up in sacrifice.” Elisabeth Elliot makes this statement in her book, Suffering is Never for Nothing. How simple, and yet how difficult to truly come to grips with.

God is love, love is sacrifice, and those sacrifices in the name of love cause us to suffer. Love and suffering are inextricably bound together. You can’t have one without the other, and our best illustration of it is the cross. Jesus went through just about the most suffering a person possibly can go through on the cross. He was humiliated, beaten, bloody, and broken. He died very publically for all to see. He was spat on, betrayed, and completely crushed.

When I was pregnant with Piper, the craziest idea to wrap my head around was that she felt so far away and yet she was literally right with me all the time. It’s hard to reconcile those feelings: that your child, being grown inside your body, feels so far away because it take nine months to grow them. You can’t hold them. You can’t see them. You can’t track their progress outside of your own growing belly and the occasional scheduled sonogram. Sure, you feel your baby kick and move around inside you, and you talk to them constantly, but for some reason, in my brain, it always felt like my daughter was a million miles away. Until she was born, then POP! All of a sudden, she was real and there and bigger than I could imagine being stuffed up inside my belly.

I don’t know about you, but my prayer life could use a refresh. Between my family, being pregnant again, work, and everything in between, I can slack in that department. Of course, I pray with my daughter and here and there, but sometimes, my prayers can be weak. They can become the same phrases, needs, and topics. That’s common. I think if you polled a group of people and they were being really honest, most would say the same. So I know I’m not alone in saying that my prayers could most definitely be deeper. I don’t want the Lord to see me as someone who checks in briefly with the same, old, tired pleasantries and then moves on to the next thing.

I don’t think I’ve ever walked through a season of life where so much change was happening all at once. Not even when I was married, although there was a lot of change in that season as well. And I know, I have a decent amount of readers that don’t have kids and are probably tired of hearing me talk about being pregnant, but I can’t help it. It’s just where I am right now. Having your first child is a life-change like no other. Simultaneously, you’re growing a baby in an area that only you have occupied all your life. Every day, it seems like there are new changes, new aches, pains, growth, symptoms, and all the while, this child is reminding you that they are growing out of what once was next to nothing.

When you were little, did your school do a grandparents day? Mine did, and I always loved it. It was always a special day where you got to have some of the most important people in your lives come to school, listen to you sing a song, have a snack, and show off your best art projects to. And I think I was probably more lucky than most kids, because I had more grandparents than the average kid. You see, both my parents’ parents are divorced and remarried before I was born, so I never knew the norm was to have only two sets of grandparents. Plus, I had two great-grandmas, so I had quite a pack to choose from.

There have been three separate times where I’ve witnessed nature and felt simultaneously so small and powerless against the greatness of God’s creation, and comforted with the fact that the same Mastermind of this same landscape thought that I was important enough to include in His design. The first was at the foot of the colossal horseshoe at the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. The second was stepping out of the airport in Cape Town to see the three mountain peaks that makeup that city’s skyline: Devil’s Peak, Table Mountain, and Lion’s Head. The third was this weekend, from the Fred W. Symmes Chapel in Camp Greenville, South Carolina.