The one thing

I feel like I’m a glutton when it comes to podcasts. I love to binge listen my way through work outs and chores and feel like I’ve earned some college credits doing it, though I’ve really only changed the laundry. My takeaway though, is always one simple thing, a tiny lesson.

Every morning, I set my alarm to be up before everyone. I love to read, and the quiet house in the morning seems like the ideal time for this stage of life. Everyday, it’s my Bible and first cup of coffee followed by book of choice and second cup of coffee. And now, I always look for that one thing. Sometimes it’s in the Bible, sometimes it’s in my quiet thought. It’s usually a goal of some sort for the day or an aspiration, but there’s always a ‘one thing’.

A few examples lately, praying for unity in our family, being enthusiastic when I greet Mike (loooooong days people), being creative instead of being a consumer, my facial expressions and reactions to my kids—just a few. But I find it so helpful to set an intention for the day. After all, how do you accomplish if you never set a goal.

A fine line

I think my perspective on life changed the day my fourth child was born. I remember about one week in, taking a step back and realizing that this is life now, and I feel like it took the breath from my lungs. And so began what I call my mental mid life crisis.
I began to crave friendships and my stiff arm approach to people seemed like it turned into a half hug. We began hosting people for meals, every weekend. And after about a year, I realized, that's not how you make friends. I don't write this as a pity cry or as some degradation to anyone or anything. It just, plain, didn't work.
About the same time as my realization of need of friendship, my spiritual life kind of took off. Not in a churchy sort of way, but in a Spirit led freedom. Ideas that I held so firmly to before suddenly seemed silly and my energy spent wasted on thinking of them just got thrown at Jesus' feet.
I've watched my passions grow, wean, and take off. And yet the things that I used to crave, I still crave. Friendships and Jesus.
Taking the time for people isn't something I've ever been good at and nor do I claim to be. But we're all hypocrites, over everything. It's almost crazy nowadays, how we all psychoanalyze everyone and everything. We think we have all the answers that everyone doesn't and well, it's just a mess. Cynicism rears its ugly head, anytime anyone is real. We're all experts, at everything. And so I walk this fine line right now, of growing and learning and staying passionate, or of being complacent, careless and lazy. It's staying on top of it everyday and sorting out the good, the bad, and the ugly thoughts. I keep praying that God will make a way, He will. He's always does. And if there's anything I've learned in my 33 years of life on this earth, it's that He's faithful. So I keep on...
Walking the fine line. The very fine line.

If you really want to empathize

Life lately is crazy. I love my children, goodness gracious, do I love them something fierce. But that doesn't negate the chaos that ensues nearly every day here at home.
For anyone who's not a parent, imagine the simplest task in your day. Then, just imagine being unable to do it. Going to the bathroom, changing the laundry, cooking breakfast, lunch or dinner, unloading the dishwasher, getting a drink of water, having a snack to yourself, cleaning off the table, reading a book, folding laundry, owning a plant, I could go on for quite a while.
And homeschooling, well, it's going. The big kids are patient while the little ones have no idea that we're trying to learn and grow daily.
I was on the phone with my dad yesterday and Jude was screaming at the top of his lungs. I was trying to have my one minute of adult conversation and my dad said to me, "life is just really hard". I wanted to jump through the phone and just hug him.
It seems these days there's much to disagree about, but life is hard enough without all of that.
Be kind.
Empathize.

Every day, I get to...

 sweep the kitchen about fifteen times, that's not an exaggeration

 put away the toaster at least three times

cook, clean, repeat at least three times

change about 8 diapers

load and unload the dishwasher over and over

get impatient

get interrupted

not have a minute to myself until 8 pm

be there for them, each of them

see them smile

hear them laugh

pray with them

clean up their messes

thank God that I get to be home

be the shoulder that's cried on

point them to Jesus

sing with them

count my blessings

take the focus off myself

be a blessing

serve

love them

be in a warm home

be the light

see their simplicity

pray for strength

every day, I get to do this

As a mom...

I never imagined the lack of sleep,

how I could never wear black or white,

how my food would never be "my" food.

I never thought I'd be talking nonstop,

or have read through hundreds of books.

I never knew that cuddling would soothe my weary soul, 

and that's it usually me that's in a phase and not my child.

ahhhh, this life.

this amazing, beautiful life.

clinging to the robe of Christ and at the feet of Jesus every day,

learning to love beyond myself.

ahhhh, this amazing, beautiful life.

Thankful

There's so much that I have to be thankful.

I'm overwhelmed at times, by the amount of my to do's, 

but when I take a step back, whoa.

*

I'm thankful for Jesus.

For dying for me, loving me, I'd be a pretty big wreck without Him.

He's my peace in the chaos of every day,

the reason that I do what I do.

*

Ezra.

I think I could type just that and no more.

He's naughty as all get out, but he's also the sweetest little boy.

I love how he says "Mom! Shame on you" then he'll race you to the stairs and scream "race you". 

Told you he was naughty! He builds play fires everywhere by dumping everything everywhere and calling it a "hot fire", and if that doesn't keep him busy enough, he'll get a pair of scissors and cut up a piece of paper into about four million pieces. He's little and so squishy still, I can't help but pull him into my arms all the time. I whisper to him "I love you so much, do you love me?" to which he always responds, "no, love daddy".

Jude, or as I like to say in my deep woman voice, Judy.

My baby.

My boy who loves to climb and cuddle. He's stronger than any other baby I've had, or perhaps I'm just weaker. He loves being held, more than anything, and he raises his hands whenever he hears music, even in his car seat. It's darling. He's constantly on the prowl for an open bathroom door so he can check out the toilet, and standing on the table is his new fun game.

Eden.

I'm not even sure where to begin. She's the second mommy of the house, in more ways than just helping! She's like my right hand. My creative pursuer, shoe obsessed, lip gloss lover. She's fun, funny, slightly rude, book loving, school loving girl.

Micah Gray!

I've been yelling saying that a lot lately. I love this picture, it also reminds me of how much he's changed in months. The day after he turned six, all things became silly. All. The. Time. He's caring, affectionate, and totally unable to sit down. He's slightly obsessed with Jude, legos, and Star Wars.

Michael.

My rock.

I've needed him more this past year than in our eleven years of marriage combined. He's been there for me when no one else has and he's  loved me, I mean really really loved me.

He's shown me grace when I've messed up, and I just can't even put into words how thankful I am for him.

Two years ago

Two years ago, on this night, I was still in disbelief. We had waited, waited, and waited some more. My hormones had been checked weekly for nearly twenty weeks.
I remember when I used to drive to the hospital in the early morning, just to get there when it opened, praying, pleading with God on my whole drive. Then I'd wait the day away waiting for the number to come back in the afternoon. Eventually, my prayers turned to sobs then anxiety, and the drive to the hospital became excruciating.
Over and over and over again, the same news, bad news.

The "bad" hormones, the miscarriage, the molar pregnancy, it changed me forever.

It changed how I go through pregnancy, and it stole my joy of pregnancy. I would never be giddy with excitement at the weekly milestones. But instead I would distance myself from those thoughts about my baby. I never wanted to prep baby clothes, only purge. Just in case that happy day never came. I wasn't bitter, but I ached. An ache so deep, I don't think I'll ever forget how it felt.

But it taught me so much. It taught me empathy, to cry with all those other women who know the same pain. And it taught me so much about hope. That is the whole miracle in this story, hope.

And two years ago, I was about to be overwhelmed by hope.

Ezra is two tomorrow. 

I look back now and it seems so long ago, but it wasn't. And when I think about it, I can still remember how badly my heart ached.

Life is so fragile, so tender. And I know not all stories end up how mine did. To all my friends who are pregnant, or who desire to be more than anything else, I'm praying for you tonight.
Ezra's two tomorrow, and I still can't believe it. I'm always so emotional on my kids birthdays. It just keeps going and going, and I want time to just slow a little so I can soak it all in a bit more.