I Miss You...

    It's been over a month since I said good-bye to Grams. I am so very grateful that she is no longer suffering... but I sure do miss her. I walked into her house last night and could hardly hold back the tears. Her house has always had a distinct smell, always underlying anything that smelled really good - or really bad. I walked in and breathed in that aroma... and just missed her while I looked through some of her old jewelry in solitude. I missed her asking me all kinds of questions because "No one tells me anything!" I missed the smiles - and that little chuckle - she would always give me, as we'd talk. I miss taking my kids to see her, even if their main motive was to find the chocolate she hid around the house for them. I miss walking in to see her TV blaring the Little House on the Prairie series. 

   About a month before she passed, I emptied the voicemails in my phone because they were adding up... except one. It was from her and she only says my name, but I saved it for a couple of reasons: 1) It was the day she called me and I didn't see it until after I got the kids down for a nap... I listened to the voicemail - which, I'm not kidding - is just her saying my name once in no kind of panic or anything then hanging up... which was a typical voicemail from her. This was the day she called me again a couple of hours later and I found out she'd been on the floor for four hours! She was trying to get out of bed to start the day and never even made it to the foot of the bed. I felt terrible for her!!! Everyone was out of pocket except Alisha and I but we got there as quickly as we could and got her up. 2) It was November 8th. This means nothing to you, but is the date my grandpa (her husband) passed away in 1993. It wasn't until I was deleting the voicemails that I even realized the date. I felt I should keep it. Now I'm so glad I did. I won't keep it forever, but I'm so glad I can still hear her voice if I want to.

The following words are what I shared at her funeral. 

    There are countless memories our family could share about Grams… even just from me alone.  Before Grandpa died in 1993, our family would spend many Sunday afternoons having fried catfish at their house.  Sometimes, my sisters and I were the only ones to invade.  They had cable and would record shows like Zorro or Scarecrow & Mrs. King for us throughout the week!  After he passed, even though we didn’t fry anymore catfish, we’d still spend many Sunday afternoons there.  She’d lay down “The Sheet” and we’d watch TV and eat Cheetos to our hearts’ content.

   Grams kept us stocked up on Cheetos and French Onion Dip… and Totino’s Party Pizzas – cooked a little too thoroughly until they were “brown”, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese (the spirals were my favorite), Pop Tarts and even these yummy, Snackwell’s, bite-sized Chocolate Chip Cookies.  Most of these items were special treats to us since we rarely ate such things at home… and I’m not the only one to confess that my kitchen now stays fairly stocked with many of them just because I can!!!

   For a while my sisters and I took turns staying with Grams, first nightly and then just on Saturdays.  It was during those many Saturday evenings that Grams and I became good friends.  She’d take me to rent movies, I’d go with her on a 2, 3 & 4 hour grocery shopping trips, we’d talk, we’d try to cheer each other up if one of us was down, I’d tickle her feet when she fell asleep in her chair so she’d go to bed, we’d play cards…          By the way, if you never got to experience playing cards – or any game for that matter - with her, you truly missed out!  She always had so much fun playing Crazy 8’s with us.  And WE had so much fun watching her try to shuffle the deck because it usually ended more like ’52 Card Pickup’ does.

   When we were little we spent many Easter afternoons over there.  Grams would hide eggs and we’d go find them.  I think she made a map of where to do it because we’d not only get faster every year, we realized they were always in the same spot!  The last few years she did it for us , we’d beg her to repeat the process 3-4 times because we kept finding them so quickly!

   Another tradition we had for several years was staying at her house on New Year’s Eve.  She’d always feed us black-eyed peas for “good luck”.  One New Year’s – at midnight – we even started a baseball game in her dining room!  And by baseball, I mean some wadded up pieces of paper used as a ball and an old wrapping paper roll as a bat… paper plates thrown down for bases on the floor.  She played too!  In fact, I think she had just as much – if not more – fun playing as we did!

Some things I learned about Grams over the years:

1)                  My dad’s name is not Burl but “Junior”.

2)                 There’s NEVER enough furniture, plants, or tape to properly barricade a door.

3)                 Even if all doors are barricaded, NEVER tell her she left a window open.

4)                Convincing her to read a book with a boring cover was pretty useless.  She only wanted it if it was pretty AND the story sounded just right.

5)                 Riding with Grams, you couldn’t listen to music very loud… or even audibly!  She didn’t want people thinking she was a “teenager drivin’ down the road”.

6)                Driving with Grams… Whew! Let me just put it this way: after I got my license, she’d constantly tell me: “Turn your brights on so I can see where you’re going!”

7)                 To call her a germaphobe is an understatement!  If you took her anywhere she’d have an old, cleaned-out mayonnaise jar filled with ice-cold water… and straws – individually wrapped in foil – to drink it with.  And then of course there’s no telling how much saran wrap she used on everything from silverware to picture albums!

8)                She loved babies and young children.  I learned this quickly when she and Grandpa kept Evan Clay and then again when she was teaching kindergarten.  She put everything she had into those classes and kept sharing the funny things the kids had done throughout the week whenever I saw her.  My own children didn’t come along until after she’d had a stroke and recovered from a broken hip.  She was so anxious to hold them, I kept having to remind her to sit down first.

9)                She had a child-like heart in so many ways:  The way she’d express her joy (or frustrations), the way her eyes would light up when she received gifts – especially if chocolate was involved!  Even the way she’d sing “Let’s God Fly a Kite” from Mary Poppins.  I always loved seeing her beautiful smile, her sparkling eyes, and the light on her face whenever she was excited.

10)            She could be stubborn when she really wanted to be.  On more than one occasion, she would do all she could think of – including a game of tug-of-war in the car of a parking lot – to not have to use her cane or wheelchair.  And then, of course, there was one of my favorite arguments I ever heard her get into.  It was with her cardiologist and she kept insisting that the last time she was there, she’d had an epidural… he, of course, insisted that she didn’t.

11)              Apparently, another word for poop is not a cuss word when talking about birds doing it all over her car!  It IS, however, when you remind her of the story years later and she exclaims, “I never said that!”

12)             Another regular quote from Grams:  “Well! Nobody ever told me!”

13)             Even though she didn’t like germs, she knew how to take care of me when I was sick.  Soft pallets made with layers of egg-crates to lay on, medicine as needed, a paper bag and a box of soft Kleenex, and anything that sounded good to eat.              As I grew older, I became annoyed when she’d pat me on the head like a sick puppy.  But after I learned how hard it was for her to show any sign of physical affection, I appreciated her all the more.

14)             She loved games.  From what I’ve been told, she was excellent at Dominoes, but in more recent years she’d request “Boulder-dash!”

15)             When it was time for spring or fall cleaning at her house, you could open a store with the amount of Pledge used to dust!

16)             She might not like what anyone brought to eat for dinner but by golly if there was dessert, she was going to eat it… but only “a peench”… of everything!

17)             One summer when moths were all over Poteau, she heard of a method to control the moth population… Beer!  She told us of how she had gone and purchased some, making sure to tell the store clerk: “It’s not for me… it’s for the moths!”

18)             Schedules were important to her.  Patty Clay has told me numerous times that she’s pretty sure Evan is still on the schedule Grams put him on in 1992!  And I know I will never forget having to get her medicine to her or getting her home by a certain time so she can take her “10 til’ 9 pill”.

There is so much more I can say… how after she was home-bound she’d “make-do” with so many things because she was too embarrassed to ask for more.  Or how I’d drop in to say Hi and see her pile of library books by her chair in the floor, but her Bible laid open to where she was reading.  Or even the way she stubbornly determined and pronounced that how we’ll look in heaven is “how we looked best” on earth.

     But one of the things I hope I’ll always remember:  She didn’t always know how to show it, but she loved people in her own way.  Whether it be her actually saying the words on occasion or making sure her house was spotless and decorated ‘just right’ for a guest that was coming, she loved people in the way that she understood how. 

Why I love that "Heaven is for Real"...

I have a rant, go figure.

Toward the end of the week last week, my mom loaned me her copy of the “Heaven is for Real” book.  I knew the movie was coming out and hadn’t really had much interest in it, but after she told me more about the book, I thought I’d give it a try.

While there are some parts of it that made me go, “Yeah… I don’t know about that…” for the most-part I thoroughly enjoyed the read.  So many descriptions provided by the little boy, Colten, made things ‘make sense’ for me in so many ways.  My heart – which seems to take so much more than it used to – was deeply touched.  I was reminded of a soft side of God that I believed in as a younger girl.  The side where I could truly picture myself crawling up into His lap and finding comfort; where I looked to Him for joy and strength.

As I said before, there were some things I had reservations about so I wasn’t surprised when, after the movie’s release this weekend, I began seeing Facebook flood with articles on the topic.  While the ones I read had some good points, most of them pointed out that in this book - as well as other recently released books about trips to heaven - the glory of God’s presence is very lacking.  The presence that made the prophets of the Old Testament and John in the New (who give accounts of heaven) ‘faint’ or weakened for a time.  Some of the things I read gave more leniency to an almost 4-year old boy, but for the most part still tried to convey that it was more of a dream than what the reality would be.

This could be true.  That I do not deny.  But as I’ve thought these articles over, I’ve only become more perturbed at the arrogance of these writers.  “Scripture says it was this way so that must be the only explanation!”  For any of you who know me, you know I’m not one to veer from Scripture.  So please don’t hear me saying that this is the direction I’m heading.  But I just want to give another perspective.

Daniel, Isaiah, John and another few were blessed to experience heaven, I believe, in the fullness that God knew they could handle.  These men could, apparently, handle quite a lot – having experienced the fullness of God’s glory in heaven.  But what about the few people I knew as a child who experienced more of the ‘watered-down’ and ‘modern-view’ of heaven.  Where they saw loved ones and talked with Jesus, but were told to come back because it wasn’t time yet.  These kinds of stories gave me so much hope as a kid.  Seeing that kind of hope through Colten’s eyes, only his being more unbridled since he actually experienced something, took me back.

God speaks to people in different ways.  Some people He can be flat-out straight with, right to the point, laying it all out there.  But if you look at how Jesus approached so many people on earth during His years of ministry, you’ll notice He used a lot of parables (stories).  He intertwined the Law into them, but in a way their hearts could understand… not beating the same verses they’d heard all of their lives over and over into their heads to try to make a point.  This makes me believe that there is something to the stories of others’ experiences.  For one, in all the cases I’ve heard about, the person has hope (it’s not like someone has stolen, killed, or destroyed something in them).  Secondly, while – in theory – I’d love to experience heaven on this side of life, I don’t think I’d be one of those who could fully experience His glory.  I’d probably die.  Remember in the Old Testament where it talks about people not being able to look on the face of God or they’ll die?  That’d be me.  He’s too glorious!  He’s too Holy!  Beyond our comprehension!

Comprehension… a word to signify what I’m getting at.  I know we can’t comprehend heaven… not really.  Our finite thinking brains cannot even wrap around the truly infinite.  But what if God chooses to give some people glimpses?  Glimpses into the reality of what’s next without unfolding the whole thing?  What’s wrong with picturing our Savior, who said “Let the little children come unto me”, comfort a child on the brink of death – sending him back to his praying family and church family to complete God’s purposes?  Can we not see heaven in such simple terms as only a child can put it – “rainbows” and never ending light?  Or that the final battle is with “monsters” instead of ____ with the head of a ____ and the tail of a ____, etc.?  I’m all for seeing things black and white – you probably already know that about me.  But if God’s Spirit is going to penetrate the hearts of people, I don’t see why He can’t use more “watered-down” ways that are simple to understand and not filled with theological debate and interpretative symbolism.

I guess what irked me the most was that some of what I read in those articles made heaven out to be a place to fear.  I just do not believe this is so.  God the Father, truly, He is to be feared while on this earth, but a righteous fear – because He is so Holy and we are not. But He has shown us His love through His One and Only Son, Jesus.  If God can send His Beloved Son to save us, His beloved, adopted children, we must believe we can trust Him and love Him and choose Him as our God.  (As for the lack of this part of The Story in the movie, I’m not going there in this blog.  For one, I’ve haven’t seen the movie – I’ve only had time to read the book.  Two – it’s Hollywood.  They really like to leave spiritual specifics out of Christian movies if they can just so people don’t get offended and come and see their movie.  I’m really not surprised by their more open-deism approach – bothered to no end, but not surprised!)

You think whatever you want… you will regardless of what I say.  But I choose to believe that God, though righteous and beyond our full understanding of His character, is a loving Father and that He can use the Holy Spirit to speak to us in whatever ways He sees fit.  Whatever way that ends up being will usually spur us on to do the things He would have us do.  If those things go against what He’s laid out in Scripture, then you need to rethink about who you’re listening to.  Otherwise, be excited to see what He has for you in this journey called life… and for the next, eternal one where we get to be with Him!

"Keep it simple..."

As a friend of mine has begun a weekly discussion over the book of John, I have been trying to find the time to sit down and pick apart the first chapter, hopefully able to take notes as I go.  If I do that sort of thing, it takes hours upon hours.  I’ve read the chapter over and over, even quoted the few memorized verses over and over in my head, but just haven’t dedicated the hours to study that I used be able to. 

Well, she posted her first blog about it today.  I knew she’d be doing it and I kept fighting myself on whether to go ahead and read it before I’d written up my own thoughts.  I love when I’ve already done so and then my thoughts are in line with others… that way I know my own thought was actually there and not just me taking someone else’s words (if that makes any sense).  – Truly trying to think for myself came around in college and it’s really the only way I process things well. – Not to mention the fact that if I’ve already taken part in some way, I won’t go back and do all of the study I intended.  I couldn’t wait to see what she’d write so it was more a conscious decision to refrain that I kept struggling with.

But all morning that still, quiet Voice kept whispering, “Read it [the blog] first…”  I argued for a bit… until I saw where she’d posted and I opened it without hesitation.

She paints beautiful pictures, even using illustrations from Star Wars, when speaking about the opening of the chapter.  And then she does something I didn’t expect… she shares what spoke to her the most about the entire chapter – a simple phrase laid upon her heart, speaking so much truth about Jesus.

Going into this I knew we weren’t going to be picking everything apart and having theological arguments or crazy go-arounds on “this person is right” or “that person is right” or anything like that… that’s not why she began the discussion.  But for some reason, my over-thinking-it mind didn’t anticipate this.  As I finished reading it was like I could breathe, like God was reminding me, “Honey, I love you.  You over-complicate everything and you don’t have the time with your two little ones to devote to the kind of study we used to have together.  Just breathe and spend some time talking to Me, ask Me what I have to say to you, listen, and read My Word.  I might ask more of you in a different season, but for now, just keep it simple.”

Samuel's Arrival!! (Part 1)

WARNING: This IS a birth story... if you don't want details, don't read this!

    Since this may be one of the only opportunities I have for a while to write down some details of the special day that Samuel arrived, I thought I'd seize it and see what I can actually get written.  Haha!
    Other than a few false alarms in the weeks before he was actually born, my contractions started back up on Wednesday night after I got home from church.  They stayed close and fairly consistent for an hour or two, but since I could tell that he still wasn't low enough (and I didn't think my pain was quite severe enough), I waited it out.  Sure enough, the contractions leveled and faded out by the time I went to bed that night. I took a Tylenol PM just to make sure I slept the night through.
    As John was getting ready for work the next morning, I had a couple of contractions - close enough together for me to give him a warning to stay by his phone through the morning.  Being alert from timing them, I stayed up and decided to get some cleaning done before Abigail woke up... especially on the off-chance that today was going to be it!  So after picking up a little, dusting, and swiffering, Abigail was ready for breakfast.  I continued cleaning (organizing, vacuuming and steam-mopping) while Abigail played happily until lunch-time.  (This may sound like a long time, but the girl tends to sleep later than most kids her age and she takes forever to eat - she gets that from me - so by the time she starts playing, her daddy gets home within an hour or two after that for lunch!)
    All through the morning, I watched the clock.  As with Abigail, my contractions weren't staying consistent enough to go in... though their intensity was definitely building.  I only had one or two during lunch so John went back to work - leaving me with strict instructions to call if anything changed.  Pretty much the moment he walked out the door, I had another contraction far more intense than before.  I breathed through it and managed to start cleaning Abigail and her mess from lunch.  While doing this, I had another... not long after that, another.  I finally started writing them down.  They weren't consistently close enough together yet to go in, but, thankfully, the nurse from my doctor's office called in the midst of me writing the previous three contractions down.  I told her what was going on.  At first, she told me to wait it out... then I had a contraction while I was on the phone with her and told her how many I'd had in the last 25 minutes.  She told me to go ahead and come in.  My doctor had already left for the day, but she said she'd try to get a hold of her to let her know what was going on.
    I called John.  Poor guy hadn't been back at work very long... but he turned around came right back.  We loaded up and headed to Fort Smith about 2:30 pm - me, all the while, hoping this wasn't another false alarm (in other words, a massive waste of everyone's time).

Samuel's Arrival!!! (Part 2)

   Thankfully, when we arrived at the hospital, I was already dilated to a 5 - meaning they were going to keep me - even though his head still wasn't engaged yet!  I was so relieved to know we didn't have to go home and come back at 5:30 the next morning.  (I forgot to mention that we were planning to induce Friday morning if he hadn't started coming on his own yet.)  My doctor had been calling the hospital to check on me and they updated her on what was happening.  She told them to start me on some pitocin to regulate my contractions more and try to get him engaged where he should be.  I was so thankful to discover that I could have the epidural whenever I wanted it now, so I put in my order for it.  (My body was in shock with Abigail when they gave it to me - and holding still enough for it was not easy.  I was not in shock at this point so I hoped to get it going before I got to that point.)
    Even though I did have to wait a while for it (there was some kind of mix up about possibly doing blood-work first before I could have it), I still got it before the "shock" state set in.  Unfortunately, it only worked on one side of my body this time.  I could feel everything on the other side.  We tried having me roll to the side that wasn't working for a while so gravity would bring it over, but that never did work.  I'm sure they would've eventually re-done the epidural had the next events not transpired.
    My doctor arrived around 5:30 and came in to check my progress. The nurses had told her that the baby still wasn't engaging yet so she was going to break my water to really try and get the ball rolling.  Before pulling out the tool(s) they use to do that, she checked me again... mainly to see just how high he really was.  Well... that in itself 'got the ball rolling'.  I was still at a 5, but the process of checking alone broke my water.  It was then that she realized something.  She felt a bottom, NOT a head.  She ordered an ultra-sound.
   Sure enough, just as she suspected, the ultrasound confirmed it - his head was up in my ribs and his little bottom was mooning the world - He was breeched.  "You know what that means..." my doctor was saying.  I did.  Everyone started moving around quickly to get me ready for a c-section.  I really only have to favorite memorable parts for this period: 1) They gave me this drink to swig down as fast as I could, saying "It's nasty, and will be hard for you to drink, but do it as fast as you can and it'll be over.  It'll help keep you from throwing up."  I only mention this as a memorable favorite because of my response after drinking it: "That's nothing [Kool-aid, if you will] compared to the junk you drink for a colonoscopy!"  The nurses thought it was funny.  2) John got to wear an outfit that made him feel like he was in Back to the Future.  (I love that man and his sense of humor!)
   This is the point where I get a lot of "Were you scared?"  "Did you freak out?" etc.  Honestly, no.  I trusted my doctor.  I love the way she keeps everyone calm (Like with Abigail's birth when the cord was wrapped around her neck as well as this time with having to change plans so quickly).  I not only trusted my doctor, but there had been many times in this pregnancy where I'd thought about the possibility - not really thinking it might actually happen that way, but knowing I'd have a peace about it if it did happen.  In the very few moments John and I had alone together before I was taken in, I discovered that he'd had the very same thoughts.  God had prepared us both without our knowing it! ***I love it when He does that!***
    Due to the way my epidural was not kicking in on my right side, the anesthesiologist suggested the spinal block.  Using his words, I told him "I'd rather take the 'for sure' thing than keep hoping the epidural would kick in" - even if they had to re-thread it.  Getting a spinal block after already having an epidural makes the process a bit more difficult... especially when one side of your body is not yours to control.  And by the time we got to it, my body was going into the shock that I'd dreaded... so to stop the shaking was not an easy task, especially when I could still feel the contractions on one side of my body.  It was then that the anesthesiologist further encouraged me that the block was the right way to go... since I shouldn't be in that much pain after an epidural.  Moments later, I had little to no feeling below my chest.  The relief was wonderful.
   While all of this is being done, everyone around me continued to prep the c-section room for the operation.  And one of the nurses was checking on favorite Pandora stations with John.  They set it to a "Sha-boom" station - a bunch of oldies, basically.  Not sure if the nurses have ever done "The Twist" while helping to deliver a baby, but they sure got a kick out of the music, none-the-less!
   Since they put a sheet up where we can't see anything (which I'm sure we're grateful for), I can't give all the gory details of the c-section (which I'm sure YOU are grateful for). All I know is that when I heard his little cry, I couldn't fight back the tears - and kept holding tightly to John's hand... our son was here!  "Sha-boom, Life Could be a Dream" was the song actually playing when he was born at 6:34 pm (a song John has danced with Abigail to since we got her home from the hospital).  They cleaned him up and I could hear him cry every now and then - as my tears just kept coming.  As the nurse handed our son to his daddy for the first time, John said, "He looks like Sean!"
   "Of course he does," I replied, "it's Samuel!"

    

Samuel's Arrival!!! (Part 3)

    As many of you know, we have a tendency to wait to name our children til we meet them... even though we have the "most likely" name picked out before that.  With Abigail, we didn't really have anything else picked out... we just would've figured it out if she didn't look like Abigail to us.  With Samuel, however, we'd had some issues.  At first, we thought, "It's Samuel!"  But then, we went through other names we liked (as you might've seen in a previous blog)... for a while, I loved seeing people's faces when I told them about our Samuel Alexander Isaac Josiah Sullivan.
    But the moment I heard that little cry, those tears I couldn't hold back were because I knew - even without seeing him - my Samuel was here!  And then, when John said he looked like Sean - our nephew - it was confirmed (as if I needed any more confirmation).
    You see, the first dream I ever had of our son was over 9 years ago.  In fact, it was just days before my nephew was born.  The first time I saw Sean, I thought my dream must've been about him instead of our little boy, he looked so much like the boy we called Samuel in my dream.  So when John said that while holding our son for the first time, well... I hope you can see the obvious connection. =)  
    Even though John brought him over to show me our son's sweet face, it was still a couple of hours before I got to hold him.  But it was okay.  No one had been told about all that had transpired... no one was waiting on us or to see him.  We would tell people after I got to see him, as previously discussed/agreed/planned.  But more than anything, I was at peace because my children were here.  The children God had revealed to me in dreams over the last 9 years... they were BOTH here.
    Samuel - "God has Heard" / "Instructed of God"
    Josiah - "Fire of the Lord" / "Intuitive Perception"
AND
    Abigail - "Joy of the Father" / "Cherished of God"
    Dianne - "Divine" / "Glorious"

   2 weeks ago today, on March 28th, those dreams came true.  While newborns are not the easiest thing in the world - what with the sleep deprivation, the seemingly constant need to be fed and changed - I find it, not necessarily easier, but definitely worth it when I think back over those years of waiting/wanting/desiring/aching for these two.  I'm not gonna lie, I AM still looking forward to the future and those nights where he will sleep through the night just like his big sister... and so will we!  I'm not wishing the days away by any means.  Abigail's almost a year and a half now and I still can't believe how quickly that has flown by.  I can only imagine how quickly the years ahead will fly by... especially with two!
   I'm getting off track.  Over the last two weeks, people have asked me many of the questions I've answered here.  I'm feeling better and not near as sore as I was even a week ago (although I have no problem telling you that even though a c-section gave me faster [labor-wise] results, I'm not a huge fan of the recovery process)!  And I'll be so glad when I can pick my little girl up again... which I'm hoping is soon. =) But the one other question I can answer that comes up a lot is: "What does Abigail think?"  Well... at first meeting, we weren't so sure.  She cried and cried and cried... even though John was holding her and Samuel lay sleeping in the hospital crib - we didn't think she could be that jealous if neither of us was holding him.  But ever since we all got home, her response has been: "BAY-by!" and blowing him kisses whenever she walks by.  We're still figuring out how to teach her to be easy and how to discern when she's trying to "help" or just be a toot.  Haha!  But so far, she seems to love her little brother... and he seems to love her - he's definitely used to her noises! =)

All this to say, our family is adjusting.  We've had an amazing outpouring of love from our family, our friends, our church family and even some people we barely know.  Thank you for the many comments, "likes", meals, gifts, cards, and just general help that has been offered.  We are so blessed to be loving on our babies... and to know that so many others share in our joy and will love them as they grow as well.

Children Are a Blessing... As Is Daddy!

Since I am someone who desired to have children for a long time (okay... what seemed like forever) before I had them, God had lots of teaching time with me to prepare my heart for motherhood.  Through years of babysitting, I was fairly prepared for the basics: feeding, changing, playing, keeping an eye on them (even though accidents WILL still happen), etc.  Then I had some years of watching my friends with their children.  After I managed to shrug some jealousy to the side, I was able to watch and learn even more.  One thing I learned is that you don't always have to use the ultimate "mommy" tone just to get kids to listen.  (I had acquired this tone while babysitting 3 boys one time and had used it ever since.)  While it IS necessary at times, a softer tone will sometimes suffice.

Another thing I learned is how much harder parenthood was going to be from what my younger ideals had imagined.  This difficulty actually swayed my emotions to "being okay" with waiting on God for a time.  So many moms were all around me, desperately seeking any kind of conversation that had real consistency to it... not "No, you don't need that," "Pat-a-Cake, Pat-a-Cake..." "It IS a red choo-choo.  Very good!"  While my personality is not one to crave much conversation, I knew this wouldn't be AS big of a deal for me, but it could still pose issues, especially when it came to just flat out having time to myself.

So for many years, though I still wanted children, I was content to wait and see when God would decide to bring them along.  A year or two after John and I moved back from Chickasha, I was introduced to a pastor named Mark Driscoll... not literally in person, but just his sermons.  After listening to a few sermons, I was hooked and I looked up all sorts of topics.  One that I came across was a series he did in Proverbs not long after his church, Mars Hill in Seattle, originated.  The series dealt with Marriage: Men and their roles, Women and their roles, and finally Raising Children.  It was through this series that my full desire to become a parent was strongly rekindled.  When John and I first got married, I think I wanted children more because: 1) It was the next logical step. 2) Babies had adorable little outfits and shoes and blankets... everything was so cute and enticing about a Baby section (which is NOT a good reason to want to be a parent).  After hearing that series, however, I knew that even though it would be a difficult and massive responsibility, I just couldn't fight the desire back anymore.  So I began praying more and more for children... and that I would desire them for the right reasons and not the wrong ones.

A little over a month before Abigail was conceived, I was reading Mary Beth Chapman's book, Choosing to See.  I wish I could convey, or even remember, everything I learned from her testimony... but I can't seem to recall it all.  What I DO remember is this:  Children are a gift, given to us for a time.  They are not ours, they belong to God.  We are stewards, in a sense, taking care of these precious little ones as God would have us to.  Whether bestowed upon us by "natural" means biologically or by way of adoption, it is God Who has brought them into our lives for however long we/they live... though every parent hopes for the "we" to be called home long before their children.

Now, as John and I prepare for Baby #2, I'm all the more thankful for the time God took in having us wait.  For one, I can fully appreciate the time John and I had together before children.  We could travel anywhere at a moment's notice, if desired/needed.  We could just go and do without having to worry about nap-times and feedings or getting children to bed by a certain time - we used to have some pretty late nights away from home!  This gives me something to look forward to when all of our children are grown and it's just us again... though I fully intend to love and appreciate every moment we have with them at home! =)

But even more than that, I'm so very thankful for the Daddy John is.  Abigail loves him and gets excited just seeing him.  He isn't the type of dad who comes home from work and disappears into an abyss of projects/games/or tv and we 'might' see him again before bedtime.  He usually doesn't even take the time to change his clothes... he's just down in the floor playing and trying to get Abigail to laugh.  It is priceless.  He's not afraid to be silly with her.  He's not afraid of dirty (and I mean nasty) diapers or of giving her a bath.  In the middle of the night, if she's up, he most likely will be too at some point - just to see if I need help or need him to take care of things.  If she throws up in the night, I can count on him to help me with cleaning up - we might even get her bathed and ready to go back down then have to do most of it over again!  He reads her stories, rocks her, and prays over her before we go "night-night".

There aren't many Daddy's out there like John.  There aren't many husbands like him either.  Many times, in my selfishness or hormonal impulses of pregnancy, I forget to be thankful for all that he does for us.  He's not just a provider.  He's not a man who's been "whipped" into doing whatever I ask of him.  He's a strong man with a servant's heart who's willing to do whatever, whenever for his family.  He puts us above himself on a daily basis.

Thank you, Father, for blessing me with such a man as my husband.  Thank you for blessing Abigail and our son with such a Daddy.  May each of us be able to show him the same kind of love in return.