Opening

Precious, tiny thing that you were, you opened me up to a pain I could've never imagined possible. The contractions in my body that pushed you down, down, down from your cozy place in my womb; they scared me. They hurt in a way I couldn't describe. I writhed and groaned and squeezed your daddy's hand way too hard.
And then, then you opened me up. You opened my body, I was broken for you.

You made me a mother.

My life was changed and your life came forth.

Oh my goodness, the relief. The joy. The completion: you were finally HERE.

In those moments my lips opened and I couldn't stop whispering praise and thanks to the Emmanuel who created Motherhood. Oh, oh. I can't even describe it.

Each one of you. All three times. The same feelings of pain, of fear, of relief; the same ecstatic joy.

And then? Then my heart was opened up to love so big I didn't even think I could hold it in. All three times.
Day after day, month after month, my heart has opened wider and wider because this love, oh this love, just keeps growing. Why? Oh, because you keep growing. And when a baby-dear grows into a person, a Mommy's love grows too, because there is continually more and more and more to love: with every inch added to your stature, every word added to your vocabulary, and every attribute of your personality revealed.

And also, you open doors for me. Yes, you! Each one of you precious, tiny girls. Doors to my community. Doors into people's lives. Neighbours I've never met came to our home to welcome you  with a card and a baby gift. Random people stop and peer into the stroller when we're out in town, smiling and asking questions; "How old is she?" "What's her name?".... And now, "Oh my word, you have three?" "Are they triplets?"
I have gotten to know the neighbour next door better in this last week than I have in the two years we've lived here, just because twice I've happened to step out onto the back porch with you and there she was, out on her back porch too. Seeing you little cuties she grinned and said you were adorable. Then we started chatting. And from there, well, you know how it goes: conversations start. Relationships are formed. Opportunities to share Jesus present themselves. She has an auto-immune disease: that basically means that the cells inside her body attack other cells inside her body and that makes her so sick all the time. I didn't know that before our chat this week.

YOU opened that door with her.

You, and your pigtails. You, and your charming gummy smile. And yes, you, with your funny, baby growl that makes everybody laugh. The three of you have opened the doors to opportunities with more neighbours and locals than I can count. Opportunities for me to smile and spread the light of the joy that Jesus puts in our hearts even right in the trenches of sleepless, unpredictable, busy motherhood.


But those are not the only opportunities you open up for me. Because of you, I have had the opportunity to learn and and to grow personally in so many areas.

For one thing, my knowledge has grown. Growing up I learned to change diapers, bathe a baby, dress a child, braid hair, cook meals, teach reading, babysit... All the basic things, because I had a good mommy, and because I was given the opportunity to practice what I was taught on my siblings. I'm the oldest of 5 brothers and 5 sisters, you know. But because of YOU I have begun to learn MOMMY things. Since you have arrived in my life, my mind has been opened up to so many, many new topics I hadn't even considered before. Like what foods to introduce to a baby first, how to nurse two babies at the same time, what to look for when you're worried your toddler got a concussion because she fell off the couch on her head when being silly (you didn't, thank the Lord), how to treat a cold in a very young infant, how to train up a child in the way she should go.... Things like that, just to name a very few. Oh, I've learned much already, and I'm learning more every day.

But also I've had many opportunities to grow spiritually. I've learned from you. I've learned because of you.

Patience. That's the classic answer; ask any mom, she'll tell you, "If anyone teaches me patience, it's my kids!" But really, though; you do. The Lord does, anyway. Through you.

The thing that stands out the most in my mind, though, is how much the eyes of my heart have been opened to the love and character of my Heavenly Father... Just by mothering you. It's amazing. Oh, I needed this. To have my eyes opened more, like this.

But why all this about opening?? Well, my darlings, simply because there is this strong, subtle, dangerously-venomous temptation in motherhood to look at all the doors, opportunities, seasons of life... adventures, experiences... that are now closed to us, and grow so discontent in the place we fill.

Are you happy when you think about and wish for what you don't have or can't have anymore? No.

And neither are Mommies. And an unhappy mommy can really do damage in her home.

It can be easy to vocalize about how our children tie us down, keep us at home, close us off from the world we used to know, keep us from the "fun" and the "freedom" we used to enjoy... 

Or even to ever-so-simply mull it over in over minds discontentedly.

Closed doors can be disappointing if you stand there staring at them. YOU know that; I've seen you whine many-a-time when Mommy closes a door to a forbidden room. 

Meditating on the closing can often brew a perfect cup of bitterness ...if we forget the opening! 

The more we turn this thought of closed doors over in our minds, the more unhappy we become in the very calling that is meant to give us life and joy... 

AND the more we whine to others... 

AND the more we lash out at our little dearies... 

Making it really hard to be "a joyful mother of children." (Psalm 113:9)

I'm a mommy now. I might never again get to fly through a day and a night to Africa: care for orphans, pray with AIDS victims, walk sandal-clad on red Ugandan soil, feel a hippo bump the boat I'm sitting in, or watch the sun set of Lake Victoria. 

I may never again see the Cataratas de Puhapanzak in Honduras or tour Peleș Castle in the Carpathian Mountains of Romania or pray with a young Guatemalan mother on the curb of her cobblestone street.
I probably won't get to go back to Hawaii with your daddy, or be invited join the single ladies for a shopping trip to the city, or get to sleep in until 10 on a Saturday morning, or have a flat, tight belly again. I might not ever get a solid eight hours of sleep again either (actually, I prefer ten, if we're being honest). Those are just a few of the roads closed off to me now, because I am a mother of three babies. 

Oh, but Loves, just look at the joy, the life, the amazing adventures that the Lord has opened up before me NOW! Why would I even sigh about the places I can't go, things I can't do, person I can't be; in light of the privilege of motherhood???

You've opened up a whole new world to me... 

Of diaper bags and bottles and baby toys, 

of cluttered floors and animal fridge magnets and Cheerios, 

of carseats and swings and bouncy chairs and exersaucers, 

of sleepers and burp cloths and tiny matching outfits, 

of fascination with birdies outside and puppies and motorcycles that roar by past the front window, 

of silly gummy grins and cooing conversations and giggles that end in spit up, 

of 3am snacks in the kitchen and 5am feeds in bed, 

of blow-outs and spaghetti sauce in hair and perpetually runny noses in Winter's "Cold and Flu Season", 

of watching the wonder in your eyes as you see a real cow for the first time, 

of tasting avocados or rice cereal- or ice cream or chocolate chips- for the very first time, 

of teaching you to hide God's word in your heart and rocking and praying in the twilight moments over you and thanking God over and over and over daily for the gift of you... 

And, oh, how I love this world that I live in with you. 

How I love this adventure with that we call motherhood that has been opened up to me because of you.

You opened me up. You made me a mother.

I choose to open my heart and my arms to all that my Father chooses to bestow, and not become fixated on the closing. I rejoice to tear open this beautifully-wrapped gift He gives me called Motherhood.

"You give to them, they gather it up; 

You open Your hand, they are satisfied with good."

(Psalm 104:28)

A Match Made in Heaven

{a personal testimony of how God brought my husband and I together, written in January 2013}


While at a youth conference in Colorado during the second week of August, the Lord impressed upon my heart (as He had many times before) that in order to be wholeheartedly devoted to Him I needed to let go of my own plans, desires, and ideas for my future and surrender to HIS will for me... Even if I didn't understand what that was yet. The hardest thing about that surrender was letting go of my long-cherished dream and hope of marriage. After thinking and praying hard and long about it, I chose to let go of what I thought I wanted and give myself to the Lord completely so that His plans and purposes could be brought about in my life. 

During that same week, my mom became friends with a Canadian lady whose son and daughter were attending the same conference as my siblings and I. In a conversation one afternoon, Mom discovered that this friend knew the young man named Tim who was courting my dear friend Whitney, so she began asking questions about him. During this conversation this friend also mentioned Tim's brother Joel several times as being a Godly young man whom she and her family highly respected. That day, even though she couldn't explain it logically, my mom knew in her heart that this Canadian Joel Holloway (who we had never met) was the one the Lord had chosen for me.

As the Lord would have it, two weeks later I met Joel.

Joel had accompanied his brother Tim down from British Columbia to Missouri for a week of (what I assumed was) visiting Whitney's friends and family. The second day of their visit the two brothers came over for dinner along with two other friends from their hometown and our mutual friends from Tennessee. When Joel walked through our front door for the first time my Mom once again felt confirmation in her heart that he would be my husband. I had no clue.

Many times throughout the next week I had opportunity to observe Joel's character. I knew there was a difference in our ages so I hardly considered the possibility of him being interested in me and interacted with him very little. I did notice, however, an admirable character displayed in this young man which I respected greatly. I'd seen him interact with my younger siblings: volleyball in the rain on the little-kids’ team and long conversations about fishing with my ten-year-old brother. In passing, I'd noticed him enter into worship during the several fellowship gatherings we’d attended that week: eyes closed to all surroundings and singing with a wholehearted passion that couldn't be mistaken. This blessed me. 
We had found ourselves one afternoon in my best friend's living room discussing mission trips and discovering -much to our surprise- that we'd both been to the Central American country of El Salvador at different points in our lives. I'd also immediately taken note of the fact that he not only like coffee, he loved coffee. Just like I do. Still, the thought that he had considered me never crossed my mind.

Then, on the last day of his trip, Joel asked my Dad to go out for a conversation over coffee. 

Peace filled my heart later that afternoon when my Dad called me into his office and told me that Joel had asked for the blessing of beginning a relationship with me.

Little did I know that early in August Joel had received an email from an older brother in the Lord -and mutual friend of ours- that mentioned me. It was then that Joel began to pray about me for the first time, even though we'd never met.

Joel had then flown those 2,315 miles down to our little corner of Missouri with the single goal of observing my character throughout the time he was  here and asking the Lord for guidance regarding a relationship with me. When Dad told me this I was very blessed remembering the honorable way in which he had conducted himself when he was around me. I'd had no clue whatsoever of any such observation going on the whole time. At the end of his week here he was encouraged by what he’d seen and felt total peace and confirmation from the Lord that he should ask my dad for his blessing to begin a relationship with me.

As Joel headed back to Canada I began to pray, along with my parents, to  understand God's heart on the matter. Peace like I had never felt before continued to guard my heart every single day as we waited to know the Lord's will.

After a week and a half of praying and discussing things with my parents, all of us feeling a confirming peace from God about the situation we decided to take the next step in faith.
I found that same peace living inside me, swelling and overtaking me, as I began correspondence with this man I barely knew who felt God's leading  to get to know me for who I am. It wasn't without occasional trepidation, however. There were those little fears that crept in, unnoticed and unwelcome, quietly as I lay in bed at night considering the circumstance. Humanly speaking the whole circumstance seemed impossible and even scary; simply because Joel and I hardly knew each other and lived nearly a continent apart. But whenever I'd take the fears and concerns to the Lord He'd remind me that He wasn't the Author of fear and He'd bid all fear to leave me alone. Peace came back every time.
So in faith I stepped out into a relationship I could've never conjured on my own and the scary became okay.

For about two weeks Joel and I communicated daily through email. We talked about all kinds of things including what a normal day looked like in each of our lives, favorite colors and pastimes,  personal convictions or strong beliefs, hopes, dreams, experiences, and what the Lord was teaching us that day specifically. It’s amazing how much can be communicated through writing! We learned a lot about each other’s lives that two weeks and looked forward to every new email with excitement. Then Dad gave Joel his blessing to call me, and when I heard his Canadian voice for the first time come over the phone so clearly, him speaking my name in that beautiful accent, there was that peace again: over and under, all the way around; filling that first conversation in a way I couldn't hardly believed. There wasn't even any awkwardness.

From then on we corresponded mostly by phone calls. The more I got to know Joel the more I not only began to trust and admire him, I began to discover that he was everything I had been asking God for in a man since I was sixteen.

It was a season of learning to walk by faith like never before. I had nothing to base my decision on but the unchanging character of God. It was beautiful because it daily proved to me that my Father loves ME and had tenderly and faithfully gone before me and provided for all of my needs; even throwing in a few trivial wants for my extra assurance of His genuine care.

And then the day arrived in early October, only weeks into our relationship, when I found myself walking down a jet way: one step at a time, making my way to visit Joel in Canada for the first time. Whitney, who was now engaged to Joel’s brother Tim, turned to me as we sat together on the plane and asked with a smile how I was doing. Above the clouds somewhere between my home and Joel’s I told her I felt nothing other than peace. Still: peace.

Five days I spent in British Columbia, getting to know the families at Joel’s church, celebrating Canadian Thanksgiving with him and his family, touring some local attractions, and getting to know Joel better by spending time with him in person. I left more encouraged than I had gone, and more convinced than ever that Joel was the one for me.

We continued our long-distance relationship on into November with daily phone calls, emails, texts and even a few video calls. The Lord continued daily to confirm to us that we were moving in the right direction and that we had been made for each other.

American Thanksgiving came around to us Missourians, and with it came Joel. Joel and his parents spent the day at our home and shared our traditional Thanksgiving meal with us. We enjoyed being together with our families, playing volleyball, basketball, chatting, walking down our long dirt road, eating and relaxing, taking four-wheeler rides and just enjoying getting to spend time together.  It was a day of celebration and giving thanks, but it was that evening that our rejoicing increased majorly. After dark Joel asked if I’d like to go for another walk. Agreeing, I grabbed my coat and headed out the door on his heels. Shutting the door behind him he turned to me. “Actually,” he said “I really wanted to just talk more than I wanted to walk.” He gestured to the rocking chairs on the porch and we both sat down. I looked him in the face and saw that tears were in his eyes. He began to tell me some of what the Lord had been doing in his heart and assuring me that he wanted to marry me. He gently offered that if I still wanted time to pray about it I had no obligation to answer him then and there, but I knew there was no need to pray about it more. The Lord had already made it clear to me in my heart that Joel was the one I had been waiting for all this time. Joel is the man I was made for. I made this clear to him, and after we talked a little more Joel got down on his knee with a ring and asked me to marry him.

I said yes.

Two days later was Tim and Whitney’s wedding. Joel and I began planning ours.

A week later, at the beginning of December, I flew up to BC again to be at Tim and Whitney’s Canadian reception and spend time with Joel and my future family. Joel met me at the airport with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. That week was filled with many wonderful memories for the two of us, including fellowship with the saints there, coffee dates and planning our wedding. The ladies from Joel’s church threw a surprise shower for me that weekend, blessing us with many things for our future home and then that Monday Joel and I flew out to Texas together. He had some business meetings very close to where my extended family lived there so we decided it was a good opportunity for them to meet Joel. We parted ways there, already planning his trip to Missouri just in time for New Years, and thanked the Lord for the knitting together He was continuing to do in our hearts.

Joel came down at the end of December and spent a week in our home with my family and I. I rejoiced to see the way my parents and each of my nine siblings love him so much and enjoy being around him, and thank the Lord for the many beautiful memories that were made for all of us that week. This was our last opportunity to spend time together in person before our wedding in February, so we enjoyed every day to the fullest and enjoyed watching God grow our love for each other daily as we were together... as He continues to do even now that we are apart again for a little while longer.

As I think of the story our Father God has written for Joel and I, I cannot help but think of the many similarities it has to His own beautiful Love Story. Just as Jesus came from Heaven to earth to a people who didn't know Him with the purpose of winning a bride to Himself, Joel came from another country to see a girl who’d never met him with the purpose of finding the bride God had chosen for him.
In the same way that Jesus patiently, powerfully but gently wooes and captures the hearts of the beloved ones He longs to call His own, Joel patiently won my heart and my trust through prayer and months of listening to my heart and displaying his love in multiple ways. When Jesus finished His days on earth He went back to Heaven to a prepare a place for His Bride, leaving us with a promise to soon return and take His Bride to Himself. I get the beautiful privilege of seeing this exemplified in my own life as Joel Holloway left me the first week of January to go and prepare a place for me with a promise to return soon and take me to himself as his bride forever. The Second Coming of Christ has never been more realistic or precious to me before now.

We pray that this glimpse of God’s work in our lives would inspire each of you on to deeper faith in Christ and that you would be encouraged, along with us, to continue to surrender everything to our precious Savior Jesus Christ to the glory of His matchless name.

{photos from our wedding day, credit goes to R&E Photography © 2013}

(Copyright © 2013 Madison Holloway)

Of Drinking Coffee and Eating Elephants

They say that that "the cobbler's children have no shoes", but not so in Honduras. Not so with the coffee crop. Not from what I've encountered, anyway.
Coffee, my bean-loving friends, is everywhere in Honduras and ...believe me... I consumed my share of it while I was there for two and a half weeks in January. And so, I will begin my story with coffee.

It was over one of those steamy cups of java on my last day there that it all transpired... and I finally discovered a reason- if not the reason- why God took me all those miles down to the Banana Republic for half a month on a day's notice.

On a wide back porch in the fresh tropical air I opened my heart to her (a girl whose name I won't mention) and she opened her heart to me. Over coffee the two of us talked for hours; both of us, broken girls struggling to believe.... one with hope and one without. But Jesus chose to shine through and I got to watch it happen.


Maybe a bit of background would help...

Having a special place carved in my heart for Central America, I just about jumped out of my seat when I heard about the potential opportunity to accompany a friend down to Honduras for her dentist appointment the following weekend. It was on a Wednesday that I first heard about the possibility and began praying about it, but by the next evening it had all seemed to fall through. Disappointed, but concluding that it must not be God's will, I went back to normal life until Saturday morning when I was informed that I would be going after all. I'd be leaving the very next morning.

(Ahh, life's an adventure!)

So I had flown south, by way of Florida, and the Epic Adventure had begun.

Within the first week that I was in Honduras I'd been in the big city of San Pedro Sula three times, enjoyed the hammocks at the guest house multiple times, shopped in the local market, eaten fresh bananas, attended an entirely-Spanish church service, met many more wonderful brothers and sisters of mine, had a supper of homemade tortillas, beans, eggs and coffee with a local Christian family and learned a few more Spanish words.... among many other things.

our view from the back porch

filling up the wringer washer to do some laundry

buying fruit at a produce stand

one of the busy shop-lined streets of the town

laundry hanging out to dry

the local church building that used to be a bar

riding through town in the back of the truck

natural beauty

Linda, making tortillas for our meal

Coffee beans, drying in the sun

Then we headed out, Jess (my traveling companion and dear friend) and I, to the mountainous western part of Honduras for the second week. Finally got there near midnight after five hours of wonderful-crazy driving over never-ending pot holes with a native-wanna-be driver in an overcrowded truck. I absolutely loved the ride.
We spent those next few days volunteering at the little medical clinic up in the mountains of Carrizal, visiting with the missionaries who lived and worked locally, walking what we dubbed the "hobble-stone" (hazardously rocky) streets of Erandique as we visited several Spanish-speaking friends and poked our heads in the local shops. We bought vegetables on the sidewalk on market day, killed a scorpion in our bedroom, washed our clothes outside in the pila, spent our evenings by candlelight, took cold showers, shared many cups of coffee together, and watched the sun set brilliantly over the distant peaks every evening.
What a sweet time this was! I felt so encouraged and privileged to be there.

a little girl walking down the sidewalk

plenty of yummy selections

market day in Erandique!

weighing up our purchase of carrots

carrying the load together

waiting for someone to offer them a ride in the truck bed to the top of the mountain

a very typical little house nestled into the mountainside

Still, I didn't know why I was there. Surely there was a purpose?

Nearly every morning I would wake up and wonder. I would ask God to show me why He had me there, and what He had special for me to do in this land that was not my home.
Slowly I began to consider that maybe there was no grand purpose in my being there.... no dramatic climax to this story... and that maybe He had me there for the sole purpose of being a blessing to His missionaries there. Maybe I was there to simply serve, and that is all. Was I open to that?

Or maybe He had me there to be quiet and still and listen for His voice. That's always a god thing! Maybe He wanted me to learn to follow Him anywhere even without knowing where or why I am going.

I'd never been here before. This was all new to me, this place. I am one who likes to understand.. who likes to be familiar with my surroundings... or at least know why I am where I am.

And I; the one who probably should have learned these things long, long ago; began to wake up each morning with a new purpose in mind. Still on my pillow one morning, I asked Him to just show me what He had for me that morning. To show me how I could benefit these, my brothers and sisters, that day.

I began to learn the skill of eating elephants.

"You can only eat an elephant," a friend told me a couple weeks ago "one bite at a time."

One bite at a time!

Finally I am beginning to see that it's the little things that are important.
It's the little things that change the world.

It's the changing of water into wine. It's the gentle taking of the children into the arms.
It's the words of Life being whispered to the dying.
It's the shouting of the message of hope to the lost, the confused, the afraid, the addict.

This is what changes the world.

And yes, the task of 'changing the world' often seems to loom over us in elephant-sized grandiosity, but when we realize that to be faithful in the very little things is the avenue by which we learn to be faithful in the huge things, we can begin to enjoy doing the little things.... we can enjoy taking on the challenge one bite at a time.

{I wish I was a faster learner, because these are some of the very things my parents have been encouraging me in for years!}

 

Then, leaving Carrizal, we made the five-hour trip on the dilapidated roads back to the town whose name, translated, is  "White Rock". Back to the guest house where we started. And for four more days we enjoyed going places in the back of the truck, experiencing the breath-taking beauty of Cataratas de Pulhupanzak, dining at the local cafes, spending time with the kids at the mission house, a game of volleyball with some other traveling young people, getting to know new friends better, and a few other things that were somehow squeezed in to that short amount of time.

volleyball in the church yard

the back porch

I never realized how BIG banana leaves really are!

One of the many hammocks hanging around

lunch together on the last day

Our favorite cafe, overlooking the main street of the town

No, it wasn't alive

our first glimpse of the falls

Cataratas de Pulhupanzak

A wonderful Sunday morning church service

The trip drew near to a close, and the last day came. The day the Lord allowed another beautiful opportunity for me to see how big the little things really are.

Out on the porch I talked with this girl that I had only recently met and I discovered anew that we- every one of us- are broken. Without Jesus, we are all groping through the darkness of circumstances and personal wounds. Apart from Him we are hopeless and quite helpless to do anything about it.


She said I have something she wants.

Ah, if she only knew that I am rotten through and through... and that the only thing I have worth having is Jesus. I tried to communicate that to her.

Hmm. Wait a minute. Could it be that that is what we are all here for? Simply to point... to direct others to the Light? To shout "Hope!" to the elephant-sized hopelessness of aching humanity???

Cross overlooking the village of Erandique

She and I... we prayed once more in the dark that evening and then parted ways. Jess and I flew home that night a little sad, but very much impacted by the whole two-week experience, and it wasn't long before we both got back into the swing of normal life.

But still; I remember.

Bite by bite, I am learning through this whole Central American adventure... and through the gentle working of His hand in my life since then.... that what counts is not necessarily the grand and glorious deeds we perform, but the small things... the little things we faithfully do in His name.

So I encourage you to be faithful in the little things. I encourage you to change this elephant-of-a-world one bite at a time. When you play with your kids... when you go about your daily tasks... when you wash the dishes... whether you're traveling the world or walking through the grocery store... in your conversations over coffee... wherever you are:

be faithful. 

It's the little things that change the world.

And, ya know, I wouldn't be at all disappointed if that one conversation over coffee was the only reason He took fearful and doubting little me down there to the Banana Republic... for half a month... on a day's notice. When we choose to be faithful in the little things, who knows what He will choose to do with it later on.