A Spring of Joy

Glimpses of our world…

  • The Open Road

    In case you haven’t noticed, I love quotes. Whenever I read, whether it’s a book, a magazine, a newspaper article, or a blog, I have a journal next to me to copy anything meaningful that captures my attention. In fact, I have 3 journals right now that I am filling full of quotes. One is full of Scripture and words from great men and women of faith, another is full of sentences or paragraphs from books I am reading, and a third is my musings on life through the eyes of others–great authors, poets, orators, etc. (Yes, I really am a freak of nature.) This morning, I reread the words of Walt Whitman that I had written years ago in a different journal. His words struck me.

    Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road. Healthy, free, the world before me, the long brown path before me leading me wherever I choose.

    When I say his words struck me, I mean they hit me like I had been bashed in between the eyes with a baseball bat. It was like all the air left my lungs and I struggled to breathe. Did I truly enter that into one of my journals? Was there really a time when I felt light-hearted and ready to take to the open road? I began to get angry. Angry with good ol’ Walt. Angry with myself. Angry with cancer. I felt robbed of my choice to follow that carefree open road.

    I have no alternative when it comes to this blight. I try to manage through the days following my chemo only to find there is no managing. There is no moving. Not without pain. It has been 4 hours since I took my last pain pill, and it’s effects have diminished. I ache in every joint and muscle of my body, yet I have to wait 2 more hours before I can take another pill and find relief from the pain. I took one of my many anti-nausea meds 30 minutes ago, and I find the squeamishness rising in my stomach again. I try to sleep, but it’s sweet refreshment doesn’t come.

    I have no choice when it comes to my cancer. I don’t even get to schedule when I will have my treatments, as each week my treatment team fills in my appointments for me. There is no option. There is no, “What is a good time for you to come in for lab work?” They hand me my paper for the next week and I come when they tell me, and I allow them to put poison into my veins to kill off this curse which has invaded my body. I have been robbed of so many choices.

    I’ve heard it said, “I have cancer, but cancer doesn’t have me.” And while I have been stripped of Walt’s carefree open road, I haven’t been divested of everything. In the midst of this struggle I do have choices… I can choose to be a victim, or I can choose to fight. I can choose to wallow in self-pity, or I can choose to pray for others. I can choose to anguish about all the “what if’s…?” or I can count my blessings and be thankful. I can choose to fret over the time I miss with my children, or I can capture the minutes with them when I feel well. I can choose to look at myself and my struggle, or I can choose to look at the cross and Christ.

    I have an abundance of choices. I can choose to look ahead in expectation and hope for health and freedom and that long brown path to walk down again. That road will never be carefree, but I can be light-hearted again as I look forward and envision time with my family, friends and loved ones. My future is bright, even if the days now are dark. Because my future holds an open road that leads to Heaven, and that is the road I have chosen.

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  • Eyebrows

    This morning I looked in the mirror and immediately started weeping. My eyebrows are finally (almost) completely gone, and my eyelashes are following quickly in their furry friends’ footsteps. Then I cried harder when I tried to pencil some eyebrows in just like they had taught me at the Image Recovery Center, and instead of eyebrows, I had brown blotchy streaks above my eyes. It seems so shallow, I know, but one of the funny things that I clung to during my treatments was that I hadn’t lost my eyebrows like I thought I would. Seems the taxol and taxatere have had a gradual loss effect on my face. It was one more realization that this is all ugliness, this pain and this struggle.

    I want to look at my face in the mirror and be thankful that I have a God that still brings me smiles in the midst of hardship. I want to look in the mirror and see dignity, courage, strength. I do not want to look in the mirror and be shallow. I want to look in the mirror and see Christ. It all comes back to the Gospel and the Cross.

    Amy Carmichael once wrote:

    There is only one place where we can receive not an answer to our question, but peace–that place is Calvary. An hour at the foot of the Cross steadies the soul as nothing else can. “O Christ, beloved, Thy Calvary stills all our questions.” Love that loves like that can be trusted about this.

    He can be trusted. He is the only One Who is completely trustworthy in this life. Think of all He has done for His people, for this world. He gave up the beauty of Heaven to come down and live as a man. He experienced our sorrows, our joys. He never once failed to fulfill His promises. He lived a perfect life, that we might find perfect freedom. He suffered false accusations and willingly surrendered His life when He could have called down legions of angels to destroy the whole earth. No other god can do this. No one but Christ!

    Yesterday was an amazing day for me. For the first time in four months, I was actually looking forward to chemo. My childhood friend, Monica, drove down from Maryland to be my chemo buddy. When I walked into the cancer center lobby and saw my dear friend, everyone in the room watched while we hugged and wept. Nothing like making a spectacle of ourselves, but then again, we were always good at that. I had not seen Monica in 10 years! Childhood friends for 19 years, then our lives went different paths, and we lost touch. But our gracious God brought Monica back into my life when she heard of my cancer, and those ten years of absence have only deepened our relationship.

    The thing about it is, Monica has had her own tunnel, a very, very dark tunnel to travel through recently. I look at the life of my friend, and I am amazed at how God has sustained her and spared her very life. She endured far more pain than I can even begin to imagine, and yesterday as we talked about our recent hardships, Monica was always quick to point it back to the Cross. Jesus was real about who He is, why can’t we be real about who we are?

    Jesus needed his friends in Gethsemane and they abandoned Him by falling asleep. He wept and begged His Father to be released from the path ahead, to the point of blood. Yet He was submissive to His Father’s design and He humbly and willingly gave up His life. He was real. A real man. A real God. And He still is… very real, and He longs for me to be real with Him. That gave me great freedom this morning when I looked in the mirror and wept. I could be real with my God and weep over something as shallow as eyebrows. And in that realness I found freedom. Freedom from guilt and sin. Freedom that I’ve always had in Christ, because He gave everything for me.

    Truly, “love that loves like that” can be trusted with something as simple as eyebrows.

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  • 100 Things

    Now for a little fun. I have just recently entered my 100th post, so in keeping with blog tradition, here are 100 things you may or may not know about me. A little peek at my life. Hope y’all find a good laugh within.

    1. I am completely devoted to my Lord and my family. They are everything to me.
    2. I always wanted to be a redhead; instead I have a redheaded daughter.
    3. I love coffee. I love the aroma, the flavor, the warmth, the atmosphere, everything.
    4. I taught my husband to love coffee, and now he loves it more than I.
    5. If you ask me my favorite “anything”, I will almost always tell you, “I don’t know.” I’m not sure if that makes me indecisive or if I just like a lot of things.
    6. I consider myself a jack-of-all-trades, but master of none. (That means I can do a lot of little things, but there’s not one at which I am truly accomplished.)
    7. I am southern born and love the south with a passion.
    8. I pretty much love anything I love with a passion.
    9. In high school I loved English, music, drama and photography.
    10. In college I loved statistics, anatomy, nutrition and cooking.
    11. Does this mean I’m “both-brained”?
    12. I am a cat person, but my hubby and son are allergic, so I enjoy my friends’ cats now.
    13. Get me in a kitchen, and I am a very content.
    14. That means I love to cook and bake and especially eat.
    15. I used to spend hours in my basement pretending to figure skate.
    16. I can’t even stand up on a pair of ice skates.
    17. I love to play sports, especially volleyball, softball and football.
    18. I love to watch basketball, but get me on a court for a lay-up and I will trip over my own two feet.
    19. In case you were wondering, I only have two feet, so I don’t know why I said “own two feet” rather than “own feet” as if I have three or four feet. Okay, I’m going to shut up now.
    20. I love to laugh, but I rarely laugh out loud when watching a movie or television.
    21. If I laugh out loud during a movie or TV show, then you know I must really enjoy it.
    22. I am half-Italian, but I act like I am full Italian. I love my Italian roots!
    23. I met Brian in college and knew the night I met him that I was going to marry him.
    24. I did not tell him this until after we were engaged.
    25. I am a girlie girl and a tomboy. Is this possible?
    26. I have never been to a professional football or baseball game, but I would love to go.
    27. I am an idealist and never do very well when my dreams are shattered.
    28. I love sandy beaches and ocean breezes and lots of sunshine.
    29. If I moved away from where I live I’d miss the mountains.
    30. I think that Phoenix is the biggest kitty litter box in the whole world. Who needs all that dirt?
    31. I love the southeast because there are four seasons, and every season is my favorite.
    32. When I was a kid I would spend hours on the swingset singing.
    33. I think my neighbors hated me.
    34. I have little rhythm; therefore, I am embarrassed to dance. Well, that, and I just plain ol’ don’t know what I’m doing.
    35. My husband is a great dancer and makes me dance on occasion.
    36. My in-laws are incredible dancers and make me jealous.
    37. I have a lot of pet peeves.
    38. One of my pet peeves is people who use improper grammar when they speak (which is really hypocritical because I do it , too) .
    39. My friend, Kristin, is laughing at me right now for #38.
    40. When I was a kid I formed a club with my friend, Monica. It was the WAHM’s. I’m too embarrassed to tell you what it was.
    41. I have never named my cars, although I really want to name Brian’s truck.
    42. I love Jeeps.
    43. I hate vans, but I am thankful for the one we have.
    44. I had to say that because I knew it was the right thing to say.
    45. I worked in a health club for four years to pay my way through college.
    46. It didn’t pay very well. I still had a lot of college debt.
    47. In college my nickname was Miss America.
    48. Growing up, my Daddy always called me Annie Belle. Now Bri calls our daughter Audrey Belle. It sounds sappy, but I secretly love it.
    49. I secretly love a whole lot of sappy things.
    50. I hate bathroom humor. I see no point and no need. This means I usually do not enjoy comedies.
    51. I love to grill and have backyard barbecues.
    52. I also love to entertain. Having friends over is peaceful for me.
    53. I have an older brother who looks nothing like me.
    54. My older brother looks like Dan Marino.
    55. I have a degree in Health Sciences and Nutrition.
    56. I never used it for my career.
    57. I use it every day at home.
    58. God’s pretty cool like that.
    59. My husband is the most devoted man I know. He loves me even though there’s a whole lot of yuck to love.
    60. I am a morning person, or at least I was until I had kids. I wonder if that will change back.
    61. I am horrible at games like Balderdash, Mafia and Poker. That’s because I’m too easy to read.
    62. I worry too much about what people think of me.
    63. I wish I didn’t because my life would be a whole lot easier.
    64. I love to write. No, seriously, I love to pick up a good pen and write, even if it’s just a grocery list. When I watch a movie and someone writes, I lean forward and watch their technique and wish I had a pen as well.
    65. I wonder if this makes me OCD.
    66. I would love to travel to Europe, especially Italy.
    67. I am more in love with my husband today than I was when we married.
    68. I have never had short hair except when I was in 4th grade. I guess now I get to see what short hair is all about.
    69. I love Reeses Peanut Butter Cups.
    70. My kids amaze me every day, and it amazes me even more that God would choose me to be their mother.
    71. I hate to wear swimsuits, always have, always will.
    72. I have never gone skiing nor do I have that desire. I’d rather die some other way, thank you very much.
    73. My parents are awesome!
    74. I would love to live in Nashville, TN.
    75. I love flowers, especially roses and magnolias.
    76. I pretty much just love pretty things.
    77. I have about 15 boxes of crystalware and china that I’ve inherited and had to keep in storage. I can’t wait to one day have a china cabinet so I can get it out and actually use it.
    78. People who think you should think just like them drive me crazy. That’s why it’s called an opinion. Let’s just all be happy being who God created us to be.
    79. I am a diehard Cowboys fan.
    80. Give me fruit desserts over chocolate ones any day. I used to have peach pie for my birthday every year.
    81. I read cookbooks from cover to cover.
    82. Acceptance is a difficult but wonderful thing I’ve learned.
    83. I don’t care about Britney Spears or any other celebrity and I don’t understand why they have to be headline news when there’s so much else going on in the world.
    84. I love to read. Right now I am reading 6 books. It just depends on what mood I’m in.
    85. I used to spend weeks in PA with my grandparents as a kid. Those are some of my favorite memories.
    86. I can’t wait to take my kids to Disney World one day. I want to be there to see their faces the first time they take it all in.
    87. I am a detail person and completely Type-A.
    88. I loved school and college and academia. I could be a full-time student and be very happy.
    89. I never skipped a class in college until I met Brian. See what a good influence he is on me?
    90. Actually, Brian has taught me a lot about letting go and loosening up.
    91. I need to loosen up a lot.
    92. I love fun socks, but I never spend the money on them.
    93. Southern Living is my all-time favorite magazine. I could live in those pages.
    94. In school I hated civics and economics. Now I wish I had listened more.
    95. I shuffle a mean deck of cards.
    96. I am a terrible back seat driver, and I wish there were a brake on my side of the car.
    97. I hate traveling in airplanes.
    98. This proves that I am a control freak.
    99. I cry. A lot. About a lot of little things. And about a lot of big things. It’s healing to me, and while I used to regard my emotions in complete disdain, God has taught me what a gift they are, and I am thankful for my tears.
    100. I am completely devoted to my Lord and my family. They are everything to me. Oh, wait, that was #1, too… guess it’s really important to me.
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  • Unfair

    It took me a while to get the place where I didn’t feel guilty saying how unfair I feel my life is. My world and my faith have been shaken a lot—not just recently. I close my eyes and remember a Thursday night in October 10 years ago when I picked up the phone to hear the voice of our friend and doctor, Greg. It was almost word for word what I’ve just recently heard, “There’s no easy way to say this, but there was cancer in your tumor.”

    Yes, ten years ago, just at the end of our first year of marriage, I had thyroid cancer. The difference there was this cancer was encapsulated and after a surgical removal of my thyroid, I didn’t have any follow-up treatment. It was like a blip. Cancer one day, gone the next. But those 3 weeks of fear and pain were real. Not long after that I was told that because of another condition I had, that we had about a 50% chance of having children. Another surgery loomed, but we would do anything we could to increase our chances.

    Then 7 years ago, we received the shock of our lives when we found out we were pregnant. Still trying to soak it all in, a week later, they discovered that it was an ectopic pregnancy, and our child would die in the fallopian tube. My health could be compromised if nothing was done. There was more heartache at the loss of our child and 6 months of procedures to ensure my health. Once again our chances of having children were impacted…they had dropped to 35%.

    A year later our little miracle son was born, named Asher because of the verse in Genesis 30, “Happy am I, for women will call me happy. So she named him Asher.” God had brought blessing out of heartache.

    Ten months after Asher’s birth I was diagnosed with early stage lupus. After finally finding a doctor in Charlottesville that I trusted, we were faced with some decisions. What treatment did we want to take? How would or should my lifestyle change? Would we take the risk of having more children? My lupus specialist was all for more children, saying “You are early stage, and there are things we can do to control the flare-ups and keep your lupus at a plateau. You have a long and healthy life ahead of you. We can do this.”

    Two years after Asher’s birth, on New Year’s Day, I went into labor with our second miracle. Micah was born just after midnight. Named Micah because we longed for him to “do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with his God” for all the days of his life. (Micah 6:8 )

    All of my pregnancies were miserable, and I would throw up for nine months straight. With my final pregnancy two years after Micah, I only gained 14 total pounds. But Audrey entered our world and turned everything miraculously pink. Audrey is Brian’s namesake. I picked her name years ago because it means the same thing her Daddy’s does, and I couldn’t think of a better person after which to name her.

    The hands of the clock bring us to today. 4 months into cancer survival and treatment. I did everything “right”. There is no cancer in my family. I exercised, ate healthy, maintained a healthy weight, nursed my babies, and rarely consumed alcohol. But once again, we heard those words, “There is no easy way to tell you this.” My cancer diagnosis is unfair. Life is unfair.

    But look at all the blessings that have come from this. During and following my thyroid cancer diagnosis and treatment, I was surrounded by the church body and cared for incredibly. I will never forget our pastor, Phil, in one of his sermons saying, “When I heard that Angie had cancer, I heard that my daughter had cancer!” That was the body life by which I was surrounded. We were all each other’s sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, children.

    I have three miraculous blessings in my life, and every time I call their name, there is a sweet reminder of who they are and why they are named. I struggled recently with acceptance when the doctor looked at me and said I’d never have another child. I had always had my heart set on having four children. Last night the truth hit me and brought me great peace. I do have four children. I truly believe one of them is waiting with Jesus to welcome me home with open arms, and I can’t wait to meet my fourth child. God does hear the desires of our hearts.

    I have been surrounded once again by friends and family and our church body these past few months. God has brought old friends into my life that I may have never heard from again, and our hearts are knit together. I am growing closer to my husband and my children. I am learning more than ever about my Lord and Who He is… and who I am. I am learning to see my life through its blessings and not through its unfairness.

    Truth is, there has been a lot in my life that is unfair, but that doesn’t mean God is unfair. Life is not God. He is the giver of life, and has given me so much more than I deserve. He has given His only Son to die for me, to spare me from eternal punishment. He has given me the Holy Spirit to comfort me when life feels unfair. He gives me the strength to continue when I am too weak. He carries me when my feet are too blistered to walk any more. He gives me peace when my soul is in turmoil. He has given me loved ones who care for me in ways I don’t deserve. In fact, all of this, every day, I don’t deserve. That is the truth of life. God has provided for us… provided a stream in the desert of an unfair life. He has provided His mercy and love and grace to bring us to a place of knowledge and blessing and peace. He offers so much more than this life. He offers everything He is and we can trust Him even in the unfairness of life.

    On the days, when I say to God:

    Save me, O God, for the waters have threatened my life. I have sunk in deep mire, and there is no foothold; I have come into deep waters, and a flood overflows me. I am weary with my crying; my throat is parched; my eyes fail while I wait for my God (Psalm 131:1-2)

    His reply is not far off:

    Fear not for I have redeemed you, I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. (Isaiah 43:1-2)

    He is faithful. I will never be overcome.

    (Once again, I ask for your specific prayers. I did end up coming down with a cold, and at this point, although feeling miserable, my temperature is staying down, and my body is fighting. Obviously, I am in a weakened state because of the chemo, and I ask you to please pray that my body would continue to fight off this cold and that it wouldn’t go into any secondary infections… that I would heal quickly, so I can continue treatment. Thank y’all so very much! I may never be overcome by this life, but I am overwhelmed by your love and support.)

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  • Productivity

    Today has been a hard day. Not hard in comparison with many days I have experienced, just kind of “life” hard. I have been quarantined to my bedroom because Ash sounds like he’s talking through a hollow log and complains of a sore throat. Bear is whiney and spent half the night coming up to our room because he couldn’t sleep (this is often a precursor to sickness with him). Brian abandoned us this morning for DC, and I am bitterly begrudging his escape. Fortunately, my parents are here, and Mom is busy caring for the kids while I am busy praying that she has some magic germ shield to keep her from catching whatever it is they’re fighting.

    This wouldn’t be so difficult had it been a day or two ago when I was feeling rotten. For those of you who have never felt rotten… rotten=truck runs over body, then I suddenly hear annoying reverse beeps. Unable to move, I watch in horror as it backs over me and crushes my body again. Today my body feels less like tarmac and more like a robot; all stiff and straight, but at least it can move. I do feel viable, so I may venture out of my room (but not before donning my surgical mask for protection; trust me, it is the height of fashion.) to do a few chores, and I may actually be productive in my room by working on the clutter… only most of the clutter is Brian’s desk. *sigh* That and the billion prescription bottles on my chest of drawers. (Side note: in all fairness to Brian, a lot of the mess on his desk has come from the home school papers, insurance EOB’s, books and letters I’ve received, so I have helped contribute to the clutter.)

    Okay, so what is the point of this blog? I’m not sure it even has a point. Unfortunately, since my room is not the most clutter free zone; the chaos level in my mind has gone up as well. In all my spare time this morning, I have been soooo productive (insert cynical snort here). I’m pretty much living up in my room with my laptop, Bible and a few good books. I recently found some really cool websites written by other women, and am finding some good reads there and something to challenge my mind with Scripture, politics, health and more. I am also watching movies in bits and pieces.

    I found myself watching the end of some football show and sobbing like a child with a skinned knee when the protagonists won the game. (Side note #2: it is not uncommon for me to sob like a child over anything, nor is it uncommon for me to be grossly emotional over sports.) As I lay here trying to control my tears, I asked myself what on earth was wrong with me. Why in Heaven’s name was I bawling over something so minor? Well, of course, whenever I ask myself anything, it’s like taking my thumb out of the hole in the dike only to find the dam bursting and flooding my mind with all the reasons I should be sobbing.

    Grief is a funny thing. It hits at the most unexpected times… like when I’m in the shower and automatically reach up to squeeze the water out of my hair, only there’s no hair to squeeze, and I find myself raining tears on the shower floor… or when I take in a huge whiff of Brian’s Starbucks Breakfast Blend coffee and I am suddenly nauseated and could fill his travel mug with my tears… or when I watch my kids play football with Adam and Tim and Daddy and I want to jump in and tackle someone only to find my limbs are too achy to even move, but those tear ducts work just fine. The loss is always there, somewhere.

    My friend, Monica, once told me to be gentle on my heart. For a recovering legalist with guilt issues, those were some of the best words she could have ever uttered to me. The guilt is always there, somewhere, too. I would be a fool not to admit that a portion of my grief is self-centered… I feel guilty because I can’t do things with my kids like I used to. I feel guilty because Brian had to be Mr. Mom for the holidays while I stayed in bed. I feel guilty because someone else took Micah out for his birthday, and I should have been there. Then I lie in my puddles of self-consumption and grieve for myself until the Lord mercifully restores my depth perception.

    I struggle with all the things my children have lost this year. Honestly, I think what hit me during my football grief this morning was the realization that Asher missed another opportunity to get involved in team sports this fall and upcoming spring, something he’s longing to do. It’s the missed art classes and Sunday Schools and birthday parties and friendships they are missing out on that hurt my heart. I grieve because it hurts them so much.

    As I watch them hurt and as I long to be the mom to them the way I always have, I realize at the same time that they are growing in ways they wouldn’t have had I not gotten cancer. My children are developing hearts of compassion for the suffering. They are more thoughtful and considerate. They are genuinely loving and let people know how loved they are. They are learning to live each day for what it is and they are thankful. And I am learning a lot by living through the eyes of my children. Yes, the loss is always there, somewhere, but so is the joy and the laughter and the love. You can probably guess what that does for me… yes, I am sobbing like a child once again.

  • Christmas Gallery

    The decorations are gone. No more frosty glitter and twinkling lights. We packed them all away for the next year. But the memories are still here and if you want to squander hours gazing at the most gorgeous children in the world, then click here to enjoy them.

    We had a wonderful month celebrating with friends and family, and God was faithful to give us so much joy in the midst of heartache. Thank y’all, again, so much for your love and prayers and encouragement and faithfulness to us this year. Many, many blessings to you in the year ahead and may God shower you with sweet surprises that make 2008 beautiful.

  • Use #14 For Plastic Candy Cane Decorations

    Strike squarely over top of older brother’s head to defend birthday balloons. (Caution: may damage candy cane or older brother… or both)

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    Current Score: Micah 2; Mommy 0; Asher negative 1
    (If you don’t understand the whole score-keeping, go here to see why.)

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  • Birthday Bear

    Wednesday morning, Hurricane Micah blasted into our room shouting, “I’m four!” at the top of his lungs. And the day progressed from there. How is it possible that it’s been so long since our imaginative, creative little treasure came into our lives? It seems like just yesterday that those dimples made their appearance and my heart melted a little bit more.

    Bear had quite a day for himself, and Asher and Audrey certainly enjoyed the ride along with him. For starters, their babysitter for the day was Miss Sarah, our sweet friend from youth group who was home on college break. Sarah started helping our family out once a week with cleaning and babysitting when I was pregnant with Audrey, and she has become one of my children’s favorite people (and mine, too). As the kids were elbow deep in sculpy clay with Miss Sarah, the door opened again to reveal Aunt Bethy and heaven had come to our home.

    Beth is my best friend from college and brings delight with her into every room. This time she also brought balloons and other treasures for my children to enjoy. Lunch for the kids was a trip to McDonald’s with Sarah and Beth to celebrate Micah’s birthday. Apparently, the ice cream machine was broken, they didn’t get the Happy Meal toys they wanted, and the door was locked to the playground, so it wasn’t quite the celebration Beth had envisioned. In true Bear fashion, nothing phased Micah. He was just so happy to be with people and be loved. (Perspective note: we could all learn a lot from a four-year-old boy.)

    After some rest time, life exploded again with more Sarah-fun. Then Miss Tiffany walked through the door bearing more gifts. (Somewhere in there, Justin, Jacquie and Nora stopped by with more balloons, but I slept through that.) Follow that by Grandma and Grandad’s arrival, and life couldn’t get any better for Bear. Until…. Miss Amanda brought the cake. Unable to bake one myself this year, I enlisted the aid of my devotee, and she answered the call. It was a cowboy hat for a little boy who said all he wanted for his birthday this year was a chocolate cake and a cowboy costume.

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    Spaghetti for supper–a Micah-must-have every year–with bread, of course. Micah holds fast to the belief that man could live by bread alone. Then the birthday celebration. We lit the candles and Micah informed us that he did not need to sing “Happy Birthday”; he would just listen. He was so serious while we sang, but he was so excited to eat cake and open presents.

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    A lego dump truck, a Disney Memory game, remote-controlled trains for his geo-tracks, and then…. the cowboy costume. He put it on right away and let Asher carry the canteen.

    Some highlights of the night:
    –Asher calling himself Micah’s porter (where in the world does he get this stuff?!).
    –Audrey’s spaghetti sauce and chocolate covered face.
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    –Grandaddy tried on Micah’s cowboy hat and asked how he looked. Micah’s response? “You look like a faaaaaaaahn may-un” (that’s “fine man” for those of you that don’t speak southern).

    I struggled throughout the day with feeling so sad that I couldn’t be doing all the things I wanted to for Micah… decorate the house, shop for presents, bake and decorate his cake, really celebrate with zest. But watching him last night, it hit me once again how selfish I am. This isn’t about me and that’s what I was doing. I was making Micah’s birthday day about me and all the things I wanted for him. He didn’t care who made the cake or the spaghetti. He didn’t care who bought the plates or presents. All he cared about was being with the people he loved and celebrating his birthday. Well, he cared about the cake and presents, too.

    And last night, as we snuggled in my bed and read Little Pilgrim’s Progress, we got to the chapter where Christian was scared of the lions. Micah was in awe. Now he can’t wait to get to the part with the dragon. Oh, my little imaginative blessing. Happy birthday, dear Bear. I pray we are blessed with many, many more years of you!

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  • Why Do They Have to Grow Up?

    Saturday afternoon I was out with the kids while Angie tried to get some rest, and the boys decided they wanted to drive their Jeep. They have a little PowerWheels Jeep that Grandma and Grandpa got them a couple of years ago, and they love it. It’s been very well used. Since the summer I’ve been prepping Asher that this is probably his last year to be able to drive the Jeep, next year he’ll be too big. This time though, when he got in I noticed the front tires were bent at odd angles… I decided that it was time. It was one of those “this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you” moments; it killed me to tell him he couldn’t drive it anymore. He, of course, got upset; so the two of us sat on the sidewalk for a little while and talked. He cried, I held him. As much for my sake as his.

    The Little Jeep

    I hate to see him hurt or disappointed. Perhaps even more I hate to see him growing up. This year we’ve watched him changing, learning about the world, learning about pain, discovering ‘big kid’ things. He loves to learn and we talk about how he learns something new every day. I don’t begrudge him his discoveries, but for me they are all bittersweet. It all seems to come so fast.

    We sat and talked about how this was part of growing up; that some things he used to do he won’t be able to anymore because he has outgrown them. Other things he can do now that he is bigger that he couldn’t do before. He wanted to know what he could do that Micah can’t; I sent him off to ride his bike.

    In raising kids, as in life, it is so easy to keep your eyes on the horizon. Won’t it be great when they can talk? walk? Stop wearing diapers? Get dressed by themselves? Oooh, when they can fix their own breakfast! I can’t wait to build a model rocket with my boys and watch them when we fire it off. But every milestone they reach seems to hurt a little bit. With every gain something is lost.

    A couple of weeks ago at dinner Micah learned to say “Spaghetti” correctly. It broke my heart. (It didn’t help of course that his older brother corrected him until he got it right!)

    I can’t help but smile every time Micah says “darkeness” or Audrey says “Vrrooom” to tell me that she wants to ride in the Jeep when I say we are going to the store. I love that Micah still has his blanket, and Asher sleeps with a pile of stuffed animals. But I know the day is coming when that will change, and although I know it needs to happen I can’t quite bring myself to face it.

    I don’t want them to grow up. None of them asked my permission, and I certainly didn’t approve of it.

  • A Beloved Allegory Retold…And Experienced

    This year for Christmas we bought the boys the book Little Pilgrim’s Progress, the retelling of John Bunyan’s story of Christian’s journey through life. The boys have listened in rapt wonder as I’ve read chapter after chapter each night. Micah still doesn’t understand much and can’t wait to get to the part where Christian is afraid of the lions, and Asher never fails to ply me with questions. Asher has quickly grasped the allegory and knows that the King is God, the Son is Jesus and that the Celestial City is Heaven. His eyes light up when Help comes to Christian, and his brow furrows when Christian is fearful.

    Tonight in our readings, Christian came to the Cross, and I read:

    Presently he came to a place where there was a little hill by the side of the road, and upon the hill he saw the very thing for which he was longing. There stood the Cross, and the moment little Christian began to climb the path that led to it, he felt that the bands that fastened his burden were breaking. Then it fell from his shoulders and rolled to the bottom of the hill, and when he turned to see what had become of it, he found that it was quite gone…he stayed looking at the Cross, with his heart full of joy and thankfulness.

    I was overcome by the beauty of the Cross in these simple words, and I paused to try to regain control of my emotions. I thought about my kids and wondered if they would understand the wonder of the Gospel in these simple words. It was then I turned and looked at Asher whose face was lit up with excitement. Here is the conversation that followed:

    Ash: Mommy, what was in the burden?
    Me: Those were Christian’s sins that God forgave when Christian came to the Cross.
    Ash: Because Jesus died for his sins.
    Me; That’s right.
    Ash: Mom, why didn’t Christiana believe when Christian did? Why did she wait?
    Me: Remember how we talked about how not everyone believes in Jesus. Well, Christian was a good friend to Christiana and told her all about Jesus and Heaven. She believed after Christian had left for his journey and she wanted to learn about Jesus and love Him, too.
    Ash: When did you believe in Jesus?
    Me: Well, I grew up hearing about Jesus and being taught all about Him, but I didn’t believe in Him and ask Him into my heart until I was 12.
    Ash: Why did you wait until you were 12?
    Me: That’s just when God worked in my heart. You don’t have to wait until you’re 12. Anyone can ask Jesus anytime.
    Ash: But I already have Jesus in my heart, right, Mom? Because you’ve been praying for me since before I was born.
    Me: I have been praying for you, but I can’t make you believe. I can’t put Jesus in your heart as much as I want to.
    Ash: Can I ask Him tonight?

    And so, my little man, bowed his head, placed his forehead on his folded hands and prayed, “Heavenly Father, I pray that you would forgive my sins and take them all away. And I want Jesus to come live in my heart every day until I die. In Jesus name, Amen.” The grin on his face when he lifted his face was like one I’ve never seen.

    Ash hugged me and said, “I’m so happy.” Then he turned to Micah and said, “Micah, you pray, too, just like I did. Say the same thing.”

    So my other little man bowed his head, and prayed, “Heavenly Father, I pray that you would make Mommy’s heart go away with her boo-boo. I pray that Asher, Danny and me would get to ride on an airplane to Grandma and Grandpa’s. I pray that Mommy would feel all better. In Jesus name, Amen.” I never will figure out what world he lives in!

    All in all, though, I’d say the New Year is starting off quite well. Soli Deo Gloria!