His Story...

After a good long two months, I think it’s about time to update the blog that has only seen two posts in its history… And, so, here we go into the great mighty blog #3… Hold on, this one dives deep.

These past weeks my heart has been burdened. A heavy feeling lingers and doesn’t seem to ever fully diminish. As I look for the cause of this weight, there are so many things that lay heavy from weeks that have gone by. Some days they are heavier than others. But, as I search to find relief, none is to be found. God has me in this place for a purpose. His purpose is perfect, this I know. Yet, as I sit and write, I wonder what purpose does he have in store for me, for my family? We have a vast and great story; we have overcome many things with his perfect grace. There is so much to be thankful for. Yet, my heart is heavy.

The weights of many things multiply and it seems as though as one comes to find the sweet relief that our Savior offers, another one looms in the distance. So, burden, why do you linger? Why do you stay?

I look into all the possible things as the cause of this heaviness, and yet there is one thing that remains constant. It’s the one thing that I fight. My flesh fights it. This is not my story, but the one who created me. Yet, I hide from the details of how good our God is. I talk about my story as though it is just fact. But that’s where I am broken. That’s where I am burdened. In the depths of my soul I cry out for him to change it, to make it different. To go back and change that day, make me see something different that would have changed this story.

But, He doesn’t. He set this forth to be HIS story. My history is His Story. He reminds me daily that this story is a story of hope. My flesh says it’s a story of pain. This certainly couldn’t be a reality, this story of His or of mine. Yet it is. It’s our reality and it’s His story. He thought I could handle it, I presume. I have a valid argument as to why he chose the wrong girl. I am nothing but weak. I am nothing but a ball of hot mess.

But, as I sit here and write, pouring out my very secret thoughts from the depths of me, I am reminded of God’s continuous faithfulness. Even when I feel burdened, turn my gaze from his and turn away, he’s there, waiting. Isn’t that the beauty of our relationship with Christ? We rejected Him at the cross, yet He died… for us. We turn from His father, yet He still sent his Son… for us. We have a relationship with Him, turn away, and yet He waits faithfully. His love never ends. Yet, why do I reject this love? I feel so undeserving of it. It’s too great for me. He’s worked miracles in my life and I still sob in the midst of him questioning why? Yet, he gave me my heart’s desire. He knew when I wept out in despair. He knew when I was told there was no hope. He knew what would come to be. He knew before that day. He knows now. He knows tomorrow. He knows every second of every day. Yet, here I am, burdened, trying to carry it by myself. But, I can’t. I need him, and so desperately do I need him.

I’m reminded that it’s in the small things that we see Him. As I am writing, a song quietly plays over the speakers. A song I know so well. A song of his promise. “From The Inside Out” playing as I ponder his purpose for me. It’s perfect for this moment. It sings “A thousand times I’ve failed, still your mercy remains, should I stumble again, still I’m caught in your grace. Everlasting, your light will shine when all else fades, never ending, your glory goes beyond all fame.” (Hillsong United, From The Inside Out, United We Stand CD).

Perfect words in this quiet moment. It couldn’t describe me better: although I fail, and fail daily, he loves me. He builds my story. He doesn’t take it away, he increases it because it is not supposed to be my story of overcoming hardship, trials and burdens, it’s his. His story of getting me through. His story of hope when I feel so very hopeless. His story of grace, the grace that is so undeserved. He loves me even when I turn away. Another favorite song of mine echoes through my thoughts that “when my world is shaking, Heaven stands. And when my heart is breaking, I never leave your hands.” (JJ Heller, Your Hands, Painted Red CD) When things feel hopeless, Heaven stands. He does not waver in my faithlessness, he remains.

So, on this Saturday night, through a blog and a couple songs, he reminds me that he takes me by the hand and leads me. The lost, the burdened, the weary, he takes us and leads us. So, to this I say, it is not my story, but His. He gets me through. He gets me through with his promises found in His Word; through songs played as I sit in despair; through friends sweet encouragement; through my families never ending love. He gets me through when I can’t see any longer. His amazing grace. His undeserving favor for me. His undeserving love for me and for you.

Maybe you don’t have a relationship with God. Maybe you do, but you know what I speak of. Maybe you feel weak, weary, burdened or lost. May I encourage you that there is a God who will take you by the hand when you are without hope. A God whose love for you is unceasing. A God who wants to make your story, a story of His. Of His perfect grace, of His enduring love, of His undying hope. May you turn to Him and bow your knee in surrender. He knows you. He desires you. He has taken a girl who has a vast story and yet still loves her when she is broken. He took a baby that shouldn’t be and said that she is. She is His. You are His. May you find comfort in Him. May we find comfort in Him together. There is no one like our God. I surrender my story as His. May you join with me in surrender and make your story, His story.

Psalm 50:15 - "Then call on me when you are in trouble, and I will rescue you, and you will give me glory."

These things called milestones.

So, here we are again. Another day. Two weeks since my first blog post and once again I contemplate what to talk about. So many things could be written. But for today, I’ll just pick a one (ok, maybe two tied in to look like one main theme…). So get comfy, here we go…

Milestones have been on my mind lately. I guess it’s seemingly appropriate seeing as in the past two weeks my big brother turned 30, my little girl began her (so far) life-long dream of ballet and tap class, and my sweet baby girl turned 1. A big two weeks I must say.

These milestones… They always come. We prepare for them with anticipation of the day that is almost here and with utter joy and excitement. We can’t wait for them to arrive. And then, the day approaches and it is finished before we know it. Taking time to savor these sweet moments is key. This is what life is about. Savoring the big milestones that we knew would come, but also the little ones that make a lasting impact on our lives.

Jacob turned 30 this year. Jacob’s my big brother. But, he’s more than that. I am proud to call him a friend. He made it to 30. 30!? Wow, I can’t believe we’re finally at this moment. It seems like yesterday we were traveling to the babysitter’s house with our gray plastic tote, full of stuff, hoping we didn’t have to sleep in the same bed there, because, well, we’d scratch and kick just having to lie next to each other. We were the typical brother and sister. It was a love/hate relationship (not drag out hate, but intense disfavor sometimes). We survived our childhood. He survived me, the little sister that was a pesky as anybody could be. But, then there was high school. The first day as a freshman in high school. A scary moment, even in a small town. Jake included me. He took me to school with his friends (who were juniors by the way and seemed so much cooler. And they were all boys…). I felt so cool. He was my protector that day, my hidden cheerleader, the greatest big brother around. And, he included me. That was a pivotal part in our relationship as brother and sister. A moment I’ll never forget. It was a great big brother moment.

I guess what made this milestone so impactful is that Jake has overcome a lot in the last two decades. He made it through and is a better person because of it. Maybe one day he’ll share his story. I think you’ll like it; it’s a good one. But, isn’t it funny how trials in our life, whether self-induced or not, grow us. He’s grown, not only in his relationship with God, but with his wife and family and I am one proud little sister. Can you tell? He’s a pretty awesome guy who now is 30. The big 3-0. A happy milestone to see (because he’s first to be there… I still have two years to catch up).

The next milestone is a small one in relation to BIG days (i.e. birthdays). Alison, my dancing, prancing, energetic little girl has finally started ballet. She is elated about her new venture. One thing about this milestone is she has waited forever to begin ballet. She is convinced that she is a prima ballerina. That accomplishment may come, but for today she’s the cutest 4, almost 5, year old, long legged little ballerina I’ve ever seen. And, I hope her sweet little goofy-footedness never fades (even though it probably will eventually). But, she is so very cute to watch. This was a big milestone for my little girl’s world and for mine. She’s growing up, very quickly.

The last milestone in the past two weeks was my Aubrie’s first birthday. This was a day that was hesitantly anticipated. Hesitant? Dare a mother say that about her baby’s birthday? Yes, I said it. I was hesitant. It’s so hard to believe that a year went that quickly. It seems as though time has sped up. I kind of wish it would slow down (or at least times where I deem it should…). She is now officially one.

How does one celebrate Aubrie? By wearing red of course. Everything was red. People wore red, the house was decorated in red, and baby girl was dressed in red (with the red, squeaky shoes… perfection!) and there was red punch. It was a perfect red evening celebrating her. We celebrated her sweetness, her charm, her quiet self, but more so, gazing at her being. She defies odds. She is God’s perfect creation. She is now one and is alive. Alive, smiling, talking, walking, and being everything that she can be. She is our Aubrie and this milestone was bittersweet. We wanted the year to last longer, but we are so happy that she has lived through this year the way she has.  She’s our perfect Aubrie, and we delight in who she is; red obsession, serious faces, and all.

In reflecting on all these milestones and sweet moments I have learned a couple things. First, I can’t stop time; I can’t even slow it down. There are times where I wish I could. You know those moments where everything seems to be pretty perfect. Yes, they usually last only a few seconds, but they exist. They’re there. Sometimes we have to really look for them, but they’re quietly there awaiting our notice. There are also times that I wish time would speed up. When my children hurt seems to be those moments. Whether they hurt from a friend, from unkind words I have personally spoken, or from pain related to their body, I wish time would speed up. But, maybe that’s God’s perfect plan. If we never faced the uncomfortable, would we be the same person we are today? Would I be who God wants me to be? Would I understand and empathize with friends when they hurt? Would I be able to understand how my children feel? These uncomfortable moments, the ones where we wish time would speed up, are moments where God says to us, He’s there. Do we notice him? Do we stop to think that he’s beside us, comforting us? And for these moments that he allows time to seemingly speed by, those are the moments where he reminds us that every moment we’re given is a gift. Sounds sappy, I’m sure. But when I think about that statement it’s true. If it weren’t, why would I want time to slow down? Why would I want it to freeze because in the moment it seemed perfect? Small moments fade. Big milestones pass. And yet, we continue on.

My hope in these things that God has revealed in the anticipated milestones is this: That I might savor moments that I want to last and last. That I might look for moments that are worth savoring: My girls giggling in the bath together; Aubrie attempting so very hard to feed herself with silverware; Alison’s still small voice. These are the moments that pass without much attention, yet they’re the moments we miss. And, for the moments that I want to speed through, may I put my big girl boots on and handle them. May God provide me with peace to continue through the uncomfortable and may I be the best that God calls me to be for my children when they need me the most. I will fail, it’s inevitable. I fail daily. But, may I allow God to guide me, even when I feel un-guidable; even when I want to resist and do it myself. May I remember that I don’t control time, God does and he’s there, waiting for me to notice his comfort.

So, milestones, they bring something more than just a moment, they bring memories and long winded realizations. What a couple weeks.

Until next time my friends, may you savor the moments that may seem meaningless; may you bear through those that you want to pass quickly; and may you enjoy every day as though it’s a gift.

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

The very first post... Ever.

So, here it is, the first blog post into blogging oblivion. There is so much pressure in writing the very first blog post. It has been months, yes months, of contemplating the first perfect post.

Many days have come and gone and I’ve considered so many different first posts. Which do you choose? How do you set yourself apart from gazillions of blogs out there? Why blog? Do people really care what I have to say? So many, many thoughts.

But, today is the day. The first day of my blogging adventure. The very first blog post. So here it is: (Don’t be too jubilated now. You'll want to get comfy, it'll be a journey...)

It’s Sunday and I sit at home while the baby is napping away, home sick with a cold. This makes me think… Oh, how I’d love a nap. However, in my near 5 years of mothering experiences I have come to learn that if I nap, the very moment I close my eyes and drift off into sweet sleep, the baby will wake up. She’ll wake up to the very stillness of the house, her mother trying to recuperate from the many sleep deprived nights. And, she’ll wake up with energy. She’ll be excited to start the afternoon (whereas I on the other hand will not be excited, more so frustrated at the ill attempt to take a brief nap). So, it is better that I stay awake, for everyone’s sake.  And with this quick moment of quietness in our home, I come to terms with the past week that has just ended. It has been a busy, exhausting, past few days.

The past few days have been particularly interesting. I mean many weeks are interesting, but this week, well, I’ve cried over small stuff. There have been great moments, funny to say the least. I mean, two girls in a home and there is bound to be giggling and diva-like shenanigans.

Alison is our oldest and most independent spirit. This week she has been begging, literally doing performances in our living room, begging to be in ballet or gymnastics. She is utterly convinced she is the perfect fit and knows quite a bit on how to be the prima ballerina/Olympic gymnast/kung-foo karate girl. Yes, all of those in one. Like I said, she’s our independent spirit.  But, she’s half of the equation of what keeps us going. She adds the laughter to our family. She’s the little girl that people adore. She adores people and tends to pull at heart strings with her Alison-like ways. We can really see how important her role in our whole family is. She keeps us smiling. She teaches her sister to smile. And, that’s one reason we adore her.

The other half of our equation is our sweet Aubrie. She’s the baby. She is our more serious child. She’s peculiar. She has set her own tone in our family. She has changed us, and kept us on our feet. Aubrie sets her own path, whether intentional or not, she sets it. I guess this is a good thing because she has faced a lot in her wee one year of life. She doesn’t go by the norm in any way. God has created her with such a story that she astounds people, before she can even utter a word (and that word is the softest and sweetest “Hi” you have ever heard). Her story is vast, and I guess that’s why this week has been exhausting. Not her in particular, just what has been set in front of her.

This week… what do I say? It’s been interesting.  Aubrie was supposed to have a sedated hearing test next week, but before we could move forward with that we had to go through the loops to make sure this test would have the best outcome. We headed to the Dr’s office on Wednesday in anticipation that this would be the easiest appointment we’ve had so far. See, they were just going to see if she had fluid in her ears. Fluid, simple fluid. Certainly not Aubrie. It has been over a month since her last cold and she’s never had an ear infection a day in her life. So, fluid. Yeah, we weren’t scared of fluid. But, this is Aubrie’s body we’re talking about and, well, things have a way of twisting and turning into unforeseen places. 

We breezed into the Dr’s office and they stuck the glorified, fancy-shmancy ear fluid reader in her ear (to which she had a great disdain for. She hates her head being touched, especially by people she doesn’t know). And, what do you know? Fluid. Both ears. Two readings saying the same thing. (At this point I muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”)  Her pediatrician said he would speak to LA’s offices and would sort through this hurdle. Before he could, LA called. The assistant to the Audiologist (the fancy hearing doctor) called and after 10 minutes of “This is ridiculous. We didn’t have to do this with her first hearing test” conversation, she gave us slim choices. Choose to come down to LA and have them check the fluid themselves or reschedule for the end of May. And so, we were to head down south upon the demand that the LA Dr’s offices knew better. They take a fancier reading of her ears (if there was such a thing, I mean an ear reader is an ear reader, right? Yeah, that’s what I thought…).

On Friday, Ryan and I gathered the girls up. Alison was dressed in her pajama’s (it was pajama day at school and a girl could not miss wearing her pajama’s at school).  We dropped Ali off and away we went.

The drive to LA has become frequent, so we have our own routine when we head down. Starbucks sandwiches and drinks and a great conversation as the baby snoozes away in the back. This is our routine and it’s nice to have some sort of normalcy for making trip, upon trip down south.

We finally arrived at Kaiser City mid-afternoon. We call it Kaiser City because it is a mecca of Kaiser buildings, several stories high, for a couple blocks on both sides. It’s literally all Kaiser and kind of cool. Our first mission upon arriving was to feed Aubrie so she’d be on her most pleasing behavior as they touched her head and examined her ears. This was not an appointment that I was thrilled about. I mean, really? A two hour drive to see if the fluid is really in her ears… Waste of time. Or so I had thought. You see, it’s when we don’t think anything can come up that we get knocked to our sides.  So, we had to start our appointment with full bellies. Full bellies make everything a bit easier, because at least you’re not speaking out of empty stomach anger.

After feeding her (and us), we traveled back to the office in which they were to examine the fluid in her ears with THEIR fluid checker. And, this fluid in her ears? Yes, it was still there (big surprise). So we were shuffled off into the ENT’s office for him to take a better look. He examined her (once again, she was none-too-thrilled about being touched on her head). He then explained that she needed ear tubes. Ear tubes? What? This girl hasn’t had but one cold and absolutely no ear infections. Why on earth ear tubes? And really? Another thing before we could even get to the scheduled test she was supposed to have? Such a simple and easy thing, but to us, felt momentous as yet another Dr, another procedure, another something, added to our sweet Aubrie’s plate. And so it is scheduled. Ear tube placement. Yippee.

Ryan and I talked about the new schedule. We had thought this was all complicated enough, but now we had a side tracked path. It was time to deal. This dealing part, you see, that’s where it gets hard. How does one teach themselves how to deal? Do you teach? Do you learn? I think it’s all a learning and leaning kind of thing. Learning to rely on God that he’s got this; leaning on him when I feel like giving up because of ear tubes. Yes, pathetic (the ear tube thing), but so true. It seems like it’s always the small things that bring us down. The big things, well, you have no choice to manage. But, the small things, at least in our picture, add up and become burdensome.

So, this is where we’re at. Learning and leaning. Getting through the weeks one by one. It’s a moment by moment effort some times. But, we’re learning that’s ok. Maybe that’s how God wants it right now, moment by moment. It’s his plan and for that we find peace in the moments that seem unbearable, even if they are just ear tubes.

And so, I write this with thankfulness. Despite all my angst from this week, I am thankful that today is Sunday and a new week has begun. It reminds me of something God has put on my heart since the day Aubrie was found to still be alive. Psalms 139:16 (the second part)… “All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” And for that my friends, I am thankful. It’s what keeps us going, even on days we feel like quitting. He knows our days: the past, the present, and the future.  He knows them even before any of them come to be. And He gets us through, even in the small stuff.

So, there it is. My first blog post. Complete with incomplete sentences, misused words, and grammar inaccuracies. But it’s me, completely human, errors and all. Until next time my friends. Enjoy today, it’s the start of a brand new week.