Dedication and arrows. The same, right?

We just celebrated Story's dedication this past Sunday night. There was homework that went along with it to have prepared, and we were to share one part with our family at our table. It was the easiest part for me. We were to imagine who we want our child to be in 18 years. Proverbs says that children are like arrows. Arrows are something you shoot into a battle you may never even be in. You aim straight and true. The homework was not difficult because I've already thought about where to aim my girls. I'm constantly readjusting and leaning to aim as they become different in my hands. They become stronger and less likely to break when shot out as they grow. They become curved a bit as I learn more and more about their unique personalities, which causes me to lean right or left opposite them, to ensure they're still aiming true. They're still young, I'll hand you that. 18 months and 3 years is a tender age. But, I don't know when I'll have to shoot and let go. So, I stay aimed.

This Sunday was just a reminder of that. A reminder that these are my children, but they're not. That this is our home, but it's not. That I have a plan for them, but I don't.

Motherhood carries so much responsibility. So many worries. So much stress. How wonderful it is at the end of the day to let go and know that He is in charge and not I. Not I, with my grand plans of who my children will turn out to be. Not I with my limited knowledge. Not I, with my mortal shortcomings and failures. After all, it wasn't I that planned these children in the first place, so He showed from the beginning how much He knows better than me.

Simply Ten in the midst of Moving

A list of simply ten. Ten things of the here and now to help live in the moment and be grateful for it.

1) a late (second) breakfast for little girls with wet little heads from bath time

2)pancakes made from scratched and frozen for convenience at times like now

3) boxes stacked high that are so much more than just boxes

4) a very good man that painstakingly takes apart a very large wooden swing set that he painstakingly put together a year ago, only to painstakingly put it back together in a new backyard....without complaint

5) two little girls that love to sing and dance along with Annie

6) a moment taken away from 18 billion things on the to do list to sit and reflect and write...even if only a list

7) awakening before the rest of the house while it's still dark to sit, write, pray, read, and prepare

8) the beauty in dawn as a gift for that early rise

9) footie pj's on little girls that refuse to dress, which is just fine with mama

10) knowing that home is less about rooms and things and more about tickled bellies, smells of homemade bread and cookies, dirty windows, and slow dances in the kitchen after the little ones are in bed

Psalm 51:7

Cleanse me with hyssop, and I

will be clean;

wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.

Psalm 51:7

cleanse me....my study bible says that phrase literally means "un-sin" me. If Lance sins against me, I can forgive but I will always have it there...in the back of my mind...even if I don't think on it, something can bring it to the front of my mind even if I don't hold feelings against it...it's there.

Un-sin me....it's the closest we'll get to time travel, folks. It's not even there to bring up in mind. whiter than snow. so good.

meaningful relationships

This morning while reading, I came across Psalm 69. I jump all over the Bible when I finish books instead of going in a row, but I always find myself back in the Psalms every few books. The raw emotion throughout these poems always bring an English major like me back to its pages. We often hear Psalms quoted, but it's usually from verses of praise or a happy ending. Have you noticed that? Psalm 40, for example says

I waited patiently for the LORD;
he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear the LORD
and put their trust in him.

Psalm 40:1-3

I love that psalm and can so relate to the truth of it. However, there are other psalms, like 69, that does not have a happy ending. David is drowning in life, and though he praises God even through his hardship and trusts God, He hasn't saved him yet. We know the history. We know David died a great king, old, happy, and with many sons to be there to take over his thrown. David, however, did not see his happy ending when he was writing this.

Save me, O God,
for the waters have come up to my neck.
I sink in the miry depths,
where there is no foothold.
I have come into the deep waters;
the floods engulf me.
I am worn out calling for help;
my throat is parched.
My eyes fail,
looking for my God.
Those who hate me without reason
outnumber the hairs of my head;
many are my enemies without cause,
those who seek to destroy me.

Psalm 69:1-4

Do those words break your heart? When I read this this morning, I felt my heart ache. Not really because I can relate, though I can, but because I wondered how often I walk past or TALK to people on a regular basis that could have written these verses just yesterday.

Our Journey group was just discussing this past week about how disconnected our culture is today. We know more about more people, but less about those people than ever. Facebook has tricked us into thinking we have tons of friends. It has made us believe that its purpose is to connect us with people we don't have time to see. The truth of the matter is that at one time, we had a few deeper relationships and more surface level ones, and we have traded those few deeper connections for 549 surface level ones. Sure, you can see pictures of their baby, but will you ever actually hold that little one? Yes, you know she got the job, but did you buy her a coffee when she was desperate for a paycheck? Better yet, did you take her to dinner?

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? ³⁸ When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? ³⁹ When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.

Matthew 25:37-40

How many people are hurting like David and I just walk right past them? Or chat to them about something superficial and they are drowning? Am I ministering to people? Have I lost so much sensitivity to the Spirit that I can't even recognize when a child of His hurts, a person created in His image, that He knit together while in their mother's womb? I'm sad to say that the answer is yes. Just like our pastor was saying last week, it is impossible to have a meaningful relationship with absolutely everyone, but I no longer want to sacrifice those relationships that I can invest in on the altar of American culture. "for the waters have come up to my neck. I sink to the miry depths, where there is no foothold." Oh God, help us to love You and your children. "I am worn out calling for help; my throat is parched. My eyes fail, looking for my God."

If a friend is sinking and parched from calling for God, the only practical thing to do is to hold them up and call for them.

Those pink walls

So, we're moving soon. We were given an incredible opportunity to move into Lance's grandmother's home for a little while, giving us time to save money for a downpayment on a home of our own sooner than we expected. There are tons of positives to it all, and some things that are leaving me a bit anxious...like the girls will be sharing a room. ....stay tuned for those blog posts lol.

I had had it today with London's room and the absolute chaos that it had become, so I went in to clean. Her room is decorated with tons of pink, and had little music note stickers all over the wall above the rockingchair rail. I decided to go ahead and take them off now, while I was in You're Room is Awful! mode, hoping it'd be an easier transition into a bare room later on. As I started peeling off the stickers, I was instantly transported in my mind into a room, dark with a fan going, a rocking chair in the corner, and a little baby girl quietly sleeping. We moved here when that baby was 6 weeks old, and it's all she's ever known.

Our home is small, older, and has some serious plumbing issues that flair up every few months, but it's our home. We love it. I hate to add up the money we've spent in rent since living here, but what a home it's been. Those pink walls have sheltered my baby girl. They've protected her from the chaotic world outside, from the cold, the heat, the bugs (ew). More importantly, they've witnessed so much. They've sheltered us as I cried in that rocking chair, exhausted from lack of sleep and desperate for the baby to stop crying. They've sheltered as I have completely lost my cool and temper on a two year old. Then, they sheltered as I came back in to apologize and hug her. They've been there countless times in the night, when I crept in unnoticed to get on my knees by her bed to pray for her. To pray that I could do this. To pray that I could give her the love and attention she needs with a new little sister on the way and then there. To promise God that I'd parent her and love her and love her daddy. To give her to God, for His plans...and only some of those times because I was exasperated and at the end of my rope ;).

Oh, those pink walls...and we're only on one room.

Band Wife

I'm a band wife. Worship band wife, to be precise. I married a guitarist, and while many girls dream of a man that can play and instrument for them and sing them a song, they normally don't quite understand what comes along with that package.

A band practices...hopefully. Lance practices every Thursday night, like tonight, and on his own through the week. He's gone early Sunday morning to run through the set once more. Yep, I know the set list usually by heart by the time I'm actually in the service.

There was a time in my marriage when I thought this was a sacrifice. My sacrifice...for God? for the church? I'm not really sure. I just knew I was sacrificing! I would be home alone with a toddler and pregnant or two little ones, doing the routine myself. Even tonight, we picked up the house, ate dinner, brushed teeth, prayed and got into bed with just us girls. I'm currently sitting here instead of taking a relaxing bath because the littlest little one is being especially lovely and yelling while throwing every single thing out of her crib, only to yell wanting it all back in.

I used to think it was sacrifice. Some months ago, I realized that I no longer think of it as that. I think it was when another person at church thanked me for letting my husband serve! It really is such a kind and thoughtful gesture to make when people remember me and give me credit for arriving with not only both children but both their church bags AND my coffee. That's a Sunday miracle each week ;). But, no, not a sacrifice.

There is a difference between being selfish, being selfless, and just doing what's right. Just doing what God has asked and called us to do. It looks different in all families. In my family, it looks like girl time on Thursdays, no male to witness how many outfits we go through on Sunday mornings, and me serving God in the way He called me to do in this season, through my girls. I see sleepy faces and twirling in church dresses as they're just put on. I have long conversations with my almost 3 year old on the way each Sunday about class and their topic and God and His love and Dora...yeah, they both love animals.

There are women who are raising up children on their own because fathers not only refuse to follow God, they won't follow what is simply Right. Good. And me? On Thursday nights, I am alone in the hugs, kisses, giggles, running into walls because they won't slow down racing to grab the children's bible to read, and kissing boo boos. Alone because my husband is blessed enough to love guitar and be allowed to worship through it.

I wonder what other "sacrifices" are in my life that I should be reevaluating? The littlest one is quiet now, so I shall ponder it while relaxing.

What I Wish I Had Known before becoming a Parent

Recently, Lance and I deactivated our facebook accounts. I reactivate mine on the weekends, allowing myself to catch up on recent life changes of friends, and it also allows me to upload pictures of the girls from that week for grandparents to enjoy.

Overall, I greatly dislike facebook; however, there is one aspect of it that I truly love. I LOVE getting online to see happy announcements of engagements, weddings, pregnancies, and births. I see a good share of unhappy events as well, but being 25 and about 98% of my friends on there being female, I see more happy news. It seems to come in spurts as well. Less than a year ago, I couldn't believe the number of pregnancy announcements covering my news feed each day. It dropped off and they seem to be beginning again, while that last group is about to cover my news feed with tiny little smooshed faces and happy parent pictures.

As I sat looking through the feed last night seeing announcements in between other statuses I don't care near as much about ;), I thought about this time three years ago. I was 8 months pregnant with my first child. I never thought that I'd have children, growing up. I always said I'd be in another country, unmarried, childless, and happy. I wince now when I think of my careless words. Sigh..the arrogance of youth. which again just makes me laugh, since I'm 25 which means that you may be reading blog posts every three years about how arrogant I was three years ago ;).

Because of that arrogance and pride, it took longer than it should have for me to fully come to grips that I would be a mother. Then, when I finally accepted it, I was determined to be the best mom I knew how to be. That included a lot of reading, research, and sacrifice. I was certain I'd nurse my baby, even if the entire idea still completely weirded me out. I was going to make her babyfood myself, which actually turned out ridiculously easy anyway, thank the Good Lord. But I had a whole list of things I'd do. In my head, I loved this baby and I was going to prove it through how good of a mom I was going to be. Gentleness never even occurred to me.

It didn't help that my LEAST favorite part of pregnancy is the attention it draws to my body from other people. Stupid comments made by strangers or loved ones would infuriate me, leaving me to cry later when I was alone, scared to death of what was happening within me and what would happen later.

Thinking through all of that from this side of it, I was thinking of what I wish I had known then. I decided I'd blog it, if nothing else than perhaps someone that is or will be there will gain some sort of confidence from it.

I wish I had known that preparing myself to be the best mom wasn't the same as love. That everything I did or do means nothing if at the end of the day, I don't do it out of the unconditional love that drives a servant's heart.

I wish I had known that it doesn't matter who you offend. It doesn't matter who wants to take pictures of or hold your baby. It doesn't. It will in a few hours, but not then. When your child is born, what matters is that as many of the first few hours as you need are all about you as a family. You, daddy, and baby. Sorry, random distant relative, but you absolutely aren't a priority right now. I first saw London's face through a picture on my dad's phone. They took her to do vitals before I could even hold her and kept her for two hours. For two hours, I sat alone in my hospital room on the verge of tears wondering what kind of mess I'd gotten myself into. I was more protective with Story. She laid on me until I was good and ready to share her, and even then it wasn't long. I fought for months at trying to get the same connection and relationship between London and I that I had with Story in minutes. no, seconds.

I wish I had known how fleeting the delivery is. I was so scared and nervous, that I had looked at it from such a wrong angle. I was self conscious, fearful, and distant. It was not long anyway with London, but I disconnected myself without even realizing it in an effort to save face. I didn't want to do or say anything while in that moment that would give fuel to stories that would get told later about my behavior while in pain. (yes...it's dumb that women would talk and dumb that I'd care)

I wish I had known that in that moment, it's not about what I did. It's not about what the nurse did, who the doctor was, or any one of those things. What matters is that God, the Creator of the Universe and your baby, stops everything else important in your life and says TIME. And what comes forth is your hope for the future. Your heart and soul in the form of a living being. That gentleness overcomes environment, and love casts out fear.