Conversations with a 4-Year-Old

Last week my four-year-old said something that - for lack of better words - rocked my world. The words that tumbled out of his mouth took my breath and brought tears to my eyes all in one fell swoop.

Before I tell you what he said I feel like I should offer some background information…

Back in May when we had our miscarriage after a long, stressful IVF journey - we never told him we lost the baby. At first, it was because we just couldn’t bring ourselves to talk about it. I shut down. Ben told our family and that alone was hard enough. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle the look on his sweet little face or the questions he’d have if we told him the baby was gone. You can imagine the questions we’d fielded throughout the IVF process. The other reason we didn’t tell him was simply that we wanted to preserve his innocence for a little longer. There’s plenty of time to learn about death - we were in no rush.

The rest of my year included a lot of me questioning God. I mean a LOT. The fact that my faith looked nothing like it used to filled me with shame - so much so that I was embarrassed to tell my husband, and I tell that man everything. (Probably too much, if I’m honest!) He’s really only known the me that had an unshakeable belief in God.

I can’t point to the miscarriage and say “Yep. Right there. That’s where I let the doubt creep in.” I can’t point at an exact time and say that’s when my faith started changing, it feels like it was just gradual. My mental health was absolutely affected by IVF; the daily hormone shots, the pills, countless appointments, surgeries, scans, trying to avoid covid so my strict schedule wasn’t thrown off and I’d have to re-start the process - it all got really heavy. Not to mention other things that were happening in my life simultaneously. It really was the perfect storm.

My faith has been hanging on by a thread. A very, very thin thread. I’ve talked to God about it, talked to my husband about it, talked to friends about it. I’ve prayed for God to help my unbelief.

Fast forward to last week. Tripp (my four-year-old) was doodling with his crayons at the kitchen table and I was lost in my head while washing dishes - when he randomly says with all the confidence in the world “mama, you know what happens when baby’s go to heaven? They become angel baby’s.” My eyes have never filled with tears faster. I had to take a few minutes to put words together and then I asked him “how did you know that?” To which he replied, “I just know’d it.”

That simple.

This kid. My never-ending reminder of God’s grace and goodness.

And no- I don’t have any answers to all the questions I’ve had for God this year. But what I do know is that He doesn’t just speak to me through preachers on Sunday morning. He speaks to me through my husband, through music, through nature, through my therapist, through friends and family members - especially when they don’t realize it. He pulls me closer through poetry, through the words strung together in books. He doesn’t shy away from using ordinary people and things and words to remind me of his faithfulness.

But mostly, He speaks to me through my four-year-old walking, talking blessing.

On Idolatry...

I feel like I need to make a confession, and some of you may be able to relate. I am really really good at breaking the Ten Commandments. One in particular.

Idolatry.

I would almost consider myself gifted and talented in this area. Throw something out there and I’ve probably made an idol out of it. My fertility specialist? Yep. My phone? Oh yeah, for sure. My follower count on social media? Duh. Times ten. Politicians? Psssshyeah. This one has been the worst for me lately. I have always been passionate about politics, for the simple fact that they are the ones put in place to decide on the laws and regulations that affect our neighbors. Their jobs directly affect “the least of these.” And that gives me plenty of reason to know that politics are important. But after seeing the brutal anger and hypocrisy and fill in the blank _______ from Christians on both sides of the political aisle I had to reign myself in and remember that whether you voted differently than me or the same as me, God made us BOTH.


And what matters more than who’s in the White House is who is in my heart. I can complain all day about who you voted for (and let me tell you I personally only know about three people who I know voted the same as me, so 😬) BUT what am I personally doing to help my neighbors? To love? To bring about righteous justice?! To help the oppressed? To defend the cause of the fatherless & plead the case of the widow?



Scrolling & fuming doesn’t help anyone. I’m working on removing the politician I’ve made an idol of and putting God back where He belongs. Maybe you need to do that too? 🤷🏻‍♀️

Unlearning & Relearning; Racism, White Privilege & Being a White Christian in America

Note: I wrote this blog post a year ago. I was too scared to post it, for fear of people thinking I shouldn't get "political" on my blog. I'm supposed to write about motherhood, faith, and infertility. But the thing is, we just saw yet another innocent person of color being gunned down - while JOGGING - with his murderers being arrested TWO months later.

(But I'm scared to sit behind my computer and press "publish" because of what people might think? wow. The perfect example of privilege.)

We don't have time to keep staying silent. It is time to get uncomfortable and start talking about things that are unacceptable.

I feel like I’ve been in a constant cycle of unlearning and relearning. 

My least/most favorite thing about studying sociology was that you are forced to use the “sociological imagination.” This means you have to look critically at the world and society as a whole and take yourself out of your personal situation in life in order to do so. You have to open your eyes to the nasty things you didn’t know about before, because of your place of privilege. This can be an economic privilege, ableism, or white privilege, etc. For example, I was aware that the mass incarceration of people of color existed, but I had been conditioned to deny it (insert my white privilege here.)

I have the ability to disassociate myself from big problems like mass incarceration and systemic racism because they don't affect me. This is called a privilege.

In my sociology courses, I was forced to open my eyes to the ugly parts of our society, that we as white people have (knowingly or unknowingly) helped maintain. Once you see those things, you can’t unsee them.

And then you have to start talking about it. I can’t morally sit here and claim to be a Christian who worships a God who formed everyone in His image, while also denying the things that very negatively affect so many of God's children. 

We have to continue unlearning and relearning. 

Search #mlkday. You will be flooded with positive, uplifting quotes. You probably won't see this excerpt from Letters from a Birmingham Jail. Read it and see if you feel as convicted as I do: 

"I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.”

Martin Luther King Jr.

Wow.

I have been the definition of "white moderate."

So, I did what I always do when I feel conviction. I started writing. Then I read what I had written, and immediately thought “there’s no way I’m publishing this. What will people think of me for putting this out there?"

Then it hit me - if I've been made aware of the true history of structural racism in our country, I've read the statistics, I've seen the evidence behind the criminal justice system and how it tilts to an unfair advantage for us white people, yet I don't say anything - I'm still being the "white moderate," hence using my white privilege to avoid and disassociate.

Talking about racism is completely uncomfortable. It’s awkward and I’m always worried I’m going to say the wrong thing. I’m sweating just thinking about actually posting this article. But these are conversations that we need to have with our white friends. We have to start calling each other out on racist jokes, remarks, and comments.

If you’re reading this and feel your blood pressure rising, and you're forming your response in your head about how you’re going to tell me how wrong I am in the comment section, how "white privilege" is a made-up term ... I kindly invite you to think about why you feel that way.

We have to do the research/labor, we have to learn about ways in which we are helping uphold a system that still holds people down. 

We have to recognize that we are the problem. 

If you start trying to unlearn what you’ve been taught, and read and do true research written by people of color you will start recognizing how our society (politically, economically, etc) was designed to benefit us while making things more difficult for people of color. 

If you’ve made it this far, high five. 

Here are 6 lists of what I’m reading, people I'm following, and what I'm listening to as I unlearn & relearn social justice, racism, and my role as a white Christian in America.

To Follow on Instagram

@sojogram

@blackcoffeewithwhitefriends

@wherechangestarted

@eji_org

@privtoprog

@latashamorrison

@beabridgebuilder

@ijeomaoluo

@nowhitesaviors

@whitegirllearning

@speakingofracism

@theconsciouskid

To Do:

Look at the world through a new lens. I think our first step in doing our part to dismantle structural racism is to start with our own heart and the things we’ve internalized throughout our life. When you notice someone who looks different than you do, pay attention to the first feelings that you feel. Sit in that for a minute and think through why you feel that way. Ask yourself where those feelings came from. Then decide you want to change that internal dialogue. This requires a ton of self-reflection, and it can be uncomfortable to stare our own sin in the face. I make myself cringe when I do this. 

To Watch:

Attorney Michelle Alexander discusses Jim Crow and how we’ve replaced it with mass incarceration. My Social Inequality professor had us watch this video and create dialogue around it. I highly recommend this video and any of Michelle Alexanders' work.

Tricia Rose presents “How Structural Racism Works” at Brown University

To Read:

  • So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo

  • Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson

  • Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult

  • Stamped from the Beginning by Ibram X. Kendi

  • The New Jim Crow by Alexander Williams

  • "The 1619 Project"

  • "It's not just the South and Fox News: Liberals have a white privilege problem too"

  • "Racial Disparities in Mental Health and Criminal Justice

  • The Bible - James 2:1-26 To summarize: as believers, we are not supposed to be prejudice against anyone. We sin when we show favoritism by classifying people according to their socioeconomic status when we compare people when we try to control people with a sense of superiority. These are all things we may or may not be aware that we are doing. But I personally think that as soon as we recognize that we have internalized these opinions (because we all have) that we have to immediately start doing the work in our own heart.

Words to Google & Learn:

  • Microaggression

  • Cultural appropriation

  • Mass incarceration

  • School to Prison Pipeline

  • Intersectionality

  • White Privilege

To Listen:

-Speaking of Racism Podcast

-Asking for a Friend Podcast - Episode “Is our Criminal Justice System Working?” 

I’ll end with this because I know I’ve personally used phrases like this before, and I’ve heard them more times than I can count.

"Thus, white privilege need not be overtly racist, and in fact is most potent when expressed through coded language cleansed of racial terms. It comes out into the world in phrases that seem reasonable to us white folk, but that obscure the immense freight of racism they carry -- phrases like: "I'm not racist, but"; "my ancestors didn't own slaves so I am not responsible"; "I didn't get any breaks, I worked for everything I have"; and "what are they complaining about, things are so much better now." Instead of "black neighborhood," we say "high crime," "dangerous" or "investment risk." Instead of young black male, we say "thug" and "gangster." White privilege leads us to repeat nostrums like "hey, Africans had slaves too"; "Republicans aren't racists because the Democrats were the party of slavery"; and "what about black-on-black crime." Such phrases are so utterly denuded of historical context as to be meaningless, yet they are repeated ad nauseam by right-wing bloggers and pundits.” - Joseph Heathcott

(Source: It's not just the South and Fox News: Liberals have a white privilege problem too)

Let's keep getting uncomfortable as we unlearn and relearn how to love like Jesus.

The Hustle Has Been Postponed


Mark 6:31 “He said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a remote place and 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦.” For many people were coming and going, and they did not even have time to eat. So they went away in the boat by themselves to a remote place, but many saw them leaving and recognized them, and they ran on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. When He went ashore, He saw a large crowd and had compassion on them, 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗮 𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗱. 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗛𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀.⁣


Has the thought crossed your mind that maybe God has been watching us hustle around, heads buried in our phones, in our TVs, in our sports, our fertility charts 🙋🏻‍♀️? Chasing the next goal, climbing that ladder.

Finding things to numb our minds so we don’t have to think about what's going on in our lives.

We don’t take the time out to feel the feelings that we need to feel. ⁣

Maybe He just had enough and said let’s pump the brakes. Let’s stop the hustle. Maybe He wants us to press pause on all of it and just come sit at His feet. Stay home. Rest. Just BE in His presence. ⁣

The world is at a literal standstill. But the 𝘀𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘂𝗱𝗲 is a blessing.⁣

It is written many times that Jesus would often go off alone to pray and be with His Father. And He is giving it to us now. We are literally being told to “𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘏𝘰𝘮𝘦.” ⁣

We’ve been given time to search our souls, to grow closer to God, to be refreshed. ⁣

If you’re feeling anxious or fearful, pray to Him about it. Just start talking. He wants to hear from you, I pinky promise.⁣

The world will press play and resume soon enough, just soak in His presence now. The hustle has been postponed.


Sitting in the ashes

Yesterday I had my post-op checkup from my laparoscopy. My Dr. showed me images that were taken during surgery. My ovaries were muuuch larger than normal, and the endometriosis had caused them to be pushed together - referred to as "kissing ovaries." Not only were they touching, but the endometriosis had also caused them to fuse to my bladder. I was diagnosed with stage 3 endometriosis. I told him that I hadn't had the daily pain as I had before surgery, and he kindly warned me to "just wait until next month." He told me not to get excited about pregnancy yet either. We have to do more bloodwork and ultrasounds next month when I've completely healed. 

I was so hopeful walking into the appointment.  Afterward, the short walk down the hallway turned into a mile and my legs weighed a ton.

When I finally made it to the waiting room and my eyes met Bens, it felt like I had found my buoy in the middle of this torrential downpour I've been walking through. And that feeling of locking eyes with him while all the stress and hurt that had built up within me during my long walk down that hallway just melted away. This man is the greatest gift God has given me and sometimes it takes little, unseen moments like that to remind me of this beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime love I've been blessed with. Seasons may change and life can get nasty, but God gave me the perfect best friend to hold my hand through it all, for better or worse. He sits in the ashes with me, but it's never too long before he speaks life back into me and encourages me, and points me back to Christ. Gosh, I am just so thankful for this guy who loves me so well.