A New Home

August 14, 2013 by Amanda Conquers

So here it is. A new home. A new address. A new design. But the same heart and the same Amanda.

Welcome.

Honestly, I have been wanting to do this for a long time. I loved “The Cadence of a Conquering Housewife,” still do. It’s just a bit of a mouthful. I love the idea of calling out cadences and encouraging each other. That is not changing. I just want a name that is easy and memorable and always applies to me whether it’s “housewife” stuff or not (because Amanda Conquers is always related to me… it is me).

Before I show you around, can I share a story with you?

Legend has it that long ago in the still hours of the night, a Norse army attempted a surprise attack on a Scottish encampment. In the middle of their quiet creeping, one poor Norseman happened upon a thistle, felt it’s thorns pierce his feet, and let out a cry that called an entire army of Scots to action. The Scots were able to defeat the Norse thanks to one humble weed. That flower is now the symbol of a nation.

I don’t know what it is about the thistle. But I think it might be one of my favorite flowers. (Not that I want my husband to go out and put them in a vase for me. I am not so sure they are that kind of flower.) There’s just something about the strength of that humble weed, the tenacity of it, the way it’s hard and thorny and even a little ugly… until the bud gives way to the feathery-soft, arrestingly beautiful insides of the thistle flower. I love the way that lowly weed is so full of purpose… even if it’s hard to see at first.

I think we all might have a little bit of thistle in us. Humble beginnings. A hard and, at times, thorny shell. A fight and a strength. A divine purpose that might just affect the outcome of an entire nation. And a beauty that proves God knows how to redeem ugly… We might fall so short, we might have broken pieces to our lives, but God makes beautiful things.

Arrestingly beautiful. Yes. Us.

Just earth and clay and dust. Low and humble. But redeemed and beautiful and full of purpose. Glory-giving-to-God.

Okay. So now you know the story behind the picture in my heading.

Now for the logistical stuff.

I updated my About Me and This Blog page… I even added some random facts about me. I would love to have you stop by and tell me a little about you or what we have in common. I will be working on migrating some of more pages over (you know, those tabs that go across the top) as I finish updating them.

I lost almost all my comments in the move, but I did manage to get all my posts moved.

If you subscribe by email, I moved my email list over to this feed. You don’t need to do anything to keep receiving my posts. (And if for some reason you would like to stop receiving my posts, just click the unsubscribe button at the bottom of the email). If you would like to make sure you never miss a post and have the convenience of reading and interacting right from your email box, enter your email address in the box on the top right or click---> HERE.

If you don’t want to subscribe by email but you do want to make sure you don’t miss a post from me, you can subscribe by bloglovin’ or feedly. They are both awesome ways to see all your favorite blogs in one place and read what you want to read when you want to read it. They have apps for easy phone and template viewing too.

I updated all my online profiles (facebook, twitter… and I am now on instagram. I know I am kind of late to the party, but I am loving connecting through insta-real-life-happening-now-grams). I was able to update my existing accounts so if you were following, you are still following me... I just have a different name.

I installed some new sharing tools that I hope make sharing and saving a whole lot easier for you. You can see those at the bottom of every post.

Okay. I think that’s it for now. I hope to have some more posts up this week. I don’t think I realized how much work a domain change would be. I have been missing writing and am bursting at the seams with thoughts begging to be written down.

Seriously. From the bottom of my heart. Thanks for being a part. Thanks for making the jump with me. For your encouragement. For you readership. I love having you here.

I would love to hear what you think of the new design? Also, am I alone in my love for thistles? Or do you see the beauty in them too?

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

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Crazy Obedience

August 07, 2013 by Amanda Conquers

5 women got this crazy idea: what if we wrote on what it means to follow Christ? What if we took a challenge to be willing to do anything God would ask for a month? What if we banded with other sisters and encouraged each other and shared our struggles and testimonies?

We are finding out. Care to join us?

This page will be updated with links to our posts as we post them.

New? Start Here.

Want some blog swag?

Credit: The photo for the graphic was taken by my very talented friend, Katie, and is used with her permission.

Walk Slowly

July 29, 2013 by Amanda Conquers

There is an old Indian proverb: Children tie the feet of their mother.

And if you are a mom, you might know this to be true.

The slowing down starts with your swollen belly, duck-waddle walk, sleep deprivation from peeing in the middle of the night every hour and a half like clockwork and things like heartburn, shortness of breath, and calves that seem to have swallowed ankles whole.

It continues with a labor and delivery that rarely goes as planned. And no matter how that baby comes into this world, it leaves a warrior’s mark on your body. You will be a woman who hunkered down, who pushed through, who thought she couldn’t, who with much pain and sacrifice (and maybe even collar-grasping and screaming into your husband’s ear) brought life into this world. And when they lay that fresh-skinned baby on your chest for the first time, you will never be the same.

Mom. Warrior. Sacrifice-Maker. Nourisher. Boo-boo kisser. Taxi-car driver. Expert snuggler. Storybook reader. Silly-song singer.

That baby will wrap himself around your heart and your legs, and you will never be the same.

Children tie the feet of their mother.

You will answer baby cries at all hours of the night. You will read up on how to get a baby to sleep through the night, and just about the time you think you’ve got it figured out, they will have a growth spurt or drop a nap, and everything you thought you knew will go out the window.

Your arms will develop car seat muscles. Your perfume will be baby spit-up, and your shoulders will seem to always be covered in a mix of snot and drool.

Your life will revolve around things like feeding, pooping, and napping. You may have a moment where you cry because all you want in life is a shower.

No matter how much you have desired to be a mom, it will grate against your independence and your pride. You will at some point feel like a failure. You will at some point long to have something in your life that you feel like you are good at or an expert on.

Children tie the feet of their mother.

That child will grow older and faster. You will find yourself saying things you never thought would pass your lips in your lifetime: things like, “We don’t strip down naked at the park,” “Please, don’t wipe your boogers on your sister,” or “Ew! Don't lick the dog back.”

You will delight in their distinct personality and cringe at their defiance. You may also want to hide behind the Coca-Cola display when your child goes all flailing arms and legs and screaming on the floor of the grocery store. When you watch your toddler rip the plastic shovel from his playmate’s hands and yell, “Mine!,” you will know beyond a shadow of a doubt, we didn’t learn our sin nature; we were born with it.

You will discipline and mold and shape. You will wonder if you are doing it all wrong.

Your days will move slowly--either at work counting the hours till you can get home to your babies or at home counting the hours till your husband comes home to help you. You will pick up toys only to pick them up again a few hours later. You will know how painful it is to step on a Lego or a miniature stegosaurus. You may have days where you feel like all you do is clean up messes.

Children tie the feet of their mother.

And then there are those moments when you are making your way towards the McDonald’s drive-thru because your day just seems to need an easy button. In that feeling of guilt for not making the pb&j on whole wheat bread, the apple slices and the carrot sticks, your 4 year old glances up at the big blue sky as though he’s seeing it for the first time and asks, “Is that where Jesus lives, Mommy?”

If you don’t live slow enough, tied-up enough in the wonder of those small years you could almost miss it.

Holiness.

Yes.

In that moment.

And you tell your little one how Jesus lives in your heart when you ask Him to. And maybe, without missing a beat, your baby will stop and pray, “Jesus. I want you to live in my heart.” And just like that, in the midst of your mundane, God invades that moment, and it is Holy.

I know a man in the Bible who walked with a limp.

Jacob—whose name meant one who fights for his own way—wrestled God one night. God touched his thigh and changed his name. With a limp, Jacob became Israel—God Prevails. Because the only way to live like God prevails is to lean on Him.

Children might tie your feet. You may have to make more sacrifices of your time and your dreams and your way than you thought possible. You may feel inadequate, not-good-enough, like you yell too much and you don’t keep the house clean enough.

You might feel like you limp as a mother.

But that is the place God prevails.

Lean, Momma. Lean on Him at the hospital when confusion clamors, and it’s not going how you envisioned. Lean on Him when that baby is up all hours of the night. Lean on Him when your toddler has peed on the floor for the fifth time in one day. Lean on Him when your little one is screaming because he’s shoved a Tic-Tac up his nose. Lean on Him when you discover things like rashes or ticks or high fevers. Lean.

You might feel tied up, but you are wrapped up in the abundance of God’s Grace.

And that place of spills and kisses? It’s Holy ground.

If I could say one thing to the young momma behind me: Your feet are tied up for a reason.

Walk slowly.

The years are precious and fleeting and littered with the gifts of His grace. Let those babies tie you up with their chubby arms around your neck. Know that your kids don’t need you to be perfect, and they don’t actually need Pinterest-inspired anything.

And, Momma, it’s okay if you limp.

Because if you are leaning on Jesus, your kids don’t see your limp; they see Jesus walking with you.

By Grace and with all my love for you, Momma,

Amanda

Conquers

Maybe share with us? What is one of the best ways your life has changed since becoming a momma? What is one of the hardest ways?

Photo Credit: Photos 2, 7 and 8 on this post were taken by KatieFewellPhotography and are used with her permission.

Joining with #TellHisStory community

On Leaning, Limping, and What It Really Means to Live Broken

July 16, 2013 by Amanda Conquers

Lean on Jesus.

I have heard this phrase many times. And for some reason the last time I heard it, I thought of why one might lean.

I remember spraining my ankle.

As I lay prostrate on the floor unsure of my ability to get off the ground, my husband gave me his hands and pulled me up. I put my arm around him. I leaned on him. And though I walked with a limp, I walked. (Well, at least until I got to my bed anyways. And then I pretty much let my husband wait on me.)

I think of the one man I know who walked with a limp.

Jacob—whose name means supplanter.

A supplanter is one who wants his own way and doesn’t trust anyone but his own self to make it happen. He pushes others out of the way. He is prideful, offensive, a liar, and a cheater.

There Jacob is on the eve of encountering his brother Esau… the one he supplanted. He must have trembled in his sandals as he got word that Esau’s band of 400 men were marching out to meet him in the morning. Jacob separated his belongings, he sent fine gifts, but he couldn’t stop the inevitability that he was about to come face to face with the person he wronged. He cried out to God to help him. He reminded God of His promises.

His last act before laying his head down to sleep: he sends everything he values most in life across the ford Jabbok. Jabbok means “emptying,” and I have a feeling as Jacob laid down that night unsure of the dawn, he felt emptied. Desperate. Afraid that he might lose everything. Wanting the control he’s always had that seems to elude him now.

God meets him there at that empty place.

Jacob and God incarnate wrestle—Jacob’s will versus God’s way.

Jacob fights just like he’s fought his whole life… like he fought for a birthright, like he fought for a wife, like he fought for sheep against Laban. He fights desperate, worried, and he does not give up. Just before the break of day, God reaches out and dislocates Jacob’s thigh.

You will limp now, but you may lean on Me.

God changes Jacob’s name from one who fights for his own way to Israel—God prevails.

Because even in our darkest times, when everything is out of control, when we fight and claw and grasp… God prevails.

My fingers run down that Genesis page touching truth so hard and so profound. God gave Jacob a limp. Because the only way to live like God prevails is to live broken.

I think of the way I have fought for my own way. Mydreams. My calling. I have been emptied. I have wrestled God, I have demanded blessings, I have been prideful and self-seeking. I have sought numbers and success and titles. I have bitterness in my heart towards those I see as more successful. It’s ugly. I see it and it humbles me.

I am broken.

You may limp now, but you may lean on Me.

The only way to fully live is to live fully broken. The only way to walk the straight and narrow is with a limp—often slow and always leaning on Jesus.

There was a time when someone at church would make a statement like, “It’s all Jesus. Only because of Him. Lord knows, I can’t do any of it on my own.” I would cringe. How could it be all Jesus? You did it too. God might have opened doors, but you knocked and you walked through them. And now I get it. They didn’t walk, they limped.

I think of Paul’s “thorn in his flesh,” David’s adultery, Gideon’s timidity, Ruth’s Moabiteness, Peter’s quick-to-speak-and-slow-to-think, Jeremiah’s weeping… a Bible full of people who walked with a limp. People who were nothing but earth and clay. People who God chose to put His very power inside of. People who knew the only way to reveal the miracle of God’s Glorious Redemption in themselves was to live broken open. Dress up the vessel and one brings glory to oneself. Break open the pot and one reveals the surpassing love and mercy of Jesus Christ and the at-work power of the Holy Spirit.

I see the way I fall so short—as a wife, as a mom, as a child of God. I see the fears that I allow to consume me. I see the way I would much rather put on my mask than have to share my struggles.

You may limp now, but you may lean on Me.

This Sunday as I was standing in worship, asking God to heal me, to touch my brokenness, we began singing this chorus:

“The lost are found

The blind will see

The lame will walk

The dead will live

For You are God; Forever You will reign”

And just like that this broken, limping girl remembered… Jesus came to make me whole.The lame will walk. He is making me whole. Lean into Him.

I whisper it. Israel. God Prevails.

You may limp now, but you may lean on Me… and I. Will. Make. You. Whole.

Amen.

Here’s that awesome worship song by Hillsong United. It makes me weep everytime. God is good. The gospel is the best news in the whole wide world.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

Sharing with the #TellHisStory community

Blueberries, a Whole Lotta Play, And a Little Vacation {#1000gifts}

July 11, 2013 by Amanda Conquers

#271 Playing hide-and-seek with the kids

#272 Picking blueberries with friends

#273 Two years with this guy

#274 Boy meets baseball (I don't really like to use words like scrumptious to describe people, but, seriously, baseball cap, red suspenders, stove pipe pants, and one cute little boy... it's just a bit scrumptious)

#275 When Mom packs the picnic

#276 Vacation and quality time with my husband's family

#277 A day's agenda that looks like this: apply sunscreen, build a sand castle, play tag with the waves, take a nap. Beach Day!

#278 Nature trail and watching the sunset with this guy

By Grace,
Amanda Conquers

What Clean Feet and Rest Have to Do With Each Other {#TellHisStory}

July 07, 2013 by Amanda Conquers

Photo Credit

Jesus got up from the table. Calm and intentional. He grabbed the bowl of water and a towel.

And Jesus knelt down. He unsandaled feet. He placed them in cool water.

He dipped the towel into the basin and began to wipe away the grime off of feet.

Sweaty,

sandaled,

exposed,

constantly-walking-on-dirt-roads

feet.

Jesus—the Miracle Worker, King of Kings, Son of God—cleaned feet the night before He died. He ministered to the dirtiest, humblest place of his disciples. And He was more than willing.

In fact, he scolded Peter for trying to stop Him, for saying he wasn’t worthy. “Never shall you wash my feet!” Because really, who could possibly be worthy of having Jesus himself touch their filthy, grimy feet?

“If I do not wash you, you have no part in me.”

Peter upon learning that his feet needed to be washed goes to the other extreme and says, “Lord, then wash not only my feet but my hands and my head.”

To this burst of zealous emotion, Jesus replies, “He who has bathed already needs only to wash his feet to be completely clean…” (John 13:1-17)

You have already been washed clean in the blood of the Lamb, but your feet have become dirty on the journey.

The other day I went to see an ENT (ear, nose and throat) doctor. I have had a persistent nose bleed and intense sinus pressure for seven months now. Being a good doctor, he didn't just treat the symptoms, he searched for the underlying problem. He stuck a tiny camera into my nose. It was completely unpleasant--the way the numbing spray tasted terrible, the way I fought the urge to panic or gag, the way the scope kept hitting nerve endings. It was a little awkward and at times painful to have a stranger searching around things like sinus cavities and mucous membranes (and that doesn’t count the 2 and 5 year old rearranging the doctor's furniture in the midst of this). But all this uncomfortable probing served an important purpose.

If I am honest, I have had some other issues that have been going on for a while. I’d been able to set them aside and keep my head down and focus on the task at hand. I was busy with ministry, busy serving, busy sowing my life. And now I am in a different season. I've slowed down and become a different kind of busy. My main ministry is those two little people that call me mom. I am adjusting to being a cop’s wife. I am holding my husband’s hand as he adjusts to being a cop.

And now that I've slowed down? God says it’s time to deal with all the issues in my heart.And they are not pretty ones. Insecurities. Pride. Frustration with church. Frustration with ministry. Frustration with people.

Deep Hurts. And in those festered wounds—Bitterness.

You have already been washed clean in the blood of the Lamb, but your feet have become dirty on the journey.

But here’s the thing.

Jesus insisted on washing his disciples feet. I struggle to grasp this. I hate feet. There’s just something about them. I don’t like them touching me. I don’t massage feet. I don’t really want my own feet massaged.

And yet this is the place that Jesus goes. He stoops down to the most humblest, dirtiest part of myself. He dips his towel into the basin of cool water and wrings out the droplets over my feet. He takes the towel and gently wipes away the dirt. He reveals the cuts and blisters. He places His salve on my wounds.

Where I might feel naked and exposed, where my pride might make me want to burst out, “Never shall you wash my feet, Jesus. I am unworthy. They are too dirty. And I need to be on my way now.” This is the place of restoration. This is the place Jesus ministers. “If I do not wash you, you have no part in me.”

May I submit this? If you are on a journey, if you are following after Christ—sowing your life… you will probably get dusty along the way. You might scrape up against some thorns. Your feet might get calloused and blistered. And it’s okay. It’s the mark of a sojourner.

But Jesus beckons us to rest. Just like God gave Moses at Mount Sinai: six days for work, one for rest. The fields were to yield their fruit for six years and rest the seventh year. Rest is one of God’s principles and one that He founded this world upon. And on the seventh day He rested. And rest is for restoration. Healing. Having your Savior dip your dirty feet into the cool water. Not all of you needs to be cleaned. Just your feet. You are travel weary. Rest for a little while. Let me heal you. And then you may be on your way again.

And no matter how yucky your feet are. No matter how much you would like to think that Jesus is so worthy of all your kingdom-building sacrifices and far too worthy to stoop down and touch your feet… If I do not wash you, you have no part in me.

Jesus needs to clean your dirty feet.

He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul. (Psalm 23:2-3)

Okay. And can I just stand back in awe of God’s graciousness?! His loving kindness. That even though He’s done so much for us, He would still stoop down and clean feet. That He doesn’t save us so that we can serve like slaves, he adopts us as his own children and longs to shower us in His grace. (Romans 8:15)

God is Good.

Amen.

{I'm not quite sure what kind of question I could possibly submit here at the end of the this post, but I would love to have a conversation about this. I long to hear that I am not the only one who has been here or what it looks like on the other side of a season of rest. I never realized rest could be so painful. I know it’s good, but, man, it hurts to see how broken I am. Thank you friends and fellow sojourners.}

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

Sharing in community:

Why We Are Homeschooling

July 02, 2013 by Amanda Conquers

I think I was pregnant with my daughter when my husband and I had our first conversation as parents about our kids’ education.

Public school? Private school? Or the strange and mysterious-to-us option of homeschool?

I had been raised in private school and then later taught a 5^th/6^thgrade class in a small private school. Michael had been raised in public schools. I later was a substitute teacher in a local public school district. We both had positive and negative experiences to draw from. We seriously loved some parts of private and public education… but we also seriously hated some parts as well.

We began to look at homeschool seriously. I had never been homeschooled. Michael did some independent study as a teenager, but also had never been homeschooled. We didn’t really know anyone who homeschooled. I think in our heads we pictured homeschoolers as these people isolated from society living on a farm and wearing overalls.

I began doing a little research. I asked other parents how they came to their decision. I read blog posts much like this one from other bloggers. Since Mike and I had a very good idea of what public and private school would look like for our kids and little idea what homeschool would look like, I began to “wear” the homeschool decision until we made our final decision. When Addy was three, I started loosely doing a little home-preschool with her. I joined up with 3 other moms and we did monthly preschool play dates. When Addy was 4, we joined up with a local homeschool co-op and she went to a preschool class once a week.

{By the way, in case you are as clueless as I was, a homeschool co-op is a group of homeschoolers who come together to support each other. In the case of my local co-op, they provide mom’s nights out, craft days, “class” field trips, and they put on socials for the high-school age students. They provide support no matter how you homeschool. Once a week, they do classes, not as a part of core curriculum, but more to supplement the curriculum and give kids the chance to learn in a class with peers. We pay a very minimal yearly fee and class fee and then must be available to help during the class days at least two-thirds of the time my kids are there.}

My husband and I had some serious reservations about homeschool. Especially the part where I had to do it. I am not the best at consistency, being disciplined or scheduled. I have this fear I am going to royally mess my kids up. I want some time to myself and the hope that one day I can grocery shop in peace. I want to write consistently and bring in a little income to this house. Speaking of houses, I’d like to keep mine clean. I once followed a blog where the mom in almost every post mentioned how they did homeschool the easy way today or how they took a break and would just have to make it up later. I saw the exhaustion and how difficult it could be to do homeschool daily with excellence.

Ultimately, we decided to homeschool. The most freeing moment came when I realized that I wasn’t making a decision from now until kingdom come. I was only making a decision for this year. For me, it made it really easy to see where God would have us place our next step because when I think off into the future and try to figure out how long I would be a homeschool teacher and if I could teach calculus and if my kids would be too sheltered… the decision was overwhelming.

So here’s our list of reasons why we are homeschooling (this year):

The deciding factors:

I see my daughter’s gifts and talents as well as her short-comings. I can custom fit our curriculum to the way she learns and the things she loves. I can work with the way my daughter is easily distracted and the way she can be fully present and not hear you no matter how loud you shout. I can nurture the way she is creative and spontaneous. We can go at her pace.
Class-size. My daughter does not learn well in large groups. Maybe as she matures, this will change, but right now it is near impossible to hold her attention and get her to absorb information in a room full of social opportunities.
I love that I get to be my daughter’s first teacher. Kindergarten is full of milestones: learning to read, write, count to 100, count by 2’s, 5’s, 10’s, tie your shoes, your address and phone number, the calendar… I get all of these with my daughter. The memories of her ah-ha moments and first-time triumphs will be my treasures.
I get to keep filling my daughter up with all kinds of God-truth for a whole other year with little to contradict me.I get to keep pointing in the way she should go without another voice to point at her and say she’s not good enough or smart enough or pretty enough. She’s in that question-asking phase right now, and I get to be the one to answer her questions in a way that reflects our values and beliefs.
It fits us.

o With Michael working strange hours, homeschool gives us the flexibility to work with his schedule.

o It’s not just that I used to be a teacher, teaching is a part of who I am. I take every opportunity to point out God’s creation or explain how something works.

o The culture of homeschool also seems to fit with our own family’s culture. Strange as this may seem, I cannot tell you how refreshing it was to find that homeschoolers rarely “rush,” are often late to the homeschool events, and are very in touch with how human they are. I get the feeling most of their lives are a bit messy and that they live clinging to Jesus, walking WITH Him, surrendering their pride. There are no super moms. But the opportunity to need Jesus to transform… and being transformed… that is constantly there. And as hard as all that is, I so want to be that kind of mom. Not put together. Not putting appearances above hearts. Me. And Me being transformed by the (constant) renewing of my mind to be more like Jesus.

I really can’t mess this up. I know my child better than anyone else. I am giving her one-on-one attention in the most comfortable and nurturing environment she has. After doing next to no formal preschool with Addy this past year, I see how much she has still learned just by living life. Even if we realize this isn’t a good fit, we got this year. We can do this.

Some other factors:

Money. Even if we wanted to send Addy to private school, the funds simply are not there this year.
Time. Kindergarten only takes a half-day to complete in a classroom and even less from home.
Family field trips.
Financial perks of charter schools. Because we are going through a charter school, we are given money for school supplies, field trips, AND physical education (which could include things like dance, gymnastics or even horse-back riding… things we could never afford on our own).
An awesome support system. In addition to the local co-op and charter school, one of my best friends is starting home school with her kindergarten-age son. I am already looking forward to field trips and crafts with her. I look forward to the we’re-in-this-together, we-can-do-this encouragement.
I will know exactly what my kid is learning. I can incorporate what she is learning at school into life very easily because I am the one planning her school lessons.
Jed will benefit too. Because Addy’s learning right where he lives, he is going to learn some too. He’ll probably be eager to participate too.

I offer this simply because the blog posts of so many others helped me arrive at my decision. They also gave me a respect for decisions different than my own. Truly, I don’t believe homeschool is best. I believe it’s where God is leading this family for this next school year.

So how does your family (plan to) do education? What was the main reason you made that decision?

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers