When Motherhood is Lonely

The seasons of motherhood are long and short at the same time.

When my kids were little, I longed for them to grow into a place of greater independence. It seemed like the days of little sleep and constant feedings would never come to an end. But they did. And all too fast.

The same is true of friendships as a mom. When my oldest was first born, there were a couple of other moms in my church who had little ones as well. We started meeting once a week to take our babies out for a walk, to have coffee, or to browse around a store—just something to get out of the house. Then we added "mommy and me" classes to our routine. Before I knew it, several times a week I met with other moms for fellowship and play time with our young children. Our group grew over time and became a highlight of my day. We were all in the same stage with our children so we had a lot to talk about: breastfeeding, nap schedules, development, illness, mommy exhaustion and more. These moms encouraged and carried me through those early days of motherhood. They reminded me of my hope in the gospel and the real source of my strength.

But then things changed. Our kids started school. Those of us who homeschooled our kids were still able to meet on occasion. Some moms returned to work. Eventually, we only saw one another on a special "girls night" we managed to squeeze into our busy schedules.

These days I find motherhood to be a lonely season. I've talked to other moms and discovered it's the same for them as well. Many moms are busy during the day with jobs, homeschooling, or helping out at their children's school. In the afternoons and evenings, they shuttle their kids from one activity to another. Saturday is often filled with sports and other events.

I find myself missing those early days of motherhood when my mom friends and I would sit around someone's living room and watch our kids crawl around and play. I miss having regular contact with people who understand the season of motherhood I'm in—though these days, instead of talking about feeding and sleeping issues, my concerns are braces, puberty, academics, and technology. I miss the spontaneity those early days of motherhood afforded and opportunities for spiritual connection and encouragement. 

It's hard not to want to rush through this current season of life and wish my kids were more independent. Just like those early years, these will past just as quickly. Before I know it, the nest will be empty. I'll have plenty of time then for lunch dates and coffees with friends. So yes, this season is lonely. But just like every season, it will run its course and come to an end. Until then, I will treasure these remaining years with my kids, find joy in serving them, and watch them grow and mature into young men.

But that feeling of loneliness isn't something to be ignored or minimized. I have those feelings because I was made to be in community; God didn't create me to live life on my own. I need my sisters in Christ to pour into me out of the overflow of the Spirit at work in them. I need their gospel encouragement when I am overwhelmed and discouraged in motherhood. I need them to walk alongside me in this journey, pointing me forward when I lose my way, urging me back on the path when I wander, and picking me up when I stumble. What this means is, even though my season of life is busy, I need to make an effort to stay connected. I need to be intentional to seek out spiritual fellowship. I need to seize opportunities when they come. Certainly such fellowship will not be a frequent as it once was. It will likely not be spontaneous. And it will take effort and sacrifice. But I need it. Perhaps even more than I realize.

If motherhood has taught me anything, it's that things change. Motherhood is a season in itself but is also made up of seasons. And as sluggish as those seasons are in the moment, they pass by in a flash. I want to value and cherish every moment before it's gone. But I can't do it alone. No matter how intense or busy a season is, I need to find ways to stay connected to others. I'm better for it— which means my children are better for it as well.

What about you? Have you found particular seasons of motherhood to be lonelier than others?

Thoughts on Our Trip to Israel

Many have asked me about our recent trip to Israel. I usually respond with, "It was great!" or "Amazing!" But beyond that, I struggle to put my experience into words. The truth is, what I should really say when people ask is, "Overwhelming."

Yes, overwhelming. Israel overwhelmed me. All of me.

It was an assault on my senses.

The sounds of Israel overwhelmed me. The sound of a ram's horn announcing Shabbat. The sound of the Muslim call to prayer, echoing off the old city walls. The sound of bells clanging from ancient churches. Sometimes, the sounds of these three religions would occur almost simultaneously. Then there were the sounds of languages I don't understand—not only of the locals, but of pilgrims visiting from all over the world. My favorite sound was that of our voices as we sang the Doxology in an old crusader church.

Then there were the smells. The salivation-producing smell of fresh falafel. The pungent aroma of spices in the Muslim quarter like cumin, za'atar, and curry. The foul odor of sulfur in the Dead Sea. The smell of freshly caught fish on the Sea of Galilee. 

Israel overwhelmed my sense of taste as well. The taste of creamy hummus and warm pita. The taste of tangy Israeli salads served before every meal. The taste of lamb kabobs in the Arabic Christian sector of the West Bank. The sweetness of Haman's Ears on the day of Purim. 

I felt Israel physically as well. There was the feel of the uneven Roman road beneath my feet. The cool slab of stone in the Church of All Nations, where Jesus cried out to his Father in prayer. The wind blowing across my face at the top of Masada, the fortress and final holdout of Jewish rebels so long ago. The salty water tingling my skin when I floated on the Dead Sea.

Above all were the sights. My eyes beheld things I had read, studied, and heard my whole life. The sheep running across the Judean hills. The sea where Jesus walked on water and called his first disciples. The caves where David hid from Saul. The gnarled olive trees from the time of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane. The muddy brown water of the Jordan River and the place where John baptized Jesus. My eyes took in the very synagogue, hillsides, and streets, where Jesus taught, walked, and healed. 

Israel overwhelmed my senses.

It also overwhelmed my mind. At every site we visited, there were archaeological and historical facts to learn. Layers and layers of facts. Just as a tel contains layers of ancient ruins, one upon another, each site held layers of stories from the time of the Cananites, the United Kingdom, the Divided Kingdom, the time of Christ, the nations which have come and gone since then (Arab and Muslim armies, the crusaders, the British Empire, etc.), and Israel's own statehood since 1948. My mind could barely contain all the information. 

Israel overwhelmed my heart. My whole life, my faith has been a spiritual thing. And it is. But it is a faith about things that took place in history. About real, physical things. Being in Israel and walking where Jesus walked, the reality of the truth that Jesus entered this world as a human and lived, died, and rose again, during a specific time in history became more real to me. It gripped me. Seeing the places where stories took place that I read about since my days of children's bibles and Sunday school flannel boards made those stories come to life like nothing else could. I stood on Mount Carmel where Elijah went against the prophets of Baal. I saw the altar Jeroboam constructed in the Northern Kingdom. I walked through Hezekiah's tunnel. I sat on the hillside where Jesus preached to the hungry thousands. I took a boat ride on the very waters where Jesus calmed the sea. I entered the gates of Jerusalem. I wept in the pit of the high priest's house, the very pit Jesus was held in after his arrest.  

Israel overwhelmed my soul. Our trip was a time of worship. At each site we read Scripture, prayed, and sang praises to God. We read Scripture in the same synagogue Jesus taught at Capernaum. We read from the Sermon on the Mount on the hill where Jesus spoke to the masses. We read the Psalms of Assent as we followed the path pilgrims took on their way to Jerusalem. We sang in churches. We sang at the site of ancient ruins. We sang deep underground at the praetorium where Jesus stood before Pilate. We danced and sang on the Sea of Galilee. And we prayed, thanking God for who he is and what he has done. 

Despite these many words I've written to describe my trip to Israel, they feel inadequate to me. When I look at them, they seem like when a young child points at an object and tries to say the word for it. There really are no words. Just an overwhelmed mind, heart, soul, and body, filled with wonder and amazement at our great and mighty God. 

So if you ask me about my trip and I respond with, "It was great!" know that there is a lot packed into that statement— more than words can say.  

One Body, The Church

I recently read about Martin Luther and the ways he depended upon the church body in his life. He often battled intense physical pain and depression. There were times he was in so much pain he thought he would die. In those instances, he relied upon his community—the communion of saints—to help him. They prayed for him. They preached the gospel to him when he couldn't preach it to himself. They walked with him in his suffering. He relied on and rested in the truth of our union with Christ and one another. As he wrote, "When we feel pain, when we suffer, when we die, let us turn to this, firmly believing and certain that it is not we alone, but Christ and the church who are in pain and suffering and dying with us."

As I reflected on this and our great need for one another in the church, I wrote this poem:

One Body, the Church

When my heart is heavy and tears flowing
and my world is fast twirling and spinning
When all I have is ripped out of my hands
and I'm sucked into a Job-like quicksand
When I'm hurt and broken and filled with doubt
and all I've known is twisted inside out

You are there

When accusing voices echo in my head
reminding me of what I've thought, done, and said
When the temptation to sin is far too great
and my desires snap at each and every bait
When I hate and despise everything I do
and feel so worthless, wretched, shameful, and untrue

You are there

When I'm hungry, thirsty, and need a bed
as the bills pile higher and above my head
When there's no work and no way I can live
and my hands are empty with nothing to give
When I'm weary, hopeless, and in great need,
stricken by circumstances that won't recede

You are there

When the door of blessing opens up wide
and life's joys are found waiting there inside
When God answers my heart's deepest cries
and heals, blesses, and provides
When my longings are granted and dreams come true,
my work prospers and all I have is new

You are there

We are woven together, each strand knit tight
My hurts are your hurts, my joys your delight
There's no shock when I confess guilt and sin
You remind me of grace working within
All my needs you meet with love and care
Walking beside me, my burdens you bear

Because you are always there

Christ is our King, our Master, our Head
We are his Body, by him we are led
United by his blood shed for our sin
We are family, yet unlike other kin
Our union will long outlast the sun
as we live forever, worshipping the risen Son

Forever the church...you are there

The Comforting Church

C. S. Lewis once said friendship is born at the moment when one says to another, “What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . . .” We’ve all had that “You too?” moment with another person when we discovered a common interest. We instantly felt encouraged, connected, and less alone.

While friendships based on similar likes and interests are wonderful, there is a deeper level of friendship. When we have friendships in the church, we receive comfort and encouragement we can’t get anywhere else.

The Comforting Gospel

In 2 Corinthians, Paul points the suffering believers to their union with Christ in his sufferings, and he describes God as the “God of all comfort” (2 Cor. 1:3).

Paul had experienced his own suffering while in Asia, even to the point that he “despaired of life itself” (2 Cor. 1:8), but God delivered him and his co-laborers. As he wrote to the Corinthians, then, he was thankful for the God “who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Cor. 1:4)

Having received comfort from God, Paul was positioned to extend comfort to others...to read the rest of this post, visit The Gospel Coalition.

An Exciting Adventure

Do you have a bucket list? You know, that list of things you want to do or places you want to go before you "kick the bucket." If not a bucket list, perhaps you have a "One of these days" list. Fill in the blank, one of these days, I'd like to __________.

For the Christian, there's no hurry or time limit to such lists because we know that the end of our life here on earth is not the end. Those things we'd like to do or places we'd like to see are opportunities we can look forward to in the new heavens and new earth. Because of that, I tend to keep a "one of these days" kind of list. 

What's on that list? Well, one day, I'd like to take a drawing class. I'd like to go to seminary. I'd like own a cabin in the mountains. I'd like to learn to bake things that don't come in a box. 

And I'd like to visit Israel.

This month, our family has the opportunity to go on a trip to Israel with a group from church. We are excited to see the places we've only read about in Scripture—to see where David and Goliath fought, the town where Jesus was born, the places where he taught and performed miracles, and the olive grove where he cried out to his Father in prayer. I am also excited to share those places with my children. 

I see this trip as more than just a vacation but as an opportunity for spiritual growth. I am praying that what we see and learn will enrich our faith and draw us closer to our Savior. My kids and I will be journaling each day about what we've seen and learned and I look forward to sharing some of those thoughts and reflections with you. 

If you'd like to follow our journey on Instagram, you can find me there @christinarfox.

Taming the Tongue

It’s amazing how a small thing can become a big thing.

A small spark can cause a huge fire. An invisible virus can make thousands sick. A slight turn of the rudder can take a ship off course. A dash of the wrong spice can ruin a recipe. And the tongue, though small, can destroy with just a word.

That’s what James teaches in James 3, “And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell” (vs. 6).

The Power of the Tongue

The tongue can be a sharp weapon. It can weaken, wound, and break a relationship. Unlike a real weapon, it lies hidden and strikes just when the victim least expects it. After repeated jabs over the course of time, a person is left defenseless and broken.

Much of the book of Proverbs talks about the power of the tongue (over a hundred times!). “There is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing” (Proverbs 12:18). “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger” (Proverbs 15:1). “Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits” (Proverbs 18:21)...to read the rest of this post, visit For the Family.