Noodle-Bugs and Sunrises

During the week, it feels like we’ve established an effective “routine” with our son. Most days, I get up before work to feed him; this allows my husband to get a little more sleep (he takes the last feeding of the evening, so that I can get a little more sleep—it’s a good trade-off!). The only problem is, that early in the morning, JD is not necessarily awake.

I find myself blowing zerberts on tiny cheeks and tickling baby feet in an effort to wake him up to feed him…and this is after the diaper change! He’s a sound sleeper, like his daddy. 

When he finally comes around, I’m rewarded with the most beautiful smile in the world. I promptly forget how tired, crabby, or sore I am; I can’t help but to smile back. Someone at church kissed his little cheek the other day, and got the same smile; she said, “He likes kisses! You must kiss him a lot!” 

All the time…

Every chance I get…

I know the day will come when I will hear, “Eww, Momma! That’s gross!”

And even though my mama’s heart will crack just a little bit,

I will kiss him anyways.

He’s going to have to deal with it for the rest of his life.

So, this morning was pretty typical, although he seemed more tired than usual. He’s got a cold, and he didn’t sleep well. Couple that with the morons that see fit to blow up fireworks at 10:00 on a weeknight, and I didn’t sleep well, either. Waking him up this morning took a herculean effort.

Lots of kisses!  Lots of zerberts! Lots of tickling!  So. Much. Wooooooorrrrkkkk (insert sarcastic overtones)!!! 

He’s so stinkin’ cute.

The cold has made him pretty cranky this week, although it seems my day with him was the worst. David had him all day yesterday, and I was so happy to hear that the fussiness was minimal. It seems like he saved his best screaming fits for ME. Yay. By Tuesday’s end, I was exhausted, and wondering if I was just terrible at this stuff? I don’t think so…but I bet I walked 100 miles with that child, in my living room alone. There’s not much you can do for a baby with a cold, except run the humidifier. I’ve also been rubbing him down with Vicks, eucalyptus, and lavender, and praying A LOT. We did make a frantic run to the pediatrician after he went kind of listless on me; after a nap, he seemed normal, so I felt a lot better.

Anyways, this morning, he was so sleepy…holding him was like holding a doll filled with sandbag. Every time he lays like that, I’m reminded just how precious he is…my little wet noodle-bug! 

He feels secure enough with me, to sleep peacefully.

He feels secure enough with me, to smile at me, and snuggle into my chest.

He feels safe with me…

As I was driving into work this morning, and caught the sun rising behind the St. Louis skyline, I couldn’t help but to stop, turn off the radio, and pray. God paints the most amazing wake-up calls! How could I not be thankful? How could I not pause and celebrate a Lord that loves us enough to make THAT?

I snuggle the bundle of sheer happiness in my arms, and think about the sacrifice of Jesus. I’m sorry, y’all, but I would NOT let my son die for you. Ain’t happening.

Yet another reason why I am not God.

I would die for my son. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my son. There’s another person inside of me that is a ferocious beast of a bear that would seriously end someone who tried to harm my son. They’d be done for.

Yet our Father stood back and let the world beat, maim, torture, and kill His baby Boy.

What kind of Crazy Love is THAT?!?!?!?!?

I can’t even comprehend it. I start to think about it, and I get physically ill, thinking of what the Father went through.  

My pregnancies have completely revolutionized how I view the Crucifixion…how I view various types and shadows in Scripture…I cannot comprehend His love…

He holds us in His arms…We find rest.

Just like JD knows he can flop like a wet noodle in Mama’s arms, we know we can rest in the embrace of Jesus…

I recently found out that I have to have yet another surgery. My initial response was to call my mother in tears (I actually woke her up, which probably wasn’t my best move), and to freak out about my job, about being out of medical leave, how am I going to take care of my son, etc (not in that order). As usual, she reminded me that God is bigger, which I’ve struggled with realizing this week.

I’m not looking forward to this. Frankly, I’ve been cut on WAY too much for this lifetime. This is my 5^th abdominal surgery, and my 7^th overall. I’m tired of anesthesia, tired of hospitals, tired of nurses, and tired of being “broken.” I’m aggravated that it’s come to this, and I’m scared.

This morning, I was reminded of my place.

It isn’t my place, to be afraid.

It isn’t my place, to worry about my job.

It isn’t my place, to make plans and preparations, and to freak out if things don’t work out according to my order.

It isn’t my place, to stress.

It is my place to pray about this stuff…

It is my place to model my heart after my son…

To lie in the arms of the Father…

And to rest…

I feel safe enough with Him…

That Guy I Married Turned Into Somebody's Dad!

Every day is an adventure.
When I got married, one of my favorite things that my new husband said to me, was that he hoped people would be jealous of our marriage, and of the adventures we'd have together.
Oh, that man!
Mind you, this is a man who picked I Corinthians 2:9 as our wedding verse: No eye has seen, no ear has heard, what God has conceived for those who love Him...(CC paraphrase). I should have known what I was getting into!
For only being married 8 years, we have lived a lifetime. Granted, the loss of our daughter aged us in ways that most people will not understand. We had been married less than two years when she died; the crises, the heartache, the faith, and the trial fused us together to a degree not seen in marriages so young. I credit my husband with keeping our faith together; without him, I would have drown in a sea of wine and xanax. He kept us focused, through everything.
We've been through the loss of a child, unemployment, multiple surgeries, a near-death experience--I mean, sheesh! When you list it like that, it sounds like a Lifetime movie! 
But every day IS an adventure.
I LIKE my husband. We bicker...we spat. One of our friends calls us "The Puppies," and I think that's an accurate reflection. My neuroses are met with calm. My temper tantrums are met with reminders that it's "not that big of a deal." His temper tantrums (don't let the smile fool you--David is CAPABLE of a temper tantrum of epic proportions, LOL!) are generally met with eye rolls and reminders that everyone encounters stoplights (it's not a conspiracy against you, honey).
He holds my hand when we cross the street (Nah, it's not a romantic thing...if he didn't, I would probably have been hit by a car by now).
He will NOT dance with me at weddings (unless it's in the back of the room).
He has photographed the best memories of our lives, and somehow manages to bring the emotion of the moment into the frame.
We're a pretty good team, really.
And as we've embarked on the greatest adventure of all (parenthood!), I've learned to appreciate our "team" even more.
It really does take a village...My mom and sister have been incredibly helpful with JD. David's parents have surprised us with  formula and diapers on several occasions. Dad has come over to make sure we still have running water (plumbing! EEEK!). We really work together to make this little person have a seamless life. But at the end of the day,
It's just me and this man.
This man that I married--I always knew he'd be a great dad. I was right.
We change diapers. We make bottles. We feed the baby in the middle of the night. We pick out onesies or jammies. We get groceries. We make sure our dog doesn't feel missed.
WE is the key word.
I've heard of families where the husband works and comes home, and leaves the children to his wife. He probably works very hard to provide for his family, and is tired when he gets home.  That might work for that family...but it doesn't work for us. We both work 40 hour weeks. I have a very long commute. When the day is done, we are BOTH tired...but there's that beautiful little face that smiles when he sees us, and though we're tired, we still have him to care for.
And we love it.
We prayed for parenthood. We passionately sought the Lord, and petitioned Him for a child.He heard us--He answered us.
And now we are living an adventure that is everything we hoped for, nothing like we expected, and radically life-changing in every way. It's radically life-CHALLENGING in every way. We're tired; we're happy. We're stressed; we have peace in Christ. It's a beautiful dichotomy.
I'm finally getting to a place where I am comfortable taking JD out. On my day off, I'm trying to socialize; this summer, I will be trying to take him out to places I enjoy (without overheating), even if it's just to the mall. At some point, we will make our GHOP debut--by Friday, I've been so tired from work that I haven't been able to go. I can't wait to take JD, though!
I'd like to start planning vacations with him...I'll happily take your tips and tricks for vacationing with a baby!
Every day is different; every day brings a new milestone for JD. And every day includes opportunities to see my husband love my son...and that makes my heart almost explode with happiness.
Yeah, David--we're a great team. And we never saw life like this coming.
I hope we continue to have amazing, wonderful, unforeseen adventures together...

Overwhelmed, Part 2: The Solution

A few weeks ago, I wrote about being overwhelmed by the media…about how I felt assaulted, even violated, by the graphic nature of the news that I couldn’t seem to turn off. Since then, I went through a phase where I continued to gobble up the stories like some kind of journalistic Pac-Man. I just couldn’t break my habit of obsessively checking the news during the day.

Finally, I Had to Stop.

Like I’d said in the blog, I started to feel weighed down by the exposure. Fear began to creep in—“I can’t possibly raise a child in this world!” “How is this possible?!?!” “Dear God, what do I do?!?!?”  Anger began to rise…and it didn’t subside. Fortunately, I’m busy. I asked for more responsibilities at work; I got them. And Lord knows, I’m busy enough once I get home that I don’t have time to check on such things! I’ve also began to filter what kinds of news I read. The headlines are enough; I don’t need to read the details on the attacks.

The news makes me feel like my chances of making an impact are nil. I feel impossibly small; I feel that my “faith” is not enough to move a dust bunny, much less, a mountain. The best thing that I can do is to make an impact in my immediate community…meaning, my son, my husband, and…I think that’s as far as I’ll get. I don’t feel like I can do much beyond that.

The world is too big, and I am minute.

It’s so easy to let the overwhelming media defeat you before you’ve even gotten out of bed.

Do we ever really know, in this life, how far our impact is felt? Do we ever see our ripple effect? Do we understand the ways God uses us? I don’t see it.

But I believe it.

I stole the idea for this blog from www.shortdailydevotions.com  The verse for today is: “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. (Galatians 6:9 ESV)”  That’s a good one, right? It’s one of those verses that we read 100x and forget about what it means.  It means that we

Do

Not

Give

Up.

Just because we don’t understand our impact doesn’t mean that we stop trying to make one.

I have no idea how God has, or how He is going to, use me.

I’m a simple girl from Franklin County.

I live a simple life in a small house

In a small town

With a small family

And a smaller bank account.

But God has a plan for this Simple Girl

That is far more complicated than I can understand.

So, I have a choice:  Do I give up? Do I see the overwhelming news, and decide that I’m defeated before I get out of bed? Do I decide that it’s just not worth it? Do I let the day win before it even starts?

Do we give up in doing good?

Because, what’s the point, right?

Or do we keep on keeping on?

Do we continue doing the little things…the random acts of kindness that no one sees…making statements for the positive that no one hears…the drop in the ocean that we feel is unnoticed?

Even a drop in an ocean makes a ripple.

In the overwhelming life that we lead; in the overwhelming world that we live in; we have to remember that we serve a God Who is bigger than anything we can comprehend. Yet, He is intimate—He knows the deepest, smallest things about us. I don’t understand how; but I have faith that He does.  When we do the tiny things that we do, He sees them. He honors His word—the little things we do will eventually result in greatness. We simply have to persevere. Yes, we ARE moving mountains; sometimes, it’s one grain of dirt at a time.

Keep on doing good, y’all. It will be worth it in eternity…

Grumpy Cats and Grapes...

Titles have never really been my thing...:)
I have become particularly enamored with Grumpy Cat (AKA "Tardar Sauce"). If you're unfamiliar with this Internet icon, I recommend you take a look here
I find it hilarious; the blend of sarcasm, wit, and cranky-face, just makes me laugh.  It's not always appropriate...but you can't help but laugh at her.
I thought about trying to take Grumpy Cat, and liken it to some great spiritual truth, but it's not going to happen. This is kind of a fluff piece...
It's a simple nod to a couple of things that make me smile: Red grapes from Aldi's, and Grumpy Cat. And yes, I am thankful for them.
Lately, there's been a storm of drama brewing . I have a lot of questions that need some answers; I'm finding myself tongue-tied, and I don't know how to deal with the situation. My best efforts seem to be ignored, misunderstood, or just messed up. Things aren't coming out right and/or when I have tried to say something, it's not being heard. I feel a little powerless, but it's okay. I don't know how it's going to be worked out.
All I know is that one way or another, it's going to be worked out.
I tend to obsess over these things, and to really worry about the fact that there isn't a resolution...but right now, I'm a little busy.
Sorry, drama...I don't have time to worry about you. It doesn't mean that I don't care; in fact, I care VERY much. It's just that I can see this isn't going anywhere. I can see that nothing I say will make it right...and I can see that it's not about me. I can see that for once in my life, I don't want to get in the middle of this.
Instead, I am going to do my best to stay on the outside. I'll get drug in for a few things; I'll have some collateral damage when emotions get the best of certain people, and they unhinge on me. It happens, and it's okay. I'm going to do my best to not take it personally.
I am going to focus on the simple things that bring me joy.
It's not selfish; it's survival.
I'm going to read my Grumpy Cat memes, and laugh.
I'm going to enjoy my Red Grapes from Aldis, and be thankful.
I'm going to pray about most of this...
And most importantly, I'm going to go home to the nucleus of my family...to my husband, and my son, and I am going to celebrate the insulated refuge called home...