You are able. You are enough.

*I started this post a week and a half ago. Today, I sit back on my own couch, surrounded by 8 clingy kids again.**

I sit here on the couch in California, Evelyn napping beside me and Ashlee locked onto a movie, a whole country away from 6 of our kids and my amazing husband. Ash, Evelyn and I flew here to be with Amanda as she gives birth to her second child. She was due on Sunday should be having her baby any day now is eager to deliver her second daughter and is hoping baby girl will make her appearance very soon. They already have a beautiful baby girl who is 16 months old. So, in a few days, their house will be very, very busy. And exhausting.

A very pregnant Amanda with Harper and Nick, about a week before McKinley arrived

I keep flashing back to a conversation I had with another friend a few months ago. She was lamenting how dirty her house was, how she never had any time to complete anything and she feels so frustrated at accomplishing anything productive during her days home, aside from caring for her two boys aged 2 years and 10 months. And in that conversation, I remembered. I remembered the days of us having a 2 year old and 2 newborn babies. I remembered the days of having a 4 year old, two 2 year olds and a newborn. And I thought about it in comparison to my day to day life (when I'm not living up the relaxing life in California) now. Something leapt out at me and I knew, especially as we anticipate this sweet bundle that should come right this very second any day now, that it was worth sharing. These thoughts have been swirling in anticipation of the life Amanda and Nick are about to step into. So if you have young babies, all under 3 or 4 years old. This is for you, too, friend. I hope it encourages you.

Dear Momma (and Daddy) of many littles,

Your life is hard, most days. Diapers flow freely, your boobs see more fresh air than a topless mannequin in Abercrombie, your head rarely rests on your pillow for longer than hour and a half increments. Somewhere, deep inside you, you may wonder in the exhausting hours of the wee morning, when you've been on your feet longer than you've been horizontal, if you made a mistake with all these little people you longed for, prayed for and ached to hold. That's okay. I did that, too.

Lucas (as a newly turned 2 years old) holding Aaron (the itty, bitty newborn).
Lucas' shirt was SO CORRECT.

In so many ways, your life with your 2 or 3 kids all ages 4 years (or 2 years) and under is SO MUCH harder than mine, with 8 children ages 9 years and younger. I promise, it really is. The thought of 8 kids overwhelms you, most likely. But I can assure you, my day to day life is a lot easier today than it was 6 years ago when we had a 2 year old and two newborns. Do you want to know why?

Because you are responsible for it all. I have at least two tremendous helpers named Elizabeth and Ashlee. But, not you. You, mom and dad to your two little bitties, you are all there is to keep the peace. Every pat, every feeding, every reinserting of the pacci, every diaper, every butt wipe, every snack, every meal, every drink, every boo boo that needs kissed, every cuddle and burp, all of it. YOU ARE THE ONE who has to do that. You and your husband is all there is unless he's at work, or deployed or just at the store for another round of diapers, and then you're it. You alone.

And I don't say that to overwhelm you or to make it feel even more exhausting, but to give you hope. Because, I can promise you, that one day you will blink and those sweet babies that are 16 months apart will be 9 years old and 8 years old and the very best of friends. You'll hear them arguing over who gets to sleep on the top bunk tonight, or who wore the stonewashed jeans last or who took all the marshmallow cereal and you'll have to think really, really hard to remember how exhausting today was for you. You'll hear them tell each other secrets that they only reserve for each other and your heart will feel so overwhelmed with joy and love it just might explode.

Elizabeth - 3 years (almost 4), Lucas and Ashlee - 2 years, and newborn
Aaron in my arms, about to take his first "real" bath.

When you have a rockstar mom day, and both babies sleep like they've been sprinkled with sleeping dust from heaven, high five yourself and enjoy it. But when it's been a cry fest day, all you've accomplished all day long is holding babies and the smell of your own person makes you cringe, remember that this won't last forever. Also remember that this is the hardest part. Yes, there will be days when your first born begins to grow breasts and has her first period, her first crush and is sassier than a Kardashian with PMS and you'll wish so hard she was still 4 months old and you could baby wear her and smell her baby head. Those days will be hard, too. Trust me.

But today, the day that you are everything and everyone and the most important person on the face of the planet to everyone in your home, these days are hard. Emotionally, physically, spiritually all of it. You'll fall into the bed at the end of every day and, if you don't crash immediately, you'll replay the day in your head, highlighting all the ways you feel you failed. And you'll probably cry when you think about how you've probably bruised their fragile, little hearts with your harsh, exhausted tone of voice at nap time because OH MY GAH PLEASE GO TO SLEEP IN THE NEXT 5 MINUTES OR I WILL SNAP. Believe me when I tell you that you did not do permanent damage. It will be overridden by the hours you will spend rocking and holding and cuddling and kissing boo-boos and everything in between. Your babies will grow up, too quickly I can assure you, and you will long for the days when you had to hold your sweet newborn just so you could both nap while the toddler naps.

Luke and I with Luke's Dad and step-Mom.
Elizabeth is not quite two years old, the twins are newbies.

 The best advice I have for you right now, exhausted Momma, is to cut yourself some slack. And take lots and lots and lots of pictures. Journal if your arms are able to move at the end of a long day. Because you will forget. You'll forget the details you swore to yourself you'd remember. When I had my first 3 babies, facebook was relatively new and Instagram wasn't even a thought. Thankfully, with those two things, the picture part will be easier for you now. But journal, journal, journal. Even if you're a bad writer. Even if you can't write out complete sentences. Write it down. I wish, so much, I'd have blogged back then.

I *think* this is the morning of Elizabeth's 2nd birthday. If not, it's close to then.
Look at my tiny twins! Oh goodness I miss those baby cheeks.

Finally, my sweet friend, savor as many moments as you can. I know it's hard. I do. And sometimes it's all you can do to get through the day. But at least once a day, even if it's when everyone is screaming at fever pitch, stop, breathe, fake a smile and savor it. I heard someone say at a homeschool conference when Ella was just an itty, bitty baby (she's 4 now by the way) that, "The days are long but the years are short." It's so true. 

Savoring isn't the easiest thing in the world, either. So I don't say that flippantly. I love, love, love having newborns. But I know not all mothers are that way. And that is okay. It's okay if you don't love the newborn phase. Just like it's okay that 4 year olds aren't exactly my favorite age on the planet.

My point is, motherhood is hard. Mothering small armies of babies and toddlers without the help of an older sibling is exhausting. Cut yourself some slack. Take a long nap when you can and remember to date your husband as often as possible. You can do this. You were made to do this. I promise you were. God set those tiny people in your family with a specific purpose, at this specific time, for this specific season. When the days feel like you're drowning, remember that this time was ordained by The One who walked on drowning waters.

I promise you, you are able. You are enough. Now, sniff that newborn head for me and kiss those pudgy toddler hands (but check for boogers and mystery smells first). And if you forget that you are enough, just ask me. I'll be sure to remind you every, single time.

Love,

Me

Almost 4 month old Evelyn with less than 24 hour old McKinley

Simply Remember

I feel like I've spent a lot of the last 9 years of my life trying to remember things.

Return those library books, don't forget to get a gallon of milk on the way home, so-and-so's birthday is tomorrow, send a follow up email about such-and-such, don't forget to ask so-and-so about that thing, take the trash to the curb, take a meal to this family, etc, etc.

But then there are the important things. Don't forget the way Elizabeth said the word "juice" the first 5 years of her life. Don't forget the way Lucas and Ashlee liked to trade plates when they were still chubby-faced toddlers. Or the way Ashlee hid food under her leg and would eat it all at the end of her meal. Or the way Olivia would dance to any beat from the age of 6 months on. Or the way Aaron held his pacci in the side of his mouth like a cigar when he was learning to crawl. Or how an 18 month old Ella could be pitching an epic fit one minute and belly laughing the next.

That's the thing when you add 1 or 2 babies every two or so years, you tend to be caught up in the busyness of the day to day and you forget a lot of things. Luke says the first six months of the twins' life is a complete blur to him. I say the first three months. I remember getting up one morning a few days after the twins were born. I walked into the living room and my Mom had swaddled two of Elizabeth's babies up. She was pretending to nurse them, sitting there in just her underwear. All of the sudden she seemed SO BIG. And I just started crying.

I'll never forget this though, the twins were tiny, less than a couple months old. I was getting Elizabeth ready for bed and I stripped off her shirt, pants and undies. The stench that came from her small, 2 year old body was enough to make me recoil. I looked at Luke, shocked, and asked, "When was the last time we bathed Elizabeth?" We both thought for several minutes and we could not remember. I'm sure it had been over a week.

I've always taken a lot of pictures. I guess somewhere subconsciously I knew that those pictures would be the lifeline to my memories. But with the purchase of our smartphones and the conception of my photography business, using a real camera on my own kids is something that's sort of slipped onto the back burner.

So yesterday, when Abigail was upstairs "helping" me make lunch while the other kids were happily entertained with the electronic babysitter, I could have gotten swept up in the moment of hungry kids, lunch time, my pelvis begging me to sit down, my bladder beseeching me to empty it's contents. Again. But instead, I noticed my sweet 21 month old, in a princess dress that she INSISTED on wearing, standing on top of our shoe bins, eating a banana and completely captivated by a squirrel doing only-a-squirrel-knows-what in our front yard. The light hit her face and I moved as fast as my feet could waddle me to grab the camera. My real camera.

Because THIS is what I don't want to forget.

This girl, a cheek full of banana, pointing at a squirrel, telling me to "come 'ere," giggling when I say, "That's not a puppy!"

Her dimple on that one side. It's becoming less obvious the bigger she gets. I've seriously prayed it will stay forever even though she'll probably hate it as a teenager,

sticky, slimy banana finger prints all over my window sill,

her amazement at how fast that little squirrel ran away when she knocked on the window,

and how I wouldn't let her stand on the microwave, so she would stretch a tulle covered foot over there, then look at me over her shoulder and grin.

And how after she realized the squirrel wasn't coming back, she spent the rest of her time "helping" me make grilled cheeses by licking the butter when I wasn't looking. For me, it's less about not forgetting and more about remembering the little things. Savoring the details, letting go of the things that are suppose to be these big memory makers and just enjoying my kids exactly where they are. Breathing them in and trying my best to simply remember.

Repost: Saturday's Special

This was originally posted on September 2, 2010.

As I looked back through my blog at posts about Paige, this one brought quick and lasting tears. Our family is going to miss her so very much.

Original post:

On Saturday we made a fun family trip up to see someone very special. Paige is one of the students that graduated this year from our Student Ministry. She holds a very special place in the heart of everyone in our family.

Back before Luke and I ever even made the plunge into Student Ministry, Paige played the role of Dora the Explorer at Elizabeth's 3rd birthday party. Little did we know then that Paige would grow in our hearts the same as our own family. Truth is, we love all of our students equally. But our relationship with Paige is different than most of the others. Paige has consistently gone out of her way to come and visit us, make it our kids' birthday parties and just spend time with us when she could have been hanging out with other people. So naturally, we've developed a relationship with her outside of the church walls. Our kids have developed their own relationships with her. We are exponentially blessed by her on a continual basis.

The thing is, Paige allowed us to disciple her. And, it doesn't matter how eager you are to influence the life of another person if they don't choose to allow you to do so. She's invested as much in us as we've invested in her. She's proven to be an investment that we will never regret making. So it's for those reasons that Paige is special to our family and always will be.

Our girls look up to her and I couldn't be more pleased with the role model that they've chosen. And even though she's moved off to college a whole 2 hours away from us, I have a hunch will still see her on a pretty regular basis. Not only were our older 3 enamored with the fact that Paige lives at a real, live college but we had an amazing time "hiking" around at a local state park.

We did lots of running...

Lots of walking at our own pace....

Lots of shoulder riding...

Lots of chubby cheek grinning....

More than our fair share of jumping off rock walls...

We took cat naps in the stroller....

We posed everytime the camera was looking in our direction...

We allowed Luke to use the camera (which is really something special)....

We made silly faces...

And we made lots of lots of memories.

Thanks Paigey for letting us crash your Saturday. We had so much fun and we love you more than you'll ever, ever know!

Fear

To say that I am not afraid would be lying. Of course I’m afraid.

I’m afraid of the run-of-the-mill things like one of my children being abducted or being hit by a car. I’m afraid that the bruises on their legs that seem to linger will turn out to be cancer or that I won’t be a good enough mother and one of our children will never know the Lord.

I’m afraid I’ll fail my husband or my parents or my friends or all of them at the same time. I’m afraid I won’t be obedient enough to the Lord and I’ll suffer the consequences of my short comings. I’m afraid I’ll get so caught up in the day to day that I’ll never remember our children at the ages they are now.

A few nights ago I sat staring at a picture of Elizabeth when she was just about 3 years old. I willed myself to remember her tiny frame embracing me at that exact age.

I couldn’t.

A lump rose in my throat as I realized that I will never, ever get those days back. Forever she’ll be bigger than that chubby faced, wild haired almost-three year old in the picture. Never again will I hear her three year old voice or brush her wild, blond, fresh curls away from her pudgy little almost-three year old cheeks. I looked at her plump baby hands curled around a popsicle stick and forced my mind to remember what those fingers felt like intertwined with mind.

I couldn’t.

Fear overwhelmed me as I realized that those memories had faded quickly from my mind and as much as I will it, I cannot stop my children from growing.

The truth is, if I could keep our children the ages they are now and hold them in this season forever, I would. Yes, it’s exhausting. Diapers and snacks are endless. I’m sleep deprived and short on patience most days. But the alternative is forgetting. And I’m afraid I will forget and never again remember them exactly as they are now.

Then, there’s the biggest fear of all.

Africa.

My heart longs to go so desperately and then fear overwhelms me and my mind races with the what ifs.

What if we go and it breaks their little hearts too much?

What if they catch malaria?

What if they die?

What if they hate us for taking them?

What if we are making a mistake?

I cry out to God begging Him to confirm this calling just one more time. He always does.

I hurl fear-based questions at Him praying He hears them and calms my anxiety.

He reminds me that there is fear in every choice He has led us in as we obey His calling on our lives.

There’s fear in homeschooling, that I won’t be enough or do enough or prepare them adequately.

There’s fear in vaccinations, that they’ll suffer negative consequences from them or that by delaying them we’ve exposed them to diseases or that we’re being neglectful by omitting some.

There’s fear that we’ve had too many children, that they’ll never know just how truly special they each are or that they’ll resent having so many siblings or that we’ll miss a milestone in their lives.

There’s fear at every turn. Africa is no different it’s just on a bigger scale.

The Lord reminds me that I am merely a steward of these gifts He’s given me. They really aren’t mine anyway. They are His. He loves them so much more than I can even comprehend. And for some crazy reason, He trusts me to nurture, love, raise and disciple them here on this earth. I can’t say why but He does.

Isn’t He afraid I’ll blow it?

“So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as he is so also are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.
(1 John 4:16-18 ESV, emphasis mine)” 

There is no fear in love.

He loves me. And he loves them. More than anything I can comprehend, His love is everlasting.

So no, He's not afraid I'll blow it because He already knows that I'll mess up. He sees my mistakes and acknowledges them, knowing that He holds their futures, their pasts and their present all in the palm of His hand.

He has called us to parent this colony of children. He arranged and ordained our family to be in perpetual chaos. He knew it all before the dawn of time. He knew the day each of them would take their first breath and the day they will each draw their last.

If When bad things happen, I must trust in Him that He has His best in mind for me and for them.

I sank back into the pillows of the couch and continued staring at the photo of Elizabeth. "I can see some Ella in there and also some Abigail, can't you?" I say to Luke as he leans in closer and we look at this girl that we once knew.

"She's so big now," he says whispered, as if saying it loudly will make the time pass more quickly.

And again, fear lept into my throat.

I don't want to forget.

Please, Lord, let me remember these days. Let me not rush through them so quickly that I look back and wonder how I got here and where those chubby face babes went.

But mostly Lord, let me not fear your plans for me. Instead, let me press in close to the love you have for me and take great comfort in your desires for our life. Let your perfect love cast out all of my fears.

Lucas, 14 months

Ashlee, 14 months

Elizabeth, a few weeks before her 3rd birthday

Memorial Box Monday: Trusting in God's Promises

Last week, I participated in A Place Called Simplicity's Memorial Box Monday. Over the last week, I've reflected a lot on the provision of the Lord. Yet still, I am yearning to hear His voice as I have so often in the past.

Right now, I'd say I'm in the midst of a season of fear. I'm afraid we'll never get to Africa. I'm afraid we will get Africa and it be a total disaster.

So, as Luke and I prayed earlier this week, God gently reminded me that He is always faithful. He reminded me to rest in His promises and reflect on them often.

I began thinking about previous promises the Lord had given me. In February of 2009 I began journaling on a private, invitation only blog to chronicle our calling to the mission field. We hadn't made our calling public yet (Olivia wasn't even adopted yet!) so I only invited a very limited number of people to read - less than 10.

Today, as I desperately desired to remember the promises God has previously fulfilled, I knew that I needed to look no further than the archives of that private blog. The post below was originally posted to my private blog on March 2, 2009.

(I find it more than a LITTLE funny that exactly 1 year after that post we were moving into our rental that I referenced in my last Memorial Box Monday post. Oh how God is faithful!)

I know how important it is to remind myself of God's unfailing promises. As we sit now, anticipating Baby #7's arrival and our future in Africa looking impossible by human standards, I know that the Lord's promises from 2008 are not voided. His promises from over 2,000 years ago are not voided. We serve an unchanging God. And today, I delight in His faithfulness.

It was August 10th, 2008 but I remember it like it was yesterday. Aaron was 2 months old and we were still having many sleepless nights and adjusting to life with a new baby. I was still telling Luke that we had to take Aaron to big church because the nursery was too germy. As I sat in service, holding my baby boy, I listened as best I could to the sermon. Our pastor was preaching a series out of Nehemiah.

Nehemiah had been summoned to build the wall and had many people rebuke him. Everything in the book of Nehemiah screamed to Luke and I that we were doing the right thing by obediently fostering. Although we had many critics, He had called us to this task and He was providing. I was listening intently to Pastor Michael, because I knew God was speaking to us, through him.

Then it happened, something that still baffles me, something that I'd not experienced, ever. God began a conversation with me. It went something like this:

God: "I'm glad that you see that this sermon is for you. You are doing the right thing, you know?"

Me: "Yes, I know Father. Thank you for the confirmation."

God: "Did you really think this was it though? Did you think that it was JUST about fostering?"

Me: "Huh? What do you mean?"

God: "This is not the end. After you adopt him [Aaron] I have something else for your family. Something big."

Me: "What? Uh, okay."

God: "Missions. You know it's been there this whole time. Once he's adopted, the bigger task will come."

Me: "Wait! Did you just say we would adopt him?" (Yes, I know I missed the point.) "Seriously? Why are you telling me this? Why now?"

God: "You will adopt him because I needed him. He will help fulfill my purpose for your family, when you go to your next mission."

Me: (Angry) "Why him? Why not our birth children? Don't they matter too?"

God: "Settle down. Of course they matter. They matter most because it is through them that I will harvest his heart so that he may do great works for Me. Listen to his story Jessica, it screams my name."

Me: (Picturing Elizabeth and Ashlee loving on him and Lucas showing him what it means to be a brother...then TEARS.) "Okay God. Here I am."

Can I tell you that just saying that outloud is freaky? Seriously. I've known people who live in padded rooms that have more rational thoughts. However, there it is.

I hid this promise in my heart, not even telling Luke until a few months later. I was so scared to admit it. So scared that I might be wrong. So scared that all of it would not come to fruition, then where would my faith be? How do you explain that you "Heard from God" but you got it all wrong. Even still, what if Aaron doesn't do great things for God? Where does that leave me?

God promised that we would adopt Aaron. After many court dates, tears and heart wrenching encounters with birth parents, and almost 12 months to the day from that promise, Aaron was legally adopted into our family.

God called us to listen and obey and become foster parents. Then He gave us insight to our next phase in life, nearly 2 years before our calling was made public. So God, here we are.  We have not forgotten the promise. We know the assignment. But God, I'm still so fearful of  the unknown. Help me Lord, help me not be afraid.

Help me to cling to your promises even in the uncertainties of life. I know you are faithful Father. Help me to not only rest in your promises but to walk in them with confidence.

Memorial Box Monday: $25

I desperately want to write more often. I really do. But lately, it seems that God has answered my prayers to make me more focused, more intentional about my time with and without my children. We've been so busy around here organizing, moving furniture around, getting rid of things we don't use and having more structured homeschooling days, that blogging has fallen to the wayside.

And that's okay. It's okay that a silly little blog takes up less of my time than does my home and my children and my husband.

But honestly? I miss writing. Even though I may not be the best writer in the world, it's releasing for me. It's therapy, honestly. And when I don't have time (or make time) it all swims around in my head, often clogging up my thoughts.

I still read plenty of blogs (even though that has had to be trimmed down too) and one of my favorites to read is A Place Called Simplicity.

This family is super crazy about the Lord and about children. But if I'm being very honest, I will say that often I read what Linny writes, then walk away dumbfounded as to why I haven't heard from the Lord like that lately.

The Lord gently continues to remind me that I will more clearly hear from Him when I choose to invest time in my relationship with Him through prayer, Bible study and meditating on His word. And while I'm being honest, all 3 of those areas of my life have not been stellar lately. Relationships take work. One with the Lord is no different.

Over the course of the last few weeks, one of the things I have prayed is that the Lord would remind me exactly how I have seen him work in our lives previously. Remembering those things often triggers me to spend more time with Him, seeking His heart and direction.

He is always faithful, I'm the one who forgets.

So when Linny posted that she was doing a Memorial Box Monday post, I knew I had to join in, even if it is just this once. If you'd like to know what a Memorial Box Monday post is, you can read Linny's post  with a good explination by clicking here.

Basically, a Memorial Box is like in the Old Testament when the Israelites would set up a stone memorial for when God has faithfully provided for them. Then, as they passed that pillar again and again, they would remember God's faithfulness and tell their children and their children's children.

Today, I want to remember God's faithfulness, even in the details.

-------

Over 2 years ago, in August of 2009, Luke and I put our house on the market. It was the house of my dreams really. I was about 9 weeks pregnant at the time and we had felt God stirring our hearts toward missions for quite some time. We knew we needed to be out from under the debt of that house and ready for whatever God called us to do next.

I was scared. Here we were, contemplating missions, having our 6th child and listing our house for sale. It was a LOT. But, because we'd seen God be faithful in the past, we knew He'd be faithful again, even in this.

About 2 months after listing our house, we had an offer. It was contingent, but an offer none-the-less. Over the course of Christmas and into the New Year of 2010 our house remained under contract with a contingent offer. As my waistline continued to expand, my patience weakened.

Finally, about a month before my due date our realtor called and said that the people buying our house had sold their house. We settled on a closing date of March 3, a mere 5 days before my due date with Ella.

Here's where the Memorial Box comes in (as if selling a house in the 1st plummet of the housing market wasn't enough).

Since Ella was due March 8th, Luke and I decided it would be wise to find a rental and move by March 1st. I was SO SURE that Ella would come early since, you know, I'D CARRIED TWINS. Heh. That's funny now. (She wasn't born until March 23rd, nearly 2.5 weeks after her due date and I was STILL induced.)

Ahem. Anyway, the 1st way that God provided was that we found a rental only TWO STREETS over from our old house, the rent was the cheapest of any we could find. We had amazing friends who jumped in and helped us move. It was beyond what I'd call a blessing.

It had FOUR BEDROOMS and we could move in at our leisure and just let the landlords know when we spent our 1st night and our rent would begin that day.

The drawbacks to this place were that it had neither a stove or a refrigerator. We sold the ones we had with our previous house and so we were not only stove-less but refrigerator-less.

We were moving in before the closing on our old house which meant we had very little cash to go purchase either of those things since we don't do credit cards. Once the house sold, we'd be fine, until then, we really didn't want to drop $500 on them.

After all, what if we never even closed on our old house and had to move all our stuff back?

In passing, a friend casually mentioned that where her Dad works they sell used refrigerators for $25.

TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS.

Uh. Sign me up.

I called her Dad and asked about a fridge. He had one. On a whim I also asked, "Do you by chance have a stove too?"

He did. FOR TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS.

Incredible and only the Lord.

Right now I'm struggling to remember the faithfulness of God. I'm struggling to see how we're going to have a baby, raise support and still get to Africa sometime before the turn of the century. But God is always faithful. And I just need to keep remembering that He's never left us high and dry. He's never left us without perfectly providing exactly what we've needed.

He's never not shown up. Ever.

And I trust that He'll do it again and again and again.

The color of their love

She walks down the sidewalk toward me slowly. Her flowing skirt dancing around her calves, her bare feet shuffling on the concrete. She looks older. Much older than I ever remember. I thought she was old when I was 10.

That was 21 years ago.

Now it’s not my limited perception making her seem aged, but time. Years of working on a factory assembly line, then coming home to cooking, cleaning, gardening and canning the works of their harvest.

In my memory, she still wears a calf-length skirts and walks everywhere barefoot, while humming hymns. As I see her shuffling toward me, a thousand memories flood my mind. I can nearly hear her cackling laughter in my ears as a broad smile spreads across her face.

“Hey Jess!” the same voice of the grandmother of my youth echos out, sounding only slightly more weathered. I’m holding her namesake, who squeals in response to my Granny’s attention.


I used to sneak her extra pair of false teeth out of the bathroom and wear them, as best I could, over my own teeth. One time I used her denture glue to help hold them in. It took me forever to get that off my teeth. She laughed and laughed at me.

I wrap my arm around her, realizing she’s a little shorter than she used to be, but she smells just the same. “Look at how those kids have grown! And, there’s Ella.”

I’d played this moment out in my mind at least a dozen times, but living it was much better than I could have ever imagined. I shift my hip over so my Granny can finally meet the great-granddaughter who bears her name.

"Ella, meet Ella," I say. They both grin.


She laughs a hearty laugh, one that’s familiar and I can’t help but smile along with. “She’s beautiful, Jess, just like her Granny.” She cackles again, as she turns to walk to the house.


“Y’all come on in and get you somethin’ cold to drink,” she more commands than offers. Their house exists outside of time, I do believe. It’s hardly changed since I was a kid, only now it seems much smaller.

I walk into the kitchen and can almost see her standing there at the stove, with her back to me, her elbow moving wildly as she stirs a big pot of soup. Her voice breaks my thoughts, “Jess, there’s bologna in the refrigerator and some sodies too if you want one. Make those kids the rest of them hot dogs.” Pots rattle in the cabinet as she searches for her favored choice to boil some hot dogs.

“I’ll just grill them here, Gran.” She looks at me and clangs the pot on the stovetop, “Alright, but you’d better clean it up when you’re done.”

I smile. Not much has changed. I’m still a little girl in her mind and she’s still my headstrong, bossy, love-filled Granny.

We eat lunch and then head outside. She uses a cane now and tears sting my eyes as I notice how much more slowly she walks. It’s been nearly 18 months since we were here the last time. Too long considering how much she’s changed.

“Don’t you feed those kids? They’re so skinny.”

“Yes, Granny, they eat. A lot. Trust me.”

She laughs again.

We talk about nothing and everything. She asks about Africa. She says the obvious, “Four years? Well, you know we probably won’t be around by the time you get back.”

Tears wet my lashes again.

“I’d thought that too Gran,” I almost whisper. I’m pretty sure I got my matter-of-factness from her. Actually, I know I did. She loves boldly and speaks her mind the same.

In my mind I can almost hear her voice singing hymns as my eyes follow the rows of levies through the rice fields that surround their house. I blink hard to make the tears disappear.

“Come on and let me show you my flowers.”


For the next half an hour we walk hand-in-hand as she quizzes me on the names of the plants and I fail her test miserably. She laughs as I make up random names for the varieties of foliage, none of which are correct. She, on the other hand, knows almost every plant and who gave it to her and on which occasion. Her mind is still sharp even though her body is weakening.


I used to catch critters in glass canning jars. Usually lightening bugs, sometimes bees. My cousins and I would play for hours in the creek beside their house throwing rocks, catching inedible fish and hunting for crawdads. I took our kids down to that same creek and was surprised by how small it really is.

My Paw arrives back from a monthly lunch gathering with his brothers. My Granny and paw have been married for over 60 years and I don’t recall ever seeing them argue, though I’m sure they did. Again, my mind turns to memories and I see my Paw hunched over a small desk, with a desk lamp, reading a well worn Bible.

My hands would be purple or hot pink or maybe blue depending on the type of dust put on the seeds that we grandkids planted in their garden. They’d hand us a bag and show us a row and we’d get busy planting seeds. You could wash and wash and wash your hands but that color would take days to come off your skin.

“We planted us a garden again this year,” she says, breaking my thoughts once more. “Used to we could plant the whole garden, all over the back yard, in just one day. This year it took us all day just to plant 4 plants.” I look at the meager garden that they have sowed this year. It’s puny in comparison to the gardens of my childhood. I remember being yelled at for playing in the rows and rows of corn. I’d get called in from the back yard for stepping on the rows and rows of okra. It spanned their entire backyard, which is good sized enough to store up food for the winter. Now, their garden is the size of a few baby cribs.

My life is not what it once was because of the faithfulness of their lives. I am stained with their love. My greatest prayer is that our children, and even our children’s children, understand the labor of my grandparents and know The Love that they testified to my entire life.


Long after their garden is never again planted in soil, they will continue to reap a generational harvest. The legacy they have planted in the hearts of their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren has stained our family’s hands for eternity. I could never wash off the color that these two people have embedded in my life. Nor would I ever want to. Long before I knew the King, they knew Him. They remained steadfast through deaths and burials of their children and grandchildren. They continued to slow, plant and tend. They continued to persevere. They sowed great seeds in me, without my even knowing.

Years from now as I remember my Granny’s abundant cackling laughter and my Paw’s tender, deep voice, I pray that I will also remember the love my Savior poured into me through them. I pray that my life remains stained with the color of their love.

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.

One year

One year ago today we were homeowners, without our home even listed for sale.

One year ago today I was still in basking in the new knowledge that a baby was growing inside me.

One year ago today we felt burdened for missions but sat confused on how God would work it all out with a baby on the way.

One year ago today I lost my step-mom unexpectedly. And my sister lost her mother.

One year ago today I knew less about God.

One year ago today I didn't know the things I know today.

One year ago I was so caught up in today that I forgot that a year from now my life might look totally different. And, I still struggle to remember this.

One year from today I pray that my life is closer to being fully consecrated to a mighty God.

One year from today I pray that I will be that much more in love with my Savior.

One year from today I will look back and remember all that God has done for us and stand in awe, just as I do today.

One year from today God will remind me that He is in the details and on the mountain tops, He's in the valleys and in the major decisions.

One year from today I pray my Bible is a little more worn, my heart is a little more full of His words and my sin is a little further removed from my day to day.

One year from today will be marvelous. I just know it.

Memorial Day Memory Lane

What a memorable Memorial weekend we had! We were blessed to travel to my Nana's lakehouse and spend time there boat riding, fishing, swimming, jumping, playing and tubing. It was so hard for me to believe that it was THREE years ago that I looked like this (and only had 1 child - outside the womb, anyway):

In that picture, I was fully pregnant with the twins. I delivered them just 2 days later, all 11 + pounds of them. My Dad is trying his best to make his stomach look as large as mine. He did not succeed, which seriously bolstered my self-esteem. Elizabeth was just 21 months old.

Our teentsey little family had a final, relaxing weekend just before the chaos of two new babies hit. (Although this picture makes us look tattered and exhausted, and not at all relaxed. Oh gracious, if we only knew what TRUE exhaustion was.)

This whole weekend, I was blown away by the fact that it was THREE years ago. And in those THREE years, we've acquired 4 more children. Wow.

Anyway, back to this weekend. Elizabeth and Lucas both caught their first fish. They were so stinkin' proud.


While Ashlee couldn't have cared less about fishing and instead spent her time blowing bubbles, and getting in and out and in and out and in and out of the boat.


Aaron LOVED watching the big kids play on the inflatable island and even spent some time sitting, quite happily, in the on-board cooler. It was a perfect fit for both of them.

Baby Girl spent most of her time sleeping. I think she's having a growth spurt because she is sleeping ALL THE TIME lately. At any rate, I couldn't let the weekend go by without hijacking borrowing my Mom's awesome SLR camera and having a mini photo fest with my littlest beauty. Nor could I avoid snapping this shot of Aaron being an awesome big brother and providing me with a blog-friendly picture of his little sister.

When she wasn't being the object of her brother's affection, Baby Girl sat contently admiring her feet - her newfound hobby. I happen to think they are quite precious as well.


I hope you all had an awesome Memorial Day weekend. I hope you, like me, spent some time in thought over fond memories you've all made and the privilege we have of living in a country where memories are often blessings.

Snow Day #2...A.K.A. "The Blizzard"

**I tried to upload a picture slideshow using various sources, but they were all taking too long and I'm ready to go to bed. So, you will only get a few pictures. Anyone know of a good slideshow hosting site that doesn't take 18 years to upload 1 picture?**

You may rembember me posting back in January, when we had snow. Everyone was all excited because, for us southerners, that first snow was a biggie. In all actuality, it was a mere "dusting." Well, this weekend, we experienced what even (some of) you northerners might consider a substantial snow. On Sunday night, it started snowing. By the time we woke up on Monday morning, it had snowed almost 6 inches! Needless to say, the kids were SO excited and ready to go play, play, play. Our day consisted of free snow play, sledding, building snowmen, sledding, having snowball fights, sledding and making snow angels. At the end of the day we had cold hands, red cheeks, tired legs (from climbing sledding hills 15 bazillion times) and hungry tummies. It was a fabulous day that provided many memories that I will treasure forever.

My cuddle girl after a trip down the hill on the sled.

Lucas and Daddy sledding. Yes, he has on a pink headband, but I don't think he really cared!

Daddy and Ash. I don't know why she kept begging to go because she couldn't see a thing!

Me, Lucas and the Masked Mystery Munchkin

Elizabeth flyin' solo. She could have stayed out all day. Mean 'ol Mom made her come in and warm up and nap before heading out again later.

My beautiful snow bunny!