Guest Post

I had the opportunity to write a guest post for my sweet friend Lindsay's blog. I love reading Lindsay's blog regularly...it challenges me and encourages me and gives me a good laugh now and then. Oh, and she sings really purty, too. So check out my blog over there, and read some of her posts while you're at it!

They Say It's My Birthday...

.....and I'm 32, yeah.

I love birthdays. I love them for other people. I love mine. I love being a December baby. When I was in college, my birthday was always during finals week, and everyone would stay up all night studying, and then do fun things like make pancakes in the lounge at 3:00 a.m. And I pretended it was a week-long celebration with my friends. I loved it.

Now I have a husband and two little girls. Sadie has no clue yet what a birthday is. Abigail totally does, and she even managed to pause the countdown to hers (in six more days) to celebrate mine a bit.

I don't know what all this day will have in store. But it will be a good one, because I am with three of my favorite people in the world.

Oh my GaGa

Last night, I was holding a feverish Sadie in my lap and Abigail and I were watching "The Sing-Off" on tv. If you have not seen this show (and this was my first time), you have got to watch this Wednesday. It showcases acapella groups from around the country performing all kinds of amazing hits. I'm in love.

One of the groups was a group of fifteen guys called On the Rocks from Oregon. They performed the tightest, sassiest version of "Bad Romance" by Lady GaGa, and it rocked. We've been humming the song since then, and had said several times that those guys did a great job singing Lady GaGa.

So today, Abigail told me that her teacher Miss Karmen asked her what her favorite song was. Her reply? "I told her Lady GaGa." Awesome. Lady GaGa is quite a performer, but I kind of lean toward the thinking that my almost-five-year-old is better off listening to Slugs and Bugs and Lullabies.

Paul and I explained (after a good laugh) to Abigail that Lady GaGa is not a song, but a singer. A singer who has fun songs, but is pretty weird. And likes to wear dresses made of raw meat.
After showing her pictures of Miss GaGa and her outlandish clothes, including the meat dress, Abigail said, "Gross. She needs to take a shower."

I told her to stick with the music she knows when her teacher asks her next time.

Again With the Thankfulness

Okay, so weekly thanks are about as good as I am mustering up these days. It isn't that I am not thankful. I am. I just prefer to store it up and then do a sort of thankful explosion all up in your face. It's fun that way.

1. I'm thankful for Abigail's sensitivity...sometimes. Twice this week, she has cried while watching a movie. Currently, it's Care Bears. I love that her heart is that sensitive. I'm also thankful that I can confidently tell her that movies like "Madeline" and "Care Bear's Rescue" have happy endings.

2. The guys from the city who vacuum up the leaves. I don't know what your city is like, but in ours, if we rake a nice, leafy border along the side of the road, the city guys come through with a monstrous vacuum and suck them up. We still have to bag what falls in our fenced area...BOO. But I am thankful for that loud, sucky vacuum.

3. Wasabi peas. They are my latest snack craving. I bought some on Saturday at WalMart, and have eaten almost the entire thing in two days. And it was no small container. I love the crunch. I love the way my sinuses feel like they will explode when I get an especially horseradish-y one. Yum.

4. God's Word. I have a friend whom I particularly love who is going through some tough stuff right now. I love reading God's Word and not only being comforted by it myself, but also able to relate it to what my friend is facing. And knowing that God can save us. Word.

5. People who like to hold my baby. I love taking Sadie to church and having people come up and just grab her out of my arms. I love knowing that she is somewhere in the church building, in the loving, cradling arms of a lady who loves to cuddle babies.

6. You. Yeah, I said it. I'm thankful for you.

Yep, that'll do it for today. Or for this week. Trust me, I'm thankful.

Monday Thanks

I have never jumped on the blogging and/or Facebook status bandwagon of a month of giving thanks. I like reading what others write, and sometimes I even go "Shoot, I wish I had written that first." But I didn't. So here we are, November, and I have a few things to be thankful for. In no particular order or reverence.

1. My husband....and his vacation. Paul took his week of vacation days last week and it. was. wonderful. I know, I know, he works about 30 yards from our house and I can take the girls over to see him any time I want. He can pick up Abigail from preschool. He comes home for lunch every day. I totally get the fact that I am ultimately blessed by my husband's job....in it's flexibility, proximity, and a bunch of great people who come along with it. But, hey, a vacation is still a vacation. Even if we were not sunning ourselves on the sands of Florida, I loved our little daytime trips last week. Our lunches out. Our free evening at the Children's Museum. Having him home in the mornings when I felt like I needed one more hour of sleep. I love him. And his job. And his vacation from that job.

2. Okay, this is kind of about my husband again, but on a different note. I love that he knows how to be the daddy to girls. Yes, I know that he longs for a boy to join our family with whom he can watch the Cardinals and WWE and toss a baseball in the backyard. I know that would be a whole different kind of daddy experience for him. But yesterday I walked into the living room, and he and Abigail were getting married. I walked in during the vow portion of the ceremony. And they had decorated the living room. And already had eaten their cake (real cake). He is SO GOOD at oooh-ing and aaaahhh-ing over sparkles and tutus and Sunday dresses. He is teaching these girls what a prince is, and I hope they remember that someday when they see some punk with a tattoo and feel a flutter in their stomach. Grrr.

3. Coffee Mate....the holiday ones. I am a flavored coffee girl. I drink it decaf, so for me, it is all about the flavor and the warmth, not about the energy. And I have had the Peppermint Stick and am now on Sugar and Spice. And yum.

4. My mama. Because she is an awesome mama and an awesome Memaw. She makes me laugh with facebook comments and helps me in times of need. She works hard. She makes the best chocolate chip cookies. And cinnamon rolls. If I go more than a week without seeing her or having a good, long talk with her, I feel it. I always think I am sad that my girls are growing up so fast, but if we can just sit someday and have long talks as friends like I do with my mama now, then I can look forward to their growing up.

5. Gift cards. I had some leftover gift card money from when Sadie was born, so the other day I bought matching Christmas dresses for Sadie and Abigail. So cute. I pretty much never ever pay full price for any kids clothes because they outgrow them so fast. We only have hand-me-downs, or clearance rack, or Once Upon a Child. However, there are two things I am willing to pay full price for (as long as it is under 20 bucks)....Easter dresses and Christmas dresses. That's kind of silly when you think about it, because they will actually wear these less times than their regular clothes. It's just the thought of something new and pretty for those holidays that I can't resist. However, I did get to use gift card money toward the dresses the other day, which took the sting out of buying two dresses a little bit. Yay, Target gift cards. I heart you.

I will stop there for now. I'm sure I will have more lists later, so I won't use them all up. I can tell you one thing I am NOT thankful for today. My cat. She ate the leaves off of some flowers we were given AND the ribbon off a helium balloon from a baby shower yesterday, and I woke up to find three places she had thrown up in the living room. Today? I hate my cat. But I'm thankful for everything else...especially good carpet cleaner.

Matterin'

When Reese Witherspoon received her Academy Award for the portrayal of June Carter Cash in the movie Walk the Line (hands down one of my favorites....one I will never pass up along with Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory and Dead Poet's Society), she said a quote that the original June was known for...."I'm just tryin' to matter."

I have to say, I remember pretty much 0.0 of any award acceptance speeches I have heard, but this one stuck, and I have thought of that quote over and over again. I love it. It probably would not rank up there as the most eloquent speech or the most self-assured, confident thought process. It could be seen as very humble or "fake humble", depending on the attitude of the person saying it.

There are days when it feels like you did nothing of great significance. Nothing that will have a movie made about your life, for sure. There are days here when I just do the usual...fold the laundry, balance the checkbook, nurse the baby, read to Abigail, make some dinner. Nothing stands out. Then there are days when I feel like, maybe if just for a moment, something important happened.....something worth marking on Sadie's calendar, typing out a blog, storing in my memory, giving Abigail high-fives over.

I know that as a follower of Christ, I am "more than a conqueror." I know that I am adopted, forgiven, redeemed. I know I have the opportunity to serve, love, forgive, encourage, teach, admonish, and edify in the name of my Savior. I know I am who God says I am. And that is enough for my heart to burst.

But I also know, in the most simple terms, that I agree with Ms. June Carter Cash. There is nothing wrong with "tryin' to matter." I pray this for my girls at night, among other blessings spoken over them, big dreams for their little lives. I pray for them to live lives of significance. Lives that matter. A life well-lived. Because it may be a simple prayer, but it is true....we all are just tryin' to matter.

Pumpkins

I think there is just about nothing quite so cute as putting little kids amidst a bunch of pumpkins or fall leaves and taking pictures. Because pumpkins? Yeah, I've got a couple of them living in my house.

Rearview Mirror

Today, Sadie and I dropped Abigail off at preschool and then Mama had a hankerin' for an Egg McMuffin, so we drove to Mickey D's. As we were driving, I looked in the rearview mirror at my sweet, chubby-cheeked seven (!!!)-month-old baby girl. She was mellow, watching the morning raindrops hit the rear windshield. She has one of those handy little mirrors on the backseat so I can gaze at her while she is still rear-facing in her carseat. We love that little mirror. We glance back to see her sleep, look out the window, chew on a toy, laugh like crazy at her big sis in the seat next to her. It is precious to watch her.

Funny thing is, she doesn't know we are watching her. Since she is facing the back seat, all she knows is what she can see in front of her or to each side. She doesn't know that she is always in our gaze because she can't see us. According to normal infant development, she hasn't even yet reached the age where object permanence has set in....she doesn't see us, so we simply aren't there.

Most days, some times several times a day, we strap her into that carseat and she looks up at us with a big grin, now sporting two tiny pearly teeth. We close the car door and hop in the front seat to drive, and we are out of her gaze, so she doesn't realize we are still there.

Today as we drove, I turned off the radio and said something that makes her smile every single time she hears it (it's really the silly way I say it that does it). "Mama. Loooooooooves. Sadie." I could see her little head in the mirror, looking all over for me. She grinned. She heard my voice and knew I was there....somewhere. She just wasn't sure where.

It made me realize that we are always in the gaze of our Father God, even when we may not be able to see Him. We go about our day, too often not realizing that He is right there with us the whole time, watching us, delighting in us. And then sometimes, the noise of the world is turned off for a moment, and we hear Him say to our souls "I love you." We smile...we look for Him...and He never left.

She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: "You are the God who sees me," for she said, "I have now seen the One who sees me."
Genesis 16:13

Making Home

I have been mulling over the phrase "homemaker" lately. I was talking with an older, wiser friend last week about my role as a stay-at-home mama, and I realized how I really resonate with the old-fashioned label of "homemaker." I have often thought about how the mama sets the tone of the home, an emotional thermostat, if you will.

In that conversation, I also realized that I put far too much pressure on myself. The friend had asked me what being a stay-at-home mom meant to me, and I told her how I feel it is my role to hold things together in the home, to be the peace, to keep things organized. And as soon as I verbalized something I'm not sure I had spoken aloud before, I said, "Wow. That's a pretty high standard, isn't it?"

She said, "And if you don't reach this standard you've set for yourself? What then? Have you failed?"

I was really for the first time having to string together thoughts that had only been scattered about in my subconscious before this conversation. Hesitating, trying to choose my words carefully, I said, "Well....no. I've never (ever) thought of myself as a failure or that I would be a failure if all of those things didn't come together. But I do, probably, mentally look back at the end of the day, and if those things didn't happen....if the home wasn't peaceful, if it looked a mess, if I yelled that day.....I would probably think somehow that the home was not any better off that day for me being there." I don't mean that in a woe-is-me-nobody-needs-me way, but in a a-monkey-probably-could-have-done-this-job-today way.

We talked about the difference between organizing the home and parenting, that Abigail and Sadie could probably give two flips whether the load of laundry on my bed is folded or not. That parenting them is what will remain in their memories. Because here is what can come from a memory....it may sound idealistic, but hey, it's my memory....

One of my very favorite memories as a child was coming home from school one day. The weather was just warming up enough to open up the windows. The breeze was swaying the curtains in the living room, and my mom was ironing. The smell of fresh air and freshly-cleaned laundry filled the room. And there were chocolate chip cookies waiting on the table. And it felt perfect.

This really happened. I promise. And in some crazy way, I have made that perfect, peaceful moment the standard for my entire role as a homemaker...wife...mother.

My friend listened to this memory and pointed out something....it is a good memory. A great memory. But it is only a memory....not a standard. She also pointed out that it is MY memory, from my elementary-minded perspective. It is quite possible that if my mom could have a memory of that day, from her perspective, it could be that she had burned the first batch of cookies, was frustrated with the checkbook, and hated the fact that she was inside ironing when it was so beautiful outside. Perspective matters.

And somehow, mentally, it is all changing now. I am working on realizing that a beautiful childhood memory does not set a standard for me to live up to. I have also realized that I should not take on the responsibility of something that is solely that of Jesus to do....such as be the Peace in our home. Because that is a standard I can surely not live up to. But being a wife and mama who prays at the beginning of the day for Jesus to be my Peace, our Peace...that is something I can do. Working on seeing the laundry and the toys a little bit less, and my daughters a little bit more....that is something I can do. Seeing my husband as my teammate, my coach, my encourager, my best friend, my life partner, and not just my "roommate"....that is something I can do. Telling myself that Jesus is working in me to make me a better Amy, not looking back on my day thinking anybody could have done my job that day....that is something I can do. Or at least, these are all things I can work on.

And that, to me.....for this season of life.....is making Home.

Forgotten Baskets

God is so good at reminders. A couple of nights ago, Paul and I re-worked our budget. That is something you can picture me saying with rolling eyes and maybe a little bit of sarcastic glee inflected in my voice. It was due to be done for some time, as bills and such have a way of changing from time to time. So, at 11:00 p.m., when I desperately wanted to go to bed, I sat down on the couch next to my hubby and the computer with my worst attitude in tow.

We re-worked. It looks decent on paper. Commitments were re-made. Doors of communication that had been shut were opened again. I reminded myself several times that a budget is not shackles on our hands, but rather smart boundaries that create freedom. Freedom to know what we have to work with. Freedom to not have that "uh-oh" feeling of spending more than we meant to or should have.

Last night (again with the bad attitude!!), I waved a handful of cash in front of Paul, saying "THIS is what I'm supposed to get a week's worth of groceries on???" It seemed measly. But we HAD already bought a few groceries with it, so it wasn't the full amount of grocery budget for the week. But the amount made me angry. I wasn't even paying attention to the food that we had not yet used from last week's groceries.

I was frustrated. I went to bed and opened my Bible. And, ha ha ha, wouldn't you know it...I was ready for Mark, chapter 8. Jesus fed 4,000 men with seven loaves of bread and a few fish. Four. Thousand. Men. (not even including women and children). Seven loaves of bread. Four-thousand men. Repeat it over and over and let that sink in just a smidge.

But that isn't even the best part. In my opinion, anyway.

¹⁴ They had forgotten to take bread and had only one loaf with them in the boat. ¹⁵ Then he commanded them: "Watch out! Beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod."

¹⁶ They were discussing among themselves that they did not have any bread. ¹⁷ Aware of this, He said to them, "Why are you discussing that you do not have any bread? Do you not yet understand or comprehend? Is your heart hardened? ¹⁸ Do you have eyes, and not see, and do you have ears, and not hear? And do you not remember? ¹⁹ When I broke the five loaves for the 5,000, how many baskets full of pieces of bread did you collect?"

"Twelve," they told Him.

²⁰ "When I broke the seven loaves for the 4,000, how many large baskets full of pieces of bread did you collect?"

"Seven," they said.

²¹ And He said to them, "Don't you understand yet?"

So. First of all, the disciples had seen Jesus provide for thousands of people with a few measly loaves of bread not just once, but TWICE. Thousands of people! With baskets full of food left over!! And then they get on the boat, just the small lot of them, with one loaf of bread, and start complaining and worrying about how they aren't going to have anything to eat. But Jesus was still with them!!

They had forgotten what they had seen Him do in the past. They were short-sighted, focused more on their grumbling stomachs than on their faith in the One who provides in abundance.

They are me. I am the disciples. Short-sighted. Looking at the little. Forgetting about the "much"...ALL of the abundance He has shown us in the past, time and time again. I can almost hear Him, His voice tired, yet gentle, saying to me, "Don't you understand yet?"

God is so good at reminders. That is a Word that is living and active. It is sharper than any two-edged sword. And it reminded me of what I had been missing.

She's Kind of a Big Deal

Tomorrow, our little girl starts preschool. We went to the open house today, and as far as I could see from the families in the room, she was the only one who cried (loudly) when it was time to leave. We assured her she would get to come back first thing in the morning to play and make new friends.

This girl of ours? She's ready. Ready to carry a backpack. Ready to meet new kids. Ready to show them all what she knows, and hopefully will be willing to actually learn a thing or two.

She's our Abidoo. Abidale. Abi-smell. Abigailia. Babigail. Our Turkey. Our Peaches.
Our preschooler. And we love her.

All By Myself

Today, I had the pleasure of a little time for Amy, and it got me thinking of what I do during those sweet times. Sometimes I still have Sadie around, but she is usually pretty quiet and cuddly. Paul had Abigail out swimming for a few hours. Here is the list of Amy-time happenin's:

1. Sometimes I do all kinds of necessary, boring things. Fold laundry. Balance the checkbook (got it done today.....zzzzzzzz). Catch up the dishes.
2. I make important phone calls. Health insurance claims. Medical bills. Why the heck is our cable bill so high this month? You know, those kind of calls.
3. I text my friend Angie about how much more fun it would be if we were hanging out together.
4. I grocery shop at 10:30 at night because it is easy and quiet. And I am all about the easy and the quiet.
5. When I'm in the car all alone and flipping through songs on the radio, I stop and listen to Ke$ha sing "Your Love is My Drug." Hey, I think she sounds like a drunk sorority girl, but that chorus is so stinkin' catchy. And sometimes a Mommy just needs to hear a song like that...a stupid, annoying, catchy song.

And you come home with a little spring in your step (and try to refrain from singing "Your Love is My Drug" while feeding your baby).
Here's to a little alone time this weekend! Enjoy!

I Love These Things

I realize that I sometimes focus too much on the "tough times" of parenting. To say they have caught me a little off-guard would probably be an understatement. So from time to time, I do have to sit down and think of all the things I love about my girls, because they are plentiful.

I love having morning coffee with Abigail. It's decaf, and she asks for it every morning. I can somehow picture her as a college student, home for the summer, stumbling sleepily into the kitchen for her morning coffee. And maybe we will have great conversations, or maybe we will sit and stare for an hour while we wake up.

I love Sadie's noises. I call her a whiny puppy because that is pretty much how she sounds. When she is tired, she doesn't really cry, she just rubs her ear with her fist and whimpers. Whining doesn't sound so great when they are old enough to express themselves with words, but it is seriously cute to me when it's all they can do.

I love their involuntary foot movements. Sometimes I sit and watch Abigail's feet as she watches Blues Clues....they just move all the time, even when the rest of her is lying still. They touch toys around her, her toes curl. Sadie's tiny feet move while she nurses....she rubs one over the other, or crosses them so daintily. She kicks them when she gets excited. They don't even know what they are doing, but their feet are constantly expressing themselves.

I love their smell after a bath. I know that is an easy one, and any Mom would agree. I could inhale that scent forever.

I love that Abigail would have her Daddy never go to work and just stay home and play with her every single day if she could. They are just best buddies, and I love watching them together.

I love Abigail's enthusiasm over things like taking her vitamins or playing peek-a-boo with her sister. She gets excited about the little things.

I love that Sadie has "found her screecher". She screeches all. the. time.

I love introducing Abigail to things that Paul and I loved as children. We watched Anne of Green Gables as a family a couple of months ago, and she paid every bit of attention to Marilla and Matthew and Gilbert Blythe and Diana Spencer. Melted my heart. We took her to see Ramona and Beezus at the movies the other night, and she loved it. So yesterday we went to the library and picked out two Ramona Quimby books to read. I think I just have to break out Amelia Bedelia and she will be all set.

I could go on and on. Let's face it, even the really hard days of parenting pale in comparison to the really great ones. It's a vocation, and it is bound to have it's challenges just as any job, ministry, or calling would. But I am confident that these moments are not to be missed, because I know how fleeting they are.

This Week I Learned...

I learned a few things this week. You know, important life lessons.

1. A couple of days ago, Abigail and I were having a really ugly day between the two of us. I was ugly Mommy, she was ugly kiddo. We were the perfect storm of headbutts. She had pretty much gotten in trouble all day long (and once she got started, I may have blown a couple of things out of proportion myself). Nothing seemed to be working discipline-wise. Then before dinner, I told her that we could make chocolate chip cookies together after dinner (hoping for some redeemable time from our day). After dinner, she was once again doing the sassy, arguing, talking back, not listening, blah, blah, blah, and I told her that we would not be making cookies together that night because of the bad choices she had been making. Her response was something to this effect (through hyperventilating tears):
"But you were an ugly-acting Mommy today. And you don't just promise you're going to make chocolate chip cookies and take it away. Because I LOVE chocolate chip cookies. I want to make them and eat them. You can't take that away from me. That's such a mean thing to do."
My response? You're right! When the cookies get taken away, we ALL get punished.

2. Trying to make your home some perfect little version of homemade-land can only work in spurts. I tried hard this week, making homemade applesauce from the apples we had picked, making the cookies (finally), folding the laundry, paying the bills, etc. etc. etc. All it does is burn a Mommy out and make me feel like I can't keep up. Lesson? Pick one Susie Homemaker thing to do a day....maybe.....but don't try to do it all at once.

3. God is always good, even when His timing seems different than ours. I had waited forever for an insurance claim to be reviewed from when I had Sadie. I kept getting the automatically-generated bills and was thinking if this claim didn't get straightened out soon, I would be getting a collection notice (but didn't want to pay a huge sum of money on a bill that I knew was incorrect). Literally, as I sat down yesterday with the insurance company's number in hand to call them and figure out what the status was, I opened up our mail and there was a notice saying it had been completely taken care of. Boo.Yah. God is awesome.

4. Give me 45 minutes without kids at home and I am one. productive. mama. And I felt GOOD for it.

5. My husband's love for me just gets better and better. I had a hard day this week (the one with the cookie incident) and just felt like a failing, flailing Mommy. He listened, he loved, he hugged, he cut Abigail off at the pass when I needed a break, he bought me a card saying thank you for all I do, he wrote me a poem. Sigh. Flutter. Heart. I love him.

See? Lessons in the everyday. Sometimes I love them. Sometimes I wish I had learned them enough already. :)

Healed

The other day, Paul and I were talking about a friend of ours that we had not seen in a while. She had been due one day apart from me when we had our second miscarriage. Every once in a while, I see pictures of her cute little guy on Facebook. I told Paul, "The funny thing is, when I look at his pictures, I don't really think about how we would have had a baby the same age as him." We have another friend who had a baby within a few days of that same due date. I said, "When I look at Kayla, I just look at Kayla. I'm not comparing her to what our baby would have been at this stage."

Then he said, "Sadie healed you."

And even though there are always scars from experiences like that.....I know there must be because I have talked to women who lost babies through miscarriage 30 or 40 years ago who still get teared up in the conversation....I realized that scars are not open wounds. They are areas where wounds once were, but they are healed. God leaves those marks, though not always physical, as reminders of His goodness through those times, of the ways that He healed the hurt. I know God healed the painful wounds. And He did it through this....

We Needed Them

Tomorrow will be one month since Jean passed. What a fast month it was....there was definitely a period of grieving, but things have seemed pretty "normal" since we got back from Florida. This is the post that I have been wanting to write all month, as the thoughts gradually formed in my head. I've wanted to write it a lot of times in the last three years.

This month also marks three years since our move here. God gradually drew us to Marshall over about a six-month period of Paul filling in preaching after the church's pastor retired. We were very content to be working with the college ministry at Ball State. We had only been there four years, and were not seeking any new ventures in ministry or life in general. We were fine where we were. Yet God drew us....slowly.....affirming each step as we made it (mostly in great hesitation).

As I got to know the ladies in our church (who are now some of my closest friends), I met several who had had two miscarriages. And before I had even had one, there was a little piece of my mind that thought, I am meeting these ladies because this is going to happen to me. Maybe it was a morbid thought, but somehow I knew it would. And it did. Within six months, I had two.

Also during this time, we found out that Jean had stage four breast cancer. At age 29, Paul and I were facing the first parent to get sick. The first parent to be in the hospital. To move to a nursing home. To be given a life expectancy.

During this time, I had a successful pregnancy. One that added beautiful Sadie to our family.

There are times when God moves you to a new place in life that makes you wonder what your purpose will be there. It makes you think that you must have something to offer that these people need. Some gift....ability....talent....something. You don't think it in a prideful way, but more of a questioning one...."Okay, God, how are You going to use me here? What is the reason you uprooted my life there to bring me here?" And yes, there are reasons, ones we are still figuring out. Ways He chooses to use us that we weren't looking for.

But one of the biggest reasons I feel He brought us here, for such a time as this, is not that they needed us, but that we needed them. We needed this to be our church family. Through our celebrations, and through our grief, we needed them to be the hands and feet and heart of Jesus. To share their experiences. To comfort us as they had been comforted. To care for our physical needs as well as our emotional ones. To love us in the dark so that God could shine His light. To be more than friends, but family. The family of God.

Paul and I have faced more as a couple in our time here than all the combined years before it. And we will face more, I have no doubt of that. I know that God will care for us wherever He has us, but for this season of our lives, we needed here. We needed now. We needed them.

Sadie, Four Months

I feel like I have all of these funny stories about Abigail because, well, she talks and sasses and all, while Sadie just lies around being adorable, so there isn't as much to report each day. I mean, it's pretty much all adorable....no major changes.

But she turned four months old last week. I would say "How in the world is this possible since it was only a few weeks ago I was rocking ABIGAIL to sleep???" But it is possible. We all know it and lament it.

She is currently lying on the floor on her blanket doing her usual singing/cooing/whining combo. She seems tired and doesn't really cry (I mean, she does cry, just not in these moments). She lies on her tummy and just.....complains. In an adorable baby way. She chews her fingers, her burp cloth, her entire fist. And just makes noise. It is like her sweet, droning lullaby to herself.

She is a mover. She rolls over from back to tummy. Boom. Instantly. There is really no use in putting her on her back anymore because she stays there all of 0.7 seconds. I have witnessed four rolls in a row (Daddy did, too), but usually she just rolls from back to tummy and stays there. Sometimes she makes noise, sometimes she just props herself up on her forearms and watches the world go by.

She is a watcher. She always wants to be held in an upright position (don't even TRY putting her on her back). She prefers sitting up in an exersaucer or being propped up against pillows to any kind of horizontal position. She wants to watch, watch, watch. My favorite is when she turns her head and just stares at Abigail. It is like she is making mental notes....oh, I will be just like her in that way. No wait, Mommy didn't sound so nice in the way she said that to her, so maybe I won't do what she just did. Oh, that big sissy-person is funny. She makes me want to kick my legs. She talks to me in silly voices. Yeah, I like her.

She is a cuddler. If she is being held, 99% of the time, she is happy. If she is not being held, well, all bets are off. She wants to be in your arms, so quit sitting and talking to adults in the room and pick me up.

She is a Mommy's girl. I didn't really try and make this happen. It just did. So if you are holding her and she cries, and then I pick her up and she immediately goes silent and happy, well.....whoops. It's just how it is. It is the Power of the Mommy. It's like strong voodoo magic, and I don't know how to do otherwise.

She is a blessing. She is every bit as perfectly awesome as I remember babies being at this age. Even when a day with a baby is not always easy or perfect, it is a day with a baby. And that is wonderful.

Love our Sadie Grace. Happy four months old!

Now On a Lighter Note

I would like to share random Abigail-isms with you. She has had a lot to say lately, and some of it has been downright funny. The rest has been spoken in a high-pitched Princess voice (which is about equal to fingernails on a chalkboard when you hear it enough).

1. I'm not whining. I'm just talking in a whiney voice.

2. Mommy, have you ever eaten boogies? They are salty and good.

3. And my recent favorite: On our last night in Orlando, we ate at a super-yummy Brazilian restaurant. They served fried yucca with each meal, which is basically like french fries, only a little more bland tasting and in much need of vinegar, salt, or ketchup. The Brazilian owner kept pronouncing it yook-a, so we were all cultured saying, "Oh Abigail, try the YOOKA, it's like french fries. So good!"
To which she responded, "It's not said YOOKA, it's said FUH-YOOKA."
To which Paul responded, "Uh, nope. No, it's not."

I know it may be hard, but it's best to not bring these things up to Abigail. She doesn't know "what word it sounded like" when she said fuh-yooka, and it would just require explaining that I would rather not do when she is four. And she hates feeling laughed at (HATES IT), so let's just all have a good laugh while looking at the computer. And never speak of it again.

Stuck in Between

After getting through the events of the last week with Jean's passing, and looking forward to the events of next week with our upcoming trip to Florida, I have to admit, I feel kind of stuck. Stuck in between the sad and the exciting. Stuck in between the nothing-normal of last week, the current-normal of laundry, cleaning, daily stuff, and the next-week-sort of normal of a trip.

We are going to Florida for the Southern Baptist Convention and tacking on a couple of days for family time. We are definitely looking forward to a break and some fun time as family and seeing friends.

Yet there is still sadness. In some ways, the last few days have reminded me of how I felt after my second miscarriage. I would read facebook statuses and ponder how everyone else's days were going on normally while ours felt like there was an empty hole in it. I would go about the normal things of the day and then have a moment where the hurt would grab me and I would think "too normal, too soon."

I'm hurting for my husband, my daughters, my sisters- and brothers-in-law. I'm hurting for me. There is a lot about this precious mother-in-law of mine that I am not sure I appreciated enough while she was with us. I think I gradually appreciated her more over the course of my marriage to Paul, but most of all now that she is gone. I remember my mom saying how she and my grandma used to butt heads over things all the time, but once grandma had passed, none of those things mattered anymore. That's how I feel now....none of that "stuff" matters anymore. All that matters is that we miss her.

I keep replaying our visit with her just one week ago yesterday. I keep remembering her voice, her hugs, her conversation.

We are okay. Yes, we are okay. Just different now. Looking forward to the break ahead, but still remembering. Stuck...for now.

The Feast

We got through an emotional day today. Paul's mom, Jean, passed away early Wednesday morning from her two-year-long battle against cancer. She fought a good fight, one to be proud of. She has entered much-deserved rest in the arms of Jesus.

I shared this today at her funeral. Wasn't sure whether to post it, but Paul told me he hoped that I would.

When your daddy is a pastor, your four-year-old daughter has more than the average kid’s experience with going to funerals. She has been to several funerals of people at our church, and just a few months ago even experienced the death of her Memaw and Papa’s kitty, Bart. These are things that are hard to explain to your little one, but we try our best to find the words to help it make sense. Last summer, we lost a dear person in our church to a battle with cancer. We went to the funeral together, and then Abigail had her first time going to the cemetery. We explained to her that Sam’s body was in that big box, and they were going to put it into the ground because now that he was in Heaven with Jesus, God gave him a brand new body that wasn’t sick anymore. It could run and jump and dance.

We explained that dying is like going to sleep here, but when you wake up you are in Heaven. When you wake up, you see God’s face, and that is pretty awesome. We told her that you will see people here crying, but it is only because we are sad that we don’t get to spend time with the person we love anymore until we go to live in heaven. And if we are smiling and laughing, it’s because we remember how much we loved that person and all o f the special times with them. Either emotion is okay to have.

We have talked about the beauty of heaven, as best as we can understand it. How the streets are made of pure gold and God has a house just for you.

Recently, however, we talked about something that held fast in her little mind. We were driving to my parents house, and the subject of heaven came up. We are going to Disney World soon for a vacation, and Abigail said “Disney World is the best place in the world. But it’s not as good as heaven.” Then I said, “Abigail, did you know that when you go to heaven, you have a HUGE feast? It’s the biggest and best meal you could possibly imagine. And we get to eat with God! If you could think of your very favorite foods to eat at the feast in heaven, what would you have?”

She thought for a minute and said, “Cake. And cookies.”

“Those would be delicious things to eat,” I said. Then I told her the things I would choose to eat, knowing full well they were things that I love but she thinks are disgusting. “I would eat LOTS of shrimp. And crab legs. And COTTAGE CHEESE. MMMMMM, LOTS OF COTTAGE CHEESE.”

“Ewwwwwww!” she said.

The last several weeks, Abigail has talked a lot about that feast. When she saw Bart, the kitty’s grave at my parents’ house, she said, “He’s at the kitty feast in heaven. She’s prayed about it. She’s thanked God for it.

On Monday, we visited with Jean for the last time. She was awake, though confused, and we had a wonderful time with her. We talked, Abigail sang to her, she held our baby Sadie and when her arms were too tired, I held Sadie and Jean gently stroked her little bare foot while we talked. Abigail went over next to Paul and smiled at Jean. “We’ll see her at the feast.”

Paul and I exchanged looks quickly, tears springing to our eyes. Jean said, “What did she say? I didn’t hear what she said.”

“She was just telling me something.” Paul answered.

It’s hard to tell your daughter that the grandma she loved has gone to live with Jesus. But in her own way, I think Abigail understood better than most adults do. Jean is sitting at the banquet table of God. Enjoying the fullness of Him. And Abigail knows we will see her again….and what a feast it will be.

Other People's Wisdom

I'm going to be frank. We are in a season of tough parenting with Abigail. Don't get me wrong...there are beautiful moments, and even beautiful days (today was overall, a pretty good one). But the last few weeks have felt like we are constantly hitting our heads against a four-year-old wall of assertiveness, independence, stubbornness, and really just who is this kid? I'm not going to go down the laundry list of what a day looks like to us, or Lord have mercy, what bedtime looks like to us. It does no good to you, the reader, to hear about the sassy, fit-throwing details, and it does no good to me, the mama, to rehash it all.

But we are a tired people, this Daddy and Mommy.

We've read books. Articles. Heard sermons. Prayed. Talked to people much further along in this process than ourselves.

And this week, there have been two things that have lifted me, have made me think we can get through this cycle until the next one hits. The first came from learning about the strong-willed child from Dr. Dobson. And my goodness, does she fit the bill. Reading ways that we can guide her, establish our authority over her, and pray for her was a real teaching moment for Paul and me, as I'm sure it will continue to be.

The second came from my dear friend, Charlotte. We met up with Kerry and Charlotte for dinner the other night. Talking in our best try-not-to-let-Abigail-hear-us voices, Charlotte asked how Abigail has been adjusting to Sadie. I told her the answer that I feel I've said to everyone who has asked that question....to Sadie, she is perfect. She loves her, sings to her, hugs her, kisses her. It's overwhelming, her love toward Sadie. It's beautiful and I adore it. But I do think there is jealousy there, it just doesn't get directed toward Sadie. It gets directed toward me, and maybe just a little bit toward Paul. She and I butt heads a lot now...too much. Paul has always said she is just a little version of me, and frankly, it isn't too fun to see yourself in a miniature mirror.

On the way out to the car, Charlotte told me that I am doing a good job, even if I don't see it. I assured her that lately, I don't see it. Yes, I know in some ways I am doing a good job. And I am still doing what I have always wanted to do by being a mommy. But when you are in the thick of it, all you see is how you are not doing any of it "right."

Then Charlotte said something to this effect: But you know, Amy, God has started a good work in Abigail, and He will be faithful to complete it. But you are not the only person He has to use in order to complete that work. I realized it with my oldest daughter when she met her husband. I realized that God was using him in her life in a way He could not use me. There are many people that God can use to complete that work in her, so don't put all of that pressure on yourself.

I have thought about these words several times this week. My friend Angie and I were talking today about hearing our little ones singing songs that they learned in their Sunday School classes at church, songs that we know we did not teach them. I shared what Charlotte told me to Angie, and it kind of hit us both that we were seeing this unfold before us....God is indeed using other people in the lives of our children. Yes, our influence is great, especially at this stage, but it isn't only our influence that will shape them into the completed work God has in mind.

I love my Abigail. And today? It was a pretty good day. There were sweet moments and no bedtime battles. I silently sat next to her bed tonight and kissed her cheeks as she slept. I know that this is just a part of growing up....for both of us. And hopefully, when all is said and done, we will both see that God was faithful to complete the good work that He began in us.

Just Some This and That and So On

It seems lately that I can have 18 bloggable moments in a single day, or go several days of blogging dry-spell. And that is when the bullet points come out, because they are simply easier than waxing poetically every silly ol' time.

1. We are leaving for Florida in a couple of weeks. The Southern Baptist Convention is in Orlando this year, and we are tacking on two extra days just for some family time. I love that we have the SBC every year to guarantee a little family get-away to somewhere. So far, the ones we have gone to have been no farther than a few hours drive, so this is pretty exciting to us. The next several years will all be locations we will fly to. Paul and I have flown together several times, but never with the kiddos, so I'm a little nervous about that. I love to fly, so I'm not scared or anything...just nervous about maneuvering the airports with the girls and all the gear.
We will also spend one day at Disney, which I know is like dropping a cup of coffee in the Grand Canyon and calling it sufficiently filled, but with our little ones at this age, I think one day will be fine. Abigail has told us repeatedly that Disney World is the best place in the world except for heaven. And I don't think I can dispute that claim in any way, shape, or form.

2. Sadie is nothing short of heart-melting, barely-able-to-stand-it adorable right now. She coos little songs and kicks her legs and smiles like crazy. She has chubby rolls on her legs. She watches people all the time. She alllllmost sleeps all night (wakes up around 6:00 a.m. to eat and then sleeps some more). The only way you could possibly know how precious she is would be to come hold her, and yes, you are welcome to (maybe I would finally mop my kitchen floor. Or take a nap.).

3. Bedtime for Abigail has been pretty rough lately. Lots of fits and angry words. But last night we had a big ol' snuggle fest, and it worked great. Maybe I've been snuggling the little one so much I haven't realized that Abigail needed to be caught up on snuggles herself. So we did. And it was wonderful.

4. Did I mention I need to mop my kitchen floors? It's embarrassing.

5. Yes, Paul and I watch LOST. No, we have not yet seen the finale. We try to not watch it while Abigail is awake, because we used to watch it with her in the room, and then there was the time Sayid's girlfriend got hit by a car, and she brought it up two week's later about the girl who got hit by a car, and we have watched it after she has gone to bed since. I think I may have seen something about the ending on someone's facebook status, and now I feel bad for knowing. So don't tell me anything. I think we are watching it with friends tomorrow night.

6. Adorable Sadie is crying like crazy now, so I shall go pick her up. Bye for now!

Who's Chasing You?

I have a habit of staying up way too late at night watching movies on tv. Movies that suck me in, no matter how much I know that I will have the 5:30 a.m. wake-up call of Sadie loudly sucking her fists. It's her discreet little hint that whispers, This fist will do for about 42 seconds, and then you better do something about it.

A few nights ago, I was folding my late-night loads of laundry while watching some good movie (I don't remember, it's not important). Paul was about to go to bed, I was about to call it quits for the night. And then, OH THEN, the opening credits came on....Wishin', and hopin', and thinkin', and prayin'.... Shut it off, Amy. SHUT OFF THE TV. It is 12:30 in the morning. That won't get you into his arms.... Don't do this to yourself. You must go to bed. My Best Friend's Wedding. I couldn't help myself.

Paul's eyes start rolling back in his head as he told me he has never seen the movie. And then he kept saying things about Michael like "You're gay." And I would inform him that Michael was not gay, he was THE BEST FRIEND. Then he would say, "Well, I have never seen the movie, but there is someone who is gay in it."

Ugh. It's Rupert Everett. He's missing the point. I told him that EVERY college freshman girl had to sigh over this movie at some point because there was ALWAYS a best friend (like I need to tell you....you've been there).

I began saying my favorite quotes from the movie, which at age 31 (did you know Jules was 28 in the movie??? I mean, come on), do have an air of cheesiness to them, but 18-year-old Amy did not care. Things like "He has you on a pedestal, and me in his arms."

I told Paul there is the wake-up call of all movie quotes...
George Downes: Michael's chasing Kimmy?
Julianne Potter: Yes!
George Downes: You're chasing Michael?
Julianne Potter: YES!
George Downes: Who's chasing you... nobody, get it? There's your answer. It's Kimmy.

That was when every girl realized that she was chasing someone who was chasing someone else. I did it. You did, too, so quit denying it.

Then I realized something. Paul chased me. For quite a while. I like to joke that he wore me down, but really I think I just realized it was good to be chased instead of chasing. I told him so, too. I thanked him for chasing me. We will have our eighth anniversary in a couple of weeks. And he still chases me...I just don't run as fast anymore. Maybe it took a late-night movie to remind me of that, and to thank God for a man that didn't stop chasing me.

And he sure can kiss.

What a Year Can Do

I remember a year ago, yesterday. May 4th. It was the due date that came and went. It was the date we had hoped would bring us a baby. But it was the due date of our second miscarriage. It was a beautiful day, just like yesterday. Sun shining. A visit and coffee with my minister's wife from the church I grew up in. Flowers from a friend. Thoughtful emails and cards. People remembered. They remembered our sadness that day and they poured forth love.

A little over a month after that due date, we had the confirmation we had been waiting for. Pregnant again. Hard to believe it was my fourth pregnancy. We were so happy, so cautious, and for a while, so scared. Wanting to be happy, yet so aware of all that could happen. Wanting to love the little one growing inside of me, yet afraid to give my heart fully in love for a baby we may not meet.

But we did meet her. And hold her. And kiss her. And love her. Oh, my heart, do we love her. God was faithful in the dark, and He is faithful in the light. A lot can change in a year.




For behold, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone. The flowers have already appeared in the land ; The time has arrived for pruning the vines, And the voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land. The fig tree has ripened its figs, And the vines in blossom have given forth their fragrance.
Song of Solomon 2:11-12

Who I Can Be

I am far too often not the mommy I want to be. The problem is, a mommy is ALL I ever wanted to be. When I was little, I distinctly remember wanting to grow up and stay at home with my kids like my mom did with us. So, now that I have that privilege, why am I often disappointed with how I'm doing?

My temper is too short. My patience is too thin. My energy is too low. This is not how it was supposed to be. Not in my plans, anyway.

And therein lies the problem. I cannot continue to strive toward being the mommy that I picture. I need to ask God who is the mommy He wants me to be to Abigail and Sadie.

When I look at myself, I see that Abigail watched too much tv this morning. I see that I glanced up from the computer each time she said, "Mommy, WATCH THIS" and proceeded to try to impress me with daredevil stunts. I see that I gave her a Pop Tart for breakfast because I was too tired to try harder. I see that I haven't taken her outside to play yet, even when the sun was shining so beautifully.

But I like to think when God looks at me, He sees the love in my heart toward my daughters. He sees the snuggles and cuddles at bedtime. He sees when we chase each other to her room. He sees the bathtime when I sit cautiously by while allowing Abigail to wash Sadie's hair. He sees our dinner the other night when she and I talked about the different parts of our bodies that God had made and what we can do with each part.

He sees that I'm trying, even when I see the moments when I fall harder than I mean to. And He gives me a beautiful guideline.

⁴ Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud ⁵ or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. ⁶ It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. ⁷ Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.
(I Corinthians 13: 4-7, NLT)

Unfortunately, I see all too much of the times I am not patient or kind. That I can be too proud to admit when I overreacted. That I demand my own way all the time, and it makes us butt heads. I am irritable...far too irritable.

But I have the model of perfect love. I know what I am capable of, with God's leading. I'm so thankful that He sees me where I am, and shows me a better way. Because when it comes down to it, I am head-over-heels crazy about my girls. And I am doing what I always wanted to do. But I can't do it on my own.

The Song Explains It

Okay, so I am going to cheat a little bit and write my thoughts on Mother's Day a month early. Because it is on my mind, so there. And if you go to church with me, you may very well hear these thoughts again.

I am scheduled to sing the special music on Mother's Day at church. If I remember correctly, I sang on that day last year, too. I always have kind of a hard time finding a good song for a Mother's Day special. So many of them seem like the saccharine-y mommy versions of "Butterfly Kisses." They are just a little too sappy for my taste. Yet, I still feel like I need to choose a song that somehow goes along with the day.

Yesterday, I was driving with the girls in the car, and heard a song on the radio that I had never heard. I actually only caught the last chorus before the song ended and went on to the next song, so I didn't even know the name of the song or who it was by. But I knew I had to find it to sing at church.

The reason I liked the song so much for a Mother's Day song is that it focused on the goodness of God in one's life. It was a simple testimonial of a person who could honestly say that through the good and the bad along life's way, God's been good.

When I had my first Mother's Day after having Abigail, I felt like I had reached a rite of passage. I wanted to celebrate like I had never celebrated anything in my life. I wanted that day to be as special as it possibly could be, because HEY EVERYBODY, I'M A MOM! It never occurred to me that the holiday may not be as welcome to some. Mother's Day the last two years looked different to me. After experiencing the loss of two pregnancies (and before finding out I was pregnant with Sadie), I felt more subdued to the day. I understood the joy of celebrating being a mommy to Abigail, but I felt the pain of the children who did not join our family. And I realized that there are many women who feel the same.

Maybe they could not have biological children. Maybe they have lost pregnancies. Maybe they have even felt the pain of losing their own mom, and miss celebrating that day with her.

Yet God is good. He comforts. He loves. He carries. He shows grace. He is patient through grief. He mourns with those who mourn, and rejoices with those who rejoice. And that is why I chose this song. For those who love, love, love Mother's Day. For those who dread it. For those who can't wait to celebrate it. For those who would rather skip the day altogether. God understands it all. The joy, the pain. He is so good.

Fancy Feet, Part Deux

Some of you may remember about a year ago that I managed to barter deer meat for two free pedicures for my friend Angie and myself. After much discussion over the fact that "girl time" currently means two mommies hanging out and being interrupted constantly by our kids, not being able to finish a conversation EVER, and every phone call being pierced with crying and a million and two questions, we agreed that it was time for the yearly pedicure, aka Real Girl Time. Our friend Teresa also joined us.

Being the organized chick that I am, even knowing fully that one can just walk in for a pedicure without an appointment, I made sure to call ahead three days before our girls night to get us in their calendar. I called the place we went to last time....LA Nails.

Then the day before our appointment, I called LA Nails to tell them I had bartered deer meat before, and asked if they could use any more. The guy said, "Uh, no, we're fine." Trust me, this phone call does not get less humiliating to make the more you make it, but hey, if it ends in a free pedicure, it's worth it.

When we showed up for our appointment, I saw that they closed at 8:00 p.m., not 9:00 like I was told on the phone. Our appointment was for 7:30. They kind of gave us "that look" when we walked in, the "it's almost closing time and you have to be kidding me" look. I told them we had an appointment under Amy Cooper. They flipped through their book. Nope. No Amy Cooper here. I assured them that I had called ahead on Monday. They fit us in anyway.

Fast forward to today. I was balancing my checkbook and saw the charge for the pedicure go through. The charge to LE Nails. I knew that was not where I made the appointment. I quickly googled LE Nails, and then LA Nails. They are both on US Hwy 41, so I know I must have just assumed it was the right place. And all I can do is laugh that the people at LE Nails are not jerks for giving us dirty looks and OBVIOUSLY not writing us down in their appointment book. I am a jerk for calling the wrong place and then standing up the poor souls at LA Nails.

Not to mention that I feel for the poor guy who talked to the crazy woman on the phone who assured him that I had bartered deer meat for a free pedicure in the past and wanted to wheel and deal again. I get it. I'm a jerk...but a jerk with a very fancy pedicure.

My Stand-up Comic

So, it's kind of hard to tell jokes to four-year-olds. They don't get the plays on words so well.

Me: Abigail, why did the banana go to the doctor?
Abigail: What banana?
Me: The banana.
Abigail: I didn't tell you about a banana in my story.
Me: No, I'm asking you a joke. Why did the banana go to the doctor?
Abigail: I don't know. Why did it?
Me: Because it wasn't peeling well.
Abigail: It wasn't peeling well?
Me: You know, it sounds like feeling well, but you stay peeling, because you peel a banana.
Abigail: It didn't peel well?
Me: Right.
Abigail: Because it was dirty? It didn't peel well because it was dirty?
Me: Uh, no. It went to the doctor because it wasn't PEELING well. Like FEELING.
Abigail: Oh. (courtesy chuckle...obviously not getting it) Hey Mommy, Knock Knock.
Me: Who's there?
Abigail: Little Wolf.
Me: Little Wolf who?
Abigail: Little Wolf needed glasses so he went to the doctor. Good-bye.

Maybe we'll lay off jokes for another year or two.