Why I tried the Whole 30, with 4 four kids, a full time job, and a ten hour road trip....

Because, sometimes you just need a hard reset. Sometimes you just need to stop the madness, get off the crazy train and take a moment to figure out where you've been and where you are going.  Sometimes you need a pause.  The Whole 30 for me, gives my family a chance to do this nutritionally.  To strip our diets of so many of the "offending" type foods, starve our sugar addictions, and reprogram our brain and our relationship with food.

Members of our family have been dealing with the following health issues:
Fatigue
Lethargy
Difficulty focusing
Anxiety
Restlessness
Sinus/Allergy issues
Digestive Issues
Inflammation
Night Waking

We're going to take an inventory.  I'm going to chronicle our results... Pay attention to each family member, their particular issue(s) and how they respond to clean eating.  Then I'll pay attention to how we all respond to re-introducing foods strategically into our diet.

I've been researching the Whole 30 since August.  I wanted to do it then, but realized that in that particular season I didn't have the time/focus available to actually pull it off. So, we waited until we did.  We are driving to TN for a wedding this month.  We're super duper stoked about it. And, I'm a little terrified of keeping this up. But, in 5 months there hasn't been a convenient time. So, here goes.

Couple of things that seem notable:

We are all on board. Brian and I are united in our effort to hard reset.  Our kids get it to the degree that they are able.  We are currently binging on potato chips, pop tarts and wine (only some of us) in preparation.  We've each voted on our last meals, and our menu is a compilation of all of our favorite guilty pleasures.

I'm not taking milk away from my toddler.  My 15 month old will still enjoy her bottles.  (Take off your judgy face, she's the 4th, the last, and she still nurses a couple of times a day. Once she's done nursing I'll put her milk in a cup.) She'll eat what we eat when I cook.  If her Grandma's want to make her oat meal, I'm okay with that.  She's a baby.  It's alright.

I went to three stores to find pork products that didn't have added sugar.  Way to go Costco and Kirkland brand bacon for making the cut.  I gave up on finding ham and salami that were Whole 30 approved.  I think I cheated on the breakfast sausage from Whole Foods that had honey powder (what the what?) in it.  Whatevs.

I didn't realize that January was like a super trendy time to do this, but I'm really glad for all the other people crazy enough to do it at the same time!

I bought too much produce.  As a result, I've learned you can freeze a TON of fruits and veggies.

The prep session required going to three stores (Costco, Trader Joes and Whole Foods) and 5 hours of prepping.  (I'm not quite done, I have a few things left to do.) In total it was an 11 hour day.  Glory.

Whole 30, ready or not, here we come!

Reflections on a Mother's Day....

I'm sitting on my beautiful porch listening to the melodious sounds of bullfrogs and birds... All nostalgic and reminiscing.  Eleven years ago, two houses and four babies ago I sat on another porch. Round, and tired, and excited, and full of anxious expectation. I was waiting... waiting for someone to come and make me a Mama...

Tonight, my swallows are back.  My precious swallows that mean so very much that come each year, and prepare their nest, and they wait too. They are waiting tonight. The pair of them, all snuggled up in the clay nest in the corner of my porch, laying on this year's batch of babies.  They make a good team, taking turns gathering food, prepping the nest, and laying on those eggs.  And when those babies hatch, their friends will come, and help care for them. These swallows live in community... just like me.

Eleven years ago tonight I watched the sun go down and willed my baby to come...  I enjoyed the last Mother's day before my first baby was born, feeling like I was already a Mama, even though my arms were empty.

I don't know why God gives life, and babies when He does. I will always wonder why sometimes He doesn't. I only know that it's not about me, this privilege He's given me to be my children's Mama... It's about them. These precious little children, all cuddled up in their beds upstairs are living out their destiny, and I get the amazing honor to raise them.

So tonight, I'm thinking of my Julia girl.... Thinking about the last minutes I felt her move in my belly, wishing she could stay safe in there forever while simultaneously wishing her out.  I'm thinking about her first cry, her first smile, her first tooth, her first steps, her firsts... and her lasts. I'm thinking about how my baby isn't a baby at all... but a gangly joyful, hopeful girl who is blooming into something far more beautiful than I could have ever hoped for.

I'm thinking of her smile, and her giant heart, and her sense of humor, and her giggle. I'm thinking of her desire to serve, and to love, and to do things with excellence. I'm thinking of her tender heart towards Jesus, and how she is learning who He created her to be.  I'm thinking of her as a big sister, as a daughter, as a friend.

Julia, love.... Happy almost birthday.  Thank you for making me a Mama. Thank you for giving me grace, oh, so much grace, as I struggle to figure out how to be gentle, and patient, and strong all at the same time.  Thank you for gracing our lives and making your Daddy and me a family.  Thank you for being the most amazing big sister I could ever ask for. Thank you for your selflessness. For your tenacity, for your creativity, for your love of people, and nature, and this giant world around you....

I want you to know.... that you have every thing you need, to be exactly who God has called you to be. That you are whole, and complete and His perfect masterpiece.  I want you to know what a joy it is to be your Mother, and how grateful I am to be able to be a part of your life.  I want you to know, that you can have the whole world... And that God's plans for you are big- and that no matter what, your very biggest adventure will be found walking in the center of His will.  I want you to know that you don't have to be afraid. Theres a fine line between fear and wisdom, sometimes wisdom disguises itself as fear. Be bold, and confident, and so very brave- because He goes before you, preparing the way for you.  I want you to laugh... your silvery, bubbly, ginormous laugh that fills a room and is contagious, laughing is the very best possible medicine, exercise, and solution for just about anything. It is impossible to feel exuberant joy and anything else, including pain, anger, etc. at the same time. Choose, joy baby.When you need to, I want you to cry. I want you to feel pain when it comes. I want you to release it in tears, don't keep it bottled up inside. He is faithful to catch your every tear...

I want you to dream big, big dreams. I want you to imagine anything is possible. Take the time to listen to the birds sing, and look at the flowers, and enjoy the world around you. Love well... love so well your heart breaks open expanding it's capacity to love. I want you to own your choices. I want you to choose wisely, and confidently, and walk out the consequences of your decisions.  I want you to never stop learning.  Keep moving forward, but it's okay to reflect back and learn from your experiences.  I want you to enjoy the present. Don't be so driven that you forget to enjoy right where you are.

I want you to sing at the top of your lungs.... I want you to dance. Even when people are watching, I promise they are just wishing they were brave enough to join you. Invite them to. There's freedom in living loudly.  I want you know when to lead, and when to follow, and how to tell the difference.  I want you to jump in puddles, and run till you think your chest might explode, and ride roller coasters, and jump off cliffs into the ocean. I want you to ride your bike so fast it feels like you are flying. I want you to lose count of magical stars.  I want you to see the world.

So, my love. Happy almost birthday.  Thanks for allowing me to be your Mama... you, and your sweet sweet brother and sisters have been my very greatest gifts.

Ava Grace

There's a backstory here that I haven't found words to share yet... Ava's back story.  How we learned of her impending arrival, and the faith journey of my pregnancy with her.  Of how she got her name.... And at some point, in the near future, I'll find the words and commit them to paper, but for now I'm still wrestling with that chapter and all that it means in overall landscape of my life.  

What is fresh, and new and ready to be told is the story of her birth.  The peaceful, redemptive, amazing story of her birth.  I had alot of fear approaching the end of my pregnancy.  I'd had three less than ideal (and one somewhat traumatic for me) precipitous labor births and I was genuinely terrified that I was going to be the lady who gave birth in the Mid Town Tunnel.  

We'd set this birth up differently.  My prenatal care was with the Midwifery Center at DePaul Hospital, instead of with an OB.  I did quite a bit of reading about natural childbirth, about labor interventions, the pros and cons, and letting nature (and God) direct things.  I'd had three unmedicated births, which I thought made me an expert in that department.  Isn't it funny how in the moment we qualify ourselves an expert God in His divine intervention takes the opportunity to teach us more.  

My friend Sarah Blight wrote a book on birth (Birth Book#2).    I downloaded it to support Sarah, and read it because I had terrible pregnancy induced indigestion one night and couldn't sleep.  I know, I shouldn't admit that in writing, but I thought I knew it all, remember?  Turns out, I didn't know very much.  There was so much I'd missed with my previous three births.  Skin to skin time, delayed cord clamping, immediate nursing, etc.  There was so much information on how our bodies work to produce healthier newborns, healthier bonding, and healthier children that I honestly never knew.  (You can buy the Birth Book 2 Here: Buy Birth Book 2)

So I learned... I learned I wanted a really natural birth. I knew that I wanted to bond with this baby at her birth.  I have never really bonded during pregnancy.  I tend to feel more like a host for an invasive parasite than a vessel for new life. (Just trying to put it out there, folks. Pregnancy is not my jive.) So with this baby number four, it was so very important to me that we got the best possible chance to bond at her birth.  Which meant (for me) as little intervention as possible.  A peaceful and welcoming birth space with support (really, anywhere but the tunnel!). Cuddling and bonding skin to skin as long as possible.  Delayed cord clamping, etc. etc. etc. If you are expecting, and are only as knowledgable as I was, read the book, you'll be glad you did.  

The bottom line is that I had all of those things... After a 12 hour first stage of laboring at home, through the night I finally succumbed to the fact that I might actually be in labor after two false alarms, and weeks of contractions, the rhythmic pains finally began to built towards active labor.  I put my foot down, (literally, there was a stomp.) I told God that he'd have to break my water before I headed back to the midwifery center, only to be patted on the back and sent home hugely pregnant doing the waddle of shame down the long hallway past the Labor and Delivery nurses. The contractions got closer, and I repented for my foot stomp, hung my head, and asked my loving husband to illegally pass vehicles on the the road.  (Just get me through the tunnel!)  

We got settled in... I loaded my worshipful birth play list.  Thanks to Jason Upton for providing much of the worship music that reminded me that I was not alone, and that He was leading me, not only through labor, but into this next very distinct but uncertain season of my life.  I plugged in my diffuser and the aromas of Frankincense and Lavender filled the space.  The hot tub bubbled, and we waited.  Waited on the next contraction... reflected on the births of our other children.  Waited on God.  Waited on the midwife.  Waited on Ava. We laughed.  We cried. My friends arrived.  Thank you Jenny for capturing every single moment on camera and holding my hand, and Jami for the cool cloths, the back rub, and for feeling every second of that pain with me. Thank you for making me laugh in between.  Thank you Robyn our wonderful nurse for only taking your eyes off of me to look at the clock and knowing even before I did that we were really really close.  And thank you to my Midwife Jen, who came exactly when you needed to, never got rattled, and strongly lead me through the birth.  You promised we'd have a ball... and we did. Thanks for being awesome.

Ava was born in the water just two and a half hours after we pulled up to the midwifery center.  It was quick and productive, but longer than my other labors. It felt peaceful, and gradual, and thorough.  I had all of the elements I desired.  And the bonding, it was more powerful than I'd ever imagined it could be.

God had a plan. The whole time, and He was working all things according to that plan.  It didn't go like I imagined that it would.  It required that I lay down pride, and expectations, and desires, and my will.  It required that I walk forward when I couldn't see, trusting that He was leading.  It required that I embraced the pain, and walked through it, so that new life could be born from the depth of the groaning.  And it was beautiful. And complete.  Ava is perfect.  All eight pounds of her.  Fleshy and silky, and donning lots of dark hair. (Like her siblings.) From the moment I felt her on my chest, and saw her purply face, and heard her her lusty cry I loved her completely. She was mine, and I was hers and our journey wasn't ending... but just beginning.  

After nearly 14 years of marriage... and four precious children, the journey God has the Larson Family on continues to amaze me.  Brian and I have walked down many paths... Love Is a winding road.... And it strikes fear in the hearts of those who seek control. (This is me.)  His love is perfect, it's complete.  Its a refining fire... It's a train that barrels through the depths of time, and space and delivers us exactly in the center of His will. This labor was a testimony of His love, and His plan in our marriage and our life.... It's a winding road, and a wild ride.... and there's no one on earth I'd rather share it with. 

 Welcome to our crazy family, Ava Grace.  I've never been more uncertain about our future, or more confident than I am in the One who holds the universe in His hands.... He hems us in, and holds us too...

Choosing to see...

We get to pick what we remember….  In every season, even those that are difficult, there are glimpses of hope and glory woven through the fabric of that particular time.  You just have to choose to see it.

This vacation wasn’t what we’d expected.  Or maybe it was…. Maybe my expectations have finally become about a heart perspective and not the circumstances that surround it.  I remember telling Brian that I just wanted to have quality time- with our children, with each other, with my Grandparents, and with my sweet Brother’s family.  “We can’t pick the weather, or the traffic” I said bravely “But we can pick our perspective.”  Choosing perspective is hard sometimes.

Somewhere buried in the depths of the rain, the poison ivy, the mystery stomach illness, lobster sunburns, Fifth’s Disease and vomit I realized that I was going to have to physically shift to change my view.  Like literally move so that my view would be better….  Pictures help.  Photographs don’t lie… They can be modified, altered, edited, but what’s on your camera catches the real deal.

You don’t take pictures of poison ivy rashes, and puke on stuffed animals.  They don’t make for good social media posts.  You capture the things you want to hold on to.  The things you want to remember forever. The moments in time you desperately want to freeze so that they are etched into our reality not bound by time and constant change.  Taking pictures forces you to change your view… maybe it’s why I like photography so much.  And maybe when I get better at focusing on what matters, I’ll be a little better at it.

So, I don’t have pictures of the mountains of vomit laundry, the rashes, the mud puddles, or the ER.  I do kind of wish I’d taken photos of Margaret and me laying under cloths soaked in Apple Cider vinegar (nothing but the best, it came fortified with the Mother!) trying to sooth our enflamed sun scorched skin.  (How in the WORLD did we forget to put sunblock on US? Someone had to care for all of those beautifully tanned babies!)  I’ve got to say though, I think it was a bonding moment, and pic or not, I’m not likely to forget it.  Everywhere we went we brought the aroma of Vinegar with us…. DELICIOUS!

What we did capture in photos was fabulous… and it’s what I’ll remember most about this infamous vacation….  Noah learning to play Uno for the very first time.  Julia driving the tractor that I drove a couple of decades ago, pulling her cousin and siblings in a trailer all around the property.  Hannah frolicking in the sand. Gavin’s superhero strength lifting his own weight on a pulley. Maggie toddling all about lighting up her room with her bright baby blues and toothy drooley grin. Olivia moving about in my belly.... making her presence known to her Daddy and anxious siblings. 

                                       

 Quiet conversations in the early morning with my Grandfather… Listening to some of the same old stories, and hearing some for the first time.  Hearing my Grandma explain how she beat Cancer. Twice.  And Heart Disease. And Sepsis.  “Because God never gives you too much.”  My Grandma has been resurrected from her death bed a whole bunch of times…. And she boils down how she got through it to the truth in the heart of every matter.  “Because God never gives you too much.”

Pondering the mysteries of life and motherhood with Margaret.  The revelation that maybe peace and joy is more than just about “not sweating the small stuff”… Maybe it’s about intentionally focusing on the important stuff.  Choosing to see what matters, and the things that are eternally significant.  Capturing the fleeting moments, quiet and whole.  If that is what captivates- our hearts, our attention, our emotion, our gaze… then all else just seems to fall right where it belongs… in the “Small Stuff” pile.

Perspective is a powerful thing.  It can change the view in front of us... and it can change the memories of your past... I'm learning to learn to focus manually, and not rely on auto focus.  Both in life, and behind my camera's lens...

Just in case you ever have the pleasure of a sickie in the car.  Here are some things you’ll need!

1. Bucket ( old cheap Easter bucket worked for us, but so would a sand pail!)

2. Small garbage bags or up-cycle used plastic grocery bags (is it up-cycling when it’s going to be a puke catcher?)

3. Paper towels or tissues

4. Wet Ones sanitizing wipes

5. Disinfectant spray (Daddies, Do not, I repeat DO NOT, spray your vomiting child.  Or clothes they are currently wearing. This is for non-living surfaces only. )

6. Rubber Gloves

7. Rehydrating fluids

8. Laughter- it goes along way, people.

 If you happen to have the bonus of a toddler with diarrhea:  Pull-ups work wonders, and there’s a rest area every thirty miles on 95.  We visited Every. Flipping. One. (Watch out for the overachieving auto flushing toilets though, they start flushing and spraying right about the time your bending over to pull up the little one’s pull up.  I swear I could feel sick germs assault me as they sprayed through the air.)

Confessions of a Black Friday Shopper....

Okay: Disclaimer I realize that I'm about to enter into a gigantic controversial topic, but let it be known that I am not trying to start a war.  My choices are my own, I'm comfortable with them, and I'm comfortable with the fact they may not be yours.  It's okay if we disagree, and choose to spend our time differently, I don't necessarily believe that these are "rights and wrongs"  in every case there are consequences to our choices, and we must each bare out those consequences.  This is not a defensive justification, I'm simply trying to share my perspective and experiences because I feel that there's alot of material written on this subject from the opposite perspective.

With that said,  for the greater part of the past decade, and maybe even longer.... I've been a black Friday shopper.  My earliest memories of Black Friday shopping were with my Aunt and cousins shopping in the Northern Chicago area.  My eyes were wide at the lines and crowds of people waiting in line to get "the deal".  Hey, if you don't know me I'm a bit competitive.  I'm also a really really high extrovert. That means, this thing was right up my alley.  I wanted be in the center of the crowd, I wanted to strategize about the savings, and I wanted to win.

I've "Black Friday" shopped with lots of different friends and family, whom I won't name, you can tag yourself if you want to come out of the closet and admit that you like it too.  I've black Friday shopped in South Carolina, Virginia Beach, the Peninsula, Florida, Illinois and online.  I've been at Walmart and at Best Buy,  at Old Navy and at the Outlets, I've gone early in the morning and stayed out all night.  I have lots of different memories.

As with anything consumer focused, when the consumer habits change, industry and sales companies change as well, in order to continue to get in front of and meet the needs of the consumer in exchange for a profit.  I hate to break it to you, in case you didn't realize, but few if any retailers, and few businesses exists with non-profit status.  That means that any time you go to the grocery store, amazon.com, or Tarjay you are participating in consumerism.  If that bothers you, spin thread to make clothes, slaughter animals you raise and plant a garden.  Otherwise you are a part of consumer spending that drives our economy, whether you spend the money the day after Thanksgiving or any of the other 364 days a year.  Guess what, when consumer spending is up, it has a positive effect on the economy. Is it a broken system, yep, but this blog isn't exactly about that.  If you have convictions to boycott the system I applaud and respect you.  Living a self sustaining lifestyle requires an incredible amount of discipline and commitment.  I do want to point out though, choosing not to participate one day doesn't mean you aren't part of the overall problem.  Food for thought. 

So, back to the change in habits....  Black Friday started on Thursday the last couple of  years.  At first, it didn't bother me.  I had Thanksgiving with my family, put my little ones to bed and kissed my hubby goodbye at 10:00 PM, rushing off to Freeze my booty with my cohorts while we laughed about our day, reflected on our memories and planned the christmas shopping list for our friends and families.  This year it was a bit different, instead of starting at 10:00, or Midnight, things went on all day long.  I didn't participate during the day because I have a family, hosted Thanksgiving dinner, where we able to share a meal with both family, and new friends, some of whom we'd never met but didn't have someplace else to go, or other family to share it with.  From there, we packed up our crew and spent time with the other side of our family at my brother's home.  I'm blessed to have children, a husband, local family and a home large enough to share with those that don't.  But I'm not going to lie, if I were young single and alone, I'd probably have been out all day.  Crucify me if you will.  I did however start a couple of hours earlier.  And I did miss time with my family.  I missed the two hours before bed time where the tired kids came down from the sugar high and had to be coerced into bed like herding cats.  Shout out to my husband for allowing me to miss that little piece of heaven.

Matt Walsh, a popular blogger recently got published on Huffington Post.  The post was titled "If you shop on Thanksgiving you are part of the problem."  For the record, I really love this guy.  He's funny, edgy, and calls things out.  I feel like though in this post, maybe it lacks perspective.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/matt-walsh/shopping-on-thanksgiving_b_4310109.html

Matt says he wont participate if for no other reason than:  "I'm not going to force some single mom to ring up my worthless purchases instead of enjoying Thanksgiving with her children."

He goes on to say: "These employees will be there, in their name tags and their vests, waiting on impatient mobs of customers while their families eat without them."

I mean, I guess he could be right.  Assuming that they have families.  It was interesting though, one lady who rang me up had been at work all blessed day, working on her 13th hour.  I apologized for being "part of the problem"  and told her I appreciated her.  Her response?  "I appreciate you, I need the work."  So, did I force her to be there?"  How many people who posted or said terrible things about black friday shoppers who shopped on Thanksgiving went out to buy last minute forgotten grocery items to pull off your dinner?  Cornstarch, ice, cranberry sauce any one?  I mean those check out people deserve to be home too, right?  Unless they don't want to.  Maybe home would be alone.  Maybe home would mean a short paycheck and they couldn't pay their bills, maybe they aren't from the USA, and Thanksgiving isn't even their holiday.  I mean, they don't celebrate turkey day everywhere folks. 

I'm in Real Estate.  I've given many a night, many a weekend, many a holiday helping families find their homes.  Most of them would have rather not been shopping then, but many of them were Military service men and woman, and that was the only time they had.  Many of them were hard working professionals with little time off who sacrificed their holidays to help their family get out of a rental and into a home.  And I sacrificed my time, with my family to serve them.  Because that's what you do when you are in the service industry.  You serve, which comes at times with a price, but at least if it's your profession it also comes with a paycheck.  Single moms have brains. No one is forcing them to ring up a cash register on Thanksgiving, they are working hard to earn a paycheck and serve their kids, and I think that's terrific.  I think it's better than waiting in line to collect public assistance.  I appreciate them, I appreciate what they do, I appreciate their sacrifice, and I treat them with respect and dignity.  I don't think that they are mindless lemmings controlled by and at the mercy of selfish consumers.

CNN Money posted this expose about how you aren't really getting a "deal".  http://money.cnn.com/video/pf/2013/11/26/pf-black-friday-deals-sales-dont-get-fooled.cnnmoney/index.html?hpt=hp_t1

The reporter said this:"The Money is in your pocket!!! And you happily reach in, pull it out and pay pay pay......" Um... is this really news.  I've never thought someone else paid for the things that I purchased.  Does it make a difference when I pay pay pay?  They explain the retail "game" like this:

Cost to make a sweater: 14.50

Starting shelf price $50.00  

Average sale price $28.00

Retailer makes $13.50. 

I repeat, is this news?  I didn't knit the sweater.  Or sheer the sheep, or spin the man-made materials to crochet the thing.  So I'm going to pay someone right?  Someone has to make a dime, that's how the economy works.  I am still getting a deal if I would have bought the thing for $50.00.  If I want to stand in line in 26 degree weather and giggle with my friends in order to save a few that's a bonus.

Here's my deal.  Be thankful.  Be grateful for your blessings.  Don't be driven by the consumption of goods seeking a "something" to fill a void that could never be filled by the collecting of things.  Don't just be thankful on Thanksgiving.  Adopt a spirit of gratitude, of thankfulness that is a lifestyle, not an observation that eclipses on a special Thursday in November.  Spend time with your family if you have one, don't substitute time with your kids for toys.  Hello Kitty and electric scooters can't replace cuddles, hugs and happy memories.  However, Hello Kitty isn't the devil and electric scooters are all kinds of fun and its okay if they are a part of the happy memories you make with your kids.

Don't buy things you don't have money for.  Don't put anything on credit if you can't pay the bill next month.  If you pay finance charges, you aren't getting a deal, or saving any money.  I spent ten years enslaved to consumer debt, and I am now free.  I'm never going back, but I don't have to stop buying gifts or shopping on Black Friday in order to avoid that.  I have to use discipline, and common sense in order to avoid that.  

When you have a heart that's poised in gratitude and a lifestyle that's knee is bent to self restraint and discipline you don't have to worry about getting overtaken by the system.

My Thanksgiving nights and wee early black friday hours are spent with close friends, giggling, laughing, caught up in the rush of saving five bucks on kids PJ's, or getting yet another super soft blanket.  (Can you ever have enough of those?)  Whatever we get, and deals we score is kind of icing on the cake.  When you are a responsible parent with kids there are few activities that you can pull all nighters for.  I'd like to go Toilet Paper someone's house, for the fun, for the laughter, for the rush, for the memories, but that ship has sailed.  I get one night a year to sing mini-van karaoke, raid 7-11 at 3:00 AM for a big gulp and a big bite, and run around breathing the crisp night air laughing in a tired hysteria with my buddies.  It's pretty awesome, and I highly recommend it.  

This year, lines were shorter, stores had more of the door busters, and I didn't have to be out all night. Which means I got a few hours of sleep and am wide awake enough to blog this and spend the rest of the day with my lovely family, whom I am grateful for, and done Christmas shopping for.  To the strangers who I met, the friendly cash register ringers, and the sweet little boy who helped us find the Bey Blades, it was fun and I appreciate you.  It's not all selfishness and tramples, guys.

You don't have to sell your soul to be a Black Friday Shopper.

The waiting place...

I think I’m learning that it’s the waiting place… The place between faith and fear.  And that in the waiting place it seems to be my posture that determines my experience here, and maybe even the length of time I remain.  The fruit that comes from lessons like these isn't birthed without pain. Maybe when it takes a while to work itself out, the lesson sticks with you longer.  This year has been so much about trusting God, knowing my identity, and walking it out. To begin believing that a Father gives His children good gifts, and that if He is for us, who can be against us? Romans 8:31. Our circumstances don’t determine our identity, our future, or His plans.  He is faithful to execute His will, which is right and good. Sometimes I think he might be waiting to, for us to get out of the way, and step in line.  This year has been a tremendous year of accomplishment.  And the funny thing is, this is the first year that I surrendered my attempts at a plan and just waited on Him.   In the moments of waiting… Waiting on financial provision, waiting on a place for Noah in school, waiting on relational healing, they felt like eternities.

 In retrospect, there have been monumental changes in the past twelve short months.  God has been nothing but faithful to complete the works He’s begun.  I don’t know what the next twelve will look like, but I know that where He leads, he makes provision.  In contemplating this weekend with the uncertainty of whether we’d get our house I mulled over God’s faithfulness in our lives.  I considered the significant lessons that the waiting place has taught me.  I remembered that Sarah did in fact, get her promised baby.  And I remembered that she was asked to lay him down.  Talk about the waiting place… can you imagine the journey that Abraham took with his precious promise in tow.  Sometimes when we lay down our most treasured, even dreams, God raises then up, and gives them back.

I think that for most of my own life, I’m either praying for a specific outcome, or just apathetic and waiting – Que Sera, Sera.  After all, the future’s not ours to see.  Whatever will be, will be.  Lately, maybe little more Que Sera. However this year, I think that it’s been a bit of learning a balance… of not just asking for something I want or think that I need. And it’s not about just throwing cares the wind, being apathetic about our future because it’s out of our hands anyway. It’s not about throwing our cares to the wind, but about casting them on Him… I think I missed significance of the difference.  When meditating on the scripture about casting our cares on Him,  I had a really difficult time understanding what exactly that meant.

When I was a little girl, my Dad taught me how to fish.  One of my earliest, fondest memories is of waking very early. So early I thought it was night.  He made breakfast, fed me grits, eggs, and loaded me up in the car. When we got where we were going, we loaded a boat with a friend of my Dad’s and his son… and watched the sun come up as we cast our lines into the water in hopes that fish would bite them.  I remember docks- in Florida, in Chesapeake, practicing the cast.  Really, throwing my weight into it.  At the time, it wasn't all that much weight! When you cast, you fling the line way out… But if you let go of the pole, you’ll just be standing empty on the edge of a bank.  I think that’s part of the irony.  You throw it as far as you can, as hard as you can… but you don’t let go. 

That’s the part I missed.  I don’t think He wants us to give up on caring, on hoping.  He just wants us to throw it into Him, to let Him surround it, like the water does to the line.  But I don’t think that He wants us to disconnect.  He wants the opposite.  For us to trust Him to do the rest.  And to trust Him with the outcome.  You want a fish every time you cast the line, but you don’t always get one. However, if you stop casting, you’ll never get one.

Brian woke up with the flu today.  I had it over the weekend.  He went straight to urgent care to get on some anti-flu medicine.  At 9:30 this morning I talked with an attorney who offered me little practical hope. I threw my line out, and remembered the One who holds my hopes. Two hours later he called back.  The title had been cleared and we could come close.  The house was ours.  Just like that. I burst into tears…. It was the first time that I really had really just broken down… It has been such a faith journey.  I had my house packed in boxes and had the flu to keep me in bed with nothing else to think about.  Not knowing where we would live was really tough and in true Heather fashion, I broke down afterword.  Which is maybe better then breaking down in the middle of it.

Fast forward… Brian’s medicine made him sick to his stomach.  I gave him some anti-nausea meds to counter act the other medication, and a garbage bag just in case.  And then, I was just another home buyer.  Instead of the agent, dressed all cute, I was the Mom.  In a pony-tail with three coughy kids and a husband in a surgical mask (germs people.)  We almost made it through the closing without incident.  And then,after multiple laps around the table Hannah spilled her water and announced that she was poopy.  Magical moments….

But we got it.  Our house.  On New Years Eve.  It wasn't a long painful day of waiting after all… Maybe it was because I finally agreed to lay it down, and learned to cast a little better?  I’ll never know. But I’ll always remember…. This could have gone either way. In the physical anyway, in the spirit realm, there was only one plan ever…. But in His infinite wisdom, He let me walk near Him, lean in and hold on…I didn’t let go this time… to the cares, but I did lay them down.  Turns out there’s a difference after all.  

The place between faith and fear...

I think I may be having a crisis in faith....This blog is about a month and a half in the making.  The truth is, if I were to be completely transparent, I have been wanting to wait to the end of the story- so that I can be sure it has a happy ending.  However, I honestly feel that maybe the lesson isn't in the ending though, but in the journey. So, here I go, here's the story...

On the morning of November 8th I received an unexpected text message from a dear friend.  This friend isn't the type to use, "Thus Sayith the Lord" frequently, and is careful never to presume spiritual things unless she is confident that God has spoken to her. Perhaps that made the message that much more impacting when she said she felt a nudge from the Lord to share it.   The message was that while driving in a neighborhood about a half hour from our current home, she was burdened for my family and felt that there was a home there for us there in Suffolk. But maybe that's not even the beginning of the story.  Maybe the beginning started in the days preceding that message, when in moments of fatigue from going around familiar mountains I confessed to several good friends.... "I just don't have any hope left".  If you read one of my previous blogs you'll observe that I was wrestling with when to fight and when rest, when to tread water and when to give in to allow God to carry me, and the constant spinning of my own wheels in my own strength had left me breathless, hopeless, and absolutely exhausted. The reality that I didn't even know how to hope anymore was staggering.... I needed a breakthrough.

Back to the text message from my friend.  I'm not anything if not honest, so I'll tell you the truth when I read that message, I laughed. (Sorry T, for my little faith.)  An interesting thing happened when I chuckled, not a happy chuckle, but the silent, bitter chuckle of a cynical worn out soul who has embraced a suspicious and doubting identity...I instantaneously though of the scripture when Sarah laughed at the messengers who prophesied the birth of Isaac. It's such a little passage, but oh so powerful : Genisis 18: 10Then one of them said, “I will return to you about this time next year, and your wife, Sarah, will have a son!”

Sarah was listening to this conversation from the tent. 11Abraham and Sarah were both very old by this time, and Sarah was long past the age of having children. 12So she laughed silently to herself and said, “How could a worn-out woman like me enjoy such pleasure, especially when my master—my husband—is also so old?”

13Then the LORD said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh? Why did she say, ‘Can an old woman like me have a baby?’ 14Is anything too hard for the LORD? I will return about this time next year, and Sarah will have a son.”

15Sarah was afraid, so she denied it, saying, “I didn’t laugh.”

But the LORD said, “No, you did laugh.”

Sarah laughed.  Because she was old, and tired, and hopeless.  Because in the waiting she'd surrendered, not to the loving hand of her Father but instead to doubt and disappointment. Because I don't think of Old Testament stories all that often, I paid particular attention.  I didn't want to doubt.  I wanted to hope.  Something to hope for, Someone to hope in.... So I decided to do a little exploring.

I'm going to try to hit the highlights here and not bore you to death with the details.  (There are alot of them.)  There was a house.  One house, that had come on the market the day before, more than a hundred thousand dollars less than anything else in the neighborhood. It was significantly closer to our families, my office, and a large community of life-long friends who we spend a great deal of time with.  The house is beautiful, and only five years old. It is large, much larger than anything I ever thought I'd live in.  It uniquely addresses so many of our ideal wish list items... It has a sun room off the back that looks into a line of woods,where there will never be another house.  It has an office, for me, with a legitimate door. It has space for a ginormouos play room for my children to spread out and play without cluttering the rest of the home.  There's a second flight of stairs, so that when I wake in wee hours of the morning I'll be able to sneak down the hall far from where the kids sleep and get some time to pray.  It is directly across from a park where I could sit on my porch (it has a beautiful porch) and watch my kids play.  There are sidewalks, and a pier with water where Brian can kayak.  It has a work shop, with electric where Brian can putz around and craft things and and we can still park cars in the garage.  I could go on and on.  This is my dream house.  Everything about it.  I couldn't have dreamed up a more perfect home if I'd been given the chance.

It would go fast... I knew that it would. We checked some logistics.  We could afford it.  We could get qualified for it.  Comparables suggested we could get a lot more for my current home than what we could have gotten in the spring when I'd last looked.  There were road blocks.  The seller (it's a foreclosure) was not likely to accept my loan type.  If we got in a bidding war (which was likely) we couldn't go up much.  It needed  some cosmetic work, and foreclosures are as is, so my lender wouldn't likely allow the loan.  If I were representing a client in my situation I'd have advised against pursuing it, because this type of contract wouldn't likely be accepted.   But we put in an offer anyway.  If God was in this, then we were operating in a different set of circumstances.  After two counters, my offer was accepted.  The seller volunteered to pay for bank required repairs. (this nearly never happens).  A half hour after my contract was accepted the seller received three others, but because we got ours in so quickly we never had to compete. 

We began to prepare our current home for sale.  I lamented having to keep my home in "show"condition.  I was worried about some of the things that we needed to take care of.  I was worried about a long market time because of Christmas.  I was worried about making two mortgage payments.  My house sold the day we put it on the market to a site unseen buyer.  We never even had to show it.

It seemed as if God was in this.  As we began to plan, dream, and shop for our new home something happened in my heart.  The place where cynicism had made its home was slowly being eradicated as hope grew.  I began to look forward to a future in our new home.  A fresh start, more space closer to a significant part of our community.  I began to dream again...

There've been ups and downs.  Misfiled rejected deed.  Low appraisal on our current home.  Outstanding documents. (like my commission agreement!)  There, like in all real estate deals, have been places where it could have all fallen apart.  And then there has been the necessary resolution.  I can honestly say that I haven't strived.  Haven't pushed this, haven't pulled strings. I've been faithful, and responsive and done my job as an agent, but it has felt that God has been a step ahead of the whole process.

We're supposed to close today, but I don't think we're going to.  The seller is having trouble clearing the title.  We probably just need a few more days, but the contract ends tomorrow.  I need the seller to sign an extension.  To agree to give us more time.  Especially since the ball is in their court.  

My previous relationship with doubt and suspicion see an opportunity to creep back in.  And I'm in a battle to remain at peace.  Where it seemed such a God thing that my home sold so quickly, now I'm having trouble not thinking that if this doesn't goes through....I'll be homeless.  (It reminds me of the Israelites who wanted so badly out of Egypt but when the down and dirty happened on the journey they just wanted to go back to the familiar, the safe.) 

I woke up in the middle of the night this week scared the whole thing was going to fall apart.  I felt like God said, "If I am for you, who can be against you."  The ball isn't in the seller's court.  My future is in the hands of a loving Father.  I'd like to fast forward and see how this all turns out, but right now, I have to choose to trust Him...

Romans 15:13 "I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit."

It's in my decision to trust that confident hope will overflow.  Not in the certainty of the outcome.  God is good.  He is for my good.  Regardless of what happens.  I'm choosing to trust, and praying for the joy and peace that comes because I trust Him.