Blog : Give Me Grace

For a Warrior on Mother’s Day

Posted on May 1, 2013May 7, 2015 by lisha epperson

Another Mother’s Day season is here. The cards, gifts, flowers, reservations, all lovingly planned to celebrate the woman called…mother. Our culture idolizes this role, placing her on a pedestal next to symbols and words like madonna and matrix. She is the center of life, and good or bad we all have one. Her significance imprinted on our very lives – our beginnings wrapped in the woman from whom we were born. So how do we define her? Who/What is a mother?

I challenge an image of mother that excludes women who have never given birth or raised children. I also acknowledge women who have carried but will never or no longer be able to hold their children. These women bear an inconceivable load – carrying their grief in heart-broken wombs – their children…invisible.

I’ve learned that all women … “mother.” Women are warriors who believe in and fight for life, tending gardens in and around them with a love that is primal. From the beginning of time, motherhood calls and motherhood knows no end.

The birth mothers, biological mothers, adoptive mothers, baby mamas, grand mothers, step mothers, foster mothers, god mothers , cherished aunties and most of all, the mamas that desperately wish to be…should all share in this day. All should walk in favor this day. They should. But they don’t.

This is likely, the hardest day of the year for the would be mama. She holds fast to dreams that now exist only in the secret place – between her and God. This day is for the woman she hopes to be – not for the woman she is. Facing the quietly painful question “Will I ever be a mother?”, she knows this day belongs to the others … and is not … hers.

There will be prayers, roses and reverence for the woman who has borne children. For the mother who isn’t, the sting of new baby lust. As the newest mom enters the church for the first time since giving birth – swaddling a gift she has been denied – her skin will burn hot with envy. For her, a feeling of abandonment that forces her to fumble her way through a confusing and dark maze – the word of God a frustrating mystery. She isn’t experiencing the promises of God as it relates to fertility and doesn’t feel like a fruitful vine.

She doesn’t see herself as a life-giver, sustainer or nourisher. Spring has arrived and she’s already taken a beating watching formerly bare trees blossom. They seemingly mock her inability to take part in the circle of life. How does she fit in? She assumes you look on her with pity, walking in shame as she approaches the altar for prayer with empty arms. Again. Has she been forgotten?

What of the mother who has lost children? How do you embrace the child of another when you can no longer embrace your own? These women bravely continue to walk when pieces of their souls have gone before them. Leaving behind a trail of tears and unfulfilled dreams, these women gather the shards of their lives and love on. Should she stand when the pastor asks all mothers to do so this Sunday? Has she been forgotten?

We have to learn to love women better. We have to learn to walk them through infertility and loss with more compassion. The word says we should rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep. Problem is, we only walk whole-heartedly through the first half of that scripture. The last balloon has popped, the food and fun are gone and all that remains is a house full of people ready for sleep when its time…to walk with those who weep. Oh we’ve got to learn to love women better.

This Mother’s Day post is being released a little early. I want you to start the month resting in your beauty, value and worth. I want you to know…I see you. Whether you find yourself in the midst of unspeakable loss, are worn out on a road you’ve been walking way too long or perhaps are wondering if this is your path…you’ve been trying for a baby for a while and it hasn’t happened – are you that 1 in 8?

I want to hear your stories. I want to hear your fears, doubts, joys, bitterness…I want this to be a place where you feel free to say it. If not here find a friend and share your burden. We’re designed to hold each other up, let a friend in to do that this year. You’re not alone.

Happy Mother’s Day!

InCourage me Gideon?

Posted on April 30, 2013May 1, 2013 by lisha epperson

I didn’t make it to an InCourage inRL meet-up this year. InCourage inRL (in real life) is a webcast conference for Christian women promoting community and welcoming women as they are – REAL. FLAWED. BEAUTIFUL. Women, mom bloggers, writers from all over the world attend these person-to-person assemblies. Some of these women I now call – friends. Although we’ve only communicated online – sharing our stories, passions, lives – we are friends. I register. I’m ready.

When the Long Island host had to cancel I searched for another gathering. So badly did I want to attend this meeting, that I prepared to make the 4 hour drive from New York City to Lititz, Pennsylvania. I looked forward to meeting Sarah Mae, Crystal and a few others ladies I’ve followed on Twitter for the past 4 months.

I’m at a point in life where community feels like everything. The magnitude of its importance has been made clear in my life and I am enjoying new sources while trying to find ways to light little love fires in the communities I already call resting places…comfy cradles with room for growth, where I am loved and freely love in return .

When Big Daddy and I got our signals crossed and I realized he had to work, my plans for travel went south…literally. No sweat…I’ll watch on-line. I’m pumped for this thing…it’s going down. Surely encouragement can be found at home …. my Bible, journal and iPad open and ready to receive.

Just before sitting down for the first session at InCourage I did a final email check and realized that Priscilla Shirer Live 2013 was being aired…at the very same time. I had registered for and paid for this broadcast weeks ago. Like my new friends at InCourage, this journey online…blogging, social media etc. introduced me to Priscilla. She’s another friend in my head. I read her blog and hang out with her before dinner every Tuesday at Going Beyond Ministries. What to do?

Like any other multi-tasking mama, I reasoned, there was no reason for me to have to choose. I’d watch both. And that’s exactly what I did. Flipping back and forth from site to site I met and heard, for the first time, actual voices of the ladies of InCourage. The stories shared were achingly beautiful, hopeful and life-giving. I was inspired to love on my community through service and in the giving of time to friends I long to see but find, I just never get around to. I absolutely loved and felt connected to Annie Downs, speaking wisdom on trailblazing and Deidre Diggs, sharing a vulnerable, tender story on the breaking of a heart…by a friend. Hearing the word/work of these women touched me deeply. Their words, pricking places that lay dormant as I make my way through life sometimes…trying not to feel or think. This was a love festival not to be missed. When loved, you love – so I sent messages like this to friends – “Your gifting is a blessing from God…your brokenness is His greatest platform.. Let Him use you. I love you.” When loved, I love.

Over on Priscilla Shirer Live 2013 the word was on fire. Priscilla has a heart for God and the gift of simplicity and practicality in her teaching. Her impartation on Gideon left me at His feet…floored and humbled as this teaching mirrored my soul and I saw, again, my life…in His. I vowed to worship like Gideon. To offer my gifts to God like Gideon. To begin all battles on my knees and with the assurance of victory, like Gideon. I also got to experience the music ministry of her brother Anthony Evans. I will definitely be sharing a favorite called “Silence” on my FB page at www.facebook.com/broaderscopeoflove.

The timing on everything worked so well. The lunch break and intermission on PSL2013 gave me the opportunity to check in with my friends at InCourage. Besides, at InCourage, I had freedom to stop and start when necessary. I could go back later and catch anything I missed. Often its the smallest things that make all the difference. I was so happy for this simple but brilliant scheduling idea that made this day work – for me, and I’m sure many others.

In the end, I missed nothing, gained everything and rest knowing my day went according to His plan. In real life, I was InCouraged with Gideon and these faces..it’s here that I am first called to take part in community, in life and in love… as wife…as mother.

An unusual day at home indeed…I have never spent an entire day online, at home, and it was okay? understood? Really? So this is the view from my love-worn chair… I refused to budge, and every so often took pictures – this is what I saw – Big Daddy soaking in a little word before going off to work, the one and only Lady B in another moment of fabulosity , sweet C caught pensive, the little balloon guy and the constantly questioning 12-year-old – we’ll call him CanI?

Five Minute Friday : Friend

Posted on April 26, 2013April 28, 2013 by lisha epperson

dawn1 — an old but, new friend..blogging buddy and cohost of virtual tea party
Dawn

I don’t make friends easily. I often feel tongue tied…never quite sure how to start or sustain a conversation with someone I don’t know. The friends I’ve been blessed with seem to have been able to leap over that barrier with me. With my closest friends, I can’t remember sharing moments like that. We sort of found ourselves together – and more often than not, they are the talkers that bring out the words in me.

Online, this all works quite differently. By definition social media requires that I come out of my shell with something to say…so its challenging. Online, I am hidden behind the screen and when I finally edit my 140 character quotes you’ve missed how long it took me to put words together, whether I am smiling or frowning with frustration as I type/speak and how I clasp my thumb when deep in thought or uncomfortable. So although it’s a little easier for the social misfit in me, I wonder if you’ve missed the real me and I, you. Could true connection develop in such an atmosphere? I wondered.

My concerns have consistently been overridden. In cyberspace we’ve been able to glide through doorways and dance through defenses to feel a sense of kinship with each other. Through this computerized filter our first attempts at fellowship are facilitated and despite many unknowns we feel free to take the leap and choose each other. We become friends. We’ve pulled out, and from each other – the stuff of life…largely through a faith that binds us in eternity.

I began a media inspired presence to develop a platform for the work I feel called to do – inspiring and encouraging women and families challenged by infertility or considering adoption. However, in seeking that base of followers, I have found friendships sustained by momentary blurbs full of life and breath. I know and feel known deeply. Time will deepen the roots we share, securely intertwining them in a solid foundation. These bonds, cultivated in service – one to another, are indeed…God inspired.

Because of relationships like these I want to see you face-to-face. I often imagine a virtual tea party with these new hearts…hearts I’ve grown to care about and pray over. There is no substitute for real life encouragement, hands and hearts sharing physical space. I pray for this with each of you. As for now, we are joined here…online…meeting at this nexus of the heart and soul that transcends space and time. You are my community…my new friends.

joining Lisa Jo Baker and friends for another Five Minute Friday post. Share in the words/work of these amazing women… my new friends at www.lisajobaker.com

and this is Life…

Posted on April 22, 2013April 27, 2013 by lisha epperson

It’s National Infertility Awareness Week and my heart is full. I am believing for the restoration of dreams and a renewed reason to hope for the warriors that find themselves in the trenches. I am amazed at the number of voices that are being raised to bring attention to this very important topic and am so grateful to add my song to this universal cry. But this story is about a pigeon… a pigeon and me. This story is beautifully broken and sings of nature and humanity. Through it I see and am humbled by our connection to Gods creation. The lowly pigeon and a lowly me brought together through this all too common grief.

The loss of new life. I have been given again, the opportunity to witness the beauty and desperation of life in my own backyard. This experience hints of heaviness yet inside a rejoicing and exultation is promised. Spring is here. And life….is.

A few weeks ago I noticed a tiny white egg on our terrace. The egg of a pigeon. I, then, was no friend of the pigeon. Back story needed here…pigeons are a plentiful and dirty nuisance in the city, some call them rats with wings. I try hard to keep them away but they are notorious for plaguing hi-rise buildings…our open terrace a major draw every spring when inevitably the pigeons lay eggs. They come, twig in beak every spring, ready to build nests in preparation for new life. I usually do a fine job of fending them off..going to great lengths to enclose through design and keep our terrace pigeon free. But this spring life happened…on our barely used concrete terrace. In the spaces where it’s impossible for me to be fully present….all the time. Life happened.

So back to a few weeks ago…I wake up one morning and coffee in hand go to my spot..I open the terrace door to breathe in the fresh morning air and speak to God. This is where He calls me deeper. Something about this spot beckons me and I begin my day here most mornings.

On this day I glance down and notice a small egg. No nest. A lone egg. This alarms me. An egg without a nest is not natural..something is wrong.

I choose to do nothing…hoping the day will uncover clues that explain this lonely egg. Later, Mama shows up. I knew she would. She pushes the egg into a corner and plants her plump bottom down. This whole scene is still so contrary to the natural order of what I know about bird life. The nest always comes first. Doesn’t it? The next few hours reveal so much more. Papa shows up..another egg is laid and he slowly begins to build a nest around her.. I didn’t take pictures of all of this … the moments felt sacred and I an intruder. So I watched. In this dirty city with the lowliest of birds, life was taking place – on my terrace. God will have His way – to teach me something about life and it’s frailty, the beauty that is found even through things I don’t and will never understand…things bound to cause my very soul to weep.

By this point the kids are involved and we watch daily as these two birds wait for their babies. A twig, a feather, a browned and dry leaf – piece by piece Papa bird is determined to house his seed and protect his lady. We are rapt with fascination and in awe of this still somewhat unwanted surprise. The pigeons come. They go..but they always return.

On Saturday morning I notice that Mama bird has been away for a while. By Sunday I know something isn’t right. And this morning I awaken to an empty nest…the eggs have been pushed out, sort of rolled haphazardly and I hear the saddest mournful cooing coming from the corner. Ears and eyes after the sound, I find Mama and Papa under a wrought iron planter. Eventually they come out, walk over to the eggs and peck expectantly then turn away joining each other for the walk back. More mournful cooing.

These eggs won’t make it. I know that cry…its universal..transending species even…these parents won’t get to know these babies.

“Mama. You’re sad today,” Ila proclaims. And she’s right. We made scones this morning and ate breakfast in a somber mood talking about babies – where they come from, the work I am doing at the birth center….life. My 12-year-old told a joke that only a 12-year-old boy would find funny. And we all eventually found something to smile about. Life went on.

But I am reminded of women, couples like my husband and I who have lost babies, who even struggle to conceive and carry them. The women who never conceive, the women who with bleeding fingers grab hold to the lifeline of adoption, the women who have chosen to walk through this life childless and the women who will never discuss this topic with anyone. Ever.

I will call to have a proper cleanup tomorrow, but for now leave my friends to mourn. I am forever tenderly respectful of my pigeon friends and honor their time of grief. Still a bit melancholy today but I feel it lifting. Spring is here and life….is.

Please do not reprint any portion of these posts without prior written permission. Thank you.(c) Copyright Lisha Epperson, 2011-13