Vow

For the past few days I haven't been able to marriage out of my head.

I am so deeply in love with my husband and I will always remember our wedding day. But marriage isn't just public on the wedding day... It is always on display.

When you get married there are certain mile-markers that are somewhat expected of you. You get married, go on a honeymoon, buy a house, get good jobs, have babies, raise them, have anniversaries, send your kids to college, start a new life with as "empty nesters", retire, travel, have grandkids, and grow old...

I feel like once you get married there's a sense of anticipation always lurking for the "next big step".

I am guilty of this.

I do feel the pressure of hitting certain mile-markers. Not because of a person, but because of myself. So to calm down all the anxiousness, I decided it would be most important to not focus on the next big step, but rather the very first step.

Our vows.

To focus on the things we promised to each other on a very, very cold December 12, 2009.

I, Amy, take you Ben, to be my husband, my partner in life and my one true love. 

I will cherish our friendship and love you today, tomorrow, and forever I will trust you and honor you I will laugh with you and cry with you. 

I will love you faithfully through the best and the worst, through the difficult and the easy. 

What may come I will always be there. 

 God has prepared me for you and so I will ever strengthen, help, comfort, and encourage you.

Therefore, throughout life, no matter what may be ahead of us, I pledge to you my life.

Ben and I didn't know what our vows really meant on December 12, but every day we are learning what they mean and how to uphold them.

We surely did not know how difficult our first year would be, but God did. God stood with us on our wedding day and witnessed and praised as we dedicated our lives to each other and to Him.

We have definitely shared thousands of tears with one another and we have laughed until we hurt. We have seen darkness and we have seen light.

We have seen God provide for us when we didn't deserve it. When we didn't earn it. And I've seen God transform our marriage.

Are we where we thought we would be? Absolutely not.

And I am so grateful.

So my prayer this week is that God would continue to erase "mile-markers" and mold my mind around His plan and purpose. His mercies and His wisdom. His grace and His love.

Daddy Diaries: Running Behind

I don't know what's happened to me over the past few years, but I've become that notoriously late person. That's not always how it's been, though. I was a band kid. I had the philosophy of "If you're not early, you're late." I don't know what has happened. Although I haven't technically been late to work, I haven't been able to consistently get in before 8:10 in like 2 months. It's not that I've just got too much to do, but it's just hard to get out of the house.

When I think about why I'm late, it's really a mixture of things. I mean, it's partly the fact that I hate leaving Amy at home and that I don't wake up quite as early as I would like. However, the biggest thing is that I've been feeling so tired lately. I just don't feel like waking up sometimes. I never feel like I've gotten enough sleep, even though I get between 7 and 8 hours a night. I think it's just the aftermath of a few weeks without a break. Amy and I have had a lot going on in the past several weeks. Not that it was bad stuff by any means, but we just haven't had a lot of down time. However, I don't think that's the main reason.

I believe it's been more of the fact that during this time of extra stress, instead of spending extra time in peaceful meditation and prayer, I've been seeking stress relief through online games, movies, and pretty much anything that distracts me. I've just been so plugged in to the world lately and I haven't taken time to unwind and seek out God. I don't say that as if I gain righteousness from spending time in prayer, but I do believe that the word of God is bread for our souls. I believe that without spending time praying and meditating on the truths of God, we can't live a full and healthy lives.

It's not only our bread, but it's our armor, too (Ephesians 6:13-18). When we're not taking time to sit in God's presence, we're leaving ourselves both weak and vulnerable, open to any attack. For me, during these stressful times, Satan really drives the dagger into my side when it comes to self-pity. When I'm feeling tired and stressed, it's so easy to go there. What's worse, the self pity is like a bleeding wound. The longer I hold onto it, the more tired and stressed I become. This opens me up to worry and various other non-fruitful tendencies.

So, what do I do to combat it? Relax. I take some time to be quiet and remember my freedom in Christ. I take time to bask in his truth. For instance, one night last week, I was having a pretty rough night until I simply brewed a cup of tea and spent the better part of the evening sitting on the front porch without music, tv, games, or internet. I listened to the sound of the birds. I soaked in the praises that creation was lifting up to God around me. I joined in in my heart. It was glorious.

I think this is the hardest part when we fall into these times of attack. We find ourselves trying to grow close to God by doing things. Though disciplines are a good way to maintain a healthy life, we have to remember that we're on the vine system. He is the vine and we are the branches. We produce fruit by being attached to Him. It doesn't work in reverse. We don't get attached to him by producing fruit. So, all we have to "do," is just take a step back, and enjoy Him and all that He has done for us. When we start to really remember that we are his children and find our identity in him, then the Spirit will start to move and stir within us and produce the works. That is when we will start to desire to seek out His words and will in our life.

Anyways, that's enough random rambling for tonight. Hope you all have a wonderful week and I will see you next month!

Daddy Diaries: Lifetime of Luster

I know it's cliche, but ever since my son passed away, I've found myself extremely sensitive to how fickle human beings are. Things are going "out of style" all of the time. Our culture is obsessed with always having the newest, nicest thing. Yes, there are classics, but how often do we find ourselves judging a business, or a person by their outdated look?

I had always heard this and I always assumed it was true. However, it never really rang home to me until I started trying to keep up with things. I started buying plaid and flannel shirts, v-neck tees, cardigans, and even bought a new MacBook Pro. These things are great and nice and I genuinely enjoy having them. However, I started thinking, "How long is it going to be before these things are out of style?" I mean, my brand-new MacBook will be a whole operating system behind by fall. I don't even have a Thunderbolt connection. I love my wintertime lumberjack look, but when is that going to be old hat? I even found myself walking into a brand new building at one of our clients at work and wondering what the lifespan of its luster would be. The floor was a gorgeous dark mahogany stained concrete. Nice, shiny wood tones. All of the furniture was rich, wood-grained material with clean lines. The walls were bathed in beautiful earth tones. Then, I thought "I wonder if this was how people used to feel about wood paneled walls in houses?" At one point, the things we consider tacky and overdone were great, cutting edge designs. It's exhausting.

No wonder so many people in our culture feel burned out and stressed. Our lives are a whirlwind of change and innovation. There is constantly something new, something irresistible. Our "things" have a lifespan of about 30 seconds. Then, something better comes out and we're just not happy until we get it. When will all of this end? It's no wonder that pollution is such a problem.

Think about how many clothes you have in your closet, or how many clothes have moved their way through your closet. I think back to when I was living in Peru. I brought one duffel bag of clothes with me for three months. I was pretty proud of myself for being humble (irony) and conservative. However, there were people in Cora Cora who were amazed at how many clothes I had. Why do we need so much? I mean really. I'm exhausted of trying to stay trendy and trying to always have nice things. Yes, nice things are nice, but I want nice things that last. I'm tired of these temporary and fading things that are so amazing today and by tomorrow are on their way to the dump. When will society realize value again?

I know I sound like an eighty year old man, but there's something about being faced with the shortness of life that makes you realize how fast everything moves. Also, when you start hoping in an everlasting life, it speeds up all the more. When you're living with eternity on your mind, life goes by fast. So, I would like to take this time to implore you all to start seeking after things of real value. Seek things that don't fade as this life fades. Seek time with God. Seek time with family and cherish time with friends. I don't mean this in a depressing way. I just want us to all pull our heads out of our ascots and get back to reality. A genuine person is more interesting than a trendy person, anyways. I would even venture to bet that most trends were started involuntarily by genuine people who weren't seeking to be trendy.

Why I hate Sundays

Before you start reading, I need to put a disclaimer out there.

*There are all of my feelings and thoughts and do not reflect my church, my friends, or my family. No one "made me feel this way", I just simply do. No one made me mad or did anything wrong, this is just how I feel.


For the past couple months, I have begun to really hate Sundays. Sundays put me on an emotional and spiritual roller coaster that comes crashing to a big, nasty halt. The kind that makes your back and neck feel weird and sore. The kind that takes your breath away and you end up sitting on a bench drinking a slurpee to regain composure before you decide to attempt the next one.

Satan doesn't like Sundays either. It's his favorite day to drive right over me.

Sundays involve going to church. At church I see all the people that supported and cheered me on during my pregnancy. The people that screamed and shrieked in excitement that Aiden was coming. The place that threw me a wonderful baby shower. The place I sang sweet songs to my baby in my belly as I swayed to the music. The place I felt God's presence in the context of community.

Now I go to church feeling like all eyes are on me. Feeling like everyone either feels sorry for me, confused for me, or just plain doesn't know how to think or feel. I either get ignored or get the polite "how are you" but you can tell in their eyes that they are scared to hear the answer. NOT THAT I BLAME THEM! I wouldn't know what to say either!

Because of the fact of the matter is... There are no right words.


I have cried every Sunday at church since Aiden passed away. The Lord overwhelms me with His grace, His strength, His conviction, and His truth.

On Sundays my mind slows down long enough to realize how incredibly crushed I am. So of course... I have a breakdown every time the music starts or I hear our pastor speak scripture over us.

And every Sunday I spill my heart out to God confessing all of my hopes, fears, concerns, doubts, and desires.

On Sundays I tend to get angry. I get angry at God for taking my son. I get angry at God for not blessing us with another child. I get angry at God that I'm not pregnant. I get angry at God when I think of all of the pain parents who lose their child go through. I get mad at God when I think about the fact that I'll never get to see Aiden play t-ball.

I get angry at God because I think we'll never have another child.

And then I put on some Biblical perspective and hear God speaking to me and pouring out His love and hope over me. So I surrender. I lay down my anger into His throne room and get lost knowing He is good and faithful and true.

I leave church encouraged, light-hearted, hopeful, and happy.

Then... I go out to eat and all I see are babies, babies everywhere.

Everywhere I turn is a family... a newborn... and I overhear conversation after conversation littered with baby talk and all I want to do is wear a sign that says, "I just lost my baby" so maybe they'll lighten up on the conversations that crush me.

Then I go home and I cry. I cry for the second time in one day and I ended up utterly exhausted. I cry because as soon as I put my heart out there for God to take, He makes me face all the things that hurt me the most. He guts the knife harder into my heart. And I want to crawl back into bed and wish I never had to see another Sunday again.

This may seem dramatic, but I can assure you... it is.


It is a drama-filled, satan-induced coma of heartache that I am SO over.

I don't want to hate Sundays anymore.

I don't want to hate going to church or out to eat or to the grocery store.

I don't want to try to protect myself from God when really He is the ONLY one that can protect me.

I want to be able to trust God.

I want to stop spending my Sundays crying when I should be resting in Him.

I want to see God change me and mold my spirit to lean toward Him.