Juliet, who just finished four days of three-year-old birthday celebrations has grasped onto the concept of gifts and giving. There is nothing in our house that currently goes un-narrated and back stories behind possessions are no exception.

Recently, she has noticed my ring. Christian bought me a present in the midst of his finals week, when I was shouldering more of the load so that he could go write. It is a chunky ring with an owl on it that I was looking at a few weeks ago. Owls are becoming a thing for me. (PhD pro-tip:When things get crazy, get your wife a present.) “Oh!” Juliet says. “Daddy get that for you!” I explain to her that daddy did in fact get that for me. “He get that for you, because you like it! Because he like you!” And isn’t that the truth? He got the ring for me, because I like it, because he likes me.

Sometimes I think God works like that. Sometimes you ask God for something and out of his abundant love comes a knowing grin, He says “Why not?” You like something, and God likes you, and so He gets it for you. I love moments like that. Moments when a gift from the giver are so clear and surprising and you are delighted, and he is delighted in you and you can tell. Oh how those moments make my heart sing. I love the moments and think that I miss them some days, in my business, in my ingratitude, in my looking at what everyone else gets.

Sometimes God says yes. He does,  He says YES! You ask Him, and he says yes and it is wonderful.

And sometimes God says no. Sometimes, like my kids asking to get in a bath that is too hot, or open up the oven door when the cupcakes are baking, we ask for something that is not good for us and God says no. So many people have beautiful testimonies about God saying no, about God knowing better, about the amazing thing that was right around the bend and they just had to get through the no to get there and they promise, they PROMISE it is worth it!

I am reminded of this truth every time I sit in the backyard. The yard I did not think I needed. The house I had originally picked out for my family doesn’t have a yard. It is two blocks from the train station and it was wired for surround sound all the way through the house. It has a front porch on both stories and it was perfect. But some technical problem made it impossible for us to bid, and I was mad. I was sitting in the school library telling my friend the librarian how stupid these technical problems were while I showed her the pictures of the house we were not getting when she slowly rolled her head around to look me straight in the face. “Girl, God don’t with hold good gifts from us, if He don’t want it for you, you don’t want it.” I started telling her all the reasons I so clearly needed this particular house when she stopped me. “Abby, God does not with hold good gifts from us.” That conversation was over, and she was right.

I think about how right she was every time my kids run gleefully through the yard I didn’t need and I have a minute to breathe because….Because God does not withhold good gifts from us.

But sometimes, God says not yet. Not yet. And isn’t that the hardest? Yes and no have clear beginnings and ends. Yes you got it, no you didn’t, yes go forward, no make other plans. But not yet? What do you do with that? Can you be more specific? If not yet…then when? And what in the world do you want me to do until then? I think we are good at celebrating the yes, and the no. But I think we are bad at honoring the time and space that represents God saying “not yet.”

This weekend I had the opportunity to Skype with an internet friend, who is quickly becoming a dear friend. She is in the not yet. She has been in the not yet for years now. As other people move in and out of the yes and the no, move past their own not yet, there she is, waiting for the yet to become a now. The not yet is hard. It can be terrible and lonely and just brutal some days. I think we gloss over the not yet, because it requires less talking and more being. It makes me shut my mouth and stand up and walk over to stand next to, to walk along.

I don’t know very many people who aren’t in a not yet. A baby, a husband, a book that you feel called to write that has already been rejected twice…. We hide our not yets, tuck them away, protect them from harm, try to make sure no one pokes us in those tender spots. But I am starting to think that those not yet places need room to breathe, room to be. They need people who will not speak anything into them, but will just hold them for a while so you don’t have to. I think we can find the most community in the not yet; I think maybe in the mystery we also find holy ground.

I am delighted to be writing a series on Isaiah 58 for Live 58, an incredible organization committed to ending extreme poverty by 2035. Here is the first in that series.

I have a new favorite phrase. I learned it from my friend at work, who unlike me, is a native of the south. “Someone needs to tell her about herself.” As a high school teacher I can tell you, that no one needs to be told about themselves more than teenagers. As amazing a time as I believe the teen years have the potential to be, there is something about some youth that makes them unable to see the blinding reality of how they are part of the problem. A zero in the grade book is my fault, even though they neglected to put their name on it or turn it in in the first place. The head of the mean girl pack is the first one to cry out if a negative word is uttered against her. How could someone be so cruel? As much as I would like to paint this as a youthful folly that I have fully grown out of, sometimes I need told about myself too.

You can read the rest here.

This is a guest post in a series Jesus At the Blackboard. School decisions are high pressure, and different people are called to different things. In an effort to honor those choices and have a healthy conversation about education I have invited people to share their story here. Please welcome Melissa Thomas and check out her blog. You can find the rest of the series here.

Choosing School by Melissa Thomas

Choosing school is such a daunting task.  Who will be responsible for the education of our boys?   Where will we send them for seven hours a day where they will feel safe and loved.  These questions started when the boys were three and two and fortunately for us, there was an easy answer.  The most recommended preschool in a neighboring town.  So, for preschool, it was an easy choice.

For Kindergarten, not so much.

My husband and I come from varied educational backgrounds.   My mom was a teacher and I attended catholic School from Kindergarten through College.  When I graduated college with a B.A. in Special Education, I spent two years teaching in a Public High School, four years in a Catholic High School, one year at a Catholic elementary school, one year teaching High School age adjudicated youth at a Day Treatment Center and then half a year teaching Middle School at a Catholic School.   My husband attended public school through High School and then joined the United States Marine Corps from which he retired after twenty years.  I always felt like the boys would attend Catholic School, too but we decided to look into all of the options.  The one thing we didn’t want is for the boys to have to change schools.    Even though the task of choosing a school for the boys to attend was our decision, the research, etc mostly fell to me.  Obviously, public school was an option for us.  It made the most sense from a financial perspective.   It’s free to attend and the boys could ride the bus to school.  Other options included a Montessori School, a Charter School and Catholic School.  It’s important to note that we live in a town of about 5500 people so quite literally, every time we leave the house we have to drive at least 20 minutes to “go anywhere” except for the Dollar General and a gas station which are two miles from our home.   Even choosing to drive the boys to the public school would be at least a 15 minute drive.   In order to go to the mall or Costco we have to drive at least 30 minutes.  So, making a drive to take the boys to school wasn’t really a huge consideration.   We also lived in our town for about five years before our oldest started Kindergarten so we had “heard” from various sources the good and the bad of school choices.   Homeschooling was not even an option because although I do believe it is a great option for those parents who want to do it, it is not for us. 

Our biggest issue was finding a school that would suit both of the boys’ academic styles and personalities which are pretty much complete opposites of each other.  Our oldest son thrives on structure and is very analytical and truly sees things as either “black or white” with not much give either way.   Our youngest son, only 13 months younger than his brother, is very creative, spontaneous, dramatic and lives in a world that is “gray”.  In a perfect world, the oldest son would go to a school with a military type academic setting and the other would go to Montessori School. 

Unfortunately, sending them to two different schools was not an option.

Very early on, we eliminated the possibility of sending them to the local public school.  Upon doing some research, the end of year test scores was just not great and we had heard from others that they were not happy with the school.   (Note:  We have since heard good things about the school and know parents who are very happy with it.)

We then took the Montessori School option off the table for a variety of reasons.  The most important one being that our oldest son would just not do well there.   I felt sure that I could find a school where our youngest son would fit in well or at least have a teacher who could accommodate his learning style.

Our final two options became the Charter School which is 25 miles from our home or the closest Catholic School which was the same distance away but in another county – which meant crossing a drawbridge that spans the Cape Fear River.   The bridge that rises at random times of the day depending on river traffic (i.e. those huge shipping container ships).   Both schools are similar in that they have high structure and high academic rigor.  They require students to wear uniforms. Each has more flexibility in expelling students for repeated classroom disruptions.   Both require at least a 30 minute drive one-way to school as there are no buses for students.   The similarities didn’t really sway our decision one way or the other.  But the differences did –

The Charter School is free, the Catholic School requires monthly tuition.  (Which we could afford but not easily).  The Charter School operates on a year-round schedule while the Catholic School is traditional.  Students get in to the Charter School on a lottery system whereas the Catholic School requires only a simple application which makes getting in to the Catholic School a bit easier.  The Charter School population is larger than the Catholic School.  

After some discussion, we decided to take the chance on the lottery system for the Charter School.  If our oldest son got in, our youngest son would automatically have a spot for the following year.  The lottery entry basically consists of filling out an application.   Then someone makes a list of all the students going in to the lottery, cuts the list into strips, folds the strips and places them into a clear plastic container.   Quite literally, if the name is picked out of the container ( in front of a large crown of anxious parents), then your child has a spot.  Once all the spots are full, a waiting list is created.  At this particular school, there is a waiting list every year.  Our oldest son was the last name chosen to fill the last spot!    So, our decision was made – the boys would be attending the Charter School. 

They are now in 2^nd and 1^st grade, respectively, and we continue to be so pleased with the decision.  For us, the Charter School works for various reasons.  Both boys have had teachers that are wonderful to work with and very accommodating of their learning styles and personalities.  They wear the same thing to school every day.  They have a set of school friends and a set of home friends which has given them each different perspectives on families other than their own.  The driving is a lot ( 100 miles round trip everyday) but we have a lot of good conversations in the car.  The boys also use this time to practice reading aloud.   

The greatest result of our decision is that the boys love their school, too.  THAT is probably the most important part because it’s not fair to make them go somewhere they hate for seven hours a day.  Not when getting a good education is SO crucial to their future success.

This week has been hard. Hard. Like, standing in your supervisor’s office as you ugly cry, loose your keys for three days and still not have time to look for them, feed your kids fast food because you know it isn’t great for them but it is honest to God the best you can do, kind of hard. Because sometimes, being a mom is hard.

It is hard to be in charge of the feeding, and the cleaning, and the sleeping, and the watching of tiny human beings you love so much you are sure they are walking around with your heart beating in their chest. It is even harder to do all that when every decision you make is being questioned by the society you live in. Mom’s who work, Isn’t it terrible you are missing all those precious moments of your kids lives? Stay at home moms, Don’t you worry you are wasting your degree and sacrificing your career potential for diaper duty? What are you feeding your kids, don’t you want them to be healthy? What are you denying your kids, don’t you want them to learn to indulge without guilt? What is wrong with you moms, why can’t you enjoy every single second of every single day they won’t be little forever you know!?!?

The church isn’t helping this impossible situation. Much like a spoon full of sugar helping the medicine go down, wrapping those lies of “not enough” in “Jesus wants you to” and “the Bible says so” only make me open my mouth that much wider. Because I desperately want to do the things Jesus and the Bible want me to do.

Here is the reality of the moms sitting in the pews every Sunday morning. Choose isn’t really the best verb for the way they are running their little families. The working moms are likely working because if they don’t they won’t have a home to make. It isn’t that they don’t love their jobs, it isn’t that they don’t feel called to their jobs, some do, some don’t. We could talk all day about if given the option would they still work, but the fact is, that discussion is strictly hypothetical. Most working moms don’t have the option, we work to make the ends meet.

The same is true for stay-at-home moms. The decision to stay at home is never one that is made lightly. Some do it because they know they are called to it, some do it because the cost of day care is more than they could make while the day care is being used. Some are thriving, some are struggling, and most are both of those things multiple times a day. But to call what care-giver situation a families makes a choice, and then raise one up as holier than the others (and I have seen both raised) is ignoring the reality of the vast majority of American families.

When a mom sits down in a church in America, she has likely spent the last 6 days being pulled in every direction but up. What she doesn’t need, is a laundry list of all the ways God is unhappy with her. Your house isn’t clean, how are you supposed to practice christian hospitality with toys all over the floor? Fall in to bed exhausted every night after days that start at 6 am and don’t end until 11, you know godly wives are available to their husbands. Being a mom is your highest calling, don’t screw it up!

It is hard, when you have taken the last of the reserve and poured it out to get everyone to church on time to hear that you are on shaky theological ground because a family shared sinus infection, deadlines for your husband, and the most important week of the year for your job lined up perfectly to prevent you from opening your Bible for the week. It is harder to hear that amidst everything you have to do, there is yet another need that the church you love has, and Jesus wants you to volunteer, join the committee, go to the Bible study, or cook the meal.

I’m not saying opening your home, your relationship with your husband and kids, or regular reading of God’s word isn’t important. I think it is important for the church to serve each other. But the moms who are in the church already know those things. What we need to know, is that we are enough even if we don’t measure up to any of those ideals.

My oldest turned three on Wednesday, and the mommy guilt was in full effect on Tuesday when I realized that I hadn’t planned a single thing for her third birthday. We are having a very small party on Saturday, but the day of, nothing. I had nothing planned, and maybe she is only three, and she wouldn’t remember and it doesn’t really matter, but the moment I admitted it to my friend at work with tears spilling out of my eyes, it did matter. It mattered a lot.

That night when I picked the kids up from the babysitter they were playing with balloons reading “Happy Birthday Juliet.” When I checked my phone there was a picture of my kiddo eating a cupcake with a hat on her head. Angela, our baby sitter and dear friend,  had remembered and they had spent the afternoon celebrating. On the way home Juliet made me sing Happy Birthday to her, to all her imaginary friends, to her sister, and to herself. It is her new favorite song.

The next day, when I walked into my classroom, my first period sang Happy Birthday to me which was weird because my birthday is in October. They had picked up the wrong cues because the same friend who I had cried to had dropped off a pink bag tied with a Birthday Girl balloon filled with two cupcakes, two squishy balls, and two bubble wands. Presents for the birthday girl and enough to share with her sister.

In the evening my small group sang to Juliet and we ate those cupcakes. Everyone snapped pictures as the girls played in the bubble machine we had given Juliet for her birthday, until the floor got too slippery with soap film (whoops, I guess that is an outside toy). It didn’t matter that I wasn’t the one snapping the pictures. The good ones ended up tagged and on my Facebook wall.

This morning Angela texted me, she had originally said she could watch the girls today so Christian could write, but she thinks she is coming down with an ear infection. She told me how sorry she was, and I could hear the mom-guilt leaking in. It seems to be the equalizer between stay at home and working moms.

The truth is the Bible has a lot to say about mommy guilt. It says that you are worthy, it says that you are enough, it says that God is for you. When you add Jesus says you should! to the already impossible list, the mom guilt grows. But the body of Christ, the true church is the solution to it all. When I was not enough this week, the church came around me and acted as the body of Christ. They did what they could, and my family was yet again, remarkably loved.

Dear Juliet*,

Yesterday you turned three. You were supposed to go to the doctor, something you have been talking about all week, but I took the car seats with me to work (again) and we will have to reschedule. I suppose it is best you learn now that we all are doing the best we can and we all need grace, even your mom. Especially your mom.

Today, and for the rest of your life, this is what I need you to know: I delight in you. I think that you are amazing, I think that you are incredible, I am blessed every single day I get to be your mom. I delight in you.

This is the year that you have grown from being my baby to being my girl. “I not a baby” you tell me. I suppose you are right, but you are my baby. This is not the only thing you tell me. With the parents who are raising you it is no surprise you have a constant stream of words. Sometimes, when running errands with Aunt Jill, she turns to look me and says “your kid has no off button.” It is true. You fall asleep talking to your teddy bear and wake up talking to your sister.

I know a little something about having a lot of words, and I want to tell you now, before anyone tells you differently, that you are not too much. Your words and love and joy and laughter, and sometimes your howls of injustice and discontent, they spill out of you freely and boldly. Some will tell you to pipe down, to be a little less, to fit yourself into a shape that other  people can handle. Please don’t do it. Please don’t construct dams that hold yourself back in order to somehow shape yourself into something else. You are already the right shape, you are not too much.

On your third birthday, I want you to know how proud and amazed by you I already am. You care so deeply, you find joy in everything, you are smart and kind and funny. You don’t ever have to try to be valuable. You don’t ever have to try to be loveable. You don’t ever have to be worthy. You already are. You are a delight, and I delight in you.

Love,

Mom

*programming note: I have decided to ditch the nicknames for my kids. I couldn’t tell you why exactly, it just feels like it is time.