unexpected

Last weekend this happened. You may not believe it from all the biker going on, but under the helmets are a dairy farmer and his pastry chef wife. I imagine not your first guess. It's my sister and her husband and ever since we snapped this photo last weekend during our visit north I just can't get enough of it. Besides my brother-in-law looking mega B.A. in his leather jacket and aves, I love it because it's the most unexpected photo life ever. Unexpected but the best.

In her previous life, Andria was a softball pitcher for Division 1 Rutgers on a full-ride scholarship. She traveled to New York and Colorado post-college and then went to the French Culinary Institute. Galen is one of ten children who grew up home schooled on a diary farm. They're ten and a half years apart in age, love Jesus fiercely, and own a motorcycle. Andria and Galen are so clearly living out what God has in store for them. This is no cookie cutter story. 

I absolutely love it.

And it got me thinking about my own life. I use so much of my energy planning and striving for the expected. How can I make my life look like the lives of people around me? Jobs, finances, clothes, possessions. How can I fit in?

There's not much room for God in that. I focus so hard on trying to make my life look normal instead of aligning my life with what God has for me. 

The year after I graduated from Penn State I interned with Campus Crusade for Christ. My parents and my future in-laws thought I was nuts. I'm going to talk about Jesus to college students as a career? I have to raise support? Over $40,000 in three months??! Not wise. Even I was hesitant. But crazy as it sounded, I chose to do it. I chocked it up to my track record of stubbornness - classic Brianna, doing what she wants to do no matter what other people say. But looking back, that's a big time lie. That wasn't stubbornness, that was following Jesus in the unexpected. That was listening to God's voice in my life, trusting I know what that sounds like to me. And in my life, that's when I've felt the most joy and meaning and have had the greatest ability to trust God. There's good stuff in the uncomfortable, in the unexpected.

Almost a year ago to date from this rad motorcycle revelation, my counselor encouraged me to talk with Jeremiah about what we thought God has for us. Not for our friends, but for us. After all, our story became very unexpected, which is why I was going to counseling in the first place. I don't believe God will rock my life as hard as what I've walked through in my marriage to ultimately have it turn out like my neighbor next door's or my best friend's or my siblings'.

For me, an expected life is a small view of what God has for me, for my family. And with a small view of God, I will miss out on so much joy and meaning and trust. And that's the good stuff of life. I want all that. I want my kids to experience all that and want them to watch their parents dive head first into what God has for them, even if it seems on paper like we're taking a one-way train to crazy town.

And thank God He has different stories for each of us, because I hate motorcycles.

nine weeks

Nine weeks old and upgrading onesie sizes. This picture captures Knox mid "ah-gooo," little noises from him that never get old. He's quite the charmer, very smiley and talkative when he's awake. There's nothing quite like your baby catching a glimpse of you and bursting out in a big gummy smile. And yes, the crying is annoying, but it is kind of flattering that he stops and sleeps soundly if I hold him (most of the time). Good news is I have figured out how to get him to nap for close to three hours in the morning - car seat, baby. Works most of the time, thank you Jesus.

Other big things this week, Knoxy boy had his first big road trip. He's already been to Charlottesville, VA and back (about an hour one way), but this past weekend he headed up north. He was a champ. Six hour trip one way. I mean, PHEW. And he did great while there, too. I thought back to when we first traveled with Surrey when she was five weeks and it was the most horrendous experience of my life. And then, at eight-ish weeks. Again, horrendous. So, we're feeling good and clinging to the hope that traveling will be doable with this boy.

Surrey continues to get all up in Knox's space all day every day. He doesn't seem to mind too much and oftentimes even smiles at her or "kisses" her back. It's stressful and I feel like a broken record telling her to be careful or back the train up, but it's also so sweet to see. 

eight weeks

If this isn't the funniest picture you've ever seen...
Ha! This kid is getting hilarious. That face. That growing chub. And my oh my that sweet coo-ing that has become more and more frequent. 
Now, sweet Knox, if we can just get a handle on this daytime sleeping thing. For the love.

seven weeks

The boy is real cute, especially when he's goo-ing and gaa-ing. But otherwise, he is killing me! 

off she goes

We've entered a new phase of life. School. Well, "school."

Today we sent Surrey off to her first morning of 2 year old MMO/preschool. She will absolutely thrive there and I'm so excited that she's able to go. Right now in life I just can't offer her a lot of mental and physical engagement and creativity, things she so so needs especially with her vivid imagination. I don't say that in a way to put myself down, I just say it as reality. With a newborn and a part-time job and everything else, I'm just not on my A game in terms of toddler innovation. So I'm happy to have her go and be and enjoy. She'll love being with other kids - the bulk of her life that's how it's been. I'm thankful for the eight months we recently had just the two of us, but I've learned that it's good for her to be around other kids consistently.

Satan popped up fiercely this morning. He came in the form of Surrey falling down the front steps on our way to the car. Scraped knee and tears. He came in the form of heavyish rain right as we were leaving. I had to carry a thousand raincoats, a car seat with a baby, a bag of supplies for the classroom, a big girl going to preschool, and her tote bag. And there are multiple flights of stairs to get into the church building for school. Satan could have sent us scrambling and stressed and who knows, maybe he could have gotten under my skin so bad that we didn't make it there. But oh sweet victory! More than conquerors.

How can it be that not only do I have two kids but one of them is at school?? Of course the first thing I did after I dropped her off was to go grab Starbucks. After all, I got everyone and everything out the door this morning and it's cooler outside and it's rainy. So, I deserved it. Ha. Anyway, I was imagining if someone asked said to me, ohh look at that sweet baby boy, is he your first? And I'd say, oh no I have another at preschool. Say what?! Aren't I still in high school? Nuts.

broken to beautiful

I'm not going to rehash every detail of yesterday morning. Let's just say it was maddening. It involved wet sheets and a screaming baby and everyone waking up at 5:30. It involved my daughter yelling at me from her room "Mommy, stop picking Knox" over and over again. It went from irritating to heartbreaking. 

Soon after, we were driving in the car and Surrey started singing along with the music. In my sleep deprivation I hadn't noticed that for once she hadn't demanded the Little Mermaid soundtrack on loop and so we were listening to All Sons & Daughters, an acoustic/folk Christian group. And I heard that sweet little voice behind me sing along in her own pronunciation of the words: You are a Savior and you take brokenness aside and make it beautiful, beautiful. A communication from Jesus straight to me.

The whole chorus of the song goes like this:
I am a sinner if it's not one thing it's another
Caught up in words, tangled in lies
But You are a Savior and You take brokenness and make it beautiful, beautiful.


After Jeremiah told me the news, life was a mess. I was broken and our marriage was broken because the covenant we had made with each other before God had been broken. Insecurity, anger, fear, sadness. Tons of questions and tons of hurt. We were in the trenches and I wondered if or how it would ever mend. A thriving, enjoyable marriage felt like a fat chance, an impossibility. For awhile we were in survival mode. A good day for me was mustering up the energy to feed my kid three meals a day and get to the grocery store. Something secret had been made known and we were trying our best to live and parent together amidst the rawness of it all. 2013 started off worse than any other year and I imagined it might end even worse.

But God chose to take our brokenness aside and make it beautiful. Through much counseling, vulnerability, and facing hard things, much healing came. And it's deeper beauty than I would've expected. Because after being so wronged, the last person I thought would be put through a life-changing transformation was me. But in exposing my true self - questions, doubts, fears, passions - to the best therapist ever, to dear friends, and to myself, God renewed me. Our marriage was on the brink of ending, but it was just a symptom of some bigger, deeper issues that I probably never would have had the time and space to sort out otherwise. That is hardship to be thankful for and hardship not wasted. God was so near and doing so much that I was able to contribute to a marriage that shouldn't be.

God is transforming my story. He takes brokenness aside and makes it beautiful. 2013, my marriage, my self. Pregnancy and the two people we get to call ours.

But it's not only the big life things - it's the day-to-day things, too. The pediatrician told me last week that I'm expected to do my worst parenting of my oldest child during the first 100 days of the second's life. Movies, TV, you name it. Consider it done, doc. So freeing and so reassuring. Because morning after morning of PBS Kids and Christmas movies (yes, it's gotten that bad around here) I get sucked in to thinking Surrey is missing out, that I'm doing her wrong, and that other moms aren't this incompetent. I am a sinner if it's not one thing it's another. Caught up in words, tangled in lies.

But God redeems His people and He surely redeems my days. He doesn't leave these tiring, maddening mornings with little people as so. He takes them aside and makes them beautiful. Surrey sings His truth from her car seat and in that He reminds me of all He has done and all He has yet to do.

Thursday, September 4

Friday, September 5

(Please note: Surrey's most requested song from the Little Mermaid soundtrack is "Poor, Unfortunate Souls" sung by none other than Ursula, the villian. Jesus take the wheel. Repeat after me, broken to beautiful, broken to beautiful...)

six weeks

The fabric this week is fitting. It's an all out war around here as we battle Knox's tendency to scream the entire day. Well, not the entire day, just every single time we try to put him down to sleep. It is absolutely maddening. Just so far today he has cried for like six hours. It's only 2pm and I'm being gracious. I'm going to start telling myself it's a growth spurt, which will buy me hope for a couple days. My college roommate who just had her third boy says it could just be a boy thing, as all her boys craved the hold. In case that's the truth, I sent out a cry for help for a Moby wrap and fortunately that same day a friend delivered hers to my door step. Knox loves the Ergo chest carrier, but I wanted something a little less buckle-y for wearing around the house to get chores done or play with Surrey. Now, if I can just figure out how to get the dang thing on and sturdy enough to hold my child. That same college roommate literally Facetimed with me this morning with her THREE boys in the background and gave me a tutorial on how to use the Moby. Wonder Woman. Cheers to another week down!

Also, he's symbolically punching us as his pose of the week. Rough.

the sign i've been waiting for

As you may have gleaned, I'm not really winning any awards for parenting these two kids of mine. I'm truly not even close to great at it - something I feel day in and day out, every hour on the hour. It's a boat load of stress. The feedings, the scheduling (or lack of scheduling), the crying - oh God, the CRYING - the guilt, the neediness, the entertaining. If you have a couple kids, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. I'm not alone, right? I am so tired. My body hurts.

A friend from church once told me she'd take the physical exhaustion of babies and little ones over the emotional exhaustion of teenagers any day. In the present circumstance of said physical exhaustion that unfortunately sort of feels like a hopeless slap in the face. Could this really be easier than what's to come? Jesus take the wheel.

Here's what I'm realizing: this struggle I'm having in raising two kids is for me very much an emotional exhaustion - probably even more than physical. Emotional because my sweet baby boy is screaming his lungs out and I feel so bad? Emotional because I have a front row seat to my oldest being parented by PBS Kids? Sure, some. But ultimately my emotional exhaustion centers around my own selfishness.

This afternoon I sent out an SOS to my husband. In our string of texts back and forth (thank you Jesus he has service in his new school!) I later typed this: Mourning the loss of my old life when I could do things I needed or wanted to do, not just little kid crowd control.

If that isn't the ugliest thing I've ever said. I didn't just have a kid yesterday. I've been at this parenting thing for close to three years and I'm still mourning and wishing. Really? Sure, even the best of parents have their moments of wanting to go back to the glory days of kid-less freedom, but for me it's obviously more than that. I'm so consumed with my agenda that I consider taking care of these two babes "little kid crowd control." Let me find a way to maintain the people but also accomplish things. Knox, please stop crying so that you get good sleep and are able to be calm and not miserable - but also please stop crying so I can sleep or eat lunch or clean or sew new pillow covers because the pillow situation on our sofa is grating at my every nerve. And God forbid you wake your sister because if I lose that nap time then my to-do list really has no hope. Because if I lose nap time that means I only have after you two go to bed and I've showered and done the millionth load of laundry and picked up all the nanimals off the floor and pumped. Oh the pumping! By that time I have nothing left to give, not even to the dire pillow situation.

My emotions start flying off the handle. In part because I wonder why oh why my baby can't gather himself and calm down and get good sleep for his sake, but also in part because I just want to do what I want to do, what I need to do.

I literally just used choice words and tone of voice in pure confession to Jeremiah during a baby crying sess lasting well over an hour. Frustrated because for four nights in a row I've sat down to write and gotten nothing done because of all the distractions. I closed the computer on yet another failed night.

But thanks to my social media addiction I emotionally self-soothed on Instagram immediately after our conversation to find this Holy Spirit kick in the pants. Someone posted this artsy little quote:
Children are NOT a distraction from more important work, they are THE MOST important work. - C.S. Lewis (aka my least favorite author now)

BAM. And crap.

I often wish God would send visible signs (preferably with flashing lights) to tell me what I need to do with my life. There may not be lights, but tonight God clearly sent me an electronic sign - an Instagram post with His voice reminding me of who He's created me to be and what He's called me to do today. I'm a mother who needs a lesson in distinguishing wants from needs in life; a mother trying to serve two masters and failing miserably; a mother who has been given two kids to love like Jesus, who needs to focus on Him to find the strength and power to do that well. Because there's a whole lot more importance and life and eternity in these two innocent little gifts from Jesus than there is in throw pillows.

five weeks

...and two days, whoops.

That's how this week went. Crazy times with Jeremiah back to work full time and me at home with both kids alone. Let's all take a moment and pray against lifelong trauma for either one of them. Knox made me lose my mind completely at the beginning of the week with his refusal to settle down and nap. I mean it was bad. In the midst of the relentless crying I got to the point of scrolling through my mental rolo-dex wondering who I could call to come save me this kid from being thrown across the room. I swore one of us wouldn't make it alive to greet Jeremiah home from work. But we did, and what a greeting it was. Ground zero baby. Me on the sofa holding Knox in the chest carrier and Surrey glued to the TV. 

Thankfully, by the end of the week I gained a little confidence after so much trouble shooting. And fortunately, Knox only really freaks when he needs to settle down for sleep. We think he wants to be held constantly. Poor guy. With each cry sess, a bit of trauma I had tried so hard to block out comes sneaking back in. Surrey cried all the time. It didn't matter if she was eating, trying to sleep, being held, etc. She just screamed.

Here's to week six being one of empowerment and sleep! Fingers crossed!

Just nap, child, and you won't need to yawn so much (and neither will I).