A Quiet To Keep

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Happily, not another resolution.

Here we are, about to ring in another new year. The time between Christmas and New Years might be my favorite time of the year. For us it's typically quiet, reflective and hopeful. Although, I don't usually give much thought to New Years resolutions. Surprised? No, not if you know me. The reflective nature of this week is more natural for me and much less intentional than it probably should be. My friend Anne has written an awesome blog on reflections and the New Year (link below), so you should probably just go ahead and skip mine and read hers. Don't worry though, as titled, this blog is less about new resolutions and more about keeping up the good work of Advent.

The anticipation of a new year is different for me this year, somehow, and I think it's due to the momentum that is carrying our little family of four. Within all our lives there is an impetus that is propelling us forward into next year. As I choose to think on disciplines I'd like to begin and habits I'd like to end, I can feel our impetus resisting wanted change. Suddenly I feel sluggish, digging in my heels. In order to not to be too discouraged, I begin to think on how sweet this past season of Advent has been. Our time as a family in the word and the new habits we've formed this Fall are encouraging to my soul and I can see clearly the trajectory of our family discipleship strategy. This is like a breath of fresh air, knowing that there is a good habit within our home that needn't change. I actually noticed that many of my friends practiced family discipleship during the season of Advent. Because of this, I wanted to write up a kind of brief encouragement.

Here it is: Friends, keep up the hard and imperfect work that is discipling your children!

I think family discipleship is so prevalent during Advent because of the excellent resources that are available. There are tons of great and easily accessible plans for families to follow. However, Advent is over...so now what? You've created a habit, right? What do they say, "...21 days to create a habit"? Sweet! Habit formed! Now, let that Advent momentum carry you into the New Year in regards to family discipleship.

As a resource hoarder, I have a few ideas on where you can start and keep up that positive momentum. Listed below are some of them as you prepare for 2016:

You know those Christmas cards you got? What if you prayed over a card a night? Maybe even write your prayer down and at the end of the week you can mail the prayers out to each family/couple/person.
Try reading a Proverb or a (portion of) Psalm a day. Our readings of scripture are most successful during a meal, cause you know the minions sit still.
There are great children's bibles out there. You can read a story a day. Some even have discussion questions for your older kids. Check out The Jesus Storybook Bible, The Gospel Story Bible , The Biggest Story, The Big Picture Story Bible,
There are some awesome devotionals for families. Check out Long Story Short (Old Testament devos), Old Story New (New Testament devo), Exploring Grace Together, Mission Accomplished (Easter devo) and Dinner Devotions (365 short devos for meal time)
So you're the Partridge Family and you want family discipleship through song. There such a thing! Check out Seeds Family Worship, Slugs and Bugs or Songs for Saplings.
Stock up on some awesome children's books. Anything by R.C Sproul (that's right, he has children books!), Francis Chan has some good ones, There is a little series called Big Thoughts for Little Thinkers and our favorite truth centered children's book is called Fool Moon Rising.

Two things I have to remember: One, keep it simple. Two, even if it's simple, it will require effort and planning. If you don't have a framework for family discipleship yet, our church has some helpful direction here: Time, Moments, and Milestones

Let's ring in the New Year celebrating the work God did during Advent and carrying it on into 2016, yeah?!

(Anne's awesome blog on New Years)

Friday, February 14, 2014

His love is better than life; and a few other things I learned after I miscarried.

This week we walked through a tragedy like nothing we have experienced before. I was only 7 weeks pregnant when I woke up on Tuesday morning and started to miscarry our baby. In January we were shocked to discover this life had been conceived. We quickly grew excited at the thought of another blessing in our family.

Now it is Valentines Day and I've never felt more sad and loved than I do in this moment. I have learned a few things this week and because miscarriage is a somewhat common tragedy (and let me just say that its commonality does not make it any easier to face), I thought it might be of benefit to share what was taught to me.

1. Celebrate life! It is a good thing that we celebrated this life when we learned about it. Shortly after a positive test, we shared the good news with our closest friends. Of course there was the little voice of "what if..." that entered my mind anytime we shared. But we couldn't contain our excitement and we so badly wanted to be lifted up by those in our daily life. During the miscarriage it was easy to look back and feel embarrassed that we shared the news "prematurely." But, if we really do believe that life begins at conception, then why wouldn't we want to celebrate it with loved ones? Why wouldn't we want to invite others to pray for this life and for us? In the power of Christ I am able to cast out that shame and thank those who celebrated with us this little life.

2. Grieve what is lost. I also felt really embarrassed by how sad I felt in the midst of the miscarriage. As I would spontaneously sob, I wrestled inwardly between the lie that culture tells me, "it's just an embryo...just tissue...how foolish I am to have gotten excited, to have hoped and dreamed;" and the truth that it was a beautiful life with purpose. As small as it was and as short as it lived, it glorified our God. How glorious! It is a sorrowful thing to miscarry. Walking in the truth gave me freedom to grieve and to trust that God would turn my mourning into dancing all in His perfect time. I am blessed for having been persecuted by the lies of the enemy. I am blessed for being pure in heart and seeing God as creator of life. I am blessed to mourn and to be comforted.

3. Presence is powerful. The ministry of presence to one who is grieving is a powerful thing. I am so honored by those who just came and sat by my side. Some cried with me. Some laughed with me. Some spoke truth and life to me. Some brought bubble tea. Some brought flowers. Not one visitor came to try and fix the situation, they just came to be by me and to represent a greater Love. All were extensions of grace and glimpses of the everlasting and ever present Comforter. I now know the power of presence and hope to minister more often by it.

4. God's love is better than life ya'll! Psalm 63:3 is for real! On Wednesday morning I was reminding myself by teaching Maven that God's gifts are so good, but none of them compare to His love. His gifts are not better than His nearness. His gifts are not more glorious that He is. It's what we teach in Kids Village every week: God knows what's best. God gives what's best. God does what's best. God IS what's best. And while Maven is a pretty awesome gift, she is not better than God's love for me. The same truth was applied to my heart by the Spirit this week as my pregnancy came to an unexpected end. He is better than being pregnant. He is better than having a baby. This truth will change how I love my friends who are struggling with infertility. This truth will also change how I love my friends who have beautiful children that we can talk about all day. He is better ya'll! I wanna talk about His love...His perfectly sustaining love. When faced every day with the temptation to love His gifts more than Him, I want to be reminded that His love is better. To love Him is better. I pray this truth carries over into the rest of my life.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

The beautiful entrance of Maven Eloise

The Sun rose and set on my due date, March 9th. She was late, which meant she was indeed a Bryant. Sunday the 10th, I woke and went to church for a day of ministry. Twelve hours later I went to bed. At 2am and woke up to contractions. I slept on and off as contractions came and went. Eric got up and took a long dark shower...trying to wash away the anxiety. I was grateful to drive to Allen Monday morning for our 40 week check up. I was 3 centimeters dilated and fully effaced. The midwife said "it could be today...or next week." The unknowing aspect of natural delivery will surely keep you on your toes. I went to work and came home for dinner. Contractions picked back up and Eric started pacing with anxiety. Eric called some friends to came over to keep us distracted (with games, ice cream and Jack Daniels). I would take breaks from the game to get through a contraction. They were still 6 or so minutes apart. Time passed and friends left. By 3am (Tuesday morning) they were growing closer together and in strength. They were never very consistent though. We called the midwife certain that I was in labor and at least at 4 centimeters. We got to the center and were disappointed to find that I was still at a 3. It felt like hard work to only be at 3 centimeters! Leslie, the midwife on call, gave us two options. We could stay and walk around for an hour to see if I would progress or I could take some Tylenol PM or Demerol to help me get some rest before labor progressed more. We chose the Demerol. One shot in the butt and I barely made it to the car before falling asleep. Eric got me home and I slept for six hours until 10am. Once I awoke my contractions has slowed down to 10 minutes apart. So I got up and piddled around the house.

At 5pm our massage therapist friend came over to practice some acupressure. We were hoping this would speed things along. Thirty minutes later she suggested I take a walk. Eric and I didn't make it down the street before the contractions were too intense to walk. We would stop at every other driveway to sway through the contractions. I just remember thinking, God made my body for this...my body is doing exactly what it's supposed to be doing....over and over again. At around 6:15 I decided a bath would help. Eric drew me a hot bath and I slipped in. It felt amazing. I was still having contractions around every four minutes in the bath which confirmed that I was in labor. This was it...we would meet our little girl probably sometime in the night. I sat in the bath and prayed and worked through the contractions on my own by moaning in a low tone. It was peaceful and just what I had pictured. After an hour in the tub I called for Eric to come help me out. I got dry and dressed. Eric ate dinner while I checked to make sure everything was packed. At 8:30 on Tuesday night we called Carol, the midwife on call, to tell her it was time. Moments before our call, Carol had delivered a home birth out at White Rock Lake (20 minutes from us, but an hour from Allen). She asked us to wait another hour and call her back (especially since my water hadn't broken yet). I tried to take this news in stride, but a wave of contraction came over me and I panicked a little. Five or so contractions later I became fearful of having these contractions in the car while we drove from Dallas to Allen. I was ready to be at the birthing center and eager to know how far I had progressed. I imagine that Carol thought we were overacting a little since we were first timers...and I had that same fear. The last thing I wanted was to show up and only be at 4 centimeters. Eric called Carol again and once he mentioned that I was growing fearful she said that she didn't want me to be afraid and that she would arrange for a birthing assistant to meet us at the center. We left our home a bit after 9pm and arrive at the birthing center at 9:30...there we waited for the assistant to let us in.

The minute I laid eyes on Debbie I felt relief...I was so grateful that Eric and I were not going to have this baby on the side of the road. I told her that I had full confidence that she could deliver this baby if it came to it (all of this was based on my hope that I was indeed further along than four centimeters). At 10pm we were up in the beautiful birthing suite and I was being checked. Another moment of relief came when Debbie said that I was almost to an 8. My water still hadn't broken. I felt so accomplished and strong and glad that we were over halfway there. Eric called all of our parents to let them know to come right away. Debbie called Carol the midwife to let her know that I was further than she thought and to come as quickly as possible. I moved to a birthing ball and swayed in figure eights while I moaned through the contractions.

Eric's mom arrived first and I invited her in. I decided then that I wanted my moms in the room with me...remembering all that that 30 years had brought...experiencing this beautiful birth and interceding on my behalf. My mom arrived shortly after. Debbie had filled the birthing tub with warm water promising that it would help the pressure and pain. I slipped into the tub and relief washed over me as I was soaking in the warmth. The contractions were much more bearable in the water. In between contractions I would talk with Eric, Sharon, Debbie and my mom. When all of the sudden the urge to go to the bathroom came over me...I had to go and soon. I asked them to help me out because I did NOT want to go in the birthing tub....eww...ick. They helped me out and I sat on the toilet for three contractions and thought I was going to turn inside out. I looked at Eric and told him I was done and that I wanted to go home (I call this the denial stage of labor). After he convinced me it's better to stay and that I could do this, the midwife arrived and wanted to check me. I went to the bed to lie down. For all you mama's out there who labored on their backs, you are awesome. The contractions on my back were unbearable, I would dig in to the mattress and try to moan through but I would lose my concentration easily to the pain. Carol said I was almost at a 10 but my water bag was still intact. To which the birthing assistant thought was miraculous: "the stars have aligned" she said, "this baby is going to be special". They said I could get back in the tub and labor untill I was ready to push (which was what the bathroom urge was), or they could help me along by breaking my water so that I'd be ready right away. We opted for the water breaking. Immediately after they snagged the bag the fluid gushed out and they helped me back into the tub.

Kneeling, I faced outward and hung over the tub with my upper body. Eric faced me outside the tub and held my hands. In Christ Alone began playing off our play list. I needed to push and my body didn't give me time to think about it. The wave of pressure came and it just purged with everything I had. The first push...Carol affirmed that it was indeed a push and that she could feel our little girl's head. At this point a midwifery student named Terry began to help me. She was an angel, I'm positive. She told me that I needed to slow down a bit to avoid tearing. I felt out of control...how on earth could I slow this force bearing down on me? Another push. In between the pushes my mom and Sharon read the scripture cards that we brought. I was able to rest and connect with Eric. Another growling push. Scripture. Eye contact. Terry encouraged me. She told me that our girl had a head full of hair and asked me to touch her head to see how close it was. I didn't really want to do that. Another growling push. Scripture. Eye contact. Terry told me to feel the baby's head. She said "ok Cassie, the next push her head will come out and you are going to lean backward and pull the rest of her body out with the push." So I pushed....then leaned back with the help of Terry and the burning ring of fire ceased as I reached down to pull out our sweet little girl. All this happened while the guitar solo from Bold as Love rang in our ears. She was perfect in every way. Our little girl came crashing into the world boldly, in a room filled her mother's love. And her fathers love. And her Mita's love. And her Grammy's love. Whatever happened after that moment doesn't matter and isn't memorable. Next thing I remember is holding her in my arms on the bed while being stitched up. We didn't have a name. We had three....Judith, Prudence or Maven. She didn't look like a Judith...but we toddled between Prudence and Maven for two days. Once I was stitched. The rest of family came in to meet our bundle of joy. My dad (Pa), Kerrie (G), Alan (Rocky), Sharon (Mita), Frank (Ranrad), my mom (Grammy) and my grandmother (Gigi) all came into the room and we worshiped. We sang the song that I'd sing to her in my womb every night (and still sing to her every night). Praise God from whom all blessings flow....Maven Eloise Bryant was born at 12:31am on March 13 of 2013. A blessing indeed.

Monday, October 26, 2009

A Tribute to a Patriarch

Dale Kepler was known in many regards, but the title I think he was most proud of was Papa…and we were proud to call him that. What a glorious calling for him, to commend to us God’s love and to capture our hearts at the earliest of ages with personalized silly songs and the telling of stories in his lap. In fact I would often curl up in his lap even as an adult…it was a safe and peaceful place.

Growing up next door to Papa was a privilege, we got to know him better than most children know their grandfathers. He was able to teach us to drive, sing, golf, tell jokes and he influenced us with his hard work ethic, devotion to Granny and an unfailing faith to our great God. He exemplified God’s love and grace tangibly that we might trust Christ in all things.

For his grandsons he set an example of how to serve and lead a household…for his granddaughters he set the bar for the kind of men we would marry….impossible expectations. He joyfully served God and challenged us to do the same with our lives. Through our mistakes and mischievous ways, we proved that His love for us was unconditional. He was a constant and consistent presence in our lives and losing him to eternity is felt deeply by us as we look to future milestones and grieve his absence.

However, Papa did not leave us lacking…including the many memories, he also left us an inheritance to be cherished and nurtured. His inheritance to us is beyond material and temporal….it is a legacy of faith, love, truth, strength, patience, humility, joy and hope. I believe that the way to honor this great man, our papa, is by carrying on his legacy…that we might continue on in life with faith through grace, being sustained by God’s strength. That we might have his patience through trials and his posture of humility amidst accomplishments….and let’s not forget to hold fast to our great hope in the promise of heaven, where there is victory over sin and death. We will forever tell his stories and pass on his love through the generations.