Unfaithful Swingsets

This morning we woke up to a flood. Our (at least) yearly backyard flood from the creek behind our house struck again! We've seen it sweep away our play/swing sets last summer, but it didn't matter a whole bunch partly because we were in shock and also the kids weren't really old enough to enjoy it yet. But this morning, I was just short of devastated when I saw that our swing set had disappeared and our little plastic climber thing was wrapped around a tree next door. Unlike last time, this time around I'm not so naive to believe that our plastic swing set could survive an upheaval of that magnitude unharmed. We were able to repair the swing set to a point of reasonable safety the last time. This time I just really doubt we will find it in one piece.

*shaking my metaphorical fist* Darn you stupid rain! Darn you stupid flood! Darn you...playset. You stole my heart in one hundred moments of swinging and imagination and you didn't have the gumption to stay. I know it's a silly thing to be upset about, not to mention both pieces were generously handed down to us by friends. We haven't lost any money on our end, the flood didn't seep into our home. But that little booger of a swing set...when it sailed away it broke my little mommy heart. I tried so so hard to remind myself that we have so much to be grateful for, that in the big picture of the Kingdom our swing set is of little consequence, and that God is even sovereign over Lyric, Lily, and Fletcher's childhood (even if it does have to be swing less and that seems like a tragedy to me). But honestly, it wasn't until my husband turned his computer screen toward me and my coffee which was becoming cold, that I felt better. He found a swing set that we can afford in the relatively near future  and looks sturdy enough to be loyal to the family that dadgum loves it and gives it a home. Tsk tsk old swing set.

I hate that flood.

 ~and by the way I hate how freakishly long thunder rolls are around here...it just splits the nerves of us gals from Tornado Valley...at what point in world's longest thunder roll do I decide that wait...that is actually a tornado and I need to scoop three children from their beds upstairs and go hide in the basement? Oh wait....I would have been Dorothy-ed by that point. So. Annoying.~

But I've been relishing today's temperatures in the 70's on the first day of July and the sweet smells that permeated the air after the rain fell. I also finished a wonderful book today (the second one in two and half weeks, that's a record for me!) called A Broken Kind Of Beautiful. So today has had it's ups and downs. Now excuse me while I go hunt for a mangled swing set. 

Winter Is Reflective

One of the weirdest things I’ve ever experienced is the bright reflection that shines off the snow and illuminates everything…even in the middle of the night. Yep. It’s SO weird. The snow reflects even the softest moonlight times like a bazillion. It still kind of freaks us out. But one thing I kind of love about it is that I can see my favorite person lying in bed next to me, pillow talk is so much sweeter when I can dimly see his smile.  And on the days where the sun is out, the reflection from the snow makes the sunlight in our house all the more bright. I love that we get natural lighting from sun and earth during the winter.

I find myself reflecting on times in the past, the winter seems to illuminate them and makes me keenly aware of both past happiness and past sadness. Just today I was gazing out the window and remembering when body image was a daunting shackle for me, and when I discovered that green stuff was still growing even in winter, the time when I achieved my goal to run a 5k, and when I was blown away by a surprise pregnancy, and of course I can't forget all the Easters we have spent together as a family. There has been so much richness in our life. For the hard times and for the sweet times, I’m grateful.

This is 11pm

Winter in Contrast

Today is the beginning of Baptism Weekend at our church, and then we will celebrate with our friends. I adore baptism weekends. I’ve always loved witnessing baptisms and hearing testimonies of believers, but in the last few years I’ve come to cherish them. When we had our miscarriage, I found myself desperate to hear testimonies of God’s work. I knew in my mind He was still good and still at work in my life, but it didn’t feel that way. The first thing I said to my husband in the car after our doctor explained that our pregnancy was over was the phrase “I just really didn’t want this to happen.” It’s so plain, but it was all I could muster in that moment and it was so true at the deepest core of my heart, no matter how simple it was. That day I began to crave the testimonies of others. I just needed to know that the God I was relying on was living and active, not an idea or a figure of history, but ever present in my time of need. Through scripture and the Holy Spirit and the love of others and the testimonies of people around me, God proved himself over and over. The glory of God shone in my heart with such persistence, and yet on the outside I was mourning and experiencing death in an unfamiliar way (literally as well, we found out I miscarried on February 17^th  during our first winter here, and in Iowa that is guaranteed to be a cold day). Strangely enough I don’t remember one day of winter in February or March, because what was happening in my heart was so vibrant. Sometimes it was vibrantly dark and sad, sometimes it was white hot, sometimes it was a soothing warm, but God was molding me and moving mountains in my life.

I love celebrating new life while it’s so dead outside. What a picture of grace, what a picture of the passionate love that saved us from our sin. I’ve always loved things in contrast. I love warm soup with something crunchy, I love my hot apple pie with a scoop of ice cream; I love wearing my hair wild and shaggy when I wear a button-up shirt with a preppy cardigan. I just love life in contrasts. But seeing baptisms, especially of five people I care about, during the coldest winter of my life. Favorite contrast by far.

Real Life With Coffee In Hand

Yea, so here's the deal. My baby did not sleep much last night so neither did I. So here's what's good about winter. Straight up, this is real life and sometimes a momma has to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find a little honey for her yogurt (that started as a metaphor but ended as a real life testimony about my breakfast).

1. I love that because it's cold, when Austin gets up with the kids and lets me try to catch up on some sleep, it is really easy to do under my big fluffy down comforter.

2. I love coffee. I love it all the time, but something about winter time makes my love multiply. Which isn't great for the budget, but alas here we are. 

This is the 4am picture I took of us to see if Fletch's eyes were still open. And yep they were. No such luck.

13 Reasons Why #RealLifeIsBetter

#RealLifeIsBetter

This is probably the least pinnable, retweetable, or shareable blog post your gonna find. It’s not going to be crazy spreadable online, cause what I’m gonna be saying…it’s kinda like biting the hand that feeds you. Or should I say the monster that doesn’t actually feed you at all. What I’m saying is: let’s be conquerors over the internet, let’s keep social media in its proper place, let’s pursue balance and self control, let's stop reading meme’s and get back to reading books, let’s form our own opinions, let's put our phones down and spend time with real people.  Now come on doesn’t that sound like fun? Alright, so I’ll give you a little context to my new crazy radical approach to life.

On December 28^th Austin and I decided to delete all social media apps from our phones until January 2, 2014. It only took about twelve hours of detox for us to come to the conclusion that we needed some permanent changes.

Here's the top 13 reasons that came flooding in during that detox period:

1.     I don’t need to share all my quirky, clever, or cute thoughts under 140 characters with the world.

2.     It is the exception rather than the rule that thoughts under 140 characters are valuable enough to share with the world.

3.     The more I “share” the less self awareness I see in my life.

4.     If you asked our kids to draw a picture of us during lunchtime or downtime, it would be of us scrolling through our phones.

5.     When I ask myself the question, “who am I becoming?” from constant social media use, the answer is a whole lotta ME.

6.     When I ask myself who I want to be like…the answer is a whole lotta less of ME and a bunch bunch more of Christ.

7.     I don’t like your kids more than mine, I guarantee it. Yet I ignore my own so that I can look at the pictures you posted or the funny story you shared. I like my kids, so I want to soak up the most of them I possibly can.

8.     I’ve recently been vocal about my loneliness as a stay at home mom, and I just realized that a contributor to my loneliness is the false sense of belonging and community that social media feeds me. I want the real thing, and social media should only serve as one of several tools to get me to real relationships.

9.     Because no one ever gets to the end of their life and wishes for less time or more internet or cooler photos.

10.  Because my kids aren’t boring, my husband isn’t boring, and I’m not searching for anything better….so I’m going to stop living like I am.

11. Selfies. The worst thing to come from this technological era. Now listen, I have posted and will in the future inevitably post an occasional selfie. Sometimes being in a cool new place or trying out a new hairstyle or doing something really funny are all good decent reasons to OCCASSIONALLY post a selfie. But seriously the shameless self-promoting mindset that the selfie culture has conjured up is just ridiculous. Dial it back a notch…please. I’m begging.

12. Because “back in my day” when I was single and on my own in college, I have such fond memories of being ALONE. Going out to dinner…alone, going to coffee…alone, going for a drive…alone, sitting in a well light and frequently populated park….alone. I cleared my mind, I thought, I “people watched”, I dreamed for my future, I prayed through my present. Being alone is a gift that social media has stripped us of.

13. Because REAL LIFE IS BETTER than life online.

So that’s my abridged version. I hope that in my brevity I wasn’t offensive. I would be happy to elaborate on any of these points, just leave me a comment and we can open up a discussion! The internet and social media are not the bad guys of life, but when we let social media control our life….we are letting the tail wag the dog as some of my friends would say.

Here are the ways this revelation will be applied in my life:

-       -No more personal twitter account. You can follow the Bird in a twitter, and that will be getting a tad more use. But I’m cutting the Katy Tullos account.

-      - No more facebook or pinterest apps on my phone. I will be keeping my facebook because it is a great way to stay connected to friends and family, but my time will be limited to intentional times on my computer. Pinterest is the thief in the night of my time…from now on I will also be using Pinterest for intentional times for recipe searches and outfit ideas here and there.

-       -More play time with my kids (and I’ve found I’m very impressive with a tub of play dough!). I’ve found that the more available I am, the more often the kids invite me into their world. Like literally…they ask me to join them more now than they did when my phone was glued to my hand.

-       -No phone during husband/wife tv time. Hey these shows are actually pretty good and way more fun when we experience them together to the fullest.

-       -Instagram will remain as is.

Will anyone out there join me in this endeavor? Let’s get back to making memories and worry a little less about capturing a bunch of half lived moments.

Stories: My Life Altering Wings Run

One of the most important moments of my life happened in a car.

I was starting my sophomore year of college and it was kickoff week. I'd been asked to go get wings with a group that I didn't typically run with. I knew David, but that was pretty much it. Austin volunteered to drive me, and since I had made it my life's work to be the one girl who wasn't impressed by him, I reluctantly agreed and rode with him. I had a point to prove. (I know this move totally has an Anne of Green Gables and Gilbert Blith vibe all over it.) But because I'm inwardly a dork and I'm not one of those "yea I mainly hang out with guys, girls just don't like me" types, I grabbed my roommate and asked her to come (what I did not know until about ten minutes later, was that she clearly had a crush on him). Just to give you an accurate picture of just how powerful the events of this car ride were I'll give you a little insight to the way I viewed Austin. Upon entering his Volkswagen GT I thought he was arrogant, self absorbed, a little shady, a lot sketchy, and very cute.  On the way there, even though he asked me to ride with him, I got booted to the backseat by my enthusiastic *ahem* roomie. They started talking about who knows what, most likely it was music because she was so cool and legit with music stuff. Then I got a mass text from an acquaintance with a joke about special needs people. I basically erupted in the back seat. I don't remember exactly what I said but it was something along the lines of "Oh my gosh. I can't believe this." But with very high volume and personal outrage and completely interrupting their music chat. I completely expected this guy, who I thought was probably like an inch deep, to tell me I was making a big deal out of nothing. At the least I expected him to do what everyone does and use the good ole “They didn’t really mean it like that,” or at least the half hearted “Well I’m sure she didn’t know you had a special needs sister.” (You should FULLY anticipate a blog post unleashing my full personal outrage and call to action on this subject.)

Do you know what this guy said? This guy who was popular and cute and had no reason to go against the norm and believe/do/care what was right? He said, “I can’t believe some people. That’s so wrong.”

Crrrrreeeekkkk. That was the sound of my heart door cracking open. This guy, this cute and popular guy, he was different. And his difference, made all the difference.

Stories: The Tale of The Many Mini Candy Bars

 **This is a funny story. If you find yourself in a deep in reflective place, you’ve gone too far and missed the turn.

We used to do this ministry thing in the apartment complex where we lived in our early days. Basically, we planned and carried out events for our complex with the intention of building relationships. I was pregnant with our first, Lyric. But for the sake of this story you should know that I was almost equally pregnant with a very large….sweet tooth. A sweet tooth like no other sweet tooth, this sweet tooth could send me into tears at a moments notice until I was driven to the nearest self-serve frozen yogurt establishment. Cushioned atop billowing swirls of delightful vanilla and chocolate yogurt with an occasional strawberry ribbon, were carefully selected peanut m&ms and chocolate sprinkles. Ah the delight! Oh the satisfaction! The initial sweet crunch of victory followed by the cool embrace of delicate dairy.  Uhh..err…pardon me. Back to the story.

I had a part time job, and Austin had a few part time jobs. This left me with ample time in the apartment. So I planned a Halloween event for our big monthly shin dig. We made food and I got the high school small group I led to help me make like a million black foam bats to hang around the apartment office along with egg crate spiders. (This was pre-pinterest, people. This is craftiness you actually had to work for, no one handed it to me on a silver platter of cuteness.) I put together a myriad of fun games and a costume contest, put the flyers out for the party and hit up Costco. (Oh Costco, how I long for you. You are the superior bulk shopping store.) No…wait…I was distracted by my bias for Costco vs. Sams Club. I did not buy the candy at Costco I bought it at Target. And yes, that detail does matter. You will need to have an idea of the approximate size of the bags of candy I bought…and I have a sweet tooth, but not quite at the Costco level. Anyway. One of the nice things about our apartment manager was that he asked that we only buy name brand products. He didn’t want the events looking janky. (janky: homemade but not in the good way, unprofessional, pieced together, makeshift. Pronounced: jane-key) So I arrived home with four, count them- four variety bags of name brand candy. The afternoon of Halloween we set up our adorable party and waited for the party goers and trick or treaters to come by on their way out for a night of fun. And we waited….and we waited. And then our two couple friends who lived in the complex came by. Then thankfully a really sweet family with a really sweet toddler came by (we could always count on them). And then…the occasional resident paying their rent would notice our party and grab a little candy while they waited. Seven. Seven people and one dog. Seven people, one dog, and four bags of candy. Nine people if you count Austin and me. We waited it out for the painstaking two hours that the party was scheduled for and then packed up and went home.

Maybe it was the pain of event failure. Maybe it was the pregnancy. I’m almost sure it wasn’t my utter lack of self-control. Whatever the reason…that candy haunted me in the days following the party.  One bag of candy had been left in the office, one bag of candy had been prematurely opened in anticipation of a big turn out for the party, and two bags remained unopened. It made perfect sense that we would save that candy and use it at future events. In fact, now that I’m writing it out…I think I might have actually stolen that candy by technicality, since it was for our residents. So in my weakness I started treating myself to a little lunch time mini candy bar or two. Then eventually that became a lunch candy and a mid afternoon candy. Then, before I knew it, I had found the bottom of that bag. I needed more. So I dove into the next bag of variety candy. It was the good stuff people, Kit Kat, Snickers, Butterfinger, M&M’s. I quickly realized that Austin would never approve of the complete and utter gluttony I was entertaining. So I did what any good wife would do when she is faced with the decision between her man and her sugar. I hid the sugar. This kept my man in blissful ignorance and my sweet tooth satisfied. I would give this marriage advice to anyone. We had a ridic-U-lous kitchen with the best storage EVER. It was so easy to hide that candy. All wadded up in the back corner of the lower cabinet beside the pantry, I can still see it. When I started eating more than two four six candies a day…I began to hide the wrappers between different trashcans or bury the wrappers under at least three other larger pieces of trash. As you can see…it was a problem. And that problem came to (some) light one fateful prenatal appointment. Like any good dad with a weird hodge podge of jobs, Austin came with me to every appointment but one. At this appointment I was supposed to gain between one and two pounds. I gained at least six. And that’s when my wonderful, Christian, cowboy, fatherly, doctor told me blunty in front of my still newly wedded husband, that two pounds of my weight gain was for my baby and the rest was just me.

That’ll get ya.

So I finished up that bag of candy and then decided that I wouldn’t buy more. Wow, I can just bask in the light of that discipline and wisdom. I mean really, that took guts.

And so was the tale of the many mini candy bars. A couple of YEARS later, I confessed to Austin. And it went something like this “Remember how I mysteriously got so huge with Lyric and with the other kids I haven’t had that happen? Well…..” And to this day I have to take extreme measures to keep my addiction under control. If you follow me on instagram, you are almost guaranteed to see a picture of my three self allotted Halloween candies. I’m already excited! I love you, candy.

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MOVE: From Normal to Healthful

This has taken me longer than usual to write because I want to be sure that I balance both sides of this just right. I want to share my testimony about chains that have been broken, but it is very important to me to share the physical tools and choices that have changed my lifestyle. The best way I can put it is this: The biggest transition in this area of my life is not what workouts I do or what I eat, the most important transition has been the transition of my purpose. I'm so pumped about this particular post! If you have followed my blog for any length of time you probably know I've been painstakingly transparent about self-image issues that I've wrestled with ever since I started popping kids out (and yes having three kids in three years does give me the right to make jokes). I'm so so happy, gleeful, content, thankful, at peace, and excited to share that I'm free! I'm not writing to you from my own personal prison cell! I used to view my body as a necessity to deal with and make as skinny, pretty, cute, and attractive as possible. The purpose for my physical body used to be equivalent (in my mind) to the way I looked. Now I live in the truth that the purpose for my body is to glorify Christ both with the way that I use my body and in the way I treat my body.

        Almost exactly a year ago, my husband started taking some pretty drastic measures to change habits in his life to start a more healthful lifestyle. I was able to somewhat join him while I was pregnant, and since having Fletcher I have had so much fun diving in alongside him. I'm so thankful that I'm married to the kind of man who will lead by example and patiently wait for me to follow him. The changes we made in our lifestyle were of course to lose a little weight, but mainly to get our bodies working for us instead of in spite of us. I truly believe that God led our hearts and our desires to honor Him with our physical bodies and a beautiful by-product of that was freedom from endless self-centered thoughts about how I looked in the eyes of the world. I'm so excited about this post because I want everyone to know the excitement and freedom that comes with healthful living. 

I know that when people hear that "eating healthy" most of the time that usually translates into "nutty-drastic-no-fun-diet." I know until recently I used to think that way. I used to think that giving up certain foods would be all about sacrifice and missing out and a bunch of rules, and just feel like a huge punishment. But the reality is that yes, I have had to make myself say no to late night sweets and potato chips, but it has never felt like a punishment. It feels like freedom. Freedom in enjoying what I eat and how great it makes me feel and fuels me to face the day. Freedom from worrying about how clothes will fit or what I look like. Freedom from many things; but mostly freedom from myself. I’ve really come to believe that for the believer a healthful lifestyle paired with the desire to glorify God produces a selflessness which is totally countercultural to the narcissism we have come to accept among the health and fitness community. And I would dare to say it's something that every believer is called to.

I will be sharing the pratical things that altered our lifestyle in Part 2 of this post. For now, I’ll just leave you with this thought that has shaken my perspective. I know the God that I worship and adore chose to give me His image when He created me. When I stand before Him will I be a faithful servant who has made much of the Master’s most valued creation or will I have nothing to show but a run down cheapened version of what He intended?

MOVE: My New Best Friend

“Today I marry my best friend and love of my life!”

We’ve probably all said that or heard it. For me, the latter was absolutely true on the day of our wedding. Austin was and still is the love of my life. And while at the time, I thought of him as my best friend, the reality was that Austin was one of my best friends. I spent most of my time with him, he was the only one I cried in front of, he both challenged and encouraged me, I trusted him, I loved sharing adventures with him, I could totally be myself both serious and silly. But he still wasn’t my BEST friend. Of all of my friends he was not the one and only best. The truth was, I withheld most of my spiritual life from him and almost never worked through conflict openly and honestly with my husband. I shared my spiritual life freely with my journal and a couple of my best girlfriends, and only when I absolutely had to with Austin. (I know you are wondering why not? We will get to that.) When there were issues or conflict that needed to be addressed between Austin and I, I would communicate through them with perfect clarity….again to my girlfriends. Once I had talked it through with the one or two gal pals I trusted, I would feel great. I had resolved why I felt angry or hurt and what I hoped would be different in the future…all with a friend who had absolutely nothing to do with that conflict. There was only one little problem…nothing was being resolved between my husband and me.

Two major things changed that have taken my husband from being among my best friends, to standing far above them as my very best friend, soul mate, and kindred spirit. This major transition has enriched our marriage with more unity, peace and joy than I ever imagined and certainly more than I ever knew was missing.

I became very convicted that by not sharing my spiritual life with Austin I was not allowing myself to be completely vulnerable and transparent with him. And for me that’s what both issues came down to by the way, good ole vulnerability. (I still kind of cringe at the word…but I’ve come a long way.) My lack of vulnerability, transparency, and ultimately trust; seeped over into other areas (why it was awkward for me to compliment him or why I felt like my walk with the Lord was inexplicably stagnant, just to name a couple). Without sharing the convictions, confessions, and praises of my life with the one whom I promised to love and live with every single day, I put up walls with the one person I should have been sharing the deepest fellowship with. I could tell you that all the sudden I just changed the way I functioned and it rocked…but that would be a lie. What really happened was that I forced myself to share spiritual things with Austin and when I did I felt totally awkward and stupid. But Austin noticed and was so sweet and always listened and encouraged me and never made me regret it. Over time it became more natural, it still isn’t always the easiest thing for me, but I mean it was a transition not a complete rewire.

I think the hugest (yep hugest) part of the transition from having several besties to my one best friend (Austin) and several close girlfriends, was the way that I communicated with Austin about us. I think that this part is the most important part because this is a change that many married and especially young married couples neglect. I know we did. The reason communicating through issues was so difficult was because all the communicating was going from me to a girlfriend and then only occasionally making its way to Austin in bits and pieces. I was still able to keep up walls, instead of letting them down and being honest with him, not to mention taking ownership for my own shortcomings. I trusted my girlfriends, and since they were newlyweds as well they understood. It genuinely makes me sad to recall the way that I would talk about Austin, never totally trashing him, but just painting him as someone I was opposed to rather than fighting along side of. It was kind of like, my girlfriends were on my side and we were all just trying to struggle through the early times of our marriage and sometimes that meant struggling against our husbands. I think those times with my friends always came from a good place, but not a mature or biblical place. Don’t get me wrong, marriage, especially early on, is hard and you don’t always feel like you and your spouse get along perfectly or conflict in the most healthy way—but that is something you should grow through as a couple. It took us moving across the country and me losing accessibility to all my gal pals, for me to learn this. The learning curve became much shorter when I literally did not have anyone else but Austin. I’m so thankful that God changed our path. We had been married two and half years and the way were going was working…kinda…for that short period of time, but in the long run we were setting ourselves up for failure. I’ve seen ONLY benefits of keeping issues about us between us. (There does come a time when using a mediator is necessary for some, but we have to learn to keep things open between husband and wife first and then to bring a helper into the scene when your at an impasse and need some wise counsel as a couple.) If you are like me, you still need your time to cool down and process and reflect, but the next step is vital. Things really changed for me when I made my next step communicating and reconciling with Austin with a soft heart. I love how things have changed between us. There is nothing that I avoid talking about with Austin because everything is open and we are totally united. He knows what things are hardest for me in our marriage and what things I’m strongest in. He knows when I’m hurt and challenges me when I start to shut down. No matter how much I love my close girl friends, no advice or understanding they offered could ever compare to the oneness I share with Austin. I still talk about our marriage with my friends, but it is just so much better to talk about things that are resolved and out in the open with Austin. Everything is prioritized correctly and given the right role in my life, and it feels so great. It’s so freeing!

If you find yourself dying to talk with a girlfriend about all your “issues,” I want to encourage you to take whatever steps you have to take to reverse that pattern. When your spouse truly truly is your best friend, you will be amazed how much better your entire marriage is. Go shopping or out to coffee or get a pedi with your girlfriends…that’s what they are for…but save all the intimate and personal stuff for your one and only beloved.

His mouth is most sweet, 

and he is altogether desirable.

This is my beloved and this is my friend,

O daughters of Jerusalem.

Song of Solomon 5:16 ESV

Move: Let's not break up after all

For those of you who might have noticed that I started writing more often and regularly only to completely disappear…let me explain. After reading another blog and being totally disappointed and saddened by the disregard of holiness and biblical marriage (headship of men and submission of women done biblically) I was a little a lot turned off by all things blog—including my own blog. I had a bad taste in my mouth from what I had found out in the blogosphere. It doesn't really make sense, and to say the least I was throwing the baby out with the bath water.  After I told him I was done with blogging, my husband pointed something out to me —he challenged me to be spurred on by the things I disagree with (and especially those that the Bible disagrees with) not to be defeated by them.  I love sharing the truths that God is revealing to me both through His word and through hard life lessons. So I will not be abandoning the blog after all! Which leads me to introduce to you the next blog series on Bird In A Tree!

Move: life changes, so do you.

Having young children has begun to mean that the only constant (besides nap time) is change. As soon as one kid sleeps soundly through the night another one starts having nightmares, one kid can safely eat peanut butter (all you moms totally know that I'm talking about) while the other can't even have cows milk yet. It's a juggling act, and I have lots and lots of transitions and changes and adjustments waiting for me in the future. Recently though I was thinking about all the transitions I have been through in the past five years and frankly I find myself wondering how I fit so much into such a short period of time! Move is a series about transition; about the changes we face in life, both the voluntary and the involuntary. Regardless of whether we chose the transition we are facing or if it was thrust upon us, we have to grow and change with it. I'm so excited to reflect on changes I've made it through and ones that I'm still moving through now. Follow Bird In A Tree and keep watch on your blog reel/roll/reader for the first installment of MOVE.

What ≠ Who

I think that there are things that God puts in place to spur on and encourage and push our gifts and talents forward; cultivating whats already there. A major "pusher" (haha "I'm a pusher Cady," name that movie) for my writing is spending time musically worshipping, especially under my husband's leadership. He is such a vital part of the writing process for me, but I'm going down bunny trails now. 

Last night at church we sang the new Chris Tomlin song, "Jesus, Son of God" and one particular line of it really got me thinking. 

"Be lifted higher than all you've overcome

Your name be louder than any other song....

The cross was enough"

I started to realize how often I associate who Jesus is with what he has done. Maybe I'm alone in this, but sometimes in my mind it goes like this:  

My collection of redemption = Jesus

Maybe that’s confusing. Think of my collection as all the evidence of the grace that has been poured out on me. Everything that has been saved and transformed and redeemed would be in there. I'm so thankful for my salvation, my sanctification, all the sins and trials that Jesus put to death. I love love LOVE hearing the testimony of other believers; I love hearing what Jesus is doing to change lives. But here’s the thing—all those things, still don’t add up to who Jesus is. Jesus isn’t the sum of our testimonies.

Jesus is Jesus. Jesus is one third of the Triune God. Jesus is the perfect one who lowered himself to dwell among us. Because of him we have freedom. Because of him we have life. Because of him we have ABUNDANCE. We benefit from his life, his death, and his resurrection.

Let’s share the stories of salvation and redemption with everyone! But let’s never neglect to say His name. The name of the one who saves. The name of the one who is Holy and Righteous, regardless of what he has done in our lives. The God who stands alone.  Let’s never trade who He is for what He has done. Let’s never shy away from saying His name: Jesus. 

And baby makes 4! (or 5, or more!)

I'm flattered to announce that I have been awarded a Liebster blog award! It is an informal nomination from other bloggers, but one I will gladly accept. I now have to nominate 3 blogs under 3,000 followers that I would like to nominate for the Liebster, so be looking for that at the end of this post. 

On the heels of my blog posts about our unexpected third pregnancy, I thought this would be a great time to write about the transition from one kid to multiple kids. I'm sure I'll have even more to say on the subject after Fletcher joins us at home. For now I mainly wanted to touch on some practical things, but lots of emotional elements of adding kids too. I can't tell you how many of my friends (both real and through social media) are pregnant, adopting, or looking to foster their second child.  For those of my friends coming up on their due dates its a time filled with emotions both happy and sad, nervous and excited. This time last year, I was so ready to have Lily, I wanted to meet her so badly, I was so excited to have a little girl, and anticipating seeing Lyric in his role as big brother. At the same time I was nervous because I was afraid that somehow by bringing a new baby home I would not have as much attention for Lyric or love for Lily. I was sad that my special time with Lyric was ending and I thought our relationship would never be the same. I did realize that Lyric, by being the first born, was the only kid who would ever know what it was like not to share me with any siblings. Some of the things that helped me with the transition were things that other moms helped me see, some things that God gave me to live by, and some things that I just picked up along the way. Because this post is specifically written for those of you who already have at least one kiddo, I’ll do it in outline form. ;)

Great Expectations- Setting realistic expectations is the key to embracing most big changes in life, as you know if you have been married for longer than a few months. Use your mind, not your emotions. Don’t let Pinterest set the standard for your expectations. Let God’s word and character shape the desires of your heart. Expect to be emotional for a bit, expect there to be at least a little chaos, expect “survival mode” and not much more. If you are one of those moms who can still cook and clean and bring a newborn into the family, great for you. Most of us aren’t that mom, most of us will survive and in a few weeks/months we will return to thriving in a state of routine and a resemblance of order in our homes.

The Beloved Firstborn(s)- I think a lot of us get scared, nervous, and overly sentimental about the last months, weeks, and days we have to pour out all our love and attention on our first little ones (if you are wondering about the plural nature of these first ones, its for my girl Camie and all you mommies of twins) Even preparing for our third born I find myself a little torn over wishing I had more time to get to know Lily and excitement to welcome Fletcher to our fold. But the truth is, that even though you will be distracted in the first week or two, you will very quickly acclimate and have just as much attention and love for your older child. If you are a little sad because you are afraid things will never be the same, you are right. Life will never ever be the same it WILL be better. As much chaos as there has been, as many bad days, as many times as I’ve had two crying little ones on my hands…I have never ever wished for the way things used to be. (And don’t worry, the bad days are still far out numbered by good days!) Our family is so much better and richer and complex and laughy and silly and deeper because of Lily. And honestly, your oldest will also always be the furthest developed, and as a result will still get tons of your attention and play time. Plus, just remember the only child who ever knows what its like not to share you is the firstborn. All the other kids to come won’t even know that reality, its more normal to share you than not to. (Unless you only have one kid, in that case…why are you still reading this post? …I tease…but seriously)

“How will I do it?”- I think that every mom bringing home a newbie asks herself this question, regardless of how many she has brought home before. This is a question that pops into my mind sporadically. Well honestly, with this current pregnancy being such a shock, this question was just about the only thing on my mind for the first two months. I’ve dealt with it, but it still sneaks in every once in awhile. Just remember, there was a time in your life when you didn’t know how to be a spouse, there was a time when you didn’t know how to do pregnancy or birth or adoption, there was a time when you didn’t know what to do with a baby/toddler/kid—but it worked out, and it is probably still working itself out. When this question was swirling around my head on nights that I couldn’t sleep I thought that I had to have an actual answer. Then one day someone asked me in all seriousness how we were going to do it…that was when I realized, there is not an answer you can give yourself or anyone else. The answer is—we will give ourselves grace, take advice of those who have gone before (with a tablespoon of salt), and we will have faith that God planned this for our family so He will direct our paths and sustain us to walk it.

Should I Stay or Should I Go- Sometimes you need to hunker down and know that a bigger family sometimes means more limitations. You can’t get out and do stuff as easily as you could with no kids, or one, etc etc. But just as there are times when you need to just say no and stay home, the opposite also applies. Sometimes I catch myself feeling down for no reason and to top it off the kids are grumpy and awnry. Then I realize…oh yea we haven’t left the house in four days! That’s when we make a play date, or go to Chickfila, or Target, or the park or library. Sometimes, your house starts to close in on you, then its time to get outta there! After the first month Lily was born, I was ready to be a little more active and the kids needed something too. So I loaded up the double stroller and twice a day went on a 30-minute walk. It was great for me and wonderful for them. It wasn't always easy, but so worth it!

Mommies, the biggest thing I can emphasize is this: Don’t listen to others when they say “wow you’ll be busy!” or “yea now just imagine this [tantrum, shopping, really any activity] with one more kid!” or “yea it will be really hard for awhile, but one day you’ll be glad.” Do listen to your husband and your kids. Commit to turning to God’s word before you turn to any other book or blog for help. Stay near to the one who created your growing family; you don’t need to be anxious. Everything else will work itself out.

I feel that to be really honest I should share that this blog took a few days to write, because…well sometimes I had to stop writing and read my advice back to myself ;)

So I am supposed to nominate blogs with less than 3,000 followers. I can't do that. What I will do is share my favorite favorite blogs in my feed:

http://www.babywisemom.com
http://morninggrunge.wordpress.com
http://notyetfully.blogspot.com

Is that a second line?! Part 2

I was frustrated

I was mad

I was scared

I was overwhelmed

I was disappointed

I was selfishly crushed

This is the story about the contortions of a believer’s ungrateful heart. It’s weird, it makes no sense, and frankly it’s kind of bratty. By most standards, my feelings are understandable, but by my standard it's not right. Thankfully, my contorted heart and mind and emotions were untangled in the end, which is personally my favorite part. I’d love to skip the “freaking out” parts and skip straight to the happy stuff, but our story, like all the best stories, is even better because of the triumph.

There were so many sleepless nights spent staring wide-eyed at the ceiling completely freaking out. I worried about the number of bedrooms in our home, the lack of a third row in our car (purchased ONE WEEK before I found out I was pregnant), the chaos that was looming in the distance, the effect all the pregnancy and children would have on our marriage, and the effect that the pregnancy would have on my body. I spent a lot of time being sad that I had to stop losing weight. I tried to bury the fear of migraines returning (although, when the first one hit I was a massive heap of frantic tears, which makes me even more thankful for friends who let you cry and take your kids off your hands for the afternoon). But more than anything else—I lived and breathed in complete and utter denial. I’ve always heard of denial as a real thing that people that are grieving or in shock deal with. I never knew how real it could be until I started catching myself praying for the absurd.  I know what you are thinking…how can any prayers be absurd? Let me tell you. When you catch yourself genuinely praying that God would keep this baby safe and healthy and protect you and the baby from a miscarriage, but just kind of freeze that pregnancy for about two years, just ya know, put things on hold…. believing that because God is sovereign, he can do this thing you are asking of him…that is absurd. Yes he is a sovereign and powerful creator, but come on! Get a grip girl! I wish I could emphasize enough how honestly I relied on this whole…on hold, notion. 

Probably the only time during the week that I would face reality was during a run at the Y. I liked running inside on the little track upstairs (I know it’s weird) and each time I would inevitably cry. It was two steps forward, one step back. Beginning the run I would cry from stress and worry and fear, leaving the gym I felt encouraged, filled with truth, happiness and excitement. You should know that the encouragement piece came largely from the ministry of my husband and his amazing worship team and the awesome album they were working on, which I put on my iPod even during it’s “revision” stage (if you don’t have it, your missing out).

This was a time of contrasts and roller coasters for me. It was as if with every crash of fear and worry and selfishness, I was hit with a corresponding wave of truth and encouragement and help. If I wasn’t crying from the worry, I was crying from the happiness. It was so overwhelming for me that even while I was being so difficult, God would be so gentle. No matter how afraid I was—of everything, all of it—God still spoke. Never was I alone, never ever did I stop hearing from him. Sometimes it was scripture, sometimes it was music, sometimes it was people, and sometimes it was quiet revelations or new perspectives.  I’ll never forget the day when I realized that not only was this real, but this was perfect for our family’s story. All at once, at the end of a run, it just came together. Having the perfect “two year plan” just isn’t us. We are risk takers, free spirited, rip the band-aid off, “let’s do this thing” kind of people. This fit us better. The air was crisp, the sun was bright, there was a tiny breeze, my hair was pulled back with a ponytail and elastic headband when I called Austin and shared my excitement. The moment you realize that God knows you and your marriage and your family far more intricately than you do, that is a beautiful moment of grace and relief.

The coming days brought more “reliefs.” Relief like—we have eternity for order and peace and perfection, so what is the big deal if we have crazy, full, tiring days for a little while right now. That’s what life on earth is anyway. Relief like—my weight loss and health goals were quickly turning into an unhealthy obsession and this pregnancy was the abrupt end to that path.  Relief like—I love, like really love and like my kids, and now I get another one! No doubt the changes ahead are big and undeniable, but it’s a good thing. Fletcher Colby Tullos, our son and third born, is loved and anticipated and good for all four of us.

I am blessed

I am joyful

I am hopeful

I am entrusted

I am excited

I am held up

Normally, my journal is totally off limits, but just this once, take a look.

 truth

 # of kids

Beth Moore conference notes

 "I am Not Abandoned" HBCD Worship

 deliverance

                                                                     Relief

Is that a second line?!

Alright it's time. You know what I'm talking about. The pregnancy post. I announced that we had been surprised to find out we are expecting another baby due exactly one year and ten days after our daughter Lily was born. Surely, there are things to be said...or written. And here it is.

So, I've been going around and around in my head trying to think of the best way to say this--but regardless of how I put it, it's awkward. So without giving any details...just know that I had been very anxiously awaiting June 21st--so that I could take a pregnancy test. I knew that there was a chance that I was pregnant, and I was trying my very hardest to convince myself that I was not pregnant and life would play out as planned. I mean really, what are the odds that one...urhh uhh, anyway what were the odds that I could be pregnant? Had to be low. HAD TO BE. I had finally grown a real love for running, and I was training to run a 5k and making plans for the Turkey Trot in Fort Worth when we went down to Texas for a visit. I was losing weight, feeling so healthy, loving being the only person using my body; life was good. In my mind, being pregnant at the time would be the worst possible timing ever...EVER. At the time I thought that, even though I had faced some really tough days, I had my self image issues and battles under control. I was active, starting to see signs of my old body, so proud of myself for the hard work I was doing and the healthy habits I was building. I was so convinced that surely I would not be pregnant-- that Austin and I traded in our minivan (which was regardless, a good thing since the mileage was getting high) and we got a Ford Edge (no third row, keep that in mind). One week later I bought a box of pregnancy tests at Walgreens, only so that I could rule out the possibility and go eat sushi with a clear conscience. In fact, I was so absolutely sure that I was not pregnant, that in that little trip to Walgreens I paid for three things. 1. Pregnancy tests 2. a box of cheap combs (I have a toddler obsessed with combs and I'm a southern lady so clearly, my hair is teased on a regular basis) 3. contraception. That poor cashier had to ring up two things that very much contradict one another. I'm sure that she was thinking one of two things, either she had a crazy woman on her hands (yup) or she was dealing with one super promiscuous woman. I mean seriously, who does that? What woman in her right mind buys both pregnancy tests and contraception together? The box said results up to 6 days early. I was still 8 days early, but I was desperate so I went ahead and took the test. Surprise surprise, the test was negative. Life was good. My parents and sisters would be in town for a visit in three days (so if you are counting, that means that I could accurately take the next test the day before they arrived). I continued running and exercising the hardest I ever had (you should know that I have never been the athletic type). I was not just loving the current state I was in...I absolutely relished every single minute of it. Two more days pass, one of them when I had to go to the dentist and answered on my paper work that no, I was not pregnant. Thankfully with God's great grace I didn't need new x-rays. The next day at the gym I weighed myself (something which I was accountable to both Austin and my friend Olivia that I would only do every two weeks, because I had started doing it every day--which is just a bad idea). Hmm, strange...I had not lost one single pound. That could be fine. Most people hit a plateau, I guess it was time for mine. Right? right? or...what if?...I'd seen this happen before, when I was pregnant with my firstborn, but that isn't a real symptom. Right?! --This and only this thought was the ONE thought outside of denial that I had towards my pregnancy. I quickly dismissed it and decided to hit the gym harder and eat even healthier. The next day was the big day...day 6. Austin was literally on his way out, putting on his shoes and then leaving for work. I had just woken up and remembered that I should take the pregnancy test again today during my first bathroom visit. So without hollering at him to wait--I peed on the stick. I laid the stick down. I washed my hands. I looked back at the stick. It had the faintest most light resemblance of a second line. But I mean--I had just woken up, so probably my eyes just weren't focusing right. But as I stared it got a teensy tiny bit brighter.

"Austin?"

"Huh?"

"Austin?!"

"What?" 

"Can you come up here? Like now?"

"Why?"

"Just come here!"

He came up, poor husband, and had no idea what he was walking into. 

"Is that another line? Can you see that?"

"No, I mean I see what you are talking about, but its not a line. Its just the plastic behind the little paper."

"So you see that?"

"Yea, but its not a line. Why? What does a line mean?"

"They don't make those with anything that would even look like another line showing."

"What does a line mean?"

"We're pregnant, oh my gosh, I'm pregnant."

"No, let me hold it under the lights.....yea that's a line"

"Oh my gosh. (now leaning against the wall for support) I can't breathe"

Part two coming soon. Its gonna get kinda sad, real funny, and super vulnerable, and then happy up in here. Come back again to see the smackdown I got from the Holy Spirit.