#ShoutYourAbortion

I need to take a minute.

I need to take some time to tell you that I understand abortion. I understand being 16 and terrified. I understand being in graduate school and at a loss for what to do now. I understand being on the streets with no future plan. I understand being addicted to drugs. I've never been any of those things, but I can empathize with the fact that it would be quite difficult to add a whole human life to any of those situations. I understand that sometimes there is a great deal of despair and abortion seems like the way to move on, to fix it, to make it all okay.

I know people who have had abortions. I know men who have encouraged or stood by abortions. I know men who wanted their babies but had no voice. There are so many others that I don't know about because abortion isn't usually something we scream from the rooftops.

I am pro life.

That doesn't mean that I don't believe that God's grace and mercy extends to each of us regardless of the choices that we've made. I do. I have great compassion for women and men who live with the burden of abortion every, single day. 

Choosing life is sometimes really HARD. It's sometimes really BRAVE. Choosing abortion is EASIER than choosing ADOPTION. Choosing abortion is EASIER, sometimes, than choosing LIFE. I understand that and I care deeply for women and men who made a choice and can't go back and change it. If there is even a hint of confusion, guilt, sadness, grief, pain, wondering, or questioning, my heart breaks and I know that there is healing available. There is a future. There is forgiveness.

What I don't have compassion for is #shoutyourabortion. "My abortion was awesome!" "Best thing that ever happened to me!" This campaign, I am struggling with. This campaign is taking a lot out of me. Because, while I can comprehend the reasons women abort their babies, I cannot comprehend celebrating it and wearing it like a badge of honor.

Amelia Bonow wrote, "...I am telling you this today because the narrative of those working to defund Planned Parenthood relies on the assumption that abortion is still something to be whispered about. Plenty of people still believe that on some level--if you are a good woman--abortion is a choice which should [sic] accompanied by some level of sadness, shame, or regret. But you know what? I have a good heart and having an abortion made me happy in a totally unqualified way. Why wouldn't I be happy that I was not forced to become a mother?"

I am pro life. 

It's not that I can't understand circumstances that lead people to make a different choice. It's not that I don't understand women and men who are pro choice. It's not that I am judgmental and unfeeling. But I simply cannot understand abortion making someone feel happy in a way she's never felt before. 

This is not my world view. This is not a world view that I want any part of.

The Wing Girl

There is this fact of life.

People move.

School. Employment opportunities. Warmer weather. Cooler weather. To be closer to family. To be as far away from family as possible. Because Portland seemed like a fun place and New York was killing her dead. Because California is too bloody expensive. Because the south is a good place to raise a family. People move.

When we moved a fourth of the way across the country and left everything I'd ever known I was precisely 65% devastated and 35% eager for the adventure. It surprised me, that 35%, on account of all the deep roots I had and the fact that I did not like the idea of digging them up. I've determined, however, that the unknown adventure is what keeps us putting one foot in front of the other one as we trek to our new destination.

But when we're staying put and someone else is doing the trekking, well, then we're just kind of heartbroken. And 100% devastated. When it's clear that God is leading them away, it's even worse because we're 100% sure we shouldn't feel that way. Except it's also better because we know that the Author of every chapter is writing their story. We focus on rejoicing over the fact that we were allowed to be written into it at all.

My friend, Abi, is leaving.



Initially, we were more like acquaintances. There was the occasional shared meal. We were friendly with one another, said hello on Sunday mornings, engaged in small talk. I attended her wedding. But a deep friendship between us would have been unlikely. She is quiet and reserved. I am loud and intimidating. I couldn't invite her over because she is deathly allergic to cats and I make it a practice not to kill members of our congregation. She was busy with earning an MFA in Modern Dance and I was busy with raising toddlers.

But our paths began to cross more frequently than just Sunday mornings. We served together on the worship ministry team. I discovered that her writing skills, quick wit, and knack for the sarcastic far surpassed my own. I chose not to be overly jealous of these facts and realized that this woman was quickly becoming someone I really liked being around.

Later, we started to sing together on the praise team. Somewhere, in those Sunday morning rehearsals, where some notes were hit and some weren't, where coffee might have helped if either of us drank it, where we were the only women on a stage of men, the beginning of a friendship was forged.

I prayed in my prayer closet that God would provide me with a like-minded ministry partner, someone who would rise up next to me and, maybe, one day, take the reigns of Women's Ministry. I believe in constantly looking for people who will come up and position themselves to be able to take over if need be. At that point I was, quite actually, looking for a wing man. (Wing Girl?) Like Tom Cruise in Top Gun, I needed a Goose. God whispered, "Abi." At that point, she wasn't even on the women's ministry team. We were slowly becoming friends. I couldn't just walk up and ask her to be my Goose. It would have been weird.

But God is always right.

Abi joined the team. She had a baby. Then another one. We bonded over events, retreats, baby barf, mommy fails, and Sunday school classes. We've stood side by side on the stage, our voices lifted in praise. We've served together. We've laughed and cried (something neither of us used to do with any regularity because we are actually a robot and a cyborg) and prayed.

And then God called her family to Texas. He closed all the other doors and left one wide open. It's just that the open door is a job in Texas and her kids are going to speak with accents and she'll have big hair and live far away from me.

I've prayed for her family like they were my family. I love her children so much they could come live with me and I'm pretty sure I'd just instantly believe they were mine. I've come to love her a whole, heaping lot. Her heart has wrapped itself around my own in such a way that the thought of doing ministry without her is crushing.

That's not meant as a guilt trip. I don't have to like it to know that it's God's plan. I can solidly stand in the court of not wanting someone to leave and still solidly know that she has to, that leaving is obedience, that leaving must happen.

My friend, Abi, is hilarious, brilliant, kind, patient, loyal, godly and faithful. She's some things that I am and a lot of things that I'm not. I won't speak for her--this could be completely one sided for all I know--but I feel a lot like Jonathan did. "Now when he had finished speaking to Saul, the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul." 1 Samuel 18:1

When they left each other, "Jonathan said to David, 'Go in peace, for we have sworn friendship with each other in the name of the LORD, saying, 'The LORD is witness between you and me, and between your descendants and my descendants forever,' Then David left, and Jonathan went back to the town." 1 Samuel 20:42

Matthew Henry's commentary says, "The separation of two such faithful friends was grievous to both...Christians need not sorrow, as men without hope; but being one with Christ, they are one with each other, and will meet in his presence ere long, to part no more; to meet where all tears shall be wiped from their eyes."

I prayed for a wing girl and, for a short time, God gave me Goose. But, ever so much better than that, God gave me David.

BB Bagel

I'm just going to go ahead and talk about bed bugs for a minute. I don't have them. At least, not that I know of. Yet. It's only a matter of time. They're everywhere.

Last year, we found them at our women's retreat house.

Two weeks ago, our men found them at their men's retreat camp.

Yesterday, we found them at our women's retreat house which was a completely different house than last year.

We take all the precautions we can to not bring them home but, well, like I said before, I think it's only a matter of time. I'm only telling you about this because of the hilarious thing that happened today.

And by hilarious, I mean nauseating.

I'd let the owner know that I'd leave the bugs in a bag on the counter so that they could show them to the exterminator.

We were dividing all the leftover food between our ladies. My mom, who flew in for our retreat, was getting me some bagels to bring home. There was one fruit flavored bagel and she didn't want it to make all the other bagels taste like fruit. She said, "Is anyone using this bag?" And she reached across the counter and picked up the occupied bed bug bag.

My friend, Christy, had a mouthful of food but managed to yell out, "BUGS!" just before my mom opened the bag.

Thankfully, my mom heard her and dropped the unopened bag.

I involuntarily gag when I think about it.

We could have had a bed bug bagel. WE COULD HAVE EATEN BED BUG BAGEL!

Thankfully, we did not.

We're Just So Busy

My upcoming week looks like this:

On Monday, Matthew has football practice and Garrett has Scouts and Troy has a meeting. On Tuesday, Matthew has a football game. On Wednesday, I volunteer in classrooms and then Garrett has a football game and I teach Bible study and the boys and Troy have Kid's Club. On Thursday, my mom flies in and Garrett has football practice. On Friday, my mom and I leave for our women's retreat.

This schedule does not include time spent on homework. It doesn't include Bible study prep or grocery shopping or all the things I need to do to prepare for the women's retreat. It also doesn't include me working. Which I really should do.

I have two children.

How do women with six or eight or ten kids ever get anything done? I mean, aside from driving kids places. I thought motherhood would be easier once my children were in school. I WAS DEAD WRONG.

And this, friends, is why it's been six days since I've blogged.

And also why this one is so short.

A Tale of Two Stories

I have two stories to tell you. They both happened this week.

First, my birthday is on Tuesday. Troy has been asking and asking what I want but I can't really think of anything. I mean, I know what I really want but Troy can't rush the adoption process for me. So we wait. I started thinking and here's the thing. I am actually, like, an Idina Menzel groupie. I borderline on "stalker" meaning that the only reason I am not her stalker is that I have not had much opportunity. This makes me a bad candidate for an actual stalker because REAL STALKERS FIND A WAY! Anyway. I've already seen her World Tour once and I'm seeing it again in October and then I found out that she was performing in the first seven cities of the If/Then tour. So I told Troy that what I really wanted was to fly to one of those cities and see the show.

But even with flyer miles, that would require a hotel and a rental car and the tickets and...well, that's way out of my birthday budget. Still, Troy said we could do it. Because he loves me and he's awesome like that. But I am practical so I ultimately decided that the only real option was to see it in San Diego in January. In San Diego, if I'm really nice and play my daughter card just right, I have free lodging and access to a vehicle. Still, it would be a lot cheaper if I went with a friend and Troy stayed here with our children. Especially since Troy doesn't particularly care about seeing it.

I tried to think of which of my friends I could ask to join me. I remembered that my friend, Jenni, said she was seeing it and I texted her to find out which day. I knew she already had tickets but I figured if I went on the same day, I could at least say hi there and hello to her during intermission. It turns out that Jenni has two tickets and her husband didn't want to see the show either. So she said I could have the extra ticket. Specifically, her text said, "Would you like to come with me to the show? I have an extra ticket. They're front row on Saturday January 9 at 2:00pm. The matinee."

If you think I slapped myself and then pinched myself and then assured myself it was just a dream I was having trouble waking up from you, you would be correct. I ran around my room wearing the doofiest of doofy grins and then ran downstairs and said something about, "YOU'RE NOT EVER NEVER GONNA BELIEVE THIS...."

I wasn't even calm and collected in my response. Calm and collected would have been like, "Oh. Sure. That'd be cool. Thanks." But what I said was, "ARE YOU DEAD SERIOUS BECAUSE YES I WANT TO GO WITH YOU AND SIT IN THE FRONT ROW AND I'LL TOTALLY PAY YOU FOR THE TICKET..."

And then she said no and I replied with, "But I WANT TO pay you! I honestly feel like I can't accept such an enormous and amazing gift for free!"

Then she responded with something about how she understood but it wasn't necessary and I said something about how she didn't understand the magnitude of what she was giving me and that I was kind of a stalker and she said, "I know, that's why it's awesome that you have the opportunity to come out here for it. Although I would be embarrassed if you jump up on the stage and accost Idina. I'm not gonna lie." And then I promised not to do that which, in retrospect, was a pretty hasty promise to make but I'm a woman of my word so now I'm bound to NOT RUIN THE PLAY.

Here's the second story.

We've had a hand me down entertainment center since we got married. I've wanted a stand for awhile now but it just wasn't in the budget. I shopped around for one that we might be able to afford...if we had a successful yard sale (which was held yesterday) and if I used any birthday money I might get on Tuesday.

I found one on sale at RC Willey that I REALLY like. It was $299 (down from $399). The yard sale ended up being a bit of a bust. It was Labor Day weekend and the infamous wind we have in these parts was blowing everything all over the place and people stayed home and so we only made $118.

Then Troy found out that a check for $63 had been sent to our old address. We haven't lived there in nearly eight years. My sister-in-law lives down the street though and ended up with the check in her possession. She took a picture of it for me and it makes no earthly sense because the check is from USBank. We never banked with them in the entire time we lived at that house so...weird. But it's a legitimate check and it's on its way to us. So with that extra money, we were at $181.

We wanted to see it before we bought it but the closest store to us didn't have one on the floor. We didn't really want to drive to south Salt Lake to look at one but that was our only option. We loaded ourselves into the van and headed over. The boys were in heaven in such a huge furniture store and were acting like it was Christmas morning. Troy thought it would be fun to meander through the clearance section before heading upstairs. As we walked around, we spotted one TV stand, from the back, and started walking toward it. Maybe we'd like it?

As we turned around to see the front of it we discovered that it was almost identical to the one we'd gone to see. The clearance one was a slightly different color and just a tiny bit lower to the ground. Otherwise, it was the same piece of furniture. It was originally $399, marked down to $199. There's nothing wrong with it. It used to be a floor model. Bonus, no assembly required! I was overjoyed.

I'm telling both of these stories because sometimes we're so busy asking and waiting on God for the big stuff that we forget to praise Him in the smaller things. We want Him to cure someone's cancer, give someone else the job he wants, bring us another tiny human. We wait and pray and cry out and wonder when, if ever. He looks at us and says, "Hey, I'm in the big stuff. I'm going to prove it by being in these little things that you didn't even think to ask me about. You can see this show for whatever your friend will allow you to pay. You can sit in the front row, even, of a musical with this person you really enjoy. I'm gonna do that for you. Also, that TV stand you want, it's going to be $214 after tax. Do you think you can handle paying $33 out of pocket?"

We call it coincidence or luck. We smile and move on. But what if we chose to see God in ALL our good  fortune? We are blessed. We find His favor so much more often than we acknowledge. He uses people to bless us and we miss it. What blessings have you decided to call random chance, fate or luck?

Take a look around. I'll bet God shows up a lot more than you ever realize.

Let Her Go

Grief is funny.

It's not at all ha-ha funny. It's peculiar, irregular, spastic.

Grief shows up at inopportune times.

As has been well documented, I'm not much of a crier. This year, though, has maybe made up for a lifetime of little tears. I didn't cry at Kate's funeral. I knew I wouldn't. I don't think I have ever cried at any funeral. I correctly assumed that my own daughter's would be no different. But, since January, I've cried in dozens of bathroom stalls, a handful of quiet hallways, a few garages, and several stores.

There have been weeks, even months, that have gone by without tears followed by days where I feel like this heart-hurt will go on forever. I think I'm pretty good at faking it--I have a college degree in pretending--but there are times when the grief just surfaces so quickly that I don't have the time to suppress it.

When Garrett's teacher asks them to raise their hands if they have a sister and he comes home and tells me that he didn't know what to do. He has a sister. But she's in the ground. I turn quickly toward the sink, tears springing instantly to my eyes.

When Matthew prays, "Thank you that you gave us Kate even though you didn't give her to us that much."

When I'm getting ready to have a yard sale and I open a box and I'd forgotten that I'd put all the sympathy cards and the paperwork from the cemetery in it. It catches me off guard and I cry because I don't want to have paperwork from a cemetery. I want to have a five month old.

This song. Whenever I hear it.

Well you only need the light when it's burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go
Only know you've been high when you're feelings low
Only hate the road when you're missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go

Staring at the bottom of your glass
Hoping one day you'll make a dream last
But dreams come slow and they go so fast
You see her when you close your eyes
Maybe one day you'll understand why
Everything you touch, surely dies.

Chorus

Staring at the ceiling in the dark
Same old empty feeling in your heart
'Cause love comes slow and it goes so fast
Well you see her when you fall asleep
But never to touch and never to keep
'Cause you loved her too much and you dive too deep

Well you only need the light when it's burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go
Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you're missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go

I never knew her. I tell myself as if that will somehow make it easier on me. But it doesn't and I pray long prayers about how I have no idea what Heaven will be like and I know that my one request won't change the order of things, but if God, in His infinite wisdom and glory, could just set aside a few minutes for me to meet my daughter, I would be much obliged. And if He could tell her just how much we wanted her and just how loved she is and just how much we miss her, I sure would be grateful.

I do Bible studies called Motherhood for Every Moment, Jonah: Navigating a Life Interrupted, and Stronger: Finding Hope in Fragile Places. I find joy and truth and hope. I keep moving forward, knowing that while the grief still surprises me, the moments are fewer and there are longer spaces of laughter and smiles in between.

Songs will continue to catch me off guard when they suddenly come on in a grocery store. People will ask me if I just have the two boys and I'll nod because there isn't time to tell the story but in my head I will say, "And I have a daughter waiting for me in Heaven." My boys will struggle with what to say when someone asks them if they have a sister. Years from now, perhaps, moments will still make me cry.

Because grief is strange. And the thing about the song is that I'm not sure I quite know how to let her go.

Mission

Ultimately, after revisiting it with fervor for approximately two and half days in which I vacillated between being almost sure that we were going to become parents again in September to being positive that we're never going to have another child, we decided not to have our profile shown. It was an agonizing decision and my thoughts swayed--pendulum style--roughly 1.7 million times in 60 hours. I imagined pulling the crib mattress out from under my bed and hanging girly pictures on the wall in the playroom turned nursery turned library, turning it back into a nursery once again. Just as quickly I would spin my mind's wheels trying to figure out loan options and how we would begin to accomplish the getting of such a large amount of money so fast and I would feel restless and without peace or direction.

My brother's baby was overdue. I knew we had to decide before that baby was born. I knew my judgement would be even cloudier once she was here. (Turns out THAT was a good call.) Every time I prayed I felt more confused than before. There just wasn't a clear answer. In the absence of direction, does one move forward when a little life is on the line? Or does one close her eyes and say, "I will wait on you, Lord."

When we said no, we agreed that our time may never come. I know that sounds pessimistic and negative--defeatist, even. It isn't meant to. In February, we decided to move forward in anticipation of another adoption because, independently of each other, the Lord gave us her name very soon after we lost Kate. It's not a name we ever would have considered if God hadn't whispered it to both of us. He's never spoken any of our other children's names into our hearts. But that is a story for another time...perhaps. I won't share the name. I'm presently much too busy treasuring it in my own heart. Even then, though, holding her name on the tip of our tongues, we were never certain that He would bring us another child--much less that He would bring one we have the privilege of naming. We both trust that He told us. We just know that it could have been the dream He gave us to keep us moving. And so, we had to accept that there was an opportunity in front of us and another one might not come.

We decided to wait on the Lord.

For what is to come or what may not come.

It was not an easy choice. And, once made, I still wondered if we'd chosen wisely. One week later, through a strange set of circumstances, the Lord spoke clear and perfect confirmation to me. The details are not important. But the Lord works in utterly mysterious ways. He also began a convicting work in me.

While on earth, my job is to draw near to Him and make Him known to others. (For the record, I fail this mission every, single day.) I've been living in limbo since January. I suppose in some ways it's to be expected. The grief process has been real and encompassing and while I've tried to pick myself up and walk on in public, my husband can attest to the grittier side of things. (I'd be lost without him. He deserves some kind of medallion or a constellation in his honor for the way he has loved me in these past nine months. Truly, no one will ever know the way he has held this messy, grieving family together. But seriously. I should reward him with a belt buckle or something.) The back and forth between grieving and waiting has been exhausting. One minute it's excitement and longing. The next minute it's crying and pain.

The convicting work has been this. I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO DIE WAITING. Especially when no official promise was ever made. I'm supposed to draw near to Him and share Him and whatever He chooses to bless me with along the way is just a whole lot of icing on the cake. Don't get me wrong, we are still waiting with hope and eager anticipation for what He might have for us. I just don't want to waste my life wondering if the phone is going to ring.

Last night, Matthew woke up crying. He called out for me. He'd had a scary dream and wanted to stay with me on the couch. I pulled him onto me and he snuggled in. After he fell back into sleep, I thought about it. These two boys are (usually) a pretty intense delight. I don't know what earthly good I've done to deserve them. But I remember waiting for them and wondering if they'd ever live and breathe and grow up big enough to call me Mom.

I kissed his nose and ran my fingers over his back. Another one would be an amazing and welcomed addition. But the blessings He has bestowed upon me are more than enough.

Meeting My Niece

Does anyone remember the fact that I used to blog here?

Yeah. Me neither. It's been SOOOO long.

I have an excuse for the past few days though. On Sunday afternoon, my parents flew me to San Diego so that I could meet my niece!!! We planned it a couple of days before she was actually born, bought the airfare the day after she was born, and I got to spend three days (off and on, of course) with her! I just got back yesterday and I'm not actively working on a formula that will allow me to clone myself so that I can live in two places at one time.

We completely surprised my brother and sister-in-law which ended up being SUPER HILARIOUS. They live in a town home (condo?) and so my parents dropped me off a handful of doors away. They went in and the plan was for me knock on the door several minutes later. My brother had been out running an errand and we wanted to make sure he was there. My mom texted me that he was but I wanted to wait another minute. Then I replied with something or other about how I was on my way.

"Wait!!!" was her reply. I had no earthly reason why and was afraid my brother was walking outside. As I was already almost to his door, I dove into some bushes, directly in front of someone else's house. Crouching there, I texted back, "I'm hiding in a Bush. What am I waiting for?" (Yes, regular "bush" autocorrected to a former president.) As it turns out, they'd gone upstairs and they quickly decided to sneak me in and just have me sitting there when they came back down.

Heather's grandparents, parents and sister were there. My parents were there. So it was quite a party of people. Maybe that explains why my brother looks directly at me and just keeps living his life for a solid nine seconds. It was pretty great.

Then I held her and hugged her and promised to take her to a Broadway show.

And, BLOG WORLD, my brother somehow ordered the world's best baby. She ALMOST NEVER CRIES and when she does it's because someone has dared to change her dirty diaper or because she'd like something in her tummy. 

I am so glad that Troy is officiating Heather's sister's wedding in a month so that we have an excuse to go to California. And also even though I still hate year round school, the boys are off in October and you'd better believe that that baby is going to be spending some serious time in my arms again. And then, Troy is leaving on a mission trip to Haiti on Thanksgiving day and, well, I feel like I should maybe just go to San Diego because cooking Thanksgiving for three does not sound like my idea of a good time. Right?

Also, short of kidnapping my niece (which my sister-in-law already informed me is not really a good option) frequent trips are really my only option. Maybe I need to start a "Visit My Niece Monthly" Go Fund Me page to help support my habit.

Okay. Not really. But almost.

My Lil Gert

Early on Thursday my brother became a dad.

I was all set to announce my niece's name and post a picture of her but I haven't asked them if they're ok with me doing those things on my blog and since they've slept, like, negative hours in the past two days, I'm not going to burden them with it right now.

I will say that I got to virtually meet her tonight and it was super but NOT NEARLY AS SUPER AS MEETING HER IN PERSON WILL BE SOME DAY. Because I live in Utah and she does not. Which, if you ask me, is a complete travesty.

I will also say that it doesn't altogether matter what her name is. They didn't give her one until this afternoon and, in the meantime, I started calling her Gert. My brother refers to my children more often than not as G-Money and M-Cat. It's just...his uncle thing. So when they didn't give her name, I threw out Gert as an option. Entirely from the episode of Friends where Chandler and Monica get married and Ross switches his table number and ends up at the kids' table and dances with little girls all night. One little girl's name is Gert and she is enormous--both in stature and in girth. She towers over the rest of the children. I threw it out, obviously, as a complete joke but pointed out that it's a family name.

My great grandmother's name was Gertrude.

I continued joking about it and my mom voiced her concern that it might stick. The damage was done. It stuck for me. I mean, at least as a joke. G-Money, M-Cat and Gerty Girl.

I've also long said that I am going to be the aunt who always has gum so it would seem we're going with a Friends motif. Even though, by the time she's old enough for her parents to allow her to watch friends, it'll be so ridiculously dated that she'll think we're all old and lame. 

My niece actually has a beautiful name that I love and plan to use often. She's totally adorable. I want to reach through the computer screen, pull her into my arms and tell my brother and sister-in-law to take a break. Take a nap. Take a shower. Take 18 years, give or take.

Gert and I have got this. Together. For the rest of my life.

First & Third

I have something important to say. I am not much of a public crier. Really. Seriously. Please don't hold it against me if don't cry at your funeral. I will probably cry buckets in the privacy of my own bedroom but they will not come out at your funeral. I also find it irrational when people cry at things like weddings and first birthday parties. And, for being a theatrical kind of person, I am also a very rational person who is often confused by irrational people.

I don't cry when my kids start preschool and kindergarten. PLEASE. What's the alternative? That they died young? That they have some kind of developmental delay that keeps them from school? BRING ON SCHOOL! It means they are growing and healthy and ready for the next important milestone. I LOVE HAVING MY KIDS WITH ME but I am not going to cry over things like preschool. Come on, mamas. SAVE YOUR TEARS.

Ahem. In light of the above mentioned information, I'm going to schedule a neuro consult immediately. Something is very wrong with me. I didn't cry when my oldest boy started kindergarten and I didn't cry when my baby started either. I snapped a few pictures and internally rolled my eyes at all those mommies who were shedding tears and begging for one more hug and generally being snively and obnoxious. COME ON, MOMMIES! IT IS KINDERGARTEN! YOU WILL SEE HER IN THREE HOURS.

Unless your child is in full day kindergarten which is precisely where I'm going with this post. MY BABY'S FIRST DAY OF FIRST GRADE ALMOST KILLED ME DEAD. I walked him up and stood with all the other moms. The kids lined up, already old pros at this school gig what with having an entire year of half day school under their collective belts. They looked older and wiser than they did six weeks ago. Moms chatted and kids looked excited and anxious all at once.

Suddenly. Out of NOWHERE. What? What was happening? Something must have flown into my eye. Could it have been allergies? What in the world? Why was there a lump forming in my throat? WHY WAS MATTHEW'S LITTLE LIFE FLASHING BEFORE MY EYES?

His birth. His baby laugh. His chubby hands. His cuddles. His first day of preschool. His first day of kindergarten. How did we get here? How did all those memories string together until we managed to make it to SIX AND A HALF AND FIRST GRADE?

I swallowed my tears back down my throat, hugged him, and watched him walk through the big first grade doors. He was so ready. So happy. So big.

It hasn't been this quiet in my house since 2005. TEN YEARS OF NOISE! I walk around in it and the walls echo with silence. I clean it and...it stays that way! I play with the puppy and work on Bible studies and HAVE A FRIEND OVER FOR LUNCH AND WE ACTUALLY GET TO TALK! 

I have grand plans for my life. Plans that involve substitute teaching more, catching up on Bible studies, being a better pastor's wife, keeping a clean house and waiting anxiously for a phone call telling me that we're a perfect match for another baby so that my house won't be so quiet anymore.

Because I love being a mom. I'm not the best one and I'm not the most patient one. I'm not the quietest or the friendliest or the most athletic one. But I love those boys and I love the noise they make, the living they do between these walls and I miss them when they're gone. I can't believe they've already done so much growing. I don't know know how I have a first grader.

And I really don't know how I have a third grader. 

When the Only Hurdle is a Huge Amount of Money

Several days ago, I was contacted by our adoption facilitator at Adoption Center of Hope. She told me about a situation that sounded perfect. It's a little girl, due next month. If the little girl's mother would so choose for us to raise her child, it would be a fantastic situation for us.

Except that it's $30,000 on top of what we already have sitting at ACOH. We prayed hard. We know that God uses our children and possible adoption situations to test our faith. But we couldn't decide exactly which test this was. Were we being called to wait on His perfect timing for a perfect situation and this wasn't it because of finances we don't have? (I mean it. We have exactly $6,975 dollars to put toward adoption costs and that is only because so many people were so generous last winter and we put that money aside in an adoption account.) Or were we being called to trust that He would provide the funds?

Ultimately, we decided to pass on the situation because 15K needs to be secured before our profile can even be shown to this mom and the rest of it would need to be available within just a few weeks. We considered the loan option. But, even if someone had 20-25K lying around, we wouldn't be able to pay it back without me working A LOT. I have no desire to add to my family again so that I have to work nearly full time to pay for that addition. If we adopt again, I want our baby to have my full attention just as my boys did. So I felt at peace knowing that, since there would be no way to pay off such a loan, this couldn't be what God had for us.

Then, last night, they posted the details of the situation on social media.

*💥*URGENT*💥*

Family Needed:

-Homestudy MUST BE Completed and Not Expired

Expectant Mother Prefers:
-Born Again Christian Family
-Active & Athletic

---Situation Information---

Appoximate Due Date: Mid September 2015
State: California
Gender: Girl
Expectant Mother Race: Caucasian
Expectant Father Race: Unknown (Possible Race-African American, Hispanic or Caucasian)
Insurance: Medi-Cal
Drug Exposure: Clean
Alcohol Use: None
Open Adoption: Pictures & Updates

Approximate fees $35k plus
(Includes California legal fees and valid, necessary and legally allowable living expenses)

🌟To be consider for the above situation you must meet the listed criteria AND be prepared to provide a PDF version of your profile and home study.🌟

Suddenly, I wasn't sure. Because if that number was smaller I'd be begging them to show her our profile immediately. I laid in my bed last night and sobbed. Not having this exorbitant amount of money at my fingertips is a reality that I cannot get around. But it isn't this baby girl's fault that the whole thing costs so bloody much.

And we are SO READY to be matched.

In the middle of my tears I told myself something I've said time and time again since I started coming out of the fog of grief I lived in when we lost Kate. IF GOD WANTS IT TO BE ACCOMPLISHED IT WILL BE. We are not going to accidentally miss our daughter. If we pass on a situation, He isn't going to scratch His head and say, "Well, shoot. Now what?" We're also not going to end up with a child He doesn't want here. He is in control. He knows what He's doing.

If this is meant to be our child, He will work it out. (Although it sure would need to happen fast.) If this is not meant to be our child, she will be placed in the family that God has hand picked for her. But I would love prayer on this one. You've been with us through thick and thin this year and I trust your happy thoughts and prayers will be sent our way.

Maybe you know someone who fits this description perfectly. Pass it on and help this little one find her forever family. Maybe you know someone who needs a $20,000 tax write off. Well, for the record, I wouldn't turn that down.

Why I Chose My Husband

Yesterday was my 12th anniversary. That is crazy talk because I cannot possibly be a day over 25. And I did not get married when I was 13. If for no other reason than the fact that my husband is 10 years older than me. This year was, maybe, not the best. But we weathered through and we're better for it. For better for worse and all that. I'm so blessed to have him by my side.

As a pastor's wife, I have the opportunity to listen as women tell me the things they love and adore about their spouses and, sometimes, the things they are struggling with. I pray for women with stories of addiction, anger issues, unfaithfulness. I rejoice in "atta boys" when husbands are promoted, get raises, or break free from sin. Often, I am able to get a glimpse into what she was looking for when she chose her husband in the first place. Sometimes it's because he was hilarious or he knew how to fix things or he was a hard worker. Sometimes a guy was chosen for his strapping good looks or because he made her feel beautiful. It's often a combination of a lot of things, of course.

I chose my husband for one reason only. 

I "grew up" in the middle of a relationship with my first fiance. We started dating when I was 18 and I broke up with him when I was 21. He shared my faith but, among many other things that led to my ending our relationship, he was not a spiritual leader. I couldn't see my faith growing or ministry opportunities developing as a result of marrying him. At 18, I didn't think to consider that. At 21, with our marriage looming in the not-so-distant future, I realized that it was all that I should have cared about.

In Troy, I found a man who would walk with God and challenge me in my own walk. I knew he would teach me and, from the very beginning, he would lead our children spiritually and point them toward our Creator. If I break down my entire marriage, absolutely nothing else matters to me. This world is fleeting. It is but a moment. Everything points us toward eternity. I wanted a spiritual leader. A man who would open the Word with me and explain it when I was confused. A man who would share his knowledge and opinion but one who would listen if I came to a different conclusion. A man who would debate with me as his equal, pray with me, and grow old with me as we waited for what was to come. Not to get stuck in this life, but to look ahead to the next. 

It's an added bonus that he makes me laugh and puts food on the table and that he's patient and kind and honest.

The cards we've been dealt haven't always been stellar hands. We lost our home when we moved to Utah, we went into incredible amounts of debt to gain the privilege of adopting our son, and we buried our daughter. More than 13% of our monthly income goes to our medical insurance premium. We rent our home and we'll probably have to work until we die. To name just a few of our card games.

Such is life.

Through all of that, I'm proud to have this man beside me, pointing me toward eternity. I'm amazed at the way he teaches our boys about our God and about biblical principles. I love the way he has changed me and the way we have grown together. When I pray for my children's future spouses, I ask for one thing only.

She doesn't need to be able to cook or clean well. She doesn't have to be beautiful or wealthy or smart or have a strong set of child bearing hips. I just want her to love Jesus and dedicate her life to following Him. And that's ultimately all I want for my boys as well.

That is why I chose my husband. Because, above all else, that is what matters. And because, when we, as a couple, love Jesus with our whole hearts, we can trust that He will bring us through whatever He puts in our path. No, this year hasn't been easy. But at least I had him holding my hand through it all.

TessieMonster

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm under the impression that life is a never ending joy ride. I've packed more living into my first four weeks with my new people than a lot of doggies do in a lifetime.

I love the water but I strongly dislike the foamy white stuff that rushes at me, toppling over itself in a sort of circular motion. I swim like a champ. I'm learning something commonly referred to as "fetch" and I love it. I also like to turn this game into something I call "keep away" which is splendid fun for me. I know how to sit. I'm learning to "stay" and "leave it" and I definitely know my name but find it pure genius when I pretend not to. These people keep saying this one word to me that I just don't understand. Maybe you can help me out with it. They yell, "Come!" What earthly purpose does this word have? For the life of me, I simply cannot understand it.

The people say that in the past week I have turned a corner. I'm not a baby anymore. They are likening me to a toddler. Whatever that is. I don't sleep as much and I am, apparently, very curious and into everything. The littlest one, is, I think, a two legged dog. He plays "Puppy" with me and so I try the normal things like attacking him, chewing on him, and, occasionally, attempting to assert dominance in the traditional (but, apparently, inappropriate canine way. These things are all met with what I can only imagine is disapproval from the people. Perhaps this youngest one is a person after all? If so, he ought to stop behaving like a dog during all of our encounters.

I really love it here. When I hear my people, I run to them with my ears flying. They make me happy. I have met many new people. One of them is named Grandpa and he is splendid fun. He's a big softy which, I am told, is not the way it always was. Once upon a time he had dogs the toed a straight and narrow line. He doesn't make me do it though. In fact, my mommy-person explained that I'm not allowed in Grandpa's ice plant but I don't feel like listening to this rule and have, in fact, chosen this vegetation as my toilet of choice. Grandpa hasn't gotten mad at me even one time for that.

Grandma is also a fun one. She likes to snuggle me a lot. And she says I'm a really good puppy. Given this statement, I have decided that she is an easy-to-fool kind of lady. I have sweet chocolatey eyes and soft fuzzy fur but under all that, I'm almost certain I'm a beast. Grandma sometimes calls me Tessaress which is added to my long list of nicknames which include Tess, Tessers and TessieMonster (that last one was given to me by my mommy-person and happens to be the reason I believe that I am actually a small monster masquerading as a rapidly growing golden retriever).

Among many other people, I also met my aunt and uncle and my doggie cousin, Kona. The aunt and uncle seem to be patient people who did not get upset with me when I continually went potty on their floor. Kona is a MOST FUN dog who plays endlessly with me. I would like to be best friends and see her every day. Unfortunately, my mommy-person says I have to go back to my own house soon. I guess I'm okay with that because my daddy-person already had to go back there and, just as children need rules and boundaries, I need my Alpha.

Anyway. I'm going to go now because my attention span was maxed out about three minutes ago and I need to chase a fly, chew an antler and squeak a toy. But just know that I am happy, healthy, and sometimes psychotic. What a fun adventure all this living has been!

Love,

Tessie

Surf's Up

I know I haven't been around lately.

It's because of this...

Happy Summer!

The One Where I Bought a Kiddie Pool

This post, originally found here, is easily my most viewed entry. Apparently, a lot of people google kiddie pools. So, in honor of summer and my most famous post, please enjoy reading about that time my car transformed into an aircraft.


Today I decided to get Garrett a decent kiddie pool. He had one that my mom supplied last summer but it's seems to have gotten so small. I think it has something to do with the fact that my son has gotten so big. It was a blow up pool and it worked great last summer. This summer I decided we needed something slightly more permanent, something I didn't need to blow up every time I wanted to put Garrett in it.

I drove to the WalMart by my house (five minutes away) and I found the hard plastic kind that I was looking for. However, for ten extra dollars I could get one with a slide. I figured this would be ten dollars well spent. They were out of the one with the slide. I asked if they could check to see if the other WalMart by my house (ten minutes away) or the other WalMart by my house (twelve minutes away) had them in stock. The girl who was helping me couldn't find the item number so she told me to go to Customer Service and ask them to call over to the other locations. I did so but not before Garrett had a near death--or at least near major injury--experience.*

Me: Hi, you are out of the hard plastic kiddie pools with the slide and the person who was helping me told me to ask you to call the one at Jordan Landing to see if they have them in stock.

Customer Service Girl: I can't do that unless you have the item number.

Me: She couldn't find it.

Customer Service Girl: Then I can't help you. I'm sorry.

Me: You can't call them and ask?

Customer Service Girl: No. I'm sorry.

Me: So I have to drive over there to check and see if they have them?

Customer Service Girl: Yes. Sorry.

This is the point that I turn and walk away completely floored and knowing full well that if I can pick up the phone and call them, she can pick up the phone and call them. In the car I called my husband and had him look up the numbers for the other locations. I stopped at Target to see if they had them. Nope. They had decided not to carry the hard pools this season. I stopped at the house and got bungee cords. This is very important and will play an exciting role as the drama unfolds. I was on hold with the WalMart at Jordan Landing for over ten minutes before the guy helping me came back on the line and said, "We have one in stock. It does have a big hole in it though." At this point there is a long pause as he, apparently, waits to see if I still want it. What I said aloud was, "Um. Well okay. I, uh, don't want it then." What I thought was I don't want it for its decorative value you pinhead. I want it for my kid to swim in. I'm pretty sure a big hole kind of defeats the purpose. I mean, I don't know, I only swam competitively for ten years of my life so I'm not really the expert on the whole concept of a pool but I have a sneaking suspicion it needs to have the capacity to hold water.

So I turned my car in the direction of the other WalMart and called them. Again with the on hold thing. Oh and also a guy tried to cut me off and, when he wasn't successful, he laid on his horn and flapped his hands in my direction. There may have been a middle finger. I'm not sure. I know that my blood was already on boil mode and it was just about all I could do to keep my own fingers in check. But then, in the Pastor's Wife Handbook, rule number one is Thou Shalt Not Flip People Off. So I didn't. Finally I got a hold of the other WalMart and they had them in pink, blue, and yellow. Trouble was I wasn't sure where this WalMart is. I called Troy and had him Mapquest it. Mapquest wouldn't work. So I drove to the one I thought it might be. It wasn't. They did, however, have two blue kiddie pools with a slide in stock. They were outside in the garden section covered in bird poop, dirt and feathers but they had them. Here is where the real fun begins.

I kid you not, this pool is about five feet across and, given the fact that it's mostly a circle (the slide makes its dimensions weird) it is pretty darn big. And I had a cart. And a kid. I should have left it there and gone back with Troy but I was so over trying to find my son this stupid pool that it was going home with me if it was the last thing I ever did. By the time I got out to the parking lot Garrett was crying because I had put the pool on top of him in the cart (he was sitting in the back part and it was over him like a fort) and it, apparently, scared the bejeepers out of him. Thankfully a very nice woman offered to watch the pool while I found the car (it was lost) and put Garrett in it. I drove the car back to the pool and began the task of bungee cording it to the roof. It must have been quite laughable, me on the back of the car, trying my best to look like I knew what I was doing. I finally got it affixed to my roof and I started driving through the parking lot. I rolled down my window, reached my hand out and pulled on the side of the pool. It seemed alright. I started driving faster. I heard thumping. I reached my arm out and I could no longer feel the pool. Uh oh.

I had put the pool bottom side up. Wind was passing underneath. What we had here was a sort of kiddie pool airplane, hovering just above the car. Luckily the bungee cords were keeping said aircraft from taking off on its own flight pattern. I pulled over and grabbed a hold of it with my left hand. Thanks to those ten years of competitive swimming and two years of toting around a child, my biceps are in working order. I held it firm the rest of the way home, if I went over 25 mph the pool caught air and ripped out of my hand. If I stayed below 25 I felt relatively sure that it wouldn't blow off the roof causing a major wreck. I prayed. A lot.

After Garrett went down for a nap I spent about an hour building it (it has a railing next to the slide) and cleaning it out. Then I filled it with water and it was ready for Garrett. Beck has this basic working knowledge of what belongs to Garrett and he usually doesn't bug Garrett's stuff. (There was that one time with the crocodile but generally speaking he's pretty decent.) He looked it over and then plopped down next to it. However, Holly, the Labrador retriever we are dogsitting for a few days, did not quite understand the order of things and she took to the pool like a moth to a flame. So, within moments the pool was swimming with dog hair and dirt. I didn't have the heart to tell her to get out, she was just too darn adorable.

Later, Garrett got to get in his new pool--dirty as it was. I don't think he minded the dog hair. You can decide for yourselves.

I mean, I think he looks pretty happy. Ignore the cloudy dog water.

*As I was surveying bathing suits with built in life jackets, I turned my back on my son who was in the back of the cart. I know, I know, shame on me for putting him there. As I turned back to ask him a question I saw him reaching for a toy on the other side of the aisle. He had already pitched completely over the side and was plummeting head first for the concrete floor. I dove into the side of the cart and grabbed the heel of his right foot, catching him just before he slammed into the ground. He started sobbing and I literally held him so tight and kind of scolded him and told him how much it scared me.