Every Little Thing is Gonna Be Alright

I'd like to introduce you to the grace and blessing that is #1348.

(I've taken to calling the baby "Charlie" ---we aren't revealing the sex---my mom used to always call her babies "Charlie" before they were born; I'm adopting her little nickname).

So, I'd like to tell you a bit more about our little #1348. We found out last Tuesday that "Charlie" has a heart defect.

Maybe I should back up a bit.

It's been quite a journey for me these past 20 weeks.

I've battled the voices of fear and doubt in my head telling me that I'm not enough.

Fear is a big ole fat liar, by the way. Still, he's so convincing sometimes.


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Anyway, it hasn't been pretty. My heart.

So, I took my ugliness to God. I've spent lots of time with God. I've yelled at him talked to him a lot. I've read a lot about what he says about life, about love, about who he is.

Here's the truth:

I am enough.


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Each moment of each day God gives me---gives you----the grace we need to be enough. Enough for our children. Enough for our spouses. Enough.

Even if you have three under the age of three----you are enough. Yeah, I know. Every day I need new grace to believe that too---especially when there's hair pulling or not-naps going on.

Here's the other truth mixed in with a couple miracles:

I have people praying for me to be amazed.

Are you ready for it?


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As I sat in the ultrasound room teleconferencing with the perinatologist (that's a fancy title for a doctor who takes care of mamas and babies that are at a higher-than-normal risk for complications), I felt calm.

He explained "Charlie's"condition to me---all the degrees of severity, possible treatment options, and what the next steps would be.

So, here it was, that little miracle: I sat there completely calm. I even remember feeling amazed that I wasn't dissolving in a puddle of tears. A calm, pregnant lady being told that something is wrong with her baby.

The nurses kept giving me sideways glances, incredulous that I hadn't crumbled, expecting me to lose it at any moment.

Amazing. 

I believe that through all the time I've been hanging out with God, I was being prepared for this---all of this, and I don't even know yet, what this entails yet.

Something I keep coming back to from my time spent praying and reading and arguing with God is this verse:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ~Lamentations 3:22-23

Or in other words:


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And if I know that to be true. If I believe that with my whole heart, then I am okay. I am always okay. And, "Charlie" is going to be okay too.

If you pray, please pray for our echocardiogram on September 11th that:

• we would have peace while we wait for the appointment
• that the hole in "Charlie's" heart will show signs of shrinking
• that "Charlie" won't need any surgery. 

Linking with Ann and Jen 

UPDATE** After I wrote this. Brad informed me that he didn't like calling our baby "Charlie"---no offense, Mom. Instead, he would like to call our baby "Pat". I can only hope someone out there watched Saturday Night Live back in the day, and knows what the heck I'm talking about, and finds this picture somewhat humorous:

 

Yes!

I haven't had much to say here lately.

I've been struggling a bit, and I've chosen not to drag you into my struggle. Being silent is the best way to do that, I think.

A friend of mine, who prays for me often, prays that I will be amazed through my struggles. In my head, I believe that God will do that----amaze me. Redeem my anxieties, my story, far beyond what I can imagine. But, my heart cries bull shit.

(I said that to a group of friends the other day, which included our pastor's wife. I'm thankful for a pastor's wife who thought that was funny.) 

So, I struggle and I pray to be amazed. That one day, my heart will see the truth that my head knows, so that I won't have to say bull shit anymore (about that).

While praying to be amazed, I've struggled to see the miracles around me.

I've told you here before, I believe everything is a miracle. When I choose to pay attention, listen and take one thing at a time---I believe I can see all those miracles best.

So.

That house that I absolutely fell in love with? We have a contract on it.

So, we are in the process of selling our house. (Know someone who wants to buy a three bedroom home in the St. Louis area? Have we got the place for you!)

If you've ever done this before, you understand the work that goes into getting the house ready for people to walk through it. 

I have often, over the past month, found myself getting our house ready, on short notice, while Brad is at work, or out of town. Frantically mopping the floors, only moments before potential buyers walk in.

Doing this with two toddlers, is no easy feat, as you can imagine, or maybe have experienced, but I have to tell you---I have seen many miracles through it. (1337) I thought I'd share some of those miracles with you today.

The girls know what it means when I tell that people are coming to our house. I often hear them saying, People coming! As they go about their work. And they take it seriously, they get down to business helping me clean. (1338)

They meticulously pick up and put away all their toys and books (1339). I'm often stunned to find things put away---even when I haven't thought to ask them to put it away. (1340)

There is such joy to watch the delight in their little faces helping me get the house ready. (1341) And--they beam, literally beam as I praise them for obeying me, and doing such a great job of cleaning. (1342)

Then, we pray. We pray that God will bless the people that come to see our house, and that the right person will like our house and put an offer on it.

After I say that last part, I look and see Hadley eagerly nodding her head, and Brynne pipes up with an enthusiastic, "Yes!" Fervent prayers, these girls are----joy! (1343)

Once we pray, I load the girls into the car and go back through the house to tidy up last minute things. I'm always finding small miracles of things the girls have done without me even asking during these last-minute sweeps. (1344)

And, this too. Yesterday, we got a bit of rain for the first time since June 16th. (1345) With the city-wide watering restrictions, most of my garden, sadly, looks like this:

But---some of my flowers are still thriving (barely). (1346) I'm delighted to say that when people have come to see the house, there's always been something blooming. (1347)

 

Linking up with Ann and Jen.

Growing Pains

Every once in awhile, the girls stand still with a look of discomfort etched on their faces.

They rub their legs.
Whimper.
And I know.
I remember.
Growing pains.

Lately I've been growing.

I'm still 5'10".
My clothes still fit.

Our church is humming and vibrant. The character of Jesus has been taught to me in new ways, or maybe I'm just "getting it" for the first time.

Either way.

This whole process is a bit like what the girls are going through.

The more I understand about Jesus, the more I see the ugliness in my heart he died to save. It hurts to recognize my sin. It pains me to see how I rebel and betray the one who so lovingly created me. It smarts to see what a jerk I am sometimes.

But the ache is necessary.
And the result is growth.

God gets bigger.
Grace gets bigger.
Love gets bigger. 

“Aslan," said Lucy "you're bigger."
"That is because you are older, little one" answered he.
"Not because you are?"
"I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.”

~C.S. Lewis in Prince Caspian

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Counting my gifts today:

1174. Brynne reaching to turn on and off light switches.

1175. Hadley figuring out how to open doors.

1176. Brynne holding an icepack on Hadley's head.

1177. Dancing in the moonlight with my husband.

1178. The girls' faces white with sunscreen.

1179. Sitting in the garden bird-watching with Brynne.

1180. Sheer awe and delight when Brynne would spot a bird.

1181. The girls insisting that their babies needed a bite of snack before they ate any more.

1182. Brynne checking the lawnmower for gas.

1183. Hadley pretending to plant tomatoes (she is all business!).

1184. Heirloom tomatoes in the garden!

1185. Sprouting seeds!

Linking with Jen. 

If you want to destroy my sweater...

Tuesday, I came to the end of myself.

It was ugly.

Apparently, the thread that destroys my sweater is to walk away saying that you'll call at a certain time with my child's cystic fibrosis test results. And then not call.



Not like I could have done anything in the 16 additional hours I had to wait before receiving the test results (normal), but I needed to be in control of that information thankyouverymuch.

So. In that 16 hours of waiting, I was a jerk.

You know those fruits of the spirit?

Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control.

I don't think I employed a single one---especially not that patience one. 

I was big jerk.


Then, I was frustrated with myself for being a jerk. And ashamed of myself for failing to seek God out in my frayed, crumbled state of being---in fact, I'm not even sure it crossed my mind.


So, here's a question for you: Imagine God for a moment. Imagine him thinking of you and looking at you. What's the look on his face? 

My answer, which probably has everything to do with this season of life, is that God's expression is probably similar to the looks of disapproval I give Brynne and Hadley when they aren't obeying me.

Here's the thing---my answer, while logical, given my jerky ways, is completely wrong.

God delights in me. Always. And the look on his face when he thinks of me?  It's one of pure delight and joy---even when I'm a jerk. He died for me, and I forgot (???) or didn't think he could handle (maybe?) my brokenness in uncertainty---he still delights in me.

{He delights in you too! Maybe you need to hear that today. God has a look of joy on his face when he thinks of you, and he longs to bless you.}

But I don't always remember this about God. So, there I was feeling ashamed and jerky, expecting some sort of heavenly spanking for my behavior. And, I saw miracles happen. God reached out to me in very real ways to say, Hey, I love you, and I long to be gracious to you. In spite of, and because of who I created you to be. 

I wanted to share a couple of my miracles with you. 

First, the girls received a belated birthday gift in the mail. Included in the package was a handcrafted gift for me, with beautiful, encouraging words and my word of the year. The gesture was so intentional and so "me".

The next day, the girls and I went to a playdate with my dear friend, and her son.  She, too, crafted an exquisite gift for me, which included my word, my favorite color and a sentiment that, is dear to my heart on many levels. It blesses me each time I look at it hanging on our wall!

The friendship I have with both of these women bless me richly. Their intentional-ness and grace and just their "knowing me" overwhelms.

Thank you for being miracles to me this week. 

Sharing this here.