How to Live a Life that Matters

We were walking through the cemetery, my baby boy snuggled against my chest, my husband a few yards in front of us. 

“1890-1943”

“Mother”

“Together Forever”

The dates born, the dates died, those few years summed up in a word or phrase, engraved into a tombstone. 

I followed my husband, held my baby tight, and cried. We live, we die, and if we’re lucky, we get a slab of granite to sum up our lives for cemetery-walkers to read about. 

My tears flowed for a few reasons, the main being how short our lives are. Even the “long” lives, those fortunate few who hit 100; it’s not long. The years fly by and we get buried. 

This cemetery is about a mile down the road from our home and we were on a family walk. My son has now been carried through that cemetery a couple times. I plan to walk with him through cemeteries often, respecting lives lived, seeing life’s fragility, remembering death is unavoidable and coming quickly. This isn’t to be a morbid kill-joy mama, but the opposite—a peaceful add-joy mama, and remembering we don’t have very long will hopefully add all that’s good to Mercy & Boone’s perspectives of life. It’s going quick, so let’s remember what matters. 

The things that matter most, those carefully chosen few words engraved into that granite in an attempt to summarize a life; father, mother, son, daughter, spouse, friend, sister, brother. Relationships. Tombstones, these brief life summaries, boast of the relationships. Because what else is there to boast about? 

No yearly salaries, no lists of exotic vacations, no job descriptions, no house square footage, no “everyone thought she was beautiful” and no

“lots of people knew his name.”

Father.

Mother.

Sister. 

Friend. 

Relationships. 

Right now, I’m laying down with my son sleeping

across my chest, as I hold my phone above him and type my thoughts. Because napping on me is his favorite way to nap.

I know the arguments.

“You’re spoiling him.”

“Sleep training is best.”

“You gonna do that till he’s 12?”

I’m a novice mom, and I have no sleeping baby advice for anyone, I just know what seems

best for me and Boone right now. That he’s not going to be this small for long, and that if he feels safest and happiest while laying across me, then I’m going to let him lay across me. What an honor. What a tombstone engrave-worthy honor. 

“She let her kids sleep on her chest.”

Later that day, after the cemetery walk, my thinking about life and death kept going. 

I still cry for my Dad almost every day. During that day’s cry, missing him and wishing, so so so wishing, he were still here, and thinking about the incredible way dad lived life, a new life goal developed.

Husband came in the room and my mourning Dad got mixed with a discussion we’ve been having for days—how to live our lives well. How to leave a mark that’s soaked in love. Hopefully we never end this conversation.

Like I do most days, I shared with husband how wonderful dad lived, expressing my new life goal;

“If your kids cry for you for years after you die, then you spent your life really well.”

Dad spent his life really well so we keep crying. 

I hope my kids cry for me for years. Because I loved them so hard, called them so many times a week, gave them so much of my heart, bought them so many meals, made so many sacrifices for them, hopped on so many airplanes to come see them, squeezed them so many times, dedicated my life to loving them—that the hole is so big they keep missing me.

What really matters? 

These people God’s given me as family and friends. These relationships that my tombstone will soon boast of.

For now, I’m going to keep holding this little boy while he sleeps on me. His tiny body curled up happy across me. His soft foot the length of my pointer finger, his shoulders the span of my hand. He’s already nearly 3 times the size he was when he was born, and he’s only four months old. Time isn’t slowing down for any of us.

God, may we walk through cemeteries and remember we’ll be there soon. May we hug our family tight and often. May we go easy on each other. May we care more for our relationships than we do anything else. Let love grow in us. Amen. 

why I keep singing to my son (it's good news)

It’s not something I was taught, it’s just there, deep & natural; an instinct. Every morning I look at my son and out of my mouth comes a song. 

A different song every day, but the theme always the same - he is good & I love him. 

Three months into the new mom life and the awe continues. This boy is so good. And new mom life continues to teach me that God likes us more than I'd realized.

“Boone, I really like you,” is a common lyric in my daily songs. This lyric won’t change if he’s having trouble with letters in kindergarten. It won’t change if he hits a mean spell in 3rd grade and hurts his classmates feelings. It won’t change if he gets fired from his first job or gets a divorce or 5 divorces or never makes much money…I’m still going to like him. 

That’s God’s way stamped into me. 

A few years ago, in the red light district in Hong Kong, I got to help decorate a room where ladies would come to eat, be seen, be loved. A room to rest from cat calls and perversion. So I charged up and down the streets gathering wood pallets from trash piles. With a pry bar and a lot of sweaty time, I dissected the pallets then nailed them into flat signs. In white dainty script, a friend painted this hope across one of the signs;

“The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing. -Zephaniah 3:17”

We hung that hope up in the middle of the room, in the middle of the red light district. All of us sat together on the couch and every day, could look up at that happy statement — God likes us and sings to us. 

Isn’t that what we all need hear? 

If you’re a sex worker, a farmer, a truck driver or a stay-at-home mom—this is truth we need. 

What’s His song sound like?  Judging from the songs that are naturally flowing out of my own heart, which was designed in God’s image, I’m guessing His song involves these words; 

I’ve got you.

Don’t be afraid.

I’m here.

It’s ok. 

You’re good. 

You’re amazing. 

I like you. 

I love you.

You’re mine. 

When Jesus came here to show us what God’s like, He got baptized. When He came out of the water, God’s voice boomed from Heaven so everyone could hear it. God proclaimed this over Jesus;

“This is My beloved Son, with Him I am well pleased.”

Because of the Cross, because of redemption, we’re given the same approval as Jesus (John 17:26, Romans 3:24, 2 Corinthians 5:19-21). 

So God booms the same affirmation over us. Wow. 

Catholic priest Richard Rohr writes, 

“After fourteen years as a chaplain in the Albuquerque jails, I am convinced that the reason people make great mistakes is because they have never heard what Jesus heard on the day of his baptism. They never heard another human voice, much less a voice from heaven, say to them, “You are a beloved son. You are a beloved daughter and in you I am well pleased.” If we’ve never had anyone believe in us, take delight in us, affirm us, call us beloved, we don’t have anywhere to begin. There’s nothing exciting and wonderful to start with, so we spend our whole lives trying to say those words to ourselves: “I’m okay, I’m wonderful, I’m great.” But we don’t really believe it. The word has to come from someone greater than us. That’s really a parent’s primary job—to communicate to their child that they are a beloved, eternally-existing child of God. Our jails are filled to over-flowing with people who never heard this foundational message—and sadly, so is much of our world. The only purpose of the gospel, and even religion, is to communicate that one and eternal truth. Once we have that straight, nothing can stop us and no one can take it away from us, because it is given only, always, and everywhere by God—for those who will accept it freely. My only job and any preacher’s job is to try to replicate and resound that eternal message of God that initiates everything good on this earth—You are beloved children of God!”

Surely God enjoys us way more than we can imagine. And surely that’ll change our lives if we’ll let it. 

God’s Story, the Gospel, is called Good News.

What a load off our tired striving backs.  

We named our son Boone. It’s from the French word “bon” which means “good.” We want him to live his life knowing God has made him good. 

I believe God wants you and me to live the same. 

“You are good and I love you.”

God, help us hear Your song.  

3 things to hold onto amidst life's challenges

My son is two months old and Dad died a year ago. 

So there's this mix of desperately-missing-dad grief and overwhelmed-happy-I-get-to-be-Boone’s-mom joy and it's making me think about what a refuge is and how I live in need of one. 

Refuge. A noun. 

a condition of being safe or sheltered from pursuit, danger, or trouble.

I'm guessing you've noticed being alive is kinda hard. There's pursuit, danger, or trouble that fills our days. So we need some refuge. 

Good News. 

In the midst of the betrayal and confusion and suicide and heartbreak and disappointment and funerals, as we await our own funerals (it's where we're all heading), God is wanting to hold us. 

To hold us and comfort us and tell us He loves us--Refuge. 

Here are 3 things my grieving/joyful new mom heart keep learning about God as Refuge:  

1. God loves us. 

All day everyday I stare at my son. Not because I have to, but because it’s all I want to do. I sometimes weep, undone with emotion at this one thought - I get to be Boone Tobias Martin’s mom. 

Could God enjoy looking at us?

Could He, the holy Maker, weep with joy that He gets to be our God?

In this moment, as He watches you read, sees every thought in your mind, notices your clothes and your scent and your energy levels — is He enjoying Himself? I believe He absolutely is. 

Not because you’re perfect and polished, but because you came out of Him. He designed you. I beam over Boone and God beams over you. 

God designed life this way, making us in His image. So even me, an imperfect, moody, novice mom, gets a taste of what God feels for human beings as I raise my son.

He has wired His own affections into our DNA. 

My husband and I are not trying to talk ourselves into loving this baby. It’s in our instincts; we can’t avoid it.

Much much much we can learn about who God is by looking at the love He has put inside of us. 

When a friend is meeting Boone, I find myself wanting to ramble on about the little indentions in the tops of his ears, how often he lifts his arm straight into the air, that he has his dad’s feet, I’m pretty sure his eyes are turning blue, he holds my hand when he eats, he’s just started smiling, his eye lashes have grown a lot, his skin is the softest thing my hands have ever felt...

Could it be that God cares about the way you eat breakfast every morning? Or that He smiles when He watches you pull on your favorite shirt again? Or that He laughs as He talks to friends about the mess in your hall closet? Laughing with pride that you’re HIS kid with the closet mess?

Right now. In our current weak conditions. The Designer of the universe is enamored by his beautiful kids. Me and you.

We can rest in this place of being loved. 

If God sees and delights in the everyday mundane of our lives, won’t He be filled with a Parent’s passionate care when we’re hurting?

2. God cares about our pain. 

‭‭

My son was circumcised on his 3rd day on the earth. When they brought him back into the hospital room and I saw the dried blood in his diaper, evidence of the pain his perfect brand new body had just experienced, I cried. I couldn’t stand it. My son had experienced pain and it hurt me. 

Jesus was about to raise His friend from the dead: but He first paused to feel the pain His friends were feeling. And He cried with them. 

John 11:35. 

He has wired His own affections into our DNA. 

God sees this pain, all of our pain, yours and mine, and He cries. 

He sees, He cares, He cries. 

3. God wants to comfort us 

When Boone is crying, all I can think about is holding him. 

The NIV Bible says “refuge” 96 times. 

Like this: 

Psalm 46:1 - God is our refuge and strength, A very present help in trouble

God knew our days would be made of pain, confusion, mess-ups, being misunderstood, funerals. What He wants to do is hold us. 

When Boone is sobbing as hard as his 8-week old body will allow, I lean over him, put my cheek right up against his, 

whisper my love into his ear. 

“It’s ok Boone, I’m here,” I say a million times a week. Doesn’t that sound familiar? Reading the Gospels, Jesus says it over and over to us. “Don’t be afraid. It’s me. I’m here.”

My mom instincts were put there by the Perfect Maker with His perfect Mom ways. God bends over us, puts His own holy cheek up against ours, whispers His love into our ears. 

I’ve been reading articles about moms and babies. 

The RIKEN Brain Science Institute in Saitama, Japan, studied the effect of a mother’s embrace on an infant - a baby’s heart rate slows immediately and crying subsides when they are picked up.

Researchers watched the behavior of 684 mother with infants in five different continents. In each place, mothers did the same thing when their infants cried: 

they picked them up, held them and talked to them. 

God has made us like Himself. 

Researchers have monitored the brains of new mothers and more experienced mothers in the U.S., China, and Italy, finding that at both experience levels, and in each place, these responses to their babies cries were deeply wired into the nervous system at an instinct level.

We've got being a refuge wired into our instincts. 

God has made us like Himself. 

Deepak Chopra, M.D. says a close attachment between a baby and mother can prevent diseases, boost immunity, and enhance IQ in the baby. While babies who are not held, nuzzled, and hugged enough can stop growing, and if the situation lasts long enough, even die. Researchers discovered this when trying to figure out why some orphanages had infant mortality rates around 30-40%.

God starts us all of like this - desperate to be held. And I think that’s because He wants us to always live like this - held by Him.

Crying is better when we’re in someone’s arms. 

Belly aches and hunger turn into heart break & cancer, and we’re still needing to be picked up and held. 

God loves us, He sees our pain, and He wants to comfort us. 

Ask Him to help you believe He wants to be your refuge. 

Invite Him to refuge you. 

Then take a moment to imagine His cheek pressed against yours.

Our souls need a refuge and God here You are.