Wanting What I Have...

Hi.

2012-01-27T17:38:00.004-06:00

Hi.

I'm not sure where to begin. Thank you all. Thank you so. Much. So Much! For your prayers, for your sweet and encouraging comments, for the calls and emails and letters and texts. We have been loved and cared for deeply by the Body of Christ and it has been an amazing experience. Y'all have been a huge part of that and I am so thankful for each and every one of you. Thank you. Thank you for crying with us and praying for us - y'all are precious and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. I said it in the last post - I am so thankful y'all get to move with us this May. You're such an encouragement to me. Thank you, sweet friends. I love y'all!

We are trying to get back to normal...whatever that is. The last few weeks have been so hard and so rich and so good. Scripture speaks of the peace of God guarding our hearts and minds and I can testify to that truth. His peace has been and continues to guard us.

The weekend after my surgery my milk came in. I think that has been my lowest point. To have such a painful physical reminder of our loss felt almost unbearable. It was very much a "one foot in front of the other" kind of weekend. It was the kind of weekend where I hid in the kids' treehouse for an hour and cried and cried.

Everyday seems to get a little better. I'm still pretty teary and have a good cry at some point every day.

We've resumed our normal activities which was hard. The first time I took Little Bit to Mother's Day Out I walked in the door and fell apart. I don't know why. I just couldn't get it together. Our first day back at Bible Study was just as bad. I cried when I dropped the children off with their teachers...I cried the entire time we sang...I've been doing a lot of lip gnawing...just trying to hold it together.

I've caressed a new baby's cheek and was able to genuinely smile in happiness for the mama...though I wondered if she felt strange that I walked over, under the circumstances, and made a beeline for her baby. After I stroked the baby's cheeks I stepped away, almost embarrassed at my forthright approach. (When I was a little girl my mama told me a story about a couple at their church whose newborn baby died. Mama said the lady saw mama holding me. I was a newborn at the time...and this was right after their baby had passed away...and the lady came over and held me and wept. I always thought it strange. And now I don't.)

I haven't been to Sunday School or Church yet...the girls have been sick and I've offered to stay home. It's going to be hard. There are a lot of mamas expecting. I'm praying that God will enable me to genuinely rejoice with them. Heck, I'm praying that I can walk in the room and sit beside them and not fall apart. Oh these things are so hard.

I remember after our miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy and over a year of trying to get pregnant in the same Sunday morning I learned three of my friends were expecting. I felt like I'd been stabbed. It was all I could do not to run out of the room and fall apart. And yet, I want to rejoice over God's blessings upon my friends. It's complicated. The heart is so complicated.

Physically I feel almost totally normal. Emotionally, I feel my heart has had a chunk ripped off. And yet, God has been and is so faithful. We are weak and He is strong. He has filled us with His peace. I have no doubt that this is part of His good and perfect will for our family. It hurts and we are raw, but we are not consumed. His mercies are new every morning. There is great encouragement knowing that He is accomplishing His purposes and that He is good and He is sovereign. It is quite the paradox...grieving so heavily on the one hand, while rejoicing in my heart over His goodness and sovereignty on the other.

Last Thursday night was our first full day just our little fam. The Engineer and I, thanks to the encouragement of a dear friend, decided we would have a memorial of sorts. We told the children several days ahead of time. Actually, we asked them if they wanted to have a time, just our family, to read God's word and pray and to write letters to the baby...with the idea that we'd put those letters, as well as all the cards friends sent, the ultrasound pictures, etc. in a special box. We'd refer to the box as our very own ebenezer. I was surprised by their enthusiastic reaction. (No fears - we explained and they understood the baby wasn't going to actually get their letters - that this was a way of putting pen to paper regarding our hearts.)

And so we gathered in the living room and The Engineer built a beautiful fire and we sat as a family and we each wrote a letter to the baby. We wrote about how happy we were when we found out God was knitting him or her together. We wrote about our hopes and dreams for the baby and our family of six...and we wrote about how sad we were...and for some, how angry they felt. And then we read the letters aloud. I wept. It was precious. It was a time of extreme vulnerability - of exposed hearts - and it was precious. The children put everything in the box and we placed it low on a bookshelf in the library with the understanding that it was to be to us an ebenezer...a reminder that God is with us. That He is good and faithful, even when times are hard. Even when the pain overwhelms us. He is there and He is sovereign. We also told the children they could sift through the contents of the box any time they so desired. And they have. And it makes me smile. We are hurting...grieving as a family. It's hard, and it's good.

Shortly after we learned the baby had passed away a letter arrived in the mail addressed to Sister and Little Man. It was from their Mema. And it is precious.

Dear Sister and Little Man,

Your Grandaddy has told me what a good attitude you have concerning your bother/sister's death. You are taking comfort in the faith that we have in Jesus. He knows best and as He tells us this sadness will eventually turn out ok. The little one is now safely in heaven with our Lord so even though we are sad and disappointed we know and trust Jesus as you are doing and feel our sadness will turn to gladness one day. Grandaddy and I also grieve too so we know how you feel. We must be brave in this world. There are so many things that are sad but also things that are happy. Keep trusting in Jesus.

With Love,
Your Mema

I LOVE that she tells our children to be brave. Yes my precious little ones, be brave! Our Father knows best. My heart aches as I think what a weight this loss has been on our children's hearts. And yet, God promises to use everything for the good of those who love Him who have been called according to His purpose. It makes me wonder...with a slight ache in my heart...just what He is preparing our children for.

We continue to pray that God will be glorified in and through this. That He will be made much of. And that He will change us - that He will use this to make us more like Jesus. That He will burn away the impurities that He might see His reflection better in us.

At some point in the last two weeks I remembered Jesus praying in the garden that the cup (His death on the cross) would pass from Him, but not His will, but His Father's will be done. And it hit me...this is the cup He has poured for us. It's so not what we wanted, but it's His good and perfect will. It tasted so bitter at first. Sour to my stomach. But as time is progressing and His truths are leaping out at me, I am realizing - this cup He has poured for us is mixed perfectly. And though it tastes revoltingly bitter, there is a sweetness there as well, a sweetness that I taste after those first few bitter sips. A sweetness that speaks of a Father's intentional love for His children. And so I realize that I can hold my nose and gulp through this as fast as possible, tasting as little as possible, or I can taste every drop and I can drink deeply. I want to learn all I can in this. I want Him to work mightily. I want Him to change me. To change us. Not to leave us as we were. Use this. Burn away the impurities. Blow away the chaff. Make us more like Jesus.

I thought Little Bit was pretty oblivious. Since telling her there was a baby in my tummy, she's declared "Baby Dinah" lives in her tummy. She's not nearly as oblivious as I'd thought. She recently climbed in my lap and told me, "You baby gone to moon. My baby gone to moon. God took my baby in boat to moon. God took you baby in boat to moon. Baby not der anymore (and she pointed to my tummy). Baby gone to moon. We go der one day." And I wept.

I'm signing off for a few weeks. All three children are sick with colds and Little Bit has a double ear infection and we are behind on getting the house on the market...hoping and praying we can get that together by mid February. Every minute counts and I've had paintbrush in hand late into the night many nights. Just yesterday I was on the top rung of a ladder in the pouring rain, nailing up plastic over a project The Engineer had finished, but I had yet to paint. Selling a house is crazy hard work!

We'd love your continued prayers for our family. Again, thank you ALL for being so precious to us. Y'all are treasures and I'm so thankful you choose to come here and share this little sliver of life with our family.

To God be the glory!

He Gives & He Takes & He is Good

2012-01-13T12:10:00.001-06:00

We've had some heavy, hard stuff these last few days. Some really heavy, hard stuff. Above you see our Christmas card from this past December. On it we wrote of the big changes coming..."the addition of a long prayed for baby and a big move" thanks to The Engineer's job change. We also wrote of standing in "awe of God's mercies and tenderness. That He has shown His faithfulness again and again. That He is faithful and He is good. Always & in all things."

And He is faithful.

And He is good.

Always.

In all things.

Y'all, I'm about to spill my heart. And this post is very long. And probably not very eloquent. And I am praying that God will guide my words. I want to be honest. I want to be transparent.

Tuesday afternoon at 4:05 I went be-bopping into my OB's office for a routine check up. I was a little over 17 weeks. I knew I'd be in and out. I checked in and was greeted with smiles and "how ya feeling?" I stepped into the lab and said "hi" to the lab technician. She asked about the children. We talked about our Christmases. I plopped down in the waiting room and noticed I was the only patient there. Turns out I was the last patient of the day. That was God's providence. The nurse came and got me almost immediately...again, asking how I was feeling while she got my weight and blood pressure. I laid back on the exam table and she started checking for baby's heartbeat...she couldn't find it. I felt a little anxious and asked if she was concerned. She said she could hear the placenta and "good stuff." She thought she'd picked up the heartbeat, but couldn't keep it, so we stepped over to ultrasound. I wasn't too concerned. This had happened with Little Bit and ultrasound picked up her heartbeat immediately.

So I lay on the table and my sweet friend began the ultrasound. I was running my mouth about not wanting to even know if she could tell the sex of the baby. And while I was talking, I was staring at the screen and I kept wondering why she had taken a picture of the baby and was studying it so intently. Everything was still, eerily still and quiet. I mean, I was there to look for the heartbeat. And then as I stared at the baby, I thought things looked really, really odd. My friend wasn't talking. I stopped talking and stared. She turned on a view that shows blood flow. Normally it fills the screen with color. There was hardly any color on the screen. And I looked at her and she said, "I know you've noticed I'm being really quiet. I've got to be honest with you. I can't get a heartbeat. This doesn't look good. I'm going to try from a few other angles." And then she said, "Sweetheart, I am so sorry. Your baby is gone."

And I wept. And the nurse came back in and brought another nurse with her and they held my hands and let me lean into them and I sobbed and the only thing I could think...what kept going through my mind...was that I had killed my baby. And I turned to the nurses and I told them I'd been under so much stress recently - with homeschool and preparing to move and getting the house ready to go on the market and mama's sickness and so much more. I told them I'd been doing house projects and I asked, because I had to know, "Did I kill my baby?"

And they immediately assured me I had not. And they held my hand and led me into another room. And I wept. And I had peace in my heart. And big, huge pain, but also a deep peace.

They tried The Engineer at home and couldn't get him. And God graciously provided. Our neighbor was home and went to the house immediately and told The Engineer he needed to meet me at the doctor's office and our neighbor took our children back to his house.

And my precious, precious doctor came in and he hugged me and just held me while I wept. And then he never let go of my hand while he talked to me about our baby. He spoke of how rare miscarriage is this far into pregnancy. He assured me there was nothing I could have done or not done to prevent what happened. He said this was God's sovereignty. He told me after looking at the ultrasound, based on baby's measurements, he thought the baby had died roughly three weeks earlier. I asked how that was possible. I'd still been so nauseated, I'd even thrown up recently. He explained that my body was still acting like I was pregnant...that my hcg levels were still high, thus the nausea. He went on to tell me that 99% of the time when a baby dies in the second trimester, it's due to some type of genetic abnormality. He said our baby's neck was very large - swollen, if you will. Which explained why things looked so odd to me on the ultrasound. He also told me he thinks the baby had died about three weeks earlier...which crushed me. I'd been carrying my baby, deceased, for three weeks, all the while glowing with hope and eager expectation. We'd just been at a wedding last weekend and we'd beamed as we shared our joy again and again. Who knew?

About that time The Engineer came running in, not knowing...and I barely got the words out, "There's no heartbeat." And I collapsed into him.

And he held me tight and he kissed me and he told me he loved me and I wept.

My doctor came back in and talked with The Engineer about all we'd already discussed. He assured us the genetic abnormality was there when sperm met egg. There wasn't anything we could have done.

And we asked, "What happens next?" He explained that I wasn't quite far enough along to deliver...I needed to be 20 weeks. We asked about all our options and agreed that a D&C or D&E was the best choice. And I was crushed. I mean, I know the baby isn't alive, his or her soul had departed, but all I could think about was that a D&C is one of the methods used in abortion and my precious baby - I didn't want that for my child. And my doctor also told us because of how far along I was, there was a much greater risk of damage to organs and of massive blood loss with the possibility of a blood transfusion.

He was so gentle with us. I asked when we would need to schedule that and he told us he didn't want to rush us. That we were in shock and should take some time to grieve. We could act Thursday morning (yesterday) or we could wait until some time next week.

He held our hands and he prayed with us and for us. He thanked God for our baby. He thanked God for us. He prayed for peace for us. Tears ran down my face. I bit my lip - nearly gnawed it off.

We walked out of the back office, hand in hand. The receptionists were still there and they were teary and they assured us they were already and would continue to pray for us.

We walked out the front door and The Engineer held me in the front yard of the office and I wept. Finally we pulled apart, the office was dark. The parking lot empty. The staff had left. The Engineer wanted to drive me home, but I couldn't bare the thought of him having to leave me later that night to pick up his truck. I assured him I was okay to drive and we left.

I started my car and remembered the Sunday after our miscarriage, nearly six years ago, and I remembered holding The Engineer's hand and weeping as we sang with the congregation Blessed Be Your Name. I remembered singing that song again after our ectopic pregnancy. I remembered singing it when mama and daddy divorced. It's always helped my heart - to remind me of truth. To speak truth. And I knew I had to sing it now. I had to choose to force myself to utter the words...

Blessed Be Your NameIn the land that is plentifulWhere Your streams of abundance flowBlessed be Your name

Blessed Be Your nameWhen I'm found in the desert placeThough I walk through the wildernessBlessed Be Your name

Every blessing You pour outI'll turn back to praiseWhen the darkness closes in, LordStill I will say
Blessed be the name of the LordBlessed be Your nameBlessed be the name of the LordBlessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be Your nameWhen the sun's shining down on meWhen the world's 'all as it should be'Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your nameOn the road marked with sufferingThough there's pain in the offeringBlessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour outI'll turn back to praiseWhen the darkness closes in, LordStill I will say
Blessed be the name of the LordBlessed be Your nameBlessed be the name of the LordBlessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be the name of the LordBlessed be Your nameBlessed be the name of the LordBlessed be Your glorious name
You give and take awayYou give and take awayMy heart will choose to sayLord, blessed be Your name

And so I turned it on and I don't think my voice has ever sounded so horrid. I was sobbing and moaning and I sang every word of that song, as a prayer to God. Because I knew in my flesh there was no way I could praise Him. No way my heart could choose that. And I knew I had to sing it as a prayer, pleading for the Holy Spirit to work and move in my heart - to enable me to thank God in this horrible time. I don't want to be bitter and I know God is good. I know He is sovereign. I know He works all things together for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose. I know this baby was intentionally knit together by an almighty loving God. This wasn't a mistake. This genetic abnormality was part of God's perfect plan. And that's what hurt so so much.

I kept touching my belly - because I'm showing. Heck, I'd worn a maternity shirt to my appointment. And though there was peace in my heart, deep down, I felt really angry. And so, so hurt. I threw my hands up at God...why? "WHY? If this was Your plan, WHY did I have to endure four months of nausea??? WHY??? WHY???"

And I remembered Job questioning God.

And I remembered the story in John about the man born blind and the disciples asked Jesus who sinned? The man or his parents? And Jesus told them neither the man nor his parents had sinned, but the man was born blind that God might be glorified.

And I put my hands back on the steering wheel and told God I didn't get it, but I could trust Him, that He is was bigger than me and He sees fully and I was kind of mad about the nausea, but I could trust Him. (And I know that sounds lame, but it's where my heart was.)

And we got home and I went straight to that stack. That stack tied with a red ribbon, of all my journaling, all the cards and letters of love and encouragement from the two babies we'd already lost and I found it. Two pages of scripture a dear, dear friend had sent me, all truth. And my heart needed truth. I poured over the pages and wept and thanked God and The Engineer read some, too and we prayed and talked about how best to tell the children...and my heart broke all over again. I love my children and the older two are old enough to grasp what has happened, especially Sister. And she'd prayed faithfully for two years for this baby and everyday since we told her we were pregnant she's prayed for a healthy baby. I knew she would be crushed. And I prayed God would use the pain to make her more like Him, that He would guard her heart and keep her tender.

Turns out Little Bit was still next door and the older two had gone with our neighbor's son to Boy Scouts and then out to dinner. Which was perfect. We took Little Bit home and I've never been so happy to hold that child. To smell her. To kiss her. To breathe her in. To take her to the potty, even!

And we began the long and painful process of calling family. As we shared, I was seeing God's magnificent grace in my being the last patient and the only patient in the office...that the ultrasound tech had stayed, though there was no other appointment scheduled...that our neighbor had taken our children and so fast...that The Engineer got there so quickly...and our families wept with us and for us. And while we talked and wept, Little Bit sang and danced and I was so thankful for her innocence, for her happy contentment just to be with us. She reminded me of God's goodness and blessings.

We prayed about how best to tell Sister and Little Man and we prayed for their hearts, pleading with God. We want them to know that God is good. To see His faithfulness.

They got home a little later and were still nibbling on what was left of their dinner. The Engineer read to them about God being sovereign over all the earth, from the beginning and forever. That He rules and His throne is established. He read to them from Isaiah about going through fire and the flames not consuming us - about God's faithfulness. And he spoke of how even in the hard times, when life hurts so much, when there is pain and we grieve and things aren't the way we want them and nothing seems good, that God is still sovereign and good, even though the pain feels unbearable.

Sister knew. She kept interrupting and he gently quieted her so he could finish and then he told them. And Sister collapsed in tears, gut wrenching, body shaking sobs. I went to her and held her. Little Man sat there stunned. And as a family, we mourned.

A few minutes later, Sister pushed away and punched the air with her fist and shouted, "He's taken THREE! Why has He taken THREE? Why would He do that!!!???" And then she collapsed in sobs again.

It was a long night. A hard night. When we lost our second baby to miscarriage and then our third to an ectopic pregnancy it was hard, but grieving with children who comprehend what's happened is a whole different ball game. It wasn't just my hopes and The Engineer's that were dying, it was our children's, too. And they spoke of their desires for the baby, of their hopes and plans. Of the things they'd wanted to teach the baby...of wanting to hold the baby...of the games they'd wanted to play with baby.

It was heart wrenching. We talked about it being okay to be angry...that God does love us and He will sustain us. He is faithful. He will and is carrying us through these flames.

Eventually we tucked two exhausted and heart broken, teary children into bed. I went in Sister's room to kiss her goodnight and she'd spread pictures of her own birth and first days home with us all over her room...and it was all I could do to thank God for her and not think about all we'd be missing come June 16. She cried more and kept asking why and I kept telling her I didn't know. That God's ways aren't our ways. That I want to know why, too, but that we can trust and rest in Jesus.

I made my way over to Little Man's room where he, too, wanted to know why. And then he said, "Mama, if the baby was a boy, I am really really sad he died. And if the baby was a girl, I am still really, really sad she died. I wanted the baby to come out and sleep right there (and he pointed to the space beside his bed, where we'd told him baby would sleep, should baby be a brother)." And then he said, "Mama, I know we aren't supposed to look at privates, but when the doctor does your surgery, will you ask him, if he doesn't mind, if he would look at the baby's privates and tell me if the baby was a boy or girl." I assured him if we could find out, we would. And in tears, I tucked him into bed and crept out of his room, aching and grieving, but so thankful for his precious life.

I fell into bed, exhausted and aching with grief. My eyes were so swollen from crying I felt like I was looking through slits and despite two advil, my head throbbed from the tears. The Engineer brought me the salad I hadn't eaten earlier and a beer. And we sat on the bed and ate and drank and talked. We talked about how sad we were. About the dreams we had for this baby and the dreams for our family of six. We talked about how hard it is to bury those dreams. We talked about having wanted and tried and pleaded with God for this little one for a year and a half...of how He had brought us to a place of contentment, of not knowing how not having a fourth child could be better than having one, but that we really wanted His will, even if it meant no fourth child...and we talked about how God brought us to that place and then threw open His floodgates and overwhelmed us with a baby. We remembered our joy, our happiness, Sister's tears of joy when we told her. Our families had cried with joy. What a sweet and precious time of rejoicing we had had.

The Engineer and I curled up together and he held me and I wept...quiet tears and then body wrenching sobs. I made our bed a couch of tears. All night long.

Around 3:30 I got up. I couldn't sleep, couldn't quit crying...I got my Bible and my journal and those pages of scripture and I read through them again and I prayed through them. Y'all, it's hard to say, "God, You are good" when He took my baby. I mean, I know these truths in my heart, in the depths of my soul. I can reflect on times when His goodness didn't make any sense and I can see how He was working those things for my good...but oh the reality, to flesh it out in the midst of such pain and searing loss - it's something that simply cannot be done in the flesh. Scripture speaks of peace from God being a peace that passes understanding. As I spent the next three hours reading and praying and journaling and writing my prayers to God - of confessing my unbelief, of trying to trace Him, of trying to make sense - I kept a hand on my belly and I cried and I ached. It was and is so, so hard. And I wondered what I'd been doing when my baby's soul left his or her earthly little body. I thought back over the last few weeks...where had I been? What had I been doing? Had I been acting lovingly or speaking harshly?

Did my baby know how very much we loved and wanted him or her? Did he or she know there were ten hands and arms and five hearts and lips longing to hold and love and kiss him or her?

And what about my hopes for baby? My dreams? Coming to grips with knowing I'd never meet this little one this side of eternity has crushed me. I thought about all the joys of my babies growing in my womb, of the kicks and hiccups, of the birth process and the delight when baby finally appeared and The Engineer would call it - "It's a boy! or It's a girl!" And he would cut the cord and how we would both cry happy tears. I thought of the sleepless nights, of soothing the baby at my breast. Of the pitter patter of his or her feet that we would miss. I was so happy to have four children - FOUR. I'd already planned how to place car seats...that chair at our table would still be empty. That box I'd already packed, planning to have the movers place it in the nursery in our new home...not only had our baby died, but so many of my hopes and dreams had as well. Gone.

Three hours of aching and grieving, of crying out to God, of praying through scripture, of preaching the Gospel to myself, of pleading with God to sustain us, to be strong in our weakness, to fill us, to carry us...I climbed back into bed and slept until 8. I called the doctor to schedule surgery for Thursday morning...and when the receptionist got on the phone I couldn't speak. I was so choked up. And she got teary, too, and told me she'd prayed for us all night long and she spoke truth, gently and lovingly. She helped me get through the call. Registration, blood work, and surgery prep would all take place that afternoon. We were to be at the hospital at 5:15 Thursday morning with surgery scheduled sometime around 7.

That day (Wednesday) was a blur. I told The Engineer I felt like everything was out of control, including our house. There was a bathtub in the living room and tools everywhere and stuff everywhere - we'd still not finished moving belongings back into our bedroom, the life size manger from Christmas was still out and filled with paperwork...and together, we set about straightening and putting away. Mama and JJ (The Engineer's mom) arrived and jumped right in...hugging and loving and dusting and sweeping, mending and ironing. Oh they blessed me. And still, my heart was heavy with grief and tears sprang forth often, but working, having something to keep my hands busy was a blessing.

By that afternoon I think I'd cried every tear in my body. There were no more. They wouldn't come. Friends came and called and texted and we felt the love of God and we were ministered to. The body of Christ is a beautiful thing. Many prayed with us and even more prayed for us.

And I was afraid. So afraid. I knew God was in control. I knew He would do His will. It's just that, His will so often isn't mine. And so often His will is just plain hard and it hurts. And I don't like it. At. All. And I kept thinking, "what if His perfect will is for my uterus to be damaged during surgery...for us to never be able to have another baby? What if that is His plan?" And I told Him...I told Him I was scared. I told Him that's not what I wanted and I begged and pleaded with Him to preserve me, that in the future He might bless us with more children. And y'all - I knew what I had to do before surgery - and by the grace of God I had to do it, with the help of the Spirit...I had to determine, to purpose in my heart that should the good and perfect will of God be for permanent damage to occur, that my heart would choose to say, blessed be Your name. That my heart would choose to give thanks, in all circumstances for this is the will of Christ Jesus for me. That is not something I can do on my own. I am so weak, but really, I am seeing it, in my weakness He is strong.

I took my time reading to the children and kissing them goodnight. I memorized their beautiful faces. I smelled their hair and I kissed their little lips. I prayed with them and for them. And I made them promise me they would always remember that God loves them and that no matter what He is good and He is sovereign.

I didn't fall asleep until close to 1. All night I had been cramping and my back aching. There were other signs my body was preparing for labor. At 4:40 in the morning Warrior started barking. I was furious, until The Engineer realized our alarm hadn't gone off and it was a blessing the dog had barked. Stinkin' dog.

I showered and dressed and knelt beside my bed and prayed. I begged God to give me strength. I begged Him to sustain us, to carry us. I pleaded with Him to protect my body through this procedure. We prayed most of the way to the hospital.

And then I was a jerk and fussed at The Engineer for being so far past due on an oil change for his truck. I knew in my heart I was wrong. I knew I wasn't really frustrated about that, that it was fear and hurt and pain, but I let him have it just the same. I'm a jerk. And he was gracious and loving and gentle. He was Jesus to me - turning the other cheek and loving perfectly when I was so unlovable.

We checked in. I determined not to cry. My nurse shared with me she'd lost two babies. She was sweet and kind and gentle. I could tell she loved her job. And she loved us well. She stuck me for my IV and it didn't take. She promised not to stick me again, said we'd wait for anesthesia to do it. She left the room and I cried. It had hurt so bad and I felt angry at God. I mean, not only were we going through all this, not only had He taken our baby, not only had The Engineer's "check engine light" come on the day before, not only had the heat pump quit working the night before, not only, not only, not only, but now I'd had to go through the pain of being stuck with an IV that wouldn't take. WHY??? "What for, God? This is just one more thing! And for what purpose?"

The Engineer and I held hands and we prayed some more and the call came. They were ready for me. I made a quick trip to the bathroom and there were more signs of labor and I was so thankful to be heading into surgery, though my heart ached. I was thankful for more signs that it was time, that though baby's body was still in mine, his or her soul had long departed. The Engineer kissed me and my nurse reminded me that Jesus loves me.

A big black man pushed my bed down the halls and he was kind and he was gentle. He pointed out what a beautiful day it was. And I agreed. The sun was shining and the skies were blue and I would walk out of that hospital with empty arms and an empty womb.

He took me to the holding room. The nurse was gruff. I started crying. She asked what I was afraid of. I told her I wasn't afraid. I was sad. The anesthesiologist stood beside my bed. She gave me kleenex and she asked me how far along I was. She patted me and was kind and told me how sorry she was for our loss.

The nurse came back, much gentler. She got my iv in, and this time I barely felt the pain. They started me on something to take the edge off...and then our pastor and The Engineer appeared. And they stood beside my bed and prayed for me. I kissed The Engineer once more and he left.

And then another nurse came in and she smiled at me with the most sympathetic and precious smile. She told me her name and that she was a patient of my doctor's and I knew from her gentle spirit that she was a believer. She told me she'd be with me from that point on. She and the other nurse talked...I heard them talking about having blood ready...

As the nurse pushed my bed down the hall I placed my hand over my abdomen, over my baby, and I left it there. I asked if I'd get to see my doctor before surgery. We rounded the corner and there he was and he leaned down over my bed and hugged me and he held my hand and he walked with me through the halls and corridors, never letting go of my hand. He helped me onto the operating table. One nurse stood at my head and rubbed my shoulders and wiped my tears. Another nurse stood at my feet and rubbed them. My doctor sat to my right and held my hand and talked to me, he leaned close to my face, he spoke words of encouragement and truth to me. The anesthesiologist was to my left and he was so kind and so gentle.

And I realized, had that first IV taken, I'd have missed all of that. All of God's precious grace. Because I would have been too medicated. Oh the sweetness of God working all things together for my good.

I woke to the same nurses in the same places, stroking my head and rubbing my shoulders and feet and tears streamed down my face. Waking to the horrid reality that it was finished. My baby was gone. My womb was empty. A third nurse stood to my left and held my hand. She leaned over me and asked if she could pray for me. I nodded and thanked her and those three nurses prayed for me. Oh how they ministered to my aching heart. I asked if there were any complications and they told me everything had gone perfectly and more tears came - tears of joy mixed with grief and pain and hope. And then, they were so precious, they kept me right there in the OR and let me recover in their care, rather than sending me to "recovery." And I was so, so thankful. God's mercies were so obvious, pouring out over me like a soothing balm.

Shortly thereafter I was back in outpatient surgery and The Engineer came in first and he hugged me and kissed me and mama and JJ came in and loved on me. And the nurse was kind and precious. And we headed home...with empty arms. And I was thankful I didn't have to leave through the same exit I'd left through with my babies in my arms.

We pulled up to the house and there was no lamb with a big pink or blue bow to welcome us. No baby carrier to unload. No nursery and glider in which to nurture baby. There was a peace lily on the front porch and our empty arms. A friend pulled up. She'd been through this. She'd tread this path. She knew our grief. She held me on our sidewalk and cried with me and for me. And she gave me a book that had been dear to her heart...From Grief to Glory. As I scanned the cover and realized the great men of faith who'd been through the same sort of thing my heart filled with hope...Spurgeon, Charles Wesley, Luther, Calvin...they had been here.

I climbed into our bed, that mama had made so sweetly for us. Our bedroom was clean and neat. I asked The Engineer to raise all the blinds and let the sun stream in. He brought me my Bible and journal. I prayed and read. I thanked God for guiding the doctor's hands, for protecting my organs. And I began reading From Grief to Glory. I pulled out my friend's vegetarian chili recipe from within the pages of the book...she had read this very book and now had passed it on to me. And God spoke through the words in that book, through the shared experiences of other believers who knew God to be good and sovereign and faithful, to have a plan better than anything we could ask or imagine...and I read of their grief and their pain.

30 pages in I closed the book and I lifted my arms up and I prayed. I poured out my heart before the Lord and He comforted me. And He spoke to my heart. I remembered Sister asking why He would take another baby. I had felt the same way...like He'd taken what was mine. Ever so gently, He reminded me that He is the creator of life. That our baby had never been ours. The baby was His. He knit that baby together and He gave us the hope of baby's life, the privilege of carrying life...He didn't take something from us that wasn't already His. Our baby always belonged to God and was His to take and to do with as He pleased. And He reminded me that all of our children are but a gift, that we are to hold them with an open hand because they belong to the Lord. He has entrusted us with them, but they are not ours, they are His. And He loves them more than we are capable of loving.

I'm not sure how to express the depth of grief we feel and are experiencing and the pain...the brokenness...the crushed hope...the death of our baby and so much more. And yet, I can say that God is good. He is faithful. He is real. The Gospel is real. He is in control of everything. Everything. I can thank Him, in tears, for this dear child. I've even smiled and laughed. Our grief is deep. Our sorrows are deep. There are wounds, cuts that are deep. We are broken. And He is the restorer. He gives joy and hope and peace. He binds up the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

We are so, so very weak and He is strong in us. We have talked and prayed - we don't want to waste a second of pain, not a moment of the hurt. Teach us, oh Father, shape and mold us. Change us. Be glorified through this and in this. Make our family more like Jesus. Show your goodness and faithfulness through this and in this. Make much of yourself, sweet Jesus. Be honored, be glorified.

I know the days and weeks and months ahead will be hard. Sister asked if I was done crying, I told her I was only just beginning. I know from the other two babies we lost that the pain and grief hit, often at unexpected times. I don't know that I'll be able to look on a growing belly and not tear up. I don't think I can look at my friends who are carrying and not weep. And I pray they will bare with me. I love them and I am happy for them and it hurts, too. And I am raw. I don't want to be that girl who can't stop crying...who is hard to be around because she makes you feel weird. I don't want to be like that...and yet I know, I know these days are going to be so hard, so hard.

Coming home to the...noise is what I thought at first, and then I decided it's not noise, it's a symphony of life. The clatter and the banging, the playing, the running, the barking, and the messes - they are indicative of life and this life God has given me, us, is beautiful. Through the tears and in the pain, there is beauty.

I love my baby. I love my baby so much. And I am so sad, crushed. And God has shown His goodness, His faithfulness. Always. In all things. I am so thankful that I am His and He is mine.

I am thankful for others who have gone before us. Who have endured. Who have tread this road. I am thankful to know of God's faithfulness to them. There will still be an empty chair at our kitchen table. And another piece of my heart is gone. And my belly doesn't look so pregnant any more. My heart is raw and at the same time, it is filled with love for God, with peace. It's an unexplainable paradox...the joy in the midst of deep, deep grief.

And I am thankful for each of you. I am so thankful. Knowing that we are moving in four months, knowing that baby would have arrived shortly after our arrival - I'll be new in a new town with an open wound in my heart few will be aware of and there is comfort in friends who know and love and weep with you when you weep. I am so thankful to take you with me. I know there will be many days of weeping and sadness ahead. I pray God will continue to carry us, that the waves will not consume us, that the fires will not burn us...that He will be strong in our weakness...that He will guard our hearts and keep us, make us tender before Him. I pray He will keep us from bitterness, that He will be glorified. That He will make us satisfied, delighted in Him...that He will wipe our tears. I have great hope that in God's sovereignty, our baby is with Him.

We ache. Deeply. And God is good. This chapter is sad and heavy and hard and yet, in His mercies and tenderness He is writing a beautiful story. To Him be the glory. Hold us close Father. Comfort us. Be our peace. And please Lord, be glorified.

Friends, I love you. We covet your prayers. It is wonderful to know we are loved and are prayed for. Please weep with us and ache with us and love us. We are setting our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith, pray He will keep our eyes and hearts on Himself.

To God be the glory.

2011 In Pictures...January

2012-01-09T21:19:00.000-06:00

I'm a little late getting going on this annual series...and I normally don't include much text...if this wasn't a collage post, I'd have titled it: "The Great Escape, Massacre, & Re-Capture of 2012." You see, Little Man received an ant farm from some dear friends of ours. We sent our $4 to Uncle Milton and checked the mail EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Including the day we put the $4 in the mailbox. Alas, the ants arrived when Little Man was away spending time with the grands. The instructions were specific...place ants in ant farm IMMEDIATELY. So the little guy missed out.

Fast forward through a crazy weekend...Friday night we began the trek to mama's and got her home safe and sound, though rather late.

Saturday morning brought sweet time at the great-grands as we celebrated Christmas a little late.

Saturday afternoon brought the wedding of some high school friends of ours and the best bridal cake I've ever tasted. (And the wedding was in the church where The Engineer and I attended pre-school together! And where my parents were members when I was a little girl - I can still almost pick the pew we sat in one Sunday when mama gave me a piece of hard candy. Funny what one remembers.)

Saturday night was prep time for a baby shower for a dear high school friend of mine. Mother impressed us all with her mad skills in hosting said shower. (Of course, the shower was planned well before we knew mama would have surgery!) And mama is continuing to recover well.

And Sunday night brought a long trek home. Little Bit has shed her diapers and thus we made six stops during a three and a half hour drive...in the pouring rain. And we touched every bit of every toilet and trash can.

Upon our 10 pm arrival home, The Engineer quickly dis-assembled Little Bit's bed and moved it from upstairs down and re-assembled it in her bedroom. (This is all because we just laid hardwoods in the master bedroom, nursery, and hall outside the master thanks to the lovely dog smell...so the entire house has been turned upside down.) So...while The Engineer is trying to re-assemble the crib, Little Man starts screaming like he's cut his hand off and we rush into the bedroom to find the lid off the ant farm and all the ants scattering as fast as they possibly could....all while Little Man continues to shriek.

The Engineer went for the vacuum. I ran for a large piece of paper and the liner to his lunch box. We wound up scraping the ants up, dumping them in the lunch box liner, tapping the sides to knock them back down and in, making a paper funnel, dumping as many as possible into the ant farm, capping it - thus killing a few a-la bodies cut in half - refrigerating the farm to "quiet" the ants, all while I continued to tap the liner to knock the remaining ants back down...and Little Bit screamed in fear of an ant biting her...and Sister fell apart in tears...finally we returned the living to the ant farm - along with some hair and lint off the floor. It was maddening.

Lessons learned: tape the lid down. Don't let four year olds carry ant farms around the house. Duh.

Hope you have a great night!

Ten

2012-01-03T16:24:00.000-06:00

01.03.02

6:30pm

I remember that day like it was yesterday...we totally thought we were the exception. That we wouldn't fight and when we did, we'd be quick to forgive. That it wouldn't be like that for us. We were different and we were really in love.

It took less than 48 hours for that spell to be broken.

And can I just tell you that this season in our lives is insane. And we didn't get married and live "happily ever after." They don't tell you no one really does that. And there are certainly happy times, many, many of them! But there are hard times, too. And there are painful times. And we cut one another deeply. And life cuts us deeply. And the heart is an amazing thing...with both the capacity to rejoice and ache deeply. Often at the same time.

This season of life has come with it's own challenges...and it's been hard...a long prayed for pregnancy (lots of nausea), the unexpected, but exciting job change and upcoming move, preparing to put our house on the market - aka projects GALORE, homeschool, going and going and going...and my own sweet mama has been sick and in the hospital. Her Christmas vacation stay with us has been extended due to a bout with pancreatitis and a gallbladder removal. After being incredibly sick and an almost week long hospital stay, she is recovering well and we are thankful to God. The Engineer has his own stresses at work. All this to say, life is insane and I am so, so, so thankful for this man. I am so, so, so thankful he is mine and I am his.

There is no other who can compare. He has taught me so much about love. True love. How often do we sin against one another and it's his prompting, his grabbing my hand, and running with me to the cross, that brings such sweet forgiveness and cleansing? How he can forgive and forgive and forgive...I am so thankful for the work of the Holy Spirit in his heart...for his obedience to Christ.

I'm so thankful for ten years of marriage to this man. There is no other I can fathom spending my life with. There is something deeply moving about knowing he knows me so well, even some of the depths of my depravity, and yet he still loves me. This marriage, my husband, is a picture of Christ to me.

I never dreamed it would be so hard. I had no idea what a selfish and self-centered brat I was (and am). Oh, how marriage can point out one's love of all things self. And I am a lover of self.

To my darling Engineer...on this day...ten years after saying "I do," I don't think I've ever been so thankful to call you mine and to know that I am yours. I feel like we're on a roller coaster - especially with trying to finish all the projects we'd begun on the house...there have been so many crazy twists and turns and ups and downs...and I'm past grinning and screaming at the thrill...I struggle to muster a smile. I am tired and I am weary. And you, you lift my chin and you remind me that this is only for a season. You look into my eyes and tell me "we are going to enjoy this because it will all be over soon." And you pray with me and for me. And you are compassionate. And I am thankful.

Thank you for speaking truth into my life, even when you know it's not what I want to hear. Thank you for loving me, even and especially when I am my most unloveable. Thank you for being steady. Thank you for sacrificing your life for mine in a million ways everyday. I love that you still fix me a glass of water every night before bed...that you still put toothpaste on my toothbrush morning and night...and that you still unload the dishwasher...Every. Single. Morning. You make me smile. And I love you so much.

Happy tenth anniversary, my love.

Spilling the Beans...

2011-12-12T17:35:00.003-06:00

I think I haven't blogged in nearly a month because I don't know what to say...how to sum up life, my heart, over these past several weeks.

Baby is well. The nausea has lessened, but is still very much a part of each day. I am seeing my sinfulness 24/7. I'm a punk. A lot. I'm holding out for week 16. And I am trying to endure this season with joy, but like I said, sinfulness 24/7.

Little Man and The Engineer went on their first ever deer hunt with my brother-in-law. The Engineer shot a deer! Woo hoo. I'm afraid my boys may have found a new sport!

So, back to baby...we prayed for this little one for roughly a year and a half. I think I shared that we'd finally come to that place of wanting God's will, even if it meant something we didn't understand (like not having another baby)...

So while all that was going on, there was another big request, only this one went back a little further. A few years ago The Engineer set his sights on another job, very similar to what he's been doing, but in a plant where ground hadn't even been broken. At the time, it was all talk.

A few years passed and ground was broken and The Engineer got really excited. The first time he spotted a job posting for said plant, he applied. And never heard back. And we were bummed. But, we had prayed that God would put us right where He wanted us and as disappointing as it was, the closed door was confirmation. And so we stayed.

Time went by and there was another job opening. We prayed about applying. We didn't sense God leading in that direction. We were content, happy to be right where we were. In fact, thankful to be right where we were. Frankly, as we talked about the possibility, neither of us could fathom leaving.

And so it seemed, by this fall, that two big things we'd wanted and pursued, God had closed the door on. And He had taught us contentment in those areas.

You might imagine our shock when, within a 24 hour period, we learned we were expecting AND The Engineer was asked to apply for...his dream job. The one he'd wanted so long ago.

When it all sank in, I wept. God didn't just open a door...He thrust open the floodgates and was pouring blessing upon blessing, all undeserved, upon us. And we were humbled and in awe and we couldn't stop smiling.

And so we prayed and he applied and a week ago Friday he interviewed. By the following Monday morning they called back and offered him the job. And so...come May, we'll be moving! It'll be the furthest we've been from family. Which has given us pause. And we are leaving the home we have so loved. And The Engineer is so excited. And I am excited. And I keep crying. And this, this is an adventure.

I watched my children singing at Bible Study last week and I got so choked up I couldn't speak and tears ran down my cheeks.

I thought I was going to be sick to my stomach when we told our precious neighbors (who happen to be some of our very closest friends)...and I cried when we told them.

I cried during church...because I love our church family. And I cried last night at our Sunday School Christmas party, practically "hickie-snot crying" (that's what we called it growing up when you cried really hard)...we were singing carols and I looked up at our dear friends and I pondered how loved we are and selfishly I thought, "where will we be this time next year?" And I almost had it together when a precious friend sat beside me and hugged me and cradled my head in her arms and kissed my forehead and well, I lost it.

And then it hit me, the Holy Spirit convicted my heart, "Do you really believe God is who He says He is? That He is good? That He works all things together for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose?" And with a trembling lip I had to say, "Yes. Yes, I do believe, I KNOW that God is good. I know that His plans are good. I KNOW that He is faithful."

So it's just really bittersweet. I am so happy for The Engineer. I've only seen him smile this big when we got married and our babies were born! It's a special kind of smile. I am so happy for the adventure that awaits our family. I'm so thankful we'll all get to go together. I'm thankful for the details of the relocation package and for God's provision in and through that. I'm so thankful for our dear friends here...and I am praying God will provide new, sweet friends.

It is incredibly freeing to rest in Him - knowing that whatever He has in store for us is good and that we can rest and trust Him. It's hard, but when my heart is anxious, it is a balm to my soul to remember Whose we are and that He is good.

I close my eyes at night and I can't sleep. My mind races over all that must be finished before we list our home. I pray and pray and pray for a sweet family to move in - who has young children, who all love to read - a family who would adore the library! A family who would love our home. And my thoughts race over prospective homes and I try to imagine our family there...the children running barefoot through the house...can I see them in the yard...where will we homeschool...where will we picnic? And I pray God will lead us, that He will make the path clear, and that we will obey.

Friends, I have missed y'all and I am thankful I get to take you with us come May!

Hello, Hello!

2011-11-20T23:10:00.001-06:00

Hi.

I've been missing y'all.

I shot that wedding I'd mentioned. It was a family wedding.

I was so, so nervous. I kept dreaming someone knocked my camera off the tripod and broke it and I didn't have a backup and we didn't get any pictures of the wedding day. Seriously, dreamed that a few times.

I prayed and prayed God would help me think through every click of a dial, through every adjustment, that I'd use my equipment well, and that I'd capture it all in a way they'd be thrilled with.

I sweated a LOT. I learned a LOT.

A word about The Engineer...I couldn't have done it without him. He toted everything, held the camera when my arms were exhausted, chased the sun and bounced the light right where I needed it. He was amazing. Indispensable. He was my biggest fan, my encourager. Definitely my better half.

I am so thankful to the Lord for the results and I hope, hope, hope the family feels like we captured the day well.

I'm going to give you a running update between wedding pictures.

I have zero pictures of my own children from the last two weeks of our lives. Every camera card I had was full...full of wedding pics. I was terrified of deleting them. I have since burned them all to disc and cleared off the memory cards.

We spent a week in Vidalia. The Engineer led his assessment and he kicked rear.

He completely rocked the entire thing. Got only positive comments.

The kids and I bedded down in the hotel...

Sister spent the first night throwing up. I literally got on my knees and pleaded with God to spare the rest of our family. And He did. And we gave thanks.

On night two, Little Bit ate a tube of toothpaste. I felt like a great mom. Poison Control was most helpful. Thankfully, it was a travel tube and she hadn't consumed enough to be "toxic." A little milk and a lot of tears later (because I took the tube away and used a towel to scrub out her mouth) and she was just fine.

Day three brought an exciting morning thanks to a horrific sound in the walls...like every pipe was going to burst. Little Bit was up and has taken quite an interest in the potty. She had just flushed it when the noise began. And I hadn't been in there with her.

I wasn't sure what, but I was sure she'd flushed something...so I called the front desk.

Maintenance was already on the way. Only, they couldn't find anything wrong in our bathroom.

I was relieved to learn it was the man upstairs. Not us. Whew.

Day four had it's own excitement. We'd just finished drying off after a long afternoon at the hotel pool when Little Bit declared she was going swimming again. I, of course, told her "no."

She looked me in the eye and walked right over to the pool steps. I was standing across the pool from her and told her again, "NO."

Without taking her eyes off mine she defiantly stepped into the pool...only she lost her balance and though she was on the steps and could touch, she couldn't right herself. She just thrashed, face down. I ran and jumped and cleared almost half the pool and swam the rest of the way to her. It was scary. Really, really scary. She gasped and threw up some water.

As soon as I could see she was breathing and would be fine I looked her in the eyes and said at least five times, "I told you not to get in the pool."

We got to spend some time on a farm feeding and petting horses. The same sweet friends who took us to the farm treated me and the children to dinner twice (The Engineer worked some loooong days) and enlisted the children's help decorating their Christmas tree.

We've been home for a week and my every spare moment has consisted of finishing freelance projects.

And I've been reminded afresh of why I quit freelance and why I just need to say "no."

Nausea has set in and I am so thankful for God's gracious provision. It hasn't been nearly as bad as with the others. I think the fact that we waited so long for this precious baby has made the sickness more bearable.

Last night, at 10:30 I told The Engineer I was super hungry. He went to Krystals for chili cheese fries and a cherry slush. That is so gross, I know. It tasted SO good to me. That's the first just, disgusting choice I've made food wise. Hopefully the last.

I cried a few nights ago. I felt rotten. Nauseated. I told The Engineer I felt like a terrible mother...no energy for playing with the kids...I felt like I was doing everything halfway. I was grumpy during homeschool. Just kind of a punk in general.

He held me and reminded me this is only a season. This too, shall pass. And he has been so supportive. So sweet. I love that man. With every pregnancy his compassion and love and kindness seem to grow.

I'm re-reading The Mission Of Motherhood because it was like a balm to my soul the first time I read it and my soul needs some balm right now.

It's the kind of book that reminds you why you're doing what you're doing...why this whole mothering thing is eternal business. That God is glorified in what feels like the mundane.

Right now, I need to be reminded of that. That God is glorified in the mundane...in the washing of dishes and clothes.

He is glorified in the vacuuming and the mopping, in correcting the umpteenth math paper...in reminding Little Man for the millionth time that there is only one Q in the alphabet.

So here's to a new and fresh week. Here's to living life in full color. Here's to noticing and seeing. And here's to washing dishes and pouring milk and even bouts of nausea - to the glory of God.

Birthdays, Travel, Flashes, & Reformation Day

2011-11-03T15:59:00.001-05:00

Y'all are so cool. Thank you so much for celebrating with us!!! We are pumped! God has been so gracious through all of this. We got to see and hear the baby's heartbeat this past Monday. I get teary just thinking about it! I've done a bit of dry heaving, but all in all, I feel about 95% better than I did with any of my other pregnancies. Score! And the times waves of nausea have hit and I have needed a break, God's been gracious and a break has been possible. It's been such a blessing!

I feel like I'm barely catching my breath. This has been a BUSY fall and a lot of fun. A few weekends ago my sisters and I gathered at Mama's to celebrate her birthday! It was a wonderful weekend. Mama even brought us breakfast in bed Saturday morning. (And it was her birthday!?)

We took her out for for a fancy dinner...where Mother most definitely got hit on! That would make TWO birthday dinners in a row where that has happened.

Happy Birthday, Mama! We are all so thankful for your precious life and all the ways you've loved us!!!

Love this shot of The Engineer...

And then last week we spent in Atlanta. The Engineer had business there all week. He's heading up a big assessment and he is THE Man in Charge. I am SO proud of him! He is completely rocking it.

We stayed downtown in the Marriot Marquis. You may remember it from this post.

The kids and I walked to Imagine It Children's Museum.

We got there around 11:30. There were a TON of little kiddos there on a field trip. My kids couldn't find a spot to play anywhere...around two they all cleared out there were just a handful of mamas and their children left and it was SO MUCH FUN!

The kids milked a cow...real liquid came out.

There was an entire "Fairy Tale" section...

And a HUGE glass wall where the children could paint.

The museum staff rinsed and squeegeed it after the completion of each masterpiece. (I got in there and mixed primaries...my kids could have cared less...)

And there was a HUGE machine contraption thing that you could load with plastic balls and operate...it's too complicated to explain, but was super cool and occupied most of Little Man's time. And that's just naming a few...if you're in the area, it's definitely worth it! (Just make sure you aren't going in the middle of a field trip!) We shut the place down.

We spent the first half of each day in our room, schooling and eating instant grits. The last half we spent at the pool... picnic-ing on canned tuna, peanut butter sandwiches, trail mix, etc. The pool was on the third floor of the hotel and was indoor/outdoor with a glass wall dividing the two. The kids had so much fun swimming under that divider. They averaged 4-5 hours of swimming per day.

Before we ever left town, we gave the kids options as far as what they wanted to do while we were in Atlanta. We told them we had a set amount of funds available and let them have a say in how we allocated those funds. The result: two meals a day in the room, the children and I shared an entree for dinner out each night, made one trip to a museum, ate frozen yogurt once, and there was enough left over for dinner at The Melting Pot on the last night. Once all was said and done, they were quite pleased with our use of funds! I love that!

I'm shooting a family wedding here in the next little bit and have been practicing with a new flash. I'm not a flash girl.

I like to shoot with natural light and adjust my settings to accommodate...flashes scare and intrigue me.

But a wedding in a church is a whole new ball game. A flash will be a MUST!

And the one on my camera wouldn't cut it...

So I've been practicing. The Engineer has been helping.

We're practicing working as a team.

And I'm trying to learn how to avoid hot spots like the white blur in the background of this hilarious moment! (This is SO life at our house!)

I'm learning how to communicate with the flash...

And that when shooting in certain modes, the flash responds differently.

I feel like I'm learning a whole new language.

I'm pretty excited about it.

I'm hoping to kick things up a notch.

But I have a long way to go.

My subjects...

Agreed to pose for us in order to postpone rest time.

I try to use things like rest time to my advantage. Especially when overexposing their faces.

I'm looking forward to figuring this thing out...

Like I said...I have a long way to go...

But the practice is fun!

And the children are adorable!

And I love working with The Engineer, especially on something that crosses art and throwing photons.

Monday night we joined our church fam for a Reformation Day party. Thanks to my sweet in-laws, Sister was "Indian Princess Wild Flower," Little Man was "Buzz Lightyear," and Little Bit was "Fancy Nancy." The Engineer wore a haz mat suite from the Nuclear Plant, his hard hat, and a Superman cape..."Super Nuclear Man." According to the children, I was a "butterfly princess." I cut butterflies in half and glued the wings all around my eyes...someone asked if I was Lady Gaga. Um. Really? NO. NO!!!!

The kids were completely hyped up on candy. Some of us weren't quite ready to leave. In fact, one of us, I won't name names, had an all out two year old temper tantrum...kicking legs, flailing arms, cries at the top of her lungs. Sweet thing. Life is just so rough.

Knitting Peanut Roaster

2011-10-25T21:19:00.000-05:00

Seriously, are you believing this????

I'm not even sure how to sum up what's been happening in our home...in our hearts. Almost two weeks ago the children were playing at our neighbor's house. Little Bit and her friend were snoozing. The house was quiet. I tried to ignore the thought. To quiet my heart. Finally I caved. I'd promised myself I wouldn't take another unless I knew. I didn't know. But I had to. I couldn't shake the feeling.

And it was immediately obvious. And I was shocked. And I laughed and I cried. All at the same time. In a fluttering panic, I opted to place it in a folded piece of paper, upon which I wrote the due date and a verse that holds a special place in our hearts.

I tucked the envelope into the mail and hoped The Engineer wouldn't notice the missing stamp and postmark. As you saw, he didn't!

I've shared bits of my heart here and here. Over the course of the last two months, the Lord has really worked in my heart, in our hearts. He finally brought me to that place where, though I longed for more children, and though I could not fathom how not having another child would be better than having another child, I wanted His will more than my own. That's not the result of anything in me. That is totally, completely, one hundred percent the work of the Spirit in my heart, in our hearts. I believed with all my heart that He had closed that door. And I had been able to praise Him and thank Him for His will, even when it wasn't what we wanted. Again - that was nothing in me, that was all because of and through the Holy Spirit.

And so by His grace I've been more relaxed about this whole longing, finally trusting. Knowing. Resting in the fact that He really is the One who gives life, despite seventeen long and hard months of our best efforts.

And He has given life.

And we are rejoicing and grinning. We keep looking at one another and saying, "Did you know we're going to have another baby?" We keep emailing and calling one another just to say, "Did you know we're going to have another baby?"

I really believed in my heart that this wasn't going to be His will. Oh, how He has burst forth the floodgates. His blessings are pouring into our lives and we are overwhelmed in so many ways.

To God be the glory, great things He has done!

Telling the children was super fun. We set a place at the sixth chair around our table, the one that sits empty and reminds us to pray for another baby, only we set it with a porridger and baby spoon and we even pulled out the high chair. Sister was the first to notice. I played it cool. In a few seconds she knew and I could see it on her face and she burst into tears and buried her face in my stomach. I asked her what was wrong and she said, "Oh Mama! I am just so happy!"

Little Man was thrilled as well. He was more concerned with how big my stomach will get and with how big it would get if we had three at once and then, "Mama, what if you had fifty-five babies at one time? That would be AWESOME!!!"

Little Bit is clueless.

And we all immediately talked about Who knits babies together and Who gives life and as a family, we gave Him thanks.

We were filming their reaction and sadly the camera cut off before the children even came to the dinner table. We missed the entire thing. We reenacted the scene, but it just wasn't quite the same.

And so, friends, I thank you for your prayers for our family. Thank you for your kind calls, emails, texts, and comments. Thank you for lifting us up to our heavenly Father. Thank you for being a safe place to share my heart. You have been nothing but supportive and encouraging and I thank you. We thank you.

I believe Sister pulling for a girl. She wrote, "God gave me a baby and I love it. I love my baby sis. She is pretty and nice."

After going through a miscarriage and a tubal pregnancy, my doctor is watching us closely. They've done two rounds of blood work and it has all come back looking great. I had an ultra sound Friday and they were able to confirm that baby is where he's supposed to be! Yea! Praise God from whom all blessings flow!

Regardless of all the tests and statistics, we know Who is knitting this little one together. This little one our little ones have affectionately named "Peanut Roaster." God is sovereign and He is good, no matter what.

And I want to say - to my friends who are still struggling with this, whose hearts are aching and longing for a child - because many of you have shared your hurt with me - my heart aches with and for you. I don't want to gloss over this. I am thinking about you. I am sure for many, reading this post brings tears and a sting to your heart because it hurts because you want this, too. And many of you have wanted this for a very, very long time. I am praying for you. Specifically, for you. And the Lord knows who you are. You are loved and you are precious. Take heart. The Lord knows your heart. He knows your longing. I pray He will work His perfect plan in your life and give you peace and contentment and even joy. And if we were face to face, I would cry with you and pray with and for you. Dear friend, you are precious to the Lord. Take heart. I pray His comfort and peace upon your life.

Ziggurats, Swings, Sand, & Tents...Life

2011-10-19T17:09:00.001-05:00

Okay, here are the kids posing beside the ziggurat they built a for school a few weeks ago. Quite exciting! Only, I didn't have enough brown paint on hand, so I added cinnamon (the dollar store kind) to try and darken the paint...which gave the ziggurat a stomach flipping odor. Something about paint, cinnamon, grits, and dirt all together that was rather unpleasant! Regardless, it graced our table for a solid week.

Our curriculum has had us studying Mesopotamia. We've also been learning some art terms and studying ancient Mesopotamian art.

Pulling out my college art history book and having my children pour over it's pages, fascinated, grinning, pointing, firing off questions...well, it's made me so happy!

And while there are really precious and wonderful moments - the "ah-hahs" of teaching and the tenderness of God teaching us, changing us, working in our lives, there are also hard and long days.

Little Man was with a friend for the afternoon. Little Bit was napping. I told Sister she needed to "rest" so I could have an hour without interruptions. Ha. My attitude was rotten. And then my friend ripped the scales from my eyes and said something profound..."go for the eternal. In the midst of the noodles, go for the eternal. You'll never regret it." By God's grace, I am trying. Trying to go for the eternal. Rugs come and go. Accidents happen. My daughter is eternal.

Fun times!

The Engineer and I took a little adventure a few weekends ago. We got to help chaperone the youth in our church on a white water rafting trip! The grands graciously kept the children!

We pulled out a little before six. Most of our van was asleep before we made it outside the city limits.

The Engineer was driving a 15 passenger van...it was a little surreal.

We did more than just raft...we also did a high ropes course.

Part of that course included a swing...

That was crazy high...

And required a full body harness...

And my crazy husband impressed us all by soaring through the air, arms spread wide! NO fear.

Once hooked in, a team (of around 10 kids) pulled you up...

I think I remember hearing it was 40 feet high.

Y'all, that is really high!

Once you were at the top, you had to pull your own release...

If you're me, on the way up you think, "what if these cables break? I might die. I mean, I would die if they break. And they might. And I would die."

And then you pull the release and you SCREAM with everything you have in you!

And then you remember your husband's awesome example and you think, "If I'm going to die, I might as well die having fun. Hanging on to a falling cable isn't going to save me." (Morbid, I know.)

And you throw your arms wide and you know what? It was SO. MUCH. FUN!!!

And we rafted. And that rocked. And we played lots of games requiring massive amounts of running. I cannot out run high school athletes. Period. Hopeless. And in one game I was being chased by a crazy soccer player athlete and I knew outrunning her was hopeless, so I thought I'd turn abruptly and dive past her. That was a dumb decision. I NAILED my head. I fought the tears. My head throbbed. After an hour, I gladly accepted a packet of Goodies Headache Powder. That stuff is awesome. A few minutes later...GAME ON. Bring it. I still got nailed. Again. And again. And again. I'm so not a teenager anymore.

And then we drove home. The scenery was beautiful. We had so much fun. Those kids are awesome.

What is love? Love is when some of your closest friends, who happen to be your neighbors, call you one Saturday morning and say, "We want to do something really special for y'all. We want to give you two nights in a brand new hotel at Orange Beach. And, we want to keep your kids while you're away."

We were speechless. And elated. Who does that? Who gives someone two nights in a brand new hotel on the beach? AND offers to keep their children? To say we were touched would be a tremendous understatement.

The anticipation and excitement was so much fun.

We ate at some fabulous restaurants. We splurged and rented chairs down on the beach. You know, the ones where the guy comes by and offers to move your umbrella for you. (He also nailed me in the head with said umbrella while wiggling it into the sand. We laughed.)

Our room had a balcony and chairs. We sat outside both nights. The weather couldn't have been more perfect. We walked and walked and walked. We held hands. We talked. Uninterrupted. It was so good to have that time away. With nothing to do, but be. It's been several years since we've gotten away to just be. I hadn't realized how badly we need that.

Thank you, sweet friends. Words don't express our gratitude.

This little munchkin was VERY happy to see us leave and VERY UNHAPPY to see us return. (Think screaming fit, kicking legs, reaching for the neighbors...and every time we've set foot outside since, she calls for them...) Little Man told us they prefer our friends to us because, "They're so much nicer." Ha. Sorry kid. Life's tough.

The Engineer helped me organize and plan our homeschool week. As he flipped through the curriculum he read a suggestion to let your children sleep in a tent all week - sort of like what Abraham and Sarah would have done...sort of. I would have skipped over that. But not The Engineer.

He bought a bag of air heads, set that tent up, carried all the sleeping bags out, told the kids to load up on books, slapped on his head lamp, ran a power cord to the tent, plugged in his alarm clock, brought the dogs in the tent, zipped it up and I didn't hear from them until a little after five this morning.

This picture cracks me up.

This one does too. Sister is in The Engineer's lap.

I've been archiving pictures and ran across these. Sister and I went to a 50th wedding anniversary celebration and I told her to dress in her Sunday best.

I nearly died when she came down in those boots. And then I swallowed my pride and rolled with it.

I'm so glad I did. A french hand-sewn dress and camo cow-girl boots. She rocked it.

Happy Wednesday, y'all!

Snip Snip

2011-10-15T19:08:00.000-05:00

While we were playing outside a few days ago, I let this little one dig in the dirt...and get super dusty dirty.

We don't really have grass in our backyard (thanks, Warrior!). It's more like a giant dust pit.

She took her "doots" (boots) off and dug her sock feet into the dust. There's still a little on her face.

She had a really fun time.

And when we came inside, a dose of inspiration and courage hit me...

I gave the camera to Sister. She captured all of this! (And I'm so thankful. She did awesome!)

I was a little concerned with how the hair cut would turn out...

Her hair is very fine and straight.

A snack always helps!

She was really excited.

I think she felt super grown up. She kept grinning and pulling her shoulders up.

Ta-da!

Preciousness, I'd say.

A smile and "about time" was The Engineer's response.

If you talk to Little Bit, she'll probably grab a section of her hair to show you.

And just to keep it real, I thought I'd show you our master bathroom - where the hair cut took place.

Seven years. That's how long we've lived with it like this. This Christmas will make eight.

For a while we had our family picture with Dave taped where a mirror should be - as inspiration and a reminder why it's ok, even good, to live with our bathroom looking like this.

The walls will have to be re-sheet rocked. They were in pretty bad shape. The Engineer hit the window with the ladder in the middle of the night shortly after we'd moved in - he was trying to stop a roof leak - and bam! Broken glass...hence the duct tape. And well, it is what it is. And I'm okay with that. One day...one day.

Happy weekend, y'all!

A Little Time Away

2011-10-11T20:37:00.002-05:00

Hello, friends! We recently made a little trip to see the fam. While there, The Engineer got to hang an heirloom...a chandelier that's been in the family for a very long time. (Might I add that he re-wired it prior to hanging! 'Cause he rocks like that!)

Out went the ceiling fan and in went the chandelier...that I neglected to take a picture of.

The children spent time with their great-grands.

Sister even did a little reading for Grandpa.

I think he was impressed.

After our visit with fam (which also included Mama taking me and The Engineer to see Les Miserables - WOW!!! My favorite book ever and now my favorite musical ever. I sobbed. So precious. So touching!), we headed to Vidalia, Georgia, where The Engineer worked for the week. Little Bit hung back with the grands. Major blessing!

Sister, Little Man, and I spent a few hours one day on a ranch. The kids got to grind corn and feed birds.

We got a wagon ride behind a tractor...

We got to feed buffalo. Uh-huh. They were really that close.

Check out that tongue. Your eyes aren't fooling you. It was green. Little Man was a bit too fearless for me... and the owner, who grabbed his hand to assist.

We got to feed deer.

Sister was a natural.

Little Man, on the other hand, curled his fingers when feeding them and got a little nibble, so the kind folks at the ranch stepped in to assist, once more.

Their website said they treat you like family. They weren't kidding. Little Man found a golf ball near the garden and asked for a lesson...and got one. I got a lesson on growing tomatoes...and we got to see a lot, lot, lot of animals. All in all, a fun afternoon!

While away, we continued to school.

Lunch in the hotel room is always a hit, as is "cable tv." (Which makes me think of the word tee vee, like it was spelled in The Help, which was fantastic, read it until 12:30 two nights in a row...)

Here the children are each holding a piece of twine cut the length of a cubit (approximately 18").

They used their twine to measure out the size of Noah's Ark...I could not get over how big that boat was!!! Seeing it marked off like that was phenomenal. Amazing. It really put it in perspective.

Little Man is working on capital and lower case letter recognition, as well as their sounds.

And Sister just keeps rocking right along.

The highlight of our time away was probably the indoor pool.

The Engineer always makes life so much more exciting. The move you see above is Little Man's "spinning cannon ball." He both named and invented it himself.

By the end of the week, he'd almost perfected it.

Trips like this are wonderful. It is such a blessing to get to travel as a family. Our children have seen and experienced so much in their short lives thanks to the traveling The Engineer has gotten to do, and the fact that we've been able to pack up and go with him. I'm so thankful for these times away. It's a break from cooking, a break from cleaning, a break from stuff at home calling my name. It gives me uninterrupted time to focus on my babies. I am so thankful we get to homeschool... and pick up...and go when we want/need to.

In General

2011-09-30T05:25:00.000-05:00

Little Man on "Fire Wheel." So named by the Little Man himself, last Christmas.

Note the pink on his stomach - Sister wet some sidewalk chalk and "painted" him.

She got his back, too. Only...with mud. He was great with that. He walked in the house to show off and with every movement chunks of dirt fell to the floor. One day he's going to realize he doesn't have to succumb to his Sister's wishes. It will happen. Soon. Very soon.

Little Man and two of his friends are getting to hang with the Boy Scouts! While too young to officially "join," they are getting to participate. They're "mascots."

To say he is excited and proud would be a terrible understatement! The Little Man is ecstatic!

The Engineer is an Eagle Scout, so he knows all about wearing the Boy Scout uniform. He's told Little Man he can only wear his uniform to Scout meetings and school. So yes, every morning, and I mean every morning, Little Man comes down ready for school, in his uniform. Preciousness? Oh, YES!

In fact, this Little Man is taking Scouting quite seriously. A few days ago we returned home to pouring rain - POURING - and I'd left the dogs out and the gate needed opening. I dreaded the inevitable. As I put the car in park and prepared to be soaked through and through and trampled upon by an excited and muddy great dane, I heard Little Man unbuckle and shout, "I got it Mom!" And he did. He went out there in the pouring rain and despite dogs twice his size, my four year old opened the gate, waited for me to drive through, and then closed the gate and joined us in the garage. Soaked. He is going to be one FINE catch!

I made PW's cinnamon rolls. Oh my. I omitted the maple flavoring (cause I didn't have any) and subbed with a double shot of decaf espresso.

The Engineer and I might or might not have eaten most of a pan in one sitting...two nights in a row. (Like, a pan a night, twice.) One recipe made NINE round pans. Score!

And BIG news for Sister!!! She completed the first grade Sing, Spell, Read, & Write curriculum!!!

Last Friday she took her last test!

We are SO proud of her! And so...we begin afresh!

The Engineer and I were stoked when UPS delivered a 24 pound box. We knew the contents! Each of these books are part of the curriculum we began this past Monday with Sister and Little Man. I will definitely be sharing more about this in the near future. Suffice it to say, with all this newness, I am still very much figuring things out and trying to establish the best routine and order for our family. Even in the midst of that process, which can be really frustrating to me, we are LOVING what and how we are learning. LOVING IT!

Here is Sister's "to grow into box." The pickin's pretty slim. As I combed through the children's closets, putting away what they'd outgrown, boxing giveaway clothes, and sorting through clothing in our tubs of "to grow into" clothing, I was overwhelmed with God's perfect provision. We have been generously blessed with friends who, at just the right time, have showered us with clothing their children have outgrown. It's often in brand new condition. And because Sister's box held very little, we got to do a tiny bit of shopping. After looking over everything she has, we determined a pair of jeans would complete her wardrobe. JJ surprised her with brown clogs trimmed in fur - the perfect addition! Though, with the new hair cut, the jeans, and clogs...she's looking so grown!

As I worked through the great clothing switch-a-roo, Little Bit was my constant companion. A side-kick of sorts. Her specialties: knocking over perfectly folded stacks of clothes, "sorting" clothing that was already perfectly sorted, ramming her doll stroller into every stack and tub, and trying on anything that sparked her fancy...

Hence the bathing suit! Seconds later, she'd painted the front of it with blueberry yogurt. Clever girl.

I'd been visiting with a neighbor and upon stepping foot in our yard, heard the children calling me. Where, oh where did I find them? Uh huh. Sister up there in her cowboy boots with her purse. Little Man was a little too fearless for me. After climbing the ladder myself to say "hello," I went inside. I couldn't watch 'em climb down.

Happy weekend, y'all!

Chop Chop

2011-09-28T15:03:00.002-05:00

Have I told y'all you're wonderful? Thank you for your continued sweet and thoughtful comments and emails. Y'all are precious. Who ever thought bloggging would become such a source of encouragement? Y'all rock. My heart still yearns, but the Lord is also graciously working, making me a little bit more content with where we are right now. For that, I am thankful. And please, keep praying for us!

It's been a whirlwind of a week and a half!

Sister and I have been growing our hair out for a looooong time. We'd planned to get it chopped at the same time and donate. But, Sister kept chickening out. A few months ago, I went on and got mine whacked. It was too long. It was time. Twelve inches...gone. I am loving the shorter length. Definitely cooler for the summer. I'm not so crazy about the time required to style it...so I fix it twice a week. Usually. (Wednesdays and Sundays) - The poor Engineer! I should probably do something about that! You know, make the effort to look good for my man! (Ok, now I'm feeling convicted.)

So Friday afternoon, Sister was in tears as I brushed out the tangles. An all-too-familiar scene.

For the one hundred and ninety-ninth time I said, "If you would just get it cut you wouldn't have all these tangles," expecting to hear back for the one hundred and ninety-ninth time, "No! I want to grow it out a little bit longer." BECAUSE...a certain boy said he wasn't sure he'd like her hair cut short..

But instead, she said, "Let's go NOW and get it cut!"

But "NOW" wasn't a possibility for the lady who cuts our hair. So I did the only sane thing. I did what any mother who's been brushing out tangles to tears - trying to pick her battles - would do.

I rubber-banded all that hair into mini ponytails (to get the most length for donating purposes). I measured...9 inches...I took the scissors, and I CUT! I can still hear the scissors slicing their way through her thick hair.

And she giggled.

And kept saying, "Oh Mom! Oh Mom!"

Nine inches of healthy, beautiful hair. She's donating to Pantene Beautiful Lengths and hopes it will go to "a mommy who needs it!"

Just moments after, Little Man and The Engineer entered the bathroom declaring Little Man was ready for a buzz. He is darling and I am happy he is happy and feels grown up, but oh, how I miss that adorable bowl cut!

We shampooed after the cut...

Little Man shampooed, too, and then tried to hide in the closet so I wouldn't take his picture.

While all that was going on, Sister slipped upstairs to get ready for dinner. She came down with GREEN eyeshadow, a light pink top, white cropped sweater, her purse, jean shorts, and her camo cowgirl boots. I was speechless. What to say? I did suggest she remove the green eyeshadow before we headed to dinner.

And...I dropped the ball on this one. Sweet Amelia from meandmybrightsides did a little blurb on our casa. A week ago. She said some really sweet things. Thanks for having us Amelia!

Happy Wednesday, y'all!

Good Enough?

2011-09-19T17:49:00.001-05:00

I am happy to report our church now has a Nursing Mothers Room fully equipped, not only with rocking chairs and a changing table, but also with SOUND!

You can tend to baby and hear the sermon without interrupting anyone and best of all, without anyone interrupting you! (Which may or may not have happened to me on, ahem, more than one occasion by teenage boys. Not sure who was more shocked...me or them?)

Many hands went into putting that room together, but it was The Engineer (and I am now told a friend, too) who crawled through the rafters and ran the wire. The Engineer did the calculations and saved the church a chunk of change by wiring a volume knob into the speakers. He was the brains behind the sound. And he didn't just run wire to the Nursing Mothers' Room, he ran it to the nursery and installed speakers there, too. Many said it could not be done. He has done it. Boo-ya. (Is that bad?) And I am thrilled and hope it will be a blessing to all those mamas tending their babies! Now he's been asked to wire for sound in the narthex...

Mama gave Little Man two giant metal dump trucks for Christmas a few years ago. Both have stood the test of time. The children like to play "wheel chair" in the big yellow truck.

Which is awesome. And then someone decides to tie a rope to the back of the dump truck. This is awesome, too. But then that someone got a little over zealous and in their excitement and attempt at making a turn, slung Little Bit right out and across the driveway. A little scratch on her cheek and a big bruise on her forehead and lots and lots of tears later and she's good as new.

No more ropes on the dump truck. Period.

When I was a little girl my grandmother (I think) gave me a record player for my birthday. I LOVED that record player. A few years ago I took it from my childhood home and brought it home to my children.

Can I just say books on record ROCK. The children listen while I make lunch. And the excitement of watching the record spin..wondering how the needle reads the record...laughing when we speed it up and the voices sound wonky...it's quite captivating for all three children. I call that wonderful.

Since writing this post about a month ago, I've been hit head on with some hard stuff. I read this (by a friend) and it was like all of the sudden everything crystalized and I realized something. Something hard. Is this whole journey, this wanting for more children and having the Lord close the door again and again, month after month after month...is He exposing something deep in my heart? Something I didn't know was there?

And how to put it into words...this is where I vomit my heart all over the blog. I have a plan. We have a plan. We want more children. In my mind I see how great it would be. I imagine what life would be like with another child and it is hard, but it is good. The Lord is clear in His word that children are a gift from Him and that they are a blessing.

He only gives good and perfect gifts. Why, why won't He give us more children? And I try to speak truth to myself. To remind my heart that is aching that God is good and what He does is good.

I go to my favorite Psalm...Psalm 34...and I read, Oh taste and see that the Lord is good! Oh fear the Lord, you His saints, for those who fear the Lord lack no good thing. Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him! And my heart cries out. He is good, but I feel I am lacking. We are lacking a good thing. Our family feels incomplete...like something or rather, someone is missing.

And then deep in my soul I begin to see it. To realize. To ask the hard question. Is God still good when He doesn't give me what I want? When what I want He says is a blessing? A good thing? But still, He says no.

But more than that, do I really trust that He is working all things together for my good? (Romans 8:28) And even more than that, do I trust, am I resting in His plan being better than mine? Do I really believe that He is enough? That His plan is good enough?

Because I have my plan and it seems really, really good. When He isn't giving me what I want, what I think is best, can I submit and bow before Him believing that this, His will for us, is really the best? Better than anything I could ask or imagine?

And when I see baby legs kicking, pumping up and down, and I watch as an infant is baptized, when I smell that newborn smell on a four week old, and when I see my own baby almost as long as her crib, do I...can I...am I resting in Him? Content?

Am I breathing in these days and living and embracing His perfectly sovereign will? Or am I whining that I want something different?

It is disbelief. I am struggling to swallow...struggling to swallow that He is enough. That His plan is more than sufficient. It is good. And it hurts. And I want to rejoice in His perfect sovereignty. In His goodness. In His will.

And does rejoicing mean I give up my hope? And why, when I've begged Him to change my desires has He not? No, the hope is still there, but to rejoice in His perfect plan while my heart aches...I can't do that. Not in my own strength. Isn't that where I cry out because I lack faith? Where the Holy Spirit gives the gift of faith? And brings my heart to a place where I can rest contented in the shadow of the Almighty?

I want to be in that place. That place of knowing deep in my bones, in my soul, with all my heart, that even when He doesn't give me what I want, He is still good. I want to be in that place where I love where we are, and I don't waste precious time wishing and wanting and thinking..."one day when..."

The last time I had to swallow something so hard was when my parents' divorce was finalized. Coming to grips with the fact that God, in His perfect sovereignty, could have changed hearts. He could have softened my father. And He chose not to. That realization was painful to swallow. Again, something I wanted so badly, and He said no.

And so as all of this is dawning on me. And I am realizing that I have to stop and think before I can truthfully, with all my heart say that He is good and what He does is good. God doesn't change and His ways are not our ways.

And I look at my husband, my precious, precious husband, and I take in the faces of our three wonderful children and with tears, I ask, "is this enough?" Is God enough? Is what He gives enough? And choking back the sobs, I have to say "yes." Yes. My heart hurts and longs deeply. How do I reconcile a bleeding heart with the deep soul knowledge that God is enough? That His plan is good enough. Rich enough? That His grace is sufficient? That He is perfect and what He does is good. And I cling to the cross. I wrap my hands around its base and bow my face to the ground and I am weak and I am sinful. I remember Job 38 and God putting Job in his place, asking, "Who are you, oh man, to question Me?" And I pray and plead with God to give me the strength because I am unable, that His Spirit will enable me to speak, to pray with every fiber of my being, "even if it means three is it, not my will, but Yours be done." And my flesh and my spirit wrestle.

Woosh

2011-09-10T17:58:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure what it was about this last week...

It was sure hard to get going. To get "back in the groove." I'm sure a week of sickness, followed by a holiday on Monday didn't help much.

Little Bit had her first foray with pink sponge curlers. They stayed in long enough for a good look in the mirror...which brought an instant smile.

And then one by one, she pulled them out. And Little Man pulled them apart, into three pieces. Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

His matchbox cars have been telling each other about Jesus. There's the good guys and the bad guys and the good guys are telling the bad guys about Jesus.

He's becoming quite prolific on the guitar. (Pretending, of course!) In fact, he and sweet, innocent Little Bit actually broke that wooden guitar (on the neck) - fighting over it. Maybe The Engineer should make her one?

Sweet, innocent Little Bit. Who split her brother's lip when she nailed him on the mouth with her sippy cup. FULL. Of. Milk. She was being totally reasonable. He had a blanket she wanted. (I tease.)

But back to the guitar - which is brought out for jam sessions - I wish you could see Little Man in action. Flipping that guitar...

Jumping off the bench...

Thriving on ~~his mom and dad and sisters~~ the crowd screaming for him! He still wants to take breakdancing lessons.

Back to guitars...real ones, this time. We've both got some pretty sweet calluses. And notice we now have not one, but two guitars. One of them I won on the radio years ago. I sold it to a friend, from whom we are borrowing it. (Kind of tacky on our part, huh?!)

The other was an unexpected gift. I helped a friend with a little graphic design project. He showed up at our door a week later with an old guitar he said he hadn't used in years. We thought he was loaning it to us. "Loaning it? Oh no. I'm giving it to you." This was one of those times when I smiled with the reality that God is SO in the details. Providing above and beyond and unexpectedly. And we have had so much fun learning together.

It's been sanctifying, too. I can't keep a steady beat. The Engineer can. But I can transition between chords a little faster and I can do a few without looking. All in all, it's a recipe for frustration and laughter and a whole lot of fun. The Engineer is far more patient with me than I would be with him, were the roles reversed. I love that man.

Our math lesson this week came with a fun "experiment." In the midst of learning things like: how to follow a recipe, what a teaspoon is and why it's abbreviated tsp, measuring with a cup measure, and dividing things into fourths...

We made peanut butter.

It was, according to the children, "the best ever!"

Friday was the first "normal" day of school we had all week last week. We read Bruchko until I thought my voice would give out. It's been intense, and so good. It's been interesting to read this again, after so many years. I'm reserving comment until the end.

Friday morning I caved and let Sister wear pajamas to school. She said she wasn't feeling very good and begged so sweetly. She had fever by Friday afternoon.

And this Little Man is rocking the "jolly trolly." He can tell you what A, B, C, and D say and can identify which of each letter is the capital and which is the lowercase. And the song we've been singing to master this concept plays over and over and over again in my head!!! "A says "a" can you hear it in apple..." I sang it to The Engineer right before we fell asleep a few nights ago. He was so happy and thankful I helped get it in his head. I like to share like that.

Last night Little Bit reached up and touched the hot skillet and burned two fingers. It happened to be the two fingers she constantly keeps in her mouth. I thought the burn might mean at least a break in that habit, but I was wrong. Evidently it isn't painful enough to deter her. While breaking the habit would be nice, I'm glad the burn isn't too painful.

Happy weekend y'all!

The Handmade Home: Jenn's Home Tour

2011-09-05T10:01:00.000-05:00

Ok, fun news! A few weeks ago I got an email from Ashley a la The Handmade Home.

She asked if I'd be willing to guest post for her. Um...yes! Of course!

Her request: some shots of our home and what we do everyday in it.

I'd love for you to join me there!

The Handmade Home: Jenn's Home Tour

In other news, I am so thankful today is a holiday...we have a lot of catching up to do! Little Man seems to be the only one of us who escaped the bug! The Engineer has graciously agreed to help me lead the family effort to spiff up the casa...since we haven't, ahem, cleaned much in the last week.

We are all thankful to be feeling better. Almost normal, I'd say! And thank you for all your well wishes! Y'all are a blessing to us and we appreciate you!

Happy Labor Day!

Oh. Dear.

2011-09-01T20:42:00.000-05:00

After a grueling relapse last night, complete with vomiting all over moi, plus a few rounds of it, and a sleepless night - interspersed with lots of tears and whining, Little Bit woke early and in a foul mood.

However, she's managed to keep a very light and bland diet down. So far, so good.

So this afternoon I was on the phone with Mama. We were making plans for her visit with us this coming weekend and talking about how relieved we were that she was actually going to come since no one else had gotten the bug...

Sister walked in and sat quietly. After I hung up, she said, "I really want Bobo to come, so I didn't want to tell you this, but I feel like I'm going to throw up."

And she did...again...and again...and again...and again...and again...and it continues...

I sent out a text, asking family to pray. Here's what transpired:

MIL: Keep thinking about Sister. Has she thrown up anymore?

Me: Yep...she says she wishes she was dead and doesn't understand why God wants her to go through this.

MIL: That's tough...

Me: She just said, "Actually, I don't wish I was dead because God wants me to go through this, so it's for His purpose and if I was dead, He wouldn't be working His purpose."

MIL: How blessed we are by that little girl!!!...Tell her we love her and are praying for her...

Me: She says she was thinking about Joni and how Joni said she wouldn't trade being able to walk for her relationship with God - that her accident was for His glory and that's how this sickness is...

Wow. Not sure I'd have such a perspective...do have such a perspective. Holding my babies while they throw up isn't on my list of favorite things to do. Not to mention the clean up and attempt at sanitizing. But to think of it in terms of eternity...that the seemingly not-eternal, gross, and less favorable part of life might be honoring to God...that even in this, He is working His purposes...it's a tough pill to swallow.

We're praying the bug is contained with the girls...that it won't make its way through the entire family. We'd love your prayers for that, too.

Form Meets Function

2011-08-30T11:17:00.000-05:00

Last night was loooooong. Little Bit is sick. She threw up so many times we finally moved a chair into the shower. I sat there and held her and leaned over each time she vomited.

I think we showered four times before she was completely finished. I heard her about six this morning...this time it wasn't thrown up...and it was everywhere...all over her sheets, the crib rails, her arms and face. It was bad. I had to pray and ask God to help me not throw up. Oh these days.

So I'm really thankful we built some extra days into our school year. We're taking one today. Because I am just about worthless and the house smells like lysol and clorox and I just hope we don't pass this bug around. I heard two more children from the church nursery are down with the same thing. Nice. Share the love, baby!

A few weeks ago I tip toed into Sister's room long after she'd fallen asleep. Do you see what I saw? A full moon, perfectly framed.

And my sweet baby girl...

snuggled in and sleeping soundly.

Good night moon.

A little wagon action on the driveway.

The Engineer and I are attempting to teach ourselves guitar. It's been fun. I can't feel my fingertips which is really weird. He's catching on much faster than I am. Muscle memory. It's coming.

She so wants to be part of the action!

School has been going really well. We've read Joni Eareckson Tada's biography - the kids ATE this one up! Like - Sister woke me at 6:45 on a Saturday morning begging me to read more of it. Next we read The Voyages of Dr. Dolittle. I know this one is a classic - it just didn't hold my interest. Sister enjoyed it. Little Man could take it or leave it. I was glad when we finished it. Yesterday we started Bruchko. I may have to edit this one a bit, but thus far, the children are enamored.

The suckers were a gift from a babysitter...ahhhh...the perks of homeschooling!

Sister is rocking the calendar. Little Man is catching on.

We're counting by twos and tens. Exciting stuff.

Hope your Tuesday is great! And here's to containing this virus!

Frame Magic

2011-08-23T13:28:00.000-05:00

Well, he did it again. The Engineer went off and built me something grand!

This is the first piece of art we ever purchased. We were so poor, living on barely anything. But we both loved it. It was the semester before we graduated. We went to see the graduating seniors' theses exhibits...and a set of five larger than life charcoal drawings caught our eye, this one, being our favorite. I knew the artist, Rencher Walker, and a deal was made.

She (the drawing) spent that summer and fall semester CAREFULLY rolled and protected in our tiny cinder block wall married student housing apartment. The end of fall semester brought graduation and a move to our current local. That's when we began pricing frames. And what we were quoted was OUTRAGEOUS! $1000+! And that was without glass...because a piece of glass that large would break...or we'd have to purchase some kind of crazy commercial grade glass - the numbers were just astronomical. We considered plexiglass - but the static build up would likely pull the charcoal onto the plexiglass. So...she lived tacked to our wall. I did use brass upholstery tacks and we were very careful to ONLY tack in the holes the artist had originally used to fasten the piece to the wall.

I kept rolling ideas around in my mind and finally, for the sake of cost, suggested we use crown. I explained what I had in mind. The Engineer and I loaded up the fam and headed to Lowes. Together we picked out all the needed supplies. The Engineer built and puttied the frame over the course of two afternoons. I spent three afternoons painting/finishing it.

I could not be happier with the end result. All said, $116 out of pocket. (I had the paint and nails on hand.) That's roughly one tenth of the lowest quoted price. (And no, we've never spent that much on a single frame, but this thing is HUGE!)

Want to make one? Here's how...

You'll need:

1/4" plywood (number of sheets depends on the frame size, we needed two because our frame is over 55"x72" and plywood is only 48" wide)
1x4 poplar boards (again the length depends on your frame size)
Crown molding in the style of your choice (we went with pre-primed MDF)
Some wood putty to fill in the nail holes
Wood glue
air powered brad nailer
miter saw
table saw
router with a bead routing bit

The first step was to cut a groove in the poplar boards just big enough for the plywood to fit in it. We used the table saw for this, but a router would do just as well.

The Engineer had to take two passes on the saw to get the right width. Also notice that the teeth of our saw blade do not leave a flat-bottomed groove. In this case it is no big deal because no one will see it. After cutting the grooves he measured for the final length and mitered the end of each board.

Next The Engineer routed a bead on the edge of the board with a bit similar to this. If you don't have a router, then there are plenty of small, decorative mouldings available that could be applied to the frame edge.

These are the two pieces of plywood he cut to be the back of the frame (we used luan plywood).

The Engineer spread the wood glue in the grooves and slid in the plywood. This took a lot more work just due to the sheer size of the frame. As you can see the two pieces of plywood did not naturally want to sit flush. He had to attach a backer board at the seam to keep both edges flush. He also had to use a ratchet strap in the middle to apply some clamping pressure and pull everything together.

Next came the crown. It is hard enough cutting crown for a ceiling (upside down and backwards), try visualizing the frame as a ceiling laying on the floor. Just think about each cut, and we highly recommend a jig like this, just so you have a handy reference.

If you are really handy you may want to cope the crown moulding joints. The Engineer chose to use a mitered joint because we intended this to be a weekend project and his coping skills do not include speedy execution. (He said that, not me! I think his skills ROCK!)

Once the nail holes and cracks were filled with wood putty and sanded smooth, I primed the raw wood. An hour or so later, I came back with the first coat of black paint. We used an eggshell finish.

Because I didn't want the wood on the back of the frame to be painted, I used pieces of card stock along the edges to protect the wood. That way I could get a good coat on all desired surfaces.

Once the second coat was on, I let her dry 24 hours...

And then I broke out a tube of my favorite stuff, this time in "gold leaf."

I got an old rag, folded it over and wrapped it around my index finger and began.

I squeezed a tiny bit on the rag and began rubbing it on the frame and then buffing it. This stuff is NOT forgiving. Once it's on a surface, it's there to stay. Ain't no gettin' it off.

Slowly, I worked my way around the frame...

You don't have to get it perfect. The variances in thickness create character. We placed the drawing in the frame and secured it with steel tacks. We wanted the texture and finish on the edges of paper to be seen, so The Engineer secured the back to the front of the frame so it doesn't come off, like a traditional frame would.

Once she was "finished," The Engineer hung her using a "French cleat."

For the French cleat The Engineer cut a solid piece of 1x pine lengthwise at a 45 degree angle. He attached one piece to the back of the frame at the top with wood glue. He used some brad nails and clamps to hold the cleat in place while the glue dried. He attached the other piece of the cleat to the wall with deck screws making sure it was level (we have solid wood paneling behind our drywall so he didn’t have to look for wall studs, if your house is newer then you will have to attach the cleat to studs to support any significant weight). The French cleat is a nice system because the wall piece is light-weight, easily attached, and easily located (i.e. centered and leveled).

Once the wall cleat is in place all you have to do is lift up the frame and set the frame cleat onto the wall cleat.

My lens distorted the frame a bit. She really is square.

I am LOVING the end result. So dramatic.

Hope you're inspired!

Oh the DRAMA!

2011-08-17T22:14:00.000-05:00

Thank y'all...thank you so much...for your sweet comments, your emails, your phone calls...and a few of you approached me in person. Thank you. As I read each comment, I smiled, I laughed, I cried. I feel so loved and encouraged and bathed in prayer. It was a little bit scary...sharing something like that - that's so close to our hearts. Your loving response makes me so thankful to the Lord for you. What a blessing and encouragement during a hard season of our lives! I don't say it well enough. You encourage me. You make me seek His face. You remind me that His plan is good and that that is where we want to be. Even when it hurts. Thank you, sweet friends. I really, really appreciate you.

Back to the daily grind. Made this chicken the other night. It's a staple at our house and has been for a few years. Anna forever changed our lives when she posted that recipe! And Publix kicked things up a notch with these colorful baby taters.

Little Man really wants to shave his head, so he can be "like a army man and Mr. Josh." Mr. Josh is a friend who is rather bald and shaves what little remains. Because his (Little Man's) mother won't let him shave his head, he spiked it, like a certain male cousin of ours. Nice.

Since the island entered our lives, dinner prep...lunch prep too, look a little bit like this.

I keep a basket stocked with the girls' cooking supplies. I say the girls...really, it's mostly just Little Bit these days. It's funny, about the time Sister stopped "cooking," Little Bit started.

Anyhow, it's stocked with play foods...some cloth and some plastic, dishes, pots and pans...a little of this, a little of that...

And a fantastic three tiered cake stand filled with colorful wooden pastries with toppings that swap out!

And so as I prepare our meals, Little Bit takes her place along the bottom shelf of the island and she too, prepares hers. She still isn't talking much, for instance, today she would point to her leg and authoritatively tell you "doo-doo" (which makes the children giggle), but really she means "boo boo," but she'll often bring me a pot of something, and with a proud smile on her face, tell me, "Hot!"

It makes me so happy to have her little self cooking alongside me. And the arrangement is quite pleasing.

Oh the drama this morning held! All before 9:30, too!

We began breakfast and school outside a little after 7:30. Sister had a very loose tooth...hanging on by a thread very loose tooth. And loose teeth cause a LOT of drama. Tears. Long debates that go like this: "Should I pull it? But I'm not sure. Here, you pull it, but if I start saying 'ow!' then you have to stop. No wait, just wiggle it first. Ok, no, I don't want you to pull it. Do you think it will hurt? I'm just not sure what I should do. This is SO hard!" All interspersed with tears.

Little Man came out a little late and cried because there wasn't time left for him to eat outside.

On a side note, I did notice the light changing in the house...a welcome sign that fall is coming!

Little Bit woke early this morning. Sister helped Little Bit into her high chair and in the process, Sister's loose tooth got knocked out. She made quite a production of coughing and spitting blood. Like I said. Drama.

Little Bit was out of sorts. And defiant. And when corrected, cried and cried and cried. (Above photo is just a temper tantrum she threw...) She cried so much in fact, that she threw up all over her adorable smocked dress and the chair she was sitting on...which happened to be the chair Little Man normally uses for homeschool. Since I wasn't sure if the vomit was cry-induced, I left her in her diaper for the morning.

Trying to do school, loosing teeth, throwing up, lots of temper tantrums and tears...and did I mention we were keeping a friend's two year old? She plastered her sweet self against the wall and stared. She's an only child. I think the drama was a bit much for her. (I smile.)

Yesterday Little Man told Sister, "since I'm the third (as in, not a Junior, but a III), I deserve everything in the world."

She set him straight.

Happy Thursday to you!

A Full Quiver

2011-08-12T23:40:00.001-05:00

"Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep." -Romans 12:15

Tonight sweet friends of ours gave birth to a healthy and I am sure, beautiful baby. And we rejoice with our friends. We rejoice in the Lord and His blessing and gift to their family. I smiled BIG when I heard their wonderful news.

Truthfully, I smiled big...through tears.

This has become all too familiar. Rejoicing with others in the midst of sadness. I have learned the only way to keep a bitter heart at bay is by stopping as soon as I hear...and praying. To stop whatever I am doing, wherever I am, and to thank God for His blessing to that family. Because children are a blessing. And God opens and closes the womb. He is the author of life.

Today was a hard day.

I've been slowly reading Choosing Forgiveness by Nancy Leigh DeMoss. It's been a heavy and hard, but good read. She makes the point that in the midst of suffering, He - He being God - is with you.

"Helping you. Loving you. Hurting with you. Driving you back to Him, drawing you closer in, making you more dependent upon His grace and power.

"As you get to know and trust His heart, you will be able to face the cross - the way Christ faced it from the haunting shadows of Gethsemane - and still say, even through your tears, 'Not my will, but Yours be done.'"

That's where I am. We are. Through the tears, knowing that His will is perfect, but wanting something vastly different.

It's been well over a year now that The Engineer and I and our children have prayed, asking the Lord to bless us with more children. Everywhere we read about children in scripture, we read that they are a blessing. "Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them." -Psalm 127:5

There are six chairs around our breakfast room table - simply because that is how many came with the table - and the children have decided that that one empty chair should be a reminder to us to pray for another child. And they have. And we have.

We have prayed that if that is not His will for our lives, that He would change the desire of our hearts.

Our desire has only grown stronger.

I want so very much to rejoice and be thankful to be exactly where God wants us to be. To rejoice that right now, His perfect will for our lives is to be a family of five. He is sovereign and He is good.

But my heart, oh my heart longs for more children.

I thought for sure we'd have a baby in our arms by now. Surely.

I was surely wrong.

But an interesting thing is happening. With that longing for more children and the sharp reality that He has not chosen to bless us in that way right now, He is driving me to Himself. He is drawing me closer in. He is making me more dependent on His grace and power. Because I am weak. I am so weak and full of self love.

Only by the grace and sweetness of God, I find that I am living more in the moment than I ever have before. I am seeing my children. I am soaking up so much more with them. I am looking in their eyes a little longer. Smiling at them more. I am enjoying these moments that are slipping through my fingers like sand. And I am so thankful and happy to be at home with them. To be homeschooling. To eat three meals a day with them. To wash and dry and fold their clothes. To discipline them. To read to them. To hold them. He is making my heart thankful for the interruptions...whereas before I was inconvenienced. He is changing me. I dare say, He is making me more content than I have ever been. Don't get me wrong. Everyday is not perfect and I am far from perfect and I fail miserably again and again and yet, still, He is showering me, us, with His grace.

With all of our children, I have sung to them and prayed with them before bed each night...and long after they've fallen asleep, I have snuck back into their room and kissed their soft cheeks and covered them and thanked God for them. Often it has been out of sheer routine...and now, as I do the same thing with Little Bit, I am soberly reminded to treasure it. To breath it in deep. To enjoy it. To savor her head on my shoulder and her arm around my neck, the feeling of her soft breath on my face.

In wanting something God says is good and being told clearly that now is not His timing - He is changing my heart. And so I am smiling through the tears. And sometimes it is a forced smile. And it is hard.

The Engineer says that we can rejoice that this is His perfect will for our lives, and at the same time, be sad.

And so we are.

Only by the grace of God, through the tears and with our hearts aching, do we offer our thanks to Him.

Unexpected Blessings

2011-08-10T17:21:00.001-05:00

Summer is winding down and we've been finishing it off and attempting to stay cool with "mint-tea slushies."

Five "family size" decaf tea bags, 1/2 cup sugar, steep in 1 quart boiling water for five minutes, mix with 3 quarts cold water. Throw some ice in the Rival snow cone maker...pour tea over crushed ice, add a sprig of mint, snipped fresh from the garden. Bam. A southern staple that's sure to make your taste-buds tingle.

Any ideas what arrived in this box?

That would be curriculum for the Little Man.

He's going through the Sing, Spell, Read, Write Preschool Kit. And in case you can't tell, he's pretty stinkin' pumped about it.

We started school this past Monday, but I wanted to make it special. My Mom always made the first day of school super special. She'd cover our bedroom door and the walls of the hallway with signs saying "Happy First Day of School!" They'd be plastered with Bible verses and quotes and happy doodles. She always prepared a fabulous breakfast! And our lunches were nothing short of explosions of creativity. Peanut butter and m&m sandwiches, yogurt, pickles, all our favs...notes tucked beneath a piece of fruit, or sometimes something sweet scribbled on a napkin. Mama always added sparkle to what would have been an ordinary ~~lunch~~, ~~morning,~~ school day.

In an attempt to do something similar, Sunday night after we put Little Bit to bed, the rest of us gathered 'round the table for cookie ice cream sandwiches and a little surprise. (Thank you slice and bake cookies and the last two scoops of vanilla ice cream!-Wrapped and tucked in the freezer for the perfect moment.)

Actually, it was all a surprise. They thought they were being sent to bed.

The children each got their VERY OWN alarm clock! And they were so funny. I've never seen anyone quite so excited about an alarm clock.

We had talked it up a little. As I thought through this homeschool year, what worked and didn't work last year, my fears looking into an entire year, schooling two with a two year old thrown in the mix - and I don't know why, though I've had SO MANY encourage us in this, those few who have looked me in the eyes and told me we can't do it - well, those comments tend to stick with me longer than all that encouragement. Sad. I know. It just cuts and when I look at all that must be done... I know I cannot do it. Not in my flesh. Suffice it to say - I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. Undeniably called, but a little scared. How to make it all work and not lose my mind?!

We decided to revamp our mornings - and hold the children more responsible. The goal: wake to their own alarm at 7am, make their beds, dress, fix their hair, bring their dirty clothes downstairs, make their own breakfast, load their dirty dishes in the dishwasher...and be in their seats, ready to go by 8am.

Well...Monday morning, they came downstairs at 5am! A little alarm clock fluke. We've since learned it's not so accurate. (It'll be going back.) So we re-set the alarm. At 7am I could hear the pitter patter of little feet above my head. At 7:05 I heard a chorus of "are we tardy?" By 7:30, my babies were ready to begin. 7:30!! Oh my. That is early. And so we began.

Yesterday they were ready to by 7:15, this morning it was 7:20. We begin by checking off chores, followed by reading scripture aloud, a time of prayer, working on scripture memory, and then catechism. By 8 we're jumping into math. Little Man participates in the lessons - he counts coins in his coin cup, he practices his left and right, he and Sister count to 100 every morning, and just from hearing me drill Sister, he's picking up a few doubles facts...while Sister cranks out her written math work, Little Man labors on his worksheets.

Before 9 we are starting Sing, Spell, Read, and Write. Sister completes her worksheets while Little Man carries on with his. I've given him a few art projects (that are related to his worksheets) to keep his hands busy. Sister is about a month away from completing the SSR&W first grade curriculum...at that time we'll introduce new curriculum and revamp the schedule.

Once Sister completes her worksheets, we do a grammar lesson. That puts us at about 9:30. God has so blessed us with Little Bit's love of sleep! She typically sleeps until 9 and will then play happily until 9:30...which means she is up in time to cuddle in my arms while Sister reads aloud to us.

Next Sister works on her handwriting...which, until she completes her birthday thank you notes, takes the form of thank you notes. Uh-huh.

If there is any lag time - when I'm busy with Little Man or say, moving a load of clothes from the washer to the dryer, Sister has an Explode the Code workbook to keep her occupied. I've circled the pages she's to complete over the course of the week. (She also works on this for "homework.")

Once that is finished, we retire to the library where I read aloud to the children and they each get ONE can of play-doh. It keeps their hands busy. (Note the addition of library sconces and some trim...The Engineer is one talented man...it's looking GORGEOUS!!!)

I decided to start the year by reading Mr. Popper's Penguins during our read aloud time. Reading this has made me realize that, should Mrs. Popper be an actual person, her long suffering with her husband's penguins would encourage me very much regarding our beloved Warrior. (I smile.)

We started the book on Monday. We have five pages left. It's Wednesday. We've all been slightly addicted. Even Little Bit.

Perhaps I should say especially Little Bit.

There you have it...the unexpected blessings of alarm clocks and rising early, of a late sleeping baby...of homeschooling...of children. We are so thankful.

And fyi...I am still ellipticating on average 4-5 mornings a week. I don't think the scale reads any different. I think of Song of Solomon 7:2 where Solomon says, "...your waist is a mound of wheat..." Yep, that about sums it up.

Happy day to you.

Repurposing

2011-08-04T17:11:00.000-05:00

Guess who is becoming a tiny bit interested in the potty? Uh-huh. Is there any other time in life when the family gathers round in such fashion? When every expression of the face is cheered for? These are fun days.

About a week ago Little Bit called to me from her crib. Normally when she wakes, I let her play for a little while, but for some reason, this day I found myself rushing in to get her, questioning my actions as my feet carried me closer to her room. I opened her door and there she stood, NOTHING on from the waist down and she'd left me a big surprise. She was standing very carefully over said surprise, evidently, having just completed her mission. She appeared quite proud.

I'm thinking she might be a candidate for duct tape diapers? Since then she's come to me once and said, "te-te." That time was a success. Where it should have been. Though her words are mixed up. Aren't you so glad to know all of this?!

The summer after my freshman year I worked early six mornings a week cleaning a pool and the surrounding bathrooms. With all the money I earned from those early mornings, I purchased this pine table at Pier One Imports. I loved that table. It went with me to my first town house off campus. (I didn't have a bed, but I had a great table.)

I served a LOT of meals on that table. There were a LOT of late nights after RUF of snacking at that table. There were a lot of sit down dinners with friends. There have been thousands of stories told over that table. I still love that table.

For years it was in our dining room, because it was the nicest table we had. Plus, we loved it.

Eventually we bought an antique dining table. The pine table then officially served as our "everyday" table in the breakfast room. And then we scored a beautiful table with matching chairs at a yard sale.

And the pine table, though we loved it and dreaded the thought of parting with it, didn't seem to fit well anywhere. It was sort of the elephant in the room in our kitchen...really too big to stay. I thought through each room in our home. There just wasn't a good fit to be had.

So I got a crazy idea. I studied the table and its construction and thought it might be doable. I mentioned it to The Engineer...who began sawing the table in half before I'd really decided that was what I wanted to do.

A little glue, a few screws, some small brackets, and four casters and wha-la!

I think I'm in love. I've always wanted to have an island. Now that she's here, I can't imagine the kitchen without her. I love how my friend Christian put it, "Husbands that champion our dreams are amazing..." Yes my dear Engineer. You are amazing indeed.

Beehive Fixture

2011-08-02T11:33:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago, while the children were with the grands, I wandered though one of our antique malls. One of the first booths I passed had this beehive. When I saw it, my mind started racing...I walked through the rest of the mall, all the while becoming more and more excited. I went back by that earlier booth and snagged it...because I knew just what to do with it.

I told The Engineer of my plan and he readily affirmed the idea. We pulled out my largest mixing bowl, bought at good ol' Walmart the first summer we were married. He drilled a hole in the bottom center and we bought a wiring kit from Lowes...

In about thirty minutes flat, we had this. The Engineer's cousin helped me with placement. The old star light that used to hang here will hang in a bedroom upstairs.

I'm so impressed with The Engineer. SO impressed! I love it that he gives life to my ideas.

We did decide to go with a florescent bulb as a safety precaution...since the hive is made of straw.

I'm pretty pleased with our little beehive light! Total cost: $30. (beehive: $20, wiring kit: $10)

PS The beehive was totally clean inside and there is no hole in the side...anyone know if this is a legit beehive or a look-alike?

A Little Vacay...

2011-07-29T15:46:00.000-05:00

I've been missin' this little ol' blog! We've had a wonderfully full last three weeks...some time at the lake, a week sans the kiddos, and a week of cousins! Which is way too much for one post.

The lake trip began because we encouraged Sister to choose to make a memory rather than accumulate more stuff for her seventh birthday. She wanted to go camping as a family. But...it's really hot here in June. We looked into state parks, but couldn't find what we wanted when we wanted it. Enter VRBO.

We found a great rental on a lake not too far from home. We invited the grands and made it a long weekend. Had we known what Little Man would do, and that he would NOT be able to swim, we would never have planned a trip like this.

Alas, God is good in all things. It rained almost The. Entire. Time. And it was wonderful.

There would be enough of a break in the rain for the children to run down to the dock and check on their fishing poles...

Little Man caught TWO catfish! But wouldn't get near enough the fish for a picture!

One drizzly afternoon The Engineer took the children down to the "beach" to build a fort. Entertainment for hours.

Later that afternoon we enjoyed a brief respite from the rain.

The children found a stick from a beaver's dam...

Which proved to be the ideal shovel. At least the children said so.

The shore was littered with pebbles and shells, pine straw and sticks.

And here are my favorite peeps in all the world! I love these people!

My fearless Little Man...who now claims he can "run faster than a train and I'm stronger than my daddy, but I'll never jump backwards off a diving board again until I'm five."

Little Bit seems a little fearless herself. She wandered right on out into that lake water...diaper and all.

The last night we played with sparklers.

It was a wonderful vacation! This is the first time we've ever done something like this - where we (The Engineer and I) picked where and when and it wasn't work related. It was a LOT of fun.

I loved being away from home with my favorite people, and knowing there were no projects, nothing that had to be cleaned out, etc. It was a fantastic break!

Happy Weekend, Y'all!

Here, There, & Everywhere

2011-07-20T22:51:00.000-05:00

This is going to be a totally random post. These are all pictures I'd uploaded prior to the making of Little Man's Indiana Jones scar. Thank you ALL so much for your sweet comments and emails and phone calls. It is precious to be blessed with so many sweet friends who care so much. Y'all are a precious encouragement to me and I appreciate you all! Thank you for loving us!

Little Man had his stitches removed Sunday afternoon by a good friend of mine. He screamed...she was quick! He is doing great! The inside looks a little like an ulcer in the exact imprint of his top teeth. The outside looks like a cut. Not bad at all considering the fact that last Tuesday the doctor said, "it would be really great if we could keep saliva from leaking through." Ugh. God made our bodies in amazing ways. The healing process is quite astounding.

Earlier this summer I got to spend three days sans the children with my mama. We did this last summer (thanks to my sweet MIL who kept the children!), too. Let me be clear, this time when it's just the two of us is WORK time. Project time. Check out the gallery wall. We used every gold frame in the house and then used some of this to "gold" a few more. Since I took this photo, Mom has added to the wall and rearranged a bit. It looks SO good!

Once the gallery wall was finished we decided she needed a round mirror to hang over her headboard. One trip to Homegoods, one white wooden mirror, some rub n buff, and a late night, and Mama has a beautiful gold framed mirror.

We also did some cleaning out. Found this. I distinctly remember ice skating and hearing God Blessed Texas...and then I remember exiting the rink and while unlacing my skates, I heard some guys from the youth group singing it...so I bought the single. Cause, you know, I was in the seventh grade and I was cool like that. Ha! Yeah right. Makes me laugh now.

Little Man, playing the "drums." This is an AWESOME sound to hear at 7:30 in the morning. It's like he has three hands. Super talented.

Speaking of talented...the kids have been making mustaches on scotch tape. They're so cool.

Little Man and his daddy built this tank.

He dressed to match. Including his Sister's camo socks.

Let me tell you about the best ever marinade and sauce for pork tenderloin. Like - slap yo mama good. Place pork tenderloin in a ziplock bag. Dump in some brown sugar. (Maybe a cup - not sure. I don't measure.)

Now pour on the soy sauce. I don't know...just some glugs...about a cup? Maybe? You can't mess this up. I promise.

Now squirt in some dijon mustard. Several good squeezes. If you're feeling adventurous, spoon in some garlic, too. Fresh, from the jar, whatever.

Now let it sit. All. Day. Long.

Grill over high heat for a few minutes, flip, grill a few minutes more. Baste it with that marinade. Butterfly the meat (slice it almost all the way through cutting lengthwise, so you have a long winged "butterfly").

Grill a little longer...until done...let cool for a few minutes and slice thin.

Then...I mix up a little more brown sugar, soy sauce, and dijon mustard and drizzle it over the sliced meat. Y'all, I am telling you, this is GOOD stuff. You will thank me.

Sister received lots of art supplies for her birthday. The children have been putting them to good use. We have a plethora of art being created. I love it!

So do the children. (Pre-accident.)

A few weeks ago we did a little homeschooling. I cannot get over how much faster Sister is at her reading. WOW! She is flying through! I am so excited! We've gotten six days under our belt over the last couple of weeks. I am thrilled with that! We'll get a few more days in before school "officially" starts.

What that really means is that on those days this fall when I feel I can't do another school day...when the laundry and house are SCREAMING my name...or when it's just too nice out to stay inside all day...or when life happens...we can afford to take a day off.

Check out that balance. I mentioned needing one for a math lesson. A short time later The Engineer returned with what you see above, in hand. He whipped it out in no time. I do believe that has been the favorite math lesson. Even Little Bit wanted in on the action.

We've kind of worked a little morning routine. She takes her sweet time with yogurt...especially if I let her feed herself...and for the sake of homeschooling, we move her highchair into the office and let her feed herself.

I've been re-arranging. I moved our gigantic bulletin board into the office so we can use it for the children's school papers. As I cleared it off I came across a few pictures...I love this picture. It was taken December of 2006...the first December my parents weren't together, and the December the baby we miscarried was due. My sister's in-laws invited us to spend Christmas with them. It was amazing. A really sweet time for our family during a chapter in life that was very difficult and extremely heartbreaking. The change of scenery was such a blessing.

This picture, though a little washed out, is of me and The Engineer at prom, senior year. We were so young and in love. We knew we wanted to get married. Such a fun night! He is so good lookin'!

Me and my sisters. This was taken during a trip to Colorado. Such a fun trip! That year Dad was the president of a window and door makers association and their convention was in Colorado. The association gave us an all expenses paid vacation to thank Dad for his service. We stayed at the Broadmore. We drank cappuccino every night after dinner. We had GRAND breakfasts. Such sweet memories. And the first and only time I have ever gone fly-fishing.

This was taken at my sister's wedding. Such a precious time for so many reasons. A hard time for many reasons, too. Dad had just moved out. We'd miscarried a month earlier. The best of times and the worst of times. Still, a very, very joyous and wonderful day in my book!

And last, but not least...a portrait of the beloved Land Cruiser, drawn by Sister. That would be me driving and Sister in the backseat (right) crying. Yes, those are tears.

Happy Wednesday - or Thursday - to you!

Properly Initiated

2011-07-12T22:31:00.001-05:00

I feel that I have now officially been initiated into the club all mothers of boys eventually join.

Bobo (my Mom) is visiting and we thought we'd enjoy a nice afternoon swim at the pool. Both Sister and Little Man conquered their long time fear of the diving board...and it was much like it was at the lake...once they jumped, they kept jumping and jumping and jumping.

With each jump, fear decreased. Mom and I sat beside the baby pool with Little Bit and cheered...and then Little Man walked to the end of the diving board and turned around...to jump off backwards. We yelled, "NO! Turn AROUND!" The life guard yelled, "NO! TURN AROUND!" As Little Man ignored our commands and bent his knees to jump, Mama said, "I'm turning my head. I can't watch." And he hit the diving board. HARD. With his head.

I screamed his name and ran through the baby pool. As he hit the water, a young man who'd been standing in line dove into the water and wrapped one arm around Little Man and swam him to the side, where I pulled him out. Blood. Was. Gushing.

As I gathered him in my arms, a friend told me she was getting ice. We made our way out of eye shot and I tried to calm him...to get a good look. I pulled his lip down to survey the damage. All I could see was a mouth spilling over with blood. Finally, I got a small glimpse. I felt a wave of nausea and thought I saw a tooth upside down...about that time a woman named Lyn approached and told me she was a nurse and offered to take a look. Immediately she turned to me and said, "He bit all the way through. You need stitches. NOW."

She ran with me to gather our things. My friend helped, too. Mama grabbed Little Bit. Another friend said she'd care for Sister. And this mysterious nurse, Lyn, who had a cast on part of her leg, ran with our things and helped us load into the car. She recommended a specific doctor at a local urgent care clinic.

As we pulled out I dialed another friend, who works at said clinic. She was working out of town, but recommended the same doctor. She also called ahead and let him know we were coming.

In we sped, me cradling my baby boy, in bathing suits, still dripping wet, and with a popsicle melting sticky and running down Little Man's arms. A nurse came out to take a look and said, "We can fix this, but he's going to have to be very still. We can't put him to sleep, but we can put him in something like a straight jacket to hold him down. What do you want to do?"

And my reply, "I'm game if you're game."

And so we went back. And it was humbling. We wrapped Little Man like a caterpillar and laid him on the exam table. I had to hold his legs down. One nurse held his chest, and another cradled his face so the doctor could sew the stitches. Four inside. Two outside. Little Man. SCREAMED. THE. ENTIRE. TIME. Even after he got local anesthesia. The doctor never missed a beat. Neither did the nurses.

When all was said and done, the doctor returned and told Little Man he was really brave. I sort of made a face, as if to say, "sorry for all that screaming." He smiled and said, "I've been doing this for eleven years. I'm used to it. He did great."

Y'all, I'm so glad that's over. I am exhausted. I haven't cried yet. I watched almost the entire time, except when the doctor cut out a piece of fat...the piece of fat I thought was a tooth. Gross. When I saw his scissors closing in on that spot, I decided one patient was enough and turned my head.

I am in awe of God...of the creativity and wisdom and abilities He gives people. I am in awe of His awesome provision. The boy who jumped in to rescue Little Man is from Texas. He was at the pool with a cousin. Lyn, the nurse...she isn't a member. She just happened to be at the pool this afternoon. The fact that my Mom was with us and could care for Little Bit - without a sippy cup, without even clothing...in a swim diaper and a wet bathing suit - for over two hours. AMAZING! The fact that my friend who is a P.A. answered her phone while at work the FIRST time I called. UNREAL. That she called ahead and let the doctor know we were coming. BLESSING. And the patience and kindness of a staff in dealing with the terrified screams of a small child. PRECIOUS. Ministered to my heart! And everyone there...EVERYONE...as in ALL the people in the building...even in the front lobby...could hear him SCREAMING...and they were all so kind. So sympathetic. Y'all - God provided in every way. In EVERY way. I am so thankful. So. VERY. Thankful. I held my baby for quite a while tonight. I am so very thankful to God for His life. I am so thankful for doctors and friends and strangers and mothers and smart phones - oh, the blessings God gives us!

Little Man wanted to sleep with Sister tonight. As we tucked them into bed, Sister got a little wistful and said, "You know, today when I was fighting with Little Man about legos? Well, I just didn't care about him. I didn't care what happened to him." And then there was a long pause..."I'm so glad he's okay. I love him so much."

Father, thank You. Thank You for your perfect sovereignty and goodness. In all things. All the time. We love You and we stand amazed.