Tag: family

titan.

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Getting a dog all started with a marital feud and a compromise.

We were just one year into marriage and I was still fresh out of undergrad. Our plan all along had been to move to Colorado after my graduation to pursue his graduate school and start a new adventure. After postponing plans and flip-flopping plans, fed up with the lack of decisiveness, we were sitting at a bench at South Park in downtown Lawrence. Our bikes laid down next to us, we had journeyed there from our near-downtown, small rental home. We were deep in conversation about the future. I looked at Kevin with fire in my eyes and said, “You need to man up and make a decision.” He sat in silence for some time, took a deep breath, then looked back at me: “We’re staying.” I rode my bike home in silence, angry not at him, but at our God for giving my husband the decision I didn’t want. As emotions settled, I said, “If we’re staying, we’re getting a dog.” 

Puppy fever took over fast. We visited the local animal shelter just to “look” at dogs as we continued to weigh the responsibility. We walked in and, of course, every dog starts barking at their gates. We took a lap down and back, taking in all the sweet pups and reading their names. Amid all the barking there was one sweet puppy who laid quiet in the back corner and didn’t come to the gate: Titan.

At about 50lbs and approximately two years old, we took this dog to the yard to get to know him. He didn’t approach us but seemed delighted to be outside. We talked with the staff person about Titan. He was clearly neglected, some signs of abuse but that wasn’t confirmed, as he was picked up as a stray dog in Great Bend, KS at 1.5 yrs old and lived in a shelter for 6 months in Great bend before being transferred to the Lawrence Humane Society. He was reserved and socially awkward, but young enough that perhaps his personality could still change. Perhaps the trauma of his life could be undone if he was adopted and had a fresh start.

We left that day without Titan to talk and pray. As the hours passed by and the clinic closed, the questioning went from adopting Titan to suddenly not being able to image our lives without him. We went the very next day to adopt him. I’ll never forget bringing our new white dog home with his wide smile in my slate gray Subaru Impreza with black interior. He left his mark quickly.

Titan’s personality really didn’t change much from that quiet, people-shy, reserved soul. But his sense of safety and security came out as we bonded in our own ways. He had clearly had abuse surrounding doors, and large thin objects resembling baseball bats and sticks, we learned that quickly. It took him six whole months to feel safe to come in the house on his own from the backyard. We taught him to sit, lay down… though “come” was always a bit more difficult. We often took him on walks and to the dog park. In fact, in his younger years, I remember getting on my bike just to sprint him up and down the streets. He was fast! He loved runs, walks, scratches under the collar, springtime, and digging holes in the backyard. He hated Christmas trees and fireworks. 

He wasn’t the dog that would greet you at the door, but he showed his excitement that we were home by pacing laps around the dining table. Some of my favorite memories are when we would host a church or Young Life College gatherings during our days in full-time campus ministry. As you can imagine, during a Bible Study for example, everyone is sitting down, quietly talking in turns. That’s the environment he would thrive in. He would choose a person, seemly random, to go and sit next to for the whole night. Somehow it always tended to be the person who needed it most. The new person who didn’t know anyone. The college girl who just went through a break-up. The 18-year-old who was missing home. Many faces come to mind through Bible Studies and City Groups over the years.

When it came to other dogs, we never met a dog who didn’t get along with Titan. He was a dog’s dog, through and through! Even extremely territorial dogs that didn’t get along with most, somehow sensed Titan’s calm energy. He spent the most time with his cousin Millie, his opposite in personality, able to both play and keep her in her place!

Perhaps my favorite moment with Titan—in about 2019, we had a new family join our city group. They had a young girl in their family that had an extreme phobia and anxiety around dogs. Their mom asked me if I could crate our dog before they came over because she couldn’t even be in the same room as a dog. That was no problem at all, just not something we were used to doing with Titan because he was never disruptive in groups. After some time, we started talking to the young girl about what Titan was like. We wondered if a calm, predictable dog who mostly kept to himself might be the perfect exposure therapy for her daughter. The daughter agreed, and at about age 10, this brave young girl walked into our home. We chose a day when no one else was in the house and baby Lydia was napping. The young girl walked through our living room, her eyes up. We sat at the kitchen table, while Titan lay on his bed about 15 feet away. After some time, Titan got up and made his usual lap around the table. We all remained calm and continued our small talk, even as he gracefully sniffed her shoes and returned back to his nap. After that experience, the daughter agreed to being around Titan during our weekly City Groups. Eventually, she was able to be around other dogs and even got her own emotional support dog.

In her mom’s own words to me last week as we were recalling this event six years ago, Titan changed her life. 

In recent years, Titan has kept even more to himself with four crazy human siblings running around the house. But my favorite memories with him and the kids have been how each child, somewhere around their first birthday, starts to realize they could put the scoops of food in the dog bowl and take part in feeding him. That they can hold the leash as we take him on walks. That if they go and sit by him on his bed, he lets them pet him. 

We love you Titan. You have been a gift to our family for the last 11 years and we’re so grateful you made it to 13 years old, even though this last year has been a tough one. Amid a lot of change – four children, three houses, career changes, and honestly a lot of growing up (I’m speaking not just of the kids, but Kevin and myself) – you have been a constant.

This week we needed to experience the emotions of grief and sadness. You helped us with that. The Lord has used you in our lives, even to the end. You will be missed. 

Titan Tietz + Adopted September 21, 2014
September 2012 – November 10, 2025

We love you, Titan.

parenting with relationships in mind.

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“It’s the battle I choose to fight.”

A friend and I were discussing mealtime behaviors with our children recently. She shared how her kids sit at the table for long, extended times, slowly working their way through every item of food set before them. It’s a high priority for this friend of mine that her children eat nutritious meals, and she’s trained them well. Before a few months ago, let’s just say there was a lot of room for improvement at mealtime in the Tietz’s household. Getting our children to sit longer than a few minutes and eat the food in front of them without complaining felt an impossible task, not to mention respecting prayer time before meals, not saying potty words at the table, picking fights with one another–the list goes on.

We wanted mealtime to look different. We spent the season of Advent choosing to fight the mealtime-behavior battle to teach our kids how to sit still and act respectfully from prayer through happy plate. We are far from perfection, but we’ve made a lot of improvement. I tell this story not to highlight mealtime, but the why behind this change. Turns out, it’s not just so they eat more vegetables or obey the rules.

We have a different motivation. When we made this decision, we had relationships in mind.

THE WHY.

We want to raise children who freely choose to love God and love each other.

We desire mealtime to be a place not just where we come to eat but where we come to be together. We desire mealtime to be a place where, at least once a day, we sit and pray together as a family. We thank God for “the food before us, the family and friends beside us, and the love between us.” We acknowledge that it is God alone who is the source of this great provision we have. As we share a meal together, we check in on each other’s days, how one another is doing, and enjoy one another’s company.

As we set these new standards for mealtime, there is one important distinction that I am making for myself: the goal is not obedience. The goal is relationship. Kevin and I desire to cultivate deep relationships with our children and help them have deep relationships with one another (their siblings).

As I prepare to make the transition into having four children, I admit that I often spiral into survival mode and parent from a place of exhaustion. If only my children obeyed, then I wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed! Life would be easier! How dare they do not obey. They should know better! After everything I do for them! However, this only leads to parenting out of a place of bitterness, entitlement, and anger – barking commands at my children that bear no fruit.

The Holy Spirit convicted me recently that rules for the sake of obedience is not the way I want to operate. I want to parent differently. I want to parent with the why in mind.

Parenting with the why in mind will lead to another question: what are the battles I choose to fight? We can’t fight them all as parents and keep our sanity. How do we choose? The most important battles to me, though I hadn’t put these words to it yet until recently, are their treatment of one another and of their mom and dad. 

So while I fight those battles of sibling rivalry and respect, I want to make sure they understand the vision and not just the command.

For example, as my daughters hit and claw at one another over a disagreement, I don’t simply what to say, “do this” or “stop that.” Yes, that is important, especially in the early years. But as they get older, I want to give them a vision of something greater. I want them to desire a restored relationship with one another. I want them to learn kindness, genuine forgiveness, and working through conflict. I want to them to not just listen to mom, but to have a genuine friendship with one another. I want them to take ownership of their own relationships.

My children having healthy relationships with mom and dad and with each other will dictate the battles I choose to fight, and how I fight them. This will trickle into other areas—like honoring mealtime and family time, for example. With the end in mind, my hopes are that one day, they will become adults with healthy, independent relationships with their parents and with one another, healthy marriages and/or friendships, and that they might have the tools to freely choose a relationship with their Heavenly Father.

DIFFERENT CHILDREN. SAME WHY.

With four children, not to mention two girls and two boys, each child will need to be parented differently. But for each child, the why will be the same.

For Lydia, my strong-willed, justice-oriented first born – she needs to learn how to extend grace both to others and to herself. More than anything, she hates failure and desires perfection. She is high achieving and holds others to the same standard she holds herself. (Some days it’s like looking in a mirror – now I feel like I am talking about myself!) She is also highly motivated to obey when she sees a reward for herself on the other side.

As I parent Lydia, I need to not manipulate her behavior by only using rewards-based parenting. I need to help her to see her behavior through a lens of empathy and compassion for others. She needs help to persevere in the face of failure. As a practical thinker and a verbal processor, we need to give her space to understand and process the “why.” She needs encouragement and praise as she restores relationships and places others first. She needs physical outlets to release aggressive energy, which will help her with empathy and reason. She will need to face failure and imperfection to realize her need for and dependency on God.

For Eliza, my free-spirited, affectionate, “closet”-perfectionist – she isn’t going to demand answers. She could cuddle her mom or dad all day and all night if that were possible. She seems to be enjoying a game or activity freely with no spoken anxiety, and then at the last moment realizes failure and explodes on anyone around her, refusing to ever engage in the task again. She could hide from negative emotions and feelings, living in her own pretend world all day, singing songs, and making jokes, if we let her. She is not motivated by tasks but motivated by affection and positive experiences. 

As I parent Eliza, she needs more of my quiet presence and reassurance that she is loved exactly as God made her. I will have to fight harder to create opportunities to show her the “why” and pray for opportunities for her heart to be open. She needs to be asked key questions that will help her process failure, motivations, and the hard realities of life that she will naturally hide from. She needs to be built up in her unique gifts without comparison to her sister. She needs space to express her creativity and know that we see her, and we are proud of her. 

For Caleb, I am still getting to know my precious son. Outside of teaching him basic rules of life and boundaries, specifically for his own safety, I have gotten glimpses of who he might be. Like his dad, he loves to play, read, and learn. And at age 2, I’m starting to see gifts of empathy and mercy come out of him. Here’s a recent example:

A few weeks ago in the midst of a snowy driveway, I was trying to load him in the car, and he was running inside in laughing disobedience. “CJ, no!” I said sternly. “Come back, time to get in the car!” As he was laughing and headed for the basement, I began to chase after him and my wet boots slipped on our entryway tile and I – third trimester pregnant and all – wiped out on the floor. Anyone who has ever fallen while pregnant knows that it not only hurts, but it’s just terrifying. As I laid on the floor fighting back tears, Caleb’s entire demeaner changed. My 25-month-old son turned around and walked to me slowly, bent down and put his face next to mine. With tender hazel eyes and a sweet voice, he said, “OK, mommy? OK?” I took a deep breath, pushed my way up, received his hug, and responded, gently asking him to get in the car. That boy turned right around and walked to the car and climbed in his car seat by himself. That was the first time I realized he has more of his dad in him than just hazel eyes.

Lord as I get to know Caleb more in the coming years, please show me what he needs. I also thank you for a Christ-loving husband who will understand how to talk to him as a boy and as a man, and how to cast vision to him to honor is mom and his sisters and to honor the Lord. Our world needs strong men who love Jesus and lead their families. Lord may Caleb learn how to walk with you by watching his dad as an example. Give him the courage and strength to strive for that in his own life!

I pray similar prayers for Adrian, my second son that we have not yet met, due in just six weeks. All I know about him now is he is big, and he is active! He is constantly drawing my attention to him with his long limbs and frequent movements. He’s been my most active pregnancy yet and I’m receiving extra monitoring and sonograms because of his size! I don’t yet know what he will need, but one thing I know for sure is that it will be different than his sisters and different than his brother.

All four of my children will need different things from Kevin and me, but we have the same goal for each: that they would freely choose to love God and love each other. While this decision to follow God will be their own choice, we hope to set them up for this by fostering trusted, healthy relationships with their parents and their siblings – not because we gave them what they wanted at every demand – but because among hard decisions and hard discipline, we had a consistent “why” that could be repeated. The bottom line: we put relationships first.

In as much as we can control, we desire a relationship with each child that is not one of co-dependence, but of independence, that sets them up to know Jesus for themselves and not just through their parents’ faith. I echo the words of Andy Stanley in his book Parenting: Getting It Right that the end goal is emotionally healthy, relationally successful adults, equipped to handle on their own the difficulties and blessings of life. 

The battles I will choose to fight are their relationships – with mom, dad, siblings – in a way that teaches them how to manage future relationships outside of their family – and ultimately as they come of age, their relationships with Jesus. May decisions to discipline, correct, show grace, and how I speak have these relationships in mind.

–

Lord, help me to change the way I parent my children. Not to achieve anything but in a genuine effort to have a “why” as the driving force of my every interaction with my children – especially as they get older. Lord as I reflect on each child, I pray that you would guide me into a place of listening and discernment for what each child needs. That I will parent my four children each differently but with the same “why.” The same “it.” I don’t simply desire obedient and high achieving children – I desire children who know they are loved, can love others, and – ultimately – come to know, love, trust, and follow You. Help me parent from this place and with this goal in mind. Lord, please guide Kevin and me to parent in unity. I surrender expectations and daily failures to you. May I seek their forgiveness and seek to restore the relationship when I do wrong. May Kevin and I model a healthy relationship in our own marriage and in the way we follow You. These children are yours. Thank you for the gifts that they are to me. Please lead me. 

baby two.

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As I write, I’m sitting and looking out a window of our guest house on Table Rock Lake. To the west, I see a beautiful sunset, colors of pink, orange, yellow and blue painted across the sky, shadowing the Ozark Mountains. One glance to the east, and I see rain pouring onto the lake from a distance.

Such is life.

With one look you see the beautiful blessings that God provides, and in the next glance you see the brokenness of the world we live in.

I feel this tension every day, and especially in this moment as I sit down to write and process the fact that I am 14 weeks pregnant with my second child. I see the sunset. 14 weeks. Out of the first trimester. Out of the higher risk for miscarriage. Into the second trimester, just six weeks away from finding out the gender of our baby, and just 26 weeks away from meeting him or her face to face.

The next glance.

Since arriving at Young Life Camp three weeks ago for our summer assignment, two friends from my church community back home have lost babies through miscarriage. I see the rain. I feel the brokenness. I wish I could stop their storms. I wish I could trade places with them some days just to take away their hurt, their grief, their fear.

but
here
I
am

experiencing the beautiful sunset and merely glancing at the storm from a distance.

To be honest, I didn’t want to write this. I fought guilt in posting a photo of pregnancy. These two friends with recent losses aren’t the only ones I’m walking life with experiencing pregnancy loss or infertility. There are many more. The last thing I want is to be a trigger for others pain and grief. It makes me want to run and hide and pretend that I’m not experiencing the incredible blessing of having a second child that will be only 19 months apart from our first.

It’s hard to admit that I inflict shame on myself for experiencing this blessing when I have absolutely no control over my circumstances or those of others when it comes to fertility. But what I do know is this: In the midst of the broken world we live in, I have a God who redeems.

I have a God who sees the beginning and the end.
I have a God who is writing my story and their stories perfectly for His good and His glory.
While it may not seem good right now, I have a God that will see it through in His perfect timing.
He will calm their storms and bring them to the shelter of His presence and His peace.
He will redeem the hurt, the pain, the fear, and the grief, and they will rise redeemed.

With eyes wide open to the blessings of my circumstances, here’s my story.

 

F I N D I N G . O U T .

Kevin and I have always dreamed of having kids close in age. I grew up with three siblings within four years of each other, including having a twin. I have wonderful memories of childhood and still love how close the four of us are to this day. Around the time that Lydia was 9 months old, I remember feeling disappointed that I wasn’t pregnant yet, but also wanting to trust my body and trust God’s timing. I remember taking a pregnancy test, that was negative, right before I got the stomach flu. It was the first time I experienced disappointment from a pregnancy test, and I realized that it was time to start praying intentionally for God to provide another child. However, I lowered my expectations and set my mind on the present season.

A few weeks later, around the time that Lydia was 10 months old and shortly after my best friend Keely’s gender reveal party, I had a dream. In the dream, I was having a conversation with Keely and said, “You’re pregnant with a girl… I’m also pregnant with a girl!” I told Keely about it the next morning at church but shook it off as just a dream, again masking my hopes that it was reality.

About five days later and a few days after my missed period, I had another dream that I was pregnant. The next morning, I asked Kevin to pick up a pregnancy test at the store simply for “peace of mind.” When he got excited, I quickly quieted his emotions because I told him that I didn’t want him to feel let down if we weren’t pregnant, insisting that I didn’t “feel” pregnant.

The busy day began and turned out to be quite chaotic. Lydia was biting me while nursing throughout the day and having quite a few toddler moments. Even during happy hour with a few friends, I made a joke about it being my last drink but continuing to doubt that I was actually pregnant. “My cycle has been off since breastfeeding….” I claimed, among other excuses. That night I had yet another rough feeding attempt before putting Lydia to sleep and actually had to pump after. (PS, I found out later that hormones could change the taste of breastmilk for her? I’m going with that, or else, a strange coincidence that it was all on this day.) Finally, after a long day, I sat down to pump. As I was pumping, I felt a wave of nausea and extreme thirst. And that’s when it hit me. Oh my God, I feel pregnant.

Taking the pregnancy test was no longer casual after that because I knew in that moment that I was pregnant. After cleaning up my pumping supplies and confirming that Lydia was sound asleep, I grabbed the pregnancy test and started shaking as I took it, my mind racing as the pieces of how I felt the last few days were coming together. I left the test in the bathroom and after a minute or two, insisted that Kevin go in to grab the test and confirm. Around 9pm that Friday evening, I saw the look on Kevin’s face as he read it out loud and smiled. “You’re pregnant.”

Immediately we embraced in joy and excitement and—me being me—I quickly downloaded my old pregnancy app and pulled up my calendar to calculate our due date and plan out the next 9 months of our life.

 

F I R S T . T R I M E S T E R .

About one week into finding out I was pregnant, I got the stomach flu, really bad. I look back now and laugh that I thought it was pregnancy symptoms at first, so I tried to push through my work day. I remember the relief I felt when I realized I was sick and that this pregnancy shouldn’t feel that miserable all the time! Those few days forced me to slow down and just remember my dependence on the Lord throughout this chaotic season. I wrote more about what those two months looked like in my recent two entries, “finished.” and “work ahead.”

About a month later, I had my first doctor’s appointment. After my sonogram, they pushed my due date one week later to December 13. My cycle was indeed off since I was still breastfeeding. It was a small reminder that regardless of Kevin and my attempts at “trying” to get pregnant, I ovulated a week later than normal, and we happened to get lucky. The timing made it feel even less of something we could have controlled and made me even more grateful for the way God orchestrated it all. Truly it was He that created this little life and spoke his or her name into existence.

It didn’t take long for me to start showing way earlier this time around. My stretched out skin and belly button quickly popped back out, and around 7 weeks, I realized that I needed to start telling friends before they could look at me and see for themselves! Nausea and aversions were in full swing, so I slowly starting weaning Lydia in hopes that would help. Lydia was fully weaned around the time I was 10 weeks pregnant, and nausea ceased shortly after that. I was also wrapping up my Master’s degree at that time, leaving behind a lot of stress that I’m sure wasn’t helping. It was a tough few months not feeling well and working really hard with a lot of late nights. I had little time to process the fact that I was pregnant and merely just trying to survive!

 

R E A D Y . F O R . T W O .

We publicly announced our pregnancy right before leaving for our month-long summer camp assignment for Young Life. Being at camp has allowed me time to rest and time to spend one-on-one time with Lydia in this sweet season before Baby #2 comes. It has allowed me time to process the previous two months as well as physically, emotionally, and spiritually recover.

As I hit the 14-week milestone and am headed into our final week away from home, I feel peace and a readiness to look forward to December and begin making preparations. I’ve started to process the fact that I am going to love another tiny human as much as I love Lydia. That he or she will be like Lydia… but different. Their own person.

Sometimes I get scared. Will I really love baby two as much as I love my first? It seems hard to fathom. I also have feared: will God provide the finances for us to support a family of four on a ministry salary? Will we be able to afford sending them both to college? In all these fears, He has comforted us and provided people to speak truth and encouragement to us.

Still, I am scared. Aren’t we all scared for the unknown? Will I be able to do it all? Will I be able to be a working momma of two? Will I be able to care for a newborn while having a toddler? Will God really provide the finances? Will our marriage continue to strengthen as life only seems to get more messy?

In the midst of the unknowns and the fears, I am thankful for a God who sustains me through it all and gives me peace, assurance, and confidence. He hasn’t failed me yet, and I choose to trust in His promise, that He never, ever will.

Baby two, we’re ready for you.

finished.

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After breastfeeding for about a month after finding out I was pregnant with our second baby, first trimester nausea was in full-swing. In the week before Lydia’s first birthday, not only was I ready to be done, but I could tell Lydia was ready too. So on May 6, I was prepared to nurse Lydia for the last time. The next day I was leaving town for a Young Life Staff Conference for three days, so the timing was perfect to wean her completely off our last remaining feeding, the nighttime feeding.

Our family was out late that evening with our church City Group. When we got home, I started Lydia’s normal bedtime routine, mentally and emotionally preparing for my last time breastfeeding Lydia. Despite feeling ready to be done, this was still a significant and emotional moment. Whether Lydia was teething, tired, coming off a cold, or a combination, she refused to nurse and on the contrary, wouldn’t stop screaming. My husband suggested that we just put her straight into her crib for bed, and I glared back and him and sternly responded “no.” And I tried again. And again. And again. Lydia’s screaming only got louder.

As my daughter cried in my arms
unwilling to nurse
I gave up
what was supposed to be my last time nursing her
never happened
it was gone
there would be no last time.
I held her
and cried just as loud
I let go
this season,
it is finished.

 

L O O K I N G . B A C K .

We read a bedtime story through tears and my daughter went straight to sleep immediately after laying her in her crib. As I exited the nursery, my husband was concerned about my strong emotions yet confused. I explained to him the thoughts racing through my mind:

Memories.
The very first time Lydi nursed, what seemed like minutes after she was born.
The emotional roller coaster of trying to get her to latch after my milk came in, feeling helpless for days.
The six months of her not eating any solid foods, only nursing for nutrition and survival.
The late, dark nights and early, dark mornings.
The countless hours and hours of feeding her.
The special bond that only mama had with her.
Done.
Gone.
Finished.

But more than just this simple act of nursing her, it was more.
Weaning represented the physical symbol of the present reality.
The first year of my first baby’s life is over, and I will never get it back.

Being pregnant through all this surely wasn’t helping the hormones and the emotions. But as I explained to Kevin the bigger picture and processing her first year being done, he understood. In fact, he joined in the reminiscing and sat and cried with me. We talked memories of her first year, from the moment we met her to taking her home from the hospital, to all her firsts. We celebrated the walking, talking, full-of-joy toddler that she is now. We grieved the time that we’ll never get back but laughed at the memories that we’ll hold forever. We continue to stand utterly in awe of how it’s possible to love a child so incredibly deeply.

I wish time could rewind, stand still, and move forward all at the same time. And yet, it moves forward. And in healthy emotional and spiritual processing, so will I.

 

T H R E E . D A Y S .

After three days away, I came home ready to embrace our new routine and celebrate my little girl’s first birthday. As I write this, I notice the way that God’s presence was with me throughout the week. If it wasn’t for the series of events that night, I may not have taken the time to feel, grieve, and process the emotions that came along with the change. God used selfishly unfavorable events to bring about greater good. Though it was hard to see in the moment, after three days away, I came home excited to continue to love Lydia and meet her needs in the countless other ways that only mamas can do.

The phrase, “It is finished,” reminds me of another scene in John 19. On Calvary’s Hill, the Son of God, who lived a perfect, sinless life, experienced the undeserving weight of sin and death on the Cross. After three days, Jesus rose from the dead. God used selfishly unfavorable events to bring about greater good. Though it was hard to see in the moment, after three days away, He resurrected to give us hope, joy, adoption, peace, and a promise of eternal life for those who trust in Him.

Really, “It is finished” was only the beginning.

.

In the case of my very normal, mundane life, the same hymn rings true.
As we celebrated her first birthday with family and friends
It marked the end of year zero
And the beginning of year one.

Lydia Evelyn, we are excited to continue to watch you grow and see who you become.
Really, sweet girl, it’s only the beginning.

 

family on mission.

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It’s 7:45 on a Tuesday morning. My three-month old sleeps next to me quietly in her portable bassinet next to the dining room table. She’s been awake long enough to already earn her first nap of the day. My husband left the house early to meet with a student for morning coffee. Even our dog is sleeping on his bed in our living room. The house is quiet and the only sounds are the clock ticking and the occasional car driving by.

In this place I am able to sit down and write. It’s been too long since I’ve done this.

Much has happened since my last blog post announcing my move into full-time ministry. We had a house full of guests for about six weeks straight – no wonder I’m enjoying the quiet! Family came in multiple waves to spend time with our little one and we opened up our home to friends who needed a temporary place to stay. Not to mention we took an end-of-the-summer vacation and a sometimes-regretfully, do-it-ourselves bathroom remodel. I finished a grad school class and we have been working hard to prepare for another school year of college ministry.

The summer has ended and time is flying by. Lydia is changing every day and discovering the world around her. It’s this week, as the new school year starts and Lydia has gone from newborn to infant by definition, that I am overwhelmed by the joy of being a family on mission together.

 

M I S S I O N A R Y . F A M I L Y .

Kevin and I are perhaps unique in that we share the same calling as husband and wife: to reach college students at the University of Kansas and help them grow in their faith. The calling we have is as strong as if we were missionaries sent abroad, except our mission field is in our own backyard and in my own hometown.

When we dreamed of having a family years ago, our goal was that our life wouldn’t stop when we had kids. Instead, whatever God was calling us to do in that season, our children would join us in that calling. They would become a part of our ministry team rather than hindering us from pursuing it.

And so, on the very day that we drove home from the hospital after Lydia’s birth, we took the scenic route home. From north Lawrence to our home on the south side, we cut right through the center of town so we could show our 4-day-old the place where our family is called to do ministry.

We showed her the University of Kansas campus, our mission field.

As we drove around Memorial Stadium and up the hill to Jayhawk Boulevard, we prayed for Lydia and for our family’s mission. We prayed that God would use Lydia to reach college students at the University of Kansas with the good news of Jesus.

 

O N E . D A Y . A T . A . T I M E .

And while our calling hasn’t, our everyday life has indeed changed with this little one. I know that there will be days when I need to choose her over student ministry. I may leave our meetings early so I can put her to sleep, step away so I can feed her or meet her needs, or say no to something good so that we can maintain healthy boundaries and prioritize time as a family.

Someone asked me how I was feeling about the year of ministry with Lydia, and I responded with my plan: take it one day at a time. She’s changing so quickly and it’s impossible to predict what her needs will be a few days from now, let alone weeks or months! We’ll take two cars places for a while. She may end up joining us at Young Life Club all semester, or we may end up getting a babysitter by the end of it. But for now, I am loving having her come with us to meet new students. In fact, she draws them in and gives us the best conversation starter. She enjoys the countless people that love on her and want to hold her and make her smile.

Here’s to the start of another school-year of ministry, transitioning from a family of two to a family of three.

One day at a time, this is my constant prayer:

As a family, may we go where the Lord sends us.
As a family, may we pray for those the Lord brings us.
As a family, may we serve where the Lord calls us.
As a family, may we love as the Lord loves us.

 

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:19-20)