Bird in a Tree

Please have a laugh at my expense, please

2012-02-15T09:48:00.001-06:00

So if I have to be in total annoyance and discomfort because our daughter refuses to get a move on....I'm going to share a story about it! (And no...I'm not past my due date, I still have two days before I hit week 40 but I'm not good at waiting!)

So first of all I need to give mad props to Hannah Slay, this girl brought over Chili's queso and salsa with a 12 pack of decaf Dr Pepper yesterday for a Galentines day of sorts while our hubbies worked. It was fabulous. A pregnant woman literally could not ask for more. While I was shuffling in the queso I told her where I'm at. I think this sentence pretty much sums it up for me. "Literally every moment that I'm not in labor I'm annoyed." Those who know me know that I tend to be "animated" (as I like to call it) or "dramatic" (as some of you like to call it). Either way I am still happy at the core and very joyful...but also...I mean come on...its annoying to wait! It's especially annoying when you are tormented by the memory of labor and delivery being the most painful and difficult thing you have ever done, but also excitement of the best reward and the highest high on Earth when your child is "out."

So the second thing you need to know is that Austin, my amazing husband, has become quite the sleep talker/mover in the last 9 months. Maybe its a sympathy thing? I'm pretty positive I'm the one who is supposed to have weirdness when sleeping. Anyway, about a week ago Austin had this very sudden "twitch" or something in his sleep and I guess his hands were over his head and he hit our headboard so hard. I woke up terrified and he immediately calmed me down and explained that it was him. In that moment when my heart was racing more than it has in the past 7 months (give or take) I thought to myself "good grief I think I might get scared into labor." But alas...we were not so lucky.

So...last night Austin passed out asleep on the couch (something which I should disclose...NEVER happens) so we headed to bed early. Since I wasn't too sleepy (and still annoyed that another day had passed, but really happy because one of my best friends did get to welcome her baby boy into the world) I killed time playing on my phone---ouch...ouch...dude my belly is rock hard---ouch....ahhh, relief. WAIT! That was a contraction! Started in my back and moved forward-check. Started gradually and got worse and then tapered off-check. Lasted about two minutes-check. Rock hard uterus-check. HALLELUJAH! I'll wait for one more before I start writing down times. tick tock tick tock...18 minutes later--ouch ouch...rock hard belly...ouch...relief. YES. 10:18pm. Eighteen minutes of "flood it" games on my phone later...ouch ouch-rock hard...ouch...ahh. YES. Then only ten minutes...then I started drifting to sleep. I was so tired, and I knew that the next one would wake me up and until then I really needed to rest. It took me ten minutes to settle my mind down and fall asleep again...but by that point I was so tired that I didn't fully realize that since I wasn't in another contraction yet, I was probably not going to be. Anyway, after finally falling asleep after listening to Austin sleeping so peacefully for over an hour....I was dead asleep and then ...OUCH! But no. NO. Not that kind of ouch. The kind of ouch where someone just punched me in the butt. I thrash my head very dramatically to look at Austin and he is still sleeping. Ok, this is ridiculous, but I guess he is sleep...punching or something. Whatever. Close my eyes....OUCH...another punch and then "BOO!"
Yea "boo"...are you freaking kidding me?! You are really doing that whole if-I-like-you-I'll-be-mean-to-you-flirting...in your sleep?? Oh Austin. I sit up and say "What....(dramatic pause) are you doing? Wake up." Austin (as cute and innocently as can be) "I'm scaring you into labor." Me: "Are you awake? You had better not be awake." No response. (I should add that it is typical for him to respond with something ridiculous in the moment and then not remember at all in the morning and think the whole ordeal is hilarious.) Me: "You had best not remember this in the morning." (aka you better be sleeping, cause that and only that can save you.)

Words cannot describe how mad I was. And of course this morning my sweet husband tells me good morning and offers to bathe Lyric for me. First, I take him up on it and tell him good morning. Then I ask if he remembers last night. Of course he doesn't. And once again he thinks it's hilarious. He then proceeds to blame me, that perhaps I dreamed it. But then incriminates himself by adding "that's weird though cause a couple of times before bed I thought about trying that while we were watching TV."

I don't know if anyone out there can relate to this waiting game, or if anyone thinks that this is remotely funny. But it is ridiculous, so I had to share it. Please get a good chuckle out of our ridiculous-ness. And if you have any labor inducing tips...use the comment box!

I have a reason to sing

2012-01-21T15:54:00.003-06:00

I have a reason to sing
I LOVE the song "Desert Song." If you haven't listened to it, do so. If you haven't jammed out to it in worship or on a drive alone in your car, you are missing out. During my deepest and saddest mourning of our miscarriage I sang "all of my life, in every season, you are still God. I have a reason to sing, I have a reason to worship" because I knew it was true, not because it felt true. But now, on the other side of the storm of grief, I feel it to be as true as I knew (know) it was. Something devastating did happen, the worst sort of news had been delivered and I had a reason to sing! At first I sang with hope, hope of things to come, hope that one day I would sing and feel again. Now I can sing with joy.

I wrote the previous paragraph months ago. Going back and rereading drafts that were never completed, I came upon it. I have been able to sing with joy for awhile now. Joy that I feel. Now as I am waiting (not with great patience) for our daughter to come into the world...I sing for joy. But I am so thankful that my joy doesn't require her existence. I am so tearfully thankful that I had a reason to sing before I got what I wanted. I'm so glad that one day I can tell our son and daughter that in the face of heartbreak they can sing. They have a God who loves them and who defeated death for them, and that their hope doesn't have to be in the temporal pleasures they experience now. I'm so relieved that I know the hope and truth and joy and rich rich love that came out of our loss. I'm so humbled that He chose to show me the greater depths of His sacrifice and His love-- out my hurt, out of my heartbreak, out of my shock, out of my tears. I look back on the past year (nearly to the day), and I so cherish all the change.

The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor;
he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified.
(Isaiah 61:1-3 ESV)

The Gift of Christmas Lies

2011-12-17T17:22:00.001-06:00

For so many of us Christmas is such a special, sacred, holiday. Sometimes it is easy to become disgusted with the focus on material gifts and parties and the whole "keeping up with the Jones" that Christmas has become. Sometimes we let our love for Christmas morph into a hatred for the way that the world responds to it. And hear me out, I would love a life where there wasn't complete insanity in every store and at all the busy intersections. But if you think about it Christians keep expecting everyone out in the world to treat Christmas with the importance that we do, and that isn't really fair. People who are not believers and followers of Jesus Christ know that we are all supposed to value Christmas and cherish its "true meaning," but how many people even know why? This year I am embracing the surface level, materialistic lies about Christmas because, like all lies, these Christmas lies will be exposed. The sentiments of Christmas and fairy-tale like story of Christ's birth have become surface level for most Americans. But that only means that the true story of Christmas is that much more accessible. The marvelous story of a world hungry for deliverance and a savior who came to save them is real. Christ is real. Christ is the only Son of God. Christ is the only way to salvation. Take advantage of "fairy tale", and share the real story behind it. Merry
Christmas.

"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28 ESV)

When life gives a beating, blessed am I

2011-11-10T11:30:00.003-06:00

I have missed this place...this place for me...but lately I've been denying the call to come back and make the time and use these gifts and talent. I can guarantee you that you can look forward to a post about thankfulness, about community, about health (the good, the bad, and the ugly), and about crazy stay at home mom moments. But in this moment I have to sit down and write the words that are circling around the inside of my head.

Recently I have had the privilege of walking beside a dear sweet friend as she and her husband have taken heartbreak after heartbreak from life. I shared with them recently that during a night of worship at our church, I felt jealous of them. I wasn't jealous of their circumstances--I wouldn't wish them on anyone (and my sweet friend, I wish I could take it away from you). But I was so jealous of their absolute and total need, their thirst, their desperation for Christ and for the hope of heaven. I remember that place. When we were waiting in limbo to find out if I had miscarried (in February), when the bad news of our miscarriage had indeed been confirmed, and when I found out that I was once again pregnant and terrified of what might happen--those were precious times. In the moment I hated all the feelings I was feeling and the place we were in, I felt like it was somehow a bad thing that Christ alone kept me going every day. But when I think about the totality of worship that I felt, it was the one area of my life where I felt passionate. I remember that it didn't matter how big or small the gathering, I felt this compulsion to physically crawl over the rows of chairs in front of me and climb up an invisible ladder and sit in the lap of the Father. He felt like He was just right there, and He was, but I'm sincerely at a loss for words to describe the closeness I felt during those times. I've done the summer camp thing (and although awesome); I know how to spot a "spiritual high." The most difficult times are different, I don't think anyone would say that adversity brings a spiritual high. But it does bring your flesh, your human nature, to an all time low. Most of us do and say things that we normally wouldn't in times when we feel like we just can't take another minute. This past year and half I look back on those hard times, the heartbreaking days, and the excruciating pain as markers of my spiritual growth and learned reliance on God. The times when I was sad all day, or couldn't move from the pain, the days when I knew that no one could fix my problems, the days when I felt like life had beat me into a limp little pile and then come back for more--those times are when Christ's light shines so brightly. Those times are such precious memories because of how loved I was, because of how much love I felt, because of how much love I needed.

But if it had not been for the good times, for the boring days, for the bible study routines and structure and normalcy with Christ...how would I have recognized His closeness? What would I have done and felt and believed in those moments where I couldn't hold a bible in my hand or sit in church? He would have been just as near, but would I have even known it? Would I have recognized His character and His love? Would I have been able to stop demanding that He change my circumstances and start praising Him for who He is?

I'll leave you with those questions. This is going to have to be a two parter.

The blood

2011-08-28T08:29:00.003-05:00

Right now our church is doing a mini series on The Lord's Supper. It has been awesome so far and there is still more to come. Last week when we took The Lord's Supper as a congregation, it was the sweetest one I think I have ever been a part of. Usually in a big room full of people, it is never really quiet. There is always a baby babbling or a woman unzipping her purse or pages turning or people whispering. ALWAYS. But I promise you, if the room hadn't been carpeted, you could have heard a pen drop. Everything was quiet, everyone was still, and we all knew that He is God. It was the kind of quite that I have only heard in empty places. That sounds contrary to what is was, if it was empty--I think it's because hearts were being emptied of sin and making room for the Holy Spirit. It was beautiful.

The worship team came up for a last song, Nothing But The Blood. And the hope that comes along with the atoning blood which washed me white as snow was overwhelming for me. I thought "I cannot imagine existing, much less living in this world if the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus had never happened." Then for the first time an important light bulb lit. "For those who haven't been told, it is as if none of it ever happened. They live in the darkness of a world with no hope. That is why it is good news. It did happen."

Once I lived in darkness, but someone gave me good news. I think for the first time, I really get that. I really get how important that is.

Not spiritual, maybe funny, definitely a rambling

2011-08-12T21:56:00.000-05:00

So I found this author that I like...no dare say I love. I loved reading her book, just reading her words, I honestly didn't even care if they were happy or sad words. I just loved the rhythm she wrote in and the way she described things. It was therapeutic for me. Then I made a massively huge mistake. A mistake I will never make again. After finishing her book, I googled her. I googled her and I found her. Then I found a video of her reading from that beloved book. It was the biggest disappointment. She didn't read it the way I read it. She didn't read it with the confidence and ease that I think she wrote it in. I'm sure the way that I was feeling is the grown-up equivalent of finding out there is no real Santa (yep thats right, I never believed in Santa as a kid, and I'm not even sad about it). Unfairly, I decided I couldn't bear to read any of her other books. (In case you can't tell I'm an all or ~~nothing~~ type of girl.) I find myself getting lost in the words and rhythms of a few new authors these days and I have used all my self-control to keep from googling, especially videos. I don't want to lose anymore heroes and heroins, day dreams and poignant perspectives.

Here is the kicker though. Last night Austin and I were watching a movie about a girl who lost her arm in a freak accident. As I was watching her learn how to slice an orange a new way, I thought to myself "what would I have to re-learn?" Then I was relieved when it dawned on me, "my writing comes from my brain so I could totally dictate it or something like that." Then came reality, clashing like a noisy gong. If I couldn't physically type out the words I think I would lose my rhythm. I don't ever speak the way I write. I don't journal the way I type. I only type the way I write. Or is it write the way I type? Either way, I need to work really hard to wean my "writing rhythm" away from my "typing rhythm," is this making any sense?

I can conclude that one day if I'm lucky enough to have a book that someone loves as much as I loved the previously mentioned book, then I would probably break her heart too if I ever read aloud.

"Let love be genuine;" Being there for your friend

2011-07-27T16:29:00.006-05:00

I'm so excited to have my first ever guest co-writer on this blog! Olivia is close friend that I met when we moved here (Quad Cities, Iowa). Olivia shares a story similar in nature to mine. During this heartbreaking season of our lives, both of us have experienced an amazing God, amazing scripture, amazing prayers, and amazing fellowship. We have both experienced what it is like to be the friend-in-need and the friend-of-a-grieving-friend, and it showed both of us the true need for someone to shed some light on how to handle miscarriage. I was talking with a mutual friend on the phone recently and she said something that got me thinking, "it seems like this happens so much, but I still don't really know how to handle it or what to say." And she was right, miscarriage is more common than you realize and also very common--not knowing how to react (or even if you should react) as a loved one. Thus the reason for this post, to attempt to encourage and communicate how or what or when you should react as a friend.

Accept it, embrace it. Even though everyone's natural tendency is to take the bad and turn it into good, there is an important part of grief that simply cannot be overlooked. Acceptance. There is a reason that denial is a stage of grief, because accepting it is so hard. But your friend desperately needs you to accept her loss. She needs you to sit in her grief with her. No, you don't need to be a debbie-downer, but sometimes the best thing you can do is feel with her. You are not going to make her feel worse when you say sincerely..."I'm so sorry" "I can't imagine how hard this must be" "I hate this for you, I'm here for you, and I'm praying for you." Being optimistic isn't bad, just make sure that you are doing so without trying to brush the loss under the rug. It's hard to grieve with a friend, but when you do she won't feel so alone--which is a beautiful thing.

Say something. Say anything, but not anything. Since our miscarriage several friends have shared with me that they thought of me and prayed for our family often and wanted to say something, but just didn't know what to say. I think that we all have a little voice in the back of our minds telling us that if we say something that we might be one of those people who just end up saying all the wrong things. But the catch is that by not saying anything to your friend who lost her baby so you won't hurt her or remind her about her pain, you really just make her feel like you are ignoring a massive gnash in her heart and don't care at all. Honestly, you can say most things. You can especially say things like, "I'm so sorry" and "I'm praying for you" or "Is there anything you need?" or even the most feared..."Do you want to talk about it?" More than anything, your friend needs love and encouragement and support. You are her friend, so don't be afraid of showing her friendship.

Bring food, bring flowers, bring Starbucks. Just know that you aren't going to fix it. Yes, your friend is capable of cooking herself her favorite comfort meal or driving through Starbucks, but I can guarantee you that she won't. And nothing you can bring her will make her feel right or normal, but it will make her feel loved. Loved because you care, loved because you know her, and loved because when you have a crappy day you just want your favorite things.

Encourage with truths and promises of Scripture. When you aren't sure what your friend needs, give her scripture. It NEVER fails. It is NEVER void. It is NEVER hopeless.

"...For we were so utterly burdened beyond strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead." 2 Corinthians 1:8b-9

"During those many days the king of Egypt died, and the people of Israel groaned because of their slavery and cried out for help. Their cry for rescue from slavery came up to God. And God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. God saw the people of Israel- and God knew." Exodus 2:23-25

"Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words." Romans 8:26

"O Lord, all my longing is before you; my sighing is not hidden from you." Psalm 38:9

"Let your UNFAILING LOVE surround us, Lord, for our hope is in you alone." Psalm 33:22

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18

"I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world." John 16:33

Pray for and pray over. The day we found out about our miscarriage we saw some of our dear friends and that night (although I probably wouldn't have planned to visit friends) was an enormous blessing to me. My beloved friend Camie had the most loving reaction to our bad news, she let herself cry in front of me and simply said "there are no words" as she squeezed me tight. Seeing her pain over our pain made me feel literally covered in love. That night while Austin had to be out, she prayed over me and on my behalf and reminded me of the biblical truths of God's grace and mercy and love. In that moment I didn't even know how to pray for myself, and her prays truly interceded for me until I found a way to put my prayers to words.

"Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer." Romans 12:12

Be there. Go out or stay in, but be available. One of the biggest reliefs I experienced in early days of our miscarriage is that I had Olivia with me to return newly purchased maternity clothes and then grocery shop together. When we got to the customer service counter of Target, Liv totally took charge so that I didn't have to. It might just be my memory, but I am sure that she sent out the vibes to the Target lady not to even ask why I had to return my items. It was such a simple little thing, but it meant so much to me. It meant that I didn't have to face it alone.

No offense. Even if you could completely know how your friend feels, she might not care or feel that you do. In moments of grief, sometimes sensitivity is not the characteristic that you friend is exhibiting to you. So just keep that in mind if she says something with a little snap or an attitude of "what I am going through is worse than anything anyone has ever experienced" (because in that moment, those feelings are completely valid to her). This doesn't meant that your friend has a right to treat you with less respect than you deserve, but just understand that she is under a thick fog of pain and when she breaks through it, she will have a little (try alot) more clarity.

What not to say. "This is why you don't tell that you are pregnant so early." "Well I'm glad because I know you were kind of freaked out about being pregnant." "Well at least now you can (eat sushi, drink wine, live off caffeine, lift heavy objects, eat rare steak, soft cheeses, and deli meat)." Also, anything that might hint that God is punishing, or that once your friend is pregnant again this will all be forgotten. Just stay away from those things. I wish I could give more insight, but honestly...just don't say those things.

Endure. At some point, you will see your friend emerge from her fog of grief and get back to "normal." She will want to do things you used to do together and laugh and goof around and watch chick flicks. Be careful that you never forget what she went through and keep in mind that she might have a rough week come out of the blue. There will come a time when she doesn't need to talk it out or cry on your shoulder, but her miscarriage will always be a part of who she is.

My deepest and most sincere hope is that you can be helped by our experiences. I know that for every woman that can relate to the loss of a miscarriage there is at least a handful (if not two or three or four handfuls) of dear sisterfriends that love her and care. Words cannot express how much the women in my life meant to me in my time of need. Austin and I both were blessed by the friends and loved ones who stuck closely to us during our miscarriage. We love you all and hope that we have the privilege to love and serve you the way you have for us.

*We are by no means the authority on miscarriage. We realize that not every one feels or needs the same things. Between each of our experiences these are the things we agree on.

Relate, never anyone but you

2011-07-18T18:40:00.000-05:00

I am filled with love and gratitude about today's particular relate blog post, the relationship I share with my beloved husband. It being Monday, I am especially sentimental (for those of you who don't have our family schedule memorized...Monday is our only full day "off" as a family). We spent this morning the way we spend most Monday mornings, going to our favorite breakfast place and playing with Lyric. I don't know what it is like to be married to someone who doesn't like their kids, but I frankly can't imagine it. I can't imagine not seeing both of my guys glowing with love and playfulness on our den floor in the early mornings and evenings. I love the rhythm of our family. I love every minute of it. Even more, I love that when our rhythm is jolted and jerked by unexpected heartbreaks or unforeseen changes I love that I can literally bawl my eyes blurry on my husband's shoulder and he won't even comment on the mascara (both on his shirt and ALL over my face). I love that we can spend an entire day putting a massive dent in the couch and our netflix que, but that any moment we can go on a long bike ride or talk or write or clean together. I love that we both love to make people laugh. I love that we both love to dream. I love that we both love having friends in our home, especially cooking for them. I love that we both confess secret thoughts and desires with "I would never say this to anyone but you..." I love that I have a best friend who will call me out (in private) if I'm out of line. I love that Austin locks all our doors and turns off all the lights before bed. I love that Austin makes his mind up about something and does what it takes to make it happen. I love that he loves the Lord, I love that he teaches me about the Lord, and I love that he leads our family biblically. I just love him. He is my favorite person.

Relate, sisterfriend

2011-07-13T10:39:00.002-05:00

My husband always says that God gave us two things to make life here on earth more bearable. The first being martial relations (that's marital people, if you aren't married then you need to wait and see) and the second being good food (like really-good-takes-hours-and-hours-and-lots-of-love-kind-of-food). But I think that we have three things, and I think that the third is relationships. Not just every relationship, but the ones that make you better and the ones that push you forward. So here is my first post of my "relate" blog series, which is a conglomeration of odes, if you will. And today it's about the sisterfriend. I'm so thankful for my cherished sisterfriends, you gals know who you are and I hope you can one day know just how much I cherish your friendship.

I'll admit this is a little greeting card-esk, but let's face it--who doesn't sound mushy when they describe the people they love.

A sisterfriend will brave that dreaded hour of "crying it out" with you during nap time at your house so that you can chat over coffee. A sisterfriend will meet you in the midst of your pain and cry with you and pray over you. A sisterfriend goes on walks with you and lets you vent about that thing that's "just hard right now" during the first leg of the walk and brings you back down to earth and to the feet of Jesus during the second leg. A sisterfriend brings you flowers right before they bud because she knows that more than anything, you need to see the promises of spring unfolding in front of you. A sisterfriend knows and loves that your man comes before her and always will. A sisterfriend knows you, loves you, and cares; that is the meat and potatoes of the most meaningful gal pals I've got. Just showing up and knowing, loving, and caring.

Discovering Bitterness

2011-06-21T18:07:00.000-05:00

I am so inspired to write, I just read so many awesome posts from my reel. So I decided to reach back into my "back-logged and previously written, but not yet publish-perfect" drafts, add on, edit, and post.

I always thought that when people get to the point where they "grieve over their sin," it was a good thing. And it is a good thing... except it feels awful. In the months following our miscarriage (four months to be exact) I've found that 95% of the time I can go through my day being thankful for both of my babies, the one who is here with us and the one who is with the Father. I can think about that little one and not be filled with sadness or sorrow or disappointment or anger or jealousy or regret or shame. But then there is that sneaky remaining 5%. It's never expected, but something random will happen in a random day or I will read something or I will hear something, and here I am. Here I am aching from a whole in my heart, hurting from the void in our lives and filled with this burning thing. Burning too deep and so real that all I can think about is that one thing I read or that one careless comment I heard.
It's bad enough when those things happen in and of themselves. But to be filled with grief and then realize...this thing, this burning thing...it's bitterness. It's sin. I had it hidden, way deep under here. And it grieves me. It hurts. I hate it. I wanted to think that I was passed that. No, more than "passed," I wanted to think that I ~~avoided~~ it altogether. I wanted to think that I loved God enough and clung to Him tightly enough and hid enough scripture in my heart, that I wouldn't have to deal with my sin on top of my grief. I don't want this bitterness, it feels like taking a step backwards. And I can't go back. I won't go back.

But it isn't a total step backwards, grieving my sin is a step towards repentance. I thought grieving your sin meant being a super spiritual person. I thought it would be awesome. But really, the heartbreak of my own sin and the tension that sin brings between me and my sweet Jesus...it feels terrible. But like all grief...it's taking me somewhere, it is moving me forward. It's bringing me to repentance and amazing grace.

Fighting the More Monster

2011-06-08T20:49:00.000-05:00

I'm currently typing to you from the cutest possible blog writing senerio, sipping coffee looking out the huge windows of my in-laws' "flat" in eastern Europe. We love it here. The culture just fits us, Austin keeps saying he was born in the wrong country. Outdoor cafes literally line the streets, all the food is amazing as well as fresh and natural, the people enjoy each other's company and work to live (unlike Americans who live to work). But amidst all the picturesque people, places, and things there is an ugly dark spot for me...and it's growing.

So sometimes as a young married, new parent, and stay at home mom I chat with other women in any or all of these categories about saving money. I love the idea of being thrifty and I sort of pride myself on it. I don't care about name brands and I love shopping at outlets or TJ Max kind of stores. So as a spender...I save money. But when it comes down to it, I would save a lot more money if I wasn't "saving as a spender" I would save money if I was avoiding spending altogether. But who wants to do that? Well my friends, I have come to discover that there are wondrous women out there who can nonchalantly and honestly say "I just don't need more stuff." Uhh..seriously?! Seriously, you don't want more? Dang. I was hoping that this was just a human-nature kind of thing or at least a woman-nature thing. Because I want more. I always want more stuff. I guess it took me this long to realize it because I'm not concerned about the social-status of my stuff...but nonetheless I still want stuff. I want new trendy outfits, I want housewares, I want furniture, I want practical stuff, I want unique stuff, I want baby stuff, I want decoration stuff, I want kitchen stuff, I want shoes, I want the perfect pair of jeans, I want loose fitting shirts that somehow simultaneously make me look skinnier, I want outdoor stuff, I want garden stuff, I want hardcover books, I want an e-reader, I want new music, I want intellectual stuff, I want organizational stuff, I want it all. I'm a monster.

Bleck just writing all that made me so grossed out. And reading it over for a proof read made me even more disgusted. So instead of chasing the more monster I'm going to try really hard to chase "enough." I think that sometimes people see the word "enough" as a bad thing, like it really means "just scratching the surface." But I think it means "yea I'm good, and this is good." When I abandon my "I want I want I want" I realize that I am good and this is good. So here's to having an amazing husband, a joyful baby boy, coffee in the mornings on the deck, and breezy evenings eating Dairy Queen blizzards with good people. And you know what? It is enough. I guess thats the secret all those wondrous women knew, chasing enough--pursuing it, embracing it, and cherishing it.

Blogging about what to blog after a monumental blog

2011-06-02T10:56:00.000-05:00

Even though I LOVE writing, sometimes I just get totally lost. First of all, how am I supposed to follow up one of the most personal blogs ever?! I don't want to paint myself in a corner and keep talking exclusively about miscarriage (even though, I will definitely continue writing about that), because then it will be even harder to break out and write about all the many other things that are write-worthy. I don't want to do a photo blog of photos from our overseas trip to Serbia (though some blogs will definitely come out of that trip). I don't want to write about mundane things or funny things (though as the mishaps and misadventures occur, and they always do, I will share them). So I will post a blog about writers block. I am so grateful and overwhelmed that any of you even read my blog, and I promise I tried really hard to write while we were on our trip. Oddly enough, the writing that I most enjoyed was a snip-it about not being able to write, which turned around and made itself into a snip-it about writing. So I will copy and paste from the email I wrote myself and you can just take what you will from it.

Thoughts on writing

Something about being somewhere with so much history but also so much modern western influence...it's like a big huge contradiction. Like as soon as you really start thinking about all the history and tradition, you get distracted by all the shopping and eating and drinking. And of course another huge contradiction, I've been dying to grab another pair of hands to keep up with Lyric so that I could get some writing out, but now with an abundance of time on my hands and plenty of help with the little man...I can't seem to muster a significant sentence to save my life. It's almost like a forbidden fruit--writing, at least for me. It's like this important, even urgent at times, all consuming, relentless stream of words and thoughts and concepts just fighting to make it out...but once I have time to really sit down and write, the river slows down to a glassy smooth and there is nothing. It makes me sad really, like maybe it was just a momentary glitch and not any actual talent or gift or rhythm. The rhythm, that's half of it. The flow of the stream and the feel of the river. Because who cares if I have thoughts-- everyone has thoughts, what makes them special is the way the thoughts feel. Do they feel escaping and fun and urgent and clever, do they burn into my mind leaving me desperate to both write them and read them? A thought is just a thought unless you like reading it and hearing it and saying it.

Easter and our miscarriage.

2011-04-27T15:25:00.000-05:00

I have literally written and deleted and written this post at least 6 times. Each time, stopping and giving myself some time and space to read this again before posting and each time I come back to it, I am increasingly dissatisfied. So I'm just going to rip the bandaid off. I'm just going to say it. I'm saying it. I had a miscarriage. It happened in February.

I rewrote this post (and will probably continue to fight the urge to toss the whole thing out again) so much because every day is different. One day I sat down and wrote this blog with lots of facts, medical facts, timeline facts, all sorts of facts with nothing personal or emotional. One time I sat down and wrote this blog with all emotion, everything dark and sad and scary and mad, I wrote it all without any sense of hope or resolve. One time I sat down and wrote this blog with all the optimism and hope you could imagine, filled with gratitude and silver linings. None of those felt right on the second read, but all of them were right in that moment, on that day. The fact of the matter is that I have felt impersonal and very distant and only able to repeat the medical facts that I know. I have felt sad and hurt and betrayed by my body. I have felt (and thankfully continue to increase in) feelings of gratitude that we were given the precious gift of guardianship even if only for 6 weeks and hopeful that my deepest desire, to bring the Lord glory with my life, will be fulfilled in Him and through Him.

It was so hard to write this for two reasons. One being that at first I thought I had to know exactly how I would explain it, how I felt about it, and where it leaves us before I could write it out and "break the news" on my blog. The other reason being, I was fearful of what someone would comment or what someone might say if they ran into me in the grocery store after reading this. I'm not exactly the best at being vulnerable. But God is good, God has been good and He will continue to be good.

This is the last post for my Easter series because this Easter the gift of salvation was vital to my heart's gladness. Before the miscarriage happened, I had an unshakeable fear that miscarriage was in the future for us. At first just thinking about it felt like driving on a long road that faced a dead end. But then I looked at our life (including and focusing on the possibility of a miscarriage) through the gospel. When I looked at our miscarriage with a heart fixed on the gospel, it wasn't a dead end anymore. Jesus freed me. Jesus will continue to free me, there are no more dead ends. "and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."I can hope; I can hope in the Lord, because my identity is not dependent on how many babies I can have. My identity is, however, completely wrapped up in, intertwined with, and dependent on Christ's death and resurrection as a substitutionary atonement for my sin.

I had to write this and share this, because God will be glorified through this...but how can I believe that if I keep it a secret to protect myself? This is a part of my story, my story of God the Savior and His continuing faithfulness. This is not a dead end, this is part of my sanctification. I also shared my story because miscarriage is common, and yet extremely isolating. If any of you out there can benefit from reading and sharing in this journey, then my story will not be wasted and it does not hold the power to isolate you or me any longer.

Easter is here

2011-04-24T20:44:00.000-05:00

Easter is almost over and my weary fingers are delighted to type away about such a full day. I'm exhausted, but the good kind of exhausted from rich worship, teaching, fellowship and celebration.

Yesterday I kept thinking about what that middle day between crucifixion and resurrection must have been like for the beloved disciples. I am sure they were in the midst of utter sadness and grief, I wonder if some of them were confused. This was a man that they thought would be a great king, and now it seemed that he was just gone. When I think about the joy and surprise that must have overtaken them when they got news that he had risen and was not in the tomb or when they finally recognized him there with them, it's one of the few things that will make me cry in a public place...I'll just put it that way.

So I will just leave you with this last thought. The most joyful thing about Easter (in my heart at least) is that the only promise that ever mattered was kept. A promise kept. His promise kept. He is risen, He is risen indeed!

If you have questions about all this Easter business I've been chattering away about, you should definitely check out the Easter message from our church, Harvest Bible Chapel Davenport.

Good Friday, a day for remembering

2011-04-22T11:18:00.001-05:00

Today is a busy day, the start of a marathon if you will. Being a pastor's wife, you would think that I would choose a different holiday as my favorite, but the very reason that Easter is such a big ministry weekend is the same reason I love it--it's pivotal.

Since I am squeezing all I can out of every minute today, I will be brief (but hopefully not lacking). I just watched the 30 minute Good Friday film that Mars Hill Church released for free download (this film is graphic and discretion should be used, it may not be appropriate for young ones) and Pastor Mark said something that perfectly explained how I feel about these three days. He said "Good Friday is about what we did to Jesus, and Easter is about what Jesus did for us."

This morning Austin and I read Lyric the story behind Good Friday, he obviously had no clue why we were reading him a book with no pictures...but it was important for us to remember, with reverence this morning, the death of Jesus. I would encourage you to take the time to do the same. Sunday we will celebrate like no other, but today we are remembering, with utter gratitude, the price that was paid.

Easter is my favorite; Easter is hope

2011-04-20T16:56:00.000-05:00

Easter is my favorite. It beats Christmas, Halloween, and definitely Valentines day. The last two...I mean duh, come on those are not really in the running to be anyone's favorite, but Christmas? Yea it beats Christmas, barely, but in my book it still beats it.

Easter is the celebration of the sacrifice and triumph that forever changed my life and I hope it changed yours too. Easter is what hope really means isn't it? No, not literally. Explaining that will take a moment, I need to step back and tell you a story. So several years ago during my college days, one of my many many "phases" was the stereotypical-enlightened-college-student-save-the-world phase. I had found a humanitarian cause that I was passionate about and decided to throw myself into it. I applied for an internship (which thankfully I did not get) and was prepared to up root and move to a third world country. My dad was patient in listening to my rants (I'm sure he knew that this too would fade just as other temporary passions had before), but then gently pointed out one very major flaw. If my plan for "saving the world" did not include and completely center itself on the gospel, then I really wasn't saving them. He pointed out that while drinking wells, and new shoes, and safe homes were all wonderful things and very worthwhile causes, if those causes had no intention of saving their soul then it was essentially improving their temporary quality of life until they spent eternity in torment. I never thought of it that way, I had never looked at life with the gospel in the center. I mean sure God and being good and reading my bible and going to church...all that was at the center, but this was the first time that it really dawned on me that without the gospel activating all of that...it meant nothing. None of the people who "needed my help" would really ever have true hope until they had Jesus.

Ok, so now we are back. Now you understand why Easter is hope (my abridged version). I love that every year we take a day and we praise the one who made us new. I love that for that day, we stop and we remember what it took to overcome sin and death, it took Jesus. Perfect, perfect, clean, holy Jesus. I love that we celebrate the event that gives us our only true "second chance" just as the flowers are budding and blooming. I love that we celebrate that Jesus came out of the tomb during the time of year when we emerge out of our winter hibernation. I even love that Easter egg hunts happen, even though they don't really hold any connection to Christ's death and resurrection, because when people are out enjoying nature they are witnessing the power of God. "For what can be known about God is plain to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse" Romans 1:19-20. And I love that even when the egg-hunts get rained out (which could very well happen this year) that we can marvel at his love "he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth" Hosea 6:3. And I really really love that Easter is one day on a calendar, but the gospel "is the power of God for salvation to every who believes"(Romans 1:16-17) every day. Every single day, hallelujah!

Getaway--The First Easter Blog

2011-04-15T23:35:00.000-05:00

Fresh off a getaway to Chicago with my wonderful husband this morning feels amazing. The best thing about getting away is that reality does not feel quite so realistic. Something about being away and out of your normal environment brings clarity. It's like being in an airplane and looking at your life. You can see everything where it really is and how it all fits together.

At least for me, just as wonderful as getting away, coming home is equally rejuvenating. Today is not really any different from any other day for a SAH (stay at home), but something about it seems special and beautiful. Breakfast with Lyric and going to the Y--it seems so adventurous. It seems so new.

That is why Easter feels so different for me. It's why Easter is my favorite. Because it is a celebration of newness. New life, new creation, new promises, new hope.

Oh Poo

2011-03-29T16:20:00.001-05:00

This post is mainly written for my sweet and sassy friend Adrienne. She once confessed to me that she secretly (sorry Aige, I guess the secret is out) wished little mishaps and misadventures on me because she loves reading and/or hearing my over-dramatic and ridiculous recounts of them.

So recently I was changing Lyric's diaper, a very poopie and fully loaded diaper, and it was just like any other changing--at first. Like any other changing because Lyric squirmed and half-rolled over as I attempted to clean and re-diaper him, as usual I had to put a toy right on his chest, forcing him to lay straight on his back to play with it. All went well...a diaper change success! Then something happened (and I don't say "something" because I am trying to build your curiosity, I honestly don't remember what exactly happened) I must have gotten a phone call or had to answer the door or sign for a delivery....something that required me to quickly wrap up the dirty diaper, abandon it, throw up the baby gate, and walk away briefly. After what could have only been 30 seconds, I walked back over to Lyric and saw him sitting up and so alert, cutely playing with a toy with all his concentration. At first I couldn't see what toy Lyric was playing with because of an ottoman thingy that was just barely disrupting my line of vision. Then, as I walked up close to Lyric and the presumed "toy," I was horrified. Lyric had unwrapped the dirty diaper (ok, yes..I know, at this point you think I am both a disgusting individual for leaving a dirty diaper on my floor and a horrible mom for leaving the diaper not only on the floor, but within reach of a child....try to push past those feelings), not only had he opened it, but he had discovered his very own homemade creation....poop. At this point he had two fistfuls of poop that he was watching himself squeeze and mold like play-dough. Oh and I should mention that our dog Max was totally in on the action, but he was much more concerned about the diaper full of free...food. Thank you God, Lyric had not thought to taste his new play thing. I rushed over and picked Lyric up carrying him outward and trying to hold his hands away from his mouth. Immediately went to the sink to wash the poop out and off of his hands. I hesitated...what would be worse? Switching venues thus delaying Lyric's hygienic needs for a moment and going to a bathtub or at least a bathroom sink to rinse away poop...or to take care of this where I am, the kitchen...a place where food is prepared and cooked but allowing me to clean my son as quickly as possible??? I choose the second, and found that washing the hands of a 7 month old who doesn't want them washed is near impossible. I must have washed his hands 20 times before I got all the poop out of every crevasse. Then it was my turn. And then back to the carpet and the dog.

We recovered and none of us got worms from our poop interaction, which...now that I think about it, is probably a miracle of sorts. So... I will leave you with this sentiment. No matter what comes up, no matter what distractions, no matter what emergency, always ALWAYS throw the dirty diapers away first.

green under all this gray

2011-03-22T14:23:00.001-05:00

I find myself hesitating to use gardening as an analogy or metaphor in this blog, hasn't it been done enough? But I absolutely cannot hold my compulsion to rejoice out of pure desperation for spring. Warm days have come and gone and since been forgotten with no notion of spring in my mind. But this weekend I made amateur attempts to garden in warm weather. Our flower bed was completely covered with ugly browns and grays (usually my favorite colors in clothing, but not so much for nature) I found myself thirsty for more green with each new leaf and bloom that appeared.

This year, I needed spring. No, you don't understand...I needed spring. I needed to see the life and hope and newness of the green after a long desolate winter. I needed to see that He can and does make all things new. I need to see that for every winter comes a spring. Each of those winters with its unique snow flakes and blizzards and each spring with its new surprises and colors and smells. I could cry just thinking about the promises of spring. With every pile of dead winter plant carcasses I pulled out of our garden, I could breathe a little more. I experienced more freedom with each fist full of muck that disappeared.

Thank you for spring! I can dance again. Healing is in your hands.

Tattoo Taboo?

2011-03-09T10:30:00.004-06:00

Recently there has been some talk of tattoos around us, friends getting them, parents asking about them, and brides covering them up. It made me realize, I haven't really shared my tattoo story with many people.

Things this blog post is not:
1. a tactic to encourage or divert anyone from or for tattoos
2. a way for me to show off, although I do love my tattoo, its about my story
3. making a statement about others choices or motives for getting inked

Right before Lyric was born I was looking for his life verse, and I wanted it to have a music reference in it. I wanted this reference, not because we love music in our family, but because I wanted Lyric to have the biblical and spiritual connection for the name we chose for him. When we were picking names, and we came upon Lyric, I personally loved it so much because I feel like life is a song of sorts and having Lyric was like putting words to our song as a family.

In July, four weeks after Lyric was born, he was diagnosed with Pyloric Stenosis and had to have a minor surgery (you can read a past post about what exactly happened). During that time I clung to the verse Psalm 28:7 as my utter comfort and promise. Ironically, I had nearly forgotten that this was Lyric's life verse, I just knew that the truth within this particular verse was such a source of encouragement and strength when I felt that I had neither of my own. The verse says "The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to him." Being a parent and feeling like this baby's life was completely in your hands, and then suddenly being completely and totally out of control and unable to prevent and protect your child shakes you to the core. I would never have wanted to go through this, to be with our teeny tiny baby in the hospital, but I would never trade it. The Lord was so near and so strong. The way Austin tells the story of the day is almost humorous to me. I was unusually composed and unemotional, and Austin was (while still composed) definitely emotional. If only he had known at the time that I was repeating this one verse in my head over and over and over like a crazy person. (Oh and no worries, I don't have a heart of stone, after we left the hospital with Lyric I completely lost it).

Psalm 28:7 was brought to life because of Lyric's surgery, but it was it's content which was completely glued to my heart and mind. The Lord is my strength, yes absolutely true. The Lord is my shield, definitely had experienced that protection. In him my heart trusts, God had not been taken by surprise--even though I had. My heart exults, yes yes...he is worthy of rejoicing even when I'm scared, alone, drained, hurting, and exhausted. With my song I give thanks to him, both with my literal song and the song of our life and family.

So now you know the back story. The actual sentimental and personal reason why I was compelled to get a tattoo. I should also note that I already knew that I liked tattoos (since marrying a super hot guy with one himself), and I knew that when/if I had something meaningful enough for a lifetime, I would get a tattoo myself. For me, my tattoo is not art (even though I think it's pretty), it's not self expression (I mean kinda is...you can't totally avoid that when you permanently mark yourself), it's not an attention grabber by intention, it's my Ebenezer.

In 1 Samuel, God comes to the aid of the Israelites when they were in battle. Ebenezer means "stone of help" which was set up by Samuel in remembrance of the help God had brought them. (To get the full story, read 1 Samuel 7)

My tattoo is my ebenezer, a mark to remember what God is, was, and will continue to be.

And for the logistical side of things: I waited until I was out of my parents house and no longer under their authority (they were not big fans of the idea), I waited until I was married (my body isn't just mine, it is also my husbands, so I didn't want to do something permanent until I knew that the man I would marry would love it), and I waited until and only tattooed after I was sure that this was something that I would never regret.

Ok...now you have the full story.

Paige Newton Photography

Why blog?

2011-03-05T16:31:00.000-06:00

So... previous to my last post I decided that I would be writing much more frequently in order to "exercise" my writing "muscle" so as to improve, to share the beauty and heartache of this life on earth with others, and, frankly, to bulk up my blog traffic. And yet, here I am arriving "home" from an unexpected sabbatical....but that is another blog for another day.

So lately, I've been thinking of a...well I guess a mission statement of sorts for why I should blog. Why is it to important to broadcast my thoughts on the world wide web? What I came up with so far is that as my life continues to develop and grow and change, I learn more about myself and more about God and how the two collide and what that even looks like. I guess, I keep discovering that there are so many things in life that are kept quiet, some good and some more like secret land-mines. But how can we stay so quiet if God uses those things in such pivotal ways in our lives? No one can really warn you or prepare you for all of life's lessons...but shouldn't we rejoice together? Shouldn't we rejoice through the pain and heartache as well as through the marriage vows and first steps and all the goodness? We don't have to spill all the gory details of our happenstances, but shouldn't we share how the cross changes everything about them?

Well shoot, that ended up being a chunk of rhetorical questions instead of a concise "mission statement"...but hey it made the point...I think.

It is He who made us

2011-01-08T17:16:00.000-06:00

This is the post I didn't really want to write. I have been avoiding writing this by telling myself I couldn't share something so personal until I had some sort of resolution. I compromised with myself. But please, bare with me, it's scary to be vulnerable.

"You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the dust. You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us." This amazing lyric is from the song Beautiful Things by Gungor. Ironically, ever since Austin introduced this song to me I have been obsessed with it. Like the one-song-repeat-for-an-hour kind of obsessed. I persistently requested that Austin to do this song with our dear sisterfriend Camie. All this time I have been singing this song to my Creator, and unwittingly I was lying. I didn't really believe He made beautiful things out of us... well not all of us. Not me. (my heart hurts just putting that to words)

Since being pregnant, I have been so dissatisfied with my physical appearance. No, that isn't sufficient. I have lamented over my physical appearance. I have avoided mirrors. I have believed evil lies about myself. Shamefully, I even dreaded future pregnancies because of what it would do to my body. (I feel completely mortified putting words to that) I lived in bondage, whilst giving my Redeemer a slap in the face. Nothing looked good enough or felt good enough or was good enough. I had just welcomed our amazing and healthy son into the world and moved across the country being lead to an awesome church and community. I was learning so much about Him, but there was a growing spiritual cancer inside. I had come to a point where nothing in my closet was doing the job, and finally a point where nothing in any store could work either. At first I was buying new clothes and returning them the next day out of dissatisfaction. Around Christmas my sweet husband let me go out and buy a few things for myself, but I couldn't. Nothing fit right, nothing was cute enough, nothing was worth waiting in line for or paying for. We were in Dallas mind you, a place where I have had no issues blowing money in the past. This wasn't the first time that clothes or the lack thereof had broken me. This time, I was so anxious to get back to my parents' house and see Lyric. I was convinced that if I could just see him, I would remember why my body had changed so drastically and how worth it that small sacrifice was. But it didn't work. I sat looking down at him sleeping, and cried, whispering to Lyric (mainly to myself) "why aren't you enough? having you should be enough"

God had not been silent. My Savior had not abandoned me ever. He had been whispering and sometimes pleading with me to understand. He showed me that there are so many women that would give up their physique if they could just have a healthy baby in their arms. He opened my eyes to the other side of the coin, that if Lyric had been unhealthy that I too would have gladly traded my looks for him. He told me about my creation, "Katy, I did not create you as an infant and stop being your Creator. I created who you were yesterday, I created who you will be in 50 years, and I created you as you are now." And yet...and yet my sin was my comfort. My hatred of my changed body was fastening chains that bound me tighter and tighter. When I realized that this was sin that I was facing and not--what exactly was it that I thought I was dealing with? It had been so long since sin had seemed so big to me.

There was a series of events which served as a catalyst in breaking chains. In a long dark drive to a relatives' home, I finally started to understand how much it hurt my man that I completely despised my physical self while he "was obsessed with [me] post pregnancy." Being married, I almost always forget that "being one" isn't just a figure of speech. When I hate me, I hurt him. While we were in Dallas we had the opportunity to share dinner with our beloved friends the Patronellas, and after sharing my shameful feelings of inadequacy with sisterfriend, Andea, I knew that I had to move from this place. I wrote a timeline of sorts in my journal. How did I feel about myself pre-preg, during preg, and post preg. If I highlighted the number of times the word "proud" was written, you would need sunglasses to read the thing. Of course. Of course my pride had found another way in. Why did I think that this idol would just disappear from my life? While we were in Texas, we had the joy of attending my sister in-law, Tara's church, Stonegate Church. Our friend Rodney Hobbs is the pastor there and we were a little sad that he was out of town, but their associate pastor Dan was speaking in his place. Dan taught on biblical repentance, a topic that would hit me right straight between the eyes. Dan shared that sin was not just doing wrong things, it was anything that put tension between us and God and needed to be repented of. BOOM. And there it was. Finally, finally I could see the steps that were before me. It was repentance. It was not a total postpartum make over. It was not finding the most flattering clothes. It was repentance.

It seemed like God had softened my heart and taught me, like I had gotten that big fat nugget of wisdom I needed, but He was not finished. I just started the Siesta Scripture Memory Team through Living Proof Ministries. The idea is too choose two scriptures a month and memorize them, for a year (along with countless other believers). I need to arm myself with scripture to fight these lies. My Precious Lord gave me this to start "Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture." Psalm 100:3. Such a simple truth, but one that shapes my identity. I just started looking for my next scripture to memorize when I read this with fresh eyes "but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious" 1 Peter 3:4. "in God's sight is very precious." Why wasn't that my approach? Why have I been living this way? While journaling away about these precious jewels, I found myself writing "It's exhausting trying to be beautiful for everyone." BOOM.(again) I was living for the world. I wanted them all to think I was beautiful, for all of them to give me a pat on the back for being beautiful. Not conforming to this world holds a stronger meaning when it means not caring what the biggest trend is or how thin I am.

This post has taken me a full week to write (not including all the "mental writing" aka lying awake at night with this looming over me). All week I have struggled back and forth. On one hand I felt like this battle was too current and fresh for me to post for the whole world to have access to. On the other hand, I needed (still need) to know that other women share this battle, so maybe if I share this then some woman out there can turn from her chains, or at least realize she is living in them. But, I can't ignore the call that compelled me to share this part of my heart.

It's a New Year

2011-01-06T15:07:00.000-06:00

Ok, so I am mentally writing a bulky blog post. So while I finish mulling it over, I decided to post a fun, short, little post.

New Year's Resolutions

1.eat healthy

2.work out at least 3 times a week

3.floss every day

4.do the Living Proof Scripture Memory without falling behind (if you want to join me, read more about this here.

As cliche as it is to have New Years Resolutions, I have them nonetheless. I think I picked four that I can accomplish, what about you?

More of a promise, less of a resolution

2010-12-14T10:44:00.000-06:00

Readers, scanners, and perusers,

Thank you for taking the time to visit my blog and read my thoughts. My deepest and most sincere hope for this blog is that it will be an outpouring of what the Lord is teaching and revealing in my life that I hope will build you up as well. Since becoming a mom, I have battled endless inner-tension about ministry. I have never really been in a stage in life where I have to come to the conclusion that the ways I am serving my family, child, and home are what the Lord has laid out for me, but here I am. I am so used to finding a ministry and throwing myself into it...whether I like it or not, that I don't totally know how to function with this new call. However, God is continually affirming that we are starting anew. (And can I just say, praise Him that His mercies are new every morning! I am almost sure that by the time morning comes each day...without that new mercy...God might be getting a little annoyed that He has to keep repeating Himself. Ok...that was a little too humanizing, but you get my drift.) Being a new stay at home momma, a pastors wife (oh man, I still giggle at that a little in my head. I know for a fact that as a teenager I claimed that being a pastor's wife was the LAST and I mean last role I would ever want), a new home owner and therefore new housewife, is a huge job...and for that matter, it's a huge ministry. I am so excited for the day when I can throw myself into the local church again and serve in new ways, but for now...despite much stubbornness, I am discovering the excitement of supporting my man's ministry, loving my man and my little buddy with the love of Christ, and creating en gedi in our home(if you are wondering what on earth en gedi is, go here). However, I can't ignore the pure joy I get from this blog. The Holy Spirit is stirring a passion for writing and sharing and learning in my life and I believe that He is allowing me to use this blog as a ministry.

I am confessing here and now that I am constantly fighting the lie that "no one wants to sit and read what I have to say. What do I have to say anyway? Who am I to say anything?" So please, keep me accountable friends!

I have a couple of blogs stirring around in my heart and head that I am very excited about. But in the short moment that I have now, I wanted to make this declaration and promise that I will be obediently writing and sharing with you as much as my full time ministry allows ;)

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Homesick

2010-11-20T13:29:00.001-06:00

Warning: I'm going to be honest, the kind where you admit stuff.

When I was single and thought about Heaven, especially the return of Christ to take us home, I often thought to myself, "that will be so awesome, but I have to get married first." When I was engaged I thought, "I can't wait for that!...Except that I really want to know my husband first" (in the biblical sense. I said I would be honest, but my dad might read this or something, ew.) Once I was married I thought, "Dang, when Christ returns it will be so beautiful, but I really want to be a mom first." Since having a son, it was "yea great, except I want to see Lyric marry a ballar woman of God first."

Recently, with all the current events and happenings of this generation, I have found myself thinking "Where can we go? Where can we move that will shelter Lyric from all this?" and then...boom. This longing feeling, its for home. Home. Then last week during worship it really hit me. And no, I can't even tell you what song or what prayer or what scripture changed my heart.

If marriage is a tangible picture here on earth of the marriage between Christ and the church, then why am I so eager to wait and see Lyric take part in the knock-off? It will be a happy day when Christ comes back for us, but it will be exponentially more beautiful seeing Lyric join the bridegroom. I'm so thankful for this insight, but a little sad that it took becoming a parent to see. Being a mom has given me this new and fresh desire for whats best instead of what feels best. This new gift of insight about the coming of Christ is just that, a gift; but its also a challenge to seek the perfect will of God for myself, not just for my children. (those born and yet to be born)

Thanks for letting me be honest.

Thoughts on surrender

2010-11-14T15:21:00.000-06:00

So far I am still pondering over my next actual blogpost. However, I came upon this quote from Beth Moore's study "To Live is Christ" and recently shared it with a friend. It just keeps floating around my mind and I think that this is valuable for so many of us. Thinking of surrender in this way is so foreign to me, but I absolutely love it. I hope that this tid bit serves you as it has me.

"We sometimes feel as if we're playing tug of war with God. In bitter tears, we sometimes let go of the rope, tumble to the ground, and cry, 'Have your way, God! You're going to do what you want anyway!'

Please recognize that God is not playing a game. He wants to say yes to us so badly. He knows how desperately we want some of the things for which we are asking. God doesn't jerk on the rope just so He can win. In fact, He doesn't want us to let go of the rope at all. Rather than see us drop the rope and give up, He wants us to hang on and let Him pull us over to His side.

God's will is always best even when we cannot imagine how. Surrendering to His will does not mean you lose. Ultimately, it means you win. God does not want you to feel defeated when you realize He's overruled in a desire of your heart. God is not asking you to give up. He's leading you to give over. Keep hanging on to that rope and let Him pull you over to His side. One day you'll understand. And you'll see His glory."

God has a southern twang.

2010-10-28T15:16:00.000-05:00

Ever since I started doing the Beth Moore study, To Live is Christ, the Lord started sounding a little different when he spoke. As a southern girl, plucked out of the south and planting new roots in the midwest, getting to spend a little time with a truly southern woman via video lessons each Tuesday morning is a treat. I love southern twang, in fact I wish mine was stronger sometimes. More than southern twang, I LOVE southern attitude. Which brings me to the Lord's voice. Lately, God has had a southern twang about Him. Two examples, and hard life lessons:

1. Recently some friends from Texas came up to visit. So of course all the long term plans for decorating our home became short term plans in my mind and heart. You know how it is, you want every project done, every decal and frame hung in its proper place. So, we have this big (and oddly lightweight) old brown frame. I decided that it would look awesome hanging on our bathroom mirror (right in the middle to give a little more ambiance). I looked it up online and found that all I needed to do was glue it with epoxy glue. So, being the thoughtful woman I am, after Lyric's four month shots and home with no other helpful adults to assist me, I decided that this was the time for that little project. (I know, its so obvious...just wait until Austin gets home!) As you can imagine the project was a flop for many many reasons. Now the only ambiance our bathroom has is the huge glops of glue all over the mirror. The next day armed with Goo Gone, I scrubbed that mirror for two hours (during nap time, I wised up a little). I scrubbed and scrubbed. And you know what I heard? "Girl, you can scrub that mirror as much as you want, but until you get that heart right it won't matter...even if you do get the glue off." My heart was so set on getting all my cool stuff up and looking good and impressing our friends. How could I be so blind? The gift of hospitality wasn't given to me because I know how to decorate on a dime, it was given to me because I love having people in our home. I love the warmth that comes from sharing a meal with friends. I love using our physical home to be a ministry to others. And so, our mirror is riddled with dried glue, but my heart is joyful.

2. I started doing yardwork. I know, its laughable. I am such an amateur, but I'm trying and I'm enjoying it. I was cleaning up our flowerbed and discovered that we have terrible weeds. Knowing the little bit of gardening that I do, I know that you have to attack the root of these things. Its not enough to pull off those ugly leaf things and call it a day. So I dug and I dug and I dug. As I was breaking a sweat and beginning to grunt, I heard that sweet and strong and now southern voice. "Girl, you have to get it at the root. We're gonna have to do this with your sin." Enough said. I'm becoming excited to brace myself for the uprooting of some nasty roots of sin.

As much as I love this new southern twang speaking to my heart, sometimes my Loving God still whispers gently to me.

Naptimes have gotten a little tricky and a little emotional around here lately. Lyric is a champ at rolling over, but at naptime he can't keep himself from rolling and getting stuck in a corner of the crib. Then he just cries and cries. Today (with the advice of losts of helpful moms) I decided to just let him figure it out and check on him lots to make sure he was ok. But I wouldn't get him out of the crib, he has to learn how to nap with this new found ability to roll. So I did it. And eventually it was a great nap. Then when he woke up (at the appropriate time) to eat, he of course cried and cried. I made a bottle and then went to go get him. My sweet and typically smiley boy was redfaced with big tears streaming down his face. I picked him up and told him "Baby baby, I always hear you when you cry, but I have to do whats best for you." My sweet sweet Savior. I hear you.

"Don't Eat the Grease!"

2010-10-18T21:53:00.000-05:00

So as my gal pal Adrienne so delicately put it...this is a semi-devastating event that I encounter seemingly daily. I love that gal.

So today we are doing second coat of blue on the bathroom walls and a first coat of beige on the ceiling. Don't worry, no paint fiasco. However...there was a doggy incident, but all in good time readers, all in good time. So, Austin and I got really pulled into the bathroom project and instead of stopping at 4:45 to get ready for date night (starting at 6), we did not stop until a little after 5-somethingish. So we were both rushing around and not ready on time for our sitter. As I am rushing downstairs, I notice that Austin is putting on new door-knocker thingies and Max is right behind him in the entry way standing over a pile of yuck. Thats right yuck. What is yuck? Yuck is what happens when your small dog gets into a very large Dickeys BBQ cup full of maple bacon grease. If by chance you think that its gross that we have a cup of bacon grease sitting around....please, tell me what you do with your left over grease (seriously, because there must be some other alternative). So I volunteer to clean it...without knowing that its full of bacon grease (and apparently forgetting my unspoken vow as a women to never clean up a dog's vomit if I don't absolutely have to). So I go down to clean it up and.......and nothing....I cleaned it up. But it was extremely yucky and gross. If you were wondering which consistency wins when it comes between dog vomit and bacon grease...its bacon grease, it holds its smell and texture very well. Ew.

Not cute shower head, not cute.

2010-10-08T15:10:00.000-05:00

I'm on a blogging roll here, three posts in three days?!

So tonight we are going to Cedar Rapids, which is about 1.5 hours away to see Andrew Peterson play. This means I have to be on my A-game while Austin is at work. On the To-Do List (in chronological order) 1.Wake up (if you know me, you know that this is a to-do) 2.Play with Lyric and give him his "breakfast" 3.Make myself a healthy breakfast 4. Play with Lyric again 5.Take a shower 6.Put on face and fix hair 7.Give Lyric a bath 8. Start Laundry 9.Give Lyric "lunch" 10.Eat lunch 11.Update iphone 12. Put Lyric down for a nap/catch up on laundry and semi-packing for the night 13. Get dressed in cute outfit for cute family togetherness 14.Hit the rode!

So now that you know what my day consists of, you need to know what NOT CUTE thing happened. After #6 I thought to myself "wow this is possibly the best hair day I have had in a long time, yesss." (ok so pause. the arrangement on this blog is that i get to share my more shallow moments as well as deep ones and you can't judge. ok go.) So then I take out Lyric's cute little baby bathtub and set it in the bath tub. I turn on the water and...simultaneously realize "I don't think I pushed that shower/tub lever back down. I think that my head is out of the way." And....gush. On my head. Tons of water, because we just had to upgrade our shower head to have maximum pressure and coverage. Water ALL over my best hair day. Worse than it being a perfect hair day...it was already crossed off my list. Remember #6, yea I am on #7 now and don't have time to work in reverse.

So now, my sweet boy is squeaky clean and I think my hair survived after I rigorously tried to buff it dry (yes like a car wash) with a towel.

Good hair days turned into mediocre to poor hair days. This is the price we pay for motherhood.

Me vs. Me

2010-10-07T10:23:00.001-05:00

Do you ever have those days where something or some feeling just lingers inside you? When you are dying to talk to you husband, sister friend, and/or mentor about "it", how "it" makes you feel, what to do about "it"? The thought crosses your mind, if this is so big to me right now, then I should pray about it. I know I should seek the Lord. But that nasty flesh side of you says "that takes too much effort, doesn't give you instant solutions, and frankly you might not hear what you want to hear." And you know (excuse my lack of grammar in this post) that all day long all these thoughts are just leading up to the moment when you finally do seek the Lord about "it," so you might as well go ahead and jump in head first into some intense talking and then listening (and listening some more) to Him.

Yea me too. Thats where I'm at.

So, don't call me. I might just need a little help resisting that nasty flesh of mine. Sometimes its harder to be still, then it is to stay busy. Oh geez, look at me now...using the internet as a gal pal. I'm stopping now.

Quick Updates

2010-10-05T21:21:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I love to blog about deep and reflective things, and sometimes I just want to talk about our life. This is one of those times. Austin's parents are here visiting us on their trip to Virginia for IMB training before they leave for Serbia in January. They got here on Friday evening and are staying until Thursday. Since they would be here for awhile, we decided this would be a perfect time for Austin and I to have our first night away. We were blessed with one night at Sofitel Hotel in downtown Chicago, which was AMAZING! We ate dinner at Ra, a small sushi joint, enjoyed a quick and tasty breakfast (possibly the best omlette I've ever had) at Tempo Cafe, went shopping at H&M for winter clothes, and then had a marvelous lunch at Uncle Julios (the first legit mexican food we have had since leaving Texas). We had such a wonderful time, there is nothing better than being married to your best friend. Lyric did great with his grandparents who treated him to a shopping trip for warm clothes! Having fun is exhausting, waiting for Lyric to have his next feeding is killing me; I'm ready for bed now!

Awake

2010-09-05T15:23:00.001-05:00

Last time I wrote a little blog, my little babe was crying and screaming and not sleeping. Here we are again. Undoubtedly, it was a cruel childless person who invented the baby monitor. Unless you are completely deaf or live in a mansion there is no missing what is going on in there, but since we have the monitors of course I'm going to use them...just in case. But, this blog has much bigger fish to fry than ranting about crying it out moments.

Awake. Every day here I feel a little more of it. Living within the call that God brought to our lives 8 short month ago, is utterly fulfilling to say the least. You know when you wake up from a weird dream (like say you and your husband are driving in your father-in-law's nice new truck and then accidentally drive right off a nearly finished construction site thingy into a large and deep body of water and have to swim to the surface in the pitch dark...just for example) and you wake up, but not really, and you are so completely confused and definitely disgruntled? That is what life was, how it felt at least for awhile. Then you have those nights where you sleep like a baby (if you have the sleeping type that is) and wake up refreshed, prepared, and one could even suggest...jubilant. That is what life is. I know that I still have a life time of sacrifice and difficult times ahead, but in the last 8 months (pregnancy, loss of my job, Austin's transitional and income-less couple of months, living with friends and family,having Lyric, enduring our first child's first surgery, Austin's new job, moving, new friends, buying a house) I have seen God's promises come to realization. And I have experienced (for the first time out of what I hope and plan to be many more) the complete and full joy that comes from picking up my cross and following Him.

I've been putting off writing this blog, I think because it felt weird to me. It felt like bragging about my great life. Then it dawned on me, how does being embarrassed about His abundant grace glorify Him? It doesn't. If you have known Austin and I any length of time, I hope that you know that no aspect of our life now is any result of US. There is no reason that we should be where we are with what we have and no way that we could have worked hard enough to make it happen ourselves. God is good. God is gracious. God knew the inner most depths of our hearts, even we didn't.

Crying it out and other life changes

2010-08-20T14:48:00.001-05:00

Moulin Rouge soundtrack, if there is any distraction, is probably the best contender to do the job. I'm currently letting Lyric "cry it out." So far there is lots of crying not so much it-outting. The last few nights have been super inconsistent with sleep and I've realized how inconsistent nap time is. So, even though it would make more sense to wait 7 days until we move into our own house, here I am trying to gain a little piece of order and sanity...not to mention a sleep cycle. This is hard, no doubt, but not because it breaks my heart to hear him cry (I'm not totally callous, but growing up with a special needs sister helped build an immunity to this sort of thing), its hard because I just want to skip this part and be at the part where we are all sleeping happily. However, more than ever before in my life, I see how precious the hard stuff is. As Lyric's mom, I know that this is ultimately what is best for him, not easiest, but best. As a believer, I know that God has a plan and that this whole living out of a box(es) and other people's house(es), is the hard part which will eventually (next week!) make the sweet part one million times sweeter. I truly and deeply believe that going through all this transition with a new baby is perfect timing. In the same way that Lyric does not understand what we are doing, but he has to rely on his parents...we are equally clueless to what all the Lord is working out, but dearly cling to Him. Such a beautiful daily reminder. And my little reminder will hopefully fall asleep soon...

The House

2010-08-12T13:27:00.001-05:00

Here is a picture of the house we are in the process of buying. (I feel like I can't call it our house until we officially close!) Also, our house isn't crooked, just my picture taking skills :)

Now

2010-08-11T16:02:00.001-05:00

I have started this particular blog way too many times. How can I possibly put the last few months into words? I decided to keep it simple.

In the last two months we have:
welcomed Lyric into the world (June 16th)
watched our little one endure his first surgery (July 15th)
moved to Iowa (July 25th)

Currently:
living with the Rowlands who graciously opened their home to us (That picture of us in front of a house is their home)
Austin is working at Harvest Bible Chapel Davenport as the worship pastor
Lyric is plumping up
I am slowly but surely developing a stay-at-home-mom routine

We are looking forward to:
closing on our house! (August 30th)

God has shown Himself as:
Provider
Sustainer
Creator
Healer

I truly cannot find the words to reflect on all that God has done in our lives. I am beyond elated at what is to come in our next stage of life!

Evening Update on Lyric

2010-07-16T17:54:00.000-05:00

Lyric has built up to and held down the necessary amounts of food all day! His IV is being taken out right now! We are waiting to be discharged from the hospital!! It seems that the hardest part of the recovery process is over! The doctor says that in a couple of days he won't even know that anything happened and he will be good as new!

Lyric's Health Update

2010-07-16T08:21:00.000-05:00

I am using this blog for the one thing that I hoped I never would...hospital updates about my son. Ok, let me start by saying that Lyric is ok, now we are just working on a good recovery. Also, please be gracious with me when you read this, on top of being physically exhausted we are emotionally fried. So please don't read this post with a grammatical eye.

For the past week to week and a half Lyric has been vomiting up all his food. At first we questioned that maybe we were just being typical first time parents who were easy spooked. But within the last 4-5 days, Lyric's vomiting became more frequent and (there is no polite way to say this) bigger amounts. We saw our pediatrician Monday (june, 12th); Lyric weighed 8lbs 6oz, which was a lower weight than expected. Our doctor spoke to us about a couple of possibilities and came to the conclusion that Lyric was suffering from reflux. He started a safe medication to treat his reflux, which should have been affective immediately. By Wednesday morning, nothing had changed. After getting a second opinion and much appreciated advice from my uncle (also a pediatrician), we visited our doctor again Thursday at 11:30am to have him weighed again and re-evaluated. Lyric weighed 8lbs 1.9 oz, which was not only less than he weighed Monday, but was also less than he weighed at birth. (Yes, we know that babies' weights go down and then back up, but we had already done that by his two week visit.) Our pedi told us that we should go straight to Children's hospital so that they could do a sonogram, since he suspected that Lyric had Pyloric Stenosis. We came to Cooks Childrens Hospital (and have received the best care we could ask for) and they found that Lyric did in fact have Pyloric Stenosis. Pyloric Stenosis is basically when a muscle that is donut shaped at the bottom of the stomach is too big and bulgy and therefore squeezes any food back up instead of allowing it to be properly digested. Apparently PS (my abbreviation only, not an official nickname) is very common in babies (1 out of 250-400) and especially in first born caucasian males. Lyric was in surgery by 6:30pm last night (the surgery is scheduled right away since he can only begin the road to eating after that). We spent the night at the hospital last night and when we leave totally depends on Lyric's recovery. He has to work his was back up the food chart slowly. Once he can hold down Pedialyte (basically Gatorade for babies), then he can slowly work his way back to milk. So far as of 8:48am, Lyric has not been able to hold down anything. Our nurse was just able to get ahold of one of our doctors and he said that it is completely normal for babies to have a hard time holding food down at first and that he will eventually be able to, its just a matter of time.

We will keep updates on here and on facebook (probably mainly on here though). Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers. The Lord has been very near to us (as He promises in Psalm 46) . We (well mainly me) are clinging to Psalm 28:7. Prayer for rest and recovery and for Lyric's tummy to be at ease would be awesome.

Oh! The nurse just came in and took him off his monitors so now he is only hooked up to his IV and we are able to hold him and rock him!!

New Adventures

2010-05-03T12:48:00.001-05:00

Ok, this is probably going to be a lengthy one, but I guarantee both life updates and much needed reflections.

**If you already know our life updates, you can skip this outrageous paragraph and go straight to the "reflections"

life update: (I have to admit, I am not looking forward to retelling all this for the 1000th time) So in order to explain where the Tullos family is going, you need to know where we have been. Last year-ish I was working at a part time job, Austin was working at one part time job on salary and staff at The Church on Rush Creek and another contract part time job at Lake Pointe Church as well as picking up any random gigs or events, we also both served as a CARES Team in our apartment complex (working roughly 70 hours a month combined between us) in exchange for the apartment we lived in. In January I lost my job, in March (could be April?) Austin's job at Lake Pointe ended. So while I am getting bigger and more pregnant everyday and we now had only one part time job and our CARES Team apartment to live off of, we knew that God must be bringing something new for us soon. Since Austin had recently graduated (December 2009) he took matters into his own hands and thought he would pursue certification to teach. It seemed perfect, a steady income, a rewarding job and summers off. Austin's boss Eric, at Rush Creek, encouraged him to do some hardcore praying over the decisions we were coming close to making. Austin and I took a week of fasting (don't worry I did not fast from food) and challenged ourselves to more prayer, both together and separately. During that week, Austin heard from three different churches, all interested in him as a worship pastor. Neither of us could deny that God clearly wanted Austin to remain in the ministry, somehow, somewhere. Quickly, a church in Iowa (if you are a Texan I know you are thinking "Iowa?!") a church plant out of the Harvest Bible Fellowship, rose to the top. Austin started going through early interviewing processes with them as we read and listened to everything the church had to offer online. After a few weeks, Rob (the lead pastor) and his wife Becky, came down to visit us for less than a day. Austin and I immediately felt great about them and even better about their church, Harvest Bible Chapel in Davenport. We heard back from Rob and the other pastors within the next few days that they would like to fly us up for a visit and to attend their annual Harvest University (a time when all the Harvest churches come together). After discussing probable time lines, the unofficial decision was that we would have Lyric here and then move up to Iowa one month later, the last week of July. We went up to Davenport and immediately fell in love. From the biggest things (the church, the staff, the people) to the smallest (the neighborhoods, the community life, ect.) every detail was/is exactly what we have always said "someday I really would like...." Even though our trip was not intended as a retreat or spiritual revival, we left feeling more refreshed in our faith then we have in a long time. While we were there, Harvest formally offered Austin the job as their worship pastor, which we accepted. Thankfully, we had packed several boxes before even visiting out of our belief that God wanted us in Davenport (aka Quad Cities). We decided that packing and having a baby and remaining the CARES Team would be too much. So now, I am blogging from our new temporary home...Austin's parent's house (and yes, they are here too). Everything we have is in a box stored in an extra bedroom or in the process of being temporarily unpacked (clothes and bath stuff). June 22nd is Lyric's due date, Austin and his dad are going up a couple of weeks later with a Uhaul to do the big move, and July 24th we are planning to pack up our baby and our puppy and drive to our new home. We don't know exactly what that home looks like, we are still pursuing rental options and a couple on staff has graciously opened up their home to us for a few months if we need it. Ok...wow, that was alot. I think that is the full life update. And I'm too tired from typing it to proof read it, so if something is funky let me know.

In the last couple of days as we have actually started phase one of our adventures, I have obviously had a huge mix of emotions. Sadly and shamefully, a thought passed through my mind recently that I will continue to pray against. I thought to myself "wow, we are living out of boxes, kinda homeless and making these huge changes all while we prepare for our first child. We have given so much to answer the call of Christ," mixed in with fleeting thoughts of worry "Oh my gosh, are we going to be really poor in our last months in Texas? How can we meet our financial obligations while still having money to spend having fun?" Today, I have been catching up on lots of reading and journaling and I was straight up called out as I read. One of the books I am reading is Crazy Love by Francis Chan. The first slap to the face was a section about riches, "Which is more messed up- that we have so much compared to everyone else, or that we don't think we're rich? That on any given day we might flippantly call ourselves 'broke' or 'poor'? We are neither of those things. We are rich. Filthy rich." This was a reminder of sorts that I, unfortunately, needed. Then came the even harder hitting, second slap in the face, a section titled "Offering Leftovers." Malachi 1:8 "But when you present the blind for sacrifice, it it not evil? And when you present the lame and sick, is it not evil? Why not offer it to your governor? Would he be pleased with you? Or would he receive you kindly?' says the LORD." Chan and the Holy Spirit then deliver the blow-- "They assumed God was pleased because they had sacrificed SOMETHING. God described this practice as EVIL." I can joyfully share with you that I have been knocked off my high horse this morning. How could I compare the sacrifice of my STUFF with anything that Christ sacrificed that I might live? Even comparing myself to what many of the saints have given to answer His call is arrogant and selfish. Especially when giving up access to our stuff or total privacy for a season, means that we get to live and serve in what we have jokingly refer to as "the promised land."

Phew, sorry for the self-loathing, but when God brings realization in my life I can't help but share.

A.T. + K.T. Forever

2010-04-09T19:02:00.000-05:00

I truly believe I am a part of the most
epic
beautiful
defying all odds
weak in the knees
movie montage
love is a drug
fun
best friend
I rarely have to confide in my journal cause I have you instead
soundtrack inspiring

romances of all time.

And I deeply believe that I will always feel this way.

Sacrifice

2010-02-25T16:43:00.001-06:00

I have had this particular blog whirling around my head for awhile now, time to attempt to write it out. So pregnancy being a nine month process is no doubt part of the Lord's divine preparation process. Just when I think I have learned the biggest/heaviest lesson I think I will ever learn, I learn another. First, a little brutal transparency (something which I have been desiring for this blog, yet now it seems a little terrifying). Growing up with a sister with special needs definitely shaped my life and character and without Kristen, I would not be the person I am now. However, seeing the weight and responsibility those special needs carry at times, it's not a situation that I ever HOPE to be in as a parent. I have more respect and admiration for my parents then words could ever describe. Now, with little baby Lyric growing in my tummy, I have spent many-a-night falling asleep just praying that Lyric will develop "normally." Of course I will love my son immeasurably regardless of his needs, be they "special" or "normal." So...all this to say that one fateful week as I was preparing for the high school small group I help lead, I was hit with a big huge ugly brick. I was consumed with fear and resistance. So fearful in fact, that filling in to help with a little girl who had special needs one Sunday morning had me driving home in tears. What I thought was a normal week of reading the given scripture and jotting down some notes, knocked me straight into the Truth. The main passage for the week was Genesis 22. The story of Abraham sacrificing Isaac, a story I knew since my felt board days. And yet, new things jumped off the page. Abraham had to travel for THREE days with Isaac before they reached their destination, that's alot of time to stall or even bail on the plan. Also, there were two servants with them (young men at that), capable scape goats as I would see it. So when they finally reach Moriah (geez I have a lump in my throat just typing this), Abraham had every chance to change his mind and head home. But instead, he was obedient. He was sacrificial. "Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to slaughter his son. But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven and said, 'Abraham, Abraham!' and he said 'Here am I.' He said, 'do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me." Gen. 22:11-13. As I read this I knew why God had brought this scripture before me. I had withheld my son, my only son. The Lord could not have been more clear. I could nearly audibly hear Him "I did not withhold my only son, why are you withholding your son?" My fist was clenched so tightly to the dream of a perfectly healthy son, that I was separating myself from the beauty of sacrifice. Granted, nothing physically changed in that moment, but I began to see a more full picture of the love and grace that the Lord has for me and what is required from me as a mother. Right now, I am called to love Lyric blindly and unconditionally. If he wants to be a jock or an artist, if he is funny or awkward, if he is normal or if he has special needs; I will love him just as much. I will continually strive to be a model of Christ's love. I will continue to pray for my son's health, but now I pray that his life will glorify the Lord, and that my parenthood will glorify Him --even in these days of preparation.

A little of this a little of that.

2010-02-03T10:47:00.000-06:00

Sitting down to drink my hot tea, eating my bowl of cereal and listening to Death Cab...this is a blogging moment. Its slightly gloomy out, but still bright. This is the perfect. Sitting here I feel like right now, at this very moment all my fears and failures are colliding with my hope and excitement. Normally I would feel like the previous sentence was just one big cliche, but now its all too real. I have had a full helping of each of these: fear, failure, hope, and excitement. My heart leaps inside my chest just writing this. Its almost like writing out the recipe to your favorite meal and not realizing it until you are finished. In all the spiritual and emotional growth spurts in my life all these things were present. There is a very prominent part of me that just wants to feel the blissful cloud of happiness, but I know that where I am is better. I know that this season is a season for learning the hard lessons and learning about myself.
A couple of weeks ago I had a crazy pregnancy moment, at its fullest. If you have ever visited us here in Arlington or visited my old DBU apartment, you know about our table. It was an awesome First Monday find. It is a big, old, beautiful table. Its off white with hints of a little gold (or yellowing over the years...but either way). It has its flaws. In one corner, it looks like someone took a saw and just cut a line straight down, in the middle there is a huge scuff-like black mark, and in a few places it looks like someone set a newspaper down on the paint before it was completely dry. So, in my craziness, I decided that I needed to paint this table. I wanted it too stand out, but also still look kinda worn down. I took out some of my acrylic paint (yes thats right, you can already tell this is going to be bad) and mixed some green and white (to what I thought was a nice light shade of green) and started painting. I completely ignored any voice in the back of my head that was saying "hey shouldn't you sand this thing down? Or at least investigate what type of paint you should be using?" I gleefully painted away. My sweet husband just stood back and let me have my hay day. He even asked those questions that were already in the back of my mind, but I assured him it would all turn out perfectly. And some part of me also thought "I'll just paint the top." Dumb. So now, everytime I look at this, once precious table, all I see is a bad (seriously bad) paint job that is easily scratched to reveal the off white color and all too closely resembles a billiards table. I wish I was exaggerating.

Thats all for now, and yes, those two paragraphs are disconnected from one another. Maybe somehow they relate, because both thoughts were screaming at me to be blogged. Oh, and if you know how to fix my table and make it cute again, or even how to properly paint it I would be so grateful to hear it.

Mrs. Tallus, Tellos...Mrs. T

2010-01-19T16:38:00.000-06:00

I just got home from my first day (basically, I'll elaborate later) of substitute teaching. I had a third grade class for half a day and it was a joy. I have to take a moment to brag on the staff that I worked with today, they were all so welcoming and friendly. Friendliness was the answered prayer of the day. First days are the worst, I dread them. God acts everyday, and am making it a priority to recognize Him as much as my little mind can.
When Austin and I got married I was unemployed and finally after several months of the easy life, I became a sub. I worked for two days and decided that I could not handle it. I need to explain, my first day I had a bilingual kindergarten class, my second day I had 4th graders with behavioral and/or learning issues. Those classes were a tough initiation, not to mention that this gal is not a morning person. Did you know that some schools start class at 7:15 AM?!?! Now, that I have a baby to prepare for and I've gotten used to working, subbing was great. I have a feeling that teaching may be in the future. Growing up the child of a teacher was so great. I am just realizing as an adult and soon to be parent, how wonderful teaching is for a family.

Countdown for finding out if we are having a baby girl or baby boy: 9 days!

Thoughts for now

2010-01-14T12:25:00.000-06:00

Sitting at home watching Martha Stewart's episode on blogging has me realizing that it has been far too long for me. My writer's block is not rooted in the issue of having nothing to write about, but from having far too much to blog about. Frankly, I am deliberating over what is appropriate to blog about and what belongs in my private journal. This is truly a crossroads. When I started this blog, my vision was to post both the mundane and the difficult. Now that I am in the midst of the excitement of pregnancy and also riding the emotional roller coaster of losing my job, I am finding that sharing all those feelings is a challenge. I deeply desire for transparency, thinking back to some of the challenges of single-hood and engagement I always looked back and wondered why the Christian women who had taken a role as "leaders" in my life (my mother excluded) had withheld so much about what that road of life held. Why, knowing the road that is traveled, would you not share those things? I made a commitment to transparency and accountability during engagement. I knew that marriage would bring many lessons and growth along with having children. I never factored losing my job into the heartbreaks and growth that I would be facing. Just typing that makes me feel so arrogant. Why not me? As difficult as any loss is, this experience is only opening my eyes to the deep heartbreak that is a daily occurrence for people everywhere.

So this is not a conclusive post, but I don't feel concluded so that's fitting. I hope this isn't too much of a downer. And in more mundane news, I'm still reading "The Help" and its amazing. I recommend.

Puppy and Pregnancy

2010-01-01T17:45:00.000-06:00

The cruise is just days away and I'm so excited. However, it just hit me that I think I am actually going to miss our dog. Of course I have already told our sweet Max that I am going to miss him, but that was just the obligatory-good-parent/owner-thing-to-say. Now, I really do think I'm going to miss our little pup. I'm sure I'll get over that pretty quickly once I am enjoying all the perks of vacation. I have a few small goals for myself during this trip. Goal #1 catch up on all my maternity book reading, goal #2 read all if not most of The Help, goal #3 become a delightfully slimming shade of golden brown (I'm convinced my face is gaining weight along with the rest of me). So as you may or may not have put together, all these goals have one thing in common...I can do all of them while laying out and exerting little to no energy. Geez, I just looked up from my computer and the apartment is almost completely dark, that happened fast.

Also, upon request of my dear Cali friend Katie, I will be intentionally using this blog as a forum for my pregnancy experiences. Almost as soon as we found out we were pregnant, Austin laid down some boundaries...social media boundaries anyway. Since I believe that all (at least at this point) of my readers here are actual friends and not just internet "friends" I feel that using this blog is a good compromise. Hmm, what is the most commonly asked question these days??(curser blinking, blinking, blinking...) I think the biggest conversation I have held about pregnancy is how is still doesn't completely feel like a reality at this point. Fat-ness, however, is an ever present "reality." It's weird, and maybe you gals can understand, but I feel more self-conscious today as a pregnant woman than I ever did as a teenager. I guess whenever you add some weight any other time, you never really notice it until you notice it. At that point you eat grilled chicken instead of fried, cut out the sweets, and hit the gym. Problem solved. As a preggo, you know you will be gaining weight, you intentionally gain weight, and the future mirror holds a much bigger you in it. Please don't send this into Tyra or Oprah (maybe my beloved Bonnie Hunt though, just so I could meet that gal), I know and deeply desire to nurture and protect my baby. All 99.9% of me is willingly and happily eating those extra calories, but that .01% of me really hates that my already big butt is turning straight up ghetto booty. All this to say, I can't wait to #1 look pregnant and not just like a chubster and #2 to be healthier and more dedicated to exercise than ever in pregnancy and more intensely after pregnancy. Ok, I am sure that I have cyber talked your ears off at this point.

Oh gosh...there is that tiny voice in the back of my head needing to reiterate that I am ok with gaining weight and I know that I am still a beautiful person, no matter how my body changes. Ok, I feel more secure now knowing that no one thinks I have lost it. When I blog my mom's voice is always echoing her advice from my 5th grade note-writing/passing days, "whenever you write something down you can never take it back, so be careful what you put out there." Ah motherly advice...but thats for another day.

I like the dark.

2009-12-28T17:03:00.000-06:00

Time for a new post. After all, I have an early resolution to fulfill. Lets talk migraines, the worst Christmas present ever. For the past week I have had on and off migraines every day. Here is my issue. Some people have a tension (aka stress) headache, sinus headache, or just plain headache which I'm sure isn't fun, but don't be dramatic. When people run errands, go to work, do housework with a "migraine" I get...annoyed. Not because they appear to be super hereos, and I am not. I am annoyed because....THEY DON'T HAVE A MIGRAINE!! A person with a migraine can't do anything but swallow any and every pain "reliever" in front of them and sleep. I am an expert in this area. Studies show (yes I did my research) that 20% of women have A migraine at some point in their life. Ladies, try A migraine every few months. I guess what I'm saying is, all you exaggerators out there are making me look like a wimp. End rant.

In other news, Austin surprised me today by picking up our new MacBook Pro! We have been pinching out pennies and all of our family graciously donated to our cause for Christmas. This machine is simply amazing! Also, I started reading "The Help" today, well kinda started. As soon as my migraine subsided I thought I would try reading. Austin found me grimacing and holding my head in my hands, but reading nonetheless. Being the loving husband that he is, he demanded that I quite reading and give my head a break.

We go to the doctor tomorrow! Just a little longer and we will find out if this baby is a gal or a guy.

And, for those of you few who are reading out there, thank you. I hope I can leave you feeling entertained and reflective. Or at least a little less bored.

A Year in Review

2009-12-24T14:42:00.001-06:00

I'd like to take a moment to be somewhat of a LifeTime movie clip. As I sit here beside my huge sliding glass doors watching tons of snow blow through our courtyard, I can't help but reflect on the year. First year of marriage, first road trip with my husband, first dog(s), and pregnancy for the first time. Geez. I have to say that just writing the words "first year of marriage" reminds me of all the advice (invited and uninvited) that we got as we were engaged. Sadly, most people told us it would be undoubtedly the worst and hardest year of our lives. I am happy to say, that marriage has been wonderful. Now, I'm sure I will look back in 20 years and chuckle over those first year discoveries. I hope (and know) that in 20 years, I will know my husband immeasurably better and more intimately. However, this first year has been exciting, challenging, filled with growth, romance, and fun. So, for all of you stinking nay sayers out there, you're wrong. Also this year, (thanks to our first dog, Savannah) Austin and I discovered that we are....dog people. Now, thanks to Max, we know we weren't crazy. Another pleasant (not so surprising) discovery is that Austin really is the one person I could go on a week long road trip with and end up loving more. Seriously, road trips are like boot camp for marriage. If you can get through that, you can get through that horrible first year ;) And oh boy, first pregnancy. We learned that I was pregnant after 10 months of marriage. I find myself wanting to do all those things that are off limits. I've never been that kid that touches the hot stove just because my mom said not to. But, I find myself daydreaming about eating sushi, after running a marathon (ok half marathon) and riding roller coasters. I want what I just can't have. Although, having this tiny little baby growing inside my body (it seems like the "bump" gets bigger every time I look down) makes life look so different. And look nay sayers, I'm not naive. I know that life will change, that we won't have the "freedom" we had before, but I know that it will be good (and by that I mean amazing). If I love my husband as much as only I can really know and feel in my heart, then I know that the love in our family will just be exploding when our little life takes his/her first breath. And, next year we will actually have to label the gifts under our tree! And so now, as this preggo has to go visit the ladies room for the one millionth time, I hope that your year has been just as exciting.

How is that for a Hallmark/LifeTime/day time talk show kinda moment?

Politically Speaking

2009-09-10T19:27:00.000-05:00

...I'm politically apathetic. I'm not proud of it. It's a fact of my life right now. I feel unpatriotic (is that a word?) just admitting my apathy. Nevertheless, I do not care about healthcare, I don't care about social security, I don't even care about foreign policies. For me there seem to be two sides to this coin: the peaceful bliss of ignorance or the angry burden of knowledge. I don't know any well informed person who isn't angered by politics. It doesn't seem to matter what position they take, they are angry. Those of us who aren't angry, probably don't know what is really going on out there. Honestly, I know that there are people out there fighting for the issues that I do care about. Even if I were to get nice and riled up, lets face it, I'm not going to be writing, calling or emailing any senators. I know where I stand morally...its not an issue of confusion. Quite frankly, I don't want to be angry so instead I'm apathetic.

Meh.

2009-09-09T21:55:00.000-05:00

Why is it that when I am in my car alone driving home from work or errands, I am so philosophical and thoughtful. I really might be more wise in the car. Right now...I feel so...normal. I am just a person who for some reason feels compelled to blog. I have no rants on politics, religion, or road rage. Oh and my basil plant is slowly dying. I haven't even eat off of it yet. Intentionality is the name of the game.