Six Years a Miracle

Some people say that miracles don't happen anymore.

But they do.

I have proof.

See this girlie?

She's my proof.  She's my miracle.

By all medical view points she shouldn't be here.

But God had a better plan.

And we got to keep her.

This darling red head is my niece. 
And I love her.

I love her freckles.

Her little nose.

Her sweet smile.

The way she runs.

The way she is always happy.

How she does a cartwheel every few steps.

I love.love.love. this girl.  And all these things I love about her?  Are miracles too. 

Madalyn Joie was born 6 years ago on April 2nd.  She was only 24 weeks gestation and weighed 1 pound 12 ounces.  Yep. 4 ounces shy of 2 pounds.  Weigh something that amount.  I dare you.  You'll be amazed...

Her skin was transparent, you could see every little teeny artery and vein.  Her mama said she was the most beautiful baby ever.  And she was. 

She already had tuffs of red hair.  And we were excited.  Red heads are so rare, yet so common in our ancestry.  She was a fighter from the start, which saved her life in the end. 

This girlie was the one who made me an aunt for the very first time.  She is my sister's daughter.  And the daughter of your sister holds a special place in an auntie's heart.  I know she's not mine.  But I kinda wanna claim her anyhow.  'Cause I adore her.   

She's my daughter's best friend.  Neither girlie has a sister.  But they have each other.  Cousins make the best of friends.  

One of the things I adore the most about Maddie is her imagination.  This too is a miracle.  Her little brain is perfect. 

My uncle, who lives next door to my mom, has chickens.  These chickens are laying eggs that are fertilized.  Maddie found out and decided that she wanted some to hatch. 

She knew the egg needed to stay warm.  So she made a nest out of her pajamas.

Of course it needed to have something warm sit on it to hatch it.  So she got creative. 

And found a beanie baby.

She found the most appropriate one she could find.

A turkey.

I asked her if the egg would hatch into a baby turkey. 

Her response?

"No silly.  A chicken laid it so it HAS to be a chicken!"

While her egg sat protected by the turkey, she went out into the field with Rhianna and Reagan to gather grain.  "For when the chick hatches."

To my knowledge, the chick is still an egg.  But honestly?  I hope it hatches. 

Imagine her grin if it did?

Like the photos?  I do!  Check out more photos from A Glimpse in Time here .
 

Shivers Down My Spine

I don't like birds.  At all.  Or anything with wings. Or has claws. Or is wild. 

Or that could potentially:

A: Get stuck in my hair

B: Gouge my eyes out

C: Scratch me with their claws

To sum it up. I'm a wimp. A scaredy-cat. A genuine coward. 

To set the stage:

The kiddos and I were gone for a few days for spring break.  We got home last night right before dinner.  I made sandwiches and we sat down together, calmly eating, discussing the fun we had shared.  After we finished dinner, the kids sat quietly at the table while I read them their Bible story.  I heard a rustling in the living room and couldn't figure out what it could be.

THEN. I realized.  I had left the damper open on the wood stove the last time I had a fire. 

Something.  Some wild creature had fallen down my chimney and was stuck in my wood stove.  And I was terr.i.fied.  I almost threw up I was so scared. 

I thought through it and figured that the thing (whatever it was) couldn't get out of a cast iron stove.  I would just wait it out and let the thing die. 

My boys of course, heroes that they are, wanted to get it out for me.  I wouldn't even let them in the same room as it.  Just in case.

I trembled as I lay in bed.  Scared the thing would get out of the wood stove, climb up the stairs and kill us all in our beds.  I finally fell asleep, exhausted.

This morning while I was getting the kids out the door to go to my mom's for the day I could hear it flapping around.  I had it narrowed down to either a bird, a squirrel or a bat.  I couldn't decide which of the three would be worse.  They all made me squirm in fear.  I couldn't wait to get to work.

I dreaded coming home all day.  Just knowing what I would be facing.  It gave me the willies all day.

When I got home, I opened the door and went to put my load of bags from the day on the counter.  I noticed that a swag of lilacs that is usually on top of the cupboards over my sink was now IN my sink.  Not a good sign.

I whipped my head around in fear looking for the perpetrator.  Knowing it was lurking about somewhere. 
I spotted a blackbird sitting calmly on my overstuffed chair. 

Not actual photo.  I was too scared to take it's picture :o)

I, myself, did not remain calm.  I believe this is what I looked like:

I took off out the door. Racing and screaming "do NOT go in there!"  I threw the bags I had been carrying, along with a pizza, onto the ground.  My boys immediately went inside.  "To check it out mom."  Knowing the safety of my dear sons were at risk, I made them leave the house instantly.

I called down to work and thankfully Dave answered the phone.  I panic-stricken yelled into the phone "Please come save my life...there is a bird in my house"  Knowing I'm a spaz he said he'd be up in 10 minutes or so.

A few minutes later Ron and Dave came up.  They both walked in the house.  Ron walked up to the bird. Picked it up and tossed it in the air outside so it could fly away.

I thanked them profusely and then I think I almost puked in the bushes from the fright. 

Tonight I shall lay down and sleep in peace and safety.  Knowing that I am once again not in any immediate danger. 

(FYI: First thing I did when I came inside was to #1: shut the damper #2 tightly lock up the stove. :o)

Frogger

Is it just me? Or do you sometimes feel like you are living in a video game similar to this:

I do.

Frequently. 

See that little froggy in the middle of the road? Getting ready to be smashed by the semi-truck?

Well, that's me. 

Or at least how I feel most days.

Thankfully, I haven't gotten 'hit' by the cars.

And somehow I always seem to manage to 'jump' on the logs at just the right time avoiding one catastrophe or another. 

Praising God the screen hasn't yet flashed "GAME OVER".

One morning as I was racing to get the two older children to school, I came upon the city's street sweeper.  As I veered around them quickly I realized I felt that my life was like a video game. Dodging one thing or another.  Always racing from one job to the next. Trying to get it all done in the allotted time so that I can get to the next job in time So I can get home in time for the kids. Racing. Running. Swerving. Veering. My life. The video game.

Kinda like in frogger.  You have to wait and then hophophop quickly to get past the cars.  And then screeeeechhhh to a stop before you hop in front of another car.  Quickly hophophop past the next lane of traffic. 

Then pantpantpant. Rest. Pray. At the break between dodging semis and leaping onto logs. 

Then. Quick. There's a big log. Hop.skip.jump.  Tiptoe your way across the turtles.  And skedaddle your way into the little cubby the froggy calls home.

That pretty much sums up my days.   

As tiring as it is.  My life is exciting.exhilarating.  And fun.  I kinda like my life.  'Ribbit.

How 'bout you?

Mama's Sad Day

I wasn't sure if I should write about today.

But writing helps me heal.

So I chose to write.

March 27th. Mama's Sad Day.  At least that's what my kids call it.  I try to not be sad. But I can't help it. I.just.am.

March 27, 2001 my father passed away.  He was 47. I was 21.  I had a unique and close relationship with him. We just got each other.  It was hard to lose him.  Painfully hard. Words can't be uttered how painfully hard.

He would be 57 and I am 31.  How much has changed through this past decade.  I have overcome. I have fallen. I have made mistakes and I have had achievements.  This decade was the decade of my life where there were the most changes.  And he didn't get to walk me through them.  And I miss him.

Some of his last words sent to me were "get your life straight, Julie".  They were very few in number.  But I knew. I knew his heart. And I knew there were so many more words behind those few.

This year I am making some big choices. Really big choices.  And I often think. What would he think? Would he feel that I finally 'got my life straight'?   I hope he would.  I think he would.

I know he would rejoice that I went to the Lord in repentance and am serving Him faithfully each day.

I know he would be heartbroken knowing the abuse I went through with my marriage.

I know he would adore my children.  He would love them and my nieces like no other grandpa could.

I know he would be so proud that I am finishing my education.

I know he would still tickle me. And I would still get mad.

I know he would still pick me up and give me the biggest bear hugs. ever.

I know he would still love me. and even like me.  

I know we would still argue. Just for fun. And he would let me win.

I know we would still be friends.  Like only a father and daughter could be. 

I know I will never.ever. stop missing him.  'Cause I still need him.

10 years ago today I was woken to be told the news that my dad had passed away. An hour later I would be at the funeral home planning his funeral.

10 years ago today, my life as I knew it came to a crashing halt.

10 years ago today I didn't think I could live another day. And yet I did.

This morning was beautiful.  It was cold.frigid.crisp. Wind biting cold. I dropped the kids off at Sunday School. I told them I needed to go to the cemetery.  And they knew.  It was Mama's sad day.  And they understood.

I went to the cemetery. Dreading and yet needing.

I knew the landscape well.  I had spent many hours in this cemetery as a child planting flowers at ancestor's gravesides.  It is a beautiful cemetery.  Quiet.Peaceful.Sentimental.  A perfect setting for those who mourn.

I walked up to his grave. The path well known and fell to my knees in tears.  The ground was cold and hard.  And I wept.  For the years lost. And the lost future without him.  

As I laid on the ground weeping I cried out to my heavenly Father.  I needed comfort.  I had a request. A private request.  I looked up to the skies begging God for an answer. Telling Him I needed this one desire of my heart to be filled. In that instant the clouds broke open and the sun shone upon my face.  I knew then that God was telling me everything would be perfect in His time. 

When we were leaving church this afternoon, Rhianna skipped up to me and slipped her hand in mine. "Mama.  How was it? How was your time in the cemetery?"

I am so blessed.  So blessed to have children who know. And understand. That sometimes Mama needs to weep alone in the cemetery.  On her sad days. 

Growing Pains

Lately Reagan has been having issues with growing pains.  It seems like most nights at bedtime he cries because his shins and knees hurt. I get him some Advil, snuggle him and rub his legs a bit. Thankfully he soon settles down and can sleep.

I hate to see him in so much pain.  But I am thankful he is having them.  This may sound odd, me being thankful, but I am.  Reagan had issues with his stomach the first 2 1/2 years of his life.  Which caused him to not like to eat.  Needless to say, he didn't grow quickly.  Now at 5 1/2 he is starting to eat better causing him to grow.

His pediatrician said often children like him will go on a rapid growth spurt to 'catch up' to where they should be.  He said to expect Reagan to have a harder time with growing pains that my other two. 

Because I love him, I don't like it.  But because I love him, I know it is best for him.  Growing pains result in growth.  I don't want my son to be small and unhealthy forever. I want him to grow into a strong man.  But he must endure growing pains to reach his full potential.  While he is going through these pains I will be there to massage his legs and give him some advil to give him the ability to get through the painful times.

Isn't God just like that?  I don't think He likes to see us in pain. I don't think He enjoys seeing us endure an experience that causes us heartache. But I think He loves us enough to allow these things knowing that with painful growth results in us getting closer to reaching our full potential. 

God gives us His word, prayer, the church, fellowship, hymns and praise to be as a balm.  To be like the Advil and massages I give my son.  He gives them to us freely to get through the growing pains so that we can be stronger and more effective for His kingdom.  We just have to be willing to open up and accept the medication given.

While going through a painful time I want to shout and say "I want to be weak. I want to be small and useless. I am tired of this pain. I don't want to grow anymore." But when I allow God to fully comfort me I know it will be worth it.  And then when that painful time is over I can see how much taller, stronger and effective I am.

With each painful experience comes growth. It may not be the calcification of the cartiladge in the epiphyseal growth plate, but the tenderizing of the heart, strengthening of your faith, increasing in your compassion or growing in wisdom. 

Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer. From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. ~Psalm 61:1-2 

Oh How I Love My Label Maker

To the tune of O, Christmas Tree:

O, Label Maker

O, Label Maker

O, How you make my life complete.

You labeled all my Tupperware

You labeled all my spices clear.

O, Label Maker, O Label Maker.

O How I love my label Maker.

I have officially reached a new point in my life.  This past February I turned, um. It's older than 30 but much, much younger than 32.  I wasn't quite sure if I was ready for a grown up gift just yet.

When my mom asked me what I wanted I told her I needed to think about it. When in fact I needed to argue with myself about it. You see, I really really wanted a label maker.  But part of me was not ready to admit  this to myself  yet.  I had a bit of an inner struggle.  One side (the 31 year old) saying "You would be so organized" The other (Still the immature 30 year old) saying "Yes. And that is not fun" The first side would say "Yes it is.  You know the giddy feeling you get after you alphabetize your spices. Just imagine having those spices labeled! Along with your shoe boxes and your files and so many more things!"  With that argument, even the immature one in me couldn't argue at the fun we would have.

I called my mom up and to her amusement I asked for a label maker.   She said she wasn't sure which one I wanted so she would get me a gift card.  Before my birthday dinner she said "Julie. I feel so bad only getting you a gift card for your birthday. Its so impersonal" To which I replied "Mom. You are getting me a label maker. Not highly personal to begin with. I think we are fine" :o)

But I must admit I almost skipped into Staples to buy my label maker dragging Riley behind me.  He was not in complete agreement with my excitement. Then. Lo and behold they were on sale!  Must have been just for my birthday. I think I squealed. Just a little. At least I think I did. The sales lady looked at me funny...

I have had more fun that I honestly care to admit labeling things.  I have not yet labeled my kids, thankyouverymuch, but the thought has crossed my mind.  Imagine the ease when you are talking to them and their name is posted right on their forehead? No more forgetting which child's name is what. No more blank stares when you call the oldest by the cat's name. 

Right around the time of my big b-day Tupperware was having a giant sale on modular mates.  I went ahead and bought some and then winning some more in a  bonus drawing.  I was so excited to start organizing and labeling that I don't think I slept much.  I needed to figure out how to condense my large kitchen into a smaller kitchen. And Tupperware + label maker = the answer.

I haven't had as many things to label in the past week or so. But with the move right around the corner, I should start to warm the splendid machine up and get printing.  It's gonna be fun.

And yes, the spices pictured above are alphabetized.  



Like Me

This one is a tough one.  But one that is due to be written about.  He has asked why I haven't written about him yet.  And the answer is a hard one to explain. 

I have three children.  I love them all equally. Differently, because each child is so different, but equally.  This reasoning makes my feelings towards him hard to put into words. To fully explain my heart when I think of him.

He is my first. Which is why there are these emotions attached to him.  In a sense he saved me.  Not like Christ saved my soul. As in he saved my life.  The months before I found out I was pregnant with him I was hitting rock bottom.  I no longer wanted to live. I had no reason to live.  I had lost my dad, my best friend. In my mind I had no reason to keep going.

But then I found out I had life growing inside of me.  I knew I had to pick myself up and live for him.  As soon as the pregnancy was realized, I knew it was a boy. And I was glad.  I knew his middle name would be 'Dale'.  For the father I had prematurely lost.  All bouts of depression left me and I was ready to change and prepare my heart and life for him. 

On November 11, 2002, my son~ my firstborn, Riley Dale was born.  He looked just like my dad. I could see it in the shape of his face. I cried and cried for the father I lost and for the grandpa my son would never know.  It was a bittersweet moment.  My heart was breaking while mourning the loss of my father and his absence at his first grandchild's birth.  But rejoicing in my newborn son and how precious he was.

Six weeks after Riley was born, I gave my heart and life to Christ.  I knew that I wanted my son to do the same thing and if I didn't have Christ as Lord of my life, how could I expect my son to do the same?  I am not sure what would have happened to me had I not surrendered it all to Jesus.

As Riley grew, I began to see a resemblance of myself in him.  He thinks like me, acts like me, reacts like me and reasons like me.  I see my strengths in him, but I also see my weaknesses.  We love to read together.  I love getting the old classics and introducing him them to him.  I love how he says "use your voices, mom". And I do.  I love how he is known at the libraries as a boy who loves books. I love how he is known at church by the other mothers as a little boy who 'just loves babies'.  I love how he is so ornery and mischievous.  I love how he takes himself so seriously when he prays.  I love his wisdom in his prayers. I just love being. with him.

My prayer for Riley is that he can be the man God has made him to be.  I want to be the mother who prepares her sons to be men for Christ.  It is my duty to prepare them and teach them how to be leaders of their home someday.  It is a daunting task, and one that through the grace that is poured on me I will prayerfully succeed. 

Why was this so hard to write?  Because how do I put into words what he means to me?  Because how do I begin to explain the potential this child has? How do I write that in a tiny way he has filled parts of the hole in my heart left there from my dad? How do I write about how I love how fiercely protective he is of me? How do I write that I want to weep at the prayers he prays, and how wise they are? How do I write that I see him, with his strengths, someday being a warrior for Christ?  I don't know how to write it. I just know how to say one thing for sure.  I love him.