For Memory's Sake...

I just like this picture. It's so Sister caught off guard.

The girls dancing, Little Bit in footy pajamas and mary janes, and Little Man employing his skillz.

And for posterity...all three on Christmas morning. Poor kids. We make them wait until 7:30! They were beyond ready! 

Not sure what's up with Little Bit's expression. Well, kind of not sure what's up with anyone's expression. Hee hee.

Little Bit sportin' a 'stache.

All three 'stache-in it up.

Workin' on the milk 'stache.

Sister's BIG gift...

A new winter coat! She's only been wearing the same one for the last four years... a North Face my sister scored for a dollar at the thrift store! I just put it away for Little Bit. And sweet Sister, the sleeves are finally long enough to pass her wrists. (To our credit, she had insisted she did NOT want a new coat! However, it became obvious to even our most staunch "don't ever change anything" activist that her coat had become too small and it was indeed time for something new.)

Today marks the one year anniversary of losing our little lamb. There's a sweet peace in my heart. The Lord has done great things. He has carried us in this season of grief. 

I thought I'd never reach the day when the tears wouldn't spill over at the thought of our precious babe.

I wondered if I'd ever honestly be able to rejoice with others as God blessed them with babies. 

Would the pain ever fade? 

Would our family ever feel whole again? 

Would my broken heart ever stop bleeding?!

And yet, here we are. God has brought such healing. His mercies are new every morning. He is good. And He is faithful. I still think of our little one often. I miss our precious babe. I am thankful for His work in our lives, in my heart, in our marriage. It has been hard. And painful. And good. And He is sovereign.

I recently read this post and was so encouraged. 

"Lord, you assigned me my portion and my cup; You have made my lot secure...The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance." Psalm 16:5-6

Happy Thursday night, y'all!

Woosh

I realize November has nearly reached her midpoint...I'm just thankful we survived October. We wrapped up a fantastic soccer season. We didn't win a single game, but man, we learned a lot about losing and losing well. It's a bit early for predictions, but I wouldn't be a bit surprised if Little Man hasn't found his sport. Every afternoon I hear the thud...thud...thud...thud...thud...thud... of the soccer ball against the house. I'm just thankful the wall he kicks against is brick. He broke my rosemary topiary today. With his soccer ball. I'm bummed. Oh well.

The temperatures have dropped 'round here and part in fun and part because well, we just think it's a good thing, we are starting a new tradition and are setting our thermostat at 58 for the week leading up to Thanksgiving. Our first winter married in our own house we'd dug a deep hole financially and were expecting precious Sister and we would do anything to insure I stayed home with her. Part of that desperate commitment meant keeping our thermostat set on 58. It was a cold winter. I remember my father-in-law begging us to turn the heat on, "I have thin blood!" he argued. As my dear husband said to me when I, with child, had pleaded, he said also to his father, "Put on another sweatshirt."

It was worth the sacrifice. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. And so we decided to do it again, this time with the children. For fun. And to remind us of how our Father has provided for us. What a sweet blessing warmth is. And there is something wonderful about bundling up and squishing together to keep warm while we read.

Sister continues to rock her homeschooling. I mean, let's be honest here, there are tears and some days she runs a few laps around the yard...and there is lots of writing the same thing again and again and again, and my heart is so happy and content having her here with me. This is such a blessing. Even when it's hard and I feel like beating my head against a brick wall, I wouldn't trade it.

Meet Mr. Inventive. What? Are those pistachios hard to open? Grab your dad's push up thing-a-ma-jiggers and smash the fool out of the pistachios. Uh-huh. I mean, WHAT was he thinking? (I'm smiling - but my initial reaction was more like, "WHAT are you doing???!!!)

They had a fashion show. And they roped Little Man into it by convincing him he could be a "sports hero." Hence the trophies and baseball.

And the shirt...not sure what's up with the shirt. But the hair, he likes it that way. Truth be told, I do, too.

Sassy doesn't stop with the clothes..."Little Bit, we got some work to do, girl friend!"

And Sister...with her hair like that and glasses on her head, she reminds me of my dear high school friend! You know who you are! (wink)

This is one of those shots you take and look at later and you gasp and wonder if it's a glimpse into what she'll look like in ten years.

The rip stick...he has yet to master it, but try, try again, he does.

I've been running with a group in our 'hood for several months now. It's been so good. Suffice it to say, a January doctor's appointment revealed I'd hit my all time highest weight. Higher than the day I went into labor with Sister. I changed my diet. Not much happened. After our move, thanks to a new friend, I started running and have kept at it. I am really pumped to say I've lost 26 pounds and am keeping it off. Several weeks ago I ran my first 10k. I placed first in my age category. (Of course, it helped to be the only female in my age category! Hee hee!) I'll take what I can get. (wink) The Engineer and the children cheered me on, the girls in their dress up clothes. SO FUN!!! I love my family!

Woop woop. After close to a year of saving...of working her little tail off, including some "babysitting" (read me: I was there to supervise), some deep cleaning, lots of friendship bracelet selling, etc. Sister saved enough money to buy her very own ipod. We are LOVIN' it!!! We've got restrictions set, etc. The Engineer and I have put on only what we want her to have access to. It is wonderful! We are so proud of you, Sister!!! I don't think that Hello Kitty wallet could've held another dollar.

So back to surviving October - I think I literally breathed a sigh of relief when the calendar turned and it was November 1. Last October we celebrated the exciting news of our long prayed for and so deeply longed for Little One. This October seemed especially hard...in that our arms, in that regard, are empty. Four Octobers total, we've had the exciting news of a baby! October seems to be an especially thrilling month in that regard. I was holding my breath. Hoping. And yet, this October, my womb is empty. And our hearts long. Our children's hearts long. And yet, our lovingly and good Heavenly Father is using this in our lives. I'm baffled. We are puzzled. Holding our hands out and at times, when I think about our family, I have to literally physically pry my fingers open and force myself to hold an open hand out to the Lord as I pray "Your will be done." To recognize that He is good and what He does is good. Even when the scars sear my heart.

I look around. I see this world around me and these hurting people. These people who don't know Jesus. Who don't understand - they haven't tasted His goodness and His grace, His mercy. They don't know what it's like to know you are scum. To know you are hopeless. To know you are so bad, so flawed. So sinful. So wanting and loving of sin. To know you have done such awful things, thought such horrible things...that part of you likes being bad - delights in sinning - that even when you want to do good and set out to do good, you can't. You don't. To come face to face with who you really are - like, the stuff no one else knows - and to meet Jesus there...it's incredibly humbling and so freeing. They don't know what it's like to know that He knows and that still, He loves. Still, He put on flesh and came down to us. He humbled Himself. And they live, day in and day out, without hope. Buying stuff, pursuing something else to fill that void...that void that only He can consume.

And in light of that, I'm like, shouldn't I let this pain go? This shouldn't be such a big deal. I have this eternal hope. And then I'm slapped across the face with the hilarity of what I've been thinking...that it shouldn't be such a big deal. Because it IS a big deal. Our babe didn't accidentally die. God wasn't caught off guard. He sovereignly purposed our Little One's beginning and ending. And He is good. And He has shown me more of Himself through this. He scours my heart. My soul. He refines me through the pain. This is part of my Gospel story. And He is good. And I pray that makes the Gospel more authentic to the friend without hope. I hope and pray that because of my pain, I can reach out to the one hurting and feeling the pain is purposeless. To the one buying and going and doing and smiling that smile, behind which, there is a deeply wounded and grieving heart without hope.

Because, sweet friends, it hurts. Life hurts. And there is Hope. The Gospel is messy. And it is real. And it changes people. It changed me. It's not for perfect people. It's for messed up, screwed up, hopeless punks. It's not for the well. It's for the sick. It's for you. It's for me. The Gospel redeems us. Jesus redeems us.

We recently spent a weekend with college friends and while away, we got to hear our college RUF Minister preach. It was precious to sit under his teaching now, with nearly eleven years of marriage and walking with Jesus since our last encounter. We exchanged hellos after the service. I hugged him and his wife and marveled at how grown their children are and they marveled at ours. But, what I really wanted to say, to shout - I wanted to grab them by the shoulders and say, "The Gospel is real! I'm not the same. God has done so much in my life. I have such a long way to go, but oh, He has shown me so much of my sin and the futility of my thinking, of my choices, of my ways - and I am not the same. WE are not the same. He is changing us!!!" But I didn't. I keep thinking I need to write them. I want to write them.

So anyway, October, you were a hard month. I'm glad you're over.

Before I move on entirely, Mama had a birthday in October! My sisters and I spent a weekend with her. It's always so fun to get away - just the girls. Well, The Engineer and children traveled with me, but stayed with The Engineer's parents. Oh the drive. OH. The drive.

We had Warrior with us. The drive is long anyway, add in miles and miles of stand still, bumper to bumper traffic...it was late. Little Man had been whimpering, complaining of a stomach ache. We finally pulled into a gas station. The Engineer sets the pump on auto and takes Sister and the dog over to a grassy area while Little Man searches for his shoes. It's a busy area. Little Bit has been dead to the world snoozing. We'd already stopped twice, I think, because she thought she needed to go. So I'm in the front seat just hanging while all this is going on. Suddenly Little Bit wakes up and starts screaming. She climbs out of her seat, turns to face it and grabs both armrests and...uh huh...starts grunting with that look on her face.

I scream, "What are you doing?! Are you going???!!!"

Still, with that look on her face and her teeth gritted, she nods. I beg her to stop. I scream at her to stop. I jump out of the car, thankful her bag is at hand, grab pajamas and a pull up and grab her. I'm carrying her so her little fanny is sticking way out...and something is sticking way out of her fanny. She's wearing leggings, so it's all quite obvious. I yell across the parking lot to The Engineer and I literally run for the bathroom. It's a one man deal. Her outer clothes are salvageable, but the undergarment, I just chunk it. Here's my baby, stripped to nothing on a public toilet, not even sitting on a seat protector. She's got both hands on either side of the pot. And girl friend has a tummy ache. And while she's sitttin, her fingers, without her thinking, go straight into her mouth.

She's taking her sweet time and while she's taking her sweet time, the line outside the door is growing. Someone knocks. "Just a minute." So after like, five minutes, I stick my head out and there are about eight college kids. "My three year old has a stomach ache. I'm so sorry. We will be out as quickly as we can." They were kind. Five more minutes and I hear, "Well, the mom is in there with a sick three year old and the dad is in this one with another sick kid."

We finally made it out, after touching every surface of that public bathroom, including standing barefoot on the floor. The line had grown longer. And much to my surprise, they were all - every one of them - sweet and kind to us. They smiled and nodded in understanding. Say what??? That was the grace of God.

So anyway, it was a long trip.

And we gave Warrior away (with full disclosure!). It's a long story. In short, since our move, he'd snapped at Little Bit, leaving bruises on her arm, and had made a regular habit of growling at the children  - all the time. And sometimes at me. I worked with a trainer. We made changes at home. We learned about pack mentality. Funny how the tables turned (remember these posts?-whitewashed tombs and then part II). It's like I finally broke, gave in, came to terms with the fact that he would be a part of the next ten to fifteen years of my life - of raising our children. I had accepted it. And was trying to make the best of it. And The Engineer, who I'd fought every step of the way, He decided it was time. The risk to the children wasn't worth it. And he made the call. We all cried. It was bittersweet. I miss the idea of Warrior, but oh my, life is much simpler now. I worried Sister would take forever getting over him, but she hasn't.

Goodness. Sin comes from within. Y'all, we should've named that dog "Sanctifier." He brought out more sin in my heart! It was bad. Like, we spent time in counseling over my anger towards The Engineer about that dog. For a long time I couldn't seem to do anything without cussing my husband under my breath. It was nasty! We decided we both failed HUGE in the whole thing. Lots of lessons learned. Chapter closed. We're still sad. 'Nough said.

So...I've already shared about nearly setting the oven on fire.

I'm thankful to be married to a genius. I say, "I have an idea. Let's just cut this chunk of cabinets out and slide a range in there."

He's like, "Okay." And he gets his saw, etc. and he does it. He rocks my face off.

Beneath our house is a terrible maze of old and older duct work. There's decent space down there (for a crawl space), but not with the way things are right now. So, when the plumber came to run the gas line for the stove, I volunteered Little Man for any tight crevices. Mr. Plumber accidentally dropped the end cap of the gas line on the wrong side of the duct work and ended up needing Little Man. He was only too happy to help.

After suiting up to crawl under the house he got a HUGE grin - like - ear to ear grin on his face and said, "Mama, God really does have a plan for my life."

I nearly burst into tears. "Yes Little Man. God does indeed have a wonderful plan for your life."

He executed Mr. Plumber's request with perfect precision, following instructions exactly and spent the rest of the afternoon as a "Plumber's Assistant." Prior to leaving, Mr. Plumber paid Little Man two dollars and shook his hand. I think it made Little Man's month.

Hee hee. I am giddy with delight. Cooking on this new baby - I've made eight loaves of bread - every one has turned out PERFECTLY. I just can't express the thrill and blessing this is. The Engineer came home to that first loaf cooling and smiled. I love to love my family with food. There is nothing like the smell of soup cooking all day...of bread baking...the crackle of eggs frying. Thank You, Lord for this new range!!!

And last - I'm finally (I think) learning something so basic. So "duh." So - "I've known this, what's my deal?" Have you figured out - because it's just now clicking with me - that your (my) attitude sets the tone for EVERYONE ELSE'S ATTITUDE IN THE HOUSE???

Because I'm so dense it's just now clicking. If I will just choose ('cause it doesn't usually just happen) to be happy - it makes all the difference in the world. My kids are happier. They snap out of their funky moods quicker. I am the one to set the tone.

And guess what? I don't have to ride their emotional roller coaster. You don't have to ride your kids emotional roller coasters! Just - get off! (Someone told me that once and it's so true.) And so these last few days, when mine have started on that wild ride that drives me INSANE, I'm reminding myself I don't have to ride. To stay on the ground. It's really quite freeing.

It's taken us quite a while to catch up. Perhaps I won't be such a stranger in the future. Regardless, I've missed you and I'm delighted you stuck with me. (big smile)

Happy Friday, y'all!

Rights of Passage

This post is chock full of pictures...I keep thinking about the smile I know they'll bring to Grandma's face...and that I want to forever remember the sweetness that was Little Man's first season of T Ball. (smile)

These photos are from his last game, but during his first practice, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

It's felt like a right of passage. One of those things you do, that happens, that, at least, makes me feel like we've moved from one stage to another.

It was a great season. There was no score keeping. Whatever. I don't want to crush my kid, but learning to lose with a good attitude is important. Instead, everyone was a winner. Every time.

Somehow, Little Man didn't catch on to that concept. He knew there were trophies to be had at the end of the season.

And at the last game, for whatever reason, he just knew they'd only get their trophies if they won.

And so during the entire game he was shouting to his friends, "Come on y'all. We have just GOT to win this game!" And he'd pump his fists in excitement.

I've never seen him so determined to run fast.

I've never seen him pay such attention.

Seeing all those daddies out there with their boys was rich.

Little Man got the ball almost every time it was hit. His friend (above and to the right) was so focused on making sure Little Man didn't get the ball, that he (the friend) missed it nearly every time.

I have a bunch of shots just like this.

While you enjoy the ridiculous amount of photos that chronicle almost every minute of outfield time during his last game, let's talk about a few other things...like Homeschooling...

Eek. It's here. Upon us. We begin Monday.

And I'm so torn. So mixed up. After last year - I felt numb at the thought of another year of homeschooling.

Last year started out great. And then we found out our Little Lamb was on the way. And the nausea set in. And though we were beside ourselves with excitement and gratitude, it was hard to do school. Everyday was a struggle. One foot in front of the other.

 
And we made it to Christmas. And the nausea continued. And mama was in the hospital. And it was crazy. I remember throwing up grits into the bag they'd come in in the hospital cafeteria one morning. And then I cried. Oh the nausea. The Engineer begged me to postpone starting back to school (because of days missed in the fall, we'd had to school right up to Christmas).

And then right after we started back to school, and we were in the midst of trying to finish everything on the house and getting ready to move, and at 17.5 weeks pregnant, we learned we'd lost our Little Lamb. And in the grief and the time pressure to finish the house...to find a house...school was sporadic. We finished our curriculum around the middle of June...we completed our legally required number of days. We are not "year round" schoolers. I like my summer.

But oh my. I felt like the biggest loser. Yes, we'd "done" everything, but it had been with me flying by the seat of my pants. I don't even remember grinding it all out. Little Man got the short end of the stick.

We finished the Sing, Spell, Read, & Write K-4 curriculum and I resorted to sending him in the other room to watch Leap Frog movies. It was survival.

Several weeks ago I laid my head on The Engineer's chest and I wept. I told him what a failure I felt I'd been. That of all the years to choose to homeschool the older two, last year is the one year I wish they'd been in school. And we prayed a lot about that decision. The chaos and stress of what took place in our home from December (when The Engineer found out he'd gotten the job) until the end of April when we pulled out of the driveway...it was insane.

And I cried while I told him how sad I was that the children had seen me melt down in tears again and again. How hard it was to all cry together...so many days. How I'd be mid-sentence and without thinking I'd reach down to feel my once growing belly, only to break down in tears all over again. How I'd wished the children were in school - spared from seeing their mother weep day in and day out. How they'd missed out on a "normal" school year. And would their pain and grief over our loss be as great if they'd not seen me ache as I did? Wouldn't they have healed faster?

And he cupped my face in his hands and I'll never be able to repeat it as tenderly and profoundly as he spoke it to me...he told me while the children may not have had a "normal" school year...while there was chaos and insanity...while the air compressor was kicking on at 2am while we finished projects...and while they watched us both weep and grieve...they saw life. Real life. First hand.

They saw God call us to something...and carry us through. They saw that life isn't always easy...pain free. That God does indeed give. And He takes. And He is good.

And as a family we grieved together. We learned that all we have is His. What do we have that He has not given? We learned that our Little Lamb always belonged to our heavenly Father. He or she was never "ours" to own.

We mourned our loss together. And by the grace of God, our children, and only because of God, got to see Him turn our hearts to Himself. They watched as we all ached and He comforted. They saw Him pour out His peace on our wounded and raw hearts, like a gentle balm.

By His grace, because His strength is made perfect in our weakness, they saw us turn to Jesus and be comforted.

We poured out our hearts as a family. We wiped one another's tears. We carried one another.

And it was awkward. And we sinned against one another. We had to apologize lots. There were days I tried to hide my tears. Kids are smart. Sister and Little Man would find me and they would comfort me.

You think you know what it's going to be like. You get this plan in your head. And you know God is sovereign, but you think, because what you want He says is good, that it's all going to work out. That you're going to get your way. And so when the joyful news came, that after a year and a half of pleading with the Lord for that baby that we were indeed expecting, we were banking on it. The first tri-mester was scary. It's hard to trust when you've lost (twice) before.

But we made it through that first trimester. And I thought we were in the clear.

And so we made plans. We definitely felt led to homeschool Sister. But as I prayed about it, I felt overwhelmed at the thought of schooling all three at home. Second grade, kindergarten and learning to read, a three year old, and a newborn. The Engineer and I both felt led to the same conclusion. The younger two needed to go to school.

Shortly after making that decision and talking it up to the children, we lost the baby. And I changed my mind. "Let's keep them home. We can't go on planning everything around the possibility that we might have another baby. We've got to live." And The Engineer heard me out. And he said, "no." He felt that I needed a break. A less stressful year.

I called the preschool we'd chosen on the last day of registration. I knew there'd be no way our children would get in. And we'd agreed if there wasn't a spot, that was the Lord's way of closing that door. I remember giggling to myself as I dialed to enroll them, "there's no way. The Engineer will see that I'm right on this one."

There was a spot for both of them. Case closed.

So now I'm meeting with all these homeschool mamas. And they are all really sweet. Super nice. And they ask how many children we have. And I tell them three. And there's an ache in my heart - 'cause I want to say, "but it's supposed to be four." And I want to launch into why I'm only homeschooling our oldest and not all three. But usually, unless they ask why, I hold it in my heart. And I smile.

And life goes on. More friends have babies. More friends announce they are expecting. And I'm still so self-righteous. I look at certain circumstances and my heart cries, "why does she get to have a baby and I don't?" I'm so totally the prodigal's brother. I stayed home. Did what was right. And here comes my brother - partied hard, blew his inheritance. Did it ALL wrong. And he gets the party. I want the party. Where's the justice?" It's ugly bitter in my heart.

And then the Holy Spirit pricks my hard heart and reminds me what I know is truth. That God is good. And that He has a wonderful plan for each of those babies' lives. That He is weaving a beautiful tapestry.

And there it is, He pours out His peace and it is a balm to my heart. And it is humbling to be forgiven for such lofty thoughts of myself and my self-imposed worthiness.

And so all of that brings me full circle. Here we are at the crux of the matter. It's time to start back. And I was feeling so overwhelmed. Not up to it. I prayed about our decision to homeschool Sister. Perhaps I'd misunderstood. No, no, I had not misunderstood. This, this is what He has called us to.

And so I prayed and told the Lord that I couldn't do it. I don't have the strength. And then the bomb went off.

Duh. I'm not supposed to tackle this in my own strength. I think He's got us right where He wants us. I simply cannot do this on my own. Just. Can't.

I've spent this week, thanks to my sweet MIL, alone, preparing for our year. I will be learning right alongside Sister.

And I will be begging Him to sustain us. To carry us. To equip us. 'Cause I do not have my junk together.

* This was his last hit - he was on third - and he was eager to run home. As the other player approached the T, our own Little Man was preparing for his run...

he did jumping jacks...

and then he dropped to the ground for push-ups... (and at this point, I was laughing so hard at his sheer preciousness I could barely take pictures)

And then he ran...

HARD...

And crossed home plate. WOOP WOOP!!!!!! Way to go Little Man!!!*

And so here we are. The Engineer's shirts need ironing. It's been three months. He's been wearing the same fishing shirts - 'cause they don't need ironing. The guys at work thought he was super into deep sea fishing. Ha. Or not.

The Engineer and I missed small group last night - it was on marriage - know why we missed? We were in an argument. For real. Oh the irony.

The house is a mess and there's dog hair everywhere - and I've been home alone all week. Could've tackled it, but didn't.

We slept on our mattress pad with a blanket for three nights. 'Cause I never took the sheets from the dryer and made the bed.

Life. It's life. And it's good and hard and rich.