When I was twelve my sweet mom had a stroke. She was 39. When I was 32 my little sister had a massive brain bleed. She was 29. On Wednesday, I turned 37.

True confession? I’ve been internally bracing myself for my turn.

Last Monday, at my annual check up, I told my wonderful doctor about a nagging noise in my ear. She asked four times if it was a pulse or a woosh. I told her it had rhythm. This classifies as a pulse.

FYI, doctors prefer a woosh to a pulse.

Her gut is that it’s a problem with my allergies and ears, but she ordered an MRI and an MRA to rule out an aneurysm and a tumor. I cried. Our dear friend Bob, a gifted neurologist, called and concurred with her evaluation and the tests. I cried again.

Monday morning, Rich will take his claustrophobic bride of almost 13 years to Florida Hospital for a moderately sedated MRI and MRA. We’ve talked a lot. I’ve cried a lot. Are you seeing the same pattern that I am? There are A LOT of tears this week.

Tonight, in tears again, on the couch of a trusted friend, I listened to wise words from a woman who has walked with Jesus much longer than me. Her counsel?

1. Thank God. No matter what. This is a non-negotiable for her. Thank you God that you are allowing the depth of this fear to surface. I want to learn to trust you with this.

2. Imagine myself taking the yoke off and rolling in onto Jesus. I’ve been carrying this fear around for 25 years. It’s time to give it to the only person who can really do something about it.

3. Be honest with God. He can handle it. God, I am sad that this is part of my story. I wish that I trusted you more. I don’t know how to get rid of this fear. Will you rescue me?

4. Consider that this situation is like putting my hand in a glass jar, closing my fist, and then trying to pull my hand out of the jar. What am I holding onto so tightly that I am stuck? God, thank you that you love my husband and children more than I do. Thank you that your plans for them are even better than mine are. Please help me to open my hand and to entrust them to you more fully.

I look forward to Monday afternoon when the test is over. But more than anything, I look forward to honestly giving thanks for all things to a God who can handle all of me and help me open the clenched fist containing my fears and my burdens.

I am on Day 16 of something a little crazy, crazy for me at least. My dear friend, Kelly, spent her birthday month wearing the same black dress. Everyday!

I’ve followed suit with a white shirt.

Why, you ask? To raise money and awareness for The Daughter Project. It is a non-profit organization in Northwest Ohio that exists to help girls recover from the trauma of sex trafficking and helps to prevent others from being trafficked. I have great respect for the International Justice Mission, which exists to free people around the world who are victims of sex slavery, but I had no idea how much sex slavery existed in my own backyard.

My friend Kelly ends her 30 days of the black dress on her birthday, tomorrow, which will be my 17th day donning the same white shirt. I am ending on my 37th birthday, Wednesday, March 30th. In lieu of birthday gifts this year, I am asking that my peeps give a contribution to The Daughter Project so that they can complete a housing facility that the girls can live in during their rehabilitation and care.

In case you are wondering, I can wash the shirt. I do wear different shoes and jewelry occasionally, but the simplicity has been sweet on many fronts. My Mom and our sweet friend Kathy joined me, so they are sharing the message of freedom in Texas.

Please let me know if you have any questions. Please join me in praying that many, many women will be set free thanks to the brave people from The Daughter Project, IJM, and other organizations like them.

There is nothing like your child’s answers during a Children’s Sermon to hone in on your growth areas.

Case in point: New Covenant Family Service December 2010.

Kids gather in the front to hear a meaningful homily. Children’s speaker Anthony asks the kids “what’s the first word that you think of when you think of your parents?” Darling Street child says “computer” without flinching. Congregation laughs. Inside I am scrambling.

Did he say that because his Dad helps lead the international virtual ministry for our organization and often works from home?

Did he say that because our home flooded and I am frequently working on the computer trying to find contractors and order materials?

Did he say that because I am researching medical things for our sick son and often sitting at the computer desk scrambling for information?

Or…

Did he say that because he is experiencing us as distracted and unavailable to his emotional needs?

Has he experienced me as overwhelmed? I have been overwhelmed. He’s onto me.

Should I bag this blog and close my Facebook account?

Or the best solution…Should we ban all technology from our home and move to a farm ASAP?

Or all of the above?

I felt so exposed. I felt scared. I felt like a horrible mom.

Thankfully, after initially panicking, I asked Jesus to use this one word to show me the truth, to not try to hide or defend or to clamor.

Later I asked Joseph what he meant by what he said. I asked him what he thought Anthony meant by his question. He told me that Anthony asked what our jobs were. Whew! That was definitely a different question than what was asked. But it was too late. God’s good work had already begun. He was honing in on a much-needed growth area for me and for my husband.

We’ve been much more conscientious about what our time on the computer looks like. We’ve set boundaries with ourselves and with each other. Most importantly, we’re keeping the conversation going with the Lord, ourselves, each other and trusted friends.

I finished the day that Sunday evening by asking Joseph “how does mom show love to you?” He answered several beautiful things that made me think that although not perfect, maybe I wasn’t such a horrible mom after all.

But thanks to one word in a Children’s Sermon, how we live out our our priorities is being refined.

I hope we are brave enough for it to last a lifetime.

Almost a year ago, God blessed me with the kindness of a stranger who showed me the ropes of living Gluten-free. I wrote this post hours after returning from a crash course at her home. Since I implemented her plan, Joseph has continued to grow, and I’ve been able to return the favor to other wonderful mommies who are attempting to cook and live differently so that their children with gluten related issues will thrive.

I am not sure why I didn’t initially publish this. Maybe it felt too vulnerable to share the hope that cooking Gluten-free was going to be part of the answer to Joseph’s health struggles. As many of you know, the changes have made a huge difference. So in honor of the almost 9 month anniversary of living Gluten Free, I am finally pressing ‘publish.’

This weekend I was incredibly blessed to spend 2 hours at the home of an amazing woman who quite possibly might be an angel disguised as a mom. She is a dear friend of my dear friend Babette.  Kennedy, as she is called by her buddies, cooks G-free for her family as they almost all have Celiac Disease. She opened her kitchen and heart to me as she showed me the ropes of snacking and cooking without gluten so that your kids and their friends don’t know it. I left with a stack of recipes and resources, a bag of their favorite G-free foods, and a heart that was brimming with thankfulness that she would spend her Saturday afternoon with a total stranger to ensure that I didn’t have to figure things out on my own the way that she did.

There is such a sacredness to this season in our family. Moments like Saturday, experiencing the kindness of a stranger in such a profound way that I know that God is literally cheering us on and urging us to move forward. Of course if I could snap my fingers, or cut off my fingers, for Joseph to be totally well I would.  But until then, thanks Kennedy and thanks God for sending her.

On their kitchen wall was a plaque that touched me deeply. I copied it, and now it’s one of the first things that you see when you walk in our home. (I added the part about the messes and spills b/c you just can’t describe a family full of boys without it!)

In the Streets’ Home

We do second chances.

We do grace.

We do real.

We do messes and spills.

We do mistakes.

We do I’m sorrys.

We do loud really well.

We do hugs.

We do family.

We do love.

Thanks, Kennedy. Thanks, God.

What do you think helps Christian kids want to walk with God in college and beyond?

Personally, I would like to think that it is because they have kind mothers who patiently rub their backs each night even when they are dog tired. Or maybe it’s because they have fathers that injure their shoulders because they spend so much time throwing passes and pitches to their sons in the backyard each evening. Or better yet it is because they have seen their Christian parents patiently endure trials with their faith intact.

Hopefully these things make a huge difference, but the newly quoted statistic about the number one factor is not anything close. The current research says that the common denominator between kids from Christian families who will choose to continue their faith journey when they aren’t living with their parents anymore is that they are consistently exposed to people ten years ahead of them who are walking with God and pursuing their relationship with him.

The more I thought about this, the more it makes total sense to me. I have always craved meaningful relationships with people 10 years ahead of me who were doing things I aspired to.

In middle school, it was my weekly date with Melissa Garza. Melissa was a senior when I was in 7th grade. She was the Head Varsity Cheerleader, and I just knew that the planets revolved around her. Melissa picked me up from school one afternoon each week, bought me a cherry coke at the local DQ, and listened to me pour out my ‘new kid in school’ woes, all under the guise of coaching me in cheerleading. I don’t think that I would have made it to 8th grade emotionally intact without her. Seriously.

In high school, Kama Andrews stepped in and truly shaped the course of my story. True confession, if you want to know why I changed my name from Courtney to Kourtney, look no further. Kama drove me to school each morning of my freshman year and after school to my job at a local jewelry store. She was everything I aspired to be. I made what at the time were major life decisions because of things that she did, and I am so thankful for the way that she included me in her world all those years when she didn’t have to. Apart from my parents, no one had more of an impact in my life than Kama did.

The stakes got higher as I got older.

In college, when I was tangled in a destructive relationship and my world was falling apart, Julie Woody gave me a priceless birthday present. Julie was a successful attorney, almost rector’s wife, and mother to two amazing sons.  When I turned 22, while Julie’s dear hubby was out of town and her boys were finally sleeping, Julie told me her life story, sparing not a detail. Her mid-twenties struggles paralleled my own so closely that for the first time, I had hope that I might really make it. Her brutal honesty unlocked my shackles.  I ached to follow in her courageous footsteps and have a story with a happy ending like hers. I did follow in her footsteps, and I am living the happy ending.

During that same season, Gayle Greenwood Clark mentored me. One morning a week at her wooden kitchen table, Gayle listened with loving ears and a tender heart. She opened her tattered Bible and consistently pointed me to the Words that would heal and nourish my broken heart and aching soul. She talked with honesty and integrity about things I will never forget. Many years have passed. I regularly call Gayle and tearfully thank her for not giving up on me during those years that I dabbled in darkness while aching for the light. My prayer is that I will listen and encourage the younger women in my life with such empathy and wisdom that I still find in the honesty and safety of my friendship with Gayle.

In Colorado, it was my counselor, Jean. Just the mention of her name brings peace. I have no words to express her impact on my life…

Living in France for almost five years wound my path around the homes of Giselle Timbie and Mary Petersen. I am convinced that if for no other reason than to do life with these noble women, God took our family to the land of vin, baguettes and fromage. I am blessed with Part II of this journey as Mary has recently moved to Orlando, and we are once again doing life together consistently.

This list is not exhaustive.

As a wife and mother, the sisterhood of noble women who have taught me how to love my husband and sons is priceless to me. My blog isn’t long enough to write about each of the women 10 years ahead who have impacted me. I see them as extravagant gifts from God, provided like North Stars pointing me in the direction that He wants me to go. No longer do I want to be exactly like them. However, I want to emulate a strength that they possess, and I choose to mine the treasures of their lives and stories to learn from them.

The longer I am a mother, the more I realize that my sons already need Godly, patient men to journey with them. Noble people to fill in the gaps that Rich and I  leave despite our best intentions in parenting them. I have already seen the craving in the hearts of our boys satisfied as our family serves high school and college students through our ministry. The young men and women who lavish their patient attention on our impressionable boys are role models paving the way for them…10 years ahead…

And so I pray for a brotherhood…