In His Arms

I will never forget our first date.

He nervously asked me to dance.  Neither of us had ever slow danced before and we stood there awkwardly looking at each other.  Our friend, John, yelled out across the room, "Hold her like Jesus would, Scottie!" and flashed his ornery smile.  I miss that smile. John is now among angels and that moment became one of my favorite memories of him.  I don't think he ever knew how much his words would mean to me all these years later.

As we danced, our friendship changed.  He held me in his arms for the first time and yet it felt so familiar.  In his innocent gentleness and quiet strength, I felt so safe and cherished.  It felt like...home.

4 years later in a white pine forest, he asked me to be his wife.  He slipped that ring on my finger, held my hands in his, and prayed over our new life together.  With tears in our eyes we thanked God for giving us this gift of each other. 

6 months passed and I became his bride.  We danced to that same song again on our wedding day.  Holding me in his arms...I was home.  In our 13 years of marriage he has never stopped holding me like Jesus would.  His unconditional love has carried me through the hardest moments.  He has loved me when I least deserved it.  He has loved me in spite of me.  He is my comfort through the tears, my strength through my doubts and fears.  My best friend when I have felt so alone.  My protector, defender, and my biggest supporter.

I have watched him hold each of our babies with the same gentleness and unconditional love.  It makes me fall in love with him all over again each time.  And now we are just weeks away from meeting our 8th child.  I know he will hold me through my labor pains and fears, speaking words of strength and peace. 

I am so humbled that God would bring this man into my life.  My first date, first love, first kiss...to be each other's one and only is truly a gift.  This little love story of two high school sweethearts has grown into a family of 10.  I can only imagine what God has planned for our family, for our children and the generations to come...and it all started when he asked me to dance.

A Tale of Three Marriages

This past week I held my new nephew for the first time.  I looked over at my little brother, all grown up now, a father to his firstborn son.  I saw him looking at his wife with new eyes.  Her 38 hour labor made him respect and cherish her so deeply.  There was so much love in that room.

I remember that moment.  As a young couple being joyfully married and thinking you could never love each other more than you do right now, and then this little child comes into your life and your heart grows a million times larger.  You see each other as so much more.  You love in a whole new way.


The week before, my husband called me on his way to the emergency room.  I could hear the fear in his voice, though he tried to reassure me that he was fine.  He hasn't been feeling well for a while, but his symptoms had escalated, and he needed to know what was going on.

It was so hard to see him like that.  He has always been the strong one.  The one I leaned on when I was scared, and now I had to be that for him.

These days are hard.  Our full house keeps us so busy.  We find ourselves missing each other even though we are right there.  Sometimes I look across the crowded dinner table, past the baby food splatters and spilled milk, past the siblings arguing and the baby crying and our eyes meet and I think, "Oh, there you are.".

We still need each other, not just to help unload the groceries and bathe the children, but to be strong when the other feels weak.  To hold the pieces together when one feels broken.  I have been praying for him harder than I ever have.  He hangs onto these prayers to get him through the day.  We are learning to love in a whole new way.


The week before this, it was my father who was in the hospital bed.  We were sitting in the Cath lab when we heard the results.  He had suffered a small heart attack, but could have  been moments away from a massive one.

My stubborn daddy, who waited three days to even see a doctor, May not have survived if he had waited any longer.

I saw my parents, who are rarely emotional, break down as they held each other, overwhelmed at the thought of losing each other.

This couple, married over three decades has lost a baby, lost a son, lost their parents, lost their home to a fire, lost a job...and yet through it all their faith has held strong.  Maybe they are appreciating each other more now.  They are still holding hands and learning to love in a whole new way.

Our Everyday Fairy Tale

We don't celebrate Valentine's day.  We used to and I don't really remember when we stopped.  Our anniversary was always much more special to us.  It was a day to reminisce and remember why we chose each other.  A day that was just for us, that we didn't have to share with all the other couples in America.  And so, Valentine's day just became less and less important.

I honestly never thought about it until this year.  This year I threw myself a big ol' pity party.

My friends were sharing all their plans with me.  All the extravagant dates and romantic getaways.  I cringed at the thought of all the facebook statuses with photos of their gifts and nights out.

I complained to my husband. It didn't seem fair.  Everyone else was getting swept away to the ball and I was left at home to scrub the floor.  My night would be just like every other night: big, messy and loud with our half-dozen running around....

He cut me off.  "Do you hear yourself?!", my eyes grew wide, "Do you really want to be like them, do you really want their life?  Because this is our life and I love our life together.  I don't want what everyone else has.  I want you."

He always speaks the truth to me.  He has a way of holding up a mirror to my heart and showing me all the ugliness that doesn't belong.  He knows me.  He knows who I really am and he knows when I need to be put in my place.

The truth is he spoils me.  He spoils me so much that I have taken it for granted.

 He gives me flowers...just because.  He brings home little surprises all the time.  He tells me I'm beautiful every day and kisses me like he means it.  He writes me love letters, though words don't come easy for him.  He holds my hand every time we sit together, no matter where we are. He prays for me and cherishes me.

I was jealous of how others were spending one day and forgetting the beauty of my life that is full of love.

Our love story is so precious to me.  It may not always be pretty and over the top romantic, but it's ours.  It's an everyday fairy tale.

The Promise

We celebrated our 10th anniversary at home, caring for a sick baby who cried until midnight.  It was hard for me to let go of that date night with my husband.  It is such a rare thing.  But we needed to be there for our little one. 

We stayed up late, taking turns in the rocking chair.  We talked in between his screams and breathing treatments.  It wasn't the romantic evening we had planned...but maybe this was what we needed more. 

I'll be honest.  I cried a lot.  It didn't seem fair.  The one day a year that is just for us...and our 10th, it was supposed to be special.  I had a huge pity party for myself, even this morning I still found myself in tears. 

Then my husband lovingly put me in my place.  He has a way of speaking the honest truth that cuts right through me.  I needed that.  I needed to remember what our marriage is all about.

Our anniversary was a celebration of our life.  Our whole life.  This big, loud, messy life is ours. 

10 years ago we promised to choose love in the good times and bad...through the sickness and health. 
 

In honor of our 10th anniversary...

...I tried on my wedding dress.

Digging through my hope chest brought back so many memories.  There under the baby books and photo albums, was the dress I wore on my wedding day.  It's simple and white, but it was perfect.  It made his eyes light up. 

I slipped it on, not sure what I was expecting.  It was 10 years and 6 babies ago since I had last worn it.  I zipped it up and smiled in the mirror.  It fit.  Granted it was much tighter than I remember...but still, it fit.  I did a little twirl, because I just couldn't help myself and walked out to show my husband.

His eyes still light up.

I spun around for him and we danced in the living room.  We added more beautiful memories to that dress.

Our daughter woke up and walked into the room.  Her eyes grew wide and her smile grew wider.  "Mommy, you look like a princess!"

 I felt like a princess.  We all deserve that once in a while.

10 Years Ago...

This past week I celebrated my 29th birthday.  There is something about birthdays that always makes me feel nostalgic.  As my 20's are coming to an end I've been thinking about the last decade and how much my life has changed...how much I have changed.

10 years ago I was just 19.  I was a waitress at a little coffee shop, and I didn't even drink coffee.  I thought I was an adult, but now I know that I really had no idea what that meant.

I had so much freedom.  I would play my guitar every day.  I had time to paint and journal and be creative.  I could come and go as I pleased.

But, I also remember that time feeling very lost.  I was in a place of waiting.  I had all these dreams of "someday...", but I don't think I knew what I had right in front of me. 

Then one day my high school sweetheart took me to our special place.  There in that beautiful, white pine forest he asked me to be his wife.  Of course I said yes, and from that moment my life changed.  It was no longer about me, but about us.

The next 6 months were a whirlwind of wedding plans and excitement.  We had always planned on getting married young, and I have never regretted that decision, but I wonder if I really understood what I had at 19.

I don't miss those days.  I know I am where I meant to be now, and I can't imagine my life any other way.  But if I could go back and speak to the me at 19, there is so much I could say.

I wasn't prepared to be a wife.  I thought I was, I was in love, how hard could it be?

But I guess it's all part of the journey.  I wouldn't have listened then, I needed to learn things for myself.

I am so thankful that God took hold of my heart and changed me from the inside.  I'm sure in 10 years I will look back on this 29 year old and have so much more to say.

A Change of Heart

I was a young mom with 3 kids age 3 and under.  I was tired and overwhelmed.

  I loved my kids...but I was not a joyful mother.

At the time, my husband was working the night shift.  He would come home in the morning and sleep all day.  I would have to have dinner ready by 3pm so we could eat together as a family...and then he would leave for work again.  I was alone and exhausted.

I found myself becoming resentful towards him.  I was up all night with a baby and up all day trying to keep 2 little ones quiet.  It was too hard to leave the house with all of them in tow, and I had to give up everything I loved to do. It just didn't seem fair and life was becoming one big blur of diapers and laundry and needy children.

Then one night I was laying in bed, nursing the baby back to sleep.  The other two had both woken up and climbed into bed with me.  I had elbows poking me in the ribs and little feet kicking me from both sides.  I just let out an exhausted sigh.  I started complaining to God, "I've given up everything!  Now I have to give up my bed too?!"  Then God spoke to my heart words that were so gentle, but cut right through:

"Yes, you have given up a lot...but look at what I've replaced it with."

I looked at the little boy on my left and the little girl on my right and the sweet baby in my arms...and I was just overwhelmed with God's blessings.  My eyes filled with tears and I praised Him and thanked Him -

 truly thanked Him for these beautiful gifts.

I repented for all the wrong attitudes I had had about being a mother.  These children were not a burden!  They were a blessing! 

I was a believer.  I had God's hope and spirit in my life, but I wasn't living like it.  I had bought into the lie that I was just a stay at home mom.  That I was of less worth because I didn't have a career.  That I had given up on my dreams to be nothing more than an unpaid babysitter.

But, they were just that...lies.

God spoke to my heart.  He whispered in His words of Truth.  Children are a blessing from God.  He chose to give them to me.  What a holy responsibility!  I was humbled at the thought of it.

He also showed me how wrong I had been in my resentment toward my husband.  God had given him to me (and me to him) but somehow along the way I had forgotten that.  I now had new respect for him.  He worked so hard to provide for me, to provide for our children, to give me the gift of staying home with them.  But, that was his choice.  There are so many men who don't care, who walk away.

I had a man who would sacrifice everything for his family.  He loves God and he adores me.  He adores me in spite of me.  He listened to me complain every day and he never said a word.  He chose me.  He chose me to be his wife.  He chose me to be the mother of his children.  What had I done to be worthy of that?  I complained about his dirty socks being on the floor.

When he came home the next morning I just cried and cried and asked him to forgive me for not being the wife he deserved. 

God began a work in my heart that day...but He is far from being finished.

I struggle every day.  I lose my patience, I still complain...but I'm trying.  I see my family differently now.  These children are only mine for a little while.  God brought them into our lives and this is where their story begins.  I don't know what He has for them, but I am honored to be their mother. 

 I am humbled that God chose me and I am determined to make every moment count.

Treasure Hunting...

Last week my husband and I went on a date.  A real date.  Not a "we are getting our taxes done and only have half the kids with us so let's call it a date" kind of date, but a few hours of time just for us.

We went out for lunch and walked through some antique shops.  I can't remember the last time we did that.

I love looking at antiques and browsing through old things.  I wonder what stories the items would tell.  Things that have been passed on or left behind.  Things from a simpler time that seems like another world now.

I gave a few things a new home.

For years I have been looking for a cream and sugar set.  It couldn't be too fancy or too generic.  Nothing seemed just right.  When I would have someone over for coffee, I would bring out my cute little sugar jar and then plop the big ol' gallon of milk on the table.

I found this little cream pitcher and I thought it was perfect.  It's a little earthy and different but I think it fits my home...and it's perfect for watering my little windowsill plants.

Then I picked up these cast iron birds...and put them down.  And picked them up...and put them down again.   I actually walked away and then went back to get them.  I think they are so simple and sweet, but I couldn't decide if I wanted them.  They don't serve a purpose and I couldn't think of where I would put them.  I've been on this anti-clutter mission and I did not want to bring more in my home that I wouldn't use. 

But...they make me smile.

And they will forever remind me of our perfect date.

Love and Pie Crust



{photo credit}



My husband called me as he was leaving work:

"So, what's for dinner?"
"I made a chicken pot pie."
"Really?!"
I could hear the overly enthusiastic excitement in his voice.
"Wife, you rock!"

I hate making pie crusts.  I love cooking, I love baking, and I love a challenge in the kitchen, but pie crust...is not fun.  I like shaping it once it's in the pie pan, I enjoy making it pretty, it's just the mixing and the rolling and the mess of flour and sticky dough that I always end up with.

I have tried to compromise with my husband.  "Can I just make biscuits instead?"
I guess it's just not the same.

Yes, I know I could just buy pre-made pie crusts, but I am too cheap and prideful to just give in when it's something I should be able to make myself.

As I was planning dinner, I could have just made something simple.  I do have 5 kids in the house after all, and preparing dinner is never peaceful.

I made pie crust...because this is love.

I knew after a stressful day at work, he would want to come home to the smell of his favorite comfort food in the oven.  He knows how much I despise making pie crusts and it meant that much more to him.

I chose him over my own convenience.  I chose him over my feelings.  I chose him...and this is love.

This was no big sacrifice on my part, but isn't it the little things that make love so sweet?

The Crazy Hour

I think every mother of little ones knows what I am talking about.  That time late in the afternoon when the kids just go nuts.  School is over for the day, the littlest ones wake up from their naps with a new burst of energy.  Everyone is cranky...and then the whining starts.

"When's dinner?"  "I'm starving!"  "When's Daddy getting home?"  "I'm bored!"

The baby is fussy, the kids are fighting and I am just trying to get dinner on the table.
So how do we calm the crazy hour?

I put them to work.  Nobody stays bored in this house! :)

I try to turn the crazy hour into a time of preparing for Daddy to come home.  After working all day he wants to come home to a haven, not a landmine field of toys.  So, we do a quick pick up.

If I were to yell at the kids, "Clean up this mess!".  They would take one look, feel overwhelmed and protest.  But If I enthusiastically say, "Ok, let's do a quick clean up, everyone pick up 10 things."  They jump right to it, usually turning it into a race.

Then we start on dinner...I try to plan out dinner at least that morning so I am not scrambling at the last minute to make something.  I love having the kids help me cook, but we have a lot of little hands that are eager to help and sometimes it is overwhelming.  I try to use this time as my special time with one of the kids.  They take turns who will get to help Mommy in the kitchen, and the rest will help set the table.

They clean off the day's schoolwork, wipe it clean, fold the napkins and set out the silverware.  They love to pick out a candle for the centerpiece.  They are so excited to show Daddy when he gets home and my assistant chef is just bursting with pride over our delicious meal.

Why is it important to prepare our homes for our husbands?  Because he deserves it. 

"But he doesn't know what I've been through all day!"   No, he doesn't, but neither do you.  He has had a boss to answer to all day.  He has had a long day away from his family just to provide for us.  He hasn't had a sweet baby to cuddle or little ones giving hugs. He has missed many first smiles and first steps.

Yes, I know how hard it can be to be home all day with a full house and no break.  I am sitting here now with 3 hours of sleep and no shower...but I would never want to trade this life for what my husband goes through all day. 

Every man wants to feel like the king of his castle.  And when he comes home feeling like a king, he will be more willing to treat you like a queen.

Contentment

(Photo Credit)

This morning my husband called me "Madame Blueberry".  I was so mad! 

If you aren't familiar with the VeggieTale, Madame Blueberry is a very sad berry because nothing that she has is good enough.  She then goes to Stuffmart, where she buys everything thinking it will make her happy.  She of course learns along the way that things don't make you truly happy.

As he left for work I was still fuming.  I looked over at our 8 year old toaster, that only toasts half the bread and makes a loud squealing sound to tell you your half-toasted bread is ready.  "I'm the most un-materialistic person I know!".

This all started because I mentioned that I really want to paint the house.  We were in a hurry to move in and had agreed to wait to paint until we had more time and our budget allowed.  We've lived here 2 months and already my hallway is lined with little fingerprints.  There are crayon marks on my dining room wall, and no matter how much I scrub, I can't get the stains off of this ugly, flat white paint.

I don't think I am being discontent.  The walls are dirty and it's embarrassing. 

Hmmm...embarrassing why?  Because someone might come over and think I'm a bad homemaker?  Because my stuff defines me?  Ouch.

"But I never buy anything for me!"; I reasoned with my conscience.

The truth is I would feel guilty spending money on a new toaster when my kids need new shoes.  Or on paint for the house when our daughter needs a new bed and is sleeping on a mattress on the floor.

Contentment is not being a martyr.  Contentment is not being cheap.  Contentment is having a thankful heart.

Is painting your house or buying small kitchen appliances a sin?  Of course not.  But having a coveting and discontent spirit is.  (Exodus 20:17)

My husband said he was only joking, but I think there was a lot of truth to what he said.  He sees my heart more than anyone.  His comment forced me to do a lot of soul searching and I didn't like what I saw.

I am overwhelmed with God's blessings every time we drive past our first home.  That sweet, little cottage that could literally fit in the kitchen I have now.  And in that tiny cottage with it's one foot of counter space sat this same ugly toaster.

Thank you Jesus for these walls that keep us warm
And for all these messy little children who make it feel like home.
Thank you Jesus for the bread we have to eat
And for this ugly toaster that sometimes toasts but always squeaks.

"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty.  I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.  I can do everything through Him who gives me strength."  Philippians 4:12-13