The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

We feel the lurch in our stomachs and the skip in the beating of our hearts, the flush in our cheeks and the upward turn of our lips and we know. We know that there has been a shift. When I fell in love I felt like I was on a roller coaster. That anticipation of what comes around the corner, how it would feel getting to the highest point, that rush of excitement and uncertainty; it was amazing.

Falling in love with my husband was the easiest and most exciting time of my life. The fresh and new merging into certainty and assurance was life giving. It was beautiful. Never in my life have I smiled as hard or as big as I did during our courtship. Until of course, our wedding day. I am told that I nearly ‘vibrated off the stage’ with giddy anticipation to boldly proclaim, “I WILL” and proudly be reintroduced to our crowd of loved ones as Mrs. to this Mr. that I loved so much.

And then suddenly it felt as though we were on an entirely different ride. 

The phrase the game of life is a common one but what do we call the ride of life? I should attempt to coin it so that I can use it here. Dating and the process of engagement are amazing opportunities to stretch and grow in expectation and hope. There is forever that “What if we get married?” or “When we are married.” And then comes the highly anticipated wedding and then you ARE MARRIED.

AND THEN WHAT?

I was not born into a home of ‘leading by example.’ I was born into a home where marriage looked like prison. I looked at marriage as a suffocating land of lost identity and dreams. Love existed as a strained obligation. Until, finally, the bond of commitment could no longer be seen through and our family shattered into the five fragments that had tirelessly fought to preserve the image of something that had never existed. I was familiar with love. There was no shortage of the word in our home. I am certain I heard it on a regular basis. 

But love is not (just) a word. Love is a person who calls us into action. Love is a verb. Love is in the doing.

I romanticized love my entire life. It was always whimsical like the Lady of Shallot, with intense emotions and insurmountable odds. I confused intimacy with sex and love with the movies. 

And then I met my husband.

I have not one doubt that divine intervention was at work that day seven years ago as we walked throughout a conservation area; that God’s hand was in it. Through this man I now call husband I learned the true meanings of words (which, if you know me at all, you can appreciate the substantial beauty of these revelations).

In doing life with this man I have learned that intimacy isn’t an act, it’s a combination of moments, a sharing of quirks, hopes and dreams. It’s about laughing for too long and too hard at the strangest thing, it’s about being safe in a space that is just for the two of us and that that space is wherever we are together. 

In doing life with this man I have learned the significance of commitment. How doing the hard thing when every impulse screams the easy way out is the worthwhile thing. Love is a listening ear when all you want is to be the voice. In doing life with this man I have learned that love isn’t just a word that I hear, but in the daily sacrifices. Sacrifices that are equally a privilege in the daily example of being love to one another. Love is in the quiet spaces, in the laughter and the tears. Love isn’t about loosing yourself through reckless abandon but in the personal growth of acknowledging that through marriage it just isn’t about you alone anymore. 

As we enter into ‘wedding season’ I think of the scripture reference from 1 Corinthians that is so frequently sighted. ‘And the greatest of these is love’ which is true but only if there is an understanding of what that actually means. The apostle John described it beautifully here:

                Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. John 15:13

Every morning that we wake up we need to die to ourselves. As a believer, this is in reference to dying to our ‘flesh’ (for some churchy jargon) but in marriage it is to die to ourselves not in the sense that we lose who we are but in understanding that it is not just about us ever again. 

It’s a brand new love.

During this summer time wedding season, as more hearts publically pledge their love and commitment to one another, this is my prayer to them.

That moving forward with this understanding of love that (to quote more scripture) you “love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” 1 Peter 4:8   Marriage isn’t about ‘me and you’ marriage is about the ‘us’. To me marriage is the greatest blessing, roots to what I hope will be a beautiful forest of trees that will bear fruit that feeds our world with the purest form of love; action.

Be encouraged.

48ae807e-8597-4a42-ac92-447b83807331

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Amy Bruinsma

Hello! My name is Amy and I am The Optimistic Mama! I am a stay at home mom married to the love of my life, doing the best I know how to be to our three little people. My hope is to grow them into difference makers, each their own beacon of light. I live in rural Southern Ontario where I enjoy (extremely) early mornings with my wee ones leading to full coffee mugs and beautiful sunrises, walks amongst the trees, small hands in mine, adventures in stick and pebble collection and anything in between. The intention behind The Optimistic Mama is to be voice of encouragement in a perpetually exhausting season of life. My hope to all who read my words is a simple one; be encouraged! http://www.theoptimisticmama.com/

Your Worth Is Not Someone Else’s To Measure

In: Faith, Living
Woman looking over canyon

Insecurity is something we all carry in one form or another. For me, it has probably always looked confident and outgoing from the outside. But internally, it can feel heavy, complicated, and exhausting at times. And when someone comes along whose behavior reinforces those insecurities, it amplifies what was already there. There was someone I had hoped to genuinely connect with, but it was clear from the start that the feeling wasn’t mutual. From the beginning, their wall was up. No matter how kind I tried to be or how carefully I showed up, it never came down. Their distance...

Keep Reading

Lord, Give Me Faith Like Hannah

In: Faith
Woman walking in field with hand in wheat

Hannah knew what it was like to feel forgotten. She often clutched her empty womb and thought Surely the Lord has forgotten me.  She knew the bitter sting of feeling isolated and alone. She knew the anguish of praying day after day after day and seeing no fruit, not even a bud, from her faithfulness. Hannah knew what it was like to feel like the weight of the world was on her, and her hope may have dwindled. Even those around her did not offer encouragement. Quite the opposite—they did their best to sow seeds of discouragement. Yet Hannah pressed...

Keep Reading

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman at the beach as waves come in

“Ahhh!” My underwater scream garbled in my snorkel tube as the manta ray’s cavernous mouth swept a hand’s distance from my face. My fingers tightened around the surfboard until my knuckles ached. My arms trembled. I jerked my head side to side, searching for my daughters, Mia and Megan. Recent college graduates, they had joined me on one last mother-daughter vacation before launching their adult lives. They floated easily on the vibrant Hawaiian water, relaxed, trusting. I wanted to borrow their calm. Earlier, our guide had explained that the LED lights built into the surfboard attracted plankton the way college...

Keep Reading

Faith After a Rare Disease Diagnosis

In: Faith, Motherhood
Family smiling in posed photo

My pastor frequently speaks of “kid pain” and acknowledges there’s nothing like it. I can testify to that. After nine months of uncertainty and unexplained issues following the birth of our now 4-year-old daughter, Harlow, we finally received her diagnosis of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase Complex Deficiency (PDCD), a life-limiting mitochondrial disease with no cure and no FDA-approved treatments. It was heartbreaking. In moments like these, a parent can fall into complete desperation. You go through a range of emotions almost too fast to name: fear for your child’s life; anxiousness about how much time you’ll get with them; overwhelming grief. And...

Keep Reading

What If I Don’t Hear God’s Voice?

In: Faith
Woman with folded hands looking up

There have been many times over the years when I’ve heard others share stories of how the Lord spoke to them or gave them a sign. Seashells scattered along a sandy beach, numbered to represent how many children they would have. A quiet walk in the park, followed by a clear sense that another little one was coming. What a blessing, I think, when I hear and read their stories. I often wonder how much more faith they must have than I do—to know with such certainty that what they heard was truly God speaking. I listen, I smile, and...

Keep Reading

God Holds You As You Hold Everyone Else

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding toddler daughter on her hip, standing outside

She stands in the kitchen, hands trembling over the sink, tears she cannot let fall pressing behind her eyes. The world outside her window is quiet, but inside her heart there is a storm she cannot name. She is hurting, not because she does not love her life, but because somewhere along the way she forgot how to breathe inside it. Yet even in her pain, little voices call her name. Tiny hands tug at her shirt. Lunchboxes need packing, homework needs checking, hearts need holding. And so she wipes her face, forces a smile, and whispers a quiet prayer:...

Keep Reading

Yes, I Know Fear—but I Also Know Faith

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding child's hands in hospital bed

The night my daughter woke up screaming at 3 a.m., I knew something was wrong. Her cry wasn’t the half-asleep whimper of a bad dream. Instead, it was pain—raw and sharp. Within an hour, we were rushing to the emergency room, the world outside our headlights still wrapped in darkness. Tests, scans, questions, and then the words no parent ever wants to hear: “We’re transferring her to another hospital by ambulance. She needs surgery right away.” They said “torsion.” They said “tumor.” They said “appendix.” I nodded, because that’s what mothers do. We stay steady, even when our hearts are...

Keep Reading

10 Years after My Mother’s Death, Her Faith Still Guides Me

In: Faith, Grief
Woman praying

Growing up, I was a reluctant Catholic. My mother would drag us to church, and I’d go through the motions—fingers moving across rosary beads without really feeling the prayers. But she never stopped. Sunday Mass, daily prayers, devotions to the Blessed Mother. She was relentless in her faith, not because she was trying to force it on us, but because she genuinely believed we would need it someday. She was right. My mother died of stage 4 colon cancer in 2012. My brother and I watched her suffer, saw how her body betrayed her, watched as treatments failed. And here’s...

Keep Reading

Finding God in the Middle of Disbelief: A Mom’s Journey through Faith and Fear

In: Faith
Mother holding hand of young child, silhouette

“But the Lord is with me like a mighty warrior; so my persecutors will stumble and not triumph over me.” – Jeremiah 20:11 God, thank You for making sure my son is okay. Thank You for this just being paranoia. I believe in You. I believe in Your control. I believe. I believe. I believe. These words streamed through my head as my husband drove us downtown to visit our first specialist with our 4-month-old son, Maximus. Our pediatrician had written me off, but I could not ignore the feeling in my bones that something was wrong. Tiny, hard bumps...

Keep Reading

In Praise of Indebtedness: How Threads of Reciprocity Weave Us Together

In: Faith, Living
Woman holding casserole

It all started with tomatoes. After we moved, a neighbor invited us to pick from the abundance in her and her husband’s gardens. In return for a pile of tomatoes gathered from their raised beds, I left a plastic bag of homegrown pumpkins on their porch. Later that summer, our neighbor stopped by with a recycled container full of still more fruits. By the fall, we were sharing chili and cookies over dinner at our place. Threads of indebtedness were weaving us together. For most of my life, the idea of indebtedness has tasted rather repulsive on my tongue. The...

Keep Reading