Winnie's Birth Story

You’re the way, the truth, and the life

You’re the well that never runs dry

I’m the branch and you are the vine

Draw me close and teach me to abide

Be my strength, my song in the night

Be my all, my treasure my prize

I am Yours, forever You’re mine

Draw me close and teach me to abide

These lyrics permeated deep into my soul on that rainy, cozy morning that would be the day I went into labor with our beloved Winnie Wynne.

I didn’t go to church that day in favor of rest and the delights of being horizontal when 41 weeks and 2 days pregnant. We were in the thick of what I came to call the “Winnie Wait.” Little lady was not interested in abandoning her comfortable home in favor of the big, wide world, so in my womb she remained as I continued my transformation from human female to beached whale.

An important note to make is Ronny was still in his accelerated nursing school program. Winnie was due on April 13th, and he would graduate May 4th with exams the week leading up to graduation.

We nailed the timing, eh?

I was absolutely convinced she would be early. I remember fearing we’d have an April Fool’s baby, then worrying she and our oldest, Bood (formally Liam), would share a birthday on April 7th, then shifting to praying against a 4/20 baby, and finally, truly hoping she’d be born on Earth Day, April 22nd, because I love plants. Of all the possibilities, Earth Day was the closest, and she only missed it by a little over two hours. 

The “Winnie Wait” included trying a few natural tricks. I got a pedicure on April 5th to see if things might be moving along (thanks for coming Steph). We successfully celebrated Bood’s birthday on April 7th. We were able to get our garden planted and attend a friend’s birthday dinner on April 8th thanks to the arrival of my mom, Gogo. We took cupcakes to Bood’s class for his birthday. The due date arrived, and we got a lot of sweet family time with a visit to Waffle House and general play. I even got a prenatal massage which I think freaked out the masseuse when she learned it was literally my due date. 

Nothing. No action.

On April 14th, I decided to try some curb walking and castor oil (a first for me). I took it with apple juice, almond butter, and the oil all blended and chugged (thanks Sarah for your provisions). I was told to take a nap immediately because the oil is supposed to stir up GI movement to help get contractions going. I threw up about an hour after drinking it, and a few hours later, had some contractions, but baby girl was not ready to play ball yet. I also dabbled with clary sage oil, particularly on the pressure point on my ankle. 

We made it to a 4-year-old check up appointment for Bood that I thought would surely include Winnie as well, back when I scheduled it. Lol. We got flowers to plant, went on walks, had some coffee dates with our younger son, Shep while Bood was at school. The garden started growing, Ronny finished his last clinical, I made it to my 40.5 week appointment (was already 4cm or something dilated), started losing pieces of my mucus plug, more Home Depot runs, and more plants. We were able to go to a Touch-a-Truck event that we absolutely thought we would miss, and my pseudo-aunt, Judy joined us. We NEVER would have thought I’d still be pregnant upon her arrival. 

The timing of this birth felt stressful for me. Between Ronny’s school schedule, which continued as long as I was not in labor, our doula’s work schedule, and a few other things, I felt as if it was somehow in my control to time it perfectly. Yes yes, I know, so wildly out of my control, but I wanted it to work out well for everybody. 

Time went on. The “Winnie Wait” continued. 

For my waking breath

For my daily bread

I depend on you

I depend on you

For the sun to rise

For my sleep at night

I depend on You

Yes I depend on You

Well, April 21st arrived. Back to that cozy, rainy morning where I stayed back from church to lie on the couch and rest. My friend, Steph (you’ll notice her name makes a regular appearance throughout this entire story), had sent me a recording of worship, which included this song. As I mentioned earlier, it felt very significant and sunk deep into my soul. 

Yes, teach me to abide, Lord.

I decided to, once again, try castor oil, this time armed with a much more enjoyable concoction recipe consisting of root beer, vanilla ice cream, and the oil, followed by a peanut butter cup chaser. No joke, I was encouraged to drink a root beer float by my midwife. It was delicious. I remember feeling uncertain as to whether I should try again because I wanted my body to do things on its own, but I was on the cusp of impending induction because I was not far off the 42 week mark AND was intending to have a second VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). 

This time I took two doses four hours apart. Nothing really happened other than feeling VERY full from the double root beer float action. If anything, I felt some little cramps that were low, but that was par for the course at the time. We went on a walk after dinner with some pals to help see if that got labor going. Again, still some baby cramps, but nothing to write home about.

In the 7-8pm range I was starting to have some more significant contractions, and my friend, who is a PT, offered to needle me in some of the spots that are known to encourage labor. I’m not sure which came first, the contractions or the needling, but by 9:30pm, I was having contractions I needed to breathe through. 

After saying thank you and bye to my nurse and PT friends, Ronny and I went into “prep the house and our things for going to the hospital” mode. I was contracting some. We let my mom and doula know things were possibly moving forward, but nothing significant yet. We went to “bed” shortly before 1:30am and by that I mean, Ronny immediately fell asleep, and I found myself not enjoying lying down, one of my tells for labor. I took a bath instead, and the contractions rapidly became strong enough that I no longer wanted to be awake alone. 

2:30am - After only an hour of sleep (for him), I woke Ronny up telling him I needed some support.

When a contraction would come, I would focus on walking towards a support pole in our basement bedroom. Something about having a goal to focus on helped me work through them, but I was definitely doing some hard work. After a little while, we called our doula and told her we were heading to the hospital once my mom arrived. 

My goal and hopes for this birth included an unmedicated VBAC. I had an unplanned C-section with my first, a VBAC with Shep essentially being en caul (born in the amniotic sack) with my second, and very much wanted the experience of the all natural birth. Knowing my history, I needed to be at the hospital and have constant fetal monitoring to keep tabs on how Winnie and my uterus were handling everything.

4:00am - We arrived at the hospital with me needing to stop to contract on the way in. I remember seeing and smelling some pretty pink flowers as I bent over one of the small lamp posts illuminating the path. We took a picture, and then headed to check in. 

5:00am - I’m not sure if this is actually what time all this happened because going forward, I was in a labor blur, but we went to triage and were greeted by the amazing nurse we had with Shep, Hailey. I remember Ronny saying, “Look who it is!” as our doula greeted us and joined us in the triage room. I barely registered either of those greetings. In order to get admitted, I needed a cervical check which I HATE because they are very painful for me, on top of needing to be horizontal long enough for it to happen (I’m aware there really does not exist a human who enjoys those checks, but I've since learned I have a tight pelvic floor which explains how strongly I feel). I’m not sure what it is, likely some instinctual thing for my body to have gravity help me, but I feel so trapped having to go through a contraction lying down. It’s like my flight or fight response kicks in and somehow I can “run” from the pain and intensity if I’m on my feet. I had to pee, and it took me a while to even do that because sitting on the toilet also caused me to contract. 

It was a journey, but we finally got it done, and I was conservatively at about 6cm, though the nurse said she usually undershoots for the laboring mom’s mental game. Better to feel like you progressed faster than to learn you might not have progressed at all. 

Good looking out, Hailey.

I have essentially zero memory of the walk to the L&D room, and barely remember the midwife, Beverly, (who agreed to come in even if she was not on call, bless her) coming in to say she had arrived or becoming aware that I would have a male nurse, named Aubrey. Somehow, I found myself in the L&D room, and they allowed me to keep my own clothes on. The room had a long set of windows and was lovely. From what I can tell, Ronny went to work getting the room set up, while Jess helped me focus through contractions. 

Again, very little memory of this, but I had an IV in and was hooked up to fetal monitoring. One piece that did stick out was that I could not get in the lovely tub for some relief with warm water. In order to have been able to do that, I needed to stay in the bed for 15 minutes to have the wireless monitor synced, and as previously stated, nothing about being horizontal was interesting to me. So, no tub and while not surprising, it was a huge bummer. 

You’re the way, the truth, and the life

You’re the well that never runs dry

I’m the branch and you are the vine

Draw me close and teach me to abide

The sun gradually came in, giving the room a warm glow, and I labored on. Jess would do hip squeezes during contractions, and I was LIVING for those. The difference of a contraction with someone squeezing your hips vs without was a huge shift in pain and intensity awareness. I found myself in the bathroom, gripping the towel bar because it gave me something to focus on and tilt my hips for Winnie to continue moving.

10:00am-1:00pm This involved a whole lot of me breathing hard through contractions and moving around the room, but managing. I remember standing by the bed, and internally teetering on wanting an epidural. My mind was anticipating things like “the ring of fire” even though it was nowhere near time for that yet. Jess talked me through it, and while I never came out and explicitly said I was considering pain meds, that’s definitely where I was. Something eventually shifted, and I decided I was going to push through my wall. That moment was one I was particularly proud of, looking back. I knew the only way out was through, and was willing. 

Around the time of that decision, I started moving between a chair, and standing at the bed through contractions. I had heard people could fall asleep between them, but thought it was crazy. I can truly say I would sit back down and sleep for the minute or two rest, stand up and breathe through the contraction when it hit, then sit back down and fall asleep. Just wild. A vulnerable moment, I am someone who still has a childhood stuffed animal around, named Puffy. Ronny actually put him on the bed, and I held Puffy and a pillow during the contractions. 

Towards the end of this window, I had a few contractions where it felt like my body was bearing down on its own. I thought it was around 2:00pm but after looking back at pictures, I don’t think it was even noon yet. Labor land timing is a strange place to be. Jess, after asking me if I was feeling pushy, called in Beverly and Aubrey, who quietly sat low behind me, and allowed me to continue being in the position I wanted to be. It’s unusual that a provider would be OK with a birthing mother pushing in a standing position in a hospital, and Beverly was A+.

It’s funny what you remember, but one thing that stuck out was I was feeling like I was going too slow, also that I smelled (shocker considering I was engaged in the hardest thing I’ll ever do physically). Literally every single person in the room was there to help me, but I felt like I was taking up people’s time. I had asked Beverly to come in for me, and felt bad things were going long, as if I had any say in that. Aubrey only had me to focus on. Ronny and Jess were also there for me. And yet, I still felt pressure to be faster. What an interesting thought pattern to be in and to register while being only slightly mentally present. 

Hindsight is 20/20, but had there not been some complications that would be brought to the light later, this is the moment I firmly believe Winnie would have been born. Had my uterus been in full form, my body would have been able to push her out and this story would have been significantly shorter.

Alas, that was not meant to be.

Where the Spirit leads as I'm following

I depend on You, I depend on You

For the victories still in front of me

I depend on You, I depend on You

1:00pm-5:00pm When baby girl did not emerge, I can’t remember if we tried some different pushing positions or if Beverly checked me first, but I remember Aubrey encouraging me to try squatting with a bar. I tried pushing through those contractions, and a few other positions. It was strange, because I felt like there was a disconnect between my body and my brain. I couldn’t get it all unified to push effectively. 

When Beverly did check me, she mentioned that I was at about a 9, almost 10, but it seemed like I had a slight cervical lip. Unfortunate.

3:00ish - I became vaguely aware that my friend Steph, a nurse, had stopped in to say hello after her shift. I remember thinking, “Huh, am I cool that Steph is in here? Yes, yes I am, if nothing else, to be a friend support for Ronny.” Jess was also helping me try different positions. 

One moment I distinctly remember was being in the bathroom. Jess commented on how, “We like this bar” referring to the towel rack. Reflecting back, I think I instinctually liked the bathroom because it felt “safer” with the secluded element, though I probably couldn’t have articulated that at the time. I also told her I felt very dependent on her hip squeezes. These moments might not all have happened at the same time, but you remember what you remember. Very significantly in the bathroom, however, she told me she thought we should do some side-lying release, which is a position involving lying on your side, dangling a leg over the bed through several contractions, to help with the baby's position. 

If you remember from earlier, lying down feels like the worst possible idea to me while in labor. I knew Jess was suggesting it to help me, but told her, “I feel kind of mad at your right now.” Lol. 

We did the position on my right side, and flipped, and I definitely went from coping to suffering. During one of the contractions on my left side, I felt a pop, and my water broke. That was a cool thing to experience because I had my water broken after the epidural with Bood, and Shep’s bag didn’t break until he was basically out. I felt panicked from lying down, told everybody my water broke and I needed to pee. I constantly felt like I needed to pee but then wasn’t really able to. 

It was around then that I did not feel like I had a handle on what was going on with my body. We tried pushing some more, and Beverly checked on things. She said she thought I might be holding back because I was in pain and had been going for so long. I asked if it was too late for an epidural. 

I could almost feel everyone exhale when I asked that, and Beverly said it was not too late. Both Jess and Ronny said they were close to suggesting it as well, again because I had shifted from coping to suffering. I had wanted to avoid the epidural for a lot of reasons, but knew it was time to get a break. 

You’re the way, the truth, and the life

You’re the well that never runs dry

I’m the branch and you are the vine

Draw me close and teach me to abide

5:00pm Around this time, they called for the nurse anesthetist. I went to the bathroom, and threw up. 

Let me tell you, there are few things that add insult to injury than throwing up and contracting as a result. Rude. 

I shuffled back to the main room and mentioned it to Aubrey. He responded by saying they like when people throw up in their unit. What he meant was it’s a good sign things are moving along, that transition has hit, and baby is near.

Hurray.

The nurse anesthetist was the same one I had for Shep. She gave me the rundown, then the hardest part came where I had to sit, legs straight out on the bed, and be still while she inserted the needle. Any form of my body being bent meant contractions came more frequently (probably because my abdomen is not large). It took me a while to psych myself up to be able to handle a contraction sitting down. I’ve said it before, but it’s not like you can turn the contractions off while you’re getting the medicine to help you no longer feel them. 

Not without an effort, managed to get it in, me horizontal, and the epidural gradually did its work. The brain fog went away, and I was actually able to meet our nurse with a legitimate conversation. Jess and Steph were asked to leave the room while it set in. After some chatting, I took a nap.

It wasn’t long before the nurse anesthetist had to come back in because the epidural was not very strong. I’m not entirely sure of the timing of things, but there was a fair bit of back and forth with this, and eventually, an anesthesiologist guy came in and cranked up the strength and life improved.

Bless him.

7:00pm ish - Beverly came in to check on things. She said I was fully dilated and at +2 which meant Winnie was making moves! Wohoo! I remember feeling kind of confused that it was time to start pushing. Or at least attempting to. 

We were fortunate that Aubrey’s shift did not end until 11, which meant we got to have him around for a long time. We joked about how we wanted me to not be pregnant anymore by the time his shift ended.

Over the course of the next several hours I tried to push. The same struggle happened where I felt like my brain was disconnected from my body, with or without the epidural. I would later understand why that was the case, but at the time, I just felt confused and incompetent. I had pushed a baby out before, after all. What was going on?

On a humorous note, Steph had to adjust a mirror for me to be able to have more of a visual for pushing. Get yourself a nurse friend who can see you in your most flattering angles, and still want to have heart-to-hearts after the fact.

Beverly left the room off and on, mentioning that oftentimes things progress when she steps away. She later told me she goes into the on-call room to pray for her patients.

Yes, Lord! Knew I liked her.

Eventually, the night nurse came so we had some overlap with her and Aubrey. When she checked me she thought my station was not as progressed as what Beverly had said, or it had backtracked. It seemed Winnie was not finding her way out. 

To my team’s credit, they all encouraged me big time with each push. In an odd turn of events, Ronny’s refrain of “push air out of your butt” was one of the more helpful directions for focusing my pushing. For those wondering, no poop was lost during the birth. 

11-12:00am - Aubrey’s shift ended. We were still working hard to get Winnie in our arms, but the pushes were not effective and she was not moving. I remember commenting about how my lower abdomen felt squishy. While I had the epidural, I was still vaguely aware of the tightening with contractions and would ask if one was coming so the team would look at the monitor for reference. I also yelled that there would be a baby in the baby station, primarily for my own mental reminder. 

Finally, Beverly came in and said, “Casey, I just do not think there’s anything else we can do.”

Jess was feeling similarly. And for both of them, who are not quick to suggest a C-section, to be leaning that direction, made me feel pretty confident that’s what would end up happening. The room felt more serious, but not emergent.

Be my strength, my song in the night

Be my all, my treasure my prize

I am Yours, forever You’re mine

Draw me close and teach me to abide

It was a tough pill to swallow again, for many reasons, the biggest one being that if I had another C-section, any further births would automatically mean C-section. Having deeply desired a completely natural birth, it was something I needed to chew on. 

Everyone left the room for Ronny and I to talk, and we decided that yes, it was time. He, with his nursing school background, was very ready for that decision to be made to be certain Winnie would be healthy.

The preparation for the surgery began, ending with one of the nurses stuffing the remaining linens on our cart because she didn’t want anything left behind. Weird.

Dr. Springfield, the same OB who had delivered Bood, came in to give us the details and ask if there was anything we wanted. I requested a clear curtain so I would be able to see Winnie almost immediately after being born. I hadn’t known that was an option with Bood. I also requested seeing my placenta (I grew an entire organ so I wanted to see it). I believe I also requested skin-to-skin as soon as possible.

1:15/1:30am - Jess and Steph said good-bye. I remember feeling odd having them leave because they had been so in it with us. They didn’t get to see the story through to its absolute conclusion, but dang, I am so so SO grateful both of them were there.

We headed into the OR. I was prepped and transferred to the table first, before Ronny came in. There were two anesthesiologists behind me, one was a kind-faced, older gentleman with glasses, the other was the red-headed gem of a human who turned up my epidural. I explained to both of them my concerns about vomiting, even though I had been given medicine to prevent it. Moments before meeting Bood for the first time, I had vomited and was hoping to avoid the experience. 

2:08am - Winnie was born! Dr. Springfield held her up immediately to the curtain so I got to look at her for a little while. I touched her little hand through the curtain, and she was very chill. It was sweet. They took her to get cleaned up, and stitch me back up.

That’s when the dry heaving began. It was miserable, and nothing was coming up. 

Then the shakes began. I’ve had shakes in the labor setting before, but these were beyond anything I’ve experienced. I held onto the bar above my head and felt completely out of control.

One of the anesthesiologists asked if I was ready to see my placenta. I couldn’t even answer him. 

I was vaguely aware that Ronny brought Winnie over for me to see her, and couldn’t even speak or turn my head or have a desire to because I was shaking so horribly. I know shakes are normal in this setting, but like I said, this was beyond normal.

Eventually, Ronny was left to make the decision to stay with me or with Winnie. He went with Winnie because neither of us wanted her to be without one of her parents for her first minutes of life. 

The shakes continued. They were so intense it honestly felt scary.

In a hilarious mental moment, I remember considering saying, “You know, I’ll just go with them, and you guys can finish up in here.” I was so tired, I lowkey felt like I didn’t have to stay in the room for them to close up MY BODY. In my reality, anything on the other side of the curtain was no longer connected to me. Lol.

I also started feeling a lot of tugging, and some more sharp pain on the left side where they were working. I was slightly aware that Dr. Springfield was making eye contact with the anesthesiologist.

Mercifully, the gem epidural cranker anesthesiologist said, “We’ll see you after,” and put a mask on my face. In the moments before I slipped into blissful unconsciousness, I felt relieved.

When I pass through [birth] as I enter rest

I depend on You, I depend on You

For eternal life to be raised with Christ

I depend on You, I depend on You

4:00am “Casey?” 

I heard my name through the fog, and eventually came back to reality in the recovery room.The surgery took much longer than anticipated. Poor Ronny had to sit in the room with our brand new baby girl, waiting to hear if all was well. Winnie didn’t make a peep the entire time. It’s as if she knew what was going on.

When I was aware enough to breastfeed, I got to hold Winnie, and feed her for the first time. I have almost no memory of that.

5:30am - They wheeled us out of the recovery room to mother baby. In my haze, I remember noticing how small the room was. There was barely space to move around the bed, let alone do anything else. High maintenance as it may have been, I asked for a bigger room. It was 100 percent the right decision even knowing the nurse was annoyed because the one they gave us was far more spacious, probably triple the size. I later learned they usually reserve the big rooms for C-section patients anyway, so I’m not sure why they didn’t just put us there originally. Sometimes it’s worth advocating for yourself.

8:00am - Finally nestled into bed, snuggling baby girl, and starting to communicate with the outside world.

The next several days were a series of people meeting Winnie, checks, and recovery. I felt a hard lump near my knee on my leg, only to learn I had a small clot and would need to be on blood thinners. I saw a PT, who reminded me the best way of getting out of bed (this was new since my experience with Bood and was so nice to have). I had multiple bowel movements in the hospital which was HUGE because my first post-C-section one with Bood was not a fun time. I ate a ton of fiber and drank warm things this time around which helped tremendously. 

Aubrey stopped by to see us. Our primary mother baby nurse was amazing. We had the same night nurse for the third time, Katrina. 

Beverly and Dr. Springfield each came to debrief with us. I learned that the squishiness I was feeling during labor was my scar somewhat giving way. My uterine lining was as thin as plastic wrap, and she could see the silhouette of Winnie’s hands, also known as a uterine window. Let’s just say, we are very glad we got to the OR when we did. There were some other repairs from where the scar had torn. It was scary and sobering to hear, especially at such a raw time. It also made me beyond grateful for modern medicine.

You’re the way, the truth, and the life

You’re the well that never runs dry

I’m the branch and you are the vine

Draw me close and teach me to abide

Be my strength, my song in the night

Be my all, my treasure my prize

I am Yours, forever You’re mine

Draw me close and teach me to abide

We had a huge fan club supporting us along the way, and as the updates from Ronny became more concerning throughout the process, everyone’s fear, understandably, grew. It was a lot to digest and process all the updates after the fact, let alone everyone’s reactions to it. I wasn’t prepared to answer questions like, “So, you’re done having kids, right?” when Winnie was mere hours old. I think that’s part of the reason this took me so long to write, because I wasn’t even sure how I felt about it all when I felt like I took on so many emotions outside of myself so quickly. Truthfully, I couldn't know how I felt because I was just trying to do things like stand up straight to walk to the bathroom, manage my recovery pain, and most importantly, get to know Winnie. On the flip side, what all that reminded me is it is a deep gift to be loved and supported by so many. We had a village surrounding that entire process in prayer, both in and outside the hospital, as well as in several states. I'm glad Ronny had people to reach out to when I was still in surgery because that was a scary and lonely time for him too.

There are still moments when if I think too closely about how thin my uterus was, I feel like my breath catches in my throat and my stomach clenches. I’m grateful we were both OK. I feel that and simultaneously grieve that I will never labor like that again, if we have any other children. I’m deeply proud of myself for how I handled labor. Apart from pushing her out, which I tried VERY hard to do, both unmedicated and medicated, I experienced a natural birth. Frankly, I feel like I experienced three births in one - natural, epidural, and a C-section. I’m very grateful I got to experience a VBAC with Shep. If you’ve never had a C-section, it’s difficult to articulate the feeling of not birthing your child vaginally, even if you are grateful modern medicine provided a means for things to end well. So all that to say, I’m so glad I got both experiences.

Winnie Wynne. Wynne Selah Wilson. Girl, you gave us all a run for our money, Ms. 99th Percentile Head Circumference. You were worth all of it. I would do it again knowing it led us to you, baby girl.

Here I am Lord

Would you teach me to abide

Teach me

Would you teach me

I depend on You, I depend on You

Yes, I depend on You, I depend on You

Lord, thank you for using that song as the jumping off point into Winnie’s eventful entrance into the world. You were the author of this story. Thank you for the invitation to abide.

Full Son

It’s garden prep time around our house and yard, and we are yet again faced with the reality that our setup is not built for plants that require full sun to thrive. We have accepted that it’s better to choose to grow what you know will be successful rather than continuing to hope there might somehow be enough sun to produce the tomatoes (when there just never will be).

Shade can still produce good things. It has the essence of light with darker areas. Shade is not complete darkness, therefore, some growth can still happen. The growth just may not be abundant.

The choicest fruits, and usually the sweetest, require full sun exposure for many hours a day. 

More desirable fruits require more light.

So it is with our lives.

When we are partially vulnerable, letting people get a small taste of our true inner world, we give them some opportunity to speak into our lives. This can lead to some growth, the kind that thrives in shade.

True, deep, life on life, call each other higher, vulnerability requires a full surrender to bringing all that we are into the light. Our sin, our shame, our failures, all of it, must be brought to the light before chosen community, and more importantly the Lord, in order to see the choicest fruits being produced in our lives. 

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. - Galatians 5:22-23

When you truly consider each of these different fruits, it is no small thing to see the Spirit moving in us to produce them. Patience? I must be willing to be humble and bring my pride to the light. The same can be said of each fruit. 

Our lives produce the good fruit of the Spirit when we are walking in full SON. 

How do we walk in full son? We need Jesus’ life and his work on the cross to cover our lives.

To return to my yard, I can identify two big trees that, if removed, would dramatically change the light exposure of our yard, and thus allow us to grow some of the things we would really like to have success with.

As it stands, we are not going to invest that much to remove the trees. Sometimes, in our lives, we may know what the roadblock is to our growth, but be unwilling to let go of it or surrender it to the Lord. 

My challenge to you, today, is to take a good, hard, Spirit-filled look at your life to see what trees or shrubs or rocks might be casting a shadow, creating shade, limiting your growth and ultimately, your ability to fully walk as a child of God. The spiritual investment to remove those things is worth it.

In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. - John 1:4-5

As you create space for more light, Jesus, in your life, may you experience an increase in growth of the fruit of the Spirit. 

An abundant harvest awaits.

A Call to the Village to Abide

The following is an encouragement I wrote for our church’s children’s ministry newsletter. I hoped to appeal to a wide variety of experiences, and pray that proves true for you as you read it.

——-

Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. - John 15:4

The morning I went into labor with Winnie, I stayed home from church. It was a rainy Sunday, and I'm told the church gathering felt cozy. One of those days where time feels thick and slow, and it's easier to lay down responsibilities in favor of sitting at our Father’s feet. As I lay my wildly pregnant self on the couch to watch the rain, I was sent a recording of worship, and one of the songs was “Abide.” 

To this day, “Abide” is the song we play when Winnie is in distress. It's remarkable how she can go from wailing to calm in the 1.2 seconds it takes her to register the opening piano. 

As a result, “Abide” has permeated our lives. It's in our car rides, it's in the middle of the night with teething pain, it's in our home, it's in our Sunday gatherings. The invitation to abide has been sent our way on a consistent basis ever since Winnie was born through this song. 

For my waking breath

For my daily bread

I depend on you 

For the sun to rise 

For my sleep at night

I depend on you 

I won't include all the lyrics here, but I do want to pause and add a few of my own:

When sleep is elusive 

When the children are feral 

When there aren't enough hours in the day 

When I haven't eaten a hot meal 

When I haven't had an uninterrupted conversation 

When the teenager’s emotions are tumultuous 

When I'm weary of hoping it will finally be my turn to be a parent

When I do not know how to interact with kids

I depend on you 

When the newborn snuggles

When the child tells me he loves me

When I hold his little hand

When my presence comforts 

When my heart bursts with an aching joy

When I see the present fruit of Gospel seeds planted years ago

When the + sign finally appears

When my friend’s child gets excited to see me

I depend on you 

I don't know exactly what your lyric is, but what I hope to illustrate is we depend on him in the good and the bad, in the joy and sorrow, in the gratitude and frustration. In it ALL, we depend on Him.

You're the way the truth and the life

You're the well that never runs dry

I'm the branch and You are the vine

Draw me close and teach me to abide

Be my strength my song in the night

Be my all my treasure my prize

I am Yours forever You're mine

Draw me close and teach me to abide

As we parent and are part of the village of the children the Lord has entrusted to our body, I pray we live this out in such a way that these little hearts cannot help but respond and abide. In parenthood, we have such a unique seat of being parented by our Heavenly Father while we parent our children. I regularly come back to how deeply grateful I am that my kids have a perfect Father to look to when I fall short, which is daily. If I've learned anything, it's that stewarding little lives is a pressure cooker in opportunities to model repentance and ask for forgiveness. 

So, no matter where you find yourself as you read this, maybe it's been an A+ parenting day, maybe it feels like the trench just keeps getting deeper, maybe you are at work, maybe you are in the waiting or maybe you are unsure how to even engage with children that are part of the body but not your own, the invitation remains the same: abide. The prayer does too: Lord teach me to abide. 

Big love for all of you!

Casey

Pruning Unlocked

Gardens have themes. Well, really, they’re just giant science experiments each year to figure out what breeds life. In our case, we have wisely chosen to build a garden in a backyard surrounded by very tall trees. The brilliance is so evident, is it not? For this reason, we have done our best to improve that which we can control. Each year, we’ve put more intentionality into our soil. We’ve learned how to physically prop plants up well so they can thrive. Our selection on what we actually do plant has narrowed and become more focused with regionally-specific varieties so we can see success. We’ve added plants to attract pollinators so pollination occurs more frequently.

This year, in addition to layering our soil, a big focus has been pruning. When I think of that word, my thoughts go to cutting away that which is no longer growing well. Maybe the leaves have a disease or have yellowed, or maybe parts of the plant have simply died off. It makes a lot of sense to rid plants of those trouble areas to give them the ability to channel their energy towards what is healthy.

What I have not focused on is the idea of pruning something healthy to promote even more growth and harvest. We’ve never done the best job with thinning out plants once the seedlings start to show. This year, it was painful to pull up tiny, thriving plants in order to leave space for the select few to have the real estate to actually grow legitimate fruit (or in this case, mostly vegetables). But while it was painful, we’ve seen some real results. 

Who knew that tomato plants have different kinds of branches that grow from the main stem? We do now, and we have started cutting the branches off below where fruit is growing to help the plant focus its energy. And guess what? We actually have grown many tomatoes (in the past we were lucky to get a handful).

I learned, recently, with herbs, the more you cut them, the more they will grow and get bushier, provided you know where to cut. I tried it and let me tell you, it works! Pruning in this way has actually paved the way for double the amount of growth to take its place.

Sometimes it requires cutting away something that is actually still good in order to leave room for even greater goodness. 

Not an easy thing. How to decide what is worth keeping and getting rid of? How does one embrace that some good things are temporary and should be let go of before they stop serving us as well as they currently are? 

We need to give ourselves permission to use up some of the good growth and recognize it’s a one time use, but that doesn’t mean the one time isn’t worth it. Pasta sauce with fresh basil (even if the basil was cut from its parent plant to grow no more), is much better than without it. 

I think what I’m learning is how to strategically prune both the good and dying to promote good growth. When and where should I cut the plant? 

In a real world context, sometimes we might be managing something very well, but there’s the feeling it’s not bringing us the life and joy it once did. It’s not draining us, but it’s stunting us and not giving us room to say yes to something else. Or maybe we need to accept a relationship we thought was intended to be evergreen was actually only meant to last one season. We need to cut, or perhaps release, the good thing.

And you know what’s cool about that? Someone else will step into our place, take on our ceiling as their floor, and thus double, triple or even more growth can occur. Space is created for new relationships to occur.

Pruning has multiple applications, not just cutting that which is dying. We have the invitation to say yes to both kinds of pruning, in our gardens, but also in our lives. Easier said than done.

So, where in your world do you sense the invitation to let go of something good to leave space for more growth to occur? Where do you see the Lord showing you something that He intended to be an annual, but are holding onto as if it were meant to be perennial? Is there anything taking energy from your ability to produce truly good fruit for His Kingdom?

Tough questions folks, but the pruning is worth it.

Shep’s Breastfeeding Journey

8/26/22 - 11/3/23

Shep and I had our last breastfeeding moment together nearly two months ago.

I had been intending to conclude sooner than we did, but it took him some time to embrace the bottle. Though time has passed, I couldn’t let this change go by unacknowledged.

Normally, I have a lot of mental buildup to moments like this. It helps me to name the day of a big transition to mentally prepare, and I’d been trying to figure out when. That morning, things were calm, and I decided it was the end.

We lasted a little over 14 months, roughly 3 of which I was pregnant. Wild. Our season looked different. Shep was a much faster eater, so much so I worried he wasn’t getting enough at the beginning. We even got down to just one side at a time for a stretch.

For memory’s sake, here are some stats and notes:

• His first ever feed was from a tube in the transition nursery because his breathing was quite fast when he was first born.

• I had to cut dairy and caffeine at the beginning. Shep was VERY sensitive to any dairy I ate.

• My letdown was very intense at the beginning, almost painfully so, and I think I was overproducing so he got blasted at first.

• The intense let down led to trying different positions. Since I didn’t have a c-section, the football hold wasn’t as necessary. A new one I tried that we used quite a lot was lying down. So snuggly.

• One memorable feed at small group featured about four kids standing around watching me and discussing the reality of breastfeeding. Quite the audience.

• Hilariously, I got walked in on twice by two different guys on a Sunday morning because the nursing room also serves as a storage room. Suffice it to say, a lock was installed that week, and I wasn’t troubled but found it funny and felt bad for the guys.

• Places - church service, while he was in a carrier on Ronny, sitting in the dirt leaning against a barn at Jaemor, by a food truck at the Chicken Festival, a Pennsylvanian Barnes and Noble sunny windowsill, the food tent of a Christmas market (Christmindlmarkt), the floor of a bathroom of one of the old houses during Christmas on Green Street, a Christmas tree farm, at the Georgia aquarium, and many others.

• Modes of transportation ranged from sedentary with a bed and chair, to slightly more movement in a rocking chair, to him in his car seat, a plane, and a boat.

• Surprisingly, the afternoon feeding, rather than middle of the night (which is so lovely and quiet) ended up being my favorite this time.

• There was no biting incident and resulting intense fellowship this time, largely because his first teeth came in so late.

• I didn’t pump as frequently so he did not get a bottle as much this time, though I did pump during a Sunday morning worship team rehearsal. With Bood, Ronny often took the first morning feeding so I could capitalize on building up an excess supply in the freezer, but that didn’t happen as often with our current season of life.

• As a result, Shep was not into whole milk/bottles at first as I weened him so I took longer to drop the final morning him than planned. It was honestly pretty stressful because I was pregnant and ready for a break.

• With the final feed before he went to bed, Bood would often fall asleep and we’d snuggle for a while. Shep was not that way. When he was done, he was ready for his crib, though we had more snuggly naps in the first few weeks after he was born.

Breastfeeding is such a unique time. It’s a deep connection that I’m grateful I’ve been able to have with both my boys.

Love you, Tiny Shep.

Shep's Birth Story

Shepherd Meyer Wilson was born via VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) on August 26, 2022 at 7:24am, and I am so proud and grateful.

There is much to be said about the preparation that led up to his birth which will be coming in a future post. For now, I simply want to tell the story of how our little man went from being in the world of the womb to the world in our arms. It’s amazing to me that the Lord has given me the privilege of living and telling the story of the birth of two of His children. Incredible. For this one, I’ll go ahead and warn you it was not a quick process and spanned across several days, so settle on in for a while.

Tuesday, August 23rd

It’s funny that it all began on this day because originally, my mom and our doula, Jess, were going to be out of town the weekend prior and both returning by the evening of August 22nd.  While neither of them ended up going out of town just in case, it was as if my body knew this was an important day, despite the due date being August 31st/September 1st, and all systems were a go!

7:30am I woke up feeling some cramps. I didn’t think too much of it until I realized they were a bit prolonged and kept returning. It was enough that I voiced to Ronny I might be having contractions.

Sure enough, as the day wore on, the contractions were still spaced quite far apart but enough that I would have to walk around and breathe through them. By early evening, I had to leave the room to focus. That night, I tried to sleep, but it was rough going. I kept waking up and needing to stand to walk around. I’d have some reprieve, maybe 30 minutes or an hour, but overall, it was a very disjointed night.

Wednesday, August 24th

5:00am(ish) At some point in the early morning, I gave up the pretense of attempting to sleep and got up. We had moved our bedroom down to our basement, and it turned out to be the perfect space to labor in peace. Very quiet, calm, dark. Having it be a stormy morning was helpful too. I walked around, focused on practicing breathing through contractions (I’m grateful that they do not just turn on full strength…your body gives you time to get used to them). I was timing them, and they were gradually getting closer together, consistently eight to ten minutes apart, and then eventually down to about five minutes. I ate some toast and fruit. 

12:00-3:30pm We were in communication with our doula, who suggested I try using my breast pumps to get my body to produce some oxytocin. Goodness, the contractions ramped up to about three minutes apart, so I’d say that was effective. Ronny did an excellent job of giving me time to myself (my preference at this point) and checking in periodically. This was around lunchtime. At that point, I thought, OK, maybe we’re moving into the next phase, but when I stopped the breast pumps, things slowed down again. Jess popped by our house to help walk us through the Lavonne Circuit, which is a series of positions that help get the baby into position to encourage labor to progress more rapidly. 

As the day wore on, I was still managing contractions, but not to the point where it felt like time to go to the hospital. My midwife had encouraged me to labor at home as long as I felt comfortable, knowing that when I arrived at the hospital, I would have to wear a fetal monitor for the duration. She essentially said, “I’m good if you end up making it to the hospital with just enough time before the baby comes.” Given that those monitors can be confining, and honestly, just annoying, I was eager to limit being strapped to one. I had loosely decided to go natural for this birth because I wanted to give my body the greatest chance to do what it needed and was designed to do. I remember voicing this plan to Ronny, and he was unsurprised and very supportive.

6:00pm Around dinnertime, Jess texted the suggestion we go do some curb walking (one foot steps on the curb, the other on the pavement to help create more space in the pelvis). We (Ronny, my mom, Liam Bood, and myself) went to the park near our home, and Bood even did some curb walking with me around the play structure. Things were not ramping up, so Jess recommended I tuck in for the night and try to sleep.

I felt pretty discouraged by that prospect considering I had a pretty miserable night before, so she recommended I take Benadryl (after having me double-check to make sure that was on the list of acceptable medicines for pregnancy). 

Welp, Benadryl did not prove to be of much help. I think I logged around two to two and half hours of sleep if that.

Thursday, August 25th 

4:30am After utilizing the bath for a reprieve (water is the best and I did this several times at home), and finally being unable to lay flat comfortably, Ronny was up with me because the intensity of the contractions had increased significantly. When they say you won’t have to wonder about contractions, or if you’re solidly in labor, they mean it. These contractions felt like they had two peaks and were very intense around my back. I had to squat and breathe and low hum. I was holding a comb pretty consistently by that point as well. For those that don’t know, the pressure of the comb teeth in your palm can help distract your brain from the contractions so they feel less intense.

Around this time, Ronny was encouraging me to do another circuit and my mental space was getting a little shakier. It’s hard looking back on how long you’ve been working and knowing that any steps you take forward will only make things more intense. With birth, it must get worse before it gets better. His thought was, “Let’s make it happen because you’ve been at this a while and are starting to get drained.”

5:15-8:00am  We did a circuit which, surprisingly, let me sleep a little while (30 minutes). We texted Jess to let her know where things were. Knowing I might need a bit of confirmation that things were progressing, she suggested we go to the doctor’s office to have me checked. That felt like a very helpful step because it had been 48 hours, and while I was still calm, it was hard to remain hopeful without a good night of sleep twice in a row.

8:00-10:00am I called about coming in to get checked and the person on the line said I couldn’t get in until 1pm. That was just not going to work for me so she eventually said I could come in around 11. I felt like once we left home, we wouldn’t be returning, so Ronny and I packed everything up. It was rainy. My mom and Bood were hanging out and helped us get situated. Finally, we were on our way. Jess later remarked that it took us forever to actually get to the doctor’s office…lol true. We were taking our time and preparing to be gone. It took Ronny a little while to realize that I wasn’t planning on coming home after the doctor’s office because I was more focused on contractions than communication. Again, lol.

Standing was the only way I was ever really comfortable. Contractions while sitting down were the worst, and I had several on the drive over. People talk about how sitting on the toilet can give some reprieve, but I found it to be the opposite. As soon as I would sit down, I would start a contraction. Given my short torso, I think the lack of real estate made things squeeze faster. My biggest concern about going somewhere in public was the vulnerability of experiencing these much more intense contractions in front of other people. I am much more private by nature (who is surprised?). 

11:00am We arrived at the doctor’s office, and I was able to sit and wait in an area that was more hidden. There was a bathroom nearby that I went into with my comb to work through contractions in private. We ended up waiting for an hour before being seen, and the contractions slowed down. I’ve heard this happens when you change environments because adrenaline kicks in which works against allowing your body to relax.

On my way back to a patient room, I had a contraction that made me stop in the hallway and the women who were walking with me were sympathetic. The midwife came in, checked me, and said I was at five centimeters and 100 percent effaced.

“Girl, you’re in labor!” was her remark.

She also told me we could go to the hospital. While it might sound silly, I wasn’t sure I was quite ready to be in that environment, and knowing this, the midwife said she wanted me to hook up to a fetal monitor for a while to check to make sure Shep was OK.

Sitting in that chair, hooked up, unable to stand up during contractions was the opposite of enjoyable. The sensors were not great and after the midwife said she thought Shep was having dcells, we sent a picture to Jess (who is a labor and delivery nurse) for confirmation. She disagreed about the dcells and we honestly did too because it was clear the sensors weren’t working well and didn’t even pick up all the contractions I had.

We left the office, and I felt like it was time for the next stage. The thought of returning to the basement to continue managing contractions felt overwhelming to me, so we decided to get lunch before checking in at the hospital. I wanted to eat as much as I could before being limited to clear liquids. We also told Jess we were heading to the hospital, and she planned to meet us.

1:30pm Jimmy John’s sounded good, so we stopped there and ate. It was a surreal experience to be in a public space where no one knew I was in labor. Sort of like, “Hello, yes, I’ll have a beach club, and a side of active labor please, except my contractions have slowed down because I am out of my original labor environment which is apparently a thing. And oh by the way, can you add some extra oregano to that? Thanks.” I felt outside of space and time and weirdly detached. The sandwich and chips were helpful, and then it was time.

Parking in a full lot at the hospital was the exact opposite of the experience we had with Liam’s birth which happened roughly three weeks after the world shut down with COVID. What do you mean we have to share the lot with other humans as opposed to the ghost town of our last experience? We gathered our belongings (and by we I mean Ronny), and we headed in to get registered and checked in. I was still having contractions occasionally but the change in environment definitely caused things to slow down. 

It brought me a lot of peace to know I would be setting up camp in the hospital room, but one of my biggest concerns when entering a new space, especially when I’m in a more stressful state like labor, is the new sounds I might encounter. If you know me, you know this is a real issue. So one of my first moves was to get the ticking clock off the wall. There was a vent fan that was making a pretty irritating noise because it was jammed. I tried to shrug it off and just be fine with it, but after about an hour of being there, Ronny, BLESS HIM, climbed up on a stool and got it turned off.

I could feel my blood pressure relaxing back to normal instantly. 

Jess had arrived prior to the fan fix, and we realized we had forgotten batteries for our twinkle lights. This was one of the big things I wanted to use to help create a softer environment. Get those fluorescents off and bring on the twinkle lights! Jess’ husband, Corey, very kindly brought some to the hospital.

Corey, if you read this, you were an MVP. So many staff members commented on how cozy our room was with those lights. It made such a big difference for me. Thank you!

4:30pm(ish) Not long after we got settled, IV was in, fetal monitor on, hospital gown blowing about in the breeze, etc etc, the midwife came in to do a cervical check. Before even checking me she mentioned how I might just be able to go home.

I’m not kidding when I say it was more painful than any of the contractions I experienced, and definitely far worse than the one in the office. I half-expected her fingers to come out my mouth if you catch my drift.

She said I was still at six-ish centimeters, which is roughly where I had been when I was at the office. Her response was to very quickly tell me that I could go home if I wanted to, stay for a few more hours to see if I progressed, have my water broken, start Pitocin, or I could just have a C-section. 

Um. No. And interestingly, she was the same midwife I had for Liam’s birth which ultimately ended up being a C-section, but that’s a conversation for another time. 

Worth noting: there was a midwife, Beverly, in the practice I’d seen who I specifically asked if she would be willing to come in to help deliver Shep, even if she wasn’t on call. She had agreed and was waiting on standby during most of labor.

Also important, I was dead set on not having my water broken. In the birth class we took, which included a large staff of midwives, doulas, and a nurse, we were told there is no medical reason to break your water. Yes, it can speed up labor, but it can also cause the baby to get in a bad position and lose its cushion for making its way into the birth canal. After the midwife left the room, our nurse quietly discouraged me from having my water broken.

6:30pm(ish) We did some circuits which allowed me to fall asleep for about 15 minutes again. During that time, there was a shift change and in entered Hailey. The absolute gem of a nurse. I feel like I could write an entire blog post about her alone. She introduced herself as the nurse they usually assigned to natural cases. Since I was going unmedicated either the entire time or for as long as possible, I fell within that grouping. She was so quick to begin explaining things in a relatable way and SHE WAS JUST THE BEST. This quality mattered because the midwife eventually came back and after another painful check with no progress, said basically I either needed to leave, have my water broken, get Pitocin, or have a C-section. She said the fact that I hadn’t progressed and was able to sleep at all led her to believe I wasn’t in labor. To be honest, it felt like she didn’t believe me when I retold my experience of the previous 48 hours, at least not the intensity of contractions I’d been experiencing. I felt the undertones of her thinking I was exaggerating what had been going on. She said some women can deal with prodromal labor for weeks before birth. When I expressed I had not been able to sleep, again, she looked skeptical and asked what I’d tried. It was very offputting given I knew what had occurred with my body, and the fact that six centimeters is considered active labor. 

I cannot express how much that took the wind out of my mental game sails. 

I tried to sit down to think, but every time I did it brought on a contraction. I’d more or less been on my feet for 48 hours with small breaks. The midwife mentioned I should try and rest and relax, even noting I’d been standing most of the time she’d been in the room, but being anything but vertical was the worst. 

Jess and others had told us that if any intervention or big suggestion was made that we could ask for time to talk about it alone for at least 30 minutes. If whatever was going on was urgent, we wouldn’t be given the time and that would be an indicator that there was an issue. It was a helpful litmus test. As it turns out, they left us alone for at least an hour and a half. 

Again, after the midwife left, the nurses discouraged me from having my water broken.

Anyone else sensing a theme here?

I was brought to face one of the bigger fears I had with deeply desiring a VBAC: any type of intervention, especially Pitocin, would automatically turn the birth into a C-section. That was a lie that I had somehow grabbed onto. Ronny felt similarly to me, knowing how much I wanted to experience a vaginal birth.

Brief doula shoutout: Jess was invaluable in this conversation space. She tried multiple times to give Ronny and I the opportunity to speak alone, which was incredible of her, but we both needed a third person to help us talk it through. We might have taken a few minutes to ourselves, but what I remember is how both of us felt such a sense of support and comfort in having her as a sounding board. I still cannot believe how long the hospital staff left us alone to talk. Doulas are on your team and stay with you, and that is huge!

Eventually, rather reluctantly, because I knew it would make contractions worse, I agreed to get Pitocin. I knew that I didn’t want to look back and wish I’d done something to help my body get Shep out on mostly its own terms. 

8:00pm There is no question that the Pitocin ramped things up. Contractions got to every two minutes. I needed some coaching for breathing through and alternated positions with leaning back into Ronny while standing or on the birthing ball with Jess pressing on my hips. I also took a shower, or rather, sat in a chair and Ronny sprayed me with warm water which felt AMAZING. I couldn’t take a bath at that point with the fetal monitor in the picture. 

9:00pm We and a group of friends were invested in Big Brother. An episode came on at 9pm. While the sound of the episode was slightly irritating, at some point, my brain decided it was a goal: I would go until the end of the episode with Pitocin before getting an epidural. 

It had been 62 hours since I first felt the initial cramp contractions mixed with two nights of barely any sleep. I felt I had done all that I could without a real rest. It was time for some sleep. Hailey returned, and I told her I wanted an epidural. I could tell she was slightly surprised, as were Jess and Ronny since I had made the decision internally. I was a little surprised myself given the association of any intervention being a bad thing. It was helpful to realize that this is not always true. In fact, the Pitocin was eventually turned off because my body was contracting just fine and consistently on its own. Wohoo!

10:30/11:00pm Ronny, being only a few months away from entering his nursing school program, really wanted to witness the epidural, but they intentionally do not let the birth partners witness it in case someone, ahem, the dad, becomes lightheaded. Staying still during contractions with the needle - not enjoyable or easy. The nurse anesthetist was great, explained her approach (give me the lowest amount that made sense and planned increase if need be), got the drugs in, and departed. 

I settled down in bed, and slowly, the numbness kicked in. Bliss. Also during that time, I asked Hailey to redo the IV placement (at least I think it was after the epidural…at any rate, I made this request at some point). It was uncomfortable, in a bad spot, and kept bothering me. When it was first put in, I had asked about a different location, but they wanted to try that one. Ugh.

One thing I remembered having highlighted about myself during this process is that I’m not great at allowing myself to just ask for and need things. And let’s be honest, if ever there was a time when my needs, desires, and whatever else were a top priority, it was during labor! I felt bad inconveniencing her by having her redo someone else’s IV. It was the right decision because I was much more comfortable afterward.

August 26th

1:00am Well, the glorious sleep I was hoping for didn’t come. My blood pressure dropped to 70/30. Whenever there was an issue, a doorbell alarm would sound. Ronny and I had both been trying to sleep, but between the wacky blood pressure, and the blood pressure cuff permanently affixed to my arm now checking every five minutes or whatever it was, sleep was rather elusive.

2:00-3:00am Eventually, I started to feel a nagging pain in my left side. I told Jess (Ronny was trying to get some sleep) and she helped me shift into another position, but it became clear that the epidural wasn’t really working. At least not entirely. The nurse anesthetist came back for adjustments, and by that time, I was back holding my comb again and having to concentrate through each contraction with the added deficit of not being able to walk around. I remember Jess saying I’d need to utilize my coping techniques again, and thank goodness I had them! 

I got another reprieve for a little while.

4/4:30ish Hailey suggested we try pushing around 5/5:30. The midwife came in to check me, and during the exam, again asked if I wanted my water broken. It was frustrating since I had continued to be so adamant that I did not want it. I had made it to ten centimeters and was “laboring down” (just because you hit ten centimeters does not automatically mean your body is ready to push…it often needs time to just sit and prepare) with faint feelings of needing to poop, which is evidently the sign of needing to push. 

5:30am It was a mixed deal to have “coached” pushing. I say that loosely because while Hailey, Ronny, and Jess were all encouraging me and watching the monitor for contraction peaks, a lot of the pushing was led by me. The epidural was definitely wearing off again, so I was in need of something productive to do but wasn’t feeling any kind of distinct urge to push. In the beginning, I felt really frustrated, as if my brain and body had cut ties. I know I had an epidural, but I was feeling enough that it felt like the connection should have happened sooner. I’m sure some of it was that this was the point I got to with Liam before ultimately having a C-section. With his birth, I was told I was a good pusher. I felt wildly incompetent this time around at the beginning with Shep. 

We got a mirror, and being goal-oriented, this helped. Jess and Ronny each had a leg that they would lift and set back down. I could feel Shep’s feet up in my left ribs, using them as a pushing off point. It was clear throughout the labor that Shep was having a hard time getting into an optimal position which explains why I felt like my contractions had two peaks. Jess (and countless others) was praying throughout which was a comfort. 

Eventually, the amniotic sac became visible. It looked like disgusting goo, or the troll boogers in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. It was unclear whether it was just more mucus plug that needed to separate or whether Shep was still contained within the sac. 

Less epidural, more pushing. I distinctly remember hearing Jess say, “Push away the pain.” It helped because I was feeling angry that the epidural wasn’t working fully. I pushed an extra time beyond when they said I could stop if I wanted a break. Again, I cannot express how helpful it was to have something to do during the contractions. The longer I was in the pushing phase, the more uncomfortable it became when Jess and Ronny would lay my legs down to rest, particularly my left leg which was the one Ronny was holding. Strange, but I remember that and it was probably because of Shep’s position.

6:30am As time wore on, it looked like I was laying an egg. There’s no other way to describe it. Hailey started being a lot more active. It was around 7am which was another shift change. She stayed past her shift to be there for Shep’s birth which meant so much. The midwife we’d had was prepared to head home, and the one coming in had gotten stuck in a ditch. Also, the midwife I originally wanted, Beverly, was unable to come in due to a family emergency (her son hit his head with a baseball bat…yeah OK, Beverly, totally understandable you couldn’t come in!). Something was in the air for the midwives.

Hailey called our original midwife to come back because it was clear Shep was coming. I remember feeling like it did not seem clear at all. Like I had made very little pushing progress so what was all the excitement for? Far from feeling excited, I felt highly discouraged by what felt like a lack of progress. Jess began reminding me to look in the mirror because I had started closing my eyes during pushes.

7:00am Well, after about 30 minutes, the egg became MUCH larger and it was clear Shep was inside the amniotic sac too. The midwife had arrived and the staff members were all excited because an en caul birth, one where the amniotic sac is still intact, is rare (which makes sense since so many women have their water broken). I found it a bit annoying that the midwife who had asked so many times about breaking my water was so excited about the prospect of seeing a baby come out in the sac. Can you tell she wasn’t my favorite?

I digress, but you remember what you remember. It was also a bit overwhelming to have gone from Ronny, Jess, and Hailey as the only people in the room to what felt like roughly ten.

7:15am The Shep’s head egg was at nearly its full point, and I rested, waiting for the next several contractions, and then, pushed, and out his head came, and I felt his body come quickly after. I remember thinking I’d have to wait longer for his body.

7:24am 8 pounds, 4.5 ounces, 21.5 inches long and Shep was here! I was SHOCKED. I was holding him, and I had done it. I had successfully had a VBAC! There was a small window of time to have tears of joy and pride come. I could hear Ronny had tears and was almost more focused on how proud he was of me than seeing Shep. I felt the placenta be born, which turned out to be HUGE, by the way, and then, there was pain and a high level of activity from the medical staff. 

From what I understood, which most of this knowledge came after the fact, I lost about 300 CCs of blood and had a second-degree tear. I was still somewhat numb, but definitely not entirely from the epidural, so when the stitching was happening, I had more awareness than I would have liked to. I remember Jess telling me to say something and when it became clear that I was disconnecting from everything, she told them I could feel things.  Somewhere in that time, Ronny cut the cord too.

Also during that time, Shep’s breathing was really fast. I had still been holding onto him and was very consciously trying to be gentle while I was in pain (strange how you can navigate contractions, but pain after the baby is out is just different, plus, by that point, it had been 72 hours), and eventually they took him to make sure all was well. Between his crying, the double amount of staff in the room because of the shift change, and the pain, I disassociated and kept my eyes closed. I couldn’t get myself to stop crying. It all just felt like too much. Ronny was between Shep and me. Jess was helpfully explaining to me what was going on in my ear, and she eventually asked me what was wrong, and I said the words, “It’s just too much.”

I was worn out. I had done it but felt like the moment had been stolen, at least in part, with the aftermath. 

Eventually, when I was fixed up, they brought Shep over to me. He had been crying and almost as soon as they set him on my chest, he calmed down. 

It was amazing…the skin-to-skin. 

It was one of the things I’d missed out on with Liam because of the C-section, and because I didn’t know what to ask for so it was a priority for me this time around. Ronny actually got to hold Liam first. 

Shep and I sat there for a while. Jess left us to have some time and for her to go get some sleep. The staff told me not to nurse him because of his breathing and that he would need to go to the transition nursery for a few hours until his breaths slowed. 

9:30/9:45am The stork nurse (what an excellent name), came to take him to the transition nursery and the source of his first feed got brought up. I said I could pump, but they got him settled and asked if it was OK to give him formula for the first one. Since I wasn’t going to have time to pump, I reconciled it was OK for his first feeding to not be from me.

10:00am This ultimately ended up being a really helpful thing because I was moved to a mother and baby room and, almost instantly, slept for two hours. Before arriving in the room, we saw Beverly in the hallway. She had specifically come to check on us and did later on as well, and explained the reason for her absence. Again, lady, we get it! Ronny went to visit Shep during that. My cousin Brad, who had recently joined the trauma surgical team at the hospital, was our first visitor, though he didn’t get to meet Shep because only parents were allowed in the transition nursery. 

It’s funny, I feel like I should have felt more worried or scared or something about Shep being in the transition nursery, but mostly, I was so appreciative of the sleep.

I was also amazed and thrilled about the post-vaginal birth experience versus the post-C-section experience. I joked by saying, “Did I even give birth by comparison?” I mean, I was up walking around almost immediately! What a dream!

Eventually, it was time to go see him. The transition nursery was so amazingly quiet, and peaceful, with a gentle fan blowing somewhere. Poor, tiny Shep had marks on his face from where the tape held the feeding tube in place. 

We got nursing figured out quickly, and he was able to come back to our room with us. We ended up staying two more nights in the hospital for recovery. It was so strange and wonderful to have visitors. My mom, Steph, and Bood visited that first night. It was wild to see how huge Bood looked after having been staring at Shep so long. Courtney and Ana came to visit, as did Drew. We ended up having one of the same night nurses that we’d had with Liam, and again, people loved how good the room smelled with our diffuser and how cozy it was with the twinkle lights. 

Our baby boy number two was here! It was incredibly empowering to be among a very small percentage, something like 14 percent, of successful VBACs. I’m grateful I got to have both experiences.

Tiny Shephered Meyer Wilson, what a gift and effort and labor of love it was to bring you into this world.

Changers Worshiping the Unchanging

Humans are changers.

From the moment we are conceived, we begin changing. Our cells multiply, we grow, and eventually, leave our mother’s womb to enter the world. 

For the rest of our lives, we continue to change. Some changes are apparent, like development milestones or the greying of hair, while others happen internally. 

Regardless, we are changers living in a world of constant changes.

In contrast, it’s often preached how the Lord is unchanging. 

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.

Hebrews 13:8

I’ve heard this said over the years, but it really hit home for me recently. Maybe it’s because I’m anticipating the birth of our second son which is a huge change, as is pregnancy, or the fact that we’re determining when to potty train our two-year-old or that we are figuring out the bedroom situation in our home. Life is full of changes right now.

In case you were wondering, I would not consider change to be one of my best buddies or favorite things. I know we cannot experience new and wonderful things without change. Change is an inevitable part of the human experience. Yes, yes, I know, I know.

I still do not like it. Granted, often what happens for me is that the anticipation of the big change is harder than the change itself. It often feels consuming and overwhelming.

Perhaps that’s why the sentiment of Hebrews 13:8 has been so profound.

The Lord is of the Spirit, not of the world. He is the opposite of all things worldly, so if change is of the world, how fitting He would be unchanging. Also, how very comforting!

So, to bring us back to a familiar message, how fortunate we, the changers, are to be able to worship and trust the Unchanging God. 

May you be refreshed by hearing this again, or perhaps for the first time. I certainly have been.

The Work of Being Freshly Planted

Gardening is both fun and hard work. Our corn is coming in, which for some reason, is the most entertaining to me. At least one of everything we’ve planted is visible above the surface, or more specifically, the plant of each type. We’ve not yet reached the harvest season.

Last year, we built a raised bed, and this year, we expanded to add another piece of the yard that we hoed and did our best to prepare before planting. While we anticipated this, it’s very clear that the new bed is not yet fully cultivated. The battle between weeds and intentional plants is underway, and we shall see which wins out in the end.

It reminded me of the Parable of the Sower in Mark 4 where seeds are planted in all kinds of places, but only the good soil allows the seeds to take root and thrive. 

Freshly planted seeds and plants are more susceptible to losing the battle with weeds. They have not yet had a chance to get established and grow deep roots, which makes them more vulnerable. As a result, these plants require more work, protection, and consistent oversight.

The same is true of new believers.

When someone accepts Christ, they have made the greatest decision they will ever make, but they also become a target for the enemy. That is why community and discipleship is so important. We always need these things, but especially so when we are baby Christians, growing our roots into God’s Word, and getting established. We need more experienced believers to work with us, protect us, and watch over us in our early days to help us say yes to the Spirit and no to the world. We need someone to do the work of guiding us through the freshly planted season.

Plants and believers, gardens and the kingdom. They’re really not so different.

So, do you have community and discipleship in your world?

Cultivate

While I have become known for my love and appreciation of plants, this was not always part of my reality. I used to get no pleasure out of seeing a houseplant and the one succulent I had in my care was accidentally knocked off a windowsill….multiple times if my memory serves me correctly.

Since getting engaged, something shifted. I’ve wondered if the symbolism of my engagement ring diamonds being arranged like a flower (this was a surprise) was the catalyst to my being inclined toward my leafy friends. 

Regardless, being an enthusiast and student of plants has shaped my life in ways ranging from new connections to the Creator to the abundance of lessons I’ve gleaned over the past five years.

This year marks the first year of being a true gardener. We have gone through the process of growing seedlings indoors, transferring them outside, preparing soil at length, and planting seeds directly in the ground. 

Cultivate.

That’s the word I’ve had in my mind and feel the Lord has given me in this season. Liam, our two-year-old, has even been part of the process. He put a number of seeds in the ground as we planted and helped with a few seedlings. It’s brought me tremendous joy (and yes, the occasional degree of exasperation that comes with the hazard of a toddler around fragile plants) to have him be part of the process.

Cultivate.

As I look forward to seeing how the garden changes from day to day, I’m also working on cultivating a little life in my womb. At 25 weeks, it’s a delight to be experiencing growth within my own body paralleled with the plant life in our yard.

Cultivate.

I’ve been acquiring, writing, listing, remembering, and savoring plant lessons for years. While I’ve had intentions of putting those thoughts into a more compact package meant to share with others, it’s become clear to me that a missing link was the garden. Having a season of really toiling and cultivating a garden will round out some of my horticultural experience that has been lacking.

I look forward to seeing how this shapes my interaction with plants. Growing the garden with my little family (which is also growing!) is so gratifying, especially when my little garden helper sprays himself with the hose while wearing a bucket hat.

Here’s to a season devoted to the word cultivate.

Goat Walks

Just a short walk from our home is a pasture filled with an impressive herd of goats.

Not long after we moved in, “goat walks” became a consistent pastime, particularly after Liam was born. We’d say, “Let’s go for a goat walk!” just to get outside for a bit.

It became a delightful rhythm, one which Liam now recognizes with high degrees of enthusiasm, especially because he usually gets to ride on Daddy’s shoulders to get to the goats.

This spring, we’ve seen a number of new baby goats added to the mix, including what we think was a set of twins. There’s a billy goat that is clearly the alpha but sort of makes me think of a crotchety old man. Many of the kids stand in the feeding buckets or expend their energy frolicking around. 

Sometimes they’ll respond to our sorry attempts at mimicking their “maaaaaaaaa.” Liam even tries now. 

What a funny, wonderful, and unexpected rhythm we’ve fallen into as our little family. We’ve had others join us on these walks on occasion, but it’s usually just our three.

I love it. I love the fact that we can go watch the goats at length (provided they’re near the fence where we can actually see them as opposed to across the field). I love that it gets us outside. I love that Liam gets so excited. I love the fact that one of the neighboring homeowners knows to ask if we went to see the goats. I love that the goat owners enjoy our viewings and have even given us bread for Liam to feed the goats.

There’s not necessarily anything deeply spiritual about this other than it puts us in a simpler moment, one free of to-do lists and technology, and places us in front of some of the most hilariously unintelligent creatures on a regular basis.

Do you have anything like this in your life?

Hosta Resurgence

Our yard is thriving right now. All the bushes are at their flowering best and everything’s turning that delicious bright green that promises new growth and life. 

Among these visual delights are also the return of things like crocuses, daffodils, and hostas. 

It is hostas that have captured my particular attention recently. 

There is something hearty and sturdy about them. They’re nothing if not resilient because they completely disappear over winter and emerge once again in spring. Many plants do the same thing, but hostas really make you believe they will never show up again. Once they do, however, they do so exceptionally rapidly, it’s a wonder to see how things change even from one day to the next. 

Nature and the world revolve around seasons. Some seasons leave one wishing to be able to keep things exactly as they are, whereas others provide a sense of relief to shed unwanted burdens. 

It seems more focus is left to what we want to part with rather than what we hope to keep.

Hostas are a reminder that some things are worth keeping, and just like a once favorite song, they may not be seen constantly, but when they re-emerge, it’s a lovely example that there are indeed things worth keeping. (This feels reminiscent of how so many of our generation can break into a coordinated dance at the first few notes of the song “Bye Bye Bye”...a worthy keepsake.)

Sometimes we all need to be reminded of the hopes, dreams, and lessons that have been dormant, only to be brought back to the surface by some natural rhythms. 

Resurgence can be defined as “an increase or revival after a period of little activity, popularity, or occurrence.”

Hostas, in particular, are an excellent reminder of what resurgence looks like.

The hosta resurgence. 

An example worth following and a reminder worth having.

Called to the Creator

God is creative.

He’s also kind, compassionate, and sovereign. 

He’s so many things and remarkably, He chose to create us. 

I think this is why I find myself feeling more aware of His presence and more connected to Him when I’m in nature. It’s as if the created status in me connects with that which has also been created to draw me closer to my Creator. 

Even more extraordinary, He made us to be able to create and participate within His creation. Perhaps this is why I have such an affinity with plants. I have no real control or ability to claim I made a plant grow or created the plant. Sure, I can provide the ideal settings, seed depth, frequency of watering, and necessary light, in other words, participate, but in the end, I cannot make the seed sprout to reveal and create a plant. I participate in and trust in the Creator to help the plant grow.

In all of these musing, it’s been a particular joy to begin planting the seeds of a garden this spring. I started with 72 pods and after two days of planting, was able to see some growth. It brought me an insane amount of gratification and joy. Even a matter of hours yielded new growth over these past few weeks. 

Creation calls to the created to reconnect with the Creator. 

I do not know what that looks like for you, but when I listen and yield to that calling, He is there waiting on the other end.

To the Soil Tender

Do you ever rediscover songs you used to listen to and feel like you’re hearing them for the first time again?

Almost two years ago, around the time our son, Liam, was born and the world was in quarantine, a friend of ours sent the song “Springtime” by Chris Renzema as an encouragement (thanks Jessy!).

I listened to it on repeat. Given I was breastfeeding at the time, let’s just say I had plenty of time for the message to sink in on a deep level.

For some reason, two years later, it’s come back to my awareness and resonates on such a profound level.

Something about this winter made me feel like my brain was hibernating. As different flowers and plants have bloomed, it seems like my brain is receiving them as a signal, an alarm clock, to wake back up and rejoin the land of the living. I truly feel like I’m coming out of a bit of a fog and the combination of new life in the plants and sunshine has really been working for me. 

So has “Springtime.”

We will sing a new song

'Cause death is dead and gone with the winter

We will sing a new song

Let "hallelujahs" flow like a river

We're coming back to life

Reaching towards the light

Your love is like springtime

Like springtime

Come tend the soil

Come tend the soil of my soul

And like a garden 

And like a garden I will grow

I will grow

I will grow

I will grow

Come tend the soil

Come tend the soil of my soul

And like a garden 

And like a garden I will grow

I will grow

I will grow

I will grow

I’m honestly not sure why I forget how much I like spring. If you asked me right now, biased though the circumstances are, I would absolutely say it’s my favorite. It’s just so darn hopeful, and let’s not forget about the abundance of plants!

Perhaps that is why the lyrics have felt impactful. They’ve put language to something I’ve been reminded of lately. Springtime this year has felt like a waking back up to life, or perhaps, waking up to a brand new season. His love is the same way. The revelation of Jesus and His death on the cross, when understood and accepted, truly is like waking up to something new. 

Your love is like springtime, indeed.

I feel something new brewing. I have some guesses, but really, I’m just expectant. The Lord seems to be moving and shifting some things within me, so I look forward to seeing the seeds that are planted.

To the soil tender, I’m ready.

Fruit's Truth

Christian circles frequently talk about fruit. What kind of fruit are those choices producing in your life? What’s the fruit you’re seeing? 

Many questions can be asked, but the point is, we place a high value on fruit. In fact, I think we can place too much value on the fruit itself and not enough on what it represents. 

Our church is reading Romans 1-7 for You in our small groups (or as we call them, Gospel Communities). One line I read recently related to this concept and sparked this line of thinking:

“...the apples on an apple tree prove life, but they don’t provide it.”

In other words, if something is producing fruit, the fruit it produces is not life-sustaining. 

There needs to be another source.

What is being poured into that tree, or person, that is causing such fruit to be produced? 

Fruit is an indicator, a manifestation of something deeper going on, but it’s not the main thing. 

So all this to say, fruit gives us data on the qualify of life a plant, or person has. If something has died, it certainly will not be producing more fruit so the presence of fruit is proof life still exists. 

We just need to give appropriate weight to the fruit and not have it be valued more than the life source. For believers, much like Galatians 5 discusses, we know when the fruit in their lives shows proof of a life connected to the ultimate source, Jesus.

Fruit provides proof of life but does not actually give life to its source. Fruit gives life to others so let’s be sure the fruit we’re producing is life-giving by focusing on our connection to our Heavenly Father. 

That’s the fruit’s truth.

Calm Will Come

I’ve always been a water person. Growing up in Michigan predisposes a person to that with large bodies of water so accessible.

Being near water makes me feel like I can breathe more deeply, if only just for a moment.

I was standing on a dock the other morning, looking out at the lake (the Lord was kind to plant us in an area where the lake would do Michigan proud), and thinking about how still the water was.

Mornings bring about that stillness, but it was particularly noteworthy to me that day.

No matter what disturbances happen above or below the surface, no matter what gets thrown in or jumps out, the water of the lake will, eventually, settle itself back to calm.

How simple and how encouraging.

Calm will come.

And so, in case you need the reminder, it’s worth waiting for it because the stillness is beautiful.

Miracle Hands

Have you ever read a familiar Bible story and suddenly been struck by a new realization? 

That’s what happened to me when I re-read the story about the wedding at Cana in John 2 recently. 

It’s when Jesus performs His miracle. What’s wild about it, though, is that he does not physically do anything. He commands the servants to fill jars with water and then to draw out water and bring it to the master of the feast. 

In so doing, He allowed the miracle to pass between the servants’ hands rather than His own. I remember hearing this in passing a long time ago, but it really struck me this time, especially running parallel to the water to wine story.

Can you imagine being one of the servants to have poured and carried the water, knowing it changed to wine somewhere along the way when you were handling it? 

Jesus does something similar when He fed the 5000 in Matthew 14. He, Himself, blessed and broke the five loaves and two fish, but the multiplication happened in the disciples’ hands.

Again, can you imagine handing out and collecting all the remaining food knowing it was impossible, yet happening before your eyes?

What a way for Jesus to demonstrate His miraculous nature! It could have been something only He did, and there were certainly occasions when that happened, but to start His very first miracle being hands-off so to speak? 

He continues to amaze me.

As 2022 begins, the word I hope to explore more is REDISCOVER. There are many layers and applications for it, but one area, in particular, is Jesus and the Gospel. Who He is and a reminder of His kind and consistent character.

Who knows? Maybe we will see other miracles pass through the hands of humans.

Let’s call them miracle hands.

Fight Robots Not Babies

Have you ever seen the movie “The Incredibles” or its sequel?

If so, you might understand what I mean when I say kids are like the giant robot Mr. Incredible faces when he is unknowingly working for Syndrome. 

What a statement. Where am I even going with this?

The robot in the movie is programmed to get smarter over time, so the longer someone fights it, the greater the chance the robot will learn how to defeat its opponent. More time makes for improved learning and understanding.

Kids are the same way.

Well, except for the part where we’re not trying to shut them down before they kill us. Except for those days…you know the ones.

And all the parents said, “We do.”

Here’s what I mean: as kids grow, they learn more. They observe more. They take in their surroundings on a deeper level with newer understanding. While they are not working to put their parents out of commission, they are making incredible strides of knowledge every day. Some of those gains are easier to celebrate than others (haha), but all are victories of growth and learning. 

Playing with the sound machine is fun. I cannot reach it where it currently sits. Hmm, maybe I’ll pull on the wire. Oh look, it fell down! Now I can turn it on by myself.

I’d really like to go outside, but Mom is sitting on the couch. I know! If I bring her shoes to her, maybe she’ll take me outside. As I meet new people, I must pay attention to their shoes so I can tell them I want to go outside.

The place my mom puts things into in the kitchen and they come out as bread or treats I’ve learned is hot. I know what going to the corner means. I’m learning that hot also applies to candles, fire, even the kind on the TV. 

And the list could continue.

So what’s the good news? 

Unlike the robot - who forces the “Supers” to work tirelessly to dismantle it and keep themselves safe - kids are not simply learning to make things worse. 

The longer they have to learn, the more of a person they become. While there are certainly things Liam has figured out that I’d prefer he not know how to do yet, I also love watching the sponge-like process of absorption as he figures out more of his world. 

All this to say, “The Incredibles” robot and kids. Same thing.

Well, sort of.

PS Liam and Jack-Jack looked uncannily similar. Anyone else agree?

Seeeeeee

Seeing. Knowing. Understanding.

Oftentimes, when considering our future, these are desires we have. We just want to know what’s next, what to expect, what to prepare for so we’re not surprised. 

In short, we just want to see.

I came to this realization in the kitchen with my almost 19-month-old. When we’re cooking, he likes to be involved and see what’s going on. He’ll even become quite upset if not given the opportunity to view whatever might be sizzling away on the stove or mixing in the Kitchenaid or baking in the oven. We’ve tried our best to include him, but sometimes, we need both hands, and he needs to just be patient.

These interactions reminded me of the verse:

Set your minds on things above, not on things that are on earth.

Colossians 3:2

To Liam, standing at a little over 30 inches, things above include whatever is happening in the kitchen to prepare dinner. Sometimes he gets the opportunity to see the current step we’re working on, whereas other times, he just needs to be content in the waiting. 

He has the chance to trust that even if he can’t immediately see, he knows that we are working on something good.

So it is with our heavenly Father. We sometimes get those mountaintop moments where we can look out at the world and see far into the distance, but in reality, most of our time is spent in the valley. We know that the path remains visible on the mountaintop, even if we are not specifically up there.

Just like when we’re waiting to understand the next step in our lives, or Liam is waiting to get the chance to see what dinner looks like, we can still remain focused on heavenly things with patience and trust, even while our feet are planted on the earth. 

The work continues, whether we fully see it or not. 

That doesn’t mean we will stop asking, “Seeeeee?” and our heavenly Father will still occasionally pick us up in His arms to let us get a little look at the feast He’s cooking up for us.

Feast Preparation Team

The Bible frequently mentions feasts. Different parables reference these events. We use the term to describe one heck of a meal.

Even just hearing the word feast brings with it pleasant thoughts. 

Before church the other morning, in response to something our pastor said about his process of preparing for a sermon, the Lord gave me a picture.

The Gospel is a feast we’re all invited to partake of, participate in, and enjoy. When we first hear the Good News it’s as if we walk into a room full of tables laden with food beyond our wildest dreams. Tables with many guests laughing merrily, feeling fully accepted. 

Our first while as believers, we mostly consume and enjoy the splendor. We sit at the table and savor the food, the atmosphere, the gift of it all. 

As our walk of faith progresses, we feel this invitation to be part of the feast preparation team. Perhaps it looks like giving up our seat and donning a server’s attire to create space for the new arrivals. Maybe it looks like being part of the food preparation and doing some of the tasks that would be deemed unenjoyable. (Raw meat anyone?)

We always need the Good News of the Gospel. We always remain partakers and participants of the feast, but our position may change. As we learn more about what it means to follow Christ and to count the cost, we get introduced to concepts like humility and walking the narrow road and turning the other cheek that really are not enjoyable things to engage in, but ultimately invite us to take a role of service. The Lord and the Gospel do not need additions, but we do get to become fellow laborers.

This transition, the one where we invite others to the feast and consequently help prepare their portion, is not always glamorous, but it ends up adding an even sweeter taste to our portion of the feast. It’s the seasoning that brings out new flavors and understanding of this incredible news we have to share.

So, how may I help you?

Trash Piles

We have a compost pile in our backyard. It’s been satisfying to compost. I feel like I’m being far less wasteful.

Recently, we’ve discovered that we have a few avocado plants growing out of the compost pile. 

New life out of decay. 

Interesting.

Have you ever been in a setting where someone told you to lay your problems at the feet of Jesus?

I have, regularly.

It’s a comforting thought, to be able to take our burdens off our own shoulders and place them at the feet of the loving Father. 

This morning I considered the imagery in a new light: What if we all get to the end of our lives and find ourselves standing with heaping piles of trash around us from all the things we’ve laid at His feet? 

I’m talking a landfill high enough to at least come up to His ankles. While that doesn’t sound high, consider He is the God of the universe so His feet are massive.

Our worldly problems, when held in the light of eternity, really are just that: trash. A touch aggressive, but you get my point.

Taking the analogy further, the Lord started to show me what His redemptive work would look like where those mountains of trash are concerned. He is actually constantly turning our trash, our waste, our decay, into compostable material, fit to produce new life. 

His redemption turns our trash piles into a compost pile. 

Which brings us back to the avocado plants. When was the last time you really looked and understood the redemptive work of the Lord in your life? Spend some time asking Him what good may be growing out of the many things you’ve laid at His feet.

You might just find yourself with some unexpected new life.

PS Respond in the comments if you compost along with the weirdest thing you’ve ever composted!