in response

I loved reading all your thoughts in the comment section of my last post.  They inspired me to write a tad more, and the reasoning behind all this "ranting."

I have led a pretty good life.  I grew up in a safe, loving, God-centered home with four brothers and sisters.  My parents are still happily married after [nearly] 33 years.  I have deep, good relationships with all my siblings.  I went to college, loved my time, and got married afterwards.  I've experienced no abnormal-timing of death or disaster.

Still, life is perfect for no one.  Even though I would not classify myself as someone with the authority on which to speak about tragedy, two experiences come to mind in which I've grieved.  And the grief has been real.  These are: Bella's cleft issues and deployments/life in the military.

When we found out about Bella's cleft lip, we were stunned.  I wept for an entire day, and then some.  We were unprepared for this "change of events."  We questioned if we ourselves were to blame?  We feared, we battled anxiety, we grieved.

On the heels of Bella's birth, and amidst her first four surgeries, we dealt with three deployments.  Again, we were unprepared.  We grew apart.  We struggled to make it through.  We battled with feelings of being left behind [me], feelings of being a single man again [Trav], sin of bitterness, and a myriad of other unspoken battles.  We grieved, or we tried to as best we knew how.

The hardest part... and I'm saying that having gone through it for a few years now... the hardest part was having people throw well-meaning, trite phrases our way.  And standing there and taking them in stride with a smile on my face.  Phrases like:

"She'll be fine!  Be glad it's a 'fixable' thing.  It's amazing what surgeries can be done nowadays."

"Only 3 months?  Oh, that'll be over before you know it!"

"No one will even notice her lip!  She's a bright little thing... you're lucky it's nothing more!"

"He's in Qatar?  Well, be thankful he's somewhere 'safe' and not on the ground fighting!"

"So glad she can have surgery!  Do you know how many children all over the world can't have that done??"

"Deployed?  My husband goes on business trips all the time.  You'll be okay!"

"It's amazing what can be done these days!  Be glad she's little so she won't even remember it!"

ALL.THE.TIME.

And I get it.  Everyone is well meaning.  Everyone thinks that they're the first to offer that point of view (the positive one).  But nothing can make you feel more alone than being unable to grieve.  Heaven forbid I cry or have a downcast spirit... people don't want to hear it!!

Out of all the thousands of comments about our dear Bella, there were two that I will remember forever.  To be fair, so many of you, my dear readers, were so so kind.  Offered words of sadness and love.  And many friends in real life did as well.  But, two I will always remember.  My dad's and my friend, Becky's responses.  Both were separate times and in both cases, they wept with me.  Nothing more than simply hugging me and weeping.  They felt my grief and entered into it with me.

A precious book I'm reading now (A Loving Life, by Paul Miller) speaks on this very thing:

"...grief and anger unsettle us and open doors to unbelief in our own lives.  We'd rather quiet [people] with good theology.  We think we're comforting [them], but maybe we're trying to keep our own demons in place" (29).

He speaks on how we've lost the fine art of lamenting in our Greek-stoicized culture.  "A lament grieves that the world is unbalanced.  It grieves at the gap between reality and God's promise.  It believes in a God who is there, who can act in time and space.  ...  A lament is a prayer, a plea for help" (31).

Friends, let's let people grieve.  Let's hold them, weep with them, not belittle their sufferings.  Be assured, if you're aiming in pumping them up with positivity, they've already tried those same words and tactics in their own minds 1,000 times over.  What they need is not a mini-sermon, but someone to say yes, this sucks.  And I love you.  And I'm sorry you're hurting.

Whether it's a 3-year old who just had a 2-hour tantrum and the mother is a wreck.  Or whether it's a husband who's deployed.  Or whether someone's baby just died at 23-weeks gestation.  Or whether infertility is overtaking a friend's life.  Let them grieve.  Better yet, let's learn to grieve alongside.

to a military spouse

What follows is a typical, common conversation that I have with many non-military people.

Person: So how long is he going to be gone for?

Me: About 5 more months.

Person: Oh, that's not too bad!  It'll go by fast...

Me: *crickets*

Person: You guys can skype and email and stuff, right?

Me: Yeeeessss... (not really wanting to go into the gory detail of what it looks like trying to gather 4 people into a small phone screen, while one of them is desperately trying to push the "red" (i.e. hang up) button, and the other two are jumping on my back.  Meanwhile, the "amazing" internet connection has gone out 7 times and I've had to repeat the sentence "We're good, nothing's new," about fourteen times.)

Person: You're really lucky that you get to see each other and talk on the phone.  People back, just 20 years ago had to stick to handwritten letters!  You've really got it good these days.

Me: Yep.

And yes, I understand that we're blessed to be able to skype.  I get the fact that email is awesome and we don't have to wait weeks to read the handwritten note (or, we do, but we get emails in between said letters).  I get it.  

But allow me to draw a similar conversation up, with similar remarks... 

Person: UGH!!!  I've had a terrible week.  My kid got sick, and I've had to do 14,000 loads of laundry in the past 3 days.  I haven't been out of the house all week and, as you can see, I haven't showered in 4 days.  This sucks.

Me: Ya, well, don't get too down.

Person: What?  Did you just hear what I said???

Me: Well, I mean, you didn't have to wash all the laundry BY HAND, did you?  You have a WASHING MACHINE, right?  And your kid, he doesn't have malaria or scarlet fever or pertussis, right?  He got some antibiotics and is doing fine now, right?  And showered??  Don't even get me started!  Just 100ish years ago, people bathed in water heated from the stove in baths once a week.  You've got it good, sister!!  You're truly blessed.

Person: *crickets*

Obviously, this convo would never happen.  

Listen, folks.  We're all blessed to be living now rather than "back then," with the modern conveniences (although, Heaven knows I'm one Laura Ingalls Wilder/Anne of Green Gables romanticizer) that are available to us.  

If this emphasizes anything, it's that we as a society simply cannot stand awkward/uncomfortable situations of people in pain or grieving.  We feel the need to slap a "It's OK!!" bandaid on it and some trite "encouraging" word.  I'm resolving to change that.

treasure

The more time I spend with my children, I realize that what I treasure, they treasure.

We hear that all the time.  Our children do as we do.  They're watching.  But, really, the older they get, the harder it becomes to separate our lives from theirs.  I mean, when they're little, you put them down for two naps and an early bedtime.  During those times, you sneak chocolate, you watch movies, you sew, you talk on the phone, etc.  Then, they grow.  You can't spell in front of them anymore, you certainly can't sneak chocolate, and movies??  There's so little time to yourself, who wants to waste it on a movie??

I spend a lot of my free time on my computer.  Emailing, blogging, editing photos, etc.  And so, I notice my girls begging to play with the buttons on my computer.  Wanting to do things on my phone.  Watch a tv show.  I initially get bugged.  "No.  Go outside.  Use your imagination!  Read, paint, color!"

The Lord has been slowly revealing to me that what I treasure, they also will treasure.  If I'm outside, they'll be outside.  If I love reading, they'll love reading.  If I love my computer, they'll love their computers (one day).

Instead of directing Bella to paint alone today during quiet time, I sat with her.  I tried my hand at creativity and she loved it.  She watched me... and then mirrored me.  Kids are so complementary like that.  It only instills in me a greater desire to be great for them.  To point them to the One Thing that lasts and matters.

I love our family monograms.  

the disciples and Christmas

When I was young (like in high school and college young), I used to berate the disciples of Jesus.  I used to think how blind and hard-headed those were on whom He performed miracles.  How could anyone doubt that He was the Son of God?  Why were the disciples continually afraid?  They had JESUS there, before their very eyes, and they were still so simple-minded.

I don't think this way anymore.

The older I get (and heaven knows I'm still as young a whippersnapper as there ever was), I realize life is so big.  And things that I once thought very easy, seem very hard.  Even this post, for example.  I've been wanting to write it for a few days now, but as soon as afternoon rolls around, my brain can't even conjure up what it was exactly that seemed so crucial just the morning before.

Lately, it's been Jesus.  I've loved Jesus since I was a little girl.  I've believed in Him for as long as I can remember.  I watched my mom and dad live out what it looks like to love and follow Christ.  I've seen my dad weep over his love for the Lord.  I've worked through so many tough conversations with my mom about what it means to be a Christ follower.  I went to a Christian college and grew deeply in my faith.

But it's been hard for a few years now.  Maybe since I began having kids.  Maybe since I got married.  I'm not sure when, but all the beliefs I held somehow stopped ringing true.  They still are true.  I know that with all my being.  But, the precious beliefs I hold to simply became words.  I struggle to describe what I feel other than having a veil over my eyes.  It's like I know what's behind that veil - beauty and love so deep and peace and truth - but for some reason, it's very cloudy and murky.  And I'm holding on with all my strength.  At times, I have no strength, and then I realize, it's Him holding on to me.

Travis and I struggle through it often.  We spoke the other night about Christmas.  And how, as we're preparing to enter into this beautiful, amazing, MIRACULOUS time of year with our children, we sense a lack of wonder in ourselves.  That Christ came down and took on flesh to BE SIN for us.  We asked the girls one night why Jesus came to earth.  Bella's answer rolled quickly off her tongue: "To save us from our sins."

And it was in that moment that I hated our ability to view something so great, so lightly.  To know the incredible GOD of the universe and yet, view Him with apathy.  Granted, she's five and just saying what she knows.  I pray with all my being, God will reveal Himself to her personally one day.  But, she revealed my own heart.  My own quick-answering spirit.  And it was then that I realized I was just like the disciples, the Pharisees in Jesus' day.  I have the Savior of the world right before me, yet I can't wrap my head around Who He is.  I don't believe that He's come to save me.  How can that be?  How can a God love someone who is as blind and foolhardy as me?

In the midst of my writing and pondering, my mom sent me this video.  How poignantly perfect it fits with what I'm battling through.  I must share:

And this I know: whether you grew up like I did, with the truth being poured into my small soul like a constant flow; or broken and hurting like Lacey, He is a pursuing God.  He will not leave us to our veiled-eyed selves, but will do whatever it takes to grab our hearts.  Even send His own Son to take on flesh and dwell among us.  

on being married to an often-absent husband

Photos from a day at the beach
-when we ALL were together

My husband's been absent much lately.  Trips - both unexpected and planned - have come and gone, and yet there are still more.  Always more.

It's never very easy for me.  People often tell me, "I don't know how you do it!  I could never be a military wife."  I always feel like laughing.  I don't choose this path.  I don't want this path.  I don't "do it" well and without complaint, although I wish I did.

When Travis is here for more than a week without a trip on the line, my heart begins to grow suspicious, like someone bad is lurking around the corner.  I prepare my heart for The News he'll come home with... that a trip is intervening and messing up future plans.  The trips may be short (3-5 days) or long (weeks).  He could work all week, get sent on a trip Friday through Sunday and be back at work on Monday.  Just because he's a pilot doesn't mean if he's not flying, he's not working.  He has two jobs in the squadron and often works 12-hour days.

I say all this because I want to admit that after seven and a half years of being a military wife, five of those years in active assignment, I still struggle with him being gone.  By struggle, I mean specifically, I get angry.  I feel left and I can take it personally (even though it SOO isn't!) when he's gone on trips.  I put up walls to avoid having my heart hurt so when he's absent.  I want to appear Independent and Self-Reliant, when in reality, I need him and I hurt when he's not here.  I encounter bouts of bitterness of raising the children alone.  I often have to wrangle myself away from "the grass is greener" mentality.

Recently, I've tried to take the bull by the horns and battle these lies.  I'm meeting bi-monthly with a woman from my church to simply pray and battle for our marriages and lives.  Just to have someone else know my true struggles of contentedness in the Air Force life, without it being through complaint and venting, is therapeutic.  To know true community with people that care and love me, asking how life is regularly, helps greatly with the loneliness of the Air Force life.  Of course, casting our cares on Him, the One Who knows all and has placed us here is the greatest act of faith and love we can do.

Community, pro-activeness, honesty, and prayer.  It's how I battle my greatest wars.  If you're in similar situations (an often-absent spouse), would you mind sharing how you stay connected and full of joy??

Sunday evening swim

The weather is definitely cooling here in Florida.  It's not "cool", by any stretch of the imagination.  But the upper-80's with less than 80% humidity feels glorious after the month of August.  Even so, the pool is still being used.  Less so by me, because the water is cooling as well as the outdoor temps... but the kids and Trav are numb to the fact that the water is less bath-y and more cooling.

After a picnic at the park for dinner and sweaty chases through the playground, we decided to go home and sneak a swim in before bedtime.  I stayed out, as I supposed one of the kids would need to either (a) poop or (b) be fed and put to bed during the twenty minutes everyone was in the water.  I was right.

Even Rhett joined in on the fun... to say he's everyone's little doll is the understatement of the year.

Bella has become quite the fish since we've moved here.  She could live in that pool.

My boys.  Seriously.  Ga.  

I had the bright idea to put their towels in the dryer before collecting them out of the pool.

Such a warm snuggle before bed.

It was a perfect night.

AND lest I sound like my life is too dreamy, here's reality:

Trav and I had a crazy Saturday, with a nice fight to end the evening.

Sunday was left with sour moods and trying to clean up the emotional mess from the previous day.

We had to meet with our pastor's about becoming church members in the midst of our drama.

Which ended up with both of us in tears, talking through problems with our pastors.

Nice.

It was helpful, albeit humbling.

During our picnic dinner, Bella kept talking back and Summer wouldn't eat.

Ants were crawling on our feet and we were all sweating.

So... while I hope you enjoy these photos, know that photography covers a multitude of sins.

So does love.

Happy Monday, all!

our good is His plan (& more pics from our trip)

 Our AC went out yesterday.  When the repair man came, he saw that the unit was one big block of solid ice.  While he's trying to explain to me how long it's going to take to thaw out, Summer was taking Bella's toys - causing Bella to scream - and Rhett was needing to be nursed.  Meanwhile, I'm sweating uncontrollably in my sweltering home.  Dinner needed to be fixed, Trav came home with bad deployment news, and all around it was just a sucky day.  In the midst of all the chaos, I thought I heard the AC repair man say that I could keep the air on and soon I would feel cool air come through the vent.

Fast forward to today.  The repair man stops by to see how the unit is thawing out.  Immediately when he enters the house he says, how long has the air been on?

"Uhhh... I turned it on last night??"  NOOOOO..... the FAN can remain on.  The air must be off in order for the unit to thaw.  Cue banging head against wall.  One of those moments where you feel like a complete doofus.  I should have known that.  I should have done the math in my head... but life was a hubbub of a mess and I was distracted and... well, here we are.  Still sitting in a warm oven of a house.  My fault.

******

We had orientation today for the homeschooling group we're going to be apart of this year.  It was good for me to go and wrap my head around what we'll be starting in a week.  I will be using the next couple days of nap times to organize the "school room" and set up some sort of schedule.  I hope to make some good friends through this community.  Once again, it's always hard to be the "new girl."  Many young women all chatting happily and as I was going up to meet a woman that looked to be a potential friend, another woman ran up and hugged her.  "My best friend!!  So glad we'll be together this year!" she exclaimed.

Best Friend.  Why is it so hard for me?  Much of me feels jealous of these women that get to stay put and put down roots and have their children grow up together.  I want a local best friend... heck, I just want a good friend.  It'll come.  Lord willing, we will make good friends.  It just takes time, I know.  Until then, I'll keep pushing myself out of my introverted box.

******

Through these two things (and multiple snippets throughout my days), I really find myself struggling with the truth of Romans 8:32 - 

He who did not spare His own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?

If God didn't even spare His own Son - His own SON - to redeem us and love us and make us His own, won't He then give us only what is good for us?  The lack of AC, the deployment, the moving and ever-changing military lifestyle... all these are gifts for OUR GOOD from our Sovereignly Loving Father.  

I had to preach it to myself (and my husband) last night as we lay on our sheets, trying to catch every whip of air that the fan provided.  And I had to preach it to my lonesome self today.  And I foresee having to preach it to myself often in the future.  He will only give us GOOD.  Not easy, not appealing, not always what we want... but Good.  For He is good.

NOW can I have it??

On Sunday, our pastor was speaking on prayer.  He said something to the effect that, the promises of God are in the Bible to cause us to seek Him more.  Yet, we often do the opposite.  We read, "I will never leave you nor forsake you," and we think Oh, okay.  So, if He promises that, I can just kinda live life on my own.  And we often do.  We live life thinking we can get by without daily communion and petitioning for aid and strength.  Oh, we'll go to Him with the "big" stuff, but the little, daily mundane prayers?  Na...

Immediately, I resonated.  I have not been in much prayer lately.  In fact, the Word has been distant from me.  In many areas of life, recently, I feel as though I know all the correct verses, phrases, prayers, right answers... but do they feel real to me?  Do I live them?  Do I love and cherish them?  No.  And much of me feels lost on how to return back to connecting my head with my heart.

Prayer can be one of those ways.  Prayer is such a practical way of admitting our dependence.  In a world that hails independence and self-made strength, prayer is the exact opposite.  It's begging God for help.  For comfort.  For wisdom.  It's admitting I have no idea what I'm doing... can you help?  Better yet, can you take this from me and allow me to do it in YOUR strength?

Also immediately, my Bella June came to mind.  She, along with many 4-year olds, has a way of repeating herself and her requests until they are heard.  Often, our first encounter with this is in the morning, at breakfast.  The girls love orange juice and they only get one cup a day - at breakfast.  The request starts early, often from the moment they rise.  But, I make them wait, as always, til breakfast.  That doesn't stop Bella from "hinting" that she wants orange juice, that she NEEDS orange juice.  "Can I have some now, Mama?  I just looove orange juice!"

Just wait, I tell her.  I told you I'll get you some.  Trust me.
And as I set their cereal bowls on the table, and grab their spoons... "I just can't wait for my orange juice!  Can I have some now, Mama?  Is it time?"
They plop into their booster seats and thank the Lord for their food.  And in between bites, "Mama, can we have some orange juice???"

Often, I get frustrated.  I take longer some days so I can teach her patience.  I want her to know that if I said I will get it for her, I will get it for her.  I want her to eventually ask once, because that is the socially acceptable way to behave.  We ask once, and then wait.  If you ask too many times or too frequently, you may look needy... and as we all know, needy is bad.

But in the Gospels, Christ spells out a different scenario.  Over and over again, with parables and teachings, He tells us to ASK.  He implores us to implore Him.  We are needy.  We do need Him. Through my daughter, I'm reminded that there's no "socially acceptable" way to interact with God. He wants us to want Him; He wants us to be as little children.

I've begun praying that way for this little one inside me.  Please, Father, allow him/her to come quickly!  Now!  Today!  Is it time yet?  Allow my body to move... don't forget about us...  I'm not sure how He'll answer me.  I'm not sure why he's allowed my mother-in-law to be in town, yet allowed the baby to stay inside.  But, I'm begging for a birthday.  Through the begging, I come to rest in the fact that He knows all and He controls all.  So I will rest.

emotional, pregnant woman thoughts

Are we ready for Baby #3?  It's a question we get asked often, and we ask ourselves often.  Yes and no.  Actually, this past Friday, at my 38-week checkup, I, all of a sudden, realized, "This is my 38th week.  In two weeks - TWO weeks - we will have another child."  And I realized, I am in no form of hurrying to get this little one out of me.  Yes, it'll be nice to have my body back (in a sense), but this child is coming... and I must enjoy my last days of mothering "only" two.  That said, my mind is whirlwindish thinking of things we must accomplish before another blessing is added to the day-to-day routine.

Travis was gone this past week on a trip.  I pretty much sat on the couch and crossed my legs, willing the baby to not come while Daddy was away.  He obeyed... what a good little chap (or lass).  It was an exhausting week and this weekend has been filled with Travis and I trying to connect: over parenting, over our marriage, over the changes that are about to occur, over tragedy (an Air Force jet crashed on Friday), over the challenges of moving.  May I touch on two of those with you?

OVER PARENTING: Our Bella has been going through a rough phase.  I can't quite put my finger on when it all began, per se, as she's always been head-strong and at times, a tough cookie.  But, lately, it's been draining my energy.  The talking back, the potty talk, the not listening to instructions, etc.  And lately, she has been pulling away from Travis.  Never wanting to be with him, pushing him away when he goes to hug or kiss her, etc.  It's been frustrating, to put it nicely.  I often find myself at my wits end, knowing exactly how to parent this.  I admit, I have not been spending much time in prayer, and I know that therein my problem lies, as only HE knows my daughter fully and wholly, and only HE can give me the wisdom I so desire in how to love her better and point her to Him, ultimately.  This week was a rough one, single parenting.  And yet, when Trav came home Friday night, he was able to see it all very clearly throughout the weekend, what I'm dealing with.  He was able to discipline and give me a break, and also just try and be with her.  If you think of us, please pray for wisdom with that dear girl.

OVER MOVING: Again, I feel drained over this move.  You must think I constantly say "drained", yet it's the exact word to depict what I am.  That empty, wilted, limp rag feeling of just plain tired.  Making friends takes time and energy, the two things that I seem to lack.  We were blessed with knowing three great friends down here already, and I often thank God for those pre-instituted friendships.  I am very content with just knowing them, and I don't have a desire to reach out and meet new folk.  It seems that my days are simply filled with parenting, taking care of house and home, meeting the family's needs.  To go out and meet people?  Make an effort with our church's people?  Exhausting for me.  Yet, I'm trying.  And I often end those times in tears.  I hate the feeling of being new and unknown.  I hate the feeling of being needy for friends.  And especially at this time, when our new baby is so close to making its debut, all I want is familiarity and my old Kansan friends.  I want family nearby.  I want my old neighbors.  My old church.  Fortunately, I married a people-lover, friendly, outgoing guy.... who makes getting out and meeting new folk easier.  But still... if you think of us, please pray for effort, energy, and some amount of extroversion on my end.

Well, this was a rather serious post.  But, me, just the same.  And it's pictureless... So, if you made it this far, know that I appreciate each and every one of you, who makes being social (albeit social media) easier for me and makes me feel still connected, although I mayn't leave the house all day.  Sometimes, technology is a drag.  But sometimes, it's really rather nice, wouldn't you agree?

Bella's wish and other stories

Last night, as we were driving home from our small group, Bella spied the Wishing Star.  "Ooohhhh!  I see the Wishing Star!  I'm going to make a wish!  Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight.  I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight."  Then she squeezed her eyes tight and clasped her hands to her chest and breathed, "I wish I had a pony.  And a Barbie doll.  And a kitten.  And..... LOTS of candy, well... and lots of healthy food, too."

"That's a lot of wishes," Trav commented.

"Oh!  And, I wish I had a boy." She giggled.

"A boy?" we asked.

"Yeah, you know, like the kind you marry."

+++++++

There are a lot of lizards down in these parts of Florida.  Like, ev.er.y.where.  And yesterday, after we got home from small group, there was a large one hanging out on our kitchen wall.  Trav tried to catch it, but it raced all over and eventually found a hiding spot in our laundry room/sewing room.  As far as I know, it's still in there.  And um... I'm not really fond of that whole idea.

+++++++

My dolled-up front porch -
using the resources I had.

Yesterday, I had one of those pity party moments (hours).  It came after I scoured the house: tons of loads of laundry - washed, dried, folded and put away; vacuumed; mopped; scrubbed the kitchen; cleaned linens; returned phone calls, etc.  And then, I meal planned and grocery shopped, only to have the other three people living here beg to go out to eat.  Then I swept and cleaned up the front porch and made it look cute.  And you know what??  No one notices.  No one cares.  Except me, of course.

I was doggone tired.  My back hurt from cleaning and folding and bending over.  My patience was worn thin from reminding little hands "No touch" in stores and reminding little lips "No whining."  My body was tired from being sat on, kicked (by the baby), climbed over and when Trav wanted to hug and kiss when he got home... NO WAY.  Hands off!  Everybody needs me, but no one appreciates me!!!! 

Fortunately, my Mama called right in time for me to get those yucky, self-centered lies off my chest, but also to vent to someone who (oh heavens, does she!) understands.  And I was able to capture a few moments with my all-knowing Lord and just shed a few exhausted tears before the girls awoke from nap times.  And you know what?  When Bella knocked over her cereal bowl this morning and all the milk splashed to freshly mopped floor... my Heavenly Father so graciously put this verse in my mind: "Give thanks in all circumstances..." (1 Thess. 5:18).  And I was grateful it was in the morning, when my back doesn't hurt as badly and I don't mind bending over as much.  Sometimes, I realized as I stared at that milk and cereal on the ground, I need to be humbled and lowered.  And if milk on the freshly mopped floor will do it (and it will), I will give thanks for my humility-in-the-making.

+++++++

I brought my girls to the dentist today.  Summer's first time, and Bella's third "try" (every other time, she's absolutely FREAKED out).  Both girls did phenom.  And I surprised myself by getting a little weepy.  I never have cried about the girls growing up.  I don't get emotional about those things.  But... Bella told me that I could be with Summer instead of her, because she was fine.  And Summer was just this little fart, sitting in that big chair, chatting away... and I found myself tearing up.  My two sweet girls.  So big.  And then the hygentist had the nerve to recommend some stupid gel to put on Summer's finger to get her to stop sucking it and I about stuck my tongue out at her.  Summer can suck her finger as long as she wants!!  She's my baby and I love that she sucks her finger!  And then, she told me that Bella should be losing teeth fairly soon, and I just about stuck my tongue out again at her.  My other baby!!  These children of mine will need me forever and they will always have baby teeth and suck their fingers!!  Oh... the irony and idiosyncrasies and dichotomies of motherhood.  I don't understand myself many-a-time.

exhaustion: a song

tired. tired. tired. tired. tired.

tired. tired. tired. tired. tired.

tired. tired. tired. tired. tired.

tired. tired. tired. tired. tired.

tired. tired. tired. tired. tired.

This is my song.  My never-ending, perpetually stuck-in-my-head song.  I am tired.

This third pregnancy - whether it be a different gender, or life events, or simply the third trimester -  has complete knocked me out.  I think about bed and sleeping too often; I sleep when the girls sleep; I rise when they rise.

It's humbling and frustrating to say the least.  My other two pregnancies didn't treat me this way.  Sure, I was tired at times... but this debilitating, mind-numbing fatigue?  No... I didn't feel this tired.  Only eight and a half more weeks to go... I find myself chanting.

I downloaded the Fighter Verse app on my phone last week.  It's a Bible memorizing application that gives you a section of Scripture to work on each week.  The app costs $2.99, but it comes with all sorts of helpful tools to memorize.  I need this.  Because, try as I might, I can't rise before the girls to read the Word.  And during their nap time, I inevitably fall asleep.  And come evening, I'm useless to the world and to my family.  I plop on the couch and if anybody dare want me to do something away from that comfortable perch, it ain't happenin'.

Our verses for this week are Psalm 96:1-3.  While I made breakfast for the children this morning, I had my phone sitting on the counter, the Fighter Verse app open, reciting the verses for me outloud.  It repeats itself over and over.  Bella came over to listen, too.

Oh sing to the LORD a new song; sing to the LORD, all the earth!  Sing to the LORD, bless his name; tell of his salvation from day to day.  Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous works among all the peoples!

 A new song? thought I.  What new song can I sing to Him?  I'm tired, that's my perpetual song.  Tired and more tired and more tired on top of that.  Sing that to Me, my dear child.  Sing that to Me.  So I shall.

Father, I'm weary.

I'm weak and so teary.

My body feels the weight

of the babe and our great

load of life and duties.

But, You are Rest.

You promise You will be near

during the tests

that spin and whirl

when bearing babes and rearing girls.

Please, take this, my song

of exhaustion and long

hours and minutes spent often

dreaming of dark rooms and

soft cotton.

Remind me that exhaustion, too,

is made by You.

And will be transformed into light

and days that are bright...

one day.

moving, marriage and maternal updates

This moving gig has kicked my hiney (sp?).  I believe it's been a lot harder in most every aspect than I imagined.  It brings out the worst in me: my lack of patience; my introverted, I-don't-want-to-meet-any-new-people self; my critical, unthankful heart.  Yes, I've seen the worst this past week and I'm not pretty.  So, I've kinda been hiding out.  I'm too darn exhausted every night to get on a computer.  I'm usually trying to pep-talk myself into a good attitude.  Or Trav and I are needing to work things out after the children fall asleep.

Travis and I hadn't been together for the 6 weeks leading up to the move.  Preceding our separation (due to AF), he was working his bum off trying to out process and get things in line for our move.  It was Christmas and the holidays and ... you get the picture, we hadn't seen much of each other in the past few months.  Then, throw us in a car for 4 days, moving our life to a different state, catching the flu, living in a hotel for 5 days, moving in a house that was dirtier than appeared at first glance, a main water line backing up - causing overflowing toilets, non-draining tubs, and flooding carpets - and pregnant, hormonal me.... and you've got drama to the MAX!  Through many, MANY days of tears, harbored emotions, talking, talking, TALKING through things, prayer, and more PRAYER... I finally feel like we're back on the same track.  Of course, he goes back to work today, so we begin a new normal.  But, what I'm getting at is... marriage is a lot of work.  Good, hard work.  Not meaningless work, but productive work.  Sometimes, I wish there could be a lazy day.  A time when work wasn't necessary.  But, for us, if we want to stay close and together, we have to work hard at communicating, giving selflessly, and working for the good of the family.  Marriage is sanctifying, for sure!  And when it works, it's beautiful.

The children are all doing well.  The girls love the new home.  They've been awesome troopers, being toted all over town finding new spots and DMV's and doctors, etc.  I'm very, very proud of their resiliency.  The baby in the womb is a-growin' too.  I'm almost 30 weeks and getting to that really uncomfortable point.  EVERYONE tells me I'm having a boy, because I'm sticking straight out, but I think I stuck straight out with the girls too.  I think I'm having a girl... we'll see in approximately 10 weeks!  Names are non-existent for us.  I've gained about 30 lbs.  Right on track to keeping the same with my girls (gained 40 lbs with each girl).  My exercising program has been NIL this round.  Simply no time for that kind of luxury!!  I found a new OB in the area and he has me scheduled for an ultrasound on the 19th.  I'm scared I'll cave and find out the sex!!  Convince me to stay strong til the end, folks!

Well, enough blither-blather.  I'll be trying to be on here more.  Know that the house is still a wreck in most rooms, I shower approximately every two to three days, I just YESTERDAY went grocery shopping for the first time, and bedtime is the sweetest hour of the day.  One day life will feel back to normal, right???

messy

Moving is incredibly messy.

My mother-in-law just left after being here for three and a half days.  She was amazing.  Helping me paint my entire downstairs back to white.  Entertaining/loving the children.  Chatting in the evening.  Letting me runs errands without kiddos.  So so so nice to have a bit of help for a couple of days.

And now, I sit, looking at the incredible mess around me.  Mess that can't really be cleaned... just needs to be packed (or craigslisted, or thrifted).  Add on top of this mess, the mess of daily life with a four-year old and two-year old and you've got Mess with a capital M.

With moving, I wish I could pause life and get the main stuff done while everything else around stands still, but *ha ha ha*.  Not so.  Like this morning, when I was at a loss with how to deal with my two, INCREDIBLY different daughters and the situation that arose.  Sometimes, I'd just like to pass the baton of parenting off to someone else and say, "Here!  You have a go at it.  I'm lost."

Yet, I will persevere and pray for more wisdom and patience.  And count down the days until my husband comes home.  And be thankful that we have a home lined up in Florida.  And thankful for the little third one that will be joining us in May, however overwhelming that may seem.  And give thanks for awesome neighbors and family, whom are always willing to help.

Moving will be over soon.  And life is beautiful when messy, right?

kid conviction

At some point during this past week, amidst all our driving, Trav and I got in a tiff.  I'm not sure what about exactly, except that I was bugged at him and he was bugged at me.  And I was 100% right and he was 100% right.  And neither one of us was backing down.  Which resulted in a heavy silence in the car.  He, staring at the road, both hands on the steering wheel; me, glaring out my passenger window.

Then, a little songbird began her sweet melody in the backseat.  A innocent, lovely voice singing,

My heart was black with sin

Until the Savior came in.

His precious blood, I know,

Has washed me white as snow.

And in His Word I'm to-ooold

I'll walk the streets of go-ooold.

To grow each final day,

I'll read the Bible and pray.

After singing the same song three times, her little voice asked, "Mama?  Do you love God?"

*grimacing* "Yes, Bella.  I do, although it doesn't show very much, does it.?"

"Why, Mama?  Why do you love God?"

"Well, because He died for me and loved me enough to save me from my sinful heart."

"YES!" I can hear her smiling. "Yes, I love Him too.  Because God thinks everyone is special.  And ALL have sinned, but God still loves them and thinks everyone is special.  But ALL have sinned.  But that's why Jesus had to come, to die and save us from our sins.  And so I love Jesus, too."

Thank you, Father, for our children.  Our little child-convictors that pierce my heart and sin with their pure, unashamed love.  With their simple questions and ability to apply truth in all circumstances.  And thank You, Father, for washing me white as snow.

what I am and who we are

We visited a new-to-us park in a neighboring town yesterday.  It was lovely.  The first not-blistering hot day in quite some time.  Fall is sneaking in, and I am not completely dreading it.  I played with our camera and the manual settings.  Realized I have so far to go in that arena.  The girls threw sticks and rocks into the pond, and Travis played the cautious-Dad role, as he is prone to do whenever he gets little-to-no time with his two daughters.

I thought about how much I love our children, and how I long to have another.  I thought about how difficult mothering is - good mothering - and how it frightens me to have more children.  Travis and I talked about his job and how stressful it's been.  Such long, draining hours.  How does one avoid that?  Or does one roll with the punches and plaster a smile on one's face?  Before he leaves for a deployment, he works his tail off. Then he's gone, and he realizes how God and family are the most important things of all.  We vow to make changes.  Sacrifice work and extracurricular instead of God and family.  Then, the Homecoming... and life inevitably falls back into the same routine.  How do you stop the cycle??  We don't know... it's a heavy burden.

I've been thinking much about who I am and what I do.  I'm a mother.  A wife.  Those most over all.  My children are growing and with their growth, I need to grow too.  This is Bella's last year before kindergarten. We've never enrolled her in preschool, and I'm treasuring this last year of "laziness" and togetherness.  I'm beginning to school her a bit every week with reading and numbers... and it's helping me decide what we want to do in the future: homeschool?  Public?  We still need to know where we'll be living in order to make the final decision.

If we homeschool, I know life will look different.  I need to be more organized and scheduled with my time.  I already feel a need to pour more intellect in to my girls' lives.  I'm here, caring for their needs, but now they're growing beyond the basic needs.  They need teaching, and direction, and answers, and how-to's.  They need the Lord, and every-day looks into how He is almighty in our lives.  They need music and reading and outside.  Which, in turn, means, I need less computer.  Less internet.  More reading and asking the Lord to pour into me, for Heaven knows I have no strength on my own.

Not quite sure what life will look like in these coming years... but I know I'm ready for a bit of change too.  I'm ready for Fall... in many senses of the term.

10%

The thing about blogging is... well, it only truly portrays about 10% of one's life.  You can take a sweet picture, edit it, straighten it, crop it... and wa-la!  I have a cute little family!

Nobody sees the mess, the fighting, the disheveled appearances.  Well, I found this video on our camera when I returned home from my trip.  Made me laugh.  So "real life".

Enjoy the realness of life.

(All this written amidst me having to go upstairs and discipline

a little girl kicking books across the room during nap time. *sigh*)

Oh, to be like Anne...

I am a yeller.  I don't want to be.  In fact, my mom yelled when I was a kid.  And more likely than not, her mom yelled.  It happens when I get frustrated beyond the point of controlling myself, and then... I YELL.  I swore to myself, when I was young, I would not yell at my children.  And yet, I find myself doing it more often than I like.  As I'm yelling, I hate myself more than anything.

So, at other times, when I'm trying to control my yelling habit, I instead take deep breath, and SIGH... loudly.  My mom also sighed.  I disliked that even more than yelling, knowing you had disappointed your mother beyond words.  Hear me now, I treasure my mama more than anyone and revere her deeply.  And I don't blame her one bit: having five children - all crammed into eight years - homeschooling all day long.  Five noisy, PIANO-PLAYING, singing, LOUD, chatterboxes.  But, I know how the yelling and sighing made me feel.  It's just always a bit mind-boggling when you see yourself do what you swore you'd never do.

I sighed last night at Bella.  And her face fell.  I sighed when she dropped honey on the floor.  Sticky, oozing honey ... joining the smooshed raisins, crushed banana muffin crumbs in the carpet, legos scattered every which way... all on my newly mopped floor.  I sighed and as she raised her beautiful, honey-colored eyes to mine, dolefully apologizing for spilling, I hated myself again.  Why can't I be less-critical?  Why can't I be okay with spills?  Why do they have to force a yell or sigh from me?

Honestly: why can't I just be more like Anne Blythe??  The dear Anne-girl, whom married Gilbert Blythe, and is a darling, sweet, ever-loving mother to her six children.... why can't I be more like her??  (I'm deeply buried in Anne books, right now).

Of course, if I can give myself a bit of credit, I might be more darling, sweet, & ever-loving if I too had a cook, live-in maid and nanny.  Just sayin'.

(And, check out this darling, sweet, ever-lovely re-enactment of Anne's wedding photo shoot here!)

keep on

This picture is reality:

I have two darling girls, but mothering is not for the faint-hearted.  Hear me correctly: mothers may be faint-hearted, but consistent, daily mothering cannot be dealt with faint-heartedly.  I have two darling girls, yet I constantly feel as if I'm a ballerina pirouetting.  Spinning and spinning, on one foot, teaching this girl manners, fixing that girl's temper tantrum, practicing letters with one girl, kissing another's boo-boos, cleaning that girl's bum, wiping that one's nose.

This afternoon, my little brother and his darling wife stopped by unexpectedly.  I love them.  I rarely see them.  Any time I do see them, I am either (a) feeding the girls, (b) chasing the girls, (c) exhausted myself.  We all sat outside and chatted in the sun as my eyes continually darted to Summer, who was trying to climb the wall.  We wanted to play a game.  Scattergories was brought out.  I was continually interrupted by Summer clambering on my legs, wanting to draw with my pencil.  Bella needed to be wiped at one point.  Summer fell at another.  I wanted to scream, "JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE WITH MY BROTHER!!!"  Then, I said "no" to Summer and she fell on the ground, writhing and screaming in a tantrum.

I looked at my mom, brother, and sister-in-law and sighed, "I just don't want to deal with it anymore!"  I turned my back on Summer for a moment and let her scream... before I realized I was wrong.  I have to deal with it, whether I want to or not.  I owe it to her.

I'm not of the "Let them scream and I'll ignore them" mindset.  Tantrums are not allowed.  They happen - oh they happen - but they're not tolerated.  So, I separated her.  I disciplined.  I dealt with her.  I taught her.  I missed part of the game.  I was a mother, instead of a sister.

You see, Travis and I brought our girls into the world.  We owe them parenting: good, consistent, boundaries, loving parenting.  It's the hardest thing ever done.  It's saying "No" to myself and "Yes" to their good.  I want to give grace... but that comes down the line.  At ages 18 mos and almost 4 years, it's about boundaries, consistency and extravagant love.  There can never be too much love.

My mom told me something right after Bella was born that has stuck in my head so stubbornly.  She told me this minutes after I went through hell and back to bring that girl into the world.  When I felt so helpless, tired, and overwhelmed, she said this:

"This little girl owes you nothing.  You owe her everything.  

You brought her into this world,

and now you owe her all you have."

And she's right.  I owe them my best.  My most diligent consistency.  My most patient love.  My sleepless nights.  My hard-working marriage.  And that's what popped into my head as I tried to tune out my mad, 18-month old daughter laying on the pavement behind me.  I owe her.  I owe her truth, consistency, and tough love.

Therefore, fellow-mothers, tough it out.  Let's be consistent and loving.  Keep on keeping on.  We're in it together.  Our children need our all.

Mother's Day 2012

(Self-portrait attmept.
Love how the coloring goes: light-medium-dark.)

Motherhood is a emotional thing.  In one sense, I want to celebrate and exclaim, "I'm a MOTHER!!!" to the world.  Yet, because this world is imperfect and full of sin and heartache, I hesitate.  I have a few close friends that are currently struggling with infertility.  A few friends that have had babies die - either in the womb or freshly delivered.  A few friends that have had one child, but can't seem to get pregnant again.  A few friends that would love nothing more than to be married and a bear children, but that opportunity isn't presenting itself either.

When I think about them, those dear friends of mine, I look at my lot of two beautiful girls and I wonder, "Why me?"  Why was I blessed so?  What I'm coming to understand, though, is that through suffering God captures our hearts.  One may look at another's suffering and want theirs instead of their own, but only God knows to what extent He needs to go to win their heart for His own.  Suffering is to be embraced, but oh how difficult that is.

All this to say, I'm grateful to be a mother.  I fully accept these children as blessings and undeserved gifts.  Travis and I would love more children, but even if God says "No," I choose to see how rich I am already.  Two sweet souls, under our care and guidance.  Two sets of lips to kiss goodnight.  Two sets of beautiful eyes to connect with.  In addition, I'm thankful for our own two mothers, whose parenting tools I follow about 90% of the time.  Thank you, Mama and Mom F., for all you've given us.

Happy Mother's day.

on a lighter note...

Thanks for sticking through my last heavier posts.  I've been thinking much about this blog and what's appropriate or not to share on it.  Marriage has not been all roses and rainbows for Trav and me.  It hasn't been all thorns and valleys either.  I think it fair to share both sides (to an extent), keeping in mind that we are committed 'til the end and by God's grace, we will HANG ON for the crazy ride that it is.  For me, it is always encouraging to see other people struggle and get back up again... to simply know I am not alone.  For this reason, I want to be open about where the Lord has us here and now.  Plus, typing/writing is cheaper than therapy, right??  J


On a lighter note... these two lovelies are hams.  In every sense of the word.  Summer's personality and vocabulary is BLOSSOMING fully as of late... and every one of us is loving every second.  She's quite an unpredictable, sly, lover-girl, humorous little one... so full of love and life and laughter.  She mimics everything anyone says and I'm diggin' the communication.  This age (16-20 mos) is truly one of my favorites.


Here's a bit of my every day noon time.  I'm sure some of your noon times look similar.  I can't help but fall in love with those jam-smeared faces and brown-skinned arms; grapes falling on the floor; hands dancing to the music of "Lady and the Tramp."  I know I've said this before, but sometimes I marvel at how I have the privilege of mothering these two girls.  

"Hey girls, look here.  Mama's going to take a picture."

"Mama, did you get a picture of me doing this?  This with my hands??"

"Ee tooo, Mama!!  EE TOOOO!!"