A Letter To My Future Daughter In Law

When wrapping up Brooks' baby book, I wanted to close it with something extraordinary. I thought about it for weeks and decided after an encounter at church one week that I would write a letter to his future wife. Yes, it was as emotional as you would imagine it would be as a Mom! Looking at this little one year old boy and picturing him as a man who will love another woman one day is hard to grasp. However, what a powerful truth to speak into the heart of a woman one day! To show her that claims of praying for her weren't just words in a wedding toast, but ones that I had written perhaps 20+ years before. 

After I posted this as part of his baby book preview I've received a lot of interest as to what in the world you say to a woman you've never met and who may not even be alive yet. So I've decided to share, this very intimate letter and peek into my heart for the woman my son will one day love. 

To My Beautiful Daughter in Law,

A few Sundays ago I sat in church and observed the exchange between and woman and her daughter in law.  It was so interesting I had trouble focusing on the service because I couldn't help but be intrigued by both of them throughout the hour.  The parents arrived first, and shortly before the service began the son and daughter in law joined.  It appeared he was an only child.  He walked in and embraced his mother and she said "Hi, baby!" in this voice that dripped with love.  She held him tight and over his should said "Hi" to her daughter in law.  She didn't hug her, her tone changed, and while nice, it didn't drip with love, and you could see the timidity cover the girl's soft face as the woman released her son and they were seated.  The girl slipped her arm in her husband's and leaned into his body.  I could literally see her seeking comfort from him as she navigated this exchange.  She never let go of him through the service, even when they stood and she raised one hand in worship, she held tight to his arm.  She was beautiful and soft, she worshiped in a way that was sincere, and as I watched her I began to think of you.  You, the woman who will one day hold tight to my boy and love him deeply.  I began to pray for you. Praying that you would be a girl with a soft face who loves Jesus and praises him on Sundays with Brooks by your side.  But as I sat there, I knew that if that family were us, I would want you seated beside me.  Where I could lean over to you and laugh when the sermon was funny.  Or where I could grab your hand or touch your leg during prayer so you were reminded that I was always praying for you.  Where you would be safe in the middle with me where I was taught women belong. Bookended between the two men I love most.  My Brooks and my Dale. 

I've been thinking about you a lot since that Sunday.  I've been praying for you since Brooks was born, but since that day, I've been praying intentionally.  Praying that you would be a strong woman with a fierce heart.  A woman who will understand she must serve God in order to love her family well.  I think about you and wonder if your Mommy is rocking you to sleep at night when I am rocking Brooks.  I think about the fact that you may not even be born yet but that when you are I pray that you are given to Godly parents who are raising you to seek out a boy like mine.  A boy who's heart I will teach to beat for Jesus.  A boy who will respect you, honor you, cherish you, love you, protect you, and lead you.  A boy who will one day be a man.  A good man.  A strong man. 

Sweet girl, although I don't know your name yet, I want you to know that I love you.  You will never have to compete with me or fear me.  While I know I will never be like your own mother, I sure hope I can be a close second.  A woman you can trust, love, and share with.  I promise to not be bossy and demanding, I promise to not make Brooks chose between you or I. I promise to let you live your life as your own family. The truth is, I will never be you, and you will never be me, and that is exactly why Brooks can love us both.  

Brooks taught me how to truly love.  He taught me joy and sacrifice.  Patience and pain.  He made my heart feel a way I didn't know existed.  I prayed so desperately for him. I wanted him so very much my heart ached.  One day you will understand a mother's love, and when you do, our bond will grow.  For then we won't just be in laws, we'll be mothers together.

Protecting the Sabbath

Jesus tells us in Mark 2 that the Sabbath was made to meet the needs of the people.  When I reflect on that statement, what strikes me is as people, how often the things that are meant for our benefit, we use to our detriment.  How many of God's commands are meant to protect us, keep us, and save us, yet we ignore them as though they are outdated.  We act in a way that says to God, "You don't know the culture we live in, the demands we face, the things we must accomplish." Then, I'm reminded when I'm tempted to offer a rebuttal to God instead of listening to Him, His words in Malachi, "I am the Lord, and I do not change."

The 4th commandment God gave to Moses was "Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy." But further more He continues: "Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord your God."

While this message may have originated in the OT, and while people may want to offer a thousand reasons to you why you shouldn't worry about a Sabbath, God is still concerned with our rest.  He is so concerned that he gave us a commandment to do it and later in the NT Jesus upholds the commandment and expands on it and tells us that the Sabbath isn't for God's benefit or the Sabbath's benefit, but it is for our benefit.

When Dale and I got married, we had many discussions about many things. The Sabbath wasn't really one of them.  I knew he refused to mow grass on Sunday (which I thought was silly) but didn't know until a couple years later why.  Honestly, where we are with it we fell into and then once we got here, soaking it in weekly, we started talking about it and I realized that he had been convicted about how he spent his Sunday's since a lawn mower incident on a Sunday many years ago. As the years have passed, life has gotten busier, and we've started a family, we have made some definite decisions about how we honor our Sabbath and it centers around three priorities.  Our friends have noticed this about our family and you can always be sure that if you complain to me about how busy your weekends are, or how stressed you feel on Monday, that I am going to ask about how you spend your Sabbath, your Sunday, your 7th day, and encourage you to protect it because it's important enough that God commands you to do it.  While I understand that not everyone's Sabbath can be a Sunday (clearly church personnel fall into this category among many other working Americans), it is still possible and important to chose your day to devote to the Sabbath. 

Priority #1  WORSHIP

On Sunday mornings, you can be certain of where the Hall Family is.  We are at church.  Weekly worship is our first priority.  If we are out of town, we visit a local church.  If we are at the lake, we go Friday night and all day Saturday so we can be home Sunday for church.  If someone has a headache, a belly ache, a sniffly nose, we are at church.  Basically, unless you are dying, you are at worship on Sunday morning.  If you would get up and push through to go to work, you go to church.  (Obviously sick kids change the game but in this instance one parent stays home and one goes for us.) This may sound militant but we're talking about spending an hour or two sometimes worshiping our Creator! The one who's breath is in our lungs allowing us to even wake up and go. God deserves our worship.  God created us for community. Our pastor once commented that the world beats us up 6 days a week, we need Sunday to refresh and feed us. That is one of those quotes that I never have trouble remembering because it is so true and I'm reminded of it weekly.  By time Sunday rolls around, I need me some Jesus.  I need a chance to go sit still for an hour and praise Him with my voice and learn about Him more in ways that change me.  Worship is not an obligation, it is a privilege.

Priority #2  FAMILY

God gave us family.  Spending time together as a family is where we build memories, reflect on our week, discuss what God has been teaching us, how it changes us, and how we can apply it to our lives as individuals and as a whole.  It allows for conversation that can hold us accountable to each other.  Some Sundays our Sabbath is spent as our family of 3, and sometimes its spent with our extended family.  Either is perfect, and different weeks call for different needs.  What family doesn't need a day to spend together without outside distractions in this crazy busy world we live in? I don't know one family who wouldn't benefit from a day together. Satan hates families and wants nothing more than to rip them apart, what a more perfect way to do so than to keep them too busy for each other 7 days a week?

Priority #3 REST

Resting as a family is important just like worshiping as a family is. Our work and the world around us has a place and Christians need to remember they are in charge of putting those things in their place.  Your work won't do it for you.  The world won't do it for you.  They will suck every single ounce out of you and then a little bit extra for good measure.  Your family, your home, your body needs a day with no to do list (Moms-I'm talking to you), no pressure, and no plans.

So how do you make this happen? What is the practical application for this elusive Sabbath? For our family it is this:

• Worship every single week, no exceptions.  
• No plans on Sundays that don't involve us as a whole family.  
• Spend quality time together eating, reading, napping, watching a movie, going to a park, playing outside, riding bikes, afternoon drives, getting ice cream, family dinners and many more.

We avoid any plans that tie us down, dinners with friends, group activities, anything that will potentially rush our Sunday, have us going separate directions, and taking away from our rest together. The exception to this for us is the occasional celebrations that are important such as baby & bridal showers, fellowship lunches right after church, or any other unavoidable, agreed upon activity. 

Two Sundays ago as I was making lunch I couldn't hear Brooks and Dale was outside. In a moment of panic from a silent toddler, I went looking for him.  The house was silent and he was sitting on the couch reading a book. I captured the moment and silently prayed that we would continue with our protection of this day his whole life so he would never depart from it and would know how important it is that we honor God's command on this day. 

Then this past Sunday, I snapped this sweet view from the couch I was laying on so I could capture this moment between Father & Son as they chatted and rested together.

I see it floating around on Pinterest often and it sticks with me and so I'll close with this...

A Sunday well spent, brings a week of content.

Eighteen Months Old!

People say a lot of things I realize.  Cliches, advice, random thoughts about their life, your life, and everyone else's life in between.  But, none of the things "people" have said ring more true to me about motherhood and having a child than "Time Flies. "Because woah, people.  You. Are. Right.  It does. I can remember Brooks' newborn days with such clarity that I can relive them in my mind any time I want.  Sometimes I miss those days (mainly when I'm on a shopping trip and used to have a sleeping infant and now I'm wrangling a squalling toddler) and other days I am so glad he can tell me if he would rather have pancakes or waffles for breakfast. (This morning he chose "awwfels.")

Two weekends ago we spent a couple hours with our favorite photographer in the history of ever.  Jessie Kriech-Higdon of KH Photo.  Shameless plug for her there.  We went with the plan of just taking Brooks' 18 month photos but also got to unexpectedly use the opportunity to announce our latest pregnancy!

Anyways, I have lots to say today but not enough time to say it. We are in Monday grind.  Which means I'm chasing two toddlers who are fighting over a pacifier that one of them refused his whole flipping life (cough:Brooks:cough) and trying to protect our poor Sully from all the undesired petting, wiping snotty noses, folding laundry, paying bills, and counting down the hours to a Mom's dinner out with my Bible study Mommas that I need to shower for but am not certain when (read:IF) that will happen. Totally Monday, right?

So without further ado, my sweet, sweet toddler who is undoubtedly God's answer to my prayer for patience. A.K.A. ask and you'll be given the opportunity to learn.

Is my desire for privacy greater than my need for prayer?

Over the years, I've really struggled to come to terms with the whole idea of "waiting" until you've completed the risky first trimester of pregnancy to share the most exciting news of your life.  When people share before the magic number 12 people often remark about how early they are sharing.  When people share after the magic number 12 people often remark about how they can't imagine how someone would be able to contain that kind of information.  The double standard is suffocating and I have found myself in both scenarios, many times. 

What struck me the most after the loss of our first baby was how many women I knew personally who had experienced loss that I had no idea about.  How many had "told too soon" or "waited too long" to share and lost the life of a child who mattered to them.  

I soon realized that people don't know how to respond to a mother who has lost a child by miscarriage.  Let me just simplify it, you handle it the same way you would a friend who has lost a child who entered this world by birth. The moment a woman finds out she is pregnant, she becomes a Momma.  Her entire world changes.  What she eats, drinks, the vitamins she takes, her thoughts are consumed as she can no longer forget that there is a baby growing in her body.  She dreams, hopes, plans, and prepares.  And at some point, sometimes, all of the dreams, hopes, plans, and preparations stop when she learns of her loss.  Her life has all of the sudden dramatically shifted and what was to be is no longer coming.  So you treat her like a Momma, one who had a living child in her body that has gone to be with Jesus for reasons we can't comprehend. 

Because now, if she told "too early" she has to bear the burden of sharing her loss.  If she "waited too long" she realizes that others weren't able to share in her joy and so how can she tell them now? 

But you know what she gains when she is able to share her loss? She gains support.  Love.  Compassion. Strength from community.  

And this is where I struggle, with where the silent suffering occurs, when she "waits" to tell and now her loss becomes her secret.  Her sole cross to carry.  Where she finds herself isolated and unsure of what to do next.  Where questions like "When will you start a family?" cut deep because the person asking has no idea that she is trying but feels like she is failing.

Sadly, she believes the cultural lie that privacy is more powerful than the prayers of those who love her.  The lie that whispers, "don't tell before it's safe, you wouldn't want to jump the gun."  "Why would you tell people before you know if it will survive?" "Shouldn't you make sure everything is okay before you announce?"  Where she is pressured to keep her miracle secret because miscarriage is too much for others to know how to deal with.  

Fear of miscarriage is the number one anxiety of prenatal mothers.  God assures us hundreds of times throughout scripture to not fear.  I can't help but to feel like part of this anxiety is attributed to the pressure that comes from how to handle a new pregnancy and sharing with others.

Just recently, I found myself contemplating the subject once again. Then I realized the question I had to answer was, "Is my desire for privacy greater than my need for prayer?"   Essentially, do I fall victim again to the trap that I should wait only so that I may possibly have to mourn in private?

For me, for us, our family, our growing family, I will always chose prayer.  

Prayer over fear.
Prayer over anxiety.
Prayer over privacy.
Prayer over control.
Prayer over uncertainty.

So please, pray for our family. Prayer that the God of the universe would bring this baby to birth in October.  Prayer that His will for our family is greater than our human desires and that if earthly life isn't what is to come that peace would follow in waves to cover us. 

"Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in Him." Psalm 62:5

Baby Hall #2 coming October 2015!

Where Do You See Yourself in 5 Years?

This question always paralyzed me when presented.  I had no idea.  I am not and have never been a visionary, so answering it always felt fake and forced. Like some test question that I would never get right.

I still am not sure I could answer this question, even in my present state of life that is stable and purposeful.  Because to be honest, who can ever foresee the way God will move?

I moved home to Louisville from Dallas exactly five years ago this month.  February 10th. A day, that I have yet to forget.  I can still relive that day, the day that I finally gave up control and begged God to take over because I had destroyed my life with one bad decision after another.

On that day, I could have never imagined that God's plans for me were even bigger than my dreams.  The question isn't, where am I 5 years later, instead it's a declaration...

LOOK WHAT GOD DID!

Look at the life He restored.
Look at the woman He redeemed.
Look at the marriage He built.
Look at the child He gave.
Look at the ministry He created.
Look at the prayers He answered.
Look at the prayers He didn't.
Look at the story He is writing.
Look at the glory He is getting!

One of the most important lessons I've learned in these years is that praying the will of God means being ready for anything.  Praying the will of God is terrifying and beautiful all at once.  For me it has brought the purest joy and the deepest grief. 

It meant walking away from a lot of things, sometimes things I loved and wanted. 
It meant walking away from people.  People who weren't good for me and some who I thought were. 
It meant praising God in hospital rooms were babies lay motionless on monitors.
It meant saying no to lifetime dreams when doors were closing all around me. 

But, LOOK WHAT GOD DID!

It meant finding the love of a man God gave me after a decision of obedience.
It meant giving birth to a sweet little boy named Brooks.
It meant giving up my new job for my dream job.
It meant living each day with the purest trust that God's will for my life is unpredictable yet safe.

So where will I be in 5 years?

Guess we'll just have to wait and see what God does.

The Day I Threw Woody

It was a Monday.

Woody's hat kept falling off and Brooks was so annoyed with this continual game of put on fall off put on fall off.  He walked over to me with frustration and slung Woody right into my face. His floppy arms and hard plastic hands smacked my cheek and nose and inflicted a ridiculous amount of pain considering it was a mostly soft toy.  In an attempt to keep myself from completely bullying my child by yelling at him I peeled Woody off of my face and did what any logical, 30 year old mother would do...

I threw him across the living room.

Is this real life? Did I actually just do that? Who am I? What just happened? All of these raced through my head as I watched him crash to the floor.

In an effort to control myself I completely lost control.  In a moment of sheer shock of the amount of pain a character could inflict I came completely undone.  As quickly as I lost control I realized my error.  That little face just stared at me as if he had no idea who I was. Shock covered his own face and he couldn't take his eyes off me.  I couldn't decide if it was confusion or fear but I prayed for the first.  I quickly removed us both from the situation and suggested we go to the kitchen to do something. Anything to take his mind off what he had just witnessed but mostly because I needed to get myself in check for acting like Mommy Dearest.

As babes do, he went on as if nothing had happened. Until later in the day when he couldn't get that silly hat on Woody and I watched in horror as he chucked him across the room.  Oh, and I thought Woody actually hitting me in the face today was the worst pain I would feel.  I stood there completely overcome with shame at the reality of the quote we see plastered all over- your children will follow your example, they will be who you are so be who you want them to be.  He is me.  He is crazy, out of control, throw Woody across the room because you're frustrated me. 

He looked at me for my reaction, I kneeled down and apologized for throwing Woody today.  I told him we don't throw our toys.  We don't hit Mommy and we don't throw our toys.  Off he ran, Woody in hand. I sat there praying fervently that he would one day follow the example of apologizing instead of the example of throwing in anger.

It lingered in my head all day. I shared my Mom fail with a close friend.  I shared it with my husband.  I needed to confront it instead of hide it. Bring my dark into the light where Satan couldn't use it against me later as a secret I had kept buried deep. 

As I watched him happily bounce away, God taught me yet another lesson through the tiny boy.  That when we ask for forgiveness, God looks at us, he sees us, he forgives and we all move on. Maybe throwing Woody today wasn't a total loss.

What Death Teaches Us

 This sweet moment between Brooks & his Great Papaw Bowen was taken just an hour before he went to be with Jesus. In a rare toddler moment, Brooks sat and looked at him for over five minutes and reached out his hand to caress his Papaw's hand so gently.  There wasn't a dry eye in the room!

"For He knows how weak we are, he remembers we are only dust. Our days on earth are like grass, like wildflowers, we bloom and die." Psalm 103:14

I read this verse in Psalms the night before we lost him.  I prayed for the Holy Spirit to fill me with something.  Encouragement, promise, hope, a reminder that this life is all but temporary.  Without fail, He led me to this.  A verse that sits one below a favorite of mine, one that is embedded on my heart and inscribed on a bracelet Dale wears. 

As we spent our days bedside, with one of the first men I'd ever fallen in love with, I was flooded with emotions and thoughts about life and death.  Life teaches us lessons time and time again, but death, do we ever stop to think in the midst of it that it is worthy of teaching us as well?  I've never experienced death before, and yet I wasn't surprised to see that God would use such a time to speak to my heart in a way that I knew would change me, encourage me, and challenge me.

Earth's treasures are useless. Matthew 6:19 Don't store up treasures here on earth where moths eat them rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal.

As I sat and touched his hands I could picture him fiddling with a pocket watch. Cleaning it, opening it, winding it.  I thought about all the hundreds that he had collected.  One of which he had given to me one Christmas.  I had held onto that pocket watch for dear life during all of life's moves, travels, and even a jeweler once who offered me more money than I had to my name at the time.  I thought about how I would wear it the next day and that one day I would get to pass it on.  And in that sense, that treasure didn't seem completely useless to me, because forever I would remember him by it.  But that pocket watch, like the hundreds that surrounded it, sure didn't matter as he inhaled and exhaled his last numbered breaths. It pierced my heart so deeply.  It was a reminder of my word for the year, contentment.  The reminder that no amount of stuff matters when we're breathing our last breaths.  What an image to be emblazed in my mind for when I struggle with material desires. A final lesson from my Papaw that wouldn't be forgotten.

Enjoy your precious life. Ecclesiastes 9:9 Live happily with the woman you love through all the meaningless days of life that God has given you under the sun.

I could picture him bickering with my Mamaw in a way that I knew meant he loved her.  He would argue his point and look at you and wink.  Even in those last years when Alzheimer's had set in and you weren't always sure he was aware, at just the right time he would look you in the eyes and wink when she would say something sassy or accuse him of doing something just to spite her.  As I sat and watched him breathe I could picture memory after memory of him enjoying life and bringing us all along for the ride.  Death has a way of pressing pause on life.  It allows you to say no to every other committment you have in a second to be there as you savor final moments.  In that moment, I could almost hear him whispering to me to not wait for death again to press pause and enjoy my precious life.  My baby, my husband, my own Daddy.  To soak in the beauty of each every day moment under the sun.  

Eternity matters.  1 John 2:24-25 So you must remain faithful to what you have been taught from the beginning. If you do, you will remain in fellowship with the Son and with the Father. And in this fellowship we enjoy the eternal life he promised us.

January 10th, 1991 he obidiently followed Jesus into the baptismal and was raised from the dead.  He was different from then I'm certain.  I don't remember those early days of his Christian life, but I knew where he kept his Bible and I knew where he could be found on a Saturday night.  In the back of the middle section of church.  He was a quiet servant with a gentle heart.  

In the final hours of his life I looked at my own Dad with a weary heart and asked why God hadn't already called him home.  Why he had been stripped of his identity & memory yet still resided in this earthly body instead of the glorious new body that I knew awaited him.  I didn't expect him to be able to explain to me God's plan, but I yearned to understand.  In a way only Dad's can, he looked at me with tear filled eyes and told me he believed it was because God was giving us a chance to remember the importance of salvation.  A time to openly talk about it together, a time to share it with those around us who may not quiet understand the message of Jesus and the promise of eternal life, a time to draw near to Jesus so he may draw near to us.  Eternity matters, and in the final moments of life when grief rushes in, only the promise of Heaven can provide hope that there is more than this.  

As the roses from his funeral slowly wither and fall, I am reminded daily of the verse the Holy Spirit gave me that cold Thursday night.  Just like flowers, we bloom and we die.  Oh how I long for my bloom of life to be filled with treasure that cannot be lost, memories that cannot be forgotten, and a hope of eternity with my sweet Papaw and many, many others.