Sweet Tea and Other Southern Goodness. . .

I was raised in the South by Midwestern born and bred parents. Though Dixieland surrounded me, my home was still very much a product of my parents' heritage though I did not realize this until years later. I grew up cheering for Bobby Knight's Hoosiers, and eating my veggies steamed. Butter beans? What are those? I grew up calling them lima beans. And, Mom was always called "Mom" or "Mommy" but never "Mama." Yes, we drank tea. I can still see my mom's jars of tea sitting in the backyard sunshine. We drank tea, but it was lacking a key ingredient found in Southern tea - sugar. We drank unsweet tea, and, believe it or not, we liked it, a lot.

Enter Erik.

I fell head over heels for this New Orleans boy, pure Southern goodness. He had a drawl, bears a strikingly similar resemblance to Harry Connick, Jr., and I think if one were to look up the word gentleman in the dictionary, there just might be a picture of him next to the definition. To say that I was taken by this Southern boy is an understatement. But, I'm going to try not to get sidetracked. Moving on. . .

I always thought adding sugar to tea was an unecessary addition of calories. But, for the first time in my life, I liked sweet tea, I really liked it. Something about sitting next to Erik on a porch swing sipping sweet tea seemed to be just about the sweetest thing I'd ever done. Erik used to tell me that good sweet tea is like the stuff they pour over snow cones - syrup.

I learned that there is a monumental difference between tomatoes purchased in the grocery store and the ones grown in his parent's garden. I had my first tomato sandwich with him - whoever heard of such! His absolute favorite meal is Cornbread (and don't insult him by making Jiffy - cornbread should not be sweet!) with all kinds of vegetables piled on top of it - butter beans, black-eyed peas, green beans, cream corn, etc. You can always throw a tomato in - he loves those. Oh, and then for dessert - Mississippi Mud Pie, Chess Pie, or simply a slice of watermelon with salt sprinkled on it will do just fine. And, molasses, he loves thick, sticky, ooey, gooey molasses on a biscuit. I don't care how adorably cute he is, I still can't stomach that one - not even after 8 years of marriage and 3 children.

When I finally had the awesome privilege of becoming his wife, I had to learn to cook all over again. Vegetables are to be cooked for hours, never steamed, never crunchy, always tender. They are best either from a can or bought fresh in a farmers market and cooked slowly, very slowly. And, gravy, I have yet to master this one. We didn't make gravy often at my house growing up. So, this has become Erik's job. Now when we visit my home for Christmas or Thanksgiving, my mom calls Erik into the kitchen to make the gravy. She has given him the illustrious title of "The Roux Master." Between Erik and Cecilia (my brother's wife) my family has truly changed. We even had Cornbread dressing at Thanksgiving this year. I had no idea what I was missing all those years! Southerners know how to cook. I didn't say it was healthy, but it is good.

And, Southern boys. . . I love them. Gentlemen. And, every now and then I see a glimpse of the South in one of my sons. Joshua will say something with a very evident drawl, and I will smile to myself. "Mama, I bumped my he-ead." He loves cornbread and homemade biscuits with strawberry perserves on them. I think the first two words he put together were, "Yes, Ma'am." And, just yesterday he held the door open for a complete stranger at Wal-Mart. (The only problem was that it was the bathroom door, and I was gagging as I watched his freshly cleaned hands touch the door. But, in the name of good manners, I kept my mouth shut and let him do the polite thing.) I am raising myself a little Southern gentleman. And, I love it. There really is no place on earth that I would rather raise my boys.

And, now the little story that made me sit and contemplate all this. . . As we walked our daily walk around the neighborhood the other day, Joshua said, "Mama, I want to name the horses." (There is a family that lives down the road from us that has 8 horses roaming their land. 4 of the horses are brown and 4 are white.) I said, "Sure, honey, go ahead and name them." He thought for a moment, and then very confidently declared, "The white ones are named Sugar. And, the brown ones are named Sweet Tea." I smiled to myself as I looked down at my little Southern Sweetheart. And, I felt my heart swell with a little good old Southern pride.

The picture above is of the land that the Sweet teas and Sugars usually roam, but unfortunately they were in the barn today. I don't blame them. I am not sure what happened to spring, but it is feeling a bit like winter around here lately. . .

Deliver me, O Lord!!! :-)

Oh, how I long for the Lord's deliverance!! From this sinful world, but mostly right now, I long for His deliverance of this little one within me!! Don't get me wrong. I absolutely love being pregnant. I love carrying around my pregnant belly and feeling the little one move and grow and stretch inside of me. But, the deliverance takes the cake!! This is what it's all about - meeting the little one that you have carried for so long, the little miracle revealed in all his naked glory!! My brother's wife, Cecilia, gave me this t-shirt when she found out that I was pregnant with Elijah. It is my absolute favorite maternity shirt!!

I am feeling excited and ready!! Well, physically, I am not ready. There is still a lot to be done around our home. But, emotionally, I am ready! I can't wait. No one knows the day or the hour!!!! We just wait expectantly for him to let us know when he is ready, and I love that. I love the surprise!! My boy's "birth" days are 2 of my absolute favorite days that I have ever had the privilege of living!! Driving to the hospital, enduring great pain, all to hear the sweet blessed sound of a newborn crying! I love it, and I can't wait to do it again. Now, I am almost 35 weeks, so I still have a bit of a wait. But, I am feeling the desire welling up within me - the desire to hold him, the desire to see his little wrinkly body.

My body keeps giving me these little signals that things are moving along, that Elijah isn't willing to stay inside me forever. And, that is a good thing! When I feel a little twinge, it reminds me of the reality that lies ahead of me. The reality that this pregnancy will end, and a new little life will emerge! When I gave birth to Joshua, it was magical and wonderful, but there is something neat about consecutive births, too. Let me see if I can explain what I mean by that. . .

When I gave birth to Joshua, it was all new, this journey we were beginning. I didn't realize fully the blessing that had been given to me. Now, I understand that as adorable and wonderful as this infant is, he is and will be so much more. And, as much as I love him on the day of his birth, as much as I may feel that I could not possibly love him more than I do on that day, I will. I will love him more each day. I love each of my children more and more as their personalities and quirks are revealed to me as they grow. And, so my little heart wonders what Elijah will bring to our family. Will he be funny or tender, serious or just plain silly. Will he be a thinker or will he be carefree and layed back? Only God knows this little one He has created. And, only God knows when my day of deliverance will come!!! And, that is great with me.

Easter Hope

I received some very bad news yesterday. The news I received is very personal so I can't share, but it rivals Cecilia's cancer in its power to hurt and overwhelm my heart. But, this news has to do with a different kind of cancer. A cancer which originated not on a medical, cellular level, rather a cancer caused by an addiction to sin. Both are devastating to not only the ones directly affected but also to those who love them. And, I love the one who is addicted to sin very much and so my heart hurts deeply for this one and the ones that have been directly affected by the reprecussions of his sin.

I walked around yesterday completely dazed and confused that this could be happening to this person. I was shocked to say the least. All day I teared up at even the minutest little things. I'm sure being 34 weeks pregnant doesn't help with that either. I didn't feel like mustering up the energy to do much of anything, so I was lazy, late, and teary eyed most of the day. We had practice for our Easter Musical last night. If it had not been the final dress rehearsal, I most certainly would have skipped. But, I gathered the boys together and met Erik there. . . 15 minutes late. Erik is the "comfortable in the spotlight" member of our relationship. I balance out the scales by being the epitome of a wallflower. I like to hide myself in the crowd - absolutely no speaking parts, and I sing so soft even the people around me have never actually heard my voice. Every year Erik plays Jesus, and I play the illustrious role of a member of the crowd in Jerusalem.

So, when I got there, I snuck across the dark stage to take my place among the crowd. Then to my surprise, something somewhat unexpected happened as I began to sing. Songs that I have sung for the past 2 months suddenly had words that I heard and understood. The opening song has these words, "And the whole world cries 'Hosanna, God save us,' and the heavens replied and called His name Jesus." And, I couldn't hold back the tears.

As much as I absolutely detest being made aware of how vulnerable we are to sin and how deep, dark, and ugly sin is, it always brings me to the same place. When faced with the news of this sin cancer lurking in the life of one that I love, I saw with sudden clarity once again how very desperately we, weak and frail as we are, are in need of a savior. And, my heart cried out with the music of that opening song, "God save us!" Because, by golly, we need a savior. Save us from ourselves, save us from the sin and evil that is rampant in this world where we live.

We have hope. The world would have us believe that certain things will be devastating to us our entire life. But, Jesus doesn't agree. He says that is a lie, and we can, in fact, have victory. And, so I walked away from Easter Musical practice with a new outlook. We have hope and His name is Jesus. And, I am so thankful.

Full Circle

There is something to be said for a quiet home. And, since ours is a very active home, the only time it is truly quiet is when we are gone or most of the occupants are asleep. This afternoon it is the latter. . . Joshua and JCT are napping away, and I am enjoying peaceful music, an ice-cold glass of water with lemon, and a blank computer screen beckoning me to fill it with words. Tranquility. Thank You, Jesus. Because it is not always tranquil here. . . There are boys who argue, who too often fall or bump heads, and there is a mommy who is often tired, moody, and just plain easily irritated. And, it is in times like these, the tranquil moments, when I regroup, gather my thoughts and emotions, and get focused once again on what truly matters.

And, thinking about what truly matters, makes me think about my little Elijah growing and kicking inside of me. I am 34 weeks pregnant with Elijah. In a matter of weeks, my family will once again change. And, I will learn to juggle one more ball. I keep thinking about him. It is as if he could come any day now. . . and, I keep reminding myself that it will be a little while still. But, I am eagerly awaiting the day when I can hold him in my arms with his little newborn tree-frog legs and tiny baby feet.

Today as I put Joshua down for his nap, I layed down with him to sing him a song. I don't know why, but I love to lay beside him and play with his hair and his ears while I sing to him. So, I lay there and sang "I love you up to the moon" by Kim Hill. I have sung this to him since he was a newborn with tree-frog legs and baby feet. There is a line in it that I could never sing to him without crying when he was a baby. It says, "And, one day if you rise up and call me blessed, I'll say it was a joy to give you my best." Oh, that line used to get me everytime, and it still does from time to time. So, today as I sang to him and played with his soft red hair, I thought about how it truly seems like yesterday that I sang this song to him and kissed his newborn head. I could almost smell that newborn smell. And, Joshua just stared at me with eyes heavy, and my heart swelled. I told him every reason under the sun that I was proud of him and thankful that God gave him to me. He's not my baby anymore. How does that happen so quickly? I can't even recount how many mothers have told me to "enjoy these days. . . they grow up so fast." I am beginning to see the truth in that.

On another note entirely, but I wanted to mention it because it made me smile. Last night when I went to the church nursery to pick up Joshua and JCT, Julie took me aside. Julie is the head of our church nursery. She is always in the nursery, always. She is our children's constant and a blessing beyond measure!! She also keeps my boys on Fridays to give me a little time to work around the house, go to doctor's appointments, etc. Anyway, she had a young African American girl helping her last night. She said that JCT walked right up to Shodra and very plainly asked her,

"Are you chocolate?"

You may think my children never leave the house, but this is not true. JCT even has 4 African American cousins. Someday I will dedicate an entire post to my sister who has 8 children (4 of her own and 4 adopted). So, I am not sure why JCT was surprised by her dark skin?? But, the comment tickled me, nonetheless.

And, on that note, I am going to post one of my favorite new pics. This is Joshua and Kyleigh, my sister's youngest daughter.

Well, I hear JCT crying, the phone is ringing, and Rain just let out a little bark. The tranquility is about to give way to the activity of life once again. And, so we have come full circle, and I guess that is a good place to end.

Raising Little Warriors

Where, oh, where do I begin? I am reading Hinds Feet in High Places for the second time in my life, and I love it. Perhaps, I love it so much because I can so relate to this little fearling. I may well have been named Much Afraid because fear and worry have been the two sins that have plagued me my entire life. I am in constant prayer about these two areas of my life and am always seeking to grow out of them spiritually. Though progress has been made over the years, I am still very much afraid of many things. Take for instance when I found out that Joshua was going to be a boy. One of the first thoughts that went through my mind was, "Oh, no! Since he is a boy, he may have to go to war one day! And, I don't think I could bear that. . ." Immediately, my anxious mind went to the fear of losing him in a battle of sorts. Why, I ask, would God call a Much Afraid to rear 3 boys? After all, boys are supposed to be bold and brave. I am, most often, weak and scared.

So, last night after I finished all that I had to do around the house, I sat down on the ottoman of Erik's chair. He was reading a book that a good friend gave him for Christmas - The Way of the Wild Heart by John Eldredge. Erik loves all of Eldredge's books, and this one is no different. When I sat down, he lay his book in his lap. I unloaded a few fears that I was having about my Joshua. Joshua has been having some silly fears lately - wonder where he gets that?

I shared this example with Erik. . . That night, after I had finished bathing Joshua and JCT, I left them alone in the tub for a second with the water running. I simply went across the hall to get their pjs and came quickly back. Much to my surprise, when I returned Joshua was in tears. He was afraid that the water was going to overflow while I was gone. Let me preface this by saying that this was not the first irrational fear he had had this day, and I was getting tired of them and the tears they produced. Anyway, back to my response. . . My mom was saved in the charismatic movement. And, though I was raised in a Baptist church, her Charisma would occasionally come out. And, this night it came out in me. I looked intently at Joshua and in a loud voice I said, "In the name of Jesus, you will not be afraid." It makes me laugh now just typing it. I continued, "You are Joshua. You are strong and courageous. You will not be terrified for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. Repeat that after me." So, he repeated it with me. Then I kept on, "God did not give you a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power and love and self-discipline!!!! Repeat that." He repeated it, his tears subsided, and I turned the water off.

So, back to the real story. I was sharing all this with Erik who was listening intently. After I placed all my fears about my son on the ottoman before him, his response was, "Let me tell you about this book I am reading. . ." And, he began to share with me some interesting information. He began telling me how Eldredge labels the phases of a man's life this way - first, he is the beloved son; second, he is the cowboy/ranger; third, he is the warrior/lover; and fourth and finally, he is the king. I laughed and asked Erik if he was now in the king stage. "No, I am still in the warrior/lover stage. My dad is in the king stage." This is how I grasped what he said, and I hope that I understood it correctly. The beloved son is the stage where they are just loved and adored for who they are, our sweet boys. Then, they begin risk-taking activities. This is the cowboy/ranger stage. The warrior/lover stage is when they are married and going out into the world. Erik explained that he is a warrior at work - conquering obstacles, having successes, etc. And, the king stage is when they are older and their biggest calling in life is imparting wisdom to those who are younger. But, Erik explained men should be a mixture of all of these stages all the time.

Somehow hearing words like warrior and risk-taking and seeing my sweet sons' pictures hanging on the wall behind my husband's chair was hard for me. Because, you see, I would like to keep them under my wings and shelter them all their days. I know that if my husband was put to the test (a burning building, saving a child, etc.) he would lay his life down for another. That is the man he is. He wouldn't give it a second thought. And, that is one of the reasons that I fell in love with him. I am to raise courageous young men like this. Men who are selfless and sacrificial, men who would lay down their lives for others without a thought of themselves. This is what it means to raise them to be like Christ.

Then, Eldredge describes 3 types of Bravery. The first being physical bravery. This is the soldier on the battlefield. This is the fireman running into the World Trade Center when everyone else is running out. The second is emotional bravery. This is taking a stand, risking rejection, risking embarrasment. The big thing here is teaching our sons not to quit, teaching them to rise above setbacks. And, the third is spiritual bravery. This is risks of faith, martyrdom, etc.

So, how do we raise our sweet sons to be brave warriors one day? Eldredge says it begins with things like challenging them to be risky in their prayer life. Risking to ask God for something in prayer. If God does not answer, our sons are taught to perservere and not give up. This quote hugely spoke to me about my Joshua. . . Eldredge said, "Developing a brave heart comes down to this - wherever the boy is frightened, wherever you see a hesitancy or uncertainty in him, gently take him there, over time, and help him conquer his fear. . . That is the place you want to lead your son to. And that is the place we want to come to ourselves, as we learn to press through our own fears. I believe it is why God continues to take us into situations that arouse fear in us. The enemy would say we've blown it, or that we've been abandoned; the Father says, 'You can do this - play the man.' This is how courage is developed." Imagine that. . . He didn't say anything about rebuking fear in the name of Jesus and yelling scripture at them! I guess I have a lot to learn.

And, this very tender mother's heart listened as my husband shared his heart and his goals for our boys. Purposeful. It has been a key word to me lately. I don't want to go through the motions parentingwise. I want to be purposeful in all I do as I rear these little guys to be Godly men. As I listened to Erik my eyes went back and forth from the picture of Joshua to the picture of JCT. I prayed for them in ways unique to each of them. And, my eyes traced every curve of their soft sweet faces, my baby boys. And, they are still very much under my wings and will stay there for a little while longer. But, not forever, no, I will purposefully rear them to go out and be warriors. And, if that means going across the world to fight in a war, if God has called and purposed them to do that, then I will have them as prepared as I possibly can to lay down their lives for another human being, for a cause that is bigger than themselves, and most importantly for their faith. Whether their battlfield is literal or figurative, I pray that they will be brave warriors and go forward, facing fears head-on. I cannot hold them back, as tempting as that is. After all, they are not mine to begin with. They are God's little warriors. And, for some reason, completely incomprehensible to me, He has blessed me with the great honor and privilige of birthing them, holding them, loving them, raising them, and ultimately of letting them go to be the brave warriors He called them to be for His glory alone. Oh, that God would give this Much Afraid the courage and wisdom to rear them in this way.

Scattered Thoughts

What a day! I say it everyday at the end of the day. "Whew! What a day!" I am completely spent. The physical labor of raising children amazes me at times. It is so exhaustingly physical. The bending, lifting, stretching, catching, and chasing is a workout in and of itself.

My day consisted of a 2 mile walk pushing a double jog stroller, approximately 4 hours of outside play with the boys, and an hour long Super Wal-Mart excursion. Erik didn't get home until 8 pm, so I did the evening routine (dinner, bath, and bedtime) by myself. And, now I am tired, moody and tired.

I am moody right now. I'd like to blame it on pregnancy, but I'm not sure that is entirely fair. I think a lot of it is simply my attitude. I must admit when I sat down to write this I was ready to unload all my negativity, but then I put on my favorite CD - Sing over Me. And, my favorite song is on right now - You are Good. And, how I ask, how can I complain when I am being reminded of God's goodness? He is good, and so is life. Did I mention that I am moody? I always tell Erik that sometimes the fact that I am moody is a good thing because I can go from a bad mood to a good mood quickly. Now it works the other way, too which isn't such a good thing. But, usually when I am in a foul mood all Erik has to do is make me laugh, and for the most part, my bad mood is over. And, I am thankful for that.

A thought or two from my day:

Joshua announced on our walk this morning (after I told him that tomorrow was Rain's birthday), "Tomorrow is when it is nightime again and then daytime again. That is tomorrow." And, I thought that was a very smart way of putting it.

Joshua has given me a friend to ride beside in the van. Larry, decked out in an ensemble put together by none other than my sweet son, is sitting in the passenger seat of my van - seat belted in and all.

JCT sang over and over again today the theme song from the new Veggie-tales movie. "Da Lone Stranger. . . Your mask hides your face, who you are we can't say. . . Da Lone Stranger. . ."

Elijah did some kind of crazy tumbling move inside of me while I was doing dishes tonight. I mean I really thought he might stick an extremity through my skin. He is all boy. I can tell that already.

And, to make the day perfectly complete, my husband just asked me to check his back for spiders. He has a serious spider phobia. He always thinks a spider is crawling on him. It cracks me up.

So, all in all, it was a good day, an exhausting but good day. And, I am thankful for it.

Praise!

Cecilia had her very last hard chemo treatment this week!! Huge celebration for our family! She is doing well and is very relieved to be done. Her hair is beginning to grow back in a little bit! From what I understand, she will have to keep her port and continue to get one chemo med for a year, but the BIG stuff is over!!! Thanks to everyone who has said a prayer for her!

The Big Bad Wolf

JCT told me all day on Saturday as he played in the backyard, "Mommy, I am the big Big BIG BAD wolf!" And, he looked so adorable that I had to take a picture of him. He is one cool cat, my little JCT. The sunglasses stayed on most of the day.

The lime green crocs will forever be a memory for me. JCT has wanted crocs for quite some time. Joshua has a pair of brown crocs, and JCT would slip them on from time to time. . . He loved them. So, I went to a friend's store here in town to let JCT pick out his very own pair of crocs. I showed him a black pair, a red pair, an orange pair, and a tan pair. I asked him which one he wanted for his very own. He looked right past the colors I had pulled out and proudly declared, "I want da geen ones." And, how I ask, could a mother refuse? So, he has lime green crocs, and he wears them everyday with everything. And, he loves them. Over and over he tells me, "Mommy, I lika my shoes. I lika my geen shoes, Mommy." Am I proud of my purchase? Oh, yes, I am proud.

Nothin' Like It. . .

Christening springtime with your brother.

Stuff-Mart a.k.a. Target

We live in a town so small that the height of our shopping experience is Wal-Mart. So, for several weeks I have had a trip planned to the city for me and the boys. We drove an hour and a half for the great privilege of shopping at a Target. It is the little things you know?

Well, let's just say I went a little crazy. . . I began in the Maternity section, then moved to the sleepwear, then to children's clothing, then to houseware, and on and on I went. . . I began with Joshua in the back of one of the carts, but quickly needed more space, so he had to walk. . . Let's just say that I ended the shopping spree pushing one cart full and pulling another cart behind me. Yes, I did. And, this is not like me at all. I am really quite frugal. My father raised me to be very careful with money. I count every penny and pinch them for all they are worth!! So, I'm not sure what came over me when I saw all those pillows and bed linens, vases and boxes. Most of the things I bought were on sale - great deals, but I learned that great deals tend to add up - even if each individual item is only like $10. I was like a crazed woman throwing things in my cart with both hands!!

At times, I felt like people were staring at me. And, I wanted to say, "Look people, I live in a really small town, and I don't get to do this often. And, I am about to have a baby. I really want to be ready, you know, and have all I need before he comes. So, please don't think I have a spending problem. I don't. I promise. And, I assure you I am not in denial. I've just been couped up in my little town too long. And, this is a really great store. And, this is my one chance to shop here before the baby comes. And, we just renovated. And, there is so much we need. Okay, so maybe we don't "need" all this stuff like we "need" water or shelter. But, it will sure help make my house feel like a home again. But, I know homes are made of love and family and not things. But, I am nesting right now - big-time. So, please don't think I have a problem. Because I don't, really, I promise. I don't." But, since that didn't sound too convincing, I just kept my mouth shut and continued shopping, with my head down, determined to finish quickly.

But, the part that I hope I never forget happened somewhere in the middle of my little escapade. The cart was so full that I was stuffing things beside JCT in the front. The pillows in the back were piled higher than little JCT's head, but still I was finding things and stuffing them in every little corner and crevice of the cart. . . Suddenly out of the nowhere, Joshua grabbed the side of the cart as I was attempting to balance yet another pillow on top of my towering, overstuffed cart and said, "Stop! Mommy, you have to stop! You can't keep doing this! You cannot put another thing in this cart! You are going to end up like Madame Blueberry!!!!!"

And, if you don't know the story of Madame Blueberry, you should really watch the movie. It is my all-time favorite Veggie-tales movie. Needless to say, it is about a blueberry that is very blue (unhappy because she does not have enough "stuff.") So, she goes to Stuff-Mart and stuffs many carts full of stuff. Ultimately, she realizes that "stuff" will never make her happy.

I will admit that I felt a smidge of conviction at Joshua's comment. I felt alot more conviction when the lady at the check-out handed me my receipt. . . I walked straight to the car pushing and pulling my carts and children. After changing a diaper and putting the boys in their carseats, I climbed into the driver's seat, took a deep breath, called my husband, and tearfully confessed my sins. Thankfully, I have a husband who is alot like God. His grace and mercy knows no bounds. Erik responded with laughter knowing that this little trip was not my norm. He knows how I hate to spend money. Ahhh, we live and learn. But, I have a feeling we will be making a trip back to the city in the next week or so to return a few things. . .

I wouldn't have it any other way. . .

Life is full of stages. . . We are infants, toddlers, children, teenagers, college kids, grown ups, newlyweds, etc. . .

And, I, at present, am in the stage of life where little ones run wildly through my home. I believe that this is the stage of life where God, if you let Him, determines to diminish all bits of selfishness from a young mother's heart. Somedays I contemplate and compare myself to the "old me." The me that was free to do, for the most part, whatever she pleased. No longer. No more sipping coffee on the back porch alone with Erik while slowly warming up to the idea of morning. . . Now my very own little sunshine wakes me up - before the "real" sun has even thought of shining.

And, here is my little soliliquy. . . I now take showers with an audience of 2 little boys, laughing and making faces at me through the glass door. I have mastered the art of putting on eyeliner and mascara with a two year old sitting on my lap opening my powder compact and playing with my make-up brushes. I usually have sweet company at all times of the day - even when I sneak off to quickly use the bathroom. They can always find me. I can cook a three course meal using only one hand. And, though I carefully plan my day the night before, my children usually have others plans, and my beloved list is often discarded by midday. So, for someone who loves routine, I have learned a great deal about flexibility. And, for someone who loves to work hard and finish early, I have learned to slow down. After all, life is not a race. And, there is no need to rush when you can't get done early. This job is 24/7.

So, occasionally, I have these thoughts of longing for the former days. The days when I didn't have to fix meals for 3-4 people 3 times a day or take an hour and a half out of every evening to bathe, read, brush teeth, fix beds, pray, sing, and tuck in my two little ones. On occasion, I long for the days when I could get up and take care of just me. Drink my coffee slowly and read my Bible for an hour if I wanted - when I had time to really think, really pray.

But, you want to know the truth? That would be nice for a day, or maybe an hour. . . But, when I really think about it, I wouldn't change a thing about my life. I would miss my little audience during my shower. And, I would miss making PB&Js and slicing apples. And, no matter how tired I get of reading JCT his favorite books over and over (you know, the ones that I memorized a year ago, but I am still reading daily), I know in my heart of hearts that I would miss reading them. And, when it really comes down to it. . . I love my life.

I love my life.

I love my boys. I love taking care of them. I love the sound of their laughter in the afternoon when we play outside. I love taking them along with me when I exercise. The jog stroller on hills, after all, makes me stronger than running or walking by myself. I love holding them when they get sick or hurt. I love that I know every freckle. I know every bump and scratch on their skin, and I know how it got there. And, every now and then when I ride alone in the car, it is just plain boring. . . too quiet. I miss them when we are apart for any length of time. They make me laugh. They make me better. As I am attempting to grow them in character and selflessness, God is using them to grow in me character and selflessness. Isn't that funny? The majority of my spiritual growth is not taking place in my "quiet times," during this stage of life. I am in a different school now. I am growing daily as I learn to serve and lay down my will and my desires for what is best for the little ones God has entrusted me with. Alot less thought, but alot more action.

I am in the Goldfish and Cheerio stage of motherhood, and I am embracing it. Is it trying? yes. Is it tiring? yes. Is it at times frustrating? oh, yes. Do I often feel like throwing in the towel? yes. Do I complain? yes, too much. But, is it worth it? Oh, my, YES! And, do I love it? YES!

My life is far from perfect, and it certainly isn't easy. But, it is wonderful. And, the best part is at night after my sons are snug in their beds. And, I am sitting in bed reading by the light of my little lamp. Beside me, I can hear the man I love more than anyone breathing sweet sleepy breaths. And, I pause for a minute, put my book down, and stare up at the ceiling thanking God for giving me this day, this life. Then, I turn off the lamp, and curl up under the covers - feeling completely spent and depleted. But, I am satisfied. I am needed, in a more vital way than ever before in my life. And, I know deep in my heart that today I have given my all, my best, all that I am to the ones that I love most. My exhaustion is quite possibly the most fulfilling thing that I have felt all day. Because today was an ordinary day, an everyday, kind of day. . . a day well spent. And, I wouldn't have it any other way.

I LF U

I looked beside me at the precious boy drawing letters on a blank piece of construction paper. He was sounding out what he was attempting to write. . . "I . . . LLLLuuFFFF UUU!!" And, to my sweet son "I love you" is spelled this way. . . "I LF U." To say my heart melted into a puddle on the kitchen floor is an understatement. I LF this little guy to pieces!!

When God Touches My Heart

When I walked the aisle at the age of 8, I didn't really understand what I was saying yes to. I think that I understood as much as most 8 year olds would? I know that a question of some sort was posed, and for me the answer to that question was yes. Did I want a savior? yes. Did I need a savior? yes. If the question had to do with God, my answer was going to be - yes. I didn't understand what it meant to be a follower, but I knew that I wanted to be a part of God and that is really all I knew. When I found myself at the end of the aisle and my pastor prayed with me, the tears began to fall. I couldn't stop them. They poured. I'm not sure our First Baptist Church had ever seen anything like it before. Most people went down the aisle a bit more composed, but I was weeping. And, I have no idea why. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't.

And, I have found through the years as I have walked with my God that this is the norm for me. Confrontation with His Spirit reduces me to a puddle of tears every single time. He never fails to have this effect on me. If a praise song touches me, I cry. If God speaks to my heart through a speaker or a Bible study lesson, the tears slowly fall. But, I am thankful for this. To me it means my heart is softened to Him. And, I like that. I like His power over my emotions. It is one way that He is tangible to me. I feel Him touching my heart, moving me, stirring emotions that only He can stir.

Today I was brought to puddle of teary mess twice. First by a Rob Bell video that I watched with the youth in Sunday School, and second by this Chris Tomlin video that I saw at Deidre's. So, enjoy, and I pray it stirs your soul, too!!!

Saving Lightning

Earlier this week Deana B. and I took our babes to the park. Somehow, completely unknown to me, Joshua got out of the car with one of his toys. My sweet son often asks permission to take toys from home with us on our journeys in the car. I allow him this privilege with only one stipulation. And, that is . . . he cannot take the toy out of the car until we return home. So, when we run in Wal-Mart or go to, say for instance, the park, the toy must remain in the carseat waiting for us to return to it. Then, we drive home bringing it safely back to its designated, neatly organized bin. My husband calls me a toy Nazi. But, in my opinion, I have to be. If I don't the toys will rise up and overtake me, and I am not ready to let that happen.

I digress. . .

So, shortly after we got out of the car and began playing at the park, I noticed Joshua hurling something red into the air. "What was that?" I asked. "Lightning McQueen!" he answered running to find him. I shook my head realizing what he had done, but choosing my battles carefully decided to keep my mouth shut and let this one go. After several hours of play (and by play I mean that Joshua continued to do the same thing over and over - throw his little red car up in the air and then hunt for it in the grass), something devastating happened. I watched as Joshua threw Lightning McQueen (or Mr. Queen, as JCT calls him) up in the air one last time. As clearly as if it were in slow motion, good old Lightning fell down out of the sky and slipped between the grates of a drainage ditch falling down, down, down into the nasty mess that lies deep below. My son's face went instantly pale. "I. . .I. . . was just trying to throw him to the tree. . . and he went down between those bars. . . " I wanted to cry for him. "Mommy can you get it?" he asked. I told him that I could not. He was silent for quite some time. Deana and I just looked at each other. Joshua knelt down beside the grate staring at Lightening who was lying amidst the mud and leaves and water in the drainage ditch. His next statement. . .

"We gotta call Pop! We gotta tell Pop what happened to Lightning." The boy knows where to go when he needs help - grandparents. He's sharp like that. So, we played a bit more and then left. But, Joshua never forgot. He talked about it all evening. He told everyone he saw the whole story. As we drove home from church that night, he started to worry about Lightning. "But, Mommy what if it rains on Lightning? We can't just leave him there." Shortly after this thought came, "But, if it rains on him, he will grow into a flower. A big, Big, BIG Lightening Mc Queen flower!!!!" And, so the talk continued. . .

On Friday we dropped the boys off at the babysitter so that Erik and I could have a nice dinner alone. On our way out of town, Erik stopped at the park. Let me preface this by saying - my husband looked nice, date clothes an all.

Erik: "Show me where Lightning is."
Erin: "You can't get to him. There is a grate over the ditch. Besides, you are dressed up. . ."
Erik: "Just show me where he is."

So, I took him to the place, and through the leaves and yuckiness, you could still see a little spot of red. Erik lifts up the grate. I didn't know that you could do that? Anyway, in his dress clothes he jumps down into the ditch and rescues a very dirty Lightning McQueen. I have never been more proud of my husband, the hero. He lifted himself back out of the ditch, replaced the grate, and walked to the car (without a smidge of mud anywhere on him). What a man! We placed Lightning in a bag, all muddy as he was, so that Joshua would know without a doubt that this was his Lightning rescued from the ditch. We had not gone to the store and bought him a new one. No, that would have been too easy. His father had rescued his Lightning. An act, I assure you, of pure love and selflessness.

When we picked Joshua up and showed him Lightning, he could not have been more pleased. He hugged his Daddy over and over. He thanked him, and together they gave Lightning a bath in the sink. And, all the while, I kept reminding Joshua, "Your Daddy loves you so much, little man. He loves you so much to get down in that ditch and get Lightning for you!" And, Joshua would just smile, look at Lightning, and hug his Daddy's neck.

My Sara

Two of my very best friends share the same name. One is my Sara (without an "h") and one is my Sarah (with an "h"). I love them both dearly for reasons unique to each friendship. Two days ago my Sarah celebrated her 31st birthday, and today my Sara celebrated her 31st birthday. Pretty much everyone who reads my blog has meandered over here from Sarah's blog, so you all know how very precious and wonderful she is.

But, let me take a second and tell you about my Sara. We grew up together in a small southern town. And, there is something to be said about the people who grow up with you. They know you, the real you. They are the people who, in some way or another, shape who you become.

I am going to attempt in one paragraph to sum up our friendship during some of the most pivotal years of our lives. . . I had alot of friends in high school, but Sara understood me on a deeper level. We were dreamers. Our conversations were deep, way below the surface. But, don't get me wrong we knew how to have fun, too! By the end of high school we were nicknamed the dynamic duo - either President of Vice President of nearly every club in school, Validictorian and Saludatorian, completely and whole-heartedly connected at the hip and the heart. We had this silly little ditch on the edge of town that we could both walk to from our houses. So, we would meet there. We called it "our place." And, we would sit on a gravel bridge across this drainage ditch throwing rocks into the water, watching the sun set over a wheat field, and talking about whatever our hearts were feeling at the time. Sometimes we laughed, sometimes we cried, but it was always genuine and heartfelt - real.

Well, after high school we went our separate ways. Sara's goal was to go to a private college, get an incredible education, and then attend medical school. My goal (not that I am proud of this now) was to go to the BIG state university, pledge the sorority that I had my heart set on, and marry a really handsome frat boy who would make lots of money and take care of me and my 2.5 children. What happened? She did exactly what she set out to do, and I took a few detours. I attended the BIG state university, pledged the sorority that I had my heart set on, but ended up transferring after my freshmen year. I felt God leading me to a small Christian school, and God blessed me with the friendships of my Sarah and Jen (who eventually led me to meet my husband - who is the antithesis of a frat boy, but is undoubtedly the man of my dreams).

Sara and I have remained close over the years though not as close as we both would have liked. You can imagine how completely blown away I was when she called me two years ago and told me that she was depressed, suicidal. I was pregnant - about to pop with JCT when she broke the news to me - a secret she had been keeping for some time - I think even from herself. Anyway, the next year, as she began the healing process, our friendship grew closer than it has been in years, a true blessing. She sent me this copy of a testimony she wrote for her church about what God has been teaching her over the past few years. I asked her for permission to share it with you all because I thought it was truly beautiful. God's grace is a beautiful thing, and I think all who read this can relate to that. . . Here it is. . .




"There is nothing that God can do with my life now" was what I wrote in my journal the morning I awoke in the hospital. I had spent years creating my "perfect life": finishing medical school, marrying, about to finish residency and start a competitive fellowship, but behind my smile, a vast emptiness was lurking. The day before I had given in to the pain and attempted to end my own life, and in that instant my carefully crafted image spiraled into something resembling a Lifetime movie gone bad.
My life had become a mixture of fear and guilt with a smattering of pride mixed in for good measure, and after there were no more tears to fall, a numbness, which cannot be explained in words, settled into my soul. After I was sure that I could not rescue myself, I finally asked God to step in. I wish that I could say that I then had an "aha" moment with lights shining down from heaven and was instantly transformed into a mentally healthy soldier for Christ. I am sure God could've done it that way. Instead He chose to heal me through a process, one that has been long, not always pretty, and certainly not fun for those who were forced to come along for the ride. A process that involved dealing with wounds which were deeper than I had remembered. One that often left me wondering, "will I make it through this?"
My self-sufficiency, which previously made me feel as if somehow I could earn God's approval, was traded in for God's amazing grace in the face of my failure. Romans 8:1 became my battle cry, and I would fight my negative thoughts with "there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus". I found that I needed the body of Christ desperately, and their prayer touched me in a powerful way. A stranger who heard my story at a prayer group called to tell me that the Holy Spirit had led him to pray Psalm 3:3 over me during his morning run. I saw Christ in my husband who loved me selflessly even in the face of great pain. I learned to lay myself at the feet of Christ in the midst of depression, to thank Him for His love even when I didn't feel it, to worship Him even if it was with a heavy heart. And slowly, masterfully, He became my healer.
Throughout this, I have been given the privilege to relate to family, friends, and patients in similar circumstances with newfound empathy. That sometimes the best advice is better spent holding a hand silently and crying with someone in pain. A dear friend asked me the other day if I thought I would always struggle with depression. I do not have the answer to that, but I do know that I am better broken, dependent wholly on Christ. I am learning that God loves me just as much now as He did when I presented myself so "perfectly" to Him. He sees my healing wounds, and He still thinks I am beautiful. Oh Lord, do not let me forget what you have done for me.

2 Good Reasons to Celebrate!

I am still a bit behind due to our little internet miscommunication problems. I have had some family and a dear friend (yes, you Sara) request some pics from the boys birthday parties. Better late than never!

Joshua had a Thomas cake - complete with Annie and Clarabel behind (they didn't make the picture). And, James Christofer had a James cake complete with coal tender. Every year I swear that next year I WILL NOT do it again. I will buy their cakes or have them made, but I WILL NOT make them. And, by the time the next birthday rolls around . . . I do it again. A hopeless case am I!

The boys had one birthday party. They shared it. And, I don't think that they minded it one bit!! Both love trains - Thomas to be exact, so as you can tell by the cakes, we had a Thomas themed party this year!! The night before the party I could harldly sleep. I was so excited!! I couldn't wait for them to experience the balloons, friends, cake, presents, all the wonderful things that go along with children's birthday parties!!

And, the day was a day like no other. I watched as my firstborn play with his friends, and I was awestruck by how BIG he is! I thought back to the day he was born. I don't think I really believed he'd ever be 4! Somehow, I thought he would be a baby forever, and then, I blinked and what happened? He grew, and he has friends, and he likes to play with trains and my baby has turned into a little boy. And, my JCT, is not really a baby anymore. He is 2!! He reminds me of this daily when he looks at me with confident green eyes and says, "I can do it. . . by mysef." My little do-it-yourself man is growing up!

Notice in the background of the picture of JCT and Joshua getting ready to blow out their candles - there is a little boy with a basketball on his shirt. This is Reed, a.k.a. Joshua's "bestest buddy." Reed is a little miracle. His parents tried to have children for over 10 years. They had two children during that ten year period that were born too early and lived only a few days - one was a boy and the other a little girl. Reed was born when Lisa was 23 weeks pregnant. He weighed a whopping 1 pound and 1 ounce, and just look at the little guy now!! He is a happy healthy independent little 4 year old!! A blessed miracle he is, and we love him to pieces.

I love this picture. I am not sure why? I love that the picture of Joshua and James Christofer is in the background. And, I love that Joshua looks as if he is thinking, deeply. He is my deep thinker boy, and goodness, I love him. And, I love JCT, and what could be better than a day to celebrate the two of them. They are reasons to celebrate that is for sure!

Not Just Any Other Day - Part 2

Let's see, part 1 ended with my Joshua's "birth" day, February 4, 2003. We enjoyed Joshua as a baby and knew that we wanted to have another. We chose to forego any use of BC in order to let God give us another whenever He chose - praying that wouldn't take long. It took a little longer than we had hoped, but on Father's Day, June 20, 2004, we found out that we would be expecting baby #2. We were ecstatic! Dr. Young gave us the official due date - February 25, 2005.

Now the nine months that followed didn't have quite the same magical feel to them as the months prior to Joshua's birth. . . I was nauseated off and on during the first trimester - something I didn't experience at all with Joshua. And, the second trimester had something else waiting for me. . . varicose veins. Ugh. I dawned support hose in late October and kept them on all the time (except at night) throughout the rest of my pregnancy. And, I am a girl who hates hose, hates hose. They itch. They are confining. But, I knew that he would be well worth it. I didn't have quite as much time to relish the pregnancy because this time I was chasing a little one year old around. But, I enjoyed it nonetheless. . .

We didn't really think JCT would be as early as Joshua. With Joshua I had a kidney stone at about week 34, and we wondered if all the painful sleepless nights, etc. threw me into an early labor. I guess you never really know when a baby will come. All the sudden one day God stirs something inside the little one and whispers, "It's your time to come. . ." And, the little one makes his way out of our bellies and into our world. And, other than through the use of modern medicine, we have little to no control over all of this. . . I think that is great. Godspeed.

The pregnancy went along as normal - a contraction here or there - nothing noteworthy. Until February 3rd. . . I was scheduled to see Dr. Y on Friday, Feb. 4th for my first weekly appointment and my first time to be checked. So, on Thursday the 3rd, I had no idea if I was progressing at all. I woke up that morning with a lot to do on my daily planner. Joshua's 2nd birthday party was scheduled for Saturday, and I was going to attempt a 3-D Bob cake and a flat Larry cake. I am an overachiever, but a 3-D Larry Cake was just a bit above my skill level. So, a friend came over to help me take care of Joshua while I baked and iced the cakes. I contracted all morning from 9 to noon. I remember occasionally wanting to sit down because the contractions were fairly strong. I decided that if I was still contracting that evening when Erik got home I would tell him. But, the contractions tapered off at noon, and I forgot all about them. We had a babysitter sit with Joshua that night and we, get this, went out for Mexican food with another couple. I guess it is something about Mexican food? We came home - still no contractions. I rode the stationary bike and then decided to scrapbook for a few minutes before going to bed. I was determined to get Joshua's scrapbook caught up before JCT came.

And, this is when it happened. . . I simply bent over to pick up a piece of paper. . . small pop. I literally felt this tiny little bubble burst, so strange. And, I stood up and thought, "Could that be my water? Nahhh." I took 2 steps and felt it. . . drip, drip. In less than a second all these thoughts ran through my head, "Lord, have mercy. No. Not now. Not tonight. I'm tired. I just want to go to bed. You are kidding me. I was going to be ready this time. This time I was going to have a bag packed, baby clothes washed, the nursery set up and ready. Please, give me a week." Let me just say, that I am not a night owl. I am very much a morning person, so the thought of laboring at night was not super appealing. I think I bargained with God to let me wait until morning, but He said, "No."

So, I took a few more steps, testing the water - no pun intended. But, the drip continued. . . I walked into the living room where my sweet husband was watching Sports Center. "I think my water just broke," I said, and walked past him to the bedroom without even making eye contact. I sat on the potty, water started really gushing out. I looked up to see Erik standing in the doorway (I am so proud that he left Sports Center for me - that says alot). I got up and let him check me. He said he thought that I was about 3 cm dilated. That was all it took. . . I started shaking uncontrolably and crying. We called Dr. Y who wanted me to come to the Women's Center asap. Great. When you want to go natural, this is not the way you want labor to go. . . My water was broken, and I was not contracting. I could literally see the nurses hanging bags of Pitocin while I lay in bed in fetal position writhing in pain.

We called a friend to stay at our house with our sleeping Joshua. And, at around 11 p.m. we left for the hospital - a 30 minute drive. It was somewhere between our house and the hospital that it hit me. I looked at the clock in the car. "Erik," I said, "I'm not going to have this baby within the next hour. He's going to be born on Joshua's birthday." And, we just looked at eachother - confused - should we smile or cry? "Oh, me," I thought, "This is not what I had planned. . ." I was still shaking, but, thankfully, I started contracting on the way to the hospital. By the time we got there, I was 5 cm.

We called my parents. They were on their way, but they had a 4 hour drive. My nurse, oh me, I shouldn't complain. I was just so blessed the first time. Let's just say that she was very green and not accustomed to natural labors. The contractions intensified, and by 3 a.m. I was ready to push. Erik disappeared to put on scrubs, and I was left with my darling young blond nurse who was more interested in playing with monitors than assisting in my labor. Several contractions I pushed, counting alone in my head, while she worked on things around the room - completely unaware that I was even contracting. Oh, how I missed my mom! But, in the end, all was well and James Christofer Truett came out sunny side up with the cord wrapped around his neck twice!

I am thankful for the minutes after everyone cleared out of the room. It was quiet - just Erik, JCT, and me. And, we enjoyed the peace of those moments after the craziness of the last 4 hours. . .
I couldn't believe that I was holding him. He was supposed to be in my belly. But, he was here - 3 weeks early and all at once - boom - he was here!

Oh, and needless to say, I opted for the wheelchair this time. I wasn't much in the mood for a victory march. I felt a bit wounded and very, very tired.


I never slept that day. I just couldn't. I couldn't wait to introduce my boys. Erik brought Joshua later that day, and quite possibly my favorite moment on earth transpired. . . I'll never forget how he looked when he walked in the room. I was sitting in the hospital bed, and in walked my big boy. . . on his 2nd birthday. He had on an orange winter hat and a big brother t-shirt, and he looked precious. Without saying a word or anyone directing him, he walked over to the bassinet and peeked inside. It is a picture that will never leave my heart. . . It was love at first sight. Joshua adored him, absolutely adored him. He examined his little fingers and toes. He wanted to hold him. He loved him. By far, JCT was the best birthday present Joshua got that year! The gift that will keep on giving, right?

Although they were arguing the other day and Joshua looked up at me and said, "Mommy, do you think we could just sell him back to Dr. Young?" I don't really think he meant it. At least, I hope not. Ahhhh. . . the bonds of brotherhood.

And so, February 4th, will never be just another day to me. It is a super special day to me - the day of my oldest boys' births. And, I will say that as we celebrated the boys' birthday, the thought crossed my mind, "Elijah, are you going to come on February 4th, too?" But, it was not his time, not yet. . . He still has a few months of growing to do.

How fun it is to look back over the years - the four years of my Joshua and the two years of my JCT. They may share a birthday, but they are cetainly unique. Joshua is my sweet boy and JCT my silly boy. One makes my heart warm with his tenderness and the other makes my heart laugh with his silliness. But, both of them make my heart swell with pride and thankfulness.

Valentines 2007

Valentines Day 2007 could have ended at 7:00 a.m. if you ask me. I had already received all the love I needed by that time! At 2 a.m. in the morning, Erik woke up, rolled over, and said, "I love you." He does this occasionally from time to time when he wakes up in the middle of the night. He whispers sweet things to me. Sometimes I acknowledge them and sometimes I am just too sleepy. But, his next sentence touched my little heart. He said, "I love you so much it's crazy. I really do." Now that woke me up enough to respond with an "I love you, too," before I quickly returned to my near comatose state. Then, at 6:45 I woke up to an adorable little red headed boy standing beside my bed with a big smile. As soon as I opened my eyes, Joshua said, "Happy Valentines Day. I love you, Sweetie." And, I decided that I could just cover myself back up and go to sleep because the day was complete! All the love I needed. . .

Not Just Any Other Day - Part 1

For years I wrote this date over and over. . . On the top left hand corner of college rule notebook paper, on nursing flow sheets, on letters to friends, etc. Over and over I wrote it, February 4, ####, but it was just any other day to me. But all that changed in 2003 when for the first time February 4th became a significant day. And, little did I know it in 2003 - but that was only the beginning of why that day would become one of the most prized dates on my calendar - hence the 2 parts to this post.

After 6 or so months of trying to conceive, God chose to begin a little life in my womb. And, June 12, 2002 will go down in my book as one of the happiest days of my life. For the first time, I saw the 2 pink lines smiling back at me from a skinny little stick. Dr. Y gave me the date of February 17th as my official due date, and the nine months that followed were nothing short of magical to me. I loved, cherished, and lived to the full every moment of those 9 months. No regrets. I wasn't working during those 9 months. I volunteered at a Crisis Pregnancy Center nearby and had time to spare, time to soak in every moment of the experience. Precious memories. . .

I decided early on in the pregnancy that I wanted to have a completely natural labor. I wanted to experience it to the full, every bit of it. . . I read everything that I could get my hands on about natural labor, watched Baby Story on TLC daily, and spent hours trying to remember everything I could from my clinical experience in labor and delivery during nursing school. I was not confident that I would be able to do the whole natural labor thing, but I was going to give it my best shot. Erik was sure. He is my confidence when I am lacking. He was determined that I would do it, and he was more than willing to do everything to help me make this dream come true - even if it meant reading 2 Bradley books cover to cover and attending 3, yes 3, sets of pregnancy and labor classes. I think the entire nine months were consumed with baby this and baby that. And, I loved every last minute of it - so much so that I wasn't ready to let it go. . .

On January 31, 2003 Erik and I went to see our OB. He was scheduled to check me for the first time. Erik and I expected to hear something like, "You are a fingertip dilated. We will see you next week. . ." Dr. Y was running late that day. It was after 5:00 when he finally got into our room and the office was becoming a ghost town. . . Erik sat beside me in a little chair. Dr. Y asked me if I had felt any contractions yet, and I assured him that I had not felt anything. He checked me and then rolled his little chair backward smiling. . . And, with a half laugh, he said, "Are you sure you haven't felt anything?" I assured him, nervously, that I had not. "Well, you are 3 cm dilated, 80% effaced, and your membranes are bulging. You won't make it until your next appointment." Erik literally came out of his chair. He was so excited. I was scared. I smiled, agreed to come back on Monday for my Group B strep test, and promised to call if I started having regular contractions over the weekend. I remember feeling like someone had hit me in the stomach. I was so scared. I had expected to be late - or at least on time - not early.

We ate dinner and went to a movie with some friends of ours. When the evening was over and it was just Erik and I again, I started crying and cried all the way home - a 30 minute drive. We took our last "belly picture" when we got home that night, and it is easy to see that my eyes were still red and teary. I was scared - scared to endure the uncertainty of my first labor, but mostly, scared to be a mom. Having Joshua inside of me was one thing, a wonderful thing, but having him on the outside was something completely different, something quite frightening to me. I was afraid of sleepless nights, of a baby who I couldn't console, of a whole myriad of things. . .

But, as always, life went on. . . I think I felt a couple contractions over the weekend - nothing that concerned me. On Monday morning I went to see Dr. Y. He checked me again and said gleefully, "You are almost 4 cm! I can make you 4 cm and go ahead and admit you if you'd like." Before he could even say the last of that, I quickly replied, "No, thanks. I'll just wait. I'll call you if I start having regular contractions." This was not the response that he expected, but it was my response. All day I felt like I was about to start my period, so I sat around hoping to put the inevitable off a little longer. I knew the time was drawing near and there was only so much that I could do. . . Erik and I went out for Mexican food that night. We called it our "Last Supper," knowing that we wouldn't eat out alone again for awhile. Then, I lay my little head on my pillow and slept until the contractions woke me up the next morning. . .

And, so I woke up that morning, Tuesday, February 4, 2003. There was no denying it. It was time. My darling husband took his sweet time showering, calling his office and his friends, and packing a little bag. We finally arrived at the hospital around 8:30 that morning. Erik stopped me as we walked into the hospital. We stood there in the parking lot and held eachother - a sweet moment on a sweet day. I checked in and was taken immediately back. I was already 7 cm. Dr. Y asked me if I wanted him to break my water. I declined. It was a wonderful day, a perfect day. The sky was blue, the weather a crisp cool, my mom made it to the hospital on time, and I had a wonderful nurse. The pain seemed surprisingly bearable. When Dr. Y checked me at 11:30 and I was only 8 cm., I agreed to let him break my water. Okay, this is when the bearable became a bit unbearable. I went from 8 to 10 in like 3 contractions. I kept telling my beloved husband that I felt like I needed to push. He kept encouraging me to wait one more contraction and "then we'll call the nurse." He finally called the nurse, and everyone came in ready to the job they do everyday. But, it was all new to me, and I watched intently. Erik, my coach, left to change into scrubs (Dr. Y agreed to let him deliver the baby), so my mom stepped in. And, at 12:33 Joshua was born. They plopped that little red, wet baby on my tummy facing me. And, I just stared in amazement - that came out of me! That darling little baby was inside me? all this time? Whoa.

It was by far the best day of my life, at least in 2003 it was. Erik was so proud of his son and of me. And, I felt his pride. I felt it so strongly, and I loved it, basked in it. Oh, and get this. . . I walked, this is crazy, from my labor room to my post partum room. Yes, one hour after giving birth I walked the corridors of the Women's Center. Thankfully, I didn't pass out! It was a great day, and that was my victory march!!

Joshua was beautiful. He was perfect. I couldn't bear to let him sleep in that silly bassinet. After all, he was used to being inside me, and the bassinet was much too far away, you know, beside my bed and all. So, I slept with him on my chest. I was uncertain about many things - but I was more than certain of one thing. I had never felt love like this before. I changed that day, Febuary 4, 2003, and I will never be the same person I was before. And, that is a good thing, a very good thing. But, the story doesn't end in 2003. . .

A Scrapbook of Sorts. . .

Oh, me! Where to begin?? We have been having some technical difficults at our home! Due to a mix-up with our internet provider, we have been without internet access for over a week!! But, thankfully we have gotten it all worked out - or so we hope!!!

Oh, and the chocolate cobbler that you all asked about. . . I didn't make it - sorry to disappoint! A drug rep brought it to Erik's office with lunch, and Erik (my darling husband) brought some home to me!! It was good, very good.

Being without internet for a week made me realize how much blogging has become a part of my life. I missed reading my favorite blogs - catching up on all the sweet families that I have come to know and love. I hated that I wasn't able to post my boy's birthday pictures for my parents (who were unable to be at their party) to see. But, mostly I missed being able to journal my life. This blog has become a scrapbook of sorts for me. I love to scrapbook, but I have always been unable to stay current. And, that has always been a huge frustration for me. When Sarah introduced me to blogging, I had no idea how much I would love it, how much I would need it!

For the first time since my sweet Joshua was born, I feel content that I am not forgetting things. I am capturing the cute stories when they are fresh on my mind. I print out all my posts and keep them in a notebook. And, this notebook is my little scrapbook of sorts. Suddenly I don't feel so guilty about the fact that my real scrapbooks are a wee bit behind - because the stories aren't lost. I have captured them as they have happened - a snapshot of these wonderful days - hard times, good times, and lessons God is teaching me. I love it! I am so thankful for this little hobby!

On that note, today the boys had the great privilege of meeting 2 of their favorite cartoon characters. We are huge Veggietales fans!! Joshua's 2nd and 3rd birthday parties were veggietale themed! I got quite good at making Bob and Larry cakes and Junior and Jimmy and Jerry. . . Anyway, today we went to "Bob and Larry's house" as Joshua calls Lifeway, and the boys met the beloved tomato and cucumber! They were so excited!!