Saying Goodbye to Kansas City

     I’ve called Kansas City “home” for most of my life. In the past we’ve moved away for temporary jobs knowing we’d return to Kansas City. Now, we’re facing another move but this time returning to Kansas City isn’t likely. As I prepare to move this time I think about the things in Kansas City that I will miss.  Good BBQ, fun sports teams, the Plaza lights.  I like being familiar with this city.  It’s nice having family close, we’re surrounded by awesome community, and a great church.  All those great things make up a very comfortable life.  It’s safe, easy, predictable.  The downfall with a comfortable life is that it can hold you captive.  It can be too easy to say no to change.  We can be too focused on the good we have that we miss out on the best God wants to give us.  When we start clinging to earthly treasures, that is what consumes our hearts.  

Not long ago I found myself holding too tightly to the wrong things in life.  I couldn’t imagine leaving our house, our neighborhood, our unworried lifestyle.  But little by little, God became removing pieces of my routine.  It was as if he were showing me that I could be even happier when I opened my grasp of all the earthly things that I had been bound to. Psalms 39: 6-7 says, “We are merely moving shadows, and all our busy rushing ends in nothing.  We heap up wealth, not knowing who will spend it.  And so, Lord, where do I put my hope?  My only hope is in you.”  I don’t want the “wealth” that I am heaping up to bind my heart and my hope.  I want the freedom to step out in faith and not worry about the things I’m leaving behind.  It is exhilarating and terrifying to forgo the predictable and to start over.  I have been encouraged to put down the easy,  mapped out way of life and courageously step into the unknown.  When we step out of our comfort zones, God can use us in ways we never imagined.  

My prayer during this time is that I will understand that where my treasure is, there my heart will be also.  Strange things can surface when we don’t keep our hearts in check. I want to set aside my agenda and my expectations so that I can be fully present in what God has for me.  I want to be focusing on building up treasures and wealth where moth and rust do not destroy.  Because in the end, that is all that matters.  I have no idea what California has in store for me, but I am praying that my heart will be ready to embrace the goodness that God has to offer.  I’m praying for courage to be obedient to His will.  

Box by box our earthly treasures have been packed away and the “sold” sign in the front yard is a steady reminder that these things do not define me. Freed from the clutter of life for a brief time, I’m heading into a new adventure focused on what God is unfolding in front of me, for my family and myself. Eventually we’ll settle into our new life in Los Angeles and be surrounded by new people and our possessions once again. My hope is that we are a family who can stay focused on God through the thick and thin of life. We want to be consumed by God and his people, not things or the comforts I’ve clung to in the past. 

Sarah Pappas

Motives Matter

Proverbs 4:23: “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.”

Idon’t like coffee. It feels good to say that out loud. It tastes like mud. However, on days when I need to hit the ground running, I will pour myself a cup (milk and lots of sugar) and drink it willingly. Why? I’m motivated to conquer my to-do list and I believe coffee will aid me in that mission.

Our underlying motives hold powerful clues to the why behind our what. Millions of dollars are spent analyzing them for marketing analysis. Our legal system spends ample resources uncovering them, and moms and dads all over the world spend years shaping them. In short, motives matter. Proverbs 4:23 says, “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.”

Head over to KC Parent to read our very own Jena Meyerpeter's thoughts.  Thank you Jena for sharing your heart with Heartland Women and the greater Kansas City area!

I'm Just a Mom

The day I introduce myself to a geologist at a writing conference is the day I wake up to a deep need in my soul. "Geologist" sounds so cool. She's got curly hair and a British accent. She and I chat about the UK. Then she asks what I do for a living. "I'm just a mom." She nods politely. Then I hear, "Don't do that." A writer from Atlanta has retaken his seat between us. He's talking to me.

"Do what?"

"Discount your role as a mom. I hear it in your voice. What you do is important."

Slam. I'm taken aback. This dude has just finished a book draft. He has worked on a mentoring project for kids without dads. He looks like he has life figured out and his conference peeps are a band of single lovely ladies. Why is he calling me out? I wonder. Why would he care?

"You're right. I am." I say. Why, yes, Mr. Writer, I do it all the time. I fight it now, as I write. As I wake up and wonder if this voice has value. Mr. Writer is a guide for me at a crucial moment. He is also the bologna sniffer. He senses the de-valuing, the discounting, the identity-less-ness permeating me.

He sees right through me. The facade. The questions of self-worth. Any worth.

Sometimes we need someone to call us out into the light.

I tell my husband, "Tell me you love me and I'm awesome every day. Call me amazing so I believe it too."

Because I work, launder, bake, mow, transport, psycho-analyze, network, check homework, beautify, ratify.

Before these bold small people of mine cried themselves into this world. I had no idea.

No clue that the first 26 years (a blur of getting, good grades, nice tans, pining for boys, dreams, and then happily ever after) were nothing like the next few decades.

No one told me happiness was dying to myself every day.

Putting my dreams aside and giving up my time and well, my very heart. Oh yeah, my body too which will never be the same. Thank you, dear 9 lb. 6 oz. son. My son has the imagination of the sea and he whispered "I love you, Mommy," in the middle of his class presentation today.

No one told me I would need a bigger voice than my own to call me what God has called me. Someone to remind me this unpaid, wearying calling matters. My voice hungers for validation and self worth. I'm just a mom.

You are not the sum of what you do---although the blogs and status updates urge us to keep up, chin up, keep up. Then there are kid arguments, loneliness, work. They will swallow us whole if we forget to swim.

I have met invisible moms in South Africa. We crouched on the grass together and talked of love for our children and the knowledge that we have power as women to do something good in their lives. Their dark skin shone under streaks of white cream to shield themselves from the sun. Their children may have been dying. They may have been too. HIV had a vice grip on their community. They were at the mercy of an abusive patriarchal society. Life was stacked against them.

Yet their hearts soared with joy as they sang a large group of us back to our cars. Their pink palms waving, their hips swaying as they clacked their tongues and sang from the bottoms of their bare feet. We are alive. He sees us all. I could feel it in the heat and dirt.

I see you in the sun, mom. Mothers, grandmothers, longing to be mothers, someday mothers. You matter. What you do matters. But you are not defined by what you do.

We need the wake-up, move up, rise up, speak up of others to speak for us when we can't speak. Rise up, dear one. Rise up, dance with us. We are sisters and mothers. Be barefoot with me on this Holy ground where He says, you are beloved. You are more than just a mom. You are important.

- Christina H.