new ink

this summer, I did something bold. something brave. something irrevocable.

I got a tattoo.

now I wear a piece of my story on my sleeve, and I’m discovering I don’t have the best quick and concise explanation to answer the inevitable question, “Hey, what does that mean?” I might shoot back with a simple, “My daughter drew it,” or, “It’s a picture of my family.” But whenever I try to sum it up in a few words, it feels incomplete, like there’s more to be told.

so in honor of its permanence, I’m writing out its story. The story of the new ink. So even when my explanation becomes short and sweet, the meaning behind it is still sacred and special and deeply rooted in my heart.

three lines.

in it’s simplest form, this is a picture of the most important relationships in my life. The two lines, side by side, represent Scott and me. Our bond to each other is committed and unending, and side by side we are experiencing some of the highest joys and deepest challenges this life has to offer. Scott’s line is intentionally placed on the bottom because of his incredible heart of sacrifice and service. He works exceedingly hard to support us and care for us, and his commitment to our family allows me to do what I do best as a full-time mama. There are times in the past eight years I would have surely bottomed out without his constant encouragement and belief in me, lifting me out of the pits I dig myself into. But as remarkable as my guy is, the two of us left on our own to fend for ourselves would be disastrous territory. We need a stronger constant in our life than each other. We need a third cord.

a cord of three strands is not easily broken (ecclesiastes 4:12)

the third line is my God line – my lifeline – the most important strand and a banner above the rest. His line is the one that ties it all together – who holds our family in place. I can’t separate myself from His love, but his presence abides in me always (more on that to come).

the girl.

almost every day I find Teagan hard at work at the kitchen table or curled up on the living room floor drawing the most intricate little works of art. Our house is brimming with them. And the one repeating character I see throughout all of her drawings is this whimsical little girl who seems to make her way onto every picture. She’s always dressed in a beautifully colored triangle dress with hair is so long it flows right off the page. In her, I see kindness and gentleness, yet also daring courage and adventure. It’s more than just a picture. In her drawings I can see the essence of who Teagan is, and who she’s becoming, with all of her best qualities wrapped up in one brightly colored dress.

the heart.

if you ask him, Jonah will tell you he was made for two things – climbing and crafting. & from a bird’s eye view you can always find him building one thing or scaling to the top of another. But as mamas, we get the incredible privilege of a closer look. We see all those in-between moments that to most go unnoticed.

what I see most when I look at Jonah is his incredibly kind and compassionate heart. He sees people in a way I don’t think most six year olds do. He looks closely, observing the smallest details, and he makes gifts and writes notes to his friends so they feel noticed and special. As his mama I’ve received the largest collection of love notes, and even before he knew how to spell, his very first notes were simple and sweet. He taught himself how to fold construction paper in half and cut out perfect paper hearts, and he would lay them out for me to find all around the house – on my bed, in the kitchen, taped to the window – it was his favorite way to show love. & now little red hearts always remind me of him.

the picture.

broken apart, each piece represents a different part of our family – a line for Scott & me, a girl for Teagan, a heart for Jonah – every family member represented. But collectively, this picture of a girl holding a balloon signifies even more than all that – it’s who I want to be when I grow up.

now that I’ve crossed the threshold into my thirties (and am officially an adult, mortgage and all), I feel the pressure of life rising to grow up. The stress to have life all figured out while keeping up with an overpacked schedule, to be more organized and practical and play it safe. & I find when I try my best to keep up with these things, there’s little room left for whimsy. or adventure. or grace.

this little girl is a reminder to myself to never get too old to be led in love. that sometimes what God is asking me to do isn’t outlined or strategic. it’s just me putting my heart out there to be shared, and sometimes it comes back bruised and broken. it’s a reminder that investing in community is worth it, even when it means extending love instead of expecting to receive it. it’s going down the slides and riding all the rides and taking part in those everyday adventures I push myself not to sit on the sidelines of. it’s a picture of not growing up so much that I miss the beautiful opportunities to give and receive love.

abide.

there’s one final piece, & I saved the best for last. Within the God line is scripted the word I have spent a tremendous amount of time wrestling with and resting in. Above everything else I’m learning, God is teaching me what it really looks like to abide in him.

Just has the Father has loved me, I have also loved you – abide in my love. (John 15:9)

as I studied the book of John last year, this one word jumped off the page over and over again, each time in a different context or perspective. Here are two main ways I’m beginning to take this word to heart – –

one lesson that’s resonated deeply is to be careful in the subtle shift that comes with doing things for God instead of with him. It’s a heavy load trying to work harder and do better, even at really meaningful and worthwhile endeavors. If I’m not actively inviting God in to be a part of it with me, then all of my best efforts fall short. I will always miss the mark. But on the flip side, when I’m doing life with God, whatever the end goal may be, I realize he’s a whole lot more interested in the journey we’re on then if I succeed or fail at whatever I’m attempting to accomplish.

I want to do more hard things that require God to come through. But there’s this beautiful dance to it, because abiding is not for the payoff of getting things accomplished, but through abiding there is fruit (John 15:4-5). It’s not a means to an end, but instead the byproduct that comes from a beautifully intimate relationship.

the other facet to abide that I want to hang as a banner over our family is in its sense of home. Scott and I love to travel, and want to do work around the globe as a family – but that seems overwhelming if our security lies in our house and jobs and consistency here in Lincoln, Nebraska. Even the things we stake down as constant could change in a moment due to storm or accident or illness. Our security can’t be in any of those things, they’re all shifting sand. But if we can truly abide in Christ and the fullness of what that means, that’s home. Wherever in the world God calls us to next, He is constant, he is unchanging, he is faithful. Abiding in him is secure in a way that nothing else on this earth is.

so when I’m overwhelmed – insignificant – unqualified – lost – and drowning in self-doubt – I’m learning how to rest. to abide. & prayerfully lead my tiny tribe to do the same. That we may know wherever we are, in his presence we’re home.

that’s the story that rests here on my arm.

it’s him.

it’s her.

it’s us.

it’s who I want to be.

& it’s who we’re all leaning on to teach us the dance.