Why Is He Not Answering My Prayers?

There are some things in life that are just hard to understand. All within the same week I attended a wake for a three year old child, I talked with a family member whom I discovered lost a child to infertility, I've witnessed the death of a marriage that is occurring, and it makes me ask why. Why do people have to go through such pain and hardships when others seem to have it all going on good? Why after endless prayers over and over does God not grant the desires of our hearts? No one should ever have to experience the pain of losing a child. It hurts even worse knowing they are a great family, and that she was and is a great mother to her children, and that they do good things for other people. Why them? Or those couples that experience infertility; why them? Why give the drug addict who can't take care of a child and who doesn't want a child first before the woman begging in her prayers for a child whom can wholeheartedly take care of that child? How does one marriage survive infidelity, but another marriage fails because they just never see eye to eye? Why do bad things happen to good people?

The questions for our unanswered prayers are endless. Our search for understanding is endless. 

The mother who lost her child, how does she move forward in life without her child? I witnessed an immeasurable amount of strength in that mother as she so graciously gave her precious time and attention to all the concerned and sympathizing beings in the room that evening. How did she do that?! I asked. She was so strong. And then she started telling me that her young child served her purpose here on earth and that something really great is going to come of her loss. (Not exactly in those words, but along those lines.) I was in awe of how she was so positive and hopeful when all I wanted to do was hug her and cry with her. Her strength was admirable.

When discovering the family member who lost their child also, I was in awe of her strength. I had no idea, but I saw her positive post as if life was going really well for her. And then when she shared her news with me, I was again in awe by her strength, her wisdom and her faith about her situation. 

And to the marriage that was ending, her hope in life moving on for her and that things were going to work out, even if a divorce wasn't what she wanted. And even when her marriage wasn't finalized by divorce yet, she was already speaking hopeful things into her future. I was again, taken back by her strength. 

Watching and hearing all of this happen in the same week posed that question we've all asked ourselves at some time or another; why isn't God answering my prayers? You may not believe in God; to each is own. But you may also be asking yourself, why is this happening to me? 

The answer is; you may never know. The mothers and fathers who lose their children may never understand why their child's life was cut all too short and why they get to live on. The woman who's body is struggling to prepare itself for a child may never understand why her blessing is on hold. And 50% of men and women that end in divorce may never understand why they didn't remain on the other side of the 50%; blissfully married. They may never understand, but I know they sure as heck are calling out for answers. Why me? Why can't the pain go away? Why can't the bad memories be erased? How long do I have to suffer? Will this ever get better? And the question I shamefully admit I've asked God one too many times; if you're so big and mighty, why can't you take this hurt away from me? Why aren't you listening to me?

I've gone through gut wrenching, heart tearing pain before. I've felt dead in an alive world. I've asked over and over why me? I've asked over and over, when will I move on from the pain? And here I am today, often times still reminded of the pain. There are days I still feel broken. Everything seems perfectly puzzled together right now in my life, but my heart is still reminded of the hurt. How much longer do I have to remember the hurt? I ask in prayer. 

After a long time of what felt like suffering, I've learned one thing about my trials and I've noticed the same thing in each and every person that has experienced trials too. That no matter the storm, they survived. And not only did they survive, but they came out stronger. And not only were they stronger, but they were more patient, more understanding, more forgiving, and more kind. And for me, I see my growth and transformation as a blessing. It was necessary for me to go through the pain in order to be where I am today. Where I am today may not be where I wanted to be, but who knows how I'd be mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually had things gone my way. I'm actually afraid to know what that would look like. Listening to God wasn't so bad after all. 

My testimony was formed from my pain and suffering. My relationship, not just my beliefs in God, but my intimate relationship with Him was formed from my pain and suffering. And I have to somewhat believe that maybe that's exactly why I had to go through my pain and suffering. Maybe I had to go through some hardship so I would have a testimony to share with others and that may even help others. Maybe I had to go through some hardship so I would get to know God a little better than I once did. Maybe He wanted to know me a lot more and He took the one thing he knew would get my attention the most and it would either force me to choose life in Him or death on earth. Maybe, just maybe, my hardship was meant to be for the best. 

I have to believe that bad things happen to good people for the best. To help them grow and to help them strengthen. And most of all, to prepare them for their future blessings.

I heard this analogy once that I'd like to share.

God wants to anoint us with His blessings. The term anoint means to smear or cover with. So God wants to cover us with His blessings. Think of our blessings as paint on a wall. The paint is long lasting. But before the paint is put on the wall, the wall is primed. The wall is primed so the paint sticks better to the wall and so the paint will last longer. God primes us before He paints us. In layman's terms; He takes us through some shit before anointing us with His blessings. (That's not the analogy and terminology that I originally heard, but sharing 'hardship' once more felt as if I was undermining my real feelings behind the pain) God puts us through some really hard shit, but He has a purpose to it all. It's so we are primed and ready to be painted and anointed with His blessings.

I understand some of you may not believe  or even want to understand that analogy, but hiding behind my faith and not speaking out about Gods glory was not my destiny. I was called to share His name with others and I was called to speak out about Him. For many years I sat quietly and humbly in my faith, and that was okay too, but God had plans to use me. And I can't help but think that He allowed those things to happen in my life so He could better use me. 

I've had friends and even family ask and wonder how I picked up the pieces in my life and moved forward. They are in awe of my strength; to which I remind them that my strength is not my own. And what I can't say for others because their beliefs are not for me to comment on, I can say for myself. What I can say for myself, is that without my God, Elizabeth Anne Pitney would not exist in this world today. I wanted to take my ticket out of this world. Leaving seemed much more painless than staying at the time. And when He knew I'd be thinking that way, He put something in my life at just the perfect time to ensure I would not take my own way out and to ensure that instead of choosing death, I'd choose life in Him. That blessing He bestowed upon me in the midst of what felt like death, was new life. In the midst of all of my pain and suffering He whispered to me and said, "Everything will be all right my dear child, you may rest in my presence." That new life was the news I received of Lincoln. When I felt like leaving, God knew it. But to keep me here, He said, try again, only this time, you will not only be taking just one of my children, but two from me. As frustrating as it can sometimes be, He knows my heart better than I know my own. And He knew I wasn't going anywhere with that child inside of me.

So I sit here today and share with you all just another segment of my testimony to which I am anxiously awaiting for my book to be finished, and reveal the rest of it. Can I be honest and frank? I used to hate writing. But little did I know that it would become my gift to help others. Little did I know it would become my way to express the words on my heart that go unspoken. Little did I know that God would take something I once despised doing, and turn it into something I am finally passionate about. I've felt I've searched so long for my passion and without even realizing it, it was uncovered throughout my hardship. Writing became my means of communicating most effectively to the ones I love most. It became my therapy. And now it's become my gift and talent that I will hopefully be able to use to help others.

I say this all to hopefully give you some hope in your current storms in life. Whatever hardship you're going through, there's a light at the end of the tunnel. There's dry land and beautiful flowers replanted after the storm is over. Your faith, your entire life and everything in it may be shaken, but you'll come out stronger in the end. You will be a better person. 

Your tests in life may become your testimonies to share and help others. Your mess of a life just may one day turn into your message to help others. Just remind yourself in the midst of your storm that you are being primed right now for something really great that is coming your way. I am just an average joe on this planet. But I have a calling and a higher purpose than I once thought I was set here on earth to do. You too, have a higher purpose and sometimes, as much as it hurts to go through the pain and suffering, it's necessary to ho through to get you to that higher purpose you're here for.

God never left my prayers unanswered, He just answered them differently than what I imagined them to be. He reminded me that He has my heart and my best interest at His heart. He was the only one that was able to make me feel loved the way I desired and He was the only one that could heal my broken heart and patch up my open wounds. He is the reason I am who I am today and He is the reason I have what I have today. 

Those dark days still want to creep up on me, but choosing life in Him has helped me survive those dark reminders. 

My prayer for you all is that you too can press forward in hopes that you will discover your purpose and your testimony through all your hardship. 

May you be blessed. 

To The Mom Who Doesn't or Can't Breastfeed

​I couldn’t help but find myself envious of my friend Lauren, whom you see blogging on here as well, and her journey of breastfeeding her little Maverick for his first year of life. Where Lauren was skeptical and terrified of the concept of breastfeeding, I was all too excited to breastfeed Lincoln in the beginning. I always thought it was so cool how a mom could literally feed another human being from her breasts. Like, the baby literally grows and grows and grows from eating off your breasts! How freaking cool is that?! I was pumped to get started, and I received wind that when you breastfeed, your boobs get a whole cup size bigger. Winner, winner! ​

​Moments after Lincoln entered this world, they laid him on my bare chest for me to fully grasp the gift of life that was granted to me. The little miracle, whom I had the pleasure of being a vessel of life for him, was now in my arms and laying ever so peacefully on my chest. It was absolutely amazing, and a moment I will NEVER forget. He naturally wiggled his way over to my nipple. And yes, as Lauren said, your nipple becomes the size of a helicopter landing pad. It was quite unappealing and disturbing to look at myself at first. I called my nipples the AK-47’s of nipples. They were huge, and frightening to stare at in the beginning. But my breasts eventually filled out very nicely and I quickly forgot about the dark big and gross looking areolas. Linc found those suckers within moments after birth. Apparently he has some sort of sensory telling him where his milk supply is. He latched on like a pro; no problems. 

​Day two in the hospital was a different story, the breastfeeding became super painful and he was needing to eat frequently and every single time he latched on, though he was latching on correctly, it felt like someone was taking a sharp knife and slowly scraping off one layer of skin at a time on my breasts. The lactation consultants did all they could to help me with the pain. They were grabbing my breasts for me and sticking the nipple in Lincoln’s mouth to make sure that sucker was put right where it was supposed to be, but still no relief came. 

​I was about three weeks into breastfeeding and I wanted to give up. I cried nearly every time I had to feed my son. The sucking for milk hurt so bad that I had to put a towel in my mouth and hold Ryan’s hand every time I fed Lincoln and with each suck I bit down hard onto the towel and squeezed his hand so hard I nearly broke my hand every single feeding from squeezing so hard to take my mind off the pain. I'd let out a big ole F*#$!!!kkk! to make myself feel better. It wasn’t until about week six that I finally found out that I had a yeast infection on my nipples the entire time, and apparently that makes it hurt like hell when you are breastfeeding. I got that cleared up and breastfeeding became a breeze. I was so stressed out about it in the beginning that my supply was dwindling down, but when I was free from the stress of pain, my supply began to increase.   

​But at about month two and a half, I started seeing some changes in my supply again. Pumping for milk WAS a fulltime job. It was the most stressful thing I ever had to do. I felt like I couldn’t leave the house because I was constantly pumping for milk before I could leave Linc with his daddy. Then I’d come home, only to latch him right back on my boob because he had gone through my pump supply already. Lincoln would fuss and fuss as if he were still hungry and I quickly realized at that point that he wasn’t getting enough milk in his feedings. He was cranky because he was still hungry. I had to start thinking about supplementing with some formula for his own good so he would be satisfied. I researched the heck out of every formula that was worth the read. I finally came across one made by Nature’s Own called, Baby’s Only Organic Formula. Aside from goats milk, which is the next best supplement to mother’s milk, this formula seemed to be the golden ticket.  

​

          Once I began feeding Lincoln with formula, my supply dwindled even more. Now I am only able to feed him with what I consider a snack to hold him over until his bottle gets warmed up. I went from absolute pain, to pain free and doing well with my supply, to pain free and no supply. It’s been quite the roller coaster ride, breastfeeding has. I was determined to feed Lincoln from myself for his entire first year of his life, but God had a different plan for me. It was also a pride thing for me. I wanted to feed him from my breasts knowing it was the best thing for him and when that couldn’t happen anymore, I felt like an insufficient mom. My body was able to carry him for nine months and I gave birth to a healthy baby boy, but come time to feed him and nourish him, my body couldn’t do it. I felt like a failure. 

​It still bothers me to this day that I don’t get to just latch him on my boob anywhere I go, any time I need to. It would be so nice and convenient at times. And the bond that I had with him when he was getting all his nourishment through me was also one I’ll cherish forever. I was only able to give him a good three months of breast milk, but I guess that is better than nothing. According to my doctor, it’s actually the best thing for me right now because breast feeding causes your estrogen levels to jump all over the place and I’m also dealing with some postpartum, which is due to my hormonal imbalance, and the breastfeeding for me would only make my road to recovery from postpartum, that much longer. 

​I’m sad and mad about the fact that I can’t feed my son directly from me, but I am forever grateful for the formula that does give him the nutrients to grow and survive. As Lauren put it, there’s no right or wrong way to feed your baby. You’re going to do what is best for both you and your baby. And what may be the best for your baby may not always be the best for you. Weighing out the pros and cons is important. And for those that have struggled like I have with being able to breastfeed, carry on, warrior. You are already fighting enough battles day to day as a mother, a wife, a friend, an employee, and a daughter. Don’t put any more stress on yourself than you have to. You are doing an amazing job and your baby will love you regardless of what you can and can’t do for him/her. All they need is some real good lovin', which you have an endless supply of! 

Overcoming My Addiction

Below is a letter I received three years ago from my abuser, which is preceding to the blog. 

Dear Elizabeth,

​Do you remember the night I showed up and fed you nothing but sweets for dinner? You didn’t seem to mind that was all I brought you for dinner. You loved the cheesecake, the oreos, the ice cream and the rice cakes dipped in peanut butter that I served you. The joy that streamed from your eyes made me so happy. Do you remember that? You invited me into your home quite often. I usually showed up with lots of fatty and sugary foods because I knew they made you the happiest. You’d eat an entire box of “Cheez-its” before you’d even speak to me. But it was okay, as long as you were happy.

It got to a point where you invited me over so often that you started to hide me. Your roommates never knew I was around; they didn’t even know who I was. Again, I accepted that you hid me from others. After all, I was pretty mean and harmful. I started to abuse you physically and emotionally. You became an angry person because of the abuse I did to you. You took your pain out on others and never told them that I was the problem. You started to gain weight from all the foods I brought over for breakfast, lunch and dinner. When you began inviting me over for more than just dinner, I knew you were lonely. I was always there for you. We became good friends; attached at the hips, kind of friends.

One day, you went off to work and I never heard from you. You usually checked in, so I was a bit worried and I showed up at your door late one evening to check on you. You welcomed me, but you were crying. You took the treats I brought you and put them in the trash and poured milk over everything so you wouldn’t dig them out later to eat. The next day came and I never heard from you then either. You didn’t answer the door that night when I came knocking, so I decided I’d give you some space. We were spending a lot of time with one another and I knew you needed more time to yourself and others.

A month went by and I never heard from you. I knew you had a big test for finals and I knew what day it was on so I decided to come over the night before and give you some good luck treats. To my surprise you looked like a completely different person. I hardly recognized the new you. You were glowing in the face. But when you opened the door, you looked at me with the mean face I always gave you and others. You yelled at me while I stood awkwardly at your door step. You told me to never come back again. You said I was a bad influence and that all along I was not helping you at all, I was only hurting you. You slammed the door in my face and that was the last day I ever heard from you. It's  been a few years now and I still pass by you from time to time at the grocery store. We stare at one another, knowing that we were once great friends, but we keep on walking as if we were strangers all along. 

I see you are doing well now. You are helping other people get over the relationship that you were once in. It hurts my feelings a little because I know how good I can be at times, but I overhear you telling others how horrible I can be and that I should only be around in small amounts, like in these little things called “fruits.” My presence is dangerous and you tell them that you don’t want them to end up in a relationship like you were once in.

Even though we don’t associate with one another anymore, I am proud of you for letting me go. I admit that I am dangerous and abuse others physically and emotionally. I’m no good for anybody. I am the worst addiction for most people today; worse than my friends Al (Alcohol) and Coco (Cocaine). I wish you well in your future life and I hope you keep on inspiring others to find healthier replacements than me. I don’t deserve to have as many friends as I do.

​Sincerely,

Sugar

 

............. 

For years I carried an extra weight. Not the weight that is measured in pounds (though I could afford to lose some of those too), but there was an emotional weight that I had carried for far too long. I had my focus on the wrong weight all along. The extra weight that is measured in pounds was from the weight I carried in emotions. I never understood how I could lose the physical weight but still feel heavier than ever before. 

I hid behind my addiction to food and my eating disorder for many years. I hid it so well I sometimes had myself fooled as if I were healthy and well. A few years ago I wrote that letter to myself from my abuser; Sugar. Sugar had me wrapped around its finger. But Sugar was never the real problem in my struggle to lose weight. There was something deeper that I was struggling with. Sugar knew how to make me feel good. I felt loved to a certain degree. But there was this hole in my heart that no loved one could fill and no piece of chocolate could ever satisfy. The hole was empty, but it was still so heavy. It weighed me down emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually. 

All that time I was struggling with that weight, while He was up there patiently looking at me in wait. I'm sure it had to hurt Him more that He had to wait so long for me to lose the weight knowing all I had to do was ask Him for help and believe that He could help. When I finally let Him take away the emotional weight and I let him into that empty hole in my heart, I never felt heavy again. The longer I waited, the more I felt weighted. 

I think addiction is related to the desire to feel loved; at least it was for me. We have a misconception of love; for it is not a feeling, it is a choice. We feel happy when someone loves us, or we feel sad when someone doesn't love us. But we cannof feel loved or unloved; love is not a feeling. My addiction to food came with the desire to be loved. I had loved ones support me all along in my life, but not a single person filled me up the way my heart was seeking. I guess that's why God left me to feel so empty, because He knew I'd eventually need His love in that space in my heart. Before Him, I was okay with struggling on my own, fighting battles on my own, trying to find happiness on my own, surviving life on my own, but doing it all on my own was hard, it was burdening, and it was heavy. Knowing that His love and His love alone could take away that weight that made me feel so heavy was a choice I decided to make every day upon waking up. I choose His love because it has made fighting addiction, finding happiness, and surviving life a lot easier knowing He's there to help me and take away some of that weight.

I've been able to help so many people in this health and wellness industry because I share my experiences; not because I have good advice on working out and eating well. Those experiences have helped many people. My experiences have given others hope and they've given others a sense of direction. So if you're fighting a battle that you can't seem to win, let Him take over. I wasn't sure I'd ever win against my addiction to sugar, but with God's love I did. God has carried me through the lowest of lowest and has allowed me to experience the highest of highs. If He can do that for me, He can do that for you. And make sure you ask yourself is it the weight, or is it the wait, that is holding you back. 

At my heaviest (aside from pregnancy). What a coincidence, a drink in hand! 

One of my highest of highs: My baptism day, 10/12/14.

He Gives for Everything He Takes Away

Loss can never truly be empathized until you've experienced it for yourself. Prayers, sympathies, and condolences are all the ways we send our thoughts that we understand what one another is going through. But we don't know the severity of that persons loss until we feel it for ourselves; unfortunately. Time allows us to heal from loss. So we may have experienced loss over and over again, but each time we heal from what has been taken away. Only until the next time it happens again and we are reminded of what that open wound feels like. Today I was reminded of what that loss feels like. We lost a good one. My aunt, my mom's sister, has left to go on to her eternal home.

It's not until loss that we connect with one another as family and friends like never before. It's not until loss that we plead for God's grace and mercy like no other. Loss; it hurts so very much. We are surrounded by family and friends when we lose a loved one, and at the same time, we feel emptier than ever before. It's not the same kind of gathering like Christmas where family and friends are gathered and we celebrate the life of Jesus. No, we mourn as we gather together. But we need to celebrate. Life has just begun for those we lost. Eternal life that is. The life a lot of us all strive to make it to one day. 

You see, we aren't promised a single minute of breathing air on this planet. Life can be taken in the blink of an eye; literally. So the air you are breathing now, thank and praise the Lord that He still believes in you for giving you another breath, another minute, another day. When we know and understand this, we understand that loss is a part of life. We are meant to feel this emotion. Of course it's never easy. And of course we fear the loss of our loved ones. We're human, and humans are allowed to feel and fear at times. But I know, especially in the presence of loss, that the good Lord is wanting our attention more than ever. 

He does not take away to upset you, He takes away what He gave in the first place. We are His. And He is equally ours. He is ours to know and love. So what is it that He wants us to know about loss? The books says "Naked I came from my mothers womb, and naked I shall return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord."- Job 1:20-21.

So in the book of Job, He tells us in His word that we should equally rejoice when He takes away. Life is meant to celebrate at both birth and death. When it hurts, that's Satan's little reminder that he still exists too. He wants to remind you that your blessing has been taken away. And God allowed Satan to do this because God wanted to see if we would worship the Blessing or the Bless-er more. So pain and loss are normal to feel. And we WILL feel the pain. But now is the time to turn our attention to the Bless-er and praise Him for the Blessing; even if He did come to take back what He gave. 

When Lincoln was born, I truly grasped that special love that only exists when your child comes from the womb. There's all kinds of love, but that one in particular is a super special kind of love. One day, Lincoln will be old and grown himself and life will come to an end for He too. Of course I don't like to think about that. I want to enjoy every moment in between that time. But maybe to help us better deal with loss, we can look at what God gives us when He takes away. 

My Aunt was a blessing to anyone and everyone that met her. God gave us all the blessing of Bonnie Sue Joyner. For my mom in particular, He knew she'd be taking this very hard, but Mom has the every day reminder that God always gives back more than He takes, and she is reminded of that every time she sees her grandson. Lincoln is the newest generation our family has had in 15 years. There's a reason God chose him to enter the world at this specific time in all our lives. We needed him now more than ever. We needed a reminder that life is always something to celebrate; whether coming or going. 

That emptiness that we feel in the moment of loss is meant to be filled. Some people will keep on going, day after day and continue to feel that emptiness, searching for ways to fill it with "fillers" that will never truly fulfill them. That emptiness is God knocking at your door. Allow Him to come in and shine His light where you are dark. He will fill you up more than anyone or anything. He is able to remind me of all the good times I had with my aunt, rather than remember the suffering she went through on her way to her eternal home. He is able to put words in my heart to help in the grieving process that my immediate family members are going through. He is a mighty God and He is never to be underestimated as to what He can fix and what He can heal. 

Today, I lift up and celebrate the life of my beautiful aunt, whom was also a beautiful mother, wife, sister and friend. May your soul rest peacefully as you enter the gates of heaven. Lincoln, Ryan, and I love you and miss you so very dearly. We hope to one day see you again. In the meantime, keep on spreading your love by sharing your wonderful and tasty pasta dishes with all those up above. I know Grandma Hazel and Grandpa John were anxiously awaiting their plate of spaghetti on this day when they found out you were coming home. Thank you for adding another angel to the many we have above. We love you.

I Love My Son, But I Love Him More

It was 4am in the morning that I was looking down at the little human being attached so closely to me. It still amazes me that I carried him inside of my body for 9 months. Now he's here, and he just keeps growing. Life is truly a beautiful image. I am literally growing life through my body; what a powerful concept! When he one day stands over 6 foot tall, I know I will still find myself in amazement at how little he once was and how time has transformed him into the handsome young man he will one day become.

As I was staring at his tiny little feet and his precious little toes, and I watched both his chest and belly expand with each breath, I started imagining Lincoln as the young man he will one day be. Those tiny toes and feet will be size 12's before I know it. That chest will be broad and his abdomen defined. He will no longer be able to fit across my lap and sleep so peacefully. 

That's what little sleep will do to you sometimes. You start thinking silly things. Except these silly thoughts that are so far into the future are really right before my eyes. 

At 4am I started thinking of the young man I want Lincoln to be when he grows up and the part that I will play in that. This Sunday is a special day for both Lincoln and we as his parents. Lincoln will be dedicated into the church where he will then decide when he is old enough and knows the Lord for himself, to be baptized. 

I wasn't raised the way we are choosing to raise Lincoln. I was baptized at Lincoln's age. I had no recollection other than pictures of my baptism. That's the way I was raised in the Catholic Church. All of my life growing up I was given opportunities to learn more about Jesus and what exactly He did for us; for me. But I wasn't receptive to those teachings throughout all those years. 

I wanted to be anywhere else but 'boring' ole church with my family. (I can see God shaking His head at me right now for the times I used to call his home, boring) We had religion classes from the time I was in kindergarten all throughout high school. Only when I was in my grade school years, religion classes took place every day of the week; whereas in my high school years we only attended once a week. And because it wasn't as consistent throughout the week for me in my young adolescent years, I wasn't seeing the importance in those teachings. I used to say I was going to church with my friends and instead of going to church, we'd drive around and drink beer. Now if that wasn't enough to upset the Lord, I don't know what was. Who was I to think I was too good for church?

Selfish; I was a selfish teenager. When I went off to college, life got a little more challenging in many ways and I decided I wanted to explore that area of my life again. Except every time I walked into a church, I didn't feel I belonged there. I didn't know all of the songs, I didn't know all of the prayers that were said in union in the congregation. I felt out of place. So once again, I stopped attending church. 

October 12th of 2014 I decided to get baptized again in the church I was finally able to call my 'home'; New Salem Baptist Church. I felt this lingering notion from God to get baptized again as an adult. I was ready to accept Christ into my life wholeheartedly on that day. I have never turned my back on Him ever again after that day. I realize His importance and His presence in my life. It took me awhile, but He was ready when I was ready. What a selfless God I serve to accept me after all the times I turned my shoulder on Him. 

So it is with excitement, but also great fear that I dedicate my son to the church this weekend. There's a lot of responsibility on my plate; on our plate, as parents to teach Lincoln all we know about the good Lord. I desire for him to accept Jesus into his heart at a young age. I desire to see his love for Jesus resemble the love I have for Jesus; but experiencing that love at a much younger age. I don't want to see my son go through life like I did; waiting until his 20's or later yet, to accept God into his heart. And because I am his mother, I will make sure that does not happen.

It starts with Ryan and I. We read the Bible to Lincoln every night. We take him to church every Sunday. If we aren't taking him to church, we listen to the sermon online with him. We play praise and worship songs and sing to him. We pray over him every morning. We pray every time he eats from a bottle or from the breast. We are doing all we can to lay the foundation for his most important relationship in life; His relationship with Jesus Christ.

I desire for my son to be a god-fearing, loving, kind, selfless young man. I desire for him to be a giver, a servant, a people pleaser. Society will tell you to please yourself before others and convince you that you actually deserve to be pleased first. But the Lord tells us to please others before ourselves and He reminds us that we don't 'deserve' anything. That's what His grace is. He gives grace not because we deserve it, but because He's the only one that loves us enough to see past all our wrongdoings. Nothing is promised for us here on earth, but society sure wants us to believe otherwise. 

If I put my focus on growing Lincoln's relationship with Jesus Christ, I know I will have done my will in my role of motherhood over Lincoln. This does not ensure that he is going to be a perfect little angel and live a sinless life; no, not at all. What it does mean is that Lincoln will understand how to treat others; like his mother and father, and his peers. He will understand how to love others; like his future wife. He will understand how to respect others; like his elders and his teachers. He will make bad choices at times, but he will know that his Heavenly Father loves him unconditionally and will forgive him over and over if He has to.

As I drifted off into my own sleep again this morning, I thanked my Heavenly Father for the gift of loving and teaching this child about life and about our ultimate goal of making it into eternal life with Him. There is no greater miracle than that of the creation of a child. This miracle is what has made life go on from generation to the next. I praise God for the gift of His son, Lincoln Alexander Hunter, to me.