...there’s a cross

…“Weren’t there three men that we tied up and threw into the fire?”

They replied, “Certainly, Your Majesty.”

He said, “Look! I see four men walking around in the fire, unbound and unharmed, and the fourth looks like a son of the gods.” Daniel 3:24-25

Have you heard the song “Another in the Fire” yet?  Several months ago our worship leaders sang it at church and I was swept up in the words and the truth.  I had heard it before and loved it then but it was a completely different thing to be standing there in my time of worship, arms held high, ready to be moved, ready to feel the power of the Holy Spirit and to be swept away.  I’m standing there hands out, probably singing too loud and tears just streaming down my face.  I was overcome by the honesty and simplicity of the words and what they meant to me. I was overcome with love for Jesus but first by the love Jesus has for me.   And every time I’ve heard it since then, I probably sing too loud and get a little teary eyed and today was no different.  But today, I ruminated over the lyrics and I went back to Daniel to study the verses.    I thought of the three.  I thought of their honesty.  I thought of their steadfast belief in the one true God.  They stood up to the king and told him that they would not serve the king’s false gods.  And when threatened with the death in the fiery furnace, without hesitation they responded, “If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand.  But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.”—Daniel 3:17-18.  Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego knew that their God could deliver them from the fire but if he didn’t they would still worship their God.   There was either going to be a divine intervention and a miracle that would save their lives or they were going to die but either way they were still going to worship God and refused to give in.  When we were in the hospital, I wrestled with even the thought that Gideon may not live.  I prayed heavily that God would save him but even then, I knew if he died it didn’t change who my God was.  I’ve heard people say that you shouldn’t speak things into existence, you should only pray for supernatural healing, pray for life but right here, we see these three speak it plainly.  “I know God can deliver us through this but if he does not he is still God and we will still follow him.”  He is God and he can’t be manipulated.  We can’t trick him into getting our way. 

     

Being Good Friday, we had already talked a great deal about what today meant for Jesus and what today meant for us.  I was already feeling the anguish and the heaviness of what his beating may have looked like.  I always break down when I think of the scourging and after our Good Friday service where it was discussed in detail, it was all too heavy.  I had talked to Gabe a lot about it and about the tremendous amount of suffering Jesus had to endure before even being placed on the cross.   Yesterday, I used a charcoal mask again.  The kids were in the bath behind me as I began pulling it off.  It hurt.  My breathing became heavy, my heart rate increased.  I started to sweat as I became flushed.  I made little painful sounds as I would slowly peel it away.  They both asked me several times if I was okay.  In the best way I could, I compared that slow agony to the scourging of Jesus.  Except of course we talked about how much worse it was for him.  We talked about the whips lashing across the skin causing cuts across his body.  We talked about the hooks on the end of the whips that would grab onto the skin and pull at the skin and rip it away when the enforcer was going back for another swing.  He felt it.  He could have ended it.  But he stood there, feeling every ounce of pain.  Every stripe was felt in real agony.  My heart breaks knowing that my sin did that.  I can’t help but fall on my face when I think about that beating he took when he could have ended it all but instead he chose to save me, to save us.  

Today’s circumstances are no different than the times of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  We still have struggles. We still have to make hard choices. Our sin is no different than what was going on at the time of Jesus’ crucifixion.  Our world is facing this pandemic together.  Some are experiencing sickness and death.   Some are hit with financial loss and wondering how they are going to pay the mortgage, put food on the table.  Some are struggling through home-schooling and some juggling this new homeschooling situation while still working full-time.  And many are just plain struggling with fear.  But guess what?  The same Jesus that was in the fiery furnace with the three is the same Jesus who suffered an excruciating death for our sin and he is the same Jesus who lives for us today.  He is alive.  He is risen.  Whatever tomorrow will look like, I will praise him and I will worship him.  As I look at the cross, I see the burden of my sin.  When I think of the empty tomb, I think of the hell that has no victory.  Thank God he first loved me.  

...he washed their feet

“…he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.”—John 13:5

on repeat.  This image playing over and over in my head.  I picture him there, essentially in his undergarments, on his hands and knees, washing and drying the feet of his closest friends.  As we started the day out with our morning scripture reading, we discussed the events of Maundy Thursday.  Gabe found it humorous how dirty the disciples feet would be.  “Like a day at the lake without any shoes.”  We talked about communion and the betrayal by Judas.  We talked about Jesus going to pray in the garden.  But mostly we talked about the feet washing.  Growing up, I always thought the washing of feet came at the end after Judas was already gone.  It probably was within the last decade that I learned Judas was still there and it actually happened before the meal was over.  And today, that really hit me and stuck with me.  There are many reasons for Jesus’ act of washing the disciples’ feet—being a servant, symbolizing the need for repentance, but today I really focused on Judas.  

Jesus knew that Judas was going to betray him.  Yet he still chose to wash his feet.  Why?  In all honesty friends, that’s a struggle for me. Of course, he’s Jesus.  He’s the ultimate forgiver.  That’s why he is God and we are not.  But hurt is real.  And when I feel betrayed, the last thing I want to to do is get on my hands and knees and do something so low for the ones I feel betrayed by.  But here it is.  Here he is doing just that.  He was God.  In mere hours, he was going to be handed over by his own.  Judas had walked along side Jesus for 3 years.  He had seen with his own eyes the miracles.  He had heard with his own ears the teachings of Jesus.  Yet, he still handed over Jesus for some extra money in his pocket.  But still, Jesus washed his feet.  Was it merely an act of servanthood that he was compelled to do for all 12?  Was it hypocritical because Judas was not “whole body clean”?  Was it an opportunity for Judas to repent and turn from the deceit?   I believe time and time again, Jesus was trying to reach out to Judas.  He loved Judas.   Nowhere do you read about contempt or rejection towards Judas.  Nowhere.    How could he do it?  I just couldn’t do it.  But then I thought about the other 11.  Why was it so easy for me to think of Jesus serving the 11 but not Judas?  These 11 would also deny him.  They too would sin against God.  These men were considered his best friends, the ones he loved and they too would give him up for fear of their own loss.  Even in knowing all of it, he still washed their feet.  The King was now the servant.  And as I’ve reflected throughout today—trying to figure out how to let go of resentment and contempt, I struggled.  How could I possibly get on my hands and knees and wash the feet of those who have hurt me?   Then  I realized God had answered my question with the very verse I had been pondering and picturing all day. Get down on your hands and knees and pray.  Seek God.  Pray.  Although Jesus was fully God, he also was full man.  He felt the same struggle and agitation but he was constantly looking to the father for his response, for his actions, for his guidance. Without that grace of Christ, I too could be Judas or Peter or…Without grace, I am any one of the 12.  

As we enter into Good Friday, I encourage you to think about that one who you feel abandoned you.  I encourage you to think about the one who didn’t call to check in on you or send a text to see how things were going.  I encourage you to think about the one who spread lies or who lied directly to your face.  Now pray.  Pray for them.  Don’t pray that “they will see the error in their ways” or that “God will give them theirs” but pray like Jesus would pray.  Pray for their health.  Pray for their wealth.  Pray for their happiness, their comfort, their freedom.  Pray they know Jesus.  In the most agonizing time of Jesus’ life on earth, he chooses to comfort the disciples when they should have been comforting him.  May we all have hearts like Jesus.  

Even on the night that Jesus was betrayed he still gave thanks (1Cor 11:23-24). Surely, in this time of suffering, in this time of being uncomfortable, we too can give thanks to the one who shed his blood, to the one who sacrificed his life for us. We thank you, Jesus. Continue to make us new. Continue to fix our eyes and our hearts on you. Thank you for the grace that covers us. Thank you for the grace that sets us free. Free us from our bondage. Free us from our bitterness. Free us from the things that are not of you. 

...I am not alone

“My eyes are ever on the Lord,

    for only he will release my feet from the snare.

Turn to me and be gracious to me,

    for I am lonely and afflicted.

Relieve the troubles of my heart

    and free me from my anguish.”  Psalm 25: 15-17

Can I be real?  Like super vulnerable real?  I know I share in my loss, in that struggle and I have shared the “freaking out” moments but this is a “real” that I have probably struggled with since elementary school.  Truth—today, I cried because I felt like I didn’t have any close friends.  Today, I cried because I haven’t made any real connections at Gabe’s school and I feel like such an outsider.  Today, I cried because I feel socially awkward, like the odd girl out, like the outsider.  I’m 37.  I’m 37, yet I cried because I feel like I am always watching other moms, other women engage in conversations and enjoying relationships while I just watch.  I just watch, hoping to be brought in, hoping to be a part, wondering why it seems so easy for some and so plain hard for me.  

Many of you have that close group of girlfriends.  You share everything with one another.  You have coffee dates, playdates, nights out and you have texts on repeat.  This post isn’t for you.  This post is for those women who just find it hard to connect with other women.  This post is for those women who covet those close knit relationships.  For those women who have weekly friend dates and seem to make friendships look so easy, I see you and I envy you.  But for those moms who feel isolated at their son’s friends’ birthday parties or school events, I’m living life right there with you.    

I once had a mom of a patient refer to me when speaking to one of the nurses as the “pretty one, who was probably popular and a cheerleader.”  Could she have been further from the truth. We couldn’t afford cheerleading so unless me dressing up in this little nautical outfit that had a blue pleated skirt with built in shorts underneath while I clapped my hands screamed out “ready, okay” followed by cheers and awkward arm movements on my back porch that I had heard from pep rallies counts then no, not a cheerleader.  And although I felt well accepted, I would not say popular. No one was rushing me to be by my side. And “pretty”is subjective.  Let’s keep it in perspective and that I didn’t really have cheek bones til I was 19.  Making friends has always been weird for me. I almost always feel out of place.  Once, Lance and I had Gabe and Cadence at a local school’s playground.  Another mom of a child around Gabe’s age, drifted towards me.  She asked a few questions, made a few comments as she watched her son. I did the same in return then I became engulfed in my children and drifted away.  As we were leaving, Lance made the comment about how she was trying to make friends with me.  I didn’t see it.  I thought she was just making small talk because she was standing a foot from me watching her child.  I joked that I should send out a craigslist post, “Lost connection: seemingly random nice woman at the elementary playground around 2:41 in the afternoon, who my husband says was trying to potentially make a friendship. —socially blind woman.”   

I had very few real friends growing up.  I hear about “friends since elementary” and I can’t recall having a best friend at my elementary school.  I do remember sitting in a circle of girls and one of the girls telling me that I “breathed too loudly”.  Does that count?  Maybe she was just keeping it real.  I had friends in middle school, junior high, high school.  Usually I had only one or two who I was actually close with.  Only one or two who I could actually just relax and enjoy being around. Only one or two I would hang out with outside of school and call from my own private line with my rotary phone.  But for various reasons we stopped being so close.  And while, I have a handful of women I am still “friends” with, we aren’t close.  I didn’t have a typical college experience so I didn’t join a sorority.  I didn’t make college roommate lifetime friendships but I did get one friend from graduate school and I’m so incredibly thankful for her.  Too bad she lives 15+ hours away. And I have work friends and church friends, from years past and current, who if I needed something or if they needed something then that something would be taken care of.  But we aren’t sending each other daily texts, meeting up for playdates or coffee breaks.  I have a few who I enjoy outside of work activities with but today, today I was thinking of the (lack of) friends I have made since Gabe started at his school.  Today, I struggled with “is it always going to be this way?”  “Is it always going to be this hard?”   

Don’t get me wrong, the people at Gabe’s school are very nice and sweet.  But today, and on most days, I feel like they already have their circles made and I’m not going to break in.  Have you ever found yourself searching for the other “new mom” so that maybe you can make your own circle.  Well, I do.  I offered to hold a baby of one of the dad’s so he could help his son on an obstacle.  He was polite and told me she was okay and his son wasn’t interested anymore.  Both true statements and I thought nothing more of it.  Then, probably not even 30 seconds later, one of the other moms went and got the baby from him. Probably harmless.  But still that doubt and insecurity started to creep in.  I wasn’t going to hurt the baby.  I wasn’t trying to hit on him.  I don’t have cooties.  Then as I stood there, on the outside walls, watching Gabe play, I also noticed how the moms were circling up, engaged in conversation, laughter, trying out the obstacles for themselves.  And I was just overwhelmed with this sense of loneliness.  You could probably see me sink further into myself.  I longed for Lance.  He is my all time best friend.  He would be buffering the awkwardness and either chatting up the moms and dads or standing isolated right next to me as we made our own jokes, told our own stories and attempted the obstacles for ourselves.  But he wasn’t there.  I called him on my way home and began to cry.  Does it have to be so hard?  Should I even care?  And the answer to both of those is probably and honestly “no”.  

I am who God made me to be. He can free me from this loneliness.  He can relieve the troubles of my heart and free me from my anguish.  I am weird and socially awkward and somewhat politically incorrect.  But I’m also loving and caring and kind.  I am married to a man with a twisted sense of humor who has slightly corrupted me and I have beautiful children who I can stare at all day long, who thankfully, are pretty loving themselves.  So, hopefully the next time I feel that isolation and loneliness, I will remember that Jesus has already freed me and I will remember the gifts He has given and I don’t have to be “lonely” any longer.  

I pray that if you too feel alone and isolated that you would be encouraged by these words.  You are not alone in those thoughts.  I have them too and more importantly, God has freed us from the real loneliness that comes with the separation from him.  Through Christ, we now have lasting relationship and friendship with him.  Through Christ, we are alone no more.  If you do not know Jesus, let me tell you about him.  He’s the best friendship I’ve ever made.  Love, Brandi

Yes, said the Son, with her I'll go...

“Yes, said the Son, with her I'll go,

Through all the depths of sin and woe;

And on the cross will even dare

The bitter pains of death to bear.” Spurgeon Sermon

After catching what seemed to be some judging tones when talking about Lance and I’s trip downtown with some friends after our work Christmas party, I may have been just a little thrown off.  I wasn’t quite sure how to take it.  Sure, we stayed out til two in the morning, hit up three bars, encountered a scuffle as well as someone brandishing their gun but we also laughed a lot, made great memories and enjoyed each other’s company.  Our children were well cared for, we had a designated driver (me) and we weren’t engaging in illegal activity.  So, although I knew no harm was meant, it still took some time for me to really get past the face value of the statement. 

This past week as I have been preparing to celebrate Gideon’s birthday, I have been blessed with opportunities for good memories to be made.  We had the group Christmas party for work and our provider dinner at Ruth’s Chris.  These events are always in good timing  because although I won’t let satan steal my joy and all the happiness that Christmas brings, I feel that I am a bit more emotional when December comes and it doesn’t get much better til March rolls out.  It’s a combination of the burn out of cold and flu season at work, the cold, dark, dreary winter days and of course the memories of a son we didn’t get to hold here on earth near long enough.    However, both nights this past week(ish), I was able to date Lance and to connect with him in a time where we are so busy, in a time filled with so many emotions.  And although we were surrounded by my workmates, it was still somehow just he and I.  I’m thankful. 

I’m thankful that those same hands that are becoming permanently swollen from practicing jiu jitsu for another way to keep safe are the same hands that wipe my tears away.  I’m thankful that those same hands that practice shooting techniques are the same hands that hold mine when we pray.  I’m thankful that those same hands that pick up our son or daughter when they are hurt are the same hands that hold me as I lay motionless on Gideon’s birthday sobbing.  I’m thankful that because of those hands, when it was time to pray today at church, our daughter came running to grab our hands so we could be joined in prayer because this is what she sees.   And I’m thankful that our kids get to see their dad take their mom on a date and they get to see that after God, our relationship comes first.   And much like a George W. eulogy, I hope they will see that their father loved me fiercely.  I hope they see that dad enjoyed my company, loved to take me out and that we were better people because we lived life together.  And yeah, that may include an occasional bar hopping (I like to dance and he likes beer) but it also includes get aways, coffee dates, dinner dates, shopping trips, concerts and musicals because these are things that we love and although we’ve been adults for (many) years now, we still hold on to that playful nature to keep us young(er) but also to keep us together.  Without this fun stuff, without this time to break free, life would be so much harder.  

Harder indeed.  As I laid curled up in his lap, crying, I thought back to what it was like to be naive.  When we were planning for Gideon, I never once thought about quitting my job.  I actually signed a 3 year contract just prior to him being born.  After he was born and I started back to work, I tried taking him to work with me but it was just me in the office and I didn’t have my mom or Lance’s mom like I did with Gabe and I couldn’t get it to work.  I had him at the sitter’s that first afternoon back.  Then, I never really gave a second thought about working and being a mom and wife.  This was life.  I grew up with parents who were gone before I left for school, who worked day jobs and came home in the evening hours after school let out.  We spent time together in the evening and on the weekends and this was my normal.   So with Gideon, we essentially had the same thing.  Lance and I both worked 9-5, dropped him at the sitter on the way in, picked him up on the way home and spent our nights and weekends together.  And this was fine.  This felt good. This felt fine.  Until the day it didn’t.  Until I realized how much I had missed out on.  But we were young and naive.  We didn’t know any different and didn’t know any better.  Before that day, we were able to sleep on the same schedule, eat meals together, plan for outings much easier.  We could say “yes” to Saturday evening birthday parties scheduled 2 weeks in advance.  And although we had a newborn with (the worst) colic, there was not the intensity of brain fog that I currently suffer between the hours of 7 and 10 in the morning after working a night shift and not getting to sleep til almost 5 in the morning.  We were far less moody and it felt like everything was the way it ought to be.  So, as I laid there motionless, I grieved for our son, but also a part of me grieved for those days of naivety.  I grieved for the days when I didn’t think twice about “missing out”.  Life is different and we think more about our actions and the long term.  I want to be there for ALL the moments.  I want to spend the hours they are awake being present.  I don’t want to settle for 2-3 hours a day and weekends of awake time and togetherness.  I want all that I can get.  I want field trips and drop off and pick up.  I want park days and zoo days and after school Chick-fil-a.  I want dance parties and classroom reading and playing babies and holiday parties.  But Lord, it’s hard.  It’s tiring.  It’s rough flipping back and forth, sleeping in shifts, napping for sleep.  And still, I think “am I doing enough?”  As I opened up and told Lance all that I was thinking and feeling, he echoed my ache.  We were smooth sailing then death came and flipped our course.  It’s hard being a parent; trying to make the best decisions, trying to do it all, trying not to worry but then we do work where we do.  He has seen the worst, I have seen the worst and we both have lived the worst.  So yes, every now and then a thought will cross my mind… “did I just smell acetone on your breath?  Blow in my face.  Do it again.”  Does he/she have diabetes? …goodness, is he too small or pale?  Could he have diabetes or cancer?  Thankfully, these thoughts are fleeting and usually I only struggle with the “are we doing enough” but this is parenting and it is hard.   So yeah, every now and then I stay out til 2 with my husband because in this stage in our lives we do more life “side by side” and not “face to face” as we raise two children.  We lean on God and we invest in us and lean in on one another because I could not imagine doing this parenting thing alone.   

“It is a mercy that our lives are not left for us to plan, but that our Father chooses for us; else might we sometimes turn away from our best blessings, and put from us the choicest and loveliest gifts of His providence.” —Susannah (Thompson) Spurgeon 

I believe Lance, Gideon, Gabe and Cadence are the loveliest gifts that God has given me (with the exception of Jesus Christ) and I know that His plan is far better than mine so I will continue to seek Him, to listen for Him, and to lean in…however this life may look.  

“Life in general was hard in the 16th century, and the unique circumstances Martin and Katherine Luther lived through sometimes made it even more so.

Luther had many health complications. They had financial woes. Both Martin and Katherine had strong personalities. They lost two children and suffered a miscarriage.

But perhaps because they didn’t expect married life to be easy, the Luthers didn’t question their marriage or consider divorce. Rather, they learned to cling to God and each other – and it was during those hard times that God used marriage to shape their character." — Jim Daly

...and I will trust Him.

“This I declare about the LORD: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I trust him.” —Psalm 91:2

Music has this enchanting quality that can stop us in our tracks, captivate our thoughts and take us to a place we didn’t realize we were even headed.  Since losing Gideon, music has meant so much more than just a catchy hook or danceable beat.  I have songs that remind me of him because that is what we would always play or I would always sing to him.  There are songs that cripple me, songs that give me hope.  And when it comes to Christian music, I’m thankful that even though it rips open those scars, it still points me back to Jesus.  

It’s the month of his birth and every year, I feel like it sneaks up on me.  I know it’s coming but it seems to come so fast.  And when it’s not even on the forefront of my thoughts, BAM, it hits me.  Driving in the car, I hear a song and instantly, I’m transported back to 2010, holding my first son, feeling that joy, smelling that sweet baby smell, seeing his smile, then 2011 and watching his laugh, discovering his personality, getting that call, walking those halls, crying out to God, leaving with an empty carseat.  This year, that song was “Even So” by Mercy Me.  

“I know You're able and I know You can

Save through the fire with Your mighty hand

But even if You don't

My hope is You alone

They say it only takes a little faith

To move a mountain

Well good thing

A little faith is all I have, right now

But God, when You choose

To leave mountains unmovable

Oh give me the strength to be able to sing

It is well with my soul”

This was us, standing next to that ICU bed, holding onto hope, holding onto the child who lay in front of us, intubated and sedated.  That was us, knowing that He could heal him but also knowing that He may not.  So driving home, tears flooded my face.  Not only was that us, it is still us.  In times like that, on his birthday, on March 8-10th every year, we still stand there and pray for the strength to praise Him.  And in those times, these songs I remember because these songs remind me of his Word.  

As we are planning for the new house, I have decided that we will have lots of song lyrics/scripture on the walls, on counters because this is how we get through.  These words point us to the Word and this always bring me back to Jesus.  I thought I would take the time to share as we prepare to celebrate Gideon’s birthday and later this month the birth of our Savior, some of the words I hold onto.  

Shortly after we lost him, God gave us this song and even though I knew the verse, when it was put to music it was something I can sing out at the top of my lungs in opposition to the enemy, in victory that even though we lost Gideon, Hell has no victory.  

“O death, where is your sting?

O hell, where is your victory?” —Christ is Risen, Matt Maher

And this points me to the actual scripture:

“O death, where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory?” --1 Corinthians 15:55

What was meant for evil in our lives, what could have totally ripped Lance and I apart, broken our spirit, turned us from God, only drew us closer.  Closer to one another, closer to Christ.  And one day, that grave will bear no hurt because God has defeated death and one day I will see my son again.  

And this pattern of thinking is the same path I take when I see the words:

“Ain’t no grave gonna hold me down.” —Ain’t No Grave, Crowder

And finally, 

  “But even if you don’t, my hope is you alone.”—Even If, Mercy Me.

The song goes on to sing about how He has been faithful and good all of our days and I will cling to Him. And this, I remember.  It is not God’s nature to hurt me.  Too many times He has been good.  Too many times, He has been faithful and pulled me through situations that only were God directed.  And so even if He doesn’t do what I ask, what I plead, I will still choose Him versus the many idols this world tries to set up in His place.   

Directs you to: 

"If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire; and He will deliver us out of your hand, O king. But even if He does not, let it be known to you, O king, that we are not going to serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up." —Daniel 3:17-18

I pray this post leaves you feeling blessed, feeling renewed, armed with some words of good songs that point to even better scripture that help you get through those times when you feel all is lost.  I tell you now, all is not lost.  We have a hope.  We have a God who came for us.  A God who became vulnerable and walked along side us, who now is in us.  We serve a God who suffered a death that was meant for us, a God who took the death we deserved even though He did not.  This month we will celebrate the birth of Gideon but more importantly we will celebrate the birth of Jesus.  On Christmas morning, I pray you take a look around at those near you, hug them tight and sing Jesus the loudest Happiest Birthday song you have ever heard because without Him all is lost.  Praise God we have Jesus.    

“This I declare about the LORD: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I trust him.” —Psalm 91:2

I trust you, Lord that you have saved me, that you have rescued me.  I trust in your promise that one day I will see You face to face and as I stand there recalling all of the times I doubted, all the times I have failed, You will cup my face, make Your light shine upon me and tell me, “Think of that no more.(The Silver Chair).  Then in all of your glory, I will again see my son.  I trust you.  

I see so much of Cadence in these photos.  She is this perfect blend of Gideon and Gabe yet still her own little person.

...and we will Rejoice

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart.” --Jeremiah 29:11-14

As I pack up our home, I reflect on our journey here, the memories made and look forward to the future.  This is the first home we have ever built.  Gabe’s hand print is embedded in the driveway.  We got to be a part of every step of the construction phase and see this house come to life.  We brought Cadence home here.  We have shared so many memories with our friends and family here through the birthday parties, graduation party, hosting community groups and just offering a place to rest.  There is no doubt that part of me will miss this home.  The layout inside has always made sense to me.  There is no wasted space, no poorly planned, “what do we do here” area.  Every room has a purpose and every space has a use.  Even the cut out area in the hall was perfect for our seating bench and then Gabe’s piano.  It is a great design.    But still, for many reasons, we are leaving.  As we don’t have plans for what the future holds and we will be moving into an apartment, I struggle.  

I relentlessly search home sites looking for a house that fits our wish list or land that we could make our own.  I have multiple searches set up of my own as well as one from our realtor so that i can be notified as soon as something new comes on the market within our criteria.  I am in weekly contact with our banker, asking various questions regarding various financing options, current rates and updating her with our current info.  I find myself yearning to know, to just have an idea... We will sell our home and build.  We will sell our home and buy a new home.  We will sell our home and buy an older home.  We will sell our home and buy something in Broken Arrow.  We will sell our home and buy in Bixby.  We will sell our home and live in an apartment for x amount of months...  It’s not known at this time.  Even though we have an apartment lined up for move in in 1 week, I still consider that an undecided.  If something were to come up for sale that was what we wanted before our move date then we wouldn’t even rent an apartment at all but instead stay with family until we closed.  So even that is iffy.  And honestly, even the sell of our house is iffy.  There are four closings happening on one day.  Our contract resides on our buyers closing on their previous home, which resides on their buyers closing on their previous home and their buyers closing on their previous home.  So even this packing could al be for not.  

On Sunday, I journeyed to church with both kids in tow.  Lance had had an awful night at work so we got home at 8, he was exhausted and stayed home to sleep.  We have started going to a new church plant over the past few months.  The congregation is small and we share a space with another church.  There is children’s church in the room behind the sanctuary and it’s not exactly sound proof and my daughter is not quiet.  She has had stranger anxiety from the age of 6 months and as we have tried to get her use to going into children’s church, she has cried for almost the duration of the entire service.  But this Sunday was different.  This Sunday, she cried for a few moments and then I didn’t hear her any longer.  So when the time came for reflection, I actually had time.  I had peace and quiet and opportunity to talk to God without distraction.  So I turned and knelt at my seat and began to pray.  “God, show me what we are to do. Let your plan be known to us.  Should we buy or build?  Let me have peace.  Tell me what to do.”   And in that moment, His simple answer, “Seek Me”.  But should we... “Seek Me.” ...but what about... “Seek Me.”  Yes, I hear you but what does that mean?  “Seek Me.  Spend time with me.  Find me in your day.  Read more of my Word.  Seek Me.”  Instantly, He showed me the daily devotional and I knew that I needed to start carving out time every day to devote to Him and the reading of that devotional.  

I would like to say that all of the angst and stress of the move is gone.  I would like to not say that although I’m excited, I’m also a little depressed about the downsizing while we wait.  But I can’t.  I’m human and flesh and my brain chases the rabbit trail in 15 different paths every minute.  But I can say that I will be obedient and there is a peace in that.  And in continuing to be obedient, I know He will continue to work in me and alleviate those fears and feelings.  I will seek Him and I will find Him and His plans will be brought to light.  He is good. 

I thank you, Lord for seeking me first.  I thank you for the things that you have done and what you will do, but more importantly what you are doing this very day.  Today is yours and I will rejoice in it.  I will seek you.  I will find you.  I will find you here in this very day.  I will be glad.  

“This is the day the Lord has made; Let us will rejoice and be glad in it.”  --Psalm 118:24

What are you seeking?  Where are your sights set?  It’s so easy to ask God what he has for us and get caught up in the minutiae but how are you working on that bigger picture?  What does seeking Him in your life look like? 

when the well runs over...

WARNING!!!  This post is a bit personal.  I talk about woman things and such..like boobs...nope, not those ones, I mean the kind that produce milk and that hungry babies use for nourishment..and other lady norms...like the kind that requires sanitary napkins and such.  So, if you can handle that imagery, then read on.  If not, then please stop now before you and I embarrass ourselves any further. 

Today was one of my most productive days in quite awhile.  I mean the kind of productive where you get to do something that you want to do (not that you have to do) and then you get to look at your work and just be glad.  That kind of productive.  We are all for the most part productive everyday.  But this is a different kind of productivity.  This is the thing that makes you feel like you actually did something and didn’t just get pushed along by the tide of life.  That’s it!  That’s how things have been feeling lately.  From work to feedings, to naptime rituals and storytime, to diaper changes and wardrobe changes, to baseball practice and piano lessons and piano practice and swim lessons, school pick-up and school drop off, homework, napping here, sleeping there, crying over there...the list of things to do never stops.  I joke to Lance that before bedtime rituals, is when I am the most optimistic and after bedtime rituals is when I am the most real.  There is something about preparing those two little humans for bed and tucking them in that just drains me!   And for the past few months, I feel like we have been pushed along by this tide that just sweeps through our house and directs all of our actions.   So today, was good in that I broke free from the undertow and made it up on the beach, by walking and not by being tossed!  

But today was also a struggle.  Cadence started refusing to nurse.  A few months ago i felt like my supply was decreasing because I had too many days away from her and although I pump, if she doesn’t go to breast, my milk production decreases.  So at that time, I was wrestling with giving her formula and giving up on nursing.  But then I was going in a little later and getting to feed her every night for the 7:00 feed and I felt like my production was boosted back to normal.  But today, she acted like she did not want to nurse from me and fear struck.  WHY?!?!?  Was my production down?  I did work the past three nights and missed out on those feedings.  She was excited to see the daily bottle of prune juice...so, was she just too used to the bottle now and protesting me?   I mean, she would literally pull away from me and not even try to latch.  Ugh!   I could feel her getting lighter and lighter.  I had decided that she was going to go to the bottle and since I’m not good at making milk with pumping, formula it was.  Fed is best, right?  I researched  (eh-hem,  in this case I googled) “the most like breastmilk formula).  The top contender?  Earth’s Best organic sensitive with DHA/ARA.  Ok great.  I would go to Target after community group and pick up a can.  (never mind that my breasts were producing milk and supply was not the issue--as she had milk draining from her mouth when she would pull away and scream at me.  Surely she just “didn’t want to breastfeed any longer and she was weaning herself.)  

So I go to Target, pressed for time because Lance has to leave for work and I have exactly one hour to get there and back.  One.  Hour.  Hello, have you been to target?  There are too many pretty/shiny things to be limited on time while shopping at Target.  First stop, girls clothes for an Easter dress.  i probably spent a good twenty minutes in this section.  I finally have a few things picked out.  Yes, a few.  i couldn’t just get one dress.  I also had to get a romper and a pair of tights and a sun hat.  Priorities.  I almost make it out of clothes when I remembered that I needed to get Gabe a new blazer.  That’s when I realize the new boy toddler section for daily clothes containing items other than pajamas and swim clothes, consists of one rack that holds two different dress shirts, two different pair of pants and three different casual shirts.  So I pout and rant for a minute, stroll over to the boys section and stare at an XS 4/5 button down shirt and try to picture it on my 36 pound almost 5 year old before rolling my eyes and getting aggravated once again by the lack of options.  But then it was on to the formula finally.  I spend a good 5 minutes picking out various organic simple ingredient baby food items consisting of “just” ingredients.  Just apples.  Just green beans.  Just prunes.  Then I turn to the dreaded formula.  Now let me stop you right here, if you formula fed/feed, I’m not putting you down.  Your choice to formula feed is just that, your choice and what worked for you, was best for you.  This is simply my story.  I’m sure there will be someone who feels the need to tell me that “formula is fine”.  I know it is fine.  But...

Now back to the formula.  So at first I don’t see it.  I see the Honest baby brand.  I see that price.  yikes.  then finally, I see it.  I stand there analyzing the cans.  Earth’s Best Organic Sensitivity DHA/ARA.  But then there’s another one “Earth’s Best Organic Organic Sensitive DHA.  Wait, so is the first not organic?  But it’s Earth’s Best Organic brand.  Doesn’t that mean it’s organic?  And what was ARA for again?  I know the DHA but what is the significance of ARA?  Oh wait, this non-ARA is No GMO.  Wait, there was an article going around about why you shouldn’t eat non-GMO foods but I didn’t read that so I don’t know what the argument is.  Okay, I’ll compare ingredients...eh, what the?!?  nothing simple like “just boob milk”.  Oh crap, 23 minutes til time to be back.  Well, I’ll grab the $30 container and don’t forget the special infant water.  Head for the check out as thoughts of stopping breastfeeding bounce through my head and how she is my last one and I want her to be healthy so I want her fed but I have milk, but she isn’t drinking my milk but I’m making milk but she is so tiny  and it is all jumbled in my brain.  Then, there it is.  One cashier open and 5 people ahead of me.  Immediately parked the cart next to the candy trap and exited the store.  Formula crisis diverted.  Wasted an hour and came home empty handed but still full of milk on my chest!   

So then I start researching reasons why she may be protesting.  How can I coax her to nurse?  And then boom!  There it was. . . “Hormones.  Pre-menstruation and menstruation may cause a baby to nurse less or refuse because the mother and milk may smell different and the milk changes and may be saltier.”  Oh yes, that little womanly wonder showed back up today after nearly 18 blissful months and with her she brought the acne back as well.  35 and breaking out.  It’s like I’m in high school again.  Seriously, I had terrible skin.  I remember one year when I showed my dad my school picture, his reply was “your skin looks better than last year.”  He didn’t mean anything and I remember calling him out on it and it never made me self conscious (more than I already was) so I don’t need therapy or anything.  i just remember it because it was a little rude but funny (like the kind of funny you sit around with your cousins and reminisce about) and it was definitely true.  But back to the topic at hand...perhaps, that’s why she’s been so moody.  It more than likely was the cause of my evening downward spiral.