First of all.... I have been craving E.L. Fudge cookies for a solid week. You know the little vanilla sandwich cookies that look like the Keebler Elves with chocolate icing in the middle? I think it's because those were my FAVORITE when I was a little girl. When I was in third grade my mom was a teacher at my school. I kept asking if I could pack my own lunch, and one day she agreed that I could. I had a Lisa Frank lunch pail that would've made any 90's girl jealous. Unicorns, mermaids, flamingos, the whole gaudy Lisa Frank nine yards. I packed my lunch and got in the car to go to school with mom. I hung out in mom's room until it was time for me to go to my classroom. I guess at some point, Mrs. Thomas ( aka mom) checked my lunch, just to see what I had come up with. Mom usually packed a sammie, chips, fruit, drink, occasionally an awesome Lil Debbie Oatmeal Cream Pie, and a love note. ( Notes in your lunch really are the best!) I scampered off to class and dropped my lunch in my cubbie. 11:05 rolled around and we went to lunch. I opened my lunch box and found a note. It read as follows:
LB,
11 E.L. Fudge cookies does not count as a lunch. Don't do this again.
Love,
Mom
Ya'll I literally packed 11 E.L. Fudge cookies and NOTHING ELSE for my lunch. That's gotta be close to a whole sleeve. What's kinda cool is that my mom didn't take them away. I got to about cookie 3 and realized I was hungry for real food and went and got my school lunch card and ate Frito Chili Pie like any other healthy person... with extra cheese and canned peach slices... and chocolate milk. I have not indulged my craving.. but if I do, I can eat as many as I want because I'm a grown up now...
Just don't tell Mrs. Thomas :)
When I found out I was pregnant I couldn't help but think about all the people who I knew had been trying, struggling, believing, begging and still were not pregnant. I know all too well the sting of seeing the Facebook announcement of another person sharing their joy. You want to be happy... you are happy for them... but their joy, and it IS joy, they should feel that way, is a reminder of your pain, your failure, your loss. It's an odd thing to be both genuinely happy for some one and jealous of them all at the same time. When I began to think about telling people, I knew that there were some who I would hurt. I knew that they would be happy for me, rejoice with me, but I also knew that this time, my joy would cause a sting, a twinge... it might even cause pain. That was a tough pill. I have bonded with countless women over loss, over grief, over understanding their darkest moments. We have walked a road that not everyone understands. When they told me about crying themselves to sleep or falling apart when a co worker announced an unplanned pregnancy I could share sobbing all the way home from baby showers and then feeling guilty because I loved the person who was pregnant, I really did, but that two hour come and go shower was torture. I could tell them about sitting in a bathroom stall weeping and keeping my hand tight over my mouth so that if anyone came in they wouldn't know that I was crying because once again, I wasn't pregnant. How could I possibly deliver a blow like that to them? I was the one that they could relate to. I was the one who wrote exactly what they were thinking, typed out their exact feelings, expressed their anger, their troubles, the ugly stuff that nobody wants to deal with.
I understand both sides of the coin. I understand the grief one can feel when it seems that every month it's not " your turn". I understand the smile you wear ( 99 percent real) when someone you love shares with you that they're having a baby. I understand the 1 percent that wants to scream and throw a fit and say " what about me?" And now... I understand the joy. The uncontrollable joy that comes with crossing the finish line to week 12 and thinking... we're doing this. This just got real. I understand sharing on Facebook and getting "likes" and tons of comments and feeling so loved. I understand just blurting it out to people at work and they scream and giggle and do little happy dances. I have now experienced both. Both are deeply emotional, both are real and you know what, both are OK. It's ok to be a little hurt, a little sad for yourself and maybe even a little mad. It's also going to be OK when it's your turn and you rent an airplane with a banner that says " We're pregnant!"
I guess tonight, this is for " the many". The many women who are still waiting, still praying, still hoping. For the ones who are weary. For the many who know that pursuing motherhood will be costly for them, whether it be financially, emotionally or both. For the many who swear that that stick is the last one they'll ever pee on and have closed the door for the time being. For the many who are looking to science, surrogates, adoption... whatever it takes to be called "mommy". This is for you, because I love you, because I have seen both sides, because I want you to know, you're not alone. For the many I love, the many I didn't want to hurt, the many I hope to inspire....
Lord make a way
you always make a way
It's not always YOUR way reader, remember that.
Make a way for " the many". You know them by name.
You know their children's names
Your will be done
Baby Smith,
I was thinking about you today. I can't wait until you fall asleep with your mouth hanging open and drool on my shoulder. I can't wait until you hold my hand. I can't wait until you have so many little friends to play with. Their mom's read this blog and they prayed for you just like I'm praying for them. It's going to be so good. You can pack your lunch sometimes, but I'm checking it. I'll always check it.
We press on,
LB
Mr. S and I
Monday, January 28, 2013
Monday, January 21, 2013
and then there were three
Psalm 139:13
For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
You guys, there is some serious "knitting" going on inside of me. In case you didn't see my Facebook post... I'm 12 weeks pregnant. Even as I type it, I can't really process it. There is a human being in me. A little boy or little girl. We saw the little T- rex today. It's a t -rex because that's what it's arms look like and it has legs and no feet and it's the most beautiful thing ever. It was just kicking it's little stumps and in that moment, I could finally relax. Let me take you back. 3 months ago.
I knew I was pregnant before I even missed my period. I knew a few days before. I felt exactly like I did the last time I was pregnant. I knew then, and I knew this time around. It was terrifying. I wish I could tell you that I was so happy, and joyful and filled with peace, but I wasn't. After you lose a baby, you are changed. Never again can you find out your pregnant and just fall in love and not worry and think " Oh that won't happen to me." Because it has happened. It happened and it hurt like hell. If you're not pregnant, you can't miscarry. if you're pregnant, you are vulnerable to that pain all over again...
We waited a few days to test. I was scared. We went to Wal Greens because my once heavily stocked medicine cabinet was no longer a pregnancy test store room. We had been talking about our adoption options, looking at our finances, I hadn't even thought about a pregnancy test. I was so nervous walking down the " family planning aisle". I grabbed the tests, (Yes multiple. You always buy more than one, always.) and we headed home. I didn't want to take them. Confirming it meant acknowledging that there was something precious there, something that could be lost.
Tests taken. Wait.
I couldn't even wait the specified time. Three minuets may as well be three hundred years.
Two pink lines.
Two BOLD pink lines.
My eyes welled up. I walked out of the bathroom and into our living room. Kindal was waiting on the couch. We both knew before we took the tests. This confirmed it. " This baby will live and not die" I said. It was a plea to the father, a battle cry to the enemy and it has been my motto for 12 long weeks.
This first trimester has both tested and renewed my faith. It tugged at old wounds and crushed my pride and it has changed me. I spent the first two weeks so fearful I couldn't even rejoice. Every twinge was a sign of miscarriage. Stupid girl. Don't fall in love with this baby. It will be gone just like the last one. You're going to get hurt. I was incredibly sick and taking extra hormones to prevent miscarriage and most days I didn't feel anything. I didn't want to bond. Bonding means joining together with something, and once bonded, the pulling apart hurts. It leaves it's residue on you forever, and I didn't want that. I felt empty. This thing that I had prayed for, begged for and eventually given up on, was now reality, and It was the scariest thing I had ever experienced. Several of my friends announced their pregnancies within the first few weeks. I remember thinking, " They'll be holding their babies and I'll be blogging about another loss". The enemy had me.
We told our families around Christmas and of course, they were all over joyed. It didn't feel real to me. I had always envisioned myself pregnant, glowing and carefree. Not so much. I was nauseated, constipated ( these are facts) exhausted and barely functioning. I was the terrible as being pregnant. I was not the " pregnant goddess" I had envisioned. I was eating saltines three meals a day, sleeping constantly and miserable. You are failing at this. you aren't good at it. How can you give birth? How can you handle a new born if you can't even do this? I was defeated.
And then, the Father stepped in.
" Oh Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up. You discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold O Lord, you know it altogether. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me... Where shall I go from your spirit? Where shall I flee from your presence? If I say, surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night, even the darkness is not dark to you." Psalm 139 1-5 & 7, 11&12
"even the darkness is not dark to you"
did you catch that?
the darkness is not dark to Him.
That was transforming for me. It's more than just " God is bigger than the darkness. He can handle the darkness..." The darkness does not even register to him. It's not even there. That is huge. That is awesome... that is good news ya'll. I spent the better part of my first trimester afraid. I let the darkness consume my thoughts. It weaved it's way into my heart, it wrapped its fingers around my throat and it stole joy from my life, from my husband's life and from my baby's life. When the Father came to me, I looked at him and I spewed out " Do you see all this? Do you see all this hurt? All this darkness? I can't do this! I don't want to lose another baby. I don't want to hurt again." He looked at me and he laid his hand upon me ( vs.5) and he said " What darkness? It is not darkness to me, daughter. Open your eyes and see the light."
And I did. I saw our journey. I saw this blog. I saw the hope my pregnancy could bring to others who are wrapped in darkness. I saw my baby growing. I saw myself in labor ( God help me). I saw myself as a mommy. I saw us adopting, because I still believe we will. I saw my children playing and I saw the goodness of the Father all over again. He knew how I would react. He knew I would doubt. He knew I would be afraid. " Even before a word is on my tongue, you know it all together".
I just can't believe it.
I'm a mom.
Kindal is a daddy
My parents are online shopping addicts ( just kidding. They aren't making any purchases until we know the sex. February 18... we're shutting the stores down) Daddy says Ferris Wheels come in gender neutral colors :)
Thank you Jesus.
Little Baby Smith, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen even though you don't look 100 percent human yet. You are a joy to my heart. I can't wait to hold you! When I see you for the first time, I promise I'll kiss your sweet face and tell you " I'm sorry it took us so long." Do me a solid and have small shoulders and a dainty rib cage. Please don't be 10 pounds like your daddy when he was a baby. Please? Thanks. I love you more than you could ever know.
We press on,
LB
For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
You guys, there is some serious "knitting" going on inside of me. In case you didn't see my Facebook post... I'm 12 weeks pregnant. Even as I type it, I can't really process it. There is a human being in me. A little boy or little girl. We saw the little T- rex today. It's a t -rex because that's what it's arms look like and it has legs and no feet and it's the most beautiful thing ever. It was just kicking it's little stumps and in that moment, I could finally relax. Let me take you back. 3 months ago.
I knew I was pregnant before I even missed my period. I knew a few days before. I felt exactly like I did the last time I was pregnant. I knew then, and I knew this time around. It was terrifying. I wish I could tell you that I was so happy, and joyful and filled with peace, but I wasn't. After you lose a baby, you are changed. Never again can you find out your pregnant and just fall in love and not worry and think " Oh that won't happen to me." Because it has happened. It happened and it hurt like hell. If you're not pregnant, you can't miscarry. if you're pregnant, you are vulnerable to that pain all over again...
We waited a few days to test. I was scared. We went to Wal Greens because my once heavily stocked medicine cabinet was no longer a pregnancy test store room. We had been talking about our adoption options, looking at our finances, I hadn't even thought about a pregnancy test. I was so nervous walking down the " family planning aisle". I grabbed the tests, (Yes multiple. You always buy more than one, always.) and we headed home. I didn't want to take them. Confirming it meant acknowledging that there was something precious there, something that could be lost.
Tests taken. Wait.
I couldn't even wait the specified time. Three minuets may as well be three hundred years.
Two pink lines.
Two BOLD pink lines.
My eyes welled up. I walked out of the bathroom and into our living room. Kindal was waiting on the couch. We both knew before we took the tests. This confirmed it. " This baby will live and not die" I said. It was a plea to the father, a battle cry to the enemy and it has been my motto for 12 long weeks.
This first trimester has both tested and renewed my faith. It tugged at old wounds and crushed my pride and it has changed me. I spent the first two weeks so fearful I couldn't even rejoice. Every twinge was a sign of miscarriage. Stupid girl. Don't fall in love with this baby. It will be gone just like the last one. You're going to get hurt. I was incredibly sick and taking extra hormones to prevent miscarriage and most days I didn't feel anything. I didn't want to bond. Bonding means joining together with something, and once bonded, the pulling apart hurts. It leaves it's residue on you forever, and I didn't want that. I felt empty. This thing that I had prayed for, begged for and eventually given up on, was now reality, and It was the scariest thing I had ever experienced. Several of my friends announced their pregnancies within the first few weeks. I remember thinking, " They'll be holding their babies and I'll be blogging about another loss". The enemy had me.
We told our families around Christmas and of course, they were all over joyed. It didn't feel real to me. I had always envisioned myself pregnant, glowing and carefree. Not so much. I was nauseated, constipated ( these are facts) exhausted and barely functioning. I was the terrible as being pregnant. I was not the " pregnant goddess" I had envisioned. I was eating saltines three meals a day, sleeping constantly and miserable. You are failing at this. you aren't good at it. How can you give birth? How can you handle a new born if you can't even do this? I was defeated.
And then, the Father stepped in.
" Oh Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up. You discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold O Lord, you know it altogether. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me... Where shall I go from your spirit? Where shall I flee from your presence? If I say, surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night, even the darkness is not dark to you." Psalm 139 1-5 & 7, 11&12
"even the darkness is not dark to you"
did you catch that?
the darkness is not dark to Him.
That was transforming for me. It's more than just " God is bigger than the darkness. He can handle the darkness..." The darkness does not even register to him. It's not even there. That is huge. That is awesome... that is good news ya'll. I spent the better part of my first trimester afraid. I let the darkness consume my thoughts. It weaved it's way into my heart, it wrapped its fingers around my throat and it stole joy from my life, from my husband's life and from my baby's life. When the Father came to me, I looked at him and I spewed out " Do you see all this? Do you see all this hurt? All this darkness? I can't do this! I don't want to lose another baby. I don't want to hurt again." He looked at me and he laid his hand upon me ( vs.5) and he said " What darkness? It is not darkness to me, daughter. Open your eyes and see the light."
And I did. I saw our journey. I saw this blog. I saw the hope my pregnancy could bring to others who are wrapped in darkness. I saw my baby growing. I saw myself in labor ( God help me). I saw myself as a mommy. I saw us adopting, because I still believe we will. I saw my children playing and I saw the goodness of the Father all over again. He knew how I would react. He knew I would doubt. He knew I would be afraid. " Even before a word is on my tongue, you know it all together".
I just can't believe it.
I'm a mom.
Kindal is a daddy
My parents are online shopping addicts ( just kidding. They aren't making any purchases until we know the sex. February 18... we're shutting the stores down) Daddy says Ferris Wheels come in gender neutral colors :)
Thank you Jesus.
Little Baby Smith, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen even though you don't look 100 percent human yet. You are a joy to my heart. I can't wait to hold you! When I see you for the first time, I promise I'll kiss your sweet face and tell you " I'm sorry it took us so long." Do me a solid and have small shoulders and a dainty rib cage. Please don't be 10 pounds like your daddy when he was a baby. Please? Thanks. I love you more than you could ever know.
We press on,
LB
Monday, December 10, 2012
The thrill of hope
It's Christmas time. I love this time of year. When you're a child, Christmas is where it's at. Everything is magical and special and the most amazing thing you have ever seen... being a kid at Christmas is something we all experience, but we don't cherish it until we are older. We assume, as children, that Christmas is this great for everyone, young and old. We don't know anything about budgets and long lines and grumpy people, we only see the wonder of the Season. We saw the gifts under the tree and didn't even begin to comprehend their cost. We saw the stores full of shoppers and were excited by the hustle and bustle. We didn't even notice grumpy people because we ourselves were full of kindness. We can really learn so much from our children.
When I was 5 years old, my dad bought our first real live Christmas tree. Mom and daddy had just moved us into our first ever brand new home. I was convinced we were filthy rich because we had all white carpets and mom and dad had a JACUZZI in their bathroom. It was awesome. Just sayin. We had vaulted ceilings in the living room. I'm not quite sure how high they were, but I was pretty short back then ( because I'm a whopping 5'1 now, so I can use short like it's a thing of the past.) and it felt like the ceiling was miles above me. Daddy brought home a tree that was so tall, the Angel's head was squished against the ceiling. There she was, in all her white taffeta angelic glory, blonde curls cascading down her back and forehead pressed firmly against the white peak of the vaulted walls. Mom and dad went all out that Christmas. They bought fancy ( Wal-Mart) ornaments and daddy even bought some of the jumbo ornaments that were as big as my little chili bowl hair cutted ( not a real word) head. I remember sitting at the foot of that tree, listening to the Carpenter's Christmas album on my mom's old record player ( we kept it old school at the Thomas house) and just being in awe of my life. Here I was, 5 years old, and I lived in a house with all white new carpet AND a jacuzzi with a Christmas tree that was miles high and ornaments as big as my head. My life was simply too good. I had no idea the value of money. I didn't understand that my house was just an ordinary house and that there were many tree's that were taller... I just saw what I had and knew that it was enough. It was so much more than enough. The ending of this story is that I decided to take down one of the huge ornaments and dance around the room to some sort of impromptu interpretive dance and I dropped it and broke it and promptly hid all the evidence under the couch. Two lessons here: 1. clearly our fancy carpet needed a better padding system. How did it break on CARPET?? and 2. I had moments of goodness and moments of not so goodness. sue me.
At church last night, we continued talking about Advent. Before the birth of Christ, the people were desperate to see the Messiah. They were eagerly awaiting the arrival of their King. It's funny because I know that they expected just that... a king. They weren't looking for a helpless baby to guide them to freedom. I love God's divine wisdom. He's so beautiful is all senses of the word. God sent the hope of the world in the form of a baby. When a woman is pregnant, we all wait for the birth. We anticipate it, we talk about it, we speculate about when exactly it will happen. Before modern technology and of course in Biblical times, there were signs of the pregnancy ( parrallel it to prophecies in the old testament) there were contractions ( angel visits Mary) and then there was the actual birth ( Jesus is born, this one isn't really abstract) You didn't know exactly when it was coming, only that it WAS coming. The people cried out to God for their Messiah. They begged him to respond, and he did... in a way they all could all relate to.
I love O Holy Night and we sang it last night at church. My favorite line is " the thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices for yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn"
The thrill of hope.
HOPE
Hope is a chance. Hope is a future, it is a shot, an opportunity, a way made. Hope is being one day late and thinking " this could be it". Hope is hearing testimony from couple's who tried to have children and thought they had lost hope, only to conceive. Hope is seeing the child you're going to adopt and saying "he's mine"
Hope is Jesus and his plan for your life.
This is the season of hope
God granted you salvation through a baby
He knows your desires and what's to say he won't grant you joy through a baby once again?
Keep hoping. The new morning is coming and it's pretty glorious my friends...
we press on,
LB
When I was 5 years old, my dad bought our first real live Christmas tree. Mom and daddy had just moved us into our first ever brand new home. I was convinced we were filthy rich because we had all white carpets and mom and dad had a JACUZZI in their bathroom. It was awesome. Just sayin. We had vaulted ceilings in the living room. I'm not quite sure how high they were, but I was pretty short back then ( because I'm a whopping 5'1 now, so I can use short like it's a thing of the past.) and it felt like the ceiling was miles above me. Daddy brought home a tree that was so tall, the Angel's head was squished against the ceiling. There she was, in all her white taffeta angelic glory, blonde curls cascading down her back and forehead pressed firmly against the white peak of the vaulted walls. Mom and dad went all out that Christmas. They bought fancy ( Wal-Mart) ornaments and daddy even bought some of the jumbo ornaments that were as big as my little chili bowl hair cutted ( not a real word) head. I remember sitting at the foot of that tree, listening to the Carpenter's Christmas album on my mom's old record player ( we kept it old school at the Thomas house) and just being in awe of my life. Here I was, 5 years old, and I lived in a house with all white new carpet AND a jacuzzi with a Christmas tree that was miles high and ornaments as big as my head. My life was simply too good. I had no idea the value of money. I didn't understand that my house was just an ordinary house and that there were many tree's that were taller... I just saw what I had and knew that it was enough. It was so much more than enough. The ending of this story is that I decided to take down one of the huge ornaments and dance around the room to some sort of impromptu interpretive dance and I dropped it and broke it and promptly hid all the evidence under the couch. Two lessons here: 1. clearly our fancy carpet needed a better padding system. How did it break on CARPET?? and 2. I had moments of goodness and moments of not so goodness. sue me.
At church last night, we continued talking about Advent. Before the birth of Christ, the people were desperate to see the Messiah. They were eagerly awaiting the arrival of their King. It's funny because I know that they expected just that... a king. They weren't looking for a helpless baby to guide them to freedom. I love God's divine wisdom. He's so beautiful is all senses of the word. God sent the hope of the world in the form of a baby. When a woman is pregnant, we all wait for the birth. We anticipate it, we talk about it, we speculate about when exactly it will happen. Before modern technology and of course in Biblical times, there were signs of the pregnancy ( parrallel it to prophecies in the old testament) there were contractions ( angel visits Mary) and then there was the actual birth ( Jesus is born, this one isn't really abstract) You didn't know exactly when it was coming, only that it WAS coming. The people cried out to God for their Messiah. They begged him to respond, and he did... in a way they all could all relate to.
I love O Holy Night and we sang it last night at church. My favorite line is " the thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices for yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn"
The thrill of hope.
HOPE
Hope is a chance. Hope is a future, it is a shot, an opportunity, a way made. Hope is being one day late and thinking " this could be it". Hope is hearing testimony from couple's who tried to have children and thought they had lost hope, only to conceive. Hope is seeing the child you're going to adopt and saying "he's mine"
Hope is Jesus and his plan for your life.
This is the season of hope
God granted you salvation through a baby
He knows your desires and what's to say he won't grant you joy through a baby once again?
Keep hoping. The new morning is coming and it's pretty glorious my friends...
we press on,
LB
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Find me faithful
Proverbs 31:10-31
10 [d] An excellent wife who can find?
She is far more precious than jewels.
11 The heart of her husband trusts in her,
and he will have no lack of gain.
12 She does him good, and not harm,
all the days of her life.
13 She seeks wool and flax,
and works with willing hands.
14 She is like the ships of the merchant;
she brings her food from afar.
15 She rises while it is yet night
and provides food for her household
and portions for her maidens.
16 She considers a field and buys it;
with the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard.
17 She dresses herself[e] with strength
and makes her arms strong.
18 She perceives that her merchandise is profitable.
Her lamp does not go out at night.
19 She puts her hands to the distaff,
and her hands hold the spindle.
20 She opens her hand to the poor
and reaches out her hands to the needy.
21 She is not afraid of snow for her household,
for all her household are clothed in scarlet.[f]
22 She makes bed coverings for herself;
her clothing is fine linen and purple.
23 Her husband is known in the gates
when he sits among the elders of the land.
24 She makes linen garments and sells them;
she delivers sashes to the merchant.
25 Strength and dignity are her clothing,
and she laughs at the time to come.
26 She opens her mouth with wisdom,
and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
27 She looks well to the ways of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
28 Her children rise up and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
29 “Many women have done excellently,
but you surpass them all.”
30 Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
31 Give her of the fruit of her hands,
and let her works praise her in the gates.
10 [d] An excellent wife who can find?
She is far more precious than jewels.
11 The heart of her husband trusts in her,
and he will have no lack of gain.
12 She does him good, and not harm,
all the days of her life.
13 She seeks wool and flax,
and works with willing hands.
14 She is like the ships of the merchant;
she brings her food from afar.
15 She rises while it is yet night
and provides food for her household
and portions for her maidens.
16 She considers a field and buys it;
with the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard.
17 She dresses herself[e] with strength
and makes her arms strong.
18 She perceives that her merchandise is profitable.
Her lamp does not go out at night.
19 She puts her hands to the distaff,
and her hands hold the spindle.
20 She opens her hand to the poor
and reaches out her hands to the needy.
21 She is not afraid of snow for her household,
for all her household are clothed in scarlet.[f]
22 She makes bed coverings for herself;
her clothing is fine linen and purple.
23 Her husband is known in the gates
when he sits among the elders of the land.
24 She makes linen garments and sells them;
she delivers sashes to the merchant.
25 Strength and dignity are her clothing,
and she laughs at the time to come.
26 She opens her mouth with wisdom,
and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
27 She looks well to the ways of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
28 Her children rise up and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
29 “Many women have done excellently,
but you surpass them all.”
30 Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
31 Give her of the fruit of her hands,
and let her works praise her in the gates.
I love this passage. It's really beautiful and powerful and just so well written. The Bible is full of beautiful, passionate, just awe inspiring sentences and passages. Every book needs a great introduction. Something to catch the reader, to hold their attention.
1 In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. 2 The earth was without
form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the
Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.
" And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters". I love that word, hovering. It so perfectly and eloquently describes the Creator moments before he began his work. Hovering... The second act of a play needs something equally engaging as the first. Something to unify both pieces and also to let the ones watching know that this is a new act entirely.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. 4 In him was life,[a] and the life was the light of men. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
I love how it starts off with the same familiar words. Words you recognize, you know them, you trust them. " In the beginning" but quickly you see that this act is different. It is something more... " and the Word was God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made" If you keep reading, you'll find out exactly who the Word is.
14 And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.
He became flesh. That's so much better than simply saying " He was born." or " He became man". He literally took on flesh. The God of the universe took on flesh. He took on every experience, every emotion, every challenge spiritual and physical that the flesh presents... He did not merely present himself in human form.. he took on flesh... just beautiful.
I've gotten way off subject. I do that.
Today I want to write for my future daughter. The thought of having a girl both delights and terrifies me. I am delighted when I walk through Target and see adorable tu tu's and onsies and headbands ( oh my) and I am terrified when I think about a teenage girl living in my home. She has to live there. I have to deal with a teenage girl 24/7. I can't afford boarding school and we aren't Catholic, so a convent is totally out of the question, so I. have. to. do. it.
Teenage girls are dramatic and moody and believe that high school is the mecca of life and that if anything goes wrong in high school their lives are ruined and they'll never be happy ever again, ever. I know this thought process because I was once a teenage girl. In all seriousness, if I have a daughter, my goal would be to point her to Proverbs 31. I wish that I could tell you that my youth was filled with excellent choices. I wish I could tell you that I always behaved in a way that would have pleased both my earthly and my heavenly father. I wish I could tell you that I have no regrets... I can not. I spent my time chasing after acceptance, looking for redemption and truthfully not knowing who I was at all. I was, whatever someone needed me to be, but very rarely myself. I knew the Word in they way that most people interpret " the word" to be... the Bible. I knew what it said, knew passages from memory. I did not however, know the Word as it is referenced in John 1. The Word is Jesus, and I did not know him.
My darling daughter,
Above anything else I could ask on your behalf from the Father, I would ask him to make you wise and faithful. I have a dear friend( you'll know her, trust me. She can't wait to squish you) who pointed out some hidden wisdom in the final chapter of Proverbs. Notice the 12th verse. She does him good ALL the days of her life. She doesn't not only do him good once she meets him, or once she has some fun and decides it's time to settle down. ALL. I want you to know how valuable you are. Your father and I waited so long for you. We prayed for you, wept for you, thought about you every day. I ask that you recognize your value and in all things, EVERY day, live with dignity and honor and know, that you my girl, are not like everyone else. I ask that you would have a helpful and willing spirit and that you would want to work for what you have. ( v 13) That you would be strong and modest and know that modest doesn't mean frumpy and out of style, it simply means that a boy would know the color of your eyes and the contents of your heart before he knows exactly how your body curves. (v 17). I ask that you would be kind. That you would recognize the blessings you have and not chase after the ones you do not. That you would not be selfish ( as I have been in the past) and that you would give joyfully, just like your dad. ( v. 20 and 26) I pray that you would always laugh and know that sometimes, it really is the best medicine. That you would never live in fear but always, always be willing to set your sails and risk the ocean. ( v.25) I pray that you would know that beauty is here for a time, but we all grow old. There will always be someone younger, someone prettier, someone who might make you feel as if you aren't enough... but you are. I guess it isn't really that age robs us of beauty, but that it changes it into something different. You are not defined by how you look. Something so easily lost can not define you. Be gracious, be humble, be loving and you will see real beauty all around you. ( v 29 and 30)
I ask that you would continue to pray for me and for Kindal. We are pulled in a thousand different directions and I can honestly tell you that we waiver often on what our next step towards a family should be. We have moments where we are so sure of what we want to do, and then moments when it seems like we have been standing still. I know our hearts. I know we want to raise daughters that are set apart, the kind that are strong and feisty and at the same time humble and wise. We want to raise sons who look to their Father for council and are not " like all the other boys". ( Not in a weird, socially awkward way lol, in a good way) I want them to set the world on fire... to leave this place better than they found it. I hope they find me faithful in my calling. That they will feel happy that I was chosen for them, that they will rise up and call me blessed.... (v 28)
We press on,
LB
Saturday, November 3, 2012
something in the water
I have not been a very good blogger the last few weeks. Translation: I haven't blogged at all. Translation: I'm sorry... I'll do better this month. I had a pretty serious case of writer's block and I let life get in the way. Forgive me? In my defense, last week Kindal had a terrible car wreck AND our water line busted at our house, so I was kind of busy... but still. If I had time to Facebook, I had time to blog. ( See how I just disciplined myself? Beat ya to the punch!)
Tonight I wanted to write about something that came to my mind last week while I was at dinner with mom and daddy and Kindal. I was thinking about water. I try to drink lots of water throughout the day. If I'm feeling a little crazy, I add a lemon wedge. I'm nothing if not adventurous. Sometimes I eat cereal for dinner too. I hope you can accept that. I was looking at my water, lemon wedge floating freely... Water is an amazing thing because it can be so harmless, boring almost... " What will you have to drink tonight, ma'am? Oh I guess I'll have water." ( When you really want a coke but you aren't going to pay 2.79 for a drink. Ridiculous.) Water is actually an incredibly powerful thing. It can restore life, it can destroy man's creation in seconds. Things that took hundreds of years to build are erased... It can carve through stone, quench thirst... cleanse you.
Water is used quite a lot in the Bible. God used water to cleanse the earth sparing only Noah and his family. The water was a death sentence for mankind, but Noah found favor and in the same span of 40 days and 40 nights, the water carried him to salvation. Moses floated down the Nile in a basket. The water carried him to his purpose. He must become a son of Pharaoh in order to lead God's people through, you guessed it, water. Moses would later part the Red Sea and the water that led the way to Salvation from a Godless nation, would crash down on the enemies of the Father and become their graves. Jonah ran from God. Where did he end up? In the water. Well, in the belly of a whale who lived in the water, but in a round about way, he was as deep in the water as one can be. He was vomited up on the shore and decided that perhaps his future was better left to the one who filled the seas with water... and whales. In the New Testament, Jesus turns water into wine. It is his first public miracle and it will not be his last involving water. The woman at the well went to draw water because she was thirsty, in more ways than one... Jesus met her there and revealed who He was and who SHE was. He knew her. Her secrets, her shame, her mistakes and who should would become in Him. She came because she was thirsty, the tangible water made way for Living Water and she left fulfilled, for the very first time. Jesus walked on water, demonstrating that while he was fully man he was also fully God. I don't know if you've tried walking in water... it turns into swimming real quick for us humans... real quick. Jesus calmed the seas, the same ones where he declared he would make his disciples "fishers of men". On the cross, his side was pierced. The wound released both blood... and water.... a means to salvation once again...
I don't know why, but that really just amazes me. Water. The stuff I drink from a bottle, even though it's a free, renewable resource and I can get it from my sink for free and I'm probably going to get cancer from drinking out of plastic every day... that clear liquid that washes my clothes, waters my yard ( I never water my yard but you get my point, you also know why my lawn is dead) and helps me brush my teeth is the exact same thing that flooded the earth. The same substance that wiped away a city in Louisiana, that parted before Moses and his staff, that carved out the Grand Canyon, that carried a baby to his destiny, that has crushed nations, that Jesus walked on.... water. It's not much to look at in a glass, but stand along the shore of the ocean, and try not to be filled with awe. Watch it drip from your hose and then look at the wall of water caused by a tidal wave and know that you are very small.
Tonight, I just want you to be in awe of the Father. I want you to think about water and see it's vast purpose. Without it you die, but caught in it's storm you're likely not to live. I don't have much to say about children tonight. I want them, you want them. We've established that. :) I hope that they, and you, read this and think about the vast power of God. He, like the water he created, restores life, sustains life, creates life and in the same way, he deserves awe. He should be looked at like the tidal wave about to crash, like the sea parting, like the gaping mouth of a whale opening wide.... knowing him is all the difference in how you see " the water".... it is either your salvation, or it is your end.
We Press On,
LB
Tonight I wanted to write about something that came to my mind last week while I was at dinner with mom and daddy and Kindal. I was thinking about water. I try to drink lots of water throughout the day. If I'm feeling a little crazy, I add a lemon wedge. I'm nothing if not adventurous. Sometimes I eat cereal for dinner too. I hope you can accept that. I was looking at my water, lemon wedge floating freely... Water is an amazing thing because it can be so harmless, boring almost... " What will you have to drink tonight, ma'am? Oh I guess I'll have water." ( When you really want a coke but you aren't going to pay 2.79 for a drink. Ridiculous.) Water is actually an incredibly powerful thing. It can restore life, it can destroy man's creation in seconds. Things that took hundreds of years to build are erased... It can carve through stone, quench thirst... cleanse you.
Water is used quite a lot in the Bible. God used water to cleanse the earth sparing only Noah and his family. The water was a death sentence for mankind, but Noah found favor and in the same span of 40 days and 40 nights, the water carried him to salvation. Moses floated down the Nile in a basket. The water carried him to his purpose. He must become a son of Pharaoh in order to lead God's people through, you guessed it, water. Moses would later part the Red Sea and the water that led the way to Salvation from a Godless nation, would crash down on the enemies of the Father and become their graves. Jonah ran from God. Where did he end up? In the water. Well, in the belly of a whale who lived in the water, but in a round about way, he was as deep in the water as one can be. He was vomited up on the shore and decided that perhaps his future was better left to the one who filled the seas with water... and whales. In the New Testament, Jesus turns water into wine. It is his first public miracle and it will not be his last involving water. The woman at the well went to draw water because she was thirsty, in more ways than one... Jesus met her there and revealed who He was and who SHE was. He knew her. Her secrets, her shame, her mistakes and who should would become in Him. She came because she was thirsty, the tangible water made way for Living Water and she left fulfilled, for the very first time. Jesus walked on water, demonstrating that while he was fully man he was also fully God. I don't know if you've tried walking in water... it turns into swimming real quick for us humans... real quick. Jesus calmed the seas, the same ones where he declared he would make his disciples "fishers of men". On the cross, his side was pierced. The wound released both blood... and water.... a means to salvation once again...
I don't know why, but that really just amazes me. Water. The stuff I drink from a bottle, even though it's a free, renewable resource and I can get it from my sink for free and I'm probably going to get cancer from drinking out of plastic every day... that clear liquid that washes my clothes, waters my yard ( I never water my yard but you get my point, you also know why my lawn is dead) and helps me brush my teeth is the exact same thing that flooded the earth. The same substance that wiped away a city in Louisiana, that parted before Moses and his staff, that carved out the Grand Canyon, that carried a baby to his destiny, that has crushed nations, that Jesus walked on.... water. It's not much to look at in a glass, but stand along the shore of the ocean, and try not to be filled with awe. Watch it drip from your hose and then look at the wall of water caused by a tidal wave and know that you are very small.
Tonight, I just want you to be in awe of the Father. I want you to think about water and see it's vast purpose. Without it you die, but caught in it's storm you're likely not to live. I don't have much to say about children tonight. I want them, you want them. We've established that. :) I hope that they, and you, read this and think about the vast power of God. He, like the water he created, restores life, sustains life, creates life and in the same way, he deserves awe. He should be looked at like the tidal wave about to crash, like the sea parting, like the gaping mouth of a whale opening wide.... knowing him is all the difference in how you see " the water".... it is either your salvation, or it is your end.
We Press On,
LB
Thursday, October 18, 2012
borrowed breaths
Job 7:7
Remember that my life is but a breath....
You breath 15 to 16 times in one minute. The Bible states that our entire lives are like one breath to God. ONE BREATH, Tonight's post is short and to the point and I hope that my children read it some day and that it inspires them and I pray it isnpires you too. I know that some of you reading this are hurting. You're depressed, you're defeated, you're tired of fighting, tired of trying to heal, tired of hearing people say things like " well at least you already have children." after you lost one that to some may not have really " counted". Tired of putting on a happy face at another baby shower where you aren't sitting in the chair opening gifts wrapped up in pink or blue. Tired of countng down the days until you "know". Tired of tracking ovulation, tired of watching everyone and their sister get pregant on their first month trying. I know you're tired. I get it. I get tired too. The message tonight is not an easy one to deliver, but I needed to hear it and frankly, you do too. You're living on borrowed breaths my friends. The air in your lungs was a gift. You don't deserve it, it was an act of kindess from a loving God who saw fit to mold up mounds of dirt into human flesh and breath air into nostrils that otherwise would have laid dormant. What are you doing with what you have been given, which is quite generous? How are you ministering to others? How are you glorifying the Father in times of heartache? How are you investing in others lives, even when there is nothing to gain? How are you using your breath? Inhale and see how quickly the exhale ends. You can try to draw it out, force it to be a long release, but you and I both know, that it's mere seconds at best. You can spend your life convincing yourself that "if you just had this_______" you'd be fulfilled, you'd be complete... but if you don't recognize the one who filled your lungs with air, then you can't appreciate the breaths. Hold your breath. You won't do it for long. It's too scary. You panic, feel the slight burn that tells you that you need oxygen and you gulp in a breath. You have already been given the ultimate gift two fold. 1. Jesus and 2. Breath. Both undeserved, both necessary for life, here and in eternity. I want very much to hold my children, to make them laugh, to sing them to sleep, to watch Kindal throw them high in the air and then see them throw up all over him because I told him not to toss them around like that right after we ate dinner... oh did I type out that last part? My bad. I want that very much, but it is not why I have been given breath. I have been given life to glorify the Father. I can not spend it feeling sorry for myself, ignoring the hurts of others, categorizing why my hurt is " worse" or more important than theirs, and neither can you. Spend some time this week fulfilling your purpose here in earth. Loving others, serving others, examining the needs of others and meeting them. You may not like your circumstances, you may not understand why you're walking through this, but take a deep breath and be thankful... that one, along with the other 14 or 15 you had in the last minute weren't really yours anyway.
We press on,
LB
Remember that my life is but a breath....
You breath 15 to 16 times in one minute. The Bible states that our entire lives are like one breath to God. ONE BREATH, Tonight's post is short and to the point and I hope that my children read it some day and that it inspires them and I pray it isnpires you too. I know that some of you reading this are hurting. You're depressed, you're defeated, you're tired of fighting, tired of trying to heal, tired of hearing people say things like " well at least you already have children." after you lost one that to some may not have really " counted". Tired of putting on a happy face at another baby shower where you aren't sitting in the chair opening gifts wrapped up in pink or blue. Tired of countng down the days until you "know". Tired of tracking ovulation, tired of watching everyone and their sister get pregant on their first month trying. I know you're tired. I get it. I get tired too. The message tonight is not an easy one to deliver, but I needed to hear it and frankly, you do too. You're living on borrowed breaths my friends. The air in your lungs was a gift. You don't deserve it, it was an act of kindess from a loving God who saw fit to mold up mounds of dirt into human flesh and breath air into nostrils that otherwise would have laid dormant. What are you doing with what you have been given, which is quite generous? How are you ministering to others? How are you glorifying the Father in times of heartache? How are you investing in others lives, even when there is nothing to gain? How are you using your breath? Inhale and see how quickly the exhale ends. You can try to draw it out, force it to be a long release, but you and I both know, that it's mere seconds at best. You can spend your life convincing yourself that "if you just had this_______" you'd be fulfilled, you'd be complete... but if you don't recognize the one who filled your lungs with air, then you can't appreciate the breaths. Hold your breath. You won't do it for long. It's too scary. You panic, feel the slight burn that tells you that you need oxygen and you gulp in a breath. You have already been given the ultimate gift two fold. 1. Jesus and 2. Breath. Both undeserved, both necessary for life, here and in eternity. I want very much to hold my children, to make them laugh, to sing them to sleep, to watch Kindal throw them high in the air and then see them throw up all over him because I told him not to toss them around like that right after we ate dinner... oh did I type out that last part? My bad. I want that very much, but it is not why I have been given breath. I have been given life to glorify the Father. I can not spend it feeling sorry for myself, ignoring the hurts of others, categorizing why my hurt is " worse" or more important than theirs, and neither can you. Spend some time this week fulfilling your purpose here in earth. Loving others, serving others, examining the needs of others and meeting them. You may not like your circumstances, you may not understand why you're walking through this, but take a deep breath and be thankful... that one, along with the other 14 or 15 you had in the last minute weren't really yours anyway.
We press on,
LB
Saturday, October 6, 2012
pupcakes and ferris wheels
One
of the many reasons I am so excited to become a parent, is because I
had such great parents myself. My mom and dad are two incredible people
who really " did it right" when it comes to raising kids ( which is why
I'm so great... and humble....) When you begin considering parenting you
start thinking about your own childhood. You ask yourself, " how would I
do it differently from my mom and dad?" Truthfully, I wouldn't change
anything. My parents laid out an awesome blue print for me as a parent.
They should write a book, or a blog, or a pamphlet. Something. My
childhood was overflowing with happiness, and fun and make believe and
laughter. One of the most difficult things for me in not having my own
child, besides my own longing, is knowing how great my parents will be
as grandparents and not being able to give them that joy. My parents
were MADE to spoil grandchildren. It's really true. My father will erect
ferris wheels, buy ponies, shut down Disney World, the whole nine
yards. My mom will bake cookies, ( which by the way, her cookies are
just so good. It's wrong really. I never eat them, I work in health and
fitness, but I've been told. That's a lie. I always eat them. ALWAYS.)
play hide and seek and read books until she loses her voice. They're
going to be the best " Gigi and Poppy" ever. They might even wear the
cute little sweatshirts that say " Gigi" and "Poppy" in plaid lettering.
You know what I'm talking about. They sell them at a kiosk in the mall.
They probably won't wear those. My parents are too cute and trendy and
look 35 years old....
Things my mother did right:
She helped me fall in love with reading. I spent
most of my early childhood in the Collinsville Public Library. We didn't
have much money and my mom was great at finding things to do that
didn't cost much, if anything at all. Every week, usually Monday, we
loaded into the blue mini van and made the drive to the library. I had
an orange plastic crate, yes crate, that I filled with all the books I
wanted. Mom would patiently walk down each aisle of the children's
section reading me every title of each book that I could get my grubby
little fingers on. ( I wasn't really grubby, my mom bathed me.) We would
sometimes sit in the over sized chairs and she would read a few to me
while I snuggled up with her. She always let me ask questions and she
always let ME turn the page. That's a big deal when you're little. Mom
is such a great " out loud reader". It must be the teacher in her.
She let me be creative. I was always in costumes
when I was a little girl. I loved wear slips and tutu's over my regular
clothes, because you never know when you'll need to bust out a dance
routine in the middle of your living room... or Reasor's. Mom always
encouraged my writing. I use to spend hours on my Gramps' computer
typing stories up and then illustrating them. She read them all. Mom
still encourages me to write. She still wants me to write a novel, and I
think I will and I'll dedicate it to her. She let us get messy and play
games. Once she let my sister and I make a giant spider web out of yarn
in our " toy room". I just about died from the joy of it. It's the
little things. She took us to the Nutcracker ballet when I was 6. We had
the cheapest seats, nose bleed. She kept her arms across my body the
entire time because we were up high and at an angle and I kept leaning
forward with my binoculars. I wore a black velvet dress and fancy patent
leather shoes and I was sure we were filthy rich because we were at the
ballet and mom had on lipstick and looked beautiful. I remember
thinking just that. I had no idea that I was in the cheap seats. A
lesson in perspective. the " cheap seats" are only cheap if you let them
be. I had the time of my life. Best seats in the house.
She was cool because she didn't try to be cool.
I've always genuinely liked my parents. My mom probably just laughed out
loud at that sentence because when I was a teenager I didn't always
portray that well with her, but I really did. I was never embarrassed of
them. I was proud of them and I still am. My mom was cool but not " I
wear the same clothes as my teenage daughter and let kids drink at my
house" cool. She was pretty and fun and awesome but without trying too
hard. I love being with my mom. We go to lunch, we shop, we see movies.
She comes to work out at Healthzone, where I work out and people say "
Hey is that lady who looks just like you, your mom?" To which I always
reply, " Well I look just like her. She was here first.. and yes she is"
Things my dad did right:
He did girl things with me. I never felt like my
dad wished he had a boy. He embraced his feminine side with boldness. We
would do interpretive dance in the living room where moves such as "
the ceiling fan", " the airplane" and just general balletic genius were
born. He would play tea party and barbies with us. He filled up the
jacuzzi to the brim with bubbles and plop my sister and I in and would
then judge our " who can style the best outfit out if bubbles?" contest.
He learned to fix our hair. ( His pony tails were tight. not tight like
cool, tight like we looked like we had face lifts....
He always made time for me. My dad was a busy man.
Still is. He runs a successful company, serves in his church, models for
GQ ( he'll love that). My dad was never too busy for me. He would pick
me up from school to go to lunch. He would let me go to work with him
and use his signature stamp to "sign off " on documents, aka: He would
let me stamp his name on a thousand pieces of blank paper and pretend I
was helping him do work. That was just last week actually. Kidding. He
took me on my first airplane ride at 6. ( 6 was a big year for me
people. the Nutcracker AND a plane ride.) We flew to Little Rock for a
one day business trip and I ate peanuts and drank Coke and talked the
ear off of the man next to me. He happened to work for a little company
called American Girl, you may have heard of it, and I loved me some
American Girl. he took me just because he wanted to spend time with me
and take me on a plane ride. That's legit. He still meets me for " lunch
dates" even though I'm a grown up and I still love it.
He loved me even when I was stupid. It takes a lot
to get my dad mad. You can screw up pretty bad and he'll forgive you.
He won't bring it up or hold it over your head. he doesn't make you feel
stupid even though you acted stupid. He taught me to forgive the way
God forgives. It's like it never happened. Doesn't mean there aren't
consequences here on earth, doesn't mean you get a free pass, but in the
end, when he said "it's forgiven"... he meant it. He had to extend
pardon to me often. My sister and I were about as opposite as two people
could be. She was born a forty year old puritan and I was born looking
for the loop holes. I admire my sister's moral compass. It's made of
titanium. Mine has improved greatly but daddy had to wear out the words "
i forgive you" with me.
My parents drove me around listening to NSYNC and Hanson. They took
me to sleepovers, carted my friends around to church events and served
as sponsors at lock outs and church camp. They took me to Mexico my
senior year and let me bring two friends. They took Kindal and I to
Disney World and spoiled us rotten. They have blessed us with new cars,
they have stayed up all night helping us move in, move out, paint,
decorate, organize garage sales and so much more. When I was a nanny for
my first full time family, they invested in the lives of the children I
was caring for. We went to Merritt's at least once a week for "
pupcakes" as the sweet baby girl who stole my heart called them. We went
to movies and the zoo. We met for lunch and my parents always bought
them Christmas and Birthday gifts. We I think of my parents becoming
grandparents, it makes me cry. It brings me so much joy. I know my kids
will learn from them, laugh with them and probably get a book crate.
I like writing out my thoughts to my kids. You should do it too.
When you do get pregnant, or adopt, or both, you'll be glad you did.
They can read it and see how much you wanted them.
To my baby(ies)
Hold on to your pants, or diapers, because when you I get to you,
you will get your pants, or diapers spoiled off by your Gigi and Poppy.
You'll play games, and bake cookies and dance and laugh and go see the
movie in 3D because Poppy's paying and mommy isn't giving up her right
arm for plastic glasses. We'll sit on their back porch and watch the
nice delivery men set up the ferris wheel and then we'll eat pupcakes
from Merritt's and take turns riding it and I'll tell you all about when
I was little and about how I met your daddy and we fell in love and got
married and started trying to find you. It'll be good. You just wait.
Ask Poppy for anything, you'll get it. Gigi too, and if they ever take
you to incredible pizza, don't hide from Gigi when she calls for you.
She gets really mad and you'll get a spanking. I know. There was an
incident at Showbiz pizza when I was little. It didn't end well for me
and she doesn't think it's funny. Like at all.
We Press On,
LB
Sunday, September 30, 2012
the view from the throne
Today is my birthday. I am another year older, wiser (hopefully) and I am certainly stronger. I have been dreading this day all year. I have felt at times, that maybe my fear of this day made me weak. That maybe you would be disappointed in me if you knew how scared I was on September 29. I was unsure of how I would feel today. I was afraid that all the hurt, sorrow as emptiness would come rushing back and I would be a fraud to you. I write constantly about the healing that has taken place in my life and it is a fact that I have been healed. Healing, however, is a process. When you fall down ad scrape your knee, I mean really bang it up good, the wound heals in stages. It starts out really ugly. It's bloody and raw and it stings and aches. It's a constant reminder of the trauma you've suffered. Time passes and you see new skin, pink and healthy and there is hope. You're being made new. Finally, the wound closes and you're left with a scar. You're healed, no longer bleeding, no longer feeling the constant ache, but every now and then you look down and you remember what you've been through, what you have survived. You're healed, but you're not exactly the same. That's how I feel today. I am reminded today of a dark time. A time when I thought I'd never see " pink skin" underneath the ugly. I remember the loss, I remember the sting but more importantly, I remember the healing and ultimately the healer who brought it. Looking back on this year I have seen God do incredible things. I have heard his voice. I have felt his touch. I have experienced his goodness and I have been satisfied simply because he is exactly who he says he is. I don't fly often, but a few months ago I took a flight from Dallas to Tulsa. It's a quick flight. You've just buckled your seat belt and then you land. As we pulled off the runway, I saw the city of Dallas slowly disappear beneath me. The buildings that we look at and say " that's huge" became nothing but specks. The things that we've spent millions of dollars on soon reveal themselves for what they really are, nothing in contrast with what God has created. Tiny. Insignificant. Humble. The things that we look at and say " that's really something" look like children's play toys once you get up above them. God's perspective is much the same. He sees the big picture. He looks at what we've made, what we consider the " biggest and the best" and I can't help but wonder if he shakes his head as he overlooks the vastness of his own creation in comparison to the few things we have fashioned together. I have questioned the Father intensely over the loss of our child. I told him he couldn't use it for good. I didn't see what he saw. I couldn't see the view from the throne . He saw my turmoil and knew that it would be used to glorify him. He's still writing my story. He's not finished yet. To my baby girl. I miss you more today than I ever have. I wish you could have been there last night at my party. I wish I could have woken up to your cooing today, but I believe you know my Father very well. You've been sitting in his lap this whole time. We love you, we miss you..... We press on..... LB
Saturday, September 22, 2012
mourning into dancing
It's an odd thing to have a heavy heart and a heart full of joy all at the same time. That sentence doesn't make sense and I know it. Let me explain. Since starting this Blog, my life has changed. I get countless e mails daily from women who are hurting, mourning, struggling and desperate to " make sense" of what has happened to them. This isn't how they pictured it. They all describe the same perfect little "white picket fence"scenario to me. " I thought we'd start trying and have babies just like that." " I thought I'd be a mom by 25....by 27....by 30.... by 35" " I've tried every trick, every tip, I've tried everything." "I thought I'd be done having children by this point in my life, not still trying to have my first." The white picket fence begins to chip and fade.... the plans we made for our life begin to reveal a terrible flaw... it was never really about OUR plans. It was never really in our control. That's the beautiful and frustrating thing about creating life, it's intricate, it's detailed, and it's rare my friends. People sleep together every day and yet every encounter does not result in life. Conception requires the right timing, it requires a multitude of things to " go right" and it doesn' allow much time for things to fall into place. Even after conception, there is no guarantee. Being knit together in your mother's womb, woven and spun into a living, breathing human being is no easy task. When I went to my Dr after I lost the baby, she informed me that roughly 30 percent of all pregnancies end in miscarriage and that that number does not include eggs that have been fertilized but fail to implant. Some studies show that 1 in 3 pregnancies will end in miscarriage. I was shocked. How could I not know this? I couldn't think of anyone I knew who had lost a baby.... that would change. The burden of this blog and the blessing all in the same breath is that I get to hear your stories. I am honored, humbled and quite frankly in awe of the fact that God allows me to do that... that he allows me to listen to you, pray for you and minister to you. I could not think of a more unworthy woman, yet here I am, being used, and it is more than I ever hoped for. Each story of loss challenges me. It encourages me to " keep pressing on", to stay in the Word, to be humble and open and honest. Each story tests me because I have to run to the Father and say " what about this sister? She's hurting, she needs you. Restore her, renew her, reveal your goodness to her." I have to continually put down the question " why?" and instead pick up the question " how". " How will you use this Lord?" because I know that He will. I am living proof. Your stories make my heart heavy, but I am glad to carry them with you. Your stories also bring me immense joy. I met a woman at work yesterday who casually mentioned she was pregnant with her second child. We got to talking and she explained the the birth of her first daughter was a miracle, long suffered and that the journey was paved with loss. She miscarried multiple times before having her first healthy child. She and her husband have been trying for 5 years to have another baby and they had really given up. She started feeling sick, tired, moody.... could it be? Her 7 year old daughter will be a big sister at last. Be in prayer for her. Once you've lost a child, the joy of pregnancy is always tainted by the fear of loss. We know that God did not give us a spirit of fear. She knows that too and she faithfully trusts God no matter the outcome. I'm believing I'll be cuddling her new baby in a few short months. Every day God introduces me to women who prayed, just like Hannah in the Bible, for a child, and in His own timing, he delivered. (They delivered too, see what I did there? Clever, clever girl.) Every day I read emails and messages that confirm two things. 1. Women need to know that they are not alone in this. They need to know that there is a God who knows their hurts and cares for them and that when he tells them to cast ALL their cares on Him, he means it. 2. God is faithfully fulfilling his promises to his children EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. It may not be when you wanted it, how you imagined it or even as easy as you thought it would be, but He is faithful. He is so many things to me. He is my Father, my defender, my creator, my deliverer, my Hosanna, my King and in the last year he has most certainly been my source of comfort and ever present help in times of trouble.
One of my favorite books of the Bible is Psalm. The book of Psalm was written mostly by King David. I love David because he is a hot mess and royally ( pun intended, see what I did there?) screwed up and yet God still calls him " a man after his own heart". David lusted, committed adultery, committed murder and still he is a central character of the Bible and was used mightily by
God. That shouldn't bother you, by the way, that God used David. God makes it habit to use people that are completely under qualified, unworthy and even at times unlikeable. That's good news for you and for me... and for mankind in general. Psalm 34:17-22 is a passage of scripture that speaks to me deeply. It's really beautiful and perfectly describes the "nearness" of the Father to his children.
17. When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears them and delivers them out of all of their troubles. ( if you can get past " the Lord hears them" with out being in awe of the fact that the sovereign, most holy God is listening to us ... well, I don't know how to help you, AND THEN IT GETS REALLY GOOD... he delivers them out of all.... ALL... of their troubles.)
18. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and he saves the crushed in spirit. ( This is beautiful and speaks for itself. The crushed in spirit. There is no better description for how I felt on 9/30/2011. Crushed.)
Skipping to V. 20 He keeps all his bones; not one of them is broken ( how can you be crushed but not one bone broken? Meet my Father, you'll see)
V.22 The Lord redeems the life of his servants: non who take refuge in him will be condemned.
Psalm 30:2-7
V. 2 O Lord my God, I cried to you for help and you have healed me
V. 3 .... you restored me to life
V.5.... weeping may last for the night, but JOY comes in the morning.
V. 7. By your favor O Lord, you made mountains stand strong
I love V. 7. " you made mountains stand strong"... I'm glad my life is in the hands of the one who makes the mountains stand.... that's legit.
Psalm 30:11-12
V.11 You have turned my mourning into dancing.
Dancing is just about the most joyful expression of freedom I can think of. I imagine little kids, completely uninhibited, just dancing and laughing and I think that that is exactly what David had in mind too. The jump from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other. The total freedom and joy in any circumstance brought only from the Father. Taking you from weeping, to just jumping and dancing with joy. V. 12 that my glory may sing YOUR praise and not be silent. I will give thanks to you forever.
Today's post is for the broken hearted. The one who can't see beyond the immense pain, the one who can not see any good in this, the one who is crushed in spirit. It's for the one who aches for a child, the one who has cried too many tears to count. It's for the one who thinks they'll never dance again. You will.... he'll turn your mourning into dancing... it's just what He does.
We press on,
LB
One of my favorite books of the Bible is Psalm. The book of Psalm was written mostly by King David. I love David because he is a hot mess and royally ( pun intended, see what I did there?) screwed up and yet God still calls him " a man after his own heart". David lusted, committed adultery, committed murder and still he is a central character of the Bible and was used mightily by
God. That shouldn't bother you, by the way, that God used David. God makes it habit to use people that are completely under qualified, unworthy and even at times unlikeable. That's good news for you and for me... and for mankind in general. Psalm 34:17-22 is a passage of scripture that speaks to me deeply. It's really beautiful and perfectly describes the "nearness" of the Father to his children.
17. When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears them and delivers them out of all of their troubles. ( if you can get past " the Lord hears them" with out being in awe of the fact that the sovereign, most holy God is listening to us ... well, I don't know how to help you, AND THEN IT GETS REALLY GOOD... he delivers them out of all.... ALL... of their troubles.)
18. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and he saves the crushed in spirit. ( This is beautiful and speaks for itself. The crushed in spirit. There is no better description for how I felt on 9/30/2011. Crushed.)
Skipping to V. 20 He keeps all his bones; not one of them is broken ( how can you be crushed but not one bone broken? Meet my Father, you'll see)
V.22 The Lord redeems the life of his servants: non who take refuge in him will be condemned.
Psalm 30:2-7
V. 2 O Lord my God, I cried to you for help and you have healed me
V. 3 .... you restored me to life
V.5.... weeping may last for the night, but JOY comes in the morning.
V. 7. By your favor O Lord, you made mountains stand strong
I love V. 7. " you made mountains stand strong"... I'm glad my life is in the hands of the one who makes the mountains stand.... that's legit.
Psalm 30:11-12
V.11 You have turned my mourning into dancing.
Dancing is just about the most joyful expression of freedom I can think of. I imagine little kids, completely uninhibited, just dancing and laughing and I think that that is exactly what David had in mind too. The jump from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other. The total freedom and joy in any circumstance brought only from the Father. Taking you from weeping, to just jumping and dancing with joy. V. 12 that my glory may sing YOUR praise and not be silent. I will give thanks to you forever.
Today's post is for the broken hearted. The one who can't see beyond the immense pain, the one who can not see any good in this, the one who is crushed in spirit. It's for the one who aches for a child, the one who has cried too many tears to count. It's for the one who thinks they'll never dance again. You will.... he'll turn your mourning into dancing... it's just what He does.
We press on,
LB
Monday, September 17, 2012
at the feet of the Father
A baby was born today. My sweet friend had her little girl. Giving birth is a brutal process. I haven't done it, but I've seen the video. It is a battlefield. It leaves behind stretch marks and scars and it pushes a woman to her limits... and then it's over and every stretch mark becomes a badge of honor and all the pain becomes a distant memory over shadowed by the joy of knowing this tiny person. I felt pressed to write something today, I wasn't planning on it. I was running this morning and thinking about giving birth and wondering if I will ever experience that... and the thought crossed my mind of a mother about to give up her child for adoption. I think that many times, when we think of a woman giving up her baby we think that perhaps she is relieved because she doesn't want it. She's a drug addict who can't wait to be rid of it so she can get her next fix, she's a teen mom who is anxious to get back to her care free life of parties and prom dates, she's on welfare and already has more than she can handle.... some of these may be right. They may have addictions, they may be too young, or too poor or too broken... but they are still mothers. This morning I am in prayer for the biological mother of my child. I can't imagine giving birth knowing that the joy at the end, the entire purpose of the pain, will not be mine. I don't care what you have done in your life, how "bad" you've been, how careless you were, giving up your child to someone who can better care for it, to someone who has been longing, praying, desperately seeking motherhood, is the most beautiful act I can think of. A selfless gift.... an example of love only a mother could understand. I don't know who you are. I don't know your story or even your name, but I am praying for you. I am constantly at the feet of the Father for you. I love you, I really do. I promise I will always let my children know that it wasn't an act of desertion, but an incredible act of love that brought them to me. I promise they will know that you love them. I'm sure you always will. You'll think of them often and I won't pretend like you don't exist. How could I? I'll be their mother, I'll foster their lives.... and be thankful you gave them life. You won't be disappointed.... I will be good to them.
To all my readers "trying"..... I love you. Keep fighting, keep praying and know that He is good, He is for you and He is with you. I can not wait to meet your children, to see your growing baby bumps, to hear about their births, to see their smiling faces and remember the hard fought battles that brought them here. They are your legacy, a gift from a God who adores his children.
We Press On,
LB
To all my readers "trying"..... I love you. Keep fighting, keep praying and know that He is good, He is for you and He is with you. I can not wait to meet your children, to see your growing baby bumps, to hear about their births, to see their smiling faces and remember the hard fought battles that brought them here. They are your legacy, a gift from a God who adores his children.
We Press On,
LB
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Secret Prayers
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This post is from Kindal.I have known him for 16 years. I have memories of sitting down at Pizza Hut with his entire family ( one day they would be my family) after church. I remember the first time he ever held my hand. We were in 6th grade, I had on a plaid jumper ( hideous) and It was the first time a boy had ever shown me that kind of affection. I remember visiting him when they moved from Oklahoma and staying up all night talking in his living room, he never tried anything, we just talked. I remember the sound of his truck pulling in to my parents neighborhood when he would come to visit me as a teenage girl. I remember watching " My Best Friend's Wedding" and being terrified that that is what would happen to me. That I would tell him " I love you, pick me" too late and that some other girl would win the greatest man I've ever known. This is my Kindal, my husband, my very best friend.... this is his story.
As a man it is sometimes hard to show any type of emotion in
situations. As a Pastor it is very difficult to show vulnerability and talk
about the times when you have thoughts that are unbiblical or even sinful. I am going to attempt to do both of these. I do this for your Joy and the Glory of God.
The Joy
September 30 is a day that will never bring as much joy as
it used to. That is the day God brought
into the world the most beautiful woman I have ever known. LB’s birthday, for years, has been the culmination
of a week long celebration. This is
called “birth week” in my world. Last
year the excitement and joy of birth week was elevated by the fact that we were
finally going to have a child. I had
prayed for so long, we had worried, been frustrated, but finally I would be
able to hold my little girl. As the 30th
approached LB began to have pain, to show signs of miscarriage. I knew what was happening, but honestly I
almost ignored it. I tried to carry on
life as usual, to tell LB it wasn’t a problem, that our baby was fine. She wasn’t.
My longing to hear the patter of little feet on my wood floor was
slipping was becoming less and less likely.
The 30th
As I woke up on LB’s birthday I didn’t get up to make her
breakfast, I didn’t have a surprise present waiting, I didn’t have big
plans. No, all I could think about was
our baby. She woke up and I asked her to
take another pregnancy test……. Negative.
At that moment all the emotions of being livid with God, sorrow for the
loss of my child, and feeling helpless to do anything for this woman who had
given me her life, left me broken and frustrated.
LB
Lori Beth is literally the love of my life. I have loved her since I was 9 years
old. That love has only grown. She was my best friend, a girl friend at
times, and the one who helped me through my parents divorce. I know husbands love their wives, but my love
for LB goes much deeper than most. God broke LB’s will to live for herself and
saved her. Living in close quarters with
a “New Creation” will make the Gospel come alive. She always has been caring, compassionate,
and loving; but the Holy Spirit has exploded these attributes to further the
glory of God in my life. I have never
met a woman as strong as she is. She
never sits down, she never stops working, she is driven like nobody I
know. Perhaps her most amazing life
accomplishment is putting up with me on a daily basis. She is my rock. Ministry is hard. Being a pastor is taxing, my wife holds me
up. At times the Holy Spirit has spoken
directly to me through her. She is wise,
comforting, and strong. But last
September, she was broken.
Stupid Man
At the beginning I told you there would be some thoughts
that are hard to share. I am going to
attempt this. Seeing my beautiful bride
broken, made me look to the sky and ask “Are you kidding me God? We serve you, we love you, we disciple your
people, and all we ask for is a baby.
How could you let this happen.
Why did you not hear our cries to stop the miscarriage. How could you bring this pain into our lives.
HOW DARE YOU!” And then I disconnected
from Him. I decided that if he didn’t
care about my wife and her sorrow, then I would have to do it on my own. STUPID MAN.
I am terrible with emotions. I don’t
share them, don’t talk about them, and pretty much ignore them. Instead of pointing LB to Jesus and his
comfort, I allowed her to feel alone for a long time. She didn’t see me grieve, because I would cry
out all my tears on my drive to and from work, so that I could be her
rock. Truth is, I cant be her rock. Only Jesus can. My soul was broken, hurting,
grieving, and I was ignoring it. Finally one night God broke me, I asked LB to
kneel in front of me. I placed my hands
on her a cried out to a Holy God to bring restoration to our souls. This was the first time my wife saw my sorrow
on display. I believe that event
triggered the beginning of her healing.
Some thoughts for the readers (this is the Pastor in me,
deal with it :))
To all the women reading:
Your husband desperately desires your happiness. I fought long and hard with God on why he
would allow such pain to come to my beautiful bride. It was weeks before I even really let myself
grieve. Ladies, your man is wired to FIX
PROBLEMS. That is how we are made. You must help him understand, he cant fix
this one. He may seem cold or
detached. He may become angry easily. He might even show some frustration with your
sorrow. Allow him to grieve how he
grieves.
To all the men reading:
Your wife is experiencing ALL of the physical connection and
loss of your child. Be her rock,
shelter, comfort. Above all of those
things, continually point her to Jesus.
Men, let yourself grieve. Let
your wife know you are hurting with her.
As the spiritual leader of your house, bare her burdens and pray over
her. YOU CANNOT FIX THIS ONE. Your wife
will hurt longer than you do. Women are
more emotional by nature. Always be
understanding of her sorrow. Allow her
to grieve how she grieves.
Pressing on (my view)
Every night since then after she has gone to sleep, I lay my
hands on her stomach and pray for God to give us a child biologically. Then I hold her hand and pray for God to lead
us as one through fulfilling the calling to adopt. Lastly, I lay my hands on her head and pray
God would anoint her to be a Godly mother to our child(ren). (I guess she will know I do this now).
My little girl is gone.
I hope one day I will get to meet her (if that is how it works). But now we must press on. God has called us to adopt. Adoption is one of the more graphic and
beautiful pictures of the Gospel in scripture.
We now will have the ability to seek out, bring home, and love a child who maybe
doesn’t even see it coming. We get to
CHOOSE to love a child who is not deserving of our love, simply because they
are ours biologically. OH, but we will
love and cherish our child. I already
pray for him/her. God does this with us.
He seeks us, brings us home, and loves us even though we aren’t deserving. One day I will hear the patter of tiny feet
on my wood floor, my child will climb into my lap and ask me why I am his/her
daddy. I cant wait to hold my child and
read the first chapter of Ephesians to him/her.
The Adoption metaphor will really make a lot of sense.
I asked God why, even to the point of anger. We must be reminded that God is sovereign, he
loves his children. Look at the ministry
he has provided LB through the pain. In
Romans 8 we read that in our weakest most painful hour, when we don’t even have
the words to say, the Holy Spirit is at the feet of the Father interceding on
our behalf. Sometimes the glory of God
can be a painful process for us. It grew
me, it made me love my Lori Beth even more.
And so as my wife says with grieving the loss of our baby, dealing with
the adoption process, and trying to minister to those of you doing the same….
We press on.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Fill it well
1 Samuel 1:20
And in due time Hannah conceived and bore a son, and she called his name Samuel, for she said, “I have asked for him from the LORD.”
I asked my friend Tristan to share some of her heart today. She and Josh are in the process of adopting through the Cherokee Nation. You can get more info about adopting through the Nation by e mailing home4kids@cherokee.org. You or your spouse will need to be a registered tribe member to consider this process. Enough with the business talk... here is what Tristan ( and Josh) shared.
And in due time Hannah conceived and bore a son, and she called his name Samuel, for she said, “I have asked for him from the LORD.”
I asked my friend Tristan to share some of her heart today. She and Josh are in the process of adopting through the Cherokee Nation. You can get more info about adopting through the Nation by e mailing home4kids@cherokee.org. You or your spouse will need to be a registered tribe member to consider this process. Enough with the business talk... here is what Tristan ( and Josh) shared.
As I sit here trying to figure out
what to share, the difficulty doesn’t come from a lack of material, but from an
abundance. Lori Beth has shared so much that resonates with me: the emotion
struggle of infertility and loss. The loss I know is different, but I can
identify with the sorrow felt at the loss of a future for a precious baby. I
had a great privilege to watch Gideon a beautiful blue-eyed boy from six weeks
to three months when he went to spend his days in heaven. I had pictured so
much for him, he wasn’t my flesh and blood, but I loved him. Honestly, my love
for him helps me to see that I could love deeply a child that didn’t share my
DNA. I continue to miss him daily, he left an imprint that will never lift from
me, and I am glad for the time I knew him.
Both
our inability to have babies and seeing a baby you love pass took me to places
of deep sorrow. I heard a quote in the midst of all our struggles that I held
tight to, “there are some days that are only experienced on the other side of
sorrow.” This has definitely been true
in our story. It has led me to a deeper truth that we are more broken that that
we could imagine and more loved that we could have hoped. I had to let go of t
what I thought our story would be and remember the Author and Perfecter of our
story.
We
have traveled seas of sorry to come to the place we are now, we haven’t quite
reached that joyful shore but it is on the horizon. This is our story that oh
so hoped for horizon:
As a
little girl I longed to grow up and be a momma. It is all I could truly give as
an answer to “what do you want to be when you grow up?” Every other answer was
always an until…
So,
when I met Josh, and we began to share our hopes, I was overjoyed to hear it
was a deep desire for him to be a father. But not only that, he hoped his wife
would be able to stay home with their babies. This was always my hope. I once
heard it said not to say always because it isn’t always true, but I really
think it is here. I cannot remember a
time when it wasn’t. We talked about family before we ever talked about
marriage. Don’t get me wrong, I knew he was the fella’ I would spend my life
with from the get’ go.
We
got married at the rip old’ age of 20. Josh was still in school to become a
teacher. We knew our hopes of me staying home would need to wait. From the
moment I knew he was the man I would marry, I couldn’t wait to have a family
with him. We waited three (pain-staking long) years to begin, or try to begin. I had foolishly thought it
would be easy.
It is
hard to sum up all the places it took me; fear, bitterness, defeat, brokenness,
heartache and sorrow were merely a few of the places I stopped on the journey.
Josh
was there steady and strong through it all. I knew his heart was breaking too,
but over and over he washed me with the Gospel. He relentlessly reminded me who
God was, and who was actually writing our story. Short and simple, it wasn’t
us, and to think we could do it better was not only foolish, it was wanting to
be God himself. He was unyielding in the
truth, and at times, I just wanted him to wallow with me. I can say now that I
am glad he didn’t. I am grateful he knew when to hold me as I cried, but also
when I needed a good ol’ kick in the tush (not literally), which, oddly both
seemed to come about every 28 days as I mourned that fact that once again there
would be a baby in nine months. I wanted often those times to believe the lie
that God wasn’t good, or that he didn’t get it right this time. I fretted he
wouldn’t and wanted to fell at time. Josh held my hand through the deepest
hurts and led me back to God, and reminded His thoughts are higher than ours.
We
now feel closer to the shore. I can taste and see the Lord is God. How
beautiful our story is, how it isn’t less or more, but perfectly ours. We had been trying for two years before we
begin down the path for adoption. It was as long as we needed for us to really
see what a beautiful story it is, how the Gospel shines in it.
At
two and half years, we met our babies. They aren’t legally ours, but I pray
they will be someday. I trust our Author and am confident in the beautiful end
to this story. Until we step on that shore, I will trust His goodness and rest
knowing I am His child.
Thank you Triz! :) I love hearing other people's stories. I love how gracious the Father is by allowing us to walk together through this. I cried tears of joy when Tristan and Josh got the call that they were getting not one child, but TWO!! I remember the first time Kindal met your little boy. He said that he waved Kindal over and said " That a tiger?" Pointing to Kindal's shirt. ( I'm hoping it was his BA Tiger's football shirt and not a Fort Gibson T... High School Hang on anyone? JK...sort of) Kindal replied, " Yep buddy." He pointed to Josh and said " That my Daddy?" ( I started crying as he relayed this part...#hotmess) "Yep buddy, he is." The boy smiled and then said " That a doughnut?" Pointing to the white box of deliciousness on the counter. Kindal chuckled. " Right again, yes." This is where your son's strategy shows. " I have one?" He asked beaming. The answers had all been "yes" up to that point lol he couldn't lose! The last thing I'll say is that when I read the part about Josh speaking the Gospel over you and you wishing he would wallow... I totally get that, lived that, understand that. Kindal was a tower of truth that sometimes I wanted to plow over with a bulldozer. He constantly said that "God would use this for his glory." I would get so angry at him. I mistook his truth for lack of emotion and I missed a message of hope sent by the Father. He IS the author of all things. He makes no mistakes and he WILL be glorified. What's funny is that your children were already on this earth every night that you begged the Father to give you a baby. Your prayers were already answered before you even asked. He had already fulfilled your deepest desires, upheld a promise, restored all your hurts....and now you see them. You hear their laughter, smell their skin, watch them sleep and you know that YOU are their momma. God wrote the story, beginning to end and he cast every "character". He has given you your role, fill it well sister, fill it well.
We Press On,
LB
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