A Forceful Reminder

I am grateful for the little reminders we receive throughout our lives that it's ok to slow down, to let things go, to relax just a bit more.


Being pregnant has been the reminder I needed.

I realized this the other night while making dinner, when I dropped an egg noodle on the floor.

It stayed there for a couple of days (this is the only time I wish I had a dog).

I've learned that you don't have to run to the stove when the pot is over flowing. You can casually walk if you want, waddle even, and get to it in time before something disastrous happens.

I've learned that the phone doesn't have to be answered on the 1st ring or even the 10th. That the person calling will understand you needing to call them back because you just couldn't get there fast enough.

I've learned that toes can be used for fingers.

And that the dishes wont mind sitting in the sink another day.

I've learned that you don't have to go and do to enjoy life. You can stay and do nothing and it be ok.

I've learned to let others help out (others as in an 8 and 6 and 5 year old). It teaches them responsibility and allows me to let go of perfectionism, at least a little.

I've learned that birthday presents and thank you notes can be late and still carry meaning.

And that the yard can look played in and it not matter what the neighbors think (sorry mom and dad).


I've learned that children can survive longer than you would have thought when you forget to feed them lunch. (yes, I really did that)

And that cereal makes for a great dinner.

That life and church and family continues even when you have to lay down a while.

I think that's been the biggest thing. I used to think I was so important. The world would literally come to an end if I didn't or couldn't or wouldn't.

It hasn't.

And I'm so glad. Because I just can't keep bending over, backwards or otherwise. It's just too dang hard at them moment.

Dear Baby Boy

I am anxious to meet you...

to smell you...

to see you...

to know your name...

to show you off to your big brothers and sister...

to count your fingers...

and your toes...

to kiss you all over...

to love again...
























Soon, my baby boy. Oh so very soon...

Last Days

It hit me yesterday.

As I was opening baby shower gifts and holding tiny blue clothes in my hands. It finally hit me. Hard.

Baby boy is on his way and will be here very soon.

How soon, we don't know for sure. D-day is 4 weeks from now. But my babies have always been 1 -2 weeks old by the time that day finally rolled around.

It was strange as reality crept up the back of me and landed on top of my head. I think it messed up my hair just a bit, because I felt a little disheveled.

I had been tired that morning after not sleeping well the night before. It's funny how he's already keeping me up nights. I fully anticipated a lengthy nap that afternoon.

But as soon as I got home, the nap was no longer needed. Instead what was needed was baby clothes washed and sorted, thank you notes written, and the kitchen de-cluttered.

Nesting has begun. And just in time too. I've been worried that it just wouldn't happen because of my extreme lack of energy.

I am excited and anxious and can't wait to meet him. To know what his name will be. To see who he looks like. To experience labor in a very different way.

God will provide what we need as we need it. So I'm not worried. But trusting does take work.

So in these last days, we are working hard at trusting, waiting patiently and finally washing baby clothes!

Happy Birthday to my Man

We have celebrated many birthdays together over the almost 10 years of marriage

and the 5 years of dating before.

Never have I known what to get you. You'd think by this time I'd be better at it... 

So sorry that I'm not.

But even though I've never been good at gift giving, I hope you know how

much I love you and how thankful for you that I am.

God has brought us so far and has done such a beautiful work in our marriage.

I am thankful for your hard work and faithfulness to us. Thanks for not quitting.
I am so thankful for the way you provide for us, the stress you endure, all you have accomplished. You make me so proud. So very proud.

I love your sense of humor and the fact that I get you, when not many

others do. You make me laugh every single day.
I love that I learn more about you each day.

I love to hear your thoughts, to know what you are thinking.
You teach me so much.
I love your courage. You aren't afraid to do what needs to be done. Or say what needs to be said to stand up for grace and righteousness. You challenge me.

I LOVE that we are having another of us. I can't wait to see what he looks like.

I love that our boys look like you, walk like you, talk like you and love what you love.

Thanks for loving our kids. For changing diapers, for putting them to bed, for getting up the million times it take to make sure they are still in bed! For disciplining and talking with them.
For praying for them.

Thanks for making chocolate chip cookie bars and coffee every morning
and dinner sometimes when I can't. For doing our grocery shopping.

Thanks for hanging pictures and doing the things that matter to me, even if they don't matter to you. For telling me I'm beautiful when I feel like a beached whale.

Thanks babe, for loving me.

And for making me feel loved. You are the gift.
I love you.

Happy Birthday

Lost and Found

Do you lose things easily?

Some people are just more prone to losing things. Keys, wallets, cell phone, kids...

Generally speaking, I'm not one of those people. I'm pretty organized, therefore, I pretty much know where everything is. Now I will admit that every now and then, my memory lapses and I can't remember where I put something. But I know it's in a good place, I just have to remember where that place is!

So when we lost our cat Purrl during our move, I was truly devastated. I mean, this wasn't a set of keys or a box of decorations or even a photo album or two. It was our sweet kitty. And we had lost her.

She had gotten into the moving trailer at our previous house and without us knowing, rode all the way to the new house roaming around that big scary trailer! By the time she got to the new house (a 30-40 minute ride) she was beyond scared. She was spazzing. As soon as the door was lowered, she bolted. Never to be seen again.

When Dustin told me what happened, he knew I would take it hard. He took me into the bedroom (away from all of his cousins and brother!) and gently told me that something bad had happened to one of the cats. My first thought was that she had been killed. But then to my utter dismay I realized that this truly was far worse. She was alive, but lost.

She was alone, scared and had no idea where she was. And I had no idea where she was. I immediately began walking the neighborhood calling for her.

There was no trace of her. It seemed she had just vanished. We talked to neighbors, posted pictures but to no avail.

Our hearts where heavy. There were tears, nightmares and sleepless nights and many, many prayers.

After a couple of weeks I knew it was still possible to find her, but I began losing hope. Three weeks. Four weeks. I had finally accepted that we would never see her again. I imagined her with another family instead of the other possibilities. And I encouraged my kids to do the same.

But they just wouldn't let it go.

They were still praying. They still talked about her as if we would find her any minute. They still asked me to drive slowly through the neighborhood with the window down calling her name. So we did.

I felt silly. And I was really sad for them. They really just needed to put this behind them. We could always get another cat. But it wouldn't be Purrl, they said.

Then the craziest thing happened one morning last week. I answered a call-waiting call. I don't always answer these phone calls. I mean, usually I will just call you back.

But I answered because I saw that it was my neighbor. And I knew that she had taken on finding Purrl as her own personal mission.

The details are a little fuzzy, but the conversation went something like this:

Teresa - "I'm so glad you answered your phone! I think I see your cat!!"

Me - "What!?"

Teresa - "Yeah, Cady and I are on a walk and I think I see your cat!"

Me - "Where are you??"

Teresa - "Just around the corner from you."

Me - "I'll be there in a second!"

I hung up and jumped up from the couch (well, jump is now a relative word when you are 8 months pregnant, but you know what I mean).

I screamed for the kids. Grabbed my keys. Ran (another relative word) and got the cat carrier. Made sure we were all in the car and flew down to where Teresa and our cat was.

As I made the short drive I was praying that this would actually be her. What if it wasn't? What if my kids were once again disappointed? I was envisioning driving them back home slowly with tears of disappointment streaming down their sweet cheeks and me trying to explain that God sometimes answers with a "No" but that doesn't mean He doesn't care or love us and that for the rest of their lives they would be faced with situations like these, but we are still called to trust and believe that He is good and... Yeah, I can get carried away very easily.

I didn't have time to rehearse any more of my speech, because we were there. There was Teresa, her sweet Cady and she was pointing.

"There, under the van."

I looked and immediately knew, it was our Purrl. She was crouched underneath a van, she looked wary and scared. I walked very slowly up to her, talking my kitty talk. I knelt down in front of her and reached my hand out to her. She came right to me and began rubbing my leg. I was so happy she knew me. The kids, watching from the van, now ran to us. They were loud and excited and I tried to hush them so that they wouldn't scare Purrl. That was silly. How can you hush such celebration!

We put her in the cat carrier and quickly deposited her in the van. I turned and hugged Teresa and thanked her. There were tears streaming down my face. She began to cry some too. I turned and looked at my children, they were crying too. But these were tears of gratitude and thanksgiving and rejoicing! Not the tears of disappointment that I had braced myself for.

We cried all the way home and so did Purrl, poor thing.

I put her on the floor of the laundry room. I let her out to get familiar with her new surroundings. She immediately crawled up into my lap, put her paws on my shoulder and rubbed and rubbed and rubbed me, purring her loud purr. She remembered.

It's funny, my kids didn't seem all that surprised. They knew she would come back. It was just a matter of time.

So can you guess what God taught me through this?

I don't often lose the things that I have control over. But when I lose control, I often lose hope.



Watching the faith and expectancy of my kids challenged me to once again grab onto that child-like faith. I was worried that I would have to restore their faith in God if things didn't 'work out'. But that is such a grown up problem, isn't it? They just simply believe. They don't have preconceived notions of how God should work or how He should provide or how He should answer. They just keep praying, keep believing, keep expecting.

What a challenge for us all.