Do you ever find yourself feeling heavy-hearted? It most often strikes me when something is not what it should be...is not what it could have been. When I learn of something tragic in someone else's life that came about as a result of poor choices, it weighs on me.
Often, I begin mulling over what has happened in the life of another and I can't help but think, maybe if I'd paid more attention, maybe if I'd reached out more than I did...maybe I would have broken through, maybe if I'd seen what was happening...I could have helped...it didn't have to end up this way. I wonder: Is there anything left for me to do now? I wish I'd known earlier...I wish I'd seen it coming.
Though it must be miserable to sift through the wreckage of your own life, it's very hard to watch from the outside as well. We, as Christians, live in community with one another. What hurts others should hurt us as well. I admit though, I hate the helplessness of it. Wanting a situation redeemed by the power of God, willing to be a part of the process in some small way, but feeling helpless to make a difference.
If only I had known sooner...maybe then...
The what ifs are so hard. At these times, all I can do is pray. Pray that God will give me an opportunity. An opportunity to make a difference in the aftermath. An opportunity to be an encouragement, a friend and a listening ear. Someone who can provide support, truth, loving-kindness and help.
I'm so very thankful we have a God who cares; One who is there for us. It is comforting to know He can make a way and if He doesn't, He will still be there for the child who needs it.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Not Easy
Matt and I had a date night over the weekend. I'd been eagerly anticipating the release of Gatsby (loving the incredibly visual aspect of the previews) and Matt was paying attention to its release. It had been quite a long time (for us) since we'd gone out to see a new movie.
Although Matt felt he needed to work Saturday, he made it home in time for us to get ready, run an errand, eat dinner and see the show. The time was tight, so there were some hairy moments, but it all came together. We had a great dinner and really liked the movie.
The story itself is a sad one; that much I remembered from reading it in junior high, but it was a well-crafted movie and interesting to see it play out. Needless to say, it was not an early night. With church coming early Sunday morning, I knew I'd be tired (and yawning) during the service.
As is often the case with me and my brain, I laid my head on the pillow and thought about the sadness of the story. What might have been. What could have been. Why didn't their story end happily? My heart always yearns for a happy ending. Even with a story with which I was familiar, I still yearned for a happy ending.
It wasn't too long before I drifted off to sleep, but when morning came, I wasn't ready to get up. Sunday is the one morning all week that I get out of bed first. It's sort of my gift to Matt. He gets to spread out over the whole bed and cozy in a bit longer while I take my shower.
You know how it feels on a Saturday morning (or for those of you who are moms, maybe you can remember Saturday mornings of long ago) when you've really had enough sleep, but the bed just feels so good that you want to stay in it longer? Snuggle up in the sheets and rest...just a little bit longer. That's how it was...and it wasn't just me. The longer I lingered, the more I thought that I'd get up when Matt climbed out. I thought, "When he gets up at his normal time, I'll get out and get going." Soon I learned that Matt wasn't ready to get up either.
Time was slipping away and I knew we'd be late if I didn't get in gear, but as I lay there, I realized I just didn't want to. All of a sudden, it dawned on me that I didn't want to go. That's something that just doesn't cross my mind on a Sunday morning. There have been times while I'm getting ready that I really, really don't look forward to it because of the social relationships (i.e. the lack thereof or dissatisfaction with it), but it's never about not wanting to go. We have a good Sunday school teacher and great pastor...meaning both rightly divide the word and teach us/challenge us each week in a good way.
As I laid there, I just wanted to linger. I confessed to Matt, as I forced my feet to hang off the side of the bed, that I had a severe case of the want tos. The I don't want tos. I trudged on to get ready and as I tried to hurry with everything that needed to be done, I became frustrated with my hair. If you know me at all, you know I'm not one to spend much time on the whole hair and makeup process. It's just not that high on the priority list. My goal for the hair is for it to be dry, orderly and set.
I was having a major case of the disorderly going on Sunday morning and I was losing my temper. Matt was basically ready to go about that time and I knew we needed to leave. I warned him I was about ready to throw something. He did a disappearing act, which isn't terribly unusual. I often find myself finishing a thought after a brief pause in conversation only to find he's not in the room any longer. This time though, I had to wonder if he was giving me space so I could throw something without a witness or if he was making sure he wasn't caught in the crossfire. ;)
As I continued to mess, unsuccessfully, with my unruly mane, I grew in frustration and anger to the point of being tempted to take scissors to it. And yes, I've actually done that once before when I was younger. I wasn't angry enough at the time to cut it all off or do any major damage, but I did hack at it slightly recklessly until I could "do something with it." This time, I barely managed to talk myself out of it, knowing it would take too much time. I thought it'd have to wait until Monday. Fortunately, and finally, the right brush took care of the problem.
It's really a shameful thing when I get so worked up that I'm tempted to throw something or chop at my hair, but there was way more going on emotionally than I realized at the time. It was Mother's Day and only a few days from the due date for my first child. The one we lost.
Oddly, it took a while for it to seep into my consciousness that feelings of loss were making me want to linger in bed...feelings of loss were spurring on the frustration and anger I was feeling toward what was going on in the getting-ready process...
Once it did occur to me, I couldn't say anything to Matt. I didn't want to cry. I'd already made us late to church. I didn't want to unravel on the way.
I sat through Sunday school with baby gifts sitting at my feet. They were for three new moms (all having recently given birth to their second babies.) One of the babies was in class with mom, dad and grandparents. A preemie who is not ready for the nursery yet. After class, I scurried around to give the baby gifts to the moms before service started and of course, saw each baby with each mom. They are all about two weeks old. It struck me how little they all are...my sister's kids were all whoppers when they were born, so these kids seem teeny tiny to me.
When I returned to my seat and church began, I joined in with the worship as always and enjoyed it. Then came announcements and an acknowledgement to mothers. When all the moms were asked to raise their hands, I knew I was a mom, but couldn't raise my hand without the risk of several asking if I was expecting (and just hadn't announced yet). Occasionally I'm asked anyway. Then, the men were asked to clap for all of the moms, so it was inadvertently overlooked that in the crowd there were women without children who want them. I admit I was distracted during most of the sermon that followed.
I'm not sure exactly what I was thinking about, it certainly wasn't about babies or I likely would have cried and had to excuse myself. There are just some things that always make me sad enough to cry, whether or not it has impacted me personally, and one of those things is the lack of a child when one is wanted. As I sat there, I tried to focus, but my mind was in and out, only catching tidbits.
Since it was our week to eat at home (we eat out every other week now), we bowed out of a suggestion from friends about where we might eat and headed on to greet friends and make our way to the car. As we sat in the car, Matt said, "It's Mother's Day for you too, where would you like to eat?" and continued to say, "I didn't want to eat out with anyone else today, but thought we should go out since it's Mother's Day for you too." I weakly replied that I didn't mind going home to eat, that it was ok.
My head wasn't altogether in the moment, but the hubbub of a restaurant wasn't particularly appealing. I was craving a solitary place with Matt, but I wasn't able to articulate it. My response was lackluster, but I left it up to him to decide. He held firm, saying, "No, we'll go out. I think we should avoid all the typical Mother's Day kind of restaurants and go somewhere there won't be a crowd. I have an idea of where we can go. Let's stop by the plant first and we'll eat near there." And off we went.
As I sat in the car waiting, while Matt checked the plant, I decided to read some posts on Facebook. I knew it wasn't a good idea, but I thought I'd see what was going on anyway. There were two posts among all of the Mother's Day acknowledgements that stirred my heart. Here is what they wrote:
When we left the plant and made it to the restaurant Matt chose for lunch, I can't tell you how happy I was to see it was almost completely empty. We also were right across the street from a yogurt shop. I put in a word right away that I was up for dessert at Yogi Castle after lunch :) The atmosphere was quiet; the food was really good; the idea and plan were perfect. I even got my dessert!
It wasn't until Monday morning that I told Matt my realization of why I didn't want to get up and go to church Sunday morning. He simply replied, "I know. I figured that was it." It was a simple, brief exchange as he was getting ready to leave for work, but between that and how he handled lunch on Sunday, it was perfect. It still amazes me how God has blessed me with a husband who is perfectly fitted to me and what I need. It was not an easy day, but he made it easier. :)
Although Matt felt he needed to work Saturday, he made it home in time for us to get ready, run an errand, eat dinner and see the show. The time was tight, so there were some hairy moments, but it all came together. We had a great dinner and really liked the movie.
The story itself is a sad one; that much I remembered from reading it in junior high, but it was a well-crafted movie and interesting to see it play out. Needless to say, it was not an early night. With church coming early Sunday morning, I knew I'd be tired (and yawning) during the service.
As is often the case with me and my brain, I laid my head on the pillow and thought about the sadness of the story. What might have been. What could have been. Why didn't their story end happily? My heart always yearns for a happy ending. Even with a story with which I was familiar, I still yearned for a happy ending.
It wasn't too long before I drifted off to sleep, but when morning came, I wasn't ready to get up. Sunday is the one morning all week that I get out of bed first. It's sort of my gift to Matt. He gets to spread out over the whole bed and cozy in a bit longer while I take my shower.
You know how it feels on a Saturday morning (or for those of you who are moms, maybe you can remember Saturday mornings of long ago) when you've really had enough sleep, but the bed just feels so good that you want to stay in it longer? Snuggle up in the sheets and rest...just a little bit longer. That's how it was...and it wasn't just me. The longer I lingered, the more I thought that I'd get up when Matt climbed out. I thought, "When he gets up at his normal time, I'll get out and get going." Soon I learned that Matt wasn't ready to get up either.
Time was slipping away and I knew we'd be late if I didn't get in gear, but as I lay there, I realized I just didn't want to. All of a sudden, it dawned on me that I didn't want to go. That's something that just doesn't cross my mind on a Sunday morning. There have been times while I'm getting ready that I really, really don't look forward to it because of the social relationships (i.e. the lack thereof or dissatisfaction with it), but it's never about not wanting to go. We have a good Sunday school teacher and great pastor...meaning both rightly divide the word and teach us/challenge us each week in a good way.
As I laid there, I just wanted to linger. I confessed to Matt, as I forced my feet to hang off the side of the bed, that I had a severe case of the want tos. The I don't want tos. I trudged on to get ready and as I tried to hurry with everything that needed to be done, I became frustrated with my hair. If you know me at all, you know I'm not one to spend much time on the whole hair and makeup process. It's just not that high on the priority list. My goal for the hair is for it to be dry, orderly and set.
I was having a major case of the disorderly going on Sunday morning and I was losing my temper. Matt was basically ready to go about that time and I knew we needed to leave. I warned him I was about ready to throw something. He did a disappearing act, which isn't terribly unusual. I often find myself finishing a thought after a brief pause in conversation only to find he's not in the room any longer. This time though, I had to wonder if he was giving me space so I could throw something without a witness or if he was making sure he wasn't caught in the crossfire. ;)
As I continued to mess, unsuccessfully, with my unruly mane, I grew in frustration and anger to the point of being tempted to take scissors to it. And yes, I've actually done that once before when I was younger. I wasn't angry enough at the time to cut it all off or do any major damage, but I did hack at it slightly recklessly until I could "do something with it." This time, I barely managed to talk myself out of it, knowing it would take too much time. I thought it'd have to wait until Monday. Fortunately, and finally, the right brush took care of the problem.
It's really a shameful thing when I get so worked up that I'm tempted to throw something or chop at my hair, but there was way more going on emotionally than I realized at the time. It was Mother's Day and only a few days from the due date for my first child. The one we lost.
Oddly, it took a while for it to seep into my consciousness that feelings of loss were making me want to linger in bed...feelings of loss were spurring on the frustration and anger I was feeling toward what was going on in the getting-ready process...
Once it did occur to me, I couldn't say anything to Matt. I didn't want to cry. I'd already made us late to church. I didn't want to unravel on the way.
I sat through Sunday school with baby gifts sitting at my feet. They were for three new moms (all having recently given birth to their second babies.) One of the babies was in class with mom, dad and grandparents. A preemie who is not ready for the nursery yet. After class, I scurried around to give the baby gifts to the moms before service started and of course, saw each baby with each mom. They are all about two weeks old. It struck me how little they all are...my sister's kids were all whoppers when they were born, so these kids seem teeny tiny to me.
When I returned to my seat and church began, I joined in with the worship as always and enjoyed it. Then came announcements and an acknowledgement to mothers. When all the moms were asked to raise their hands, I knew I was a mom, but couldn't raise my hand without the risk of several asking if I was expecting (and just hadn't announced yet). Occasionally I'm asked anyway. Then, the men were asked to clap for all of the moms, so it was inadvertently overlooked that in the crowd there were women without children who want them. I admit I was distracted during most of the sermon that followed.
I'm not sure exactly what I was thinking about, it certainly wasn't about babies or I likely would have cried and had to excuse myself. There are just some things that always make me sad enough to cry, whether or not it has impacted me personally, and one of those things is the lack of a child when one is wanted. As I sat there, I tried to focus, but my mind was in and out, only catching tidbits.
Since it was our week to eat at home (we eat out every other week now), we bowed out of a suggestion from friends about where we might eat and headed on to greet friends and make our way to the car. As we sat in the car, Matt said, "It's Mother's Day for you too, where would you like to eat?" and continued to say, "I didn't want to eat out with anyone else today, but thought we should go out since it's Mother's Day for you too." I weakly replied that I didn't mind going home to eat, that it was ok.
My head wasn't altogether in the moment, but the hubbub of a restaurant wasn't particularly appealing. I was craving a solitary place with Matt, but I wasn't able to articulate it. My response was lackluster, but I left it up to him to decide. He held firm, saying, "No, we'll go out. I think we should avoid all the typical Mother's Day kind of restaurants and go somewhere there won't be a crowd. I have an idea of where we can go. Let's stop by the plant first and we'll eat near there." And off we went.
As I sat in the car waiting, while Matt checked the plant, I decided to read some posts on Facebook. I knew it wasn't a good idea, but I thought I'd see what was going on anyway. There were two posts among all of the Mother's Day acknowledgements that stirred my heart. Here is what they wrote:
"Praying
for my sweet friends today who are having to endure Mother's Day with
empty arms due to infertility, miscarriage or infant loss. Love you,
girls!"
"Happy
Mothers Day to all you moms out there! I am very grateful for my
precious mom who has been the best example of what a Godly mom should
be! A mom who has cried, laughed with me who has encouraged me non
stop! She had walked this battle of infertility 40 years ago and lost
sweet baby girl (who is now playing with her nephew) I can't thank God
enough for her and as I go through this battle it's easier knowing she
has been through this same journey! Now my heart aches for my many
friends who have lost their moms you girls are in my prayers!! And for
all the ladies going through infertility or has lost a baby hang in
there God is not done with us yet! This is just a part of our story!!"
I don't know whether or not Matt caught a glimpse of me wiping away the tears when he was on his way back to the car, but I decided Facebook had to go away for a while longer. Those words were encouraging and a comfort to my heart, but I didn't want to cry anymore.
It almost seems like failure when I cry about it. I know the truth; I'm resting on the truth; My mind is straight on this issue; I'm trusting God. One thing I'm learning about loss is that no matter how rightly you may be thinking about all of it, the loss is real. Sometimes, even when you don't expect it, when you think you're ok, when you're ready to be happy for someone else, when you're ready to celebrate the joy of what a day represents, something creeps into your mind and touches your heart, reminding you of your loss. Crying is not a failure, but it may still feel that way for a while.
In the meantime, my mom received a gift delivered to the house, a card in the mail, a brief text wishing her a Happy Mother's Day and an intended phone call to chat that ended up a brief heads up about something on t.v. I thought she'd want to see and a quick "Happy Mother's Day!" A lingering conversation usually happens a couple of times a week with text messages and emails the other days, but I wanted to make a call on the day. Considering the week, I think it may be a while. I cry more on difficult days when I talk to my parents, even if all I have to mutter is "hello." We're just that close. (That's also why I didn't talk to either of them on the phone for a week after losing our baby. I just couldn't do it. Emotionally.)
It almost seems like failure when I cry about it. I know the truth; I'm resting on the truth; My mind is straight on this issue; I'm trusting God. One thing I'm learning about loss is that no matter how rightly you may be thinking about all of it, the loss is real. Sometimes, even when you don't expect it, when you think you're ok, when you're ready to be happy for someone else, when you're ready to celebrate the joy of what a day represents, something creeps into your mind and touches your heart, reminding you of your loss. Crying is not a failure, but it may still feel that way for a while.
In the meantime, my mom received a gift delivered to the house, a card in the mail, a brief text wishing her a Happy Mother's Day and an intended phone call to chat that ended up a brief heads up about something on t.v. I thought she'd want to see and a quick "Happy Mother's Day!" A lingering conversation usually happens a couple of times a week with text messages and emails the other days, but I wanted to make a call on the day. Considering the week, I think it may be a while. I cry more on difficult days when I talk to my parents, even if all I have to mutter is "hello." We're just that close. (That's also why I didn't talk to either of them on the phone for a week after losing our baby. I just couldn't do it. Emotionally.)
One of my friends mentioned in a conversation not long ago that she looks at this time of waiting as something God will ultimately use in the lives of others I meet. That it is a part of my story, a part of my testimony that He'll use to minister to others. I like that thought.
A new perspective I've acquired as of this Mother's Day is that a day I once saw as a wholly joyous occasion, to celebrate my Mom and all she is to me and the hope of being a mom one day myself, forever will be seen as a day mixed with both joy and pain for many. Pain for ones who've lost children (by miscarriage, illness, accident), who want and are waiting for children (struggling with infertility, awaiting adoption, nothing's "wrong"/it's just not happening), ones who've never had a mom to celebrate (abandonment, poor job mothering/uninvolved) and ones whose mothers are no longer with us (affecting men as well).
A new perspective I've acquired as of this Mother's Day is that a day I once saw as a wholly joyous occasion, to celebrate my Mom and all she is to me and the hope of being a mom one day myself, forever will be seen as a day mixed with both joy and pain for many. Pain for ones who've lost children (by miscarriage, illness, accident), who want and are waiting for children (struggling with infertility, awaiting adoption, nothing's "wrong"/it's just not happening), ones who've never had a mom to celebrate (abandonment, poor job mothering/uninvolved) and ones whose mothers are no longer with us (affecting men as well).
Mother's Day is well worth celebrating for all the moms who sacrifice so much for their children and families. In fact, we are remiss if we only celebrate these wonderful women one day a year. It's simply a matter of recognizing now what I never did before, that with great moments of joy for some, others are hurting.
It wasn't until Monday morning that I told Matt my realization of why I didn't want to get up and go to church Sunday morning. He simply replied, "I know. I figured that was it." It was a simple, brief exchange as he was getting ready to leave for work, but between that and how he handled lunch on Sunday, it was perfect. It still amazes me how God has blessed me with a husband who is perfectly fitted to me and what I need. It was not an easy day, but he made it easier. :)
Monday, May 13, 2013
Taste of Home
Although I've never been particularly interested in magazines, there is one I enjoy receiving as often as it will come: Taste of Home. Whenever I look for recipes to add to my meal plan, I peruse the pages to pick one that looks interesting. Some of our favorite recipes have come from this source.
The magazine features recipes that suit ordinary family life and that's why I've found so many I've enjoyed. The price is quite affordable; you should try it!
The magazine features recipes that suit ordinary family life and that's why I've found so many I've enjoyed. The price is quite affordable; you should try it!
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Wondering Why
Since I was very young, I've always enjoyed giving gifts. It's not about how the person responds. There's just great joy in the giving.
Doing something for someone that is not expected. Something that is extra, just because. It doesn't have to be someone especially close, but if it is for someone particularly close the gifts get bigger :)
It's not something I've ever given much thought: the why of it. It's just something I do. Giving is just deeply intertwined as a part of who I am.
What I've noticed though, over the years, are some of the atypical reactions I've received. Almost always, I receive a smile and a thank you or a phone call when given at a distance, but sometimes people surprise me. Looking back, I remember one person accusing me of having an ulterior motive for giving. And yes, I was shocked. Fortunately, it wasn't right after I gave the gift, but rather much later. :) Recently, a gift made such an impact, Matt and I both received profuse thankfulness from the couple. Undoubtedly, those two extremes have been rare, but I treasure the spirit of gratitude from the couple, how well it speaks of them and who they are. How grateful I am even for the accusation, for it revealed the heart of the accuser.
So after all of these years, why am I just now stopping to take stock of "why?"
Recently, three new babies were born in the same week at our church. Yes, three in one week! Of all the things I get excited about the most in life, seeing godly people marry and seeing babies born to Christians top the chart. So, what did I do? Made a meal for two of those families (the third is not in regular contact with Matt or me at church, but we know and like them too) and bought a baby gift for each family.
The tiny gift in front is a pre-shower gift :). One of the babies was born prematurely and the shower had to be rescheduled. I couldn't wait to give her something, so she gets a pre-shower gift for her baby and one at the shower. I think I'm an addict. :-/
As I was putting together these gifts, I began doing a self-check asking myself why, asking if I know why I'm prone to buying so many gifts for others. It occurred to me, since the "accuser" I mentioned was a minister, of all things, that the people around me at church (who are mostly staff members/ministers) may begin to wonder about my motives as well. I don't give "in front of people" like those in the early church were warned not to do when giving their tithes and offerings, but Facebook and how far we live from the church seems to contribute to more being aware. By that I mean, I give the gifts when I see people at church or after ladies Bible study because I'm already in the area to see people. I usually don't make extra trips except when someone is in the hospital. We live 45 minutes away.
So, I thought if that earlier experience of being accused by a minister triggered a question in my mind of whether or not that may cross the minds of the people I'm around now, then I suppose I should check myself. As I considered it, these are some of the reasons why. I give because I like the person and want good things for her. I give because I'm excited for her and the new blessing (marriage, baby or house). I give because I think it will meet a need that may not otherwise be met. I give to be an encouragement to others. I give because I have it to give (I've been blessed). I give because I believe we are a real family as Christians and we have some responsibility to one another (check out Acts). I give because I think it's right, the right thing to do, because it is a good thing (To him who knows to do good and doeth it not, to him it is sin. James 4:17). I give because I prayed for years God would bless me financially so I can always give abundantly and prayed my husband would be a giver too...and he is!! So I sure better be giving!!
As I think about that accusation, I knew it wasn't true of me at the time, but even now I laugh a bit because I can't remember one time I got anything from what I gave. Not tangibly or intangibly from the person. If I gave to a friend, true friendship already existed and continued on in the natural course of life. The gift didn't affect the relationship at all, except that it was a blessing and hopefully an encouragement to the friend. There are other ways to encourage our friends so a gift isn't necessary to accomplish that. It was just my choice of what means to encourage at the time. If the person was an acquaintance, an acquaintance she remained. If the person appeared to be a friend, but was not, it was eventually made known and we parted ways. In human terms, gift-giving is a losing proposition.
Fortunately, God blesses giving. From God I've been blessed as I've given. It feels good to me on the inside when I give to bless others and I've never, ever, ever regretted giving a gift. Not even one given to my accuser (although there have been no new gifts...I may be generous, but I'm not a fool ;). I do believe that God is answering those many prayers for financial resources because He wants me to bless others with what we have been given. So tangibly and intangibly, God has given to me greatly as I've given to others.
Fortunately, God blesses giving. From God I've been blessed as I've given. It feels good to me on the inside when I give to bless others and I've never, ever, ever regretted giving a gift. Not even one given to my accuser (although there have been no new gifts...I may be generous, but I'm not a fool ;). I do believe that God is answering those many prayers for financial resources because He wants me to bless others with what we have been given. So tangibly and intangibly, God has given to me greatly as I've given to others.
This may sound silly, especially if you can't relate, but I guess one more answer as to why I give is that it's fun! It really is fun to give.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Good Use
When we learned we were expecting a baby, I went gangbusters. Researching. Reading. Buying.
One of the things I bought was a baby Bible. After asking a few friends what they like best, I made notes and decided I'd probably get more than one. Ok, you're right, I actually bought more than one in those first few weeks and "registered" for a third. :)
Of the two I bought, I decided to take one with me when taking care of Collin. My first week keeping him, there wasn't an opportunity to read to him and I thought I must be thinking impractically. He's only a few weeks old; it's too early.
The second week, I left it at home. At one point, though, he was wide awake in his swing and reacted a lot when I spent time talking to him. It crossed my mind that I should try again.
On week three, I took the Bible with me again. For the first time while I was there, he stayed awake all morning. I put him in his swing and read him the first Bible story: In the Beginning. In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Genesis 1:1
I like this Bible because it includes Scripture and is accurate in telling the story. The stories are not too short or embellished. There are some nice pictures and I was sure to lift the book up to show Collin :)
It was a relatively short story, but I was tempted to read him another. He was paying attention so well.
Though I hoped I'd be reading these stories daily to my own baby, I'm glad to put it to good use with this precious baby boy. My prayer is that the seed will be sown in his little heart even now.
One of the things I bought was a baby Bible. After asking a few friends what they like best, I made notes and decided I'd probably get more than one. Ok, you're right, I actually bought more than one in those first few weeks and "registered" for a third. :)
Of the two I bought, I decided to take one with me when taking care of Collin. My first week keeping him, there wasn't an opportunity to read to him and I thought I must be thinking impractically. He's only a few weeks old; it's too early.
The second week, I left it at home. At one point, though, he was wide awake in his swing and reacted a lot when I spent time talking to him. It crossed my mind that I should try again.
On week three, I took the Bible with me again. For the first time while I was there, he stayed awake all morning. I put him in his swing and read him the first Bible story: In the Beginning. In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Genesis 1:1
I like this Bible because it includes Scripture and is accurate in telling the story. The stories are not too short or embellished. There are some nice pictures and I was sure to lift the book up to show Collin :)
It was a relatively short story, but I was tempted to read him another. He was paying attention so well.
Though I hoped I'd be reading these stories daily to my own baby, I'm glad to put it to good use with this precious baby boy. My prayer is that the seed will be sown in his little heart even now.
Friday, May 10, 2013
A Joyful Irritation
Though it's not a commendable attitude, there are times I feel irritated. Often, I'm irritated by the way people drive. Sometimes I become irritated when I'm working around the house and something suddenly requires more effort than I planned to give. When I find spots have reappeared on the carpet that I've recently cleaned and I feel it will never be "done," I get irritated.
What I find amusing is how I can struggle with the weight of my thoughts for a prolonged period of time, finally find an opportunity to share it with my husband and after hearing me out, he responds with approximately three simple statements. Those three statements differ from one time to the next, but I've noticed a pattern. Underlying each statement, he's saying: this is our current circumstance (i.e. it may or may not change), God is in control (i.e. there's nothing we can do about it, but that's o.k.) and God has a perfect plan for our life (i.e. it'll all work out and we'll have the best life we could).
In one fell swoop, he manages to both comfort me and put the issue to rest. How does he do that?!?!
It was those messy emotions that were pressing in on me. In one brief, casual, nonchalant conversation, Matt cuts right through those emotions to the truth and there's nothing left for me to do but accept it. Irritating! but such a joyful irritation at that. I am blessed.
What I find amusing is how I can struggle with the weight of my thoughts for a prolonged period of time, finally find an opportunity to share it with my husband and after hearing me out, he responds with approximately three simple statements. Those three statements differ from one time to the next, but I've noticed a pattern. Underlying each statement, he's saying: this is our current circumstance (i.e. it may or may not change), God is in control (i.e. there's nothing we can do about it, but that's o.k.) and God has a perfect plan for our life (i.e. it'll all work out and we'll have the best life we could).
In one fell swoop, he manages to both comfort me and put the issue to rest. How does he do that?!?!
It was those messy emotions that were pressing in on me. In one brief, casual, nonchalant conversation, Matt cuts right through those emotions to the truth and there's nothing left for me to do but accept it. Irritating! but such a joyful irritation at that. I am blessed.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Complete Distruction
This is what my kitchen looks like after cooking four meals to bless other families and one meal for Matt and me to enjoy.
It would have helped if I had time to empty the dishwasher before destroying the kitchen. As it is now, I'm calling it a night so I can be well rested for taking care of the boy tomorrow.
Sadly, this destruction will remain until I get home tomorrow. It's the exception, not the rule. :)
It would have helped if I had time to empty the dishwasher before destroying the kitchen. As it is now, I'm calling it a night so I can be well rested for taking care of the boy tomorrow.
Sadly, this destruction will remain until I get home tomorrow. It's the exception, not the rule. :)
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