Dear Levi

Levi and I both recently shared our (6th and 31st) birthdays in February. Craziness ensued thereafter, which is my explanation for the delay in posting his letter.



Dear Levi,

I'll never forget the excitement surrounding your birth.

I couldn't believe it was my birthday! You were going to be born on my birthday! I just never would have thought that possible!

I told all the nurses there that we would share the same birthday. They were excited too. I was so glad that Dr. Fontana was on call that night. Because he was the very same doctor who delivered me when I was being born! How special.

But you've already heard this story many times...

How you interrupted our super bowl party when I thought I was in labor a few weeks before...

How you interrupted my birthday dinner at Nana's with contractions when it was for real...

How Dr. Fontana was there...

How we didn't have a name for you yet...

How you were still attached to me when they went to take you away...

How God named you Levi...

But have you heard the part about me falling in love with you?

There is something that happens to a Mama when she has a baby that is both miraculous and obvious. Did you know that her heart grows, doubling in size from what it was? Did you know that I felt it do that? And then it starts to ache just a bit as it continues beating. Because it now beats for an extra person. One more than it did before.

You were placed on my chest, all white and wet and wailing. I remember the warmth of your little body as my hands enveloped you. And the warmth of my heart as it grew to yet another size. I breathed you in and kissed you. You were heavenly. As close to heaven as I will ever be on this earth. Holding my little one all wet for the first time. It's my favorite.

Your head was so dark and your face so Qualls. And I knew no Marcy was there this time either.

I had been so nervous about adding another one to our family. But after you were here I felt silly for feeling that way. You were just a joy. And you smiled so easily. And fit in so well. And we just loved you so much.



You are now a big six year old. That is so hard for me to believe. I remember you being born so vividly, so it's hard to believe that it was six years ago.

I love who you are and who you are becoming. You are my favorite 6 year old, that's for sure. You are learning to read this year and you put Lego's together so well. You are our little comedian and you love doing stand-up shows for us. And boy how I laugh until the tears come down! You sing along to the worship songs in the car and know every word. And you always ask me, "What's that song again mom?" And I know, because I know you and I say, "Bless the Lord Oh My Soul?" And you say, "Yeah, that one. That's my favorite." It's my favorite too.

You want to feel important and be heard and sometimes there are tears because you are feeling a little lost I think. I love you then too. And when you can't find your shoes or your socks even though you just had them on and we are now late. I love you then too. Or when you just want to stay in the car, but we have to go into the store and we wait and wait... I love you then too. And when there's dirt under your nails and your hair is sticking up and I notice this sitting on the front pew at church. I love you even then.

Because you are my little guy and my heart beats for you. There is no love like a mother's love...

Well, maybe there is.

God's love for us is even greater. We are all His favorites. All the time. Even in the middle of our biggest fits and we have to go in time out. He loves us even then too... especially then.

Never forget that. God loves you no matter what. And that's why I can too.

Happy Birthday, my sweet boy. This Mama's heart still aches just a bit when I kiss your blond fuzz head. And it always will...

A Question

I do have a question, but I will get to that later...

The past two posts have gotten a lot of hits. I'm not used to seeing big 'numbers' on my blog... I mean, I only have a few followers (but oh how precious you are to me!).

I don't want to become a number counter. Really. I don't write for numbers. I write for my own soul. I write to be heard. And I hope to bring encouragement to whomever may come across my musings...

But I couldn't help but notice the numbers.

Lately I have felt a stirring in my soul. Maybe it's just the baby fog finally wearing off, the more sleep I get.

But I think it's more than that.

Have you ever felt a stirring in your soul? It's kinda close to your heart. A fluttering almost.

It's happened before... and a couple years later I went to Ukraine.

It happened another time and a year later I had my fourth baby.

I'm sure it's happened other times as well.

But this time it's different than those other times I mentioned.

This time words and thoughts are flooding my mind and heart and soul. I am constantly writing.... in my head.

So I'm praying a lot. And trying to be patient. And not get frustrated when I'm driving or rocking a fussy baby or teaching school when those thoughts start flowing. The right time will come I'm sure.

When I am able to write, I am writing on marriage. And I hope to share that with you soon.

I am also writing about something else very close to my heart. And here is the question...

Am I Legalistic?

Hope to have an answer for you soon...!

He Built a House

It's taken me too long to write this post.

I started it almost a year ago and had to stop. I realized I couldn't just write about the house. I couldn't write about the house without writing about the man who built the house.

And I realized I couldn't write about the man who built the house without writing about why he built it.

This is a big story. A sad story. And it's really not mine to tell. I had to ask permission. But I will still only tell it from my perspective.

The man we are talking about is my Daddy.

The house began with a dream. And this is what I remember of the beginning of that dream. I was a young child so there is a chance that my childhood lens might be a little clouded or rose-tinted, but this is how I remember it.

I remember making the drive out to Seabrook. It seemed like such a long drive. We'd come out just to look around. It was fun.

There was this big white house with double porches. It looked like one of those really neat houses that you see in movies. I dreamed of living in that house. There were two other white houses across the street. They were smaller, but just as pretty. They looked like family.

There were railroad tracks.

And old buildings that once were special to this small town. Had it really been a town?

There was an old post office that people still used. What fun it would be to have your own post office box! And a key to match it and to have to ride your bike to get your mail. I dreamed of having a post office box.

There were other old buildings that I wanted so badly to explore. They looked so intriguing.

And there were pecan trees. So many pecan trees. What I eventually came to understand was that this used to be a pecan orchard and some of those 'other old buildings' were the packing sheds.

The neighborhood smelled of onion grass and it made me want to reach my hand down under the earth and pull a small bunch out and take a bite. It smelled so delicious.

There were two matching silos. Had those been used for the pecans too? I wondered.

There was a dock that you could fish off or swim off or go crabbing off of. But you had to live there to do those things...

And we didn't.

That was the dream.

Mom and Dad would drive out there and imagine all of those things too. I'm sure just as I did, including wanting their very own post office box.

It was always a little sad when we would drive back home. To the house we knew and the busy street we lived on. Not that we didn't love that house too, but it just wasn't part of the dream.

I remember going to Park Day with our homeschooling group. We met at a house that was in Seabrook too (ironically this would one day be my family's house, my one-day-husband's family). As we turned left to go home, we would all longingly look out the car window to the right and say, "Maybe one day we will be able to turn right to go home..."

It was strange when that day came. I was 13 when we moved out here to this quiet little neighborhood. The roads were still dirt. The houses far apart. There were woods everywhere. Oh how we loved all those things.

Playing manhunt with friends became a favorite. Climbing trees and picking pecans off the ground to eat was another. Staying outside til after dark and taking long walks down to the dock that we could finally call our own, well it was a dream come true for my family.

We eventually moved into another house just down the road from the first one. I loved that house. I used to babysit for a family that lived in that house and now we did. It was strange at first. But it would eventually become our own.

I left that house to go to college. I remember the night before sitting on our porch swing. A favorite place. I cried. I had just said good-bye to my then boyfriend, who would become my husband. I didn't want to say goodbye to anyone else. Not to my parents or brother or sister. Or to my house where I felt so safe and at home.

I came back often to visit. I just couldn't stay away for long. I was sooo homesick.

I got married in that house. Well, in a church, but you know.

After that my parents decided to build a house in the neighborhood.

That decision didn't come easy.

I wasn't living at home anymore. I had my own house somewhere else. But that place was still so special to me. The thought that they wouldn't live there forever was a strange one for me. That I wouldn't be able to come sit on the porch swing made me sad. But things were happening out of their control and they knew they had to do something.

They put that sweet little white house up for sale.

I knew it was just a house. But it had been my house. I grow attached to things easily, so it was hard to let go the day they closed on it. It was so hard for many other reasons too.

My parent's world was starting to crumble. At first it was just small pieces. But then the pieces started to get bigger and bigger. We would later learn how big.

I remember watching my Daddy build this house. It seemed to take a really long time. So much was happening in his life and I remember thinking, building this house is what's saving him.

And I still believe that it did.

We don't really talk about that time much. It's almost like we aren't allowed. My parents have never said that. But it still feels that way. There were so many people involved. People we still know. People we were so close to.

That's just it. We were so close to so many and then we weren't.

How do you recover from that? I mean fully? How do you talk about it? How do you share honestly without causing further pain to others?

I don't want to do that. Not anymore at least. Maybe that's why I've waited so long to write about it. I'm not bitter anymore.. I've extended grace and forgiveness even when it wasn't reciprocated. I've moved passed the consuming anger, even if I still get angry.

Even though I would never want to cause further pain to those involved, I think it's important to acknowledge the hurt. I think it's ok to say, wait a minute, I've been left wounded.

Watching my parents go through that was excruciating. And still is at times. Knowing there was nothing I could do to take away their pain. Nothing I could do to help them regain their life as they new it before. And learning how much had truly been lost... the relationships, their identity and occupation, the good standing in their community and church, their reputation.  If it had just been money. If it had just been a house. If it had just been a job. If it had just been a friend or two.

But oh, it was so much more.

It was devastating and baffling and confusing. Almost like being side-swiped by a car. It just came out of nowhere and left our heads and lives spinning. The damage left us totaled, but mostly mom and dad.


But the hardest thing was to remember there used to be light in his eyes and there isn't anymore.

I know things are going to happen. I know that no church is immune to problems. I know that people are imperfect, that they make mistakes. It is foolish to expect anything else.

It's one thing to make mistakes. It's another to pass over someone lying in a proverbial ditch with a gaping heart-wound. That's just not ok. That's what it felt like.

But I guess in a way it is ok. Because nothing happens out of God's control. Nothing goes unnoticed by Him. Nothing happens in a person's life unless He deems it right and good and for our ultimate holiness and His ultimate glory. That's why we can forgive and move on and look to the future with hope.

If nothing else, (and there is so much more) I've learned that people are fragile. More fragile than we think. Sometimes we can't recover and wont until we reach heaven. Sometimes people smile when they really wish they would just die already. Sometimes their hurt runs so deep that several generations are effected by it.

People can't be looked at through a lens of black and white. We are so much more complex than that. And so our problems. I wish it wasn't so. I wish you could use a Bible verse like a bandaid. Or what worked for you. I wish we could expect people to give the right answer when they are hurting. But that's impossible when they still haven't found it yet.

You can't expect people to stand up and walk without a limp when they have been so badly crippled.

I've also learned that it's ok to talk about it as hard as it is. To share the pain. Not to inflict more pain, but in hopes of find healing for yourself and for others.

In giving us our stories, God never meant for us to keep silent about them. He meant for us to share them with speech seasoned with grace, as it were with salt. Sometimes salt burns. But sometimes that's needed for healing to take place.

So when I walk into this house that I now call home, it's sometimes weird to think that this is where my parents used to live and now I live here. I never lived here with them.

But I love that I live here now and that they live just behind us. At first I thought it would be hard to be so close. But after a year, it has only been good. So good.

So good to see my Daddy's house being used. Being filled with lots of grandchildren and noise and messes. That the table he built twenty plus years ago is still being dined upon by many who love him. Who know the man he is and used to be. And who only wish for his happiness and healing.

But even though it makes me so happy to be living here. I sometimes get sad too.

I get sad when I look at the concrete floor in the living room. I remember seeing it right after it was poured. I remember seeing my dad looking so beaten down. So discouraged and confused and hurt.

I remember the long hours he would be here. To escape. To survive.

I remember worrying so much. That he would fall or get hurt when he was by himself. That no one would know to come help him.  And no one really did know to come and help.

I remember watching Mom up so high on the scaffolding white washing the walls that turned out so beautiful.

I remember the question in her eyes. What's happened? Why?

I remember the isolation we all felt. And still feel at times. Knowing that people were innocently wondering and talking and not knowing how to treat us.

There is so much good represented in this house. There is so much pain too. Because it represents a time in the life of my family that is hard to remember. Hard to look back upon and see the good.

But we are choosing to see the good. And we are thankful for the blessings God has bestowed on our family. Not everything was lost. And so much was truly gained. Understanding God's grace over my life has been one of my greatest joys. I don't know if I would have otherwise.

I hope a year after living here wasn't too soon to share this story. I hope you understand my heart in this. I hope you see my family differently. I hope you see our fragility. But more importantly, I hope you see the strength of my Heavenly Father. And that His grace is all sufficient in our lives, no matter what course it may take. That you can be left standing!

Thanks, Daddy for the privilege of living under a roof that you built. It brings me so much pride to brag on you and your beautiful workmanship. You are one of the most gifted and talented men I know. I love that we are neighbors and that we share a yard. I love that your grandchildren run on floors that you laid. And that I cook in a kitchen you made. I love that you aren't perfect, that you make mistakes and that I can love you anyway. And I love that you love me the same. You and mom have come so far. God has given you a story. A story that is meant to be shared, so that His glory isn't wasted.
I love you, Daddy.

Why We Decided to Homeschool... And Then Changed Our Minds

I have been very slow at posting posts lately. I have had several in the works and for whatever reason, well I could probably name four,  have not been able to finish and publish!

This has been a very difficult one for me to actually write. I've literally started it more times than I know.

I think it's because homeschooling has been such a part of my life since I was in 5th grade. It has played a huge role in shaping the person, wife and mother I have become (good and bad!) .

I love so much about it. I hate so much about it! It can definitely be a topic of one of the most emotionally charged conversations you will have. I know from experience. I think that is because so many have such strong convictions about it. Which is important and can be a good thing. It can also build walls and burn bridges. Both of which I have been a victim of and participator in.

Yeah, I'm so sorry.

Well, to catch those of you up who are not on facebook... We enrolled our sweet Livie Rose in a private Classical Christian school after Christmas.

Surprise!!

I have been asked a lot of questions since then. And I want to take the time to explain where we are coming from and what brought us to this point.


Many of you already know this, but Dustin and I were both homeschooled as children. And when it came time for us to decide what we were going to do for our own children's education it was a lot harder than I thought it would be.

I had always assumed we would homeschool. I was a staunch believer in it. Quite legalistic even. I had pretty much made a blanket decision for all of humanity that homeschooling was the best and only option if you were to produce obedient, God fearing children.

In college I even wrote a few research papers on the topic. Home Schooling Vs. Public Schooling was the title of one. I think I've burned it since... at least I should if I haven't already done so.

But isn't that how it usually is? Most pre-parents have a lot of preconceived notions of how raising children will be. They have it all figured out, until the doctor places that sweet baby in their arms. Can't you envision their panick stricken faces?? Or are you just remembering your own?

See, I began to see homeschooling as a Biblical mandate. When we apply Biblical principles as
though it were a Biblical mandate, that's when things start to get fishy.*

We LIKE rules. Yeah, we really do. It's our nature... the nature that God gave us. He has written His moral code on each of our hearts. We were given the Ten Commandments. The Law. And whether we follow that law or not, we like to make sure others do!

You don't have to dig very deep to see this. Just sit in a room of 2 and 3 year olds for a few minutes and you'll see what I'm talking about. We do not have to be taught this. Again, it's in our nature.

Unfortunately, there is also sin in our nature. So any bit of 'good' qualities we may have are often and quickly warped by sin. And this area is no exception.

We hear a really good Biblical principle and find a really good application of that principle and we automatically assume that EVERYONE should ALWAYS follow suit. (I remember learning in a counseling class I took in college that 'extreme statements' are NEVER good. EVER!)

I am so guilty of this and not just on this issue.

When Olivia was a young toddler I remember talking to a friend who had children in elementary school. They were having a hard time and she said, "Education is the hardest thing about parenting. It's just so hard."

I thought she was overreacting. I mean, really. Education is easy. You just homeschool them! I so unfairly judged her because she had her kids in a brick and mortar school. Sure, you will have hard days and it wont always be easy, but bring your kids home and all of your problems will be solved! Thankfully I didn't say that to her, but that's what I was thinking!

The closer the time came to make that decision for us, the more doubts I had. A lot of change had taken place in my mind and heart regarding this issue. And I wasn't so sure it was always the best option for every family.

I began to understand that I had become super legalistic about a lot of things. I wasn't really looking at people (or myself) as individuals with individual needs. It had become more about fitting into a certain mold so that I would be accepted by my peers, the leaders of the church, even God. I realized I had become more concerned with what others thought about what I was doing than what God might think. Our decision was being motivated by fear. Fear of man.

There was another kind of fear that was a huge motivator. And I think this is pretty common among many (and sometimes justified). Fear that if I didn't homeschool, than I would 'lose' my kids. That they would 'fall away from God'. And ultimately, that I would fail as a parent.

Yes, by putting your children in an anti-God environment 8 hours of their day, you take the risk of that happening. No question. Especially if you are not combating that at home with intentional, Biblical teaching.

But I began to take a closer look at the many homeschool families that I had grown up with. What I found was a little confusing to me. I found that if all of those children were put into a basket and you reached your hand in and grabbed a handful, half would come out following God and the other half sadly lost. They didn't seem to know who they were or where they were going, much less who God was or what He meant to them.

How could this be?

So it wasn't the 'fix all' answer to our problems after all. It didn't come with a guarantee that our kids would 'turn out alright' or that I would even get the 'perfect parent' award.

So maybe it wasn't the best option for every family.

We hesitated.

Things had been so clear before and now we were left with a whole lot of questions that we couldn't find answers to. It's hard trusting God when you can't see the outcome.

To make an already long story a bit shorter...

We ended up enrolling Olivia in preschool at The Parish Church of St. Helena when she was three with much hesitation and trepidation. I was nervous at first. But it turned out to be a wonderful experience for all of us. Especially for my sweet, very rambunctious, very strong-willed three year old, who really did need more than I could give her at the time. I also had a 2 year old and a 6 month old at home and life was really busy for me. Hard even. Very hard.

She ended up staying at that little school for 3 years, including her Kindergarten year. We loved it. I assisted in a preschool class one of those years and had my boys in the preschool program as well. We were all there together. I got to see them on the playground and in their classes. It was so fun.

The following year they were not offering first grade. I wasn't sure what we were going to do. I wasn't 'afraid' of school anymore, the brick and mortar kind that is... Or was I?

I was so comfortable with the situation we had. We were all there together. I loved the environment. Olivia was thriving. Could I put her in a public school?

We explored many options and prayed A LOT! By the end of her Kindergarten school year I was almost beside myself. We were still undecided and I had no idea what to do.

Finally God offered clarity through my husband. Oh how thankful I was for him. He sat me down and said, "This is crazy! You are going crazy! And it's making me crazy!!" He went on to say that he felt God was leading us to homeschool.

At that point I didn't care what he told me to do. I was just glad to finally have an answer and be able to move forward.

That first year was quite challenging. Even though I had been homeschooled I had never actually home-schooled! It was tough, especially since I'm not the nurturing, teacher type. I don't do lesson plans. I find no joy in coming up with fun crafts. Explaining how to add numbers made me feel a little loony at times. And being in a small space with three little ones all day took some major adjusting (attitude adjusting that is)!

It was tough. But I soon found myself learning to love it, if not parts of it. I didn't feel like it was something we had to do to earn God's approval or man's approval. I wasn't doing it out of fear (well, maybe a little). Mostly we were homeschooling because that was what God had lead us to do that year for that child. It was such a relief.

The next year came around and it was still hard. But I felt more confident and everything was just a bit easier than the year before. I added a kindergartner. We were finding our groove and I was enjoying the routine.

Maybe we'll become a homeschool for life family after all!

We were approaching our third year of homeschooling. I was expecting our fourth child. For some reason I just wasn't that nervous about it. It was the first year that I attended our local homeschool conference and didn't burst into tears upon entering the building!

I had a plan. I knew more of what to expect. I knew which curriculum we were going to use. I had adjusted to being with my children all day every day and had come to love it. And I was excited!

The start of our third year was the best by far. It was fun even! Even with a newborn and schooling an additional one (a total of 3) I didn't feel too overwhelmed.

And then...

Wham!!

It stopped working.

It had never been easy. We had our usual ups and downs and ruts as most homeschoolers can relate to. So I think my expectations were realistic as far as that goes.

But it became very apparent that we had hit a wall. I don't know how else to describe it. Other than to add it was extremely intense.

I woke up dreading the day. We couldn't even make it through a devotional. It was emotionally and mentally draining. And I didn't know how to move passed it.

That was the thing. We couldn't move on. I had to stop and that meant getting more and more behind academically. And we were getting absolutely no where relationally either. This was the part that disturbed me the most. 

To sacrifice your child's education for the sake of bettering a relationship makes sense to me.
But sacrificing you and your child's relationship for the sake of homeschooling is stupid and prideful.

That's what we were doing.

I know this sounds a little backwards. If I hadn't experienced it for myself I don't think I would have believed it. Homeschooling is supposed to have the opposite affect. If you have a strained relationship with your child and you are able to focus more on them and their heart through the flexibility of homeschooling, then your relationship should be mended! It worked for me as a young elementary-age child and I had seen it work in the heart of Olivia as a first grader.

So I was genuinely caught off guard when the opposite began to take place. The harder I tried, the further I pushed her away. Is it a heart issue vs. a behavior issue? No doubt. Was I aware of that? Yep. Was I taking intentional steps to address that and not just the behavior? You betcha. Did I have the capability to change her heart? Absolutely not. Never will I ever have the ability to change the heart of my child.

I can do my best to foster an atmosphere of repentance through prayer and teaching and heart focus. But it is ultimately up to God if actual heart change is to occur.

The approach we were taking just wasn't working and her overall spirit was taking a rapid decline. We had to make a change.

A change was needed for other reasons as well.

I have never believed that education is everything. Especially class room education. I truly believe you can produce healthy minded, well rounded, intelligent children in a home education environment. I have seen many encouraging examples of this.

I have also never taken the stance that "It's just third grade" as I've heard many say. I believe it's important. No matter what grade. Each year you are adding to the foundation of education that will take them throughout their entire educational career! If that is not a strong foundation it wont continue to get stronger on it's own. It will get shakier and shakier and will make things much harder for them in the end.

So although education isn't everything, it is VERY important and shouldn't be taken lightly.

During this time of my life a lot was being demanded of me. And maybe the emotional strain was making things ten times harder than it should have been, but I just wasn't doing my job as home-educator well - enough.

Things were falling through the cracks. There were many days that I just couldn't get to everything... or to one of my kids at all. I had a HUGE cloud of guilt hanging over me. I don't need my children to be academic geniuses. But I do want them to have a fair chance and to receive a good education.

I wasn't providing that for them.

I also wasn't providing an atmosphere of learning for Olivia that was suited to her needs. Instead I was squelching them. She is a very bright child. Very artsy if you will. Creative and fun and simply put, beautiful. Gosh, I love this kid. But I am sooo different from her! I admire her abilities and wish I could be more like her and enter her world better than I do. But the fact is, God created me to be who I am... with limitations. I was not cultivating the atmoshpere of learning that she needed to thrive in. In fact, as I mentioned before, the opposite was taking place. None of us (including her brothers) were able to thrive educationally, emotionally or spiritually.

So something had to change.

Some might be thinking, "Well the change needed to happen in you (me) not your educational choice."

Ok, so now's my chance to address the home-schooling Mom, thanks for bringing that up!

I think there is a tremendous burden placed on us home-schooling Moms. By others and by our own selves.

It is ingrained in our thinking that we can be and must be everything to our kids. And when we find ourselves failing in some sense we start viewing ourselves as just that, failures, instead of simply overburdened human beings who, wait for it...  have limitations!

 It's an unfair burden we place on ourselves and others. And it's also unbiblical.

Only Christ can be everything to our children. And that is not conditional on your educational choices. Christ is so much bigger than that.

I'm so glad that I don't have to be omni-present in my children's life to ensure that they will turn out alright. I'm so glad that I can trust a much bigger (than myself) God who cares infinitely more for my children than I will ever have the capability of. And I'm so glad that I don't have to fit a certain mold in order to have God's blessings over my life. In our absolute worst state, God chose that moment to bless us with the most incredible mind-blowing blessing - forgiveness and freedom.

I will finish with this.

It was very scary for us to make this step. It kinda happened fast and unexpectedly, although a lot of prayer went into it. I never would have predicted enrolling one of my children in a school mid-year. This was not the plan. But really I guess you could say it was the plan... I just wasn't aware of it. God had planned this all along.

And I can say that with honesty and assurance and excitement.

I am watching my girl thrive in ways that I've never seen before. She is meeting the challenge. She is loving making new friends. She LOVES her teacher (yes, I've had to deal with some jealous feelings when I've read the "I love you" notes she's written to her). And she is blossoming as we prayed she would. There have been tears. It has been a huge adjustment for all of us. But overall it has been one of the best things that has happened to our family. I have even seen a huge improvement in my boys, who I'm still homeschooling. The tension is gone and they are thriving.  I have more time for them and the difference is undeniable.

I am so thankful for this confirmation.

I know this is really long, but there is probably a lot more I could say on the subject. But I don't want to kick a dead horse.

Just remember, no matter what educational decision you make it will never come with a guarantee that your kids will turn out perfect.  As long as you do your best and what works for each child and stay accountable to God instead of man, well, that's all you can do. And that's simply what we are trying to do.

We are taking one year, one child at a time and trying to be flexible to the changes that are needed. And we are finding freedom in that.

I see now that my friend of long ago really wasn't overreacting at all. Education IS one of the hardest things about parenting. You have to do it! There is just no way around it. But it doesn't have to cripple you either. God really is bigger than you think He is.





*Thanks Russ for helping me put words to my chaotic thoughts. Not that you would ever read my blog, but thought I'd say thanks anyway!

Dear Olivia

My sweet girl had a birthday last week. We celebrated her 9th year. It's surreal almost, how fast this life goes by. While in the middle of it, it sometimes feels like it's moving sooo slow! And then you look up from your day dream and stinkin' 9 years have blinked by!

 

I know you all experience it and I'm not alone in this. But every birthday is just seems to catch me off guard - again. Maybe one day it wont, but I'm not going to hold my breath!

 

Here's my birthday letter to my girl...

 

 

 

 

 

When I look at you now, I no longer see my baby. Although, you will always and forever be my baby girl…

 

I see a beautiful young girl, blooming into womanhood.

 

How can this be?

 

When you were asked if you felt older the day of your 9^th birthday and you said “Yes, I do” I believed you. You seem to look older even.

 

It’s almost as if you are starting to shed your ‘locust’ shell and are climbing into the unknowns of growing up.

 

I loved watching you become a big sister again this past year. You love to be a little mother. And Judah thinks you are his mother sometimes I think! You are so sweet to him and helpful to me. What a good big sister you are.

 

You are in 3^rd grade this year! You are writing in cursive and reading bigger books and learning your multiplication tables. And now that you are going to Holy Trinity, you are even learning Latin and Astronomy and Greek Mythology! I am so proud of you, sweetie. You have been so brave these past few weeks starting in your new class. You made friends your first day and are working so hard. You are like a bright star in the sky, shining brightly wherever you go. Don’t ever be afraid to shine your light, the light of Jesus.

 

I was so excited for you when you started going to your new school. Even though I knew you were a little scared. I just knew that you would love it so much and do so well. And you do and are. Sometimes things change and we change and because of that our plans change. But just because those kinds of things happen, it doesn’t mean that God changes. He always stays the same, no matter what. And He always knows what’s going to happen, even before we do, so nothing is ever a surprise to Him. That’s part of why we can trust Him. Because He always has things in control and always uses the things that happen in our lives for His purpose and for His glory.

 

He has such great plans for you, sweet girl. Because you are so special to Him. He had you be born on the exact day and in just the right family, and oh how glad I am for that.

 

So when you have moments of doubt. When you aren’t sure of your way or you wonder why things are going the way they are. Know that God knows exactly what is going on and what it all means and why, even. And He hasn’t forgotten you or why He placed you where He placed you.

 

We all have moments like that, especially growing up like you are. It’s tough sometimes and we don’t always understand what we are feeling. But that’s ok. It’s just part of it I guess.

 

Mom and Dad will always be here to help you through it. We don’t always do it perfectly, but you already know that. We still wonder what’s going on sometimes and what it all means! Even Mom and Dad. That’s why we all need Jesus and to be reminded of His love and grace and that He is always there leading and guiding us.

 

 

My favorite times is around the table doing our devotion. I’m glad we are still able to do that even though you are going to school. I love that you love the Bible and are learning it.

 

My other favorite time is at bed time when we snuggle and tickle and giggle and get too rowdy and Dad has to calm us down. I love running my fingers through your hair and kissing your forehead and cheeks. I love feeling the top of your head just beneath my chin. You are getting so tall. And soon you will be taller than me! But most people are, so just remember that!

 

Yes, you are a beautiful young lady. But always remember the most important side… the inside. Your heart. We all have to do heart checks because that’s where everything we say and think and do comes from… our hearts. It can be a beautiful place and an ugly place all at the same time.

 

So as you become more aware of your outside and wanting to look pretty, don’t forget about that inside that can start to look ugly sometimes to. Going to Jesus everyday will cleanse your heart and reading His words will renew your mind.

 

I am praying for you sweet girl. Every day. As you grow up and go to school and love your brothers and help mommy. It’s a big job, but you do it so well. And I’m so proud.

 

Happy Birthday, Livie Rose.

 

I love you.

 

Love, Your Mama

A Christmas Story... Again

A few days ago we had some dear friends over for dinner. They came all the way from D.C. (a long way for fish and rice!) But they are just like that. =) They also brought their sweet, new baby girl. My right arm ached (in that good way) from holding her so much. It was sooo good to see them as a family of three. Especially him holding and hushing a baby. I'm so sad I didn't take a single picture. Ugh.

We were talking around the table about Christmas traditions and how Christmas should work in a family. They are thinking about Christmas in a different way this year. A baby changes things...

Afterwards I remembered a Christmas memory that I wrote about last year. It's a favorite. I thought I'd share it again.

I hope you are each having a wonderful Christmas season. I have to say I am truly enjoying mine. There is just so much to be thankful for.

Much love and a Merry Christmas to each of you!

///////////////////////////////////////////////////
Once upon a time...

There was a little girl. Her name was Olivia and it was her 3rd Christmas, although she wasn't quite three.

She was very excited about the coming holiday. Not because of presents or candy, but because she had been invited to a birthday party for Jesus. There would be cake and presents and singing and crafts, but most important she would get to see the Baby Jesus and she just couldn't wait!

Her Mama was very busy this particular Christmas and sadly thought this birthday party was a little silly and quite inconvenient. She had decorating and baking to do. A new baby was coming too and there was lots to get ready for. And chasing after a 2yr. old and 15 month old made her quite tired. She would rather stay home. She needed to stay home.

But it was all her little girl could talk about...

She had lots of questions about that special little Baby. Questions like:

"Where is the baby Jesus?"
"Where is His Mama?"
"Does He have a white kitty?"
"When will I see Him?"
"Will I get to hold Him?"

Her Mama just couldn't say no to that precious little thing. As she dressed her that Saturday morning, putting a little red bow in her hair to match her red overalls, she saw the light in her eye. The giddy excitement that burst over in little giggles and more questions. It was hard for that Mama not to get a little excited herself.

So the excited little girl not yet 3 and the reluctant Mama drove the long way to church. The sky couldn't have been clearer. The sometimes green rivers were such a vibrant blue as the light from the sun made them gleam. They looked so happy. It might have helped that Mama to feel a little less tired and a little happier too.

As they pulled into the parking lot the Mama quickly realized they had arrived late. No one else was walking in with packages in hand. She noticed the air felt a little more frigid as she couldn't quite get her coat to button over her wide girth. She positioned her scarf a little better so that it covered her protruding front.

She thought of her babe within. How cozy and warm he was. Then her thoughts turned to the young mother long ago who had carried the babe within her willing body...

Had it been cold then too?
Had she been scared?
Did she feel alone, abandoned by her loved ones?
Did she have doubts?
Did she doubt God's plan?
Or was she at peace?

What this Mama didn't realize was that she had thought a lot about that little Baby too and a lot about that young mother. Her own time was coming near and she was feeling heavy and tired and weepy and what was it like riding on a donkey through the desert so close to delivering? Could she have done that, she wondered? What had it been like not having anywhere to go? Knowing that the One she was about to usher into this world deserved to at least be wanted. Did her heart sink as she walked or most likely shuffled into that stable-cave? As she laid on the dirt and straw, did it poke her? Did the smell make her nauseated...?

She couldn't help but wonder.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the little hand that held hers, it pulled excitedly, "Now, Mama?" She was so anxious to see the Baby.

"Not yet, sweety. We have to go to your class first and wrap our gifts so that they can be given to someone who otherwise wouldn't have any presents this Christmas."

She didn't understand why she had to go to her class first. She wanted to see the baby Jesus first. Thankfully she was soon distracted by her friends and the fun job of decorating wrapping paper.

Her Mama moved onto the sanctuary where she would wait with the other mothers, to listen to a devotional. She noticed the manger on the stage with the blanket of clean white tucked snugly inside. Her thoughts again went to that night long ago...

What would it have been like to give birth in such a dirty place? Did she even notice through the pain? Was Joseph scared too? Did they have help or was it just the two of them? Did He come quickly or did she labor long and hard? What was it like holding him for the first time? Was she exhausted or was her strength renewed as she took Him to her breast? Was she overwhelmed with that sweet, powerful motherly love or the awe of her Savior, or both? She could only imagine the sweet tears that flowed...

Again her wonderings were interrupted as the devotional began.

Soon the children were heard as they began walking down the hall to the sanctuary. They walked in each carrying the gift they had just wrapped. A proud Mary and Joseph took their seats on the stage on either side of the wooden manger where a fake baby Jesus lay peacefully on the scratchy straw.

As soon as her little black patent-leathered feet walked through the big doors her eyes began searching. The Mama watched her closely hoping she wouldn't make a scene as her teacher directed her over to the tree where she was to place her gift and told her to go find her Mama.

She quickly stood so that her little one could easily find her. The confused little girl walked over to her Mama and loudly whispered, "The baby Jesus is up there and we neeed to go see him!"

"It's hard to be patient, I know," Her Mama whispered back. "But we are just going to have to wait."

She ants-ily waited on the seat through the story that was read and the songs that were sung. The Mama was getting a bit antsy too, not knowing how long she would be able to hold her back.

They were then dismissed to the fellowship room for the birthday cake and to sing "Happy Birthday, Jesus".

Hearing the word cake, the almost 3 year old momentarily forgot about the little bundle up front and her long awaited mission. The Mama followed and helped her find a spot and just the right size piece of birthday cake which she quickly inhaled. She hadn't forgotten after all.

One look from her little one and that Mama knew, there was no more putting it off. She took the small hand in hers and they walked together, slowly into the sanctuary.

As they walked through the big doors, the Mama noticed how calm and quiet her normally rambunctious little one was being. It was if what they were about to do was something very sacred. And to her girl, she guessed it was.

The room was empty as they approached the stage and the manger. Mary and Joseph had since gone to partake in eating cake. All that remained was the little plastic baby laying on top of the yellow hay.

"Is that a manger?" she asked.
"Yes, it's a manger" answered her Mama.
"But that is for horses!" she cried.
"Yes, for horses" her Mama thought to herself.

As they got closer the little one became very still and just silently stared into the sleeping face. It was the kind of doll that closed it's eyes when it was laid on it's back.

She then reverently asked if she could hold the baby Jesus.

Here Mama carefully picked up the bundle and gently placed him in her tiny arms.

The small girl stared in awe at this little baby. She hugged him and kissed him and pressed her cheek against his. She then carefully placed him back in the manger. That manger for horses.

The Mama stepped back, thinking this magical moment had ended. But then she heard, "Mama, I just have to hold him again."

She thought her Mama-heart would burst as she watched her precious one gently pick up the baby Jesus one more time. She began to have the same sense of awe as she watched the God of heaven and earth show Himself to this little girl of not quite three in such a simple yet profound way.

The young one hugged Him and rocked Him, kissed Him and loved Him. And her Mama loved Him too.

This is how it had been.

There was no doubt in that Mama's heart. This raw love and adoration that radiated from her little girl's face must have been how the first ones to hold and see this Child looked and felt themselves. She herself felt a sense of what the young mother and father, the shepherds and later wise men must have experienced as they beheld the Savior-Baby for the first time. The awe they had felt and undoubtedly the love that had overwhelmed them for that little Baby they had never seen before. But now would never again not be able to think of. The moment had left them changed.

And she had been changed as well. A sense of knowing came over that Mama as they walked out of the sanctuary hand in hand. An understanding that God had been showing her something through her little girl who had such a keen sense of understanding the importance of this little Baby. And the genuine, innocent love she had for Him.

Driving home she was thankful she had followed her 2 year old to the party that day. That she had been led by that small hand down the center isle to meet the baby Jesus in a way she never had before. That she got to witness the innocent, unadulterated love of a child for the Savior of the World who came as a baby so long ago. It was necessary that He come as a baby. It was necessary He enter our world just as we did. It is necessary that His birth be celebrated each year because it meant so much.

And it was necessary for that Mama to see Him through the eyes of a child, her child that Christmas.

What a truly special moment for both of them. Even if her little one didn't remember in years to come, she would and would never be able to not remember. Just as the shepherds, she had been a witness. She was so thankful God had allowed them both to experience Him in such a special way.

Here is Olivia, she had just turned 3 and was meeting her new brother, Levi for the first time. This picture captures her perfectly and is one of my all time favorites.

We hope you catch the excitement of Christmas this year and experience Him in a special way too.

Merry Christmas!

12.12.12

I just have to post something today. Since we'll never see another date like this one in our life time!

(Kelli, it would be a good day to have a baby! Just sayin')

We are a bunch of sickies around here and trying to get better. So not much to report. But how about some pictures from the last couple of months...

 

Judah took his first plane ride! Olivia, Judah and I went to see a friend get married the weekend before Thanksgiving. It was exhausting, but he did great and it was so good to share in the fun of that day!

 

 

Olivia and I had the wedding. The older she gets, the more she looks like me!

 

 

What can I say, he has his daddy's ears.

 

 

We've had some cold days scattered amongst the warm. Judah is wearing his very warm, hand-love knitted sweater from a sweet friend, Lara! Thanks friend!

 

 

While at the play ground, Deke lost his second front tooth (literally)... we never found it!

 

 

 We have been working hard at finding some food that Judah will actually eat. He pretty much hates everything. But after a month I think I've finally figured it out. Rice, peas, and chicken broth. Strangest baby so far!

 

 

Olivia wanted to be a Piratess for the Fall Festival.

... and this is why she's not allowed to wear makeup - ever!

 

 

While in Iowa, we had several very rough nights (waking up 5-7 times!) This is how we ended up by morning!

 

 

He loves his little polka-dot giraffe!

(and yes, I have a white wicker changing table!)

 

 

Deacon found a snake and we made him our pet. Sadly though, he made his escape (in our house) and is still MIA to this day... yeah.

 

 

Elijah loves Judah. It's so sweet. He just can't get enough!

 

 

Levi was so brave to attempt rock climbing at the Fall Festival this year. Although he didn't quite make it, he gave it his all!

 

 

This is my favorite.

My 82 year old grandmother called me the day before Thanksgiving and told me that it was about time she teach me how to cook. She was serious. And so this is her showing me how to make mashed potatoes. I played dumb and she felt important. She doesn't eat salt, so they tasted terrible.

 

 

She had us retake the picture too, with us looking at the camera. =)

I can't help but love her!

 



On the way home from the airport a deer hit us. Yes, it ran into us. They ended up totaling it the van. So we had to get a new vehicle. We decided on an Excursion and I love it.

 

 

 

 It's even a diesel!

 

 

Levi was a little too excited about getting a hair cut. I really almost had to cut this out!

 

 

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas around here!

 

 

 

 

 

At the Christmas Parade down town.

 

 

And I realize that the pictures are a little unbalanced... pretty heavy on the Judah side! but here's one more of our cute boy.

 

Judah is 6 months now. That is so hard to believe! It really does go by so fast. We have been thankful every day, even through the hardest moments.

 

Today he is working hard at cutting his first tooth

Going to sleep on his own in his own bed

Sleeping through the night

Eating food

Sitting up

and rolling over!

It's a fun time and we are loving it.

 

Happy 12.12.12!