hello, thirty

I'm baaaack!
And I'm thirty!

I've longed to turn thirty for a decent chunk of time. You've probably heard me go on and on about it and quite frankly are glad I've joined the club so I'll finally quit talking about the anticipation. I hear that.

Being a twenty-something just didn't seem to fit me right. I was THE LAMEST twenty-something that has ever lived, I'm absolutely sure of it. Ever since my college roommate's brother asked if I was thirty when I was like a sophomore in college, I knew I was meant for something different. Apparently, something older. 

Today as I mull over my time in my twenties I keep likening it to middle school. For some, middle school paved the way for popularity, fun, and rebellion. For maybe some others (like me), it did not. Day in and day out I strived to fit in, not quite fitting in one friend group, but not quite not fitting either. I wanted to be liked and have as much fun as everyone else, but the more effort I put into it, the more tension and confusion I felt between my real self and my ideal self.

Similarly, my twenties. Graduating and getting married and uprooting. Meeting people and plugging in and trying to fit. Having kids. Losing sleep and patience and sanity due to said kids. Dealing with a marriage bomb. Learning how to grieve, and heal, and grow. A lot of circumstances can give way to a lot of comparisons and a lot of unmet expectations.

That can be the nature of our twenties, I think. So much change in so little time. And if you're like me and (wrongly) base a lot of your emotion and confidence and belief in circumstances than you can feel like you're flailing. Or failing, actually. I feel kind of beat up from my twenties, from my circumstances. Until my grandfather called me at 7:30 this morning to wish me a happy birthday and tell me he'd already been through a war by age 30, I thought I had lived a lot of life in my twenties. Too much life. But then he brought up the war and I was humbled and given gracious perspective. And I also laughed because that's really funny when you think about it.

I'm praying - pleading, actually - that my thirties will feel different. I'm wiser now to know that they may not look different circumstantially. Jesus tells us we're going to have trouble and face all kinds of adversity and hard things. I'm buckling up. No, I'm not throwing in the towel and waving my white flag in negativity or resolving to dive head first into full-on motherdom (you know what I mean) - hence the nose ring and tattoo in preparation. I still want to be cool and edgy (hilarious) but not how everyone else is. I've always imagined my thirties as a time of confidence, a time to own who I am and what life looks like for me. Way back when, my counselor had prompted me to start thinking about what the Lord had for Jeremiah and me - not for us in relation to everyone else around us, but for just us. She encouraged and challenged me that that may look really different, but that would be the sweet spot. Similarly, I envision this new age as a journey to finally pursue what the Lord has for me. Less of what looks good on paper or what doesn't sound foolish or what I 'should' be doing and more of taking risks and following where I think He's leading even if it seems uncertain. Enough striving, I want to start thriving. Who else hates that those words rhyme and sound like I'm trying out a new catchphrase?? I do. Also, isn't that a cheesy thing from a movie - thirty and thriving? Well whatev, bring all of that on.

Yesterday I read in Shauna Niequist's Savor the idea of changing your life, of not waiting for someone else to rearrange it for you, of not driving a good idea into the ground when it's clear it isn't working, of paying close attention to what you want and need and making it happen. And from Job 36:16, He is wooing you from the jaws of distress to a spacious place free from restriction, to the comfort of your table laden with choice food.

For me that meant moving in WITH MY PARENTS for crying out loud to feel safe and empowered to change our trajectory. It means definitely no more babysitting but maybe having to work a job that's not my life's calling in order to pursue other things. It may mean writing here more often - shutting out the fear that it's worthless and pointless - in an effort to find out if this is a good fit for me or a baby step towards what God has for me and my family.

Unfortunately, I'm learning that a lot of that - for me - isn't going to come in a pretty packaged five year plan. Yet, anyway. Today and each day I can just be faithful to how the Spirit is leading. Often, I feel like a big loser because we moved and I have no clear vision for my life and we're still neck-deep in financial muck. In my twenties I was so embarrassed and felt like a total needy, failure. In my thirties I want to have confidence in myself and in God that I am here intentionally and that I am not covered in shame. In my thirties I want to stop wallowing that I'm not keeping up with everyone around me, and keep up with what God is telling me today. One day at a time.

Today's Jesus Calling said "...walk with Me along paths designed uniquely for you. Concentrate on keeping in step with Me, instead of trying to anticipate My plans for you. If you trust that My plans are to prosper you and not to harm you, you can relax and enjoy the present moment. ...I set the pace in keeping with your needs and My purposes." Check out Jeremiah 29. Heard that.

If your thirties have sucked, please silence yourself in my presence today and let me step lightly in the rainy, cool day that this decade is full of hope and promise and abundance. Cheers!

god's story

You may have seen the picture I posted the other day of my family's heads individually cut out and sitting atop cupcakes. Just the cutest, most fun and hilarious thing. Our dear friends threw us a send-off party over the weekend and those screenshot cupcake toppers were just a little glimpse of the thought that was put into it. We felt so loved by them - by their intentionality and selflessness and kindness. And we also felt so loved by our friends who stopped in to say hi and bye and drop cards with sweet notes and generous gifts.

The next day we were reading through cards - which, by the way, is a lot less sentimental with a preschooler thrashing open envelopes - and in one of them was written Psalm 78:4. We will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, his power, and the wonders he has done. In their note, our friends assured us that God is trying to tell his story in each of our lives and that in our family's we are reminded of His redemptive power and great love for us. 

That same day, I got a few minutes of time alone while Knox napped (!!!) and Jeremiah and Surrey went to the grocery store. Unlike most of my free time nowadays that is spent packing and stressing, I decided during this time that I'd go ahead and give Jesus a shot. I opened up my new devotional (Savor by Shauna Niequist) and as I always say - guys, you can't make this stuff up. I read the previous day's (the day of the party) page just out of curiosity and here's what I saw:

TELL THE STORY OF WHO GOD IS

We will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, his power, and the wonders he has done.

- Psalm 78:4

There are two myths that we tend to believe about our stories: the first is that they're about us, and the second is that because they're about us, they don't matter. But they're not only about us, and they matter more than ever right now. When we, any of us who have been transformed by Christ, tell our own stories, we're telling the story of who God is.

I bet God has done something in your life that would make our hair stand on end if you told us about it. I bet the story of God has written in your life and your home gives voice and breath and arms and legs to the gospel every bit as much as a church sermon ever did. Preaching is important, certainly. But it can't be the only way we allow God's story to be told in our midst.

There's nothing small or inconsequential about our stories. There is, in fact, nothing bigger. And when we tell the truth about our lives - the broken parts, the secret parts, the beautiful parts - then the gospel comes to life, an actual story about redemption, instead of abstraction and theory and things you learn in Sunday school.

I mean, hello. The whole thing is just so cool and recently I've caught myself telling God that over and over. Of course it's sovereign and ordained and praiseworthy - all of these "coincidental" things that keep happening. But mostly, it's so cool how He's bringing things full circle for me during what seems like a pivotal time in my life.

Several years ago when I decided to actually contribute to social life in Richmond I met a group of girls that became my people for a season. Initially, the premise of our time together was writing a better story. And they had me pretty much literally bushwhack across water and up a mountain while pregnant in an effort to start practically choosing a better story. Who did they think they were?! Who did they think I was?! We practically just met. I don't do this. I do, however, succumb to peer pressure quite easily and I trekked on. 

It's cool that this story concept has come full circle. I didn't know then what life was going to look like for the next bunch of years. If I were writing it myself, it would've been boring as crap though - easy, light, no conflict. But that's not how this bad boy is playing out. The better story for me has become one based on what God is doing and who God is, instead of it being all about me and my comfort. 

So when I was at the send-off party, I caught myself looking around the room at all the different faces and reflecting a little. This was after I spent the first hour being barfed on repeatedly by my baby child. Anyway, reflecting. My story is full of different people who have come and gone during circumstances and trials that have also come and gone. I've carried a lot of guilt as things have changed. I have friend issues. What's my problem. I can't keep up, can't do anything well. I'm pretty much the worst at this whole relational thing. 

But God's been reminding me it's not all about me. He has graciously brought people into my life as was necessary to learn more about myself and who He has created me to be. And he's ultimately brought people into my life to show me - and not just me but witnesses of my life, too - himself and His love more fully. What I've loved about our time at the party and our final days here in Virginia is so many people reminding me that this next step is just part of the story. Life is not over, we are not doomed or alone. We are not losing faith or giving up or phoning in. God has us and loves us and is simply carrying on the plot of our story so that it continues to teach us and others about the gospel. About brokenness and sin - but love and grace and redemption. 

It was a joy to have so many people there to celebrate. It was emotional and lovely and sad and fun. I'm taking the feelings as they come, trying not to be too dramatic but knowing that this is a big thing - that God has done some deep story-writing while I've been in Richmond - and so it's all good. 

I can't thank all you party-goers enough. You've loved me and cared for me so well. You've helped me take risks and know my worth. You've taught me truth while showing me grace. You've thrown baby showers. You've sent care packages during my time in the trenches. You've walked through motherhood with me. You've provided. You've been a friend when I've been the worst friend back and I've noticed. I'm so thankful. Is there a much much deeper word for thankful? If there is, than I'm that. 

I hope we all can start living out our story unashamedly, trusting that it's not about us, but what God wants to share through us.

thirty three and thirty four weeks

It finally happened. I missed a week and can never get it back. Moment of silence and a couple bucks in Knox's future therapy fund (I actually hate this parental cliche, but I mean, how true it is). Last Friday, week 33, the cards were stacked against us and I never got things in order. I was battling an awful stomach virus, the kids were going to my in-laws' for the weekend and I still had to pack them up, and we had no fabric. Typically, if I miss Friday and I at least try to get it in by the following Monday; however, this Monday I was meeting my in-laws to pick up the kids and brought back a baby child with a fever, congestion, and his own growing stomach virus. I'm not a fan of taking the week picture like a day before the next week, so I decided to scrap it. A story for the ages. 

But here we are, 34 weeks, just back from a trip to the pediatrician. Confirmed: Knox's second stomach virus of the season. For the love. Our morning routine now consists of stripping the crib and we've also added another load of wash to the day's events. Gross. So now I'm just sitting, staring, waiting for Surrey to go down in flames. 

joy instead of mourning

Baptism Sob Fest update. 

My emotions may or may not have been hyped up. I may or may not have gone out less than 24 hours beforehand to get a potentially trashy hoop put in my nose to cope with the stress. Speaking of stress, you guys, I have freaking shingles. What in the WORLD?! It's like the bubonic plague or something that should only happen to adults over 50. Thumbs up for early detection. Have no fear, I have not contaminated you nor will I - this is not Ebola - you will not contract my freakish shingles.

But moving on from nose rings and skin issues.

After a huge outfit malfunction and the star of the show not taking a legit morning nap I was on the verge of losing hope in this morning running smoothly. I could almost physically feel myself teetering on a line of being calm and being chaotic. I pressed on, my family liked the breakfast casserole that took my anxiety all night (why for the love do I always make things I've never made before when people are over??), and we got out the door on time. Felt a little sick to my stomach, pepped talk Jeremiah into holding his emotions together on stage.

The service started and I am telling you there is no way to make this stuff up - they read aloud the verse Knox's middle name is derived from. The verse that I wrote a whole post about over the summer. Isaiah 61:1-3. Our church doesn't consistently read scripture. In fact, my parents have visited several times and this is the first time they've heard scripture read. But today not only did they read it, it was the freaking verses that my baby child who is being baptized moments later was named from. They had no idea, this was not at all a planned thing. Unreal. That's when the emotion hit me, hit several of us. A few tears, but mostly shock.

Worship started and what song did we sing? How about song that I haven't heard in church for months. How about that song that got me through those darkest days after the marriage news bomb hit my life. It's called Not For A Moment. I could have barfed right there. I'm telling you this song was my jam. Not in those moments during the lies and secrets, not during those moments of healing and questions and ugliness, not during these moments today when things seem a little bit lighter - not during any of these has God forsaken me. I am not forgotten. Ever. Whether I like it or not, it's really the truth.

Just like the other night, this morning was one of those times where I'm telling you if I had any doubt God was as near as the air I breathe or had any doubt that He knows and cares for me fully - it vanished. These coincidences are not coincidences. This is God being so kind to me to show me in a real way more about His love for me and my people.

So we got up on stage and instead of mourning, there was joy. In fact, my child was the the happiest I may have ever seen him. This is a happy time, a time to seriously rejoice. Knox is a symbol of redemption in our marriage and in our life and God was fully there with us through it all.

And then our pastor prayed against him chasing after girls in his teen years. The best.

thirty one and thirty two weeks

This is what it's come to - two weeks per post. Maybe once we settled in Pennsylvania I'll be on top of the weekly updates since I'll have absolutely nothing better to do. 

Perhaps I'll have a better memory too. Have I said he has two teeth in every post? If not, he has two teeth! A couple days ago he start making a new "dadada" sound which is big fun as you can imagine. He ate chicken and continues to eat chicken like every dinner. I don't even know, those two weeks flew.

coincidence?

Freaking Jesus is more like it.

I had to grab my computer (MacBook circa 2007 for anyone who may be wondering) immediately to share this with you. Right before I grabbed my dinosaur computer I was crying and thanking God and praying out loud. Because right before that I opened an invite to a going away party dear dear friends are throwing us that had a thoughtful, generous surprise on it. And right before that I just finished up the section on God's illogical love and living life in that love in Judah Smith's new book Life Is ___. IT ALL CAME TOGETHER IN A MATTER OF MOMENTS. By that I mean, God taught me and then showed me what it all meant right away because He loves me (all of us) that much.

Seriously guys we cannot make this kind of stuff up in life. 

I've been trying to self-talk myself out of focusing on the negative or shameful aspects of our move north with an excruciatingly low success rate. I have a very good feeling it's probably because I'm so focused on myself. So focused on how hard things continue to be or how my expectations for life at nearly 30 aren't nearly true.

But just now I was thanking God so hard for this time, that I had to share with you. What was different?

I was considering God's love for me, reading about the truth of His love. As Judah puts it, "so let us take our eyes off ourselves and focus on the God who loves us and is for us and is with us." And then God proved his point to me about His kind of love right then and there in the form of an online invitation (via the kindest friends). Happy tears and sad tears all came at the same time as I said God, we don't deserve this. These people who love us way more than they should. This is why it's so hard and sad to leave - these friends and this place where we've found belonging. But I didn't think I'd ever find this here and You've given it to us and we can trust You that you will be with us still. I'm thankful that I have something to be so deeply thankful for.

I am the worst at living life in God's love. Absolutely the worst. So I'm so grateful for this moment to practice clinging to things like this and to speak them out like this so that even little by little I may start intentionally trying to get that I'm loved.

so many feelings

We've got a big month ahead of us. This is my last month here with the kids before we move up north and because of our fast approaching bon voyage, the calendar is booked. All good things, but all sentimental, feelings-y things. Although, I guess maybe all the things are emotional due to the fact that we're moving.

The first big thing in March's lineup is Knox's baptism. Surrey was baptized when she was seven months so we figured we'd consider it for Knox once he was around the same age, which crept up ultra fast (meaning, we just acknowledged it a few weeks ago). Thing is, we thought of it right around the time we decided we were shipping out - so what should we do? Is it ultra pointless to have a baby baptized at a church we'd be leaving a month later? Are we rushing it if we squeeze it in before we go amidst the moving chaos? Should we just wait a few months or years until we find another church and get involved there?

But I kept coming back to it. These are our people. These are the people who know this baby boy (who doesn't nap). This is the pastor and the congregation who have walked through some deep life stuff with us. This is the community of people who have cheered us on and lifted us up. 

While of course this is so much about our hope and expectation for Knox and his relationship with Jesus, this is also so much a story of redemption in our family. Us standing up there together with this new baby is significant. Who would have thought that after all that happened we'd stand up there before God with a second child together. I'll tell you, during those dark days I wasn't sure we'd see this day. So many days I grieved what I thought could be the loss of a growing family, a sibling (or siblings) for Surrey. Would our marriage make it? If it did, do we dare have more kids? Lots of questions, lots of uncertainty. (More about that from this post).

But here we are. Here this kid is. And while the credit goes to God Almighty in heaven, I 100% believe that God used these people of this church - the freaking BODY - to bring us into a story of redemption and restoration. A pastor who counseled us and was a sounding board for the deepest, rawest things. A staff who cared for us and loved us in spite of our scarlet letter. A community of friends who bolstered us and sustained us in every sense of the word. This is the place and these are the people that we want as witnesses of this baptism - the symbolism of the work God continues to do in our family. 

That being said, I'll probably be bawling like a crazy person this weekend up there in front of Jesus and these people while Knox is baptized. Since we decided I'd be moving with the kids early, I've cried if anyone even looks at me funny. So this could be brutal. The recommitment of marriage vows, the raising of hands in congregational support, the praying over this boy. Sob fest. My defense mechanism may typically be laughter and sarcasm, but the real me is an unstable sap and with only a month left in this place we call home there's no way I keep it together. But then again, maybe Knox will stay true to himself and barf all over the pastor, in which case I will immediately run off stage in a state of complete humiliation.

Avoid the 11:30 service if you want to avoid the crazy.

twenty nine and thirty weeks

Knox, my sincerest apologies. I thought my performance with Surrey was so low that I couldn't possibly fall into the trap of the failing mom of a second child. But alas, there are fewer pictures of you and later updates. And I can't for the life of my get a grip on when and what and how much real food you should be eating. What I do know, is that these past two weeks you've been ravenous. Grabbing for any food vessel, never relenting during bumbo feed sessions, inhaling your bottle in literally seconds. Am I starving you? Could you stop spitting up so much so I'd feel ok about feeding you more? I'm afraid your little stomach may burst. I hope this all means you won't be a picky eater (cough, Surrey, cough).

In other news, thumbs up on finally transitioning out of the swaddle. You rolled over in the night at your grandparents' house and so we had to go cold turkey. Speaking of rolling - you're doing it bud! Rolling across the floor like a champ - but only to your right. I like that you're keeping a little mystery, not giving it all up in one shot. 

Your talking is most definitely the cutest thing ever. That funny lip face, hysterical. Your sister is starting to get borderline violent with you. I'm sorry. Love how you guys love each other though - smiling ear to ear when you see each other. Thanks for laughing and smiling at her antics. Thanks for putting up with her CONSTANT touching.

an unlikely talent

My husband is a high school math teacher. He wears khakis and dress shirts to work. He has a beard, an earring, and a tattoo. He also - how should I put this - raps.

He's a confusing being, always has been. Those carefree college days when we were dating I never quite knew what version of him I was going to see as I picked him up outside his dorm in my brown Honda Accord. XXL long baggy rap tee and high tops? Or Walmart Birkenstocks and a ribbed v-neck tee. Two very dynamic options, I know.

He owned a size XXXL long black winter coat with a fur hood. Two of my roommates zipped themselves inside. Can't make this up. Tip of the iceberg.

Now back to Jeremiah and this killer rapping talent. In college it was funny and embarrassing (even though I secretly really liked it and it may or may not have been what sealed the deal for me...) because he rewrote Ludacris or Busta Rhymes songs. I've never quite fully owned the whole thing confidently. Because well, we're white. And because rapping isn't an actual thing people seem to respect or want to hear in our typical circles.

The thing is, he's always wanted to do this for life. Like, for real for real. A career. Every time he'd mention it I'd think for a hot second about the chances of that making us any kind of sustainable income or ever actually happening, dismiss it, and kind of sigh/laugh in agreement. I had always thought of it as just a little funny yet gifted hobby. Not real life. But then this man started blowing me away with legit, real, God-given crazy talent.

As the years have gone on (I sound like I'm sixty) Jeremiah has really honed his talent and people have been receptive. I 100% believe in this thing he's got going on. He can write. I mean, yeah he can perform the heck out of a spoken word piece or a rap, but he writes it (and then memorizes it all in the span of like three days which totally stresses me out and causes me to spiral into deep worry). This is rare as far as I'm concerned and it's good. I'm so thankful to Jesus that some people at our church have acknowledged Jeremiah's artistry and taken risks in his favor. Not only for Jeremiah, but for the people.

I hate that the process of him pursuing his dream is so so slow. Oftentimes I go to this place in my head of like, this will never happen, this is worthless. I think, there's no way to snap our fingers and make this happen. I feel like people should give him the time of day but I'm just not convinced they will. Then I think maybe that means we should move on to something else.

But not Jeremiah. He's brave. He presses on. He dares to move towards those things that God has placed within him, regardless of what any other single person thinks - just like how he wore those crazy awful "outfits" in college - and the jorts, omg the jorts until like last year. Just like that he keeps at this talent, maturing it and growing it in faith that the Lord continues to provide it and use it. I would have given up. He's at the whim of everyone else in terms of face time and studio time and opportunity. He perseveres, doesn't give up. And the thing about it is, sometimes I think he has. My impatient, fearful self thinks if he's not knocking down people's doors to get exposure than he must be giving up. Or I think maybe he should give up since we can't see how or when or if this dream will pan out. But boy am I so wrong. Bravery looks like trusting Jesus when you know He's given you something even when the wait is long or uneventful or not guaranteed. Staying on the path, focusing on Jesus.

Jeremiah perseveres through a job I know isn't the dream. He wears khakis and dress shirts while God prepares him for something, I believe, that is better suited for the man He created. It's not the easy way out, it's courageous. It takes a brave person to step slowly, intentionally as God goes before him. It's not brave to rush and panic and doubt and question and not move and give up. 

So cheers to you, my badass tattooed husband rapping like it's your job (fingers crossed!). We can all learn a little bit more about bravery from you. I'm proud of you and continually amazed at what you're capable of when you're in God's will. I knew there was a reason I loved rap in high school - it's always been you.

psst check out his music here http://noisetrade.com/jeremiahlink

pssssst watch his killer performance here at 21:30 http://hopecentral.com/celebration-october-19-2014/

twenty eight weeks

Knox is crying quite loudly and angrily in his crib as I write. This week every single nap, with the exception of two, have gone like this. Screaming and refusing to sleep or settle unless held. Same as last week. My happy, content newborn has turned into quite the high maintenance, clingy infant. Lord, have mercy.

Poor thing is congested with a runny nose - just like his sister. Congested, teething, and overtired is a deadly combination. Don't try it at home, folks.

He's rolling more and more frequently which is quite exciting. He also loves loves loves watching Surrey dance and moves his body ferociously along with her. When this child can move on his own, we're in for it. I'll regret it then, but right now I'm looking forward to him fully sitting alone or moving or doing anything because right now I feel bad just shoving him in apparatus after apparatus or holding him constantly.

I'm off to go relieve him of his misery and put myself in my own misery - strapped to the sofa, productive level zero. Cry it out method does not work in this household. Shame.

twenty seven weeks

Baby boy has his first tooth poking out! And if you're familiar with teething, you know that means misery. He has 100% refused to nap in his crib or anywhere other than someone's arms this week. He's fussier than normal. He is immune to Tylenol. With Surrey, the instant we gave her meds she'd calm down and zonk out. Not this child.

He has yet to roll over again but he's getting so good at sitting up on his own.

According to the measurements taken at his 6 month appointment this week, he's shrinking. He's down in the teen percentiles for height and weight and his head size has dropped 11%. The pediatrician isn't concerned and it's most likely due to squirmy baby and his week of barfing/diarrhea. With all the real food he goes after, I'm sure he'll fatten up in minutes. The kid will for sure be a tank.

first snow

It finally happened. Snow finally came down and hit the ground of Richmond, VA. And joy to the world I am looking out my window and it's still coming down, nice and bright white and fluffy and lovely. What was predicted as a potential dusting has become an inch or two of legit snow, canceling schools (per usual), and allowing my soul to feel happy. These are the days I love that Jeremiah is a teacher. Surrey is on her way back from visiting my in-laws, but we got Knox out early to bask in the glory of his first snow. As you can tell, he was overcome with all the feelings.

twenty five and twenty six weeks

One of my biggest fears became a reality recently. Children barfing.

The stomach bug hit hard, taking three quarters of our household down. Surrey was the first victim then Knox and I followed about a week later. Poor kids were barfing every 20-30 minutes for the majority of the day. Sad and scary and gross. Knox then had vicious diarrhea for the remainder of the week. This is real life people, it's graphic. I'm beginning to feel clean again - although I did think I may have to burn this house down in order to ever rid it of germs. I'd like to never have to deal with the stomach thing again. Give me cold after cold after cold if it means I can avoid the vom. Seriously, potty training then puking - parenthood ain't all squishy cuddly babies and cute preschool crafts. Think twice.

So here he is, late (again). Posing on bath towels, so very fitting.

Oh! And happy half birthday baby boy! He rolled from back to belly for the first time! Only once, and only Jeremiah as a witness. But hey, progress!

twenty four weeks

We're still in a nap stand-off over here and quite honestly it's running me ragged. At least when he was really young (as if five and a half months is old) once he woke up after the dreaded 45 minutes he would fall back asleep if you held him. Now he pretends he's not tired and also won't really just be content. I got this hideous looking swing from a friend that I thought would be an answer to our sleeping prayers - you know, because it's the same one at church that he sleeps in no problem - but alas, he is following in his sister's footsteps and refuses to be easy when in the presence of his parents. So that eyesore is about to exit this home as gradually the baby gear has taken over the living room. In our condo I did a decent job of keeping things aesthetically pleasing for adults and kids alike; however, I fear our current situation is kids: 1, adults: 0. Perhaps that has to do with 600 less square footage.

In this picture he's showing off his favorite way of communication - spitting. It's actually quite adorable. Not as adorable when Surrey gets in on it and everything around her becomes coated in her sprayed spit. He's making more of an effort to roll but gives up once he gets to his side. I'm sure I'll eat my words later, but I just really want this child to sit. Not move, just sit up on his own. 

getting unstuck

I've been stuck, really stuck, for awhile. Everyday I feel like I kind of have this out of body experience where I'm physically present in whatever it is, but I'm kind of looking at myself and my situation and thinking...wait, no, this is not it.

I'm not talking about finding the blessings in the mundane kind of an idea. I mean, I've come face to face with that concept several times, trying to amp myself up over my current situation - that being potty training a three year old (you may know my issues with body parts and language - I can't go there) and transitioning baby child out of his swaddle, and doing this aggravating detox because my wish for a miraculous skinny body every morning when I wake up just ain't coming true. Dishes and laundry and cleaning. Motherhood can be a real drag, am I right, but just find the joy, count your blessings, be thankful. These are all good goals and yes, I should do all of those things, but I'm talking about something different.

The overarching theme of my present life - and life for the past almost seven years - has been just stuck.  Same old story. College friends call to catch up - oh what's that, yeah, my life is the same dumb thing. Chaos after chaos. Struggle after struggle. Blah. Still pleading with God, still questioning my purpose, still wondering if anything will ever be different. Will I ever not be the dramatic one in my friend groups? Will I ever be able to take a breath and say, for a season, my life is not falling apart around me?

Now, I'm very much in the beginning of this getting unstuck thing, but hey, why not just go ahead and virtually think out loud about what God might have for me. For so long I've focused on my circumstances being the reason for my stuckness. And granted, they are killing glimmers of hope left and right; however, it's just high time that's not end of story. I've got to believe change can come. I've got to trust God that change can come. When for years and years you've been struggling with hard things, or for years and years you've been a certain way or acted out of certain hurts - it's real tough to imagine life without such crud. I do not know life without feeling the worst about the way I look. I do not know life without constantly wondering what my niche is "career-wise" and how in the world I can make it happen. And I most definitely do not know life without worrying nearly every minute of the day about how I will pay my bills or have enough money for anything - I don't know life that is free and generous.

With prayers upon prayers seemingly losing steam on their way up to heaven, I've kind of forgotten that things can get better. I want them to be better, but I like 95% believe they won't. A ray of sunshine I am not. BUT GOOD NEWS. God is reminding me (again) that He is with me and He ALONE has the power to change me from the inside out, renewing my spirit, transforming my heart and mind. When prayers don't seem to get answered immediately, I go into crisis-mode and I troubleshoot from my own strength. I panic and worry and strive. As mentioned above, it's getting me nowhere. I don't trust that the Holy Spirit can do it. I don't trust God's urgency (or lack thereof). I don't trust that Jesus came so that I could live life abundantly. 

Enough already. That negativity has got to go. And truly, that negativity is Satan getting the best of me, bullying me around, running be ragged. 

I got these killer (my new fave adjective) books for Christmas. I asked for them, along with a billion other materialistic things that I want to make me fit in with other people. Not a coincidence that from my list of wants I got these top two books (The Daniel Plan we had and I just don't even want to talk about it because I want to eat whatever the heck I want, but I finally started reading it two days ago and it's whooping my butt and it's the bomb) and a BA white deer head from West Elm. Are you kidding me?! God's power will prevail over my humanness. These book titles aren't small or safe or easy. They are big and bold and calling me out of my stuck rut and into something better. God is calling me out of my stuck rut and into something better. He knows me and He knows that when I look around and think this can't be it, that it's not. It's time to take more responsibility and rely more on the Spirit so I can experience growth and life abundantly. Also, I got a fierce deer head. 

The Holy Spirit can do mighty things and I'd be a fool to think God has forgotten me. I love how although I'm not the greatest, most consistent Bible reader in the world that God is gracious enough to speak to me hardcore when I do decide to pick it up. Every time I end up making a big bubble in my journal that's like ohmygoshheknowswhatineedandishere! Duh. For example, today I was all like eh I have some ideas of what to write about but maybe I just shouldn't and instead sit and mourn my circumstances because I just checked the mail and that phantom miracle check that will pay off all our debt didn't come. But instead I knew I needed to open up my Jesus Calling devotional. This is what it says:

I am able to do far beyond all that you ask or imagine. Come to Me with positive expectations, knowing that there is no limit to what I can accomplish. Ask My Spirit to control your mind, so that you can think great thoughts of Me. Do not be discouraged by the fact that many of your prayers are yet unanswered. Time is a trainer, teaching you to wait upon Me to trust Me in the dark. The more extreme your circumstances, the more likely you are to see My Power and Glory at work in the situation. Instead of letting difficulties draw you into worrying, try to view them as setting the scene for My glorious intervention. Keep your eyes and your mind wide open to all that I am doing in your life.
Ephesians 3:20-21; Romans 8:6; Isaiah 40:30-31; Revelation 5:13

Bam. We've got to take hold of this truth. Hoping this helps spur you on to trust God - because He's the real deal.

twenty three weeks

Knox and I are barely on speaking terms right now. The napping chaos must stop. We're working on transitioning him out of the swaddle during naps and the results aren't any worse than before but they sure as heck aren't any better. Please, Jesus, have mercy on this household. We're trying to rip the band-aid off and potty train Surrey (minus sleeping times) at the same time, which to put it lightly is a massive train wreck.  Oh, and we're attempting to detox and get our acts together with food, too. No one should be allowed all of these transitions sans wine. No one.
We tried applesauce for the first time and although he made a face of sheer disgust upon food entering his mouth, he never cried, gagged, or turned his head so we're pressing onward. He's taken big time interest in watching other people eat and has even gotten a little grabby in his old age. Hoping he's far less picky than Surrey.
I'm pretty positive he should be rolling over or making strides in the sitting up category, but he's in no rush.