Five Minute Friday: Remember

It's been a while since I stopped and wrote out a Five Minute Friday...but in the stillness of this minute (or five...) I'm going to once again join Lisa-Jo and a host of other bloggers as we Remember...

Start!

It's been nearly 9 months. 9 beautiful, life-changing, never-wanna-go-back months. She's starting to pull herself along the furniture...been pulling up for a while now. She's a mess, and she gets into everything, but I'm loving every second of it!

But before that? It had been almost 2 years. Since the heartache and the hurt and the anger and the pain. Since the first miscarriage that went on to two. Since God drew me close when I felt so far and allowed me a glimpse into the sufferings His Son went through...and that fellowship sustains me even now.

And today? Today, this week, I celebrate five wonderful years of getting to know the man I now call husband and who my daughter calls Daddy. Five years of hurt and anger at times and love and understanding, better-than-happily-ever-after at others. Five years of being goofy and turning right around and having a deep, theological discussion because that's how we roll, y'all. Five years of getting to know each other better...and I can't wait to see where this road takes us.

Life...good and bad. Life...worth remembering.

Stop!

And just because I feel like it (read: because I can and want to...) I'm going to leave you with a picture that I want to remember every year from now on...

Abby, Daddy, Mommy, and Aunt Shea at the Pumpkin Patch

Five-Minute Friday: Older

She has light brown hair that's slowly getting fuller, though it's still thin. Every now and then, in the sunshine, you can see streaks of red, promises of a fiery spirit.

She has two teeth now...two! Just a month ago, she had none.

She looks over at strangers in the restaurants and gabs at them until they notice her, and her biggest smiles come when she's entertaining someone. She loves dancing with her Daddy and me, too. Music is still her favorite.

She's eating toddler snacks and raw fruits and veggies. She loves toast strips and hates naps. She's always on the move, and she's getting faster every day!

No, she isn't my baby anymore, but I don't want her to be. She's growing into her personality, and I love watching her blossom.

Older, yes. Sweeter, of course! More of a diva? You bet! And I'm loving every. single. minute. of it all! Well, except for when she fights her naps. ;)

Linking up with Lisa-Jo for Five-Minute Friday again! Join in on the fun! :)

Mommy Needs a Caffeine IV...

These days, it's sometimes all I can do to keep going. For realz.

I wonder if coffee could cure this exhaustion.

Yeah, it's that bad.

My husband finally has a good job that gives him awesome hours. Well, mostly awesome. Because in reality, it's an all-the-time gig. Radio station manager. Take that, Walmart!

He's pretty much always going, and since it's his job to get the station to a self-sustaining point, he's been stressed to the max for the past two weeks. Oh, and the commute it 3-4 hours away. Woot. Thankfully it's one he makes only once a week, but that also means that he's gone for 4+ days at a time.

I've been going with him, for obvious reasons. I mean, really, if I have the ability, I'm gonna stick with him!

Of course, Abby has been having "fun" while traveling. Ugh...and she's teething.

This adds up to tired daddy, tired baby, tired mommy...and a ransacked house that really needs cleaning. Especially since we're only here for a couple of days at a time anyway.

Which brings me to my point...


Anyone want to some over and help? Please?? 

Carried

She's quiet and content while I wrangle up some laundry. While I spray liquid allergy relief on sofas and pillows and beds and carpet. I sense her drifting off, her body slowly relaxing while I stay busy. Then I realize her head is down, her body quietly inhaling and exhaling. I grab some soup, some nourishment, and sit down for just a bit.

I feel her. Her still frame, her hot breath, completely at peace, at ease.

She sleeps on my back, in a baby carrier. Completely oblivious to all the things I'm doing, to all of the movements that my busy hands make. But she knows I'm there. She rests in perfect peace.

How is it that I am her rock? How is it that fragile, floundering me can possibly be her encouragement, her strength?

She wakes, balks a bit at the snugness, then gives in to rest, to sleep, again.

How often do I balk at the too-tight closeness of God? How often do I balk at His mercy, His love, His peace, only to finally give in to rest?

She will wake, will balk, will want put down. Or I will tire out from holding her and need my own rest. I lose patience, grow weary, and crave rest. For time on my own. Why do I balk at the One who wants to carry me? Balk at the One who can give me rest, grace, peace when I need it? All the time?

She doesn't know God. She knows me. She knows her Mama and her Daddy. When we forget peace, when we decide we don't want to listen or to do, she learns to balk from Him. To struggle and fight instead of lean in and rest.

It's such a humbling thought: she learns who God is from us. She learns how to perceive God from how we teach about Him.

Am I ready to teach her, show her God? I know that I'll never be ready if I'm trying to be perfect. But can I teach her to trust, to be humble, to rely and lean on Him? Can I teach her about faith, about love, about peace?

The only way I can teach is by acting it out. Daily. Hourly. Every moment will be taken into consideration, every act of mine will influence her walk with Him. Am I ready? I'll never be.

Unless...

I learn to lean and rest. Trust in the Everlasting Arms. Under the wing of the Almighty. In the safety of Him.

After all, He carries us.

Abby being carried in my fancy-schmancy Ergobaby

Why Two?: Thoughts on this Downpour of Love

I have heard it time and again, but it never stops resonating within my soul.

"Why were we given two?"

Why, indeed. Why am I blessed beyond measure, with countless joys coming from this little girl? Why me, when my own heart, my life, is wretched, cursed with sin? Why so much beauty, why so much joy, when my life should be nothing but sorrow, hurting, grieving over the loss and the pain?

Why did God choose to heal my hurts, be a balm for my wounds, and cure the ache within me?

Surely, it's nothing short of love. It's nothing short of miraculous.

Why would He choose to love me?

But He does. And His gifts, His love, His miraculous care for me never ceases to astonish and amaze.

I cannot escape it, nor would I want to. At times, I wish that I could go back to the girl who walked that long, dark road, but I know that I would not have listened. I would not have heard. Because God was working, slowly, surely, inside of me. I know that those dark days molded and shaped me into something I never could have imagined. Into something breathtakingly beautiful. Beauty from ashes. Life from death.

So many days, I just accept it all as is. I forget the blessings, accepting it all as normal, part of my days.

When, really, my life is nothing short of miraculous. The fact that I woke up this morning, the very breath in my lungs, my amazing husband who is so very good to me, and my beautiful, smart, active daughter who teaches me so much every day. Why was I given even one? Why am I blessed with all?

It's a question that I can never be fully satisfied with.

And my only solution?

To thank. To be thankful, grateful, every day that I am given. In the storms, in the rain, in the sun, in the hurricane, and in the breeze.

Thanking for the good and the hard, the easy and the difficult. For reminders that I do not deserve one, much less two. For the two and the three and the multitude of blessings. For the ever-flowing waterfall of love and mercy. For the never-ceasing molding and shaping and conforming to His image.

For the tools of sanctification and the outrageous downpours of grace.

Abby and her cousin, Aaron, on Mimi

Sweet moments with my Little Girlie

 

 

My sweet girl and I

Such a beautiful daughter, and I'm so very humbled by it all!

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!!

Can a Woman Forget her Nursing Child?

In case you missed the memo, this past week was World Breastfeeding Week. I'm not going to go into all of the reasons why it's great or why I love it. Not even on factoid! (Seriously, I promise!) I did want to share this post that I wrote for my (ultra-time-consuming) other blog, Sisters 'N Cloth. (The one where I would readily post facts and reasons, if you're into those.) So without further ado, my post for this past week's Worship Wednesday. 

"Can a woman forget her nursing child,
    or lack compassion for the child of her womb?
    Even if these forget,
    yet I will not forget you."

Isaiah 49:15

Because it happens to be World Breastfeeding Week, this verse seems fitting. But because of other events this week, it seems even more fitting.

Melissa introduced me almost two months ago to a little baby, born almost 8 weeks ago with Trisomy 18. This little boy, Tate, lived for over 7 weeks with this genetic disease, defying so many odds. When his mother went in to have her 6 week checkup, her doctor mentioned that it must be hard for her to make the visit. She was amazed to find out that, no, this checkup was not difficult because her boy was still alive. Yes, he is gone now. But Tate has touched countless lives with his and his mother's and father's testimony. They trusted in God to heal their boy, and He did heal him to the fullest when He brought Tate home with Him in Heaven. But not only did God heal Tate, He also allowed for him to be loved, cherished, and nurtured by his family for over 7 wonderful weeks. God is so good! Tate went home to Heaven on Saturday, carried by many prayers.

Another baby, Everett, never saw the light of day. His mother went for another checkup just after his due date in February and found that he had already died. She delivered him the next day and has carried him in her heart since. Her pregnancy had been completely normal, no complications whatsoever. Nothing at all even hinted that something could go wrong. But when it did, she and her husband fell in God's embrace, constantly reminding themselves of God's goodness, His mercy, and His love. It's been five months since they buried their son, and they are rejoicing today because, in God's great love, He has given them another baby. And while they are so cautious, they can still rest in Him, knowing that He loves them and that every day with this baby is a gift.

There are so many times in life when it feels like God has abandoned us. There are wars, famines, hurts, death, and it seems that God couldn't be in them. That He must not love us enough or He would do something about it. We may think, "Babies dying? Come on, God, how is that just? How is it right when their parents are faithful? You have a twisted sense of justice..." But the verse above? Remember what it says? Even if it were possible for these mothers who have lost their children, the children of their wombs, God would still not forget us!

I pray that as you nurse your child this week, that you will remember the great love that God has for each one of us. As far-fetched as it may seem, He loves us more than the love you have for your child. Even as you nurse. And that, my friend, is pretty spectacular.

If you'd like to read more about Tate's story and learn how to pray for his family, you can visit his mother's blog here. To read Everett's story from the "start," you can visit his mother's blog here, or if you'd like to read her announcement post and rejoice with her, you can read it here.

Five Minute Fridays: Whole

I have been woefully neglecting this little blog. I hate how inconsistent I've become with it, but I also know that this is a growing and a stretching of myself. Hopefully I will be able to come back more regularly soon, but until then, I believe that Five-Minute Fridays may be my best bet at staying sort of regular. :)

This week's Five Minute Friday topic is whole. Five minutes, no editing, no worrying about how right it sounds or how creative (or not) it is. Just writing to write...and then sharing the writing love with fellow bloggers.

Start!

Whole? What is whole?

I, for one, have had fleeting moments when I have felt whole. I've been nit-picked, hurt, and have felt very un-whole for so many days. Losing myself in the "what I'm not," forgetting the "what I am." Wholeness does not come easily for me.

But.

I am whole, I am complete in Christ. I am a new creation. And my wholeness is not found in what I say or do (or what I don't say or do). Wholeness is found in Christ. In grace.

I trust this, I believe this, but it still takes a lot of courage for me to be whole. For me to live this knowledge.

I'm working on it. Slowly working, slowly thanking, slowly becoming the woman I need to be. The woman He has made me. The woman He is making me.

Wholeness. Complete.

The circle starts again, mother bearing daughter. The circle is made whole. The girl is made woman. And the wholeness begins to fill.

I work at being whole for her. I work at this wholeness, laboring daily so that she may have life. Life. Wholly living on grace.

Stop!

Abiella, "God is My Father"

Five Minute Fridays: Full

I haven't been here in a while. It feels kinda nice to write a bit about whatever I want. In case you missed it, I've been blogging at Sisters 'N Cloth, and in between that and these crazy days, I've neglected this blog more and more.

While I'd like to say that I won't be as neglectful in the future, I really don't know if that's true. I'll try, that's for certain. Because I miss the warmth here. The freedom here. And, honestly? It's nice to be home.

Anyway, on to this week's Five Minute Friday topic: Full.

Go!

Oh, my days are full. Full of errands and cleaning, full of running after Little Miss Quick. (Yes, that sounds like Bisquick.)

Mostly, though, it's full of anticipation. Of wondering how and when God is going to lead. These days of wandering, of wilderness, they have an ending. They have an end. They are ending now. And we are so full of joy, of hope, of amazement at the wonder God is doing!

Even Little Bit is getting more and more excited. It shows in how fast she moves from right in front of me to the coffee table...and then over to the ottoman. My hands? They're so full right now with her. But they're full of good things.

My heart, too, rejoices in its fullness. Sometimes it threatens to spill over, this incredible, wonderful joy! God's promises are yes and amen! He never leaves, never forsakes, never abandons! He stays with us, even when we feel He certainly has left us. And when we look up and realize that He has always been there? Full doesn't even begin to describe it!

Full, overflowing, spilling over, dripping onto the floor, making huge puddles of joy...that's where we are right now, friends. Full indeed. :)

Stop!

It seems as though I really should update y'all on what's going on around here. :) Soon, I promise.

The Unveiling

I don't know if you're at all like me. If you read this fairly regularly, there must be something in yourself you see in me. Possibly. Maybe?

Which is odd. Because I've been hiding for years. From me. From everyone else. Because sometimes I really don't like who I am.

There have been years when I hid in books, imagining someone else's life in places far and away from my mundane life.

There have been years when I hid in my words, writing whatever is on my heart while not actually dealing with it. Writing the things I couldn't say...because my words come surer on the page than in the air.

Before that, I hid in my play, in Barbies and baby dolls and beanie babies. Pretend the world isn't as it is. Pretend I'm not me.

I hid from my sisters, my friends, my parents, and, until recently, even my husband. Because I wasn't good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, or neat enough. Because whatever face I could show them would be better than me. 

And now? Now the world hits me full-force because now I'm the shield for my daughter. Because I want her to deal with life and not hide. Not hide behind pretend, pretense, words, or stories.

Her story matters. Her words matter. And I want to hear those words instead of letting her bottle them up inside of her. I want to keep her unveiled because, you know what? She's pretty awesome.

Awesome baby girl

Multitudes on Mondays: Pink

When I found out that I was having a girl last September, I was excited. I had only known girls, being the oldest of three of that gender, and boys? Well, I had no clue. But there was one part that I did not like.

Pink.

Pink was never a good color for me, and I much prefer green or blue or purple or even yellow to the ultra-girly pink.

Pink is what girly-girls wear. Barbie wears pink. Girls who take hours to dress each morning wear pink. My daughter was not going to be one of those girls. Pink was out.

But there's a sad truth to having a girl. Almost all newborn clothes, nearly every girl-specific toy, and *almost every single girl gift at baby showers come only one color: PINK.

At first, I balked. I protested. I looked for other ways, other means. Pink would not be the defining color of my baby girl!

Then she was born. And pink indeed took over much of her wardrobe. And her toys. While there were (and are) other colors, we still have lots of pink.

But I've actually come to like it, accept it. Pink is so much more than a color. It's a mindset, a realization that this child is my daughter, a princess, and longs to be beautiful, even now. (Yes, my four-month-old loves to be put in pretty, albeit comfy, clothes...especially pink ones!) My daughter, even now, is showing her girly side: preferring to be a social butterfly, enjoying shopping trips to the fullest, and already trying to talk up a storm.

Pink. Is absolutely beautiful.

Counting the gifts that pink has brought us:

pink dolls
pink onesies
pink on her diaper covers
pink dresses
pink Moses basket
pink blankets
pink rattles
pink socks
pink pants
pink stroller
pink towels and washcloths
pink bathrobe
pink picture frames
pink photo albums
pink stuffed animals
...and a purple swing.