Friday Flashback: A trip to the dentist

On Monday, I'm taking Elizabeth, Olivia and Aaron to the dentist. It should prove to be eventful. I stumbled across this post from March of 2008 and I'm wondering if the Lord led me to it because it's prophetic in regards to Monday's visit. ;)

I mean really. I'm thinking that Olivia could play Ashlee TO A TEE and Aaron play Lucas.

What do you think? And who are those chubby faced kids in those pictures?

Mercy. Someone stop the clock.

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Original post from March 18, 2008:

Yesterday I took Ashlee and Lucas to the dentist. It was their 2nd trip, but the last one was 6 months ago and they were significantly easier to manage, plus I took back-up. This time, not so lucky. Taking Luke's advice, I also took the umbrella stroller (versus the double stroller, which is bulky) so that I could restrain one while the other was getting cleaned and checked.

The first task was getting them both from the van into the dentist office. This should be a somewhat easy task considering. However, our arrival coincided with the landscapers. Lucas was way more interested in the mower than listening. I knew that holding the hand of two 22 month olds and guiding (read: pulling, dragging, carrying) both of them in w/o the use of the stroller, plus carrying the freakishly large diaper bag would be next to impossible. Therefore, I decided to put Lucas in the stroller and carry Ashlee. It worked until I also had to juggle the door. Finally, we're inside!

Next comes getting both of them back into the dentist area. At our pediatric dentist (whom I LOVE by the way) has a bay where every single chair is out in the open. Therefore, all the twins see is "stuff to climb on." Picture me, pushing an empty umbrella stroller, carrying the freakishly large diaper bag and trying to control my two people using only the sound of my voice. Not so much working.

We arrive at our chairs, and I decide to let Lucas go first since Ashlee is the world's best follower. Seriously, if Lucas jumped off a bridge, 1st she'd tell me "Bubbie did!," then she'd jump too. Follower, in every sense of the word.

All went well until Ashlee's turn. Ashlee has a tiny bit of a temper. I know...hard to believe (ha) but she does. She was not feeling the dental hygienist. A fit ensued and the battle lines were drawn. I am holding her while she begins her "crocodile death roll." The hygienist is desperately trying to look at her teeth. Lucas, meanwhile, is "riding" (read: sitting) in the stroller saying (repeatedly),

"Ashe saaaaaaad." (Ashlee's sad)

Followed quickly by,

"I onnna riiiide." (I wanna ride)

This lasted for about 15-20 minutes.

Then it was Lucas' turn (again). Ashlee is so wound up by now, she can't calm down. She's in the stroller, leaned all the way over, her forehead literally inches from the ground, screaming her guts out. Meanwhile, the rest of the dentist office is running like normal. Other kids are getting their teeth cleaned, Lucas is being a good boy. I can only imagine the horror that the kids in the waiting room are feeling. Ashlee has a tendency to exaggerate. This was no exception.

Hysterical. We made it thru the entire check up, got our bouncy balls and went on our way.

As for today, it was fairly easy going. Here are some pictures from our time with markers and stickers.

My focused little man

Her eye is blacked by marker, not bruises

Ashlee, way too close

Lucas, practicing for the dentist

The taboo topic of being an angry Mom

I love my life. Really I do. I love being a mother to all these kids and the dirty house that comes with them. I love that having these people means that my sink is always full of dirty dishes and sometimes I don't get to shower.

I love them so much that if I dwell on it for long enough I will cry rivers of tears.

I love them so very much.

But, you know what? There's another side to being a Mom that no one ever talks about. When I wrote this post, several of you agreed that you have struggles. Several of you admitted insecurities and realities that you face in this role we are blessed by.

And, I think, part of being Radical is being honest with right where I am. Because like I told my friend Wendi a long while back during a play date, "I think that being radical means allowing God to push you out of your comfort zone so that where your ability ends, His can begin and therefore He gets all the glory."

And what I'm going to share with you today is certainly out of my comfort zone. But, I feel like I'm not being totally honest if I keep these emotions inside me and pretend as though they don't exist.

I realize that by writing what will follow, I'm probably going to get some (more) sideways glances at church, some of you may even question my emotional stability.

Truthfully, I'm okay. I'm awesome, actually.

Maybe you'll think less of me after reading this post. I mean, afterall, we're going to be missonaries, we should have it all together, right?

Wrong.

What I'm going to write is the truth. It's how I feel somedays.

Not every day. But some.

Usually after a night of little-to-no-sleep. Usually after (or during) an incredibly challenging day. Usually when I'm at my wit's end with a behavior from a certain precious child who will not stop throwing her food on the floor or after a sweet little boy throws his 4th tantrum in 30 minutes.

Or when I wonder why in the world God saw fit to give me, virtually, two sets of twins so that I could deal with negative, age-appropriate behaviors in two scoop helpings and it's almost more than I can deal with to say it twice, twice in 10 seconds to two different people because copy cat #2 felt the need to mimic copy cat #1's nasty behavior even though #1 just got a consequence.

It's those times that something washes over me and I realize that something else it taking a hold of me. Something that could have such a grip on me that I could understand why people slip into the recesses of the unspeakable.

It's nasty and I'm not proud of it.

Anger.

Not a flippant passing aggravation that makes me want to turn on cartoons for the next 2 hours and pray my children focus on the TV so I have some friggin' peace and quiet.

Real anger. Anger that makes me wonder who I am and how I got all these kids and if I really knew what I was doing, or better, if God knew what He was doing when he handed me these blessings because I'm seriously about to flip out on them.

Anger that causes me to drag my child to his (or her) bedroom while (s)he's kicking and screaming and wailing at the top of his lungs and then gingerly sliding him in and closing the door behind him. Anger that makes me stand at that same door and hold it shut while my child tries to pull it open because if we were to have another interaction right then, it would not be pretty.

Anger because it's meal time again and again we are having a battle of the wills over whether or not he will eat the food I've prepared. Food he likes but is currently rejecting because he apparently doesn't care if he eats today. So he sits and scowls at me from underneath furrowed eyebrows, rejecting all of the food on his plate because I dared to put a tiny bit of something green on the same surface as the rest of his food. Or, rejecting it because he threw a fit 10 minutes ago and consequence of a toy being taken away is still fresh in his mind.

Anger because, again, they've woken/disturbed/upset an otherwise peaceful baby, again, and so now, again, I must drop everything and console the (what would have been a content) baby because a brother or sister couldn't keep their hands to themselves. So lunch will take 45 minutes to prepare rather than 20 minutes which means that everyone will be so hungry and cranky by the time I finally get lunch on the table that fights will ensue and food will be flung and I will lose my cool. Again.

But as a Mom (or a Dad) it's taboo to talk about that kind of anger, isn't it? Because in our politically correct culture, if you actually talk about being angry at your kid then someone will surely call Social Services on you and they'll take your kids and put you in a 6 week anger management program.

We used to be foster parents. We are familiar with the programs for parents who have abused and neglected their kids. They are needed. They are a genuine route to recovery for the parents who actually have habitual anger management issues.

But, am I really "managing" my anger if I choose not to discuss it? And, in choosing to shove it to the recesses of my heart, am I allowing those emotions the attention that's needed to deal with them appropriately? If I've found out anything in my short time as a mother it's true that, "If I'm feeling/experiencing/struggling with something, chances are someone else is/has/will too." But all too often we take topics that are taboo and shove them to the deep dark corners of our hearts and pray that they don't surface when anyone else is around.

Because if anyone knew that you really felt that way then surely they'd think less of you, or wonder why you chose to have so many kids or be a stay at home mom or blah, blah, blah...

I'm tired of reading blogs and being around people who claim they never lose it and paint the picture of their perfect life. I lose it. Not everyday. Sometimes I make it a whole week. But I lose it. Often.

Why is it so taboo to talk about less-than-rosey-lovey-dovey feelings for your kids? Why is it unacceptable to say, "Somedays, I don't like my kid. In fact, some days when I hear them waking up from naps, I get frustrated with them for no reason."

I feel that way. Sometimes. And while I'm not advocating that anyone should ever discipline while they are in the throws of anger nor am I saying that anyone who has habitual anger or depression issues should never seek counseling.

What I am saying that these feelings are real and I feel them. Not everyday. But sometimes.

I get angry with my kids. I get tired or I don't spend enough time in the Word and the anger washes over me before I realize what's happening. And then I beg my kids and the Lord for forgiveness.

I will end with saying that I've had the majority of this post written and saved in my drafts since May of 2010. Not because it's not true, but because I was afraid of the backlash I'd receive by posting it. But if I'm honest with myself and deny that I don't struggle with occasional anger issues then I'm not being truthful with myself. And again, I believe that if I'm feeling these emotions of motherhood, surely other mothers feel the same way as well.

In the 8 months since this was originally drafted, I've prayed for the Lord to take away my anger, to help me pass it over to Him when I feel it welling up within me. But I've found that my ability to pass it over to Him is directly related to the amount of time I spend in fellowship with the Lord. When I get slack and don't make time with Him a priority, the enemy uses my tired brain as a short fuse to spark the fire of my anger.

So I confess. I sometimes struggle with anger. Do you? If not, what do you struggle with that's Taboo among Mommy and Christian circles? I'd be willing to bet, that more times that not, other Moms are struggling as well.

I want to leave you with a verse I found nearly 3 years ago and that has stuck with me and I have claimed as my life verse:

Not that I have already obtained this (righteousness) or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

(Philippians 3:12-14 ESV)

I'm praying for each of you reading this, that you will press on through the ugliness that plagues your heart, strain toward King Jesus and move forward to a place of repentance and healing. I'm praying that for myself too.

Ella Joy at 10 months

10 months old. TEN.

If you'd like to go back and see my chubby cheekers, here are some links. Be prepared for your computer screen to crack from all the cuteness.

Ella Joy at 1 month
Ella Joy at 2 months
Ella Joy at 3 months
Ella Joy at 4 months
Ella Joy at 5 months
Ella Joy at 6 months
Ella Joy at 7 months
Ella Joy at 8 months
Ella Joy at 9 months

At 10 months Ella-goat is a mover and a shaker. She's perfected her crawling skills and, man, she's FAST. And like I told my friend Mandy last night, she's all about the bathroom. Um...not using the bathroom, just sitting in there for some reason.

If the door is left open she crawls as fast as she can to get in there before I shut the door. I took all of these photos of the Ella-goat in the tub because, well, she wasn't crawling away from me too much and the lighting in there in the mornings is amazing.

And yes, I may have bathed my child so I could take her picture. Or it could be because she pooped the poop of all poops. Or both.

Either way, look at this face. Ugh. I wanna squish her.

She still eats everything she can get her chubby little hands on. EVERYTHING. Have mercy. I've never had a child who put this much stuff in their mouth. Maybe I've been spoiled up until this point, I guess.

This is a face she makes quite often. I'm not sure why but it cracks me up every time.

Nursing is going okay, after having some serious Nursing Woes. My milk supply came back with full force for a week. I was pumping a lot and I think that helped. But the main reason I like nursing is because there are few bottles to wash and you just feed your baby without the hassle.

So I dropped the pumping so much and now it's dwindled down again. We are supplementing with formula at night so she'll get nice and full and sleep. I'm still taking Fenugreek and Blessed Thistle all day every day.

She loves to eat solid foods. Last week, my Mom was feeding her some applesauce for breakfast and I sat down with a bowl of cereal. She refused her applesauce and desperately wanted some of my cereal. Little stinker.

Part of the nursing issues, I think, is that she's too busy to sit and nurse. She is SO concerned with what everyone else is doing. Even when I go into a room alone to nurse her, she crane's her neck to see if the door is cracked. And if it is, she spends all her time unlatching to see if anyone is coming in.

She's eating just about anything we eat with the exception of peanut butter, berries and honey. She's sleeping okay, sometimes still waking up once at night, but not often. She's so joyful and just enjoys being around her brothers and sisters.

I know that we were not mistaken in naming her Ella JOY because her spirit is so full of joy and happiness. She's still so easy going and laid back and everyone in our house still tries so hard to get her to laugh and giggle.

Her newest "trick" is clapping and saying "Yay!" and shaking her head at you and saying "Boo!" trying to scare you. It's hilarious. I'll try to get it on video. If I ever find our video camera.

Happy 10 months Ella Joy! We love you so, so much!

Identity

This is a video our sending organization, Africa Inland Mission (AIM), produced about the Identity of AIM and what their purpose is in Africa.

The good news is that Luke and I HAVE chosen an assignment! The bad news is I'm not at liberty to discuss it with the interweb just yet. (Soon though!)

Until I can tell you more, enjoy this video and know that we will be doing something very specific and very dear to our hearts and I'm so STINKIN' excited! God is GOOD y'all. Actually, He's better than good.

Identity from AIM On-Field Media on Vimeo.

If you'd like to join with us in what God is already doing in Africa and become a part of our support team, you can email me at beaverbunch (at) gmail (dot) com. Please put SUPPORT TEAM in the subject line.

Y'all have a great Monday!

Das Not Funny! Friday: I really want to put a mannequin on our toilet

Wahoooo! It's Friday! Welcome to this week's edition of Das Not Funny! Friday. What is Das Not Funny! Friday? CLICK HERE if you've never participated or read a Das Not Funny! Friday post and want to know why I write them. And if you have your own funnies to post, simply leave a link to your post in the comments.

On with the show....

Ashlee is a flower girl in our sweet Babysitter/Nanny's wedding. On Monday, Babysitter/Nanny Amanda and I took her to the Bridal shop to try on some flower girl dresses. Turns out, just because you have an appointment doesn't mean you'll actually get to try on dresses anywhere near that time frame.

Which would have been excellent to know before we took my hyped up on frill and lace and - OH WOOK MOM A DRESS! ANOTHER DRESS! A PREEEEETY DRESS! - 4 year old into the dress shop for a 40 minute wait. Have I ever told you that Ashlee loves dresses? No? Imagine a cat locked in a closet lined with catnip. Multipy that by 40 and that was Ashlee with all the PRETTY DRESSES! I LOOOOOOOVE THIS ONE MOM!

Anyway. We killed some time by letting her try on some fun things, like this birdcage veil. Which confused her beyond all reason because it totally didn't have a bird in it.

Good thing she's not sassy.

Finally, Amanda and I decided that maybe the 4 associates who were standing around looking at paper needed some encouragement in the form of our dominating presence. Also known as, "we moved closer to the front desk and lingered."

You know what else is near the front desk?

Mannequins. Mannequins displaying top of the line bridesmaids dresses and bridal gowns. Do you know what my sheltered 4 year old has never encountered up close before?

Mannequins.

She was so perplexed.

So of course I did what any respectable mother would do in that situation. I chuckled at her under my breath and took pictures of her with my cell phone.


The next one is my absolute favorite.

Oh mercy. I'm afraid she's scarred for life. Oh who am I kidding? If she's not already traumatized by the goings on in our house and her twin brother she'll probably never be.

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Speaking of poop, Luke and I don't. At least not in front of each other. I have a firm belief that you should never watch the person you are intimate with wipe.

I'm pretty sure that's in the Bible somewhere. 1st Doodieronomy or something. (Ba doom ching. Sorry, I couldn't resist.)

Annnnyway, on Sunday morning we are all scampering around getting ready for church. Well, most of us. Luke is not really scampering as much as he was, ahem, sitting. On the throne. And as much as I am opposed to seeing my husband on the toilet (or allowing him to see me taking a doodieronomy) all bets are off for everyone else that breathes air in our house.

I can't tell you the number of motherhood-oriented tasks I've performed, in the bathroom, while, well...you know. Needless to say, our kids are allowed in the bathroom during just about anything.

While I'm downstairs in the kitchen, Luke is upstairs sitting in his royal position, reigning as King of the Toothbrushing. (Hey, every person on a throne is king of something, right?)

I overhear him telling Ashlee to please shut the door.

"Why Dad?" she asks.

"Because, Mommy doesn't want to see Daddy on the potty. Now, shut the door," Luke persists.

The conversation becomes muffled behind the bathroom door and I quickly forget about the whole thing. Until later that morning while we are sitting in church. All three of the big kids attend Big Church with us. Mostly they just color or draw or play with a quiet toy but often they catch 1 thing from the sermon and we like to talk about it. This past Sunday, Ashlee was laying across her chair with her head in my lap, eating some Cheese Its.

If you know my Ashlee you know that she has 3 volumes.

1) Loud.

2) Still loud.

3) Off.

Ashlee turns her face up to mine, while I'm messily scribbling sermon notes, and in a volume that only a deaf person could ignore says,

"Mom? How come you and Daddy can't see each other's poops?"

Poor girl. Between the mannequins and the privacy of poop, she's had a rough time cognitively. What I'd really love to do is bring home a mannequin and put it on our toilet. Think that would push her over the edge too much?

Y'all have an Royally Blessed weekend!

Advise me

So, my small group is looking for a new study. We just finished The Patriarchs by Beth Moore and OH.MY.WORD.

She.is.amazing.

I'll be honest, it takes me 2 - 3 videos to get past Beth's quirks.

(Y'all, say "Beth's quirks.")

But once I do, she blesses me in ways that I never thought possible. I think she reads my diary then writes the week's lesson just for me.

Anyway, we are about to begin another study and we have the following requirements:

* Heavy emphasis on Scripture: We don't want to just read a book loosely based on the Word and it be mostly the author's interpretation. We want it to take us back to the Scriptures time and time again.

* Something based on Marriage (and prayer, if possible to combine both): I've been told that Sacred Marriage by Gary Thomas is good.

* It needs to either have an affordable video series (or one we can check out from the library) or have a discussion guide: We do better when we have an outline. Otherwise, we sit and talk about our days, our husbands, our kids, our life, sex, poop, motherhood and anything in between. Which all of those are good topics but we need some structure.

* Finally, something that's a little IN YOUR FACE: We like stuff that makes us question how's it's always been done. It makes for incredible conversation and also challenges us to see what God's Word says.

So....advise me. Please.

What studies on marriage and/or prayer have you done that we MUST DO? Give a sista some help. Thanks!

The life I deserve

My skin begins to crawl when I see people's statuses on facebook about being somewhere posh or enjoying a luxury and other people comment and say, "Oh girl! Enjoy your massage/vacation/new car. You DESERVE it."

Really? Do you really deserve it?

I'm going to be real honest here and tell you that if you do not believe in Jesus Christ and set the Bible as an authority over your life, then truthfully, this post isn't written for you. Especially what I'm about to say next.

Do you know what you and I really deserve?

Not a nice, new car. Not even a massage. And you can forget a long, relaxing, vacation. Mani and Pedi? Nope.

You and I deserve an eternity separated from God. An eternity.

Take that in for a few seconds.

Eternity. Can we even wrap our minds around that length of time?

For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is
eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.
- Romans 6:23

Sure, God wants us bless us with nice things. He wants to show His love for us by giving us massages and nice vacations and comfortable beds and abundant blessings that are unimaginable. But you know what? You don't deserve any of it. And neither do I.

If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!
- Matthew 7:11

Jesus Christ alone is what makes us worthy of any of those blessings. His blood. His sacrifice. His atonement. And you know what else? It makes me fighting mad when we take ownership of the good things in our lives as if we caused or created or made them happen ourselves.

It makes me angry to my core when people claim what they deserve because they're a good person or they do good things or because they've done what's expected of them.

Because, if we really believe that we are the cause for the good things in our lives, because of our own goodness, then we are alternately saying that people who live lives that are not up to our social status are not good enough. That somehow, by their own badness, people who live below our standard of living have been born into a life of struggle and filth and disease as a punishment. Because they're bad.

The arrogance in that disgusts me.

I saw a photo below earlier today. It was posted by our sending organization, Africa Inland Mission. It's a shot of an island in Lake Victoria, near Tanzania, East Africa.

It's where people live. They choose this life to support their families and provide for them the best way they can.

No power. No running water. Grotesque conditions that most of us could never even dream of experiencing. Even the thought of the stench on that island burns my nostrils.

Do the people living there deserve that life because they are were born into poverty? Do they deserve it because they don't work hard enough or do enough good things? Do they deserve such a life becaues they weren't blessed enough to be born an upper or middle-class American or Canadian or European (or any other country that boasts a high population of middle-class citizens)?

To think such things is insane.

So why are we so quick to claim the blessings in our own life as deserved? The fact is, we did not procure any of the blessings in our life because of our own goodness. None of them. Not one. I don't deserve the food in my refrigerator right now. Nor the blanket that covers my lap. Nor the fresh, drinakable water that flows freely from every faucet (and even the toilets) in my home.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights,
who does not change like shifting shadows.
- James 1:17

I am fully prepared that this post isn't going to garner a lot of comments or positive feedback. And I don't care.

Because I fully believe that until we, as the body of Christ, realize that we are not worthy of the good things God has given us and until we take our redeemed lives, our possessions and our resources and offer them up on the altar of obedience to God, we will truly get what we deserve.

Lives lived in disobedience get a deserved distance from the One who knows us better than we know ourselves. He alone knows what is best for us.

You turn things upside down,

as if the potter were thought to be like the clay!

Shall what is formed say to the one who formed it,

"You did not make me"?

Can the pot say to the potter,

"You know nothing"?

- Isaiah 29:16

My desire is to live as bond servant of the Lord. Someone who has paid their debt through the saving power of Jesus Christ yet chooses to remain a slave to Him out of love.

Truly, I don't deserve a lick of what I take ownership of. Six healthy kids, a phenomenal husband, a nice, warm, spacious house. Clean water, food, clothing. None of it.

Lately, God is reminding me of this over and over and over again.

I've been counting my blessings more often, even the simple ones. I love more boldly. I savor those sweet, tender moments between myself and someone I love. Because I know that none of it is deserved and all of it is a gift.

While I do not belive that we deserve the blessings in our lives, God chooses to bless us (because of His goodness, mercy and grace) inspite of ourselves. And we should enjoy those blessings, savor them even. But never, ever should we take ownership of them and forget that the Lord is the provider of all good things.

And when the LORD your God brings you into the land that he swore to your fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give you—with great and good cities that you did not build, and houses full of all good things that you did not fill, and cisterns that you did not dig, and vineyards and olive trees that you did not plant—and when you eat and are full, then take care lest you forget the LORD, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. It is the LORD your God you shall fear. Him you shall serve and by his name you shall swear.

- Deuteronomy 6:10-13 (emphasis mine)

I don't deserve the life I have. Not one bit of it. And I pray every day that I continue getting exactly what I don't deserve.

More is required

I'm having trouble thinking of something noteworthy to blog about lately. I mean, I think of posts, sit down to write and then......nothing.

I'll be honest it's hard to wrap my mind around words lately. Mostly because not everyone in our life is thrilled about us going to Africa. And it weighs on me. Heavily.

BUT.

Then I read posts like this one by my friend Tracy and I just can't sit and say nothing. Seriously. Click here right now and read it.






I'll wait on you.










Staggering isn't it?


That is 4,333 Elizabeths

4,333 Lucases

4,333 Ashlees

4,333 Aarons

4,333 Olivias

4,333 Ellas

Combined. Dying. Each and every day.

From PREVENTABLE diseases.

For us, taking hope to the world looks like moving to Africa, partnering with nationals and teaching them of the saving power of Jesus Christ and empowering them to make life changes for their families and for their communities.

What does hope look like to you? How will you respond?


When someone has been given much, much will be required in return; and when someone has been entrusted with much, even more will be required.

- Luke 12:48 (New Living Translation)

Ketchup

This will be a totally random Ketchup post. You know, catch-up. Ahem. Anyway.

My milk supply is almost totally back. I ran out of the herbal mix (Fenugreek, Blessed Thistle, Fennel Seed & some other stuff) of Lactation Support I was taking and switched to taking plain ol' Fenugreek and Blessed Thistle. I'm loading my body down on both and my supply has skyrocketed. Okay, so maybe not skyrocketed but it's back and much, much better.

Since I posted about my Nursing Woes (and you guys poured out support, thank you!) we've only had to give Ella a couple of bottles of formula and those were either late at night or in the middle of the night. (Which, I mean, HELLO sleep because Luke can totally mix a bottle of formula! Woot!)

I really think it was a compilation of several factors that caused my supply to plummet. This weekend and even this morning it appears as though my supply is back completely. Thank you all for your concern, suggestions and even offering you own milk reserves. Y'all rock!

It snowed again today. This is already our 3rd or 4th snow of the winter. The last snow was decent and we had snow on the ground for several days. They called for today's snow to be a Winter Storm (which, in the South, means that it will cover the ground and all milk and bread will be gone from every operating grocery store). It was merely a heavy dusting. Enough to close the schools (I know. You Northerners can insert a huge eye roll here.) and make everyone panic. It has stopped flurrying and it's unlikely we will see anymore today which just makes me so happy.

Can I just tell you how much I am OVER the snow and cold? I mean, I normally like winter but PLEASE come on Spring! My kids are driving me crazy in this house all day. And I refuse, refuse to bundle them all up by myself and take them out because that's a recipe for everyone's bowels to move at the exact same time.

I've never wanted to battle seasonal allergies so much in my life. Um..yes, pollen? Please come quickly. We have an urgent issue here on the South Eastern Coast. It's called Winter and I think you are the only hope of ever seeing the warm, fresh sunshine again.

Though I will say that on days like today it is nice that we homeschool so that we can trudge through the day as usual and in 2 months when it's beautiful outside (and all the students are sitting in their classrooms looking longingly at the sunshine through their classroom windows) we can take a Snow Day and play in the sun while Momma gains some sanity.

Finally, I'm helping our amazing babysitter/Nanny plan her June wedding. They have a beautiful site reserved for the ceremony and reception and her dress looks stunning on her. But, she and her fiance are footing the majority of the bill. If any of you have any good, inexpensive and classic ideas for an outdoor wedding I'm all ears.

Her fiance is from New Orleans, so we'd like to have a touch of the French Quarter at the reception. You know, the classy side of New Orleans. ;) Seriously, any tips, websites or ideas are welcome.

Y'all have a superb Monday.

Here I am

It's becoming real.

We are really going on the mission field.

To Africa.

And the truth is, that lately, I've asked God, "Are you SURE?" about 7,493 times. Each time He's assured me that each step we are taking is within His desires for us.

I want to share with you something I wrote, nearly two years ago, on February 24, 2009. This is the 4th in a series of posts I'm publishing from a private blog where Luke and I have journaled our calling to Africa.

The others are titled:

From the Darkness (This isn't from the private blog but is the introductory post leading into the others.)

The Initial Cry

He is calling, just like before

And while I could never fully summarize every single reason we feel called, these old posts that I'm publishing are the highlights. Below is certainly one of the bigger confirmations that God revealed to me. I've only modified it slightly, so that it makes sense to you. I'd also like to add that I am grateful to the Father for now giving me a hunger for His word, even when we are not in the midst of a trial.

Thank you for taking this journey with us.

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Originally posted on February 24, 2009 on our private blog:

I really stink at remembering scripture. Generally I can remember roughly what the verse says, but never, ever (or very, very rarely) can I remember the reference (book, chapter, verse). Let's just say that Bible Gateway is my hero.

This is not the case for Isaiah 6:8. Back in November of 2007, we were still getting settled into our new house. I had felt the stir for more children for a few months, but I was NOT all about getting pregnant again. Puke was not appealing to me, especially with 3 kids 3 and under. One night, Luke turns to me and says,

"You still think about doing foster care?"

I looked at him in disbelief. We had discussed this almost a year earlier, but when Luke quickly nixed it, I all but forgot about it. Where was this coming from?

The next day I called our county's Department of Social Services and asked for some information on foster parenting. Then, I dove into my Bible. You see, I have this major, major flaw. I usually ONLY stay consistent in the word when I'm having a crisis of belief in my life. In January 2007 I grew and grew and grew spiritually because I wanted desperately to sell our old house, but I knew it needed to be God (and Luke) led. Now, here I was faced with another crisis, the decision to foster.

As I dove through the word, soaking up everything the Lord was showing me, I began to feel that familiar pull. Missions.

At the same time we were becoming closer with some friends. Our bond with them grew as did their call to missions. Just as we began to form a serious kinship, they pulled us into the basement of our home one night and revealed to us their calling to missions, specifically Kenya. Chris outlined every reason why they felt led to go and I wept, knowing that good friends were moving so far away and also for the tremendous display of obedience I knew I was about to witness.

That night solidified for Luke and I our calling to foster. We knew, without hesitation, that God used them to teach us about obedience. We proceeded with fostering, certain that our obedience to God would be blessed.

Sometime during our initial decision making about whether or not to foster, I felt drawn to the book of Isaiah. Never, ever had I read Isaiah (other than as a cross reference). Desperate to find 3 types of confirmation (Godly Counsel, Scripture and Prayer), I began to look at scripture with fresh eyes.

One night I felt the Lord saying, "Go. Start with Chapter 1 and read until you see it." So, I did. I began in Isaiah Chapter 1 read and read and read, not really understanding much, but desiring to find that one piece of scripture that made it all make sense. Suddenly, I started to feel pulled. Only it was a duel tract, with one branch taking us to fostering and the other to the mission field.

Then, I saw it. Isaiah 6:8,

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?"
And I said, "Here am I. Send me!"

I sat back in the bed and wept. I knew that we were being called to foster. Who else would go? However, something about this also SCREAMED missions. Foreign missions. The thought of going onto the mission field scared the bejebbers out of me, so I pushed it out of my mind and applied this verse solely to fostering. I knew in the back of my mind this was not the point God was making. But, you see, I'm one track minded like that. Why would He pull us two ways?

Surely missions was Chris and Lindy's area. Here I am Lord. I'll foster. But send Chris and Lindy.

Only a few days later, as we entered church on Sunday, God decided to get up in my business in a big way. We were running late, as usual, and as we walked into the back of the Multi-Purpose Building, where our church has our service, the lights were low and there were people lining the stage.

A spot light was on a single woman, and as the door behind me clicked shut I heard her say,

"God, I know you want me to go on that mission trip but that's not really my thing. And I'm scared. My sister Jane loves missions. You should send her. Here I am Lord. Send my sister."

The spotlight illuminated another person, a teenager I think, and he said,

"God, I know you want me to befriend that kid in my class. But he's weird God and no one really likes him. Plus, I have friends already. My friend Tim is really good at reaching out to people God. He should do it. Here I am Lord. Send Tim."

Person after person stood and gave an example of the Lord working on their heart. Whether it was to minister to a friend, go on a mission trip, be bold in their workplace or move in some area that they felt God calling. Then, at the end, they would close by saying,

"Here I am Lord. Send 'So-and-so'."

As I stood there, behind the crowd of people in the dark, tears rushed to my eyes and flooded my cheeks. I held back sobs and I felt conviction like never before. You see, this was EXACTLY what I had felt only days earlier. As I felt the pull to missions, I pushed it from my mind and said,

"Lord, Chris and Lindy are going. Send them."

I don't want you to think that I felt any less called to begin fostering because such is not the case. I know, without hesitation, that the Lord called Luke and I to fostering without wavering. However, He also began to stir in me another calling. A calling to a new place, when our first mission was complete. A mission that I am still trying to understand and one that He has been pointing to for years.

To use an excellent example from a friend, I have been Moses. A bush has been burning for quite some time, yet I have failed to see it or allow it to have my full attention. Well, my attention is here. I am seeing so clearly that these stories and stirrings in my heart are not random or misaligned. I'm scared. I'm anxious. I'm fearful. However, I know that when my Savior calls, I must obey. A life without obedience is a life not worth living. So it is with this fear, anxiety and fright that I boldly say,

"Here I am Lord. Send me."

Nursing woes

First of all I want to make it clear that this is NOT intended to start a breastfeeding vs. formula debate.

Studies show that breastmilk is best for babies. Period.

However, women who either cannot breastfeed or choose not to breastfeed are not horrible mothers. Anyone who proposes such thought is narrow minded, shallow, ignorant and has clearly never struggled to nurse a baby who won't latch or struggled with milk supply issues or simply has zero compassion for a Mom who just did not enjoy breastfeeding.

Breastmilk may be best for baby but it does not equate immaculate mothering. In fact, I've met Moms who breastfed their baby yet stunk at mothering. Most days, I'm that Mom.

So why do I even bring all of this up?

Because last night I had to give Ella her first bottle of formula and it broke my heart.

Not because I believe that I'm letting her down or I'm not a good enough Mom or even because I think I'm hurting her. None of those could be further from the truth. In fact, to date, 50% of our children were fed formula for the majority of their first year of life.

The reason it broke my heart is because I love breastfeeding.

I love that it allows me time with my baby that no one else gets. I love that it soothes her when nothing else can. I love that only I can do it. I love the closeness I feel with her as she suckles and drifts off to sleep. I love that I can provide that for her.

I love it when she nurses, unlatches and grins and me, then latches back on, smiling the entire time. I love it when she's done eating and she's got remnant milk on her chin and she's content and happy and satisfied.

I love that my milk gave her those fat, squishy cheeks.

I just love everything about it.

But since I've been sick with that stomach virus and then in the days following Ella felt less that spectacular and in turn nursed less, my milk supply has plummeted. Yesterday she was not my sweet, happy-go-lucky, smiling baby. She was fussy and cranky and clingy. She wanted to nurse but she didn't. She wanted to be held but she wanted to be put down. With the exception of last night, she's slept horribly, waking up and screaming every 2 - 3 hours and not settling until I nurse her back to sleep. Then 2 - 3 hours later crying out again.

And I really believe it was because she was hungry for milk that I did not have. I've not been able to save up any milk in my freezer because my body was making the exact amount she needed every day. I've been on supplements to boost my supply for several weeks so that I could have a reserve in my freezer but then the virus hit and we used what little was in the freezer to satisfy her while my dehydrated body recuperated.

So I'm sad. Just sad that this could be the beginning of the end. Sad that I'm having to mix up bottles of formula for my girl because she's hungry and I cannot produce what she needs. Sad because I can still remember each time I nursed my other babies for the last time.

And I'm disappointed because I really want to nurse her for a full year (or beyond) and allow her to self wean. And I'm so frustrated with my body because of it's lack of production even with me on supplements for the last 2 - 3 weeks (and on and off for the last 9 months).

I'm going to keep nursing and pumping and drinking lots of water and taking the supplements and see what happens. If anyone else has any other suggestions I'd love to hear them. But, if this is the end of nursing her I can handle it. It will stink but I can handle it.

Ella Joy at 9 months

Wow. Can I tell you how much I struggled to get this post written? The photo quality will stink (though the subject matter will be presh) because I'm writing on Luke's work laptop and, whatta ya know, Bankers don't NEED photo editing software.

Who'd a thunk?

Anyway, the 9th month for Ella appears to be the month of the tongue.

It seems to make an appearance no matter where she is, what she's doing or how fast she's crawling to get there. I'm surprised it's not windburnt. Or sunburnt. Except that it's been icy cold here in the South so other than the running out barefoot to put the trash outside, we've not seen the light of day. And that's just me. And I don't wag my tongue because it's not so cute when I do it. Kinda like that baby cottage cheese on grown ups. Not so cute either.

But I'm telling you, the tongue is out. A lot. Whether she's playing, crawling, talking, cruising (oh yes!), her BFF Licks A. Lot is out, greeting and licking anyone she comes in contact with.

The only time her tongue is not out is when it's on the inside doing it's thing. You know, roughing up paper or small pieces of lint or globs of hair. You know, normal baby teething things.

What's that? Your baby doesn't teethe on those? Probably because your baby isn't a Goat. "LellaGOAT" as Aaron calls her, eats just about anything in her path. In fact, she's learned to startle, drop and then rapidly crawl away from me when I say, "GOAT! What do you have?"

Yes, I call my baby by the name of Goat. Have you heard our last name? I mean, it couldn't get any worse.

I really believe that EllaGoat thought that her special little gift from Jesus was all the wrapping paper scraps left from the Christmas massacre of 2010. In hindsight, I should have just put about 7,264 slivers of paper in a cup and written, "Merry Christmas Ella! Love, Mom" on it and made her little paper eating self delighted.

And I would have. Except for all the CHOKING that would have been involved. And that probably would have put a damper on the Christmas cheer.

When paper is not readily available, the Goat is happy eating whatever else is handy. Sometimes even real, live, people food. Her favorite this past month seems to be yogurt. She's also digging sliced cheese.

But when all else fails, she opts for letters.

I just wanna squish her til she screams. And sometimes I do.

She pulls up on anything more than half an inch off the floor and she crawls like a champ. She's abandoned the 1 arm, 1 toe army crawl and is up on all fours, often following me around the house, from room to room, eating whatever is in her path.

Seriously. Check out the paper. Again.

This is the pull up table she got for Christmas. Nevermind that I gave it to her 2 weeks before Christmas because she was desperate for something to pull up on that wouldn't fall over and her other 5 siblings didn't deem as "MINE!"

Lucas and Ashlee gave her table the once over and were done with it. Aaron and Olivia played with it quite a bit the first two days but by Christmas morning it was all Ella's. Clearly I planned it that way. Except, not at all.

And man, she's proud of herself too when she gets the song going. She even does this hilarous little head bob to "dance" to the music. I use the term dance loosely. What can I say? She's got her Mom's moves. And apparently my upper thighs. But remember that time I said that was still cute on babies? Picture cute baby thighs right now. I'm begging you.

Her face in the above picture is her give away face. See how it's closed and her tongue is not protruding? That means she's hit the jackpot and managed to weasle something in there without me noticing. Shortly after taking this picture I made her mad and pried open her jaws and took her little snack away.

Did I mention she's learned how to throw fits? Wonder where she learned that from? 5 guesses.

Despite her mother constantly digging into her mouth, she remains a happy, fun, smiley baby girl. An active happy, smily, fun baby girl. She's always got somewhere to go and someone to follow (or escape from).

I am going to try super hard to video her laughing this week. Mostly because it rounds out her persona as a goat. She has the cutest little machine gun/goat laugh. Oh my word. Seriously y'all. Your face will bust it's so cute.

When her mouth's not full she'll say MaMa, DaDa, Buh Buh and Doouh, which I think the latter means Dog. She waves and signs "More." She's drinking from a sippy cup and still nurses 4 - 5 times a day. When her belly gets good and full at supper, she sleeps for nice, long stretches at night. At her 9 month check up, she weighed 20 lbs 5 oz. And I don't remember how long because length is not important in the dispensing of medicine and I need all the available memory I can get. I wrote it down. Somewhere.

She's curious and inspects things with her fingers, eyes and, of course, her mouth. Her pudgy little hands reach up to touch my face as I rock and nurse her before naps and bed. It just melts my heart. She offers grins easily and is so affectionate. She loves being in the mix with her older siblings and still tolerates their doating affection.

She enjoyed Christmas as much as a 9 month old can. And she especially loved ripping (and then trying to eat) the paper. She was so content to crawl around and see what everyone else was getting into.

I'm just not sure how or why the Lord ever though we'd be worthy of any of our kids. But Ella seems to be the icing on the proverbial cake. Luke and I comment often about what a sweet and happy baby she is. Our entire family just loves on her all day long and though she longs more for the "freedom" of crawling and doing and seeing, she is still just as content to sit and be held or kissed or squished.

I'm just so bummed that I didn't get to make the trip to Arkansas last week and introduce her to so many of her extended family members. I know they'd have eaten her up, just like we do every, single, day.

We love you EllaGoat and we thank God for you daily.

2011 better BRING IT

Happy New Year!

2010 was an amazing year for our family. I love looking back and seeing the highs and lows that were the journey of the last 365.

Just as we ended the year with a stomach virus, we also started 2010 with one as well. Nice to know.

I ate my words (and sort of kept them all at the same time) saying (in my pre-motherhood life) that I'd never drive a mini-van.

In span of 30 days....

My Grandmother had, survived and recovered completely from major open heart surgery...

We withstood the chaos of me being 8.5 months pregnant with my husband several states away all while prepping our house to sell...

And we OFFICIALLY adopted our daughter Olivia!

And all of that happened a mere month before my due date with our youngest, and 6th, child. Keep in mind, too, that at that point in our lives, all of our kids were ages 5 and younger. Whew!

God certainly proved Himself faithful in that season of our lives. Even while I lamented no activity with my cervix, God was busy moving in other areas. A few weeks later, we moved into our new (rental) house and our friends Overwhelmed me with an outpouring of their love and support.

While waiting on Baby #6 to arrive, we began to reveal to you all just how God had been working in our lives in the way of missions. From the Darkness of a uncertain season with God and from the Inital Cry of my heart, God began confirming in both Luke and I our calling to missions.

Finally, FINALLY at 42 weeks and 1 day Little Miss Ella Joy made her world debut.

God continued Calling Just Like Before as we began to feel, even stronger, our calling to missions. Even with questions, and doubts, AND FEARS.

We landed The Mothership and I still love it.

I admitted, and you all agreed, that Being A Mom Is Tough.

Lucas and Ashlee turned FOUR.

And a week later, Aaron turned TWO.

A month or so later, my shins went on strike after I ran my first (and so far only) 5k.

Then, my first baby, Elizabeth, turned SIX.

I realized my need for wax earplugs.

My friend GK sat her drink dangerously close to Ella AND our laptop and I, in turn, wrote The Hardest Post I've Ever Written.

After 4 years of staying land locked, we found out that Life's a Beach.

God showed me, again, why I don't believe in Coincidences. Only Providence.

Our sweet, dramatic and joyful Olivia turned TWO.

I was reminded that even during chaos, the Lord Binds Me Up and Gives Me Strength.

Aaron gave me his first scare with thinking he needed stitches...thanks to Lucas' help.

I tried my hand at being a Photographer and had the Judd's in my head for the entire next week.

We attended Africa Inland Mission's Candidate Week in New York, and were appointed as Members! (Official Missionaries!)

On our way there, we stopped and visited Washington D.C. and realized that Getting There Was Half the Battle.

We published our First Official Ministry Newsletter as AIM Missionaries and continue to wrestle and pray over a location.

We realized that Crazy Has Company and I officially gave up on Potty Training anyone else ever. Or at least for the next week.

Luke and I celebrated 8 years of marriage and we continue to marvel at how much the Lord chooses to bless us.

Wow. What a year. 2011 has some big, BIG shoes to fill.

Bring it on 2011. BRING.IT.ON.