Loving My Children

"I’m in the presence of an oxygen-breathing, image-bearing, eternal soul, yet I struggle to focus on what he or she is saying. I wish it were as easy as putting away my phone or turning down the music, but it’s not that simple. Those things certainly help, but they don’t address my root problem. Both my outer and inner environment vie for my attention, and it’s a monumental battle to resist their intrusion as I try to listen..." Read the whole article at Servants of Grace . Read more of Katie's words at  Loving My Children  on Facebook and at  https://www.instagram.com/katietfaris .  To learn more about her book,  Loving My Children ,  click here .  Email Katie at  lovingmychildrenbook@gmail.com .

"An aftershock of grief hit me with full force last Thanksgiving. Preparing to go to my parents’ house for a family meal, I found myself in my bedroom unable to hold back tears and the accompanying flood of emotions. What could I be thankful for this year? "Before eating turkey and pumpkin pie, our family tradition is to go around the table and say what we’re thankful for. Some years, this is easy. I’m grateful for God’s provision of my husband’s job or a new home. "But all I could see that afternoon was the baby I wasn’t holding and I didn’t know how to give thanks after a painful miscarriage. ..." Read the full article at Her View From Home .  Read more of Katie's words at  Loving My Children  on Facebook and at  https://www.instagram.com/katietfaris .  To learn more about her book,  Loving My Children ,  click here .  Email Katie at  lovingmychildrenbook@gmail.com .

“Love, you might want to get a picture of this. It could be the last time.” What is my six-foot-four husband feeling so sentimental about? I follow him into the kitchen to see our 2-year-old daughter sound asleep in her high chair. "On close inspection, I spy the speck of white yogurt hiding in her hair and the soggy crackers slowly absorbing strawberry juice on her tray. Stepping back though, I gaze at our beautiful fifth child, her head resting on her left shoulder and uncut blonde hair circling her face. When she’s asleep, she still looks more like a baby and less like a toddler. I see and I know. "I see exactly what my husband wants me to see and I know his precise meaning. The bittersweetness of the moment fills me, and flashbacks of our older children dance in my head . . ." Read  "It Could Be the Last Time--And I Want to Remember" at Her View From Home.  Read more of Katie's words at  Loving My Children  on Facebook and at  https://ww

“All I have…!” My child’s words to a sibling trailed down the steps to my listening ears. It was clearly a complaint. All I have is this action figure, and you have that whole pile. All I have is this book, these building blocks, or those art supplies. All I have is old and boring. All I have isn't enough. All you have is what I want. That whiny tone grated on my ears and caused a heart-jerk deep inside. But I paused. Before I bounded up the stairs to remind my children of all that they have—the books, toys, and other possessions crowding the room where they play--I heard my own voice. Maybe you hear yours. What must we sound like to God, our heavenly Father, when we grumble and question? Too often “all we have” is about what we don’t have instead of what we do. Over the past couple of years, God has patiently peeled back layers of discontentment in my own life. It’s humbling to see it. Confess it. Repent of it. But it’s also a restorative readjustment because

Last week looked fairly ordinary for our family, so ordinary that I almost completely missed the extraordinary when my daughter drank a cup of cranberry juice. Sometimes we just can’t see the other side of our hard. But when she drank that cup, I saw it. My Daughter and Food Protein-Induced Enterocolitis Syndrome  Like many moms, I carefully introduced solid foods to each of my children at the end of their first year. Unlike her older brothers, my daughter’s skin reacted to particular foods. If she stopped eating them, her skin cleared. If I offered one of them again a couple days later, a new rash appeared. If she continued to eat them, she experienced GI symptoms. A few months after her first birthday, my daughter was diagnosed with Food Protein-Induced Enterocolitis Syndrome (FPIES), a non-IgE mediated immune reaction in the gastrointestinal system. While she wasn’t going to have an anaphylactic reaction, she could still get very sick from eating certain foods

Are you going through something hard? Or do you know someone who is? Through illness, medical diagnosis, miscarriage, unemployment, and other challenges our family has experienced, this truth has brought great comfort: Jesus is with us. Knowing Jesus is with us makes all the difference. This past summer, I felt a strong unction to write a short post encouraging others to turn to Jesus in the midst of their hard circumstances. Today, it was published on Her View From Home . (1) Please pray that God would use the words in this post to accomplish his purposes in hearts of people whom he knows by name. (2) Please consider sharing it if someone comes to mind whom you think it could help. Thank you! Katie

My heart goes out today to wives who are struggling to trust their husbands. I pray and tread carefully as I write because I don’t know the details of your situation, and this article isn’t intended to address the deep needs and concerns of a woman caught in an abusive relationship. For some of us, this heart battle has more to do with giving up control. Others may have legitimate reasons to seek help from a friend, pastor, or counselor. But this is what I want to remind all of us:  trusting our husbands is really about trusting God. In our second year of marriage, my husband, our baby son, and I moved out of state and away from family for a year of ministry training. Around Christmas time, I panicked. Our bank account was nearly empty. I didn’t know if we’d be able to continue the ministry program or not. As both a young wife and a new mom, my emotions overwhelmed me. My fear felt crippling. A pastor asked me this question: “What’s the worst thing that could happen to you?”

A stranger complimented me on my shoes recently, and in the split second between when she asked where I got them and my answer, I made a choice. With a laugh, I answered, “Hand-me-downs!” I easily could’ve told her the name brand of the silver slip-on sandals. She may or may not have been impressed if I had. But that wasn't a moment to pretend that I’m anything more than I am or have anything more than I’ve been given. Thanks to a post that was shared widely last week, the number of people following the Loving My Children Facebook page increased significantly. It was ridiculously crazy and unexpected, and no one’s more shocked than I. As I read each new name next to a comment or reaction, I keep reminding myself that it represents a living person with his or her own story. Numbers numb us. But names? Tell me a name and I remember someone whose words made me cry and not want to go to school the next day. I think of a friend who prayed for me every night for months

A year ago today, I wept. My dam burst, and the pent-up flood of tears washed over me in wave after wave of grief. If I were a beaver, I would’ve built my dam of sticks. As a mother who miscarried, I constructed my dam of ongoing responsibilities. There were meals to prepare, children to drive, lessons to teach, a family vacation to take, birthdays to celebrate, and church functions to attend. Friends and family supported me in heroic ways by helping with childcare, meals, and chores, but as a mom to five other children, it wasn’t easy to slip away to face the questions and pain of grief. Life doesn’t stop for loss, but sometimes we need to. We lost our baby in April. Yes, I cried several times in the following six months, but I kept going. I kept doing the next thing, and there was always a next thing. It wasn’t until October that I stopped. The week of our baby’s due date, I slowed down to let my tears drip down my cheeks. Alone in a safe and beautiful

“Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…” Inevitably, Dory's song creeps into my head, both teasing and motivating me whenever I grow weary of whatever it is I'm doing. If you’ve seen the movie Finding Nemo , you probably remember the song since Dory sings it over and over again. It's catchy and relatable, and that's probably why it's the subject of memes and other blog posts. This is how it plays in my head. Just keep sweeping (the kitchen floor). Just keep driving (on car trips). Just keep training (my kids, of course). Just keep folding (Mt. Launderama). Just keep writing (when I don’t feel relevant). What’s your “just keep” today? Just keep wiping…snotty noses and messy bottoms. Just keep shopping…the grocery store again? Just keep cooking…who asked, "What’s for dinner?" Just keep teaching…how to tie shoe laces. Just keep smiling…when I don’t feel like it. Maybe it’s… Just keep praying for my children to know