Let me be still

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Ok.  How many walls have you seen this on?  I first saw this prayer on a plaque with 5 too many coats of polyurethane on it in my granny's bathroom.  I saw it in almost every senior citizen Sunday school room at church.  I saw it in e-mails of people who had lost someone or had been diagnosed with some horrid form of cancer.  So, I thought this was the old or terminally ill person's prayer.  And not the spry or optimistic old or ill people.  The sad, lonely ones with no hope, who just want to suck everyone else into their vortex.  Needless to say, I did not think this prayer was for me.  I'm a mid-twenties happily married mother of two beautiful children.  I'm fine.

Well, a few weeks ago I realized I wasn't fine.  I was in a house with 3 of the most loving people you will every find, and I was sad and lonely.  Hold up.  Did I just admit that I was one of those people from the previous paragraph?  Yes.  Yes I did.

You see, my state of mind had nothing to do with the people around me.  I hadn't gone through a traumatic loss of a family member.  We weren't suffering a sudden financial crisis.  Nope.  Through fleshing this out in a very hard convo with my husband (not that he made it hard, it was just hard to air all these emotions out), I realized I'd put myself into this spot I was in.  I'd allowed some wants and selfish desires to fester in my head and in my heart, and I hadn't made any efforts to treat or heal these self-inflicted "wounds".  I was taking blame for things that I was never blamed for, creating scenarios that weren't currently playing out, and harboring desires for things that I "should" want.


We live in the coun-try.  We do not own our home and land.  My husband drives 45 minutes to work.  We can't walk out of our front door onto a sidewalk and stroll to our bestie's house.  In fact, I don't know a single person's name that lives within a 3 mile radius.  


Sob. Story. Right?  I know.  I can't even count how many times a day these things had been running through my head.  I mean, I grew up in the country.  I'm used to this way of life.  Why am I whining?  Then I realized...I'd gotten all wrapped up in the "American Dream".  You know.  The thing we're taught to want from birth...the dream of owning my own home, driving a nice car,  grilling out with my nuclear-family neighbors weekly, and having my kids in the most expensive and highest ranked schools around.  Yeah, you knew which dream I was talking about, didn't ya?  Well, this dream had consumed my thought life.  This is a dream that I never really envisioned myself pursuing as a youth.  In fact, this is not really a dream I desire to flesh out in my current state of life.  But, because I believed this lifestyle would make all of our lives "easier", I decided I should strive and strive to begin to make this dream a reality for my family.  


Now don't get me wrong.  I don't believe any of the things I've listed in the "dream" are actually wrong.  However, I do believe the "love of" and the "lusting over" the dream are.  I had to do a major gut check.  I was soooo enamored with the thought of having some of these things, I'd almost convinced myself that they were feasible with our current income and in this stage of live.  That's soooo very dangerous.  You know how you think a thought for long enough, and it eventually seems like a reality, even though it most definitely is not? 


I was over-thinking everything.  "We're just out here on this land because of my family", "If we just lived closer to his work, we'd spend more time together", "If I could just have a neighborhood to walk through, I'd be able to exercise more", "If we had neighbors with  younger kids and more in common, we'd be much happier".  Here's the thing.  All of those thoughts may be true.  Here's the problem...I wasn't leaving any room for God's will in any of those thoughts.  I wasn't giving God any room to move or any credit for the absolutely blessed life we currently live.  I wasn't thinking about how living here is less expensive than anywhere else we could possible live, and it's because of the lessened financial burden, I am able to stay home with my babies.  I wasn't looking at the lack of friends around me as a chance to stretch myself when I am in social situations.  Oh, and here's the biggie.  I wasn't thinking that maybe God doesn't want us tied down to a mortgage and lots of nice things because He doesn't want us too comfortable where we are.  Whoa.  That's a little scary.  Crazy enough, a couple of days after this realization, several members of our church spoke about things like "just feeling the need to down-size and keep life simple because they knew big things were in store for them, and they knew they needed to be ready and mobile for when their time came to make that move."  That just hit me in my very core.  What if all of this was God's will?


What? Did you just say "what if" when it comes to God's will?  Come on.  I know I'm not the only one who has overlooked, questioned, or just flat out ignored the will and hand of God in my life.  I started thinking about all the puzzle pieces in my life that just seemed odd, disjointed, and impossible to connect, and I broke.  All the things that the world has seen as unfair and horrible in our life, God intended for good.  It was because of Brandon's gloomy medical diagnosis that we decided to conceive at such an early age.  Now we're the young, happy parents of two precious gifts.  It's also because of our trials with his health that we don't have the squeaky credit necessary to procure our dream house and live "well", and I consider that a blessing because we have learned so much from living paycheck to paycheck and frugally.  It's really hard to swallow that God would allow my husband to suffer in order to ground us and give us perspective, but I'm so certain that's what happened.  


It's so easy to forget about all of the other characteristics of God when "love" is the one stressed to us so often.  God knows us.  He knows that for us to be moldable and willing we had to be broken....over and over.  That doesn't sound like the "Jesus loves me" God, does it?  But it is, and that's what I have to tell myself regularly to keep things in perspective.  I've had to realize that different people are in different spiritual seasons in life.  God has a perfect plan for us, but it is soooo incredibly easy to mess it all up with our "human-ness".  


Whew.  This girl has this whole situation under control now, right?  I mean, it sounds like she's worked all this out in her head and heart, and she knows what she's doing and where God's taking her, right? Well, that would be a big, fat negative.  I soooo don't have things figured out.  I will think horrible things before the day is over, and I will, for the gazillionth time, want something even though I know it's not God's will for me in this season of life.  I'm human..I'm sinful.  I'm just glad He cares enough about me to slow me down long enough for me to process and see His plan...even when He already knows I'll start trying to make changes to the blueprint before this blog has posted.  


So, I end with the title of this post.  It's from a song I bought the performance track to, but never sang in church.  I think it's because the lyrics are hard for me to swallow.  It's so hard for me to be still...I can't remember all of the lyrics, but these are the ones I find playing through my head occasionally. (Update: Just found song on You Tube...was looking for the wrong name when I tried finding it last night/this morning)


***Found all of the lyrics...just can't stop with the chorus.  


"Still" by Watermark



The more I get alone
The more I see I need to get alone more, more
Cause just when I think that I'm alone
Your Spirit calls out to me
And even silence has a song
Cause that's when you come
Sing over me


Still, let me be still
Let me be OK
With the quiet in my heart
Still, I want to be still
I'm so quick to move
Instead of listening to you
Shut my mouth
Crush my pride
Give me the tears
Of a broken life,
Still


Oh this world, it falls around me
And flutters all it's beauty in my eyes
But let me choose the solitude
Simplicity has always simply changed my life
Cause even stillness makes me move
Cause that's when my heart
Learns to dance with you


Still, let me be still
Let me be OK
With the quiet in my heart
Still, I want to be still
I'm so quick to move
Instead of listening to you
I'm your child
Tame my heart
Obedience
To me impart

Still
La la la la la, Hold me
La la la la la, Cleanse me
La la la la la, Change me, Oh God
Change me while I am

Still, let me be still
And know that you are God
And you are always enough
Still, I want to be still
To take all that I am
And simply lift it up
Shut my mouth
Crush my pride
Give me the tears
Of a broken life,
Still

It's so hard, but I want to just be still in His plan, and I want to be sure that when I move, we are both moving in the same direction.   

It's zoo time, baby!

Yeah, so this is my fourth time to go to the Jackson Zoo this year.  It's so amazing how I know it like the back of my hand now, but Cade acts like we're on a new, exciting adventure every time.  It's awesome!  We spent twenty something bucks on a companion membership, and we've definitely gotten our money's worth out of it.  I'm thinking these memberships will be great for b-days and Christmas...ahhh-hha-hem grandparents : )  Maybe the natural science and children's museum...if it ever gets finished?  Hmmm...who knows.  It seems like I looked into the memberships for the children's museum, and they were pretty pricey.

Well, before I get totally lost chasing another rabbit, let me throw some pics up on this page of my younguns at the zoo.

Thighs-a-licious...don't hate.  You just wish you could pull this off.

 

He was so determined to make it up to the top of the slide.  A few of them are pretty steep!  There's nothing like being able to go down a water slide while viewing an elephant's big, muddy backside.  Priceless.

She hated the little stations with the "misters", but she didn't mind the rain shower at all.  What's up with that?

Ok.  That was essentially our zoo trip.  We were super psyched because daddy got to go with us.  

Sooo...on a totally different note, can I just proclaim that God is so good?  I mean, I know that statement is true, but sometimes you just KNOW it's true.  I had one of those moments today.  It seems like every single time I start to let worries and doubts about me staying home get to me, I hear the command to "just give it over to God" from the pulpit at our church.  Always timely.  Always relevant.  Most of the worries boil down to finances, and He always, always provides a way.   Seriously, in the past week, I've had photo sessions being booked right and left.  Awesome.

This brings me to something else awesome.  That's my sweet boy and his heaven-sent gift of blessing his momma's heart with song.  His newest favs are "How Great is Our God" and the chorus from "Revelation Song".  No, we don't listen to Christian music 24/7, and we definitely like our booty shakin music' playlist we've compiled on iTunes, but these two songs have just stuck with him.  He belts them out with all of his heart, and my eyes just water.  Sweet.

Well, I better call it a night.  I still have lots to do, and I need to shut this TV off and stop dreaming.  Say Yes to the Dress has been on in the background while I've been blogging it up and messing with some pics.  I always start planning a wedding in my head every time I watch that show.  Ridiculous I know, but I like so many types of dresses...everything from breezy and beachy to poufy and princessy.  Those consultants would hate to see me coming.  Oh well, I can always dream, and hey...there's always the possibility of a vow renewal service!

Night y'all!

Grub and Green

Grub and green?

Ok.  I wanted to put two completely unrelated topics into one post because I'm just crazy (or lazy) like that.


First, the grub.

I didn't start Eve on cereal until she was just over 6 months old.  Some call it smart..some call it child abuse.  Oh well.  She's definitely not underdeveloped, and she's slept 11-13 hours a night since 6 weeks of age, so take that.  She is one crazy eater.  I don't even think 1/4 of the food actually makes it to her belly.  She refuses to be fed.  Sheeee wants to do it.  So independent already.  

This is what happens when you try to take the spoon away.  She scrunches up her face, and it transforms into a weapon.

She'd like you to believe she made a happy bowl.  Oh how she deceives.

Worn out from all that hard work.

I just wanted to share some of this cuteness.  I often forget to share tidbits about her because there are so many "Cade stories" to tell.  She is going to be just as big of a handful as he is.  She is aggressive, she is silly, and she can melt me with her eyes.  I'm in big trouble.

Now for the green.  We live in the country.  Some of the people we know think the subdivisions they live in 2 minutes from Dogwood are considered "country living".  Please.  When I say we live in the country...I mean coun-try.  Anyway, this is going to seem really silly to some of you, but to my neighbors, this is going to be a big deal for them, too.  This year was soybean rotation for the fields around our land.  Can I get a whoop! whoop!?  Know what this means?  No more dry, ugly, brownish yellow corn stalks to look at for months on end.  The corn grown around here is not for human consumption.  It's for animals.  It has to be dry, dry, dry to harvest. It's just gross.  

Here are a few pics of what I get to see when I walk out my door this season.  Oh...and as a bonus, you get to see the really cool storm the blew through yesterday.  The deep blue sky looked ahhhmazing against the fields, and the fluffy white clouds made my camera salivate.

To our left

Straight ahead

To our right

This is the first "non-corn" year since we moved here, so that's why I'm ecstatic.  Plus, being surrounded by corn is kinda creepy.  

Corn=creepy...Soybeans=happy...well, for now anyways.  

Our two nighter at Batson

I'm a little late on this, but I'm sure you'll understand.

Last Tuesday, my sweet baby was admitted to Blair E. Batson with difficulty breathing.  I've never had so much fear concerning the well-being of one of my kids!

I had a few errands to run before our Savannah trip (I'll have to save this ordeal for another day when the mention of this doesn't make me wan't to throw something, puke, or cry), so my granny offered to come and watch the kids at my house that morning.  Eve had a virus the week before, but she had been doing very well for a few days.  No fever.  No runny nose.  Very minimal coughing.  I thought she'd be fine without me for a while, and I definitely felt good about leaving her while Brandon and I got away for a few days.

So, after the tires were balanced and the prescriptions were refilled, I returned home to find a happy toddler and a very fussy baby.  She seemed pretty upset, but I could also tell that she was very tired.  So, I laid her back in her bed to finish out her nap.  After she'd slept an hour or so, I went in to check on her.  I could tell that she was breathing quicker than usual, but she was sleeping well, so I let her finish out her nap.  When she awoke, she was veeeerryy upset and couldn't seem to get her breath.  She was taking extremely short, shallow breaths, and she could only get enough air to make a noise every 20 seconds or so.  I called our doc, and after explaining the situation in full, the nurse told me to come on in.

Well, needless to say, after a couple of tests and an in-office breathing treatment, it was decided that she must be hospitalized.

Soooooo much went on in the hospital, it would take an hour to type it all.  Instead of using that time for typing instead of some much needed cleaning, I'm  just going to give you a rundown of the highlights : )

The first nurse was a neurotic mess.

Allen, the respiratory therapist is an awesome guy.  Definitely made up for the other quacks who tried my nerves.

At one point Eve was on oxygen, had an IV in her foot giving her Rocephin, and had a monitor taped to her foot.  Pi-ti-ful sight.

Doctor Adcock was great!  Highly recommend him.

Brandon and I slept on one of those pullout chairs...at the same time.  Not pretty.

I washed my hair in the in-room shower and after 20 minutes of rinsing, still had enough suds in my hair to make that crunch/bubbly sounds with I touched it.  Worst water pressure ever!

Our fourth nurse was great.  Loved Ashley!

At one point my dad, step mom, mom, brother, son, and sister were in the room while Brandon and I ate and grabbed stuff from home.  I've heard there are lots of stories there.

Our third respiratory therapist was a crazed smoker.  She had 3 asthmatic kids.  Imagine that. (P.S.  The doc is almost certain the smoke on my granny's clothes triggered the sudden lung inflammation.  So, a smoking therapist did not make me happy.)

After 3 prospective release times, we finally blew that joint just before lunch on the third day.

It was a crazy time.  Scary and trying.  I'm so happy to have a pretty healthy, slightly raspy/crackly baby at home now.

Like I said, I'll have to get back to you on the foiled Savannah trip.  It's just too soon.

Impromptu "picanit" on the trace

Ok.  Mental image.  It's Wednesday at 3:15 p.m..  My dishwasher is running and my sink is already full of more dirty dishes.  I've been at home with a sick baby and ca-ray-zy 2 year old for four days.  There are enough Mega Blocks on my living room floor to build an additional room onto our home, and I'm so tired I could just lean up against the wall and fall asleep.  Actually, if I could just stand still for a few minutes, I could probably doze off free-standing in the middle of the room.  On top of that, my sick "mild child gone wild child" thinks it's acceptable to go on a nursing strike.....agghhh!!!

You're getting the picture, right?  One tired, stressed mama.  All I really want to do is set out a bunch of snacks on the table and tell everyone to have at it and crawl into bed.  Instead, I think "Oh!  A picnic sounds nice!"  As crazy as this may sound, it was kind of a perfect idea.  My husband drives home on the Natchez Trace each day, so I got this idea to throw together a picnic and meet him on his way home.  Whew.  I forgot how much work a picnic is!  On top of that, I thought it would be a lovely time of day for some photo ops.  We have only taken one family "portrait" (I use that term very loosely), so I threw the camera and tripod into the heap of necessities, as well.  If you're going to take a family photo, you also have to wear decent clothes.  I start in Eve's dresser, since she's the one I really want to take the most pics of.  I've been slacking a bit : /.  I pulled out an outfit she'd never worn before, and then made my way to Cade's closet to coordinate.  I quickly found a green shirt (what was I thinking?) that went with the dress I'd picked out for her.  After successfully dressing the kids, I moved on to our closet to find something for us to wear.  Crap.  I couldn't find anything kind of neutral to "go" with the kids' clothes, so I just grabbed something and threw it on and tossed a shirt for Brandon onto the "heap".

Five trips to the van later, and we're off to some elusive destination.  On the way, I decide it may be a good idea to alert my husband to the fact that we would be meeting for a picnic.  "Where?"  he asked.  Ummmm....well, that's a good question.  Luckily, I found a nice spot not too far down the trace.  As I carefully maneuver my van onto the grass, I see these ENORMOUS bugs start appearing from all directions.  Seriously.  We were surrounded.  I was getting really worried, but as we drove closer to the water, they thinned out and the nice breeze kept them at bay.

Long story short...we ate mediocre sandwiches and snack foods, struggled, as always, with setting up the tripod to get a decent family shot (we just haven't broken down for a remote yet), and I snapped a few pics of the kids.

I usually don't mess with the color of my photos too terribly much, but since my crazy self put my son in a green shirt and snapped in an almost solid green background, I had to get a little creative.

All in all, it was a pretty pleasant evening.  I still returned to a wrecked home, but at least I didn't have to spend the whole evening in the disaster area.

Imma be livin' that good life

Okay.  This post is going to be a bit of a whirlwind.  Today was our fourth wedding anniversary.  I remembered while I was sitting at the dinner table with my two munchkins.  Some of you think I'm a lame wife...some of you can totally identify.  Ha.   Last year we remembered our anniversary one week later at the dinner table with my folks!  We're not big "date" people.  We forget peoples' birthdays, which we've caught plenty of flack over.  We forget when relatives died.  We forget lots of things.  I'll be the first to admit that my memory totally sucks.  I can barely recall any of my high school happenings....middle school and under are almost a complete wash.  


So, when I was sitting at the dinner table tonight and my 2 and 1/2 year old starts belting out "Imma be, imma be, imma imma imma be", I thought about the rest of that chorus.  Imma be livin' that good life.  I started thinking about my life, and bam!  I remembered my anniversary.  Then came the flood.  The sudden rush of memories and emotions that have made up these four years, and I had to discretely swipe tears so that my boy didn't get worried about his mama.  It's been a crazy journey thus far.  Here's just a sampling....

We've moved three times in these four years.  For some of you that's nothing.  For me, it's been really hard and has been a huge learning experience.  Clinton...Jackson...Pelahatchie.  Who knows where we'll end up next?  We've learned that some landlords like to patch pipes with 2 liter coke bottles and that others don't make good on their renovation promises.  We've learned that we're pretty much destined to have crappy neighbors who chainsmoke in their "smoke-free" rental, listen to Enya at 2 a.m.,  and allow their yappy mutts to gnaw on our legs.


We've learned that Ulcerative Colitis is an ugly disease.  We've learned that all doctors do not have positive intent, and we've learned that some are amazing, brilliant people who are totally into saving lives.  After two trips for me, and three for my husband, we've learned that Cleveland, OH just isn't a place we ever want to see again in this lifetime (love ya Cleveland Clinic...Cleveland snow and residents...not so much).  We've learned that meds can make us do and say bad things, that colonoscopy images are scary, and that ostomies can bring people closer than they ever thought possible.  We've also learned that living with a pseudo colon is a day-by-day learning experience...for all of us.


We've experienced the joy of bringing two babies into the world.  Oh what joy.  I'm going to start bawling right...about...now.  Yep bawling.  Our babies are uhmazing.  They love on us, inspire us, and frustrate us like no other beings can.  We've learned to be better people...better Christ followers because of them.  


We've enjoyed being free of baggage from previous relationships.  We were the firsts.  And anytime things get rough and I'm ready to bail, I remember how we were so perfectly made for one another...how we waited for one another.  


We've met new people and lost touch with people we thought we'd never distance ouselves from.  We've switched to a new church after spending a decade at another.  


We've held a total of at least 10 different jobs in these four years.  We've gone from being a dual-income family which struggled off and on to being a single-income family which budgets like nobody's business and cuts costs left and right.  


We've realized that we don't always get what we want, but we definitely get what we need....which is not always fun. 


We've come to understand that love is not just something you say.  It's a lifestyle.


We've learned it's ok to just "be" every once in a while.


And while writing this post, I've been reminded that I don't want to even imagine what my life would be like without him.


Happy Anniversary

Life with a nudist

My two and a half year old is officially a nudist.  He hates clothes.  Loathes them, in fact.  He definitely did not get this from me....must be from his dad : )  I guess he wants to be fair to all parts of his anatomy.  I mean, is it really fair that the eyes get all the enjoyment?  Why shouldn't every square inch of his skin enjoy all the sights and textures he encounters every day?  Here are just a few places/times he particularly enjoys being nude.

1.  Outside.  It's nothing for me to look out into the back yard only to find a nude child running around playing with the dog.  Most of the time, he'll maintain a shred of modesty by leaving his shirt on, but you can forget about bottoms staying on.  The thing that gets me the most, is that he sits in his sandbox this way.  Can you say ouch?  That cannot possibly be pleasant.  And what about bugs?  Aggghhh.  It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.  If the neighbor relations weren't so strained, I'm sure we'd have complaints coming from them.  But, since they chose to allow their vicious mutt to return after his stay in the doggie joint, I guess it's only fair that we get to run a mini nudist colony.  

2.  On the couch.  The cold, cold "inherited from Brandon's pre-marriage days" leather couch.  He will strip down and promptly crawl up onto the couch to watch his "tartoons" in morning.  I guess even his "peewuh"...I think you can guess what that is in his language...likes Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  At least he has one other being in this house who shares that sentiment.  

3.  After his "showah wit daddeeee".  The child hates baths, so we've gotten into a routine where he takes showers with daddy at night.  After his shower, my husband throws a towel over the little nudist's shoulders and releases him from the bathroom.  He makes a beeline into the living room where I'm usually feeding the baby or taking a breather and yells "Tada!" while he simultaneously drops his towel, bearing all.  The kid never even uses a towel to dry off.  He air-dries.  I guess he's just keeping it all natural.  

4.  Random public places.  Now this has to be my absolute fav (this is dripping with sarcasm).  There's nothing like seeing a shirt flung from the left side of the stroller and instantly hearing a burst of giggles.  I stretch around the edge to look at him, and what do I find?  A beaming boy who is rubbing his chest and belly.  All the while, everyone else surrounding is either laughing or thinking "I'm sure he gets that from his mother.  There's no way he would just up and do a thing like that if he hadn't seen it modeled at home."  Well, little old ladies and uptight moms, I'm here to tell you that he did in fact start doing this on his own.  I haven't shed my shirt in public in years.  JUST KIDDING.  Never done such a thing.  

Bonus:

I wanted to throw in this incident which occurred yesterday.  In an attempt to get some editing done, I'd allowed him to take my phone into the living room to "pway games and make T wex".  Yes, he has his own apps on the phone.  Don't judge.  Those babies got me through a 2 1/2 hour wait at the doctor's office on Tuesday.  Take that.  Aaaaanyway...my darling walks in the room where I'm working away and says "Where's mommy's phone?" in the most mischievous tone I've ever heard from him.  Without glancing at him, I say "I don't know.  Where is it?"  Again, he asks me where the phone is.  I look over at him to see his pelvic region jutting forward in an unnatural stance.  Upon closer inspection, I also notice an odd shape in his underwear (yes, he actually had some on).  You guessed it.  He'd put my phone, the object I have to touch and allow my face to touch many times a day IN HIS UNDERWEAR!    Gross, I know.  But I couldn't stop laughing for a solid 2.41 minutes.  

Never a dull or fully-clothed moment in this house.