the good life

I overheard Benny many times yesterday. I just kept happening upon him busy doing something. Its one of my favorite things to do, sneak up on an unsuspecting, busy boy and grab them from behind and HUG them tight, kiss their cheeks mercilessly, not let them go. And then, eventually, I do have to let them go. Perhaps I stalled my 'attack' with Ben yesterday and resorted to getting close and listening because I am feeling particularly guilt ridden towards this middle child. Unpacking the Christmas ornaments and paraphrenalia so much was discovered and felt this year. Jack has many, many "1st Christmas" ornaments and pictures...Ben doesn't. "Momma, where is my picture where I am crying in Santa's lap?" ... "Where is my Christmas ball with my picture?" .... um....I think, 'oh baby, I was SO tired then.' My heart knows there is no excuse. My heart also knows Callen will probably have such a different experience. I fell into the trap, the seemingly neglected middle child trap. How do I explain to him that those things have nothing to do with how much I love him. I am praying through this, praying for perspective and insight to this beautiful gift of a child. In the meantime I find myself approaching him more gently, listening more. I discovered a wealth of hilarious moments I want to write on my heart and never let go of. While I was busy doing the breakfast dishes Benny was serenading his audience of tiny puppies in the living room with a rousing rendition of 'I'm in the Lord's Army' complete with marching and salutes. He even took the time to put each puppies' paw in the salute position as they watched him. He has extraordinary attention to detail. I giggled and he sheepishly turned and saw me and then performed louder with a blush on his cheeks. Then he ran to me and I picked him up and spinned him.
Later, I came around the corner and he was dusting the nativity set. :) He was singing 'Mary had a little lamp.' Oh, I love him.
My favorite stolen moment was catching a conversation Ben was having with Callen. Callen was sitting in his high chair seat in rapt attention, and Ben was holding his feet. This is what I heard: "Callen, God made me a big brother. I had to wait a long time for you, but God knew you were my little brother before He made the earth and the stars. Yes, all of the stars in the sky. He made you special just for our family. I will teach you to run." At this point he saw me because I couldn't stand to be behind him anymore. I grabbed him, held him, absorbed his four-ness.

some thoughts need a place to be put

Things are changing.

I feel like I am waking up, looking around and seeing my life more clearly than I have in a while. I tuck thoughts away, I collect words, dwell in moments...I overanalyze and sometimes get logged in minutiae and forget to pull back and see the big picture. I recognize God is in this moment and that moment..then those moments add up and sometimes I forget that my life is a compilation of moments orchestrated by a Lord who never leaves, moves or changes. I have been so impacted by one of God's smallest miracles; my friend Christa's baby Ella and her fight to live. I find myself understanding 'pray without ceasing' as I have never petitioned God this earnestly or this constantly before. Drawing close to a God who hears will change you. I go on with my living and in the next breath sob in air rich with emotions...fear, perspective, gratitude..

Some changes needed to come. I was getting comfortable with ordinary, appreciating my life but not enjoying it as deeply as I could have. Focusing on the big picture changes all of that. There is a little bit of joy in every moment...suddenly I can see it, no, I can feel it. This joy runs deep and is completely unaffected by the weather, the scale or the mood of the moment. It is real; it is a gift from the Lord and I want to clutch the preciousness of abiding in truth. If change = growth, as it often does...what a privilege.

Straight from Heaven

This is our very last day of paternity leave...

Then real life begins...life with three boys...am I ready?

Our littlest man has brought such happiness to our household this first week. His big brothers cannot get enough of him, kissing him, praying for him, cuddling him. It is so precious to watch them think of another first and treasure Callen's little fingers and toes as much as I do. Our family has been prepared for this baby; the adjustment has not been too overwhelming. I have taken the night shift with absolute pleasure. What a surprise to find that I look forward to that alone time with Callen each night...I play soft piano music of old hymns or Pachelbel's Canon in D and I read Isaiah out loud to him. He stares at my face and I can't hold back the tears. What a wonder to look into the face of such a pure miracle and realize that miracle is looking back at you, absorbed by you...needing you. This first week has been an absolute joy.

Little boys who become men

We are in our third, of most likely 4, weeks living away from home...
I have tried hard to disengage. I have found that focusing on that which I cannot control and do not desire intermixed with all the hormones of pregnancy is an ugly combination. For the past two weeks we have been at my mother-in-law's while my husband slaves away utilizing every spare moment he has to rebuild/remodel our only bathroom. We have been blessed with tremendous help and luxurious accommodations. I am encouraged daily to sleep in, nap, put my feet up and relish the air conditioning. My boys are spoiled and thoroughly enjoyed. The company of my mother-in-law is delightful and thoughtful. My heart is so grateful. I fight hard the moments I want to have a tantrum and insist that despite all the subtle blessings this isn't exactly what I had planned and wanted. I have noticed the boys' fight their own emotional insecurities as well; I have seen them victorious and I have seen them vulnerable. Perhaps its the stockpile of noticing that jarred me into a new gear, a gear that screams to engage....ENGAGE...a baby is coming, life is rolling on whether I want to allow it to or not. My little boys are bigger boys this summer, these have been hazy, drifting thoughts as I spread sunscreen on their broader shoulders and taller torsoes. My life has gotten much, much easier; the boys can buckle their own seatbelts, brush their own teeth, wipe their own bottoms...they are each other's best friends and entertain each other all day long. They look out for me, they open doors for me, carry my bags and cover me with a coveted blanket if I fall asleep for an unexpected nap. I am their princess...I am the woman in their life. I have heard it whispered that I am the example they will follow when they are ready to marry. Have I taken this seriously? My affection is equated with approval in their little hearts...do I give it? There will come a day when I am no longer their princess...there will come a day when I will have to let go...do I live with this reality? Or am I so focused on myself that I forget the magnitude and privilege of the role God has laid out for me? Living in my mother-in-law's home, I am surrounded with the little boy-ness of my husband, who was once a boy whose princess was his mom...there are framed crayon pictures hanging on the walls...in her jewelry box a ceramic beaded necklace he crafted for her.....the ashes he saved in an old tupperware container from Mount St. Helens, preserved on a shelf....his old, battered paper airplane book safely tucked away...each year's baseball jersey saved as a precious momento. This home is full of memories of a boy I did not know who became a man that joined his life to mine. The little boy earnestness and diligence and affection are her memories, gifts that she alone was the recipient of and built into the man who is now mine. Do I appreciate the preciousness of that gift? No, I have not. I feel like I have come smacking into the reality that I will have to let go of my own little boys one day...that is God's plan and it is good. That these days have purpose; I am preparing them with every word that leaves my lips to receive well or poorly the example of a man their father offers. They watch us, they watch me, they role model, they form conclusions. Both boys want to become a husband, that is the best longterm goal they can muster. A career allows you to provide for a family, it is not their emphasis...being daddy is. They frequently ask about marriage, they pray God is protecting their future wives, they wonder, they argue over who they will marry. I asked Benny what happens after you get married, curious what he had concluded. He said, "well, then you have a wife to kiss you and miss you when you go to work." Jack was a bit more cerebral, "you share your life with the partner God made just for you...oh I can't wait to meet my wife, I hope she has long yellow hair!" Suddenly their preciousness permeates my every thought, I cannot hug them enough or hold tight enough to a little hand that unabashedly grabs mine wherever we are. I am not taking lightly their affections or admissions of love. Our world is about to be rocked by a third little boy who will someday become a man. I cannot wait.

New Makeup

I was able to get some new make-up yesterday. I convinced my mom that new make-up would be the perfect early birthday present, and receiving this gift a month early would be the most appreciated time, as I will be little more than a week away from delivering this baby on my special day. She agreed and I made an appointment at my hair salon with the aesthetician who does free consultations and sells a mineral-based product guaranteed to work with my drrrryyyyy skin and still give me a 'dewy' feel all day long. I was so excited! I knew new make-up and a consultation on how to properly put it on and most flatter my features was what was lacking in my world. I have been feeling all seven months of this pregnancy lately, all the antibiotics I have been taking have affected my sensitive skin causing discoloration and intense dryness. I have never had such pronounced circles under my eyes and even my eyelashes have been looking pale and droopy. My body has felt foreign and my face unfamiliar. I desired to take charge and start afresh. I sucked in a big breath when I met my angel of transformation: Tricia. Her make-up was lovely, I would even say 'dewy' but her expression was one of boredom and she was five minutes late. I tried gently to encourage her to sense my enthusiasm and grasp how much I had riding on a successful consultation. But she wasn't conversational, in fact the first thing she said to me was, "oh my, you need a facial." "Oh," I said. I knew a facial wasn't possible in my 30 minute slotted appointment and I wanted to crumble, my hopes for a fresh start would be impossible on a canvas that so desperately needed a fresh start of its own. "well, I'll just see what I can do anyway" she said, "but I would insist you get a facial asap." Part of me wanted to just leave, I felt embarassed and exposed...but I considered how hard I had worked to get up on the high bar stool of a cosmetic bench and recognized the danger of my hormones guiding my feelings and I bit my lip instead. "I'm sorry about my pores, I haven't really had time to care about them for the past 5 years" I admitted. Tricia just nodded. Suddenly she swabbed me with a big gob of white goo, she directed me to rub it in calling it 'the best moisturizer ever to hit my face'. It was nice, silky and I closed my eyes and began to relax as I rubbed and rubbed moisture onto my starved face. I opened my eyes to Tricia's face no more than an inch away. I startled, which is awkward on a chair with no back. She said, "hold still, I've got to get your coloring right." Apparently Tricia is an expert color decoder, trusting only her eyes, not even holding color samples up to my skin, just taking it all in gave her all the evidence she needed to know I was 'warm silk'. "Will you be tanning this summer?" she asked. "Um, not likely..." I muttered feeling like I was letting her down again. She used a flat brush and applied the mineral foundation, then she applied under eye concealer and blush. This was all without a word and with tight lipped concentration. I tried to focus on being still and breathing gently, but then she shocked me with an aerosol can aimed straight for my face. "Don't breath!" she said. She sprayed me with a gentle breeze, ohhh it felt lovely and she guaranteed it would lock my make-up in place for 12 hours and provide moisture to the minerals in the powder which would then moisturize my face. She said my eyes really just needed mascara, any further effort on her part seemed to be less than worthwhile given my lifestyle as a stay at home mom. "Okay," I concurred, resigning myself to learn the art of eye make-up application from someone other than Tricia. She gave me a mirror and I was impressed. I looked relatively the same but healthier, I smiled and I felt like the minerals sparkled. "Wow, that looks really good," she said, oddly surprised. Suddenly Tricia perked up, it was time to talk about purchase. "So...you want the base, the brush, the blush, the brush, the mascara, the under eye miracle cream and the facial spritzer? Altogether that's just $275." "Oh," I said, "I'm sorry, I may just have to save up for the whole package, today I could just get the base and the mascara." "Okay," she sighed, "but without the proper brushes you're going to blow through your product." Those were Tricia's final words of wisdom and she was gone. I clutched my new purchases happily and rushed to the car to check out how I looked in natural light. The compact and mascara have a dull gold outer cover, always a sucker for packaging, I love it. They are both relatively heavy and make me feel grown up. I drove home feeling fresher and prettier than I had in a while. I smiled at people at stop lights and they smiled back. I sunk a little when Scott didn't immediately notice my new face, but he had a lot on his mind last night. I began my new beauty regimen first thing this morning. The boys noticed immediately when they got up that I "looked bitiful (beautiful) today". That made me smile some more. Jack complimented me again after lunch, "momma, you're so pretty today!" Ohhhh, I do love that boy. "Thank you honey, momma got some new make-up yesterday and I really like it." "No, that's not what I mean," he said. "You have the most happy smile on your face like you used to have and that makes me remember how pretty you are." ......... "Wha-aat.." I stammered. I felt it was necessary to make my case clearer; my coloring is evened out and I don't have circles under my eyes, I explained. I even showed him the compact and said that it had special minerals that made my face sparkle. Both boys laughed. "Momma," Jack said giggling, "momma, there isn't anything in there that makes you pretty, its what is in your heart!" In the next moment, I tested out the waterproof-ness of my new mascara. Why is it that my five year old can sometimes pour wisdom straight out of his logical, simple little heart to my complicated, distracted and misguided one? I am simply flabberghasted that I could have spent $275 on something promoted by Tricia to feel more beautiful when God has given me the antidote to feeling unspectacular and He keeps it in my heart: joy. Joy of my salvation. I am reminded of this quote:

"If you are saved, inform your face." ~Unknown

I have been so focused on the thoughts in my head lately, on me and how I am feeling (physically and emotionally), I forgot how good it felt to smile. How much my mood changes and the moods around me change when I just smile.

Home from the Hospital (!!!!)

I am so happy to be home!

But, let me back up. The impending hospital visit I referred to in my last post was indeed a reality this past Wednesday. I expected it, but didn't quite believe it. I was in my fourth week of fighting a bladder infection who wouldn't let go, my levels have been high but the infection has been effectively prevented from getting to my kidneys. The oral antibiotics have been unpleasant and by this past Wednesday had taken a serious toll on my body. I found myself weak, exhausted and moving so slowly I felt convinced the rest of the world had sped up and I was inside a fog that wouldn't lift. I expected my results Wednesday to reveal that the infection was at the same level. My nurse called and had pretty good news, the infection levels were way down, still too high, but the antibiotic was effectively fighting the infection, she thought another 10 day regimen on the same antibiotic would do the trick. I was so glad for this news, this was what I wanted...but I felt betrayed by my own response. I told her I just wasn't feeling good, I had a slight fever, lower back pain, gi issues and was simply exhausted. She put me on hold to talk to the doctor (another in the practice, my ob was on vacation) and told me to get right to the hospital to be admitted for i.v. meds. I actually felt relieved. I guess I was fully broken down in all my reserves and the fight was simply gone. Now that I can fast forward past the next two days and land on Friday....home, hydrated and feeling 110% better...I don't know why I had to wait four long, long weeks to get the help I needed, in more ways than one.

God is so gracious, and I tend to be dense and with an amazing ability to block out and forget, but the past two days I remembered. Four years and four months ago, I was admitted to Deaconess, 27 weeks pregnant (almost exactly how pregnant I am currently), with a bladder infection that couldn't be treated effectively with i.v. antibiotics (same situation, even same bacteria as this time), my ob was on vacation both times and I was assessed and treated by partners of hers both times, I was either in the same room both times or in the room next door on the second floor of Mother-Baby. None of these coincidences occurred to me at the same time, it was like a slow outpouring of deja-vu most of my stay. But, as I remembered and was struck by the coincidence, I recovered feelings...a tingling fear, a sob caught in my throat as I relived who I was four years ago. Small things came back in gentle flickers of memory; trying to wash my hands with an i.v. placement on the back of my wrist, the nurses gentle sympathy, the ring of the standard issue telephone, having a nurse aid me in taking a shower and collapsing into sobs naked in front of a complete stranger...these memories floated in and out not firm enough to grab hold of and relive but not ephemeral enough to lose. The contrasts were so obvious, so loud, they were like a ringing in my ears that I ignored as long as I could but the volume kept going up until I would have almost gone crazy if I hadn't closed my eyes and asked God to show me what I needed to see. I wasn't a Christian then, my marriage was rocky, my emotions were unstable, my body was in peril both with a kidney infection and cervical cancer...I was scared to death, my world had unraveled. It was precisely this edge that I peered over and discovered God's face and hope four years ago. Bittersweet to relive deeply. I am moved to such gratitude and so desperately want to hug the younger me, hold her hand and whisper promises of the future, a future filled with God; a life transformed. God was very much there then, waiting for me...as He is now. Which lead me to ask, "why...why am I reliving this time, what do I need to see, what is God trying to show me?" I think I know. There are depths to be explored, there is yet darkness to be trudged through, but thank you Lord, I have seen Your light at the end of the tunnel. This time I know how to trust Him; with my life, my unborn child, my deepest and darkest fears. This time I have hope, joy even. My life now reflects the touch of a God who is free to love and bless me because I know I am His. I came home today with a husband who held my hand and kissed my forehead, who loves me better and differently than four years ago. Our marriage has been restored, changed, strengthened in ways I didn't know to wish for four years ago. My children were grateful guests at my mother-in-law's, she was moved by their thoughtfulness as when my dad picked them up Jack looked up at her said, "Grandma, thank you so much for letting us stay two nights with you." My boys are not perfect, but they have parents who are praying for them and I get to spend the majority of my days reflecting on and guiding their hearts...what a privilege to be able to trust them away from us. Perhaps the biggest and most noticeable change came when I opened the door to my home, fresh from the hospital stay...four years ago I strongly remember kicking the door open as the key stuck and collapsing on my bed in sobs, hopeless, helpless, alone and scared. My home felt like a trap, messy and punishing. ...Today I opened the door to a sunny, clean home. While I was in the hospital, women from my church family came and cleaned my house. I spun around in the living room, almost gleeful, light streamed in as soon as I opened the curtains to reveal a spotless home. 20 minutes after we arrived, a dear friend brought us dinner, hot and ready to eat. I have received tremendous and bountiful blessings from friends who also love the Lord and want to honor Him. I sit here tremendously grateful and overwhelmed at the difference God has made in my life. He is so good.

p.s. I went home with this beautiful 3D image of my little boy's face b/c I had to have a kidney ultrasound and the tech needed practice with the 3D machine...

Second Trimester and other transformations..

I have been really humbled lately. It could be this pregnancy. It could be that God is using this pregnancy to open my eyes and reveal some areas that need some work in relegating control. He seems to be able to get my attention when pregnant, because, suddenly, my body is not about me. I find this uneven ground and to get my footing means to be honest. I am a put my head in the sand kind of girl; honesty is difficult. I am six months pregnant with my third baby and just beginning to voice aloud that being pregnant may not be an easy thing for my body. What makes this especially complex is that each pregnancy had a different issue attached; endometriosis, cervical cancer, fluid in my kidneys. As I look at that typed list, I want to close my eyes, rebel, not believe those words describe my body. I am used to pushing myself to get the results I expect. I am used to my accomplishments being mine. God filters through all of my life, but here is an area that I am not in need, here is an area that I can handle. Hard, efficient, physical work = good, measurable results so that I can focus on the more cerebral growth that I am sure God has for me. (this private place in my thoughts is now where I am hearing the record scratch) My body has not been dependable. Well, that depends on my perspective of what my body is designed to do. I am growing a healthy baby, and doing that well. I have felt the walls crumbling around my safe haven of pride for 5 months, but last night, they crashed down. I am sitting in rubble and finally feeling free. Freedom is a surprise and a relief. God has my attention, I see my pride for what it is, I am ready to be honest. I have found it hard to ask for prayer in the areas I need it most; submission to God, obedience to God, prideful battles, turning to silence and my own thoughts. I have felt myself battling the beauty and blessings God has given me. I am reminded of the woman in proverbs who tears down her own house, I believe she's called a fool. Am I really that desperate for control? I am also reminded of Paul when he curses his flesh for desiring the sinful nature over the purity in his heart. Yesterday I determined, I absolutely determined and willfully decided to fight for the outcome I believed was best for our family. Despite and maybe a little in spite of the fear of an upcoming hospital stay for me, I was going to get ahead on my chores, meal preparations and so forth and we were going as a family to growth group at church last evening. But, on our way....disaster struck. Scott got a bloody nose, a bloody nose that just wouldn't stop bleeding. He admitted this was his third for the day, and he'd had just as many a day for several weeks. I knew he was frustrated with his bloody noses, but I had no idea they'd been so frequent. I felt really alarmed. We elected to call my mom and have her babysit so we could go to urgent care. Thankfully, there was hardly any wait at urgent care and the doctor cauterized his ruptured blood vessel and gave him an antibiotic attributing his current bleeding to allergies and an untreated sinus infection. This was such a relief. We followed this up with the laundromat as our washing maching stopped mid-cycle earlier in the day, leaving blankets 40 pounds too heavy and soaked. As we waited for the washing and drying we held hands and talked. There were a couple of intense moments where we either needed to laugh or cry, or some of both. We actually did laugh and ended up enjoying our 'date night'. The intensity of our last few months lifted for a little while in the most unexpected of places. When we got back home, amazingly refreshed, I found the most beautiful flowers waiting for me. God's arms wrapped around me yesterday, as hard as I've fought to get away I ended the night submitting completely to the love waiting for me. Ready to admit my own failures, weaknesses and struggles and find hope in the only Source truly able to change me. I want to walk in the path God has set before me.