Goodbye Baby

So we have decided to start remodeling our kitchen.

We're two days into the process. 

I think I'm ready to quit.

Because perserverence isn't my strong suit.  That or thankfulness.   Or patience.  Okay, let's not go down this road.  Anyway.....

Yes, the joys of remodeling. Especially right before Christmas. When I'm baking  a lot.

Not to complain. Because this was totally my idea. See, when you have WHITE tile floors and WHITE tile bars and four Yahoos your kitchen tends to appear a little dirty. By that I mean that I need to mop Every.Single.Day. Need to, mind you. I don't actually do it.

Have I mentioned The Honey can do anything? 

See this guy wants nothing more than to please me.  So he gives me the liberty to make any decision I want about how the design of this whole thing will go and no matter what obstacles come with that he is determined to give me what I want. 

And I'm madly in love with this man.  Yes.  This man.  The one outside with boots and shorts and a tv.

And have I mentioned that this guy is el cheapo?   Which really drives me nuts at times because time is money, but in the long run I have to be thankful.  Not because I feel  thankful, but just because I'm suppose to be.  Because I still sometimes worry that if I'm not thankful something really horrible might happen to me like the dishwasher will go out or the van will quit  love to be obedient that way.

Oh! Did I mention my van quit?  Yep, the transmission went out. 

Pfft.

So all of us have been piled into my mom's truck.  Of which I am eternally grateful for but if I don't get all these Yahoos back into a minivan soon I might just drive myself straight into a Dairy Queen window and start screaming crazy demands like double reese cup Blizzards.

These are just a few minor glitches in my overall fairly tale life. 

Because I do have these incredible Yahoos.

And then there is this guy.

And we are excited about the newest addition to our family.




This girl. 

Her name is Cocoa.


You thought for a minute I was going to say I was pregnant, didn't you?  Come on, admit it.  You thought I was! 


Well so what  if I did?  Because I have to admit I have baby fever.  Several friends or family members or complete strangers walking through Walmart parking lot have new babies.  And they are so crazy cute. 

Have I ever mentioned how I hate endings? 

Goodbyes stink.  And I am just hating saying goodbye to pacifiers and burp rags and mylicon drops and first smiles and first words and first steps.

I know most of the world thinks I'm crazy for even thinking of another baby.  And I think I might be in that group at times too.  The group that thinks I'm crazy.  Because honestly some days are hard.  Not like heavy hard.  Because I'm not dealing with anything heavy hard like financial ruin or death or dismemberment.  My trials are honestly so trivial.  But any work is hard.  And my work is raising kids and sometimes that is hard.  And most normal people wouldn't want to voluntarily add to that.   

But I sometimes do.  This aching I have, though, isn't necessarily because I need more children.  I really think it is more because I am grieving the goodbye.  The end of maternity clothes and feeling the baby kick for the first time and hearing the doctor say 'It's a boy!' 

Because these....these are the good ol' days. 

And the kids are outgrowing the swingset and there is no more teething tablets needed and there isn't a need to go down the baby aisle in Kroger.  Sometimes, though, I take a stroll through there just for the fun of it.  To linger in the smell of newborn baby.

Yes, I have truly loved being a mom to these babies of mine.  And they were good babies.  They were fun and funny and curious.  And they taught me how to be humble and happy.    I've learned that the memories of late night feedings and middle of the night fevers are just as precious as the hugs and kisses that follow.  And they have been the catalyst to me becoming a better version of myself.

Nope, these Yahoos aren't babies anymore.  Not even toddlers.  These days I am trading in car seats for ball gear.  And I'm okay with that.  Or at least I'm learning to be okay with that.  Because there are new memories to be made and more good days to be shared.  And I can relate to the Proverbs 31 woman in that.

Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.

Proverbs 31:25

Shock and Awe

I had planned this post to be a recap of last week's long, lonely week without The Honey.  He was gone on travel the whole week.  The whole long week.

And then Friday.

And our nation sustained a collective punch in the gut when our own were taken from us. 

Shock and awe straight to our hearts.

So many things have been floating around social media.  The Whos and Whys of it all. 

I'm not going to go there.  Because who am I?

I can't understand God. I don't understand his ways and how big he is.

And these are the times that try men's souls. 

Because there is no understanding during moments like these.  Only true grit faith.  That is all that is left.  Faith in the One that is completely good and equally just.  The Creator who sees it all coming and whose heart breaks the hardest. 

That faith is still hard for me at times.   Really hard.

My heart feels all bareboned and bloody from the blows it has taken and the relentless fighting for the faith I so desperately crave.

During times like these faith is like oxygen to my lungs.  It keeps me alive.  And I keep fighting for it.

I was wrapping a few gifts last night.  Thinking of presents that would never be opened.  Anticipation of giggles that wouldn't be heard.  My mind keeps going to one of the boys,  his name was Jack.  He was all blue eyed and face beaming.  Just like my Little Middle.  I can't seem to get his picture out of my head.

As I got up this morning to brush my teeth and give spelling tests I looked in the mirror and thought of Jack's mother.  Today she got up and brushed her teeth and went to a funeral.  And we keep trying to make sense of the maddening world around us with our eyes looking ahead to Christmas. 

Christmas. The ultimate Shock and Awe.  For the holy just God that does still hate evil showed his complete goodness by giving up His  Own.  And He gave Him up for us.....

All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our sinful nature and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature objects of wrath.

 

But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.

 

Ephesians 2:3-5

 

 

Shocking.   God....He leaves me speechless.  The more I know about Him the more infathomable He becomes to me. 

And I'm okay with that.  Because that is the kind of God I want to believe in.  

 

A shock and awe kind of God.

I can't make sense of the pain around us.  In  us.  I get frustrated with God.  Frustrated that He doesn't seem to act.  Frustrated that I can't understand.  But in the depths of that frustration I can't let go of this hope I have.  Throughout Scripture, in the lives of Abraham and Joseph and Daniel and Paul, these guys who were ripped from their families or unjustly accused or abandoned or tormented, they all held on until the end.  Hoped till the end.  They didn't quit God.

I hope we don't quit God.  I hope we keep fighting, wrestling with Him.  Wrestling for more answers.  And when they don't come fighting for the faith that sustains us.  That keeps us breathing.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

2 Timothy 4:7

 

Herdmans

So the other day I informed The Honey about the Elf on The Shelf craze.

He stays somewhat behind on world changing cultural trends like this.

I have to admit, I just don't get it. 

This elf, I mean.  He's a little high maintenance, don't you think?.  He's always hiding and needing to be found.  He creates messes that he doesn't clean up himself.  And he's a tattle tale. 

Honestly, I already have 4 Yahoos that keep me busy with those kind of high maintanence issues.

Not to be a complete stick in the mud.  I think I could totally get into this whole Elf on The Shelf thing.  I would just tweak it a little.

First he would no longer be called Elf on The Shelf.  Instead I am thinking Elf in the Laundry room or Elf at the dishwasher.  My elf is a servant.  He always has a mop in his hands and loves to clean up OTHER people's messes.  He also is a giver.  A giver of iTunes gift cards and freshly brewed coffee in the morning and foot massages at night.

Why can't we market THAT  kind of elf?

Nope.  This family has chosen to forego Elf on The Shelf.  Just don't tell Baby about him.  I have a feeling he would love it.

Baby:  A complete disaster

Speaking of Baby.

The other night we were on our way to drop the van off at the mechanic.  Because the transmission went out.

 Merry Christmas to me. 

So we're driving when he starts talking something about a pond.  Here's how this lenthy, but entertaining, exchange went.

Baby:  You know that pond at our house?

Me:  No.  What pond?

Baby:  The one by the road we throw rocks in.

Me:  Ah yes.  That's not our pond.

Baby:  Yeah, our pond.  Our pond is deep.

Me:  Is it?

Baby:  Yes.  If you get in it you will get dead.

Me:  Oh my.

Baby:  Do you want to get dead?

Me:  Hmmm.....no.

Baby:  Why don't you want to get dead?

Me:  Because I love being your mama and I want to keep being your mama.

Baby:  If you get dead Daddy will have to go to the store and buy a new mama.

Me:  **no words**

Baby:  Do you still want to get dead?




I love Baby.  He always knows how to put things in perspective for me.  Like the other day when he said Jesus was mean and might come down from Heaven to bust his head. 

I know I know, some of you might be appauled at that talk.  And maybe it is flirting with the sacrilege line a bit.  But if we were all honest, isn't that what we are?   A bunch of irreverents.

Tonight I took the Yahoos to see the play of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.  We read the book last year and cracked up.  At least I did.  Because it's so true.  If you haven't read it, here's the gist.

Six heathens named The Herdmans crash a Christmas Pageant at a local church. These children are so bad they make my Yahoos look like Mother Theresa.  The church members are all up in arms as to what to do because they've apparantly never had sinners be shepherds or a miscreant be the Virgin Mary.  And in the chaos that insues these 6 kiddos get to hear the Gospel story for the first time. 

The first time I read the book I was pretty certain I was the church members.  I am all Nose in the Air, Finger Pointer, Gossip Spreader.  But then we left the theatre.  And I had to tell Baby to stop turning off the stage lights and Ninja to stop wrestling with boys he didn't know and Little Middle and Sweet Yahoo to stop acting like goofballs.  And then it hit me.

 We are the Herdmans. 

 We are irreverent and ignorant.  We're rough and unloving and unloveable.  We say harsh words and stick our tongues out at each other.  And we need to hear that Gospel story one more time. 

And we do.  And God graciously illuminates himself between the pages of His Word and we can see Him for who He is and us for who we are.  Herdmans. 

Jesus.  He blows me away.   Holiness wrapped some flesh around himself and came to befriend me.  Unloveable, hateful me.  And you. 

THAT, my friend, is the Christmas Miracle.