Forever Six

 I wasn't sure if there was a more perfect baby. I know I should never be partial, but Molly was so peaceful. Only for food would she cry, but once her tummy was full, she was perfectly satisfied.

As she grew, her personality began to blossom. She always wished to copy her sister. She had something to prove very early off and if she wanted to do it, she would get it done, no matter how hard it was. 

She started with her favorite color being yellow. She said it the cutest way... "Yeyow". I loved it. Such a happy color for her to pick. As she grew, her taste changed, until one day, it settled on bright, lime green. 

Molly loved to eat. And no one could down a cupcake or bowl of spaghetti like this girl. Messy? Who cares?! She was always in the moment. 

Laughing was her favorite. Dancing, singing at the top of her lungs, and twirling in big circles were an everyday occurrence. She helped us all to just love life a little more. 

Beautiful, like her sisters, it was no surprise that every year she grew in not only beauty, but smarts, athleticism, humor, and style. 

Molly would have been eight today. She would have run into our room, jumped on the bed, and exclaimed that it was her birthday. She would have laughed loudly, eaten her cake with much enthusiasm, and loved life like she did every single day. 

Instead, she is not with us. The hope that we will see her again one day are the very legs I stand on. To see her pretty smile and see her healed body is enough to get me through another day. But I do miss her. I miss her with every single ounce of my being. What a gift she is. 

Molly, save me a place at the birthday table... I'll be there one day to celebrate. But be sure to have a blast today... enjoy eternity with all the gumption you did here on earth. 

My Little Apes

Just today, while out with my girls, I had a lady ask me if Samantha was my daughter. I told her she was correct and then she went on and on about how much Sam looked like me. It makes me laugh because if she saw her Daddy, then she would no doubt say that Samantha was his. 

Parents often take pride in these comparisons. We love to hear that our kids are miniature versions of us. That is until they do something wrong, annoying, or just plain weird. That's when I like to pull out the "Do you know what YOUR child did today?" card when Peter comes home. Suddenly, I no longer take ownership of them. They are not my blood. Because I know there is nothing, within this beautiful, perfect being of a person, that could be part of a creation that would offspring a nose picker, liar, stubborn, window-licker of a child. Never. 

(Mini-me trying to be like Mommy by stuffing her chest. This is what blackmail is all about.)

It's incredible how much our children can be so much like us. Whether the child is adopted, birthed, or  the neighbor kid from down the street, kids have a way of echoing our actions so perfectly. The good, the bad, and especially, the ugly. 

That's why, when one of my kids, let's call them, "sweet little thing" decides to mouth off to their Mommy, I am never really surprised by what comes out. Mostly because I said a very similar thing only days ago.

Example:

Sister:"Sweet little thing, can you grab that bag over there and bring it here?"

Sweet little thing: "Did your legs break?"

Sweet little thing has many traits of mine, but the one that sticks out more than her eyes, brown, thick hair, or long fingers is the way she responds to others. Quick, mean, and edgy.

My mouth has gotten me into so much trouble over the years. That filter between the brain and mouth often malfunctions and I find myself in trouble, embarrassed, or hurting one that I love.
Why is this little part of my body so powerful? Why can't I control it?! Why can't my kids just mirror my good traits? That way, everyone will know the perfect person that I think in my head I am.

It comes down to the heart.

My desire is to be something worth mirroring. My responses and words cut so deep and I can see my bad habits rubbing off on them. It's no wonder that James called our tongue a "two edged sword." It cuts deep and leaves lasting scars.

The solution is simple and complex.

What flows out of my heart reveals my heart. No matter how hard I try to conform the outside and to make goals of "never yelling" or "soft answers", if my heart is not flowing out those things, then I will always fail. 

Filling our hearts with truth is the start. When we start our day off with the things of God and not of man, we set up a path of success. This doesn't mean we will never fail. The reality is we live in this flesh that continually pulls us towards darkness. We need to flood it with the Light on a constant basis. My day is always better when I grab even one nugget from God's Word and hold onto it for the day. 

I wish I could say that I was always a good example to the girls, to my friends, to my husband. But my real world is that I'm a nonstop work in progress. There are so many ebbs and flows. So many days that I just can't get it right and I just don't know what I'm doing. But thankfully, my kids don't just have me for an example. They can copy Jesus. God in man. Perfection incarnate. 

Mundane madness

There's no hiding the exhaustion of Motherhood. The lack of sleep and constant feeding of a newborn is only the tip of the iceberg. As they grow, you realize they continue to need food and sleep, but then they require other things such as discipline, education, clean clothing, guidance, nursing, carpooling, navigating, and yes, even some space. 

The juggling of life and all the needs can be very tiring and at times, overwhelming. But what about mundane? 

Perhaps I am the only one to speak up about this, so forgive me before hand if you are shocked, repulsed, and ready to call the authorities. But there are just some days I get tired of the day to day care of my children. Can we just talk a moment about food? They need to eat... like every 3 hours! I can go extended periods of time without food. And when I do eat something, it doesn't need to be a grand event. A cheese stick or an apple will do. 

But with the feeding of my kids seems to go on forever. 

To my poor pioneer sisters who had to take hours to cook a stew or bake a loaf of bread, I am just sorry. I am so thankful for the conveniences of  pre-sliced bread and snack packs. Judge all you want, but I love that cereal exists and that I don't have to make eggs and pancakes every morning. 

Also, the laundry.. it's like Mount Everest. You get to a plateau and think you made it. All baskets are empty and all clean laundry is put away. And then they have to do this thing called "getting clean". Suddenly, my once empty baskets are full with exactly 243 towels, 1900 pairs of underwear and socks, and a dump truck full of clothing. 

The care is endless. 

There are days I stand in the midst of grocery lists, laundry piles, and dirty dishes and just wonder what difference I am making in the Kingdom of God. Is this all there is? Why can't I be doing something exciting for Jesus like traveling around the world feeding orphans (see, even in my dreams I am feeding children), or speaking at large conferences of ladies encouraging them in God's Word.  I long to have hours to write, publish, and then engage with those that read the words I penned and see how God used my service to reach others. 

Then, I see the Apostle Paul. 

There he is. Waiting on his friends in Athens. A simple thing really. Just waiting for something exciting to happen. And then it did. There, in Acts 17, Paul gave one of his most famous sermons to the people of Athens. He was shaken, as were their hearts. 

What had changed? What happened between the waiting and the Holy Spirit working in Paul to preach?

He was stirred. 

Paul realized that a mundane thing like waiting was not why he was there. He was in Athens because there were people that needed God to show up and reveal Himself. 

Anyone can do my laundry. Anyone can give my kids a sandwich. That is not what I am called to do. That is not why I was chosen to be their mom. 

I need to be stirred and moved. I need to see that there are little people living in my very house who need Jesus and I can preach Christ to them by doing the laundry, serving them a meal, and scrubbing their hair, all while having the joy and satisfaction in doing His great work. 

I don't want to desire the pomp and circumstance of a public ministry. Slowly, but surely, God is molding my heart to see the importance in those kisses on the knee, the lessons of life that I teach, the smile and "good morning" that I give. 

I don't want to be miserable, dissatisfied, and discontent. 

My greatest joy would be for my girls to remember that Mom was happy when serving them, so that one day they can be happy serving others. 

Mundane should not be a word in my vocabulary. It's not a thing. It's really an attitude. Choosing to find the deeper purpose in the things I do everyday is what I desire to do. 

So off I go, to feed my kids. And maybe, just maybe, I'll do it with a smile. 

This ain't no slow dance

I remember this couple. 

I remember their wedding. It was simple. They laughed a lot. Their smiles were permanently fixed upon their faces. They were happy. 

They thought they knew it all. 

They will always put the other first. When needed, always be willing to compromise. 

They will want to kiss each other everyday, every moment, and it will never get old. 

They will  put their marriage first in all areas of life, including children, work, and friendships. 

When one person is down, the other will not be irritated or offended by their attitude, but will strive to aid their spouse in any way they can to help them feel content and encouraged. 

They will never go to bed on bad terms. They will pray every night together and thank God for the gift that is marriage. 

I remember that couple. 

Then life came, and this couple that had so many ideas and goals plunged into reality. 

Because that really is a fantastic word for marriage: reality. 

Stress around every corner. Money. Child rearing. Work. Exhaustion. Pulls from society to be a certain way. Temptations lurking around every corner. 

This is real. This is sloppy. This is mine. 

You would think since I came from a home with a messy divorce I would have given up all ideas of a marriage without struggle and really swung the other way, filled with apprehension, doubt, and yes, even fear if we would make it. 

But I didn't chose those things. Why? Mostly by the drive of never desiring to go through a divorce. It simply has never been an option. 

However, the pendulum swung the other way and I, at times, have had expectations and ideas about marriage that get me into trouble. But I have been learning, little by little, that these ideas are false and really destroy my marriage. 

1. Marriage for a Christian does not mean an easy pass

(This was my feeling after putting together this Ikea futon.)

Just like a piece of Ikea furniture, just because you have the Manual for marriage (God's Word), this does not mean it will be easy to piece together and be complete. The language is foreign at times, because God's ways are simply not our ways. He desires us to give up our wants, desires, and even happiness at times to serve one another. This is not a popular thought. But it's Bible. And just like when I put that futon from Ikea together with Peter, and I didn't use the manual, it just wasn't working out. 

We can not succeed without it. 

But even when Peter started to use it, we made mistakes. We had to pause, back up, and pick up some new tools. 

Being a Christian is not a guarantee of an easy ride in anything in life. Paul warned us of that. So why would we think any different of marriage? It's a constant struggle. 

It's daily choosing to love one another, even when they are not at their most lovable. Loving them despite the bad breath, pet-peeves, long days, and screaming kids. 

2. Marriage is NOT made for your happiness 

I remember in the early years of marriage how much of my mood depended upon how well Peter and I were doing. If we were happy as I couple, then I was happy as a person. If we were angry at one another, then I was angry at the world. 

The truth is we are putting way too much pressure on our marriage when we demand our spouse to make us happy. 

Instead, our sense of happiness comes from the Joy Giver Himself. The freedom and redemption in who Christ is and what He has done should put a tune in our heart. The promises of a glorious day of no more tears, worries, and troubles is a beautiful and happy hope. The simple fact that He first loved me gives me value and purpose. Something that Peter could never fully give me no matter how great of a husband he is. 

God, of course, wants us to enjoy our marriage and to experience the blessings that come with it. But when I really remember WHY I said "I do", well, that is when it all comes into perspective. 

I wasn't just saying it to Peter, I was saying it to God. 

"I do" to serving Christ through my marriage. 

"I do" to letting people look at all the un-perfectness and know that only God is the one who could keep this big, hot mess together. 

"I do" to cherishing this man, a gift from God, and knowing that he will never be perfect this side of heaven, but still knowing he is mine, and I am his. 

3. Marriage isn't always dancing in the kitchen to love songs

This is a big one for me. Since the day I met Peter, I knew he wasn't a romantic at heart. Well, at least  not how the movies portray it. I rarely get flowers. We don't have "a song". In fact, we haven't even ever slow danced in the kitchen. I would get angry, like red ears kind of angry, at Peter when he wouldn't fit my mold of romance. I wanted him to pen me a poem or whisk me off to a surprise getaway. 

Instead, he goes on walks with me and looks at the flowers. He's perfectly content listening to me belt a love song to him and will even laugh when I add my own snazzy dance moves. 

He sends me texts to let me know he'll be late from work. He's look at me after a long, hard day and knows that I need a night out of the kitchen. It may not be Hawaii, but let me tell you, Chik-fil-a on a Tuesday night after lesson upon lesson is simply heavenly. 

When I realize that my expectations are not lined up with reality, I am happier. I must decide to find the romance in our marriage instead of force it to happen. 

4.Sex and laughing fixes a lot of things

 I may make some of you blush, but let's be honest, because if you are married, you've had sex. There's no lying about that. And can I just take it a step further, sex is fun! Now, of course, I remember those days when I had a one year old and I was nursing an infant and the thought of anyone else touching me that day not only repulsed me but I'm pretty sure you could see my head starting to spin and fire come out of my mouth. Those days were hard. I could write a whole book about that period of life and the tricks and lessons I learned. Another day...

Now that we are past the baby stage, I find that enjoying one another and the gift of sex that God gave us fixes so many issues. It's a stress reliever. It forces us to confront one another and not just ignore our partner. It brings unity. And honestly, it's just a blast! 

Laughing is right up there, too. 

I think that is just as much a gift in marriage. Someone that knows all your quirks and back stories. So many private jokes. Who else can I laugh over dutch ovens with, but him! I wouldn't trade humor for anything. When we take ourselves too seriously, that's when the trouble starts. 

I have to continually remind myself that this is a marathon. And when we have a bad day, week, or let's face it, season of marriage, it doesn't mean that things are forever going downhill and we will hit bottom. It simply means that we are adjusting, tweeking, and going to be OK as long as we remember why we are here, WHO put us here, and what our ultimate goal is. 

For those who are struggling today in their marriage, know that I don't say this lightly. I know very well how hard it is and have probably experienced many of the things you have. Remember that it is not always easy, but it's worth it to keep going. Have fun, laugh, and pray. 

Through the tears

Picture the scene. 

A woman.

Sick for all her life. Tormented inside. In a constant state of chaos.

Then a Healer comes along. 

He is able to not only cure her ailment, but bring a new life, free from ever repeating such imprisonment. 

This was Mary Magdalene. 

The accounts in the Bible talk about a woman, possessed by 7 devils, then healed and released from her tormentors. 

Now in the garden, she stands. 

Her very Healer, broken Himself. Just hours ago she watched as He was hung on a cross to be crucified. To be mocked. To be rejected by the very men He was choosing to love. 

Jesus. 

Mary lost her Savior that day in a bloody battle between heaven and hell and she had a front row seat. 

And now, in the garden, days after He was buried, she weeps and mourns this man, this God, in whom she would give her own life for. 

In the account of John, chapter 20, it says that she stood without the sepulcher weeping. 

This kind of weeping is the kind where you can not even see through the tears.

She was so distressed for losing her Savior and so overcome with grief that she didn't even recognize the One who then spoke to her. 

Jesus. 

He simply asked her why she was crying and who was she looking for. 

And He showed Himself FIRST to Mary. 

First. 

Who was she to be the initial onlooker of the Resurrected? Wasn't this Mary? The one with the past? The one that was possessed by demons, broken, and just a mess? 

And yet, Jesus, the One who could have chosen anyone in the world to show Himself to first, decided to come to this woman, crippled by her own grief, tear streaked cheeks, and announce His return.

I don't know about you, but the thought of a God who picks out the weakest and frailest of us all to call on first is the God that I want to serve.

Because I am the weakest. 

I have a past. 

But in Him, I have a future. 

I'm grief stricken and unable to move or see. 

But when He calls my name, I will know who beckons me to look up.

Because that is really all He wanted. 

He wanted Mary to see  Him. 

To look up from her sorrow and focus on the One who can bring joy. 

My heart rejoices at this thought, that in Him, the tears may still be in my eyes, but I will be able to see, to hear, to know my Savior. 

Birthday Miracles

It's no secret that a new life is simply a miracle. When you take God out of it for a moment and just look at the science of it all and all the things that must be in order for that spark to happen and a new life be conceived it's inconceivable. However, when you add God to it, I find it that much more amazing. A soul, dependent upon the life of their own Mother, hand picked by God. He selected me to carry my children and I am in awe of that.

Six years ago God introduced me to the last soul I would carry in my womb, Clara Esther Little. 

A peanut of a baby and a true supernatural gift. I almost lost her at week 20. But she was here. She was delivered and simply perfect. I know everyone says that about their babies, but seriously, I have never seen a more beautiful newborn. Round little head. Petite features. Long fingers. A head full of dark hair. 

As if her birth was not enough to remind me of who supplies all blessings, God gifted us with another miraculous event that no doubt was orchestrated by him. 

I should have died. 

I lost so much blood that day that the nurses said it looked like a massacre. 17 units put back into me in the O.R. Seven hours of surgery trying to stop the bleeding. All while Peter waited. Worried. Wondered. 

I heard more than one person say that they were shocked I made it out alive. I should have died on that table. But God loves to show His power, compassion, and love. He wants to be praised for His might and power. 

I add this picture not to shock, however, I realize that is just what it does. I add it to give you a visual of where I was at. Literally between heaven and earth. 

I often wonder why God kept me here. What was His purpose? I have a list of things I could say, but I think in the end it will be a bunch of little things that add up to one big thing: my life. 

I wish to live it well. I want to honor God, love others, encourage, laugh, help, and praise. My desire is not to waste it. And I come back to this lesson every time Clara's birthday comes along. 

She is my second chance. She was more than a gift of life. She was a gift of new beginnings. 

I'm in love with her. I'm in love with the idea that she will always walk beside me, reminding me to focus on only the important. The fluff of life is so temporal and nonsensical. I want solid. Depth. Value in what I do.

I leave you with my favorite hospital picture. 

I love this shot for so many reasons. Sam is worrying about something and checking it with her microscope. Molly is being wiggly, loud, and reminding us that she needs to be heard. Clara is being easy going and sweet. And Peter, wrapping his arms around his family, checking on the newest bundle of joy, holds us together. Just like our Heavenly Father. 

My Mother's Day Thanks

Dear Lord,
Today is Mother's Day. I thought it only appropriate to thank you for making me a mother. Eleven years ago, you brought that word "mother" into my life in a very personal way. I remember looking at that test that said positive and thinking my world was about to change. And change it did. Even though I only carried that baby for a short time, I thank you that you allowed me to do so. I know that the heavens sing the songs of all those babies that so many sweet mothers have lost. A full choir of angel babies just waiting to be reunited with their mommies. I have five in the choir. Thank you for the joy and hope I have to see them again. 

Thank you for Samantha. She was the first baby I was able to carry full term. The first baby I was able to hold in my arms. The first baby to call me "Mama". What a gift she is. 

Thank you for my first born, for it's by her I have learned so many mommy lessons. I learned how amazing the body is and how you created birthing a baby in such a way that even though the pain and turmoil is immense, we are willing to do it all again because that first look on their face is the most amazing feeling in the world. 

Thank you that with Samantha, I felt the joy of little arms wrapped around my neck, soft kisses on my cheeks, and  tight hugs when the night seems scary.

With Samantha, you've allowed me to be challenged as a mother. Learning that relying on You on a daily basis is an absolute necessity and blessing. 

Thank you for a little best friend, wrapped in a small framed, beautiful faced, tender hearted girl. 

Thank you for my second born, Molly. 

You gifted me with a most pleasant of babies. She was quiet and easy, truly a gift for a second born. You knew what I needed with a deployment to face and motherhood about to get really real. 

Thank you for teaching me that you never turn your back on a toddler. They are capable of destruction and/or terror in 3.2 seconds. 

Thank you for the gift of learning that children are all different and as a mother, it is a joy to be able to embrace those differences and nurture their individual talents. 

Thank you for allowing me to watch, as Molly's mother, the strength you instill in each child to endure the fiercest of battles. Thank you for not leaving me alone as I parent, but gently taking my hand through the good, bad, and ugly trenches of "mommying".

Thank you for Clara. From the very beginning, being a Mommy to Clara has taught me that miracles still happen and that you have a plan for everything. 

Thank you for reminding me that life is precious and nothing is guaranteed.

Thank you for the lessons of having fun again, laughing, and getting down and dirty aremy favorite part of being a Mom.

Thank you for humbling me by bringing on the tasks of  stomach flus, teaching cursive, and brushing Clara's hair. You are constantly reminding me that I don't have a clue what I am doing and Your strength is made perfect in my utter weakness. 

Thank you making motherhood fun.

                                            Thank you for making Motherhood beautiful.

Thank you for making Motherhood precious. 

Thank you, Lord, for allowing me to be a mother. And not only a mother, but one to these three beautiful girls.