randomness is meant to give you a window into my world. The world of a woman, wife, momma, daughter, friend, who loves her family, friends, food, and traveling the world. I far from perfect. I have been known to lose my temper, to snort when I laugh, and to dance around the house like a crazy woman when I feel carefree and zany. Our home is one filled with love and laughter, messes and sometimes tears. We are real people with real joys and pains. 

I have often struggled with making new friends when we move to a new place. We have moved across state lines a couple of times during our marriage. Each time there are triumphs and challenges. The problem that continues to trouble me with each move is the search for true friendships. Not the emotionally distant, "I'm fine. How are you?" kind, but the "I am real and I really want to know you." kind. I think women have a tendency to put on a show or a front for people. We want to have it altogether all the time and for our lives to look like we all just stepped out of Anthropologie or J. Crew with beautiful light surrounding us and flowers in our hair. 

Real Life is Like A Crying Baby Some Days

I love Anthropologie and J. Crew. Don't get me wrong. But that is not what my everyday life looks like. It looks messy. It looks fun. It looks boring some days but it is real and it is the one God gave me to live today. I should add that I have been blessed to have met so many genuine people through our church in our new town over the past few months. I have never felt so cared for by people who barely know me after a move across state lines. That said, I think all of us ladies worldwide should take a look at our lives and choose to be real with each other. Such freedom comes with honesty and openness! Who knows what kind of amazing friendships could be in store for us when we choose to open our lives up to people around us. When we choose to put others first and invest in lives of the lonely and forgotten, the tired and distressed women around us. Friendship is a gift. Let's rediscover it's beauty together by being sincerely interested in each other's problems and successes. Sincerity breeds freedom and joy!

Psalm 133:1

How good and pleasant it is when brother (and sisters) live together in unity!

It is like precious oil poured on the head,

running down on the beard,

running down on Aaron’s beard,

down on the collar of his robe.

It is as if the dew of Hermon

were falling on Mount Zion.

For there the Lord bestows his blessing,

even life forevermore.