The Things I'm Talking About

I set down to write a big, whiny post about why my life is so hard at home, hence the title. I was going to cite specific examples, taken from this day alone. How in the world can I possibly get anything accomplished because every time I leave the room disaster ensues? But then I was reminded of something I read this morning in my Bible.

Do not throw away this confident trust in the Lord, no matter what happens. Remember the great reward it brings. Patient endurance is what you need now, so you will continue to do God's will. Then you will receive all that He has promised. Hebrews 10:35-36

I realize that many of my problems are a lack of preparation and planning. My dad has a saying, "Your poor planning does not constitute an emergency on my part." This has become the story of my days...poor planning becoming an emergency.

I want to focus on these areas so I may start logging where I have planned adequately and things have gone well or when I have failed to plan and execute adequately and the ensuing results. Also, maybe a a list of completed items to show to myself, if no one else, that I am not a failure all day, every day.

Choosing Joy

It's been a tough day and it's only lunchtime.

There is milk spilled in the kitchen waiting to be cleaned up, my plant is leaking coffee and needs to be cleaned up. The children are clamoring for the next course of their lunch.

The truck needs some work done and Brian is in the middle of an outage, the bane of my existence, and does not have the time or energy to work on it. To that load, add his classes, attending soccer practice so I can work and helping out with Awana.

Everyone has been sick, with fever and runny noses.

Month-end is busy for me and my bookkeeping gig.

Honestly, I could roll into a ball and just spend some time crying on the floor. In fact, I've already spent some time crying over my frustration today, but from now on, I'm going to choose joy. I want to watch the Lord work and see how He gets me through it. I know there is no laundry pile bigger than my Lord. I am here for a purpose and the Lord has a plan. I want to help that plan, not hinder it.

So....here goes. I am choosing joy today. I was inspired seeing another person choose that, too.

Anyone else?

Part 1-Our Quiver, Or What The Lord Has Done For Me

I find it so fascinating to compare where my life has been to the place where I am going. The Lord is doing mighty things to me and for me, and subsequently, to and for my family. This is not the first time I have touched on this topic of childbearing. I originally discussed it nearly 2 years ago, but my views have changed from even that perspective. Previous post here.

(I keep typing and deleting and typing and deleting. As much as I want to simplify and focus on one issue at a time, I just can't. It is not just one issue for me. It is multi-faceted and it seems impossible to separate them.)

After years of believing that something like this would never happen, miracle of miracles, I found someone who wanted to marry me and have children. And I was able to have children, which was contrary to medical information I had received as a teenager. Not only was I able, but together, Brian and I were so fertile, we had 2 children within 15 months of each other and before we had been married 3 years.

Lily, our oldest, was born 3 weeks early via a scheduled C-section after the doctor gave me the option of being induced and attempting a normal delivery or a section. Multiple ultrasounds indicated that she was well in the 9 pound or more range and there may have been some question as to my ability to get her out. I didn't see the need to go through hours and hours of labor just to have a section in the end. I opted to cut the middle man.

Knowing that the number of children most doctors believe I could safely deliver would now be limited to 4 because of that decision, would not have affected that decision. Realizing that choosing a section would more than likely mean I would always deliver by C-section, would not have changed that decision. I was not misinformed. Having the information would not have changed my mind at that time. It is only recently after honest reflection of my heart and secret motives, then and now, that I am able to see things more clearly.

I refuse to feel guilty or believe I made a "sinful" or "bad" choice. I will allow that I didn't make the "best" choice because I allowed fear to motivate me and there are consequences in that decision. Both good and bad consequences. I had a beautiful, healthy baby who weighed nearly 10 pounds, 3 weeks early. She is still a blessing from God, no matter how she got out or how many follow her.

While I didn't feel a conviction about my C-section, it was after dragging myself to the NICU and seeing my precious daughter for the first time (the next day) and hearing of all her problems over subsequent days, that the Lord began to change my heart toward breastfeeding. That is something only He could have done. Jesus Christ Himself could have come down from heaven and told me it was better for the baby and I would have politely told Him I didn't care. I thought nursing was gross and I didn't want any part of it...I didn't care how good it was for the baby or who thought it was a good idea. I was not going to do it. Period. But after seeing my little daughter in the NICU with this problem and that problem and feeling inadequate to help her, waiting for experts to tell us the next thing to do or expect, I made the decision to give nursing a try. The neonatalogist had come to speak to me and tell me how the baby was doing and asked me if I was going to breastfeed. She suggested that I get a pump and try it, and if I didn't like it, I could stop. How freeing to me! I didn't have to sign on for life...just try it. In my mind, I began to wonder how I could keep something from her that might help just because I thought it was gross.

The first time I pumped, I felt like a humiliated fraud. For nine months, I had vehemently denied that any child of mine would have access to this chest and here I was, attached to a real live milking machine. I was surprised the first time I actually nursed her. None of the many, many, many breastfeeding advocates I'd come across told me it was going to feel like I was attached to a bear trap. How could something with no teeth hurt me so much? Lucky for Lily, she was a champion feeder because I gave her 10 seconds to figure it out or I was done trying. it took her 2. I nursed her for 4 months which was 4 months longer than I intended the day she hatched. The Lord was good to me knowing my heart on the matter. I have heard many mothers tell of trouble breastfeeding and the hurt and agony and inadequacy when they are unable. The Lord made it easy on me. She latched on quickly and well and He gave me so much milk, I could have fed the whole nursery. What a blessing.

Darcy was conceived after I missed 2-3 birth control pills while tending to Lily who, at 6 months old, was hospitalized for RSV.

What a shock. I was a working mom, and I loved working. But, the older Lily got, the more we talked about my staying home. I wanted to be there when she was sick. (And since she was in daycare, it seemed like she was sick all the time.) I didn't trust Brian to take her to the doctor and get all my questions answered. The part I really hated was the smell of other women on my baby. Except staying home just didn't seem possible. Early in my pregnancy with Baby#2, I started bleeding and was put on bedrest until the bleeding stopped. No one knew how long that might be. That was my first day as a stay-at-home mom. The bleeding stopped the day after I quit my job. I cried for most of the next 9 months.

Hesitant

I want to put forth my thoughts on the quiverful thinking, but my thoughts don't and won't just stop there. They spill over into many areas and to cover it well, I think I have to tell my story, and I'm hesitant to do that.

I'd have to explain my original thoughts concerning children.

I'd have to explain how it feels to have a broken nurturer.

I might have to explain my newfound freedom in trusting God and knowing there is nothing rational about that.

There would be a lot to explain...and I'm more than hesitant. I'm scared. I'm scared to put everything out there to be judged or condemned by whomever might pass by.

But maybe it's necessary? Maybe it would help?

What Joy (?)

I'm doing a Beth Moore Bible study on faith and the impact in my heart has been HUGE. It's causing me to think and examine my heart and God in an entirely different way and the results are astounding. It's funny; I initally decided to do the Bible study so that I could meet people. Instead, I've met God.

This morning, however, I was getting my daily dose of Stuff Christians Like and I read this. The short version is that we should stop "shining up our scars" to make things look prettier. He discusses the prodigal son in his post and makes a point to say we don't celebrate because things are perfect, but in that we have hope and healing in Jesus Christ.

I thought this was all good. I don't tend to think that I hide my scars. I like to believe that I am a "real" person; what you see, is what you get. But I have my sanitized list of things I am willing to disclose. However, for my study homework, I am supposed to read Romans 4 regularly throughout the duration. This is the chapter discussing Abraham's faith. I stumbled across verses 6-8 and was literally stopped in my tracks.

6 King David spoke of this, describing the happiness of an undeserving sinner who is declared to be righteous:
7 "Oh, what joy for those whose disobedience is forgiven, whose sins are put out of sight.
8 Yes, what joy for those whose sin is no longer counted against them by the Lord."

I began to wonder how and why I could easily skim over the part that infers I should be JOYFUL because my sins and disobedience were no longer counted against me. In theory, this is definitely something to be joyful about. What gives? Maybe it's a sense of entitlement. Maybe I've forgotten how astounded I should be by God's mercy....to me.

I am starting to realize one of the points of the Bible study...God is bigger than I realize. He's bigger than people because I know hearing about some of the things I've done would turn hair white. And He is able to just easily put it out of sight. He no longer counts that against me. THIS IS HUGE. I can only speak for myself, but it would take Someone absolutely mind-bogglingly powerful to put my past out of sight. And yet, He can and is able to do it. I don't want to miss the significance of that. Some sin can land you in prison, get you socially ostracized forever, ruin your marriage, but they ain't nothin' but a thang to God.

The Tie-In
What if I need to show my scars and disclose more than my approved sin list so that I can attest to God's power and encourage others that He is mighty enough? Involved-in-my-life enough? I want to revel in the joy that is mine because my disobedience is forgiven. I want to properly grieve for my sins, but rejoice in God's mercy. I don't want to take God's mercy or forgiveness lightly. And that might mean examining my scars again with a joyful heart knowing that God is bigger than whatever wickedness I could dream up and implement.

A Bottle Of My Tears

I stumbled across this last week and it so perfectly exemplifies what I go through in my Christian walk. I like to put God in His cosmic corner where He is far too busy to notice that I AM DROWNING HERE!

But He does notice, doesn't He?

Moral Superiority or Why It Might Be Okay Not To Homeschool

One thing I have been convicted of lately is my feeling of moral superiority. You know what I'm mean...the feeling that the decisions we make for ourselves and our families somehow make us morally superior to those who choose differently from us. It is excruciatingly prevalent in the homeschooling community. Many stay-at-home moms suffer from it.

It's the thinking that we have somehow tapped into God's plan and it's the only plan for lives. Not just our own lives, mind you, but all lives, everywhere. It's assuming there is only one way to do things. I don't believe God lives in a box who always does the same thing, in the same way, every time, for the same purpose. And this kind of thinking usually manifests itself in those "gray" areas. Areas in which the Bible may be open for interpretation.

Having felt both sides of the issue, I'm almost certain our moral superiority starts out unintentional which makes it all the more difficult to recognize. It is clearly a heart issue that can easily be exacerbated by segregating ourselves to groups of "like minds" where the eventual, possibly unintended outcome is the complete exclusion of "unlike minds". Where do we go from there?

All that to say, I don't believe everyone should homeschool. I sincerely believe that people who are interested and want to go that distance, should seek God's heart for their family. He can change our hearts; I know that from personal experience. So far, homeschooling feels like running a marathon on a treadmill or something else terrible and never-ending. Starting out is painfully difficult, especially if you don't know anything about teaching children or how they learn. Stuff they teach you at college when you become a teacher. It's not easy because you are inundated with information and resources. It requires a committed conviction and discipline. Maybe that's why we feel morally superior. We feel certain we are getting points up there for our sacrifice when our "sacrifice" is just a different means to the same end. We have freedom in Christ to teach our kids anyway we want.

For our family, though, it does seem like the best route. People certainly get bogged down in the reasoning though. There are numerous reasons and the whys and why nots of it all have already had their day on this blog. The point is that God moves us differently to different things, for different purposes. Even to homeschooling. Especially to homeschooling. Some homeschool because the quality of the education. That's not my reason because I believe an involved parent in the public school process could achieve the same results. I want to protect my children from bad people and bad influences. All the badness, really. But if Amish children who are protected from all infleunces, even VeggieTales, can get gunned down like animals in their one-room schoolhouse, then it's clear I really have no control. But homeschooling lets me feel like I do.

I even think it might be okay for my girls to go to college which is a change of pace from a previous post back in October 2006: Should We Encourage Our Daughters To Go To College? Read that post and you'll see my thinking has done a 180. Brian says education is it's own reward. At the time, I disagreed. Now, I know I want to train my daughters to seek God's voice and direction. I don't want to presume to know God's plan for their lives. I can only attest where He has guided me to and where He has guided me from. I can only carry them so far at which point they become responsible for their own actions. As a parent, not only is it our priority to equip them to make godly decisions by training them in the way they should go, it is our whole raison d'etre. Our families are our primary ministry grounds. But not the only one.

When we speak of training children up, I think a key component gets missed from that oft-repeated verse. In its entirety: Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it. Proverbs 22:6. It's easy to miss the part where the child actually goes, but what else could it mean? I want to be able to look myself in the mirror and know that I did everything I could do to put them on the right path. More importantly, I want God to know it, too. I want to feel confident that they will choose their paths well. In the end, it's up to them. It's naive to think that if I could only follow the checklist, I would get the intended result, and conversely, to believe that Christians who have trouble with their children didn't do enough. Simply put, there is no checklist, and as the saying goes, "past performance is no indicator of future returns." With God, I will never be able to do enough to ensure that our kids turn out godly. Works just can't.don't.won't. cut it. I'm just trying to figure it out and to think I somehow have a lock on it because I read a book, is just moral superiority.

What if, just to shake things up a little, I allow my daughters to seek God's guidance in choosing a husband? Or career? I absolutely want to be an integral part of every part of their lives. But I don't want to live their lives for them. I definitely expect to have input into these very important areas. I do not want to force my choices onto my children. Having made plenty of mistakes up until this point, I feel uniquely qualified to give advice on many topics. I am fostering a relationship now which I hope will encourage them to seek my counsel later. In the meantime, I am teaching them right from wrong and to listen to the Lord's voice.

But I'm not going to feel morally superior because this is the path we've taken. The Lord is showing me that not every issue is black and white.

The list goes on...

I have been incredibly smug in projecting His directions to me onto other people, even if it's only deep in my coal black heart. How presumptous to assume that I know God's best for everyone! If I were honest, I would have to admit that I struggle to know God's best for myself and how that relates to The Big Picture. I have a general idea, but should consult Him on the day-to-day. Lots of times I don't. There have been occasions I didn't even seek God on some of these issues. I heard about something and it sounded pretty good to me. Is is possible as a morally superior Christian, I make things harder on myself than they need to be by choosing difficult, unnecessary roads?

The Bible is clear that we are all differently gifted (check out Romans 12:6) and I know He is a God who is in the details. So why would He do something so plain as to be predictable? If He's anything, God is completely unpredictable, which is part of His charm. Besides, if God's best was the same for everyone, all the time, every time, we would never need to seek Him and that would make Jesus's place in all this, unnecessary. I already know that's not the case. I could just consult the checklist and move on to the next item.

But there is no checklist.

There's only God and only me. And that's it. And in the end, that's all that's going to matter anyway. I have to wonder if some of the benefits of these fine ideas get cashed out in this life when I harbor the sin of moral superiority. Which, after all, is just pride dressed up fancy.

A Minute Of Your Time

Wednesday was a long day. Reagan was just not herself. She could not be soothed. I couldn't do anything right for her, so I just put her in the bed and closed her door. No matter what mood she is in, the show must go on. I had many other things I wanted to try and get accomplished and I just didn't have the time to sit and hold her. Not that it would have helped anyway. I had already tried that.

By the time her afternoon feeding rolled around, I noticed she felt very warm. Very warm. She had gotten over whatever it was that had her out of sorts earlier in the day and had gone back to her normal cheery self. I took her temperature and was shocked to find that it was 101. I called Brian, reported my findings and consulted my ibuprofen chart from the doctor. I adminstered 1/2 teaspoon of Motrin and waited a half hour to see if it helped.

Temperature now up to 101.5. I called the doctor and was again shocked. This time it was to hear that they wanted me to take her to Cook Children's Hospital in Fort Worth. This really wasn't a good time for us to have to go to Fort Worth. First of all, I hadn't had a shower all day. I didn't know what was wrong with her or what they might do. I was trying very desperately to not panic and remember that I am not to worry about anything, instead pray about everything. Tell the Lord what I need and thank Him for all He has done. If I do this, I will experience God's peace that is more wonderful than the human mind can understand. (Phillipians 4:6-7)

I called Brian and he said he'd meet me midway so we could go together in the car.

I really tried to think ahead. We would have to eat dinner on the road. The older girls would need something to do. How long would we be there? Reagan would need to eat. I would need something to read. Should I take a change of clothes for me, in case we have to stay overnight? Somehow, I managed to not panic. I put together bags for the girls with several books and toys and their cups. I grabbed a book and a magazine for myself and prepared 3 bottles for Reagan. I brushed my teeth, washed my face and got dressed.

And we were on our way. I left the house at 5:10pm and signed in at the hospital at 6:55pm. I cannot for the life of me figure out what in the world took so long. That amount of time seems like a nice, leisurely pace, but I remember feeling very frenzied trying to get there quickly.

Of course, the fever had broken by the time we got there and the triage nurses admonished me for giving her Motrin. This whole situation was very bad for the other girls who were subjected to disease and who knows what else and also made to sit still for a long period of time. They did really well, considering. We were moved to a room, where we were left for over 2 hours with no one ever coming to check on us. They didn't want me to feed Reagan formula, but they didn't give me enough PediaLyte either. The whole situation was very frustrating.

Finally, a very harried, mean looking doctor in blue jeans came in. After waiting for 2 hours in the room, we finally got 3 minutes of her time. She was literally in the room for 3 minutes. She said Reagan's ear was "a little pink". We waited all that time and will probably have a bill for $1000 just to be diagnosed with an ear infection. We got a dose of antibiotics and a prescription for the rest and we were done.

After stopping at a 24-hour pharmacy to get the prescription filled, we got home at midnight. The girls did not even sleep in the car.

Today was Reagan's 4-month check up. The doctor said her ears looked fine.

I don't know why I'm so frustrated with the process. I think maybe the doctor could have looked at her before sending us all the way to Cook's. I know Reagan is right at the age where a high fever like that can be very serious, but there are other considerations as well. I think next time, one parent will go to the hospital with the sick child and the other parent will take the other ones home. This will keep them from being exposed to who knows what in the ER waiting room of a major metropolitan hospital. Things are a lot different for us here when we don't have anyone that we can call to look after our girls when something like this happens.

In other news, Reagan is weighing in at 16 pounds, 5 ounces and is 27 inches long. She is in the 95th percentile. Her head circumference, which I forgot, is also in the 95th percentile. Everything is rolling along.

Good, Better, Best

Last year, I read Elizabeth George's book A Woman After God's Own Heart. It was recommended to me by a friend who is on the same path that I am on: fighting our flesh nature to become the women that God has called us to be. And let me be frank, it has been hard for me.


One of the points Elizabeth George makes is that choosing God and His ways strengthens and deepens our devotion to Him. One way to do that is to employ the "good, better, best" method of decision-making. Good, better, best, never let it rest until your good is better and your better best. I'm not real fond of the rhyme, it seems rather first-graderish, but I get the point. Keep striving for God's best for you.

One of the key things I'm learning is that no one is on the exact same path that I am on. Everything is a process of little steps. It takes time to get from good to best and that's being generous in assuming that we are actually at "good". My "good" could be someone else's downright "bad". And sometimes, you may be stuck at "good" because of consequences from previous decisions. Sometimes best isn't available in your area so you have to make due with better.

A friend told me that just because you feel convicted about a certain behavior doesn't mean that everyone you know needs to change, too. (In my defense, she was saying this in general, not specifically to me....) We have to examine ourselves up against what study and reflection reveal God to be telling us. Not just our feelings. I don't think our feelings are necessarily the best indicators of what the right things are.

Lately, I am finding myself a lot more tolerant of other's different beliefs because of the good, better, best comparisons. I see people getting bent waaaaaay out of shape over secondary issues like what exactly constitutes modest dress for women, whether to work or not, whether there should be Awanas or not. It's really not fair for me to judge what might be the "good" in someone else's life. I can only judge what goes on here and believe, I've got plenty to work on without worrying about everyone else, including my husband.

For me to go from a working mother to a stay-at-home mom to someone who is investigating homeschooling options to someone interested in having a larger family to someone who wants to learn how to sew and how to grow a garden....getting there required a ton of tiny steps that took place over a period of time.

You can't undo years of thinking one way immediately. You have to start somewhere with a conscious effort to be different. It is a conscious choice every time. That's the hardest part. If I let myself go on autopilot, then I get the same old results. That's not what I want. I think that steps in the right direction are going to be good. If I can accept Brian's decision one time without arguing or talking back, then that's a step in the right direction. Maybe next time I can do it twice. If I tried to be 100% on all the areas that I needed to work on, I would be so discouraged.

Actually, at this point, I'm not entirely sure that my good is actually good....but I'm trying and still learning. And that counts. Every conscious effort counts.

A Baby Story

Things are starting to settle down into some semblance of normalcy...if that can actually be defined with a newborn in da crib. Literally.

Reagan Elizabeth was ushered in, a week earlier than planned, two weeks earlier than was due, on Monday, November 26, 2007 at 4:58am. As was suspected, she weighed between 9 and 10 pounds at 9 pounds, 7 ounces and was 21 inches long.

I went into labor on Sunday evening, with contractions 3 minutes apart for over an hour. I was reluctant to go to the hospital being nearly sure that the contractions would stop. Like they usually do. When the nurse actually captured 2 of them on the monitor, I felt validated. When the nurse told me that I was dilated to a 1, I was ecstatic. I had never been dilated before! This meant that my body was doing something to prepare for the baby...and I wasn't crazy. Unfortunately, my team of medical professionals would not be doing anything to stop this labor. I would not be going home without a baby. At 9:30pm, we were told that we would either have a baby "now" or first thing in the morning.

I was in a dead panic. We (read: I) were not prepared to have a baby. What about the girls? My doctor was not on call. I didn't have any clothes. I couldn't even think of what I might need. I was supposed to get a pedicure this week. My swanky nursing pajamas hadn't arrived yet.

We alerted the media. My parents, scheduled to arrive the following Sunday for a birth that was to occur on the 3rd, would not be able to come until Tuesday. Of Brian's parents, scheduled to arrive Saturday before the birth, only Gran was able to come, and not until Monday afternoon.

For the current problem of what to do with the girls all night while we wait for a decision to be made by those in the know (because I wasn't going anywhere), thank God for Ashlee, our babysitter. She was not working at her regular job Sunday night and was able and willing to come and stay all night with the girls while Brian stayed with me. She even offered to skip her classes on Monday, in case we needed her.

From 8pm until 3:30am, we waited and I contracted every 3 minutes. After hours and hours of watching the clock and trying to rest, my nurse barged in the room and threw on the overhead light. Within 30 minutes, all parties would be there to start the surgery. After hours of "hurry up and wait", their efficiency was nerve-wracking.

The nurse anesthetist showed up and yes, I actually asked her if she was well-rested. I had no problem having a baby during normal business hours, but I've read too many scary medical stories in Reader's Digest about after hours procedures. (And this is not a big city hospital...all these people had been sleeping snug in their beds.) She said she'd had about 3 hours of sleep. In my opinion, that's not well rested. Personally, I can hardly make coffee when I've had only 3 hours of sleep. Honestly, this was my 3rd baby, my 3rd set of doctors and my 3rd surgery and she was by far the best anesthetist of them all. She had very kind eyes, the only part of her that I could see. She had me facing away from all the "equipment" to keep me from being anxious. She had the drape as far away from my face as could be managed and told me that I could have my hands loose. When she saw me using those loose hands to scratch and scratch, she gave me a shot of Benedryl. I never got nauseous, much less threw up. She even held the baby so I could kiss her.

Recovery is always fun...I never know what is going on even though I try earnestly to pay attention. I do remember hearing it took over 2 hours and many, many sticks to start Reagan's IV. Actually, I don't remember much of the first day. People came to visit and later when I tried to remember, it seemed like a dream.

Reagan was not allowed to come out of the nursery because of transient tachypnea of the newborn (TTN) which is fancy doctor talk for fast breathing. Apparently, it's a condition most often seen in big, fat babies delivered by C-section. Too much fluid in the lungs causes the baby to breathe fast. Normally, most of the fluid would be pushed out during delivery. The problem is not unusual and tends to right itself in a day or two, sometimes less. After 3 days of little improvement (and no nursing....could be too stressful for the baby to suck and try to breathe) our pediatrician called a neonatalogist at the children's hospital in Fort Worth for a second opinion. That doctor wanted her to be transferred to that hospital for an echocardiogram to ensure that there wasn't more to the problem. Apparently, fast breathing could be a symptom of an infection, a heart problem, etc., etc., etc.

Wednesday, my doctor discharged me and Reagan was transferred to Cook's Children's Hospital in Fort Worth. I tried to be strong while the doctor was talking to me...but I was in shock. Just the night before, he assured us that there was only a 10% chance that she would need to be transferred. When the sweet nurses asked me how I was doing, I started crying. Something was wrong with the baby, no one knew exactly what it was and I was all alone. Brian hadn't made it in from the plant yet. Then the transport team showed up with the contraption they use to transport those sick babies and I was inconsolable. It's a gurney with an incubator and machines and leads and oxygen and scary medical stuff. They assessed the baby and took her to Fort Worth. Brian and I went home to get some clothes and things. We had no idea what to expect when we got to Fort Worth.

Reagan was re-routed to Baylor All Saints. The NICU there was spectacular. Everyone from the department head to the baby's daily nurse went above and beyond. The doctor was the same one there every single day. When we weren't there and called to see about her, the nurses never acted like it was an inconvenience to answer our questions.

All tests indicated it was TTN and little by little, her respirations were slowing down. On Thursday, the neonatalogist finally let her nurse and she did great. Until then, they'd been feeding her pumped breast milk and formula through a tube in her nose. Brian and I were driving back and forth to Fort Worth every day to visit her and then coming home in the evenings to Lily and Darcy worn to a frazzle and emotionally exhausted. Thank God for my mother-in-law who stayed with the girls and fixed dinner every night. I don't know how I would have coped.

After another brutal day of driving back and forth to Fort Worth and sitting by Reagan's bedside, I came home to find a large box in the living room. It was a Shower-In-A-Box from our friends back home. That was absolutely the most amazing thing. At a time I needed to know it the most, God used our friends to show us in a very tangible way that people were thinking about us, cared about us and were praying for us. It was exactly what I needed at exactly the right moment.

The next day as we were preparing to go visit Reagan, her nurse called and told us that she would be discharged the next day if we'd like to "room-in" that night. I jumped at the opportunity. We ended up in a tiny little room in the corner of the NICU for nearly 24 hours. I got an extremely uncomfortable twin bed and Brian slept on a chair that folded out...standard hospital fare. No meals were provided. At least we did have a TV. I thought we'd end up playing 20 questions all night. I understand why they do this rooming in thing, but Brian thinks it's a racket. They charged us another day's room and board even though we did all the work and I provided all the board. Brian thinks that if she's well enough to "room-in" then she's well enough to go home and save us the money. I think they see a lot of sick babies and need to know that the parents know how to care for the babies before they send them home. Some of the babies go home with equipment. It just so happens that we've done this kind of thing before.

Finally, on Saturday, December 1st, on our 5th wedding anniversary, Reagan came home from the hospital. So far, she's doing well. Her stump has fallen off and she regained her birth weight (and then some) in the allotted time period. Her sisters are interested in her and don't like her to fuss for any reason. Our next goal: sleeping through the night. Last night, she went from 12:30am until 5am so we are well on our way.

Walk To Emmaus....After The Fact

Last Sunday night, I returned from my Walk To Emmaus. I had spent 72 hours away from my family, with no watch to record the passing of time and no cell phone to check on their progress. I had to trust things were going well. Not to mention, I was much too busy "drawing near" to God to worry if my girls were taking naps or if Brian was sticking to the menu.

In a nutshell, the core topic is God's grace poured out on us and coming to an understanding of that. Personally, in our hearts, not just in our heads.

If I were talking to someone about going, I would give my mini-testimony over the last couple of weeks. How I read a book that finally made my heart figure out what my head has known all along...that God loves me and seeks me out to be His and I don't have to worry about what anybody else is doing (something I struggle with immensely). I used to think that brown eyes were the leftovers that God gave out and you couldn't be "beautiful" unless you had blue eyes. Isn't that crazy? I never thought brown eyes were attractive. But to realize that God loves brown eyes and that he gave them specifically to me....well, it might seem stupid, but it changed my whole way of thinking. I quit thinking of myself as junk.

I could look in the mirror and think to myself, "God thinks this (stretch marks and extra pounds and everything) is hot." Who in the world was I to say that what God thought was hot, was ugly?

I sent this response to a friend who told me that when she looks in the mirror, she feels like throwing up:

It's almost as if knowing that God was wild about me, so who cares that the kids are acting up or that I've got another zit or that my hair is doing a weird thing or I don't have any makeup on. GOD THINKS I'M BEAUTIFUL. Not just loves me, but thinks I'm stunning...in my sweats and no shower all day. I think when you realize that...you won't want to throw up...you'll be prancing in front of the mirror saying to yourself, "The Sovereign God of the Universe thinks this looks GOOD!!!"

So when I went to Emmaus, I was (finally) on the right track that God actually loved me, not just tolerated His idiot, wayward daughter.

Although I had finally realized how God felt about me, one thing hindering me was believing sincerely and truly that no one else loved me (except for Brian). I felt tolerated, at best. I didnt' think anyone cared about me or even thought about me when I wasn't around. All in all, I thought that people were generally just trying to be "nice" when they spoke to me at church or in Bible study or at MOPS. But what about when I wasn't in the room? Did anyone even care?

But praise God, while I was coming to grips with the depth of God's love for me, I received a huge object lesson regarding the love people have for me. People all over the world were praying for the Pilgrims on last weekend's Walk To Emmaus, and had been for two years. Someone who didn't even know me had been praying for me for two years. People in prison had been praying for me. IN PRISON. As if they didn't have more problems than I did that they would be praying for me. That got my attention.

One of the things I was able to do on my Walk that was so healing to me was finally being able to lay down the burden and guilt of sins that I'd been carrying around for years. I'd only asked forgiveness for it a million times, but I could not forgive myself. Since I couldn't do it, I felt for certain that God couldn't either. To finally believe that God's grace was for me, and even for my "terrible sin", was empowering. God really is who He said He is. Jesus would have died if had just been me and my sin. When I asked Him to take the guilt away (something I had never done before) He did.

I feel so renewed. I never felt comfortable putting my hands up to worship God, because of what other people might think. "Who does she think she is? She's not a good enough Christian to do that....quiet, gentle spirit? She doesn't have a quiet bone in her body." But at my Walk, I decided what other people thought didn't make a lick of difference. I know in my heart that God is riveted to me...not just glancing my way when He gets bored with everyone else. I learned that my own selfishness is what keeps me from having God's best and the best that I could have in my family and marriage. God has been really working on my heart in the submission area and I finally feel like I have a grip on that after a while of thinking I was doing it right. And the funny thing is...Brian has noticed...without me saying, "Hey, did you notice I was being submissive there for a second?"

Of course, I want Brian to be the spiritual leader of the household. So I came up with this great idea. Why doesn't he pick a book of the Bible for us to read through and study and then we'll discuss it. So he picked James. Then I told him I didn't want to read James. (Pretty submissive, huh?) But I read it anyway. Every day for a month, we read it. We never did discuss it really, but I think that's okay. The Lord was talking to me anyway. I can use a passage of James to describe my experience at Emmaus.

James 4:7-10 NLT
7: So humble yourselves before God. Resist the Devil and he will flee from you. (Right out of the gate, going to Emmaus is very humbling, because you don't really have any idea what's going to happen or what to expect...you have just give it up to Him. You are sharing a room with people that you may have never seen in your life, sitting at a table with even more new people. There are no watches and no cell phones. Every day there are 5 speakers that speak on different topics. The Devil doesn't want us to know about God's grace and love or any of the other subjects discussed. He wants us to think that we are too bad to be loved by God or people and our sins are the sins that can't be forgiven and the more you hear, the more you learn that's just not true. So the Devil has to go...)

8: Draw close to God and God will draw close to you. Wash your hands, you sinners; purify your hearts, you hypocrites. (You can't help but draw near to God...and then there's the promise...He will draw near to you. We learn about purifying grace...how God purifies our hearts and our lives.)

9: Let there be tears for the wrong things you have done. Let there be sorrow and deep grief. Let there sadness instead of laughter, and gloom instead of joy. (We have an opportunity to lay our burdens down...and I did. I had unfinished business with God. I was carrying grief and guilt that I should have put down a long time ago. I was broken for the wrong I had done and the ugliness I had harbored in my heart and how far I'd let myself get from Him. I was upset that I had allowed Satan to let me think I was not worthy to raise my hands and praise God.)

10: When you bow down and admit your dependence on Him, He will lift you up and give you honor. (There could have been nothing more true... after I was able to lay those heavy burdens down and admit that I couldn't even trust my feelings about things, He was able to prove to me that He [and others] cared about me in a way I could finally understand. It was during the "lifting up" part of the weekend that I really felt the love of others (something I had not ever grasped)...and realized that it was okay to have that love, even though I hadn't done anything to "earn" it. I could have cried for days and days and days after that realization. You don't have to "earn" love, the way I'd grown up believing. People don't just tolerate me. People genuinely would go out of their way for me...which I have never thought in a million years.)

Recently, I was told by several people that my bluntness/honesty was my best trait. Yikes. I've decided that I don't want that to be my best trait. I can still be honest and open, but I'm going to be open about my struggles and what the Lord is doing in my life. I am done pretending that everything is okay when it isn't. The Lord has already answered a prayer of mine and is using me. Telling everyone in the world what I'm thinking every minute of the day or making sure everyone knows when I'm not happy about something doesn't seem like the embodiment of a quiet, gentle spirit. And that's what I want. I don't want to laugh out loud when I'm told that I have a quiet, gentle spirit. I'm still going to be me, just a sweeter version of me.

In all of this I've finally learned...I don't have to prove anything to anyone. Even if I was right and people really don't like me or think about me when I'm not there, it's okay. I'm the "apple of His eye" (Psalm 17:8 NLT).

Submission and The Walk To Emmaus

Tomorrow I leave for my Walk To Emmaus. Because every "spiritual" person I know in Stephenville has done it, I thought I needed to do it, too. So I could be more spiritual. Earlier in the month, I think I realized that may have been the reason (although I couldn't put a name to it) and so I procrastinated and procrastinated getting the paperwork done thinking that maybe I would lose my spot and I wouldn't have to go to this thing that was guaranteed to bring me closer to God. But here I am. Instead of facing it with dread and wondering if I was going to have to play nice-nice or share personal information with people I didn't like or didn't know, I am looking forward to it. I am looking forward to God meeting me there. God has been moving and working in my life for a while now. He has taught me some incredible truths about Himself that have completely changed the way I do business everyday, not just when I think someone is watching.

I know a few things about The Walk:

"It's great...so awesome."

"You really need to go."

"You can't understand it unless you've been there."

There are no watches and no cell phones. No watches! (Side note: I am obsessed with knowing the time. Ask about my wisdom teeth removal sometime or having both my children. Absolutely obsessed with knowing the time.)I know that I'm supposed to get letters. I know this because I was asked to write a letter to someone who recently completed her Walk. I was honored to be asked to do it, but a little disappointed because that aspect of it wouldn't be a surprise when my turn came around. I think Brian has tried to do a good job of being mysterious and I have tried to do a good job to not ruin any surprises.

My attitude has changed about a lot of things lately. Since coming into the full realization of who God really is and the role He's anxious to play in my life...a lot of things became a lot easier.

Submitting to Brian's authority, for one, became easier. I thought that being submissive meant obeying...and clearly, that's a part of it. But not the only part. My problem was that when he and I disagreed, instead of accepting his answer and going on, I was like a dog with a bone. Brian, worn down with all my "reasons", would relent and we'd go on our merry way. Except I'd just shown him that I will only submit myself to him as long as he leads my way. And I also proved to Brian that I didn't respect him. Of course, right off the bat when I stopped arguing with him and finally started accepting what he said (knowing in my heart that whatever he said or did, he thought was for the benefit of our family...because Brian always thinks about our welfare before his) anyway, it threw him for a loop. The whole time we've been together, I've made no qualms about my opinion on any topic and if I didn't agree with something, I was loud about it. If I couldn't get him to come to my side, I would get mad, pout and say he was narrow-minded. So when I stopped doing all those things, he thought I was mad (because for once in my life...I was silent). I am learning that I don't have to be nor am I responsible for telling Brian what we (read: he) should be doing. It's up to God to tell Brian what to do in a way that Brian can understand. God doesn't need a translator named Georgia. Not that He can't use me...but I think my use is better served in being quiet so Brian can hear. It's fairly interesting...Brian can concentrate deeply only when it is very quiet. So how can he hear what God's telling him to do with me loudly going on and on about what I think? Who cares what I think? I would hate to think that I was the one keeping us from God's best for our lives because I was inundating Brian with my opinion instead of allowing him to listen for God's very small, quiet voice. The more I think about it, the more I realize how important it is for me to listen. Clearly, I'm not trusting God to instruct Brian if I'm right there telling Brian what the right course of action should be. Whose job am I trying to do here?

I think I'm finally learning my place. And it's not nearly as bad as I thought.

The Book You MUST Read

Ladies, in case you didn't get the email:


I'm at a loss as to how to start this, so I'm just gonna jump right in....

I have just finished the most amazing book written by a Christian author who has her thumb on the pulse of woman...Do You Think I'm Beautiful? by Angela Thomas. You must read it. You must read it.

You must read it if ever in your life you wondered if someone (anyone) could think you were beautiful (yes, in the physical sense). I struggle with this every day of my life...my weight, the fact that I'm not a foo-foo type girl, did I mention my weight? I never thought brown eyes were beautiful...I never thought anything about me was beautiful. I was constantly comparing myself to everyone else...and not measuring up. I never accepted myself for who God made me to be...until now. I thought that God thought I was beautiful in the cosmic sense like He thinks tarantulas are beautiful...not that I was beautiful to Him. Beautiful for me. There is only one standard for me: The Georgia Standard. I learned that God likes brown eyes. He loves them on me.

You must read it if you ever wondered if people notice you...see you. If you've wondered what in the world you're doing here (like I have as I change diaper after diaper after diaper or do load after load after load of laundry). Angela writes:

But God answers and says, "I see you. I see you stumble through the night to care for the sick and afraid. I see you day after day in the bleachers, on the sidelines, in the balcony, prayingand caring and cheering. I watched you prepare the food no one ate. I was with you when you worked past exhaustion. I knew the truth when you felt misunderstood. I cried with you in disappointment. I held you when you thought you were alone. I never take My eyes off you."

When I read that, I cried. I am moved even now. I have tried to take care of Lily only to be told that she wants her daddy. I have prepared food that my children have turned their nose up at. So many times I feel misunderstood. I have shed many tears in disappointment...upsets and heartbreak I couldn't share with anyone because I was pretending. And all along, God was with me. In my head, yes, I know this. But Angela Thomas, for some strange reason, finally made my heart understand it.

Pretending is no way to live. It keeps us from God's best, which according to Angela, are all the things we've been looking for. The things I've written about here...well, she covers this in the first chapter. (I am calling her Angela like I know her, but it's because she writes like she knows me...like a trusted friend who knows all my ugly secrets and still loves me enough to tell me the truth...gently and in love....because she's been there.)

And if she could make me understand it...well, maybe I'm not the only one. I will say this...reading this book has changed my life because it has changed my view of God and the role He wants to play in my life. I am more at peace than I have ever been in my life with more joy than I ever thought possible. (My natural tendency is not to joy or peace.) Nothing has really changed either. I'm still changing diaper after diaper and doing much laundry. I am still cooking meals that don't appeal to toddlers and Lily still wants her daddy. But I have peace about it. Peace. I finally understand...with my heart...what that means. I can't even get into how this has affected me at home with my family It's not such a crazy thought that I have a quiet, gentle spirit now. I feel it. I don't feel like I'm pretending anymore. I want to read my Bible and pray not because I hope that God wants to hear from me...because I know He's sitting right there waiting for me.

I never have to worry if what I'm doing is going unnoticed. For once in my life...I know it's not. There is freedom there.

I Am An Aunt

In the course of the last few months, I have had very limited contact with my family. I wondered how (or if) I would know when Susie had her baby or if something bad happened to one of my parents. I knew that Susie and Sam's baby was due at the end of this month.

Tonight after Bible study, I had a message from my brother. I haven't spoken to my brother since June when I found out they were expecting and certainly not since I had my talk with Susie. I don't know where they are living or what they are doing. But tonight, my brother, his voice full of pride, called to tell me that I was an aunt and that his son "had everything he should have and nothing he shouldn't". The baby (between the answering machine and the cell phone, I couldn't catch the name, but it wasn't Bocephus Boudreaux) weighed 6 pounds, 14 ounces and was 19 and a half inches long.

And my brother told me that he loved me. Lily has prayed for Sam and Susie and their baby for months now. I am ashamed to admit that I have not been as faithful. I called him back and got his voice mail, but I told him how proud I was and happy for them and to let me know how I could help.

I'm hoping there is restoration in that relationship.

Potpourri

This week has been busy, busy, busy. Last Sunday, I was so stiff and sore, I could barely move. After church, Brian and I drove to Fort Worth to meet Brian's younger brother who was getting us the deal on the cell phones. I like the new phone, but I haven't had the time (nor the inclination) to enter my address book into it. All in good time, I guess. If you're interested in our new numbers, let me know (either by email or by noting...I've got everyone's email that reads, I think) and I'll be glad to give it to you.

In Sunday school last week, we got the book that the Sunday School class is doing. It is called "Love & Respect". Brian and I read some of it on the drive to Fort Worth. It actually had one of our arguments in there...nearly verbatim. I think God is trying to show me something in the way that I communicate with Brian. I know that I'm not the only person that deals with this thing so I thought about sending an email to all my old friends and let them know about taking a look at this book...but I see that another church I know is doing a study with this book. We haven't read very much, but I highly recommend that wives take a look at it...especially if they want to better things in their marriage. Ladies, we are not giving our husbands what they need and therefore, we are not getting what we need. I know that we have touched on this in Bible Study a couple of times, but maybe we have glossed over the really important part. (At least I didn't get the important part.) The Bible tells us to respect our husbands. And I know that we think we are...but we're not. What we're doing is loving them and it's not the same thing. So much emphasis is put on love when it's our respect that they crave. They would do without our love just to have our respect!!! Absolutely mind boggling to me. Something God revealed to me is this: you can learn everything in the world about love languages and try to talk to your husband with that...but the key to that is that men don't question our love...they question our respect, because we do things that are disrespectful. Me...I have tone of voice problems, but I think my tone of voice does belie the way I feel alot of times and my poor attitude is doing damage to our marriage. I hold Brian to a standard that I don't hold myself to and expect him to get accomplished things that I can't or don't, especially when he is alone with the girls. And I make my displeasure known by questioning everything that he is done or doing. I harp on the things that aren't done instead of thanking him for what is done. How is that showing him that I respect him and his contribution? By demanding that he come home and take over for me, is that showing respect for him going out in the world and earn a living? He needs time to decompress. It certainly isn't as if he isn't willing to help out once he gets home. It's all the little things and the little critcims that are tearing him down. I guess I could go on and on. I heard that the Bible study saw a video that probably discussed this. Brian and I heard that author on the radio a week after we moved here when I was taking him to the airport. I think God is really trying to tell me something... The really neat thing is that I see these opportunities coming up for my old friends to learn the same things that I'm learning here!!! I didn't intend to go into all this detail, but God is trying to work in this marriage on this issue and I know that I'm not the only one.

I was going to go back to the gym on Tuesday, but Brian and I went to Dallas to look at a car that I found on eBay. End result? We now have a 2nd vehicle!!! We found a 1997 GMC Suburban for about half what we were going to pay for Brian's company car. It's got 170k miles on it, but seems to be in good condition. Obviously, it has a lot more room than the Impala and a Suburban was more what we really wanted anyway, but didn't think that we would find one that we could afford and that looked nice. We saved enough money by buying this vehicle that we can take it to a mechanic and get it inspected very closely and fix anything that is an immediate need. And I have a car that's paid for!!! The dealership put new tires on it and delivered it to our apartment so we wouldn't have to drive back to Dallas (about 2 hours away).

And with the new car I can put Lily into the preschool program, go to Bible Study during the day, go to MOPS during the day, workout during the day (because the gym has child car during certain parts of the day) and pretty much anything else that I have a mind to do. It's really fascinating how God provided this truck. We have been waiting since the end of May for Brian's car. (Everyone knows how we have been waiting!) In fact, we are still waiting although it's scheduled to be delivered sometime in the very near future. I found this truck on eBay in Dallas. It is much easier to get to Dallas from here than from where we were living...and this dealership would have normally sent this truck straight to auction, but decided to give it a go on eBay. The auction price was way below retail and there were no bids on it. Even while I waited for Brian to get off work so we could look at it, there were no bids. We were able to get someone from the church to come watch the girls at the last minute so that Brian and I wouldn't have to worry about them (since we didn't get home until midnight). And then we got to the dealership and the truck was exactly like the ad said and the sales manager came in and told us exactly what we were getting. Closing the deal was an easy process involving me writing a check and signing some paperwork. What a blessing.

Thursday: Back to the gym. I followed the program given to me by the trainer and felt good when I left there. I walked a mile and a half on the treadmill increasing both speed and incline. When I finished, I knew I'd gotten a good cardio workout and then I did 3 sets of 12 reps on 3 upper body machines and 3 lower body machines. I'd felt the "burn" and was proud of myself.

Friday: Worked out with Amy. That girl is tough. She really pushes me and when I accomplish it, I feel so good about myself. She said I had already improved from the previous week and that makes me feel like I'm making progress. I like coming home all sweaty with muscles shaking and tight because that makes me feel like I've done something.

Saturday: After some hemming and hawing, I went to the Body Blast class. Last Saturday, I felt completely out of my league, even though I felt good for having made it through the whole class. This week, it was taught by someone else so it was different, but still hard. The hardest part for me last week was that they ran some laps in the parking lot to warm up. I am so not a runner so I was about done after the running. But I talked to the instructor about warming up on treadmill instead of running laps, but since there were so few of us in the class, everyone warmed up on the treadmill. That worked out much better for me. Of course, after that, I was worn out. My arms were so sore...I could hardly pick the girls up...but that's a good thing. Brian says that pain is weakness leaving the body!! I feel much better today and am looking forward to trying a kickboxing class tomorrow morning even though I am still a little sore from Saturday.

I think God has been working on our hearts regarding this church. I have felt since Day One that this was the place that God had for us. Brian was reluctant to commit. Until this morning. So, we are officially members of this church and it makes me very happy. It is also very scary to me because I am much more comfortable to hang back and not take the lead, but now, I want to be involved with everything! I think my time to rest is past and it's my season to work. They have a nursing home ministry where they go every Sunday and sing songs and bring a brief message. This morning they told of a need to have more people participate so I went. God has really given me a heart for the elderly and I'm so pleased that this is a place where I can serve. In fact, we may be able to start an extension of that with a shut-in type ministry like our old church.

This week starts the women's Bible study and MOPS and I'm looking very forward to it all. I am very anxious to get involved. I think it's going to work out that I'm going to be able to go to Nashville to the MOPS convention and I'll have the opportunity to get to know other moms in the church during this trip. I know that God has some very exciting things for us here and I am so anxious to be used.