Upwardly Dependent » walking the delicate balance of absolute truth and overwhelming grace.

Masthead header

Don’t Judge Me Because I Sin Differently Than You {A Mountain We All Need to Climb}

I just returned from a week in Colorado. Why in the world it’s taken me 26 years to make it there I’ll never know.

I mean, look at this photo I shot from 13.5 miles up Pikes Peak.


Last week totally turned me into a mountain gal. I could have soaked up this landscape for days. But that’s about where I want it to end.

I don’t climb mountains.

As I walked through the snow-covered picnic area of the gift shop at Pikes Peak, all I could think about was how miserable it would be to try and climb a mountain in that mess.

Shoot, I think it’d be pretty miserable to climb a mountain in go-go-gadget boots. Or riding a donkey. Or with the help of a jetpack.

Seriously, I don’t climb mountains.

Part of me loves to see a challenge staring me in the face. I enjoy the thrill of tackling a hot glue gun project or a new professional job. I love meeting new people and seeing new places.

{I’m growing to appreciate challenges that involve exercise…okay, people?}

But there’s another part of me that wants to run from big ole’ mountains. I’m not talking literally anymore.

You know, those looming, scary parts of your mind that always creep back to haunt you? Or the relative that reveals your inner demon who can think up some pretty creative ways to torture someone? Or the task that seems impossible to even scratch the surface of completion?

My mountain usually juts out of the top of every church building.

A few months ago, I wrote a post about being a millennial and wanting to bring unity to a church divided. Good news: I’m learning a lot. Bad news: I don’t think I’ve unified anybody.

There’s a serious epidemic running through religious bodies all across our country. It’s not just in my faith background of the churches of Christ. I’m hearing it from all my fellow believers.

Christians are on either side of a theological shift pointing fingers and raising eyebrows and stabbing backs all for the sake of defending a creed.

And I’m standing in the middle hearing insults hurled back and forth. I’m reading the blog articles shared on Facebook with comments like, Yessss {please think like me}. I’m watching two religious armies building up momentum for one big ugly battle.

A battle that’s absolutely absurd. How have we all missed it?

Hello, everyone out there with a Bible in your hand. WE’RE ON THE SAME SIDE!


In studying Romans 14 with some friends this week, I realized again just how fired up this topic makes me.

One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables. Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him.

To my Christian brother:
We may worship differently. We may sing, pray, and preach differently. But you are not my enemy. God has welcomed you. And for this reason I welcome you as we labor together in the Kingdom.

Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand.

To my Christian sister:
You are not my servant. You are the Lord’s. So I have no place to judge your service. The Lord knows you better than I ever could, and He is able to make you STAND.

For none of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself. If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.

To my church Family:
We are a body. We are one Spirit, one mind, one baptism. But we aren’t worshippers of the name on our building. We belong to the Lord. And He is bigger than any walls we can put up to divide ourselves from others. {Or any church pews we can claim as our own.}

Why do you pass judgment on your brother? Or you, why do you despise your brother? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God…so then each of us will give an account of himself to God. Therefore let us not pass judgment on one another any longer, but rather decide never to put a stumbling block or hindrance in the way of a brother.

To my fellow believer:
We are on the same team. If I don’t work with you, then there’s no way we can win. I don’t have to answer for your actions, but you do. And if I truly care about you as part of my body, then I will do anything I can to build you up. To empower you. To strengthen you. To edify you.


Guys, I don’t have time to go around trying to save the saved. My mission in life is not to pack every believer into my church building.

Somewhere along the line, we have to believe in the power of the Spirit to speak truth to people through God’s Word. And we have to believe in the power of our God to discern people’s hearts.

Take a load off. We aren’t the judges here. We are going to BE judged. And so is everyone else. {As in, the people who don’t know Him yet.}

We’ll never win over the world if we look exactly like the world. As long as Christians are beating each other up and talking poorly about one another, we dirty the name of Jesus. To the point that it’s not recognizable.

If we can’t get along with our fellow believers, then maybe we don’t actually believe. Maybe God’s Spirit is not in us. And maybe we are the weaker person in Romans 14.

However liberated I feel in my relationship with God, another person may feel more comfortable obeying a set of rules. It’s not my job to free him or her. It’s not my place to roll my eyes or to even defend my beliefs.

It’s God’s place to redeem. And it’s my place to love.

I want to climb this mountain. But I can’t do it alone. I needed my fellow believers joining with me, taking my hand, and committing with me to bring peace to the Body of Christ.


Do you believe there is a need for healing? Will you commit to join me in this effort?

Ryan MalechaDecember 15, 2013 - 12:09 pm

Very well said. Instead of being on a mission to look for the ways we’re different, we need to celebrate the unity that we have through Christ.

What I Want My Daughter To Know About Body Image

I flew into Colorado last night, a little tired from wrestling with an active six month old. My early Christmas present from Delta was a message that my luggage had not made it with me to the airport {oh, joy!}.

I called the couple who had generously offered to house us and explained our situation. We would be a little later getting in because I needed to find somewhere to buy baby cereal, formula, diapers, and all the other essentials that were lost somewhere in Salt Lake City.

In an effort to sound normal and down-to-earth, I asked where the nearest Wal-Mart was located.

I clearly forgot that I was in Colorado. I was directed to the nearest Whole Foods instead.

The people here are absolutely incredible, hospitable, and inviting. They are also totally granola.

My breakfast consisted of apple-cranberry-pecan organic muffins {with decaf coffee}. Lunch was vegetarian, and our afternoon snack was biscotti and hot tea.

There were people running outside. In the snow.

Where I come from, the only reason you run in the snow is if a big wild animal is chasing you.

I truly find the vitamin/essential oil/organic lifestyle very charming. But if I’m honest, all I wanted today was a venti quad latte from Starbucks to knock out my caffeine-deprivation-induced headache.


I prepared for bed tonight and the same nagging thoughts crept back into my mind.

You’re not thin enough.

Those pants aren’t loose enough.

Your hair needs a touch-up.

Your skin is too dry.

The problem with today wasn’t with the healthy food I was served or the active people I was around. Those things are great. The problem with today was how I felt when I looked at myself in the mirror.

The problem was with my body image.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been the bigger girl. I outgrew my mom’s shoes in the 5th grade. I couldn’t share clothes with my friends because they just didn’t fit. I dreaded the scales at the doctor’s office every. single. time.

I refuse to wear shorts because my legs are shaped weird. Sometimes I cover my big toenail with a band-aid so that people won’t notice how ugly it grew back {I lost it twice}. I change clothes at least three times each morning before I leave the house.

I’ve made comments about dyeing my hair, painting my nails, or buying new clothes just to keep up with my sisters. I joke about how my hips don’t lie and how I shouldn’t be wearing skinny jeans.

I just want to be done with all of this. It’s not my sisters’ fault that I have body image issues. And I don’t really think anybody cares how my big toenail looks.

The last thing I want is for my daughter to hear me make excuses for my own lack of self-esteem.

It breaks my heart that I prayed for God to grant her with a tall, slender body and high metabolism.

Ugh. I actually prayed that.

I didn’t want her to grow up and struggle with the same issues I have. But if my daughter doesn’t dream about fitting into a size two pair of jeans, she’s going to dream about something else.

She’ll dream about having clearer skin. Or a fuller bra size. Or straighter hair. Or curlier hair. Or in the middle-er hair.

We are women, and we’re our own worst critics.

I want desperately for my daughter to know that every woman struggles with body image. Satan can find something in each of us that kills our confidence about the way we look.

But most importantly, I want my daughter to know that overcompensating for her insecurities will never fill the hole that God can fill Himself.

To my beautiful, precious daughter:

Whatever it is that dampens your spirit when you look into the mirror, please know this: God is bigger.

If you want to eat healthy, don’t do it because you want to see a lower number on a scale. Do it because you want God to have power over food in your life.

If you want to live an active lifestyle, don’t do it because you like how you look in tighter clothes. Do it because God can use a healthy person to serve in the Kingdom.

If you want to dye your hair or do your nails, don’t do it because you want others to notice you. Do it because…well, I don’t have a good reason to do it. {Let’s just pamper ourselves together once in a while for fun, ok?}

Whatever you do, don’t let your looks become your idol. There will always be someone skinnier, healthier, and prettier than how you feel. But those same women have their own set of insecurities. And they also have the need to let God fill their holes, too.

My beautiful daughter, how you see yourself in the mirror is a reflection of the confidence you draw from the Creator who made you, fearfully and wonderfully.



How do you talk to your daughters about body image? What are good ways to build our daughters’ confidence as they grow into young women? {Don’t worry…I won’t have this conversation for a while…I hope!}

JenniferDecember 10, 2013 - 1:14 am

So far I don’t talk about bodies in any critical way. Not mine. Not theirs. We talk about our strong muscles or how fast we can run and we thank God for that.
London’s six and we haven’t had one talk about the shape of my body or the shape of hers. Praise God.
I suspect culture will invade soon enough and we’ll need to figure it out. But for now, I think my silence has been good for all of us.

Tammy ClaytonDecember 10, 2013 - 6:47 am

Simply…thank you, Lauren.

SarahDecember 10, 2013 - 8:17 am

I think these thoughts so often. I am so scared that one day I will make some devistating mistake with my children and they will forever be discontent with their bodies. I play through, in my head, what questions they might ask about the various, vane things I do to make myself feel better about not being perfect, or the worldly things I busy myself with because I can’t come to terms with how to “be enough”. It feels good to not be alone in that battle, but not being alone isn’t the same as trying to overcome. Thank you for these words and your honest heart. I have even longer than you before these conversations happen, at least with my own children, but it gives me hope knowing that others are preemptively fighting the battle. Maybe there is a way to get it right. :) love you

AMBERDecember 10, 2013 - 9:33 am

You are and have always been beautiful!!

MarciaDecember 10, 2013 - 11:49 am

Beautifully said!

ShawnaDecember 10, 2013 - 3:44 pm

You are an amazing mother. Thank you for writing such an inspiring blog.

StefanieDecember 10, 2013 - 4:08 pm

This made me cry reading it. I’ve always had all the same thoughts. You are a truly inspiring person.

Lyndsee BurlesonDecember 10, 2013 - 4:36 pm

I’ve always had the worst time with body image. I’m 6’1″ and weight over 200 lbs. my husband is shorter than me and when we first got married I got rid of all my heels for the sake of not embarrassing him. (he never once cared). I prefer my hair short while other girls looks more lady like with it long. I don’t feel comfortable in shorts, and I hate the way my legs stick to chairs any how. I wear size 11 shoes and that’s stretching. I will never not have a belly. but in my life, I can honestly say I have never felt more beautiful than when my daughter tells me so. my own mother thinks I have things that need changing and that my husband isn’t doing me any favors telling me I’m beautiful every day, but my sweet 3 year old compliments my outfits and jewelry and hair and nails. I know that these things don’t even matter. it’s the smile I wear and the love I bring. but it’s so hard to remember. but I know that I will never tell lily she is anything but perfect, we will not discuss diets, and if anyone tells her she’s too skinny I’ll punch them. cause she is how God wanted her to be, and that’s a lesson to me.

Patsy MooreDecember 10, 2013 - 6:34 pm

Lauren, you have always been a beautiful girl inside and out. You are exactly right! Regardless of how we look or what we have, we will want something else. Physical appearance can be changed; however, a person’s true beauty comes from within them. Your daughter and your future children have a great Mom!

Misti GrayDecember 10, 2013 - 7:09 pm

Wow. Perspective is a strange thing. Yours is the body image I wanted to have–the epitome of feminity with your curves and grace, height and hair. We all struggle with something, you are exactly right. This small insight has made me think twice about the body image I portray to my girls. Thank you for sharing.

SusanDecember 10, 2013 - 7:30 pm

Lauren, you are the coolest. I have always admired you, and I just wanted to say thanks for this! You have one lucky daughter! :)

MistyDecember 10, 2013 - 11:15 pm

Thank you for such wonderful and inspiring thoughts!

Kimberly WasherDecember 11, 2013 - 2:18 pm

Great day in the morning. You amaze me every time I read something you write. Looking at you and knowing you I would never know that you struggle with these things. I love your honesty and transparency! I honestly haven’t even thought about the body image conversation that I will probably have to have one day, but hopefully all of us girl mommies can provide advice to each other. Keep writing…you’re sooo good!!

michelle.goodman1963@gmail.comDecember 11, 2013 - 9:35 pm

Boy! Im so proud of you Lauren. I love being able to call you my niece, you are truly pleasing to God. But I must say, from the day you were born you have just gotten more beautiful with each passing year. You have a precious soul. I love who you are! I know that God has great things prepared for you and the wonderful family that with Gods help you are creating. I want you to know that you glow with beauty my dear from the inside out.

I love you dearly,thanks so much for sharing this. I would have never known you struggled with such issues. You hide it well.

Aunt Michelle :)

Jane MulderDecember 11, 2013 - 10:03 pm

Thank you Lauren.

Heather BolesJanuary 9, 2014 - 9:49 pm

This is exactly what id love for my daughter to know

Mary, Did You {REALLY} Know?

It’s 1 AM. I shouldn’t be awake. I shouldn’t be thinking. And I definitely shouldn’t be writing about anything Biblical. But, here I am.

It’s all because of a Christmas song I have always hated.

When Mary Did You Know comes on the radio at Christmastime, I usually push the buttons on my dash frantically to get to a different station. Songs about Mary and Jesus are always written in a minor key with some Enya-sounding instrument in the background.

{Case in point: Breath of Heaven.}

I guess becoming a mother has turned me into a softie, though. I was driving alone last week and the words to this song shook me like never before.

Mary did you know…when you kissed your little baby, you kissed the face of God?

Man, I love my kid. She’s sweet, funny, and full of every ounce of goodness. I kiss her incessantly. So does Gavin. So does everybody else in the world. I’ve probably kissed half of the old ladies at my church just by kissing Eliza’s face second-hand.

But in all seriousness, Mary, DID you know?

Did you know that you would give birth to the Son of God? Did you know that you would be visited by wise men who would bring the richest gifts to a humble stable? Did you know that you would have to escape with your brand new baby to a new land?

Did you know that you would have to fear for your son’s life? Did you know you would be entrusted with keeping the world’s Redeemer alive? Did you know you’d have to take him to yet another new city, meet new people, and try to fit in?

Did you know what prophecy said would become of your son? Did you wait in utter anxiety, worrying about the future pain He would have to endure? Did you want to protect Him? Did you want Him to protect you?

Did you know that He would have such a following? Did you know that thousands of people would call on His name? Did you know that nations would rise and fall, all because of the impact of His life? Did you know that millions of lives would be changed because of the birth of YOUR little boy?

Did you know that some lady would be sitting in a living room 2,000 years later at 1 AM writing about your son, because she just couldn’t get Him off her mind?

Probably not, or you would have needed a life supply of Xanax.


Honestly, I hope that God protected Mary from knowing all of this. When I look at my daughter and kiss her face, I’m scared to death to know what she will live through. I also love to sit and dream about all the people she will bless in her lifetime.

But there’s nothing I would pay to know it. Each day is a faith step. Each minute is a glimpse into the future. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I held my precious baby tonight as she fell asleep, savoring the smell of her skin and rhythm of her breathing. I look at her and I swell with pride and joy and love. And I want the whole world to know that she is MY baby.

eliza snow 2013f

Mary might not have known the implications of her carrying, delivering, and raising the Promised One. But I know she had to have swollen with an extra dose of pride and joy and love. When she kissed that tiny face, she kissed the face of God.


I may just keep the radio station playing the next time I hear these words.

Sara @ GaijinMomDecember 8, 2013 - 2:04 am

Girlfriend. I thought the exact.same.thing just two days ago. Good gracious, I hope she didn’t. The older I get, the more I so appreciate Mary. I love that Christ’s last act was to make sure his mother was cared for… What a testament to her.

Will N.December 8, 2013 - 7:24 am

Great post, Lauren.

What always amazed me about Mary is that she knew – but then she didn’t know later on. She had the vision and heard the prophecy that she was the one, received the divine Spirit pregnancy, but then throughout Jesus’s life she seems to forget. Maybe she had to forget to deal with the awesomeness of it all. I just think it goes to show that even the best and most holy people often lose sight of God’s plan. That gives me hope in that if the way is not always clear to them, I shouldn’t be surprised that it so often isn’t clear to me.

Love the updated blog and I am praying for all your plans.

AmberDecember 8, 2013 - 8:52 pm

I felt the same way the first time I read the story of Abraham sacrificing Isaac after I had Brady. I studied and read that many times before, but once I became a mother I could not read it without thinking like a mother. I am confident had God asked Sarah to sacrifice Isaac, the story would have ended much differently. Motherhood is a miraculous thing in so many ways. One being that it changes your mind. Case and point= angry birds wrapping paper. Love you, sweet friend. :)

The Adoption Process {Just the Basics}

I will say it again. I have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support since Gavin and I announced the adoption of our second child. I opened each Facebook message, text, and email with a little caution…I think I was genuinely afraid that someone would say something discouraging or just outright stupid.

I obviously need to quit reading adoption blogs for a few days. And I obviously have too little faith in the amazing people that surround my family.

Thank you so much for your interest in the matters of our hearts. I’ve been asked so many questions about the process that we are beginning, so here is a simple infographic that will give you a basic overview. The internet is such a blessing in connecting us to others’ blogs who are on this journey {thanks Allison and Bill, wherever you are, for making cool graphics}!


Lesotho Process


We are in the middle of Step 4, and paperwork is an everyday exercise. They don’t call adoption a paper pregnancy for nothing. But hey, I’m not having to run to the bathroom every few hours this time around!

Home is Wherever I’m with You {My First Adoption Breakdown}

I wouldn’t say that I’m the whitest white person I’ve ever known. I guess I could always wear more ruffle-bottom pants and listen to more James Taylor.

Honestly, sometimes I forget that skin color matters to people. There’s a part of me that secretly obsesses over the GloZell YouTube channel {you’re welcome}. I felt perfectly comfortable teaching in Kenya last summer as the only mzungu {white person}. Clothes from Rave always fit me better than those from Belk {anybody???}.

So the fact that I’m adopting a son from Africa probably doesn’t surprise any of you. But last week it completely freaked me out.

Every Thursday morning I have a “Bible Study” with three of the most incredible women. We march into Aletha’s living room at 8:30 with our 1,000 Gifts books by Ann Voscamp {this is our front}. Kelly starts up the Keurig, Erin and I nestle into couches and chairs, and we all let our guards down.

There’s a whole lot of talking, listening, loving, venting, and supporting. And we leave about four hours later ready to conquer the world for another week.

This particular day, all that was asked was: Lauren, how are you doing with the adoption?

Oh boy. That blasted ugly cry. It came out of nowhere.

I’d been reading 20 Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Adoptive Parents Knew. Listen to a few testimonies from disgruntled adoptees and you’ll quickly realize those cute little orphan babies grow up to be real adults with real insecurities and real unresolved grief.

I’m not playing save-the-baby anymore. I’m in big girl momma panties now.

And I’m afraid they’re more on the unattractive, mauve-colored, granny side of things.

I sat rocking Eliza to sleep, my coffee turning cold, vomiting every fear I had about the adoption to my dear friends.

What if they hate him in Asia because he’s dark-skinned?

What if we struggle with attachment issues?

What do I say to the doctor when he asks about his family’s medical history?

Will our families be able to love him just as much as our biological daughter?

Will he be embarrassed of his white mother sitting in the front pew on his wedding day?

What if I have no idea how to relate to my own children?

It all smacked me in the face. The safe, comfortable, easily-understood home my mother blessed me with…the home that allowed me to blossom and thrive…will never be a gift I can give my own children.

My children will be stared at. My children will be asked hard questions. My children will live in numerous houses in numerous countries. My children will be different.

I sit here typing these words through tears because my heart painfully breaks for them. I look at Eliza’s perfectly innocent face. I hear her giggle. I imagine the precious cheeks of my son. I can see his toothy grin. And I just want to whisper to both of them, I’M SO SORRY.

I’m sorry for how strong you will have to be. I’m sorry for the times you will feel isolated. I’m sorry for the day society gives you hate instead of love. I’m sorry that our family looks so different. I’m just so sorry to ask SO MUCH of you.

And then my Healer comes back to my rescue. He redeems my fears and reminds me that He can.

He can make my children stronger than they could ever be on their own. He can give them a place to belong. He can always give love and drive out hate. He can see our normal family, not our mismatched color. And He can always keep asking SO MUCH of us.

He can, and He will.

– – – – – – – – – –

My mother says that home is more than just a house. Home is where your family is.

Now, my home is in Middle Tennessee. In a few months, my home will be in Southeast Asia. In a year or two, my home will consist of a husband and two children of mixed nationalities.

Who knows…in five years we may be living on a different continent in a house with red, yellow, black, and white babies. We could throw in a mixed-breed dog and a gender-neutral fish just to keep it interesting.

But there’s one thing I commit to consistently whisper to my children.

Home is wherever I’m with you.


KathrynDecember 4, 2013 - 1:19 am

So brave and real and you… and among the reasons why I know you won’t just be whispering it, you’ll be shouting it…but mostly in action. The cool thing about love that big is that it may not be able to drive out every bit of hate- some are stubborn in theirs- but it can give most of it a run for its money. With you loving big enough, in some ways the rest won’t matter. Your safe zone will be there in every continent and with every change of scenery and family dynamic. Even when people will misunderstand and sometimes be ugly. Big love just breeds more big love. :) I’m not naive enough to think you won’t have brutal days, but I think love really does win. Every time. I’m glad you can share these things and hopefully be filled up by the people who love you big!

Kimberly EdwardsDecember 4, 2013 - 6:59 am

Lauren, fifteen years ago our hearts were where your hearts are now. We had four teenagers, and then adopted into our family our precious little boys. Being at each of their births, preparing in every way we knew how, we were confident that this was God’s will for our lives. We still believe this. But it has been hard. Down on our knees, crying out to the Lord hard. There is so much we don’t understand. Over the past five months we have had to hospitalize our youngest twice, once in a foreign country. We have learned to depend on Him to carry us one day at a time. And He does. Raising two black sons is not the greatest challenge. Standing strong in your conviction to raise this child God has entrusted to you, to be the living example of sacrifice and unconditional love- this is where the challenge lies. We are so grateful that God allowed us to be the parents of six precious children. He will equip you for the journey.

Deborah WilsonDecember 4, 2013 - 10:18 am

Just a thought….. I do not want to, in any way, downplay the very real issues you’ve brought up for your children’s future dealings. However, just a thought that perhaps your assisting them in dealing with their differences will only help with more focus on this world NOT being their (our) home???? I love you and so much appreciate your shared thoughts about this journey. Blessings

Lola-Margaret HallDecember 4, 2013 - 10:19 am

I just love you to pieces. You are real, and God made real people, not fake people.

KrisDecember 4, 2013 - 10:39 am


Bethany McGillDecember 9, 2013 - 12:09 pm

You’re gonna do amazing..this process is gonna strengthen you more than you will ever know (not that I’ve experienced adopting fully YET, but I have had the privilege of being involved with many and tears of happiness flow everytime)
When Jeremy and I moved to China, it wasn’t meant to be temporary thing. Journey was barely 15 months old and Jeremy had left a month before us, so my long flight with 6 giant luggage bags 5 carry ons, and a baby stroller AND a baby was a challenge, not to mention having to recheck everything in Japan and re board…anyways one of our goals when we got there was to begin the adoption process (everytime I went to Africa I wanted to bring a dozen loves back with me, but this time we were in China and that’s where our opportunity was at the time) …we began with a friend there who was an attorney and pretty much were turned down right away ( one of their number one rules is parents have to both be at least 30 yrs old) only exception was to adopt a child with special needs, and though I would love to we weren’t exactly prepared for that and prayed that unless God just blessed us with it out of nowhere with a special needs child, we wouldnt keep trying at that moment. And what do ya know Literally a week later I found out we were pregnant with River. (I thought selfishly, did I just ask for a special child? Would something be wrong with my baby? I was terrified, and lacked any prenatal care for the first 7 months until we came back to the states) Now I know God was telling me, you’re not ready to adopt yet (if at all, but there’s always been a fire in me to care for a baby hopefully more than one or two, that didn’t come from my belly but that I could give them all the live I had) so I still believe one day we will. I want a huge family but I also think how selfish I am if I have more of my own rather than adopting the plethora of unwanted, hungry, thrown away children that already exist and don’t have a mama or daddy to love them. So I won’t give up on adopting, but it sure is hard for me to listen to the answer “not right now”… I am so excited for your “Journey” and plan to share in your roadblocks and happy times throughout the process until you hold your sweet boy in your arms 😉 Prayers are certainly being sent your way and for your baby boy that you don’t even know yet 😉

Steven WellsJanuary 12, 2014 - 7:56 pm

My mother was just my mother. I typically would forget the whole adoption thing, and even when I did start thinking about it and wonder and make anything of it, I didn’t really think much of what kind of struggle it might have been to have been a mother of an adopted child. Again, I didn’t feel any different which should attest to the job she did, but I didn’t consider the extra worries my “difference” that must have been heaped upon the load that is motherhood in general.

ChloeJanuary 14, 2014 - 4:04 pm

Where in Southeast Asia are you moving!?!?!

laceyJanuary 24, 2014 - 11:16 pm

WOW! i will have to say that you are a very strong person and whether your babies are brown, yellow, white or purple for that matter, he/she will be loved. I can feel your love for god in the words you type and can tell that you will truly be an inspiration to your children! God bless you