Goodbye Happy Tuesdays!

We have had a tradition in our home, called "Happy Tuesdays."  Tuesday is the day of the week where the whole day usually has no plans.  Just Mama home with the babies.  Enjoying fun things, playing together, going on outings, making crafts, doing something outside.  Just laid back fun.  No pressure, no agenda.  

Tomorrow starts the beginning of a whole new season in our lives.  Tomorrow I start working full-time.  My feelings are mixed.  We've been planning for the change for a few months now, so nothing abrupt or hasty.  Up to this point my hours have been slim, initially when Marshal was born I only worked Fridays, then as the boys have been born, grown, my hours have been slowly increasing, until LAST week I worked my last part-time week of 16 hours.  

I've never been a full-time SAHM.  But my time has always be MOSTLY at home.  I've been quite outspoken about how important that is.  In fact I idealized it and maybe even idolized  it a tad.  Maybe wore it as a bit of a parenthood badge, and if I'm REALLY honest was even a little judgmental of people who's lives weren't set up that way.   Well isn't it just like God to shake up our ideals that rely on ourselves instead of Him.  

So here we are, now feeling that God is leading us into a new season where I'm working more.  And most days I'm very excited about the change.  However, some days I have a little bit of a heavy heart.  So in remembrance of "Happy Tuesdays" I wanted to wallow, just for one post, on the beauty that has been in the season up until now, or well, tomorrow.   Sappy I know, but once again I'm pulling the my blog/my party/I'll-cry-if-I-want-to card.  And then I'll move on.  Move on with the amazing things that are ahead.  The amazing season we're stepping into. 

So here are some pictures of things I'll miss from Happy Tuesdays:

Spending the day in yoga pants.

Dropping off Marshal at preschool and going on a coffee-date with THIS handsome boy.

Playing for hours (literally) at our favorite park.

 Seeing THIS happy face when I pick him up at school.

Crafts.

Naps.

Sleepy swings.

I love my boys.  Oh man do I ever.  So I'm remembering the season of part-time with joy and thankfulness.  But I'm also looking ahead with joy and thankfulness.  I'm thankful for my sweet boys.  I'm thankful for Miss Jodi, who loves and cares for my boys so deeply.  I'm thankful for my church, where my husband works a flexible schedule, and is able to pick up Marshal from school, and have Fridays/Saturdays off.  I'm thankful for my dad (Papa) who also faithfully spends time weekly with the boys... all three kids under four, yes he is amazing.  I'm thankful for an education that has helped me find a ridiculously amazing job.  I'm thankful for a job like no other - in an economy like no other.  I'm thankful for the things we've learned, in the seasons we've lived.  I don't take a day for granted.  (Pictures from our last "Happy Tuesday.")

And starting this week we will be having "HAPPY FRIDAYS"  instead.   

Men Someday

I had a realization the other day as I was holding a jammied Marshal.  Right now he is so cuddly.  And he adores his Mama.  We could snuggle all day.  He was up on my lap with his legs to his chest and playing with my hair.  Suddenly I started thinking about how big he's getting, how he hardly fits.  And I asked him, "Marshal, will you still let me hold you when you're six feet tall?"  To which he answered, "Yes Mama, I PROMISE."  As if that wasn't enough to make this already hormonal Mama cry, I then realized that this little boy I was holding will someday be... a man.   Uh - I will someday be the Mama of three... men.  This startled me quite a bit.  I love being a boy mom, will I love being a man mom?  I sure hope so.

First Day of Preschool

Oh Marshy Jay.  You steal my heart in so many ways.

You started preschool this week.  And you LOVE it.  My emotions are split in half.  I'm proud of you, you're so grown up - and SWEET.  But at the same time I'm realizing we are entering a season of school-age.  No longer are you my baby, or even my toddler.  I'm determined not to mourn the change, because after all, you are destined to grow and thrive... that's the way it works.  But, for a few small moments - laying in my bed the night before your first day; my quick walk to the car after leaving you in your classroom; and this blog post - I'll relish a bit of a broken heart with misty eyes. 

You are tender-hearted, fun, and full of love.  You are smart, and I can't wait to see you learn and grow.  

I love you.  Muchly.  

(Miss Gresham is your teacher - and you the only boy in a class of all girls... you are in HEAVEN!)

The Guilt of It All

I feel guilty a lot. 


Some recents:
My kids eat McDonalds, even Taco Bell. 
Today I let Mason eat a bagel off the hotel carpet. 
I shouldn't be so rushed all the time. 
I should let them just be boys. 
Do I let them watch too much TV? 
(Even as I'm typing this I want to justify my actions to you...
including that it was a very clean hotel.) 
I don't buy organic.
I only recycle because it means I can empty my trash less. 
I shop at Wal-Mart. 
I don't like to cook. 
My house isn't nearly as clean as hers. 
I work part-time, which means I'm not a "real" SAHM. 
Do I read enough to them?
I'm not really crafty.
Is ministry taking too much time away from family?
Is family keeping me from ministry?
My minivan has goldfish and cheerios on the floor.
And that's just the beginning of the MOTHERING guilt...


Then add all the OTHER guilt that gets heaped on as a bonus:
I'm too inpatient with my husband.
I take my husband for grantid.
I haven't worked out since 2007.
Do I have a hobby?
I lose my keys every-other day.
I should be more organized.
I don't ever iron.
My husband folds most of the laundry.
I pay to have my house cleaned once a month.
My back yard has lots of weeds.


I have so much student loan debt (also since 2007...)
We've foreclosed a home.
Short-sold a home.
Foreclosed on our dream lot.
Had a truck re-possessed.


It's a lot of work feeling this guilty all the time.  I remember my SIL Amy encouraging me once as I (literally) cried to her on the phone.  She said, "Jessie, you need to cut yourself some slack."  That was good advice.
And while I try, I also try to remember this:

• There is no condemnation for me, because I am in Christ. (Rom 8:1)
• Guilt is banished through love and truth. (Pr 16:6)
• God's mercy for my is new every morning. (Lam 3:23)
• If I'm content to simply be myself, my life will count for plenty. (Mt 23:12)
• Body and soul, I am marvelously made. (Ps 139)
• I am God's masterpiece, He has made me new in Christ Jesus, so I can do the things He planned for me long ago. (Eph 2:10)
• Everything God created is good and to be received with thanks. (1 Tim 4:4)
• I'm the clay, God is the potter.  I am what He made me to be.  (Is 64:8)

I also have found out that a lot of my guilt is based on what I presume are other people's opinions of me. 
So I also try to remember this:

• If my goal was popularity, I wouldn't bother being Christ's slave. (Gal 1:10)
• Don't be selfish, don't try to impress others. (Phil 2:3)
• God pays no attention to what others say (or what I think) about me.  (Rom 2:11)
• It is better for me to take refuge in God, than to trust in people.  (Ps 118:8)

Maybe guilt just comes with the Mama territory.
But I'm still going to fight it.
So today. 
Love. 
Serve. 
Have joy. 
Be thankful. 
That's enough, and good enough for me.


Inspired by this post.

Vacation Bible School

Some memories of my own childhood are so sweet.  One of those memories is Vacation Bible School (VBS).  I remember it being at the Methodist church in Williams, AZ - a beautiful, old, and seemingly HUGE  building with secret passages, lots of stairs, and even more adventures.  I can still remember the layout, smell, the walls, the teachers, the songs.  All wonderful.

This Summer my little Marshal Jay got to go to his first VBS.  Oh.  So.  Precious.  The day above was Christmas-Day at VBS, hence the red and green.  I love his little BGMC Buddy Barrell.  He loves missionaries.  He prays for  them every night.

Memories in the making.

What a day to remember...

Friends and Providers (Left to Right):

Stephanie Purinton, Certified Nurse Midwife

Angela Alexander, Family Nurse Pracitioner

Me, Family Nurse Practitioner 

(and the little baby M on the inside)

Yesterday CCA hosted it's second free medical clinic - this time to Cornville.  As you can see, it's currently after 4 am. I'm WIRED and unable to sleep, so what's one to do? Blog to savor the day, of course!  

Over 50 workers: MDs, NPs (and Midwife), EMTs, PTs, RNs, CNAs, dentists, hygienists, eye specialists, parking attendants, greeters, cooks, hospitality workers, pastors, children's workers... wow.  We treated between 85-100 patients in 5 hours.  

Workers worked so hard.  

Served with joy.  

People were touched. 

Side note, if that isn't the work of Jesus I'm not sure what is.

What a wonderful day. 

The Detour

Here it is, 12:44 am on Christmas Eve morning. I can't sleep, which is extremely rare for this sleep-deprived, sleep-loving mama.  Christmas excitement, you ask? In a way I guess.  This Christmas season has been one of COMPLETE and udder wonder for me.  Partly I think because my sweet M boys are at an age (especially Marshal) where they are starting to understand what's going on.  Marshal loves naming baby Jesus, and Mawy.  But even more, this has been a season of great peace.  Peace that surpasses my understanding in a lot of ways. We have a lot less.  We've lost a lot this year.  But when I think of what we have - I'm in awe.

Today, er, yesterday -  my husband ended up in the ER with a spine complication (LONG STORY).  My husband.  My strong, hard-working, do anything to protect, provider, husband... was very compromised and helplessly in pain. I sat next to his ER stretcher contemplating life and death.  Call me melodramatic, but it doesn't help that he said, "If I die, make sure you remarry." Side note, for some reason that totally cracks me up.  He ended up having a relatively simple procedure, had near-immediate relief, and now is on bed-rest flat on his back for 48 hours.

I'm grateful.  Understatement.  I'll take a Christmas Eve and Christmas on our king-sized bed or couch any-day.  We are all here, and we are together.

So, back to the point.  Somehow, on this Christmas Eve 2010 - with my husband flat on his back and me sleepless - my heart is overflowing with joy.  My eyes are not moist from sorrow.  Quite the opposite.  I have so much to be thankful for.  Peace, namely.  Family.  Provision.  Redemption.  Health. Financial Peace. Reconciliation. To name a few. 

It's funny how God works.  I'm such a planner.  (Planner is a harsh word, I prefer "organized dreamer" - ha.) Sometimes, in the grand scheme of God's plan for my life, I like to take control of my dreams. You know, hang on to them REAL tight.  I like to try to force them into fruition, usually my way.  But this is what I'm learning: God wants to see my dreams realized even more than I do.  In fact - His dreams for me encompass my destiny.  But at times I have to be redirected.  A detour, so to speak.  A detour that re-aligns my plans within the more perfect plans He has for me.  (Come to think of it, Mary had a bit of a detour too - and look how marvelous that turned out.)  These detours force me to once again place my trust, dependence, and yes even control - back into His hands.  I guess that's what He means when He says He knows the plans He has for me, and works all things for my good.

Moral of the story? Today? This year?
Even when things seem most hopeless.
Even when situations seem un-redeemable.
Even when dreams seem deflated or dashed.
Nothing is impossible with Him.

I'm telling you - I've seen it with my own eyes.
My heart has been healed by this very message.
Things may not happen my way.
I'm okay with that.
Because as I sit here in the quiet of my little home,
I can see from the depths of my soul - there is peace.

What a beautiful message on Christmas Eve.
Peace.
Thank you Jesus.





PICTURES:

We started a new tradition for advent.  We write on a paper ornament what each member of the family is thankful for, each day of December through Christmas.  Marshal's answers surround Mama and Dada most days.  Since Mason doesn't talk yet we embellish his a bit.  After all is said and done, the rope gets stored away for next year to decorate the tree with.

This year's Christmas tree makes me giggle.  It is a little Charlie Brown tree that was given to us our first year of marriage.  We love that ugly little tree.  It reminds us of humble beginnings.  And humble detours.  It sits on our kitchen island, which in this picture is also housing the diaper bag, and a grocery sack of peed-on-little-boy-underwear. There's real life for ya.  If you look closely, the reindeer craft on the left is missing an eye.  I imagine it will pass in Mason's diaper any day now.

"Small house, great peace" - self explanatory.

I love you. Merry Christmas.

A Letter to my M&Ms (Blue&Brown)

Hi Sweet M Boys -

Tonight it is quiet.  You are both sleeping, Marsh you're in our bed, Maso in the crib.  As I sit with hands positioned on the keyboard I search for words to describe tonight, and my heart.

Right now you are both so little.  I want you to know - you make life wonderful.  The joy and fulfillment you bring to our family is beyond anything I could have dreamed.  I am so proud of you.   

I want to be the best mama for you.  I want to be consistent, fun, wise, silly, humble, and approachable. But I make a lot of mistakes.  I'm going to make LOTS more.  Please forgive me.  Right now in life we are learning so much.  We are learning that stuff isn't what makes us happy.  We're learning that it's okay to prioritize family, even in a society where that foundation is crumbling.  

My heart is to protect you.  Oh how my heart wants to shield and guard you.  Babies, this world is hard.   It sometimes brings heartache and pain.  I won't be able to always be with you, I won't be able to always comfort you, and I won't be able to keep you from hurting.   This reality makes me want to hold you tightly, worry, and control.  

But you know what? 
As much as I like to think you're MINE, you're really not.  
As much as I think I love you, Someone loves you MORE.   
That One knows your stories from beginning to end.  
That One knows how to comfort you better than I do.
That One is with you even when me and Daddy can't be.  
That One will never leave you.  

So tonight I remember.  
I remember to not hold you too tightly.  
Oh, I'll take care of you with everything that is in me.  
I'll cherish every memory you make, everyday.  
But I'll remember that you are HIS before you are mine. 

I love you sweet baby M&Ms.  Know Jesus, okay? 
He's completely trustworthy, 
and altogether everything you need.

Mama

What Really Matters

Before you read on...
Just for fun, fill in the blank:
"I am a ___________."


Lately I've been pondering what really matters in life.  Often it seems the things that matter to me are also the things by which I define myself. These "identities" tend to bring me security. For example, if my job really matters to me; it is easy then to define myself by that job -  say I'm a business owner - this can become my identity, and this identity can bring a sense of security.

Fill in the blank however appropriate... job, role, talent, etc.

But I wonder, are these the things that really matter in life? Should these things, however noble, be what define me? Are these places safe to invest my hope of security? I'm beginning to think otherwise.

Who I am is actually unrelated to what I do. This is logical. What if I could no longer do the things that bring me security? I would by no means cease to be.  With the example above, in reality I would own a business - but  that would not be who I am, that would be what I do for a profession. My business could be stripped from me for many reasons and that would in no way effect my identity, unless I had placed my identity in that profession.

So this being said, I want to be intentional about who I am.
I do not want to place my identity in what I do.
Likewise I won't lose security when I fail.   
I want there to be fruit produced in my life that is reflective of this identity.

I do not want to place my security in position, possession, performance, perfection, or prestige.

I want my actions NOT to be driven by a need for validation, acceptance, or appreciation.
I want my actions to be a simple by-product of the work that God is doing in me.

I am a child of God.
He loves me beyond my understanding.
Jesus brings me security.
I have been shown much mercy, so I want be quick to forgive.
I want to extend grace.
I want to be humble.
I want to prefer and value others.
This is what really matters.


Some further reading:
Rachel Barkey's Story
Luke 12:34

So Valuable to Me

I'm sure I've mentioned this before, probably multiple times.  But today warrants another comment.  I have a disclaimer this time.  I know that staying home is impossible for some parents, and I know that most kids grow up unaffected by daycare. However, being able to be at home, or have my boys' daddy at home, is SO valuable to me. I don't want to just raise my kids on evenings and weekends.  I'm thankful that I know when my boys need naps and how they like to go to sleep.  I'm thankful that I don't miss first words, or first steps.  I'm thankful that I get to teach Marshal his ABCs and hear him pray over his lunch.  I'm thankful that Mason likes to be held, and I'm the one who holds him.  The time I have with them is beyond valuable, and trumps so many of life's "demands" that many others prioritize.  It's difficult, yes.  I want to pull my hair out some days, yes.  I'm overwhelmed and very tired, yes, yes. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Just Enjoy Now

I'm big on living for the season.

There was a snapshot of time when I had the privilege of working with a really great mom.  It just so happened that she was also a great nurse.  During this season, her young son was sick with a very rare type of cancer. Coincidentally I was pregnant with my first son. 

This mom had some kind of raw and real love for her children.  Somehow, just through conversation, you knew that she loved her husband, and would die for her kids.  For some reason I needed to know her wisdom; I was drawn to her.  I wanted her to teach me how to be THAT kind of mom, even in the face of such frankly painful circumstances.  So one day I asked.  "Give me some advice.  I want to be a mom like you."  Do you know what she said? "I always enjoy the season.  We don't miss the times that are gone and we don't look for the next stage.  Just enjoy now."  Just enjoy now.  Great wisdom from a mom who was living her last season with her son; wisdom that somehow aged her like beautiful patina on weathered copper.

I don't know if she'll ever know how much she impacted me, in many ways.  But I'm thankful she did.

I've been reminded of her words recently.  One of these days my boys will be too big to hold.  They won't want to snuggle.  They'll be embarrassed when we kiss them in front of their friends.  Sure enough, there'll be a season when they don't like Mama and Daddy, or would rather play with someone else.

But that's not today.  Today Marshal loves to be rocked to sleep, with Doug and a blanket.  Today I save the day when I can reach the plastic sheep behind the toy-box.  Today I nurse Mason to sleep and then hold him with his face buried in my neck; his soft and squishy cheek only a head's turn away from mine.  Today I am their playmate, teacher, cook, protector, and audience.  I love today. Today I think I'll just enjoy now.