9 months going on 2 years

I guess even at infancy babies can hear their parents and choose to defy them. I've been talking for months about how teeny tiny Loretta is and how she's still my itty bitty thing. She heard and responded with, 'I may be little but I am fierce'.

This week Loretta has decided to grow up. Just a few weeks ago we could barely get her to sit on her own. She knew how, she just had no interest in doing things alone. Now she crawls, climbs stairs, wants to walk, doesn't want to drink bottles, eats meals like grilled chicken with avocado, pasta and pears for lunch, and sits in the playroom playing with her big brothers. She's a big girl, and she's SO proud of herself.

She had her 9 month check up today. She weighed a whopping 16.5 pounds, bringing her in between the 5-10%. But, she shot up the last 3 months and is now in the 90% for height and head size!

She loves her brothers more than life and she's soaking up her new opportunities to follow them around and join in on all of their fun. This week she started taking bath with them and she couldn't love it more. I look at her and wonder, 'is that how much I adored Brandon and brian??' Must be. It's incredible!

She's our sweet little love bug and I can't say enough how blessed we are to have had her come into our family exactly when she did. Love explosions daily with that sweet face around.

And look at this tiny heiny?!?!?!

Happy Fake Birthday, Layla!

Between the military, 3 kids, and other boring things I find amusing I don't write about our furry friends much. Or ever. But, we do have 2 4-legged furry creatures who call this place home too, and sometime around now one of them is celebrating her 14th birthday in human years.

She's a dog. So that's what, 105 in dog years? I never did key into that calculation or logic. Anyway.

I literally have a draft of a blog I started back in September titled "What. A. Dog" in preparation of our having to take Layla out to pasture. But, like the cat with 9 lives, Layla is still alive and kickin'. I'd say thriving, but I think that's a slight overstatement. Anyway, I decided rather than only write a tribute to our incredible dog with tears in my eyes and stained on my desk, why not give her a big shout out in honor of the 4th anniversary of the year she should have died?

We were told when she was 10 that she likely didn't have much longer, so we have been awaiting her impending death for 4 years now. Do you know how awkward that is? There have been so many times we've looked at each other, hearts in our throats, and gave each other the "it's almost that time" nod. You know the nod. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I think Layla knows the nod too. I think she's seen us do it every time, and I think it gives her the surge she needs just to get back up and fight some more.

Layla is the best dog. I know everyone says that. Owen Wilson even joked about it in the movie Marley and Me. So maybe, it's possible, someone else out there has a better dog. But truth be told, I've yet to see it. What makes Layla the best dog? I think it's her heart and her patience. She's patient when William climbs on her back. She's patient when Charles pulls on her tail. She's patient when Loretta uses her as an aid to stand up. Most of all, she's patient when the 3 previously mentioned minions make me forget I haven't fed her in 2 days and her water bowl has been licked dry.

She's not perfect. She's got a sweet tooth, and a carb tooth, and an anything-human-within-my-reach tooth. And if you think there's anything OUT of her reach, you're in for something. I once tucked Austin's birthday cake in the corner of the kitchen counter, back in the verrrry back part of the corner, and had it barricaded by various items to deter her. What did I come home to? A PERFECTLY cleaned cake pan sitting on the kitchen floor. You would never have known I had baked a cake in it that morning. There was also the time she hid half of a brisket in Austin's recliner, saving some for later I can only assume. And there are  countless stories of friends who dog-sat her who feared she'd die on their watch, only to find she has enough kick in her step to reach bread, pizza, brownies, or anything else left on the counter.

Why, just this morning I came home to my pampered chef baking stone shattered on the floor because I absent mindedly left the biscuits sitting out when we ran William to school.

She's got a stomach of steel and can handle anything. Chocolate chip cookie brownie fudge layered dessert? 5 pounds of smoked brisket? A WHOLE ROTISSERIE CHICKEN, cooked, bones included? Yep, she can handle it like a champ.

Despite her eating habits, she is the most loving, patient, forgiving and likeable dog I've ever known. She protected me from thugs on the street corner when Austin was deployed, she nudged me for hugs when I cried in lonliness, she has welcomed home all of our babies (with only slight twinges of jealousy) and she is loyal to Austin no matter how many times he leaves her.

Layla is the best dog, and I am not sure if I'm not astonished or thankful that she's made it this long. I would say I think this is her last birthday, but I've thought that for the last 5 years. So, I bet she's got a few more in her. In any case, happy fake birthday Layla - in honor of whenever the real one is. We love you!

Journaling Prompt

My goal was to write more, right? And sometimes I have trouble coming up with ideas. So, I'm just following a few online prompts and when one pops up that I like I think I'll jump on it. They may be cheesy or boring to read, but I'm hoping that re-ignites the writer in my brain so I can come up with more fun stuff (like how William isn't afraid of jail!)

If you could describe yourself in one paragraph what would it say?

How long is a paragraph?

The two best things I could say about myself are that I am loyal and hard working. When I commit to something, even if its a brand of hair products, I am dedicated and loyal. I work hard to be the best I can at everything I do, and that is a cliché understatement. Rarely do I think I completed a job, project or task fast enough or well enough which means the next time I try I work even harder to improve. While this is overall a good trait, sometimes this results in me being so task oriented that I forget people are involved. I have been accused of lacking emotion or feeling (by more than one person!) and I can say for sure that is not the case. I have a lot of emotion and a lot of feeling, however it is not what  drives me and it often takes a back seat to what logically makes sense. My loyalty is strongest to those I love, but I don't forgive easily and I have no problem cutting people out without looking back. Thankfully, marriage teaches a lot about forgiveness, as the giver and receiver, which has helped me to grow in other relationships, too. I'm not perfect, but I try to be. Therein lies my greatest strength, and my greatest weakness.

How'd I do?

When Time Stands Still

If I close my eyes I can still smell the Mexican food Shelley Young was delivering in the kitchen. I can still feel the coldness in his purple toes. I can still see the devastation on the faces in the room. I can still hear the words, 'he's gone'. And those 2 words still send chills down my spine.

It's been 18 years since my dad went to be with Jesus. How has it possibly been that long? How can I still see his face so vibrantly in my dreams, hear his voice behind me in a church where he never sat, and feel him so close when it's been so long?

Some days I wake up and might actually make it through one day without thinking of him. When that happens, there is usually a surge of guilt once I realize it, but there is also a little bit of relief that I am able to live without him despite how desperately I wish I couldn't. Then some days I wake up and I instantly feel like I just got beat in the chest with a weighted club, and I wish more than anything I could just go back to sleep. How can that stay so real, so fresh, after 18 years? 

But when I close my eyes, I can also remember another time when my life stood still. I can hear my doctor at her office telling me, 'you're in labor, my dear, I'll meet you at the hospital!' I can still feel that poor, poor student nurse, who I ignorantly allowed, trying to give me an IV (I never knew all of those words could strong out of my mouth at once!) I can still smell the staleness of the hospital while I thought to myself, 'this smell is finally being redeemed'. I can still hear the nurse tell me, 'wait! You're at 10! Don't push I have to get the doctor!!!' And I can still see the most beautiful sight in the world, as Dr Russell lifted William up for me to see his face for the first time. 

I can't believe that was 6 years ago, and yet sometimes it feels like William has been a part of my life for longer than my dad hasn't. Time can play tricks on ya sometimes, and sometimes when we aren't even expecting it God can come in and turn your worst day into your best day. Half of my heart hates the concept of groundhog's day, while the other half is so thankful that I can relive my memories repeatedly.

Dad, I thank my God every time I think of you. I thank Him for showing our family what love looks like, for showing us what a dad can be. I thank Him for your leadership, your humor, and the hugs that felt bigger than this world.

And my bear, I thank my God without ceasing for the opportunity to be your mom. You amaze me with your heart, your love, and your unbelievable intelligence. I can't wait to see what God has planned to do with the gifts He has given you, and I am so very thankful you were born on February 2, 2010.

The day when time always seems to stand still.

Writing Prompts

I've missed blogging - a lot. It seems like when I first started I didn't even have to ponder what I'd write about. Prompts or topics just fell in my lap. But I seem to have hit a block - which may have a lot to do with all of the other stuff juggling around in my brain. So, in an effort to get back to my flow of writing, I'm going to somewhat follow a monthly writing challenge on a website I've been drooling over.

I'll throw a plug out there: it's foxy fix. I get nothing for telling you that, but I do love their beautiful products, even though I'm too cheap to buy one :) I found their January writing challenge toward the end of the month and they haven't posted February yet, so I'll just take January and make it a mere suggestion.

Prompt 1: Make a goal to achieve by the end of January February.

My goal is to post at least 12 times this month. (aim low, give yourself a self esteem boost)

Writing has always been a fun outlet for me. I want to find my way back to the time when I logged in daily to just write about whatever came to mind. My simple goal of writing 12 times this month seems a little silly, but I think that if I just make myself get started - even by following some sometimes-dumb prompts, maybe I'll eventually get my groove back. So - here we go. 12 posts in February, make it happen!

I'm At A Loss

It's not often that I think about and pray about a post while remaining without words. So, I'm just going to start writing. I have no idea where I'm going to end up, but I know if I wait too long to write I'll miss something.

So. Burkina Faso.

15 days ago I left for my first mission trip. I left my babies for the first time. I got the first stamp on my passport. And I thought I knew what I was signing up for. I was prepared for my heart to be broken and prepared for my reality to be shaken; I welcomed it. 

Yet, I had no idea what I was signing up for.

We arrived in Africa on Thursday and after a long journey we settled into our hotel late that evening. We didn't have any events that day other than to prepare ourselves for day 1 of our trip. We spent the first half of Friday at the regional office for compassion international, learning about the work being done in Burkina Faso and what more there is to do. It was a long lesson, but like the brown nosing student I always was, I enjoyed taking notes and learning the intricacies. I even had a taste of what the Lord had for me as I broke down when shown an image of a baby who was not much younger than Loretta yet looked like a newborn. He was starving, literally, and in desperate need of life saving care. Thankfully, compassion was able to provide that and we saw pictures of him a year later - looking happy, and healthy, much like my charles. It's hard to see that, have kids at the ages that I do, and not be broken up over it. The reality that I could have been that mom couldn't escape me. I could have been born under different circumstances. I could be desperately trying to simply keep my babies alive. I could have been born with less resources. But I wasn't, and I owe all the glory and gratitude to God for that. 

After our visit at the center we spent the afternoon at one of the projects in the country. We walked into their church building and I was taken back by the level of care in the upkeep and maintenance of their building. A building like that would be abandoned and abused here, and yet it was a treasured and loved shelter there. It was simple and beautiful, and walking into their project I could immediately feel and see a JOY like I've never known. Joy - unexplainable joy. There was a group of mothers of infants who did a song and dance routine for us, most of them wearing their babies on their backs. Again - it's hard to see that and not make comparisons. Here at home we are so caught up in what swing (and bouncer, and stroller, and play yard, and play mat...) our infants have. There? They have their moms' backs - and they're happy to be there. I literally never heard a single baby cry in the time we were there. 

We split into groups after their welcome ceremony to visit the homes of some of the young moms. My group went to the home of a woman who has a 3 month old son. Her husband travels around in search of clothes to mend, and she sells peanuts. At the end of our visit we asked if she needed prayer for anything. In my mind I expected a laundry list of prayer requests and needs. In my first-world brain I could see so many needs she must feel. Yet she had one prayer request. One. She prayed that she and her husband would be able to save up money to buy their house so they'd no longer be enslaved to rent. That's it. In our verbiage, she wanted financial freedom in the most simple and basic way. And her pride - she was SO proud to show us her home. She had taken immaculate care of her patio area, everything was cleaned up nicely and she was happy to share her home with us. I was prepared for meek living conditions; I was not prepared for joy in the lifestyle. It was humbling and eye opening.

Friday night after dinner we had small group discussions and we were in the middle of discussing the first question, 'why are you here?'. The timing of the question is so meaningful as we were literally answering the question as devastation was taking place a few miles down the road. We were outside near the pool and couldn't hear anything, but terrorists were attempting to leave their mark on Ouagadougou and stake claim of Burkina Faso. Instill fear. Cry out to their god. Fight against everything we were there to stand up for.

And just like that, the course of our trip changed. We thought we were there to go see the way in which these people live, love on them, and somehow serve them in their communities. But, in reality, God sent us there for much more dire reasons. God desired for His name to be praised louder than any other in that country at that time, because of the evil this world intended. 

We didn't all have instant realization of this mission, and some of us spent Saturday with a range of emotions. Some people on our group were sad, some scared, some confused, some defeated. I, for one, spent most of the day focused in anger. But, thankfully, we had an incredible church service that night where the presence of the Lord was undeniable. At that service we all refocused together on the right things, on the real work that needed to be done there.

We spent most of Sunday in prayer and meditation over what God has planned and what He was doing. And then, after a day full of that and some fellowship, I had the most incredible experience of the trip. Compassion had arranged for a surprise visit to our hotel by some of the teenagers in the program who are part of a music and dance group. They came to perform for us and their talents on the drums and dance floor were INSANE! So, so good. After their performance we all mingled some and I assumed the night was winding down, but then some of our team started drumming and their leader and team started teaching some of our group how to play. They ended up giving each guy his own rhythm and once it was all pieced together it sounded so cool! I was on the dance floor/stage area and one of their dancers came over to dance with me. What I'm going to try to explain here will sound dumb - maybe a little crazy - but I can't not share it, I only wish I had better words. As she was trying to show me the dance moves the craziest thing happened: everything around us faded, she somehow got me to dance in sync with her, and as we looked in each other's eyes it was like I could see her soul. I hesitate to even type that because it sounds SO crazy. SO odd. But it was so beautiful. It was like I was dancing with a friend I'd known my whole life, and when I danced with her I somehow managed to successfully (or somewhat so) dance. Like - I almost looked cool doing it. We danced for what felt like a second but also felt like hours at the same time, so I really have no idea how long it lasted, and I was unaware of anyone else around us. I apparently missed some killer dance moves by others in our group, but I think it was worth the trade off. I can't put to words the experience I had other than to say that we were truly in the presence of the spirit and to make a connection like that without words felt like a glimpse of what Heaven will be like.

Monday morning we had some kids from misc projects around the area come to our hotel and we were able to do some of the activities we had planned to take out to their communities. We painted nails, played sport-type games, did crafts, had a VBS style puppet show and sang and danced. The kids were a little shocked by the hotel and 35 American swarming them, but they seemed to make connections and attachments to individuals in the group and once we earned their trust they were excited to play with us. It was so fun to dote on the and give them a day full of fun experiences they, hopefully, never forget.

The most incredible part of the  interactions in each of the settings was that we were able to make real connections with very few words exchanged, if any. Some people from our church refer to this as a love exchange, but prior to experiencing it for myself I didn't know the depth of the phrase. I believe I do now, and yet I also think I'm maybe just starting to scratch the surface. Either way, there was a tremendous love exchange.

I know that back home, while we were gone, things seemed a little chaotic. I know there was a lot of worry and concern for our safety. It was almost embarrassing at times when I looked around at the incredible location God had for us - sure didn't feel like a missions trip, and never once did I feel unsafe or in danger. We had the cream of the crop, so to speak, while the media over here showed so many shots and videos of the devastation literally just down the road. I know it'd be easy to focus on all of that - but the real story is beyond that. 

Burkina Faso, like so many others, is a nation stricken with poverty like we can't even comprehend. But the people of Burkina Faso are hopeful for more, and the people in the compassion centers have such joy. After seeing it, I can't want anything else more. The Joy of the Lord is their strength, and I learned so much more from them than I could ever offer them in return. My heart broke over the fact that we THINK we have so much to give them, but the joy they have for us far surpasses anything we could bring to the table. It's a beautiful and humbling reality.

I love their country, I love their people, and I will keep praying that I can 

go back.

We ended up with a 24 hour layover in Brussels - which no one was quite dressed for - but we did do our best to take advantage and enjoy our last day together in style.