as a child rests in his mother's arms, so will i rest in you

hello to all.

a brief little message before my post: i just wanted you to know that no matter who you are or where you are, you are loved today. because i love you. i love that you are joining me in this little journey. i love that you take the time to read the words of my heart and share in my experiences. and so i pray for you specifically right now, that God may reach into the depths of your heart and reveal his love and peace like never before.

now back to our regularly scheduled program.


every so often i find myself with a shrieking infant who is so tired that he cannot do the very thing that he wants, really needs so badly to do: fall asleep. he lays in my arms so rigid, his little body craving the very thing he refuses to submit to.

and i realize that sometimes i am the same way with the Lord. i fight his will, which is the best thing for me. i kick and scream and pout, petulantly demanding MY WAY when his way is the only one that ensures joy and peace.

and the worst part is that our spirits crave what the Lord offers us. we were created to yearn for his love, guidance, and peace. but our obstinate hearts think we know what is best, that the Lord doesn't see our particular circumstances or understand our situation - "if you only knew what i'm dealing with, Lord, you'd see it my way too."

and all along the Lord is embracing me, comforting me in my ridiculousness, cherishing me in spite of my resistance to what he knows is best.

for as much as i love my little daniel in spite of his absurd refusal to simply allow himself to fall asleep, how much more does the Lord look on me with love when i childishly try to assert my independence and explain to him how much i am dealing with and how he ought to be God.


i want to rest in your love. i want to be at peace in you. i want to trust implicitly, to surrender totally.

i want to want what you want. 


Lord, strip from me my childishness. grant me the grace to be childlike, to trust simply in you, to bask in your grace and trust that all will be, if not always happy, at least perfect according to your plan if i simply say fiat.  

i know he's not sleeping, but still so joyful!

Become As A Little Child

Incredible, how frequently each day I must sacrifice myself. A few weeks ago, I asked the Lord how I could be a better mother, what I could do to love better, and He said to me, "Little one, every single act you do as a mother is one of selfless love." It overwhelms me, and I fall to my knees and beg for the grace and strength I could never have on my own. My heart simply isn't big enough. But His grace is sufficient and He supplies all we lack.

Today, I endured one of the heartbreaking moments of motherhood. Not my baby bumping his head or falling off the couch (Thank God), but still another source of mommy anxiety (at least for me): baby vaccinations. Matthew is such a champ, and only cries for a little bit, but with every sob my heart aches a little more. 

Now, I did my research for myself, and will not use this blog as a soapbox to iterate the pros/cons of vaccinations. Every mom needs to decide that for herself and for the best good of her little one. I chose to give Matthew his vaccines, and as such have to steel myself every two months for my little one's chubby thighs (oh-so-delicious and squeeze-worthy) to be pricked with needles. I know the benefits are undeniable, but let me tell you, the mama bear in me wants to rip the needles out of that nasty nurse's hands and chase her out of the run for wounding my baby. And while I'm hyperventilating and racing through Hail Mary's ten at a time, Matthew is crying, and then sniffling, and then hiccuping, and then... a smile. All better, Mommy. And I smile back at him through my own tears and aching heart, and say, "My brave boy."

I know now the truth in what my mother always told me, "Gaby, this will hurt me much more than it hurts you..."


And then it struck me: I will bear a heavier cross for having had my little boy, because I will not only bear my own suffering, but that of my beautiful son. He may not be destined to save the world (as was another Son born in Bethlehem). But my Matthew will have his own share of sorrows, and as his mother, I will look on and share all. Sometimes, I'll be able to make it better with a kiss and a Band-Aid. Sometimes, all I will be able to do is cry with him, pray with him, look for meaning with him, suffer with him, and let him


It is the lot of the mother to share burdens beyond her own, and to bear these things in her heart. Am I ready for that, Lord? Only with Your grace, which surpasses understanding. Only then, will my selfish heart be able not only to endure my own suffering, but willing shoulder the sorrow of my children, however small or excruciating. With my own mother as an example, I have witnessed -more so in the past few years, as my mother has become less a authority figure and more a friend- how often a mother must set aside her own trials, to be a source of comfort and wisdom for her little ones. It is a cross added to her cross, but a joyful burden.


My heart aches when my son suffers. My sorrow is inextricably joined to his, and his joy increases mine. I am reminded of how this is an image of what our relationship with God the Father ought in fact be. As His children, His glorification ought be our primary goal and joy, and His suffering ought cause us sorrow. I am learning, little by little, so very much from my new role as mother. I am learning what it means to love unconditionally, what it means to surrender, to trust. I am learning to place all in the hands of my own Father in Heaven, begging for the grace to be what Matthew needs me to be, while growing in my own personhood.


I need to be more like my son. Even as I love him, play with him, teach him, I must never forget that I am called to be more like him - childlike. Trusting that the Lord will never allow me to experience agony without purpose, for my own best good. Resting in His peace, knowing that here alone can I never be harmed. Knowing with absolute certainty that my needs will always be met. For He is my Abba, my Daddy in Heaven. And He will never allow me to suffer without bearing the brunt of it Himself. Maybe someday I'll endure through some suffering without kicking and screaming the whole time. Maybe it'll be me who cries a little, but then clings to the One who is my strength, saying, All better Daddy! And He'll smile lovingly, knowing that it is His grace that carries me through each trial, and say "My brave girl."

Joy of My Heart

I've mentioned my music and my desire for ministry. Now on to the third "M" of the series, that has recently shot up to the number one occupancy of my time and energy for the past (can't believe it's already been) 4 months: my pride and joy, Mr. Matthew Elliot Frei.


I must admit, I had a challenging pregnancy. I didn't have the roses and ecstasy, blissful choir of angels experience that some women (may they realize just how blessed they are) have. I had wretched morning sickness, crippling migraines, sheer exhaustion, a mental battle against hating myself for putting on all that weight (after a lifetime of dieting), a loss of control over my own body, all in the midst of a full-time job (which, granted, was also a joy). There were some bleak moments when I simply couldn't see the end of the tunnel, and thought I would be pregnant and miserable forever.