Slow Food for the Soul

I jokingly refer to everything as food when I'm teaching. Whether it's commas on both sides of an appositive being compared to two pieces of bread on a sandwich or talking about the "meat" of a good essay, food is my go to. People can relate to food. Hey, we're always hungry, right? We have to have it to survive. It can in one minute be the thing that sustains us, and the next, it can be what makes us sick. Sometimes, our food is tampered with before it gets to us, and we "think" we have control over it, but we don't. Sometimes we go to certain "feel good" foods in order to make us feel a certain way whether we're happy, sad, or nervous.
Food is vital to our physical bodies; without it, we can't survive. However, sometimes food can be a real thorn in our flesh. Sometimes if we don't make good decisions with our food, that daily donut could very well lead to diabetes.
But sugar...it's an addiction! Caffeine! Carbs! Who am I without you!?
For as long as I can remember, I've noticed that when I'm in a rut, I go to carbs. Carbs are fast. They give us a surge of renewing energy. Don't you love them too? They make us feel excited and help us get through the day. The thought of a PayDay between breakfast and lunch makes my whole world light up! What joy a little package of sugar and peanuts can do for you.
Similarly, when I'm in a spiritual rut, I tend to focus only on the "carbs" of God's Word--the parts that will make me feel good fast and give me an energetic new perspective on whatever I'm facing. I need it quickly, too. In my rapidly changing day, I need something pocket-sized and zippy. A podcast here, an Instagram verse bedecked in flowers there. I need renewal, but I need it fast.
And yes, all of this is good!
However, oftentimes I miss out on what God has for me. So often we head straight to the "fast food" section, often missing out on the "meat" of the word. The good stuff that takes time to cultivate, season, and prepare takes a while to chew on. Sometimes it's tough, and it might not even digest easily. Sure, who's going to choose raw vegetables over a sugary donut? Vegetables might not give us a zip in our step, but they're full of life-giving water and vitamins, things our bodies need to keep moving and thriving. That roast in the crockpot takes hours to prepare, but think of the sustaining energy we receive from its nutrients.
Because of my busy-ness, I have found I tend to opt out on the "tough, slow stuff" that can sustain me like nothing else. The meat of the Word will help keep me on my toes, fit in terms of grounded in the Words of the bible, and full--really and truly satisfied--with my life and where God is taking me.
So ponder this question: Are we truly full and satisfied on what we're "eating" from the bible?

Just as it takes discipline to eat right and several days, weeks, and months to develop a good habit, it takes time in the Word to develop the skills we need to survive in this world and honor God's desire for us. 
Everything we read shouldn't send us straight to the spiritual Dairy Queen. Sometimes, what we discover in the Word is tough to handle, understand, and we might even need help in the kitchen!  We might need to seek additional guidance to understand everything we read. Too often, if we can't get the oven to work, we stop trying. (guilty) We give up. (guilty) We'll let Grandma sort it out. (guilty)Sometimes we need to consult the manual or the cookbook! (Okay...I get it...I went a little overboard with my metaphors...)
I need to grow up in God's Word. Sometimes I don't always act my age. After all, I'm responsible for teaching my kiddos healthy habits. Sometimes we expect our husbands, parents, pastors, teachers, and friends (or even the internet!) to teach and take care of our spiritual life for us, but that's not all God wants out of us. He wants us to explore the Word in order to discover who He is so we can therefore see who WE are in Him.

And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. Your clothing did not wear out on you and your foot did not swell these forty years. Know then in your heart that, as a man disciplines his son, the Lord your God disciplines you. Deuteronomy 8:3-5

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Slow Food for the Soul

This Is My Story, This Is My Song

Sometimes if Heath and I ever want to chuckle, we start reminiscing on our days when we first got married...how we made it through the week on $50 worth of groceries and how our furniture and everything we owned were hand-me-downs. We chuckled about the walks we would take after supper because we had nothing but time. And oh did we think we were big when we got our first 30+ inch flat screen! Everything was simple. That newlywed stage is so precious. You can pretty much survive on air and water.

We had nothing, but we had it all.

Had I known that I would look back one day and miss those simple days, I would've cherished them so much more. I remember being pretty consumed with the future and all the things I wanted out of life that I rarely stopped to realize I was making memories. Because I was always focused on the next big thing or event, I rarely took the time to soak up that time of our lives, and now, I miss it. That first year and a half in our little house is a blur. Who was that girl? I don't even remember her anymore.



Another home, two kids, and a dream come true later, I find myself in survival mode quite often. I find myself longing for that newness...plans...craving that season of life I used to have in my grasp but couldn't even enjoy because I couldn't foresee the rapidity of time. I miss it so much that I've found it has made me somewhat bitter in my soul. Whereas I used to live in a state of perpetual excitement and spontaneity, now I find myself living in a state of exhaustion and anxiety wondering if I'll ever have another day to truly rest. Wondering if the kids are going to be okay. Wondering how Isaac will do when he goes to school next year. Wondering who's going to come to the house when it's in the middle of Hurricane Isaac and Caroline. Wondering why the thought of going to the grocery store is just about as mentally exhausting as actually going. Wondering why I am so boring now. Wondering why I find myself complaining more than praising.

I call it Mom Tired.

A lot about life is learning to appreciate what we have, and sometimes, it's just plain ole hard.



But what we have now is something beautiful. It's unique. It's precious. It's our story. It's our song. What we have now we will never have again. Sure, it's hard. It's really hard! And mamas, that woman down the road has her own version of "hard." Sure, I've been victim of eyeballing other ladies' levels of "hard," but what we don't see is that ALL women are battling with the enemy in their own ways. We never know when someone is looking at our lives questioning our level of "hard." We're human, and the enemy is going to remind us of this until we allow God's grace to show him up.



It's not our job to figure this out. God already has.

We only have this one life to live, and God is the only source of pure joy that can replenish our empty hearts when our selfish instincts tell us we need something fulfilling from the world. Somehow, the more we think we need, and the more we eventually get, the more we have to worry about and the more unsatisfied we are. The more we think we need to make us happy, the less we are relying on God to fill that void that the enemy bores into our minds. And he will bore away until he gets in.

Matthew 6: 20-21 says, "But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." 

My prayer for us moms today is that we become more aware of where our treasure is and of the memories that are being made in our daily lives right under our noses. Most of us are tired, frazzled, and mentally drained. We try to do it all, and we try to do it well. But there's more with the Lord. My hope for us is that we can learn to be more present and to see the bigger story that God has already imagined for us. He's still working on us!

"Quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep. I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep."

- Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

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This Is My Story, This Is My Song

Guest Post with Magan Johnson: I Accepted My Barreness

     When I was a little girl, I dreamed of having a family, naming my children, and loving them. However, I thought that I would never be able to carry my own children. I was run over by a car at the age of two. My pelvis was crushed. I have arthritis and scoliosis due to this injury.

     Two years ago my mentor looked at me at a Bible study and asked me if I wanted to have children. I immediately began crying. The women at the Bible study all began praying that I would have my own children. It was as if locked away part of me was opened and freed. Hope was restored.


     Both of my grandmothers had at least 7 children. My mother had 2 children. I didn’t really consider that I would have problems having children. I thought it would be easy despite my back injuries. However, that was not my case.


   

By 30 years old and 2 years from being given the hope of having a child, I had never once been pregnant. When I went to the doctor and found out that I am the reason that we hadn’t had children, reality hit me. I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism and PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome.) It hurts to know that one of the things that as a woman I should be able to do, I hadn't.


   

Everyone questioned me about children until I was open about my infertility on social media. There is pain in being disappointed every month. I could not possibly count the amount of negative tests that were taken. The amount of tears shed could've filled an ocean. I had spent countless hours pouring over the internet at every little symptom with hope. Your hormones lie to you when you have the issues I have. While being excited for others about every story of a pregnancy, there was a twinge of pain and the thought of “what about me?” I have honestly had to deal with anger that resulted from hearing about teenagers in high school getting pregnant or from hearing of abused children.


   

My husband and I spent time walking down the foster care journey. However, the timing has not been right. Many have said that the timing has not been right for our baby and God’s timing is perfect. This is true, but it does not heal the pain.


     The day I turned 30, I subconsciously closed my heart again to having children. It was as if a time clock had gone off in my heart. I closed that door so that it would not hurt anymore. I accepted my barreness. I questioned if God even trusted me with that gift. 

“Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from Him. Children born to a young man are like arrows in a warrior’s hands. How joyful is the man whose quiver is full of them!” Ps. 127:3-5

     But the women around me never stopped praying for us to have a child. I am thankful for their faith to carry on when mine was weak. I never gave up my faith in God and His ability. I just questioned if He would choose to give us that gift. I am still walking out of a two-year healing journey, and I strive to make healthier choices. God has lead me and guided me to find the right medications, herbs, and superfoods along the way.


   

 On April 23rd, we finally had the answer to our prayers and cries. I seriously ran around the yard and all in the house. "My heart rejoices in the Lord;" 1 Samuel 2:1.

We are so thankful for this gift and do not take this responsibility lightly. I know that my calling is devoted to God and my family above any other. My goal is to "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." Proverbs 22:6

   

I share my story in hope that it will give another mother-in-waiting hope. I pray as I share my miracle, it will pave the way for other miracles. "For nothing will be impossible with God." Luke 1:37

"You are my hope, O Lord God, You are my trust from my youth." Psalm 17:5

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Guest Post with Magan Johnson: I Accepted My Barreness

Guest Post with Tandy Hoover: When God Winks at You

I’m going to go back to 2009 when I really started to see God’s plan for my life. I was working for a local logistics company. With the drastic decline of our economy the company was forced to make several layoffs and I was part of those layoffs. This was a major stumbling block for my husband, Erin, and I. I was the steady income as well as the carrier of our health insurance. Erin had just started a new partnership but was reinvesting every penny earned. We thought health insurance was not an option as Erin had been diagnosed two years earlier with a chronic GI condition called ulcerative colitis. While laid off I started checking into health insurance offered through COBRA and it was going to cost over $2,000 per month! Thankfully, I was rehired two days later in a different position. God wink!

I decided to go back to school for a career with more stability. I had completed an associate’s degree in business administration in 2005 but was never convinced I wanted a career in business. I began praying for God’s guidance and quickly knew He wanted me to become a nurse. This was in the spring of 2010 and many deadlines for nursing programs had passed or were quickly approaching. My first choice was Bevill State Community College because it was just minutes from my home but I had missed the deadline. Erin and I met with an advisor at Wallace State Community College and she walked us through each step I would need to complete before being considered. I would have to enroll in one prerequisite course for the summer semester and pass the TEAS exam. I didn’t feel confident that I would be accepted only because it was last minute and because of the requirements I had not met. I took the TEAS exam in late May, the very last day it was offered for fall acceptance. In June I received my acceptance letter and in July turned in my notice.

Erin and I decided we would do everything we could to lessen our expenses since we would be living on his income while still trying to grow his business. So, we sold his large company SUV and bought an older car with good gas mileage for me. We put our house up for sale and decided we would move in with my parents when it sold. Health insurance was a requirement for me while in the program so we bought the cheapest and most basic coverage we could find and Erin went without insurance. Scary!!

Two years passed and it was time for graduation. God truly blessed us throughout my time in the nursing program. We were able to keep our house. Erin was healthy and didn’t require regular clinic visits or hospitalizations or even the expensive medication he is now taking. God wink!

Three months after graduation God blessed me with a wonderful job at The Kirklin Clinic that I loved. I was working Monday – Friday, no weekends, and no holidays. We had great benefits including health, vision, and dental insurance, as well as disability insurance and 401K retirement plans. I loved my coworkers and my job! While working full-time I attended UAH online to complete my bachelor’s in nursing. I could have stuck with my associates and stayed in that job forever but I felt God pulling me toward more. In less than a year I knew it was time to change jobs. I felt God pulling me toward a career as a nurse practitioner. I knew in order to be the best NP I could, I needed to get bedside nursing experience. So with help from coworkers that had worked bedside at UAB I applied to only one position. I interviewed and was offered the job the same day. I knew I was exactly where God wanted me to be. I started my new job in July 2013. I quickly knew I was working with a wonderful group of nurses, respiratory therapists, nurse practitioners, and more. I was given a wonderful, Godly preceptor who took me under her wing and taught me everything she possibly could. I was truly blessed. About a month after starting my new job Erin and I found out we were pregnant. I wanted children very badly, I just didn’t see how a new baby fit into what I thought was God’s plan. I was blessed with a wonderfully healthy and smooth pregnancy. I applied to the NP program at UAH while pregnant and was looking forward to starting the program in the Fall.

In April 2014, our beautiful, healthy, perfect baby boy was born. He came at 37 weeks and 2 days so he easily could have had complications but God intervened and Kalel had no issues. Kalel is a play on Superman’s name on his home planet of Krypton, Kal-el. Superman was sent to Earth by his loving parents in hopes of saving his life. Superman’s powers grew and he began saving the world. I quickly fell in love with the background of that name. My hope for our little Superman is that he’ll one day save the world in his own little way.

About 4 weeks after Kalel’s birth I received a rejection letter from UAH stating I had not been chosen for the NP program. I was sad at first but God quickly reminded me of the little bundle of love lying in my arms and revealed to me the joy I would possess at being able to spend more time with him instead of attending school. I am truly thankful God’s plan is always better than my own. God wink!

I reapplied to UAH for the Family NP program to begin in the Fall of 2015. I was accepted and began classes and clinical rotations in August. While in school I was able to work part-time which allowed me to keep our insurances as well as help with expenses around the house.

In December I began having sharp pains in my left breast. I didn’t think anything about them because just as quickly as they came, they were gone. In late December I had a sharp pain that made me grab the area and it was then that I felt a small lump. I hoped it was nothing but I knew I should get it checked out. I made an appointment with my OB-GYN for early January. The NP examined me and she suggested I get a mammogram and ultrasound. I was seen a couple of weeks later. The mammogram and US confirmed there was a suspicious cyst so the radiologist suggested we follow with a biopsy. Up to this point I had only told my husband and two close friends from NP school about the lump. Erin accompanied me to all the appointments. Once a biopsy was suggested I then told my parents and sisters, Erin’s parents, and some close friends and family. Erin and Mom accompanied me to the biopsy on Thursday, February 11, 2015. I was able to see the mammogram pictures on the screen while they prepped me for the biopsy. I could see the cyst and in my heart knew it was cancer. The biopsy went well and was relatively painless. The doctor said she would call me the following evening with preliminary results. After it was over I kept a brave face and met Mom and Erin in the waiting room to go. The next evening Erin, Kalel, and I were visiting with friends. These are close friends that knew about the biopsy. Between 7 and 8 pm my phone rang and Erin and I stepped out onto the porch and put the phone on speaker mode. I’ll never forget the doctor’s words. She said, “I hate to tell you this but the cells collected are cancerous. It’s invasive ductal carcinoma.” I laid my head over on Erin’s shoulder and cried silently. I immediately started thinking about Kalel and how this would affect him. While trying to listen to the doctor I quickly decided I wouldn’t let my cancer diagnosis affect my son. I would be strong. I could be strong. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” Philipians 4:13. After ending the call with the doctor Erin and I stood there and held each other for several minutes. I could feel the worry and fear creeping into him but I knew he was going to be my rock. We called both sets of parents. My parents offered to come to the house right away but I decided to stay with our friends. Kalel was having a great time and I was not ready to give in. We went back inside and broke the news to our friends. I was immediately taken into hugs and prayed over. Those are the friends you need and want in situations like these. Erin went back to his game with the guys and the girls and I played with the babies. I could see their concerned looks but we didn’t mention the cancer again. We left around 9:30pm. Kalel was quickly asleep in his car seat and Erin and I were quiet but holding hands.

The next day was Saturday and I had offered to work a half-day for a coworker. I had a good morning but was always thinking about my recent diagnosis. How is this going to affect my work? How do I tell my coworkers who obviously love me and will be just as heart-broken as my family. When my replacement arrived I went searching for my assistant nurse manager. Now this ANM is unlike any other. She is a Godly, people-loving, give you the shirt off her back kind of woman. She had been a wonderful support for me from the day I started. When Kalel was born she came to the hospital. She immediately adopted him into her heart and to this day loves him like her own son. I pulled her aside and told her I had breast cancer. Tears immediately started falling down her face and she wrapped me so tightly in her arms I knew I could never fall if she were around. I remember her continually saying, “Why? It’s just not fair.” She kissed me on the forehead and the cheek and said, “It’s going to be ok. We’re going to pray you through this. Anything you need, you let me know.” I immediately had peace regarding any issues that may arise at work. As I was leaving work I called my family. Mom, Dad, Kendra, Brandie, Mattie, and Tucker were at the house when I got there. I could see the pain in their faces and it broke my heart. I knew then that I had to be strong for them too. I had two girls who looked up to me and I wanted to be a strong example for them. Later that evening I told my school friends as well other close friends.

The next month was somewhat of a roller coaster. I was in my second semester of the NP program, doing clinical rotations, and still working part-time. I was having multiple doctor appointments each week. I chose my oncologist because Erin’s grandpa had been being treated for lymphoma and it just happened that his wonderful doctor specialized in lymphoma and breast cancer. God wink!

I joined a trial study, which allowed me additional tests such as MRIs and biopsies that insurance wouldn’t have covered otherwise. These additional biopsies were a determining factor in whether I would need chemo or not. If it showed I was low-risk for recurrence I would not have chemo. If it came back as high-risk I would. The day we found out I was high-risk was a hard day. Erin and I were at Kirklin waiting to meet with my coordinator. She gave us the news and told us we would start chemo that day. It would take a couple of hours to finish up all the paperwork and get the orders in so we went for a walk and lunch. Not long into our walk from the clinic my sweet daddy called. He was so worried and it was like God told him I needed to talk to him, and I really did. I told him I would have to have chemo and could tell he quickly started crying. I am a daddy’s girl and before this I had only known of one other time that he had cried. Erin took a picture of me after I got off the phone. You can see the glisten of tears in my eyes but there was a smile on my face. I was broken but faithful at the same time.

God wasn’t ready for me to start chemo that day. The paperwork that needed to be completed and sent back from the trial company didn’t arrive in time so my coordinator scheduled chemo two days later. Thursday is a regular workday for Erin so Mom gladly agreed to go to the first treatment with me. I wanted it to be a fun girls day and I wanted to celebrate mom’s birthday. I made a bright pink sign, took pictures with mom and of me with my sign, and kept a smile on my face. I didn’t have to force the smile. God gave me a happy spirit and the strength to smile. We celebrated Mom’s birthday with lunch at the Cheesecake Factory after my infusion then headed home. I didn’t know what to expect but I felt fine. God wink!

My sister started a Facebook page called Prayers for Tandy. I decided to post about my journey and share my personal experience with everyone. My hope was that my honesty, my smile, and my faith might encourage others facing the same or other difficult situations.

For 12 weeks I took a chemo infusions once a week. I had a port placed in my chest. I have very small veins that are difficult to access at times. Chemo is very harsh on the veins so I knew a port was the best option for me. The first twelve treatments went great. The chemo didn’t make me feel near as bad as I expected. I did feel tired more often and I had trouble focusing on school readings and assignments. I had cut my hair very short, shorter than I had ever had it before, hoping it would ease the coming loss. My hair began thinning so much that it made me look much sicker than I felt. One afternoon I got off work early, stopped to borrow a friends clippers, and invited Mom, Brandie, Mattie and Laurie to the house to help me shave my head. As my hair continued falling out I began wearing head wraps and cute hats to hide the only thing that gave an outward sign that I was sick.

After the 12 once-a-week infusions finished I began taking 2 chemotherapies at each visit. These therapies were much stronger so they were administered every 2 weeks. One drug is so harsh it is known as “The Red Devil”. These drugs caused much stronger side effects such as nausea, vomiting, fatigue, and decreased immunity. I immediately felt the effects of these drugs. Even though I was given steroids by mouth and IV, as well as anti-nausea medicine with each treatment I still felt awful the evening of the treatment as well as a couple of days later. I was given an injection after each infusion that was supposed to help keep my neutrophil count up which would aid my immune system.

I started having trouble being able to work my 12-hour shifts. Coworkers became very worried and my nurse manager worked out a part-time schedule that would allow me to work my shifts when I was at my best and would be off for several days when I felt my worst.

I was hospitalized only once during my treatments. I woke up with Kalel one morning and was standing in the kitchen trying to get him breakfast. I almost blacked-out twice and had to slide down the cabinets to the floor. I had to wake Erin and we quickly headed to UAB ER. Richard came and got Kalel. I was severely dehydrated and neutropenic meaning I had no immune response and could easily catch anything and everything. They admitted me to the hospital and I got IV fluids and antibiotics. I became very anemic. I was told if my labs showed another decrease I would have to have a blood transfusion. I did not want to get blood so I prayed hard and long. When the results of my lab work returned my levels had gone up and I was discharged later that day. God wink!  

It was during my summer semester that I felt my worst. My instructors allowed me to get as many clinical hours as I could and make up for those missed during my last semester. It was difficult to get all the extra hours combined with the regular requirements of the fall semester but God surely provided.

After finishing chemo I had to take multiple medications. One of these was a monthly injection to suppress my ovaries from making estrogen. Another was a tablet used to suppress the estrogen produced by other parts of my body. The injection would have to be taken for the rest of my life, would put me into menopause and cause worse side effects than natural menopause, and cost $80 each month. I decided to have my ovaries removed to avoid the injection and it’s side effects. This meant we wouldn’t be able to have any more children but I knew God had blessed us with the one he wanted us to have.

On August 9 I had a double mastectomy. Since we had to wait for the pathology to return before we knew if I had to have radiation or not, the surgeon placed tissue expanders. This surgery was not an easy one. Nine hours after surgery my nurse and Erin were helping me up so I could walk to the bathroom. I had been lying mostly flat since the surgery and the first attempt to get out of bed was the worst pain I had ever endured. I screamed out and began crying. It was so painful that I could not control my emotions. My chest and back muscles were so affected by the surgery that I could not use them to lift myself from the bed without excruciating pain. After about 10 minutes I did finally get to the bathroom. My nurse was able to get IV pain medicine that worked very well so I planned the rest of my evening with when I could get that medicine. I had a drain placed on each side and went home with them. I did not have to have radiation so the plan for expansion continued. I had regular visits to my plastic surgeon to have the expanders filled to slowly stretch the muscles and skin before implants were placed. 

I continued with school and clinicals and graduated on December 11. I was happy, proud, and relieved to have school behind me. On December 13 I had surgery to replace the expanders with implants. This surgery was much less painful and did not require as much recovery as the first. I had my ovaries removed on January 3 and returned to work January 10.

I followed-up with my oncologist on February 22 and blood work and a chest x-ray confirmed I was free of cancer!! I can truly attest to the fact that God takes care of his children and carries us when we don’t have the strength to carry on. His will is always better than our own even if we don’t understand it. My favorite song is “Thy Will be Done” by Hilary Scott. I won’t put the words here but please read them. They are so true to how I felt throughout my struggle with cancer but I am now proof of His grace and mercy. God wink!

Psalms 37:23-24 states, “The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and He delights in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down; For the Lord upholds him with His hand.”

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Guest Post with Tandy Hoover: When God Winks at You

When You Forget Why You Walked into a Room

"I've got to go the bathroom," an everyday mom explained to her two kids. She tried to ease the bewilderment on their faces. "It'll only be for like thirty seconds. You can do this." She held her breath, turned up Sesame Street, and began to walk backwards. 

"Finally," she whispered as she occasionally looked over her shoulder to see if she was being followed. She eventually made her way into the bathroom, her break room. But before she could enjoy her two minutes of me time, there was an intruder. She saw that there, in all their glory, was a perfectly fine pair of Lightning McQueen underwear in the trash. "What in the world..." she mumbled under her breath as she made her way to the laundry room. 

There she was greeted by a mountain of clean clothes. "I might as well start folding these while I'm in here." She began to pile all the socks into her lap, but there was an intruder. There in the laundry basket she found a sippy cup wrapped inside a Paw Patrol shirt. "Yeesh," she gagged as she quickly screwed the top back on. "Son! I told you to quit hiding these chocolate milk cups! It's not funny, you know! How hard is it to just put them in the sink?"

The mom rushed to the sink to escape the putrid odor all while leaving a trail of mateless socks in her wake. 

She rinsed the cup out and sat it to the side to soak. "Might as well start loading the dish washer while I'm standing here," she muttered quietly to an audience of Minnie Mouse plates and an embarrassingly large number of coffee cups. 

Before she could place the first Minion spoon into the silverware receptacle, she heard her daughter's blood-curdling scream. 

Our dear old mom dropped the spoon, turned on her heel, and picked up her other foot only to have it catch on the dishwasher door. 

Mom down. 

She scrambled to the living room. Frantic, heart racing, gasping for air, she somehow managed to blurt out, "What is it?" 

Her kids were laughing. "What are you talking about, Mama?" She looked back and forth to both kids. No one seemed to have a broken limb. No one was hurt. She shrugged. 

Mom hobbled back to the dishes only to find a trail of blood from where she had come. "Great," she muttered. "Maybe we've got some bandages somewhere." 

Mom grabbed a roll of paper towels, limped to the medicine cabinet, and opened the door. "What in the world?" Everything was sticky...like a thin layer of something oily had made its way onto each and every item. "Gross." She found no bandages, but she did find an intruder: a tube of Neosporin from 2008 that was apparently missing a lid. "These need to be thrown away," she thought while she gripped a few expired items in her hand, but they slipped from her grip, knocking over the paper towels, sending the towels into a beautiful cascade across her kitchen floor. "Great."

Mom walked to the trash to rid herself of the aged salve and to roll up the paper towels. The trash was full. No, it was milk-jug-sitting-on-top-overflowing full. "Oh, well. I'm standing here. I'll just take it out." 

Mom hobbled to the door with the trash bag only to find that her dear child, clad in only a pair of Thomas the Tank Engine underwear, was being greeted by the precious mail lady. OUTSIDE. She bolted out the door, leaving the untied trash bag by the door. 

Mom blushed. "Oh, I'll just take the package, ma'am. I'm sorry. I didn't know someone was out here." She turned to her son. "And how did you get out here!?" 

"There's my tractor!" the little boy declared, beaming with pride.  

"I see that," the nice lady replied. 

"Son, get in the house. I really don't know how he slipped out like this. He does this sometimes." Mom giggled nervously while the sweat poured down her temples. 

"Ma'am, your toe. You're bleeding." 

"Oh, that's right. Thank you. I forgot. It just slipped my mind. Have a nice day." Mom gave the best smile she could muster. This is where our mom gave the "look" to her son...the look that implied cloudy skies and danger were coming if he didn't get his backside inside the house.

Mom trudged back to the front door and stared. She couldn't believe what she saw. 

Trash was scattered across the floor. A completely unraveled roll of paper towels were becoming her son's newfound form of entertainment. Socks littered the hallway. Dishes were everywhere. Blood was all over the floor. And what was that awful smell? 

"Kids, if y'all don't stop making all these messes, I'm going to go crazy!"

She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. "Now let's see...why did I come in here again?" She had been asking herself that a lot lately. "Oh, I've got to go to the bathroom! I'll just..."

"Moooooommmmmm!!!!!"

Have a nice weekend, mamas! 

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When You Forget Why You Walked into a Room

What I Hope You Remember

Before I had kids, I new exactly what kind of mom I was going to be. My kids were going to be polite, sit quietly at church because I told them to, be clean when we went out somewhere, and they were going to make good grades--just because I said. I was going to be a whiz in the kitchen, making fresh, wholesome, healthy meals all members of the family would enjoy. Everything would always be tidy because I was going to be organized. We would sit at the table and eat supper every night while we chatted about our day. The kids would never get sick because I was going to take care of them and make sure of it. I was going to do the absolute best for my kids, and because I was in control of them, I knew in my head I could make it happen. 

So when I found out I was expecting, I read blog after blog, book after book, and researched every website dealing with birth/postpartum/newborns etc. that I could find. I had chapters marked on birth information and bookmarked websites. I knew birth and nursing down to a science. I wanted to be a good mom, so I had to figure out what that was. Right? Isn't that how everyone had to learn? 

Fast forward a few years, and things have taken on quite a different angle. 

I have had an epidural and a natural birth. I nursed some and mostly formula fed. I've made my own baby food and bought the rest. I wore my baby a few times until it wasn't our jam any more. I tried sleeping with my kiddos once or twice, and well, they're like their mama. Neither of us got much sleep. The kids eat completely different things than I cook half the time, and organization? If it wasn't for my husband, I wouldn't know what day it was half the time. 

And that's ok. What does it matter anyway? 

What does it matter to the woman who has zapped every physical, mental, and emotional resource she has in order to conceive a child? 

What does it matter to the mother whose premature infant lost his life before she even got to take him home from the hospital?

What does it matter to the mom whose never heard her child speak? 

What does it matter to the mom who will never see her child run and jump or sing and dance? 

Sometimes I think my generation just makes up things to worry about since we have so many resources of information available to us. It's like a preprogrammed thing in our DNA that we got from our ancestors who had to worry about some pretty important things like food, shelter, and survival. If we aren't worrying, do we really love our kids? 

The devil tries to make us believe that. But Matthew lays it all out there quite plainly.  

“Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold* the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." (6: 25-34)

Being a mom is about the tiny, mundane moments we tend to take for granted. They're actually little building blocks that the Lord will use to create something strong and amazing. We can't look at the big picture and worry about it constantly because it's going to look scary sometimes...like we're never going to get there. I have to remember to let God carry the blueprints around. He knows my plans. (Jer. 29:11)

So here's my picture of me feeding my little girl what might possibly be one of her last bottles. Just a small moment...just another building block in our lives. It is a sentimental time, and she is growing faster than I want her to. I didn't see it for what it was with my first baby, but I want to remember the bonding we shared when I fed her. I want to remember the way she always put her hand on my face and how she always scratched her ear as she fell asleep. I want to remember feeling her weight in my lap and smell her sweet, clean, fresh-from-the-bath smell. I want to remember looking into those blue depths of her eyes. No one, no website, no book, no blog, no devil is going to tell me that I didn't give her and my son 100%, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with this picture. After all, it's just a picture of a slightly tired mom in a porch swing, feeding her baby on a hot June day. 

Kiddos, I know you won't remember the way I fed you when you were a baby. By the time you were walking, you were licking the toilet bowl when I wasn't looking, eating rocks, and nibbling on a lost, half-eaten, week old chicken nugget found between the couch cushions anyway, so what does it matter?

I know you won't remember that I let you sleep in your crib in your own room or that I bought your baby food or blended up cans of fruit instead of preparing you fresh. Are you going to let that bother you?

I know you won't remember what kind of clothes I put you in because half the time you didn't want to wear any at all anyway. 

I know you won't care how I finally got you to sleep all night in your own crib because well...sleep is the greatest gift of all, and giving it to you was a gift to me, too.  

I know you won't remember all the tears I've cried over you and the countless nights I worried if I was doing everything right, and for that I'm glad. 

But what I do hope you remember is simple. 

Did I make time for you? Did I believe in you? Did I teach you where you were, not where the world told me you should be? Did I challenge you and make you discover who you were? Did I give you new experiences that taught you more than a book ever could? Did I show you a godly love evocative of the Father's? Was I patient with you? Did I listen? Did I let you be silly and creative? Did I teach you how to be strong and determined? Did I teach you about faith and prayer? Did I teach you compassion?

Ladies, our babies are so much MORE than some experiences on a developmental checklist; they're people. And we are much more than just ordinary moms who can't possibly measure up to society's standards. 

Coming from a mom with two kiddos who are completely different, I can honestly tell you that since I've begun this motherhood journey, I've realized one thing: Giving God control is being in control. And as lost as we may feel sometimes, that's God calling on us, telling us that there's a story in what we're doing and he's the author if we allow him to be...a message and he's the narrator...an edifice of love and strength and power, and he's the architect, contractor, and construction crew, shaping us and creating a life worth living for him. 

One of my aunts who has lost a child told me the other day, "This is nothing. If I could go back to when they were little, I would in a heartbeat. These are the best years of your life."

You know, she's right? 

So when your little one is demanding to be picked up for the 100th time, keeps you up all night, throws up all over your car, spills a container of chocolate milk mix all over himself in your vehicle while you're on vacation and driving down the road, or runs off in one direction while your other one goes the other direction, GOD IS THERE. He's the only thing that will allow us to see the beauty through all the exhausted nights and busy days. 

To quote Wilson Phillips, "Hold on for one more day," mamas, because you're doing a good job. And your mothering style might not always look like the books' ideal version of a mother in 2017, but that's ok. 

It's all going to be alright. 

 

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What I Hope You Remember

When You Want to Give Up

It has been a year today since my dad had his stroke. Dad isn't 100% like we thought he would be last year....like we prayed so hard for him to become, and it hurts to say that. For those of you who have gotten to experience strokes first hand, you know how it changes a person. Some miraculously see no change, but for others, you lose a part of who you are, who you used to be, and you lose a part of your future. It can be a really disheartening change to your life.

The vision I get of my dad is a dad who lifted me up by the elbows when I was little girl, a dad who would swing me around and let me pile up on his lap, a dad who would get in the floor and wrestle with us after supper, a dad who worked with his hands, swam in the pool, and drove a truck for years. No, things weren't always easy, but I like to think on the good. I will never forget this dad; however, the devil tries to make me forget.

Five days after I had Caroline, I got a text message early that morning. I obviously wasn't sleeping much, so I remember looking at the phone for a second trying to figure out what indeed was going on. I was standing beside the bed, and I just remember my heart sinking. My dad was in a helicopter being rushed to UAB. I don't know what happened next. I don't even remember telling Heath. I just remember praying and thinking everything was going to be alright. Even as I saw my dad in the hospital bed later that evening, slurred speech, incapable of using his left side, my heart was still absent of fear. I did not doubt for a second that Dad would survive it, that he would be okay. I couldn't; I didn't have the strength. I refused to think the worst.

My mom and dad were away at rehab for almost two months, and I was incredibly selfish. I needed their help. I needed them to be there for me with the new baby, and it frustrated me that I couldn't be there for them in their time of need. I just kept believing that Dad was going to walk out of that building whole just like he had always been. I didn't want to think about the possibility of him not being the same, but as the months kept following each other, and I kept seeing that this stroke wasn't leaving my dad, I got scared. It started bothering me. I started letting it get to me. I started questioning God. I started losing my focus.

The devil tries to make me think that God isn't God sometimes, and that He still isn't the God of miracles. He reminds me that it has been a year and that Dad has only held Caroline with both arms just a few times in her life. He reminds me of the little things you wouldn't normally think about like washing your hands or playing peek-a-boo. He reminds me of a lot of things that I don't want to think about. He wants us to blame ourselves for the bad things that happen to us. He also wants us to blame God.

None of this surprises God. Did God cause it? No. Did He allow it? Yes. Will I ever understand why? No. Well, maybe. Even though the stroke didn't happen to me, it did. It happened to me. It changed my life, and it changed my mom's life, my family's life. It changed how my dad perceives the world, and it created a new level of strength that we all have to cling to each day. It fulfilled any loopholes or gaps in our faith. It closed up any loose ends we might have had in regards to what we take for granted. I view his stroke in a good and bad way because although I hate his stroke for changing him, it did make my mom and dad better. I've never been more proud of my dad than I am today. I know he tries to stay strong for us, and I know he has his weak moments, but I'm so proud of how he has been clinging to the Lord, choosing joy, and relying on a miracle of healing even now...a year later. Ten years ago, I couldn't say that. And mom, who has lost her dad, her sister, and has gone on countless journeys with me and my brother, has become one of the strongest women I know.

Because of Sin We Have Grace

I talked with my Sunday school kids recently about how we as humans constantly chase a state of control, bliss, and perfection. We wholeheartedly think it's achievable. We naively think it's possible. We base our whole lives with the expectation that we are going to be happy, and that everything is going to go smoothly, but when something goes wrong, we search and search for a way to get back to that state of bliss. Most of the time, we're searching in all the wrong places. We think we deserve it. We think that since we're Christians or that we're good people, good things should naturally come to us, but the Bible says in Ecclesiastes 7:20 and Romans 3:23 that no one goes without sin, and since the fall of man and sin's introduction into this world, the perils of life are going to attack us. But there's hope in this.

Because of the creation of sin (or sin's aftermath: death, disease, destruction, pain, and suffering), God's glory can be seen. From the fall of man we have sin, pain, and heartache, but because it exists, God's majesty is made manifest. I read a beautiful, anonymous quote the other day:

"Sin doesn't slam the door on God's blessings; it opens the gate for his grace."

How true is this? When we're floating through life thinking it's all about us, how wrong we are!

Let me introduce you to a man from the Bible. He was born in a barn and clothed in rags. He was persecuted for helping people. He had temptations and emotions. He was a real human being who never got the fame and fortune he deserved while He lived. He was beaten and murdered in a slow, painful way. His killers tried to take away his dignity. They mocked him and made fun of him.

Sound familiar?

Was Jesus' life easy? Was He a king who lounged on cushions all day, ate the best food, wore cloth of gold, or wore a crown of jewels? Did he make millions or publish twenty books? Did he have three degrees? Did he live in a castle?

Why then must we think our lives should ever be any better than Jesus's? Why must we be surprised when we go through hardships, tests, temptations, or spiritual persecution? Why do we think we can't be tested if Jesus himself was tempted by the devil himself? Why do we think we can go without needing God if Jesus himself had to pray?

Contemplating on the life of Jesus has brought me a lot of strength lately, and I hope you can find strength through him today, too.

I know there are a lot of you battling with something today, or maybe you're simply waiting on a miracle from God like I am with my dad. I don't know if it's because my son's name being Isaac that I love the story of Abraham so much, but if you ever need an illustration on faith, Abraham is your man. Most of you know the story. In Genesis 22 God commands Abraham to slay his son as a sacrifice in the land of Moriah. I'm assuming this was a long journey because it says on the third day that he found the place in which he was to use as the place for sacrifice.

"And they came to the place which God had told him of; and Abraham built an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood. And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son. And the angel of the Lord called unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham: and he said, Here am I. And he said, Lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou any thing unto him: for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me. And Abraham lifted up his eyes, and looked, and behold behind him a ram caught in a thicket by his horns: and Abraham went and took the ram, and offered him up for a burnt offering in the stead of his son. (Genesis 22:9-13)

Can you imagine contemplating on this for three days after God had previously told you that you would have a son (at his old age), and that he would be the father of many nations? Can you imagine his confusion, his fear? Can you imagine having to go through something like this with your child? Would we have trusted God like Abraham did?

I believe that this story is for all of us today, all of us struggling with life and the way it has played its devilish hand in our families. I believe that this story illustrates that NOTHING IS TOO BIG for God to take care of. We shouldn't be surprised when we go through a difficult situation, but we should never doubt what God can do with it.

Dad is different, sure. But I'm proud of who he is and how he has handled this situation. I'm proud of how he has used his circumstances to glorify the Lord. I know it is hard for him, but I'm proud of how he sees his blessings more vividly now. We all need a dose of this.

Ladies, I hope and pray that you will work alongside me this week by waiting, praying, expecting, and trusting for our rams in the thicket. I love this verse: "There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it." 1 Corinthians 10:13 

God knows what we're going through today. I'm praying for a miracle for my Dad, and I hope you will begin to pray with me for your miracle that you're hoping and praying for, too 

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When You Want to Give Up

One Day, You'll See: A Letter to My Little Girl on Mother's Day

Caroline,

I'm blessed to call you mine. Your presence completes our family. Before you got here, our lives weren't near as enriched as they are now. Your smile, each laugh, each new word...I feel like each and every single thing you do is a gift from God, and I'm soaking it up because I know this stage is short lived. You'll begin to develop your own little personality soon enough, and we will have our moments. Just wait. You'll see.

But for now, I'm the person you love the most. I am there to pick you up when you bump your head and kiss away your tears. I am there to teach you how to take your first steps and to make you laugh with all your might. I am there to rock you to sleep and comfort you when you're scared. I'm there to feed you your first foods and get you ready for the day.

But one day, things will change. One day, you'll see.

One day, I won't know everything anymore. I won't always be the answer to your every need. I won't be the first person you want to tell your secrets to. My jokes won't be funny anymore. One day, you'll search for your independence in the strangest of ways. One day, we might not understand each other too well. One day, you might shut me out. One day, you won't need me as much. You'll see.

One day, you'll say, "I'm ok," while you slip to the bathroom to cry. One day you will let go of my hand, and give it to someone else. One day you won't need me to help you get to sleep, and you won't ever admit that you're scared or lonely. One day, you might question everything you know, and your friends will give you more advice than you allow me to. You'll even start to question what a real friend is. We'll probably fuss over what you're wearing as you rush out of the house. One day, you'll see.

One day, you'll hate how you look. You'll get your feelings hurt, and you'll wonder what God's purpose is for your life. One day, you'll feel like you're not good enough. People will make you cry, and you'll beat yourself up. One day, the devil will try to convince you that God isn't real, God doesn't love you, and that you don't belong. He'll say that you're not smart, not pretty, not funny, not talented enough. He will tell you that your mistakes aren't forgivable. One day, you might even start to believe him. You'll see.

But one day, you'll learn.

One day, you'll need me again. You might even call me ten times a day. You'll see that I am just a regular person and that I make mistakes just like everyone else. One day, you'll call me just because. You'll cry on my shoulder because life isn't happening exactly like you thought it would. You'll see me as an equal, a friend. One day, you'll ask me to go everywhere with you. You'll text me before you go to sleep, and you'll reveal every fear you have. One day, you will want to share clothes, and you'll buy me lunch. One day, you'll understand how much I love you. One day, you'll see.

One day, you’ll see that the things that once made you "different" are now the things that make you unique and original. You'll learn that it's better to be yourself than who you think people want you to  be. You'll learn that compassion is the greatest gift you can give anyone…that the most intelligent person in the world is the person who knows there's so much more left to learn. One day, you'll surprise yourself. One day, you'll see.

And one precious day, I pray, you'll discover who you are in Christ. You'll see that it's an ongoing honor--a humble journey--to be one of His. One day, you'll learn to feel comfortable in your own skin. You'll cut yourself some slack and give yourself some grace. One day, you'll smile at the things that used to consume your mind, worrying you until you couldn't sleep. One day, you'll warm up to this thing called life and realize that it's not all about us. It's not about us at all. One day, you'll see that God's love will never give up on you. One day, hopefully sooner than later, you'll see.

But one day when you’re older, you'll be beside yourself in diapers, laundry, and dishes. You'll have arguments with your husband, and the devil will make you feel resentful. You'll lash out at your kids and then feel sick about it afterwards. You'll feel like you'll never measure up to the ideal perfect mother. You'll be more exhausted than you've ever been before in your life. And at night when the devil tries to prey on your mind, he will make you doubt your love and you'll question if you're making a mess of everything. You'll beg, "Why is this so hard, God? I feel like I can't get it all done. How am I supposed to be a good mom, a light for you, shining bright for all to see, when my lamp has nothing left in it to burn?"

And then you'll remember my words that my mama told me all those years ago: "You're doing a good job. You'll miss these days. You will. Just give it time. It's going to get better. Lean on God’s grace. One day, you'll see."

I love you, Caroline. I might not always be around to experience every milestone or see every dream fulfilled, but know this: I pray these words will follow you wherever you go. Always allow the Lord to give you strength. Keep your heart clean and spirit renewed, and never forget that you are fearfully and wonderfully made.

-Mama

But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. Isaiah 40:31

Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Psalms 51:10

I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. Psalms 137:14

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One Day, You'll See: A Letter to My Little Girl on Mother's Day

Guest Post with Cortney Elrod McKinney: God's Plans, Not Mine

I am a planner….I am one of those people who has had my whole life planned out for years: finish college, get a job, get my master’s degree, get married by twenty-five, be finished having children by thirty, and so on. Some of those things went according to plan, but others did not. Sometimes I think the Lord allows us to go through different situations to give us a wakeup call or teach us an important lesson….in my case to truly accept that He is in control, and I am not. The wonderful thing is his plans are greater than the plans I have ever had or will ever have for myself.

How awesome is that?

As awesome as that is, His plans are not always easy. The beginning of my plans came to fruition: I graduated from college with honors, easily landed a job in a wonderful school system, and obtained my master’s degree quickly in a year before getting married at age twenty-five to my high school sweetheart, Brett. Within a year or so, we had the desire to begin having children. We always said we wanted two or three kids. I assumed that would be an easy process once we made the decision, but I was slightly mistaken. I got pregnant quickly but miscarried at nine weeks which was devastating. Miscarriage is something that only mothers who have miscarried truly understand because you already have a special bond with that baby no matter the size or age. After the loss, I had to wait a few months before we could think about having a baby again to allow my body to heal from surgery. Finally, I received the positive pregnancy test and thankfully had a healthy pregnancy and delivery of our sweet Alexa on September 10, 2012.

Fast forward a couple of years, and Brett and I started having the desire for more children. I never dreamed our desire would lead us on our most recent journey. After months of trying to get pregnant, trying various medications, and several trips to my regular obstetrician, I was transferred to an infertility specialist. My specialist unknowingly ended up being a best friend of my brother-in-law’s. That’s just how God works! Of course, I checked out young and healthy….no known cause of infertility. I tried a series of expensive medications which also didn’t work, so the next step was more extensive treatment and an IUI procedure. My body actually was overstimulated by the treatments which resulted in large cysts and a failed procedure. Due to the cysts, I had to take a break from fertility treatments. I was devastated and frustrated after putting thousands of dollars into treatments that had failed.  During this time, Brett and I questioned ourselves, our doctors, and God. Was it meant for us to have more children? Were we trying too hard? Were we trying to make something happen that was not meant to be?

 After my body healed, we told our doctors we financially could not continue trying medications and procedures just to fail. We were strongly encouraged to do IVF at that point to increase the chances for pregnancy. IVF was really my only hope to get pregnant unless the Lord intervened another way. Of course, I left crying, and our initial reaction was we can’t afford it. In reality, we could not afford it, but God could.  It is amazing how He works everything according to His will and in perfect timing. He provided for us financially more that year than ever! I had prayed for many years to get a job closer to home and closer to my children. Out of nowhere, I quickly received a job opportunity to go to a larger school system that greatly increased my salary. My husband and I got frustrated on many occasions with his business, but God would end up blessing us more than we needed. I could go on and on about how the Lord provided the impossible, but that is just how great He is!

We decided to try IVF one time…that was all we could possibly afford, plus I just needed to try it once to have peace of mind that I had tried everything within my power to have more children. After many rounds of medications, shots in my stomach, surgical procedures and an emotional roller coaster ride, I got the answered prayer I had longed for. I had a positive pregnancy test!

My doctor had told me there was only a thirty percent chance I would carry twins, so we were in shock when there were two. My percentage to carry both babies increased with each visit until we could finally announce we were having twins! Of course, we were ecstatic, scared, and in shock! I had prayed so hard for just one more child to go with Alexa, but the Lord had different plans. He was giving us more than we ever thought about or ask for! For our Valentine’s date, Brett and I snuck away, thanks to a sweet friend, and found out we were having boys! I will be honest…I did not know whether to laugh or cry! Baby A was not very cooperative, but Baby B was definitely a boy! She was pretty positive I was carrying two boys. I was definitely in shock…mainly because my toddler had been saying for two years we were going to have a baby boy and baby girl. Plus, my entire family is mainly girls! God definitely has a sense of humor for sure giving this girly girl two boys!

The weeks quickly passed and went pretty smoothly up until my twenty-week ultrasound. We found out then there was an issue in the boys’ growth; their femurs were short. My regular obstetrician assured me they were likely fine, but he wanted to send me to a specialist to be monitored closely especially since I was carrying multiples. Of course, I was scared to death and began doing my own research which is never a good idea! In the meantime, I was also having issues with high blood pressure which led to the diagnosis of preeclampsia early on. Our first visit and the multiple visits in the future with the specialist were always very disturbing. The boys were growth restricted due to my preeclampsia, and Baby B was getting more nutrition than Baby A. We were told the babies would likely come early….there would come a time when the babies would be safer and would grow more outside of the womb.

My blood pressure continued to be out of control which led to numerous hospital visits to be monitored and eventually led to hospitalization until delivery. I was hospitalized when I was around 24 weeks pregnant, and the news continued to get darker so I was put on blood pressure medication and continuous monitoring of the babies. Since Baby A was not progressing as Baby B, Baby B was monitored routinely while Baby A was monitored less frequently. The doctors all agreed that was best in case Baby A got into distress and sent me into an emergency delivery. They wanted to increase their survival chances and leave them in as long as they could. Each time the nurses came in to monitor was very stressful. We were tense the entire time, hoping there would be two heartbeats. After being in the hospital a few weeks, my blood pressure was outrageous one night when the nurse came to check. I had to be rushed to labor and delivery to be closely monitored.

They started preparations for delivery just in case my health or the babies’ health prompted an emergency delivery. We received even grimmer news as they performed a final ultrasound to see what the babies looked like and how they were positioned. Baby A was unable to move due to loss of amniotic fluid and was barely moving his mouth. Baby B was still okay. The doctor gave us an ultimatum….either we deliver to try to save Baby A and put Baby B at risk or postpone delivery as long as possible to allow Baby B to grow more. The doctor did not think Baby A would survive and gave him a less than 5 percent chance of survival while giving Baby B a less than 50 percent chance.  Brett and I were both devastated and upset at the thoughts of having such a decision placed in our hands. I cried and told them I wanted what was best for both of my babies. They had already told us numerous times that their goal was for me to leave the hospital with one healthy baby, but I never wanted to accept that. The Lord had blessed me with two miracles, and I wanted to carry them both home. I decided that night not to do an emergency delivery and take the last round of steroids to benefit both babies. I thought it was the last possible thing I could do for both of them as their mommy, and the Lord gave me peace in doing that. This also gave us more time before having to do an emergency delivery.

Within a couple of days, the Lord took this heavy burden off of our shoulders and into his hands. My blood pressure skyrocketed again for several hours to the point that it put me at risk. There was nothing else for them to do but deliver. We were scared but relieved that the Lord made the decision for us and caused me to deliver in His time. He planned for my boys to be delivered when I was exactly 29 weeks, which is the exact period of time I had to keep them in the womb for survival. Brett and I went into delivery nervous, scared, and mentally preparing for a stillbirth for Baby A. My doctors began the c-section, and we soon heard cries, not one but two. I was in complete shock! Brett said he will never forget the look on my face. God had prevailed! I had two crying babies!

Baby A (Dallas) weighed one pound and one ounce, and Baby B (Dax) weighed one pound and thirteen ounces. They were both ten inches long. There is no way to describe how tiny they were! Dallas had to reach the one pound mark to survive due to equipment being tiny enough to use on him. He had also been given a less than five percent chance of survival, but he breathed his first week of life on his own which was amazing! Dax had to have immediate support after birth but did very well later on. Since Dallas did breathe so well on his own the first week, it actually caused him problems later on. He ended up having many complications with his breathing and feeding intolerance which also affected his growth. He stayed in the NICU 180 long days and came home at five pounds. He is now a little over ten pounds, still on a little oxygen support but has come so far. He is such a happy baby with the sweetest smile yet very feisty with a temper which is a big reason he has survived and has done so well. He was known in the NICU as “a little pistol.”

Dax, who had a less than fifty percent chance of survival, has done very well! He stayed in the NICU 100 days and has grown so fast! He also weighed over five pounds when he came home, but he now weighs over fifteen. He has several teeth, loves to eat, and is getting more mobile. He is a sweet, spoiled baby since he came home first and usually requires more attention than his little brother.

It is truly amazing how far they have come since the beginning! We watched God work miracles right before our eyes, and there is no other way to explain them other than it was Him. I don’t know why we have had to endure these circumstances, but I do know the Lord has a plan. His plans are better than my plans. His ways are greater than my ways. I know he has an ultimate plan and purpose for my two miracle babies. I look forward to watching them grow and follow the plans he has for them. God is so good, and we will forever be grateful for the work he has done and continues to do in our lives! Our sweet little guys will celebrate their first birthday May 11, 2017 even though they are only really nine months old gestation.

One of the verses I have held on to during these difficult times is Jeremiah 29:11, “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.” No matter what you are going through: miscarriage, infertility, financial hardships, uncertainty about the future, making plans for your life..etc., do know the Lord is holding you in his hands. His plans and his ways are greater than anything you could ever dream for yourself. He will make a way when there seems to be no way. Let him guide the way.

God bless!

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Guest Post with Cortney Elrod McKinney: God's Plans, Not Mine

Sentimental Mom Post: What I've Learned So Far

First of all, let me break through the fourth wall here and talk to you one on one. This is a sentimental month for me, so get ready for a mega dose of sentimental mom posts on my behalf. I also have two wonderful ladies who are going to share their stories this month, and I honestly cannot wait for you to be blessed with their words and their personal journeys. You are going to be blessed. I just know.

First of all, I want to share a little about this blog and how it originated. Before I started it, I began noticing a trend on social media. I sensed this vibe that women were hungry to read posts that depicted ordinary women, being ordinary moms, going through ordinary problems. Women were craving honest-to-goodness posts that talked about the hard stuff. In a world of easy, why are things so hard? You've probably seen this, too. You've probably even clicked on a few posts. 

God laid this desire upon my heart, and thus, Count It All Joy was born.

Y'all, my generation...we simply have too many choices. My maw maw reminds me that life was really hard in her younger days, but the hard stuff made things easy. You didn't worry about getting a birthday board for your child or matching outfits. You didn't worry about eating grass-fed beef. You ate what came out of the pasture. My generation, however, has it hard because we have too many choices...too many resources. Everything is just too easy...too available. 

If you'll look around, there's a war going on...a war against time and where we're moving...a war inside every woman's heart. I find a lot of women are longing to go back to when things were hard because they were simple...things like having big families, cooking healthy meals for an army, taking care of animals and the land, and just taking care of your home...simple things you just don't see much of anymore. However, within those same women is a sense of reality we've grown very comfortable with...things like technology, vehicles, supermarkets, and just the pleasures of this world. We appreciate the drive-thrus when we have to be on the road for all our various errands and to-dos. We stalk Pinterest for birthday party ideas. We order it all on Amazon with two-day shipping. We have it all at our finger tips. Anything we want to know, or anything we want to buy is ours. We don't want to give up the easy, but man, we've made life so hard.

We women are split. Balance, a word we learned in elementary school, seems so foreign now. With its cult-like mentality, our culture says "It's all or nothing." You're either a good mom or you're not. And sadly, some of us start believing this lie. There are some women, particularly mothers, who feel like we are split in two: the woman we show to the world and the woman we truly are. Never before has the difference been so drastic. 

I might be waxing poetic here, but how can you miss something you never had? How can you miss a way of life that you've never experienced? 

We long for an easier, simpler life. I think that's why we click on the mom posts. It might be why you're reading this right now. I believe that's God calling us, telling us to slow down. I think that our genes are calling for us to remember a simpler path when all we had to worry about was survival and being together. 

Our culture, the bully that it is, is pulling us in two directions. If we aren't eating organic, do we really love our kids? If our kids aren't reciting their multiplication tables at four, have we taught them anything? Have we prepared them for college? Kids are supposed to make their own choices, dress like little adults, and grow into adulthood before they're in high-school, yet our culture is obsessed with youth and discounts our worth as we age. It doesn't even make sense.

Our culture is a bully, and it doesn't have plans of redeeming itself.

My kids are still little, and I'm just now about to approach 31. I don't have all the answers, but each time a woman shares her story on this blog, there's a woman out there who may be living in a state of depression, anxiety, or disillusionment who will come away blessed, refreshed, and moved by the words she read. 

Please keep praying for this blog so that people will be blessed by these amazing women who give up themselves to share their personal stories and testimonies with each and every one of you. 

"Commit thy works unto the Lord, and thy thoughts shall be established. Proverbs 16:3"

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Sentimental Mom Post: What I've Learned So Far

The Love Letter Project: It Starts with Us

I am a sentimental teacher. I believe that elementary teachers do a wonderful job with their kids by making mementos for moms and dads to hold onto for years and years, and that's so precious. I can't wait for that kind of thing as my kids get older. However, in the high-school world, this idea sort of dissolves into ACT scores, resumes, scholarship applications, and extracurricular practices. Kids get too busy, the parents get overwhelmed with life, and the teachers are expected to teach everything the students will need to survive in this crazy world. High school is a dog-eat-dog world. We as teachers in general witness our students go through all kinds of things. Some kids have moved in and out with different people their whole lives. I see different kids who have never had anyone to care about them. I see kids who feel pressured to be perfect because everyone expects it out of them. I see a lot. I see a lot of things I wish I never had to see. I see a lot of stuff I didn't see when I was in high school myself.

The truth is, we had no clue about each other. If I could go back for just one day, I would know. It's 2017, but our worlds were probably so very similar. Some of the kids in our school probably had an entirely different childhood experience that we never knew anything about. There were probably kids who didn't know where their parents were, kids who went without meals, kids who got yelled at all night, kids who came home to no one, kids who felt unloved, and we had no idea. We had no idea on earth what each other was going through.

God laid it upon my heart to do my best to change that for my tenth graders. I've taught these kids for two years. I've been a part of their lives from age 14-16, and I think you all can agree with me that these two years are two of the most crucial years for a teenager. They make a lot of choices within these two years, and most of those choices are based on what other people want or expect. Instilling within these kids some confidence is what I strive to do every day, so a lot of my lessons are centered around choices and self-discovery. It's now or never. Some of their choices will affect them for the rest of their lives. Some decisions lead to other bad decisions, and it spirals out of control, often times leaving kids feeling so alone and isolated, so out of touch with any sort of redemption, that they give up entirely. Some kids feel so ridiculously different, like they'll never measure up, that they don't see an end to the race. For some kids, they don't see a finish line. For some kids, they don't see an end.

Love begins with us. We can talk about bullying, suicide, and drug use all day long, but until our kids feel loved and secure, until they feel valued and respected, until they have an inkling as to what their neighbor is going through, they will never feel confident enough to stand up for themselves and make good decisions. How do you make a kid who has never been respected or loved sit still in your class, complete his assignments, treat others with respect, all while smiling as he works? It's just about impossible, but it starts with us. There are some days when I want to give up with some kids and lose my cool. There are days where I question what God called me to do. Hey, don't we all? How I react--in love or in hate--might make or break the situation, though. It might change it all. I believe God can work through us like that, do you?

I call it the Love Letter Project.

All kids were to go home and type out a message in black ink, 12 point, Times New Roman font. They were to write around a half of a page on their dreams, insecurities, fears, doubts, anxieties, and regrets. They were to add only what they felt comfortable including, and they were not to add anything that would share who they were. It was to be completely anonymous. I explained to them prior that the kids would discreetly place them in a pile, and I would mix them up just to prove no one would know who they were. I numbered each letter, and I began passing them out. Each student had a tally sheet with the number of letters I had, and as they read a letter, they would mark it off their sheet so they would know whose they hadn't read. Each time they read a letter, they would write a message to leave with that student. After two days, I put all the letters in order on the table, and as they left class, they grabbed their letters (because they eventually figured out the letter that was theirs) and were able to read the comments.

When we completed this assignment, I marveled at my kids. I truly felt like they grew three inches and began floating off the ground. I could see it in their eyes that they were witnessing something special, and I was so proud of them. They loved it, and I can't help but think of all the kids it touched in my classes. After it was over, and I asked them what they thought about it, their eyes lit up. They said things like...

• "I never knew other kids were going through the same things as I was."
• "I just can't believe what some kids in this room are facing each day." 
• "Everyone just puts on a happy face, but we're all in the same boat together."

We can teach grammar, poetry, and literature all day long, but until these kids feel valuable, they will look for validation in all the wrong places. I'm sure that if you look deeply enough, you know this to be true somewhat in your own life. We can all relate!

It truly starts with love and realizing that you never know what someone is going through. Teaching love is crucial to combat this sinful world. If I teach my kiddos anything, I hope it's how to love and respect each other.

I hope this brightened up your news feeds today. Teenagers get a bad rap, but there is good in them.

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The Love Letter Project: It Starts with Us