The Little Engine that Could, Dry Dirt, and Coconut Ice Cream

I am sitting here and trying to think of something profound. So, since profoundness is playing hide-and-seek, I'll just start writing to you.

I want to talk about why the refugee crisis feels so far away, but how I know that I've been given the resources to do something. And you have too. And then I think about how many needs and issues are digging into my heart and are also plastered all over my Facebook feed--and it simply overwhelms me.

But as I was reading "The Little Engine That Could" to Luke underneath a blanket tent in our kitchen, the story suddenly felt so relevant. The little engine with all the toys and dolls just wanted to make it up over the mountain, but it couldn't and needed help. And trains kept passing it by--until the little blue engine chugged on over. She didn't know if she could do it, but she tried. And she did. And as Luke smiled to me at the end of the story, I knew that trying to do something (rather than pass things by) is one step. I can't solve or fix or delete all the issues, but I can look at an issue in the eye and say, "Let me try. Even if it is just a tiny tiny thing."

I also want to write about how disappointment and discouragement are eager companions for me right now. Eager, but not welcome. Maybe it's the extra hormones, but I've felt a bit stuck and "floaty" at the same time. I had planted hopes of spunkier business sales and perhaps a move for our family. I planted hopes of having x, y, z done by now. But, when these hopes failed to pop out of the soil, I just stared at the dirt and wondered why. Now, I sit back and remember that God is the one doing the work--not me. Here I am with a staring at handful of dry dirt when I serve a God who has given me a garden of abundance and good things. So, when I'm tempted to let disappointment and discouragement root up in my heart (and distract me from so much), I'm asking God to give me eyes to see what He's planted for me--right here and right now. Not only that, but to remember that this life, this home, my little plans--well, they aren't much more than a spark. Greater things are coming. Thank goodness.

I also want to write about how baby kicks and coconut ice cream could sustain me for days. And how Luke is both a joy and also so very two right now. Daily, I wonder how in the world this mother thing works. I want to tell you how much I want it to rain and wash away the humidity--because I am certainly ready for cooler temps and hot drinks. Also, pregnancy jeans and 100 degrees should not be in the same sentence; they just don't work together.

So, as I wrap up this post before going back to mothering, I want to share one last thing with you.

Wherever you are today (sipping your PSL or cleaning up 4,302 crumbs of toddler food from the floor), remember that Jesus is the answer. The gospel is the answer. No matter what. It is enough. It really, really is.