I am a mother. I will be honest that in this season of my life, it often seems that is all I am, but that’s okay with me, because I know I am a better person for it. I am grateful for the three beautiful daughters who have made me a mother. They have taught me extraordinary lessons. Lessons that I don’t think I could have learned otherwise.

They have taught me what it really means to deny myself. I thought I knew what self denial was, but honestly my selflessness was limited in scope. Then a child came into my life – surprise! They don’t wave goodbye at night and go home. You are their home. They are reliant upon you 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. Even moments alone are often invested in thinking of them, their needs, how to serve them and love them.

They have taught me to laugh and enjoy life.  I have always enjoyed life, but I have a tendency to be a bit melancholy and serious and more focused on discipline and productivity than is good for me. Then these little wonders came, one by one, mussing up my little orderly space and creating beautiful chaos with strewn toys and joyful noises.

They have revealed my own selfishness and vanity, thus bringing me to my knees and to Christ’s Cross. How often do I long for my own way, my own rights, my own – anything??! How contrary I am to Christ when I am self-centered! Their very existence within my womb caused my shape to change, grow, swell, three times over, revealing my own pride and vanity over my body image – again, driving me to the Cross for the only cure for my worldliness.

And perhaps most importantly, they have connected me to humanity in a way I never was before. I have had the honor of holding the lost, hurting, dying children in this world. The poor, orphaned, victims of violence and oppression and evil. But never before did my heart break for these atrocities as it has since I became a mom.

Because in becoming a mom, I became in a new way a citizen of humanity. I know the way it feels to have your baby kick inside of you and long for their appearing. I know how it feels to think something may be wrong with them and worry about them every night. I know how it feels to bear them, hold them in my arms for the first times, and tremble with joy and complete fear over the hallowed responsibility of raising a living human being in the days we are living in.

Because I am a mom, I see other children in a new way and with new love and admiration. I also see people in general differently than before I had children. They are all, in fact, creations of God and made in His image. They are all, in fact, someone’s child. My friend Caroline Jarboe once explained it to me as I expressed these sentiments with a wonderful illustration – she said someone told her once that when you become a mother you “decide forever to have your heart go walking outside of your body.” I couldn’t agree more.

So when I heard the news of this shooting yesterday at the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut, my heart felt like it leaped outside of my chest. Then I heard the details. Little babes – right around Grace’s age. Many of them. Bright faces, fresh faces, new faces, faces full of innocence and excitement for their day, for their year, for their life. Little lunch boxes packed with notes from their mommies and daddies, eagerly anticipating the Christmas holidays and perhaps sharing excitedly with one another what their plans might be. And then, in an instant, all of that fresh life, joy, hope…snuffed out. In an instant.

It is enough to make even the calmest, most temperate person angry. Angry with that shooter. Angry with the world. Angry with the evil in it. And then – sad. Sad for the children first, then for the parents left to cope with unimaginable grief that the Virgin Mary knew well. Don’t we easily forget that she was a mother, too? And that Simeon prophesied to her when Jesus was just a babe that “a sword will pierce your own soul“? And that she was there when he died, her heart out walking around outside of her chest, suffering and in one way dying right along with him.

How did she go on after that? We know that, in fact, she did. She kept breathing and living and not just half-heartedly, but spreading the good news that her son’s life came to proclaim. His death would not be in vain.

Satan is still alive and active in his influence in our world, as Scripture calls him “the ruler of this world” in John 12:21, which we would do well to soberly remember – but it doesn’t end there. He doesn’t have the final word. Because of what Christ did at the Cross. Death is swallowed up in Victory. As believers in Christ, we can comfort each other that a day is coming when “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Revelation 21:4).

But what about now? What about today? How can we comfort those who mourn, encourage our children and ourselves in the midst of such tragedy that God is alive and well in the world today?

The answer is quite simple – God is alive and well, shining brightly through His Church – His people – You and I, if we proclaim Christ as Savior and as the Son of God. And we are admonished “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” – Romans 12:21.

Evil will continue in this world until Christ returns. But “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”- John 1:5.

I challenge you, my friend, what will you do in the face of so much evil, so much horror, so much pain?

Will you stand in shock and awe, horrified and grief stricken, holding your family and children much tighter today? I hope so. But I also hope that it doesn’t end there.

I hope that you and I both will choose to sow seeds of hope, life, peace, righteousness, joy, and every other fruit of the Spirit, in our world. Let us blast the light of Christ into this world in every way we can, with all the strength and grace we have been given, with all the love that Christ has put in our hearts. Let us tend to the hurt, broken, angry, bitter people of this world, spreading the good news of the Gospel with those whom the world has deemed “forsaken” and love them with the same love that Christ has shown us. Let us expel the darkness with light, loose the chains of those bound in bitterness and anger – and start first by dealing with the evil in our own hearts. Let us pour truth and wisdom and light and love into our children and the children around us to prove that this generation will not be devoured by evil but flourishing in love.

And above all these things, let us hold fast to hope, for our hope will not end in disappointment but in redemption, victory, and the Love that will triumph over all.

Forgive my long silence (again)! For the last 8 weeks, I have been totally preoccupied. With my three children. When I have not been preoccupied with them, I have pretty much been sleeping or attempting to sleep so that when I am again preoccupied with them, I will have some semblance of energy to keep up with them. I’ve been downing sublingual vitamin B complex as my mother has sworn this gave her energy when my brother and I were little.

After Abigail was born, for a couple of weeks I thought “hey – this isn’t so bad. Three kids? Not so bad!” but…that was when I had help all day long from either my mom, mother in law, or husband. Right around the time that my help had to leave, I also got a breast infection. Not good. For the following three weeks I battled to overcome this infection, which was stubbornly persistent. During this time, I felt completely overwhelmed. My midwives kept telling me that what I needed was to get plenty of rest.

“How can I get plenty of rest when I have a newborn and two little children to take care of??,” I thought. This was especially unlikely when all my wonderful helpers had to leave. At one point during this blur of a time, I really felt like giving up. I wrote in my journal something like this: “I can’t seem to get my head above water long enough to see the shore that I’m swimming towards.” If I could just get well, I knew I could take care of  my kiddos. I cried a lot, I will not lie. It was therapeutic somehow. I got lots of hugs from Joel and the girls, and this helped. And, being the birthing teacher that I am, I researched everything possible about plugged milk ducts and breast infections, thinking that if I found something that helped me, I would be able to share that information with my students in the future. But I couldn’t help thinking, “Why God? Why is this happening now? Don’t you know that my husband and kids need me? Don’t you know how much I need to be well right now??!”

this picture from our photo shoot pretty much sums up how we all felt:

Dearest Abigail,

You were born the day after the Feast of Tabernacles was completed, which is a Jewish holiday called Shemini Atzeret.

The reason for this holiday is as follows: Shemini Atzeret literally means “the assembly of the eighth (day).” Rabbinic literature explains the holiday this way: our Creator is like a host, who invites us as visitors for a limited time, but when the time comes for us to leave, He has enjoyed himself so much that He asks us to stay another day. Another related explanation: Sukkot is a holiday intended for all of mankind, but when Sukkot is over, the Creator invites the Jewish people to stay for an extra day, for a more intimate celebration. 

Indeed. A more intimate celebration. An extra day of celebration after an entire week of feasting. Many people say that the Feast of Tabernacles is a shadow of things to come, a picture of the Great Harvest at the end of times and of the return of Messiah Himself.

Your father and I treasure these “holy days” and enjoy soaking in their eternal significance. We also love the knowledge that comes with our Christian faith that in having children, we are co-creating with God Himself. Perhaps that is why God, in His infinite wisdom, chose you to be born when you were. Because we have enjoyed ourselves so much being parents to your two sisters that we couldn’t wait to have an additional little girl – You. That as the Jewish people celebrate their extra day of intimate celebration with God, we received you into our lives – you who are an intimate expression of God’s love and tender mercies towards us.

You were born one week before your due date, just like your sister Chesed. Although, you decided you wanted to gestationally beat her by 7 hours and 3 ounces 🙂

The day you were born, I wrote you a letter in my journal. It is the first time I have written you a letter. Perhaps I knew you were coming that day. Something about a mother’s intuition. It was something like this:

Dear Abigail, I am staring at your bassinet with your beautiful pink blanket inside that bears your name. It seems eager to hold you and I admit that I am eager to hold you not in my womb but now in my arms. I know that I cannot decide when you will be born, but want you to know I can’t wait to meet you and hold you. Your Daddy and sisters feel the same way. So come join us anytime, okay? I love you!! your Mommy.

Simple little note. But just like your sisters, who seemed to respond to our words of desire to have them come out and meet us, so you complied with my request and I started labor only an hour after the note was written. You were ready to join our family as well, weren’t you?

At 3pm, my contractions began and were every 3-5 minutes. They weren’t extremely painful and I wasn’t sure if this was “it.” However, I knew how fast Kes came into the world and so I called my midwives and birth assistant immediately. They headed to the house, only to watch me like a boiling pot. I was instructed to do a brisk walk in the neighborhood to see if my contractions would speed up. This is fine and all had I not already run 3 miles that day and had it not been raining and 40 degrees outside. Daddy and sisters insisted on going with me and crying the whole way (as it was raining).

I didn’t do well under that pressure and labor fizzled out within an hour or two (or so it seemed). I asked them to go home and Jennifer, the midwife who caught you, assured me that labor would likely start when I put your sisters to bed. “You’re able to relax then,” she assured me. “Yes,” I thought, “So then I have to start contracting?!” Very ironic. But, just like she said, at 8pm sharp, the real contractions started and didn’t stop until you were born at 3:10am the following morning.

From 8pm until 1am I labored and grew more and more tired. After all, I am used to going to bed around 10pm these days. I lay in bed for the first few hours, but when contractions spaced out, my midwives sent me to walk downstairs for awhile. i did this for an hour and while my contractions became closer together and stronger, I became more and more tired.

I went upstairs to rest some and realized that I had already been laboring for 5 hours and was ready to be done, simply because of the time of night. So I said a prayer. I have been praying lately for very specific things and right then I needed one. In the quiet of my bedrooom alone with God, I prayed “Lord, please do something RIGHT NOW to speed this labor up – so that Abigail can be born VERY SOON. I don’t have much energy left.” And then the miraculous happened (or at least that is what it was for me!) Suddenly, literally as the words of my prayer left my mouth, I heard a loud “pop” and my water broke. It was as though God Himself popped my bag of waters and said “here you go! one baby – coming right up!”

Immediately my labor picked up speed and shortly I was in transition. A little before 3am I started pushing but it was much more painful than with your sisters. i wondered what was going on exactly. Turns out, you were a compound presentation, which means that you had your cute little hand right next to your head while you were coming out. My midwife, Jennifer, was an incredible help in guiding my pushing to gently ease you out. She kept me from tearing (which is a miracle in this situation) by giving your shoulders a “nice big hug” as they were coming out.

I heard you cry. I knew that I was finished and that you were here. What a moment, Abigail. Is there really anything like it? I think the angels in heaven are silent and stop for a moment to watch when a baby is born…it is a pure miracle. You are a pure miracle.

And so I held you tight – your wet, slippery, squirmy little (yet long!) body, counted your fingers and toes, and cried – partly because of sheer relief to be done with labor and mainly because I was now holding you in my arms.

And we named you. We pray with each of our children that God will give us a name for each of you that will speak to your destiny in Him. And you are Abigail Charis Thomas.

Abigail – the meaning is “Father’s joy” – you are our third daughter, and yet your Daddy made it abundantly clear that he would rather have you than 10 boys and wanted your name to reflect his delight. But you are also our Heavenly Father’s joy. God delights over you and smiles to watch you live your life, my dear, each and every day.

Abigail in the Bible was described as “…discerning and beautiful” and by herself as “…a servant to wash the feet of the servants of The Lord.” (see 1 Samuel 25:3 and 41). I believe these words will describe you as well, my little girl.

Charis is a beautiful Greek word that means “grace and favor.”  Charis causes rejoicing. It is the word for God’s grace as extended to sinful man. It signifies unmerited favor, undeserved blessing, a free gift.  What a gift you are, my dear. I pray that you would be a gift to The Lord and to this world, radiating joy and love to all you meet.

I can’t wait to have a front row seat to watch the journey of your life unfold. But for now, I am content to hold you, nurse you, watch you smile and wiggle and cry and coo, knowing that the season where you grasp my pinky with your whole little hand is but a breath that will pass like a morning mist – I will close my eyes and open them and soon you will be a running, playing, talking, happy toddler.

But today you are my baby Abigail and I love you with all of my heart.

forever love,

your Mommy