I met her in a hotel lobby at the MOPS Convention. We walked and talked between fetching bags and sorting out check-ins and standing stranded between hundreds of people pouring out our stories as quick as our stumbling tongues could get to them.

Some women are your sisters whether you’ve known them five minutes or five years.

Rebekah Lyons is that kind of women to me.

We stood clutching our bags and sharing about the challenge to stay. To stay anywhere, in a relationship or a season, in a zip code or a calling, when running or balling up our fists or clamping our fingernails over the edge of the ledge refusing to trust someone would catch us would be so much easier.

She told me she was writing a book about it, her season of feeling like her life was in a free fall.

How the women around her seemed to be falling hard and fast to depression or boredom or the loss of their dreams, the sense of redundancy in their day in and day out. How the label “Mother” can erase any other names we’ve known for ourselves. And how it can leave us desperate.

This is Rebekah’s story. It’s also been mine at times and in seasons. I’m guessing you can relate to? So I asked if she’d share a glimpse with us. Into the story behind her new book, Freefall to Fly: A Breathtaking Journey Toward a Life of Meaning. {And don’t miss the giveaway at the bottom of the post.}

From my friend, Rebekah…

Before the labor pains, before the marriage vows, before the loss of innocence, did your heart sing?  Did you ever twirl in a dance of delight when no one was looking, basking in the unconditional love of your Heavenly Father? Did you lie on your back, barefoot in the meadow gazing at the stars? Did you ever feel so small on this cosmos, yet so great in the heart of God?

Peering back through the distance of pain, hurt, dashed hopes and unfortunate circumstances, were you robbed of those moments far too young? Where the wounds were too great. Where your new normal became a life of survival, and survival meant that dreams die.

On a good day, my life was ordered. Put together with a big, fat ribbon. At least so it seemed. House clean. Task list long and checked one by one. I milled wheat, tried every kind of diet, and carpooled my kids all over kingdom come. They were enrolled in ballet, gymnastics, basketball, and baseball. I hosted weekend meals, and holidays and tried new recipes. It all seemed so polished, so put together. So what everyone expected me to do.

And then the nights came, along with nightmares throughout them. The busyness subsided and I felt like a counterfeit. Something was missing. In the midnight silence, when the distraction of tasking and toiling faded I carried a cloud. My pursuits of living up to expectations and juggling schedules, without moments for replenishment or asking the bigger questions of meaning—didn’t measure up in my heart.

What part of my calling is motherhood, what part—something else?

If we are entrusted with children, we are mothers. We are all stewards of that precious gift. We take our responsibility seriously as we begin each morning armored with prayer and community to hold us accountable. Just as faithful fathers must show up, invest, educate and nurture their children, so must faithful mothers. We love it, because its part of what God had in mind for us to be.

All of us. None of us are exempt. None are more called than others.

Likewise, we are also daughters. Children of the most High that breathed life in our mother’s womb. A child that he gave good and perfect birthright gifts. Created to sing in delight of living a life using those unique gifts. To take his marching orders. To burn for the broken. Our own mothers dreamed for that future when our eyes were bright as children, yet somehow with time it slips away. Stuffing down unique talents one year at a time—being told along the way that this is best. “Take one for the team.” “Stop being so selfish.” “Be content.”

But does our heavenly Father have in mind another purpose—one that exists in union with the traditional roles of wife and mother? A calling that sees our greatest gifts converge with our deepest burdens.

All of us. None of us are exempt. None are more called than others.

This dual role is messy, but a fresh realization from the Savior at grace and second chances. Thirty-eight years and three children later I’m relearning this life of shared roles, alongside my husband. It’s no longer tied with a big, fat ribbon. No longer polished or put together. Instead, I’m more desperate for His strength than ever before, as I begin each day open-handed to receive my duties as mother, and as a daughter. Simultaneously.

Eugene Peterson says that salvation means the HEALING and rescue of a body that is brought back to the way it was intended. Brought back into right relationship the way it was designed from the beginning.

As a mother and as a daughter.

****

Keep reading with Rebekah- you can purchase her new book over here Freefall to Fly: A Breathtaking Journey Toward a Life of Meaning. It comes with three free gifts.

And today we’re giving away the whole package

1. The book
2. An original chalk art print by chalk artist, Dana Tanamach
3. A $5 TOMS gift card, and a
4. Freefall to Fly digital soundtrack.

TO ENTER: Just use the Rafflecopter widget below for a whole bunch of entries. Easy peasy!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •