I looked at my phone in shock as I tried to comprehend Grant’s text message.

GraceAnna, there’s been a shooting. It’s bad. At an elementary school.

I was in the middle of eating chicken fingers and waffle fries with my nephews and nieces in Atlanta. I had just surprised them by my visit. I hadn’t seen them in months. There was lots of hugging and kissing and interrupting as we were reunited.

When I read Grant’s message, I didn’t know how to process it. There were little children all around me. Joyful faces. Laughter. Hugs.

Just moments later, my brother whispered the same thing to my sister-in-law and me. He spoke in vague terms, not wanting the older children to know what he was talking about.

Surely, there hadn’t been a shooting at a school? Surely, children hadn’t died? This couldn’t have happened. How could this happen? What did it mean?

I didn’t want to know what it meant. I didn’t want to believe it was true.

As the day unfolded, a dark cloud hung over my visit with my nieces and nephews. Their laughter and sweet voices sent a pain through my heart as I began to understand the evil that took place earlier that day.

My mind immediately went back to my days of student teaching in college. I taught kindergarten and first grade. Those children were precious to me. I can still see their faces and hear their sweet voices that so often said, “I love you, Miss Broggi!”

Children who were so impressionable, eager to learn, and who beamed when praised.

As Dec. 14 came to a close, and I finally found some time to be alone without little eyes and ears nearby, I read the details of the shooting on my laptop. Tears streamed down my face as I pictured the faces of those children in their last moments of life. Were they scared? Did they know what was about to happen? Did they see the others?

As I sat alone, I began to feel the darkness pressing into my soul. As a mother, there is nothing more frightening than imagining harm befalling your children. They are vulnerable and helpless. Good mothers and fathers want to do everything in their power to protect their children from harm.

My worst nightmare is that something will happen to one of my little girls and I won’t be able to save them from it.

I wanted to imagine that help had come to Sandy Hook. I wanted to pretend that a hero had arrived and was able to stop the villain before he acted.

But no one had been able to stop it from happening.

It happened in all of its gruesome horror. And now there are parents whose son or daughter will never come home. Empty beds. Sweet faces frozen in childhood. Broken hearts beyond imagine.

I cannot imagine a more painful loss in this world than having to say good-bye to a child.

As I tried to process it in the days that followed, I was overcome by how dark things felt and seemed. Death is such a horrible thing. It’s unnatural. It’s not a part of how God originally made the world. It’s a result of sin, as the book of Genesis clearly describes.

But thankfully, God did not leave us in the darkness. I was comforted greatly by several passages from John 1:

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (vs. 5)

“The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.” (vs.9-13)

This world is a dark place that has been marred by sin. And yet, God entered into it to save us. Never did I understand that so deeply as I did this past Christmas. The words, “Joy to the world, the Lord has come!” caused me to rejoice in a brand new way.

But the thing about the darkness, is that the light shines so much brighter in it.

10 days after the Sandy Hook shooting, I attended a Christmas Eve service at the church I grew up in where my dad is pastor. It felt like everyone was grieving that night. As we lit our candles, the dark sanctuary slowly went from dark to light. picstitch-1

I listened to my dad’s words as he held up his candle,

“God’s called you to be the light of the world. Men don’t put a lamp under a basket, but they set it up high, so that all in the room can benefit from its light. This is a day, more than ever, in America and in our world, a world of increasing darkness, where we need to be holding our lights high. So if you know Christ as your Savior, I want to encourage you as you light your candle, to make a prayer in your heart that in this upcoming year God would use you to be a light in the midst of darkness.”

As I have reflected on that service over the past couple months, I have realized that is it going to take great courage to shine. It’s going to take godly and unwavering boldness that finds its origin in God’s Word.

It’s not simply helpful to be a light, it is necessary. We must point those around us to the hope of the Gospel. We must point them to the only One who can save them from darkness.

As a young mother, I want to be courageous when it comes to raising my children. I want to anchor my mothering in the truth of God’s Word. I want to recognize that every day is an opportunity to build into my children’s lives and is truly a gift.

There are things beyond my control. I may wake up one day to find out something terrible has happened and there was nothing I could do about it.

But one thing I know and cling to with all my heart is that there is a God who sent His Son into the darkness. And that Son bore the gruesome darkness of sin so that those who put their trust in Him can be forgiven.

The light shines in the darkness...

One day, when my little girls see and feel the darkness, I want them to know that they don’t have to be afraid because someone did come to save them.

Someone who is stronger than the bad guys.

I want them to turn to the true light.

And hopefully, I will have shown them where to find it.

Posted on by castleberryhearts · 1 Comment

Lessons From My Mother

Sometimes it’s hard to know exactly how to say thank you on Mother’s Day. At least I often find it hard to express how much I appreciate all that my mom has done for me and continues to do.

I’m thankful that this year I was able to write something small in honor of my mom and for all the moms out there who pour their heart and soul into mothering.

Happy Mother’s Day, mom! I love you!

Lessons From My Mother

Posted on by castleberryhearts

Practical Tips for Mothers

Yesterday, at Woman’s Life (our church’s women’s ministry), my mom gave a message on God’s Heart for Children. This week was Part 2 and the focus was practical. Last time, my mom’s message was an in-depth look at how God wired us as women to view children and how we need to also adopt God’s view of children.

Both of these talks will be available soon on www.mfth.org.

I thought my mom’s outline for the talk was really helpful so I thought I’d share it. I found it to be such a great reminder!

The sections below contains helpful tips for mothers of children in each stage. This in no way even begins to fully touch on all that was covered yesterday, so you’ll just have to listen to the talks when they are posted!

Newborns & Babies
1. Remember the R word: Relax.
2. Remember Who chose you to be a mother.
3. Savor the moments when no one can soothe your baby but you.
4. Smile, even when you’re tired.
5. Remember that God is in control.
6. Pray.


Toddlers and Preschoolers 
1. Remember the R word: Relax.

2. Play patti-cake. Build blocks. Make cookies. Play tag.
3. Give lots of hugs. Read books. Do chores.
4. Let them help you.
5. Answer their questions.
6. Welcome them into your home.
7. Pray.


Adolescents
1. Remember the R word: Relax.
2. Talk to them about things that interest them.
3. Ask them questions and for their opinion.
4. Laugh at the endless jokes & riddles they will discover for the first time.
5. Tell them about yourself when you were their age.
6. Play games with them even when you don’t feel like it.
7. Be the authority. Give lots of hugs.
8. Pray.

Teens
1. Remember the R word: Relax.
2. Serve lots of food (for active boys).
3. Discuss world events from a Biblical worldview. Don’t be afraid to say what you believe.
4. Get into their world and enjoy their company.
5. Continue with hugs and lots of food.
6. Respect their thoughts.
7. Let them know they are a needed member of the family. Give them meaningful work.
8. Give lots of hugs.
9. Pray.

Adult Children
1. Respect your children as the parents of their own children.
2. Don’t meddle; let them ask for your advice.
3. Look for ways to encourage them.
4. Let them know you are available to help.
5. Ask for forgiveness when necessary.
6. Give hugs.
7. Affirm their decisions.
8. Wait patiently (pray & fast) for a wayward child.
9. Tell them you love them.

Posted on by castleberryhearts · 2 Comments

Finally Mine

My first baby doll was a Cabbage Patch. She was completely bald and her plastic head was shiny and had a sweet smell. I named her AnnieRose. My mom told me that I needed a diaper bag, so she gave me my brother Grant’s old green one that I filled with her bottles, clothes, and diapers. My friend Amber had a Cabbage Patch doll too and we would play house together. Amber had some play rings that we would put on our fingers and we used to pretend that we were married and our husbands were “off at war” while we stayed home taking care of our babies.

When I was 13 years old, my mom told me that she thought I was old enough to start babysitting in the afternoons. She enrolled me in a baby-sitters course at the YMCA. I remember learning CPR and sitting through several sessions on how to take care of children. When I “graduated” I received a certificate and a binder full of all the things I had learned. I was so proud. I felt equipped.

And so my babysitting career began. I babysat neighborhood children and church children. I would play outside with them and tell them stories. I wanted to be the best babysitter ever.

When I was a senior in college, I started taking care of a two year old and a six week old in the afternoons when I wasn’t student teaching five year olds. I had never taken care of an infant so young. It was hard. I didn’t feel equipped. I remember that he cried a lot. I would call my mom, practically in tears, asking her what I should do. She would give me tips: how I should rock him, how to put my finger on the roof of his mouth, and the greatest tip of all, “No one has to be upset but the baby.” By the time I graduated, I felt so comfortable taking care of him and I couldn’t believe how much he had grown.

I also remember that year discussing nannying with a college girlfriend. We talked about the families that we nannied for, and then she said, “The best thing about nannying is that you get to LEAVE at the end of the day because they aren’t actually your children.”

I listened, but I didn’t say anything, I was kind of embarrassed to say that I felt differently. Because to me, leaving was the hardest part. Sometimes it was hard investing so much time and energy into children that weren’t my own.

At the end of the day, when I went home, I left wondering how they were doing. Were they sleeping okay? Did they miss me? Did they find their missing toy? That’s what made nannying and babysitting so hard, they weren’t actually my children.

After so many years of taking care of other people’s children, I can’t believe that in less than three months, I will be taking care of my own daughter. I have been told that this will be the hardest and most challenging job of my life, and I believe it will be. I know that my little girl won’t be a Cabbage Patch. But I couldn’t be more excited about motherhood.

I know that I will get so much joy from investing my time into someone who I don’t have to say good-bye to at the end of the day. That will be one of the best parts. I wish I had said that to my friend that day. I wish I had told her how I really felt. I wish I had told her that I couldn’t wait for the day when I didn’t have to leave.

Posted on by castleberryhearts · 5 Comments

A Little Girl’s Dream

I can’t remember if it was my eighth, ninth, or tenth birthday (mom, you would probably remember); but I do know I was dreaming of a special gift.

I was hoping and wishing that I would get a dollhouse for my birthday.
And not just any dollhouse, but Dream Dollhouse.

You have to understand, Dream Dollhouse was exactly true to it’s name, it was a little girl’s dream.
You see, I already had the family: the dad & mom, 2 daughters, 1 son, a set of twin babies, and the babysitter.
I had the perfect family.
But they lacked one thing – a real home.
I made all sorts of pretend houses out of blocks. I would create my own house designs and fill each room with furniture and scraps of clothes for bedding and curtains.
But who was I kidding? That’s wasn’t real.
They needed a house – a dream house.
Dream Dollhouse was perfect. It was pink, white, and light blue. It had multiple porches and it was three stories. It was just the right size for my family.
I hoped I would get it on my birthday.
My mom always made a big deal out of birthdays when we were little. This birthday was no exception. I don’t remember all that we did, but it was a special day.
When it was time to open presents, I noticed that there were no big packages on the kitchen table.
Maybe it was hidden in the next room and my dad was going to bring it out and yell, “Surprise, GraceAnna, here is your Dream Dollhouse that I bought you!”

After opening each gift, I reached for the last one from my mom and dad. It was small. I unwrapped it carefully.
It was a beautiful . . . teapot.
I collected teapots back then. I’m not quite sure how that got started, but I thought it was pretty cool. I mean, what little girl doesn’t like to dress up and have tea parties?

But I had my heart set on something else.
I tried to sound thankful. I told my parents that I loved it.
As soon as we had picked up all the wrappings, I went upstairs to my room. I laid on my bed and tried not to be disappointed.
But I was very disappointed.
…Let me just say here parenthetically, I know I’m looking pretty spoiled in this story. And I’m just going to admit it, I was. I grew up in America.

Back to the story…

Not too much time had passed before my mom came upstairs. She sat down on the bed next to me, “GraceAnna, what’s wrong? Don’t you like the teapot we gave you?”

That’s all it took. I burst into tears. I told my mom everything. I told her how I had been dreaming of the one and only perfect house. I told her that I knew I shouldn’t be disappointed, but I just couldn’t help it.
I don’t remember everything my mom said, but I do remember her saying that they didn’t realize how much I wanted the dollhouse, and that maybe it could be a Christmas present.
After our conversation, I felt so much better.
Even though I still didn’t have my Dream Dollhouse, I had shared what was so heavy on my heart. Everything would be okay.
Fast forward 15ish years.

Yesterday it was my birthday again. I didn’t have any particular “wish” for my birthday. The only thing I really wanted was to spend the day with Grant. He works such long hours, six days a week, and I miss him.
And God gave me that wish. Grant got the day off.
He took me downtown and did a very self-sacrificing thing – he took me to a girly restaurant, and went into girly shops.
We went down to the park and talked about all that God has given us – each-other, our house in Beaufort, and our little girl on the way.
As we sat and talked, and I looked at him, I remembered the dollhouse. It was my birthday dream. It was a little girl’s dream.
But now, as I turn twenty-five, I realize God has given me so much more than I ever could have wished for as a little girl. He’s given me eternal life, a home in heaven, and then on top of all that, he gave me my own family.
This is not a dream, this is real.
Romans 5 says,
“Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this grace in which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God. . . and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” (vs. 1-2,5)
No matter where we are in life, no matter how hard (see verses 3-4 of that same passage), or how good, God has not disappointed us.
He’s given us more than we could ever dream of.
Now I know you might be wondering if I ever got my Dream Dollhouse.
Well, let me tell you…
My mom got it out of the attic a few weeks ago.
It’s already in our little girl’s room upstairs.
And I know, I just know, she’s going to love it.
Posted on by castleberryhearts · 3 Comments

New Respect

This post is for the moms. This post is for my mom. This is for all the moms out there that I know. I just want to say, I have a brand new respect for you! Of course, I’ve always respected you, but I’m just going to say it now – morning sickness (a term that is totally not descriptive of the sickness) is not fun.

This is not a post to complain, but to express my gratitude. So many of you have been so encouraging to me in the past two months. You’ve asked how I’ve been feeling, told me it’s normal, and that I will get through it. You can totally relate, and you know exactly what to say!

I realize that I’ve joined the club, the “selfless motherhood club” of dying to self for the joy of giving life (I don’t mean that I’ve always been selfless during the past couple months, but that I am learning firsthand what I already knew was a requirement).

(I just want to say here, that I have not been that sick, but just the normal sickness that comes with the first trimester).

And from what I know to be true from all the wonderful mothers I have seen, is that this is just the beginning of giving of myself for the amazing joy of bringing up and nurturing a little person.

So, that’s all I really want to say. Thanks for the sacrifice that you have made to give birth to all the little ones in your home.

Thank you to my mom for enduring months of bedrest, fear, and sickness in order to give birth to me.

And for those of you with daughters, one day, when your daughter is pregnant, she’ll thank you too.

Posted on by castleberryhearts · 1 Comment

Biblical Bookshelf


Grant and I both love to read. Grant even more so than I do. No matter where we have lived (which is 3 places now in the short time we’ve been married), there have been a plethora of books on theology that he has had on hand. Right now I’m studying the book of John because Grant had a commentary on the book of John on his desk. I’ve read so many books that I probably never would have read if it were not for the fact that Grant basically carries a biblical library with him wherever he goes.

But there are lots of books that I like to read that Grant has never even attempted to read – it’s my own little library of books on biblical womanhood. I started it when I was 15 years old with Passion and Purity by Elisabeth Elliot. I have since read everything this woman has ever put in print, and outside of my mother, she has probably impacted me the most in regards to what it means to be a biblical woman. I think every Christian girl should have a biblical womanhood library. A collection of solid, theologically sound books that she can read often and lend to her friends.
I have been missing my books. They are all in storage. Here is a list of the ones that have impacted me the most (that I can remember off the top of my head).
A Woman After God’s Own Heart by Elizabeth George
Becoming God’s True Woman edited by Nancy Leigh DeMoss
Choosing Gratitude by Nancy Leigh DeMoss
Did I Kiss Marriage Good-bye? by Carolyn McCulley
Feminine Appeal by Carolyn Mahaney
Let Me Be a Woman by Elisabeth Elliot
Lies Women Believe by Nancy Leigh DeMoss
Lies Young Women Believe by Nancy Leigh DeMoss and Dannah Gresh
Passion and Purity by Elisabeth Elliot
Radical Womanhood by Carolyn McCulley
So, one day when Grant is a pastor and has his glorious library of books, I am going to have a special bookshelf (maybe I’ll even paint it pink), of my own little library of books written by godly women who have impacted and shaped me.
Now if I can only get my mom to write a book 🙂