the mean girls

I am constantly falling victim to random articles and things that people post on facebook.  More often than not, they're a waste of time.  This one caught my eye, however, and I think it is beautiful.

It is from a mother to a daughter.  It is sincere and loving about harsh realities, and the ever present "mean girl" that lurks in the bathrooms and dark corners of every middle and high school, cheerleading team, or church youth group.  It is lovely in its refreshing course in the direction of moving past things that aren't ultimate, because bitterness is a deep root.

When sharing this with my own little girl, who heaven forbid, should one day be eight years old, and then twelve years old, and then bless my soul, sixteen years old, I would add this:

I will, of course, always love you.  I, too, will be there waiting with scripture, and milk and cookies, and the movie Pollyanna when you step off of the bus in tears because the "mean girl" has struck, and you happened to be the target she zeroed in on that day.


But, so help me, do NOT become the "mean girl".  That path is treacherous, dangerous, and full of heartache.  Just imagine how alone you felt when she attacked; because her loneliness is far greater.  The "mean girl" has fallen prey to all the lies she's been told and told herself.  She does not know what it means to be a daughter of King Jesus, and you can show her...just don't become her.  Unfortunately, I'm speaking from experience.

It is actually for reasons like these that Zach and I prayed for boys.  We had plans for backyard mud piles and orange slices after football games.  But the Lord gave us something so much better than our plans.

trains

We live approximately twenty yards away from the train tracks.  And approximately twenty yards away from the "other" side of the train tracks.  I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with your home if it is on wheels.  I am saying that we Americans get ideas in our heads about what exactly the "dream" is, and proceed to turn up noses at different versions of it.  Myself included.  Lord forgive me.

Back to the tracks, though.  I love those train tracks.  It's not necessarily because they remind me of a friend of ours from college who was sweet and quiet and utterly fascinated with ALL THINGS TRAINS.  And it is definitely not that it brings back memories of the horrendous nickname that my older brother gave me when I got braces during my already traumatic middle school years. 

I love the consistency.  No matter what is going on in our lives.  Hectic schedules.  Teething babes that don't seem to stop growing.  That darn dog, who can steal my affections and make me want to strangle him all in the same breath.  Church folk coming in and out of here, and making sure that I have enough coffee creamer to go around.  The sound of the train whistle coming through always gives me pause.

It is as if God Himself takes these opportunities to remind me that He is good and faithful and loving and whatever I need at that moment.  He is a God of hessed  or "loving kindness" for His people.  I'm no linguistic scholar, so don't think I'm getting all fancy throwing out Hebrew words.  But I do remember once hearing a teacher talk about that word.  You see loving kindness is the closest English translation.  But it is stronger than that.  It refers to the way that God feels for Israel.  His people.

I mostly love the sound of the train at night.  When all is quiet and I am left alone with my thoughts about what I did or did not get done that day and lying to myself about what defines me and my worth, the Lord stops me in my tracks.  He reminds me that I don't earn favor with Him.  It is a free gift of grace.  And at the sound of that whistle, I roll over and sleep.

april frost

There is a chill in the air.  In April.  After our temperatures reaching the 70s in February.

On Sunday, our pastor was talking about a way of thinking that is powered by the gospel.  He was talking about how people, including himself, will say things when making small talk like, "Boy the weather sure has been good to us."

These statements are harmless in many ways, but if we're not careful, we remove the creator from the equation.  Mother Nature is fiction.  She has no power and will not thwart the plans of the almighty God.  The God who calms waves and storms, gives us chilly blustery days, and sunny birds-chirping kind of days is real.  In fact, the glory of God will one day render the sun that we so often pay homage to completely useless.

 Revelation 21:23

²² And I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. ²³ And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb. ²⁴ By its light will the nations walk, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it, ²⁵ and its gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there. ²⁶ They will bring into it the glory and the honor of the nations. ²⁷ But nothing unclean will ever enter it, nor anyone who does what is detestable or false, but only those who are written in the Lamb's book of life.

All that being said, even our weather belongs to the Lord and it is a demonstration of His glory.

I'm not one to complain about about a bit of chilly weather in April.  Especially if it means one last opportunity to obtain photos of Piper that will be tucked away for future use in warding off any unwanted attention from the opposite sex.  Also, she was nice and warm on our walk this morning.

seven pounds three ounces and beautiful: installment two

This has taken too long to finish.  Read installment one here, if it suits you.

Now where was I....?

Right.  Zach and I had just spent a weekend relaxing with family and friends, before dozing off late Sunday night on the couch.

I began stir around midnight.  I rubbed my eyes and fumbled around for my phone to check the time.

I was laying there awake and uncomfortable when I suddenly felt a strange pop and a gush of liquid.  I apologize if this is more information than anyone wanted to know, but it felt similar to peeing in my pants.

I nudged Zach, and told him I was pretty sure my water had just broken.  Zach is not one who likes to be woken up, and he later told me that he was about to get very upset with me...until he realized the reason he was being awakened from his blissful repose.

We called the hospital to describe what had happened, and they said to go ahead and come on in.  I remember feeling pretty calm.  I changed into something more comfortable, we grabbed our hospital bags, and headed out.  We sent a text message to family, telling them we were heading to the hospital but that nothing would probably happen until at least the morning.  You see, at this point I was feeling a tiny bit of pressure but almost no contractions at all.

We got to the hospital sometime around one am and sure enough, they checked me in OB Triage, and I was only about a centimeter dialated, but because my water had broken I was moved into a delivery room.

Everyone said to "get some sleep".  One of the most ridiculous statements ever uttered.  I tried, but was too amped.

Family started to arrive in the morning, and continued to arrive throughout the day.  I told many people later who asked about our experience, the first twenty-two hours of labor were pretty boring.  We hung out for the day, watched episodes of our favorite TV shows, and were basically bored.

I wasn't progressing much.  The doctors started pitocin at some point during the morning, and I still don't think I was progressing much.  I was told several times to let nurses know when I was ready for an epidural, as we had already discussed our decision to include that in our birth experience.  I finally said, I'm still not feeling a ton (just pressure and discomfort) but let's go ahead.  That was around mid day.

Late in the afternoon, I was getting tired and overwhelmed.  I had heard someone say that they really don't like for your labor to go longer than twenty-four hours after your water has broken, as you and the baby run the risk of infection.  I am so thankful that no doctor or nurse ever mentioned the word "c-section", because I was beginning to worry myself about it.  We were going on twenty hours since my water had broken, and there just didn't seem to be much progress.

Eventually it was time to clear the room of everyone except Zach and focus and talk about our options.

Finally, a nurse came in to check my progress.  She said I'm just going to see where we're at.  It will probably be a few more hours, though.  She nonchalantly takes a look, then says wow.  Not only are we ready to push, but your baby has a head full of hair.  (That may have been a graphic detail)

In an instant, the room seemed to transform.  They had me almost ready to go when a nurse came in and said that our doctor was prepping for an emergency c-section that had just come in, and we would need to wait a few minutes.

At that point, I remember being really concerned about this other child.  I couldn't stop wondering if the mom and baby were ok.  Someone mentioned an accident of some sort and I began to wonder if the doctor wouldn't arrive for our delivery with a heavy heart.  I never did find out.

The doctor showed up.  We pushed for about forty minutes.  It was the most physically taxing and exhausting forty minutes of my life.  And at 9:59 pm, on November 14, 2011 Marion Piper was born to us.  She came out screaming, and calmed down as soon as she was laid on my chest.  I was elated and exhausted.

Not long after, Zach sent out the text to our family in the waiting room.

seven pounds three ounces and beautiful.

God is good to us.

Sweet P meets Sweet Potatoes

That's right.  Homegirl is getting started on some solids.  So far we have ventured into rice cereal and pureed sweet potatoes territory.  We are slowly wading in and trying new things.

This was her initial reaction to sweet potatoes.  Her first taste of rice cereal was pretty similar, and she eventually grew accustomed to the taste after a few feedings.  I imagine this pattern will continue as we add more to the mix.

As of now, meal time is part eating and part face painting.  I love it.

mere civility is not a fruit of the spirit

Nowhere in Galations does Paul tell us that simply tolerating your brothers and sisters in Christ is how we bear fruit as believers.  At least I don't think so...let's take a look.

Galatians 5 

²² But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, ²³ gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. 

Yep.  Nothing about the law abidingness of smiling, nodding, and ducking into the nearest bathroom.  And yet, I often find myself sighing through a difficult or annoying conversation, just waiting to talk about something more pleasant, or to someone "cooler".  Lord, forgive me for exchanging genuine fellowship with the saints for shallow musings about the weather and Gamecock football.

Merely being civil towards one another is reserved for high school girls who are incapable of confrontation, and are just waiting for you to walk away so they can talk about your knock-off shirt, whether or not your coach purse is real, and who you think you are talking to the boy that they had a crush on last summer.  Please know, that I was this girl.  I am still this girl at times.

For believers in the Lord Jesus, we have fellowship around the joy of God's grace and mercy towards us.  And despite our sin nature, we can have patience with one another, because God was first patience with us.  Praise the Lord for His loving-kindness and faithfulness toward us.

sag

P.S. I don't want anyone thinking that I took an extra dose of my judgy pills this morning.  I am writing a reminder necessary challenge to myself in hopes that all believers are encouraged.  As followers of Christ, it is good for us to preach the gospel to one another in love.

Happy Birthday Aunt Megan!

Just stopping by to wish our Aunt Megan a very Happy Birthday!!  We love you, and can not wait to see you guys at the beach!

And speaking of Aunt Megan and Uncle Brandon, check out this very special announcement that they made yesterday, and how you can help.  We are so excited, we can't stand it!

as for our weekend

The laundry has piled up and the dishes are practically stacked to the ceiling, but our hearts are full and our fun-o-meter gauge is sitting at capacity.

It was one of those busy-whirlwind-yet somehow peaceful and relaxing weekends.  I'm actually going to include last night as part of our weekend.

My husband sent me to the nail salon for some birthday pampering.

Zach ran a mud run.

 

Lots of our friends, also, ran a mud run.

Never once did I consider running a mud run.  Until the end when everyone was done and had so much fun.  I'm beginning to think I may be convinced for the go around in the Fall, but don't tell anyone.

Photo courtesy of Emily Hoffman.

We planted.  For real.  Zach has been doing some yardwork; in an obsessive, come home from a long day at work and go outside to weed or mulch or mow kind of way.  I am not the biggest fan or yardwork, but can't complain about the results.

On Sunday when we were planting these two old ladies driving by slowed down their car right in the middle of the road, rolled down a window, and hollered
 "It's looking pretty good out here.  It is so nice to see some young people ACTUALLY working."

Uh..thanks?  Compliments that are actually insults =  complisults.  Copyright pending.

 


Zach and I stayed up into the wee hours Saturday night.  On the front porch.  With dear friends.  Discussing the gospel and Jesus' church.  I haven't been able to stop thinking about the church since.  I should mention that by "wee hours" I mean eleven pm.

Somewhere in there, I became twenty-four.  I don't feel twenty-four.  Some days I feel thirty-four, but other days I feel fourteen.  I wonder if I'll ever feel my age?  And by feel, I mean wake up with a new sensation and say to myself, this is it.  This is what twenty-four years on this earth feels like.  Not the way that I said, man, I'm feeling my age.  I can no longer remember things without writing them down, and there are new aches and pains, and the gray(ish) hairs.  My goodness the gray(ish) hairs.  I refer to eleven pm as the "wee hours".

Just a thought, when does "feeling" our age become more thinking about the years we already have and less thinking about the years that are yet to come.  Maybe when babies that are our own enter the mix.  We are a vapor, people.

Any who, last night we had family birthday celebration.  Low country boil was my birthday request, and a gathering of loved ones.  Both were achieved, and it was a party, hence it was counted as a continuation on the weekend. 

daddys and daughters

I love seeing Zach as a dad.  And I love knowing that Marion Piper is going to have an example of a godly man when she begins searching for her own husband.

I firmly believe that the fact that my own father challenged me never to play dumb to attract attention or to settle was instrumental in my meeting and falling in love with Zach.  That, and a lot of grace from God.


Every night when we pray with Sweet P as she is going to sleep, Zach asks that the Lord save his daughter and that He, even now, would begin preparing a husband that will love her as Christ loves the church.  And every evening when Zach walks through the door after work, Piper's face lights up at the sight of her daddy.

 I fell in love with you
and that love became something new
it keeps getting stronger
than we ever could have longed
love keeps growing more love
                      -Caedmon's Call 

We are right now learning what it means to love and parent our children in a godly manner, and that means grasping the hard truth that Piper is not ours.  She belongs to the Lord.  

Praise God for such a beautiful and sobering truth, and dear Lord please give me grace to believe it.  I am so grateful for a husband that does believe it when he faithfully prays for the Lord to work in Piper's heart, and for the Lord to provide a godly husband to one day take her away from us, for that is what the Lord intends.

  sag

as for Easter Sunday

We had a lovely Easter.  I can say that honestly. 

I tend to stress myself out when it comes to holidays, preparing food for different events or celebrations, trying to plan our days, and getting ready to make multiple stops to see everyone we want to see.  When we added an infant to the mix who we want to share with everyone, my nerves surrounding holidays tend to become shot.  Christmas just about killed us, or rather my stressing out about making all our stops and trying to factor in feeding and napping times with a six-week old during cold and flu season. 

I don't want that for our children.  I want us to remember holidays as a time of celebrating the gospel.  Whether it be a time of recognizing a savior that is born to us, or a savior that is died and resurrected to us, I am determined that our holidays will remain focused on the important things.  With the grace of God, and the graciousness of my husband, we remembered that this weekend.

And we got some good shots along the way.  Saturday we visited family in Spartanburg.  Now I'm not ready to tackle the Easter bunny question just yet, but there may have been a man dressed in a terrifying bunny costume present.  And that may, or may not, be my child snuggled in his lap.  For whatever reason, she took to him and was more than compliant for this photo.

 

Sunday we celebrated with more family, and got what I believe is the first good picture of the three of us, aside from the fact that MPG is trying to eat her dress...

 And, there was the birth of our first family Easter tradition.  A walk at sunrise.  It came out of struggle.  We were up early cooking.  Zach was on Sweet P duty while I was trying to figure out how to cook my first ham.  His duties also included keeping the dog occupied, and there was great potential for tension and bad attitudes.  All of the sudden, he was saying that we should take a walk when the sun came up.  And that's what we did.

 

We got to spend some time together celebrating as a family, it was gorgeous outside, and as we walked by a church down the street from us we could hear a congregation worshiping in their courtyard during their sunrise service.  Can't wait to carry on this tradition as our family grows.

 

who has 2 thumbs and rolls over?

This girl.  Observe.

P.S.  I sound ridiculous, and will never actually speak on camera again.

sag

to do on Good Friday

This morning I was making my usual to-do list, a standard practice around this house, and being consumed with thoughts of what we want to get done this weekend, the places we would like to get to and people we would like to see, and what sort of garb we will adorn ourselves with...


Suddenly, it struck me what today is.  On this day, Good Friday, we remember what Jesus Christ did on the cross.  He was humiliated and tortured in unimaginable ways.  For our good.  While we were still weak.  While we were loving our sin nature and running hard from the Lord.  While we were hurling insults and shame at Christ.  Christ redeemed us with His precious blood.  So, although it is ironic to include "reflection on the cross" on a to-do list, apparently I need to be reminded.

 

Matthew 27

 ³³ And when they came to a place called Golgotha, which means Place of a Skull, ³⁴ they gave Him wine to drink mixed with gall; and after tasting it, He was unwilling to drink.

 ³⁵ And when they had crucified Him, they divided up His garments among themselves by casting ^[p]lots. ³⁶ And sitting down, they began to keep watch over Him there. ³⁷ And above His head they put up the charge against Him ^[q]which read, “THIS IS JESUS THE KING OF THE JEWS.”

 ³⁸ At that time two robbers *were crucified with Him, one on the right and one on the left. ³⁹ And those passing by were ^[r]hurling abuse at Him, wagging their heads ⁴⁰ and saying, “You who are going to destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save Yourself! If You are the Son of God, come down from the cross.” ⁴¹ In the same way the chief priests also, along with the scribes and elders, were mocking Him and saying, ⁴² “He saved others; ^[s]He cannot save Himself. He is the King of Israel; let Him now come down from the cross, and we will believe in Him. ⁴³ HE TRUSTS IN GOD; LET GOD RESCUE Him now, IF HE ^[t]DELIGHTS IN HIM; for He said, ‘I am the Son of God.’” ⁴⁴ The robbers who had been crucified with Him were also insulting Him with the same words.

 ⁴⁵ Now from the ^[u]sixth hour darkness ^[v]fell upon all the land until the ^[w]ninth hour. ⁴⁶ About the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “ELI, ELI, LAMA SABACHTHANI?” that is, “MY GOD, MY GOD, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?” ⁴⁷ And some of those who were standing there, when they heard it, began saying, “This man is calling for Elijah.” ⁴⁸ Immediately one of them ran, and taking a sponge, he filled it with sour wine and put it on a reed, and gave Him a drink. ⁴⁹ But the rest of them said, “^[x]Let us see whether Elijah will come to save Him^[y].” ⁵⁰ And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice, and yielded up His spirit. ⁵¹ And behold, the ^[z]veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom; and the earth shook and the rocks were split. 

 

Behold the Lamb that tore the veil.   Praise the Lord for in just a few days time, we will reflect on what happened after the cross.  It did not end there.  Jesus Christ, on the cross and by His resurrection, conquered sin, satan and death.  

Death is dead.  Death is DEAD!  What a beautiful truth to be reminded of today.

free pallet art

Surely I'm not the only wife who has begged her husband to stop by the seed and feed store down the street to ask them how much for one of their wooden pallets.

Thankfully I have a guy who occasionally indulges me because looky what he brought home a few weeks ago!  And the total cost:  zilch.

I knew exactly what I wanted to do with this priceless treasure, and got straight to work stenciling what has become a mantra for our family.  Zach has been telling me that he would like this quote from a poem by C.T. Studd somewhere in our home for ages.  Of course, I imagine he was thinking  more along the lines of a framed cross-stitch...

.

I used our free pallet and some stencils and paint that I already had in my craft closet.  Yes.  I have a craft closet.  It will be a proud day when Sweet P is old enough to partake.

I had to get over the fact that some of the letters turned out a bit wonky.  Zach said he liked it.  Gives it character.  He even added a bit of shelving.  And it hangs perfectly over the buffet in our dining area.

 

Free pallet art, meet free grace.  What a beautiful and sobering thought.

sag

lessons learned

I'm hesitant to share parenting advice.  I don't.  I'm new at this, and have little to contribute.  You won't be seeing any books with my name on the cover, and I don't claim to be a "baby whisperer".  That title is reserved for women who've rocked many a babe through sick and sleepless nights, when rest and peace are far from us. 

But I am slowly starting to realize my own parenting philosophies, and what works best for us.  What works for our family is the best thing we can do for ourselves and our little one.

As of now, almost five months in, I can pin point two invaluable lessons that I may just carry with me for the rest of my days.

One.  Flexibility is key.  This can be said of life, as well as dealing with children.  We are trying to roll with the punches over here.  I say we.  Zach doesn't let anything get him down.  He calms me down.  Says everything is going to be okay, and really means it.  And then I am able to take a slow, deep breath, and move on.  Even when Sweet P's plans are different from our plans.  Even when she takes a short nap or a long nap.  Even when the walls of our crib seem to be caving in all around us.  Even when.

God is in control.  Resting in that knowledge, I can be flexible.  And thank Him, Marion Piper seems to be learning that lesson herself.

Two.  There is no cap on the number of times you can place a phone call to Heritage Pediatrics.  You can talk to a nurse, and she will understand when you say that your little one has "gooky eye".  The phone calls are free, and so is the peace of mind.  That is why they are on speed dial.


With that being said, a video, because who doesn't love an adorably inquisitive face like this?

P.S.  Sometimes you send your husband to the CVS just across the way to pick up some eye drops that resulted from one of those casual, trying-not-to-sound panicked phone calls to the doc who said that you should just come in to check out that eye ball, and what do you know there is a slight infection that can be easily fixed.  And sometimes you start to worry that he has taken thirty minutes to literally cross the street and retrieve the prescription.  But never fear, he was just picking up a movie and your favorite treat from the Ice Cream Station to hunker down for the thunder storm that is brewing just outside your window.  Life is good.

sag