His Heart, Your heart

I've heard people say that the key to finding your calling, is to discover the thing that moves your heart and run with it. I know that there are many roles that we play, and our passions have a tendency to change depending on what season of life we may be in.

With so many things to be passionate about nowadays, it can be easy to lose sight of who we really are in the flurries of social media and hectic schedules. In the search to discover the true depths of one's calling, elusive results may only be found. Personally, I believe we will ultimately discover what we were made for, when we grasp the passion and heart of God.

I was out running errands today and saw something that struck me so deeply, I was overwhelmingly moved to tears. As I turned the corner near a popular highway that led home,  I saw a teenage girl walking with a friend. I first noticed her because she was dressed a little too provocatively for my liking. I began making a "kids these days" judgement in my head, when something stopped me in my tracks. What struck me was the precious cargo she was carrying in a harness across her body. A sweet little baby, that couldn't have been more than a few weeks old was swaying gently as its mama walked across an abandoned lot to the Seven Eleven.

Immediately my heart broke for her. I began to call out to God, declaring angels to protect them. I wondered if they had everything that they needed. Did she need a car-seat? A stroller? Money? Someone to lean on to learn about being a loving mom? I almost jumped out of the car and I realized that she may very well be doing an excellent job at taking care of the baby... that many of my questions were sparked by the judgement that I created upon viewing what she was wearing. I assumed that her heart and life would be more focused on getting the attention of boys than taking care a child. I had no proof of this. I had envisioned the baby crying alone with no one to console her in the corner of a room. I envisioned all of the children around the world that were without arms to hold them tonight. I was doing a bit too much.

My irrational fears may not have been merited at all. I started to wonder: Did anyone ever teach this young girl to dress? How to be a mother? Did she even have a female figure in her life?

It was then that I was reminded of my calling. I was created to mentor girls. Whatever state they come onto my path, I want them to know that they are loved, strong and beautiful. I want them to know that they can achieve anything. That they were not a mistake. That they will make indelible marks on the world. That no matter what they do, or what they have done, they are so very precious and so dearly loved.

I can't believe I had so badly lost touch of this passion-one that previously drove the vocational endeavors of at least six years of my life. The reality of it all broke my heart. It was then that the Holy Spirit began to speak louder into my ears. He told me that it's okay. That there are seasons for everything and this one would soon be coming back around. He reminded my heart that in choosing this path, not every story will have a happy ending. That on this journey, I will be pressed to erase personal boundaries, stay up late many nights and will need to give the precious lives that I encounter over to God on a daily basis.

I am willing to risk it all to love. It's what I was made for. Maybe this purpose was one reason why God gave me all boys- to keep my desire for daughters always alive in my heart.

Even now, I'm thinking about that girl and her baby. How I want to be there if she needs me or not. This is my passion. This is my calling. It is also the heart of God. To Love with everything that I am-even if it's messy. In the end, lives will be changed. Hearts will be healed. Destinies will come into view and passions will be realized.

What is your calling friend? What is the purpose that is inscribed upon your soul? What moves the heart of God? I encourage you to discover the answer to these questions and run with it. Don't waste any more time chasing the wind...for you too, were made for this:-)

Love,

-Mel

Does He Need Me?

Next week marks the 4 year anniversary of my eldest son's arrival at home from the NICU. In honor of that day, I wanted to share a previous post I wrote about the process.

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Sometimes I like to analyze things...maybe over analyze things. I'm sitting here scrubbing the dining room table contemplating whether or not I really need to nurse my 7 month old through the night. He acts like it's a matter of life and death... and I'm just trying to stay alive from sleep deprivation. He needs me too much...Then a stark contrast enters my mind. Does my 2 1/2 year old really need me at all? In his mind, it seems he doesn't. He would go all day in a soiled diaper, eating raisins and bananas, and is highly skilled at operating the water dispenser to fill his own Dixie cup, thank you very much. He knows what TV show he wants to watch, when we need to go to the park, or what t shirt he doesn't want to wear. The difference between he and his brother is a matter of time...time in the NICU.

I have been told the attachment issues my 7 month old is experiencing are present because he was taken away at birth to an entirely different hospital on the other side of town for ten days. It was at least 2 days before I even held him. Smelled his sweet hair...touched his skin. He was born with a keen awareness of my presence and the trauma of our separation.

Back track two and a half years to the birth of Nehemiah. Born at 24 weeks of gestation, he lived in the NICU for almost three months. The nurses were his mother... the beeping of machines lulled him to sleep. He never had the opportunity to really comprehend his need for mommy. It was about a week...maybe more when I saw him for the first time. The innocence and newness of his transition of life outside of the womb was only residue covered by layers of thick medical tape, as he was tucked safely in an incubator under bilirubin lights. It was probably a month or more before I even touched his sweet hand without gloves. To him, all that time, I could have been another nurse. But in my heart, in my being I knew better. He knew...I was mommy. I am mommy. I will always be.

Sometimes with his independence, I fear he will forget that he needs me...yes my job is to prepare him for the world and let him fly in time and it's coming fast...all to fast. Will he ever really know? For he doesn't know he was meant to be held in my arms... meant to be nursed at my breast. Lulled to sleep by my love songs.

Hmm...

Well, What I missed then is mine to give now. I have to teach him. I choose to give him all my love and more. I won't have him forever. So go ahead sweetie. Fill up your dixie cup and let the water fall on the floor, cause at the end of the day, I tuck you in bed with your big Brown blanket and Mickey mouse with the chewed up nose that you refuse to sleep without. I read you the same story over and over again. Sing you the same songs and I kiss you goodnight. I am irreplaceable and I am yours-
whether you like it or not. :-)

Yeah, these guys need me...no matter how much or little it seems. Truthfully, I'm pretty sure I need them a little more.