I'm Aching

 Any person in the Midwest is ready for spring at this point. Now take a couple of Texans and plop them into this never-ending frozen tundra. We are ACHING for spring.  When I stare out our back windows and imagine what glory the spring will bring, I could cry. I could seriously cry. In the spring my kids and I can exercise together by going on long walks to the park from the bike path behind our house, we can have play dates out on our deck and in our huge yard, I will finally have 100% of my children old enough to take advantage of our huge yard, Austin and I can sit out on the deck with the fire pit going and read and talk while the sun sets, we can invite “after bedtime” guests to relax on the deck and enjoy the awesome lighting Austin put up last summer, we can take mini road trips to visit friends who live a couple hours away, we can go play at all the free fun Chicago places with our kids….the list never ends. When I think about spring my heart just breaks with anticipation. I love spring so much, I just want it to be here already.

What if I wanted God the way I wanted spring? What if I ached for time with Him with the same anticipation? What if I put all my future hopes on the promise of the bright future He will surely bring? I know I love the Lord. But sometimes I take something as trite as springtime and I think to myself (and…sometimes I maybe say it out loud to every mom of littles I run into) “Once it’s spring everything will be better.” I want to have the same hope and faith and gratitude for the one who made spring, the God who is only good and has only a disposition of goodness and love toward me. I want to have that deep assurance that through Christ, all things are possible, even happiness in winter. I want to live in the faith that in the fullness of His love there is life…but actually really really live that out. Lately, I’ve been living as if it’s ok to be half empty and run down because it’s really really cold out. I’ve been living like all I need is a few consecutive warm days and I could have joy. When the truth is, no matter how cliché it sounds, all I need is Jesus. I’m making the decision. I’m replacing my ache for spring with an ache for steadfast joy, with an ache for Jesus. If you are physically living in the frozen tundra as I am, join me in my quest for joy! If you are stuck in a season of life that is bitterly cold, I’m so sorry and I’ve been there. Know that Christ offers warmth in seasons of mourning and darkness and difficulty that far exceed the frigid wind of life whipping around you. You WILL feel the sun on your skin again. Until then bundle up with the Word of God and find treasures hidden in the snow, they are there. I promise.

The Greatest Arrival

We’ve been reading through the Jesus Storybook Bible with our kids (which I would suggest even for people with no children!). We are still in the Old Testament and each story has some mention of our need for a savior, our inability to rescue ourselves, or the prince to come. I love it. It gives me such a deep appreciation for the intense waiting period that creation endured. Reading bible stories in that context gives me a feeling of connection to that waiting period. Of course, I’m not super super old (note that I’m not even about to put a number on that…this isn’t that kind of blog people, take your debates elsewhere) and I wasn’t there literally waiting for Jesus. But I am a part of the carefully crafted creation that has a deeply sincere need and longing for redemption. My debt of sin piling up and swallowing me whole, just like everyone before and after me. Even before I was aware of it, I carried my yearning for reconciliation and peace with God like an anchor tied to my soul. And because of mercy and grace, my souls breathes and my heart beats new life.

 The birth of Jesus is about the arrival of the Good King. The true, noble, faithful, ruler who walked among us has come! It’s when all of creation sighed in relief and then filled its lungs to sing the highest praises. For generations, the faithful waited. The birth of Jesus is where anticipation meets fulfillment.

So let’s rejoice.

He came, He came! He came just like He promised. Our waiting is over. All this struggle and all this yearning, now breathes relief. We have a Savior! We know His name. And we are His people! He adopts us into his family as children. We are welcomed into the blessed family of Christ to join His kingdom forever. We have a beautiful inheritance. And this day that we celebrate each year; it marks the beginning; the beginning of hope, the beginning of GRACE.

July Reflection

Three years ago at this time I was shell shocked and nervous and scared.

Two years ago at this time I was full of fear living on the edge of panic.

One year ago at this time I was crushed and afraid and secretive.

Three years ago at this time, I was scared because He had given me a child.

Two years ago at this time, I was scared because He had taken one away already.

One year ago at this time, I was scared because He had given me back two fold, what I once feared would never be again.

Three years ago at this time, Lyric had just been born and had an unexpected surgery and we moved across the country.

Two years ago at this time, I found out I was pregnant with Lily and scared out of my mind that I would have another miscarriage and that I would never carry another of our children to term again.

Three years ago at this time, I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant with Fletcher, everything about my plans made sense and nothing about this surprise seemed to work in my mind, I was terrified about what the future would be like.

This summer I realized that all my fears had been proven wrong. The teeny tiniest seeds of belief from those times have been blessed beyond what I ever imagined.

And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.” (Luke 1:45, ESV)

Three babies from Katy Tullos on Vimeo.

Is that a second line?! Part 2

I was frustrated

I was mad

I was scared

I was overwhelmed

I was disappointed

I was selfishly crushed

This is the story about the contortions of a believer’s ungrateful heart. It’s weird, it makes no sense, and frankly it’s kind of bratty. By most standards, my feelings are understandable, but by my standard it's not right. Thankfully, my contorted heart and mind and emotions were untangled in the end, which is personally my favorite part. I’d love to skip the “freaking out” parts and skip straight to the happy stuff, but our story, like all the best stories, is even better because of the triumph.

There were so many sleepless nights spent staring wide-eyed at the ceiling completely freaking out. I worried about the number of bedrooms in our home, the lack of a third row in our car (purchased ONE WEEK before I found out I was pregnant), the chaos that was looming in the distance, the effect all the pregnancy and children would have on our marriage, and the effect that the pregnancy would have on my body. I spent a lot of time being sad that I had to stop losing weight. I tried to bury the fear of migraines returning (although, when the first one hit I was a massive heap of frantic tears, which makes me even more thankful for friends who let you cry and take your kids off your hands for the afternoon). But more than anything else—I lived and breathed in complete and utter denial. I’ve always heard of denial as a real thing that people that are grieving or in shock deal with. I never knew how real it could be until I started catching myself praying for the absurd.  I know what you are thinking…how can any prayers be absurd? Let me tell you. When you catch yourself genuinely praying that God would keep this baby safe and healthy and protect you and the baby from a miscarriage, but just kind of freeze that pregnancy for about two years, just ya know, put things on hold…. believing that because God is sovereign, he can do this thing you are asking of him…that is absurd. Yes he is a sovereign and powerful creator, but come on! Get a grip girl! I wish I could emphasize enough how honestly I relied on this whole…on hold, notion. 

Probably the only time during the week that I would face reality was during a run at the Y. I liked running inside on the little track upstairs (I know it’s weird) and each time I would inevitably cry. It was two steps forward, one step back. Beginning the run I would cry from stress and worry and fear, leaving the gym I felt encouraged, filled with truth, happiness and excitement. You should know that the encouragement piece came largely from the ministry of my husband and his amazing worship team and the awesome album they were working on, which I put on my iPod even during it’s “revision” stage (if you don’t have it, your missing out).

This was a time of contrasts and roller coasters for me. It was as if with every crash of fear and worry and selfishness, I was hit with a corresponding wave of truth and encouragement and help. If I wasn’t crying from the worry, I was crying from the happiness. It was so overwhelming for me that even while I was being so difficult, God would be so gentle. No matter how afraid I was—of everything, all of it—God still spoke. Never was I alone, never ever did I stop hearing from him. Sometimes it was scripture, sometimes it was music, sometimes it was people, and sometimes it was quiet revelations or new perspectives.  I’ll never forget the day when I realized that not only was this real, but this was perfect for our family’s story. All at once, at the end of a run, it just came together. Having the perfect “two year plan” just isn’t us. We are risk takers, free spirited, rip the band-aid off, “let’s do this thing” kind of people. This fit us better. The air was crisp, the sun was bright, there was a tiny breeze, my hair was pulled back with a ponytail and elastic headband when I called Austin and shared my excitement. The moment you realize that God knows you and your marriage and your family far more intricately than you do, that is a beautiful moment of grace and relief.

The coming days brought more “reliefs.” Relief like—we have eternity for order and peace and perfection, so what is the big deal if we have crazy, full, tiring days for a little while right now. That’s what life on earth is anyway. Relief like—my weight loss and health goals were quickly turning into an unhealthy obsession and this pregnancy was the abrupt end to that path.  Relief like—I love, like really love and like my kids, and now I get another one! No doubt the changes ahead are big and undeniable, but it’s a good thing. Fletcher Colby Tullos, our son and third born, is loved and anticipated and good for all four of us.

I am blessed

I am joyful

I am hopeful

I am entrusted

I am excited

I am held up

Normally, my journal is totally off limits, but just this once, take a look.

 truth

 # of kids

Beth Moore conference notes

 "I am Not Abandoned" HBCD Worship

 deliverance

                                                                     Relief

Easter and our miscarriage.

I have literally written and deleted and written this post at least 6 times. Each time, stopping and giving myself some time and space to read this again before posting and each time I come back to it, I am increasingly dissatisfied. So I'm just going to rip the bandaid off. I'm just going to say it. I'm saying it. I had a miscarriage. It happened in February.

I rewrote this post (and will probably continue to fight the urge to toss the whole thing out again) so much because every day is different. One day I sat down and wrote this blog with lots of facts, medical facts, timeline facts, all sorts of facts with nothing personal or emotional. One time I sat down and wrote this blog with all emotion, everything dark and sad and scary and mad, I wrote it all without any sense of hope or resolve. One time I sat down and wrote this blog with all the optimism and hope you could imagine, filled with gratitude and silver linings.  None of those felt right on the second read, but all of them were right in that moment, on that day. The fact of the matter is that I have felt impersonal and very distant and only able to repeat the medical facts that I know. I have felt sad and hurt and betrayed by my body. I have felt (and thankfully continue to increase in) feelings of gratitude that we were given the precious gift of guardianship even if only for 6 weeks and hopeful that my deepest desire, to bring the Lord glory with my life, will be fulfilled in Him and through Him.

It was so hard to write this for two reasons. One being that at first I thought I had to know exactly how I would explain it, how I felt about it, and where it leaves us before I could write it out and "break the news" on my blog. The other reason being, I was fearful of what someone would comment or what someone might say if they ran into me in the grocery store after reading this. I'm not exactly the best at being vulnerable. But God is good, God has been good and He will continue to be good.

This is the last post for my Easter series because this Easter the gift of salvation was vital to my heart's gladness. Before the miscarriage happened, I had an unshakeable fear that miscarriage was in the future for us. At first just thinking about it felt like driving on a long road that faced a dead end. But then I looked at our life (including and focusing on the possibility of a miscarriage) through the gospel. When I looked at our miscarriage with a heart fixed on the gospel, it wasn't a dead end anymore. Jesus freed me. Jesus will continue to free me, there are no more dead ends. "and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."I can hope; I can hope in the Lord, because my identity is not dependent on how many babies I can have. My identity is, however, completely wrapped up in, intertwined with, and dependent on Christ's death and resurrection as a substitutionary atonement for my sin.

I had to write this and share this, because God will be glorified through this...but how can I believe that if I keep it a secret to protect myself? This is a part of my story, my story of God the Savior and His continuing faithfulness. This is not a dead end, this is part of my sanctification. I also shared my story because miscarriage is common, and yet extremely isolating. If any of you out there can benefit from reading and sharing in this journey, then my story will not be wasted and it does not hold the power to isolate you or me any longer.

Easter is my favorite; Easter is hope

Easter is my favorite. It beats Christmas, Halloween, and definitely Valentines day. The last two...I mean duh, come on those are not really in the running to be anyone's favorite, but Christmas? Yea it beats Christmas, barely, but in my book it still beats it.

Easter is the celebration of the sacrifice and triumph that forever changed my life and I hope it changed yours too. Easter is what hope really means isn't it? No, not literally. Explaining that will take a moment, I need to step back and tell you a story. So several years ago during my college days, one of my many many "phases" was the stereotypical-enlightened-college-student-save-the-world phase. I had found a humanitarian cause that I was passionate about and decided to throw myself into it. I applied for an internship (which thankfully I did not get) and was prepared to up root and move to a third world country. My dad was patient in listening to my rants (I'm sure he knew that this too would fade just as other temporary passions had before), but then gently pointed out one very major flaw. If my plan for "saving the world" did not include and completely center itself on the gospel, then I really wasn't saving them. He pointed out that while drinking wells, and new shoes, and safe homes were all wonderful things and very worthwhile causes, if those causes had no intention of saving their soul then it was essentially improving their temporary quality of life until they spent eternity in torment. I never thought of it that way, I had never looked at life with the gospel in the center. I mean sure God and being good and reading my bible and going to church...all that was at the center, but this was the first time that it really dawned on me that without the gospel activating all of that...it meant nothing. None of the people who "needed my help" would really ever have true hope until they had Jesus.

Ok, so now we are back. Now you understand why Easter is hope (my abridged version). I love that every year we take a day and we praise the one who made us new. I love that for that day, we stop and we remember what it took to overcome sin and death, it took Jesus. Perfect, perfect, clean, holy Jesus. I love that we celebrate the event that gives us our only true "second chance" just as the flowers are budding and blooming. I love that we celebrate that Jesus came out of the tomb during the time of year when we emerge out of our winter hibernation. I even love that Easter egg hunts happen, even though they don't really hold any connection to Christ's death and resurrection, because when people are out enjoying nature they are witnessing the power of God. "For what can be known about God is plain to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse" Romans 1:19-20. And I love that even when the egg-hunts get rained out (which could very well happen this year) that we can marvel at his love "he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth" Hosea 6:3. And I really really love that Easter is one day on a calendar, but the gospel "is the power of God for salvation to every who believes"(Romans 1:16-17) every day. Every single day, hallelujah!

green under all this gray

I find myself hesitating to use gardening as an analogy or metaphor in this blog, hasn't it been done enough? But I absolutely cannot hold my compulsion to rejoice out of pure desperation for spring. Warm days have come and gone and since been forgotten with no notion of spring in my mind. But this weekend I made amateur attempts to garden in warm weather. Our flower bed was completely covered with ugly browns and grays (usually my favorite colors in clothing, but not so much for nature) I found myself thirsty for more green with each new leaf and bloom that appeared.

This year, I needed spring. No, you don't understand...I needed spring. I needed to see the life and hope and newness of the green after a long desolate winter. I needed to see that He can and does make all things new. I need to see that for every winter comes a spring. Each of those winters with its unique snow flakes and blizzards and each spring with its new surprises and colors and smells. I could cry just thinking about the promises of spring. With every pile of dead winter plant carcasses I pulled out of our garden, I could breathe a little more. I experienced more freedom with each fist full of muck that disappeared.

Thank you for spring! I can dance again. Healing is in your hands.