Wish I Had

A few months back we came home with this paper monster robot thing in a happy meal. It's one of those that requires a lot of parental guidance a parent to do it for them. Beemer picked it up several times and asked me to do it with him. "Not right now baby," "Not today," "Mommy can't right now." Here we are a few months later and that robot is still sitting there. Untouched. After a while he forgot about it. Occasionally he picks it up and I throw out another too busy excuse.

Days like today are harsh reminders that I don't want to wish I had. I don't want to wish I had finished that robot the first time he asked me.

I don't want to wish I had taken more pictures, or been less worried about them being perfect and more worried about capturing the moment.

I don't want to wish I had volunteered less to others and more in my home.

I don't want to wish I had read the book he picked instead of picking a shorter one for him.

I don't want to wish I had done laundry instead of laying in the middle of the garage floor, on a stray piece of carpet when I was invited there by my children.

I don't want to wish I had been more tender and less irritated.

I don't want to wish I had spent less time looking at a screen and more time looking at real life.


I've always tried to live this way with my children. I don't want to live in fear, but I often ask myself how I would feel about this decision if tomorrow didn't come for someone in my family. I try to live this way with my husband. When he became a police officer I realized I could make the most of our time together by picking my battles and not wasting time fighting. We don't have much of it and if the worst ever happens I don't want to wish I had.

Like many of the rest of you, I laid in bed and snuggled my little boy a little longer tonight. Tomorrow morning, I'll be making a robot. Because I don't want to wish I had.

What's your Verse?

What would your life be like without your favorite verse? Or without your Old Testament? Or without your Bible all together?

What if you had never drawn strength from Philippians 4:13?
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me"

What if you didn't know that you could believe in Christ for your salvation from John 3:16?
"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life."

What if you had never sought comfort from the 23rd Psalm?
"The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever."

What if you never knew you could trust in God from Proverbs 3:5-6
"Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight."

There are groups of people all over the world who don't have the common luxury of a Bible in their language like we do here in America (something we take very for granted might I add). This afternoon I received an email from a friend with Pioneer Bible Translators. They are asking God to provide the specific funds to complete the Bible in the Bundeli language. They have already completed the New Testament and are working to complete the Old.

The cost? $5 a verse.

Would you join me in considering a gift to Pioneer Bible Translators today to keep the momentum going for this project? Would you share this with your friends? $5 is really easy to let go of,  I wonder how many verses we can pay for together? Consider your Bible and what it means to you and please consider making a small (or large!) donation to help make it possible for someone else.

You can read about annual gift giving opportunities through PBT here:

http://pioneerbible.org/annual-gift-giving-guide

You can donate to PBT here:
https://dlq4.donatelinq.net/qv10/default.aspx?MerchantID=PBTI
If you specifically want to give to the Bundeli Project you can select "Annual Gift Giving Guide" and then choose "Bundeli" in the subcategory once you are on the Giving Page.

The Poop Tree

Undoubtedly, the quote of the week:

"Mommy, I pee peed on the poop tree"

My response, of course was "You WHAT?!"

"I pee peed on the poop tree"

 Given his location by the back door I had just heard close, it didn't take me long to figure it out.

"You the mean the tree out back where the dogs go poop? You pee peed on it?"

Yup. He walked outside my back door, to the back of the yard, and took his morning pee on a tree.

The. Entertainment. Never. Stops.

Boys will be boys. I hope the neighbors weren't awake!

How to sleep with a 2 yr old

First of all, rewind four years back in your life and swear you'll never let your unborn children sleep in bed with you. Ok, carry on.

Blissfully drift off to sleep. Alone. Stay this way for some time.

Feel your cat sleeping on your face. Remember that you don't have a cat. Assume your four-year-old has crawled into bed with you. Realize your two-year-old Houdini has somehow escaped her closed and locked bedroom door and is now in bed with you.

Groan. She is not easy to sleep with. Attempt to go back to sleep.

Whatever you do, do not take her back to her bed. You are far too tired and half asleep for this. Lie to yourself and tell yourself that maybe you'll both fall asleep soon.

Push her off of you a few times. Roll around in bed to avoid sleeping next to her. Pat your husband's (empty) side of the bed to see if he can take her back to bed. Do this for some time, eventually you will drift back to blissful fitful sleep.

Wake up and search frantically for the pillow that used to be under your head. Ponder how it is that you have ended up smack dab in the middle of the bed, entirely too close for sleeping comfort to your husband.

Find your pillow. Under the body of said two-year-old. Don't dare move it. You do not want this process to start all over and you are still too half asleep to take her back to bed. Find one inch of pillow to cautiously slide under your head. Roll back into sleeping position.

Groan. Kick Nudge the dog out of your way who has taken up residence where your knees should be.

Drift back to blissful fitful sleep. Attempt to roll to your other side. Get kicked in the face. Reclaim your pillow. Realize you have an hour until wake up time. Contemplate taking your now perpendicular toddler back to bed. Give up and try to sleep.

Wake up and search frantically for your phone. Don't dare let that alarm wake up two-year-old in your 15-minute snooze window.

Concede defeat and get out of bed. Proceed with your day.

Right Now

My friend Deborah tells me that "right now not later" has become like her middle name and I love it! I'm trying so hard to make it mine. "Right now not later" runs through my mind all day when I see little things that I can take care of in the moment. It's really helping me stay on top of things. But, sometimes right now is so demanding!


Right now I should finally eat dinner, it is 9pm after all.

Right now I should go get the clothes out of the dryer. It's singing to me and they'll wrinkle if they sit.

Right now I should work on my Bible study for tomorrow, I'm behind.

Right now I should make those client revisions.

Right now I desperately want to curl up on the couch in a heap of absolutely nothing.

Right now I should finish the dishwasher so that in tomorrow's right now I'll be able to pack lunches for my kids and have sippy cups (labeled of course) to take to nursery.

Right now I should find that address for Cigna so I can send them that insurance claim for the fourth time. They better approve it, RIGHT NOW!

Right now I should go check that text message and see who it was from.

Right now I should make a grocery list before we have to start hand-making toothpaste and soap out of desperation.

There are so many right nows that I can't decide which right now to work on Right Now!

Right now I should probably make a to do list for all these right nows that shouldn't wait until later.

I'm tired just thinking about it. Right now might just have to wait.

Misplaced Hope

My hope is in the wrong place and I'm not sure how to move it.

Two years ago, Beemer was in day care when he ran teeth first into a shelf. I know, I know, it takes talent to run yourself into a shelf and have it hit you directly above your front two teeth.

{Fast forward six months}

We visit our very well loved dentist to find that he now has an associate who is doing our exam. She takes an x-ray, comes back and says he has an infection and you're gonna need to pull his front tooth.

{Enter freak out mode}

I decide not to have his front two teeth pulled without a second opinion. Oh yeah, did you catch that discrepancy? I did too, after I looked at her paperwork and found that she actually wanted to pull BOTH his front teeth.

{Enter Bible Study prayer request}

I head over to a well respected, highly recommended dentist who told me she saw no infection. It did not need to be pulled, but to watch it for signs of an abscess (pimple on the gums, puss, pain, etc). If it ever developed an abscess it would need to be pulled unless, by a rare chance, antibiotics could kick it out.

{Fast forward 18 months}

Beemer heads to the dentist for his regular checkup. They find a couple cavities, one of which is in his front, dying, tooth. Since it's not bothering him and has shown no infection we go for having it fixed. This is going to require a minimum of 30 minutes anesthesia, most likely more.

So I hope. I hope for a minimum of 30 minutes anesthesia. I hope for no additional cavities. Neither of which happen. Additional cavities are there and we are sent into not only an additional 30 minutes of anesthesia, but an additional 60. The good news, that dying teeth no longer looks gray because it and the tooth next to it have brand new crowns.

{Fast forward 1 month and bookoos upon bookoos of dollars}

The crown isn't meeting up to the gums on the front, dying tooth so I take Beemer for a follow up at the dentist. He takes an xray and says "Good thing we xrayed it!" Not what I wanted to hear. He has an abscess. One month after surgery.

So I hope. I hope the antibiotics will kill it. I hope we don't have to have his front two teeth pulled. I hope to not have a 4 year old with a huge gap in his mouth. I hope to not drop a couple hundred more at the dentist, those that's like pocket change at this point.

{Fast forward three days}

My hope is squashed. He's woken up with pussy gums three days in a row. The doctor says we're probably going to need to take them out. We decide to ride it out over the weekend. Six days into the meds the puss goes away. I am convinced he has been healed by the Almighty.

So I hope. I hope that he is healed. I hope that when I call the dentist they will tell me he is probably going to be fine. But they don't and my hope is shattered like a broken mirror. They tell me we need to schedule it to have the teeth pulled. I don't understand, the puss is gone. He says it doesn't hurt. They say they will xray it first, but we schedule the pulling.

So, what am I left to hope for? When I think there's a fighting chance to keep his teeth I HOPE! When my hope is gone I lay on the couch bawling my eyes out as though they have told me something much worse. I'm actually considering family photos before the teeth are gone.

My hope is in the wrong place and I need to move it. I can't keep hoping in good outcomes. Good outcomes are faulty. I can only hope in God. I can hope and believe that somehow, some way this is part of a master plan to make us more like Him. I want to protect my baby from heartache and physical pain, but I have to let God mold him to be a grown man some day. A grown man who knows how to deal with heartache and physical pain. I can't hope for anything in this world, because this world will always let me down.

My hope is in the wrong place. I think I'm going to have to let go of all my perfect plans before I can move it.

"I rise before dawn and cry for help; I have put my hope in your word." Psalm 119:47

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" Jeremiah 29:11

I Don't Want Your Husband

No offense. I don't want your husband.

I want your house. I want your flat stomach. I want your hair that holds shape. I want your flawless skin. I want your overflowing closet. I want your makeup collection. I want your decor. I want your siblings. I want your car. I want your awesome natural birth story.

I want. I want. I want.

I would generally tell you that I don't struggle with envy and jealousy. Maybe I struggle with lying too and I just don't know it.


When I fall into this trap, I have to remind myself that I don't want your whole package.

I don't want your husband. I don't want your bad health. I don't want your full time job. I don't want your stature. I don't want your children. I don't want your stress. I don't want your gas-guzzling SUV. I don't want your addictions. I don't want your personality. I don't want to live that far from my parents.

I don't want. I don't want. I don't want.

I don't want to be you. I want to be me. I might like to pick the parts and pieces of every soul around me and take what I want. But I can't do that and neither can you. So I'll stick with what I have.

I have my beautiful children. I have my family close-by. I have my great childhood memories. I have my church. I have my ministry. I have my body. I have my smile. I have my swing set in my yard with huge trees. I have my abilities. I have my husband who I am infinitely proud of. I have my relationship with God. I have my friends.

Some might say I have it all.

Must have been an angel

"Well, did it lose the mobile home?" The ER nurse laughs to another as she inspects my cuts and scrapes.

"Are you kidding me?" I think, "You're worried about the truck was carrying?" It was, after all, a truck that should have had the large load of a mobile home.

An 18-wheeler has just come within inches of landing on my car. By nothing short of a miracle it has only flown slightly over me and landed behind me in the HOV lane on 635. Moments earlier I was driving in that lane. It was my lane to occupy, not his.

He is driving too fast for the usual 635 morning traffic. I am 4 lanes away, on the opposite side of the highway, listening to Stephen Curtis Chapman in my CD player. "I'm diving in, I'm going deep, in over my head I want to be." My friend Allison is with me, her eyes prepared with her glasses for a day of classes at Richland College.

I am minding my own business when I see something I'll never forget. From the other side of the freeway, an 18-wheeler is flying perpendicular to traffic. He has cut across four lanes without hitting anybody. I am his next stop. He doesn't carry a load, but his truck alone can do plenty damage. Thankfully there is a large barricade blocking him from directly flying into my car. It is just enough to slow him down as he bursts the concrete wall into pieces that make their way onto my car.

I do not have time to swerve. I do not have time to think. I only see him coming and immediately I am hit with an airbag as my car slams to a stop. I can't remember what happened. Nobody else can tell me what happened. I am wearing my retainer. I don't know what has possessed me to defy my 17 year old body and put it in my mouth today. My parents must be so happy. For the retainer that is. I, on the other hand, have just had my lip torn apart by a a nasty airbag/retainer combination. I vividly remember digging through the trash in elementary school to find a retainer. Maybe I should have left it.

In the moment, my last thought is the pain in my mouth or the airbag burn on my face. There is smoke in the car. There is glass everywhere. I look in the rearview mirror where I find blood on my face. I panic, I am trapped. "I'm going to climb out the window," I think to myself.

I'm out of the car, screeching like a wet cat on the phone to my mother. She'll never forget the sound of my voice when she picks up the phone. I don't even know what I am saying. A man has come to help me wipe my face with a handkerchief. I believe he was in the lane next to me when the offending 18-wheeler made my Ford Taurus his destination. Allison gets out of the car after me. Her airbag has been torn on impact by a large piece of concrete that has hit her window. Her glasses have been torn off her face. Both windows on my side have been blown out on impact and my car is covered in something. Is it gas? We are not going to make it to school. In fact, nobody behind us will be making it to school either. We have successfully shut down the freeway for many hours to come.

On the other side of the metroplex my grandmother is sewing away. She is suddenly compelled to leave her sewing room and go to her Bible in the living room. When she gets there she has an overwhelming urge to pray for me. She is praying in the moment.

Back on the scene, a private ambulance has backed down the highway to get to us as. They were close by when Mr.Too-fast-for-traffic made his debut. Despite the fact that every one of us has walked away from the wreck, they load me up in the ambulance and drive me to the other side of the freeway where a hospital sits. I say something to the paramedic. He misunderstands me and says back to me "You're not lucky, you're blessed." He is right, though I did not tell him I thought I was lucky!

So here I lay, in the hallway of the Emergency Room, on a hard board with glass poking me in the back. I am complaining of the glass and of a feeling of suffocation. I am thoroughly inspected and nothing is wrong. I am simply in a state of panic. A pastor from my church arrives. None of us can figure how he got there so fast. Someone told him of the news, they turned around and he was gone. He has beaten my parents there. I don't realize at the time that he will counsel me for anxiety on more than one occasion after the moment. In fact, the moment, will launch me into several years of intense anxiety and panic attacks.


We leave the hospital. My biggest complaint is of the airbag tearing up my mouth with that darn retainer. "Mom, were close to The Galleria. Can we head over and get some new jeans?" My Guess jeans are now covered in oil, glass and blood. She figures I'm going to be ok!

I return home to phone calls from concerned friends and family. The one that stands out the most is from my grandfather. He has called to recount the morning and how my grandmother had been praying for me. She is unable to tell me herself because she has suffered a stroke and no longer has the use of her speech. I can't quite remember what her voice sounded like before she lost it. Her example of Godliness and prayer I will never forget.

In the heat of the moment, I had failed to tell the right people the right thing about where to take my car. This has resulted in a trip to the impound for my family. It isn't exactly the family vacation I was  hoping for. Upon arrival, only one person is able to go in. It is a blessing in disguise, this event will be etched on my calendar long enough as it is. Dad bags up all my belongings in a black trash bag and says farewell to my trusty 'ole Ford Tauras. He is thankful for the switch we had made from my Ford Escort. He is convinced I would have been killed were I driving it. It is a fond farewell for me. My next car, which we will call the knee-jerk reaction car, is going to be a very nice and overly safe Volvo.

He comes back to my mom and I to take us home. He says to me, "Tell me again, how did you get out of the car?" I tell him again how I crawled out my window. He develops the pictures and brings them to me. I am rattled and crying, glad I didn't see the car in person. "You did not crawl out the window, and your door was jammed shut. Had you crawled out the window you would have smeared the oil that is sprayed down the side of the car" he says. "Did you go out Allison's door?" And the answer is no. She was out of the car after me. Come to think of it, I have no recollection of getting out of the car. I am certain of one thing, someone pulled me out. Someone who had something to do with the prayers of my grandmother. Someone who I cannot remember seeing, but wish I could. It must have been an angel.

I Didn't Change the World

Well, I didn't change the world today. At least that's how I feel. I wouldn't say I did anything spectacular, though I did have a fabulous day.

I told you yesterday I'd let you know how it went when I started my day with what I'll call the "How can I help you today, Lord" prayer. And, I'm here to tell you I didn't do anything big. But, I did start my day out with the prayer.

We ran late all morning, but I took the time to sit down with my kids at the breakfast table and go over Awana verses with Beemer, and I took the time to sit on my back porch with my eyes closed long enough to listen to one of my current favorite songs (This is our God, Hillsong). Forgetting all about gymnastics I chatted with my friend in the parking lot about her sister who is far from God. I prayed for her when I left. We really just caught up in conversation, but I hope I encouraged her in some way. We were late to gymnastics, Sister wasn't in a feeling gymnasticy anyway.

When we left gymnastics we had an hour to kill so I let Sister lead the way. I took the time to sit on a park bench with her and take a walk around the entire water park which is closed for the year. I even almost wished for summer to stay longer, but quickly changed my mind. We spent some time at the library and then headed to the park to meet up with several girlfriends.

After picking Beemer up I laid on the kitchen floor and read books to him and Sister for a good while. Then, on another whim, I decided to let him stay up late and bake cookies with me. We laughed and whispered secrets in each others ears. We messed up our cookies and ate way too much dough. Shhh, don't tell.

Like I said, I didn't change the world today. But, I gave God my day and this is what He had me do. Nothing spectacular. Or was it? I took care of the responsibilities God has given me. I gave my children the gift of my time, which God gives us endlessly. I dropped the things I was doing to spend time with them, God is never too busy for us. We talked about Jesus and danced to music in the living room.

So my question to you is "Why do we sell ourselves short?" Why do we think that to impact the world we can't do it through our own children? Why do we think that if we don't have a chance to minister to someone outside of our home that we have done nothing with our day? Our homes are a mission field, our children don't have a relationship with God yet. Books like Kisses for Katie tend to really stress me out, after all I'm not in Uganda adopting 13 children at the age of 19 and running a non-profit organization. So, I'm doing nothing right? Am I even saved, because I'm sure not following very well. That's the devil talking.

There's one thing I'm certain of, I AM in full time ministry and I'm doing exactly what God has called me to do right now. Like most ministry positions, it doesn't pay well. In fact, it doesn't pay at all monetarily. It pays me richly in satisfaction, in the tears I get because I am so overwhelmed with love, in the tickles in my ear when my son wants to tell me a secret. When my heart swells because he's telling me about how Jesus loves him to infinity and beyond and back. It pays because it's the right thing.

Here's the quote I'll leave you with for today "Most days, that didn't include anything other people would find impressive. It simply meant being faithful to the people and responsibilities God had given me." (Kisses from Katie, Chapter 6)

How can You and I allow it?

I've been captivated tonight by the story, Kisses from Katie. This is going to go on my must-read list so check it out if you haven't heard of it! It's written by Katie Davis.

How can God allow starving children in Africa? I've seen questions so similar to this a lot recently. And, many people seem to be realizing that the question really is "How can I allow it?"

You don't even have to go as far as Africa, there may be someone sitting in your Bible study without food. Maybe it's not food. Maybe it's school supplies, maybe it's a new pair of shoes, maybe it's clothing. Maybe it's a neighbor who needs a friend. Maybe it's that one mom at the new school who stands out as different from the rest, like she doesn't fit in. Whatever it is, those people are there. I've sat next to them before.

Am I watching closely enough to recognize it? Am I asking God to show it to me? Here's a bold prayer "Break my heart for what breaks yours." Pray that and you might be surprised who He puts in your path. Be ready to do something for them.

This line in Kisses for Katie fascinated me:
"God did not make too many people and not enough resources to go around."*

She goes on to quote Deuteronomy 24:19-22 and Acts 2:44-45; 4:32-35 where the people are commanded to leave extra olives in their trees and grapes on their vines for the widow, the alien and the fatherless, and in Acts where the believers are selling their possessions and giving to the poor. She says gave "to the point that the poor aren't so poor anymore."*

Here's what I wrote at the top of the page in my book:
"God doesn't allow poverty. We allow poverty. He has shown us the solution."

Maybe you're like me and you feel overwhelmed at the great need in our society and overseas. I mean, how could we really make a difference in a world this big? The great thing is, I don't have to figure it all out because God already has.

Here's where I am going to start. By praying this simple prayer tomorrow morning, "Okay Lord, what would you have me do today? Whom would have have me help today?"** I'll tell you, the last time I prayed that prayer was right before heading to the park for a pizza dinner with a good friend of mine and our kids. As soon as we got there we came across a little girl. It was her fourth birthday and her parents were smoking weed with a friend at the park while she played alone. We invited her over to have pizza with us. It was no big deal to us, but I hope it had an impact on her family and her. Right after praying that prayer I felt like I couldn't ignore the calling to invite her in to be a part of our group so I trust that the Lord was up to something.

I'll let you know what tomorrow brings!

*These quotes are from Chapter 3 of Kisses for Katie by Katie Davis.
**This quote is in Chapter 4 of Kisses for Katie by Katie Davis.

Are You Getting Fat?

Spiritually fat that is. And maybe you aren't, but many of us are. I write this as much for myself as I do for anyone else.

In the last three days I've come across these three things that really bother me.

1. I invited a friend to Bible study, but due to the rapid growth in my church, there is a waiting list for child care. I hope she gets in.

2. For Wednesday nights, our small groups use the church as a resource for child care. Again, due to the rapid growth (which is a very exciting thing by the way!), they are having to start charging for child care Wednesday nights. It will be minimal, but I can't help but notice that there aren't enough workers for the amount of children who will be there.

3. The fabulous church I grew up in is asking for help in their Awana Cubbies program. They are at risk of having to cancel the Cubbies portion of the program or start turning people away. The Awana program had great impact on me as a child, the thought of it not being there for someone else makes me so sad.

There aren't enough workers.

That's pretty amazing considering the size of our churches these days. In the era of the mega church I think it is easier than ever to slide by unnoticed. To feel like you don't have to get involved because somebody else will do it. It's kind of like the emergency situation where everybody thinks someone else is calling 911, but nobody is. It's easy to show up and get fed, become spiritually fat, but do nothing with it.

Was it this way when we were kids I wonder? I really don't know. Either way, it makes me sad and leaves me pondering what I can do about it. It will take a sacrifice on my part. Someone sacrificed for me and for you. Many people did, so that I could hear about Jesus...

As a baby
As an infant
As a toddler
As an ugly 6th grader
As a junior higher
As a high schooler
As a college student
As a single
As a new married
As a pregnant mom
As a new mom
As a young adult
As a member of the church
As a visitor of the church.

The list goes on.

I am certain that hundreds of people have sacrificed so that I could know Christ as well as I do today. So that I could have His Word in my heart and on tap in a moment's notice. So that I could receive counseling and learn how to pray. It wasn't easy for them and it isn't easy for me to do for someone else. But it's so important and so much more useful than many of the other weekly commitments I have.

Something I have to remind myself of often in serving is this:

"It's not about me." 

I will miss socializing with my friends because I'm greeting at the door. I will miss easing into my chair next to my best friend because I'm trying to reach out to someone sitting alone. I will miss my sleep when I'm there early. But, what will be missed if I don't do those things? Someone else who doesn't know Christ needs to hear the message more desperately than I do.

What if every single member in our church just gave a little? There are many who give a lot, and many who give nothing. Couldn't we have so much more of an impact if we balanced the scale a little? Think about it. What can you do?

Lovin' Love Shack!

After our trip to the museum today (read about it here), we hit up our favorite place to eat in Fort Worth. I was really bummed when I heard that the Love Shack we used to go to closed, but this between buildings location in the stockyards is brilliant!

It's funny how not very nice and messy make for such a cool place. The whole thing is outside, but thanks to our uncharacteristic August weather it was perfectly fine. They have lots of fans and misters blowing in this bottom part. There are multiple levels of seating that go up from there.

There's a stage on the other end so I'm guessing they have live music at night. The kids loved this wooden elephant.

Check out these flat and skinny fries. Next time you're in the stockyards take a walk by and grab a bag of fries. They are hands down THE BEST fries I've ever had. You walk up and order right by the street, so it would be very easy to make a quick stop. In addition to the fries, their burgers are awesome. Their specialty is a fried quail egg on their Dirty Burger. I'm a meat and cheese girl myself,

The kids split a milkshake. Sister, of course, got it all over her face.

She was quick to grab some napkins and wipe down. Such a big girl!

I felt like Sister was getting all the attention from the camera,

so I stopped to take some fun pics with Beemer. He was oh so cooperative as usual.
This was the best silly smile I got out of him.

It's ok, we had a little fun with it too.

Finally headed home. Well, after this guy gets out of our way!

Two free trips to the Museum!

This summer we participated in a few different summer reading programs at the local libraries. A friend of mine clued me in to all the great free stuff you can get by logging some hours. So 15 hours, and countless books later, we scored some free kids tickets to the Fort Worth Museum of Nature and Science.

In addition to a free tickets, they're running a coupon for 20% off membership so we spent a little extra and will going back for many more trips. I'm also really excited for the reciprocal benefits to museums in other cities. We are still contemplating a membership to the new Perot Museum that's opening in Dallas. It looks very cool, check it out here if you haven't heard about it yet.

Here are the highlights from our two trips!

We tend to start out in the "children's" area, though if you ask me the whole thing is really geared towards children. Sister really likes to stop and look at these snakes. I think she likes them because they don't make noise or quick movement. If it was bugs, she'd be running the other direction.

Sister latches on to the baby dolls in the medical section. She is very attached to her babies. I know the feeling. I didn't get any pictures of the outside water play, but both the kids love this section. Of all the children there, I have the two who think they can get IN the water exhibit and wind up soaking wet. I come prepared!

 

After a while we venture upstairs to the special exhibits. For just a little longer they're running the Grossology exhibit. It's very creative for all things gross. All the kids enjoyed this Digestive System playground. Both my kids were stuck in the rectum for a while! It's all about Gross, I warned you!

Daddy led the way today and laid on the bed of nails in the Risk Exhibit with Beemer. Sister wanted nothing to do with it. It makes noise. Noise is scary.

Both kids were feeling risky and walked the beam over the city multiple times. Thank goodness it sits on the ground!

Downstairs there's a great, interactive, exhibit where the kids have a lot of fun. There's a whole section devoted air and blowing things. These cylinders blow air from the bottom. Sister enjoyed throwing cups and coffee filters inside and watching them go up and come down.

We also experimented with making our own windmills. Ok, we mostly played with the great looking windmills that were made before us.

 By far, the favorite of the moms was this Light room (which is funny because it's all dark).  These Crayola Black Light mats are very cool, all the drawing is done with color. This would be a great birthday gift for a toddler near you!

 

They also had these clearish legos set up on light tables, they were a big hit.

The giant peg boards were really cool!

Check out my next post for our end of day wrap up at the Love Shack in the stockyards. I think this will be a regular stopping point for us on museum days!

Won't Be Like This For Long

It was by no accident that I randomly decided to go through the old baby clothes in the garage today.

First, I came across this zipper pj with the feet cut off. Brady went through a phase of smearing poop all over his room. It happened A LOT. We had to cut the feet off multiple pj sets and make him wear them backwards. I thought he would NEVER stop doing it. I thought he would NEVER poop in the big potty. But, it wasn't like that for long.

 

I came across this old college shirt that was Beemer's.

I thought my husband would NEVER get through college. But, he did!

It wasn't like that for long.

 

 Not only did it feel like he would NEVER get through college,

I had little hope that he would ever quit working in retail loss prevention

(not for lack of belief in him, but it just felt like forever!)

Thankfully, it wasn't like this for long.

 

I absolutely, positively didn't think that I would EVER, EVER get to quit working.

But, when the police job came along, there was a ray of hope.

Those two years felt very long, but in reality it wasn't like that for long.

I came across this precious little newborn shirt I bought

for Sister the day we found out she was a girl.

(That in and of itself was a miracle considering she was the

first girl in 150 years in my husband's bloodline!)

I thought I would NEVER quit being pregnant,

but it wasn't like that for long!

Alas, she arrived. She was a spitter. Acid reflux.

Sleepless nights, a two year old, and a newborn spitter/screamer.

I am certain I thought I would NEVER survive.

But, here I am! It wasn't like that for long.

(Though, I'm sure those yellow stains will last forever!)

The thing is, I've been so frustrated lately with these little

bundles of joy I'm not even sure how to describe them some days.

It was no accident that I went through these boxes.

It was so easy for me to see how quickly each of those phases passed

and how quickly the current ones will pass as well.

It won't be like this for long. 

Darius Rucker has an amazing song "It Won't Be Like This for Long". 

Check it out here on youtube. Grab some Kleenex, you'll need them :)
I hung on to this song those first few months with Sister
and have tried my best to enjoy every stage for what it is
since I know it won't last forever.

My alarm clock

My alarm clock has legs and walks
It wakes me up with a mouth that talks

My alarm clock is not easily snoozed
It wakes me up asking for food

My alarm clock is honestly cute
It wakes me up wanting fruit

My alarm clock cannot be turned down
Some days I'd like to send it out of town

204,633,600 Hours

8 years

96 months

2920 days

2 births

19 birthdays

8 Anniversary Celebrations

 

2 graduations

1 baptism

2 baby dedications

1 swearing in

2 churches

416 Sundays

2 small groups

1 flag football team

8 jobs

6 cars

2 trucks

2 motorcycles

2 homes

2 cities

2 Washers

2 Dryers

2 Dishwashers

2 Remodels

3 Mattresses

5 computers

5 vacations

1 cruise

1 military welcome home

8 plane rides

4 dogs

5 foster boxers

2 puppies

1 gecko

3 stray cats ran out of the yard

8 Christmases

2 Christmas Trees

2 ICE Exhibits

2 faithful people

1 faithful God

Countless weddings.

Too many funerals.

Countless trips to the country.

Too many hours in the car.

A few fights.

Too many arguments.

Countless sunrises.

Countless good night phone conversations.

Too many nights apart.

A few stressful seasons.

Countless faithful provisions.

Too many miracles to count.

Eight years and counting. Not merely surviving, but thriving.

What God has joined, let no man separate. Matthew 19:6

Simba

For my son's fourth birthday he got The Lion (and the) King, as he likes to call it. Look at those cute babies watching Simba on screen. I can't beleive how many of the words I remember to those songs!

I got to thinking about cute little Simba today and how I can be so much like him at times. The thing about Simba is that he didn't know and believe the truth about himself as the son of the king. He ran away and cowered at the lies that were told to him by his uncle. It wasn't until those lies were dispelled that Simba fought for and took his rightful place as King.

Isn't that what Satan does to us? You might as well just call him Scar. He condemns us for things we haven't even done wrong, he sells us lies about ourselves. And we, like Simba, believe him. We run away from what is rightfully ours as sons and daughters of the most high King. We forfeit the power we could have.

If you have a relationship with Christ, I encourage you to find out the truths about yourself. You might be surprised :) Look them up in the word of God. I won't tell you what they are, because I want you to discover them for yourself. In our technological society we are putting way too much belief into what everybody is telling us on their blogs and articles. While they may be founded and true, I find it overwhelming. God has given me everything I need in His word and the more I read everybody else's advice and convictions, the more stressed out I feel. When you find these truths, consider a special marking for those truths in your Bible and mark them every time you find one new. (Always underline in a certain color, a certain highlighter, circles, etc.) Hold on to them and throw them in the face of the enemy every time he tells you a lie.

Ecclesiastes 12:12 But beyond this, my son, be warned: the writing of many books is endless, and excessive devotion to books is wearying to the body. 

Analyze It, and Think About it Some More

I'm the QUEEN of over analyzing. I mean, seriously ya'll, the QUEEN. You can't beat me in this department!

Over analyzing is a huge thorn in my side. I get so caught up in analyzing the most unimportant stuff. "Should I have said that? Should I being doing this? Should I watch this show? Should I have this thing?" I read into everything I see and hear wondering if it meant anything. I call my friends and ask their advice. I worry and fret over the tiniest of things.

The sad part is that in doing this I miss out on seeing and hearing other things that are far more important. I pray in angst over something petty instead of praying for the salvation of a friend. I read into everything I hear and miss other messages that were more important. I fixate on the smallest of details. Some things are just not worth my breath and the wasted pages in my journal.

"Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things." Colossians 3:2

Additionally, I become legalistic in the process. I forget that there's not anything I can do to earn God's grace. He didn't save me because He saw how good I was. He didn't save me because He knew how good I would become (good thing that's not His criteria). He saved me because of His mercy. Our pastor this weekend said multiple times that Satan doesn't care if you never sin again, He cares that you don't know Jesus. When I become so tied up with every little detail of life, I forget to see Jesus and His grace. I cheapen what He's done for me. It doesn't matter if I never, ever sin again. That will not earn me grace.


"he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit" Titus 3:5

Sometimes I get so caught up in waiting for God to give me some big revelation that I forget that He has already done that! It's called His Word. I'm not saying that I don't additionally seek God's wisdom and that you shouldn't either. But, here recently, I'm learning that sometimes I might just need to see if my decision lines up with what He's already told me in His Word. If my decision falls in line with that then maybe I can move on with my life and quit analyzing it. He gave me those words for a reason. He breathed them onto the page just for me and just for you too.

"Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path." Psalm 119:105

My Birth (And Near Death) Story Pt.1

Because every blog has a birth story right?
And, when God gives you a miracle you should tell people about it!

Little Beemer, shortly after birth.
I can't tell you how many times I heard "look at all that hair!"

July 5, 2008, my grandpa's birthday, was our due date for our very first little bundle of joy. I was working full time and worked up until July 3rd, which was a Thursday. I was to be induced Monday if he didn't come sooner. I really did NOT want to be induced. I started feeling like it was going to happen that weekend. Just kind of a hunch, and my body felt different somehow.

Fourth of July rolls around and we head out to a party at our friend's place (who by the way, has labor-inducing stairs). It was a pool party, but I had the good sense to stay out of the pool that day. (Like I said before, things were changing. If you've had a baby you know what I mean!) My husband asked if we should take the hospital bag with us, to which I said no. I guess I didn't think we would actually go into labor! On the way to the party I told him "We better not get there and have to leave because I go into labor."

Well, that's exactly what happened. I went up those labor-inducing stairs and started doing what all pregnant women do. Eat. I had just enough time to down some queso and other stuff you do NOT want to have in your tummy when you're in labor. Up comes my best friend, who gives me a hug, and POP. Something happened in my stomach that I can only describe as the feeling of a balloon popping followed by the feeling of peeing on myself.

I didn't say anything and immediately took myself to the bathroom. There was a slow trickle, but I wanted to make SURE I didn't just pee on myself before I started telling my friends. Suddenly, I became very shy. My friends like to retell the story that I walked around and whispered to them "Hey, I think my water just broke." WHAT?! Your water broke?! Why are you being quiet about it?

So, we headed to the hospital. My husband, for whatever reason, was suddenly in a HUGE hurry. Like I was going to be lucky enough to have the baby come out of me on the way to the hospital. Oh, I would give anything for that experience compared to what I got. I tried to go home for my bag, he wouldn't take me. Within a few minutes of being in the car it became very obvious that my water in fact had broken. I started having contractions, and with every one more of that fluid came out. By the time we got to the hospital I was soaked. I was embarrassed to walk in. I remember the person who got on the elevator with me let me go first. I thought for sure they couldn't see the huge wet spot on me.

Here we are before the real pain began, still looking happy.

From there, things went pretty quickly. My water broke around 4:00 and around 10:30 I was 7cm. In between that time I, regretfully, accepted narcotics in my IV while waiting my epidural. I experienced a lot of shaking and a lot of anxiety. I had no idea shaking in labor was so normal. I would absolutely not take narcotics again and would not reccomend them to someone else in labor. It was not a good experience. The epidural, however, was glorious. I was terrified of getting it, it was absolutely no big deal. I barely felt it when they numbed me up and the pain just melted away. In fact, maybe a little too much. Around 11pm I called my nurse to tell them I was feeling extreme pressure. My nurse was on break, but the fill in nurse agreed to check me even though it had only been 30 minutes. She checked and said "You're 10cm, time to push!" Up went the stirrups, just like that. My parents were in the room, along with my a friend and my husband.

And here I am after awful narcotics. Big difference!

After 2.5 hours of this fun stuff, the doctor came in and said "You have a fever, you've developed and infection and this baby needs to come out." We could see his head, but he wouldn't come far enough down to crown (my husband likes to say his hair made it's appearance on Fourth of July, gross). I honestly think I just did not know what I was doing and my epidural was so strong I wasn't feeling anything. The nurse later told me my pelvis was very narrow. My doctor disagrees, but I think having birthed without an epidural would have done me a lot of favors. Not much you can do for your pelvis when you're on your back.

They told me they could either use forceps or do a c-section. They said the forceps would cause some damage that sounded pretty bad to me. So, in the moment, I opted for a c-section. I'm still not sure if I made the right decision, but the fact that I had a c-section is one of my only regrets in life. I hate it.

Ready for surgery! I have the funniest video of my husband spinning in circles, videoing himself, on a doctor chair.
He was telling the camera that they'd just taken me back and showed us the time.

My shaking had finally calmed down, but as soon as they started prepping me I started again. I was terrified. I remember asking the anesthesiologist "What if I can feel them cut into me?" And, I remember him telling me "They already did." Weird! I didn't feel any pain, but I quickly started to feel them tugging him out of me at which point I went into all-out panic mode and kicked off the leg strap, it left a bruise across my thigh. The anesthesiologist said "I'm going to give you a margarita." I thought "I'm going to NEED one when I get out of here!" The room started spinning. Next thing I knew, I was awake, my husband was holding little Beemer and I felt like I was suffocating from the drugs. Apparently he was born at 1:34am. I couldn't tell you, I was out cold.

We made it to our room around 4:30 and the next three hours were the best part of the whole experience. My husband slept, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I just hung out with my little man, tried to nurse, looked at him. It was wonderful and was a huge blessing considering what was about to come.

Fast forward 9 hours or so. My in-laws and my best friend and her husband are in my room (remember, the one who hugged me and my water broke). My parents were on their way to the hospital. The baby went to the nursery with our pediatrician, I never saw them come back. I started experiencing immense pain in my side. My husband took everyone to the waiting room. The nurse came in and gave me pain meds, they weren't even touching the pain. I said I think I'm just being anxious, I'm seeing fireworks. She took my BP, it was 60 over 40. She said, nope you're not being anxious. My husband, in the waiting room, heard "Rapid Response Team Room 225." Without saying a word, he high tailed it to my room where they were wheeling out a crash cart.

Click here for Part 2.