Dear Andrew,

Dear Andrew,

I never understood when I would see birthday posts from mothers to their babies who they said “made them mommy.” I didn't know what that meant.
I understand now.

I didn’t know that you weren’t a mother until you became one. That sentence sounds so obvious, but I guess I always thought “mother” was written into my job description. I didn’t know it was more than a new job, more than a new identity even. I didn’t know it was written deeply in my soul, but still needed to be awakened. I didn’t know, either, that it was a process. I guess I thought as soon as you were in the world, I would instantly be “Mama.”

It wasn’t like that, though. It was so much harder, longer, exhausting, and SO MUCH SWEETER than I could have ever imagined.

You are one year old today! Half of me can’t believe it and the other half of me totally can.

This past year has been like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

It’s been so hard. You have not been a good sleeper, little boy. With your daddy working a full-time, physically exhausting job, mama taking 18 hours of graduate courses, seeing clients for counseling, and carrying your baby sister in utero, less than 4 hours of sleep per night for 6 months straight is just not going to cut it. But that’s what we did. I spent many hours holding you and crying this past year. Crying from exhaustion. Crying from being overwhelmed.

And crying from knowing that I wouldn’t trade one single second of that exhaustion if it meant not having you. Crying from the toll it takes on one’s soul to love someone SO hard and SO much that they would literally and gladly endure sleep deprivation every night of their entire life just to know you. I love your daddy something fierce, baby boy, in fact, he’ll always be my number one earthly love. But I’ve found that a mother’s love is its own, unique brand.

It’s a different kind of love than any other one. It’s not the same love as a wife, daughter, or friend. It’s a soul-stretching, sanctifying, deeply purifying love --- that is HARD won.

With all the stress of this year – you having surgery at 11 weeks after spitting up literally every single ounce of a bottle for a month straight, and then us not being allowed to feed you for 3 days (don’t worry, you had an IV of nutrition, but your belly was empty and you let us know for 48 hours straight how unhappy you were about that), having to watch my tiny baby son get 5 STINKIN IV’s because they kept coming out of your tiny veins, and then battling a lactose allergy and terrible reflux, we’ve spent a lot of time this year adjusting, readjusting, researching, consulting, and adjusting again. With all of that stress, I must confess, some UGLY things came out of your mama.

I found deep levels of selfishness, quick tempers, the tendency to want to blame someone, anyone for the struggle I felt. Your poor daddy caught the brunt of most of it as I snipped and snapped my way through months of grumpy, tired feelings… but good news, son….your daddy…he’s the best of the best. He loves your mom in a way that makes us both safe. We are the luckiest people to have him. J But as I saw this selfishness, pride, anger, and even some resentment surface during this year, God was faithful to buff it out. He didn’t let it linger. Conviction came quickly – sometimes from one of your precious smiles. Just as I would be furious, frustrated, and about to burst at the seams, you would smile, or sigh softly in my ear, or nestle deeper into my chest. My heart would melt and break simultaneously.

When your sin is confronted with something that precious, it doesn’t stand a chance. I’ve slowly watched the rough corners of my pride, impatience, irritability, and selfishness get smoothed over. I’ve seen my desperate clinging to attempts at control, independence, and a “I can handle this by myself” attitude start to chip away. They’re not gone, unfortunately, but they’ve been buffed down quite a bit. I learned to stop complaining, to enjoy more, to savor more, to laugh more, and to love deeper. I’ve learned to accept help. I’ve learned to loosen my grip of control just a bit.

 I’ve learned more about the sufficiency of God’s grace over the last year than ever before. I’ve learned more about selfless love and servanthood, not just with you, but in my marriage with your daddy too. I’ve learned what that love described in 1 Corinthians 13 actually looks and feels like.

You not only made me mommy, you opened the door for me to become a better person and to know our God and Savior so much more as well.

Little boy, words will never be enough. Never enough to tell you what a blessing, a treasure, a gem you are to me. I will spend my whole life thanking God for the privilege of being your mom, the gift of being the one tasked with pointing you to Him. I pray every day that I won’t get in the way. I ask God constantly that as much as I love you, that the deepest aim of my love – you knowing HIM – be fulfilled. Whatever He calls you to do, I’m already praying to not get in the way. Whoever He’s molding you to be, I can’t wait to see.

Andrew, my love for you is as big as an earthly love can be, but it compares in NO way to how much HE loves you. Your daddy’s love for you is a rich and pure as an earthly father’s love can be, but it doesn’t even scratch the surface of the love of your heavenly father.

Get to know Him. Follow Him. We’ll be your support every step of the way.

To the little boy who made me mommy, thank you. Your tiny mouth, eyes, hands, and feet contain the most joyous laugh, the biggest looks of wonder, the most precious reaches and hugs, and the sweetest play times this world has ever known.

You’ve taught me about the worth and creation of God more than anything else in my life. I will always be in your corner. I will always fight for you. When life knocks you down, you’ll always have a safe place to run. This is my promise to you, Andrew, that this new, soul-deep, all-encompassing love of a mother that I’ve found will never fade, not ever a blip, not even a drop. It will only grow as you do.

You will appreciate that one day, I’m sure, but when I’m still smooching your cheeks when you’re 15 and trying to leave for the prom, you probably won’t be that crazy about it. Too bad. J My kisses, arms, hugs, prayers, support, and love aren’t going anywhere. Not for a second.

I love you, Andrew Heath Warren. You are a far greater gift than I ever knew to expect.

You are more precious than our vocabulary knows how to articulate. I’m so glad I get to be your mommy.

Happy birthday, baby.

Don’t mind those tears you see falling down my face – that’s just what happens when the love is too much for one body to contain. 

For Just A Little While

Today was hard.

Today, my baby turned one month old.
I had planned to take some cutesy one month pictures, but he had other ideas. From about 2:30 AM until 9:00 PM, we had a day of fussiness. Maybe it's a growth spurt, maybe it's a transition - all I know, is that it was hard. Nothing soothed him for more than a few minutes. He did nap, but ONLY if I held him the entire time.
I didn't brush my teeth, wash my face, or eat a bit of food until daddy got home from work around 4:30 pm.

I was exhausted. I was hangry. I had cried almost as much as Andrew. All I wanted was a few hours of peace. And I knew I wasn't going to get them, because this baby was not one I could give back to his parents - he was mine. As much as I love him, that thought made me feel stuck, and that made me feel anxious, and that made me feel guilty. And all of those things just wore me out.

But daddy came home and I got to eat, drink some coffee, and brush my teeth. My nerves settled, and I found myself smitten at the sight of that still fussing baby once again.

Then, I realized something wonderful.
As I leaned on the couch near 11 pm, skin to skin, patting and soothing and finally - finally - starting to see Andrew settle into sleep on my chest, I realized it.

For just a little while, we get to be his whole world.

 In that moment, all he knew was the comfort of my body, the beat of my heart, the feel of my hand rubbing his back. All he knew was the sweet forces of parental love and safety.
I was exhausted, so he could sleep.
I was twisted into a strange position, so he could be comfortable.
I was in charge of meeting his every need, so he could just be.
For just a little while, I get to create his world. And that means that for just a little while, I can allow that world to be safe, to be only sweet.

Because all too soon, he'll be making his own way in the world, and my control will lessen. Try as I may, I won't be able to make his world all safe. I won't be able to keep him from suffering. I won't be able to meet his every need. The burden, then, will be to teach him to suffer well, amd point him to the only One who can do these things. But for just a little while, God has given me that task. For this little time, I get to be the one who represents God's provision and care in His life. For just a little while, he doesn't have to know the burdens of living in a broken world. Because for just a little while, I can take that for him.

Suddenly, my exhaustion felt more like a gift than a burden. I get to bear this, so he doesn't have to. This is only my privilege for a little while..

Already, the privilege has lessened. In pregnancy, I bore it all. My body groaned, ached, stretched, and pulled in order to accommodate and provide his every need. Then, in labor, I bore hours of pain, so he could arrive safely. In those moments, it was all on me. Now, it's still mostly on us, his parents, but now he has to cry, now he has a role to play in having his needs met. Already my role has decreased, because it only lasts for a little while.

So, sweet baby, I'll take it. I'll bear the exhaustion, the discomfort, and the worry. You just rest, you just be. You cry and I'll fix it. You smile and I'll encourage it. You scream, I'll hold you tighter... Because for just a little while, I get to bear your burdens.

And now, that little while, seems all too sweet and all too short. So, for the sleepless nights and exhausting days of new parenthood, hold on, mama, for just a little while.

Pregnancy - A Series of Unexpected Lessons

So I kinda knew this whole journey through pregnancy would probably teach me a thing or two and stretch me (literally and metaphorically) in many ways. For one thing, I knew nothing about babies, even less about labor, and far less about being a mother. So, I've read books, taken classes, and pestered advice and perspective out of everyone who would listen.
I don't know if you ever feel "ready" to enter into parenthood, but I feel much more equipped than when I started this process. :) I can't wait to meet Andrew. I have a feeling it's going to blow my mind.
Those are the type of lessons I was expecting and things I knew I needed to learn, but I've been surprised at all the things I've learned that I never saw coming or at least never expected to be so big. These unexpected lessons have been my favorite, though, as they often end up being such a blessing to learn. Over the next few days, I plan to share some of these lessons with you and hope they bless you as well!

Lesson 1) It matters who you marry.

This is mainly to all my single sisters, but also a call-out to all my brothers. We all know it matters who we marry. In theory, we all know that waiting for a good spouse is worth it. However, our society has taught you that you are incomplete and your life is empty until you have a marriage. A) THIS IS NOT TRUE. I could write 17 blog posts on the fallacy of this thought, but I'll save that for another time.  :) For now, hear me tell you that your life is just as whole, just as full of opportunity, and just as capable of fulfilled joy as any married person's life. B) Even if it were true, this so-called "empty" life would be far better than a life bound to a less-than-stellar mate (because marriage is for life).

Good men are not a fairy tale. They are not a thing of the past. They are not all taken. They are out there and they are worth waiting for. Sister friend, please don't settle. Please don't.

Why? Because a happy and loving marriage is just the sweetest daily gift. I promise it's worth waiting for. I believe I have married the best man in the world and I am daily blown away by the gift of grace and sweetness God has given me through this man.
So, I wasn't surprised to find my appreciation for this daily gift shifting and growing in pregnancy, I was just surprised at the depth of which my understanding of the grace and beauty of God's gift of marriage has grown during pregnancy. It's a whole new level.
Why?
Well, for starters, when you're pregnant, you have..ahem..moments. :) Your hormones and entire body are shifting at a ridiculous pace. You live for two people while having to maintain the demands that were probably already too much for your own personal life...and you might break down a couple hundred times...hehe
This is not the time to have a disengaged husband. You need his arms, you need his ears. You don't need to be told to get over it. You need a man who's not afraid of your tears or your outbursts of frustration. *Not saying he can't have his own moments - he's human too, after all - but in general, a man who's not afraid or turned off by your moments.* You need a man that knows you, that knows how to talk to you in moments of breakdown, that knows how to help you laugh about it later (but not too soon!). You need a man that knows you.
You need a man who sends you to the chiropractor even when you think it would be easier to cancel the appointment. You need a man who wants to be at every doctor's visit, so he'll FaceTime in when he his work won't allow it. You need a man who talks to your belly, cares about the safety of the crib you're buying, and volunteers to clean the bathroom so you won't smell the fumes. You need a man who goes to birthing class with you and gives up carbs with you. You need a man who tells you how beautiful you are when your face and feet are swollen. You need a man who "can't even see" those stretch marks you're pointing out. ;) You need a man who is totally, completely bought into the process. You need a teammate.

A man that is fully committed to studying and knowing you for your entire life, to caring for and cherishing you, to finding you beautiful in your ugliest moments.
This doesn't come from your ability to be beautiful and agreeable all the time. None of us are capable of that. We're all broken. It comes from marrying a man committed to loving you and choosing your good for your whole life. THAT is a different caliber man. Wait for that.  He is worth waiting for, and sister, so are YOU.

*Side note here: I am, by no means, implying your man is utterly responsible for taking complete care of you during pregnancy or regular life. :) You're still a person. You're still responsible for you. The gift of a good mate is meant to be empowering - a partnership - not a caretaker. No man can be your Savior. No man can be your everything. To want that is unhealthy and will certainly result in massive disappointment, because *spoiler alert* the men I'm talking about are ALL human. ;) And you are just as responsible for loving him and walking with him as he is with you. So, no, he can't be everything, but he can be a delightful companion, walking hand in hand through life's transitions. A tuned-in, caring, invested spouse is the most powerful partnership I've encountered thus far - and I suspect that type of partnership only gets sweeter the more you walk together through life's adventures.

Another reason pregnancy has heightened my awareness that it matters who you marry. This is a biggie.
That man is about to be the daddy of your child.
That little precious, helpless, totally dependent human you've been carrying is about to enter the world - and he/she needs a daddy. She needs daddy's arms to cuddle her, to make her feel safe. He needs daddy's legs to chase him, his body to wrestle with him. He needs daddy's hands to clap for him, to tell him how proud daddy is of him. She needs daddy's words to tell her how precious and beautiful she is. She/he needs daddy's stability to give them the room to explore their new world. She/he needs mommy, but make no mistake, she/he needs a daddy. The man you marry or the man you have a baby with, that's his role. He's daddy.
There are not words enough to explain how grateful I am to be married to a man who I trust completely and find such delight in the thought that he will raise our son. If our Andrew turns out to be half the man his daddy is, I will dance with joy. I trust his character. I trust his prayers. I trust his attitude. I trust his willingness to give everything he has to the role of father just as he has done to his role of husband. I trust our family with my husband. Pregnancy is terrifying as I imagine taking on such a huge and wonderful role of parent. It's a whole lot easier and so much sweeter to know I've got a partner for life that I trust absolutely in the job. I can't imagine how terrifying it would be if I didn't.

It matters who you marry.

And listen carefully when I say this, friends. This post feels complicated to write - not because I don't mean every single word - but because I KNOW that none of this is anything I deserve. None of this is anything my husband deserves. We did our best to follow and honor God with our relationship, but we are nowhere near perfect. We are just as human and flawed as anyone else. Every day with this man is a reminder of God's grace. It feels more than undeserved. It feels downright scandalous that God has blessed me SO much when I have failed Him SO much. But that's the beautiful, ridiculous trade-off offered to us at the cross. Jesus paid the price, so God could pour the blessing on people who had no hope of attaining it on their own. Josh and I have something special, but we are not the cause of the special. This ridiculous gift of grace is the cause, and if these two sinners can have it, so can you.
Because it matters who you marry...not just to you, but to this God of such extravagant grace. It matters to Him. You matter to Him.

There is Sweetness in the Sad

Indulge me for a minute while I think about my big brother.

I'm supposed to be reading for class, and I have a million things to do..but I just want to chat about him for awhile...

He woud've been 27 today.

This is his last birthday - it was a good one as you can see :)

He only made it to 16, but today should've been 27.

With each passing year, his birthday gets a little less aggressively painful, but it always hurts. What I can't get out of my mind today is who he might be if he was still alive.
That Kenny Chesney song came to mind first thing this morning, and I've been pondering it since:

Who would you be?
I imagine you'd be married. I'd probably be an aunt by now - maybe 2 or 3 times. I totally would've been the best aunt! Even as a child I had dreamed of being an aunt. Aunt Amber. Has a nice ring :)
It started when Aunt Cindy sent me that surprise box of goodies for my 12th birthday. At 12 years old, I began planning what I would do for my own nieces/nephews one day.
And you would've been an excellent uncle to my children.   Uncle Russell. :) My heart floods a little just thinking that.

I think we would've been really good friends by now. We were weird,  ya know,  because we always liked each other. We were never those fighting siblings that couldn't stand to be in the same room. We were always friends.
I imagine adding some years, maturity, and memories to that would have resulted in a really sweet friendship by now.

Yes...some added maturity would certainly have strengthened the bond... ;)

Memories -  like our college graduations, first jobs, marriages (my speech at your rehearsal dinner totally would've made you cry), babies.
Memories we should've had. Memories we didn't get to have.

That's something I've learned. Death isn't a one-time loss. It's a loss of every memory you should have been a part of. That's why it never completely stops hurting. That's why time and space, while giving us room to heal, can never completely heal - because the loss transcends all the years you should've been there.

Because you died in high school, I can't help but look at your classmates and our friends. Sometimes I feel like everyone's grandmother because of how proud I am of everyone. Ha!
Our high school friends - they're grown now. We're all grown now. Some are teachers, some are farmers, some own businesses, some have moved, some are married, some are parents.  -- Some of our classmates even married each other(!) and had babies (!) and they're precious. :) It's so fun to see everyone's lives progressing.
There's a gap, though, where you should have been.

I wonder what you would've named your babies. I'm naming mine after you.
Russell Andrew Barnes, your first nephew will be named Andrew.
(side note: not pregnant)

I wonder what career path you would've chosen? Engineering? Navy Seal?
I bet engineering. I bet you'd be living somewhere like Memphis working in engineering. Maybe..

I bet you'd still go to the gym regularly, but I bet I would also be making fun of any slight tummy pudge your years had put on you. :)
I am certain I would be mercilessly reminding you that you were now only 3 years from 30. hehe

I miss you big brother. Deeply.
Usually this day brings all sorts of emotions. I usually resort to secondary emotions of anger and spend a while asking God why He took you? I usually feel a little desperate, like a caged animal, hostile and trapped.
Those, though, are all secondary emotions. I probably felt those rather than feeling the deep and penetrating sadness that mourns a loss, because I thought anger was easier than sadness.

But today, I simply miss you. I simply feel sad. And I'm surprised to find that it's kind of a sweet feeling - because I can't feel this sad without also feeling how much I love you. In that regard, my tears feel like a hug.

(I know right? We're adorable.)

In that regard, I am simultaneously mourning you and enjoying you - enjoying you much more than in years before when I all I allowed myself to feel was anger.

"You won't ever grieve if you never love. But to avoid grief means you will avoid love."

I feel the meaning of that quote so profoundly today. My grief is an overflow of love, and because that love will never diminish, the grief will always be present.
But that's okay. I can feel this sadness and this love -- and it's okay.
I think that means I'm getting stronger :)
Or really, I think it means I've finally started drawing from the right source of strength. I'm not mad at God anymore. Not once today did I offer up any sort of angry thoughts, prayers, or scorning towards Him. Instead I asked for His comfort and found rest in His love.

He loves you even more than I do, and because of Him, I can rest in your condition, your eternity. You're with Him.

So, I wonder who you'd be today if you were still on earth. I miss you and I mourn. But that's okay.
It really is. Because in the mourning, I'm wrapped in love - mine for you, God's for me, and God's for you.

Happy birthday, Russell

I love you

Dear Christian, Follow Jesus....

I've been thinking a lot lately about the overflowing, immeasurable ways God has blessed me in my last year and a half of being a student at NOBTS. While thinking of these blessings, I can't help but realize an alarming truth: I almost missed them.

I didn't want to come to New Orleans. That was NEVER in my plans. It took me long enough to surrender to God's call to go to seminary and sign up for a life in ministry. I had other plans - GOOD plans. I was going to be a physical therapist and use that position as a way to love on hurting families. I had been through several months of physical therapy and the support and love I received from my therapists blessed me tremendously. In fact, my physical therapy assistant, Kelly, was one of the first people I cried with when I found out my parents were divorcing. I wanted to do that for other people. It was a good plan.
But it wasn't God's plan.
Ah, and that makes all the difference. :)

So, I said yes to seminary, and promptly ignored New Orleans. I never even so much as looked at their catalog. I researched Southeastern, Southwestern, Southern seminaries, but not New Orleans. I imagined living in Kentucky and North Carolina, and Texas, but not New Orleans. New Orleans was scary and unsafe - and haven't you heard about the people down there - hello Mardi Gras? Bourbon St? One of the leading cities for murder a few years ago - oh, and hurricanes. Yeah. No thank you.

Josh wasn't really interested in New Orleans either. We were only dating when we first started researching seminaries, so we tried not to plan around each other just yet, but we were on the same page when it came to our lack of desire to live in New Orleans. We actually decided to stop discussing our seminary plans until and if we got engaged. We wanted to make sure we were listening to God's calling and not the preference of each other.

And something strange started happening. God started pointing me to New Orleans. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I HATED THAT! I denied it, resisted it, yelled "please NO" in my prayers! I did NOT want to go there! But the call was persistent, and God wouldn't let go.
Then came the night Josh proposed (SUPER sweet night, btw, find the story here). We started talking about the future, and he said, "I know this might be unexpected, but I really feel like God has been leading me to New Orleans for seminary." My mouth dropped open and I kinda blurted out, "Oh! Me too!"

And just like that, we were headed for New Orleans.

I still wasn't excited about it. I told people I was, but I was scared to death. The first few months of living here, if Josh left the apartment and went anywhere in the city, I spent the whole time praying for his safety - terrified he would be hurt while out in this terribly scary city. I was SO SCARED. ALL the time. It was incredibly uncomfortable.

But I started to see God's provision for us. I saw the way he always kept our bills paid - even when we couldn't find jobs at first. I saw Him provide OVER and BEYOND for our tuition needs. I saw Him anticipate medical bills and provide for them before we even knew we were sick. I saw Him bless us for no apparent reason at all. I began to understand God as my provider in ways I never knew before.

I was terribly homesick. I missed my mom and dad and friends. I still miss them :) but I've made such sweet, edifying friendships here. I've found people who speak honestly and lovingly to me. I've found a community that lives life like the church in Acts.

"Now the full number of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things that belonged to him was his own, but they had everything in common." Acts 4:32

This is practiced daily in my life. People give things (EXPENSIVE things like couches, beds, TVs) away - for FREE! Cars are shared, food is shared, and no one hordes their extra. It's beautiful. It's the way it was meant to be.

I also began to see people really living their lives together with Jesus always as the focal point. It was a pleasant surprise to learn that praying for each other is a common way of life here. Friends praised God with me in the victories, and carried me in prayer in the stressful times. God's love was put on display for me in such real and practical ways.

Then, God started this huge work in my life to bring about healing for wounds I didn't even know I carried. Through this process, I have come to know God as SO indescribably GOOD - really TRULY GOOD - BETTER than the worst my life has thrown at me. Knowing God this way is worth any discomfort the move here brought about.

Today, I'm writing this post after receiving yet another, God-given-for-no-special-reason-at-all blessing financially. I work full-time for the seminary now, as a recruiter. I now recruit people to come to the very place I said I would never go. How's that for God's sense of humor? ;) I just left a meeting during which our President, Dr. Kelley explained how God had provided for a budget shortfall we were facing this school year. It was a miracle and nothing less. God provided. HUGELY! And my view of God grew a little bit bigger.

I think that's my theme of this blog. Since following God's call to New Orleans, my view of God has grown and grown and grown and every time I think I can't be more amazed by Him, He blows my mind again.

So, I say to you:
Dear Christian,
Follow Jesus. Wherever He goes. Follow Him. It will be uncomfortable. At times it will be scary. You might not see how it can possibly work out, but follow Him. Getting to see God outside of your "box," getting to see Him care for you, provide for you, grow you - it's worth it all. He is worth it all.

I'd like to think I will always have this mentality, but I know me. I'm sure the next time Jesus calls me somewhere I don't want to go, I'll need a fresh reminder of this message myself - which is part of my motivation for writing this post. Dear future Amber, follow Jesus. Follow Him wherever He is calling. It's worth it. I promise. Remember how He came through. Remember the work He has done in your life. Follow Him.

I'll end this with a summary from Dr. Kelley a few months ago in chapel:

Following the Lord does not require so much courage as it does obedience. It's okay to be scared while you're being obedient. Obedience is actually synonymous with courage, because to follow obediently when you are scared looks an awful lot like courage.

Follow Jesus.
There is no better place to be than where the God of the universe is leading you.