Confessions of a People Pleaser

I don't like despise letting people down. Oh, hear me out on this; I do it so much more than I really would like to admit. But I don't like it still. There is a gnawing within me to please those in my life. Some of that I think is good. I want to please my husband, not in a sick kind of way, but to honor him as the sweetest gift God ever gave me. I want to please my kids- not to make them happy because I don't spend too much time thinking about that (I want them to be content, a whole different thing, and that's another blog!). I want to please them because i love them, and I love blessing them. I want to please family and friends for much the same reason. I love the people in my life. So, when they hurt, I hurt. And when I know that I'm the cause of that hurt, well.. that just stinks.

But get this. Pleasing people isn't always good. Oftentimes, I've found that my quest to please some person around me has ended with me not pleasing my God. And I'm not okay with that.

In the past three months, I've struggled with knowing that God was telling me to step back from some things in order to allow more time to focus on the first ministry He has called me to- my family. I didn't really want to listen. After all, I like the things that I've been involved with, and why should I have to give up something in order to do more of what I'm already doing? blah blah blah. I'm embarrassed to admit that I was so brazen to think that I knew better than God what I needed.

And just as I was ignoring God's voice, we were hit with a situation with our daughter that tore my heart. While she was okay, we were made aware of things from her past that were ugly and heart-wrenching and called for some follow up from us even all these years later. I was angry that my little girl had to even give a second thought to the trauma she had endured early in life, and I let myself cry out to God that it just wasn't fair. In His quiet, steady, constant way, God reminded me that one of His gifts to me was to walk this road alongside her, guiding her, supporting her, mothering her. He was reminding me of what He'd been trying to say for so long- that I needed to focus more at home.


But I still didn't listen.

Then, in December, I came down with the flu. I was sick y'all. More sick than I've been in years. I spent the next week secluding myself in our basement, hoping and praying that I wouldn't pass it along to the rest of my family. I spent days mindlessly watching daytime television (this should be outlawed, by the way!), in a fog of cough meds and funk. I cried as I had to watch Ellie's Christmas program via Facetime (thank you Lord for technology), and I cried as I missed spending time with my son. But God met me there, and He gently reminded me once more that the people I was missing time with so much were the very ones He had been calling me to give more of myself to.

But I still didn't listen.

I recovered, got ready for Christmas, went on with life. On the last day that I was to work before Christmas vacation, I was preparing to leave when I bent over to pick up a simple bottle of lotion. The next thing I knew, I felt a "pop", then I could not move. I had messed up my back, and I was completely helpless. It took Jeff's help to sit, stand, move, everything. And so it was that, after a trip to the ER to determine that I had no disc damage, I found myself once more alone in the house, unable to do much except pray. And it was then that I finally surrendered.

I finally admitted to God that I was tired. As much as I was enjoying the things that I was involved with, I had to admit that I was behind in grading Bryan's home school work because I simply was rushing from one thing to another too much. Instead of doing one or two things really well I was doing more things only half-heartedly. And that included being a mom. I'd become bitter towards my kids and their activities, seeing things as an inconvenience rather than a ministry. I yelled too much, expected too much, griped too much. They weren't seeing Jesus in me; they were seeing a monster of a mom many days.

And so, I said "yes" to God. I knew exactly what needed to be cut out first, and it was so hard to write that message out to let those involved know. It was even harder to hear that I had let them down. I don't like letting people down; it's not my nature to just not care when others don't have a high opinion of me. It hurts to hear people tell me that they haven't gotten what they wanted or expected from me. But the truth is that God hasn't been getting what He expects and wants from me, and my kids haven't gotten that either, and my husband hasn't either. And well, those things have to be first.


My prayer as a mom is that my kids see that I'm a follower of Jesus first and foremost. I want them to see that I'm wiling to be obedient even when it's not convenient or comfortable for them. I want them to say one day when I'm gone "My mom loved Jesus, and she loved her family, in that order". I want my friends and co-workers to see that obedience as well. And they haven't in the past 6 months because I've been running from what God has told me to do.

  So, here's to 2013- a year of being more concerned with not letting God down than those around me. Here's to a year of serving my family wholeheartedly, cheerfully, joyfully. Here's to a year of spreading Hope and Grace instead of bitterness and resentment. Here's to a year of saying "no" when needed so that I can say "yes" without reservation when I'm supposed to. Here's to a year of authentic faith- unwavered by what others' opinions of me might be, standing firm in knowing that my Jesus loves me. Here's to a year of "boasting in the hope of the glory of God" (romans 5).

Christmas thoughts...

Where is the last place you went that you really didn't want to go? Work? Home? The grocery? Wal-mart? A dental visit? A meeting? The DMV? The mall?

Certainly there are places that we don't prefer to go. But yet we find joy nonetheless after having been there. Our work brings provision. Our homes bring healing and community. A meeting hopefully brings resolution. A visit to the dentist or doctor brings wellness and prevention. A trip to the mall can lead to smiles from those who receive the gifts we purchase.

But when was the last time you went into a place where you KNEW you'd be ridiculed, persecuted, tortured and eventually killed?

THIS is the age old story of Christmas- that Jesus, the God of all, came to a place that was unlikely (A Bethlehem stable), to people that were unworthy (Shepherds), in a way that was  unheard of (A virgin birth).

Oh, but this is STILL the story of Christmas today. You see, Jesus STILL comes to unlikely places-bars, jails, brothels, slums, the White House, government, MY house, YOUR house, schools, churches, street corners, everywhere.

He STILL comes to the unworthy-thieves, murderers, addicts, prostitutes, husbands, wives, sons, daughters, pastors, politicians, attorneys, doctors, janitors, coaches, rich, poor, you, me.

And He STILL comes in an unlikely way- entering the hearts of ALL who surrender to His will, follow His leading and desire His Lordship.

Folks, this is huge. This is Christmas, not the presents we fret over or the trees and decorations. It's not the songs or the traditions. It's not snow covered yards and snowmen, not Charlie Brown or Rudolph. Christmas is Jesus, in the flesh, come down for me and you. This propels me not only in December but each and every day of every year to live a life of Hope.

Jesus IS hope.

Hope has come to me.

Hope has come to you.

Hope has come.

Merry Christmas!

Exchanging Gifts for Water: a different kind of birthday

It's no secret that I'm incredibly proud of my kids. If you know me, you know this. I don't pretend that they are perfect; I live with them, so I know differently. But they are both pretty darn special with big hearts for injustice and for people in general.

Ellie is about to turn 6 (WHAT?) on December 3rd, and she has blown us away with her idea for this birthday. Instead of a party with her friends and tons of gifts, she is raising money for clean water in Ethiopia. Yes, she is. I told y'all I was proud, right?

Here's the deal: it takes approximately $2500 to completely set up a clean water system in Ethiopia. We have a puzzle (see the pic below) with 252 puzzle pieces. We are asking for anyone who'd like to help Ellie in this HUGE feat to give $10 per piece. We will write the donor's name on the back of the puzzle piece so that Ellie will be able to see all who believed in her and helped her accomplish this goal. By the time the puzzle is complete, she will have fully funded an ENTIRE system which we will take and set up in May, 2013.

All it takes is 250 people giving $10 each or 125 people giving $20 each for my girl's goal to be a done deal. Will you please consider helping her?

The truth is that Ellie knows full well the ramifications of drinking dirty water every day. She's lived it, and she's one of the survivors. And it's not okay with her that millions of others are living it still. This child is burdened for those still in Ethiopia, and my heart is bursting with pride and joy that she'd give up a big ol' party with her friends to do something that will literally save lives.

We are still going to celebrate her birthday, in case anyone is wondering. We will celebrate with a small family party at our house. But the big blowout is being put aside this year, and we're all okay with that.

If you'd like to help, please send money to Ellie Prosser at 1809 Jacks Creek Road, Richmond KY 40475. I promise to keep you updated on how much she has raised. I'd love so much to be able to have a COMPLETED puzzle by the time December 3rd rolls around.

Will you help us put this together??

Thoughts on anonymity

Last week, Jeff and I attended Catalyst 2012 in Atlanta with 13,000 others. It was amazing, as I knew it would be. The music was phenomenal; the speaking was passionate and engaging. The energy was contagious. I was prepared for all of that. What I wasn't prepared for was the resonating in my spirit every day since we've been home, the words I keep hearing repeated in my head, beckoning me to be more, do more, believe more.

One phrase keeps repeating over and over, louder than the rest. It is this: "It is better to be marked by God than to be marketed by man" (Christine Caine)

Initially, I thought to myself "Well, sure that's better. Being marked by God: what could be better than that?" But then it hit me that I don't really live like that's the better choice. If I'm blatantly, painfully honest with myself (and you too), I will admit that this is sometimes a struggle for me. I confess that I like to be known, to be noticed, appreciated, recognized. My human nature cries out for it at times when I least expect it.

I've wrestled with this notion of of being known recently in my writing. I've asked myself "Who really cares what I have to say?" one minute then "What if no one wants to read this?" the next. But what I know is this: I am writing because God told me to write the story. If no one ever reads it other than me and Jeff, well, God STILL told me to do it, so there is still purpose within.  

But will I be "ok" with that? Really?

What if no one ever knows that my passion is for getting clean water to everyone in Ethiopia? Does that diminish the importance of such a task? No, not at all. It simply diminishes my name, and that's where I want to be really. I want to be okay with no one ever knowing me, but instead knowing the God who calls me to act.

Anonymity is a lost art in today's world. We live in a society that screams for notoriety and fame. We live in a world that says if we aren't recognized, we aren't worthy. We live in a world that says if we are last, we are least. We live in a society that tells us in order to be someone, we must have more money, more fame, more house, more car, more clothes, more facebook friends, more blog followers, more tweets, more more more...

But God tells me that "The first will be last and the last will be first". (Matthew 20:16). His word says "What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world, yet loses his own soul?" (Matthew 16:26). It tells me "If you do not give up everything you have, you cannot be my disciple" (Luke 14:33)

My prayer is that I become more and more anonymous in my life, and that Jesus become more elevated, more known because of my life. Here's the truth that is ringing in my ears: My life is for His glory, not mine.So if man never knows the name of Holly Prosser, so be it. I have purpose to fulfill regardless. Oh, how I want to bring Him honor and fame. Change my heart, God. Mark me for your work. I'm ready. I'm willing.

Thanks be to God.

No tears here...

In just 12 short days, my daughter will begin Kindergarten and my son his senior year of high school. I'm trying really hard to wrap my head around those two facts. Seriously y'all, how can I be old enough to have a senior in high school already, yet young enough to have a kindergartner? Yet another proof that God has a wonderful sense of humor. (On a side note, I sat through Ellie's kindergarten orientation the other night looking at all the incredibly young moms around me and thought to myself "What in the blazes am I doing here? I could be their mother!". But I digress...)


I've had more than one person recently tell me things such as "You're gonna be a mess on that day!" or "Just wait to see how your heart drops when your son is preparing to graduate" or my personal favorite, "Their first day of school will be your worst day of the year. Get ready". Seriously people, is this supposed to comfort me?? But it has got me to thinkin', and I think I may be the weirdest mom out there because y'all, I AM NOT SAD ABOUT THIS.

Before I get hate mail from people telling me how horrible it is that I have just said I am not sad about these milestones, let me explain. (If you still want to send me hate mail, go on. You won't be the first, I can assure you.) I love the milestones of life my children have faced and will still face in the future. And I'm not a callous person; I cry all the time these days (now THAT is a change from the days of old!). I shed a few tears when Ellie went to pre-K last year, and I shed even more when Bryan walked out of the courthouse with his driver's permit earlier this year, I mean, come on, I'm no freak. My kids are growing up, and there's a twinge of sadness about that. Each step through a milestone is one step closer to the door to the world outside of our home.

But isn't that what our purpose is? To raise our kids in a Godly manner so that they can flourish and spread His light to others once they leave our home? Isn't that why I've spent more time than I can count on my knees before my Father asking Him to pour His spirit into their hearts? Isn't that why I pray Ephesians 3:14-20 over them every day? (go read it now, y'all. I didn't type that for nothing!)

Here's my take on school. This is nothing to be sad about to me.

First day of preschool 2009

For Ellie, if there are tears on my face, it is not because I'm sad. Quite the contrary! That child was, just three years ago, sitting in an orphanage in Woliso Ethiopia with no hope of ever being taught anything other than survival skills. Her birth mother cannot read or write, and her biggest dream for Ellie is that she will learn. So, when I see my big girl walking with that massive backpack, carrying that sweet pink lunchbox, my heart soars. She is a walking miracle, learning more than she or her birth mother ever dared to dream. How can I be sad for that? And when she goes into that room and shares herself with others, I believe that God smiles on that. She is learning not only academically, but to be a friend, to share God's love, to serve others, to be humble, to let others go first, to speak up for herself, to imagine. Nope, I'm not one bit sad about that.



Bryan's first day of high school-2009



My son is a bit different. He is a senior this year. I'm not sad about that either. In fact, my heart sings over this. I've written about him before and the struggles he has had in school and personally. (See my blog from December 31, 2011 for more on this) Last year, we took him out of the public school and did our first year of home school. To say that he did well is a ridiculous understatement. He ROCKED that year! And not only did it show in his grades, but he smiles again. He is confident again. He is growing spiritually again. He is still here with us. Enough said. So, no way am I sad that he is progressing. This is natural, and he is becoming the man I've prayed his whole life that he would become. Don't think that I'm putting him on a pedastal because I'm not; he's a 16 year old boy. He messes up sometimes, no doubt. But he also does the right thing more and more, and I'm learning that I can trust him with more and more. To see him sorting through the decisions that he will have to make in the next year is exciting. I'm trying my best to keep my mouth shut encouraging him to seek God's will and to just pray without ceasing for him. Not always easy for a big mouth like me:)

So, 12 days from now, I doubt you will see many tears from this girl. But if you do... they'll be tears of joy and not sorrow. They'll be proof of my love for the two God has entrusted to Jeff and I to parent. Thanks be to God.

Gotcha Day!

my first time holding ellie! August 9, 2009

Three years! Can it really already have been three years that we welcomed Ellie into our family? My oh my, how time flies when you're having fun! Truth be told, there are days when it is hard to believe she wasn't born into our family. She fits so perfectly with that spunky attitude and quick wit. But then there are days when it feels more like three weeks home instead, when her past trauma rears its ugly head and she is unsure of herself or her place here, not quite trusting that this is for real. Adoption is not easy, in case any of you are wondering.

On those ugly days, I try not to overreact, but honestly that's not easy. She's my daughter, for goodness sake, and when she hurts, I hurt. We ALL hurt when she does. I want to take it all away, take away her memories of "bad stuff in my ethiopia", and I want to replace it all with giggles and rainbows. Seriously, what mom doesn't want that? Yet, in my heart I know this isn't what is best for her. I know that her story makes her who she is. Her spunkiness that we love so much (and is so darn cute!) comes from her hurts. That girl had to fight for survival, and it's made her into a magnificent person. Really, if you don't know her well, you are missing out on something special!

One of my life's greatest joys has been to watch God work out His redemption in her sweet life, to watch Isaiah 61 come to life right before my eyes. He is binding up her broken heart, setting her free of past hurts that have held her captive, comforting her in her mourning the loss of all she knew for the beginning of her life, and is bestowing upon her an amazing crown of beauty. She has joy instead of mourning, praise instead of despair. She truly is a living display of God's splendor. She's the apple of His eye, and it is my utmost pleasure to get the front row seat as her momma.   

In three years,Ellie has learned to trust. She has learned to love freely and to be loved freely. She has learned to play with total abandon (she had NO IDEA how to play when she came home). She has learned to laugh hysterically. She has learned to cry when she needs to because she knows someone will come help her. She has learned to overcome fears. She has learned what family means. She has learned of a Savior who adores her and has a perfect plan for her life. She has learned to love the Cardinals (gotta raise her right!!). She has learned just how awesome it is to have a big brother. She has learned the meaning of "daddy's girl" and to recognize all things ESPN. She has learned what a "girl's night out" is and how good a new pair of pjs feel.

Ellie has learned to live. And because of her, so have I.

I've learned to let go of my selfishness. I've learned to overcome materialism and replace that with relationships. I've learned the difference between want and need. I've learned what it means to grieve and what it means to celebrate. I've learned that the American Dream is not for me, but that I'd rather spend myself (and my money) giving to others than to store it up for later. I've learned that I'm not too old, too fat, too tired, too scared, too whatever to do what God has called me to do. And I've learned that I love the thrill of the journey even more than the result.

Today, I celebrate my daughter. I'm in awe of her resilience, her grace and her innocence. She has overcome more in her 5 years than any one person should ever have to endure. And yet, she smiles and she believes wholeheartedly that there is good in this world. And you know what? She's right; there is.

Ellie, I love you so much. Happy Gotcha Day to you, my sweet Ellie Bean!

I just wanted some beads: A lesson in racism

I'm white. No way around it. Any way you look at me, I am white. 

My daughter is brown (as she puts it). She's gorgeous. Her skin is perfect, silky almost. Her hair is a mess at times, but I love it- tangles and all :)

We are family. It doesn't matter that our skin doesn't "match". It doesn't matter that society's picture of a family is that all members be the same color. That child is mine. Plain and simple. And as any good momma would, I will fight for her. For the record, I'll do that for both of my kids, but this post is about racism, and I digress. 

Yesterday I went into a hair supply store because next week Ellie is getting her hair done, and I wanted some new beads to put in it. I JUST WANTED SOME BEADS, PEOPLE. I was minding my own business, picking out my beads when I overheard a lady in the back of the store say, "Oh great. Here we go again. Another ****** white lady who thinks she has the right to raise one of our black babies. I'm so sick of this". 

I ignored her. It wasn't the time or the place, and she obviously wasn't interested in hearing the statistics of the orphan crisis in Ethiopia and the world.  I JUST WANTED SOME BEADS! 

I went to the check out counter with my beads, and the lady came to the front of the store. I can't write here what she said to me because my momma reads this, and she'd freak out to hear that language from my hand. To be honest, I'm not sure I remember everything she called me or screamed because I JUST WANTED SOME BEADS! 

I paid and made a dash for the door to get out of there. After all, I wasn't interested in hearing anymore of her ranting, and I JUST WANTED SOME BEADS. But she followed me out the front door into the parking lot. I got into my car, and she went to stand behind it so that I couldn't leave. 

Y'all... I JUST WANTED SOME BEADS. Yet here I was thinking that this lady was gonna lose it completely and try to kill me or something. I sat in the car for a few minutes, hoping she'd get tired of screaming and leave me alone. But the store worker called the police because the lady chased me out of the store while holding merchandise she had not yet paid for. Seriously, you can't make this stuff up! 

I JUST WANTED SOME BEADS, but here I was now waiting for the police to come so I could go home. Luckily, there was a police officer next door at the gas station who heard the chaos and came to check things out. He tried talking to her, and she was screaming that I was stealing a baby, that I needed to go to jail, etc etc. He handcuffed her (for shoplifting) and then actually checked my car to make sure I didn't have a baby hidden in there. I told him "I just wanted some beads. She went nuts". 

I was pretty shook up at first, admittedly. But then I was angry. And tonight I'm even more angry. I'm not angry at her per se, but I'm angry at the perception that I'm not good enough to parent my beautiful daughter because I'm white. Now hear me say this: Most people have been amazingly supportive of our journey. But the truth is I don't need the approval of others for this. We did this because Ellie deserved a family, and God led us to her. And I'd do it all over again, even if every single day was like yesterday. Because Ellie is worth it. Her life was no accident, and her being in our family isn't either. 

Ellie belongs here in this family. And if I were green, she'd still belong here. My son happens to be white and look like Jeff and I, and he belongs here too. We see no difference, and I'll defend that with anyone who wants to argue otherwise. I don't know everything there is about raising a brown skinned girl or taking care of Ethiopian hair, but I'm learning. I mess up, and sometimes she goes out with uneven pony tails and messy braids. Sometimes I forget to put lotion on, and her skin gets ashy. Sometimes I forget to put her nightcap on her hair at night, and sometimes I remember but we can't find that darn cap! 

And guess what? I don't know all there is about raising a white boy either, yet here I am doing that too. I screw up with him just as much, if not more, than I do with her Ellie because he's a guy, and well... I'm not. 

But this I do get right: I love my kids. Fiercely. I'd give my very life for either one of them, and never even have to think about it. I love them. I'm not their buddy; I'm their mom. I tell them I love them all the time (sometimes more than they want to hear it). And I mean it. I'm not perfect, not by any stretch of the imagination. But I love them.

 And there is no color to love. It just is. 

So, for those of you out there who may be thinking that this white girl has no business raising a brown girl... keep it to yourself. Because I am tired of hearing it. I'm absolutely done with that kind of garbage. If you could see the things I've seen, the looks on the faces of children who desperately want to belong to a family, you'd understand that color doesn't matter. And you'd stop putting all of this energy into attacking those of us who just want to raise our kids and put it into something that matters in life. I'm absolutely certain that if given the choice between no family and a white family, Ellie would have chose family over color. 

That girl is gonna look awesome in those beads next week!

• Not junk
• Empty