{ Five Minute Friday: Mercy }

The thing about mercy is--I often don't know what it looks like. I know what I think it should be.

Certainly not closing on "our" house two days after we're supposed to move.

Certainly not staying at the house of dear friends {who are out of town and have offered their home to us} if we actually don't have a house to move into when we need to move out of our condo.

Certainly not emptying and cleaning our little nest for the renters who are moving in next week, while not knowing where we will live.

Yet I know all these things are mercies.

I don't know why things are appear to be working out so that our timing is just off enough that we may be semi-homeless for a few days. I don't know why it's taken so long for all this real estate/financing stuff to happen, why there have been unexpected curveballs thrown our way at the last minute and why we are questioning Should we even buy this house???

I do know that Jesus knows why all these things have happened and are happening. He alone sees all our lives, the beautiful tapestry that is all our stories being woven together, one day at a time. By His mercy, I am resting in His mercy that undergirds all the unknowns and seeming wrenches that have been thrown in our path. I know that this all works together for His glory and our good.

It's just that our good--and His glory--is turning out to look different than I expected. And that's okay, because I don't know the whole story. Only He can see how everything--everything--unfolds.

{ What's Been Going On }

Sorry for the silence lately, folks. There's been a lot going on, but there has been so much unpredictability regarding the main "thing" that I've been hesitant to mention it. We're buying a house. After--how long? at least 1.5 years--of looking around, putting offers on multiple houses, and nothing panning out, we found a house that we both really like, it's sort of in our price range, and our offer was accepted! {Cue the hysterical happy dance.} We first saw the house in mid-July, the weekend before Amaryah's wedding, if I remember correctly. "If I remember correctly" is a big "if," however, as being 19 weeks pregnant + chasing a newly-walking toddler around + packing + trying to squeeze daily life in between piles and piles of boxes in 847 square feet while keeping said toddler from seriously injuring herself on all these fun new "toys" is a wonderful memory-loss combination when you are already suffering from pregnancy brain.

There have been so many obstacles in this process...I will write about them someday, because it is an amazing testimony of God's grace and faithfulness. But I also want to get this published before Little Miss wakes up from her nap. :-) We are hoping to close next Wednesday, though until we sign the closing documents there is always the possibility that something will come up and the mortgage will fall through. We are moving next Saturday...either into the house, or in with Mike's parents {and renting a storage unit for our stuff} until we can find an apartment to rent that is close to Mike's work. Why move if you don't have a house to move into, you ask? Because, in order to qualify for this mortgage, we had to get renters for our condo. And since we have tenants moving in a few days after we move--wherever we move to--we most definitely have to move.

In a nutshell, that's what we've been up to, and why I've been a bit quiet lately. We only got boxes and started packing on Monday; before that we weren't confident enough about the whole process to start packing. While the thought of packing all our earthly possessions in less than two weeks {while keeping Lainie entertained and all of us fed} is daunting, it hasn't been as bad as I expected. We have never had to pack and move an entire household before--when we got married we each had only a bedroom's worth of possessions. Our small space and my purging tendencies have kept us from accumulating much, but I am nevertheless astonished at how much we have. I am so glad that we haven't been able to spread out over a larger home; I firmly believe that your possessions expand to fill the space you have. Which is why I'm also excited about "our" house--while it has four bedrooms and great living spaces, it's only 1460 square feet. So we can't acquire too much junk...right?

And now I'm going to continue stepping out in faith that the mortgage will go through and we will have a house to move into next weekend, and pack some more boxes!

{ Jellybean }

Since I am 17 weeks pregnant--almost halfway there!--I guess it's high time I did a little pregnancy update.

This pregnancy has been so very different than my first: Perhaps most noticeably, I've only thrown up six or seven times...total. This, people, is phenomenal and wonderful and most unexpected and the BIGGEST blessing ever!! With Lainie, I threw up two or three times a day up until 14 weeks.  Basically, if I was awake, I was nauseous. I fully expected that with #2. This time, I've still been nauseous a lot {though much less than with Lainie}, and I've only puked a few times. But now at 17 weeks, I still have periods of nausea that I don't remember having at this stage with #1. Brushing my teeth makes me gag every time, and sometimes a little cough sends me into a spell of dry heaving. I think I'm finally over the "ohmygosh I could sleep standing up, every day, at any time of day, no matter how much sleep I've gotten!!" weeks. Growing a baby is an amazing experience, a privilege I hope that I don't take for granted or skim over in the midst of these "light and momentary" physical afflictions that come along with a human being growing inside me.

How far along: 17ish weeks

Weight gain: In the normal range...but I think I'm gaining faster than I did with Lainie. Probably because I didn't spend the first 14 weeks barfing.

Belly: Unfortunately the "baby belly" still looks exactly the same as the "I eat too much and have never done a sit-up belly." I've definitely lost my waist and have a little poochy tummy, but it doesn't look like a pregnant tummy yet. Just a fat one. I can't easily cross my arms when I'm sitting down, either--it's uncomfortable to lay them across my belly.

Baby size: About five inches, head to bottom, and about five ounces. The size of an onion...the weight of a turnip...the length of an iPhone...take your pick!

Sleep: Started using a pillow between my knees/under my tummy a week or so ago, and it makes sleeping so much more comfortable! Again, I feel like I was further along in my pregnancy with Lainie before I needed pillows to help me sleep...and what's this nonsense about waking up twice a night to pee? Already? Really, Jellybean? You only weigh five ounces and you jump on my bladder at night...

Clothes: Thanks to the fact that a lot of my wardrobe consists of stretchy skirts, dresses, and leggings, I'm still in my regular clothes 95% of the time, though the stack that doesn't fit anymore is growing rapidly. And I have to confess: I haven't worn jeans in weeks, and most of my shorts are un-buttonable. So really, when I say "regular clothes," I mean regular stretchy/non-jeans clothes. I got out my maternity clothes last week because I was desperate for some new shirts, but I'm waiting as long as possible to wear them...those few tops and one pair of jeans will get old really fast!

Movement: I first felt Jellybean move at 15 weeks. {I didn't feel Lainie until 18 weeks.} As with Lainie, I spent a few days thinking, Is that gas or Jellybean?, but once I was sure it was Jellybean, I realized that most of those flutters and pops I'd felt earlier were not gas. ;-)

Exercise: Ummmm.....this week I went on a walk with a girlfriend that involved pushing Lainie in a stroller up a mountain, but other than that, not much.

Wedding rings on or off: On. {My fingers didn't swell much 'til about the last month with Lainie.}

How am I doing mentally and emotionally: This week I've had a couple episodes of momentary panic when I've realized I'm almost halfway through this pregnancy and we haven't done anything baby-related. I haven't given a thought to any kind of additional gear we will need {like a second crib--helloooo!--or a toddler carseat for Lainie}, or birth prep {do I want to try hypnobirth again?}. Are we totally underpreparing ourselves for this baby, because we're so busy and hey, we've done this before? Or am I just less OCD than I was the first time? A few people have asked me, too, if I'm nervous or worried that this baby will be ok, given that Lainie had a diaphragmatic hernia. Jesus has given me complete peace about this baby, and up until a week or two ago, I could honestly say I had not been worried at all about this baby's health. Then I had a couple days of being sure that some serious anomaly is going to be found on the ultrasound. I spent a lot of time crying out to Jesus for peace, and He met me really sweetly. It's hard to describe--it's not an assurance that this baby will be healthy, though truthfully my fears are gone and I do believe he or she will be healthy. It's an assurance that goes deeper: that if this baby does have any health problems, Jesus will be with us there too. He can, and will, totally redeem that kind of situation if it happens.

Looking forward to: Actually looking pregnant instead of like I just eat too much dessert.

Best moment this week: Seeing Lainie learn to walk--her skill, and even more obviously her confidence, are growing rapidly! The past couple of days she has even walked away from me, toward an object--a big deal for her when she usually walks from one person to another.

Food aversions: None really...I'm still not a huge fan of meat that I've prepared, though.

Food cravings: Fresh fruit {it's all I've wanted through this pregnancy}. Grinders from Portofino. Chocolate milk.

What I miss: Sleeping through the night. Not being tired all the time. {I mean all.the.time. Most days I sleep during part or all of Lainie's morning nap--I am seriously a snoozing machine.} Having a nice drink when we go on dates. Not gagging when I brush my teeth. Having energy to do things besides activities of daily life.

And then I remind myself: It's ok that I don't have energy, that I'm not doing XYZ. I'm growing a baby! THAT is a big deal!!

:: Weeks 4, 5, 8, and 10 ::

:: Weeks 13, 14, 15, and 16 ::

:: Week 17 ::

 

{Last week a friend commented that I wear a lot of stripes, which I agreed with...but until I looked through these photos today, I didn't realize the extent to which I wear "a lot" of stripes. Whoa Nelly!}

{ Five Minute Friday: Story }

Linking up with Lisa-Jo for this week's Five Minute Friday. The prompt: Story.

Go!

~*~*~

Most days I live like I'm the author. This is my story, my plot; these are my characters, and there are very specific ways I want all those variables to play out.

The truth, which I usually forget, is that I am a character--specifically, that Jesus is the Author, this is His story, and I am a character in the greatest plot ever to unfold: That of Jesus' redemption of humankind. I know that truth in my head, but I don't live it in my day to day moments. Hence, the frustration when characters and plots and things don't work out the way I'd envisioned.

Is it possible to not only acknowledge, but to be grateful--to rejoice!--in the sure knowledge that this isn't my story? That things are never going to work out as I imagine? That this life isn't all about me? Is it possible to be thankful instead of annoyed and frustrated when my baby wakes up with a stuffy nose and needs me more than usual--when I was expecting to get loads of paperwork and ironing done today? Will I choose to say "thank you, Jesus" for whatever He gives--because He is the Author, and He alone knows how my bit in this works together with all the other billions of stories He's weaving together on this planet?

Thank you, Jesus, that my life is secure in Your hands.

{ jump }

Linking up with Lisa-Jo over at Five Minute Friday. This week's prompt: Jump.

Go.

it's contagious
if you're around someone who isn't afraid to jump
head first
feet first
just jump
into whatever wild and terrifying and beautiful unknown Jesus places in front of you
i've loved him for five years
been married for almost four
and i've prayed so, so many times for the courage and desire i see in him
the courage to jump

i see both of us in her:
the slow, methodical examination of whatever new thing she's got between her tiny chubby fingers
and then the wholehearted SHOVE into her mouth
she's not afraid
she will accept any new challenge you give her
sure, she thinks about it first
gets familiar with it--a little--
but always, she jumps
into the unknown food or toy
{not so much into the arms of unkown people, but that's another story!}

i have prayed so many times that God will change my heart
take away my fears, my propensity for hesitation, the way i drag my feet f.o.r.e.v.e.r before i timidly dip my toes in
maybe that's not all bad.
maybe it's good that i am cautious, concerned, not running recklessly
maybe that's why God gave me mike
and gave me to mike
so we can learn from each other
grow with each other toward the God who made us
Who made one of us uber-cautious
and the other one a lover of risks
so that together, we can jump
because underneath are His everlasting arms

Stop.

{ thirty }

thirty. i've been trying not to think about this birthday, while simultaneously trying to figure out how i'm here already. how i can already be 30 years old. i'm not ashamed of this birthday...truth be told, it doesn't really bother me {yet!}. this morning i realized that in some ways, i'm glad it's here. i think i feel like being thirty years old gives me permission to be me, without any apologies or explanations or sideways glances at the proverbial Joneses to see if i'm keeping up.

thirty is being comfortable in my own skin.

thirty is springing for that overpriced bouquet at the supermarket, because life is too short to live without flowers.

thirty is confidence in my interior design choices.

thirty is a confident, comfortable, damn good-looking wardrobe.

thirty is also wearing sweats all day if i want to.

thirty is speaking up. not being afraid that my voice, my experiences, my struggles, my opinion will be unwelcome.

thirty is realizing that i will probably be tired as long as there are little folks in the house, but that's no reason to drag through the day like it's drudgery.

thirty is embracing the acne, spotty skin, and extra "poufs" that motherhood has given me, and wearing them with pride. i get to be a mama. so many women who want to, can't, and these "scars" are an immeasurable treasure.

thirty is setting my alarm for no reason other than being able to make breakfast for mike before he goes to work.

thirty is spending time with Jesus like never before.

thirty is realizing that Jesus really is all that matters. everything else is so not lasting. but He is!

thirty is letting go of perfection and loving what is.

thirty is short blog posts because i'm a mama.

welcome, thirty. may these years be the best yet.

{ Resurrection Sunday }

When it comes to Easter, it seems that Mike and I are well on our way to making a tradition of changing things up.

Easter 2008: This was a few weeks before we started dating; Mike spontaneously got baptized at church {he'd been baptized as a young boy, so this was more of a reaffirmation of faith}, I briefly met his parents for the first time, and we had a potluck dinner with a huge group of church friends.

2009: Right around the time we got engaged, I honestly don't remember what we did...I assume spent the day at church and with Mike's family.

2010: We visited my family in Idaho. Mike fell deathly sick Easter morning, barely surviving the post-sunrise-service breakfast, and spent most of the day in bed. I remember games and lots of laughter--crying and gasping and sides burning laughter--with my parents, brothers, and their friends...in between tending to poor sick Mike.

In 2011 our church rented Qwest Field in downtown Seattle for Easter. My parents and two of my brothers spent the weekend with us, so our tiny two-bedroom home was packed to the brim! We toured Boeing, went to the tulip fields, visited the Museum of Flight, and had a post-church potluck at Amaryah's apartment building in dowtown Seattle.

Last year, my brother got married--in central Oregon--the day before Easter. On Sunday morning, Mike and I went to the early service at a little church in Bend and spent the rest of the day driving home.

This year, Mike helped with setup and teardown at church. I got up early with him and we shared coffee and Rhodes cinnamon rolls. Should I feel guilty that the only time my family gets cinnamon rolls is when they are from the freezer section? I have never made them from scratch. I come from a long line of from-scratch bakers and cooks, and yet I don't feel guilty that I buy frozen cinnamon rolls. It makes me a little uneasy that I don't feel guilty. But when you realize how good they taste, that they bake in only 30 minutes flat, and that the time you'd spend making them from scratch probably makes the commercial version cheaper...well, Rhodes gets my vote. ;-)

I didn't realize it until after choosing our outfits, but Lainie and I totally matched. We met up with Mike at church and had our picture taken at the photobooth. {A somewhat embarrassing side note: I also realized that I wore the same dress for Easter five years ago. I told Mike, and he said, "Small world." I retorted, "No, it's more like small wardrobe!"}

Pastor Scott asked Mike to do baptisms with him after the service. It was amazing to realize that, on Easter five years ago, Mike got baptized...and now, five years later, he's in the dunk tank as one of the baptizers.

 

Here are Mo and I with our babies. Cracks me up because Lainie and I look HUGE compared to Mo and Josiah. I'll have you know that we are the same height, I'm just wearing 4" heels. And the babies? Well, Lainie does have six months on Josiah...

 

We are going to miss Scott and Mo so much when they move to Texas to plant a church!!

 

I can't wait to see what we're up to next year...maybe Easter in Texas?

{ broken }

Linking up with Lisa-Jo for this week's Five Minute Friday: Broken.

Go.

I'd much rather be the one who is broken than the one who is walking with someone--someone bloodied and bruised from life, sin, poor choices, people--because walking with a person through their brokenness? That's the hardest of all.

I hate the helplessness I bring. I hate that I can't fix their problem{s}. I hate that what Jesus asks me to do is to be with them. Not to fix them. Not to "help" them.

But to love them. To do the next right thing, as Elisabeth Elliot says. To pray and love and just walk through today with them.

Maybe it's because, in seeing the frailty of another, I glimpse my own shattered pieces. I see how much alike we are. I'm afraid to touch wounds and offer balm because it's messy and unpredictable and complicated and there is no guarantee that if I faithfully walk with you through this--by God's grace maybe more grace-fully than I have in the past--there's no guarantee that you will come out the other side "better." There's no promise of healing on this side of heaven. There's no certainty that pain will end, brokenness be healed beautifully.

But I will walk with you. By God's grace, I will walk with you. And I will pray to the only One Who can heal our broken places, both yours and mine.

Stop.

{ tied up with string }

I had this nicely packaged post I was going to share with you, half written and saved as a draft. It went something like this:

I've been feeling guilty that I haven't served at church since Lainie was born, but after talking it over with my women's group ladies, I realized I'm largely motivated by pride and fear of man--I don't want people to think I'm lazy or not a "good Christian girl" because they don't see me serving in some capacity on Sundays. It's okay if my primary way of serving the church now is freeing up Mike {by taking care of Lainie at home} so he can serve on Sundays. I was still considering volunteering for midweek office stuff when Mike mentioned that he is thinking about hiring an assistant to help him with the work/business stuff he doesn't have time for, and I realized "Duh! I should use my time to serve Mike in that capacity!"

I'd pretty much wrapped it up and tied it with string, but dinner happened before I could hit publish. Over the chicken curry, I shared my musings with Mike. I think my closing comment was, "I used to think I like to serve behind-the-scenes, but really I don't. I like people to see me serving, but I don't want to talk to them." He was thoughtful, and after a few minutes, he gently told me that he thought I should still pray about serving in some capacity on Sundays, even if it isn't easy to do with an eight-month-old. He didn't discredit the value of what I'm already doing, but maybe I should still think about something beyond just freeing him up to serve.

I got angry. Really angry: The kind of quiet outrage that wants to lock itself in the bathroom and write Mike an eviscerating letter telling him why he's wrong about this. Mature, I know. After Lainie was down for the night I told Mike what I was feeling and we talked about it some more. It was good, but not in the sort of prettily-packaged-blog-post way I'd drafted earlier in the day. It was good because I usually avoid difficult conversations and stew in my own juices for days before readdressing issues {if I readdress them at all}. Good because we talked through the issue more thoroughly and better understand each other's hearts on this topic. Good because I'm thankful for my husband, not mad at him.

But I still don't know what I ought to do. Logistically there aren't a lot I of roles I can fill while holding/wearing an 18-pound baby. As it is, church already pushes her morning nap out by an hour or more; it's hard to imagine leaving home earlier {or getting home later} without complete meltdowns ensuing.

But just because it's hard doesn't mean I get a pass. Being a parent doesn't excuse me from "real life." As Mike said, Lainie needs to fit into our lives...our priorities didn't suddenly change now that we're a family of three. Implementation looks different, sure; but priorities are the same.

Right now that's it. I'm praying and still kind of grumpy, kind of not knowing what to do and feeling like either way it's not going to be easy.

But is easy my goal?

{ Some Days }

Some days I realize I will never be able to say enough thank-yous for the graces drenching my life

 

His living Word

renewing and transforming heart, mind and soul

perfect for each day

that He wrote us a book so we can know Him and His love--

amazing!

Mike--this man who makes me coffee in the morning before he goes to work

and warms my coffee cup with hot water

and sets out the cream for me

and always kisses me goodbye

working so hard so I don't need to provide an income

cheerfully, daily, laying down his life for his girls

and counting it all joy

 

This babycakes girl

healthy--so healthy!

chattering up a storm

studies everything intently

happy to play with strings and straps

always always reaching for me

naptime snuggles

chubby dimpled fingers and elbows

eyes that smile like her Grandpa Duck's

 

This sweet little treehouse

easy to clean

painted colors I love

minutes from beach, lighthouse, so much beauty

 

Friends

shared meals

laughter

tears and prayer

 

Telephones

internet

how did people stay in touch before?!

 

So much.

So thankful.

So daily.

If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking.

 



{ Bare }

It's Five Minute Friday over at Tales of a Gypsy Mama, and I'm joining in!

~~~

 

I don't know what it is about exhaustion that makes me feel so exposed, so vulnerable--like my heart and soul are hanging naked in the public courtyard. Like all the worst parts of me are on display. Like sin I thought was being put to death by the Spirit is very much alive.

 

Today I can barely keep my eyes open. Between the little tooth shoving its way through Elaina's gums, and my decision {brilliant? insane?} to stop swaddling her since she's already not sleeping well--two birds with one stone, ya know--I haven't gotten much sleep lately. And yet, for some reason, this time around the soul-baring tiredness isn't so ugly.

 

This morning I rocked Lainie to sleep half a dozen times, nearly falling asleep myself. She kept pulling her pacifier out and then wailing in sorrow as she held it between her chubby fingers. And I relished it: the baby smell of her head, her little sleepy-snorey noises, the warmth of her hand rubbing my neck in her sleep. The bare-ness is good today: In it, I am knowing my Jesus and my daughter more deeply.

{ again }

joining the crowd over at tales of a gypsy mama--it's five minute friday!

   i feel like i can get nothing done today. it's one of those days where, no matter how sweetly i sing, how gently i rock, or how many 20-minute "let's go to sleep" sessions i perform, lainie refuses to nap for more than 30 minutes at a time.

i feel like i'm stuck on a hamster wheel with a tired baby who just can't figure out how to stay asleep. so i get her to sleep...again and again and again. and she wakes up...again and again and again.

i wouldn't be so frustrated if she and i weren't flying to idaho tomorrow and i have yet to pack, or make food for mike to eat while we're gone, or all the other half dozen important things that i can't do once i'm a few hundred miles away.

i know that in the grand scheme of things, this "stuff" isn't really important. one way or another we will make it to the airport tomorrow, even if the kitchen counter is covered in dirty dishes that will probably not be washed 'til i'm back home. *sigh*

so i'm trying to keep the eyes of my heart on Jesus as i rock little one to sleep for what feels like the four billionth time today. reminding myself that i am every bit as stubborn and foolish and demanding as she is...again and again and again. followed by reminding myself that Jesus loves me, died for me, took all God's wrath for me, and gives me His perfect righteousness as my record, because He bore all the punishment my stubbornness and foolishness and sin. again and again and again i have to remind myself.

maybe it's a good thing lainie and i are living in the rocking chair today.

{ Life Lately }

Life right now is really good...rich, and full, and good. I'm learning that life is always "good," because God is always good, regardless of my particular circumstances; but in this season, it's really easy for me to see and acknowledge that goodness.

 

I'm reading Romans--r e a l l y  s l o w l y. The gospel is so beautifully presented in that book. I'm letting it seep into the crevices of my soul, reading all the notes in the ESV Study Bible, and moving at a snail's pace. There is so much about the gospel that I didn't get--still don't get. Jesus is amazing. God's mercy and lovingkindness and forgiveness are amazing. God's pursuit of us, how He did everything to make it possible for us to have relationship with Him, floors me. I'm still reading Give Them Grace, and it ties in beautifully with Romans. All about the gospel and how that transforms parenting. Good stuff.

 

I'm excited to see what God has in store for us when we start house-hunting again, even if it's the decision to stay put longer. This treehouse may be little, but it's pretty sweet.

 

 

 

I am so thankful for coffee, cream, and sugar. Those three things in combination are like magic. More, please.

 

Last night I told Mike that I feel like I'm losing my mind. Every night is flippin' Groundhog Day: Lainie's tired. It's bedtime. Feed her. Change her diaper. Sing/rock her to sleep. 10-45 minutes later, she cries. Burp her. Reinsert pacifier. Lay her down. 5-10 minutes later she cries. Burp her. Reinsert pacifier. Sing/rock her. Lay her down. 5-10 minutes later she cries. And on and on and onnnnnnnn for 1.5- 3 hours. E v e r y  s i n g l e  n i g h t. We've attempted crying it out several times; once I think we let her cry for almost an hour and she was clearly getting more and more hysterical, not calming herself. I'm hesitant to try again, because 90% of the time when she cries at night, she has a legitimate need: burps. {That girl has more and bigger burps than anyone I know!} It's just so frustrating...and mind-numbing...to spend hours doing this every single night. And she goes to sleep just fine any other time of day!

 

I would really prefer that my sanctification take place in ways and at times that are more convenient for me, Lord.

 

Ummmmm....

 

I'm amazed that I am able to keep our house and clothes clean, cook reasonably involved meals, blog, and all those other little normal life things, on top of taking care of a little person. There was a period of some months after Lainie was born when I was really freaked out about, oh, everything. How am I going to do anything again?!! I'm lucky if the baby and I are both fed, dressed, and reasonably clean by 1pm--I'm never going to be able to cook or go to the grocery store by myself ever again! As Mike reminded me last night when I had my little meltdown, "this too shall pass." No matter how overwhelming any season with a baby seems while you're in it, in reality it doesn't last long.

 

I'm excited to start attending women's group again. I took a break after Lainie's birth because she was high-risk for whooping cough {especially with her slightly compressed right lung due to the hernia}, and whooping cough is epidemic in Washington. We haven't gone out much, period...and let's face it: I'm pretty much okay with that. I am a homebody. Always have been, probably always will be. I'm perfectly content in my nest. BUT not only will consistent fellowship with other women be great, just getting out of the house regularly will be good for us {and by that I mean me}. Going anywhere with a baby is such a production...I usually convince myself to stay home. It's not hard. And while that has curbed my non-grocery shopping significantly, it's not good for my mental/emotional/relational health. Helloooooo? We were just talking about how I think I'm going crazy every night!

 

Next weekend, Lainie and I are flying to Idaho for a week. I'm really excited to introduce her to family and friends she hasn't met yet, and to catch up with folks I haven't seen in over a year. The whole navigating an airport and flying alone with a seven-month-old? Yeah, I'm a little nervous, but overall I think it will be a fun adventure. I like flying and airports, remember? I will miss Mike dreadfully, and he looks forlorn whenever we talk about it, but I think he is secretly relishing the idea of being a bachelor for a week.

 

Hey, my mug's empty! Is there any coffee left?...

{ this + that }

When I saw Lainie's pediatrician last week, we came to the conclusion that Lainie's dairy intolerance symptoms are so incredibly mild that the only reason for me to continue abstaining from dairy is if I want to "prove" to myself that I can make her symptoms go away by not eating dairy for 4-6 weeks. I have no such desire to prove myself. Many babies start having difficulty digesting the proteins in dairy around this age, and over 90% of them outgrow it by 9 months of age, and it's not related to dairy allergies developing later in life {that's an inability to digest the sugars in dairy...different problem}.

In other news, there is nothing, NOTHING, like good old from-the-cow half 'n' half in my coffee. It is delicious.

I'm reading Give Them Grace: Dazzling Your Kids with the Love of Jesus and it is kicking my butt. I've said this before, but once again I feel like I'm understanding the gospel for the first time. I'm learning it in a completely new way, in my head and my heart, and it is so powerful, freeing, refreshing, sobering, lavish. Soooooo thankful that I'm learning about gospel-based parenting at the beginning of my motherhood journey.

I've been listening to these audio recordings of some of Elyse Fitzpatrick's presentations on repeat. Like literally, I'm on my third time through the first set of lectures. Love her way of presenting the gospel...Jesus is really speaking to me through her work.

I've spent the last couple weeks tweaking our furniture arrangement, and unfortunately I know want to buy an area rug, ottomans, and another lamp.{I already bought one lamp to replace the torchiere that died in October.} I shall not give in to these desires because a} we are probably moving this year, so I don't want to spend more $$ than I already have on decorating this home, and b} Mike just finished our budget for 2013 and I can't afford all that stuff. Which makes me sad and happy at the same time. Ahhhhh....budgets!

The hot glue has given way on two of my cork coasters, but I'm still having no luck getting crazy glue to work. How on earth do all these people do wine cork crafts?! I'm mystified!

Mike is going all Paleo/Whole30 this month, and as the family chef, I'm along for the ride. It's not too much more "extreme" than the Paleo-ish way of cooking I've been doing for the past few months. I've found some really tasty recipes, the only drawback being that we appear to eat larger quantities of food when it's all veggies, meat, and fruit.

It seems that all my posts lately end with me saying that Lainie's waking up from her nap and I've gotta run...maybe that should be my new tagline!

{ Resolutions }

It appears that in order to be trendy and "in" with the rest of the world's bloggers, I need to choose a word that defines what I hope to be/do/embrace more fully in 2013. Though I've always wanted to be trendy, I've never quite hit the mark--really, when you were homeschooled in Idaho, you are so far removed from "trendy" that I don't think you can ever catch up in a normal lifetime. ;-) Then I think I ought to set some goals, but how to choose? How can I even try to predict what I can realistically accomplish in the coming year?

But intentional growth and change are good things. Goals are good, when they don't become gods. I've been mulling this over, and here's what I've come up with. My hopes for 2013.

I want to enjoy the life God has gifted to me: Enjoy my husband. Enjoy my baby. Enjoy being a homemaker and stay-at-home wife. Enjoy the juggling of cooking and cleaning and errands and friendships and grocery stores with a tiny, wiggly baby girl in tow. Enjoy middle-of-the-night nursing and snuggles, hours on the floor playing with rattles and taggies, because she is already growing up way.too.fast. Enjoy our small home, with its minimal upkeep and the fact that I can clean our whole abode in minutes and re-decorate the whole place in an afternoon.

I want to read more--not just anything, good stuff that will nourish my soul and stretch my mind. I've already started Give Them Grace: Dazzling Your Kids with the Love of Jesus by Elyse Fitzpatrick & Jessica Thompson, and I really want to read this and this, too. Any suggestions on what I should tackle next? Crazy Love? Something by John Piper? Re-read Anne of Green Gables?

Speaking of enjoying the life I have--rather than wishing for some nonexistent reality where I have time to blog in leisure--Little Miss is awake!

{ When it's Dark }

I'm not afraid of the dark. And I love all four seasons. But the last couple of years, come November and December, I've wondered if I have seasonal affective disorder {SAD}. Previously I've attributed the mild depression, listlessness, and general malaise toward all aspects of life to different circumstances. But it's happened like clockwork enough Novembers in a row for me to take note. While I definitely don't have all the symptoms, I'm upping my vitamin D intake and considering a light therapy lamp. One of the reasons I've refused to consider it might be SAD is because I grew up in Idaho, which has equally short days and early sunsets in winter, but recently I realized the difference is that in Idaho, it is often sunny during the day in the winter. Not so in the Seattle area. Not so at all.

A couple nights ago, I realized that celebrating Jesus' birth in the darkest, depressingest season of the year is appropriate. Eternal God, outside time, Creator of everything, entered our darkness. Our filth. He took on a fragile, helpless human body. He was born {and I've been there--it's messy and gross and I can't even imagine God being born}. He willingly entered this sin-strewn world. He didn't just rescue us from our darkness, He entered into our darkness. He bore it. He lived in it. And at the end He did what we never can: He bore all God's wrath for every.single.one. of my sins, and the sins of every other Christian. He bore all the punishment we deserve...why? To rescue us from our own darkness. He entered our darkness so we don't have to spend eternity separated from Him--from everything good and beautiful and holy. He saves us not only from the darkness of sin in this world, but from the darkness of eternal separation from Him.

When I think about that, the dark afternoons aren't so hard to bear. They remind me that I don't have to bear the crushing weight of my sin. Jesus already did. God has no wrath left for me--none!! Not even for the sins in my future! Jesus paid all my debt. Something shifts in my head, and I can't wait to celebrate Jesus' birth on December 25. Without His incarnation, without His sinless life in my place, without His death for my sins and resurrection that promises me eternal life, whoa. December is really bleak. Life really does suck. But with Jesus? What's a little three-month patch of no sunshine compared to being ransomed from death?!

So now I have Christmas lights on and a mug of hot spiced cider to keep me company while Lainie naps--no Christmas carols though, which might wake her up...and the 4 o'clock-ish sunset time doesn't really bother me.

And with that, Lainie's awake. Later!

{ Finding Balance }

Every Christmas I struggle over how to keep my focus on Christ. It's so easy to get caught up in trying to do every Christmasy craft that catches my eye on Pinterest, baking and candymaking, parties and carols and so much bustle and clamor that I often arrive on December 25 feeling breathless...and ashamed. Realizing I have literally not spent any time thinking about the Incarnation or preparing my heart for Christmas. And then I get frustrated: Christmas is about Christ, and here I've been worrying about whether or not I made enough fudge, if it will be funky by that party, when are we going to put up lights, when to brave the mall to get that gift, etc.

As a married couple, Mike and I have tried to place a high priority on Jesus' incarnation instead of the materialism that seems to just explode this time of year. Now with a little one, we are continuing to be intentional about centering the Christmas season around Jesus. {Not having a TV and not going to the mall in December make it easy to miss a lot of the commercialism, but boy do I ever do an excellent job of coveting and comparing via the internet!} Mike and I also have a handful of nice Christmas traditions we've established, and as our family grows and changes, we want to continue incorporating them into the holiday season--as long as they remain meaningful and fun. We've been talking about our expectations and how activities and traditions will be different with a five-and-a-half month old baby in tow. Add to that the fact that Mike is very busy at work, so time and energy are precious commodities. Suffice it to say, turning my heart toward Jesus instead of "stuff" and molding our plans to fit around Lainie's needs has proven to be an exercise...but a rewarding one!

In spite of Thanksgiving being a week early, Advent still snuck up on me, and I found myself putting together our muffin tin Advent calendar on November 30th. In years past I've written a different little activity for us to do each day, ranging from "Buy festive lattes on the way to church" to "Put change in a Salvation Army bucket" to "Find mistletoe...xoxo." This year, I knew it would be stressful to have a daily "assignment." Instead, I wrote prompts for each day to help us remember the gifts Jesus has given us, like

 

A gift you can see

 

A gift you can taste

 

A gift that's alive

 

A gift that you didn't expect

It only takes a minute or two to read the day's prompt and share with each other specific gifts we're thankful for. I also sprinkled an activity in every few days, like having candy cane cocoa and burning a Christmas CD...things that are easy and we to want to do anyway.

Speaking of Christmas CDs, every year that we've been married, Mike and I have spent an evening perusing carols online {iTunes? Zune? I don't know} and taking turns picking 12 songs to burn onto a CD. This year's album is by far the most lackluster. I've listened to it a couple times, and it's like we didn't even try--it is boring, my friends. Boring. Probably because we were both hallucinatingly tired and juggling a wiggly baby between us. Better luck in 2013?

And speaking of Advent...I tend to be a legalistic nitwit about it: We have to do the readings daily, and if we miss a day, we must catch up. The reality for us this year is that many weekdays, we have very little time together. Mike leaves for work before I get up in the morning; he's super busy and sometimes has to work from home in the evenings. We are still trying to convince Lainie that her bedtime is before 10:30pm; so we frequently spend a couple hours each evening in that continual exercise of endurance, patience, and about-to-fall-off-the-cliff-of-insanity known as "putting the baby to bed." So we read our Advent devotional, Ann Voskamp's Jesse Tree Journey, together when we can, and I keep up with it during my quiet time. Just cuz we can't do it daily as a family doesn't mean we can't do it at all...or that I can't do it on my own.

A couple weeks ago we went to Wights, a local nursery/garden store that goes whole hog for Christmas, to buy The Ornament of 2012--another tradition. I wore Lainie in the Baby Bjorn, facing out, and I think she stuck her arms straight out like a happy octopus the entire time, trying to touch everything.

 

:: we both look frightened...charming. ::

And can I just say that after having a 12 pound baby in a Bjorn, I am sooooooo glad I spent the money to buy an Ergo--my shoulders were killing me after a few minutes, but I can wear her in the Ergo for hours without pain. Seriously, if you're gonna wear your baby, an ergonomically correct carrier is worth the money!!

And that's how we're trying to find balance this Christmas season. Trying to choose things that turn our hearts toward Jesus, bring us together as a family, and resist the pressure to make this just another commercialized spending extravaganza. Jesus gives us Himself. He is all we need.

{ It's the Most Wonderful Tiiiiiiiiiime }

...of the year!

How is it already December, pray tell? I could have sworn that Halloween was last week. My own home betrays my sense of time: Our tree is up and decorated, twinkle lights strung, and--get this!--most of the Christmas shopping done! {Thanks to the internets.} I've been listening to this Christmas album constantly for the last week or so; the last song gives me chills every time. Let me share a couple verses with you:

When on the day the great I Am
The faithful and the true
The Lamb who was for sinners slain
Is making all things new.

Behold our God shall live with us
And be our steadfast light
And we shall ere his people be
All glory be to Christ!

All glory be to Christ our king!
All glory be to Christ!
His rule and reign will ever sing,
All glory be to Christ!

{ lyrics by Dustin Kensrue }

Beautiful, isn't it? It blows my mind to think of God--God--living with us. Humans. I can't remember if I mentioned this before, but in October I went to a womens conference at my church. Elyse Fitzpatrick was the speaker, and though the conference was called "Counsel from the Cross," the bulk of her talk was about the gospel and what that means for our identities and our daily lives. Now, I have never read a single one of her books, though I own at least one, but wow...Jesus met me in her words. I've known Jesus all my life, as far back as I can remember, but something about the way Elyse presented the gospel and tied it to real life--it's like a switch flipped in my brain. I get the gospel and Jesus and Calvary and grace in a different way now. A way that makes my breath catch. A way that makes sense...in a way that causes me to actually believe that I am a worse sinner than I can imagine, and that God loves and welcomes me more than I will ever know. I "get" the way Elyse thinks and speaks, if that makes any sense. I came home hungry for Jesus, and in my spare quiet moments {ha} I've been listening to audio recordings of some of her other talks online. In the midst of this, I'm also finishing up reading Redemption by Mike Wilkerson, which looks at the gospel through the lens of the Exodus story of the Israelites being delivered from Egypt. The section I'm in right now talks about how the whole point of the Bible--the whole point of God's redemptive plan--is that God might live with us. Make His dwelling among us. Which ties in with a lot of the truths I'm mulling over from Elyse's presentations. And it's Christmastime, the season when we celebrate God sending His Son to redeem us from our sin by living with us and dying for us, bearing God's wrath in our place. I feel like there are a lot of loose ends God is gently weaving together in my soul right now. It's an exciting place to be.

Oh--and have any of you heard of this book, Delighting in the Trinity: An Introduction to the Christian Faith? I am dying to read it! I read a review of it that piqued my interest, but Mike was skeptical...so I dug around online and found that Tim Challies gives it his "absolute highest recommendation," which only makes me wish for an audio version because when am I going to have time to read another book? Guess I'll add it to the pile...after I read at least one by Elyse Fitzpatrick. ;-)

And with that, I'll close. If I don't wake Lainie up from her nap now, we may never get to sleep tonight!

{ on fear }

In my head, I do battle with SIDS daily.

I think that I have a great excuse for being freaked out that sudden infant death syndrome may sneak into our home: We've already been the ones with the perfectly healthy baby who is suddengly diagnosed with a serious anomaly on her second ultrasound. We've been the 1 in 400,000. We've drawn the short straw once already. Suddenly dangerously ill babies are no longer something that happens to "other people." That was us. Fear covers me like a cloak and I walk through my days and nights wondering when "it" is going to happen to us again...whatever sinister thing "it" may be.

I sneak into her room to check her breathing. Naps. Nighttime. Whenever she's asleep.

Often I get a little knot in the pit of my stomach when Mike leaves for work in the morning. What if Lainie doesn't wake up and I'm the only one here?

Last night Lainie just wouldn't fall asleep. She woke up every hour between 9pm and 1am, and then again at 4:15. One of those times, after I got her settled again and was thinking something along the
lines of "at least if she's crying I know she's alive," the Holy Spirit nudged me.

I think I'm protecting Lainie from SIDS. I put her to sleep on her back, with a pacifier. I try not to let her get overheated. I follow the recommendations.

And I pray for her. Every stinkin' time I put her down to sleep, I pray for protection from physical danger. {That's my code phrase for "SIDS" because I don't want to actually talk about it, say it, admit it--so I sort of wink at God when I say that and hope He knows what I mean.}

Somehow, I think that if I do all the "right things" and pray for her, that she will be okay.

The flip side is that I also think that she is one forgotten prayer away from...you know, "physical danger."

I had a crystal-clear mental picture of how I approach praying for Lainie's safety: God is a cosmic machine that's about to dispense SIDS, and as I pray I'm punching specific buttons in a certain order. As long as I punch the right buttons in the right order, Lainie escapes harm. Thus, I deceive myself into thinking I control Lainie's safety. The flip side, though, is that if I forget to pray--if I say the wrong words, or put them in the wrong order, or whatever--then it's my fault if something bad happens to her.

I was now quite awake and quite uncomfortable. Though I try to deny it, this is exactly what I'm doing. It's like chanting spells, or offering sacrifices, or following some hand-me-down superstitions to try to appease some capricious mythological god.

I remembered a conversation Mike and I had a day or two earlier, where I shared my irrational fear of there being an earthquake while he's at work and I'm stuck and can't get to Lainie. He said that whatever happens, earthquake or no earthquake, Jesus loves us and will take care of us. Jesus loves us just as much each day earthquake-free day as He does if and when there's an earthquake. An earthquake doesn't mean we are in more danger than when there is no earthquake; we are still loved and protected by Jesus, and if Jesus is who He says He is, we have nothing to fear. Earthquakes don't take Jesus by surprise. Neither do naps, or a mom who's too tired to mumble a prayer, or the mysterious list of unknown-but-possible-causes of SIDS. And Jesus is bigger than all those things--His love is bigger than any harm that can be caused by any earthquake. His love is bigger than SIDS. He loves Lainie more than I do, and whatever comes into her little life, it has to get through the hedge of His love around her first. A hedge that is completely independent of--and not reliant on--me praying.

I remembered this from an Elyse Fitzpatrick book I'm reading:

"We are loved by God, and we live in His world--not in a world of fate or luck or karma. Oh, glorious, shocking, transforming truth! We are loved by God! We belong to Him! No superstitions, no lists, no getting our act together to make Him love us. Simply believe."

 

And I realized: I'm not praying for Lainie because I believe God loves her. I'm praying for her like one who believes He doesn't love her. I'm believing lies, just like Eve in the garden...just like all our ancestors, I'm listening to the accuser instead of the Savior. It was--is--so shocking, so gut-wrenching to see how pervasive this lie is in my life. How often I choose to believe and act on lies instead of truth.

 

I've been mulling over this all day, between diaper changes and spit-up clean-up and washing dishes. Praying for Lainie feels so free now, like cramped wings taking flight after being bound for a long time. Ann Voskamp and others often speak of preaching the gospel to themselves, and I have always been a little tentative about that. What exactly do they mean? How do you do that, "preach the gospel to yourself"? Now I think I know. It's recognizing when I'm believing a lie and replacing it with Truth. It's asking the Holy Spirit to reveal truth to me and change my heart.

 

This is all very unfinished and mid-process, and I'd love to think it through some more before publishing this post. But my very-much-alive little girl is shrieking in the next room, and if I don't post this now it will be January before I can finish this train of thought!

 





{ Stay }

Linking up with Lisa-Jo over at Tales of a Gypsy Mama for this week's Five Minute Friday. The challenge? Write for five minutes using her one-word prompt--no editing, no backtracking, just write.

This week's word: Stay.

Go!

~*~*~

 

Stay.

Stay right here.

This is where I want you to be.

Don't try to live in the future.

Don't anticipate this afternoon's naptime and what you hope to accomplish in the 90 minutes she {may or may not} sleep.

Stay here.

Stay with the drowsy mumblings of her half-asleep and nursing.

Stay with the fat cheeks about to split in two from the sheer joy of her huge, huge grin.

Stay in this moment. It will be gone so quickly and you can never get it back.

See how much she has already changed in 4 1/2 short months? Tiny newborn forever gone.

Stay here. Stay right now. I am giving you the gift of this day, hours strung like pearls on a chain of moments, and you can never have more than one at a time. Never have anything but the one I give you right now.

So don't dream about this afternoon, or tomorrow, or when she can crawl, or when she can entertain herself better, or when you will sleep through the night consistently. Today is the gift. Tomorrow is tomorrow's gift, and if you try to live in tomorrow...you miss today.

Stay here. It is the center of my will for you. It is exactly what you need today. It is exactly what she needs today. Love her today. Soak her up today. Kiss Mike with gusto today when he walks back through that door.

Stay.