Our teenage daughters went to Haiti after the earthquake. As they prepared to depart for their mission trip, I was taking a pregnancy test at a family camp in the Santa Cruz mountains in between talking to college kids worried about whether or not Christians can drink, with me worried about how our girls would react to yet another pregnancy for their 42 year old mom.

The pregnancy test was positive. Our daughters were not. Granted my pregnancies put pressure on everyone in our family, the girls had to help out more around the house when I was pregnant, but at school and in their free time they still got to be girls who played sports and enjoyed youth group and got pedicures with their friends.

I’d never had a pedicure in my life.

Manicures were it when I was seventeen.

Sometimes our daughters reminded me of how I’d been as a teen. A lot more selfish than my daughters at their ages, still I hated seeing my girls taking things for granted that many people in the world just didn’t have.

Would never, ever have.

Like bottles of water, when in other places kids would never taste sweet, clean drinking water, let alone sip a $2.oo bottle of that sparkly stuff.

So you’d think I’d be all for our girls going to Haiti in 2010 to find out how less fortunate teenagers lived, but I wasn’t thrilled. Our girls had never been farther than Mexico with or without us. I didn’t think they were old enough, wise enough, mature enough to do this mission after a major earthquake in a third world country.

And the day they left, we were all awash in tears, not from our sweet parting, but because they’d had enough of my pregnancies, and I’d had enough of their attitudes.

Teenagers full of themselves, but never full enough.

With a mother full of new life, but never full enough.

Full enough.

That’s the thing about being full: it doesn’t last.

Whatever it is, it’s never enough.

Nothing in this world can truly satisfy the human soul.

When John D. Rockefeller– the richest man in the world during the early 20th century– was asked, “How much money is enough?” He said, “Just a little bit more.”

Just a little bit more.

A little bit more of the mall.

A little bit more of the cake.

A little bit more of the lake.

At the end of the day, we’re all after a little bit more in this long, hungry search to satisfy our souls.

But here’s the truth. The hard, solid, certain-as-the-sun-shines truth: outside of God, you will never be satisfied.

And here’s why: because you were made for Him.

HIM.

The God who made the heavens and earth and the rocks and the rain and the hard, solid, certain-as-the-sun-shines truth. This God made you for Him.

And He made you enough for Him. And He is enough for you.

The God of enough, made you enough.

You’re enough.

He’s enough.

And it is finished. John 19:30.

At the end of the day, at the end of the cross, God made you enough in Him.

So our girls go to Haiti and learn that God’s enough there. “They have no homes. No clothes. No money. But in Haiti, Christians have the God of enough,” our girls tell me when they return from their mission trip all humble and happy and ready to embrace their pregnant mother. “People have joy. People have peace. People have Jesus in Haiti.”

Our daughters changed after meeting this God of enough.

And my girls changed me.

Now I cling to this God of enough.

And it’s hard.

Because every billboard in America, every television commercial, every magazine tells us it’s not enough. That we need more. This world screams, “More!” while God whispers, “Enough.

I’m enough for you.”

At the end of my pregnancy our girls were there for the arrival of their fifth baby brother. The first time Scott and I had let anyone else, besides the doctor and nurses, in the delivery room with us. Below in the photos is Lacy and then Cami holding their youngest brother when we welcomed Cruz into our world in 2011.