'Tis So Sweet

When Izak was born I received many beautiful gifts. The pastor's first child in a church of 2,000 warranted a lot of attention! One of my favorite things was, and still is, a CD that was made for the McCaughey Septuplets called Sweet Dreams. I have a distinct memory associated with it. It was an October night. I was curled up in front of our fireplace with my newborn son, trying to get my mind around the idea that my life had just been irrevocably changed, trying to reconcile the unknown future with the fact that I was now responsible for not only myself, but the little bundle of flesh. I had the CD playing softly. It is a compilation CD, so I recognized many of the artists' voices. But then came a male/female duet that I couldn't place. They were singing the old hymn "'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus. Just to take Him at His word. Just to rest upon His promise. Just to know 'Thus saith the Lord.'" Only acoustic backup and two plain, understated voices. I searched around for the case, pulled out the insert. "Jesus, Jesus, how I trust you! How I've proved you over and over! Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus, O for grace to trust you more." I scanned the list... there was the song, who were the singers? And when I saw their names I burst into tears. Kenny and Bobbi McCaughey. Here were two parents of septuplets, humbly recording the words that their hearts and lives were exhibiting every day. Trust Jesus. No matter how big, no matter how small, no matter how many. It is so sweet to trust Him.

Parents have opportunities to spur one another on towards good deeds in their homes. Do we take the moments and encourage each other? Or do we sink to the lowest common denominator of grumbling and whining? The gift of the unknown, with the assurance that our Heavenly Father is already there, is a pivotal part of the faith we must remind one another about. He is good, he is faithful, and what a privilege to learn to trust Him more.

Sports Illustrated

I will be back into my Sunday routine when I have a chance to sit down and read my Sports Illustrated. Currently I am back-logged about three issues, so it's all old news. SI has my new address in IL but will take until mid-March to get it coming directly here. MY SI subscription from Matt was the grooviest Christmas gift this year. It also came with a free NE Patriots hoodie (which will be too big for me, BTW). I enjoy reading about the athletes, esp. football (college and pro), their stories, backgrounds, families. And the photography... ah! I used to look forward to going to my dentist's office because I could just sit, read, and study the pictures. I actually took the time to watch Smarty Jones race for the triple crown last year because the article was so endearing.

Today I ran out to the grocery store while Matt crashed and the kids napped. It was surprising how much time I could spend at the store and just drive home in two minutes, literally two minutes. It was nice to price shop and not tear through at 100 mph with two kids crying or begging for balloons. I prefer to not go ANYWHERE Sundays after church. Just stay home, rest, regroup, and savor time with Matt and the kids... did I mention rest??

I'm tired, so there's not much to say. I'm gonna turn in.

Early mornings

Izak has generally been a great sleeper all his life, but he has these blips every now and then where he awakens early in the morning (5:30), and struggles going to sleep at night. He will be in bed at 7p, clearly tired when he goes down, but may goof around for over an hour and a half. Happy, just busy. And then up at 5:30a again the next day. Thursday morning was worse, it was 4:45a for some bizarre reason. He will probably do this for a week more and then stop, but what brings it on I'm not sure. Now he sings so loudly that he usually wakes his sister by 6:15a. Needless to say this week I've become familiar with the PBS shows that come on before 7a.

(Warning: Forthright opinions ahead. Do not read on if you are paranoid or overly self-conscious.) Worry and fret used to be a big part of my life. I used to love to pretend like I needed to know the future. If I may be so blunt, it was a really annoying trait that I knew I had but couldn't figure out how to manage. It felt like God didn't provide me with the resources I needed to overcome it. Perhaps. What I actually think He did was allow me to grow and see the incredible immaturity in it, and then He gave me two great distractions, a boy and a girl. The kids are the tools He uses to keep me in today. He says in Matthew, "Don't worry about tomorrow, it's got plenty of issues already. Be in today where I am caring for you and meeting your every need." (paraphrase mine) I remember saying (whining) to my friend, Kathy (a young widow back in New England), "I need to know the future!!!" I swear it was probably all she could do to not slap me. She replied very firmly, "You DO NOT NEED to know a thing. If you did, how do you think you could go on?!? If I had known that I would be alone and Martin would have suffered a terrible death, how could I have lived at all?" So there. Kathy, I'm starting to get it now. It also helped to have a real friend who got in my face about worry, too, and didn't just sit by while I continued to wallow in it.

It also doesn't mean that I don't fear; fear is a feeling that taps on my shoulder occasionally. But God also instructed us not to fear anything except Him. I find great hope and comfort in knowing that God is in total control. I heard it said recently in an article, "God is not surprised. He doesn't pace back and forth up in Heaven, wringing His hands, wondering what to do with me." What a fantastic image. I'll look for the poem and post it if I find it.

So I'm going to take a nap in the peace that God has given me, during these quiet moments as my two babies sleep in their cribs.

And you, my friend... God has not forgotten nor forsaken you either.

Alone tonight

Matthew is at church for the monthly elders' party. He left at 5p, so the kids and I were on our own for the first time in a long time. I managed baths and bedtime pretty well. Mini Paul Hamm (Izak) didn't do too many vault exercises before quieting down, and the girl was in bed at 6:30p. Seven o'clock and I got to curl up to watch NCIS (an advantage to being in a different time zone... my favorite shows are all earlier!). Right now I'm about two feet from the fireplace, enjoying my fake crackling log. I'm remembering the fantastic cherry wood that we left back in Hamburg. What a beautiful scent it had. Still, this is mighty cozy. Just missing my man... and a good foot massage.

Slowly things are beginning to find a home. The toaster, towels, blankets. Our bedroom looks like a tornado hit it. I laugh with Matt.. we need things to pack things in that we just unpacked, a.k.a. dressers and whatnot. I'm so thankful for the gorgeous furniture that my in-laws sent. We'd really be rambling around here without their donation.

Sunday afternoon the ladies of the church had a welcome luncheon for me. (Hamburg friends, stop your laughing right now.) I tried to ease my own self-consciousness at the onset of the sharing time by saying that I had been waiting and watching for the "real" pastor's wife to come in. Someone else joked, "So are we." The ladies were great talkers, sharing information based on a list of questions that I presented. Name, place of birth, family, husband's occupation, your occupation, hobbies. It was great. They listened well and stayed engaged, and joked with one another. Some really, really funny stuff. Other things were shared with a great sense of deliberateness, vulnerability. Thank you for giving me a small snapshot into your lives. I will treasure that very special time... and Su-Jin, I ate all my noodles in one day! LOL You all would love my senior's wife from Hamburg, very funny, very outgoing, and very seasoned. Very articulate. Very bright.

The kids are beautiful, my joys. Libby has cut her two lower teeth. She's quite proud of the fact, and demands any table food she sees. Izak is figuring out how to undress himself. He began singing this morning at 6:21a. He became rather raucous after about twenty minutes, so I went in to pull him. I found him standing totally naked, his footie jammies in the crib next to him, zipped up, with his night diaper still inside. And a little pee stream over the rail onto the carpet. Sure hope it's a Stainmaster.
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P.S. Can anyone help me remove these ANNOYING smart tags from my blog. I've run Ad-Aware and Spybot... can't seem to shake them!!

Another Sunday

I think one of the hardest things about Sundays is putting Izak in the nursery. I was moving right along this morning, feeling a vague sense of routine, feeling a wee bit settled... and then came the meltdown. Izak used to sooo look forward to his Sunday School class. He regularly asked during the week, "I go cwass?" ("class" for gliders, lol) He had a wonderful teacher, Mr Elvin, who would sit every week in front of this gang of two year olds, blow up balloons with a bicycle pump while counting to three, and then let them go, sending the missiles flying all over the room. He used it as a distraction to get kids into their seats and recite their memory verse. Izak would book into cwass, sit in the minichair and stare lustfully at those balloons. He would do anything to watch them being blown up, bigger, bigger, and then fly away! And after that, Elvin would pull out his Casio keyboard for beautiful, loud, happy songs. The B-I-B-L-E, Bible! Jesus loves me. Jesus loves the little children...

Today Izzy dug in again, melting, refusing to go in, clinging to me, sobbing. The real deal. Izak isn't a crier. He's generally very easy in new situations, cheerful, talkative, but this is not cwass. I am referring to it as playtime, still, no go. And today I couldn't help but sit there, holding him, crying myself. It doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with this class. I think it goes to show the enormity of the change, upheaval that we're all going through. It also serves to remind me how wonderful Hamburg was.

Obedience is better than sacrifice, said King David in the Psalms. It doesn't matter what you bring to burn, how expensive, how fancy, how lavish. What God really desires is a heart that is soft to His bidding and will pursue Him with every fiber of it's being. I am so thankful that we are in IL, but today I walk in the obedience of the flesh. My heart lags behind. This is hard in many ways, and while I don't shy away from hard work, I am rubbed a bit sore by the reminder that in Matthew's obedience, in my obedience, there remains the figure of a little boy who wishes he were back home with Mr. Elvin and Mrs. Wendy, Miss Tricia and Mrs. Tammy... and balloons.

Living with a Glider

Our friends, Rick and Carrie, are both speech pathologists. I learned a lot about speech difficulties from knowing them. One style of dysfunction is called "gliding". It's when you replace the "r" sound with a "w", as in Elmer Fudd and the "wascaly wabbit." I think the Musielaks would agree with that illustration. Izak does both good and bad "r" and "w" sounds from time to time.

Another thing about Izak (if you've known him longer than five minutes) is that he loves, loves music and singing. One of his favorite CDs is Lady Blacksmith Mambazo, a Zulu group who worked with Paul Simon on the Graceland tour. One of his favorite songs is called "Beautiful Rain." The songs begins, "Rain, rain, rain, rain... beautiful rain. Rain, rain, rain, rain... beautiful rain." We sing it a lot together, it's so melodic and easy.

As I mentioned, the trains run all day a short distance form our house. Izak and I talk a lot about the trains, how big and strong they are, how they come and go, "Bye-bye, train!" Yesterday we also talked about how we have train engineers in our family, Great-great Grandpa Bennett and Great-great Uncle Wayne...

After a few quiet seconds Izak looked up at me with a huge smile and began singing at the top of his lungs, "Wayne, wayne, wayne, wayne... beautiful Wayne!"

Honestly

Had a great family day with the husband and children. Quiet, productive, together. Perfect. The "productive" thing will be less important as we move out of boxes and figure out how to organize this mess.

Yesterday was very special; Matt was installed as the new lead pastor at NWCC. It was a formal, thoughtful thing... a proclamation, a charge, a declaration. The only time anyone has treated Matt so officially was for his ordination 5 years ago, and that was a bit diffused because of the presence of several others. Thank you for being so thoughtful, elders. After service there was a killer potluck dinner, of which I didn't get to participate in until much later, due to melting children. Everyone was great, but I feel like I was struggling just to keep up with my toddler. One of my daymares has been that, unbeknownst to me, Izak would wander out the door of the church and no one would stop him because they weren't sure whose kid it was, weren't paying attention, etc... and he would be lost. I tried to keep one eye on him, but he did get past me; I couldn't see him, and, sure enough, I caught him exiting the church doors alone. That was it. I packed up the little ones and took them home with a babysitter for naps. Then I returned, able to concentrate on food and talking. Imagine that? Katie, you were great, thank you so much. And a sincere thanks to everyone at NWCC for such a generous welcome. The whipped cream on the cake is that we came home to messages on our answering machine from the Gobles and Musielaks... and THE PATS WON!!! My boys strung me along until the end, but (whew) they did it again. And let me say that all of the thoughtful references to our troops and veterans were so amazing. I spent the pregame bawling. Matt said to the kids, "Thankfully Mommy has asthma, and that the only reason that she's stayed home with us and hasn't joined the armed services." I tried to enlist (twice) in high school. The commercial of the troops coming home... again, sobbing. God bless our men and women in the military.

I'm brain dead today. Tired. A bit sad. Feel like I'm making headway on the boxes. Thankfully, the kids took a good nap and I worked for three hours straight. How in the world did we do this in our little house? Agh! I could work for days on end. I like working in peace and quiet. My mind is always doing a task different than my hands, working out some problem, thinking through options, reasons, rational. I have such honest moments while I work. God uses the distraction of my kinetic energy to get to my heart.

Think I'm going to turn in. All the kinetic energy expenditure is catching up with me...

Trains

Sitting here, just loving my new home. In the distance I hear a train going by. There are active tracks with big long trains that run by throughout the day. It is a comfort to me. First of all, I grew up a few block from the river in Bay City, so there were large shipping docks, and trains to transport the goods. It wouldn't be uncommon for me to listen to trains and freighters blowing their horns in the night. I remember coming home from Boston once and laying awake in my bed, waiting for the whistles and sounds that I missed living on the ocean. Secondly, trains run in my family. My great-grandfather Bennett was an engineer. He was scalded to death in a head-on train collision as a young man. My great-grandmother went back to her parents' farm with her two little boys. The farm was near the tracks, so their home doubled as a boarding house for the men who worked on the RR. In not too long, she met and married Great-grandpa Tufford and had two more sons. Out of the four, one went into construction (my grandpa Merlwyn, he was certain there was no future in the RR, lol), one into music (an artist in every group), and the others into the RR. My Great-uncle Wayne retired from engineering... well, sort of. Aunt Maxine tells me that a RR runs right through their backyard, and Unc makes a point to go out and wave his buddies as they drive on through. He will be 80 years old this year. The RR runs pretty deep.

So, the train tooting in the distance brings about a gentle reminder that this area too shall become like home. Familiar sounds help quiet the uneasiness of everything else being foreign. I'll admit that today was a bit more sad than usual. So I wrapped myself up in the "hug" scarf that Aud and Carrie gave me, put on a pot for tea, and strained to hear the RR's hum. The Doppler effect of the engine's passing reminds me that the intensity, the clang of this move will fade... soon.

Outpaced

Hello, all. It's been awhile. I've been in my new home now about 72 hours. I'm getting out of boxes, trying to find my way around, get the kids into their routines... it's really, really hard. I don't really feel like I'm ever going to catch up. Since when did life go so fast?

The best word for my emotional state is numb. I can't feel alot right now. Somewhere amidst the grief of leaving my dearest friends, the fatigue of moving plus babies, and the anticipation of a new start my feelings shut down, probably as a type of defense mechanism. It was funny, I got a pedicure in Bay City while Mom watched the kids one afternoon. The minute the massage began I burst into tears. So weird! But I can understand it. I've seen it happen before in the ICU.

Speaking of which, finding a job may be a little more challenging than I originally thought. Called lake Forest Hospital Monday (like they asked) and she nurse recruiter gave me real attitude regarding my inability to work on Sundays... now this wasn't new information to her, we had discussed it a month ago, but she was kinda nasty about it. "If you cant work Saturdays and Sundays then I can't see that we'll be able to use that kind of help." Whatever. Just God gently closing a door for me. Gotta keep calm about it.

The kids seem to be quieting for their naps. I need to close my eyes for a few minutes...

Moving update

Thought I would take this time admidst all of my tributes to just blog on regular ol' life at the moment. The sunroom is FULL of boxes, utilites are ready to be transferred, and we're just waiting to hear on a closing time. The moving van comes in 5 days. FIVE DAYS. Saturday is a packing party, Izak is going to play at a friend's house and Libby and are just have to stay out of the way. Blessings on all of our friends who are coming to help. Help?!? Did someone say heeelllllppp?!? Oh, sorry, that was just my subconscious crying out again.

Libby has established a wonderful, beautiful night routine. We gave her our bedroom, and I think that helped a great deal. (Help?!?! Did someone say heeelllp?!?! Oh... sorry.) She's going all night, like Izak, 7p-7a. Phwew. Now you would think that I would be rested, but of course, I'm not sleeping well now. Matt and I are sleeping in living room on camping mats and blankets. Lol. Pathetic? Yes.

I'm looking forward to watching the inauguration today. I just love GWB and his wife.

Sorry, guys, I'm so wrung out that I really can't come up with much substance.

Musielaks 

Rick and Carrie

There are absolutely no words to describe my love for you two. I cannot thank you enough for everything you've done and been to me. You've healed me with your words, challenged me with your devotion, and led me by your example. I need to stop writing now before I decide that I'm not going to move...

Jennifer G.

I met Jennifer while working for WNY Dialysis. She was returning from maternity leave and I was coming off orientation. One of the first things I remember about her were those blue eyes. They look straight through you-- clear, piercing, honest, intent, anticipating. We hit it off after a few weeks of watching each other work. She has one of the most honest work ethics that I've ever seen, besides my mother. She's intelligent, but always teachable; professional, but always approachable. She was always kind to her patients, going above and beyond to ensure their comfort and care, even if they were rotten and mean. Of all the people I've known, she has been the most consistent in doing the right thing in any given situation. It's like her internal compass knew true North naturally.

Jennifer was a seeker, staring me down in long conversations about God, Hell, sin, human nature, wanting to know what I thought, what I really believed, and why. And let me tell you, you don't lie to those eyes. They know when you're flinching or punting. She knew, above all the questions and answers, that I was devout (and a pastor's wife, gulp). She christened me her "spiritual mentor," wanting what I had. (Did I mention that this sort of responsibility terrified me?!? Lol.) She was so hungry for God. We had known each other over a year, and one day I invited her to just come by the church for a visit. We had a meeting place. sure enough, Sunday, there she was. I gave her the tour, introducing her to everyone I could, wanting her to feel connected and welcomed. She was so excited about the kids' ministries for her little ones (then 3.5 and 1.5), she asked, "How much do I have to pay for them to go to class?" I was agog. "You don't pay. You just come, Jennifer." "No, they're providing such a great service, I should pay them something." And I kept explaining, this is free, please don't pay. I clearly remember standing in the back of the gym service, listening to the band play "Surrender," and out of the corner of my eye I saw her brushing away tears. That day I cried, thinking of her humble, willing spirit, showing up alone, reaching out, willing to give whatever it took to find Jesus.

Jennifer quickly put herself on the path to find Him. She went through Alpha, took her time to go away on the retreat and find childcare for the kids. Her husband wasn't much of a help, especially since she was becoming this "holy roller." Took Wednesday classes, showed up for worship, took notes, asked questions, listened with those steady blue eyes. One day she called me, sobbing, the marriage was over. I went to just be with her, provide some kind of presence, but three days later I was in labor for Izak. Out in the OB lobby, waiting patiently with my mom, Carrie, Audrey, and Elvin, was a broken-but-resilient Jennifer G. One hour after my son was born, she came into my room, smiling, teary-eyed, with a huge turkey/ham sub and a Diet Coke. It was the perfectly right thing to do for me. (And the tradition continued with Libby... after a nine-month flu, a sub never tasted so good.)

Jennifer has always modeled a servant's heart to me. Even when she was alone, exhausted, working two jobs, trying to keep her kids afloat, she made me dinners, counseled me in the night with my hyperemesis, and would have been there at 3 a.m. to clean my toilets if I'd have asked (her words, not mine)... always with an unspoken gratefulness. She is an inspiration to me, I tell her ever chance I get. I have never known anyone who has had the discipline to put one foot in front of the other and seek God with everything she has like she has. She can see her brokenness, but instead of excusing it or whining about it, she pulls herself up by the bootstraps and does something about it. And in my opinion, it has consistently been the right thing.

Her card made me cry. Written on the inside cover -- "You are the one person who has brought me to God." My dearest friend, I merely held the door. You walked in all by yourself. I love you.

Winter's Chill

Good morning. It's Monday, and I'm recuperating from the weekend, albeit briefly...

Yesterday was our farewell party at WCH. It was a red-white-blue theme, American flags... a campaign theme. How fun! Somewhere between 500-600 people were there, the gospel choir came down from the city to surprise Matt and sing for him, people lined up for about an hour to hug us and affirm our time there. Matt says it's like going to your own funeral. You ain't kidding.

Goodbyes are a type of grief, sort of like losing a loved one. There are a variety of responses - shock, anger, disbelief, bargaining, depression/withdrawl, I've seen them all, in the ICU at Roswell and at the church. Working with the dying has taught me a lot in regards to giving people room to process loss. That knowledge been invaluable while helping my friends and acquaintances handle the change that's about to occur. I have a lot more to blog, but I'm off to take my favorite babysitter to tea. Catch you soon. Moving van comes in 8 days.

further back yard 

backyard 

January in Buffalo 

66 Degrees

You heard me, sixty-six degrees Fahrenheit. In other words, it's a lovely May day outside. The snow is completely gone, the grass is green. The trees look like they want to bud. It's just awesome. I welcome these breaks amidst the grey Buffalo winter months. We're supposed to get a lake-effect snow storm over the next few days, but for now - it's beautiful. The kids and I were out pruning the bushes and raking, getting things ready for the Farrells. Then we went for a walk down South Creek Road and saw our horses, the dogs, some chickens and a rooster. Today, I must admit, I cried thinking about leaving my little home. Springtime is a special season, full of flower dreams, weeding, preparing the ground for the perennials to push through. Today reminded me of what I'll be missing. I have a two-acre backyard, complete with fire pit, fruit trees, rhubarb -- and it's bordered by strawberry fields. I have a killer farmers market, Braymiller's, 30-seconds down the road where I can buy anything. In my more emotional moments I think, "What am I going to do?!"

But I'm so aware of the precision of God's timing. How He knew that we'd be outgrowing our home with two babies, that Matt would be pushing out the edges of his job description at WCH, that we would be mature enough at this exact moment in history to follow His call to NWCC. The change came upon us so suddenly, yet with the unpredictable joy and excitement of a spring day in January.

We continue to walk towards the end of our time in Hamburg. 12 days. So many good friends, good moments, points of enlightenment for me as I continue to learn new things about healthy friendships. Precious moments that outweigh the ungraceful, tactless, low relational behavior exhibited by some. Tender times of remembering reconciliation, the end of bitterness, the freedom to change for the better. And on this exquisite day I cannot escape the thought that He has made, and continues to make me, into someone new.

McGarrys 

Mike and Lauren

Intelligent. Intentional. Intense.

McGarrys are kindred spirits, though not in our small group. We met through Mike's dad and mom, Mike Sr. and Peg, who were in on our initial interview process to come to WCH. Sharp parents. And sharp kids (and kids-in-law). I remember the first time I saw Mike and Lauren. They were standing in the perimeter of the Atrium after service, Mike was holding their oldest son, Thane. Vibrant, smiling, welcoming. I thought, Boy, I like these guys.

At the time they were living way out in West Valley, a 45-minute drive into the hill country. Both Cornell grads, Mike was working in environmental engineering and Lauren was using her child development degree (masters as well) in her home. One snowy, bright New Year's Day Matt and I drove out to spend the day getting to know them. We were fused on the spot as friends of similar values and purpose - primarily that of marriage and home preservation. They were so articulate and understanding of the dynamics between men and women, the part personality plays into a marriage, the need for personal responsibility... real relational heavyweights with HIGH relational IQ. They journeyed with us through the transformation of DINKS to SAHM with a newborn. They didn't "vote me off the motherhood island" when they learned of my struggle. Mike and Lauren were actually the first ones to hear that we were pregnant with Izak, the first ones to see my tears of shock and submission and they laid their hands on us and prayed for this new season. Matt invited Mike golfing this year, and would come home so winded and sore -- from laughing!! Mike was an advisor for Matt during the pursuit of a lead pastor position, offering words of encouragement and reflection that only a real friend could. Still, following the announcement of resignation Mike's heart broke and he left us the most tender voice mail of a friend who would be sorely missing us... . Lauren and I have shared pregnancies, mothering, more pregnancies, lunch, thoughts, accountability. Her ability to get to the heart of the matter very quickly and precisely is a relief to me. I'm good at small talk, but sometimes it's a smokescreen so that I don't have to divulge real information. Lauren keeps me honest. They joined us over the last two and a half years for the all-day marriage seminar that Matt does for the engaged couples in our church, though it was always a great time to tweak up my own marriage. And I could go on and on...

Mike and Lauren, your presence has so enriched Matt's and my lives. Thank you for coming alongside us, offering the precious treasure of your friendship. I pray you'll continue to see fruits as you labor for the hearts and souls of young families at WCH. Blessings. XO

Lar and Aud 

Audrey and Larry

Aud and Lar, some of my earliest friends at WCH. They've know us since our first week there, being the second longest married couple in our honeymoon connection class (the longest being Matt and me). They were high school sweethearts who married on the weekend of the Erie County Fair, a time when the town is buzzing with visitors.

Larry has this no-holds-barred honesty, an approach to truth that I don't think I've ever encountered before. He does the right thing because it's right, not because it's popular. He came to the Lord in high school after hearing Frank Reich's testimony (famous Bills quarterback) and has such a passion for reaching youth for Jesus. He has been a real friend to Matt, no hidden agenda or unrealistic expectations, but a commitment to Matt as a brother in Christ. Aud is a real Mother Earth. I'd never thought much about natural childbirth, but she was so convincing that we (hubs and wives) ended up taking Bradley together during our first pregnancies. We both managed to have babies without pain medicine or episiotomies. Aud is just so thoughtful, I love to get her take on things because I think our thoughts start out in similar places due to our life experiences (Aud also has a special-needs sister). The other night at dinner I was able to finally tell her that I would never be the mom I am today if I hadn't known her. There's a pretty big vein of "acceptable parenting" in the Christian subculture - the right books, disciplines and theories. Audrey has the ability to discriminate what is truth and what is opinion better than me. She has helped me re-think what and why of what I want to do as a mom.

It's a timeless friendship. I value the honesty and godliness of this couple, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. I cannot imagine being without them...

Intoxicating

I am so thankful for the joy my children bring me. More often than not, I find such delight in their presence. Sure, there can be some challenging moments, but the beauty of my babies is something I fall head-long into. Not much else could top the heady feeling I get when the boy leans into my face, teasing, "Gimme a kiss!" Or when the girl gums and drools and grabs my cheeks in her pudgy hands, trying to chew on my nose! Ah! The softness of their feet, the scent of their hair... if I lost my sight tomorrow could I remember their faces forever?

God has been so kind to allow me the pleasure of mothering. The work is outweighed by the joy, and laughter outnumbers the tears.

I am also caught by the handsome strength of my husband, his grace and wisdom only adding to the pleasure of his presence. Even as our marriage has aged over 10 years, I'm excited by the results of the wine of our relationship. My husband is changing into an image that looks more and more like Christ, and that, girls, is very desirable! Once read an author that said his wife was most attracted to him when he helped her out with the kids' bedtime routine. I understand it now, especially when I think about how hard he works and how much he gives and gives throughout out the day. His ability to sacrifice for the children and me gives me such encouragement on long days.

I am so thankful for the sweet, sustaining experience of my family.

The Williams' 

Anthony and Annetta

Matt and I had a lovely dinner with two dear friends, Anthony and Annetta. They are a couple that we met a few years ago during the Angle Tree Project. Our husbands were the point people, our churches were partners (WCH-suburban and Mt. Olive-urban). Anthony and Matt hit it off right away. Good chemistry. And the wives? Well, we're trouble when we're together, if you can imagine. Lol Annetta feels the same way in her role as deacon's wife as I have in pastor's wife, trying to shoulder it as gracefully as possible, but not about to take any undue crap. Surprised by the visitor in the grocery store (when you're not wearing make-up and haven't showered in two days) who wants to chat about church, the phone calls that threaten to upend a family evening, having a message on the answering machine that sets parameters, and a quiet pride watching your husband teach with expertise.

The first time we went out as couples Annetta and I enjoyed easy conversation. Anthony, with his shiny shaved head, was talking shop with Matt, who was enjoying it equally. We shared how we all met and married, how we came to know the Lord. Then came the moment that Matt had to step away from the table for a few minutes, and Annetta asks to me, "So, are you two planning to have children?" I stumbled around with an explanation, being as honest as I could, letting them know that I didn't want kids, but I was willing to be willing, and I felt that God was possibly moving me down that avenue. I was, however, not ready yet, I explained. They both nodded quietly. Thankfully, Matt rejoined us and we moved on to a new topic.

When we said good night for the evening and walked to our cars, Annetta says she leaned over to Anthony and said, "It's over. That girl's already pregnant. She just doesn't know it yet." The next day... two lines... And funny enough, Annetta shared the story with me for the first time at my baby shower. LOL

So tonight we met at the same restaurant, sat in almost the same spot. I reminded her of the prediction she had made almost two years ago, and we had a good laugh. But we really got loud when I told her that, not to be taken off guard again, I had taken a pregnancy test before coming and it was negative.

My friends, I love you and will miss you. If we don't see you again here, then I'll catch you on the other side. XO

Immunizations

Libby had to go see Dr. Rob today for her 6-month check up. (Yes, she is actually 7 months, but we've been a little busy...) Dr. Rob is a friend of ours that we worshipped with for a few years before we transferred to his practice. He and his wife, Jen, are both D.O.s and in practice together. The nice thing about being in such a large congregation is the networking. Need a doctor? We've got seven. Need a contractor? Which four do you want to talk to? Got some wierd stuff going on in your neighborhood? Which under-cover agency would suit you best? FBI? DEA? Local authorities? Lol. (I digress...)

Anyway, Liberty is quite the celebrity in the office. How often do you get to take care of someone with such an important name? And such a charming smile? When we had to take her out to the scale in the buff to be weighed, we plunked her great big fuzzy, white "Mad Hatter" hat on her head. This little naked baby with the big 'ol top hat, grinning from ear to ear. She was glorious! Rob and the nurses kept saying, "She's perfect. Just perfect."

And then came the shots. I always find myself whispering, "These will save your life, baby. This is to save your life." Matt held her legs still (Mommy can only handle so much when it's her own flesh and blood) and she got the two pokes simultaneously. Of course her face puckered up for a few seconds, but she was quickly as good as new. Thank God for immunizations. Thank God for the science that has blessed us with the opportunity to keep our children safe from certain deadly diseases. For all the folks that b*tch and moan about America and all it's warts, you just go ahead and take your baby somewhere else in the world with the limited medicine and glaring health care insufficiencies. And then try to fight the fear back when you hear that particular cough from the nursery, or you're wondering how high the fever will go. I couldn't help thinking about the children in Asia who survived the tsunami but are now vulnerable to disease. Had it been on our coastline I doubt we would be bracing ourselves for a wave of plague like they are. Godspeed the aid and workers to their salvation. The tsunami is never, never very far from my thoughts.

Teething... still

Oh, Libby! It was like old times last night. To bed at 6:30p but up at 8, 10:50, 11:40, 2:43, and 6:15. Poor kid, I know its the teeth. I would offer her the pacifier after giving a little formula and she would just mash her gums down on it, screwing up her face and snorting through her nose. Irritable, itchy gums. I kept the drugs flowing, Tylenol and Ibuprophen, but wow! What a terrible night.

It's a quiet day here. Got the kids in their snuggly outfits today. Izzy is wearing a big hand-knit sweater that my mom made him, and Libby has on a fleece jogging suit. I'm in my comfy pj's, no intention on changing anytime soon. :) We are under a blanket of new fallen snow here in Buffalo. 20 miles south of us has closed schools and day cares today. We're still in business, however. And it's beautiful. They say it should thaw by the weekend. But until then I'm gonna soak up the winter. It's my second favorite season, first being autumn. Might even put a fire in the fireplace today.

Our new home has a real wood-burning fireplace, full size, I believe (vs. a more decorative one). It also has a fenced in yard, a formal dining room, and a porch just begging for a swing or some rockers. I'm really getting excited!

Yesterday a great friend of mine came over to visit. I met Lori in Bradley birth class. She and her son, Milo, came over for a much-needed play date. Milo is one month younger than Izak, a bit shorter, very sweet and nurturing. He's into trains and bugs! So Mi brought Izak his very own crickets in a little bug carrier! There are four (poor, ill-fated) creatures in my care now. Izak immediately ran off with the apple that we were supposed to feed them, and has adopted the rocks as his "clouds." When I showed him that there were little, live animals in the carrier he started shaking the cage and attempting to throw it. I'm trying to rescue the crickets, shouting, "We must be kind to all creatures! Gentle! Gentle!" Matt suggested that we just turn them loose outside, which evoked this bizzare cry from me, "But they'll freeze to death! What an awful way to die!" As of now I think I'm the only one looking out for them; Matt's washed his hands of them and Z, thankfully, has forgotten that they're there for the moment. I'm thinking about naming them...

Libby's smile 

The Furr Four 

Tool of Motherhood

I have thought for many moons that this should be an ongoing series in my blog. I think that motherhood has been the biggest change agent in my life, second only to my faith in Christ (which sometimes has to be jump-started by the power of motherhood issues). Never before have I been so challenged to get it right, to get better, to grow up than when I look into the faces of my children... and see them gazing back at me. Some of the biggies - emotional health (getting over grudges, taking responsibility for my baggage), getting a handle on anxiety (it is not lovely or godly), continuously striving toward being content in "all situations."

Motherhood has been a level for me. It lays on my life, the little bubble sliding back and forth when troubles come, encouraging me to be steady. What may look even-keel might not be when compared to what scripture has taught me. Lead a quiet life, lead a simple life. Mind your own business. Be an example. (I Thess. 4:11-12) It doesn't mean that I have no troubles or distressing times, but it does help to quiet the drama queen in me. It tells her to go home, there will be no show today. God is enough. He loves me and has not overlooked me. He has not forgotten me. He has written me on the palms of his hands. Level out, bubble in the middle.

Goodbye, Roswell

Yesterday concluded my work at Roswell Park Cancer Institute. It's been such a privilege to serve the oncology community, doctors and patients alike. As you may know, I worked four out of the last six days. It was a chance to save up a little extra money for the big move in 21 days. I really enjoyed it, but couldn't get over leaving the kids everyday. I don't know how moms who work full time do it!

My co-workers bought me lunch and got me a farewell cake. It was really sweet. A bunch of the docs made a point to say goodbye and other kind words. One particular doc who has been friendly towards me (i.e. he says, "Take it from your big brother..." and as offered to even the score with any grumpy surgeons who give me a rough time) was bowled over to find out that we were moving. (Warning: this next part will be inappropriate in some people's eyes. Just skip to the next paragraph.... you've been warned!) His first response was, "B*tch! I really like you. You should stay!" I was a little startled by the spontaneity of his reaction, but we continued to talk and he guessed that it was my husband's job that called us away... "What does he do?" "Oh, he's a pastor." "Oh? Sorry about the b*tch comment." I about died laughing. Matt got a real kick out of it too. :)

So last night Matt took me out to dinner to celebrate my last day of work (for a little bit, anyway). When we got home he was complaining of general yuck, I wasn't feeling too hot either, but attributed it to fatigue. I slept on the couch, just in case. Well, today it appears that he has the flu. Fever, N/V, achey, et al. Poor guy. I'm fine so far and the kids are okay, except for some pretty intense teething pain that kept Libby up from 11-12:30 last night.

So we'll be resting today... as much as you can with little ones.

Random assortment 2005

Happy New Year, everyone! I actually made it until a little past midnight with hubby and the Musielaks to bring in 2005, then I crashed. I'm beat, but it's a good kind of tired. Work went very well. Here are a few little things that I've been musing on--

1) I don't think we're done having children. I've been prayerful since Libby's birth, waiting to hear for God re: "being done" (see previous post). Christmas week I thought I was pregnant and inside I felt a deep joy well up. It was so striking that didn't talk with Matt about it for about 5 days. I waited and prayed, didn't want to knock his socks off until I was sure. Then one evening we discussed it, and I saw this incredible openness in him, a willingness to add another if God would, a readiness to love another life. And it blessed my heart. So I believe God has spoken very clearly to us, and I thank Him for His direction. NWCC, I hate to say this, but if I do get pregnant, you are gonna have one sick girl for nine months. Sorry...

2) Spiritual shepherdess or incognito pastor's wife? As the news has spread at Roswell re: our move, and people find out that I'm a "pastor's wife" I've had numerous spiritual discussions with my co-workers. They ask questions about religion, the pastorate, my faith, and make observations about their own beliefs. It's been an issue that I hesitate talking about b/c I'm more shy about my close alliances with "religion." But as I've been honest about this cornerstone in my life I've begun to see my friends in a warmer light, weaving their spiritual dimension into how I relate to them. I've felt more free to be myself, happier, more relaxed. In Lake Villa and at my new job, wherever that may be, I want to be known for my faith, not my quiet kindness or smiling face, but my spirit. As I'm climbing into my thirties I have a little wisdom that could be an encouragement to my younger (sometimes older) seeking friends. I remember when my dear friend, Jennifer, was digging for spiritual truth from me and I was trying to dodge her, she looked me in the eyes and said, "You're my spiritual mentor." So there. I am starting to learn that it's not about me having answers or sealing the deal, it's about loving and leading by example, and about always being teachable.

3) I'm nervous about being a lead pastor's wife. Might as well admit it. I had a moment of realization a couple months ago and called my mom bawling, "I'm not ready to be a grown-up! I can't be the lead pastor's wife!" And she just laughed, "I've been waiting for this phone call." And she took a few minutes to loan me courage and perspective. Last night I had this awful dream that I was going to my first BBQ with NWCC, dressed in t-shirt and sweat shorts, and after we arrived Matt said to me, "You'll have to go home and change. I think the leaders are upset because you're not dressed nicely enough." Auggh! I awoke so rattled. LOL Oh well.

4) I am so amazed by my husband. He is one of the coolest, godliest men that I know. He warms me with his words and loving kindness. This is gonna be a huge year for him, doing the thing he's been made to do. Lead pastor. As much as the move from Hamburg is hard for the kids and me, it's small in comparison to what Matt is risking. He's leaving a very good situation, one in which the known outcomes are all good, for the unknown. If it wasn't for the voice of God I think we'd be nuts. A few years ago Matt was reflecting on "Desert to Promised Land" experiences, and he said something that kinda surprised me. He said, "I know this sounds silly, but as great as it is, I feel like Hamburg is my desert. My Promised Land is yet to come." My heart is filled with a mixture of emotions for him as he swings to hit his sweet spot. I love you, Honey.

5) I've heard from my friends in Tamil Nadur, India, and Singapore. They and their families are alive, but they have lost loved ones in the killer wave.

Well, Libby and I are enjoying football. She loves the colors and motion... that's my girl!!! Z is napping. This evening will be a little crazy as Dad is preaching and I'm on worship team. Zgodas are baby wrangling for us. I'm bummed to miss my boys in the Rose Bowl! My husband can talk all he wants, State lost in triple overtime to the Wolverines this season. Looks like he'll be wearing blue and gold for another year, hee hee hee.

Two outta four

This will be brief b/c my brain's weary. I'm almost through my heavy work week. I picked up a few days this week (Wed, Thur, Fri) and another next Monday (actually my last day at RPCI) to earn some extra money for the move. Matt took time off work to be Mr. Mom, which he's doing an amazing job at! The kids are well-rested, clean, fed and happy when I get home. Matt even had a dance/jam/jump session with Izak tonight. Love it. He's such a great man. Thank God, thank God...

Will blog more after I rest some.

I May Bottle.

This morning, at about 5:50 a.m., I heard Izak say his first sentence. It tickled me so that I just laid there and laughed. Z is an early riser, typically about 6:30 a.m.. He wakes up singing, sometimes jumping, sometimes banging about in his crib. This morning I heard a crash, then something that sounded like crying (you can never be too sure because Z does a great fake cry). So Matt crawled out from under the covers to go make sure our mini-Paul-Hamm didn't hurt himself. The second the door opened I heard the whimpering stop, and a little voice say, very clearly, "Bottle. I may bottle." What a scream! Matt laid him back down, told him that it was too early to get up, attempted to rub his tummy a little, but Izak pushed his hand away as if to say, "Look, I gave you a clear, indisputable request. If you can't help me out then please leave." By the time Matt came back into the bedroom we were both chuckling. And so began the morning.

I look forward to the day when Izak uses more words. I do okay with pre-verbal because I have a handicapped sister that has a very limited vocabulary, and I work with critically ill people, many on the ventilator, that can't talk, so I'm pretty good a charades and body language. But real words! How exciting! In speaking with other "experienced" parents (who don't know me well enough to know that this pisses me off), a comment that often comes up is, "Enjoy the silence because once they start talking/walking/crawling... (eyes rolling)." You know, there are plenty of parents in the world who wish their babies could communicate, but can't, for whatever sad reason. Don't whine about the gift you've been given! (my eyes rolling) Having a handicapped sister has changed the core of my mother's heart into something that doesn't allow me to blend very easily with the typical mom. My thoughts are often, Stop b*tching and moaning about the beauty of a healthy, growing, developing child. Get a grip. And while you're at it, shut up and celebrate! Geez.

Mothering is an amazing job, a feat to be performed with as much grace and optimism as you can muster. Why not muscle through the hard parts (yes, there are hard times) and welcome the new skills? Sure, none of us particularly like having our routine messed with, but greater than the predictability of our schedule is the gift of a healthy growing child. I've been surprised to find little areas of my heart that were secretly prepared for the development of my children to halt. It probably has to do with being from a home with a perpetual toddler. I was pleasantly surprised with Izak's ability to crawl, walk, jabber, and now talk. Thank you, God, for the new little words that I hear Z use. Thank you that Libby is close to rolling over, that she smiles and coos and can almost hold her own bottle. Thank you for this precious time.

Prejudice

This morning I'm enjoying watching Izak study his new Lady Blacksmith Mambazo. He looks up every now and then, laughing, imitating a particular sound, a certain rhythm. I think back to a negative review that I read on Amazon prior to buying "Shaka Zulu" (Grammy nominated, BTW). It said, "It sounded like buzzing bees." Nice. Way to be ethnocentric.

Along that same line, I had an interesting conversation with a man whose son had decided to go into the pastorate. In the midst of explaining it, he said, "I can't say too much; I have prejudices." I probed a little, since his son was in the United Methodist denomination. "Like gay marriage?" "Yes," he answered, "like gays and blacks. But I've probably said too much already." I felt this knot in the pit of my stomach. Wow, bigotry and discrimination in the same sentence. It was obvious to me that this gentleman had never truly gone been outside of his white, conservative circle; he'd never really loved anyone different than himself.

Connect that encounter with the tsunami that devastated Asia yesterday morning. 24,000 deaths and still counting. I am holding my breath to hear whether our friends in Tamil Nadu are still alive. Sam Stevens and his daughter Becky (of India Gospel League) have been to our church and our home. IGL is an evangelical church planting organization that has planted thousands of church in India. My prayer is that they are unharmed, but I'm sure that their people were impacted. Can you imagine? People from your church, children, babies... gone, never to be found again. The grief must be unbearable. May the church, the real Church rise up and pour out the love and power of the risen Christ in this day.

I am thankful for the transformation that Christ has, and is taking me through in regards to how I view those who are different than me. Other races, other beliefs, other socio-economic brackets. My ability to love those just like me is cheap and weak and easy. But what about the culture that I do not understand? What about the people group that has no reason to reach out to me, who regard me as an enemy? What about those who struggle with their sexual identity? What about witches? What about democrats? It's so easy to sell verbal barbs that disregard groups of people that you don't agree with, but Christ called us to LOVE individual people who are different, who are lost, and who are seeking.

I think the groups I still struggle with not discriminating against are protestant denominations. I still catch myself categorizing and generalizing people based on the name of the door of their church. I use names of churches way too often.

So, for the record, I believe that Christ mandates us to love all individuals. How God doesn't just strike us dead when we belittle or berate others in our own self-righteousness I'll never know.

Christmas Night

Hi all. Don't know if I'll make much sense. I've been up since 5 a.m. and worked all day in the ICU. I'm a little cross-eyed from being tired. Last night I was having a difficult time mustering up the good attitude to go into work on Christmas, especially as another 10" of snow fell. Beautiful storm, one during which it would've been nice to look outside and say, "I don't have to go anywhere. Good." Instead I was fussing about whether I'd be able to get into work the next day. (For the record, we get doozie storms here. During one storm I was snowed into my car on the freeway for 5 hours. Of course, I realized that right after I finished my 32 oz. coffee... . At least it wasn't as bad the winter before where hundreds of people were stranded in their cars for 24 hours, or at strangers' houses. More on that another time.) But this morning it was gorgeous. They plow masterfully here in NY. Plows and snowmovers as big as my house. So the roads were great.

On my way in I felt so pleased to be going to work. I can't help it, I just love working at Roswell, so by the time I got there I was all smiles and "Merry Christmas"-ing my way along. There is something about working with people who have cancer, esp. in the ICU that keeps my occasionally piss-poor attitude in check. My thoughtful husband even packed up the babies and came up for a quick Xmas hello! It was great... I remember doing that with my mom when we were little and she worked. History repeating itself.

Once I got home we had a quick meal with Audrey, Larry, Ainsley et al. Came home and introduced Izak to the conecpt of opening presents, which he absorbed pretty quickly. His favorite gift so far-- his own CD player and a new Lady Blacksmith Mambazo CD. He started it over and over again, but by the time he was heading to bed he was singing the first song. Not bad considering it's in ZULU! Libby was into bows and ribbon, of course. Low maintenance baby this year.

But we are together, and healthy, generally happy, and much loved. A perfect Christmas in my book. Good night.

BTW, check out my husband's blog. WARNING: Only for the open-minded. If you haven't changed your mind about anything recently, then don't waste your time.
http://www.mattfurr.blogspot.com/
http://www.hcna.us/columns/x-in-bar.html

Christmas Eve 2004

Merry Christmas, everyone! What a precious time of year. I don't know about you, but having a baby boy has changed my perspective on Christmas forever. Two year ago I sang "Mary, Did You Know" for Christmas Eve services. I had a 2-month old little bundle of boy, all dressed up in his turtleneck (?!?! he HAD no neck!) bear sweater, and mini-khakis. Oh, and sneakers... with tread. Because you wouldn't want to slip when you're running at the age of 2- months! LOL! Anyway... the gift of Jesus coming to man, a father sending his son to certain death and pain... it strikes deeply in my heart now. There's a line in the song that says "Mary, did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new? That the child that you deliver would soon deliver you?" - whew, that was a tough thing to choke out every time I sang it. Even more than salvation of my soul, Christ has used the tool of motherhood to save me from myself here on earth. Without kids I can see where I would've been lost in self-centeredness, rigidness, and impatience. Did I love the Lord before I had babies? Yes. But do I understand now more than ever what kind of love the Father has for me and what He requires of me, sacrifice and service? Absolutely. And can I revel in a deeper, more mature love for Him and His children, my family?. Thankfully, yes. Sometimes I can barely look at that little boy baby in the manger, because the joy of new life and safe delivery has hanging in the shadows the shape of a cross. My cross. And that precious little baby took it from me.

Jesus, there are many people that I love in this world. Love deeply. But I would never give up my blonde hair, green-eyed boy for their salvation. Not my son. Thank you for the eyes that motherhood has given me to see the enormity of your gift. I am humbled in new ways each year as I reflect on your love for me.

The kids are so little this Christmas season. I had hoped to have some sort of traditions in place, peanut brittle in the snow, reading the Christmas story, a decorated tree. *sigh* Not this year. I'm struggling to keep up with the latest need, stay out from under the pile of accumulating dirty diapers, and the toddler insists on un-decorating the tree as fast as I can put things on. We did go out and buy plastic ornaments so that he could "play" with it. It's his house too. So all of the ornaments are in a big bowl on the end table. I volunteered to work Xmas in ICU. I didn't have to, nor am I getting holiday pay for it. I deeply regret it at this point. I want to be home with the kids. I know, they won't know, but I will. And the reason I'm per diem if so I can be home for the important times. Actually, it just hit me. I've been SO irritable about being separated from them (just ask Matt. Poor guy) Maybe it's because they're actually my sanity during this time of transition. And even a bit of security. My girlfriend, Theresa, once said (and now I soooo understand it...) that when she had her first baby she saw how much Mary Jane needed her. But with her second, Ruthie, she became acutely aware of much she needed her daughter. It makes me cry as I write that. There must be something there...

Sara, TY so much for letting me vent via IM last night. I really appreciate it. (Can you tell I'm having a hard time getting my milk to dry up?!? LOL Sitting here with my bra full of cabbage, I smell like a salad!) Before we know it we'll be neighbors. The anticipation brings with it such a bitter sweetness, it makes me squirm. But your prayers and words of encouragement are such a source of strength.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

My small group

Last night was our annual small group Christmas dinner. I've mentioned in the past that my particular small group has been together since we moved here in 1998. There's usually been one of the four couples that is coming or going due to moving and life changes, but the Furrs, Musielaks and Gobles have been tight since the beginning. We have recently invited a new couple to join us. Jim and Kjica G., you guys are the perfect people for us. Welcome! We will miss you.

We feasted and then played games - Catch Phrase and Guesstures. Always boys against the girls. Last night ended in a tie. Believe it or not, the boys won Guesstures.

The gift that my small group has given me everyday for the past 6 years is that of safety. I have not been put in a high place from which I might fall. They have never been impressed by my "position," they have always been loving of my person. They've gotten in my face about sin and sloth, they've cheered me through deep waters, they've made me laugh until I peed my pants. They have been my inner family. We cry about the upcoming move, but I don't think they'd let us change our minds for anything now. They've prayed with us and have seen God's hand. They have placed their hands on us and blessed us, and in 4 weeks and 5 days they will release us.

I cannot imagine life without them close by. I don't think I've taken them for granted because I've always had such comfort in feeling their presence nearby. Even if we did all have the Verizon "IN" plan, it won't be the same.

My prayer is that we will continue to share a fellowship even over the miles, accented by times of seeing each other face to face. I can't pretend that the friendships won't change, because mileage does something to the practical side of relationships.

One of the best things about Heaven, besides God and all, will be living among by soul family for eternity. No tears, no miles, no sin, no fatigue... no goodbyes.

Mom and Liberty Kathryn 

Being done

Lately I've spent a lot of time thinking about being "done." Not having more children via my body, anyway. It's a bittersweet thing. My experiences with being pregnant rank right up there with having a root canal without anesthetic or a nine month flu. I would probably chose either one over pregnancy. I have hyperemesis (excessive vomiting) for the endurance of the nine months. It's like the pregnancy test shows two lines and within a week I'm huggin' the porcelain throne. I used to laugh because people would tell me how much I glowed, and if I was feeling saucy I'd tell them it was from my multiple spa facials each day - the spray from the flushing toilet would give me that special something. LOL I even had the pleasure of vomiting both times all the way through labor... but within one hour of the baby being born, *poof* the nausea and vomiting disappear. The sores that I on my gums would heal up over night, coffee didn't taste like metal, and I had an appetite again. I did not have a good time being pregnant. Period.

I don't begrudge my girlfriends who have breezy nine-month experiences. I think that's great. Honestly I wouldn't wish my pregnancies on anyone.

But being "done"... it makes me strain to hear God's voice. I don't want to cut things off (no pun intended) if He desires me to bear another baby. The two children I have now were a result of His impression on my heart. I knew without a doubt when He asked me to become a mom. And two kids makes sense. But a third? I don't think so, I don't feel so, but my feelings in regards to childbearing cannot be trusted. We approach a date that will put a stop to the mechanical chances of more babies, but is this His will?

I sat in the attic going through baby clothes the other day. Sorting, folding, remembering. And I was sad. The emotion caught me off guard. I think it's more related to the sadness of time passing. Of the babies growing, and recognizing that those moments are gone. Written. Recorded. And that's okay. There seems to be a part of mothering that sighs and strokes the past like a soft blanket. I think I understand the ethos of the word "pondering" now that my little ones are growing and changing.

More than anything I want to be obedient. Joyful and obedient.

I need to go. The sitter is here so I can go run errands. more on this later, I'm sure.

You know you have a toddler when...

You know you have a toddler when you're sitting alone at the lunch table eating cold, cut-up ravioli from a bowl with a tiny fork, staring at the green dinosaur placement, and drinking from a sippy cup while the boy is playing in the living room.

House news and best intentions

Well... we have a new home awaiting us in Lake Villa, IL! Matt did an awesome job and it was such a blessing to have Rick there along side him. The two of them did a fantastic job and found us a great place to live. Big colonial, 4 br/ 2.5 bth... plenty of room to entertain, lodge, and grow. I keep telling Libby, "Soon you'll have a bedroom with a DOOR on it!" She is currently housed in the sunroom just off the kitchen in a PackNPlay. After she goes to bed all family members are confined to the living room. Lol. Don't know what I'll do if I can actually pop a bag of popcorn after 7 o'clock at night without waking the kids. NWCC, I sure hope you're ready to party!

All of the details which unfold with closing one home and selling another are staggering to a detail-oriented girl like myself, but I think one by one we're addressing the issues. I have spoken to two movers, one more to go, and we'll see who will get to move us. I'm trying to get all the doctors' appointments out of the way so nothing will be urgent upon arrival to a new town... prescriptions filled, teeth cleaned, etc. I am aware how desperately I need strength and wisdom to manage each day to the max. Then add on top of that my kiddie rodeo... yeeha!

Thought I might let a little irritation air out here on line, mostly because I'm convinced that the offenders do not read my blog. Lori C., Aud, Jennifer G, Carebear, this is NOT for you! This is not intended for any of my young mom friends with their hands full of babies. It is more about other grown-ups who should know better. So here it is. Your verbal good intentions don't necessarily translate into meaningful encounters with me. For instance, it's endlessly annoying to me when someone says, "I meant to stop by all week and see how you were... I've been meaning to call... I thought I'd come give you a hand... I've meant to drop you a card...but I was _____ (insert valid reason here)" What do you expect me to say to that?!?! The reality is your stuff is more important than stopping in to check on a friend. One of my pet peeves is when someone says, "We should [get together], [have lunch] or [come over to see the kids], or etc...," and I say, "That'd be great. I'm almost always home. Give me a call and we can make a date." And they never call. I think the intention was to imply, "Hey, I really appreciate you as a person. You're a good friend and I like you. I like the time we spend together." If that's the case then just say those very words, and I'll remember them and hold them close. But when you don't follow through, the message is that you don't value it enough. Now, I don't expect that my situation eclipses your life, but what really translates into meaning for a person like myself is action. The card while my husband was away house-hunting (TY, Donut, all the way over in Oregon!) The call on my machine that says, "I was just calling to see if you needed anything." (Aud, Laura G) The home-made yeast rolls. The e-mail (shout out to Kim D.) The hug in the foyer with the simple comment, "I have been thinking of you," or, "I miss you." That's the stuff that transcends the momentary struggle and gives me something to actually hold on to. Maybe the frustration is greater because I used to use the same words to try to communicate value, but in reality, I was accidentally setting people up for disappointment. Maybe it's because I work with the dying. Maybe it's because I'm trying to capture the drops of friendship here to take with me into a time when I will not be as well known or understood.

Gary Smalley talks about the 5 love languages that communicate love and meaning to an individual... touch, words of affirmation, gifts, acts of service, and quality time. They're all important, but a person tends to have one or two favorite ways to receive love from others. I've always been a "gifts" person. If you want me to know that you love me, a present is a great way to express it. But as I'm getting older, quality time is emerging as a strong second.

Perhaps it's because I see time taken for friendship as the finest gift of all.

Libby at play 

Toes good for eatin' 

My Buffalo Boy 

House hunt

Matt's plane touched down in Chicago just before naptime here. Let the house hunting begin!!! Reminds me of the Jerry Seinfeld commercial... "release the hounds!" I am so excited to see what God has in store for us, and I know that Matt is ready to get the process started. He has prepared very well.

Some people have asked me, "Doesn't it bother you that your husband will buy you a house without you seeing it first?" No, not really. Could I choose to obsess about it, in light of the fact that I like control and this is about as out of control that I've ever been? Sure, but I'm not going to. And besides, Matt's best friend, Rick, is there with him. He is a detail-oriented kind of guy who will represent my interests too. We have grown to trust and love Rick's wisdom over the last 6 years. Never have we needed it more. Now that's Biblical community, Baby.

The first moving company came yesterday to prepare a quote for us. They actually specialize in moving pastors, which means schlepping books, lots of books, to the office after unloading the house. We will probably hear from two more companies as well.

Libby just awoke from her nap, diaper full of poo. The last few days it's happened like clockwork. Funny the little happenings that you note with regularity. No pun intended.

Tonight is the first of four Christmas performances. *deep breath* I've got some great baby cowboys working with the kids in my absence. Tonight will be the Thurstons, a fantastic newly married couple. (I will really, really miss all of the premarital friends that I meet through Matt's wedding ministry. He has done an average of about 20-30 weddings a year since we came here. Newlyweds can be so refreshing to talk to and listen to. This particular couple is just pure class.) I just have to keep counting down the hours until the crush is over. At present, it is 45 hours and 30 minutes. Then I feel like life will go on.

Stay tuned for more info on the house. :)

Meanwhile, here's some updated pics of the kids.

Surviving and thriving

This week I'm in survival mode. Our church is having the big ol' Christmas she-bang this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday a.m. X 2. Despite my anticipation that I'd have a more minimal role this year than last, I am finding myself smack-dab in the middle of the production again. Solo piece, duet piece, trio piece, and in the chorus, maybe even directing the chorus. *sigh* I didn't do a very good job of putting my foot down. Now, I could have gone to Ben and told him to bag it, but there's also the realization that this is my ministry and the area where I provide leadership, so suck it up and do it. (If we weren't moving I think I could've nixed it.) So in light of the fact that I need to be singing every night this week, I have come down with a nasty head cold. And both of the kids are boogery. And Matt will be gone this weekend Friday through Monday to find a house in Chicago. Surviving. Period.

Now, I prefer to thrive by keeping my schedule quieter and adding a few events here and there. I'm not a socialite, not in need of a lot of outings. I prefer home. After I came home from work yesterday, Matt and I went to the Musielaks (Rick and Carrie, Gavin and Eve) for pizza and conversation re: the house. Rick is going in my place this weekend to help Matt with the house hunt. Matt headed home early with a very wrung out toddler who needed an early bedtime, and Carrie brought Liberty and me back an hour later. We were laughing at our stark differences when it comes to being on the go. I couldn't help but chuckle when Carrie said, "I have to force myself to stay home two days a week, Mondays and Thursdays, and not do anything but let the kids play." And she is well aware of how hard I have to work to muster up the strength to get out even once during the week. I like being holed up at home. Not to mention it saves me money. I really am a "stay at home" mom. Lol. So you can see how going out 5 out of 6 nights this week makes me feel like I want to curl up and die. But instead of getting even more cranked up about it I need to take a deep breath and go with grace.

Izak sat at the breakfast table with me and chatted away this morning. It was a type of game... he'd start speaking very intently about something and I'd get to guess what it was. A song, a book, a clip from TV. "Blue hat, green, hat, yellow hat... oooops!" "Joy to the world! Joy to the world!" "I wish, I wish, with all my heart, to FLY with dragons in a land apart!" It was so sweet. His eyes would light up when I figured out the rhythm and what it matched. Then we would laugh, and he'd pick out something new. He was leaning forward on the table with his arms crossed beneath his chest, about a foot from my face, so engaged, so happy. And I thought, quiet moments like this with my son.... this makes me thrive!

Liberty girl 

Weaning

(Men, this blog contains very personal information regarding breastfeeding. You've been forewarned.)

At 2 a.m. it was my turn to do the flu dance. It doesn't appear that I have the all-out puke 'till you drop version, but I'm a bit off. So I awoke feeling pretty gross, dreading the day of taking care of the kids alone while hubby went to the office. The last few times that I've sat down to BF (breastfeed) Libby I've noticed what appears to be a significant drop in my milk production. I don't feel as full, she's not satisfied, and more often than not, I supplement with a bottle of formula later, which she scarfs. She's been a much better BFer than brother was, so I expected this to be a lasting engagement, but here she is almost 6 months and I feel that she's weaning. I would like to continue BFing 3 or 4 times a day, but currently there's not enough substance for that to be anything more than a snack.

I don't want to get into the impassioned discussion of BFing exclusively vs. supplementing with formula vs. introduction of solids, blah, blah, blah. Really, I don't want to go there. I have plenty of LLL friends, I know who I want to talk to if I think that rectifying the issue stood a chance. I am very polite when it comes to discussing BFing, but my personal feeling is that it is not the cornerstone of my mothering experience. I am not defined by whether Libby BFs or not. And I have always said, if I could choose a good eater or a good sleeper I would pick the sleeper anyday. The funny thing is that she's not a good sleeper either. LOL So do I feel ike she's detaching? Pulling away from me? No. She and I have lovely parties where we flirt and coo and play. She is very into me. It's just that my milk is drying up. Izak weaned abruptly at 8 months, and that week I started my period. A friend noted that research says the BM changes taste with the swing of the menstral hormones, takes on a salty flavor... can't verify that. Didn't try it.

The thought that does leave me sad (and truth be told, a little angry) is that she may be reacting to the stress I've been under for several months now. Babies pick it up, and stress has an impact BM production. (BTW, the recommendation to pump a few extra times a day to fix everything makes me want to run screaming. Scheduling time to pump and keep chaos at a managable level is not, I repeat, not a priority at this time.) I have the normal struggle of keeping guilt at bay, the looming suspicion that my second child is getting the short end of the stick. So I have an opportunity to let myself off the hook and allow myself to see that she's doing great, is happy and thriving on whatever she decides to drink, or I can shoulder that guilt.

But today my heart is sad. And the tears are flowing. And I feel weary and alone. And my daughter is weaning.

Prioritize

This is the mantra of my next 60 days in Buffalo. Every day, every hour is filled with the challenge of prioritizing. What's urgent, what can wait a day, what will simply never get done? Issues seem to multiply when I'm not looking, and my checklist is practically useless. I am gingerly undertaking projects with the hopes that I will pick the right ones at the right times and maximize my outcomes. Dear God, make time stand still!

Last night I settled into a fantastic night out with my friends and, for the first time ever, didn't rush to get to a Christmas cast rehearsal (which I missed BTW). The priority was fellowship, affirming these friends who have walked through life with Matt and me since our first weekend in Hamburg. Larry and Audrey had just closed on their first home, Carrie and Rick were talking about their 6th wedding anniversary (we met them their first Sunday at church after their honeymoon), and Matt and I were, of course, sharing about Chicago. It was an evening alive with the energy of good friends unfettered by children (between the 3 couples we have 5 kids 3 years-old and under). The evening felt like it went a little slower than usual. Several times I would just gaze around the table and take it all in. My best friends.

Carrie leaned over the table and said, "Furr, has anyone be more pathetic than I was about you guys moving to Chicago?" Matt and Carrie have this synergistic-extroverted-club thing going on, where Rick and I enjoy the quiet pleasure of calculated introversion. So we all stopped to think, who has cried more or been the most emotional, and we laughed. The moments are so bittersweet. Because even though we were all laughing about it last night, there will be buckets of tears soon enough.

Audrey and Larry were recounting how Ainsley, their fantastic little 2 year-old is saying, "Furr go Ca-go. Very sad." She and Izak are exactly 2 months apart, but she buries him with her verbal skills! They were laughing about how little Ainsley almost let the cat out of the bag at a family gathering about our moving, when our small group had been so, so careful about keep our confidence in this long process. And I always delight in how the Gobles become so animated with their stories about their daughter, the little life that was preceded years and years of prayer and procedures. Audrey and I carried our first babies at the same time, pregnancy buddies. Everybody should have one. When we weren't looking, Larry snuck off and picked up the tab.

In my introversion I tend to lean into tasks, projects, lists. I consciously conserve energy and words this way. But God is faithfully keeping relationships in the forefront of my mind. I'm going broke on babysitters, but there are relationships that must be affirmed. This is priority. I want to make the time to be available to the friends who have been so open to me over the last 6 years.

Big News

As many of you probably know, we've got big news. Matt has accepted the lead pastor position at a church on the northwest side of Chicago, IL. We will be moving in approximately 8 weeks. Wow, it was shocking to write that. Could you hear me take a big breath?

The process of candidating has been very thorough. We've been "active" since August, traveled with the kids out there twice, once by plane, once by car. I prefer the plane, in case anybody was wondering. Shorter duration of "in your seat" time for Izak, and that's just down-right good.

I feel like I have so much to blog about now that the information is public. So much about God's faithfulness, His presence which he has promised, my friends, new and old (Shout out to our NWCC blog-reading crowd! Don't be shy!). Also about keeping a secret, treasuring information, self-control, pacing myself, seeking God in the middle of the night b/c I'm so tired that I can't sleep (and neither can Libby). About my mother's heart for my children - this intense, fierce protective mechanism that I strive to manage. The old enemy, Worry. About growing up and deciding to implement what God has been teaching me about Himself, rather than lying around whining that God's just a big, fat meaney. About doing things with grace and kindness even when I have not one more thing to give. About the amazing man that I've married, his heart, his talent, his risk, his strength. I promised to go wherever you go. I want you to be reassured that it has been my privilege to follow your lead, even when it's hard.

I am buoyed up by the prayers of so many. I rest in knowing that my struggle with the bitter and my rejoicing with the sweet will be, at times, a group effort.

More on this all in the future. Today my son refuses to nap, so I need to go for now.

Toddler Flu Strategies

Once aware of an outbreak, quarantine the children. It doesn't matter because they'll get it anyways, but at least you tried.

Keep the noise level in the house low so you can hear the faintest whimper that precedes the "episode."

If you have hardwood floors, be sure you wear socks and shoes in order to sprint at maximum speeds to intercept the "episode".

Keep spare towels and bowls everywhere.

Once you are aware of an impending "episode", be sure you remove all comfort items (Blankie, Froggy, Duckie) to a safe place to spare them from an emergency washing.

Breathe through your mouth when in the midst of the battle, especially if you have a weak stomach.

Though you may grow accustomed to the whining, do not tune it out. You may miss an important clue as to the possibility of an "episode."

Think of Lysol as a type of perfume.

Watch the clock. At least you know it's time well spent. And then one day you can recount, "I remember when you were little and you threw up for 60 hours!"

Sifted or purified?

The past few months have quite difficult. The Furrs have a looming issue, soon to be announced, that has compounded the severity of everyday variances of life. It has seemed like non-stop challenges, colic to run-on ear infections to the flu (currently). It is taking sheer willpower and grit to get out of bed and do the day.

A phrase has been running through my mind regularly, "You are being sifted like wheat... sifted like wheat." I attributed it to a verse somewhere in the Bible that referred to allowing the Enemy to have his way with us, perhaps a test of loyalty. Somewhere in my pooped-out, mixed-up mind I crossed some theology and came up with a dangerous concoxtion... "Maybe God has handed me over to the Enemy to be sifted, like Job." So one Sunday I asked a friend, "What's the context of the phrase 'sifted like wheat'?" And he reminded me that it has more to do with the day when God will separate those who say they follow him from those who will actually receive eternal life, a kind of "goats and sheep" thing (see Matt. 3:12). So does this phrase really have anything to do with the difficuly of life recently? No, absolutely not. The phrase has sought more to discourage me and defeat me than actually reflect the reality of God's presence with me amidst the current circumstances. Therefore, I think I can acurrately surmise that it has been the voice of the Accuser. He wiggled his way into a small crack and has been camping out.

Job, a man truly tested by God, said, "But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me I will come forth as gold." (23:10) The last few days I have started to run a new thought through my head, "What if all of these trials are a process of purification? Not a test to see if I can 'hang in there', but an opportunity to throw off some of the things that hinder, or are dead weight, and become more like the Christ I claim to follow?" Now there is the hope that gives me the strength to wash the toddler's pukey clothes and nuzzle my grumpy,teething baby. It allows me to fall asleep quickly at night, lifting the paranoia that it's not a seek and destroy mission, but rather a time to draw off of the reality that I am His child and I will not be snatched from His hand. A time of affirmation, not despair.

A wrong combo of right theologial truths can be dangerous. Understand context, compare it against known truths, and get a real perspective on what God's doing.

Cop Out

My blogger friends, I'm copping out. I have been so wrung out lately that I haven't even been able to blog straight. I don't think a blog that simply says, "Duhhhhhhh..." would be worth much. I am tired at an cellular level. Sweet Jesus, please make my sleep feel twice as long, and my burdens half as heavy.

Sailor, the Newfoundland 

Ahhhh... HOME!

We are HOME!! Boy, does it ever feel good. Yesterday we made the 9.5 hour haul home. The kids did well, not too much crying, only a few fits from Izak who did not want to be in his seat ANYMORE. It was very sad to walk in and not be greeted by Sailor's huge jumping body. I miss her, very much, but I'm glad she's with the Fishers. It was so funny, we saw Dave and Sarah (Sai's new owners) at Suzy's house Friday night for pizza. On their way out the door we were all hugging goodbye, and as Dave leaned in to give me a hug he said, "We love -" and I thought the rest of the sentence was "-you", instead it was, "-Sailor!" I had to laugh later. I love her too. It's a good match. :)

It was so nice to snuggle into our home on a Monday night and watch some football without Matt having to get up at 430a to go to church on Tuesday. I slept like a rock last night, Libby was only up at midnight and 430a (so I guess someone had to get up early, LOL). Today we're just lounging around; the kids can stay in their pj's all day, I don't care.

I walked through the house last night saying, "My house! My cupboards, my fireplace, my land, my kitchen." And I heard this quiet little voice in heart whisper, "No Heidi, these are not yours, these are Mine." My mom often reminds me of a quote she heard from Corrie Ten Boom, "I have learned to hold the things of this world very loosely because it hurts too much when God pries my fingers off."

Change

Motherhood has made me pliable in ways I could've never imagined. For instance, I can sleep almost anywhere, on any surface, with little to no bedding. Hardwood, carpet (without or without pad), kitchen tile, not a problem. I can use almost any object for a burp rag, a diaper, curtains, my sleeve, the edge of the baby's Sunday dress. I can breastfeed almost anywhere. I've recently met a group of new friends and one of my first thoughts was, They may not know my name, or what I think about this or that, but they've probably at least seen my boobs. LOL. If you knew me five years ago you may bear witness to the change, the very good adjustment that mothering has brought into my life. Before kids I was rather fixated on a lot of things, most of which (retrospectively) were not important.

I have been keeping watch with Libby the last 24 hours. She's come down with a large amount of thick drainage, the scary kind.

4-Year Nursing School degree $80K
10 changes of scrubs $400
Littman stethescope (back in Buffalo) $100
Knowing what to do with your daughter's boogers... priceless.

The show on the road, splitting up the pack

We are traveling ~ again. This is our family "vacation", the first one in a long time. Moving around with two little ones is NOT easy. Izak has yet another ear infection, precipitated by allergies gone bad. We were in my home town for a few days so we were able to see an old time friend, FS, a family physician. He confirmed my suspicions. Libby spent Monday night waking every two hours and less during the night. I was convinced she was coming down with something too, but FS said her ears were fine. This is not my idea of resting, but it is a change of pace and scenery. Hopefully we'll be able to complete our projected trip... after last night I was afraid that I was going to have to head back home my sick kids. We're still not out of the woods...

I was looking in the little storage areas in the minivan door and I saw gallon ziplock bags. I started to laugh. Vacationing with babies may not be easy but at least I'm not pregnant. I am still finding my stash of ziplocks all over. I had to use them all nine months of pregnancy for the vomiting... I highly recommend the gallon size because you can at least get your face in it and prevent a super mess. Pregnancy - miserable. A vacation with babies - hard, but not miserable (yet).

Sailor, our Newfoundland, has a new home. She's gone to live with my SIL, BIL and niece, Becca. They are from West Michigan, living within 10 miles of where Sailor was actually born. Sai now has a country home with another dog, a chicken to chase, a lake to swim in, and a family who absolutely adores her. Word has it that when the family begins to rise and shine in the morning, Sailor goes around to all the family members, woo-wooing. She even burst in on Becca at 5 a.m. barking, insisting that she get up too. Saying goodbye was bittersweet, but it's good to hear that she's adjusting well. She's behaving in ways that lets me know that she's established her new wolf pack.

My mind is pretty numb right now, trying to process a lot of things. The kids are a great way to keep focused on the immediate and truly important things. And above all I know that God is clearly guiding. Yes, Sir, I am ready.

A fast of silence

Joshua 6:10 "But Joshua commanded the people, 'Do not give a war cry, do not raise you voices, do not say a word until the day I tell you to shout. Then shout!'"

I love reading Francine Rivers. One of her series was dedicated to significant women in the genetic line of Christ. One of the books, Rahab, talks about the legendary story of Joshua and the fall of Jericho. Rivers observes that before the Israelites embarked on the mission of conquering a major city (mission impossible by human standards), God called them to a fast of silence. Joshua met with God, got his orders, came back to his people and spelled out the (lunatic) plan (see Joshua 6), and capped it off by saying, "And not another word until I say so." (Which, by the way, was 7 days later.) How erie would it have been to move around in all day in silence? Can you imagine how quiet the camp was at night? Over a million people, tents for miles, but not a sound. Perhaps a baby crying here or a cow mooing there, but not a spoken word. I wonder what they were thinking laying their beds at night. I'll tell you what I would've been thinking... "This is nuts! You have GOT to be kidding me! Joshua must have sun-stroked, and now we're going to suffer. I don't really care if we conquer that city; why can't we just settle somewhere else in the county and be happy? Abort mission! Abort!"

And that is why God didn't let them speak. Though I'm sure there were plenty who believed and were really jazzed about the hair-brained scheme, I'm sure I represent at least some part of the weaker, more faith challenged Hebrew clan. In order to prevent the disbelief, the fear and skepticism from taking over, God had them keep their traps shut. When I encounter situations in my life that are difficult, maybe even semi-impossible, what's my first reaction? Usually to call a trusted girlfriend and vent. Not to run to God, not to quiet myself and receive instruction, but to talk (also read as whine or balk or run my mouth). But God, who loves me and desires me to come to Him as first counsel, is working that out in me. I think it's a maturity issue, sure, but also one of spiritual discipline ~ and don't I just looovvee discipline.

So I have been in a season of a silent fast. Letting God hear my thoughts, see my tears, witness my struggle. And the strange thing is that even though others are becoming aware of it, the outcome is that I actually feel more and more alone. But I am finding that only God can counsel, comfort, and guide me. The silence is good, because the day is coming when God will say, "Now take a deep breath, Heidi, and SHOUT!"

Two in the tub 

You know you have two in diapers when...

You know you have two babies in diapers when someone compliments you on your french manicure, and you realize that it's not a manicure... it's Desitin.

Laura

Dear Laura,
Thank you for your sisterhood. You, the one girl in a family of boys, you are my sister. Our link is not blood, but spirit. The invisible, invincible family of the King. We are royalty, dressed in robes of white, standing before our Father. Thank you for speaking to Him on my behalf. I'm mute at a time like this, nothing to capture the essence of my heart. But I know that you understand. You prayed this prayer with others, not so long ago. And in your selflessness you were able to breathe another breath of encouragement into my tired soul. When I needed to lean I knew I could come find you. Thank you for your faithful, kindred heart. XO