Klover House Christmas: A Holiday Devotional

Good morning, friends! Tomorrow is a BIG day! Not only is my firstborn turning 7 (cue the tears!), but I’m kicking off something I have been dreaming of for a long time…

The first Klover House Christmas Holiday Devotional!

 

Christmas

Overwhelmed? Tired? Distracted?

Are you tired of running yourself ragged each holiday season, only to have it come and go before you even blink?!

Are you tired of rushing around, never getting a chance to really enjoy the most wonderful time of the year in all of its beauty?

Do you long to love and honor Christ during this precious season that is centered on His very existence, but find yourself distracted by and drowning in the pressures of commercialism?

Do you hope more than anything that the people you love will know and feel your love, but not because of what you can buy, but because of what you can GIVE of your HEART?

Do you want to leave a Christmas legacy that stands for generations and shapes the seasons for many years to come?

Me too!

Do you think it sounds impossible?
It’s not.

We can do this together, friends. We can transform these holiest of days, and we can reform and reshape our families’ expectations and, most importantly, our own. We can widdle Christmas down to “Simply Noel.”

Please, join me on this special journey.

All you need to do is subscribe by placing your e-mail in the box found on the right sidebar that reads “Connect with Klover House!” It’s that simple!

And as a bonus gift to my subscribers, I will offer the complete devotional in e-book form to you at zero cost. You will have each entry, along with all of the recipes, activities, anything and everything I share in one, easy-to-find place, so that you can use it for years to come.

I love and appreciate you, friends. I have high hopes for our holiday, and I have BIG faith that God is going to meet us each morning and carry us tenderly through each day. See you here tomorrow!

xoxo,
Kristi

When Writer’s Block Reveals a Stumbling Block…

An Easy Confession

Recently, my neighbor had joined us by the fire in our backyard.

(I love my neighbors. I feel that they genuinely like me and our family. Our street is this little slice of neighbor-heaven. It’s a judge-free, watch each other’s kids and bake each other keto-friendly strawberry pies kind of place. I’m one blessed girl. So, now that you have the backstory, you’ll understand why I can so freely share my heart with them. )

As we sat by the fire, our kids running around in the adjacent yards, torturing lightning bugs (aka fireflies), she asked if I was still writing, mentioning that she hadn’t seen anything shared on Facebook lately. Without hesitation, I admitted, “Not really. There are people in our town that don’t like me, and, honestly, I don’t want them reading it.”

The confession came so easily, and I can tell you from my heart of hearts that I was being 100% truthful in that moment.

In the Beginning

I realized eight years ago when I started this blog (formerly called “Ava & Isla”) that my posts wouldn’t always be liked, or praised, or even read. I understood that strangers from all across the globe would have instant access to the inner workings of our home, my life, and my brain. I accepted my destiny as a “writer”, because it was a passion I knew would never subside. I love writing. Oddly, I was never a diary-keeper, and I rarely wrote letters. Even as a Christian in my teens, it pained me to journal my thoughts to the Lord. But, the words were always in my heart, churning around in my soul, and when blogging became a known “thing” to me, I couldn’t imagine my life without this outlet. I still can’t. It’s a part of me. It’s become a huge part of my story.

I’ve said it before, when I started out, my intended audience was small – God and my four daughters. I wrote frequently for EJ, too, because in some way, I feel like my words here are like prayers at times, and by typing them out, I often imagine them traveling to Heaven in whispers. If it’s out here – really out here – then surely, EJ feels it and knows me better for it.

I’ll never forget the first time a woman reached out to me via email, thanking me for a post I had written. I couldn’t wait to show my husband. I swelled with such thankfulness. Each of her words was worth a thousand hugs from Jesus Himself to me. I knew then that if I could reach just one person with my transparency here, it was worth the late nights, the vulnerability, the risks… I wrote about my kids, my family and home, my illness, pregnancies, marriage, faith, and miscarriage with very little restraint. I held myself to a few very simple, yet vital, standards: honor my husband and kids with my words, respect their privacy as well as my own, remain honest and real, and write as if each post would be handed to Jesus in person for review and approval.

I’m sure I’ve failed along the way, but I have tried to cling to those standards. I am so proud of this space and the good it has done in my life. I’m so thankful for the people that take time from their already busy days to read what I write. I’m so humbled that I have even the slightest following. And I look forward to the future with excitement, because I know that this place is still just an early chapter in the bigger story I’m written into.

Shutting Down and Shutting Out

All that to say…I haven’t been here consistently for a long time by choice. I want to be here, but I took out a lock and key of sorts last year and must have subconsciously made the decision to shut everyone out.

You may know from some past posts that I have struggled with relationships. I am the type of friend who finds a select few people that I want to form sisterlike connections with and give it 100%. For the most part, I consider myself liked and respected, but in every bushel, you’ll inevitably get a bad apple or two. I’ve had my share of bad apples, and they’ve deeply affected my writing.

I don’t know about you, but if someone literally lives on social media but can’t hit the “Like” button when it’s a sweet pic of your kiddo or an updated profile pic, they should probably refrain from cyber-stalking, -bullying, gossiping, and trolling. and they most definitely are not a friend.

I always remained cautious of the strangers on the internet, but sadly, it’s been people within my community and even close circles at times that have been behind every memory of heartache associated with this blog. Texts suggesting that I dishonored my child by revealing that one is officially a professional fit-thrower and has caused me to stretch and grow every last parenting muscle in my being… calls late at night from people who have no active role in my life advising I take down posts… fellow Christian sisters spreading gossip like poison, as if my personal life was their tabloid… people who don’t give us the time of day contacting my husband at work to check on the state of our marriage… combative private messages, so no one can publicly see the daggers thrown… sitting silently in a room with people I wrote posts for, smiling as they sang the praises of the writers in the room, calling them by name, until they reached my chair…

These are the extremely watered-down realities that we’ve dealt with over the years, and it’s been a real struggle to continue to click that “New Post” button as time has trickled on. The more and more I deal with, the further and further my desire to write floats away from me.

When Writer’s Block Reveals a Stumbling Block

As I sat by the fire and admitted that to my neighbor, my friend, I realized the power that I had given to those few people and the power I had given to my pride. My writer’s block has been an act of defiance. It’s been as though I walked up to them and spilled my ink at their feet, saying, “No more. You no longer have access to my life, my heart, my family. No longer will I share with you the treasures the Lord is teaching me. You can’t have access to my dreams and hopes. You can’t even have access to recipes, for the love. I’m not giving you anything anymore, because you can’t be trusted with it and you certainly don’t value it.”

And, as He always does, Holy Spirit revealed the pride in that hurt and ugliness. If this blog truly is for Him and my girls, then why should it matter what they think of me and what I have to say?

I read a Bill Johnson quote today on a friend’s Insta Story, and it really hit home.

Your future is on the other side of a battle, your destiny is on the other side of the conflict and the only way to win the conflict is by using what God has said over your life.

Amen.

I know what He has said over my life, and it’s so good. It’s better than I deserve, tenfold. Nonetheless, He said it, and I believe it.

Jeremiah 29:11 is not a lie… He does have good plans for us. He plans to prosper us and give us a hope and a future. I’ve heard what He wants to do with little ole’ me, and, even though I don’t see how, I say, “Yes.”

Fresh Start and New Ink

My husband came to me about a month ago and made me a promise. He said that he believes in me. He sees what I am capable of in Christ, and he made the choice to get behind me as a writer and entrepreneur. One of my greatest weaknesses is understanding the technical stuff. (That’s his jam as a former IT Project Manager and now Project Manager in the marketing department of a major global company.) He’s so intelligent and just wired to understand all of the things that confuse the Nutella out of me. He has been researching blog terms, ebook ins and outs, best practices, etc. and has asked on multiple occasions why I haven’t invested any time into the goals set before us. I knew it wasn’t laziness or disinterest, but the motivation was missing. It was the crippling thorn of pride in my side. Every time I’d set out to write, I’d see those faces like scar tissue that had formed over my heart. Their faces overshadowed the faces of those four little girls I love and for whom I write.

Well, no more.

I’m back. I’m writing for them again. I’m writing for my husband, who is committed to helping me. I’m writing for my dad, who takes every opportunity to tell me how happy it makes him to read my posts. I’m writing for my neighbors, who enjoy getting to know this crazy homeschooling mom of four blondies (who often run shamelessly pantsless through the backyard). I’m writing for that exhausted mother of a strong-willed child who thinks that she’s the only one negotiating through multiple tantrums a day. I’m writing for that wife who wants to prepare a healthy meal and learn how to meal plan, so dinner isn’t a daunting task. I’m writing for the many who suffered miscarriages and need a woman who has walked through the muck and come out with the silver lining called hope. I’m writing for myself, because it’s a gift and an honor to be able to share so freely here. I’m writing for my God, because I believe it’s part of the story He’s planned for me, and to give it up would be such a poor choice on my part.

I’m writing for you, because you are here, and I no longer care as to why you are here. You may be here by accident. You may be here by choice. You may be my friend. You may be my foe. It doesn’t matter. You’re here, and I’ve promised to tell you the truth. I’ve chosen to give you the real-deal. And in return, you gave me a few minutes of your precious time, so thank you for that. I’m staring this conflict right in this face, and I’m so glad you’ll be there when I’m standing on the other side of the battle, victorious and able to write again.

writer

Be blessed.

xo,

Kristi

God Loves Mothers

Happy Mother’s Day, friends! It’s been awhile since I’ve written, but this truth was revealed to me exactly a year ago, and I want to share it with you.

God loves mothers.

I know what you’re thinking – duh, right? God loves everyone. Of course He does. But, sometimes, I think mothers (women in general) struggle with their worth in a “man’s world”. But, isn’t it encouraging that the ultimate Father of all creation has so much respect towards women? Towards mothers? The Savior himself came to us as a vulnerable babe through the womb of a woman. God could have descended anyway imaginable, and yet He came the way that He did.

All through the Old Testament and New we see God using women, using mothers, to further His kingdom and purposes on the earth. Simply read the Song of Solomon, and you will be enraptured with the way God sees women. We are treasured, worthy of honor and kindness. We are strong and respected, yet treated as tender daughters.

As I was preparing a brief word for the mothers of my church last year, I was sort of fretting over what I should say. My then seven year old daughter read a passage to me in the car the day before, and it was a true lightbulb moment.

Hear, my son, your father’s instruction
And do not forsake your mother’s teaching;
Indeed, they are a graceful wreath to your head
And ornaments about your neck.

It was Proverbs 1:8-9. She exclaimed, “Mom! That’s a great Mother’s Day scripture!” I thought about it for just a moment and saw it so clearly. “And do not forsake your mother’s teaching…”

In this world in which women are often looked upon as “emotional”, “sensitive,” “dramatic”… insert whatever not-so-wise description here… Isn’t it a glorious pleasure to realize that the God of heaven and earth is advising every son and daughter within the opening chapter of the very book of wisdom, Proverbs, to never forsake the teachings of his/her mother?

That is a BIG deal, friends. Are you getting it?

YOU are a BIG deal in the eyes of God. Your words pour out like honey over your children. They will become as jewels around their necks – an inheritance of valuable treasures that they will carry with them all of the days of their lives. Your teachings will be a crown, a graceful wreath, worn upon their heads. You will shape their thinking. Later in Proverbs we read, “So as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he…” Your words develop your children’s thought life and that thought life feeds into their identity.

Moms, you are a BIG deal.

I don’t say these things to scare you or overcome you with guilt if yesterday your words weren’t so honey-like. Mine aren’t either some days. I tell you this to excite you, to encourage you and build you up. As a [woman] thinketh in [her] heart, so is [she]… and I want nothing more this Mother’s Day than to remind you of how special you are in God’s eyes.

You are important. You please Him. He TRUSTS you. He’s entrusted you with His children, because He knows that you have everything you need to raise them well. You have His grace, mercy, compassion, intuition, discernment, strength, kindness, joy, perseverance, and wisdom. Why else would He tell His beloved to hang on your teachings? He knows that what you have to offer, to instill in, your children is of such importance that it was recorded in His eternal Word.

The days are hard and long. The years are fleeting and leave us longing for a thousand re-dos, but take heart. You have everything you need to mother well, because you have a front row seat at His feet. And when you sit with Him at the end of a hard day, or at the beginning of a new week, know that He sees you, He loves you, and He is for you. My goodness, is He for you in this motherhood journey.

Happy Mother’s Day, sisters. Take this day to enjoy your children and loved ones. Straighten your crowns – those crowns and wreaths put there by the mothers in your own lives. Honor them by holding their teachings closer to your hearts today than yesterday. And lastly, take a deep breath and smile knowing how you are seen in the eyes of God.

xo,

Kristi

Chip and JoJo…This Is Us…Is Tuesday Trying to Put Me in a Looney Bin?!

Oh, Fixer Upper…what have you done to me?

 

fixerupper

{Image Source: HGTV}

Gah.

Seriously. When I first heard the news, or saw it rather, on my Instagram feed, I kind of glazed over it. I watched the short clip of Chip Gaines and started to move on. Then, I read the comments, and honestly, people, I felt like I was going to throw up. I know, right?! I’m probably crazy. But then, as I sat and thought for a moment, (which you moms know we literally get A MOMENT to ponder the great things in life like what Joanna Gaines is doing next… lol), I was actually REALLY happy for them.

Imagine for a moment that you were asked to be the next HGTV star. HGTV, the Mothership of Home, wants YOU and your precious family to hunker down in the spotlight for, oh say, a few YEARS. Gosh. I would feel like, “Man, this is IT! Mama has ARRIVED!” Right? You know it’s true!

But not Chip and JoJo.

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{Image Source: HGTV}

Isn’t it so like them to see the beautiful tapestry that God is weaving for their lives from above the limelight and say with peace and clarity – It’s time to turn this page. That’s the couple we love.

Yeah, we loved them for coming into our homes every week, teaching us new words like “shiplap” and getting us more excited for #demoday than our hubbies are for Football Sunday.

We loved them for showing us what it is like to have a marriage in which the banter is loving and edifying – constant, “Hey, Babe,” and “Thank you, Chip.”

Yes, we also loved their intentional and sweet interaction with their children.

We love them for introducing us to fluffy baked goods and Johnny Swim.

We loved them for teaching us to look at our boring walls and bad carpet and see POTENTIAL.

We loved them for loving Christ and not being ashamed of their faith.

We loved them for taking every step in stride with poise, grace, and the utmost respect for themselves and others.

We loved them for their perfect blend of humor and class.

We loved them for their down-to-earth wardrobes and great shoes (I’m sure there was a noticeable surge in Free People flats and Hunter Boots sales when Jo came on the scene).

We loved them for their quirky junking outings and their serious love for their farm.

We loved them for their visionary spirits and determination to see things through from blah to beautiful.

We loved the way they championed every artisan and entrepreneur they worked with and gave credit where credit was due.

We loved their humble spirits and the fact that, even being on a major hit show, they didn’t own a single television.

We loved them.

We STILL love them for all of those reasons and more.

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{Image Source: HGTV}

But today, I love them for an even bigger reason – they sincerely love and listen to the Holy Spirit, and He directs their steps with a holy, graceful boldness that should inspire any and all of us. I have never in my years witnessed a more grounded and wise pair of human beings. They laugh and have a ball, and, at the same time, they march through life to the steady beat of the Lord’s heart. I mean, how wonderful is that?!

Chip, thank you for making me laugh. Thanks for showing us all that it’s possible to have fun with your wife while chasing big dreams and facing huge responsibilities. Thanks for never editing your goofiness out of the shows and sacrificing your body with every hilarious wall-slam. Thanks for being a God-loving father to your children, because they’re going to be sharing the world with our children, and that makes me smile. My girls already have four like-hearted people out there in the world with whom to tackle the future. Thanks for being the kind of guy that shows other guys (young and old) that it’s okay to laugh and enjoy this ride we call life. Men carry such heavy burdens for their families, but it doesn’t have to be a burden, and you embody that truth.

Jo, thanks for being that jack-of-all-trades kind of girl that I immediately connected with. I’ve been wondering for twenty years what’s wrong with me that I don’t have a single passion – one that I can pinpoint and chase down with 100% of my time and energy. You showed me that it really is a wonderful and blessed thing to be a woman who can fit into many molds and none at the same time. I’ll probably never meet you, but I love you for that. Thank you for showing us that it’s possible to mother well while doing beautiful things for the people and community around you. Thank you for eating cupcakes every episode. I love you for that, too. Ha! Thank you a million times for taking a risk in putting yourselves and your lives out there. You have inspired millions of people, and many of those millions probably look at you and your sweet family and say, “I want what they have – that peace and joy and kindness…” You have been a beautiful window into the heart of Christ for millions to see. Thank you.

And now that I’ve cried and praised and sighed and smiled… I’m going to hit up the DVR for “This Is Us” and lose what’s left of my ever-lovin’ mind.

See you in Waco someday, my friends. Praying for you and your next endeavors.

 

xoxo, Kristi

gaines-fixer-upper-tdy-home-tease-ae_0e0546dc425ece945d17a1c4aeaffb1a

{Image Source: TODAY}

If you’d like to see the Gaines’ video announcement, you can find it here.

Follow Joanna Gaines on IG here. Follow Chip Gaines here. Follow Magnolia here.

Latest Elsewhere: The Biggest Lie We Believe As Parents

Every so often, I am blessed to contribute to Kids Activities Blog. This latest article is based upon a revelation I had last year and is dedicated to my precious Eden Grace, who taught me a very important parenting truth.

Parenting Lie

THE BIGGEST LIE WE BELIEVE AS PARENTS…

I think when you become a parent for the first time, and maybe even before you become one, there are certain lies you tell yourself. You don’t realize that they are lies, of course, until after you’ve been in charge of another human being for a certain amount of time.

As we add to our families, ideals that we had adopted and lived by successfully as the parent to one child can also shift innocently into lies. One of the biggest lies I’ve ever told myself about parenting was that I would figure out how to parent, who I was a s a parent, and the rest would fall into place. I’m here to tell you that hasn’t been the case…

Read the original post HERE.

Full Color KAB Watermark

A Thousand Grains of Rice

Too Much…

Tonight, I walked upstairs, brushed my teeth as my husband filled me in on current events, and then I committed to one last Facebook check before putting the phone down for the night. And as I scrolled I saw a picture of a young boy, whose story I have been following, curled up on a rug next to a toilet. His head was bald and his frame, frail. Cancer. Cancer sucks. Childhood cancer is the devil.

rice

I started to read the comment attached and immediately realized that this sweet boy had lost his fight. I said to my husband, who was now drifting off to sleep, “I hate it so much when a little one I’ve been following passes away.” And then I continued reading. The story that unfolded, unfolded me. I bawled right there. The bravery of this small child…the fight…the agony and strength of his mother…the timing of his passing…the miracle of his final moment…and the overbearing wondering of “why”…”why do they die, Lord?”…it was too much.

This story, on the heels of the tragedy in Syria…the stories and images of children…babies…gasping for air like helpless fish out of water…it’s too much.

Truth Be Told…

I’ve written posts like this before, and I can’t avoid writing them. I may be greeted with new unsubscription notices by morning, but I can’t care about that. This blog is first and foremost for my daughters. It’s the little bit of me that they will have once I’m gone. The parts of me that I shield them from – the fears, the failures, the joys, the love… Everything I am, I let seep out into this place. And right now, everything I am feels broken.

We spend our days looking for the good…as we should, but we know deep inside that it’s too much. The world and it’s pain is too, too much. The mothers burying their babies…the wars that seem too far gone and beyond our control…the loneliness and pain out there…it’s too much. So, we do our best to put on our brave faces and put on that joy and we smile…we worry about sporting events, and finding the right dresses for special occasions, and whitening our smiles (hello, me), and which series to watch on Netflix…

We fill our minds and our time with so much stuff that, at least in my case, it numbs the reality of what’s going on in the world, in our communities, and even in our own homes.

We Are Meant for This…

I am a burden-bearer. That’s what I do. I am a worry-wart. That’s a battle I fight. I am a “highly sensitive person”. I feel all the feels about all the things all the time. That’s who I am.

It’s exhausting. So I try to keep that barrier intact – the one that keeps “the feels” in check and censors the heartache out there. But then, I have a night like tonight when I let the stories in, and I’m caught up in the flood of emotions that come with being human.

I believe that we are meant to care. We are meant to weep and mourn. We are meant to stop injustice. We are born to be light and love and hope. We are destined to win the war against evil and disease and heartache. We are created in the image of God, and that means feeling all the feels about all the things all the time.

A Thousand Grains of Rice…

This morning, my smallest two children decided that it would be a grand idea to dump an entire Ziploc bag of uncooked rice on the kitchen floor. It was “raining” on Barbie and her friends. It rained, alright. I’m pretty sure that it poured, and I came out to a thousand grains of rice, if not more, everywhere I looked.

A few years ago now, I read a book called, Hands Free Mama: A Guide to Putting Down the Phone, Burning the To-Do List, and Letting Go of Perfection to Grasp What Really Matters!, and then in 2015, I read the complementary book, Hands Free Life: 9 Habits for Overcoming Distraction, Living Better, and Loving More. In those books, the author, Rachel Macy Stafford, depicts an event that ultimately set her on a course to shift the culture of her home and one that completely changed her outlook on both parenting and life. It was a story of her daughter spilling rice in the kitchen.

The event this morning transported me to that very moment, and I contemplated quickly how best to react. Because of Rachel’s words and her decision to share that experience, I was able to make a better choice. There were no tears, no screams, no condemnation… And tonight, after reading the heart-wrenching update on that dear boy, it felt as though I was seeing my days here on earth as those thousand grains of rice, scattered across the floor. Each moment, so tiny, each day, so seemingly insignificant, but they’re all I have.

What Really Matters…

At the end of my days, and I beg God that my end comes far off from now and while my children are all healthy and thriving, I want to know that I didn’t squander those small moments. I want my life to mean something. I want my time here to be worth something. I want to be remembered well and leave a strong legacy, but more than any of that, I want to close my eyes for the last time knowing that I spent every grain loving these people so truly and so deeply. I want my girls to see my adoration in every look and feel how my heart beats for them with every touch.

This post isn’t to condemn myself or anyone else, it’s a wake up call. Yes, I will place my whitening toothpaste order tomorrow. Yes, I will probably talk to people about Plexus. Yes, I will most-likely still look for an Easter dress this week. But you know what…I don’t really care about all that stuff much anymore.

I care about the Syrians dying, and I will hit my knees.

I care about that boy’s mother and her broken heart, and I will hug my children harder and longer.

I care about my babies and husband, so I will put my phone down, shut the computer off, and be their world and let them be mine.

Everything else is meaningless, isn’t it?

And when I feel that creep, Fear, start to steal my sound mind, I will remind my soul that my King sits on the throne. My God is at the helm of our days and this broken world, and it will be well. The world may overwhelm, but He told us that He overcame the world. The news may feel dark, but we know the Light and carry it inside of ourselves. The days may feel insignificant, but they are precious – so precious that He has them counted and numbered and recorded. Let’s treat them as such – precious, worth measuring and well-remembered.

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. – Psalm 90:12

Yes, Lord, teach us. Teach us to appreciate the brevity of this day and also to take all of the hurt and pain around us to You in prayer. Encourage our hearts with the understanding that the prayers we pray will impact the world from this moment into eternity. Let us not be afraid to feel all the feels about all the things all the time, but let us instead use that awareness to make each grain of rice count. Amen.

My World in April

April showers bring…

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While the world around me is buzzing, obsessing over Spring, Easter, taxes, sunshine, rain showers… April, for me, brings one thing to my mind, and one thing only… EJ.

I’m probably the only person on the planet thinking about that baby for an entire month straight, but I can’t help it. You just say the word, “April”, and there it is… “EJ’s day”. I can’t escape it, and I wouldn’t want to even if I could. I am EJ’s mother, and it is only right for a mother to love, celebrate, and long for a child that is no longer with her.

Sometimes the wondering still kills me. And then, I quickly come back to the awareness that I have four beautiful children, three of whom may have never existed had it not been for our loss. And my heart is able to rest in that gratitude.

EJ turns six this year, as does our precious Isla. She is a force. The world is blessed to have her in it. She’s like a jewel that the Lord placed in the crown of the earth. She shines. She is still the one that brings EJ up the most. A part of my mother-heart believes that somewhere deep inside that soul of her’s, she is connected to EJ in spirit – like a twin of sorts.

She planned our celebration this year – “Something fun,” she said, “like Chuck-E-Cheese.” She knows what six year olds like.

I guess this post doesn’t have much of a point, but more of a confession. A mother, even through miscarriage, never stops remembering, never stops thinking, never stops caring, never stops loving… And, especially in April, I go to bed hoping that I’ll see that precious one in my dreams. Just a peek, Jesus. Please.

 

If you or someone you know has lost a child to miscarriage, please consider checking out a book written from our hearts…

miscarriage

Blessings through Raindrops: Conversations of Hope for the Miscarriage Mom

We are currently working on a print version and each chapter concludes with an intimate opportunity to journal and release the words you may have been holding tucked into your soul for long enough…

You’re in my prayers tonight, friend.

xo,

Kristi

 

Dear Sunshine… A Letter to You on Your 5th Birthday

Isla Rae – my bright and shining one…

I can’t believe that we are celebrating your 5th birthday this morning. Where have these sweet years gone? I know we have so many good times ahead, and I look forward to the beautiful experiences we will share together as you grow and continue to bloom into this amazing person, but as I kissed your head tonight once you drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t help but to feel this pang of regret. I knew I had to write this to you before the sun came up and we became distracted by that glorious heap of chocolate donuts waiting for you on the dining room table.

sunshine

I missed you, Isla. Somewhere in those precious early days, I lost you in a fog of exhaustion and pain. My body wasn’t good to me when you needed me most. I could cry when I think of all of those irreplaceable pictures forever lost on that water-logged hard drive of the Mac in the basement. (Take note: Don’t keep your laptop on a bedside table nestled next to a tall glass of ice water…) I need those more than ever today, as I try so hard to remember you so new and so miraculous. Thank goodness for Facebook in that case. I have bits and pieces to look back on and cherish. So many snapshots of our days together. Some images are forever sealed in my memory. I can close my eyes and see you curled like a snail in my Serena & Lily pouch. The image takes me back to that quiet walk through town. You were just five weeks old. I looked down at you, fast asleep at my belly, and I knew I never wanted to forget what you felt like, in your smallness. If I take the time to remember, I can actually feel your weight, as if I’m holding you right now. How did you grow up so quickly?

Isla NB

I remember how alone I felt during many of our nights. Consoling you in the middle of the night seems like a distant dream. The aches and pains that plagued me robbed us of so much and the stress of life’s circumstances stole my thoughts from you almost constantly. And although I know you don’t remember, I decided to take on babysitting from our home, which definitely took a toll on the time we spent together, as well. I was reminded of all of that tonight, and, even though you couldn’t possibly recall those moments, I knew I had to tell you how sorry I am that our story didn’t start out better.

But before you think that this is the worst letter that a mom could ever write to her daughter on her birthday, I have to tell you something that will make all of that worth it.

Because of the pain…the distractions…the busyness…the trials…

Because of your mysterious, quiet spirit that has been from day one…

I got to fall in love with you, Isla Rae.

Of course I instantly loved you from the moment I knew of you, and that love became even more tangible once you were in my arms, but you were the child that I had to learn. And in that learning, I grew a love for you that has been so unique. It took work. While I sorted through my new self, I had to discover you, too. Your serious expressions, your smirks, and grins – all foreign to this heart-on-the-sleeve mama. I had to learn you, Isla, and it took effort and it took time. Today, as you turned five, I am a puddle. I am a puddle of emotions realizing how absolutely and utterly in love I am with you, precious child. I know you so deeply, and yet you are still such a mystery to me some days. Because I had to work so hard at cracking the code to your heart and spirit from the start, and at such a vulnerable time in our journey, I feel as though it is in you that I am so extra carefully and intentionally rooted. Not a day passes that you don’t completely intrigue and amaze me, and I adore you.

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I love you more than chocolate donuts and Oreo Blizzards.

I love you more than “lippies” and nail polish.

I love you more than pony tails and haircuts.

I love you more than cake and ice cream.

I love you more than dresses and pool days.

I love you more than music and cooking.

I love you more than Red Robin and shopping.

I love you more than Christmas and birthdays.

All those things YOU love…I love you more than that. Forever.

 

I love the way you wake me up every morning and you sound exactly like your daddy, telling me to come downstairs and make you breakfast. lol

I love how I’m one of the few people that you willingly smooch on the lips.

I love that you are strong, yet remarkably tender.

I love that you randomly beg me to slow dance with you, and you let me hold you on my hip while we twirl.

I love that you love only banana yogurt and have the best taste in shoes.

I love that you say the strangest things pretty much all of the time. There’s no one even remotely close to having your humor.

I love that you are my chef-in-training for just about every meal cooked in our little kitchen. Someday, when I’m older, and you are in your own home, I will probably beg to come over just so we can cook together like “when you were little.”

I love that the kitten makes you jumpy. I knew you couldn’t be that cool cucumber ALL of the time. 😉

I love that you love to have your hair curled and remind me to grab the hairspray every time. You’re well beyond your years in the hair department.

I love that you love to shop and I look forward to the days that you’ll help me to look more presentable.

I love that you love your sisters and always put them before yourself. You show such maturity in that way.

I love that you keep us on our toes – your dad and me. Although, I better never see you climbing the windows again. 😉

I love your face. You are adorably stunning or stunningly adorable, probably both.

I love that you’re mine and I’m your’s.

isla1b

 

I may have been a mess off and on these first five years, but I’m better now, and you have my heart, little girl. I’m so proud of who you are, and I’m so blessed to be your mom.

Happy Birthday, Sunshine. I can’t wait to celebrate you today.

 

Join the Conversation of Hope, Miscarriage Mom…

April 15th stopped being referred to as “Tax Day” for me a long time ago.  That date forever changed once my doctor assigned it to my second child as the much-anticipated due date.  In the heat of August 2010, ultrasound photos in-hand, I started to envision the child I carried in my tummy and the happy future that was sure to come with this surprise baby.  Just days after seeing my little one in the womb, I was forced to say an abrupt and heart-breaking good-bye.  Every hope and dream I had been carrying came to a crashing halt.  I’d never felt such a hurt in my heart.  I’d never been faced with such an agony that literally pulls at the pit of your being.  It was an experience that changed me, deeply.  My eyes lost their innocent sparkle that night.  My heart became tainted with worries I never knew I could carry.  Miscarriage can wreck a woman, friends.  I was wrecked that lonely weekend in late August – mind, body and spirit.  But, thankfully, that wasn’t the end of my story.  It was only the first chapter.  The healing that came in the months and years to follow is why I am who I am today, and why I can say with joy and boldness that my child is still very much a part of me, our family, and my life.

When I opened up about my experience on this blog, it also opened many doors to speak with close friends about their own.  During an impromptu play date with two of my close friends, who are also bloggers, we just started talking about our miscarriages over coffee cake.  The kids played and we chatted away…sharing our stories…our challenges…the surprise and disappointment we felt at the lack of resources available to moms like us.  It was then that we decided to change that, together.  This project has been a long-time coming, so I am thrilled to announce that we have finally released our e-book, “Blessings Through Raindrops: Conversations of Hope for the Miscarriage Mom.” You can find it by clicking here.  Betsy Moore of BMooreHealthy, Becky Mansfield of Your Modern Family, and I have set out to create a resource for other moms who have experienced loss through miscarriage.  Whether you are experiencing one now or had one many years ago, this book was created with you in mind.

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This book is extra special, because it has been written in the form of conversations. Picture the three of us sitting in front of a group of moms, sharing our stories, crying, hugging each other and finding ways to move forward side-by-side. We pray that this book helps other moms find peace through all the sadness and grief attached to miscarriage. And we’re not the only moms sharing our stories in this book.  Many other mothers have so graciously offered up their testimonies of loss and hope as well.  I found myself in awe of the strength of these warrior-mamas.  Each of our stories is so unique, but there are also many common threads that will forever knit our hearts together.  I am so full of joy to finally share this book with you. You can find it here:

miscarriage link

IN THIS BOOK YOU WILL FIND:

Totally Blindsided: Receiving the News

Finding a Lifeline: Longing for Support

The Warrior Within: Finding Strength in Fragile Moments

The Ripple Effect: Learning to Lean On and Love Through

Next Steps: Moving Forward in Hope and Health

Blessings through Raindrops: Finding Meaning and Choosing to Celebrate Life

From the Other Side: A Spouse’s Perspective

Additional Resources

Our Hope for You

A Shared Experience: Stories from Other Miscarriage Moms

And so much more…

At the end of each chapter, you will also find a question/questions or reflection point(s).  We thought it necessary to, not just talk at you, but, let you have your voice be heard as well – even if it’s only your own eyes that will ever read the responses.  We have found that both writing and talking about our loss has added to our healing, and sometimes, it’s been through the gentle leading of a friend or mentor during conversation that has prompted some of our most valuable revelations.  And, because we know that often times you just need to hold a book of this nature in your hands and write your thoughts all over its pages, we are eager to offer a paperback edition in the very near future.

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If you have any questions about the book, or if you are having difficulty downloading it, feel free to send Betsy, Becky and I an e-mail to miscarriagebook@gmail.com, or contact me directly at kloverhouseblog@gmail.com. From the bottom of our hearts, we hope and pray that this book helps you find an anchor of peace while going through one of the most challenging times in your life.  

Take comfort in the fact that you are not alone. You are never, ever alone. Welcome to the fiercest, most accepting club we know; it’s an honor to walk this road with you.   

xo,

Kristi

FIND ADDITIONAL MISCARRIAGE-RELATED POSTS ON KLOVER HOUSE HERE:

I Think It’s Time

Celebrating our Heaven Baby

A Pregnancy Ritual and a Very Intimate Detail about EJ

I Chose Truth

Babies and Banana Bread

It is Good -Three Words that Give a Mother Hope

It is good.

Those three, simple words have changed the way I will look at my children forever.

But I’ll get to that in a minute.

it is good

As you may or may not know, I have four, small children, ages six and under.  This past week with my little ones was especially rough.  Their dad wasn’t out of town… No one was sick, believe it or not…  No one had a bad day at school…  They had absolutely no solid reason for the kind of behaviors I was seeing consistently – back-talk, naughty faces, physical altercations between siblings, screaming, throwing things, and the mother of all meltdowns.

Tuesday was the day that took home the prize for “The Day I Thought I Wasn’t Going to Make It as a Mother.”

You know the kind – your husband calls to let you know that he’s on his way home for work, and you kind of hate him, because he spent his day around civilized people, being only responsible for himself, probably enjoying trips to the bathroom ALONE… kind of makes you want to hurl insults or at least growl come 5 PM.  It was that kind of day.

It started with the “dreaded car nap.”  Don’t you loathe those?  They are awful.  Unless your destination is over an hour away, frankly, they are the devil.  Your kids fall asleep 20 minutes into your 40 minute drive, and even though you wake them with kindness and delicacy, they behave as though they are mercilessly being ripped limb from limb or being forced to sit on hot coals.  They scream.  They hit.  They look at you with the stinkiest of stink-eyes.  The “car nap” is, like I said, the devil.

My very loved, almost three-year-old, is the bless-ed child that decided I deserved the devil for disrupting her slumber as we arrived at her sister’s weekly violin lesson.  There’s a great, little coffee shop beneath the music room and so, being the understanding mom that I am… ah-hem… I decided to treat the girls to hot chocolates before going up to the lesson.  The four of us sit together in the waiting room and read stories while Isla has her lesson, so a spontaneous treat should have been appreciated.  Read: It should have bought me some sanity.  Infer:  It did not.

We had five minutes to spare.  Let’s just say, we were ten minutes late (so the craziness lasted for 15 very unpleasant minutes), and I wanted to crawl into a hole and give up on all-things-motherhood.  My strong-willed child screamed for those 15 minutes s.t.r.a.i.g.h.t.  There was no breathing.  There was very little standing, and there was zero control on my end.  ZERO.  It was horrendous.  I struggled to talk to the barista, who was literally ten inches away.  A stranger commented that I “need an assistant or something.” Or something…he was probably thinking dog leashes and tequila.  And I ended up helping the only employee mop the floor after the strong-willed child covered the floor with her just-paid-for-beverage.  Car nap = devil.  All the while, I have my oldest two parading from chair to chair, acting like they own the joint, and a 26 lb. baby on my hip.  My head was spinning, my arm was burning, and I may have shed a tear or two.

Driving home an hour later, I thought, “There’s something wrong here.  That whole thing just wasn’t normal.  I am a terrible parent.  I am completely failing her.  I am ruining them.  These kids are spoiled.  These kids are out of control.  Where did I go off-track.  Is this entitlement or madness?  How can I fix this?  How can I fix them?  I should probably read Dr. Dobson’s book on the strong-willed child. Maybe I need professional help?  Maybe there’s some kind of behavioral therapist that can help me?  Maybe I should find a babysitter for Tuesday afternoons?  I’m never showing my face in that coffee shop again…”

I tell you this long story, because I need to express how desperate I felt.  I felt hopeless.  I felt like a failure.  And I was convinced that my children were doomed.

I asked Google some of the questions above – not gonna lie, and then I went to bed, defeated.

The next morning, I read this beautiful and timely post, by a new friend and fantastic writer, Laura, of The Military Wife and Mom, and it ministered so deeply to the wounds in my mama-heart.  It gave me that hope back that I had lost the day before.

And then, the most wonderful thing happened.  I heard that familiar voice – God.

God said…it is good.

And everything changed.

I had heard that phrase from Him before.  I pulled out my Bible and started at the beginning, literally.  It was a story that I had read many, many times.  But this morning, it wasn’t just a story – it was a message.  For me and now, maybe for you.

Excerpts taken from Genesis Chapter 1, The Creation of the World (emphasis mine):

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.  The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.

And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.  And God saw that the light was good… And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

And God said, “Let there be an expanse in the midst of the waters… And it was so.  And God called the expanse sky.  And there was evening and there was morning, the second day.

And God said, “Let the waters under the heavens be gathered into one place, and let the dry land appear.”  And it was so… And God saw that it was good.

And God said, “Let the earth sprout vegetation…” And it was so… And God saw that it was good.  And there was evening and there was morning, the third day.

And God said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night…” And it was so… And God saw that it was good.  And there was evening and there was morning, the fourth day.

And God said, “Let the waters swarm with swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth…” And God saw that it was good… And there was evening and there was morning, the fifth day.

And God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures according to their kinds…” And it was so… And God saw that it was good.

Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness…” So God created man in his own image… And God blessed them… And it was so.  And God saw everything he had made , and behold, it was very good.  And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

It got me thinking.  It was almost if God was saying, “See?  The creation takes time.  It’s good, even in its incompleteness…”

Incomplete but good.

God is able, was able, to wave His hand over the deep and say, “Come forth,” and be done.  The lights, the waters, the land, the living creatures, the man… He could’ve have done it all in one, mighty blow.  He’s God, after all.  But He didn’t.  He established in the first set of words entrusted to us the gift of process…  The grace in progress…  The anticipation of good things to come.  What a treasure.

Even the hardest stages are just that – stages.  Things may seem to be stuck on the “third day” a little longer than I’d like – there may be more darkness than I’m comfortable with, but they are in progress.  We, are in progress.  The tantrums will become less frequent.  Their neediness will begin to fade.  I will miss their smallness despite the hard moments that evidently come with it.  God didn’t grow bitter and resent the process, why should we?  If the Creator himself finds satisfaction in the parts that will eventually lead to the goal, we can too.  Each piece of the puzzle is beautiful in itself and lends to the fullness of the final picture.  Our kids…our day-to-day lives…might look a little like the boring parts of the outside border right now, and we’re longing for the more interesting pieces that seem to hold more depth…more importance…more substance, but it is this part of the journey that holds the rest together, firmly.  Keep building those little souls.  Keep building your life, one mundane moment at a time.  It is good.

Where we are right now…is good.  We’ll get there – wherever “there” may be.  For me, “there” looks less like Tuesday.  We’ll get to another stage.  Until then, it is good.  They are good.

 

xoxo,

Kristi