“Lord, I repent of it all:  the expectations that kill relationships and the entitlement that steals all joy.”  ~Ann Voskamp in One Thousand Gifts Devotional: Reflections on Finding Everyday Graces

Expectations.  Entitlement.  I certainly struggle with one or both of these frequently!

It’s easy to build up expectations in our mind, things that we assume others will do or say, or a certain way that we think events will unfold.  When we expect something that doesn’t happen, we get disappointed and perhaps become disgruntled.

Sometimes our expectations are unrealistic.  I think as women we often put expectations on our poor husbands that they don’t even know about!  Rather than explaining to them what we’d like, we just expect them to know how to please us.  It could happen with friends or family members as well – we expect certain behavior and when it doesn’t happen, we let that affect the relationship.

Who will never let us down?  Only one person can meet our every expectation.  “My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him.”  Psalm 62:5

Let’s let go of our expectations of other people and seek instead to serve and give to them.

Living with an attitude of entitlement is another pitfall.  If I’m always looking to receive what I think I’m due or worthy of, always wanting to make sure I get “mine,” I can’t be content.  I easily lose my joy because I don’t feel like I’m getting the good things I deserve.

The antidote for entitlement begins with gratitude.  Let me be grateful for what I have.  Whether it’s material gain or public recognition or a promotion at work, I should realize that these things will never bring lasting joy and that God is enough.  “I have set the LORD always before me: because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.  Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoiceth: my flesh also shall rest in hope.”  Psalm 16:8-9

Let’s ask the Lord to help us let go of expectations and entitlement and focus our minds on Him and all of His blessings!

“It seems odd, but usually our greatest trial is what molds and shapes us.  It gives us character, backbone, courage, wisdom, discernment, and friendships that are not shallow.”  ~Randy Alcorn in If God is Good

Trials come to all of us.  There’s your every day, garden-variety trial – not enough money at the end of the month, an afternoon headache, an irritating person, a job you don’t like.

Then there are what we might consider larger trials – the loss of a loved one, facing a chronic illness, a child who’s away from the Lord, a job loss.

Yet I’ve found that it truly is through our trials that we grow the most, that we find ourselves becoming more conformed to His image.  When my husband had back surgery last year, I learned more about prayer and trusting God than I had in a long time.  Losing our first child due to anencephaly taught me amazing lessons about God’s goodness, His grace, His peace, His perfect timing, and His love and care for me.

I love the phrase Alcorn uses – “friendships that are not shallow.”  Whether it’s family members or friends or church members, once they’ve walked with you through a deep valley, the relationship is forever sweeter and closer.

In the same book I mentioned above, Alcorn says, “God never wastes our pain.”  Whether that’s physical or emotional pain, I believe that there’s always a purpose to it.  Even when we can’t see it, He is always, always working for our good and His glory

So whatever trials you and I are facing today, I pray that we will recognize that God is developing in us those traits that will make us more like His Son and that, by His grace, we can come through our trial a stronger, more trusting Christian.

 “True prayer, then, can be rooted only in the recognition of genuine need.” ~Catherine Marshall in Christy

As I looked through my folder of potential blog posts, I noticed how many of the drafts that I have started have to do with prayer.  Perhaps this is fitting as I’ve been studying prayers in the Bible during my daily devotions.  In January, I hope to share some of what I’ve been learning – it’s such good stuff!

Yet in order to pray effectively, I have to see in my heart the need for prayer, which is ultimately my need for God and for seeing His hand at work in my life.

I love my prayer journal that allows me to look back over answered prayers.  With only a couple of weeks left in the year, I’m already beginning to reflect about all that has happened over the past twelve months.  From big concerns to small, God has faithfully answered prayer.

When we admit that we need God to show Himself mighty, that we have no power to affect an outcome, then we open ourselves up to see Him at work.  It goes back to my word for 2014 – trust. 

I can trust that He hears my prayers.  I John 5:14 says, “And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us…”  Many times, He answers above and beyond what I expected.  Yet if God doesn’t answer a request as I think it should be answered, I have another opportunity to trust.  I know He will answer in a way that’s best. 

It’s not just in the big situations that I recognize my need, but in the daily trials I face.  Romans 12:12 exhorts us to be “rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer…”

Today, let’s recognize our need for God’s guidance and goodness in our lives and strive, with the Holy Spirit’s help, to take our every need to Him in prayer.

“….Pride is essentially competitive-is competitive by its very nature….Pride gets no pleasure out of something, only out of having more of it than the next man….It is the comparison that makes you proud: the pleasure of being above the rest. Once the element of competition has gone, pride has gone.” ~C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity

Oh my, do I ever struggle with pride, especially in making comparisons.  And it’s not just in relation to myself; I find that I often compare my children and their traits or accomplishments to others their age.  Are my girls smarter, better dressed, more respectful, have more friends, excel at playing the piano – doesn’t the list go on and on?!!  It’s so easy to fall into the comparison trap.

Pride may even take on a spiritual dimension.  Perhaps I’m proud of my children’s good behavior or their participation in church activities.  I might be proud that I have my devotions daily or that I took the opportunity to serve someone when others didn’t or that the lesson I taught in children’s church was well received.

Lately, when I’ve found pride trying to creep in like usual, I’m trying to redirect my thoughts in two ways:  by quoting Scripture and by consciously being grateful.

Since the Bible says much about pride, it’s easy to find verses to memorize that help me fight against it. 

“Every one that is proud in heart is an abomination to the LORD:  though hand join in hand, he shall not be unpunished.” Proverbs 16:5

“….for God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble.” I Peter 5:5

“When pride cometh, then cometh shame: but with the lowly is wisdom.” Proverbs 11:2

In being grateful, my goal is to turn my focus off of myself and onto Christ.  If I’m alone, I can say something like the following aloud:  “God, thank you that you are faithful in helping me have my devotions each morning.  Thank you that I have the physical strength to get out of bed and have time to spend in your Word.”  Or, “Thank you that in your providence you gave our daughter the ability to learn quickly.  May she use this gift to bring honor and glory to You and to help others.”

Cultivating gratitude also promotes contentment, which removes the competitive nature and the need to have “more than” someone else.  Being content with where God has placed me and what He has given me allows me to rejoice – not only in what I have, but in how He blesses others.

Pride can creep into my life so stealthily and quickly.  I need the Holy Spirit’s help to see it and get rid of it lest it take root and grow.

How do you handle pride?  Do you find yourself falling into the trap of comparison?

Do you pray Scripture?

I recently finished reading Beth Moore’s book Believing God.  I found her commentary on John 15:7 quite thought provoking.  The verse says, “If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.”

Here’s what Beth had to say.

“According to John 15:7, the key to answered prayer is sharing the mind of Christ over any given matter through His words actively abiding in us.  The more His words roll around in our heads, the more likely we are to think with them….When I use Scripture, I in effect transfer the burden to God’s Word rather than my ability to pray correctly or adequately.”

I have prayed Scripture in the past, but this encouraged me to get back into the habit.

There are certain areas in which we know what the will of God is.  For example, when I pray for my unsaved neighbor, I can use 2 Peter 3:9.  “The
Lord is not slack concerning His promise, as some men count slackness,
but is longsuffering toward us, not willing that any should perish, but
that all should come to repentance.”

James 1:5 is a wonderful verse to pray when I need to make a decision and am unsure of what to do. “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.”

At times, I have prayed for a particular answer to prayer for a family member, a request that would bring a blessing in their lives, and have quoted the last part of Psalm 84:11, where it says “…no good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly.”

In difficulties, I can tell God that I know His grace will be sufficient (2 Corinthians 12:9) or “…my God shall supply all [my] need…” (Philippians 4:19)  If I’m fearful, I know that God has told me He has not given me the spirit of fear (2 Timothy 1:7) or if I don’t feel up to a task, I know that “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” (Philippians 4:13)

Using promises from His Word is powerful.  I can remind God of His promise that He “will never leave me nor forsake me” (Hebrews 13:5) and that if I acknowledge Him, He will direct my paths. (Proverbs 3:6)

The more that I read, study, and memorize Bible passages and meditate on them, the more Scripture I can find to address prayer concerns and needs that I have.

A similar practice is to use God’s Word to praise Him. The Psalms are perfect for this!  Last year, I memorized Psalm 145 and it works well here.  I take the verses and put them into my own words as I pray.  For example, verses 8 and 9 could be prayed like this.

Lord, I praise you because you are gracious and full of compassion toward me.  I thank you that you are slow to anger and show such great mercy.  You are so good to all of us and everything You do is covered by your mercy.

I am taking the words that God had the Psalmist pen and praising Him with them.  This is something I want to do more of as part of my daily prayer time.

Do you ever pray Scripture?  Is there a favorite Bible verse or a particular promise that would make a good prayer or praise to God?

It was over.

My parents had returned to Virginia, my husband had gone back to work, and I was at home alone for one of the first times since I’d given birth to Angel.  I got out my Bible for devotions.  I had started reading through the Bible recently and found myself in Exodus that morning. Chapter 23 began with verses full of instructions to the Hebrews on how to structure their lives.  Then, in a most unexpected place, I found richness for my soul.

Verse 20:  Behold, I send an Angel before thee, to keep thee in the way, and to bring thee into the place which I have prepared.  

I read it again and again.  And as clearly as if someone had spoken the words aloud, thoughts flooded my mind.  God had sent our Angel to us.  And while I may not know every reason why, the rest of the verse convinced me that it was for our good.  The trial we had endured truly brought us to places spiritually – as well as relationally as husband and wife – that I believe we never would have reached if not for our Angel. The memory of God’s working through every detail of Angel’s diagnosis, pregnancy, and birth would continue to comfort, encourage, and inspire us for the rest of our lives.    

Then I thought about how, when that verse was penned by Moses thousands of years ago, surely my God, who knows all, knew that on that December day in 1997, His words would speak to me.  And while they were written directly to those people for their day, so I truly believe that He wrote them for me.  He knew what encouragement they would bring to my hurting heart.  The tears rolled down my face that morning as I thought of God’s love and compassion and caring for me.  Eventually I called my husband and shared this precious verse.  We later had the reference engraved on Angel’s tombstone.

As for what happened after that?  I got a permanent job at the hospital where I’d been working temporarily.  I was blessed with wonderful coworkers and a great boss.  My husband and I struggled with infertility for almost two years.  After a couple of tests, I was told by a doctor that my chances of having a baby were about half that of a normal woman.  Within a few months of that doctor’s appointment, I found out that I was expecting a child.  

I was treated as a high risk pregnancy and I tried not to get too excited during those first 12 weeks.  Anencephaly can be detected by ultrasound around 12 weeks, so that was our first hurdle to clear.  Once we found out that this baby appeared to be developing normally, I finally began to hope.  I remember being 8 months pregnant, sitting in a rocking chair in the back bedroom that we had painted and fixed up as a nursery, and wondering if it would really come true – that I’d bring home a baby this time.

After a textbook labor and delivery, our now 12-year-old daughter was born on December 1, 2000.  Amazingly, when she was just seven months old, I found out I was pregnant again, but miscarried about seven weeks into the pregnancy.  I was so stunned to be pregnant that we’d hardly even told anyone about it.  

Then in March of 2002, we were excited to find out that another baby was on the way.  An ultrasound near the end of that pregnancy gave me a scare when they determined that I had an excessive amount of amniotic fluid. At a week past my due date, I was induced.  After being in labor all day, they determined that the baby was too large for a natural delivery, so she was delivered by C-section – weighing in at a healthy 9 pounds 1 ounce.

I wanted to include a quick update on a couple of people I’ve mentioned in this series.

Debbie, who did the initial ultrasound that revealed our baby’s diagnosis, conducted all of the ultrasounds on our other babies as well.  She also performed the ultrasound after my miscarriage, which was done to ensure that nature had taken its course.  That ultrasound was scheduled for the morning of September 11, 2001.  It was while we were in the waiting room that the first tower of the World Trade Center was hit, and she was the one who first clued us in to what was going on.

Sandy, our labor and delivery nurse, was another of God’s blessings in our lives.  After nearly sixteen years, we continue to send Christmas cards to each other every year.

While many lasting lessons were learned during those five months, the two greatest ones are these.

God’s grace is sufficient.  

God is always good. His goodness is not based on our circumstances; it’s part of who He is.

Thank you for taking this journey with me over the past seven weeks.  I so appreciate the encouraging words many of you have shared with me and I’m grateful to have recorded these memories.  It’s been a sweet time of remembering how God has worked in our lives and how blessed we are to have a God whose goodness and grace are never ending.

[Find previous posts in this series here.]

Around 5:00 A.M. on Tuesday, December 9, 1997, it was time for our baby to arrive.  I was in a lot of pain – and wanted more pain medicine!  All I could think was that nothing they put in the IV was going to harm my baby, so I wondered why they couldn’t just give me relief.

All through these hours in the hospital, I’d been hooked up to a fetal monitor which tracked our baby’s heartbeat.  We could hear that thump-thump echoing in the hospital room.  When it came time to push, however, the nurse removed the monitor.  I didn’t understand why then, but I would later.

Within ten minutes, I delivered a precious baby girl with no heartbeat.  Sometime during her trip through the birth canal, her bright, brave, eternal soul was taken by her Heavenly Father to be at home with Him.  The doctor handed her to the nurse, who cleaned her, wrapped her in a blanket, and put a small knit cap on her head.

Weeks before I had told my mom that I didn’t want to hold the baby.  I didn’t want to bond, as I felt that would just make this difficult situation even harder.  However, my mom gently advised me to reconsider that decision. 

After I delivered, the doctor got my parents from the waiting room.  The nurse brought me our baby and I held her.  She was two and a half pounds, and from the neck down, she was perfectly beautiful.  Every finger and toe was tiny, but perfectly formed.  Even her little face was precious, the only obvious defect her nose, which hadn’t formed the middle separation.  The top of her head was encased by the knit cap to cover its deformity.

We all held her and kissed her soft little cheek.  I was a mama now, my husband a daddy, my parents were grandparents.

I hadn’t realized before that it’s more common for anencephalic babies to be girls.  Once they took the baby away, we had to decide on a name for her.  From out of nowhere, my mind recalled the notes and cards my maternal grandmother had sent during this pregnancy and how she always referred to the baby as our “angel.”  I asked my husband what he thought of naming her Angel and we decided it was perfect.  I don’t know where “Marie” came from, but that was her middle name.

I recovered from the labor fairly quickly.  We had decided on a very private graveside service. The cemetery we had chosen was beautiful – full of oak trees with a view of the river.  (That’s it in the picture at the top of this post.)  Our pastor and his wife, the school administrator and his wife (friends of many years), and my parents were there.  Sandy, our labor and delivery nurse, had asked if she could come, and I was touched that she took the time to attend.

Our pastor spoke a few words and we asked my dad, also a pastor, if he would read two verses from the hymn All the Way My Savior Leads Me by Fanny Crosby.

All the way my Savior leads me;
What have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt His tender mercy,
Who through life has been my Guide?
Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort,
Here by faith in Him to dwell!
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well;
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well.


In spite of the trial we had just come through, we were trusting that God had a purpose and a plan.

There’s a bit more to the story, and I’ll conclude it next Monday.

[To catch up on our story, read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.]

Medical tests run during our middle-of-the-night trip to the Emergency Room revealed that I had kidney stones.  Thankfully I was only hospitalized briefly and, after receiving pain medication, was as good as new.  [In the opinion of someone who’s given birth three times, kidney stones are definitely more painful than labor!]

As the pregnancy progressed, I continued working at the hospital, my only discomforts the normal ones associated with a growing belly. Our baby was due near the end of January, so we had to begin making a few plans, such as choosing a grave site. This process sparked one of my few bouts of discouragement as I realized that most of our friends were choosing nursery themes and registering for baby gifts while we were visiting cemeteries.

We still didn’t know the gender of our baby, but we had to begin thinking of names.  Before we received our baby’s diagnosis, we had discussed Kaylee for a girl and Alex for a boy.  We occasionally revisited the subject, but it was difficult to settle on anything. 

At one of my prenatal visits, my doctor discussed what might happen at our baby’s birth.  I was told that often a mother who was carrying an anencephalic baby did not start labor on her own.  Because the baby’s brain was not fully developed, it didn’t release the hormones needed to begin the birth process, so the mother had to be induced when she went past full term. 

He also said our baby could be stillborn or could live from a few hours to a few days, but chances were rare that it would be longer than that.  He tried his best to prepare us for what was truly the unknown.

December 8, 1997, was a Monday.  I woke up and got ready for work but realized that I just didn’t feel normal.  I wasn’t in pain and can’t explain exactly how I felt except that something wasn’t right.  I called the doctor’s office and made an appointment for that morning, then called a co-worker to let her know I’d be coming in late.  I picked up my husband at work and drove to the doctor’s office.

We discovered that, at thirty-three weeks along, I was in the early stages of labor.  This possibility wasn’t one I had considered.  The doctor wanted to admit me to the hospital so that he could monitor my progress.  I wasn’t ready in any sense of the word. 

I dropped my husband off at the school so he could gather some things and meet me back at home.  Meanwhile, I went to a nearby T.J.Maxx to buy decent sleepwear!  By now, contractions had started and they were pretty strong as I waited in line to check out. 

At home I packed a bag, then we dropped our dog off at the kennel before heading to the hospital.  I also called my parents in Virginia and they prepared to come as quickly as they could. It was hard to believe the time had come to meet our baby. Again, God’s goodness was evident. In His plan, He knew how much of the pregnancy I could handle and was allowing it to end earlier than we had expected.

At this point, another one of those amazing people entered our life.  Sandy was my labor and delivery nurse.  She  was caring and compassionate and did everything she could to make sure I was comfortable and to meet every need..

I was progressing fairly slowly, so that evening I was given medication to speed the process along a bit – and an epidural for the pain.  My parents arrived late that night and I was actually comfortable enough to sit and talk with them for awhile.  As the early morning hours arrived, however, that all changed.

To be continued next Monday….

[Find previous posts in this series here:  Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.]

After taking three days to adjust to the news of our unborn baby’s neural tube defect, my husband and I resumed our normal routines. 

My husband returned to his job as the elementary principal at a Christian school and I went back to work at the hospital.  I remember a co-worker, Beth, pulling me into an empty conference room and telling me that, as a fellow Christian, she was so thankful for our choice to carry this baby to term.  She encouraged me to allow this trial to be a testimony of God’s grace that could impact others in our office.

My husband and I each developed our own responses to people who inquired about our baby.  Strangers would ask “Are you having a boy or a girl?” or “When are you due?”  Often I would just answer their question, as in “We’re not going to find out the gender” or “We’re due at the end of January.”  Then they would typically make a few more comments and I would try to move along. It was rare that I shared our baby’s total story. 

One day I was sitting out on the patio at work, eating my lunch, when two sweet older ladies at the next table began quizzing me about my pregnancy.  I answered their questions honestly, but I didn’t want to make them feel badly by telling them that our baby was going to die.  That was often the case during those months, as I knew most people were simply being friendly and wouldn’t know how to respond if I talked about our baby’s diagnosis.

My husband, though, would often tell people what was happening with our baby.  He was comfortable being straightforward and sharing the story.  Those who already knew about our baby’s difficulty didn’t typically bring it up in conversation. 

I still had to continue my prenatal visits at least once a month.  As I’ve mentioned before, there couldn’t have been a better doctor to guide us through this.  I have no doubt that he was another instrument of God’s grace and goodness.  He instructed his staff to give me the first appointment in the morning or the first one after lunch so that I didn’t have to spend time in the waiting room with other expectant mothers.  He was a gentle, comforting presence throughout my pregnancy.

One of the few moments from that time period that is still crystal clear in my mind came a few weeks after the diagnosis.  I was sitting in traffic on the interstate on my way home from work.  I felt something in my stomach, just a little flutter.  I realized that I had been experiencing that same feeling over the past few days and then it hit me – our baby was moving inside me.  This baby that couldn’t live outside of me was alive and those tiny feet and hands were pushing against my womb.  This baby was real, not just a picture on an ultrasound screen.  Those fluttery feelings were only the beginning, as the baby became very active as the days went by.

One night in October, I woke up in terrible pain.  I shifted positions in bed, wondering if this could be labor, but knowing that I shouldn’t be delivering for several more months.  I finally decided to wake up my husband and the pain become bad enough that we headed to the hospital.

To be continued next Monday….