Discerning the Will of God

On Babies and Dreams

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Three years ago, I spent the better part of nine months, ever so slowly writing a book. It was called Letters to Myself from the End of the World, and it was just that: a series of letters to my 25-year-old self on holiness, the Church, womanhood, motherhood, prayer, death, and many other things that God has taught be over the past 20 years.

I wrote the bulk of Letters to Myself between May 2020 and mid-July 2020. Chris was home because of the shutdown, and at the time, we had just one easy toddler, so I had a fair bit of time to write. Then, on July 20, as many of you know, we received a call telling us that a baby had been born in Texas and we had been chosen to be his parents. Two hours later, we were on the road. After spending nearly a month in a Dallas NICU, we returned home with a toddler who had been deprived of his mother for weeks and a teeny tiny preemie, who had been traumatized in a half-dozen different ways during his four short weeks of life. Just six days later, we learned that Toby’s birth parents were expecting again and wanted us to adopt the new baby when she was born in the Spring.

The next seven months were a blur. I slowly and painfully eked out the remaining letters for the book, all while caring for our two babies, preparing for a third, and writing copy for both Franciscan University and the St. Paul Center. I remember precious little about those months, as I was a bit traumatized, too.

When the book finally went off, two weeks before Ellie was born, part of it stayed behind. Some of the letters just wouldn’t shape up the way I wanted them to, so I held them back, thinking maybe, just maybe, I might eventually get around to cleaning them up and doing something else with them.

Then, a few months ago, I noticed that the “Babies and Dreams” conversation which had filled my Instagram feed in February 2020, was popping up again. Some of what I heard concerned me. I felt like the voice of the average woman was being drowned out, both by those who insisted mothers should not ever work outside the home and by those who insisted mothers should always pursue their professional dreams and climb every mountain, even when babies were clamoring for more, not less of them. I also felt like too many loud voices were taking a completely natural view of the question, missing key spiritual components of the discussion, and selling God short, making Him, His Plan, and His grace smaller than any Catholic should.

I planned to write about this on Instagram or in a newsletter, but then my dad died and my friend who babysits Becket and Ellie two mornings a week went on tour, and some other big things happened, and well, here we are two months later. But this past week, I decided the time to share some of my thoughts on this issue had come. I started writing them out, but as I did, a lot of what I was saying sounded vaguely familiar.

Then, I remembered.

One of those unfinished letters sitting in my files was indeed about babies and dreams. And while it needed a lot of work, it was fascinating to read the words of Emily three years ago on this question. This was Emily before Ellie, Emily before Substack, Emily before the children’s books, and Emily before Beautycounter. This was Emily who was stumbling through her days, writing fundraising letters on three hours of sleep, because another adoption was in the works and her little family desperately needed every dollar she could make.

That Emily saw the truth of what she was doing and what God was doing so clearly. Not clearly enough for the letter to be included in the book. But clearly enough for me to go back through this never before published letter, give it a heavy edit, add a few more thoughts in a post-script, and share it with you today. It doesn’t say everything I have to say on the topic of babies and dreams. But for now, it says enough.

September 13, 2020
Hawthorne House

Dear Emily

I spent the better part of yesterday writing a fundraising letter for a client. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t “living the dream.” I would much rather have been snuggling with Becket or writing this letter to you. But life (and the mortgage) demanded something different than what I wanted. It usually does. Especially in this season of littles. At the rate I’m going, it will be years before I get back to some of the writing projects I want to do. I’ve started saying no to every speaking request that comes my way. And I can’t even think about the other things I’m not doing right now: exercising, weeding, cleaning my basement, returning emails, calling friends who I miss and love.

Everything these days, in this season, is about caring for the little men God has entrusted to me and doing whatever work is necessary to keep the mortgage paid, no matter how uninteresting that work might be. Between the laundry, the diapers, the cooking, the dish washing, the baby holding, and the not-fun-but-pays-the-bills writing, I barely have time (or energy) left for showering, let alone chasing professional dreams.

I’m not complaining, though. First, because all these holy but wearying motherly duties are my dreams too. I dreamed them for decades. I’d almost given up hope that they could ever come true. I’d resigned myself to an entirely different life when this present life swept in and upended everything. To have the chance to hold the baby, discipline the toddler, and feed the man is a blessing. It is glorious, if not glamorous work, that, God willing, will bear fruit forever. Besides, I’ve already had seasons of speaking and traveling and writing books. God willing, maybe I’ll have those seasons again. But this one? Right now? It’s an answer to prayer.

I’m also not complaining about the limitations of this present season because the older I get, the more I have learned to see the outline of God’s hand in every season.

Back when I was you, single and in my twenties, I feared I was wasting my time, myself, and my life. I longed to be married, bring babies into the world, and make a home for the people I loved. It seemed like that was what I’d been made do. Cooking and cleaning, organizing and hosting, decorating and baby minding—all those things came naturally to me, and I couldn’t understand why God wasn’t answering my prayers to do them.

Now, twenty years later, it’s tempting to think the exact opposite thought. I have so much I want to write about, so many things I want to do to help people know the Lord and love the Lord. But I can’t write what I want to write. I can’t travel and speak. I can’t even properly market the books I have written. I’m watching other women launch apostolates and accept fellowships, while I’m writing copy for others because that’s what pays the bills best in the small amount of time I have to write.

In the midst of all this, it is again easy to think that I am wasting my time and my gifts. It’s tempting to question God’s plan. Occasionally, I do. But then I look back on those single years, when so many dreams went unrealized and gifts seemingly went unused, and I see the work Jesus did in me during that time.

I see, first and foremost, how God used those years to draw me closer to Himself and His Sacred Heart, fortifying me for all the challenges to my faith that would come in later years. I also see how God shaped the way I saw the heart of motherhood, as something that was fundamentally spiritual, which made it easier for me to say ‘yes’ to adoption when that time came. I see how He poured out His graces on me during that season, helping me to slowly grow in wisdom, understanding, patience, and humility, all virtues which I so desperately need these days, since the babies came. And, last of all, I see how God helped me establish a career that could provide for my family and allow me to still be home with my babies, when the need was there.

With hindsight, I can see that none of that time was wasted. All of it was accounted for in His perfect plan. And even the gifts I thought I wasn’t using, were absolutely being used—just not in the ways I thought they should be. I was making a home for people. I was cooking and organizing and serving people. I was mothering. Only, I was doing that for friends, neighbors, and those who read my words, not a family of my own.

Seeing that work of God’s in the past helps me to see His work more easily in the present. I may not be on stage explaining the Faith to thousands of people anymore. But I am explaining it to one little person right now, and someday, I’ll get to explain it to two little persons…or maybe more. I may not be running a large apostolate, but I am running a small one—feeding the hungry, instructing the ignorant, comforting the sorrowful. And I don’t get to tell all the stories I have to tell. But I do get to use my writing to help other people and other organizations tell their stories well. And their stories matter too.

Here, in my home, God has assigned to me the task of living what I believe to be true, not just writing about it. And as I do that, no gifts of mine are being wasted. They’re just being used in a way that some might deem small or less important. But they’re not small. And they’re not less important. Not to my children. Not to God.

Looking to the past shows me one thing more, Emily. It shows me that God is doing a work in me now, that will prepare me for the work to come.

The two decades I have on you have taught me how fast each season goes and how quickly things change. It feels like it was just yesterday when I was you, curled up in a Capitol Hill coffee shop, reading the Catechism and G.K. Chesterton, as I wrestled with the Church’s claims. Then, I blinked, and now here I am, twenty years later, getting projectile vomited on for the eighth time since noon.

This season is hard. But it’s just a season. It’s not forever. This time, here, with my babies, is passing. It’s flying. And I know, as sure as I know my name, that I’m going to blink again and find that those boys have become young men and I have become an old woman. Before that happens, though, there will be other seasons—seasons for more writing, more traveling, more speaking, and more hosting. Maybe there will even be a season for a fellowship. But when those seasons come, the me that does those things will be all the better for having done what I’m doing now.

Motherhood may not be enriching my bank account, but it is enriching me. I understand so much more now than I did before the babies came—about myself and my fears, about God and His love, about the human person and our needs. Motherhood is focusing my vision and softening my rough edges. It isn’t so much getting in the way of me pursuing other interests, as it is equipping me to pursue them more fruitfully, from a place of greater maturity, compassion, and wisdom, when the time for that pursuing comes again.

But maybe it won’t come. Maybe a new baby will come with needs so special that I can’t do the things I dream of doing now. Maybe there will be an accident. Maybe I will have to set aside some dreams to tend to other ones. And if that happens, I trust God will be in that, too, moving through that unexpected cross to bring about some glorious end.

Up until now, Emily, you’ve had the freedom to pursue almost all your interests and desires. Because of that, you don’t fully appreciate just how many women and men haven’t had that freedom. For most of human history and in most of the world, the whole idea of pursuing your dreams, whenever and however you want, is utterly foreign. Billions of us walk a path of mundane, sacrificial duty, doing what we don’t want to do in the moment so that we can be present to our children, provide for our families, or serve the people we love. And the world isn’t necessarily poorer for that. It’s poorer when that choice makes us bitter, resentful, or envious. But it is never poorer when we joyfully choose love over money, service over fame, sacrifice over power. It’s never poorer when we choose to follow God’s will and listen to His voice instead of the world’s.

We aren’t poorer for it either. For most of us, these are the choices that lead to God’s plan for us, which is always Himself. And this is what He ultimately cares about: not what we accomplish in the world, but what He accomplishes in us. That’s what He is about. In every day, in every season, what God is most concerned with is not what you do or don’t do in the world. Rather, it is your heart, your soul, and your relationship with Him. He may bless others through your work, whether that’s in the world or in the home. But He absolutely will bless you through your work. If you do whatever He has called you to do with love, faith, devotion, humility, and joy, He will use your work to draw you closer to Him.

Make that what you care most about, too. Make holiness your most important dream. Make Him your most important dream and put His will for your life first.

Make no mistake: When you do that, He will surprise you. Life will not go according to your expectations. When you choose to follow His voice and not the world’s, your 20-year plan will get shot to pieces. God is about to take you places you never wanted to go. But those places, that way, is the only way to get to the place you most want to go. Besides, your 20-year plan is not all that good anyhow. Nowhere as good as His.

So listen for His call. Pay heed to His voice. Discern His will for you and your family, in Word and Sacrament, in quiet prayer and in the ever-changing circumstances of your life. Watch for the doors He opens. Accept the doors He closes. Abide in the Holy Spirit always, obeying His commands, trusting in His will, and remembering that there is always grace in the daily duty, whatever that duty might be. It doesn’t have to be impressive to be important. It doesn’t have to be fun to be meaningful. It doesn’t have to matter to other people to matter to God.

Remember also that other women’s daily duties won’t be the same as yours. Every person is different, and every person’s circumstances are different, so every person’s path is different. No two are alike. So don’t compare your daily duty to theirs. Also, don’t judge how well they are fulfilling those duties. That’s God’s job, not yours. Your job is simply to make sure you’re walking the path God asks you to walk and fulfilling your own daily duty.

Dream your dreams, Emily. Pursue them as you can. But when the day comes when you think God is asking you to hit the pause button on some of those pursuits or lay down one dream for another, don’t fret. Don’t feel like you’re failing or backsliding or losing out on a chance you can never get back. If there is peace in the pause or the change, follow the peace. Trust that through your obedience, God will do something far more important in you and through you than you, on your own, can ever do.

Blessings,

Emily

Post-Script: October 21, 2023

Three years have passed since I wrote those words to you, Emily. Three years in which so much has changed and nothing has changed. I still barely have time to shower. I’m still not traveling or speaking. I’m still setting aside book, essay, and Instagram ideas aplenty for another day or decade, because of the little ones who need me right now. But seasons have shifted, just as you knew they would.

Our beautiful baby girl, Ellie, joined our family not quite seven months after I wrote the letter above. And when she did, even the copywriting became impossible. I couldn’t meet anyone else’s deadlines anymore. My ability to do that was gone. But our family’s need for my income wasn’t any less. So, with one door shutting, Chris and I looked around at what other doors God might be opening. And sure enough, we found them. We found a way for me to do more of the writing I wanted to do, pay the bills, and still be with the little ones as much as possible.

It has been good. But not easy. I’m constantly juggling work and children and housekeeping. There is never enough time or help. And I’m always double-minded. When I’m writing, I want to be with the children. When I’m with the children, I’m thinking about my work. I try my best to integrate my two vocations, to give everyone the best of me and maintain balance, but I’m not there yet. I don’t know if I ever will be.

What I am continuing to do, though, is my daily duty. I am continuing to give everything to God, listen to His voice, and put His will for my life and my family first. I trust that the limitations He has given me are good. I trust that this path is good. I trust that in this ever-present struggle to write and mother, serve and give, provide and love, God is at work in me, drawing me to Himself.

And that’s why I’m adding this post-script. Because if there is anything I want to underline from the words I wrote three years ago, it’s this: “Make holiness your most important dream. Make Him your most important dream, and put His will for your life first.”

I know for a busy woman, trying to figure out if she should be working in the world or staying at home or doing some combination of both, that can seem like airy-fairy, pie in the sky advice. But I promise you, it’s not. It’s the most practical advice on babies and dreams that I can give.

You need to put God first. You need to listen to Him before all other voices. Because you can only see your life in part. He sees the whole. He knows where you are, He knows where you need to go, and He knows what you need to do to get there. He also loves you. He loves you and your husband and your children more than you can imagine. He sees all your gifts, all your needs, all your wounds. And He will not call you to something that will leave you or those you love wanting for anything, not money, not grace. You can trust Him with your life and theirs. You can trust where He is leading all of you, together. His direction will get you all where you want to go. The world’s won’t.

Now sometimes, He makes us wait for that direction. Other times, He practically shouts it at us. There also are times when He’s patiently and quietly waiting for us to see the direction He is consistently giving. But if you attend to Him, if you keep your heart and eyes open, ever discerning, ever watching for shifting needs and swinging doors, always knowing what matters most, He will make His directions clear in time. And they will be good. Not necessarily easy. But good.

Just keep putting Him first. And step by step, year by year, He will lead you to a life more beautiful than even your most beautiful dreams. He will lead you to Him.

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