A couple of weeks ago, I got a little surprise...we're pregnant! I've blogged before about how badly Jackson and I have wanted a baby. I've been silently praying since March and starting in May Jackson began to pray for a baby sister. I think his praying was prompted through two of our dear friends having baby girls in April and this sparked his desire. I am amazed by Jack and his faith. He inspires me. The praying felt like a lifetime of waiting. Waiting because I wanted to make sure that this is what God wanted for us and also wanting for Jon to come around to the idea of starting over again with a newborn. I think secretly infants scare my husband. He really likes babies more when they're a little less fragile...around 9-12 months, he really falls in love. He loves when they sleep through the night, babble, aren't nursing 24/7, and can rough-house. Also, Jon was completely content with two boys. He said, "Two is a good round number. There's one for each of us...we aren't outnumbered, and boys are really safe. Girls scare me." Jon comments on how cute baby girls are, so I know secretly he would love to find out what that is like. But mainly, I don't think my husband feels like our family is incomplete like I do. He's a simple man, happy-go-lucky, and not a lot bothers him, so I think it's his tendency to just be content. Me, on the other hand...not so much. I'm hoping that I will get this family eventually because let's face it, children are a lot of work. I can't just keep having babies forever.
So, long story short, seven months of praying daily and usually whenever it came into my mind, and oh boy...does God ever answer prayer. Jon and I decided we would start trying in a couple months, but I'm pretty confident that later that day I became pregnant. It baffles me because my standard #37 precautionary measure has never let me down in nearly 8 years and all of a sudden, we're pregnant.
This brings my mind to wonder...Why am I surprised when God gives me the desires of my heart? Why do I doubt that He wants to give me what I long for? Why do I think that He doesn't hear my prayers?
It's taken me a couple days to process this. My other pregnancies were totally planned and thought out and happened exactly when I wanted them to happen. This was out of my control even though I prayed for this to happen. I'm humbled when I remember that God is the giver of life...not Stephanie.
We told Jack about the news the other day. Jon explained to him that God wants him to know that He loves him very much. He told Jack that God hears his prayers and that even though He doesn't always answer them like we hope...this time He did. Jackson was beyond thrilled. He just kept saying, "Oh...my...gosh", over and over. He said, "I've been dreaming of this day my whole, entire life and God made it true!"...I don't know where he gets his dramatic nature (wink, wink). Colie keeps saying, "Tank you, Tank you mommy for my baby. Is my baby done, yet?" Maybe I spilled the beans to him a little too soon. It's going to be a long eight months to hear that 10 times a day.
"Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward." Psalm 127:3
"Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than we could ask or imagine, according to His power that is a work within us." Ephesians 3:20
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
For His Glory
I haven't blogged in a while because...1) I'm lazy and 2)I've been dealing with God on some things that I needed some long evaluation and thought.
I've known Him almost my entire life...more than 20 years now. By now you would think I'd had Him figured out. Everyday, He tells me how much He loves me and everyday I'm baffled by this. Everyday, He reveals a bigger piece of Himself and I grow to know Him a little deeper. His pursuit of me draws me near and makes me want to run at the same time. The more I find of Him, the more I lose myself.
I've felt God calling me to do something over the last year...something I've had no interest in doing. I've kicked, and screamed and fought for six months to show Him it's really not what He wants me to do...but softly, he reminds me of what He did for me. I've been bought with a price, the price of my savior's blood.
I was born in 1982 to two 17 year old kids. Two kids who came from broken homes...in some way or another. Two kids who weren't planning on becoming parents. Two kids who didn't know what it meant to be a parent, because in essence, they didn't know what a parent was. Along with my parents, I've endured lots of heartache...poverty, addiction, abuse, mental illness, rejection, and neglect. Life's circumstances and my own choices, have set me up for failure. My life has written the perfect recipe for repeating history and leaving me a bitter, lost, addicted, sad, broken, destitute soul...a soul that buys all the world has to offer to substitute the emptiness I feel; a soul that longs to be known, to be loved, to be valued, respected, and cherished. I was born with the feeling that I was a mistake. No amount of compliments, accolades, or "atta-boys" has changed this. Despite what I was told...what I felt or thought was tattooed on my heart and it felt like listening to a foreign language to hear otherwise...it was meaningless.
One day in 1987, I heard a voice. This voice was a voice that I'd never heard before, but at the same time, it felt familiar. He called me by name. He knew me. He told me he loved me...he wanted me...I belonged to Him. At five years old, he began to whisper these things in my ear. When I was alone in my room, I heard Him and He was beside me. He didn't talk a lot, but when He did...I heard Him. In 1992, He was there again. He comforted me I was scared of what I saw. He told me it would be okay. In the same year, however, I also was taught that you can't trust people. You can't let them see who you really are because they will reject you when they know the truth. This lie haunted me for the next 15 years; that when shown transparency, people run. This threw me into the bondage of perfection. By accident, I adopted the idea that if everything looks great on the outside, it won't be so painful on the inside. This sufficed for a few years, until the first year I was married. It becomes harder to hide who you are when you live with your spouse. If it's a good marriage, thankfully, it becomes "soul-bearing". You are forced to let the other person see who you really are...no make-up, morning breath, sick with a stomach virus...ALL of it. I started to see what love really is. Let's just say, it's not what you see in the movies; the truth is that sometimes...it ain't pretty! The first year of marriage was hard for me, but not for the same reason as many couples...it was hard for ME, because it meant transparency. This began my "plastic surgery", if you will...of the soul.
In high school, I wasn't interested in Jon because he was "safe". He was boring, he was predictable, and he was safe...not exactly what a 17 year old dreams of. But, what I learned from "safe" over the years, doesn't always mean that there's no risk...it just means that the risk won't cost everything. And...it didn't. The risk didn't cost everything...it cost what I was willing to give, and what I was willing to lose. I lost the need to be something that I thought I should be.
Fast forward to the birth of my first child. There was a lot of anxiety leading up to Jackson's birth. I wondered if I'd make a good mother. I wondered if I'd repeat what I'd known as a child. I wondered if he would love me. The ironic thing is that when you become a parent, you get a microscopic glimpse of how God must feel about us. Your love is immediate and your love is unconditional.
Through trials, you grow. Parenthood has been somewhat of a trial for me because it has challenged me. It has shown me my weaknesses and it has forced me to grow through my failures. It's given me a motivation when I wanted to quit. It's shown me consistence.
I'm a work in progress. In no way do I have things all figured out...it's a life-long progress. I'm on a journey. But, what God is teaching me right now is that this journey is one that he's writing.
For years, I've dreamed of having a "perfect story"...you know, always being a "good girl", one big happy family, no major bumps in the road and life resembles the "Father of the Bride" neighborhood. But, the fact is, we live in a fallen world. Life is not a fairy tale. If it were, I probably wouldn't be as dependent on Him. My accomplishments would be on my own merits. I've been running from my past...and my past is not my legacy.
I'm learning that my story, was meant to bring Him glory.
I've known Him almost my entire life...more than 20 years now. By now you would think I'd had Him figured out. Everyday, He tells me how much He loves me and everyday I'm baffled by this. Everyday, He reveals a bigger piece of Himself and I grow to know Him a little deeper. His pursuit of me draws me near and makes me want to run at the same time. The more I find of Him, the more I lose myself.
I've felt God calling me to do something over the last year...something I've had no interest in doing. I've kicked, and screamed and fought for six months to show Him it's really not what He wants me to do...but softly, he reminds me of what He did for me. I've been bought with a price, the price of my savior's blood.
I was born in 1982 to two 17 year old kids. Two kids who came from broken homes...in some way or another. Two kids who weren't planning on becoming parents. Two kids who didn't know what it meant to be a parent, because in essence, they didn't know what a parent was. Along with my parents, I've endured lots of heartache...poverty, addiction, abuse, mental illness, rejection, and neglect. Life's circumstances and my own choices, have set me up for failure. My life has written the perfect recipe for repeating history and leaving me a bitter, lost, addicted, sad, broken, destitute soul...a soul that buys all the world has to offer to substitute the emptiness I feel; a soul that longs to be known, to be loved, to be valued, respected, and cherished. I was born with the feeling that I was a mistake. No amount of compliments, accolades, or "atta-boys" has changed this. Despite what I was told...what I felt or thought was tattooed on my heart and it felt like listening to a foreign language to hear otherwise...it was meaningless.
One day in 1987, I heard a voice. This voice was a voice that I'd never heard before, but at the same time, it felt familiar. He called me by name. He knew me. He told me he loved me...he wanted me...I belonged to Him. At five years old, he began to whisper these things in my ear. When I was alone in my room, I heard Him and He was beside me. He didn't talk a lot, but when He did...I heard Him. In 1992, He was there again. He comforted me I was scared of what I saw. He told me it would be okay. In the same year, however, I also was taught that you can't trust people. You can't let them see who you really are because they will reject you when they know the truth. This lie haunted me for the next 15 years; that when shown transparency, people run. This threw me into the bondage of perfection. By accident, I adopted the idea that if everything looks great on the outside, it won't be so painful on the inside. This sufficed for a few years, until the first year I was married. It becomes harder to hide who you are when you live with your spouse. If it's a good marriage, thankfully, it becomes "soul-bearing". You are forced to let the other person see who you really are...no make-up, morning breath, sick with a stomach virus...ALL of it. I started to see what love really is. Let's just say, it's not what you see in the movies; the truth is that sometimes...it ain't pretty! The first year of marriage was hard for me, but not for the same reason as many couples...it was hard for ME, because it meant transparency. This began my "plastic surgery", if you will...of the soul.
In high school, I wasn't interested in Jon because he was "safe". He was boring, he was predictable, and he was safe...not exactly what a 17 year old dreams of. But, what I learned from "safe" over the years, doesn't always mean that there's no risk...it just means that the risk won't cost everything. And...it didn't. The risk didn't cost everything...it cost what I was willing to give, and what I was willing to lose. I lost the need to be something that I thought I should be.
Fast forward to the birth of my first child. There was a lot of anxiety leading up to Jackson's birth. I wondered if I'd make a good mother. I wondered if I'd repeat what I'd known as a child. I wondered if he would love me. The ironic thing is that when you become a parent, you get a microscopic glimpse of how God must feel about us. Your love is immediate and your love is unconditional.
Through trials, you grow. Parenthood has been somewhat of a trial for me because it has challenged me. It has shown me my weaknesses and it has forced me to grow through my failures. It's given me a motivation when I wanted to quit. It's shown me consistence.
I'm a work in progress. In no way do I have things all figured out...it's a life-long progress. I'm on a journey. But, what God is teaching me right now is that this journey is one that he's writing.
For years, I've dreamed of having a "perfect story"...you know, always being a "good girl", one big happy family, no major bumps in the road and life resembles the "Father of the Bride" neighborhood. But, the fact is, we live in a fallen world. Life is not a fairy tale. If it were, I probably wouldn't be as dependent on Him. My accomplishments would be on my own merits. I've been running from my past...and my past is not my legacy.
I'm learning that my story, was meant to bring Him glory.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Camping
I've been preparing myself for about five years now, that eventually I would have to go camping with my boys. As a mother, I know little guys (and big guys, too) desperately want and need this experience. Their sense of adventure naturally includes sleeping under the stars and cooking over a campfire. My sense of adventure however is better described as going to a movie spontaneously late at night. I'm wild and daring, I know.
I postponed this experience as long as possible, but recently my in-laws purchased an airstream trailer and the begging from all three of my guys, ensued. I finally gave in and prepared myself as best I could to make the most of this experience to make a memory with my kids.
We left Friday afternoon, a little too late. We arrived at Roman Nose in time to set up our campsite and start dinner. My first trial began when I discovered that the only pot in the trailer wasn't even big enough to hold the can of beans for my homemade chili. I had asked Jon to make sure the camper had a pot to cook our chili...he didn't. Luckily, Jon had packed his cast iron skillet and we cooked our chili in this. It worked just fine. We did not however pack bowls to eat our chili in, so we used red Solo cups. Again...it was fine, just annoying to me.
We sat by the campfire, ate our hot dogs and chili and then roasted marshmallows and made smores. That was really enjoyable. I had a lot of laughs with my kids and Jon. I must say that I love these guys, but what is better is that I truly "like" them. I enjoy their company. These guys are my best friends. There's no one I'd rather spend my time with.
We put the fire out and went in for a good night's sleep, right? Uh...no. An airstream fold out bed may be better than sleeping in a sleeping bag on the ground, but not much. Cole woke at 5:30 saying his tummy hurt and he proceeded to to have diarrhea in the camper bathroom. Let's just say that sound as well as odor travels quickly through all 50 square feet. Thankfully he went back to sleep after his business. We all woke up and made a good country breakfast, again making due with what kitchen supplies I had. Pretty quickly after breakfast Jon and I made eye contact with a look that seemed to say, "I'm ready to go if you are." Sadly, looking back, I feel like all we did was eat, but everyone seemed happy enough, so who cares, right? As Jon was loading the trailer up, the boys and I did a little exploring and found an awesome treasure there by the water. We found an empty tortoise shell. Now I have a little souvenir to remember the trip by.
The best part of the trip was as we were leaving, Cole says to me, "Mommy, can we go to Starbucks now?" I guess I'm not the only one who loves the conveniences of modern technology. Thank God for a stationary roof over our heads, indoor plumbing, a comfortable bed, and Starbucks.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
I'm His Girl
Lately Cole has been very vocal in telling me his feelings. A few of his go-to phrases are, "I beary mad.", "Yar mean!", and my personal favorite, "I ignorin jew." But the other day, sweetness graced the lips of this baby and he told me, "Mom, jew my gurl." I looked at him and asked, "I'm your girl?" to make sure I heard him correctly, and he says, "Esss, jew my best gurl."
Cole, you will never know what that does to me when you call me your girl. It makes me weak in the knees and want to burst into tears and spontaneous laughter at the same time. I'm crazy about you.
Cole, you will never know what that does to me when you call me your girl. It makes me weak in the knees and want to burst into tears and spontaneous laughter at the same time. I'm crazy about you.
Holy Halloween, Batman!
We've been making the boys hit the gym. That's right, we got tired of having wussy babies!
Happy Halloween from Batman and Robin!
Happy Halloween from Batman and Robin!
Monday, October 25, 2010
The Verdict Is...
...fractured tailbone. Went to the doctor today and took xrays and she said tailbone is definitely fractured. So, I guess that picture Jon took proved to be not so funny after all. Let me refresh your memory.
I think I might keep bringing that up for the rest of our marriage. You know...the part about how he laughed and took pictures as I winced and moaned in excruciating pain. Yeah...I'm seeing a little compensation in my future.
I think I might keep bringing that up for the rest of our marriage. You know...the part about how he laughed and took pictures as I winced and moaned in excruciating pain. Yeah...I'm seeing a little compensation in my future.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
First Day of School
I'm really behind on a lot of things that I wanted to blog about, but this is important and better late than never, right?
This year was the first year that my boys were in school together. It's not quite school, but Mother's Day Out. Last year Cole would just cry when we would take Jack to school. He wanted so badly to go along and play with all the toys. Well, this year, he got his wish. And mommy got hers...silence.
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