The photo wall

When I walk into this room the color just pops.

 

I can't help but smile...

It makes me happy.

My thoughts, my control issues, my life

Our 10th anniversary was wonderful!

Did I tell you the BIG thing we finally decided on doing to commemorate this event?

Cruise? - I looked into it!

Bed and Breakfast? - I considered going back to the lovely one we went to for our third anniversary.

Guess again.

What's that? Did you say Pay Off Half Of Your Auto Loan?

No way! How did you know??

So this thing happens when you have been married for ten years and have been through alot of "life".

Going out and doing things that are relaxing and focus on just the two of you is awesome and continues to be a high priority. BUT - if you are anything like us, you begin to see, perhaps a bit of a bigger picture. Once we decided what we were going to do, we rejoiced together for God's provision to our family, and really, it felt so good!

In addition to our luxury splurge, of making our vehicles a little bit more ours, we hired a babysitter for 3.5 hours, went to Outback (*mouth watering*), AND shopping at Lowes and Target. I know - we really should restrain ourselves from such excitement!

I realized after the first hour, of us being out alone, that my words were pouring forth like an unrestrained waterfall. I sheepishly apologized to Dave that I pretty much hadn't taken a breath between words in 60 minutes, but he just smiled and patted my shoulder. He gets me.

Uninterrupted conversation; never underestimate the beauty of it.


I am also very happy to report that after somewhere between 2 and 3 weeks of four boys coming down with high fevers, lasting 5-7 days, our household is now fever free. Possibly part of the reason this mama was relishing conversation with that man so much. Being in the house with four little ones for - what felt like - ever, can make one feel a little deprived of adult conversation.


And yes, I have considered packing up and leaving the ol' blog to my dear hubby. ;) Yes, he has many talents. And I was thrilled that he allowed me to publish his writing assignment. Perhaps some day I will convince him to start his own blog. Good times.


I have a one year old photo shoot this weekend. Can't wait! We have some really fun creative ideas.


My babies are getting really grown. I don't remember giving them permission to do that. See? I can't even pretend that I don't have control issues...


It's never a good sign when your six year old is working in the yard with daddy, comes running in, quite out of breath, and says "MOM, DAD NEEDS YOUR PHONE! RIGHT NOW!" -They were burning brush. Yeah, not a good sign. All is well. I just have a smart man, who knows that when he feels his little brush fire may be getting out of control, he calls for help. No control issues there. I could learn a thing or two from him...
The boys had so much fun with daddy throughout a much more relaxed weekend than we are generally used to. They also have two new friends, the firemen. 
 

I have fallen completely in love with a song that spoke directly to my heart when I heard it last week. It is powerful!


We had eight baptisms at our church yesterday. I cried. I do that. It was a really wonderful morning, with alot of meaningful components to our time of worship. I am so glad that God has us in a church that constantly challenges us to grown, that encourages us in our walk, and sometimes makes us uncomfortable for all the right reasons.


I'm reading One Thousand Gifts. "A Dare To Live Fully Right Where You Are". -Yes, it goes hand in hand with exactly what God is leading me through this year.

Engage.

Live.

Don't just live - live fully - right where you are.

It is what it is. Life is hard, and we can't change that.

But we can change our hearts.


And that's a wrap for now.

Worth waiting for...

Tomorrow is our tenth wedding anniversary. 

Ten years. 

Ten years of more struggles and joys than anyone could have prepared me for.

It's been incredible!

In celebration of this wonderful milestone, I have a special guest post.  

Written by some one who is clebrating with me.

Some one who knows me really well.

Oh yes, it is. 

Welcome to the blog Dave! 

Dave wrote this as a part of a writing assignment for school. This was written shortly after he started his quest towards his second degree this past fall. 

(He got an A by the way)

 Worth Waiting For

A kiss is just a kiss, or is it?  When we think of boys and girls playing spin the bottle, is there any significant meaning to a kiss?  When we think of Judas, betraying Jesus, was a kiss just a kiss?  To many, a kiss is not much of an event.  In some cultures it is as commonplace as a handshake.  It is the simple pressing and smacking of lips, or maybe just the nuzzling of two noses.  For me, a kiss is something special; something reserved for a special someone.  My first kiss was a moment in my life that I will always remember.

     I can recall the day of my first kiss as though it were yesterday.  As I stood at the front of the church, I watched my bride stand, waiting to walk down the isle.  At the sight of her, my mind drifted back to our first date.  She was younger than I, and from a place far from where I had grown up.  Wendi was a rural girl from small town Iowa.  She was the youngest of five children and the last child remaining at home.  I was from Michigan, where I was raised on a small farm by my parents.  I, the youngest of three, was no longer living with my parents.  I was on my own, working as a truck driver, and hoping some day to find someone to marry.  I wanted someone who would be willing to spend the rest of her life with me.  I wanted a girl who would hold my values, someone who wanted to have a family and was willing to live a simple life.  I didn’t want a life based on climbing the corporate ladder.  I wanted a peaceful life, perhaps in the country.  You know the old farm house, a little garden, and kids running around the yard.  On that first date, I had traveled nearly 500 miles to meet her.  We had met almost two years before at my brothers wedding, she was 17 and I was almost 26.  She hardly caught my eye; I think I had been blinded by the age difference.  This time was different; I was in Iowa, to meet her.  I arrived, determined to pursue her, to get to know her and see if she was the one for me.  Little did I expect her to be just as determined and direct as we met at the bowling ally that July evening.  

     It was a large date.  At the bowling ally there was Wendi’s best friend, who was married to my brother, Wendi’s sister, her sister’s husband and her brother.  As Wendi and I were sent off to the counter to get our bowling shoes, she took advantage of our first moment alone and asked me, “So, why did you come out here any way?”  I was taken by surprise.  I finally collected my thoughts and responded, “I’ve heard a lot about you and I wanted to come out and meet you and see if you might be interested in getting to know me.”  Oh no, was this the answer she was looking for,  should I have been a little less direct, what if this is the beginning of the end?

     Suddenly my mind is pulled back to the present time.  It is time for the song to start.  Oh yeah, it is time for me to call my bride down the isle.  I raised my trumpet to begin to play Trumpet Voluntary by Henry Purcell. As I began to play, I thought back to the time her dad decided he should have a talk with Wendi and I about where our relationship was headed.  This was on my second trip to Iowa to see Wendi.  I had arrived on Friday and that evening Wendi and I went out to eat with her sister and brother-in-law.  That was the first night we held hands.  Things went well that weekend until after church on Sunday.  As we arrived home with Wendi’s mom and dad, her dad said, “I know you two have been getting along well and you seem to like each other, but I think it is time that I tell you what I am thinking.”  I began to fret, oh no, not one of these speeches, I’ve been through this before and it never ends well.  Her dad proceeded to tell us that he liked me and that he could see that Wendi was happy with me.  He told us that he was comfortable with us continuing the relationship and he wanted us to make sure we were headed for marriage and not just playing games.  I found out later that Wendi’s mom cried for the next several days because she knew that her baby girl was going to be leaving their house sooner rather than later.  I couldn’t believe that this was happening.  It had not even been a month since our first date and her dad already was pushing us towards marriage.

     Oh yeah, marriage.  The song is almost over.  It’s time for me to put my trumpet down and accept my bride from her father.  She is so beautiful.  Her white sleeveless dress with its long flowing train, her long dark hair put up under her veil.  She looks like a princess from a fairy tail. I can’t believe this day is here and that I am playing the roll of prince charming.  The preacher talks and a song is sung, now it is time for the rings.  I remember the day we bought her ring.  That morning at breakfast, in her parents log cabin, was the first time I told her that I loved her.  Her response was only slightly startling.  I was expecting an immediate “I love you too.”  Instead there was the “What? …How can you? …you hardly know me…I mean I love you too.”  Then there was the rest of the morning spent following her dad around trying to work up enough courage to officially ask him if I could propose to Wend.  I followed him onto the roof and back down as he cleaned his chimney.  I must have looked like a puppy on a leash as I followed him everywhere he went.  I am convinced he knew exactly what I was up to and he wanted to make me work for it as hard as he could.  I finally asked, and he approved with a smile.

     I had done some research about jewelers in the area and we headed to a little mom and pop store in the small town of Waverly Iowa.  There I talked to the jeweler and asked him to point us toward the rings that would fit in my fifteen hundred dollar budget.  I had eaten hot dogs and macaroni & cheese for a month to be able to save this money.  He showed us some rings and Wendi fell in love with one, but continued to look because she thought it was too expensive.  I finally asked the jeweler to assemble the ring that Wendi loved with the diamond that fit my budget.  Wendi and I went to lunch at the local mall.  I am not sure if the escalator was needed or if we could have just floated up stairs as we arrived at the food court.  After eating lunch we went to pick up the ring.  I had been wondering where to propose to this woman I loved.  I wanted the perfect spot.  I kept looking as we drove through town, but the spot just seemed to elude me.  On our way out of the jewelry store I found the place.  It was a small gazebo next to a bank.  It was at the center of a small park with flower beds and lush landscape all around.  I headed there to ask Wendi to marry me.  As she sat down on the small bench I got down on one knee and popped the question.  Unlike the earlier “I love you” statement, she didn’t even let me finish this question before saying “YES!”  We hugged, prayed, and returned home to show off the ring.

     Do you have a ring?  Do you have a ring?  Oh yes, we are here at the wedding.  Finally my best man produced the ring.  It was now time to give Wendi her wedding set.  The diamonds sparkled so bright.  They reminded me of that night in December, when we were driving around looking at Christmas lights.  It was so cold outside that everything looked like little diamonds under the frost that had formed.  My pickup truck windows were no different.  We found ourselves headed to Wal-Mart to get some windshield washer fluid to clean the windows.  I remember standing in the parking lot looking up at the stars and back down into Wendi’s eyes.  As she looked into my eyes, she said, “You better take me home, I’m having a really good time.”   I did take her home.  After dropping her off I returned to her sister and brother-in-law’s house where I stayed when I would come to Iowa to visit.  Wendi knew that if we kept driving around we would miss the opportunity to have our first kiss on our wedding.

     Oh yes, our wedding.  We exchanged rings and lit the unity candle as a recording of Steve Green singing Cherish the Treasure played in the background.  I was so thankful for the treasure I had found and was looking forward to cherishing her for the rest of my life.  As the song ended the preacher declared, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.  David, you may finally kiss your bride.”  Here it was, our first kiss.  Not just our first kiss, but my first kiss, and her first kiss.  As these thoughts were flooding my mind, our lips touched, she then leaned in and kissed me three times; once on each cheek, and once on the forehead.  We hugged, were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. David McCallum and walked down the isle to the pastor’s office.  There we celebrated our first kiss.  Of course there had been the kisses from my mother and aunts and uncles as I was a child, but what I am talking about is my first kiss with a girl.  I’m talking about my first real kiss.  This kiss was something I had waited my whole life for.  I had longed for this closeness and for someone that I could share this special moment with.  I had had girlfriends in the past and wondered why this special thing had never happened.  Apparently the timing was just not right.  Or perhaps I knew there was only one person I could share this special moment with, the moment of my first kiss.  I wanted her to be someone I would get to spend the rest of my life with.

 

       It has been nearly ten years since the day of my first kiss.  Wendi is still the only woman I have kissed and I am the only man she has ever kissed.  This decision began long before we ever met.  It was something that we both felt guided to do.  We both felt that purity and commitment was the best way to a strong marriage.  We did not make this choice because we were strong and wanted to show the world our strength.  We made this decision because we knew we were weak.  We knew that if we gave in to a little kiss we would likely blow past moral standards we both wanted to uphold.  In this small decision we have built up a trust in one another that has helped us through some tough times in our marriage.  Should everyone wait for their first kiss to be on their wedding day?  I don’t think that is required.  Should every marriage be founded in commitment to ones spouse and agreeing to love them even when times get tough?  I absolutely agree that the commitment to love, even when we have to choose to love, would help couples to stay together and enjoy each other.  Aside from early death separating us, I look forward to growing old with the girl of my dreams, the one who I shared my first kiss with, my wonderful wife, Wendi.

Choosing joy

Do you see?

Your life wouldn't be better if you had a different job

Or a more loving spouse

Or lost 25 pounds

Or had well behaved children


There wouldn't be this measurable change and sudden ease of spirit if suddenly you got that raise

And hired a maid

And no longer had to pinch every single penny


If depression no longer stalked

Disease and sickness stayed away for good

You think everything would be fine then?

You are working even now towards that end?


For sure there are things that lessen life's load.

Circumstances can ease ones pain - for a time.

For a time.


But unless the change is from the inside out

in cooperation with and in obedience to

the one you owe your life to

It will not make a dent in the discontentment you nurture.


Raising a child with special needs and never thought that would be you?

Overwhelmed with debt and see no end in sight?

Death, stalking like an unwanted stranger - but now a reality that is all too known?

Dark things like abuse, pornography, addictions, loss of control, threatening to choke the life out of your once bright and welcoming dreams?

Can't shake the heaviness stealing your joy?


You can feel the beat of your heart behind your eyes and you know what I speak of.


{This is the secret}

It doesn't have to master you.


It doesn't have to master you.

You don't have to wait for something better to come along.

Becasue don't we all do that?

Don't we sit, waiting for that magical "better".

Something - anything, that will eventually come our way and make it all okay.

No. NO.  A change in our circumstances will only prolong that wasted, and false, theory.


The secret is not me, anything about me, or anything that can happen to me.

The secret is not a what, but a who.

It is Christ in me, enabling me to be all I can be, right here, right now, for a purpose.

This has become my life verse and I will repeat it over and over on those days when I wait for that better to happen to me, when really I need to be taking action to BE the better.

"His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires."  2 Peter 1:3

-And I do like the message translation as well:

"Everything that goes into a life of pleasing God has been miraculously given to us by getting to know, personally and intimately, the One who invited us to God. The best invitation we ever received! We were also given absolutely terrific promises to pass on to you—your tickets to participation in the life of God after you turned your back on a world corrupted by lust."

Hear it

See it

Choose it!!

Experience it - the best invitation we ever received... 

Saturday morning love - and getting older

This is part of why I am loving this whole "30" thing.

This new perspective stuff.

This life-is-still-hard-but-I-am-learning-to just-deal-anyway precept that is finally beginning to take root.

Please note: beginning. Okay.

It's Saturday morning. My house, which I might add was quite put together and bordering on *gasp* clean yesterday afternoon, appears to have been turned upside down sometime in the last 18 hours. That generally causes my nerves to be on edge.

Evidence of breakfast lingers. All over my kitchen.

A to-do list sits - looking very clean, as opposed to the chaos around it, and overall untouched.

Baby Kai (I know, I know - not so much baby. But this is my blog, and I will call him baby Kai when I want to) has had a series of escalating melt downs. Snot prevails victor over clean face.

Jay was in our room no less than 10 times over the past two nights.

Too hot. Not feeling well. Needed a tissue. Needed water. Was having bad thoughts. Dreaming things he didn't want to dream. Had a fever. Couldn't sleep.

Due to that mixture of truth, and  6 year old contrived brilliant reasons to avoid sleeping, Dave and I have a sleep deficit that threatens to overwhelm.

But here I sit, surrounded by disarray, relying heavily on this richly dark, caffeinated liquid, with a bliss that defies my reality.

A few minutes ago Kai fell and, once again, resorted to screams and tears. I willed my blood pressure to decrease, I knelt down and soothed him gently, I wrapped him in the softest blanket, and he just hung on.

We swayed gently in the living room full of toys.

We glanced up at the pictures Dave just hung on the north wall. Six, of the eventual nine, photos are now in place. Each of them eleven by fourteen inch representations of different aspects of our lives. It's just us and real and truth.

The mess doesn't matter. The to-do list nearly vanishes.

We sway and we talk and my heart feels peace. A peace I could not have felt with out the lessons of years and life and growing older moving from my head to my heart.

And yes, I've noticed the creases have deepened around my eyes.

How rarely (okay, okay - try never) I get the once often heard, "You have four boys? You hardly look old enough for two!"

The gray is trying to mingle with the brunette.

My endurance has changed, and I don't bounce back in health as quickly as I once did.

But the good - the good of learning, understand, accepting, leaning on Him. So far out weighs any disappointment of all of the other.

ordinary miracles

In amongst an overwhelming, busy, challenging week, which has been tinged in sleep deprivation, misunderstandings, wonky hormones, and a continuation of sickness, something very special has come about.

I'm glad for this little morsel of goodness. God knows how important timing is.

Let me tell you about it.

There are many little pieces to this puzzle of a dream. I love examining each small piece, which merge into something bigger.

One piece comes in the form of a sweet young woman, Hannah Miracle, being willing to do childcare for our church's mom's group about seven years ago. I met her then as she lovingly cared for my boys on Thursday mornings.

Another part falls into place when I bought my first SLR camera a year and a half ago - and found so much more there than glass, light, and images.

And then there is the crisis pregnancy center where I work. Hannah began volunteering there with me several months ago. As we sorted clothes, counseled women, and filed paper work, we found a shared love of all things photography.

Add to that our church's camera club. A local professional photographer leads many of us "amateurs" in the how to's of taking good pictures and editing. Hannah attends the camera club as well and she works as an assistant to the leading photographer.

Now enter the Kristin puzzle piece. I have blogging and mutual friends to thank for our friendship. Kristin and I started hanging out about a year ago. She also shares the photography obsession passion. Kristin has been photographing friends and family for years - and has a great eye for aesthetics as it pertains to photos!

And then there is the Dave puzzle piece. The guy who earned his original degree in media technology. Who has worked in studios, studied lighting, and had an SLR camera before I even knew what that was. The man who excitedly drew up plans for a small photography studio and put the hugest grin on my face.

These puzzle pieces collided on Tuesday at a charming coffee shop. We each have dreamed of challenging ourselves photographically and pushing forward to the next step. Together we discussed those dreams. We meshed them together and we set in motion the beginning of, what I think, will accomplish all of the above.

{I love this part} Many years before I started blogging, and fell in love with the name "Every Day Miracles" as an umbrella encompassing the literary journey of the God given beauty in my every day, Hannah Miracle was praying and dreaming that some day she would have a photography business called "Ordinary Miracles".

Well people - you will very likely be hearing much more about Ordinary Miracles Photography. 

 Kristin, Wendi, and Hannah

Do we know all the ins and outs of running a business? No, but we are in process of educating ourselves and seeking counsel as it pertains to this aspect.

Are we ready to jump into a competitive market? No. And our prices will absolutely reflect this. To us, this is about our passion to see beauty in new ways and to share that with those who want to preserve their family's memories through photography. It's about celebrating a form of worship that is close to all of our hearts. It is a ministry as much as it is a business.

There will eventually be a website and facebook page. For now, I am just smiling at all of these puzzle pieces. Many have not locked into place yet. So much will have to merge as we just jump in and do this.

At the present, not much will change. You all know me enough to know that the luxury of extra time is just not in my life at all right now. Each one of us involved in this venture lead very busy lives. But in amongst these busy lives we have been doing photo shoots. We have been setting up times to photograph, edit, share, learn. So - we will continue with what we already have been doing; only we will continue with much more organization and the sweetness of blooming dreams.

Embracing good

Those days happen.

Days when headaches hit mercilessly.

Simply functioning seems to be pushing it.

Questions hover. The same questions you thought were put to rest long ago.

The ride is going too fast and it is making you sick to your stomach.

You wonder who you really are. Underneath all of those layers. 

Layers of circumstance.

Layers of trying.

Striving for perfection and beyond.


But who are you?


And where did all this dirty laundry come from?

And who are all those small people calling you mama?

Where is your heart, and what truly matters?


Ever been there?

Yeah, God has been getting my attention in several different ways lately.

{Per my usual} I am learning so much. -And there is so much more that needs to be gleaned.


Making choices.

Choices to shed the layers.

Accept refreshment in the form of rest.

Loose control. Because I never had it in the first place, but I am addicted to the delusion that it is grasped tightly in my grip.

Breathe.

Be.

Let this golden sunlight of longer days whisper its promises of blooming and warmth.

Extradite the fear.

Open my eyes to vibrance and rarely noticed treasures.

Step back.

Realign.

Fill my lungs deeply with all that is good and beneficial.

Growing pains... exhilarating...stinging...wonderful.

Crack me up - four year old style

Not a day goes by that he doesn't make us laugh.

Often unintentionally.

And we have to hide our glee, due to the overly sensitive nature of this one.

Oh my - the fact that we get to live with him is awesome.

Laughs for every day.

Last week I was hanging out with friends. We were consuming delicious warm drinks, talking, studying the Bible, and really enjoying being together.

Our kids were chillin' together in the next room.

Noe walks in and out of the blue says,

"My bottom itches really bad!"

No lie. Straight faced and all.

So here we all are - in a predicament.

This is funny. Really, really funny.

But we don't want to make the poor little man fell badly.

And... it's no use. We are busting out laughing.

So, he looks at us and says, "Why are you laughing? I'm not teasing!"  

scratch  scratch

...Which makes it worse. We could not stop. And every time I've thought of it since then, I just crack up!


This is his song and dance right now. Just being him brings laughter to wherever he is at.

Every.single.day we hear this phrase from our Noe Ben: I'm okay!"

Because he is an accident waiting to happen. And when we hear those two words...

...spoken from on his back next to the chair,

...outside on the muddy ground,

..upside down between the couch and the wall,

we simply look at each other and smile, because he usually is okay - but he embodies the word "clumsy".


If Noe had been a girl his middle name was going to be "Grace".  

God knew that this one really needed to be a boy. {'Nuff said}


Oh the hours of entertainment.

The hugs and kisses given freely.

And yes, even the inevitable and frequent falls, and *ahem* lack of tact and social graces.

This kid makes me smile like nothin' else. Man do I love him.


There is such deep potential in that soft heart of his.

Without question, he wants to give,

to love,

to help,

to open his arms and do all that he can.

Just so thankful for my Noe today.

What our week is looking like:

{defining our week}

Daddy is doubling up on homework

Two classes instead of one

Head colds for two boys have morphed into high fevers and misery

A washing machine that is running constantly

Twelve month molars finally trying to make an appearance

Lots of puzzles

Legos

Paints

Markers

Story books

Holding

Nose wiping

Tylenol giving

Phone calls

Rearranged schedules

Exhaustion

Love

Moments with a man I would do it all over again with in a heart beat

 steam mopping  {impressed}

Dreaming

Reading

{Rest}

Grief of a different kind

I have to admit, there was a {quiet} grieving process for Dave and I when we realized that our parenting adventure was going to look very different than we had originally dreamed it would.

I don't talk about it that much because we have always believed strongly that all life is precious. For us, there were so many worse things that we could hear than, "Your son is not going to do the normal things that most kids do, he is severely brain damaged".

For instance we could hear that our son was not going to make it (Yes, been there done that).

We did hear that - and there is just no comparison.

Or we could hear that one of our children did not want anything to do with the God who created them. To me, that would be far, far worse.

Given our stance on life issues, and our faith, I don't often contemplate the less harsh, but nonetheless heartfelt, grieving process that Dave and I went through pertaining to our son, K.

Yes, we had grieved that year. We had grieved the death of our firstborn, we had grieved lost dreams, and we had grieved an innocence that no longer had a place in our small family.

We grieved a world that had made an immeasurable departure from everything God had intended for it. A world where death now stalked the unsuspecting and robbed the faithful.

...And there was a different kind of grieving later on that year. It was more gentle to us. It did not cut deep, but its presence was there. It snuck into the back of our minds when we contemplated the future. It wrapped around dreams of T-ball and little boy giggles - running across the yard with reckless abandon.

We let it all sink in, and then we knelt and thanked God for each breath that K took on his own. Truly miraculous. Every breath, every beat of his heart was like God saying "Yes, he can" while the doctors said "He can't". And even in the midst of that, there was a legitimate place for this soft grief.

Dave's excitement was undeniable when we found out that the precious little ones in my womb were both boys. What dad doesn't dream of everything he can do with his sons? He did. 

When our reality hit after their birth Dave's love was big. It was tangible. And yet he grieved.

My grief hit in stages, as is the nature of this process.

I wanted to figure it all out. Get to the bottom of each issue K would face. Read up on it, ask all the right questions.

Untangle it, 

unpack it, 

unravel it.



And then I wanted to fix it.


Go to all the right doctors. Put in all of the hours. Undo what nature had so cruelly done to my little boy.

work

      myself

                to utter

                          exhaustion...

...fixing it.


Fixing him.

And then, well then I hit the insecurity stage. And this phase was measurable in years, not weeks.

This stage said, "This is too big for you."

"What are you doing?"

"You have no idea how to fix this!"

"You don't know how to love him the way he needs to be loved."

This stage hurts.

This stage is hard.

Here is a peak into the broken theology that sometimes takes up residence in my brain:

At times I imagine that God has lists. Lists of people and what they can handle. He bases what he allows in their life, on what they can physically and emotionally handle.

...And I was pretty sure that he had accidentally gotten my list mixed up with some one else and someone else's tolerances mixed up with...mine.

Here's the good news: Then came the healing stage.

Healing in my heart,

healing in my parenting,

healing in my marriage,

healing in my spiritual life.



Truths became concretely laid into the very core of my being.

God does not make mistakes.


He is not capable of accidents.


He does not choose the equipped, he equips the chosen. And I am chosen. 

This is a really, really significant one right here:

K does not need to be fixed. 

He needs to be nurtured.


Let me tell you, each one of these phases of grief still enters into my life every now and then. But since the healing phase has  been activated I have TRUTH to combat the GRIEF with.

Truth that puts a smile on my face and a song in my heart.

Truth that compels me to

nurture,


love,


accept,


surrender.

I had to write this today, because in the last several days I went through some degree of each of these stages of grief in reference to K. Again.

Decisions had to be made,

strategies sifted through,

and I just really needed wisdom.

In response to all of that, I began to sort through this rarely shared grief.

And in doing so, a few more pieces of the healing puzzle locked into place.

Just call me "more"

I have officially been blogging for three years. In three years I have written 500 posts. Five-hundred! Crazy.

Three years ago Noe was Kai's age. Only he spoke. Like, real words.

Kai doesn't really speak. He walks. He runs. He jumps. He climbs. He giggles.

He's not a talker.

To his credit, I suppose I shouldn't say he doesn't speak at all. He says, "mama" (he uses the same word for "mama" and "more" - not sure how I feel about that), "Dadda", "niee-niee" (for "night-night" - and I must say, it is just about the cutest thing ever), and "bath". Just this week he has added a few long, crazy sentences to his vocab, but they are likely in Chinese, making it rather difficult for this mono-linguistic mama to comprehend.

If anyone of you is considering getting thick bangs, you should. It is very fun. I love them.

Parenting can be very hard. Add a dose of special needs in there and confusion may ensue. We are having some behavioral issues with K again. Now, I know that "behavioral issues" with our boys will continue for like - ever. But, the tough thing with K is that sometimes a change in behavior can mean a medication needs changed, or there is a problem with his shunt, or a basic over-all neurological issue. It could be he isn't getting enough sleep. Or it could mean that he is 8. And he is human. And he has a sin nature. Hmmmm.....

I think I need a nap. I'm really not very qualified for this.

Dave is back on the induction phase of the Atkins diet. Three or four years after we got married he went on Atkins for the first time. He successfully lost 65 pounds that year. Since then he has maintained it fairly well, but every now and then he gains more weight than he would like. When that happens he goes back on induction for two weeks, for a jump start. Do you know what that means? That means 50 carbs per day people. The self discipline that it takes to do that is mind boggling to me. I felt so mean last night because I asked him to make cookies. These chocolate chip cookies. Did I mention they are his favorites? Ugghh... seriously, I felt bad, but I was swamped with tasks and really needed help. The other things on my to-do list were things I needed to do, so that left the cookie making to him. K had to have them for school today, so it needed to be done. He was so kind and helped out fabulously, not cheating on his diet once, but I almost cried for him. What a guy, huh?

This morning Jay asked me what divorce was. He literally had not heard the word (or at least it never made it on his radar) until today. Some where in my explanation I used the word "fight" Jay laughed out loud and said (and I quote), "HA! Mom, that is so funny. Grown-up's don't fight!" Ummmm, Score, or fail here???

I have immersed myself in Old Testament study more this year than any other year. It is utterly exciting to me how much more makes sense when you see the Bible as a whole, with pieces that fit together perfectly. Leaving sections out can rob us of immeasurable wisdom! In addition to reading through the Bible in a year this year, I am leading an in-depth study of Proverbs 31, and studying some Minor Prophets with three dear friends. We just finished Micah. Let me be honest, I had never had a burning desire to study Minor Prophets before. But wow, the way that it is all fitting together with where I am at in Leviticus, what I am reading in Proverbs, and what God is revealing to me personally, about himself is incredibly cool!!

I have fantasies about owning a steam mop. Is that weird? Those of you who have one - Pros? Cons? Advice? 

My husband really and truly is going to be building me a photo studio this summer!!! I'm freaking out over this. I can't even tell you. It's crazy and I never thought it would really happen. See, we live on an acreage - a farm. We don't farm it, but rent out the fields around our house. We have this grain bin dryer that is not used anymore. Some one recently asked if they could buy it and we were happy to oblige. When they come pick it up this spring/summer we will have the leftover cement foundation, plus there is electricity going out to it - so, of course, it only makes sense, that we build a photo studio on it. ;) It will be small, but enough to get some really great pictures, I think!

Speaking of photos - I am working on a photo wall. I guess it won't technically be the entire wall,  but a good portion of a wall. Results will be documented here for sure.

And now, time for the animal shaped chicken nuggets and crinkle cut french fries. Because we will do no less than gourmet here. It's just how we roll. ;)

Progress

It still has a long way to go, but yesterday was productive!

It is now functional, with a dash of cute. The additional cute will have to wait for the dry wall to be completed. Just between you and me (and this little thing called "the internet"), that could be awhile.

Our master dry-waller is a bit occupied these days.

I suppose I could do the dry wall - if it was like a life and death situation. But really, what is the likelihood of that?!

Yeah, it'll just have to wait.

Once that is done, I'm thinking the area behind my beautiful new recycling bins will be painted black, the floor will be black and white tile, the walls will be a subtle, but cheery yellow, and the windows may just have a black and white damask curtain on them.

But - until then, this family will be recycling to our hearts content!!!!