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Makeup

To the Girl with the Make-Uped Face

April 27, 2016 · Uncategorized · 0

@amycategannett

amycategannett

Do you see the little baby sprout? 🪴Signs of ne

Do you see the little baby sprout? 🪴Signs of new life are everywhere if we will look for them.

Took this family selfie to document Emerson learni

Took this family selfie to document Emerson learning to say “cheeeeeseeee.” I’m so happy rn. ☺️☺️☺️

This picture sums of motherhood for me, but maybe

This picture sums of motherhood for me, but maybe not for the reasons you would think.

Austin snapped this picture one weekend morning as I nursed E and read over my teaching manuscript that I would preach later that morning.

When I look at this picture I don’t see the power of multi-tasking or supermom early morning energy, or a speck of motherly grit.

I see a woman beyond her capacity. A mother beyond her abilities. I see responsibilities beyond her best efforts.

I see a woman fully cast on the grace of her God. And him catching her. Him filling up all her vacancies. Him doing the work she never could do.

I look at this and see his grace. That’s what a picture of motherhood looks like.

If you’re willing, I’d love to see or hear what motherhood looks like to you. If you want to post a picture that reminds you that you’re cast on his grace, I’d love to see it (tag me so I can if you do it!). Or, share below your snapshot of grace in motherhood. All glory to God!

Cheesin’ bc it’s true 🧡

Cheesin’ bc it’s true 🧡

Our good God, Today we will give thanks to You fo

Our good God,

Today we will give thanks to You for the good gift of mothers & motherhood and to our mothers, near & far, for their affection & dedication & tireless love.

But today, many of us will wince in pain. Today, for many – perhaps, for most – will come as a blaring reminder of what is not yet, what once was, or what never was. We will remember in blaring honesty the mothers that we never knew, who did not love us well, or those who did but have passed. We will remember in the harshness of reality the motherhood we desire, that we cannot seem to have, that we cannot seem to keep.

And we find, this is nothing new to You.

We are Eve: knowing the sting of broken relationships and a broken earth, wishing our grown children would reconcile and wondering where we went wrong.

We are Hagar: rejected and denied, we face motherhood alone, and have no idea how You are going to provide.

We are Moses’ mother: rending our hearts in two in order to give our child the safety that we could not afford, sending our little ones away to be cared for by another.

We are Pharaoh’s wife: compelled to care for children not our own, tethered to them in love in a way we cannot explain, & praying that You will give us the courage and capacity to do our best.

We are Hannah: with the pang of childlessness tucked inside our breast, falling on the temple steps asking when – & how – you will meet us in our personal tragedy.

We are Naomi: shrouded in grief at the loss of a husband, and the sons who never should have passed before us.

We are Mary: with an unexpected babe growing in our bellies, we are afraid we are too young, too inexperienced, to mother this child.

And so we ask You this day to come & mother us, good God. Would you come in Your way of compassion & affection and sweep us up into Your grand Self &, in this good company, let us sit with You a while.

About once a year I get a shopping itch. It usuall

About once a year I get a shopping itch. It usually starts around my birthday when I’m feeling self-indulgent (in a totally fine way), but it has the potential to balloon into a full-fledge spring redecorating process. Here’s what I have found is underneath my shopping: I want to recreate myself. I imagine the life I want (not the life I have), and buy the things I think will create said life. It’s a lie, but one I easily buy into.

Gospel truth for my shopper’s heart: Christ accepts and loves me as I am, not as I imagine myself to be. Right now, with incomplete wardrobes and mis-marched end tables, I’m fully his. You are, too. And there’s nothing better than that.

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