On Messes {And Motherhood}

Right now, I am lying in bed with my ankle up (more on that in a minute) contemplating the messiness that is motherhood.

These last two weeks have included the following:

• I found the shreds of an opened box underneath my daughter’s bed and a toy well played with… belonging to a present we had bought for her friend's birthday.
• Shampoo was spilled onto my carpet… and not because I wanted to “shampoo the carpets.”
• My son smurf-ified his head by smothering my favorite baby-blue colored lotion all through his hair and topping it off with a few squirts of my very blue mud mask. (On a more positive note, we may have discovered how to tame his frizzy hair.)
• A full juice box was left on the carpet and later stepped on.
• A brand new box of cheerios was dumped on the floor.
• A box containing tiny beads was spilled on the floor.
• A glass cup was shattered and a ceramic bowl broken.
• My daughter played beauty parlor with my make-up… on herself and her brother.
• My son opened a brand new, 260-pack of Ziploc sandwich bags and spread them on the floor. As soon as I picked up the last one, he did it all over again.
• I brought in 2 laundry baskets full of items that have ended up in the back seat of my car… things like 6 pairs of shoes, socks, jackets, pants, toys, and of course a few random gold fish. I can’t believe how fast it gets so bad.

Each time I find a mess, this little part of me feels like a failure. Like I am constantly behind. Like the moment I have one room clean, an even bigger mess has erupted in another room.

Sometimes I feel like a really bad mom.

I think of how my house is always messy, how boxes are still sitting in my bedroom and office after moving one month ago. How long does it really take to get settled into a home? I think of how bedtime still takes over an hour and is still a battle after one month of moving Jed into his sister’s room. Why can’t you figure this one out? I think of how if I hadn’t stepped out of the room or how if I could just multi-task a little better, my kids wouldn’t be able to make such big messes. You are not enough. You are failing.

And then last night… I turned on the bath water. I thought of how much my son would love a bubble bath. I sat his bare bottom on his potty chair for practice and went running for the other bathroom to locate the bubble bath. And as I bounded into my room, I stepped wrong on my foot, and my body and foot went one direction and my ankle went another direction.

I screamed out for my husband. And the first words out of my mouth were something like “Oh! It hurts! I think I broke my ankle.” But my second words weren’t for my husband to help me, they were: “Jed is on the potty and the water is running. Get him.”

I was a mother laying on the floor in pain lifting up her son. My ankle may have gotten it wrong, but my heart got it right.

Motherhood is a messy business. It doesn’t look like perfection. It doesn’t look like Pinterest. Children push you to your very limit of patience. They bring out your short-comings.

And I am sure that one day, I will look back with much laughter on the day that I sprained my ankle while running for bubble bath solution. And in some weird way, it was the reminder I needed that I really am a good mom. I go out of my way to give my kids good things. I love them with my whole being. I love them when it’s easy, and I love them when it hurts.

Even in my spill, I see the way I am more than the sum of my messes.

I am Mom. Boo-boo kisser. Storybook animator. Teacher of things like why snails leave behind a trail and what private parts are and why farting at the dinner table isn't polite. I am a talent-finder. An encourager. An exhorter. An evangelist and disciple-maker. I am a mess-cleaner. A schedule-maker and an occasional mind-reader. I am a perfect mac-and-cheese creator. I am a life-enthusiast and a passion-instiller.

And God… God is a beautiful-tapestry weaver. And He takes it all, stretches the messes and the triumphs across the loom and weaves His Grace through it all. 

And He makes beautiful things.

What is your messiest moment from the week?Share it with us in the comments here or on my facebook page.

I will be back tomorrow with a second part to this post, some raw truth on failure and motherhood. See you soon. Xo

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers 



Sharing this in these lovely communities:

How to Overcome (Part 2)

Where two or three are gathered together in My name, there I am in the midst of them.

And there are six of us gathered in one office. I am in the middle, Two on my right, two on my left, one in front. I tell them how I haven’t been sleeping and how I feel so beat up by the enemy. I share the depression, the confusion, the fear. I ask them to pray.

Sometimes the battle rages fierce, and you need people to fight with you. You need to know you’re not alone. You need people to pray with you.

I imagine Moses on the battlefield. An army of Amalekites thrashing swords against the Israelites. One man discovering that the only way to win the battle was to raise hands high in a posture of praise. The livelihood of an entire nation depending on the resolve of Moses to keep his arms up.

And I have my own small nation made up of an Addy and a Jed and one crime-fighting, studmuffin of a husband. And they depend on me. And my children might be an eternal source of joy, but it is my job to raise them up in the way they should go. My husband might be the head of our house, but I am the neck that holds him up. The proper posture of a woman is to always lift up—lift up prayer, lift up children, lift up husbands, lift up friends. We are the mighty, and our families win battles when we keep our perspective heavenward.  

Praise wins the battle.

I imagine Moses standing there, arms up—the way his arms must have felt heavy, then cramped, then numb—the way he must have heard his arms begging, screaming at him to put them down for just one minute. Surely there would be no casualties in just one minute, Moses. Surely one minute wouldn't be enough to lose. You can always put them back up later.

And doesn't the enemy do the same to us, beg us to give into the fear, the frustration, the pain? Just once. Just for a little bit. It won’t cost too much. The Devil will work you a lifetime just to flip you once. He wants us to put our hands down, to focus on our problems, to gossip about the people that bother us, to worry about the lack of finances, to feel utterly helpless and alone.

And the best part of the story: When Moses was at his weariest, ready to give in, to give up, Aaron and Hur looked and saw their brother in need. For Moses’ tired legs, they brought a large rock for him to sit upon. For his tired arms, they gave him their own strength and held his arms up for him.

Moses kept his hands lifted, and the army of Israelites overwhelmed the Amalekites.

Yes. There will be battles. Yes. They will rage beyond what you are able to handle. Yes. You will fight with your praise, with your hands outstretched, surrendered to the One who is able. Yes. You will want to give up.

But, sister, you are not alone.

For when two or three are gathered in My name, there I am in the midst of them.

This is church. This is community. This is the body of Christ.

This is for what we gather: to lift high the name of Jesus.

For when we hold up our sister’s or our brother’s arms, we lift up Jesus.

When our brother or sister is tired of standing, we take them the Rock—the very Word of God, our foundation. When our brother or sister is wavering, weary, ready to give up, we give our own strength to keep their hands held high. And we pray.

We need each other.

Because sometimes you find your mouth full of frazzled-momma yells over silly things like cheerios all over the floor, sometimes you feel so overwhelmed and set back by the changes in your life, sometimes confusion clamors so loudly so can’t make a clear decision, sometimes you just feel utterly defeated and completely alone. We need each other. We need our own Aaron and Hur. And sometimes we need to be an Aaron or a Hur to a brother or sister. This what church is for. And not some building that you attend once a week. Church. The body of Christ. A community of believers, an army of kingdom soldiers.

Bear one another’s burdens.

Now, tell us, dear brother or sister, is there anything we can lift up in prayer for you?

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

By the Way: Should you want to read the story of Moses and the Amalekites, it’s found in Exodus 17:8-16.

Scriptures quoted: Matthew 18:20 and Galatians 6:2

Photo Credit

Sharing in community in these lovely places:

How to Overcome (Part 1)

“The praise of God shall be on my lips and with my praise shall I overcome.”

I said it last week in My Proclamation.

And somehow I just know that’s exactly how I fight the depression, the fear, the confusion that I have been facing.

Praise is that upside-down, it-doesn’t-make-human-sense action, but for some reason the God whose ways are far above our own chooses to use it.

Praise demolished the walls of Jericho. The praise of 200 men defeated the army of Midian. The praise of Paul and Silas brought down the jail house. The praise of King Jehoshaphat and the people of Jerusalem destroyed the armies of Moab and Ammon.

I want to focus a little on Jehoshaphat. I’ve been thinking on this story for the past week.

Jehoshaphat hears the reports of a vast and quickly approaching army with the power to crush his small and unprepared military. He immediately calls for a fast and gathers the people of Jerusalem together. Then he cries out to God.

“If calamity comes upon us, whether the sword of judgment, or plague or famine, we will stand in your presence before this temple that bears your Name and will cry out to you in our distress, and you will hear us and save us.” 2 Chronicles 20:9

God answers through Jahaziel that they would go out and face the enemy, but they would not have to fight. After that word, Jehoshaphat falls on his face and worships God and the whole congregation with him.

The next morning, Jehoshaphat sets the instruments and the worshipers in front of the army. They offer up their praises with a loud voice. As they praise, the armies of Moab and Ammon become confused and fight each other… until every single foe is dead.

Judah won the battle by their praise.

                                                                                                                                                           

They cried out. They worshiped. And then they marched out to battle. Rather than keeping the reality of their enemy’s greatness in front of them, they placed their praises in front of them. They placed the words of God's greatness before them. They trusted God’s outcome. They surrendered their try-hard fight to the welling up of something deep inside of them… something deeper than their fears: hope in a mighty God.

I think of the old cartoon version of the movie, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. How at the moment the Grinch thought he had won, thought he had stolen Christmas, thought he had smothered joy, he begins to hear the sound of a Who-chorus. They were singing even though a thief had come to steal their Christmas spirit. And it totally confuses the Grinch. And it totally shatters the shell of his cold, hard heart.

“The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10).  Praise takes back what the enemy steals. Praise reminds the enemy of what he cannot have.

Some days life can strip you bare. Some days the enemy seems to win. But he cannot keep you from praising.

Whether you feel like a teetering Jenga tower with strong-willed children who seem to take turns pulling out your blocks till you feel like your grace and love are about to crumble…

Whether a life-changing circumstance has placed you in a dry land where the springs of peace seem to elude you…

Whether depression seems to be a weight around your neck that pulls you down into an abyss no matter how you fight…

Praise.

Praise.

PRAISE.

Praise confuses the enemy who seeks to devour. Praise makes the way for our Savior to swoop in and save the day. Praise denies what we see and fully relies on the One who can’t be seen.

Praise.

You are the Prince of Peace. The Mighty God. The Everlasting Father. You are worthy of praise. You are good. You are Holy. I love you. I long for You like a desert wanderer longs for water. Only You truly satisfy my soul. You are the God who loves me, adopted me, calls me your own. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. You sent Your son to die for me, to conquer death and hell. I am bound by sin no longer. I am washed clean from the stain of guilt. Depression and fear have nothing on You. You give joy and peace. You give good gifts and I thank you for the good gifts You have given me.

Okay. So seriously. Go get your praise on. Maybe write some here so it can encourage all of us—one mighty band of brothers and sisters praising God in one place?? Sounds cool to me! :)

I will be back with part two of "How to Overcome" on Thursday. I’m kind of excited about it.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

Psst… want to keep up with me?? You can enter your email address on the top right hand side of the screen to receive my posts in your inbox OR just click---> HERE. This enables you to 1. Receive all my posts. 2. Keep the conversation going with me by simply hitting your email's reply button. 3. Easily unsubscribe with the click of one button should you get tired of reading me.

A Proclamation of a Conquering Housewife

After spending some months adjusting to the changes in my life and struggling through depression and fear, I felt like I needed to draw my line in the sand. So I wrote this proclamation.

My name is Amanda.

I am a child of the Most High God.

My adoption papers were drawn up and sealed in the very blood of Jesus Christ, Son of God. I didn’t choose God. He chose me. I am wanted, loved, and precious in the eyes of God.

Jesus died on the cross, rose again, and won the victory over death and sin. He gave me that victory. By the name of Jesus, I am MORE than a conquering housewife.

I draw my line in the sand. I rise up. And I say, “No More.”

No more depression. No more confusion. No more fear. 

You have been given your notice. You are not welcome.

I will not give in. I will not let up.

I will stand and fight.

I will do battle with you, depression, and, by the name of Jesus, I will be victorious.

When the battle rages and I grow weary, I will grab the hands of my brothers and sisters.

The praise of God shall be on my lips and with my praise shall I overcome.

For I put on the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness, and, heaviness, you shall not prevail.

I will trust in the promises of God; for what God said He would do, He will be faithful to carry out. I will believe in what I cannot see… for what I can see is temporal, and what I cannot see is eternal. 

I place my life in the hands of God. I will do life WITH the Christ whose name is GOD WITH US. I will do life WITH the body of Christ… His Church.

I will not hide.

I will trust that the promises of God are Yes and Amen, that God will be faithful to carry them out, and that the callings of God are without repentance. My life will not be defined by what looks impossible today. My life will be defined by the very God-breathed promises of God Himself and I will trust that the Word that spoke creation into being will bring them to pass. 

I will keep myself close to God.

And if I am close to God, how could I possibly miss His voice? 

I will rest.

I will count my relationship with God as most precious and my marriage and my children second to no other.

I will extend my parenting, my housework, my friendships, my writing grace because grace is a free gift I have been given. I receive it.

I will give up my ideals. I will give up on perfect. I will pick up my cross and follow Christ.

I will stop trying to mend my broken pieces and I will lay them at the feet of Jesus. 

I will stop judging my brothers and sisters for the ground at the foot of the cross is even for all.

I will do what I enjoy. I will feel comfortable in the clothes I wear, in the car I drive, with the words I speak. I will be me. 

I am Amanda, child of God, wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend. I am exquisite. I was made for love. And I am loved. I was made for living. I was made for conquering.

And especially emphatic this time, like if this wasn’t on the computer, it would be triple-quadruple underlined and then circled five times:

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

When Following Christ Doesn't Make a Lick of Sense

I am a “big-picture” person. I try to take the little fragments of my life and relationships and try to fit them into a big picture. I want to know that it’s all going to work out in the end. I want to understand the purpose in everything.

I remember being eleven in a youth service and hearing the call of God to be a missionary. As I grew older, I found a passion for the inner city—for the poor, the hopeless, and the gangster. When I began a relationship with Michael, I remembering questioning God: This doesn’t make sense. His call is not the same. How are you going to work it all out?

I heard God tell me very clearly and simply, “Trust Me.” And I did. I took that leap of faith and fell madly in love with my husband. And I love him even more madly today (and I still like him too). But for the entirety of our relationship, I have tried to make sense of our differences. I have tried to figure out a way that God could work it so that we could both be walking in our calling and that somehow our callings would work together. And since he’s taken this job in law enforcement, it’s felt a little like dying. I can’t figure out how God could possibly work it together. I can’t see the end result. (Okay and please don’t mishear. I am super proud of my husband. I am writing through my struggle of learning to trust God.)

I know that I serve a God whose ways and thoughts are far above human reasoning. But I think I fail to realize this applies to me. Gods ways didn’t make sense to Abraham, Moses, Gideon, Ruth, Hannah, David, Esther, Zechariah, Mary, Peter, Paul… pretty much everyone who God used in the Bible. I am fairly certain, I am not exempt. I will not be able to fathom God’s plans. I won’t be able to see the end result.

I will have to trust.

I will not be able to control the outcome.

I will need that substance of things hoped for and evidence of things not seen.{faith} 

There’s this passage in John that I keep thinking on (John 6:26-71). The disciples of Jesus were so impressed by his miracle of feeding the 5000 that they began asking him how they could see more of this. They asked for signs, they wanted to see so that they might believe. Jesus tells them that He is the bread of life. And then he goes on to tell them something that disturbs them:

“Unless you eat my body and drink my blood you cannot be my disciples.”

The Christ-followers are dumb-founded. Eat his body?! Drink his blood?! Surely Jesus didn’t mean that, like that… right?!

They wanted the miracles. They wanted that glorious, you-are-special-chosen-and-called-disciple-of-Jesus-Christ! You eat manna, you see miracles, and it’s amazing! They didn’t want the gospel that is unfathomable. They didn’t want blind faith. They wanted to SEE. They wanted it to MAKE SENSE.

And their response to Jesus’ way? “This is a hard statement,” and they go their separate way. They couldn’t follow Christ any longer.

I think of communion. 

 

This word that can mean eating the symbolic bread-for-flesh and blood-for-wine. This word that also means a deep sense of being and relationship.

“Unless you eat my body and drink my blood you cannot be my disciples.”

“If any of you wants to be my disciple, you must take up your cross daily and follow me.”

“Those who love their life in this world will lose it. Those who care nothing for their life in this world will keep it for eternity.”

I think of my dreams. I think of the way I can mix up this desire for a holy purpose (a calling) with knowing the voice of the One Who calls. I think of the way I try to do all of the sense-making when I am following a God who delights in doing that which makes no human sense.

I think of the way I still try to control God.

I fail to walk in communion—to eat his flesh and drink his blood. I refuse to allow him to be the only thing that satisfies. I live feeding my pride—thinking that I need to know, see, understand—thinking God needs me to figure it out for Him. I refuse to die so that I might live.

And it’s a hard thing. Who can follow?

I have a choice. I can turn away from following because I don’t want to believe in what I cannot see and does not make sense. Or I can take up my cross, walk in communion with Christ, and follow—destination unknown.

I keep coming back to the words of Peter when Jesus asks the twelve disciples if they would leave Him also, “Where would we go Lord? Only You have the words that give life. We have believed and know that you are the Christ, the Son of God.”

Amen.

Sometimes I completely stink at this whole Jesus-follower thing. But where else would I go? Only Jesus has the words that give life. 

Only. Jesus.

Jesus, I am letting go of control.

I choose You.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

 

Because I Kind of Stink at Change

I think I needed to take a break... because I sure have been taking one!

I've been spending a lot of time with my family. I've been remembering just how day-changing gift-counting, eucharisteo and picture-taking were for me and I am going back to those basics. It's a perfect time too... spring has arrived in California!

We are moving in less than two weeks, the church I've called home for over 12 years just merged with another church in a different city, and my husband hits the streets for the first time tonight. I knew I didn't handle change well, and this month is just confirming how terrible I am at it.

I am giving myself permission to hide out for a bit even if it means leaving things undone (I still have a post for the Crazy Obedience series and an interview I'd planned to share). I think sometimes you just need to give yourself permission to grieve the things that are no longer. (Thank you reader who offered that bit of personal advice... I could sense God's words to me in it!)

"I'm a MOOOOSE, Momma."

I just wanted to let you know I'm still here. I pray for you all. And I probably need your prayers too.

I have been praying through some new things for here, like a domain change (something much simpler), an ebook that I am hoping to offer for free, and some ways that I could earn a little money writing/blogging.

My Handsome Men. Jed's looks are changing... bittersweet. Looking more and more like a boy, less and less like a baby.

 
I am wondering if I could ask you: Would you want to read a book on a spirit of heaviness (i.e. depression--you know, that feeling of being overwhelmed by life and/or motherhood, like you can't get anything right, like you just feel weary all the time...) and daily ways to conquer it?? Something that has short, sweet and very accessible devotions with a daily challenge? Could I ask you to tell me your honest thoughts? (Thank you in advance!)

I've started writing again so I hope to see you soon... though it is quite possible I may need to wait till after the move. :)

Writing in the SUN! Thankful for the warm weather :)

 
You are loved and missed!

By Grace,
Amanda Conquers

I was trying to capture my daughter dancing in what I thought would make for some artsy lighting. When I looked back through the pictures, I discovered my daughter doing the butt-wiggle at me. What a ham! :)

In Which I Fess Up...

So today, I need to fess up.

"Hi. My name is Amanda. And I am struggling with 'Crazy Obedience'."

Before I started this series, I had some doors open in my family’s life. And now we are walking in those realities. And I’m struggling.

Two weeks ago, I sat in on a stress management and the law enforcement career class with my husband. It felt like I slammed into the brick wall of reality of what it means to be a cop and a cop’s wife. 

In the midst of this, we have some major church changes on the horizon, I have some decisions to make about my involvement in the church, and it is time for us to move to a larger place. 

3 big moves in the same month. And what I thought I would be excited over… I am terrified about. I am like Peter, who upon getting out of the boat and walking on water to Jesus, glances at the wind and becomes full of fear. Amanda of little faith… here I have opened these doors, performed miracles, am full in your life… and you are afraid of wind?!  Why do you doubt?

And don’t get me wrong, I am excited for my husband. I see the passion for bringing justice and peace stirring in him. I guess I feel paralyzed with fear. How will being a cop change Mike? Will I be the wife that he needs me to be? How will it affect our kids and the way we parent? How will it challenge our marriage?

And then there’s the pity party, I am in the midst of throwing: This isn’t how I saw my life going, God. I never wanted to be a cop’s wife. And what about all the dreams you placed in my heart? How could you possibly work them out now? 

What I once sensed God calling me towards, I just straight don’t feel like doing. 

Apparently I don’t handle change well. (At. All.)

I want the control back. I don’t want to trust. I want to know the end result. 

I think of some of the things I wrote while I was doing the Waiting Room series awhile back:

“I have been wrestling. I am fighting God. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to leave my dreams alone. I want to hold on to what used to be. I don’t want to move forward. I am afraid. Without realizing it, I am closing my hand and throwing my fist at God, and telling Him this isn’t good enough. 
 

I don’t want to let go of my dreams. I don’t want to die. 

And here it is: 

          “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24, NASB).

I am clinging to the “what if’s” instead of God. What if it doesn’t work out? What if we fail? What if you never raise my dreams to life, God?

 

I am nothing like Abraham who left his country for a place that was yet unknown to him. I want to know where I am going and exactly what it’s going to look like. I want guarantees… and I guess I have to admit that apparently the Bible and God's promises suddenly became not good enough.

I have allowed the enemy to mess with me, and, for the past two weeks, I have clammed up. I don’t know how to talk about it with friends. I don’t want to do anything. My house is a wreck. I am not being the kind of mother I want to be. I am battling depression. {Actually it would probably be more accurate to say depression showed up and I welcomed it in. I am not battling it.}

And I am not exactly sure where to go from here.

But I do know that the enemy loves to dwell in darkness. His lies appear as truth in darkness. We feel isolated in darkness. 

So I am bringing it to the light. Here it is. I am broken. I am unsure. I am afraid. I need my Savior. I need you too.

I am a girl who set out to bring you all a series on Crazy Obedience because I heard God’s prompting. Turns out, the whole series might have just been for me. I need to walk in Crazy Obedience.

So that said, remember how I may have mentioned that I was going to wrap up the series with some interviews and testimonies? And remember how I said I have been depressed and haven’t done much of anything? Yeah. God asked me to. I’ve been lazy. I am going to finish what I started, even if it is a week later than planned. I have a feeling God wants to speak to me through it (and maybe you too).

Thanks so much for listening. 

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

To read all the posts in the series, click the graphic.