I thought I loved him then

When I was a girl, I would develop a crush on a boy and inevitably that boy would get a crush on one of my friends. It's just the way it was, and it was fine. I would give up on him and move on to another. I grew used to it. But then this happened and changed my life.


I saw him the first time 11 years ago this past February.


I can't tell you the first time he saw me.


I fell head over heals the very instant I saw him. The bells rang and the angels sang and God tapped me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear,"Not yet sweetie, but one day."


I don't really know even now what he heard or saw, or if God tapped him on the shoulder.
He was strong and rugged and would say whatever came to mind no matter what the recipient might think of it. He was stubborn and driven and was not about to let anyone tell him what to do or how to do it. He wasn't what I was used to. He wasn't what I knew. He was different. At first glance, he wasn't the guy that you would take home to Mom and Dad. Some of my friends thought I was crazy. I knew that there was more to this man than they were able to see. I saw it when I looked into his eyes. There was something there. There was so much more to be uncovered. Under the tough exterior of the cook, the NASCAR fan, the loud music. He would tell me that he was no good for me and I would usually reply that I knew better. No matter how hard he tried to hide the fact that he had any heart at all, I knew that his heart was good and loving and meant to beat next to mine.
It hasn't always been easy. In fact there have been times when we were both ready to pack up and walk out the door, but we didn't. By the grace of God we didn't.
All of the sides of him that I saw but didn't understand are more clear.
The stubbornness which can come across as harsh is now clearly what he uses to carry him through the days of hard work. And he works. He goes to work and comes home and works some more, not because he is a workaholic, but because he is a provider. Because he loves the fact that I love being home to see our littlest grow up. Because I love meeting the school bus, and I want to be here when my babies need me. Partly, even, because I really think he likes being around me, which at times I find amazing. The stubbornness comes through often and when three men in a grocery store parking lot "offer to take" his money, it turns to bravery, allowing his response to be that they can surely try but at least one of them is going down with him because he's going to get home to his family at the end of this day.
Somewhere deep inside was a love that is stronger than any I have ever known. The kind of love the bears a sign that reads something like this:
"These are the people that I love, and if you want to mess with them you will have to go through me first. "
The love that brings tears when he sees our daughter dressed for her first formal dance and strikes fear when she wants to ride in the car with a boy. The kind of love that gives him the strength to nearly kick down a maternity ward door to get to his wife and soon to be born son. The love that makes him love to wake up in the wee hours of his morning off to take his little boy fishing, because that's what he used to do with his father, grandfather and great-grandfather, and he wants to share the same gift of time with his own son. The love that he tried so hard to hide is stronger than I ever suspected.
You may ask if I have a sort of hero worship over romanticizing thing going on with him. Maybe so. I can admit that he isn't perfect. He has his bad days. There are times when his stubbornness can take me to my breaking point, usually when I see it in our youngest. But honestly he is perfect for me. I know without a doubt that he is the one I was meant to be with and the one I want to grow old with. Because he loves me whether I am at my worst or my best. He laughs with me when I'm at my silliest and he holds me when I cry. He tells me I am beautiful whether I am dressed up to go out or I'm in my old flannel pajamas. He loves me, not what my moods tell him or what I look like at a particular point in the day. No matter my mistakes or my successes. He loves me for me, and that truly is one of the greatest gifts he could give me.
The things I saw in him, in the first moments of the first glance were not a figment of my imagination. Maybe it was that I saw what our life could be if we just let go and let it happen. Like the song says, I thought I loved him then, and at the time I thought it was as strong as it could ever possibly be, but it wasn't. It has grown and it has gotten better, and the love has gotten stronger and grown deeper. It seems the only things that haven't changed are these few..
I still have a huge crush on him and my heart still skips a beat when I see that it's him on the other end of the phone line.
He is still the one that I want to share my days with and crawl into bed with at night, even if there is a three year old in between us.
His singing still makes me giggle, and his wink makes me melt.
The box of cookies he brings me at the end of the day, just because he knows I like them, is much sweeter than any diamond he could ever find.
When I laugh I want him there and when I'm sad it is him that I want to comfort me. I want him there to share the joys and triumphs, the disappointments and pain.
I want his hand around mine and I want my head to find that perfect spot on his shoulder.
The best part is that he is still, after all of this time, and to be completely honest even more now, my best friend that I was lucky enough to fall in love with.


Even better than that is the fact that rather than look at my crush for him and turn to my friend instead, he turned to me and said "I do."



Happy Birthday baby. I don't really know why you love me, but I'm sure glad you do. I love you more!

Life Alert Please

Littlest Little has his own littlest language which at times stumps me and even the most experienced of interpreters (Middle Little). It took me thirty or so minutes and a final pat on my legs the other night to realize that "seaewap" means "sit on your lap". He will gingerly walk into the kitchen and ask,"Wha' doin Momma?".
"Emptying the trash baby, what are you doing?"
"I doin' fine".
This conversation happens often and I love it. It makes me laugh each and every, I even provoke it sometimes.
A few days ago he walked into my room and was doing some kind of swirly thing with his arms. I smiled at him and he announced that he has "supowers"(Superpowers).
"Awesome", I said, realizing that his hands were in a flying motion and the sound he was making was that of the wind blowing by.
"You ha' supowers too mommy!"
"I do? Yeah! What are they?"
"You get cheese down."
Perfect, I thought. I'll take any superpower I can get at this point. Middle Little thinks it's pretty cool that I know how to disassemble the vacuum to remove clogs. I was deemed even cooler when I fixed his bicycle tire the other day all by myself.
Yesterday we woke up to more rain and so a morning inside was deemed necessary. I decided that with most of my early summer work done...
Start potty training......Check
Get the kids through end of year testing.........Check
Garden.............check.
Spring cleaning.....check
Littlest's birthday...check
...I decided to take down my spring decorating and put out the summer stuff. I love to change things around. It breathes new air into the house and it's kinda fun to watch the family look around to make sure they walked into the right place.
I realized that one dreaded task was way past due. I really needed to clean out the floor vents. It's a nasty job, someones got to do it and since I don't see any hands raised... I started by removing all of the vent covers and placed them into the sink to soak. Now, knowing myself very well, and knowing the fact the even though I was named for a ballerina, I was not named Grace, I thought it best to cover each hole in the floor with a chair. My superpowers have their limit you see. There are certain things I just won't do when alone with the little man. I don't climb up into the garden when no one is within shouting distance. I don't snow ski, or roller skate. Seriously if I have heard a story of anyone getting hurt doing something it is crossed of the list. I don't mow the lawn because I know a guy who cut off the larger majority of his toes once. He was all by himself and had to drive a stick shift truck to the E.R.. I also know a lady who lay in the rain for a number of hours until her daughter got home because she had broken her ankle while mowing her lawn. If it has happened to one person it might stay, two people it's gone. It's not that I live in fear and therefore base my life goals on said fear, it's just that if it isn't on my bucket list and it could cause harm off it goes. I just know my limits, and they include the fact that baths are hard to give and take with a cast on one arm, and if I break my right leg driving is out. I keep my cell in my pocket if I am climbing on anything or going into the boys closet alone. I try to be careful as the fear of getting stuck and having to holler for help or worse having to send Littlest off to the neighbors for assistance, is daunting. He would have to pass the trampoline and I'm pretty sure it would win out over his poor helpless mother. Anywhoo, I cleaned out the vent holes, and decided that it might be safe to climb up on the piano to remove the pictures from the wall and swap them out. All went well and I was sure I was in the safe zone. My supowers were indeed in working order. I was way too confident. I scrubbed the vent covers and moved all of the chairs back into place, when something caught my eye. I am most definitely one of those people who should wear the pin that says,"I don't have ADD, I just, ooh look something shiny." I decided that my corner cabinet would look pretty with a green ribbon hanging from the door pull. Forgetting where I was and that there were holes in the floor, I headed to the corner. Now it all happened so fast that I'm not completely sure of the details, but it went something like this. In slow motion of course, in a split second that felt like eternity.
"Oh my goodness where am I going. Has the earth opened and I am now on a journey into the center? Oh holy goodness. Little, tell everyone I love them. Go get help. Ahhhh. Oh I am such a goner. How am I still falling. Oh Littlest's new bike, maybe I can catch myself. Oh that hurt, not a good idea. How am I still falling. Thud. Ok now how do I get out. Whoo, is anything broken. ok. no blood. Littlest why are you just standing there, and why is there a smile on your face. Kick in your superpowers and save your mommy."
Now all of that happened in the most split of seconds as I said and yet it took me fully three hours to remember why I was headed into the corner in the first place. I still can't find the ribbon. Littlest little watched and asked his usual "Wha' doing mommy".
"Oh nothing honey, just hanging out in the floor,"I thought to myself. I think there was a slight giggle in there as well. To be completely honest I can't blame him as I most likely would have laughed had I seen someone else do what I had just done. I thought of myself half draped over the new Thomas bike, one foot in the bowels of hell and the other on carpeted floor. I pulled myself out and looked myself over. No blood or bones protruding, all fingers and toes in place, just the faint sight of blue slowly creeping up various parts of my body. Thankfully, other than bruises that I found randomly throughout the afternoon, I am fine.
It is a good story, that of the likes of some of my Dad's. With his permission I will tell some at another time. They are good, but to be honest they are a thousand times better when told in front of my Grandmother, who laughs until she cries every time they are told. Just the sight of her laughing like that will fill your heart with enough joy to last a good long while. I am honestly happy to carry on the family tradition, of not only getting hurt, but of getting hurt in the most bizarre and amusing situations.
I did learn a valuable lesson through pain. I already knew not to do anything too dangerous while alone with a three year old and I can honestly say that walking through the living room shouldn't need to be on the list. You see, last weekend my father in law fell in his yard. My husband and others laughed and teased, not because he fell, but because he wouldn't let my Mother in law get help from the neighbors. While I didn't laugh at the fall, I did when I was told the stories of the teasing and suggestions that they may need to purchase Life Alert for him. I'm honestly not sure why I was chosen but I think that possibly it was Karma that led me across the living room to my demise and when I was in just the right place it reached up, grabbed my ankle and tried to pull me into the heating duct. No matter what the reason I have learned my lesson and you bet I will be there wielding my hammer when we make the ramp for my Father in law. Don't be worried, either way. You see, my superpowers usually work well with tools, and if they kick out by some chance that day, you will surely get to hear the story.

A little icing can be a good thing

It has been a good week. My Spring cleaning is all done, with the exception of my husbands office, (he has forbidden me to touch it even with my begging and promises that I would not touch his ball cards), and our two year old carpet.( By two year old carpet, I do not mean that we installed it two years ago, but rather it is badly stained by my two year old, causing me to truly believe it might be better burned than cleaned.) I have done my best to struggle through the driving and new relationship in my daughters life with poise and even excitement for her. I did not receive a call from my Middle Little's Assistant Principal to explain that he had been involved in another "incident", which is good for me and even better for him. He is settling well into his grounding and I think has even realized that just because he can't watch television does not mean that I have to be his entertainment. My sweet boy is returning to me after our conversation about the fact that just because he is getting older, does not mean that he has to lose his sweet, tender side. My Littlest Little has finally taken interest in the potty. That's the big one. I knew not to push him towards it. Potty training is one of those things that children have to come to at least half-way on their own or it just isn't going to happen. Every now and then I would ask him if he would like to try. Most times his response was a quick and short "Nope". My plan through the winter was that as soon as the weather turned and stayed warm, I would just strip him down and let him have a few days of outside nudity so that he could see just how fun the no diaper life might be. As the temperatures have stayed up, I decided on Friday to ask once again if he would like to use the potty. You would have thought that I had just received news of the President coming to visit, had you seen my excitement. I stripped him down, got the potty out of the closet, and outside we went. He played while I built a new gate, to keep him in the safety of the play yard while allowing Middle Little to escape the bounds of the house to ride his bike without help.
I have to take a side step here for just a second. My babes are five and six years apart, assuring that they will always be at totally different stages and also assuring that I will be on my toes for a very long time. While Lady Little is off doing all of the things that come with High School life, and Middle Little is at a place where he wants to escape by himself once in a while, Littlest Little feels that he should have no boundaries at all and should escape any chance he can. We had a gate that was suitable for all of the little stages last summer. Lady little was big enough to step over the gate, and I could get Middle Little out while keeping Littlest Little inside without too much effort. This summer all has changed. Littlest Little has a need to try to escape at every chance, and even did once, causing my landlord/friend/adoptive family member, to announce that I might consider contacting Caesar Milan to come train him. Actually, while this was suggested I think it made him feel a little good that his tractor buddy escaped to him. Anywho, after building the new gate, with the full realization that some sort of locking mechanism would be needed, Middle Little and I headed to Home Depot, or as I like to refer to it, "heaven on earth", to find just the right thing. The first gentleman that offered help looked at me like I had two heads when I explained our need for something to lock and almost three year old in while allowing the nine year old to escape the confines of the play yard. Thankfully a second gentleman approached and when I explained our situation knew immediately what we needed. I'm not really sure if he had adventurous boys or if he has great knowledge in the fine motor skills of children at different ages, or maybe just days before he had helped someone else with exactly the same dilemma. No matter the reason we purchased exactly what we needed with an extra or two just to be on the safe side, and headed home. I am happy to announce that even with all of his efforts so far, there has been no escape.(knock on wood)
And so we began our Saturday with one boy naked and celebrating huge potty success. With the day beginning on that note I was at a stage of elation that only parents tired of changing diapers will know, the day as far as I thought, couldn't get better. I spent the morning cleaning and doing laundry while the kidlets played. My husband came home from his flea market expedition with surprises. He brought me two and a half flats of veggies to be planted in my new garden. The three Littles went off on an adventure with Nonie (my mom) leaving me with my plants and garden tools. Peace quiet and dirt. Surely it can't get any better than that, right? While my husband cherished the quiet and rest after and long work week and before another, I laced up my old dirty sneaks and spent 5 or 6 hours digging and planting and sweeping and watering. I even made friends with a rolie polie and an earth worm or two. Unfortunately, I didn't make friends with the sunblock I should have worn and as the sun was going down , the shade of color on my shoulders and back was going up. Just a minor hiccup in what seemed to be the perfect Saturday.
Surely the peace and quiet I had while the kids were having a fun adventure, and my husbands much deserved rest could not be topped, or so I thought.
I haven't ever needed to be "the cool mom". As long as my children were happy, well fed, and well behaved, I could put off cool. That being said if a little cool could be acquired I would gladly take it as an extra bonus.
As evening became night and a gentle rain began to water my newly expanded garden, I cleaned myself up and settled into an evening with my boys by my side and Lady Little off to have some private Nonie time. As I was fixing my dinner my phone rang. I love that my girl texts me just for fun, and the conversation that followed might just have been an extra layer of icing on the cake that was this glorious Saturday. We chatted back and forth for a bit about what movie they had picked out and how my shoulders were now hot pink. She suggested that I should put a signature on my phone. Those of you who receive texts from her know that she usually has a line or two at the end that you have no idea of the meaning or how it pertains to the convo you are having. That is her signature. I don't even know how to set one on my phone and so I responded that she would have to help me think one up. Her response was this.
"Something cheesy like Cool mom or garden knome."
Now yes, she did say cheesy, and again yes, she did spell gnome with a k, but she also, I think, suggested in her own way that I might just be a cool mom. Funny that something I never needed to hear or wanted to hear would actually make my Saturday one of the best ever.

Fins

Last fall I emailed my Dad to ask one simple question. How is it that yesterday, I dressed my little girl in a Winnie the Pooh jumper, tights and saddle oxfords. I brushed her corn silk colored hair, and packed her Elmo backpack. We climbed into the car and off we went for her first day of preschool. How is it then, that I woke up this morning and took her to her first day of high school. I don't remember his response exactly, but I think he asked back, how it was that his little girl was now married with three children of her own.
It is now rapidly approaching the end of the school year, which will make her a rising Sophomore. I know that tomorrow morning I will wake up, and dress myself. I will check the air in the tires and the oil, and will check to make sure that everything is bungied into the trunk. I will hand her a piece of paper with all of her emergency numbers. We will climb into the car and head off to take her to college.
For her, these are the days of boys and cars, adventures and new responsibilities, and the excitement of it all. For the adults who love her, these are the days of trying our best to be fair while allowing her freedom, protecting her and praying a lot. Folks we are in uncharted territory. Remember the Jimmy Buffet song "Fins"? "fins to the left, fins to the right". Yep, that pretty much sums up my state of mind.
It has all been stewing throughout the year. Little things here and there. Sleepovers and outings. A few months ago she tried out for her school production of Seussical. She won a part and our early Spring was filled with the sounds of her singing and dancing. I was excited for her and cautiously reminded her to try her best to keep her GPA up. It has been a long time since I have had to remind her to keep up with her homework. I came to the realization a few years ago, that with her, it is better to let set her own goals. She has proven herself time and time again. She sees a challenge, something new to take part in, sets the goal and reaches it all on her own. She went to each and every practice, no matter how long it was or how exhausted she became. She never once complained. During this time, she came home and announced that there would be a cast party. Of course it was after the final performance which made necessary a change in her regular curfew. In an effort to help, or so she thought, she announced that her friends brother was willing to take her and bring her home. It was all I could do to say that there was no chance in the world that she would be going to a High School party, chaperoned or not. She would absolutely not be getting into a car with a teenage driver. Nope, not a chance. In reality, however, she had earned the right to celebrate her accomplishment. She had put in hours and effort. She had kept her grades exactly where they needed to be. She deserved and had earned the chance to prove that she could take this new step and be responsible. I explained that she could go to the party, but as far as details were concerned she would have to allow me time to simmer.
In an effort to be fair and reasonable and even just a little bit to assure that I would not be the only bad guy, I consulted the hubs. "Honey", I began sweetly," There is a party after the last performance, and she wants to go and she wants to ride with a 17 year old boy."
If I had had a mirror in front of my own face, I'm sure my own grimace would have frightened me. Thankfully, my usually strong and well balanced hubby lost all color in his face and looked as if he might fall to the floor, making me feel quite a bit better about my own pained expression. "Um", he stammered," what would Pa do?", referring to my own Dad. He sat for a moment and then stood, reached for the phone and excused himself to find out just what Pa would suggest. As it turns out Pa would have said no, and then broken the poor 17 year old boy's legs so that he couldn't drive(not really but you know). I'm more than sure that more than a few ideas were vollied back and forth during this conversation that I was not privy to. Finally after much contemplation we came up with this. She could ride to the party with the boy and his sister. I would then pick her up at midnight. This seemed fair and reasonable, at least given the situation, and made both sides relatively happy.
Over the next few days we re-discussed the importance of wearing seat belts, making good decisions, and all of the other things that come to the mind of the parents of a sweet beautiful talented girl such as ours. The play went off without a hitch, and received a well deserved standing ovation. All worked out with the party and the ride, and at the end of the night my once little girl and I arrived home, none the worse, and quickly headed in the direction of our beds.
Around the same time of the play try outs, she came home and asked if she could take drivers ed. One side of me was just sure that she had to be 15 before she could take the class the other side of me simply hoped that she would have to be 18 or even 20, if I was really lucky. Sadly, neither side was correct, and so we signed her up. She went each Saturday for 5 weeks, and each time I would pick her up, she would go on and on about how she couldn't wait to get behind the wheel. Once again I was sure that she would have to wait for the Fall. Surely they don't let a 14 year old behind the wheel. Surely not. Please say it isn't so.
This past Monday, I received a text from my sweet punkin' on her bus ride home from school. She had exciting news. I couldn't wait for her to arrive home, not having any idea what the excitement was about. I watched her face as she walked throughout the door, whatever it was it was good.
" Guess what I did today", she asked, and without time for me to ask a single question she blurted," I drove, and I have a new boyfriend".
Do you remember the scene from "Father of the Bride" , where he listens as the little girl with pigtails announces that she has, "Met a man and he is wonderful and brilliant and we're getting married"? Yep that's pretty much how it went down. My precious silken haired girl in her Winnie the pooh jumper and saddle oxfords just announced to me that not only was she a road warrior but there was a boy thrown in for dramatic effect. I tried my best to be excited for her. These are exciting times full of new curves in the road of life. Even as I told her of my excitement for her, my eyes burned with small tears and my heart sank a little.
When my man came home, I decided that it might come better from her, partly because the words were stuck somewhere in my throat. Once again I saw his face go pale. "Do you want me to get your phone and dial Pa for you?", I asked.
These next few years will be packed full of moments like this, I am sure. There will be many prayers, many pale faces, most likely a tear here and there. There will be many more conversations between the men in my life, about whose legs to break. Hopefully she will come through without too many scars on her heart or body. Hopefully we will make it through unscathed as well, because I am pretty sure that a few mornings from now I will wake up and my little girl in tights and a jumper will announce to us that she has met someone wonderful and brilliant and they are about to set off in a wonderful new direction. And not too far after that my beloved will receive a call from her beloved asking curfew advice for their sweet little one.
We will have many more conversations like this on our journey through parenting. I know that it will be different the each time, with each child. Life is truly a journey. There are curves and bends and hills before us. We try to be mindful of the street signs and potholes and we will defiantly be watching out for the 14 year old drivers in the cars with the "student driver" sign on the roof.

of prayers and babies and knowing

I have been wanting to write this post for awhile now. I have prayed for the right words to say. I have written it and re-written it in my mind . I have written it and re-written it on my computer. I wouldn't say that I have agonized over it, but I have searched for words to write that convey the thoughts in my mind. I tend to edit myself, sometimes more than necessary, sometimes less than necessary. I think because the thoughts I want to convey are so deeply felt, I do not want to make light of them. I want so much for you to understand just how deeply I feel these things, and how true these things are in my life. This post may turn into a road trip of sorts, so just hang on, and hopefully we will all arrive at the destination we are meant to.
A year ago this past Christmas I was hospitalized. During this time my doctor suggested that it would be best to have a hysterectomy. I can at times be a touch over dramatic. Those of you who know me and are reading this will most likely laugh at that and say to each other,"Yep, remember the time she....". At least I can admit it myself, right? Anyway, knowing that about myself can be a blessing and a curse. When I started feeling ill, I tried to convince myself that there was really nothing wrong, that surely I would arrive at the ER and would promptly be sent home with the diagnosis that I had eaten too much Christmas fudge. That turned out to not be the case. After four or so days, a blood transfusion and more medicine than would be sufficient to put a cow into a coma, I went home to think it all over. As the drug haze cleared and I was actually able to pronounce the word hysterectomy without mumbling, it hit hard. Please don't take this the wrong way. I am blessed and I know it. Thousands of people daily are told that they have a short time to live. Thousands more are told that they are about to enter a battle with a disease that they cannot pronounce. Worse than that thousands of parents are told that there children are ill. Please understand that I realize just how lucky I was to be told that what I had could be fixed with a rather routine procedure. It was, at the time, very difficult for me.
As we went about scheduling the surgery, deciding which grandparents would be on baby duty which days, and planning time off for my husband, my mind was constantly running in circles. It was a strange feeling. My sweet man and I felt that our family was complete. Somehow, though, the difference between choosing not to have another child and not being able to, was a big one. I was frightened that I would not survive the surgery. I can't really explain it, I was just scared. I prayed that I would survive. I was worried that my husband would think of me differently. I prayed that his love for me would remain. I was sad that I would never again feel the kicks and rolls of an infant in my belly. I was sad that I would never again hear my own newborns first cry and look into their eyes for the first time. And so I prayed for babies. I prayed that I would hold a newborn, even if it wasn't mine. That I would hear the gentle squeaks and smell that sweet head. People ask where I see God. I see him everywhere. In blades of grass and even in the wind. That being said there is no proof more magnificent to me than a newborn baby. These precious creatures that the Lord knows long before they are a glimmer in their parents eyes. I prayed for babies.
All of my prayers were answered. My prayers are always answered. Sometimes they are answered in His way and not the way I would have chosen, thankfully, but in this case, as they always are, they were all, once again, answered above and beyond what I had asked. The surgery went well. My recovery time was quick and much less painful than I expected. When the pathology returned a few weeks after the surgery we were stunned to find that we had dodged a bullet that previous tests had missed. Once again, as He always does, My God knew before I did just what he had in store long before it was revealed to me. My husbands love was steadfast and unchanging. My children were well cared for and happy with their grandparents. My Dad visited to help, and the time we spent together was more a gift to us both than I can put into words. As far as the babies? That, is the destination, and the purpose of this post.
Last fall I was reading my friends blog, http://http://www.mom2drew.blogspot.com//. Her blog has been such a blessing and has led me to places that I would not have known otherwise, including introducing me to the first baby. In this particular post she introduced me to the blog Bring the Rain. (http://www.audreycaroline.blogspot.com/) She mentioned that we should head over and start from the beginning. Knowing my dear friend well enough to know that I should follow her directions, over I went. I will say here that you should head over and you absolutely should start from the beginning. I will add that you should get comfy, brew a pot of your favorite coffee or tea, turn off the phone, grab a box of tissues and prepare for your heart to be changed forever.
This blog is written by a woman named Angie Smith. Her husband Todd Smith is a singer for the Christan group Selah. If you have ever heard the song "Your Raise Me Up",sung by Josh Groban, you have got to listen to it sung by this band. It will give you crazy goosebumps. I don't want to share too much of the story of this sweet baby, Audrey Caroline, because I truly want you to read it through Angie's words, but I will give you a short back story. While on an ultrasound visit, the Smiths were told that there daughter would not survive. Upon receiving the news that is more devastating than I am able imagine, her doctor asked her what she was feeling. Her reply, was,"I think MY Jesus is the same as He was before I walked into this room." I find that to be a profound statement and even more profound, given the circumstances under which it was spoken. It resonated in my heart. They prayed for a miracle, that their daughter's earthly life, as short as God would chose for it to be, would be a blessing and would have deep meaning. It does. You can see by the comments made and by the count of hits on the blog that this little girls life has been a blessing to so many lives. God has used this small child and her precious parents to shine the light of His love on countless hearts. This tiny baby, who's mother I will most likely never meet and who I will never hold on earth has made an impact on my life that will continue. It is my hope that her story will do the same for you. I pray for this family. I pray that her message will continue. I pray that God will heal their hearts. I pray that, while I cannot provide words of comfort, that God will give their hearts that peace which does pass all understanding. I pray that they do realize just how deep and profound an impact this little girl has had on the lives of so many. This past Tuesday was her first birthday, and while her parents were not able to celebrate with her here on earth, I know that there was much rejoicing in heaven.
Through this blog I was introduced to yet another baby. His name is Stellan, and you can read his story at http://www.mycharmingkids.net/. I remember the first time my eyes fell on this sweet boy in a picture on the sidebar of his mother, Jennifer's, blog, that he has knowing eyes. To be completely truthful, I don't really know what that means. It was the first thing that came into my mind. I thought of the times I have heard someone call a child an old soul. I do not believe in reincarnation, but I know what they mean, and this child's eyes show it. He has a smile that would light up a room. His face, to me looks like he holds all of the mysteries. He is just precious. When you visit this blog you will see that his parents, just like Audrey's, were given devastating news. They prayed for a miracle. That miracle was given. More recently however, some major health issues have risen. His mother posts daily of news, of medicine , of diagnoses, and prayer requests. Again I pray. I pray that God will heal this little boy. I pray that He will give Stellan's parents that same peace. God knows the plan. He has it all laid out. They do not know the outcome, but they have given their son to God, whatever his plans may be.
In these times when we all have our calendars stacked with activities. Where it is easy to think that we are in control, but we are shown so often that we are not, I find peace and comfort in knowing that He carries me. He carries us all. I have no doubt or question about this fact. Looking back on my life I see so many times that He carried me. Times where if one thing hadn't happened the way that it did I would have missed something spectacular. There are times when I knew in that moment that I was carried,there are other times still, where I can look and see where I thought I was walking alone at the time, I see now so easily that it was my God, once again carrying me. One of the greatest blessings of my life is to know this. Just as if you asked Angie, or Jennifer, or so many others, there are so many times in this life when we don't see what's next. We don't see an end to suffering, or solutions to problems. We don't have the answers to the questions we ask. We don't know the wheres or the whys or the whens. It is not always for us to know, until the time in which is revealed. We are lucky though, because we know the Who. We know that it is Him. It is the Jesus who is the same no matter the circumstances. Our Jesus is the same whether we are dancing with joy, or shuddering from grief. He is there in our strength and our weakness. He is there, in the big picture and fine print. He is there. All we have to do is call on Him. All of the times in life when we want so much to be able to fix things. We want to fix them for others and for ourselves. We try, and so many times we fail. We are human. We have no superpowers. There have been so many times in my life where I would have given everything I have to have just the right thing in my arsenal to say or do just the right thing to fix something for someone. The picture then becomes perfectly clear. I have all of the arsenal I need. It surrounds me. He is my arsenal and I need nothing else than Him. And because of this I don't need to say just the right thing or fix anything all on my own. I can lift up a name along with others who do the same thing and He will take care of the details. Because of Him, women who would otherwise be strangers, become sisters. Because of Him, babies who I will never hold in my own arms, I will hold in my heart instead. I can lift up their names and the names of the parents and the doctors and He, again,will handle the details. This is a gift more amazing than any other. His love, His graciousness, His arms that carry me every single day, His peace, all of these things that I receive as absolutely undeserved gifts. I find it staggering to absorb. But it is there, and it is real. I feel it deep in my soul and carry it in my heart. The most amazing thing about it all as that the gift is free for the taking. He will give it to anyone who asks. Just as we run when we hear the cries of our own children, He is there waiting for us to call on Him, and he picks us up and heals us and carries us home.
I must mention that in addition to the blessings that Audrey Caroline and Stellan have been, my prayers have been answered even further by the recent birth of my niece Mila and by the upcoming births of another niece and the baby of one of my dearest friends. Come this Thanksgiving you will find that my arms and my heart will be full of babies. I will hold them and kiss them and sniff their sweet heads, and of course I will pray for them, that they will one day, come to know the amazing love that they have available to them.


I wanted to let you know, that in addition to prayer, we are able to help Stellan's family financially as well. I have added a button to my side bar. Click on the Praying for Stellan button on the top of the sidebar. This link will take you directly to Jennifer's blog and on her sidebar you will find a button for donations. Another way still, is that Jenifer's friend has started donations through Etsy sellers. I am joining this in an effort to help, because I have, so many times been helped by others. You can go to etsy.com, or click on my Etsy shop on the sidebar. This will take you directly to my shop. If you don't find something that is your style, just search Stellan and you will find other Etsy sellers who are joining as well. It is a great opportunity for all of us to help. All donations made from my store will be made in Audrey Caroline's name. Thanks ahead of time.
May you know blessings beyond your wildest imagination!
Anneliese

10 mistakes

About a month ago, while looking through my sons weekly school papers, I came across a sign up sheet for a special parent night at his school. Topics to be discussed were test anxiety, self esteem, attendance issues, and a few others. Trying to do my best to help my chickadees I signed up, wrote the date on the calendar, notified the Hubs and lined up my daughter to babysit, as it fell on scout night.
To be completely honest, I dread school functions. I enjoy meeting the teacher, and seeing the art work, I just have this constant fear that I will trip and fall in front of everyone, including my children's classmates and teachers, or do the dreaded toilet paper behind my shoe march, and end up on the Christmas party gag real. The T.P thing hasn't happened to me yet, and so I figure that my lotto ticket is almost up on that one. Simply put, I am in perpetual fear of making a mistake.
I find that I often make the mistake of becoming impatient with my own children's mistakes. While a juice spill is not the end of the world, the fact that my 2 year old tries to make an art project with the juice I am desperately trying to clean up is some days just too much. Funny looking back, but in the moment, not so much.
The dreaded Thursday rolled around. It was busy as most Thursdays are, homework, dinner, a broken tooth thrown in just for fun, you know how it goes. As I drove up to the school, the parking lot that is usually overflowing on parents night, was almost empty. "Oh no, I must have written down the time wrong," once again beating myself up for a small mistake. With a quick call home to double check that I was indeed in the right place at the right time, I parked and entered.
The meeting had already begun and I quietly found a seat. Discussions carried on about end of grade exams and how to deal with the anxiety that exists in children who, make good grades all year, but are somehow convinced that they will be held back. They went on to something they call "school refusal". Yep folks, they finally have a name for the "syndrome" that caused me to cry each and every day from K5 to 10th grade. Unfortunately they do not know the exact cause or solution and so that too will have to go on my handy "when I have time for therapy" list, along with my dread of parents night, and my constant quest to find clothing to match the school decor, so that on parents night I can just blend and disappear.:). The moderators would begin another topic and some of the parents would chime in with questions or replies. I sat quietly on my stoop watching, listening, and taking note to call my mom about the school refusal thing. At some point the Assistant Principle jumped into the conversation and honest to goodness completely changed the way look at things.
He said that he had a poster in his office that reads,"I must make at least 10 mistakes today." Simple thought right? I find it rather profound.
We all make mistakes. Sometimes they are little mistakes like spilling juice, writing the wrong date on the calendar, or washing the new red socks with my husbands khaki work pants. Then there are the big ones, hurting someone we love, forgetting to pick the kids up at school( my tickets up on that one too, which is why my calendar is really messy). No matter the size, we all make them, and most times it seems that we beat ourselves up for the little as much as we do the big. It is easy to fall into a world where we focus on our own shortcomings rather than look at the fact that we try really hard to do the right thing.
By the time I arrived home it was jammie and bed time and so I didn't have a chance to share this new found insight with the kidlets. Friday afternoon the buses brought them home and they were ready to start the weekend. As I began to tell them of the newest house rule their faces carried looks of dread. I'm sure that thoughts of new chores were rolling around in their noggins. "From now on" I began as my little boy held his breath and my sweet girl winced,"We have to make at least 10 mistakes per day, now if you can't it's o.k., but you have to at least try." They looked at me, having no idea where this came from, or if I had actually said what I had intended. Deciding that it might be better to just accept it, rather than alert me to the fact that I may have misspoken, they went in separate directions to begin their two days of relaxation.
We are all settling into the new regime. I have thought of getting a dry erase board so that we can list all of the silly things that we do, it might be a bit to hard in the beginning, and so it will wait for while. I ask the kids daily if they have met their quota. Yesterday upon my son's arrival home I asked him how many mistakes he had made and he announced, grinning,"None". Not ten minutes later, he spilled salsa on the counter and inside the bag of tortilla chips. Thankfully, my two year old budding artist was with the grandparents, or we would have had quite the fiesta. As we cleaned up the mess he apologized. I told him that it was no big deal, and reminded him that last week I let the little one put a bar of soap in the fish tank and just this morning, I forgot to feed the cats. See how it works?

Snowday

I try to be a "glass half full" kind of girl. I try to see the good in things. In harder times I search for the blessings and lessons that can be learned. That being said, I also tend to be a worrier.Last fall I passed a church marquee that read,"A heart filled with faith has no room for fear". It spoke to me and I have since carried it in my heart. Some days I find myself repeating it over and over again. These times can be unpredictable. Bad things happen. I find it a comfort to know that my life ,and the lives of those I love, are in my God's hands. I pray that while they are away from me, He will protect them, and bring them home safely at the end of the day. My human heart still worries. Weeks are filled with work and school. Weekends arrive with lists of activities and errands, all of us running in different directions. I find myself hoping for one day to just, be. All of us together in the same place. Even if we aren't involved in the same activity, just together, in the same walls. I tend to enjoy the days when there is no schedule, no chore that can't be put off for one day.
This weekend we were blessed with two such days.
Friday evening my sweet came home with the announcement that we were expecting snow. Saturday came with a cold rain, us shuttling here and there on various errands. Yesterday morning we woke, again to rain with a few white flakes tossed in for good measure. I find that my heart still jumps when I see the first snowflakes. They dance around the sky and drift here and there. It is magical for this girl who grew up in Florida. For a short time thereafter, my adult mind drifted to calculating the number of snow days left until Spring Break is snatched away. Three as of yesterday. By 10am the rain was replaced by clots of snow, falling heavily to the ground. As the hours ticked by, the sky became thick with snow. The mountains disappeared, and the earth became a crisp white. The roads were covered by the time the news ticker began to announce school closings. Bedtimes were changed, and excitement mixed with my ever sensible children letting me know that while they were very glad to have a day off, this had to be the last, because they really need a Spring vacation.
The snow continued through last night and into this morning. A blanket of crisp white snow lay outside along with wind chills in the single digits. My husband was the first to wake, enjoying the quiet of the house, and exchanging phone calls with his friends concerning road conditions. By the time I planted my feet on the floor he had a fire going in the wood stove. The boys played happily in the living room while I shuffled sleepily to my favorite coffee cup. My sweet girl was the last to be seen and we spent part of the morning giving ourselves pedicures. Cherished time for me, as I know that much to soon she will be off on adventures of her own. My husband announced that he would be staying home as the roads were too dangerous. I find that I love his sensible side.
Today was spent all together. Each of us doing as we pleased. We ate what we wanted, dressed as we wanted, played and did just as each of us wanted. It was the day I needed. The day I had asked for. Sometimes I dread the snow, it can be inconvenient, but rather than look at it from this perspective, I choose to see it, as I believe it is, a gift. Soon enough we will be back to school and work, errands and chores. Today though, my God gave us a day together, to just stop, and be.



As side note, school has just been cancelled for tomorrow as well. Hopefully it will be the last for winter, but you can bet that this summer I will be praying for rain.:)