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

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....tiiiiiiiiigggghhhtttttt) He came to every recital, every talent show, every cheer competition and not with that " I have to be here attitude. No, no. He came with signs, he came with the video camera. He came shouting things like " Shake what yo momma gave ya" and then chuckled at his hystericalness. ( Not a word. It's my blog though...)

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