There's always a back story

In early 2012, after we had known we were moving to Monterey, I googled "church in Monterey, CA" so that we could find somewhere right away after moving. The first thing that came up in my search was Monterey Church. I looked on the website for a little while, and I was drawn to the church because, though it was a non-denominational church, the core values were based on the Nicene Creed being broken down by scripture. Austin and I grew up reciting the Nicene Creed each week at church, so I felt like this was a bridge between our Episcopal upbringing and the newer style of service.

The first Sunday we were in town happened to be right after the church building had suffered a fire, so it took us a little bit of time before we figured out where church was held and how to get there. Sometime in the summer of 2012 we visited church for the first time. We were eager to find a church home, though I laugh as I admit our eagerness was for William - not for ourselves. We didn't think WE necessarily needed to be in church each week. I mean, we were good with Jesus right? We just needed to raise William in a church. So that was our driving force. We went to church that Sunday and we were almost offended by the service. We thought we had walked into a TV infomercial for Compassion International. The pastor's wife sat on stage and gave her account of her experience on a mission trip in Ecuador with Compassion. I'm not saying we didn't believe in being the hands and feet of Jesus, but we certainly didn't think we were going to church for that. We were going to church to be preached to about our own lives(read: to be served); we weren't there to hear how we needed to give all of our money to third world countries(read: to serve). To say we were turned off is an understatement. So much so that we didn't go back for a few weeks.

We finally went back, at William's request, and would you believe that we found ourselves sitting in a service where the pastor was once again pushing Compassion International and the church's new partnership with Compassion for a mission trip to Bolivia? They wanted people to sponsor children and sign up to literally go and be the hands and feet of Jesus. Two visits, two strikeouts.

or so we thought.

We eventually gave the church "another chance" (because that's absolutely how we viewed it - US giving THEM a "chance") and we slowly (veeerrrrry slowly) got involved in what would become our church home. We first decided to join the kids church ministry, then later joined a small discussion group (d group) and eventually the corner of Alvarado St in downtown Monterey began to feel more like home than 2183 11th Cavalry Ave ever did. I haven't blogged much about the incredible changes we saw in our lives during those 3 years. I should, and maybe one day I will, but part of the reason is because it was so mind boggling. I won't sit here and say I thought we had it perfect, but I sure didn't know the work that needed to be done - and I didn't know what God was capable of doing through us. We thought we were being good parents by taking William to church - in reality, God was using William to get us to church. I had no idea the things God would tear down in order to restore them more beautifully than we could have asked, and I learned so well that when you approach God with expectancy for Him to deliver, He never disappoints.

In 2014, after having been so "offended" by the conviction to join with Compassion International, Austin and I each separately decided to sponsor a child. Austin sponsors a girl William's age from Bolivia, and I sponsor a boy who is also the same age from Africa. Shortly after Austin chose to sponsor Jhanayna, he also felt called to go on the next trip to Bolivia. I did write about that - and about how "bad" the timing was. We would have an almost 3 month old baby, it would overlap with Relay For Life, I would have been unemployed for the 3 months prior so money wasn't falling from the sky - we had a lot of reasons to say "not now". But, when God says go - who are we to say no? And God had very specific reasons for the timing of when He called Austin to go.

Neither of us knew what to expect out of that trip, but what we didn't expect was for there to be any work or change in our lives back home. We thought God would use him to serve people there and that was the purpose of the trip. That absolutely happened, but so much more happened. While on that trip, Austin said he felt the presence and movement of the Holy Spirit in ways he didn't even know possible. He felt like God was calling our family to be involved in Compassion mission trips for years to come. Trips aren't cheap or easy to come by, but He felt like God was clearly speaking to him and that He'd make a way.

That back story is all preparation to announce that in January I will be going on a mission trip to Burkina Faso, Africa! 

Before you start swinging a bunch of doubt around in your mind - let me go ahead and tell you all of the reasons I should "not" go on the trip. We don't make as much money as we used to, so our expendable income is minimal. By most accounts, we just can't afford it. January is a prime busy time for my work. I have a 6 month old baby, plus oh yeah 2 other kids. Africa isn't the safest place in the world. Wait wasn't ebola near there? I'm sure you can think of more.

But you know what? I can think of one reason why I should go - and that reason trumps the rest. God has given us so much - SO much. He didn't give us that because we deserve it. He didn't give it to us because He loves us more. He didn't give it to us because we worked harder for it. He has given us all that we have so that we may use what we've been given to show His love to others. I may be able to sponsor a sweet boy and provide for some of his needs, but I have no doubt that when I fly to Africa I am going to learn so much more from them than I could possibly teach to them. To be honest, I am well aware that I have no idea what I'll learn.

I am excited to go on this trip. I am excited to meet Salvador, who I have written back and forth with for almost two years. I am excited to see what Jesus meant when he said, "Truly I tell you, whatever you do for the least of these you have done for me". I am excited. Am I scared? Sure. I'm scared about relinquishing control over my kids' daily lives. I'm scared about relinquishing control over my own daily life. (newsflash: I have control issues, and I have way less control than I think I do) I'm scared to get vaccinated (as dumb as that sounds!) I'm scared of a lot of things. I'm even scared of the blessings that could come of it. I'm excited and scared, and I'm hoping that you'll join us in prayer and support as I go on this journey.

I'm not asking you for financial donations. One day we may need help in this calling, if that's the direction it goes, but right now I am not asking you to donate to my trip with money. I do have friends going who are in need of financial support, and if you want to support this trip please let me know and I can put you in touch with people who are still knee deep in fundraising efforts. I know the other people on the trip were called to the trip just as I was, and God has plans for how to fund each of our trips differently. If you're a part of that plan, fantastic. But mostly, I'm just asking you to pray with us and join with us in our excitement over this journey!

My Floors Are Like Facebook

It became apparent to me this weekend that my floors, in their present state, are a lot like facebook. Or, I should say, like our lives on facebook. Apparently, when presented under the right light, they look fantastic. I posted a few pictures last week of the kids in the living room, despite the mess beneath them. The response I got on facebook, in texts and in person was shocking. 

The first time someone complimented them I thought they were just being polite. I had just posted about my misery with the disaster, so surely they were just trying to cheer me up or make me feel a little bit better about the rubble. But then this compliment became more of a trend, and I got numerous texts and comments from people - in all seriousness - telling me how cool the floors looked. I got words like chic, industrial, modern, enviable...yes, enviable. Obviously the pictures aren't really portraying the truth of our current state of living.

I know we aren't in a third world country living in poverty, so our "current state of living" isn't all that bad. I know. But when I walk in our house I don't think any of those words. I think of words like disgusting, ugly, messy, dirty...and on and on. When presented in the right light, leaving out the deep craters in the concrete, the spots of missed layers of the flooring, and the overall mess of the room, I guess the floors look pretty good.

Kind of like that selfie that took 10 tries and 5 touch ups in an editing app. Or any number of deceitful edits and cuts we make before we post stuff. I wasn't in any way trying to make my floors look good, I just found it interesting and was reflective on just how deceiving Facebook can be.

Glad that rant is over. And also glad we are one step closer to our house FINALLY being put back together! That's right, we got Sheetrock today. Whoop!

Those floors though! Aren't they enviable? (Just don't walk barefoot. Ick!!!)

It's About the Journey

I've been wanting to keep the blog updated with the move in process, but I kept thinking it'd be best to do it after the fact. It'd be good to look back and see the full picture. But, we had a little setback yesterday and I realized the cliche phrase is probably true: it's not about the end, it's about the journey.

The move in journey hasn't been easy. Finding time to actually unpack and move in while chasing a toddler away from electrical outlets and washing just-one-more-bottle hasn't always worked out. Our house often reminds me of a game of whack a mole. I think 'wow! Look how complete our bedroom looks!' Then I walk into Loretta's room to find a disaster, and things that belong in our bedroom. Next thing I know, our bedroom is a disaster while Loretta's room almost looks cute. That occurs throughout the house, every day. How we manage to have less space in a bigger house (after donating literally 15 huge moving boxes full of stuff) still blows my mind. But, despite all of that, we are making it and this craziness almost feels like our new normal.

We had the babies in a day care center for the time of day when I work. However, for a lot of reasons we decided that wasn't working out. So we have hired someone to watch them in house while I work. This topic deserves a post in itself because there are so many layers to this which I won't dive into today. it's all an adjustment, but I do think it's a better balance and definitely better for the babies. We're in week 2 of this new arrangement and it's going well. A new normal is upon us, yes?

Well, Yesterday after the babies and I picked William up from school we needed to run a quick errand. I hadn't been to target in almost 2 weeks, so naturally I found a need. We were gone for a total of 1.5 hours and in that span of time the hose to our washer busted and water began spraying in our laundry room. By the time I got home with the kids water was running down the driveway. I left screaming kids in the car while I frantically tried to figure out how to shut it off and get austin home. I took the kids out for a few more hours while austin cleared the 1.5 inches of standing water in our downstairs, and I got a damage restoration company out to assess. Where I saw some water as a mere headache for the next 24-48 hours, he saw water damage in the walls, laminate floors needing to be ripped up and replaced, kitchen cabinet issues, and overall probably 3-4 weeks of unrest until we are 'settled again'. I laughed when he chose those words. Laughed out loud. Settled again? When were we settled before? 

May 13. That's when. On May 13 I had the next 6 months 'perfectly' mapped out to a T.

But, here we are. Our downstairs is filled with dehumidifiers, wet boxes, bubbled up flooring, torn up baseboards and loads of fully wet clothes which were so conveniently located in the laundry room ready to wash. It's about the journey?

It's about the journey.

Work. In. Progress.

Everyone is different when it comes to decorating a home. Me? I like to find a place for everything and then leave it. Done. I'm not one who likes to re-paint just for fun, I don't like to move stuff around to suit my mood, I don't like to switch furniture between rooms...I just like to find a way it works and leave it alone. I'm sure if I lived somewhere long enough to need some updating of furnishings I'd do that, but so far that hasn't happened. I don't have a pinterest-worthy decorating style, I don't have a lot of flair - it's pretty simple over here. I love when I walk into homes that feel cozy and personal, or that are eclectic and different. I love seeing people's personalities shine through their decorating, but most of the time I hope my personality doesn't shine through mine because if it does, that means my personality must be a little boring. Ho hum. That's me.

But. 

Moving across the country with 3 kids doesn't offer a lot of opportunity for "unpack, put away, wipe your hands and done". No, it offers a whole lot of opportunities for me to give myself some grace on the fact that there are a pile of pictures in the corner of my office that have yet to find a home, a box in Loretta's room of "hmm, i think this stuff goes in one of the kids' rooms but I haven't looked in it in a month" and a lot of piles. Piles here, piles there. Piles of papers to file, papers to shred, things to do, things to throw away, things to donate, things to put away. Piles everywhere. "opportunities for me to give some grace" can be read as "opportunities for me to try to avoid ripping my eye balls out". 

I hate it. I don't like decorating as you go, I don't like not being done, I don't like not feeling settled. Props to the mamas who do this while husbands are deployed or TDY or otherwise unavailable with more kids than me. Props to the people who move to a new house and a week later have a house-warming party with everything all settled. Props to anyone who does it better than me, cause i feel like we've worked our butts off nonstop since ... well ... tax season I guess, and yet there's just sooooooo much left to be done. I look forward to the day I can walk through and do a photo tour of the house for the blog, but that day may just be a mirage in the desert. 

This house already feels much more like home than our house in California ever did, really. It is probably a combination of the psychological difference between renting and owning, the fact that we painted the house and made small updates to make it our "own", and the fact that we hand selected it rather than just taking a street number off of a list given over the phone by the housing office. I'm not sure what the driving factor is, but I do enjoy how much it feels like home to us. It very clearly feels like home to the boys too, and of course it's all Loretta has ever known. 

We had a great and very productive painting weekend in July before our household goods arrived - which turned out to be a brilliant idea. My mom, step dad, sister in law, niece and nephew came over and some people painted while others herded kids around for the weekend. I wished I got to paint more, but I mostly took care of kids (and took many trips to Target!) which was a contribution to the weekend in itself. 3 kids 2 and under doesn't make for a great formula for painting, but when they littles were out of the house things really moved along. We got our living room/kitchen area, boys' room, and our bedroom painted. Loretta's room was started and then finished a few weeks later, and Austin painted our closet before hanging a closet shelving system. The only areas of the house left unpainted are the hallways, bathrooms, playroom/guest room and my office - and those may remain unpainted for the long term. We have gotten a lot of things hung up on walls, but now we seem to be at about 85% completion in every room...and finishing just seems so unattainable. The playroom/guest room is done I suppose - but that's just because there wasn't much to do besides throw in some toys and a bed :) The kitchen is done, and was first priority for obvious reasons. Our bedroom has quite possibly my favorite wall I've ever decorated...but we still aren't "done" in there so I can't take my proud "finished" pictures. The boys' room is waiting on Austin to build beds, Loretta's room is waiting on us to re-finish the dresser and add the small touches, my office is waiting on...more space I think...and I just get exasperated feeling like we'll never be done. (can you hear my exasperation? i think it's coming through as I type)

You see, we both work during the day and when I'm done working I'm chasing the boys' and loving on the baby. Then we eat, do bath and bed, then when that's done we usually have 2-3 hours which we spend cleaning, working after hours (this is the real hold up here - i blame work) , and then when all of that is done we can "unpack, organize, decorate". Except not in the rooms where babies are sleeping, and not in areas that would be too noisy...

Are you seeing the problem? I'm seeing the problem. The problem is I expect to be able to have a "completed" house while also having 3 little kids. 

So, I'm trying to have a little change in perspective. I'm trying to remember that Loretta doesn't know if she has a dresser in her room or a pile of "move to the garage" items where a dresser belongs. She does know when she's being loved on. Charles doesn't know that we have his baby pictures sitting in a pile on the floor. He does know when we're watching him tornado-up the house (as we affectionately call his playing). William does know that he doesn't have a bed, but he doesn't care because he knows after our shed is done that's first on Austin's weekend to-do list and he loves that his dada wants to build him a bed. And most importantly, I know 20 years from now I won't remember what my office looked like, or if I do I won't care. I will remember the joy I got from my kids. 

So, if you happen to venture out to Killeen to see us and you walk in to find a very incomplete house, just know it's because we're busy with things far more important than pictures. I know that, even if I cringe and point out all of the things I wish we had done. It's just a work in progress, and maybe it always will be.

While feeding Loretta

Don't read if you don't like talking about breastfeeding. There. There's my disclaimer.

Ok, here's the deal: I don't like breastfeeding. Actually, I lean towards dislike. At first I felt guilty for thinking that, so I never said it out loud. But then I realized I don't really have to like it. I am not a bad mom for it being one of my less loved roles, nor does it make one a good mom just because she loves it. I wanted to love it, I just don't. 

With William, I attempted to nurse him but we had a few forces against us and after 3 weeks of emotional and mental trauma over milk that never came, his wise pediatrician gave.me the most comforting advice and I gave it up. I always wished I had been able to, but giving it up was the best choice I could have made at that point. I was focusing so much on his caloric intake, and my inability to provide it, that I was missing out on bonding with my new baby.

With Charles, it worked! I was so over the moon with excitement that it took me a couple of months to realize I actually didn't like it. Sure, I liked providing everything he needed. I liked not paying $30/week for his food. I liked not washing 6 bottles every day. But I didn't like the act of feeding him. I planned to stop around 6 months, but before I had the opportunity to make that conscious decision it was made for me: I got pregnant and my body quit making milk. Can't explain it. Doesn't always happen that way, but it did for me. Again, I spent 3 weeks constantly trying everything I could to get it back - but it was gone. Then, at the advice of a loving friend, I gave up. And again, at that moment, there was no wiser choice. It felt like such a loss of control and failure to not make a conscious decision on when to stop, but like all decisions in life - it wasn't really mine to make.

Then there was Loretta. Just like with Charles, it worked! And while I was happy it worked for all of the reasons I already knew, I also already knew I wasn't a big fan. I don't like nursing in front of anyone. If I had it my way I wouldn't even do it in front of anyone. I'm not attempting to not-offend others, and I'm not so self loving that I think anyone actually cares, but I do. I just don't like it. I don't like having to think about where we are going at what times and mapping out a nursing path. I don't like covering up, and I don't like being uncovered. And pumping. Enough said there, right? Point is - There are a lot of things I just don't like about it.

So yesterday, while I was nursing Loretta, I caught myself in a perplexing mind trap: I wanted her to grow up a bit so we were past the breast milk/formula stage, and yet I wanted her tiny fingers to never grow at all. I wanted her precious little nose to stay just how it is. I didn't want her to stop fitting on one arm. I didn't want her to grow up to walk and run and go to kindergarten. I just wanted her to freeze and be my newborn baby forever.

So even though at times I'm tired of nursing her, or wish I wasn't, or counting down the days until I won't - I need to remind myself that one day I'll wish I was. I'll wish I was the only one who got her 3am giggles. I'll wish I was the only one who could (almost) always soothe her. It's a trap, this parenthood thing. I'm sure I'm not alone in this. I enjoy every stage and watching them grow, but I don't want them to ever grow at all. It is possible this is the last of our Wallis babies, so I cherish each moment just a little bit longer. 

I don't like breastfeeding. But I'm still very thankful that I can, and do. I have guilted myself too much over the fact that I didn't LOVE pregnancy (what, with the emotions, cramps, lack of good sleep, and endless heartburn) and I don't LOVE breastfeeding. Look at that mom over there, she does. Aren't we supposed to? But then I realized - I love my babies. That's what I'm 'supposed' to do.

It's a BIG Day!

Today is a BIG day. A big day for so many reasons!

My junior year of high school on August 24 I remember rushing out of band practice as fast as I could. I didn't chat with everyone for the extra five minutes because I needed to go home. I had a phone call to make.

There was this boy just down the road who was turning 18, and I needed to call and tell him happy birthday. It didn't matter that we hadn't talked in over a year, or that he probably had a girlfriend, or that he may not even remember my name. I needed to wish him a happy birthday. Because that's what I did. I always thought of him on August 24, or when our football teams played against each other, or when I drove past his neighborhood. And because in those days we had to dial phone numbers by hand, I still know the number i called. I had to call and tell Austin happy birthday.

Today my wonderful husband turns 33. Gasp! So old :) Today we celebrate the fourth birthday in a row together, which I'm so thankful for! Today we get to celebrate the leader of our family and our house, and my favorite person in this whole world.

But, that's not the only reason it's a big day. Today the second biggest boy in our house starts KINDERGARTEN. I'm actually writing this post in advance because I'm not sure I'll be able to write about starting kindergarten on the ACTUAL day he starts kindergarten, but by the time you read this he will, in fact, already have started. He'll be in the works. He'll be an elementary schooler. How did that happen? Wasn't it just a few short months ago when we brought him home from the hospital? When he took his first steps? I know - i know it sounds cliche, but really - that's how it feels! I can close my eyes and see him standing in his bathtub fully clothed, washing his "buddies". Or sometimes when I am holding Charles as he sleeps on my shoulder, if I close my eyes I trick myself and think that's baby William drooling on my neck. How is he in kindergarten?

He's been in preschool and day care since he was 3 months old, so naively I used to think him going to kindergarten wouldn't be that big of a deal for me. But then I walked in the GiGANTIC school for meet the teacher night, where I will just drop him off and let him enter in like leading him into a pack of wolves. I saw the cafeteria the size of Texas. I saw the 5th graders walking around like they owned the place. My baby isn't ready for that! My baby still needs the miniature potties with 2 toilets and no door because supervision is required. My baby still needs to be playing on the playground all day. My baby isn't big enough!

And boy do I worry. What if he doesn't make friends? What if he gets bored because he's too smart? What if he gets in trouble because he's bored? What if he gets made fun of for being so smart? Or - gasp - What if he makes fun of other kids? What if he isn't polite to his teacher? What if he bullies kids on the playground? What if he gets bullied? What then? The teacher told me that for math they'll start with identifying the numbers 1-5. William did that when he was 2. She said, "sometimes kids already know that, so I'll push them to go to 10 or maybe even 20". William did that when he was 3. William does addition and subtraction. He's too smart. I don't say this as if I'm bragging because my kid is better than others - he's not better. He may be smarter, but that doesn't mean better and it certainly doesn't mean easier. But what if he gets lost in all of this? While his friends are learning number 10 what if he stares blankly at the wall and is stunted? These are the things that keep me up at night.

But, despite that, today is a big day for our big boy. I know he will be ok. If my above worries come to fruition we will navigate them as needed. If he's too smart and needs extra work, we'll do that. If he needs to be placed in another class, or homeschooled, or if he's just fine right where he is - we will navigate it as it comes. After meet-the-teacher night he told me he started to get a little bit scared, and I reminded him what the Bible says in Joshua: the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. I was speaking to myself more than him I think, but it's true. God already has it mapped out for us. He knows what challenges we will face, what successes we will see, and He knows what we need. So I just need to take a sip of coffee and breathe. He's got it.

As if the birthday of my love and the first day of kindergarten for the boy who made me a mom aren't enough to make a day big, it's also a big day because it is finally...FINALLY...the start of our new "normal". Over the last 3 months we have had an emergency c section, extended stay in the hospital, packed up our home and said goodbye to some of the most influential people in our lives, lived in my mom's house for a month, bought a new house, lived amongst boxes and have slowly started to make this new place our home. Our new normal is different, but I am so happy to finally have something that resembles a normal life. A routine. A schedule. Today is the first day I will work from home for my expected length of time, attempt to reach my goals of working out, blogging, taking care of the house, and picking kids up earlier so we don't have such a rushed life like we have in the past. Today is the day we get to start this new schedule which came by such a blessing from God. God calls some moms to work, some to stay home to work with the kids, and He has called me to do a little of both right now. Today is the day that really gets to start.

Whew. A birthday, kindergarten, and a bold call from God. I think I need a nap!

He meets us in our grief

 The first Sunday we were in Texas was Father's Day and sadly we did not go to church. The next week, though, my brother invited us all to try his church so we got up early and drove 45 minutes across town to his church. They love it, so I was excited to visit while were in town.

However, when we got inside and the first song started I was suddenly overcome with grief for what we had left behind. I hadn't really grieved the loss of our church since I had been in town, though I missed it every day, but I was suddenly filled with thoughts like, 'I don't want to do this. I don't want a new church. I want OUR church'. Then something amazing happened; God happened.

After the song the worship leader stopped and said he had been reading his Bible that morning and was in Psalm 27. He was lead to share Psalm 27:1 "The Lord is my light and my salvation, so why should I be afraid?". He encouraged everyone to think of what it is we are afraid of and then pray and give it all to God. 

At the moment when I was overcome with a fear of starting fresh and starting over, He met me and reminded me that regardless of where I worship, He is there.

We went back to their church last week and it was much better for me. William, being me in Austin's body as I often say, had told us the day before that he didn't want to go to a new church because it didn't feel like GoKids. But he was also more comfortable in week 2 and was excited to tell me what he learned. I told him we could make that our Houston church if he wanted, and reminded him that we will be finding our Killeen church home very soon. we have shared some verses about fear and strength with him, and it is no coincidence that the 'remember verse' the last 2 weeks for his class has been Joshua 1:9

"This is my command: be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go"

He is perfect, and He has met us where we are.