Numbered Dayz

Reflections on Pregnancy After Loss

2019-06-26T15:03:00.000-10:00

We got back from the airport and I went straight to the bathroom. I needed to take a test. Traveling had allowed me to push away the fact that I was 2 weeks late, but the moment I walked through the door I couldn’t push it away anymore. To heck with the first morning pee thing, I was just going to do it now and if it came up negative I’d retake it in the morning the recommended way.

The lines came up instantly. Pregnant. The feeling of panic came just as quickly.

That’s never how I wanted to feel when I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to feel happiness, excitement, delight. But when your pregnancy failures have now outweighed your pregnancy successes, it turns things around a bit. “Oh God,” I thought. “I can’t do this.” I felt all the pain of the previous losses come back. (You can read those stories starting here you’d like.) I did not want to do this again. At the same time, I did. This is what I had been longing for. Everything in me wanted this just as much as everything in me was afraid of this.

Today, I am 38 weeks pregnant. I’ve spent the last 9 months facing my fears one second and wanting to run away from them the next. Finding peace with God, then having anxiety take over. It’s been an up and down, curvy yet straight, sporadic yet consistent battle. Often, my heart has felt tired and frail, unsure of how excited I should be.

Early on, though, I came to a decision to choose joy. The truth is, I do not know the outcome: this baby could last (that sounds terrible to say it that way, doesn’t it?); this baby could go. Even after birth, we don’t know the plans or the lifespan of our children. That part is not up to me. BUT--what is up to me? To choose to love this baby and celebrate this baby each day I get to carry this baby, and then, Lord willing, each day we get together after that. I started celebrating the milestones--1 month, 2 months, 1st trimester--considering every day a gift. Honestly, it’s been a moment by moment choice. Fear and anxiety didn’t just disappear, as much as I wished I could simply overcome them and be done with them. But everyday of choosing gratefulness and joy made me panic a little bit less, made joy and rejoicing and dreaming a little more possible. Many people had faith for me that this baby was different, the start of a new pattern. I have never had that confidence. I have simply had confidence that no matter what happens, God does not abandon. God remains with me and for me. Hardship in my life does not equate to a less loving God. So, should another loss be my fate, God will see me through just as He has already. Should everything go “normally”, God will see me through that journey, too. He will continue to heal my heart and allow me to embrace and love this child fully.

Baby is due any day now. As I’ve prepped and prepared, I’ve also continued processing this past season. I am not the same as I was the last time I birthed a baby. I now hold in the back of my mind the “what if?” Not only have I experienced my own losses, but in recent years I have watched those dear to me experience premature goodbyes to their babies as well. I know nothing is guaranteed. Holding the “what if?” may sound despairing, but in fact it feels quite the opposite.

Before, I couldn’t ask the “what if”. I couldn’t face it; it threatened to destroy me. Now I’ve lived my own “what ifs”...and I’m still alive. I’ve seen the faithfulness of God in times and ways I would never have asked for and yet now would never exchange. The past few years were tremendously hard, yes. But there has been tremendous good in them, too. I would not trade the faith I have now that could only come from walking through that season for the faith I had before. My idea of life is no longer as idealistic as it once was, but it is no less beautiful. In fact, dare I say that being willing to embrace the hard and the good is far more beautiful than having to only see the easy and nice?

For instance, I used to think miracles were things being fixed the way I thought they should be. Leg broken? The miracle would be a new leg. Cancer? The miracle would be no cancer. I still believe miracles come that way. However, I no longer think that’s their only shape.

Now my idea of miracles includes the miracle of being able to move forward with joy despite not knowing the outcome. Some might say that is a lack of faith, not believing for the best to happen. Maybe, or maybe my idea of what is best has been challenged and I’m not so sure anymore that I know what is best. I am sure I know the One Who does, so I’m just going to trust He’s got me.

Now my idea of miracles has expanded to include the miracle of broken hearts restored; hearts that can know both grief and joy; that can both embrace suffering and dream with hope; that can both celebrate when things go “right” and keep going when things don’t. I don’t think that’s something that can happen naturally; that to me seems definitely supernatural.

Being pregnant after loss isn’t a “fix”; it doesn’t bring those babies back or replace the babies to whom we’ve had to say goodbye. It doesn’t take away the pain of loss. But it is it’s own joy, one to be celebrated as much as our hearts will allow. I’ve come to believe that there isn’t a measure of what constitutes the right amount of celebration or the right amount of grief. The two often go hand in hand. The only “right” response is honesty and worship toward God: here’s who I am and here’s Who He is, and let’s not get the two confused. He is infinitely gentle and skilled at sorting through my heart and leading it where it needs to go; His word is certainly a steady light to my path.

If I had to choose one, I’d say that this has been the theme for this past season: coming to know with unshakable trust that He’s with me, for me, and in this. He’s not judging, but covering. He’s got comfort and protection, peace and hope, all in the right measure at the right time.

So, still, I don’t know the outcome. Anything could still happen. But God is good, He is faithful, and I will trust His plan.

That’s what it all comes back to, right? There's a peace and joy there that is hard to quantify and I wouldn't trade it.

On Miscarriage and Loss, Pt 5 (Baby #4)

2019-06-26T14:45:00.000-10:00

*Disclaimer: I have chosen to write these next few posts from the position of in the midst of as much as possible, rather than from where I am now. You could argue I am still in the midst of but I know where I am now is much different, though still part of my healing journey. When I was in the midst of, I read and looked for and sought anything I could get my hands on. Most of it was good, but most of it also left me wishing people would please stop telling me what to do and how to feel unless they were going to tell me it was ok to not be ok for a while. This is written for you who need an in the midst of friend.

**Second Disclaimer: I am writing a series of posts on my personal journey through miscarriage and pregnancy loss. This is post five. If you want to start from the beginning, click here.

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It would be hard to quantify which baby loss was the hardest. The first was the most shocking--the idea that losing a baby would happen to me was non-existent. The second was the most enraging. The third was the most surprising. The fourth perhaps could be called the most despairing. By the time I got to my fourth baby loss, I had entered a new level of dichotomy: complete numbness mixed with complete emotions. How can you be numb and feel everything all at the same time? I don’t know, but you can.

The doctor had told us to wait a few months for things to heal and then go for it. I wasn’t sure where I was with that--could I handle being pregnant again? What if I lost another one? I wasn’t sure I could make it through another loss. Turns out I could and I did.

I had strict orders to get in with my doctor as soon as I got pregnant next. Having one ectopic makes you more likely to have another one, so they wanted to check me out immediately. After arguing with the receptionist on the phone that YES, I needed an appointment at 4 ½ weeks pregnant, and NO, I would not wait until 8 weeks, we went in for an ultrasound.

The doctor gave me the good news first. Not an ectopic. Definitely pregnant. But the moment of relief lasted perhaps a millisecond when I realized it wasn’t “Definitely pregnant” with a period. It was “definitely pregnant, but…” But what? “But no baby.” Excuse me? How can I be pregnant but have no baby? Turns out you can. I was diagnosed with a molar pregnancy--where essentially you are pregnant with everything but the baby.

Unfortunately, a molar pregnancy also carries with it the risk of cancer. Recommended procedure is an immediate D&C with biopsy. I wasn’t ready to give up on this baby yet, though. It was early, maybe my dates were wrong...maybe the baby just wasn’t showing up yet. Maybe God would choose to do a miracle. The doctor agreed to take a “wait and see” approach and to send me to a specialist for a second opinion. The next three weeks were filled with appointments for ultrasounds and blood tests. They were filled with tears, prayers, and anxious waiting. I wish I could say peaceful waiting, but it wasn’t. I was most definitely anxious. And yet, still God was there, with us.

Finally, at 8 weeks, still no sign of baby, so I agreed to the D&C. When we left the doctor’s office that day, I made it to the car, then promptly burst into tears. This was so not what I had wanted.

The procedure itself was the easiest point in all of it. Decisions had been made and I knew what was happening. At this point, I was glad to just move on. Only I couldn’t. Though the biopsy came back benign, standard procedure is six months of blood tests to ensure everything is normal and nothing is growing that shouldn’t be. First twice a week, then once a week, then once a month. I got to know the local phlebotomist really well. Hi, Suzie.

Going in for those blood tests was like a smack in the face. Everytime, I tried to play it cool and act like I didn’t care. Truly, I didn’t care about the needles or the drawing of blood. I was way too used to that part by now. But I did care about the questioning it produced in me, about the identity crisis it made me face. Would I ever carry a baby again? Could I carry a baby again? What the heck was wrong with my body and why did it keep betraying me in this way? I felt tired, tired of the comments from people asking how I was or the comments from those who knew nothing asking if I was going to try for a fourth. If only you knew, I would think. I would smile bravely and say, “We’d love to have another one” while at the same time wondering if I still meant it. I knew I did; I desperately wanted to have another baby. I also knew I didn’t; part of me wanted to bury this part of my life and just be done with it.

During those months I swear every person on the planet but me was announcing their pregnancies. There was that one week where I received pregnancy announcements from four of my friends ALL ON THE SAME DAY. How is that even possible?! I counted at another point and realized I knew seventeen pregnant people. SEVENTEEN. I stayed off of facebook and instagram for a while. I was genuinely happy and excited for them. I also would go cry in the bathroom after I found out.

And yet, God.

I don’t really know what else to say that I haven’t said already: God was there. He would listen to my wail and my distress and then in the right time speak truth and comfort. Even when I was too numb to know if He was saying anything or not, He was. I look back through my journals now and I see His handwriting over everything. He was so, so present. Again, I was learning at a deeper and deeper level that hard does not mean God is absent. Hard does not mean I didn’t do something right or I’m not enough. Hard is hard and it’s a part of this fallen world. AND YET, GOD.

Whether you’re feeling hopeful, feeling beaten, or perhaps not sure if you will ever really feel anything again, choose to remember: and yet, God. You can stake your life on that phrase, trust me. I’m still rooting for you...your journey isn’t finished yet.

Xo,

Sarah

On Miscarriage and Loss, Pt 4 (Baby #3)

2019-06-26T14:43:00.001-10:00

**Second Disclaimer: I am writing a series of posts on my personal journey through miscarriage and pregnancy loss. This is post four. If you want to start from the beginning, click here.

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When I was 16ish, I was in a meeting with my youth pastor and other youth leaders when he asked us all to stop and pray. He had just received word that some of his and his wife’s closest friends were in the emergency room with an ectopic pregnancy (when the baby implants outside of the womb; other parts of the body are not designed for a baby and as the baby grows it causes tremendous pain and can result in a life threatening rupture). The doctor wanted to perform surgery immediately to remove the baby and save the mother’s life, but the couple asked for a couple of hours to pray. We all prayed together: we asked that God would miraculously move the baby up into the mother’s womb. And you know what? He did. It’s considered medically impossible for a baby to do that. But God made it happen. I remember thinking that if I were ever faced with an ectopic pregnancy I would do the same: I would ask God to decide the fate of my baby; to either cause the baby to pass or cause the baby to move up into my womb. Little did I know that I would find myself in that exact situation years later.

But there I was, in the ER.

I thought I had a kidney stone. The symptoms seemed so similar to what friends who suffered from them had described to me. It had come on suddenly, after peeing of all things. The pain had crumpled me. Home by myself, having dropped the kids off at elementary and preschool, I was alone, stuck on the bathroom floor because I couldn’t stand up. I called Shawn home from a meeting, I called a friend to pray, and I called my dad (a physician) to talk through it and pray together. I eventually made it off the floor and out to the family room. When the pain didn’t subside and I started to get dizzy and faint, we decided we had better get things checked out.

It wasn’t a kidney stone. Turns out, it was a baby. But a baby that had implanted in my fallopian tube, instead of in my uterus. The doctor wanted to perform surgery immediately, due to the amount of internal bleeding I seemed to be having. I asked how long he would let me wait and he agreed to wait until the morning as long as my pain level didn’t increase significantly. That’s when I began to pray specifically. With two baby losses already under my belt, I didn’t ask for the baby to live. I just simply asked that God would decide the baby’s fate, not me. That the baby would pass or that the baby would move. As a mother, choosing my life over my baby’s--though there would seem to be zero chance of either of us surviving if I didn’t make that choice--went against everything in me. I also asked God to give me the grace and peace to make the right decision if he didn’t want to answer the way I was asking.

I have a pretty high pain tolerance, so I didn’t acknowledge to myself that the pain was increasing until I realized I had started holding my breath because even the shallowest breaths were causing knife-stabbing pain all over my body. It wasn’t long after that, though it was the middle of the night, that the doctor called and said surgery needed to happen now. My various levels had dropped dangerously and the bleeding was now far too significant. It was time to do surgery, whether I liked it or not. Peace, in the midst of the trauma, was very present. Again, I reminded God of my heart’s request. They ran some final blood tests and when the doctor came in to brief me on the procedure he shared some strangely encouraging news: “Your hcg levels have dropped significantly. I’ve never seen them drop this fast. You can rest assured knowing your baby is no longer viable.” On the one hand, my heart was sad. Another baby I didn’t get to meet, one I didn’t even know was growing inside me until earlier this day. But again, that peace. I had asked God to choose this baby’s destiny so I wouldn’t have to choose. And He had made it very clear: this baby was to grow up with Him.

They rolled me into surgery.

It’s a strange thing to say hello and goodbye to your child in the same day. It’s a strange thing to rejoice over God’s hand at work while also grieving a loss. It’s weird to know you’re going to be ok, while you are still so sick you can’t function. It’s awkward to go back to life, where nothing has changed and everything has changed in a moment. It’s weird to be present with your children that are still here, laughing with them, while at the same time feeling like you are watching yourself from an enclosed room where emotions don’t exist. It’s difficult to forget for a moment someone you desperately want to remember, but it’s also difficult to remember those who are with you when your mind is on someone else.

And yet, God.

I thought those things couldn’t go together. More and more I realize that grief and joy go hand in hand. That sad and happy can coexist. That faith and hope can be present in the midst of sorrow and despair. Because God is present in all of it, with me.

The recovery from my ectopic took me months. I had lost quite a lot of blood, so it was multiple weeks before I could do more than get up and get dressed and complete the most basic tasks. Sweeping the floor required many pauses for rest and a two hour nap afterwards. I learned a lot in that time. About priorities, letting go, finding purpose in being with God because I could do so little, about pouring my heart out to God whatever that looked like--rage, anger, sad, despair, hope, confusion, questions. I learned that life goes on.

Friend, you don’t need to rush the process. Just celebrate the wins from each day, even if that win is the decision to keep breathing. God will see you through whatever level or non-level of emotion you have. Just embrace your path, as fast or slow as it seems. One little step at a time.

Much love,

Sarah

On Miscarriage and Loss, Pt 3 (Baby #2)

2018-11-28T08:31:00.000-10:00

**Second Disclaimer: I am writing a series of posts on my personal journey through miscarriage and pregnancy loss. This is post two. If you want to start from the beginning, click here.

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The year after moving to Hawaii was all over the place for me. My soul went through it kind of on the numb, aching, and dying side. Not to be dramatic or anything. I struggled with culture shock (I learned in my Cultural Anthropology class in college that culture shock has three phases: honeymoon--everything is amazing; despair--everything is terrible; and reconciliation--acceptance of the good with the bad and making it home. Let's just say, perhaps due to my many previous visits to Hawaii, that I skipped the honeymoon phase and went straight to the despair phases. The transition was hard, to say it succinctly.). I struggled with depression. I struggled with loneliness. I struggled with the new demands of what we were doing. Of course, good was happening at the same time and I was learning and growing even though I couldn't see that or feel that. Adjustments happened. A year passed. We had lived there long enough to have a few "used to" things. Along the way, I realized I had started to embrace--and enjoy--our new life.

Somewhere in there we decided now was as good as time as ever to start trying again (rather, we recognized that there might never be a "good" time, so why not now?). And then one day I realized I was late. I took a test and there were those two lines again, almost instantaneous. I was pregnant.

I didn't know how I felt about it. Was I excited? Were we ready? Would this turn out ok? I took two weeks to let it sink in. Finally, one Friday morning, I told Shawn, "I guess I should at least tell my mom." He couldn't believe I hadn't told her yet. I felt so hesitant at that moment, though. In retrospect, maybe I was scared that saying it out loud to someone other than Shawn would jinx it. I felt ridiculous for thinking that--it doesn't really line up with my theology--but it was what I was struggling with. I decided I would do it. I would call my mom.

I went back to the bedroom and picked up my phone. I pulled her up on my favorites list, then at the last second decided to go to the bathroom first. I already had the pregnancy symptom of having to pee often, along with a bunch of other typical symptoms. I figured we would probably want to talk a while so it would be good to have already gone to the bathroom. And that's when I saw it again: blood on the toilet paper. I felt a sinking in my core; a mixture between being punched in the gut and someone pulling the floor out from under you. I knew instantly. I dared to hope, but I knew. There wasn't going to be a baby in my arms. Again.

I picked up the phone and called my mom. She answered. I simply burst into tears.

One of my dearest friends and her husband were in town that weekend. She had extravagantly planned a girls weekend for us. We both wondered if I would be ok (what to expect when you miscarry so early? I didn't know), but I figured I'd be just as close to a hospital there plus I'd have some escape and refuge from normal life so why not? I drove alone to the hotel that night and God and I talked the whole way.

More like I yelled at Him. I was so mad. There's no other way to say it. I looked back at the past year, at my first miscarriage, at moving, at my depression, about all. the. changes. and I was SO MAD. I couldn't understand why. WHY GOD?! Haven't I given enough??? WHAT DO YOU FREAKIN' WANT FROM ME?!? Because I can't do this. Yet I was doing it, because what other choice did I have? God could have squashed me like a bug for my impertinence because really who am I to talk back to God? Who am I to question? I learned again as I had been learning the whole year, that God can handle me. Not only that, but He wants me. Exactly how I am, despite my attitude or lack thereof. He wanted all of my million questions, all of my crazy ranting, all of my tears.

I had music playing on shuffle. You know how shuffle is--random. Yet, the same song, a song I'd never heard before by a group I always listened to, played two times in a row.

You're like starlight in the dark

Endless miles can't conceal You...

And there's no heart unseen

There's no space between

You and I

You are closer than

The very oxygen

I'm breathing in

Oh, I breathe You in

You are God with us

You are here with us

Immanuel!

You are infinite

Your glory has no end

Jesus!

(from Starlight by Bethel)

Me, I heard one thing from God and from that song: I love you. It was the one response from God on that drive that night and it was all that was really necessary.

There are some things that one just can't understand, maybe wouldn't want to understand, or maybe aren't ready to understand. Then again, sometimes the need to understand is an overrated thing. Or maybe truly understanding is understanding that the why isn't a prerequisite to trust or love? Not giving answers, just musing here. All I know is, what WHY can one give to an aching, grieving heart that would satisfy? But LOVE...it's a balm, it's a presence, it's comfort. God didn't offer me petty explanations, He didn't say I couldn't be upset or angry. He didn't minimize my pain, He didn't pretend like everything would always be ok.

He was just there. With me. In it. In my messy and hurting heart. Offering His love.

That's the constant I've come to know, as I'll share again as I continue to share my story. Jesus is not a magic pill that prevents pain, numbs it, or makes it like pain doesn't happen. But He is so, so WITH us in the hard, even when we are hurting so much it's like we're in a coma and don't realize He's there.

Just keep breathing, friend. One breath at a time. He loves you. He's with you.

much love,

Sarah

On Miscarriage and Loss, Pt 2 (Baby #1)

2018-10-22T15:38:00.000-10:00

my three earthlings on the beach during our first days in Hawaii

**Second Disclaimer: I am writing a series of posts on my personal journey through miscarriage and pregnancy loss. This is post two. If you want to start from the beginning, click here.

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I had always said, in my head at least, that I would have four kids before thirty. It's not something I ever really decided or set out to do. It was just there, a random thought that flitted in one day maybe in high school and just kind of decided to stick around.

Like the random thought my brother and I mentioned at the kitchen table over lunch when we were, what, six and eight years old? Our mom was pregnant with baby number four and we were all discussing opinions on gender. That's when we said it, the random thought: "It it's a boy, and the next one is a boy, you're going to have eight kids. It will go boy, girl, girl, boy, boy, girl, girl, boy. If it's a girl, then you might just have one more baby after this." Weird. Random. BUT TRUE. She had a boy...and then another one...and when she was done there were eight of us and it went boy, girl, girl, boy, boy, girl, girl, boy. I am the first girl in there, if you're wondering.

I never fed the thought that I'd have four kids before thirty. I had my first three at twenty-two, twenty-four, and twenty-six. And then? All I knew was I was tired. Like really tired, not just body tired but soul tired, too, and not just because of my littles. However, two of them hadn't been easy babies and one (two?) wasn't an especially easy toddler either. So we decided to take a break. I was pretty sure I wanted more, but I was very sure I needed a chance to breathe again. One thing I knew, when the lines came across the pee stick again, I wanted to be excited; not freaked out or exhausted or disappointed. Because I believe every human life should always be celebrated, and if at all possible from the very beginning.

My first two years post baby number three weren't breezy for me, though. There was a whole lot of good. There were so many blessings. I look back on a lot of it fondly. There was also a lot of personal struggle behind the scenes. Some circumstantial, some physical, some soul. And then in November 2015 I found out I was very newly pregnant. At almost twenty-nine, this should seem like perfect timing to fulfill my thought of four kids before thirty.

My first reaction, however, was not elation.

It was more of a "NOW?! HOW?!?" Obvs, I know how. But when we had decided to take a break I had become somewhat of a fertility nerd. For personal reasons, hormonal birth control was off the table for me, so I bought a high-tech fertility monitor, read all the books, and learned my cycle like a boss. Or so I thought. But there were those two lines from my peed-on stick staring back at me. I took a few more tests the next couple days, because maybe there was mistake?

Getting pregnant when your youngest is about to turn two really isn't that bad, in fact some might even call it the perfect amount of break--you've most likely weaned the baby, you've had some time to get your body back(ish), you have been, Lord-willing, sleeping through the night for a little while at least. But there were other developments in our lives at the same time that made this seem like NOT. GOOD. TIMING. Mainly, without there being a thought of it in our minds before October (read: we loved everything about our lives and weren't looking to change anything), we had decided (through an incredible, rather miraculous series events that are another story for another day) that we were going to move from my small NC hometown to Hawaii to start a church. And we were going to do it soon. Like really soon. This baby would be Hawaii born.

I was so mad about that.

Seriously, it felt like a joke. You mean I'm going to give up everything I've ever known to move to a place 5,000 miles away from my family and right when I don't even know how much I should be paying for milk at the store or where I should get gas I'm going to have a baby. In the midst of doing the hard work of starting a church. Great. I felt guilty for those thoughts, too, because my husband's family is in Hawaii and finally they'd bet to be around one of our babies when they were babies. That should make me happy. Only it didn't. I was just preemptively missing my family and the way I was used to newborn life happening.

God and I had some very serious, candid conversations. In reality, it only took a couple weeks for my heart to come around. For me, dreaming of the new possibilities of the future tends to help me get my heart around things, so that's what I did. I knew we'd be living with Shawn's mom for a year and so we'd have the baby while staying with her, so I started dreaming about how I could sandwich a tiny crib into the corner of what would be our room-stuffed-full-of-all-our-belongings. I imagined hanging a tiny mobile, maybe a little banner on the wall. Would I hang a curtain so we could have some privacy? No, too hot. No a/c means you need airflow. It would be open. We'd just learn to operate by our phones' flashlights. I pictured making a little changing table on top of the dresser. Maybe I would buy a new stuffed giraffe or elephant to put beside it. That would be cute. I wouldn't use any receiving blankets, just cotton muslin ones because they were so breathable. I wouldn't need many baby clothes either. Some cute onesies should be enough to start on. I started making lists in my head, what baby things to pack and what to leave behind. In the process, I accepted that I was pregnant, joked that four kids before thirty was gonna happen after all, and I couldn't help but give this new little one my heart.

We told our family and close friends. Then Shawn took a trip to Hawaii to have some meetings and do some preparations for our move. While there, he spoke to a church that would be helping us and decided to share the news that number four was on the way. I was almost thirteen weeks, right when they say you're probably good, so why not? The very next day, the morning he was flying home, I woke up to blood when I went to the bathroom. Four days later I miscarried in full and with our hearts broken we said goodbye to the weest little one I have ever personally laid eyes on. I hadn't even heard my baby's heartbeat. My pregnancies before had been so amazingly uneventful, and I had been so busy with Christmas and then with Shawn being gone that I just kind of forgot to get that early appointment. Maybe my initial shock about it had something to do with it too. I had actually been planning to call my midwife that week and get everything going. Missed that bus.

There was SO. MUCH. SAD. So, so much ache. But that first miscarriage...I think that may have been the first time I have been through something so disappointing and NOT questioned God's love for me. He just made it so surreal-ly present I couldn't question it. That first bit was almost magical in that I could be hurting so badly but know so clearly I was not abandoned. It's a paradox that is incomprehensible for me, but I experienced it even though I can't explain how that is possible. I wrote about it all shortly after it happened, about what God was doing in my heart. You can read it here, if you'd like and see how God met me in those initial days.

The following months aren't quite as pretty as that, and I definitely did question. There are a lot of not pretty chapters when it comes to grief and it usually doesn't package up well or stay put where you want it to. I'll let you in on that, too, if you'll let me. Stay tuned. In the meantime, know that this gal here is rooting for you, sending love and hugs and tears for you. Just keep breathing.

Much love,

Sarah

In Honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day

2018-10-15T08:23:00.000-10:00

November 2015-January 2016.

May 2017-July 2017.

August 2017.

November 2017-December 2017.

It has been said that to write is to bleed on paper. I would argue that sometimes the blood falls so fast writing is impossible. When I look back over the last two years, that’s the thought that comes to mind. The blood has flowed fast and hard for me, in more ways than one.

There is the obvious: my first time moving away from my family. Starting a church. Building a new life in a new place with a different culture than what I had always known. Finding friends. Moving multiple times in a short span of time. Just a lot of new and different all at the same time that threw me for a loop a bit.

Then there’s the not so obvious, the part most haven’t seen because I haven’t been ready to show them: the four failed pregnancies.

I know some might object to that word “failed” so I’ll just insert a little disclaimer here: it’s just how I’ve chosen to term them. My four “failed” pregnancies were all different from each other, but they all “failed” in the sense that they failed to produce what one naturally expects and anticipates when you find out you’re pregnant: a baby in your arms.

Four pregnancies that didn’t result in a baby in my arms.

It’s a weird thing to talk about because people get weird when you talk about it. They offer conciliatory comments, pat faith statements, or just genuinely feel for you but what do you say to someone in response to that news? It’s weird. You want to help, to offer comfort, but you don’t know how. It’s ok. I get it. I’ve been in that place many times, too. In fact, it is one place of comfort in the midst of grief over what wasn’t, that now I am a little less “weird” in my responses to others. Now I can truly say, “I’m so sorry,” and mean it with every ounce that I am.

My journey has been up and down, all around. Hard, dark moments. Hard, peaceful moments. Moments of complete joy. Blessings mixed in the middle. Moments that you can’t define. Grief is weird like that. People categorize it and name its phases to help give some sense of control to it, but basically, it’s like an untrained two-year-old. It does what it wants when it wants on a whim and might change in .5 seconds what that whim is and all you can do is cry, “sweet Jesus help me,” hoping you come out the other side.

But you do. You actually do come out on the other side, as impossible as that seems at times, and as much as part of you isn't sure you want to come out on the other side. And you learn in the process that God truly is Emmanuel...”God with us.” And that He is the best comforter, who doesn’t tell you what you should or should not be feeling or doing but just sits with you where you are, totally ok with you. And you learn that He can handle you when you feel like you really believe Him and that He can still handle you when you’re wondering if any of this is really true after all. And that at the right time He can give you a gentle--or hard--kick in the *** to get you moving again. If I'm honest, I think now my faith is much less flowery than it used to be—it doesn’t look as good or smell as pretty as it once did—but it is much more deeply rooted than it ever has been. The flowers will come again, eventually, when it’s time; I’m learning to be ok with that. God is still God no matter what I look like.

I hesitated for a long time over when, how, or even if I should share this. There are lots of reasons for me not to share now, and believe me, I’ve rehearsed them plenty. You know, though, the main reason I've hesitated is that even though I would say I'm in a very healthy place in this journey, I'm still healing, and that's a vulnerable place to be. Like most people, I don't really like being that vulnerable in front of others. I also don't like drawing attention to myself; I'm nobody special. But failed pregnancies are a real thing and much to my dismay lots of people suffer through them. I hope sharing some of my experiences and the journey of my heart through it all will bring a hand of comfort to someone else. I also know that hard is hard, so if my journey of hard can give even the tiniest breath of air to someone else in hard then that’s worth it because we all need someone to help us breathe sometimes.

So, over the next few weeks, I will share some of my story. Stay tuned. As I do, I would be honored to have you share it with someone you think needs the reminder that they’re not alone, or someone who has lost a baby and could use a word of comfort and commiseration, or someone who just needs to hear that it’s ok to struggle. If that person is you, I’d love to hear from you so I can cheer you on.

Much love, Sarah

Six Words That Are Changing My Life

2018-03-01T10:59:00.002-10:00

I fell to my knees on the bedroom floor. I'd read that in books so many times -- "fell to their knees"...and I thought as it happened to me how it seemed so dramatic and intentional in books yet here I was involuntarily doing it. I fell to my knees because I was passing out, shutting down, absolutely without the ability to remain standing. My heart was breaking. My body was giving in to the intensity of the moment. The moment had come: the moment to say goodbye. It was time to move from my home of 27 years in NC to Hawaii. There was a car outside waiting for me to get into it, because a plane was waiting at the airport, but first there were people to hug. And I didn't know if I could do it.

I continued to fall past my knees and into a total face plant. My whole body was shaking; I was in full on panic.

I sobbed the desperate words out, "God! You know me! You made me! You know I can't handle this! But I know You have told me to do this--so You've GOT to do something!"

The words came quietly, but quickly, like someone taking me by the shoulders and looking me in the eyes:

Go in the strength you have.

It's funny how packed into six words can also be so much more; for me, it meant that God was cool with where I was--He did, indeed, know me. He knew the struggle, He knew my "can't". He wasn't needing me to be anyone else but me. I just needed to go how I was. Messy, weak, falling apart.

So I stood up, still shaking, praying through each breath, trying to gain enough control to walk downstairs. I took one step, and cried again. "God, help me." Now take another step. I put my foot forward. Then the other one. I made it to the top of the stairway and looked down. I breathed deep, locked my eyes onto the bottom, did the very-best-I-could-even-though-it-still-felt-like-I-might-fall-over breath out, walked downstairs, said goodbye, and left.

Even now, as I write this, I can feel it. I can feel the angst. I can feel my stomach churn, and my eyes are welling up. Some hard things will always be hard, and there's no way around that.

I have definitely not "arrived" in terms of my personhood, but I literally arrived at my next destination, Hawaii. We've been here almost two years now, and man, what a journey it's been! While that first step probably felt the most impossible, there have been many, many things since then that have left me 'reminding' God again that He made me this way and He was going to have do something if He wanted me to do what He was asking me to do!

Always, always the same shoulder-grabbing, eye-locking response.

Go in the strength you have.

Six words that are changing my life.

I think we all want to think that when God asks us to do something, we'll feel ready. The truth is, God always sets things in motion at the right time. But more and more I know that doesn't always mean it feels like the right timing. We look around and see all these people doing great things and think it's easy for them. But honestly? The more I get to know the people who are doing all the things the more I know there's not that much difference between them and the rest of us. There always comes a point where it feels impossible, where it feels like too much, where you are fully convinced in your own mind that God must have the wrong person for this job. The difference between them and the rest of us? Where the rest of us turn around, they take the step they don't feel capable of taking; the step they're not even sure they want to take; the step they are only taking because they know it's where they are supposed to step.

Until that moment when I fell to my knees, I'm pretty sure I've always turned around. I'm so glad I didn't. People look at me now and think I just waltzed into where we are totally confident, poised, and ready. So. Not. True. (Anybody who has actually had to live with me in this season can 100% verify that.) I just took the step, mess that I was and am.

God's not waiting for us to become all-powerful and all-knowing and all-strong to use us. He's got that part covered. He doesn't need us to become anything different than who we are (though inevitably, as we step we become a truer version of whom He's created us to be).

I wonder what you're waiting on today? What thing you know you're supposed to do but you keep procrastinating about? What thing seems too impossible? It could be anything from keeping your bed made every day to keeping a job longer than six months to having a conversation with someone that needs to be had to applying for school to moving across the country to facing and accepting some difficult facts...the possibilities are endless because the capacity of our hearts is endless.

Whatever it is, consider this your shoulder-grabbing, eye-locking moment:

Go in the strength you have.

Six words that will change your life, if you'll let them. No more waiting to live until you 'feel' ready; no more watching other people do all the things; no more turning around. Just take the next step.

Cheering you on...

Happy Birthday, Isaac!

2017-12-30T15:24:00.002-10:00

Hey there, little dude.

You just turned 4. How and when did this happen?! I do not even know where to begin to write your bithday letter. What a transitional year this has been!

you fully potty trained
you gave up (with great distress and frustration at me for not buying you a new one) your beloved "pai" aka pacifier
you started preschool two days a week, a first for the Withy-Allen family

1st day of preschool!

you played AYSO soccer this fall, your first team sport (cutest soccer player out there; also the youngest player ever to get a yellow card and have to sit out a quarter of the game for unnecessary roughness--is that a thing in soccer?)
you taught yourself to swim (a concern for me when we moved into a house with a pool, but after two afternoons I realized that my suspicions have been correct and you are indeed part fish. I do not know of any other 3 or 4 year olds that can dive into the deep end, swim to the bottom, retrieve a coin, then swim to the other end.)

because how else does one swim?

you learned to surf, and recently you have begun paddling out to the line up. People still stop and stare and look around the beach frantically for an adult because you look way too small to be out there surfing by yourself! Don't worry, we watch you closely.

all ready to compete in your first surf contest!

your imagination is still HUGE. For most of the year you have had an imaginary friend named Shay. Shay lives the life! I think he does everything you wish you could do. We are always hearing about some new adventure of Shay, though recently I am not hearing of him as much so I think you may have moved on. It was nice knowing you, Shay.
you know every WSL (World Surf League) top surfer by name and can identify them easily, males and females. You often surf "in the barrel" and "off the lip"--or so you imagine in your mind.
you are one of the most persistent, cute, strong-willed, inventive, mischievous, and instigative people I have ever met. It can be quite exhausting, but oh so hilarious when I can see it that way.

self-dressed for Sunday morning service: skinny jeans,
Manna Church t-shirt, leather jacket, "ribbon" (tie),
and a baseball helmet

you are an empty pit. Lord knows how I will afford to feed you when you are a teenager. You eat incessantly.
You think you are a big kid. But thankfully still need me like a little one. You need a foot rub and a cuddle every night, sometimes mutliple times a night. You love to be sung to sleep, listen to music, or be told a story, though I refuse your requests for POD or KB at bedtime. (Undefeated by KB is your favorite song.)

All in all, when people ask about you I tell them that "that one is a whole lot of personality packed into a little body, with all the frustrations and laughter that ensues." Your name means "He who laughs because God is with him." You certainly bring laughter, and thank God He is with us to help raise you! =) We love you, little man. We pray God's blessings, favor, and heart over you daily. You bring much of Him into this world! Happy 4th birthday.

Happy Birthday, Makoa!

2017-12-30T15:05:00.000-10:00

Dear Makoa,

In September, you turned 6 years old. I read somewhere recently that "every season is my favorite", meaning that whatever season you are currently in with your children is your favorite. I am beginning to learn the truth of that statement. I loved the season (and went a bit crazy at the same time; I am still rebuilding brain cells lost over lack of sleep) when you and your brothers were all little. There was something fun with you all being in the same stage of littleness together: everyone still needing their shoes put on, everyone still napping, everyone such a little size.

Now you have each blossomed out of the groupie stage and into your own soloist acts. I find you comforting in the midst of a house full of extroverts. We get each other, like when you tell Daddy "thank you for wanting to take me surfing but I have some things I need to take care of" I know what you really mean is you've been with people all day and you'd like to just think your own thoughts quietly for a while. And when you say you don't want to go to the beach because of the sand, I know you are just trying to say that just being home feels so good sometimes. And when I say "I'm tired" you know I mean I just need some quiet for a couple minutes and you help keep Isaac occupied so I can have a few moments of peace.

All that being said, most other people wouldn't think of you as an introvert. As much as you love your own space, you also love people. You love hanging out with your friends, meeting new people, and just being in proximity with other people. You love pumping up your soccer teammates and cracking jokes with your buddies. (Knock, knock joke anyone?) When I ask you what you love about school so much (you started Kindergarten at the local public school this fall), you tell me you just like all the people you get to see each day.

Speaking of school, you excel at it. While some people's hobbies are moving their bodies, your hobby is using your mind. That being said, you are still learning how to persist when something doesn't come to you instantaneously. You can quickly go from happy-go-lucky Makoa to melt-in-a-puddle-like-a-wounded-duck Makoa when something strikes you initially as being "too hard". (Which, often, is your daily chore.) You're growing in this area, bit by bit. I think. Baby steps, anyway.

You excel at kindness, though you find it challenging when losing. You are highly competitive, to the point where we've had to institute an "anyone who cries when they lose has to sit out the next game" rule. Your teacher often asks you to help other students because you are such a gentle teacher.

You and Isaac have become really good buddies as of late, and I often hear you in *very* wee hours of the morning giggling, pretending, laughing, fighting, wrestling, or jumping together. You and Azariah delight in the "I Survived" series (which you spent a bunch of your birthday money on) and in talking fantasy surfing and football. I love watching you all get along together (even if it is less common than I would prefer).

It is a blessing to watch your love for Jesus grow, to hear the prayers you pray, and to see you grow in wisdom as we study the Bible together. May this only continue to grow in depth and richness.

Happy 6th Birthday, Makoa. It's going to be a great year. We love you much!

you just realized you're six now

fall break fun

ready for soccer!

enjoying the morning sunrise

silly selfies are a fave

exploring Hawaii

Surf's up!

future president

cuddle brothers

You with your winnings for
1st place in the Super Grom division
at the Kailua Beach Shorebreak Contest!

Happy birthday, Azariah!

2017-04-21T22:18:00.000-10:00

beach shenanigans

Happy Birthday, my Azariah! (Or is it AJ? Or is that just your street name? I'm still trying to figure this out...I think you are, too.)

The year from 7 to 8 years old has been defined for you by transition. You perhaps felt our 5,000 mile move the most out of your brothers, being the oldest. You said goodbye to the only life you'd ever known and embarked with us on the journey of our lifetime thus far. You learned hard emotions; the grief and pain of goodbyes. You also learned new joys; the embrace of new. You moved from being a little boy to being a young man. Your dream of going to school came true this spring when we decided to let you try a season at the local elementary school. You made it through that transtion, too, and are thriving. (Though you did tell me at the end of that first week that you had expected it to be a bit more like Caillou.)

first day of public school!

I've watched it bring out initiative, a deeper love for learning, and a satisfaction to your extremely-high capacity/need for social interaction. Your love and commitment to Jesus has transitioned, too. You've always been a little more subtle about your love for Jesus, and we're ok with that. You need to grow at your own rate with Jesus. But this year you made solid your commitment to Him. You love inviting people to church and I am always amazed at what you get out of the Bible (when I make you read it).

Victorious! Shape drawing aced.

Your temper is still fiery. Your emotions are still high. Your energy is indeed still, without a doubt, boundless. Your love for and knowledge of surfing is astounding. Your ability to clean the bathroom is A+ (thank you, Lord). Your ability to perceive when people are grieving and extend love to them is beautiful. Your morning hugs are the best. Your smile is infectious. Your hair toss is adorable. Your self-control is growing, slowly but steadily. Your love for your brothers is, ahem, very brotherly.

proudly showing off your once again self-designed birthday cake

Here are 8 things you should know for this year you are 8:
1) I will always give you back scratches. You are to always give me morning hugs. And YES, you will always have to kiss me goodbye. Just go ahead and deal with that.
2) Girls are going to get increasingly pretty. Learn to honor them now.
3) Anyone can be mean or sarcastic. It takes a man to be kind.
4) The word of God is always, always right and true. And it always, always works. Try it and see. Be willing to wait for it, k?
5) Keep smiling, it brightens the world. Please do restrain the farts to the bathroom.
6) Be who God has made you to be. I hope that's always easy for you, but if ever it isn't then do it bravely.
7) Your dad and I love your fiercely and unbreakably. We think you're awesome. We've never met anyone like you. We will always be for you.
8) Whatever God brings your way, you can do it.

I love you, Azariah! Here's to another year!

bedtime cuddles

launch day for the books!

You took me out for coffee on my birthday...so you could plan yours.
Baby steps! =)

Happy Birthday, Isaac

2016-12-23T11:10:00.000-10:00

Happy Birthday, Isaac.

You turned big-boy-3 years old earlier this month. You planned a little party, and though it hasn't happened yet (our life has been a little on the 'cray-cray' side, as you would say), we celebrated you as best we could, with lots of treats and candles and singing. You loved every bit of it.

You counted down the days for over a week. You woke up to your brothers singing you the birthday song from their beds (a sweet overheard moment for me as mom). You came out proud and bashful, aware of your new 3 status.

You were stunned silent by your birthday gift of a big boy Paw Patrol bike. You delighted in your daddy date to ride your bike in town. You reveled in the attention from family via iphone FaceTime and real face-to-face time. You wore your 3 years old shirt two days in a row.

Over the past year, you've graduated from being a toddler to being a boy. You speak fluently now, though sometimes others still need a translation. You have a HUGE imagination that you employ often and with great gusto; you often have trouble distinguishing from real and imagined, which means you are also often disappointed (Like the time you woke up with plans to be dropped off at the airport, parachute in to the soccer field, dominate a game while family cheers from the sideline, and swim with the sharks. Let's just say storytime at the Library didn't quite measure up.).

you came out of your room dressed like this one morning.
"I'm ready to dominate my football game, Mom."

You continue to be a little ham, making us laugh with your put on antics, silly faces, and man-voice. You are a dancin' machine and are always making me turn the music up so you can get down. You have a very particular dance face and nod which I find quite amusing.

You love playing all things sports, "tummy boarding" in the ocean (which, by the way, you are extremely good at), watching Paw Patrol or playing abcmouse.com, telling stories, playing dress-up, wrestling, going places, and cooking.

You exasperate us with your ridiculously strong will and your stubborn lack of interest in completing potty training. You delight us with how you grab our necks and pull us in tight for cuddles and goodnight squeezes. You kill us with your knock-knock jokes. You astonish us with your athletic skill and wrestling stamina (which reminds me: you have a mean right-hook--just ask Makoa).

You were a gift of laughter to me in a hard season, and you continue to light up our lives with your passionate, high and low living.

be still my heart

Happy birthday, sweet boy. May your love of life never dim and may your laughter carry you through all the various seasons of life to come. May your heart burn with love from Jesus and for Jesus and may you continue to grow up in wisdom and stature.

with all my love,

Mommy

Happy Birthday, Makoa!

2016-10-12T14:09:00.002-10:00

Rockin' that birthday glam! New skates, pads, shirt, and glow necklace!

Well, it happened again. He went and had another birthday. It was five years ago that I started blogging. Because five years ago I had my second little baby boy and two weeks later some friends lost their 6 month old daughter in a moment. I could see it so clearly, with this fresh little baby filling up my arms knowing that our friends' arms were feeling so empty, I could see it--the brevity of this life here on earth. So I purposed to write; to chronicle our moments, little or big, important or not, external circumstances and internal ones, too. And here I am, five years later. My writing's been all over the map these past five years, consistent at times but inconsistent more, sometimes short sometimes long, sometimes deep sometimes almost meaningless to anyone but me. I've learned more, been grateful for more, and processed more as a result, and I am glad for it. And here he is, that little one who helped get me started, already 3 weeks past his fifth birthday. My how days can seem eternal and yet the years fly by.

How you always look after snorkeling,
which you both love and excel at. You even manage to carry on
full conversations through your snorkel.

Happy Birthday, Makoa.

You're five years old now.

You taught yourself to read last year and you continue to love all things school and reading (me doing phonics with you is like your love language right now). I caught you today doing Azzy's schoolwork for him for a dollar. You were quite in earnest about it, and as smart as you are you had a hard time understanding why I wasn't ok with the arrangement. "It's ok, Mom, I wanted to do this anyways, and he's paying me a dollar for it." Oi.

TOUCHDOWN!

You are "D-O-M-I-N-A-T-I-N-G-!-!-!" in flag football, but the same boy who roars a fierce "GO SPARTANS!" roar also needs a backscratch every night. And a kiss. And to be tucked, shark blanket first then green blanket. And don't forget your baby, the bunny. Oh and please turn on the fan. Can I have a drink of water?

You l o a t h e your chores and will lament for hours over them but will also cheerfully get them done in all of five minutes when so inspired.

You love to dance. I love to watch you.

birthday cheez faces

You are a wee bit on the dramatic side, to the point where I've had to outlaw fake crying. You love to talk in a way that you know will make us laugh. When you read, you read in full character and with great expression. You also very skillfully drop your voice and mumble over the words you're not sure about, making sure to pronounce the first and last sounds so it almost sounds like you're saying it. Like the time you read the word 'experiential': "ex-drop voice and mumble here-ull". You almost had me. ;)

You planned your birthday party, wrote the guest list, and are still reveling in your bounty. The thank you cards will be finished eventually, I hope.

You learned how to paddle yourself out to the line up today and let out a hollering "YEAAAAAAAHHHH!" everytime you made it out. I could just hear a delighted "Mom! Did you see that?!?" a couple of times as you rode the waves in. You have a habit of falling off your board sideways but then somehow managing to do a backwards roll off of it into the water, only to have the board land on your head and the leash end up wrapped around you. It's really a talent. Thankfully it's foam and you're tough so generally speaking it's all good.

Birthday date to Book Ends, your favorite local bookstore.

You're entering the land of woes for the middle child, where Azzy is now old enough to do some bigger boy stuff and Isaac is still young enough for a few special treats (like when he got ice cream tonight for pooping in the potty--oh the tragedy and unfairness of life!). You're learning (I think? hope? pray?) joy and gratefulness despite circumstances.

You're holding your ground more and testing your will more lately, which means you're also learning some fresh consequences and having lots of practice in trying again to speak respectfully and kindly. It's all part of growing up.

You give amazing hugs, and you manage to cuddle your body into mine in such a way that I feel like I'm holding you for the first time again and I just have to breathe you in.

You're five years old, Makoa. Such a big boy! I pray that this year you may learn even now at five years old the joy that comes from trusting Jesus in everything, for everything, and with everything.

Happy Birthday!!

Your golf ball birthday cake and song (note to self: do not try to decorate a cake in an 87 degree kitchen)

Makoa's 5 year old questionnaire:

1. What is your favorite color? Green

2. What is your favorite toy? Our football helmets
3. What is your favorite fruit? Mango
4. What is your favorite tv show? Paw Patrol
5. What is your favorite thing to eat for lunch? Sandwiches
6. What is your favorite outfit? play shorts and tshirts
7. What is your favorite game? Atari Flashback (that he's played all of two times in his life. lol)

8. What is your favorite snack? Gummies
9. What is your favorite animal? My stuffed animals
10. What is your favorite song? Game day songs like GDFR
11. What is your favorite book? Sonic the Hedgehog
12. Who is your best friend? Selah and Evie
13. What is your favorite cereal? Special cereals like marshmallow cereal
14. What is your favorite thing to do outside? football games

15. What is your favorite drink? gatorade
16. What is your favorite holiday? every holiday
17. What do you like to take to bed with you at night? books, my baby, blankets, and pillow

18. What is your favorite thing to eat for breakfast? bagels
19. What is your favorite dinner? pancakes
20. What do you want to be when you grow up? an astronaut

21. What's your favorite thing to do with Daddy? wrestle

22. What's your favorite thing to do with Mommy? cuddle

23. What's your favorite thing to do with Azzy? play rich man poor man

24. What's your favorite thing to do with Isaac? play football

25.. What's your favorite thing to do with Cokie? play with him

26. Who is Jesus? He's God and He saves us

School days, expectations, and captive thoughts

2016-08-17T14:28:00.001-10:00

A new school year began for us last week. The idea of homeschooling can at times (often?) feel overwhelming, but I had planned and plotted and was excited about starting. I had a wonderful time for the morning charted out, and I made sure to keep my expectations low, only beginning a few things as it has been months since we've been on any sort of real schedule. I even planned an afternoon run to 7-11 for slurpies. The boys were excited, too, and convinced me to let them pick out "special cereal" to start off their first day in a celebratory manner.

It didn't take long, however--about 30 seconds, I think--for me to realize that we all had vastly varying expectations for the day.

Isaac (2 1/2) began his morning proudly announcing to anyone who would listen that "I going Pwe-K 'day. I gonna dwive my own wittle car dare. I gonna do my 'cool dare and my fwend Emmett gonna be dare."

Makoa (almost 5) was E C S T A T I C to begin Kindergarten. He had a glorious vision in his mind for what that entailed. In his mind, the day would be filled with copious amounts of learning, book studying, and intensive one-on-one tutoring with his teacher (me).

Azariah (7) was also very excited to begin 2nd grade, until he remembered that wait, no, he wasn't excited to begin 2nd grade homeschooling, he was excited to begin 2nd grade public schooling. This was definitely not public school.

Let's just say that no amount of awesome plans can compete with getting your own car to drive by yourself, all day long one-on-one time with your mom, or the desire to be in a different place entirely. It's actually all very comical. ...later. Definitely NOT comical then.

Day of, everything felt like a failure. Everyone had meltdowns, me included. And wow, this was with me setting low expectations! I could almost feel it being stamped across my forehead.

F A I L U R E

I actually wrote it in my journal:

"feel like I ruined the first day of school. I was so excited. Too excited? ...FAILURE is what I feel the enemy stamping across my forehead."

Thankfully, even though I didn't know that this is how the day was going to go, God did, and He had prepared me by reminding me the day before of what it really means to "take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ."

He reminded me that pushing thoughts away when they come at you is not what it means. That's like what an overwhelmed and exhausted MMA fighter does in the ring...just keeps trying to dodge the next blow or lower the impact a bit. They're still standing their getting their tail whooped, though.

To take a thought captive means to take a thought captive. Like, actually overpower it and chain it up. But there's the second half of the verse, the part that is the most powerful--"to the obedience of Christ." So you're taking this chained up thought and, like a proud soldier, walking it up to the commander for further instructions. I'm a pretty visual person, so this all played out like war movie in my mind. I love that I don't have to figure out what to do with it--it could be a good thought, a bad thought, a happy thought, an overwhelmed thought, a panicky thought, a silly thought...I have one job. Walk it up to the commander-in-chief and find out what He wants me to do with it.

This was the perfect opportunity to practice.

Did I fail? Am I a failure in this? The answer was swift and simple: TRASH IT. The thought, not the day. And remember, your children are living beings, not robots.

Of course, Jesus was talking to me in my heart-language. What this meant to me: The day was hard, but not a failure. I struggled, but I did not fail. I struggle, but that does not make me a failure. And my children are people; I cannot let their behavior be my judge. I have one judge: Jesus.

Now that I'm past it all, the day will go down in my memory bank as a good laugh. Oh the hilariously hard days of having wee ones! And how absolutely amazing a large slurpie can taste when you've had a long, hot day. And what an encouraging God I serve--He is always ready to equip me with what I need, even when I don't know that I need it. Without God's opinion, though, it would've gone down in my memory bank as a failure. And not just in my memory bank. Those things have a way of making themselves right at home in our everyday, reminding us over and over again and trying to convince us that that's who we are and all we can ever hope to be.

I don't know where you are in life, how your day's going, or how you're feeling about it all. But be encouraged--our feelings often lie, but God never does. God has not made us to be overcome, but to be overcomers. Those last two letters make all the difference in the world. Go ahead, grab that thought, walk it up to Him, and ask His opinion. It'll change your life, one thought at a time.

and there was July

2016-08-02T20:49:00.001-10:00

Nothing like a Hawaiian rainbow to end a day

Time flies when you're having fun, right? It also flies when you're getting settled. There is always the regular to-do list plus the seemingly never ending getting settled to-do list! Combined they use up all the time, but we've been sure to keep the fun flowing, too. Here's a little peek into some of what we've been up to:

What we're eating:
In our typical foodie fashion (joking) we are loving
--ice pops
--Jack in the Box curly fries
--L&L plate lunch
--local food anything (well, mostly anything)
--shave ice
--snowflakes (think gourmet shave ice except it's ice cream, for those of you who know what shave ice is),
--pineapples
--slurpies (Makoa claims this is his new favorite treat, coming in even ahead of shave ice. Go ahead and cringe with me about all the food dye. Oh well.)
--basically anything cold and refreshing.

isn't this just the cutest little pineapple you ever saw?

What we're drinking:
--Ice water. Lots and lots of ice water. Like, fill the entire cup with ice then add a little water. Gone are the days when I ask for tap water.
--Aloha Maid/Hawaiian Sun juice drinks. With flavors like Lilikoi Passion and Strawberry Guava, what's not to love except the sugar content?
--Bai drinks. So. dang. refreshing. They're like a new best friend. Try one and thank me later.

and always smoothies. We love us some smoothies.

What we're wearing:
--As little as possible without being risque. Are you catching the theme that we're still adjusting to life without A/C?

we also keep going without Isaac's shoes.
thankfully that's somewhat acceptable here.

What we're watching:
--Azzy, Koa, and Isaac: the surfing channel, as often as they are allowed. It's a 24 hour surfing channel. As far as screen time goes, it's actually a great choice as half of the time you are just watching the surfers sit in the water waiting for a wave. They are also very much in love with Paw Patrol.
--Shawn and Sarah: anything for some comedic relief.

we've also been enjoying watching the sunsets

What we're reading:
--Shawn: lots of school books (he's working through a master's class right now)
--Sarah: Becoming Myself by Staci Eldredge and The Love and Logic of Parenting by Foster Cline and Jim Fay. I am loving them both.
--Azzy: just finished the Mouse and the Motorcycle, is working through Little Town on the Prairie, and just began Stuart Little.
--Makoa: just finished Stuart Little and switched with Azzy to begin the Mouse and the Motorcycle. He also really enjoys reading the comics in the morning.
--Isaac: anything with pictures that pique his interest in the moment. He likes to "read" about the pictures out loud.

library time!

What we're exploring:
--Oahu! We're visiting different beaches, trying various hikes, figuring out which Costco and grocery stores we like, finding our favorite playground parks, and every time I drive I'm thanking God for the maps app.

we found a Koa tree for Koa!

What we're learning:
--patience. At least it's being taught to us. I hope we're learning it. Transitions are a slow thing.
--each other. Different contexts and circumstances help you see people in new lights.
--how to make new friends.
--how to surf.
--how to drive in traffic (me, not Shawn--he's already skilled that way).

what you feel like in traffic.

What we're missing:
--our family and friends from home! So, so thankful for facetime, email, and phone calls. I'm sure we'll all be even more grateful for them when I can figure out how to utilize them within our time zone constrictions!
--thunderstorms. Actually, I don't think anyone is missing these but me. I was super excited when Tropical Storm Darby brought a terrific thunder/lightning storm last week!
--freshly picked peaches and blueberries. I need to just suck it up and splurge on them at the store. Speaking of which, we're missing
--NC food prices. NC prices in general. You pay for paradise, people!

July also had a big plus: Auntie Rachel!!
So grateful for the time she spent with us.
It brought even more sunshine into our lives!

What we're loving:
--the view. It really is glorious.
--our new friends. New relationships are a joy and a blessing!
--a more outside lifestyle (hiking, beach time, or snorkeling, anyone?)

exploring Dole Plantation with some of our new friends

What we're starting:
--to find rhythm. There are hints of it. I know it's coming!
--school! We'll be homeschooling this year like last year and will kick things off soon.
--flag football for Azzy and Koa.

Azzy proudly showing off his kids church graduation certificate
aka promotion to the second grade class.
"D-a-d! You said this didn't happen until the end of highschool!"

afternoon reflection

2016-06-23T15:13:00.002-10:00

This morning was tough. You know the kind...where your own soul is misbehaving and your kids are, too. I tried to stay positive, tried to boost the mood, tried to set clear expectations, tried Tried TRIED. So hard. And they so didn't try at all.

I made it through lunch and immediately put everyone down for naps, myself included. I nodded off after only a couple minutes, apparently exhausted body and soul. I woke to baby-knocking...Isaac at his door trying to be up, asking so nicely for "mommy please let me out my room now." It was only 1:45, and I knew he hadn't slept yet. I went to put him back to bed when I noticed his oh-so-rosy cheeks. Their room was hot. Their little bed fans on high, it still felt too warm to sleep. On a whim, I invited them in with me.

And it was there, cuddling my youngest two (and a couple times getting gut punched--do two year olds ever stop moving?), that God met me. Hillsong Kids Lullabies playing, resting with two of my lovelies, listening to my oldest play Legos in the other room, thinking of our sweet one already with Jesus, texting with my love...Wow. Exhale. I am blessed. I am blessed. I am so blessed. Thank you, Jesus, for this moment of remembrance and recognition and rest in the midst of what could have ended up just another racing, rote day.

finally at rest (me too)

when your heart dies within you

2016-06-09T09:43:00.002-10:00

I've been listening to a 7 day audio devotional by Emily P. Freeman from Chatting at the Sky. This morning's dealt with the man at the pool. (You can find the story in John 5.)

"Do you want to get well?" Jesus asked him.

It's a funny question, that. Do I want to get well? Of course, my mind replies. But there are times-- when you actually stop and ask your heart--that it isn't so quick to answer. It hesitates. Or it is just plain silent. Sometimes, our heart has died within us.

But even when our heart dies within us, He is there.

God's healing and interaction isn't just reserved for those who can give faith-filled answers. Sometimes we are the man by the pool, waiting for a miracle, forgetting that we don't need the pool--we just need Jesus. We are eager and waiting and ready and can answer with a confident YES! when asked if we want to get well.

Sometimes, though, we are the little girl who has died in her bed (read about her in Mark 5), a life meant to live cut short. Were Jesus to ask her if she wanted to get well, she couldn't have answered, yet alone answered full of faith. She was too far gone; she was dead.

In either circumstance, Jesus is there.

Where are you today? Waiting for a miracle, stalled because circumstances seem to favor everyone else? Stand up. Jesus is calling, He's made the way for you.

Or are you like the little girl whose heart had literally died within her? Perhaps you have been hit too hard, or are just too tired. He gets it. He knows you are stuck in death. He's taking you by the hand and calling you out of your sleep. Talitha koum! "I say to you little girl, get up!"

After all, Jesus has made it His business to bring people from death to life.

Making Home

2016-06-06T15:00:00.000-10:00

Lanikai Beach

It's been almost two weeks since we stepped onto an airplane to move our family 5,000 miles to the islands of Hawaii. I have been strangely silent about our whole transition on this blog...you'll find no trace of it anywhere. I'm not quite sure why, though I could give you many 'reasons'. I have a feeling our journey here will make its way out bit by bit over time. I know I'm not the only person to ever pack up their family and move. Actually, coming from a military town I'm probably one of the few people I know who hasn't (hadn't) ever done that. Still, it felt crazy. I felt crazy. At times I thought crazy might get the best of me.

a daily driveway find: the plumeria flower

Leaving has always been a big deal for me. My earliest memory is from when I was two and my family was PCSing from Fort Bliss, Texas to Fort Bragg, North Carolina. It was my only true move until now. I remember getting really hot and then throwing up. I was fine after that. In the years to follow, I would get sick every time my parents left on a trip. I'd feel like I was going to die, say goodbye, go to the bathroom and have to throw up and then I'd be ok after that. (Sorry, Dad and Mom, I now understand what I put you through.) I always made a big deal of even ordinary goodbyes. I loved to stand at the end of the driveway and wave my Dad off to work until I couldn't see him anymore. If my mom needed to run out to the grocery store, I would say goodbye two or three times, just to make sure she knew I noticed and to make sure she knew I loved her. I simply seem to have always had an overactive recognition of the fact that life can be altered forever in a moment; tomorrow with someone isn't guaranteed.

6hr time change makes it easy to catch the sunrise those first few days!

Thankfully, I have matured a little bit in that over the years. I no longer fear that someone is going to die every time I say goodbye to them, or at least I recognize that death isn't the end of someone.
Still, saying goodbye was the worst. I am not eager to go through that again anytime soon, but I did it. The Holy Spirit led me through emotions I never thought I could pass through, and I'm still alive and better for it. I guess I'll be ready the next time it comes around, though I doubt it will be any more enjoyable.

Sunset view from Turtle Beach

If I had to summarize what this season has been like I would say my heart just had a baby. My heart-pregnancy had it's ups and downs, the transition was terrible and I thought it would never end, delivery was like a sigh of relief, and now I'm adjusting to a never-be-the-same-again life that comes with having a baby. It brings new joys, new wonderfuls, new challenges, a goodbye to how life used to be, and whole lot less sleep. ;)

And now we're here. Waiting for our hearts to settle, finding our new rhythm, exploring the new, visiting the known, saying hellos as our hearts work through the goodbyes. Making home.

'cause Target makes everything better. It's kind of like hugging a
best friend. You just get happy on the inside.

It's a funny thing, making home. There's an external aspect to it: unpacking, getting used to things, making new friends, finding good grocery prices. There's an internal aspect to it: settling your soul, opening your heart to be willing to let a new thing into a place where a good thing is used to being. I'm also finding that while it's making home it's also keeping home; keeping hold of those things that make home home. For us, it's family dinners, random dance parties, naptime stories, good morning hugs, bedtime blessings, family Bible times, and way too much wrestling. It's laughter over kid antics, consistent expectations, eggs for breakfast, and reminders to please stop farting at the table (I wouldn't put that in here except it really is that much a part of home. We have three boys, remember.).

hard at work making shelves

There's parts of home that can't be found here that will take time to figure out, like our family and friends left behind. But there's new parts of home yet to discover, too. It's all part of the journey; all a matter of perspective, I suppose...I get to choose which way I face, and I am choosing to face forward with open heart and arms. What kind of home will we make here? Who will I meet? What will I learn about myself, about our family? What new loves will I embrace?

Beach Bound. This one's not a new love, but an old love that will be extremely indulged

And always, always, always, He is there, He is here. Constant, unchanging, with me. Reminding me that with Him, home can be made anywhere.

Happy 7th Birthday, Azariah!

2016-04-15T14:26:00.005-10:00

self-posed. pc: Meg Barge Photography

Azzy-boy turned 7 last week. I think I may say this for every birthday, but why does seven sound so much older than six? I feel like I have left the world of being a mom to only little kids. I am now a mom to a big kid plus two little kids. It's a strange sort of growing-up feeling. But this post really isn't about me at all...it's about Azariah..

Daddy-Azzy birthday lunch

Azariah, when I think of you I think of leadership.
You always have a plan, you are always gathering people to you to make your ideas happen. You have big dreams and big ideas. You're growing into your leadership capacity, bit by bit. This year you began to learn how to be a leader even when you lose. You're beginning to understand that leadership means responsibility, not just freedom to do whatever you want. Sometimes (often) it makes for some authority struggles between us, but it's all part of you learning what it takes to be a good leader.

Manning his lemonade stands with some friends.
He used his own money, made his own list, and led the shopping trip.

Azariah, when I think of you I think of life.
Your smile lights up the room. When you laugh, others can't help but laugh with you as you laugh full-out, holding nothing back. When you are upset, the whole world knows that, too. In fact, when I think of you I often think that if there were a boy version of Anne of Green Gables, it would be you, with an extra kick of caffeine. You live life fully, to it's every extreme.

with his self-designed birthday cake: chocolate cake with strawberries in between the layers,
vanilla frosting, topped with strawberries and pineapple pieces. He even decorated it himself.

Azariah, when I think of you I think of a learner.
Though you often bemoan the fact that you have to do school, you are always learning and have such a huge capacity. And while you may not like to study phonograms and math problems, you are becoming a master of them anyway. You have always studied sports. When you watch a game, you aren't just cheering on a team--you are constantly observing and analyzing the nuiances of the game so that you canimplement them yourself the next time you play. You have also become an avid reader, and are currently working your way through the Little House books.

for his seventh birthday, Azzy received his very own "grown-up" Bible.
He is allowed to get up earlier than his brothers to join us for our Bible times.

Azariah, when I think of you, I think of a huge destiny fighting to get free of a young boy's body. I think of a beautiful unbroken, stallion who has just been given the bit. One day, you will learn to embrace being led by God and that, my boy, is when you will truly run your best, just like a trained horse on race day.

bro-time

Happy birthday, Azariah. You are a delight to me and a privilege to mother. You are not easy to mother, but you are absolutely worth it! May God cause you to dream His dreams and may you learn this year what it means to swim in His grace.

With love, Mom

Fortaken

2016-02-12T07:55:00.001-10:00

It's been about a week and a half since I last posted and two weeks since I miscarried. I wrote that post to hopefully bless someone else in the midst of a hard time, but I ended up being super blessed by all the love and encouraging words sent my way. Thank you, all. Though doing pain publicly will probably always feel awkward, I am glad I shared because together is always better than alone. The past couple weeks have been helping me learn that.

The morning after I miscarried I was able to spend some time alone, journaling, worshipping, and reading the Bible. The beautiful thing about pain is that it makes you appreciate other people's pain more. That was exactly the case that morning, as my Bible reading for the day 'just happened' to be about Jesus' death on the cross.

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

Those were the words Jesus cried out in His final breaths as He hung on the cross. I've always been in awe of the journey to the cross--how Jesus could know what was coming and still go through with it is astounding. I've read it a million times, heard it just as many, but sometimes things just hit you, like you've never heard them before. The depth of the pain hit me like a ton of bricks that morning. And it finally dawned on me, what that forsaking meant. I used to think that it meant I would never experience pain. Obviously, that's not true. This world, this life, is full of pain.

It meant that as His daughter I would never, ever, experience pain on my own.

boys, pockets, and studliness

He was forsaken so I never would be. And He knew. He knew the crazy agony-anguish that was to come as He died on the cross. He wasn't some non-feeling robot. He dreaded it. But He did it anyway. And it hurt immensely, immeasurably--physically, mentally, emotionally. And now here we are. Him and me. Always, forever. Never to not be. Never to end. Never to say goodbye. Always, forever. Always, for-Taken. Not forSaken.

for·sak·en¹

[fərˈsākən]

ADJECTIVE

abandoned or deserted:

"a journey into forgotten and forsaken places"

Definition of take

Popularity: Top 20% of words

took play\ˈtu̇k\ tak·en play\ˈtā-kən\ tak·ing

transitive verb
1: to get into one's hands or into one's possession, power, or control: asa : to seize or capture physically <took them as prisoners>b : to get possession of (as fish or game) by killing or capturingc (1) : to move against (as an opponent's piece in chess) and remove from play (2) : to win in a card game <able to take 12 tricks>d : to acquire by eminent domain

He was forSaken, so that we could be for-Taken: taken into His possession, 'captured' without possibility of release, not in a slavery sense but in a permanently-family sense. We cannot be let go. We cannot be without Him. As in, it is not possible for us to be separated from Him. It's a finished deal.

What a beautiful love.

the "never ending #6" dominoes set-up

The Hards, Goodbyes, and Baby Teeth

2016-01-31T16:03:00.000-10:00

2-in-1: avocado and a hug.
I have good friends.

Sometimes life doesn't go as you were thinking. And when it really doesn't go as you were thinking, it can knock the wind out of you a bit--or a lot--and leave you trying to remember how to breathe again.

I personally haven't had too many moments like that. And even the ones I have had could be argued to be on the lower end of the scale of those types of things. Still, they're my hard. And when you're in hard, it just feels hard, even if it's not as hard or won't last as long as another person's hard. When I'm in those moments or seasons, I'm more of a cry-in-the-closet-and-smile-to-the-world type of person. I generally prefer to deal with it on my own, with God, and with a few select people. I don't typically choose to share it publicly.

So this is unusual for me, what I'm about to share. I don't share it for pity, or even sympathy. In all honesty, the thought of that makes me cringe. I don't really like pity, but that's probably just my pride speaking. I share it because I know I'm not the only one. And if my sharing of my pain can help someone else articulate or maybe even heal a little in their pain...well, that would be good.

when the 4 year old decides to teach the
2 year old how to use a selfie stick

We had really just begun telling people that I was pregnant. And then Monday, I started spotting. That can happen sometimes during pregnancy and be perfectly normal, though it had never happened to me before. I did my best not to worry about it, and just hoped and prayed it would be fine. But by Wednesday morning, on my first trip to the bathroom, I knew I had to face the fact that this was probably not fine. I went back to bed, cried hard into my pillow, then grabbed my Bible. The Psalm was perfect, reminding me of the infinite and perfect goodness of God.

The LORD is

perfect

trustworthy

right

radiant

pure

sure

righteous

more precious than gold

sweeter than honey

"May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD my ROCK and my Redeemer," I wrote. "I am your servant; let it be done to me according to your word."

And then I wrote to our little one, because I wanted to say something, but I couldn't open my mouth.

My wee one,

How I have loved you and dreamt about you already. I was overwhelmed when I found out you were growing inside me. I was afraid with everything else I wouldn't love you enough. How silly. I love you, baby. Selfishly, I want you to live. I want to meet you and hold you and love you. But I want you to know that it's ok for you to go. It's ok. I will just have to wait a little longer to meet you, that's all. It's been my privilege to mother you these twelve weeks. If you end up staying, I will rejoice for me. If you end up going, if you're already gone, I will rejoice for you. For you go to Jesus, and you will forever know joy. God's will be done, sweet one. I love you always.

Love,

Mommy

That ended up being my goodbye. We lost the baby Thursday.

It's made me realize that what's hard about a lot of things is not the loss of what was, because what was was already in the past and done. It's the loss of what you thought was coming that is hard to deal with. Dreams have to die and be reshaped. That's the hard part, or at least part of the hard part.

God has been so present and gracious, keeping our hearts in a place of trust in the midst of the hard, through His presence, through His word, and through His people. Perhaps one of the most precious things is when those who have gone through the same tragedy show up and say, "we're here for you," and you know that they really are because they really know. Equally as precious are those that say, "we haven't been through it, and we can't pretend to know, but we're here for you." Thank God for friends and family.

*tear jerker alert*
Azzy wrote this Thursday night, held it out to me, then melted in a puddle.
"I was so excited for there to maybe be four brothers here..." me too, sweetheart.

In all of this, I can't stop thinking about a conversation I had in the fall with Azzy. He was getting ready to lose his first baby tooth, as evidenced by the wild wiggling and clinking of said tooth. But he was not excited--he was worried.

"BUT MOM!!!" he said in a panic, as I explained that one by one he would lose all his teeth, "if I lose all my teeth, HOW WILL I EAT?!?"

I realized that I had neglected to mention the rather important and helpful fact that baby teeth fall out because there are bigger and better teeth growing. That's when it dawned on me, that life's like that and I'm often like Azzy, freaking out because I'm losing a baby tooth not realizing that a better one is coming. Because it's not really about this life, we just think it is because this life is all we've ever known, just like Azzy thought the end was coming when he started losing teeth. It's really about the life that comes after, and that one--when one has Jesus--is far bigger and better, and unlike adult teeth will never erode or get diseased or need to be pulled.

It's like I forget I'm a seed in this life and a flower in the next, and think that I'm a flower now. So when something hard comes that feels like death or maybe really is death, I freak out, because once a flower's done it's done. But if I'm a seed...well, that changes everything, because then my "death", whether real or felt, means real life is about to begin.

“Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal." John 12:24, MSG

So in the midst of the sad and the hard and the reshaping of dreams, I'm grateful to be looking up, not sinking down. I'm grateful to be reminded to count my blessings, but also to realize that sometimes the hard is the blessing, I just don't know it yet. That will be a fun day, don't you think? The day we see the "adult teeth" that were coming and we didn't know it?

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33, NIV

In other words, wherever this finds you--mourning or rejoicing, in pain or in happiness--just remember, as I am moment by moment remembering: the best is yet to come. And if you're in a hard time, I may or may not "know" your hard time, but please know that my heart and prayers go out to you, and that your hard time is in His hands and He "knows". Much love, all.

so, so grateful for these three rambunctious boys,
and also for our to-be-continued relationship with the most recent little one

Happy Birthday, Isaac!

2015-12-10T02:33:00.000-10:00

oh those baby blues

Happy birthday, Isaac.

hard at work!

My baby is two years old.

Strong-willed. Energetic. Too smart for his own good. Athletic. Adorable. Into puppies, trains, and balls. Loud. Loves to sing. Requests to dance to the "whip-a-nae-nae peese".

He put on this backpack then asked me to take a picture.
The tongue was his very thought out idea.

There is something so ridiculously delightful about two-year-olds, which is good considering they can also be some of the most exasperating creatures (I mean people) you'll ever meet.

"are you sure they put put whip in this?"

Isaac dear, you make me laugh. You make me cry. You make me pray. You make marvel at God's grace and goodness. You even make me twitch at least once a week. There have been days this past year when I thought the crying and fits would n e v e r end. It's amazing how much impact you have on me--this complete person of life and passion squeezed and stuck inside your little body.

modeling puppy hats at the party store

In the past 6 months alone you've grown 2 inches, gained 3 pounds, grown from speaking just a few words to talking in sentences (last night's for instance: "da twain gonna go in da tunnel!").

How you like to travel. You are an airport pro.

You know how to roller skate, have attempted to ice skate, can pump your legs on the swing, can throw and catch a football like a pro, you dominate the playground (though it still gives me heart-attacks), you can wrestle your big brothers to the ground, you've learned to cuddle (to my joy and happiness), and you consider yourself one of the guys. You are passionately in love with apples, bananas, oranges, and of course your "baby and pass" (bunny lovey and pacifier).

You now have opinions about everything. Well, you've always had opinions about everything, but now you are very vocal about them. You prefer to wear your Kaepernick jersey always. You love your little black and blue shoes. You live for going 'bye-bye' and 'Daddy-home'. You loathe sitting on the sidelines during soccer games because you wish to be on the field. You have discovered selfies and picture taking in general (as proven by the hundreds of pictures of people's legs on our phones). You love to flirt and know how to work a crowd.

Yes, my dear boy, you are two.

"make da fish face!" he yelled

You are one of three of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life. Though the idea of easier days is always tempting, I wouldn't trade your little explosive self for anything or anyone. You are such a gift, such an uncontainable, surprising, wonderful gift. I am so blessed to be your mama. May the passions with which you live and the strength of your opinions stay with you, yielded to God and used for His glory!

Childish

2015-10-16T09:43:00.001-10:00

child·ish

[ˈCHīldiSH]

ADJECTIVE

of, like, or appropriate to a child:

"childish enthusiasm"

synonyms: childlike · youthful · young · young-looking · girlish · boyish ·

[more]

It happened a few months ago during one of our daily Bible story times. I was talking with the boys about how loving who God is and knowing about Him are not the same as loving God and knowing Him personally. They asked me a few questions, which ended in them deciding to pray and ask Jesus to be their Savior in their own heart.

Can I be honest? I didn't take it seriously. In fact, it seemed so non-eventful that I even forgot to tell Shawn about it. Oops. It didn't feel very spiritual. It seemed rather everyday-ish, not especially genuine or transformational, more like a let's-hurry-up-and-pray-so-we-can-go-play type moment. So childish, not serious. I thought to myself, "well, time will tell."

Time is indeed telling. When asked before if Jesus was his King, Azzy would always reply "No." Ask him now, and he answers with an emphatic "YES." I made the mistake of asking him when Jesus became His king. He was slightly offended and reminded me of that day on the couch. "Oh. Well, awesome!" I replied profoundly.

The main difference I have seen is that Azzy is now developing an interest in the Bible. He found a little pocket Bible on Shawn's bedside table that was not being used and quickly took it into his own possession. It now rests on one of his bedposts. The other day he showed me that he had begun reading in Genesis and had made it through the first several verses.

And then there was yesterday, when I sent him to his room in a moment of sheer frustration and annoyance, because he was being childish about his school work. It was about five minutes before I felt calm enough to even go back so we could deal with the situation. My heart melted before I even stepped in, because I could hear his sniffles. You have to understand--Azzy has not generally been a tearful-repenter. In fact, he has rarely ever seemed repentant. He has often fought his way through consequences or taken them with disgust, just ready to get out of there and on to the next thing.

I walked into the room. There was Azzy, sitting cross-legged on his bed, sniffling. His Bible in his hands, he placed it back on the bedpost and sobbed out, "I tried to find something that would tell me what God wants me to do when I am sad, but I couldn't find anything!!!!!"

I asked him what he read. "Page 577." So adorably childish of him.

I looked it up.

They will be dismayed: pangs and agony will seize them...

Ummmmm. "How about this page instead?" We looked to the left at page 576.

I will give thanks to you, O LORD, for though you were angry with me,

your anger turned away, that you might comfort me.

Behold, God is my salvation;

I will trust, and will not be afraid.

(Isaiah 12:1,2)

"COMFORT! HOLD ON TO GOD!!!!" Azzy shouted as he demonstratively hugged himself.

"Uh, what are you doing?" (Once again responding with such profundity.)

"Remember?!? VBS!! When they say COMFORT you say 'HOLD ON TO GOD' and go like this!! THAT'S IT!!!!" Azzy excitedly replied.

"Exactly! When you are sad, remember that God comforts you. He is your salvation and you can trust him." I nodded inwardly, proud of this 'God-moment'.

"Hey, mom!" I looked up expectantly, excited and ready to delve into an even deeper talk about God. "When I scrunch my eye like this it makes me look weird."

Profound moment ended.

"Uh, yup. It sure does."

And out the door bounded Azzy, ready to climb a tree, tackle a brother, squash a bug, hit a ball, or most likely all of the above. Pure, beautiful, often annoying, usually messy childishness.

It struck me later, when I replayed that moment, how non-glorious, non-pretentious, and unordained childishness is. It just is whatever it is. Messy, upset, delighted, curious, trusting... And then I thought about Jesus' words exhorting us to have childlike faith. I have heard that phrase 'childlike faith' so many times that in many ways I think it has become overspiritualized in my mind. But childish--childish I can relate to. I live in childish. I have three 'childish' children (surprise!). And with Azzy, I have a front row seat to rediscovering true, childish faith.

Happy Birthday, Koa-Boy

2015-10-06T09:23:00.000-10:00

I should model him.

Four years old. How and when did this happen?!? I am glad he is growing up, but always, always I feel torn about the process. "Might as well embrace it, it's going to happen," Shawn consistently reminds me. I know, I know. But still... And that's why I write these birthday notes. Because next year, I'll come back and I'll read all the birthday notes from before. And I'll remember. And I'll rejoice at all the growth that has taken place. And I'll keep moving forward, grateful to God for these sweet ones.

But back to Makoa: Happy Birthday, darling boy. I just read over your birthday note from last year. I could copy it almost word for word. You have to be one of the most precocious, adorable, cute, expressive little boys out there. I caught you the other day, as you were waiting on the potty for me to come wipe you..."Oh!" you said, holding your fists toward each other. "They were just about to fight!" Hahaha. Can I package that for future years when I need a dose of your little boy cuteness?

You love to learn.

You love to sing.

and being sung to!

You love your brothers.

You dominate at soccer.

getting coached up at his first soccer game!

You look so much like pictures of your daddy when he was your age.

....and , apparently, your Grandpa Todd!

You memorize books and songs at an incredible rate.

Makoa with "all his girlfriends"

You love all things boy--monster trucks, dirt, wrestling, sports, guns, roaring.

Makoa planned his birthday party: Monster trucks, story time, dancing,
zipline, cake&presents, lemonade & corn dogs for all!

You love all things traditionally girl, too--pink, purple, pretty things, and even pretty little ponies.

proudly displaying your birthday cake
on the "beautiful pink plates" you picked out

You give the best hugs and you make the best faces.

**cuteness overload alert**

You know how to ask for things in a way that makes it hard to say no.

showing off his new rollerblades and pads,
Azzy's birthday present to him

You're learning to obey right away, cheerfully.

hard at work sanding branches for their treehouse ladder

You're learning not to whine and not to tattle.

new found love: legos.
your are pretty impressive at building things.

You're still trying to figure out this whole concept of time. (wake up from nap: it's tomorrow!)

finally, his birthday!
(The day before he woke up from his nap exclaiming,
"YAY! NOW IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!")

You are a blessing to us and we are ever so blessed to be your parents!

Love,

Mommy and Daddy

Makoa's 4 yr old Questionnaire

2015-09-19T01:38:00.001-10:00

the birthday boy with his birthday breakfast
(photo bombed by Azzy)

It's someonre's birthday today! A favorite birthday tradition around here is our birthday questionnaire. You can read Makoa's 3 year old questionnaire here . The one below was answered yesterday. Happy Birthday, my big 4 year old Makoa!

1. What is your favorite color? PINK.
2. What is your favorite toy? A SUPERHERO.
3. What is your favorite fruit? BLUEBERRIES AND STRAWBERRIES AND RASPBERRIES AND BLACKBERRIES.
4. What is your favorite tv show? WORD GIRL.
5. What is your favorite thing to eat for lunch? PIZZA.
6. What is your favorite outfit? SOCCER CLOTHES.
7. What is your favorite game? LEGO GAMES.
8. What is your favorite snack? CHOCOLATE CRACKERS.
9. What is your favorite animal? A T-REX.
10. What is your favorite song? THE VERY FIRST VACATION BIBLE SCHOOL SONG.
11. What is your favorite book? DOG AND CAT.
12. Who is your best friend? A LOT OF GIRLFRIENDS.
13. What is your favorite cereal? CHOCOLATE TALKIES.
14. What is your favorite thing to do outside? PLAY SOCCER.

15. What is your favorite drink? ROOT BEER.
16. What is your favorite holiday? HALLOWEEN. BECAUSE THEN WE CAN STAY UP LATE.
17. What do you like to take to bed with you at night? A TOY AND MY BABY.

18. What is your favorite thing to eat for breakfast? CEREAL.
19. What is your favorite dinner? P. P. IT STARTS WITH A P. PIZZA.
20. What do you want to be when you grow up? I WANT TO BE A DADDY.

21. What's your favorite thing to do with Daddy? PLAY SOCCER WITH HIM.

22. What's your favorite thing to do with Mommy? PLAY SOCCER WITH YOU.

23. What's your favorite thing to do with Azzy? PLAY SOCCER AGAINST HIM. AND PLAY WRESTLE AND BOXING. AND PUNCH HIM IN THE STOMAACH AND THE FACE. (ummmm...)

24. What's your favorite thing to do with Isaac? FIGHT OVER THE BALL WITH ISAAC. (at least he's truthful)

25.. What's your favorite thing to do with Cokie? NOTHING.

26. Who is Jesus? GOD.

But Take Heart

2015-09-18T03:23:00.000-10:00

For many, hard is life; easy has never been in the vocabularly. But then there's the rest of us. Easy is the expectation, hard the foreign matter. When this is the case, hard things shake a body up. More than that, hard things tend to shake a soul up. And when sometimes hard rudely decides to make itself a part of the family and forgets that it is an unwanted guest, the shaking goes deeper...deep, deep, deep. The questions start coming. The weariness creeps in. The frustration and confusion tries to take over; it is either stuffed even deeper within or it begins to consume the view.

A word to the desperate, a word to those in the middle of the hard, and a reminder to myself for when the hard comes again:

Let your heart rest easy in the midst of the hard.
Hard is part of this life.
But this life is not the end.
Remember the forever tomorrow for which, when Jesus is your Savior, you have been sealed--which means it will happen.

When your perspective is right, hard is still hard, hard still hurts. Hard still often breaks your heart. But when your perspective is right, hard ceases to define you. Instead, hope becomes more deeply and firmly anchored in your soul as you look forward to your forever tomorrow. When your perspective is right, hard becomes a catalyst for the display of God's grace and mercy in you to the world, rather than a catalyst to your own destruction. And in the beautiful miracle of God's upside-down Kingdom, the suffering of hard becomes beautiful as it produces a harvest of more more intimately knowing Christ.

"I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord...I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead." ~the Apostle Paul, Philippians 3:8, 10

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." ~Jesus, John 16:33

"So don't try to turn today into paradise, but thank God that you are being prepared by grace for the paradise that will forever be your home." ~Paul Tripp, New Morning Mercies

Be encouraged, dear one. Remember whose you are, remember your future, embrace your cross, rejoice in sharing suffering with your Savior. The best is yet to come.

Numbered Dayz

Reflections on Pregnancy After Loss

On Miscarriage and Loss, Pt 5 (Baby #4)

On Miscarriage and Loss, Pt 4 (Baby #3)

On Miscarriage and Loss, Pt 3 (Baby #2)

On Miscarriage and Loss, Pt 2 (Baby #1)

In Honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day

Six Words That Are Changing My Life

Happy Birthday, Isaac!

Happy Birthday, Makoa!

Happy birthday, Azariah!

Happy Birthday, Isaac

Happy Birthday, Makoa!

School days, expectations, and captive thoughts

and there was July

afternoon reflection

when your heart dies within you

Making Home

Happy 7th Birthday, Azariah!

Fortaken

ADJECTIVE

Definition of take

transitive verb

The Hards, Goodbyes, and Baby Teeth

Happy Birthday, Isaac!

Childish

ADJECTIVE

Happy Birthday, Koa-Boy

Makoa's 4 yr old Questionnaire

But Take Heart