desire and power

God brought a verse to me recently: "Work hard to show the results of your salvation, obeying God with deep reverence and fear. For God is working in you, giving you the desire and power to do what pleases Him (Phil 2:12-13)." In the past few years, God has changed my heart, radically transforming me into a woman who not only loves Him and pays Him lip service, but who earnestly desires the things of His heart and character. He is growing in me a heart that longs for His name to be glorified in my life. Changing me so that I long less for my dream house and more for my children to grow to love Him with all of their hearts, minds, souls, and strengths. He takes my eyes off of the Pottery Barn catalog and opens them to see the hurting people in my city - and, most amazingly, causing me to want to move.

I lived so selfishly for so many years, despite my outward professions of being His daughter. I spent my time thinking about myself - what I wanted, how I felt, what I had and didn't have and what I thought I needed to be happy. "If I only had..." or "If we could only get to this point..." were a constant refrain in my head. I loved God with a passion, but it ebbed and flowed. Even when I wasn't outright sinning, even when I went through a spiritual "high" period, my life was still about me more than anyone else. I was the picture of a lukewarm Christian. It breaks my heart to think of how many hurting people I've passed by over the years because I was too caught up in myself. But God - oh, our awesome God - He poured out His new mercies on me, again... and again.

What an awesome thing for my passion for Jesus to become steadfast; to want what He wants more than what I want. I am starting to get a grasp on His power - power that supplies me with the supernatural, unexplainable ability to move in obedience to His word. He speaks, and I want to listen. He directs, and I want to obey.

He gives me the desire and power to move towards the things of Him and away from things that grieves Him. In my spending and saving. In what I watch and listen to. In how I discipline my children. In how I discipline myself. It's the power to go for a run rather than re-watch Glee for the tenth time. It's the power to stop and pray, "Lord, place a guard over my mouth" before I yell at my screaming two-year-old having a screaming-two-year-old fit. It's the power to let go of my insatiable need to be visible and let someone else have the spotlight. It's the power to let go of my anger and my need to be right, and approach my husband with a gracious and forgiving spirit. It's the power - and this is the tough one - to make my actions live up to all my big talk.

Make no mistake. Not a moment of gracious, obedient, selfless behavior has anything to do with me. It is all by His grace, by His tender mercy that I can do anything good at all. But each time I drag myself out of bed early to have time before Him in the morning, each time I bury myself in studying His word, each time I pay attention to the Holy Spirit and move in obedience, I find deeper desire to know Him, to serve Him, to follow Him - and more and more power to do so.

hope springs

Sunday was one of those quiet turning points in my life. There was no emotional breakdown, no blowout fight, no life crisis to precipitate the radical change in my heart. This time the only catalyst for change was a weary, broken heart crying out to God, met by a God who loves me enough to listen. A simple moment that opened my eyes, broke my heart, and changed my direction.

We've been in a desert place for a long time now, and for months I've felt like I was barely trudging through the hot sand, head down and just moving, moving, one exhausted step at a time. Even though I was walking with the Lord, searching his word and and listening for his voice, all I could see were circumstances and things to worry about.

On Sunday morning, I sat in church as we were introduced to some new leaders and naturally, my thoughts were on myself. I wished that I was visible as a servant. That when someone thought about a servant and leader in our church, they would think of me. Immediately, God spoke: "It's not about you." And then: "What good is your servant's heart if you never serve?

How like God to be right. In an instant, my hard heart was softened. My dry spirit was drenched in His. He heard my cry and he poured out His grace. How like God to be faithful, merciful, loving. To be there. To be here.

I committed myself then to walk in obedience to him. I have asked him to use me. Now I need to listen, and when I hear him speak, I need to obey. I want to obey.

"Trust in the Lord and go good, dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart (Ps. 37:3-4)."

I woke up this morning positively bursting with joy. Still in the deepest valley of my life, still facing mountains I can't climb and an enemy who refuses to quit. But I feel real hope and real peace. Still not able to see the way that God has made for us, but I know He has made it. He is waiting, listening, speaking, directing. How sweet to have his presence.

one of these days...

I am actually going to visit this poor blog regularly again. I keep jotting down things on my "blog about this" list, but I never actually manage to blog about them. In lieu of real writing, here's a snapshot of things I want to share:

• My first real fasting experience, during which God spoke some amazing things into my heart. In general, He is working in my life like never before... mostly because I am yielding to Him and walking in obedience like never before. Funny how that works.
  
• The joy and struggle of life with my two-year-old, including his new penchant for screaming bloody murder in the car - a lot. When does that end??
• My in-laws first visit to Portland, and our campaign to woo them this direction.
• Beginning to think about preschool for Eli next fall - not sure how that is even possible - and wondering what other mommies look/looked for in a preschool.
• My struggle with resolving the absolute truth of Jesus Christ and my desire to respect personal liberty and choice.
  
• My new journey as a runner, which has been derailed (temporarily, I hope) by a hip injury, bad knees, and that pesky family visit. :)

Hopefully I'll get to writing about these things soon. Bet you can hardly wait. :)

look what i made!

I'm discovering that I really love being a homemaker. I take enormous pleasure in keeping my home clean and organized. Just kidding. I don't actually keep my home clean or organized, but in my mind, the Proverbs 31 women has nothing on me. Anyway, I have been feeling very crafty lately. The other day I was at the park and saw a woman with an adorable little blanket that attached to her Baby Bjorn. When she pulled it up over her baby, it made a little hood for him. I always struggle to keep Lucas covered when we're out in the sun, and I thought it was so clever. I searched for it online and came up empty. So I thought, "I bet I could make that." Heh heh. Side note: I have very limited sewing skills. In fact, I am a pretty terrible sewer. Thank goodness for my can-do attitude. A couple of days later, I was talking to my friend Dara and mentioned what I wanted to make. She said, "Oh, that's a GO blanket." Of course. I found it online and thought, "Oh yeah. I could totally make that." (I should really say those thoughts out loud, so someone can stop me.) No offense to the GO Blanket people, but $70 is a lot for a blankie, no matter how versatile it is. I found possibly the most adorable fabric ever created, and decided to put my crappy sewing ability to the test. And guess what? I actually did it!! Considering that I had no pattern and can barely sew, I think it turned out pretty darned good. If you squint, the stitches look almost straight. The drawstring part at the top doesn't pull through as smoothly as the real version, and it's a little too long when it's tied to the Baby Bjorn, but overall I think it's going to do the job quite nicely. And it's just too cute for words. I tell you, I don't think I was this proud when I delivered my babies. What do you think of my craftiness?

the baby blues and other adventures

It was only a matter of time before post-partum depression settled into my otherwise idyllic new life with two children. It's nothing major, but when I went from feeling happy and energetic one day to weepy and utterly exhausted the next, I knew what was up. Since I've experienced this before, I quickly called my doctor and started on some happy pills, and I am already feeling a little better after just a few days. But man, am I tired. More than tired, I am excessively, mind-numbingly weary. I feel like my blood is barely pumping and just getting out of bed and off the couch is a challenge. I am so thankful for Ben, who stepped way up and pitched in with baths and dishes and vaccuuming and hugs. I wish we were closer to my family, who I know want nothing more than to help out. I have struggled with mommy guilt and wife guilt and Christian guilt while being too exhausted to really care about all of the things that I feel guilty about. And to add insult to injury, I am having daily migraines again. Waking up with them this time, which is ridiculous. It doesn't even give me a chance to do anything right or wrong, just, "Good morning, you feel like crap already!" It sucks, because I was feeling so good... more energetic and ambitious than I ever felt while I was pregnant, and just... very up. But I've been here before, and I can already feel it getting better. Today I took Eli to the playground, and I worked out, and I'm cooking dinner. Little things that provide a sense of normalcy, that help me see the light at the end of the tunnel and feel like a slightly less inadequate wife and mother. It's comforting to know that I'll get there. But oh, I hate getting there.

In other news, we enjoyed a wonderful Memorial Day at the beach. We spent several hours at Hug Point, wading in the waves and watching Eli play in the sand. He is still skittish about the waves, but he adores running around and digging in the sand. I am an ocean junkie. There is no place I would rather be than sitting on the beach, any beach, watching waves crash. Put a fruity drink in my hand and I'm a happy, happy woman.

squeaky mcgee

Lucas was born with a condition called laryngomalacia, which means that the cartilage on the back of his larynx is immature, so it is soft and floppy. It is a fairly common condition that in 99% of cases is resolved over time (usually by age 1), and it rarely poses any kind of risk to the baby's health. It does, however, cause him to squeak (and snort) loudly and incessantly. It's particularly bad when he's nursing or in distress, but even when he's deeply asleep he lets out intermittent little chirps. He is a one-man noise machine. So noisy that a woman on the phone with me while I was feeding Lucas asked, "Do you have a hamster there with you?" So noisy that when the music stopped in church on Sunday, twenty heads turned toward us to see whose child was suffocating to death. So noisy that when we asked Eli was Lucas was doing in a picture (he was sleeping), he opened his eyes wide and started mimicking Baby Brudder's squawking gasp... and then explained, "He seeping."

Lucas is so noisy, in fact, that it is impossible to sleep anywhere near him. We've spent the past three weeks trying to figure out a way to get some sleep. The first two weeks weren't terrible, as we had family in town who took turns with Lucas so that we could take turns getting naps. Then my sister left and we were on our own, and for a few days and nights we simply did not sleep. Lucas was waking himself up constantly, squirming awake with what I assume were tummy pains. We tried sleeping on the couch with him in his bouncer, him in his swing, holding him on the couch, holding him in the recliner... you get the picture. But where as with Eli we could at least sleep while he was sleeping, Lucas kept us awake with his crazy noises. After getting just a few hours of sleep over three days' time, I was a complete wreck and sat sobbing on the kitchen floor, desperate for some rest. I was literally crying out to the Lord for help.

And then, as always, God answered. Two nights ago, as I considered the sleepless hours before me, I decided to just try putting him in his room. I knew he wouldn't stay asleep for long, but thought that I might at least get a twenty minutes catnap out of it. I swaddled him tight and put him in his bouncer, turned the monitor on low, and crawled in bed next to my husband for the first time in days. I was shocked and a little worried when I woke up an hour later and he was still sleeping! I hurried to check on him and found him peacefully snoring and chirping away. Hallelujah!

So for the past two days, Lucas has been sleeping for about two hours at a time in his room at night. Yesterday he actually took a two-hour nap in his crib. Victory!! It is amazing what those little bits of sleep do for me. I know from experience that babies are sneaky and like to trick us poor parents with their sleep habits, but I don't care. This is one tired mama who is going to take whatever she can get.

the tale of baby reese

Oh Blog, how I have missed you. It's been two weeks since we welcomed our new son, Lucas Benjamin. I've wanted to sit down every day and write a little bit about his birth and how life has changed since he joined our family. But as those of you with children know, the first days of a newborn-hood are all about survival. The first days with two? Forget about it. If I get a shower, a latte, and an hour-long nap, I'm thrilled. I can't fathom what life will be like with three... so I won't think about that yet.

First, the baby. Lucas joined us on Wednesday, April 15 at 1:54 in the afternoon. Let me say that everything about his birth was the polar opposite of Eli's. With Eli, I went into labor naturally (just before his due date) and endured 36 hours of labor, of which at least 30 were drug-free. I am not bragging about that. Seriously, I was an idiot. Get the drugs. Always get the drugs. Anyway, I digress.

With Lucas, we scheduled an induction in March. After an unpleasant experience with the on-call doctor in the hospital, I decided that I really wanted to know that my own doctor would be there to deliver my baby, and thankfully, she was all for it. We were admitted at midnight to start the process. It was so odd to sit at home all day, twiddling my thumbs and knowing that in a few hours I would be having a baby. Or at least, trying to have a baby. I had my doubts about the whole process, but it went very smoothly and astonishingly fast. Around 7 am I was given Pitocin and had my water broken to start labor. "It's just the tiniest dose," the kindly nurse assured me. "You won't notice any crazy start to your contractions." Ha. Within twenty minutes I was contracting hard, having to breathe through each one and thinking, "Hell to the no. I did not sign up for this again." As luck would have it, the anesthesiologist was just beginning a C-section when my contractions hit, and I had to wait a couple of hours for my epidural. I know that doesn't sound like much, but I had determined that this time I was not going to feel my labor, so I was a little impatient for the drugs. Ben was his usual awesome self, patiently riding the waves of my schizophrenic needs - "Rub my back! No stop! Rub my legs! Don't touch me! Hold me! Ice chips! Water! Leave me alone! HUG MEEEE!!"

Thankfully, Dr. Ford showed up just in time with my happy juice, and expertly and quickly administered my epidural. It helped that he had a wonderful sense of humor and kept a running banter with us to distract me from the pain. Within a few minutes I was blissfully unaware of both my contractions and my legs, and settled in for what I assumed would be many, many hours of labor. I was already beyond exhausted, having not slept for the past two nights. I decided to put in my earplugs, close the blinds, and take a nap. No sooner was I snuggled into my dozen pillows than the phone rang. It was my dear friend Dara, who had taken Eli for the day. She was at my house with both of our kids for nap time, and had gotten my obstinate house key stuck in the deadbolt. It wouldn't budge, so the door couldn't be unlocked and she couldn't wait outside with two toddlers for the next two days until we got home. In a lapse of judgment I told my dad and husband to scurry on home (we live a good 25 minutes from the hospital - barring traffic) and get the key out. In another lapse of judgment, they listened to me.

It was around noon when they left, and I was dilated to 6 cm. The nurse assured me that I had at least a couple of hours before I would even think about pushing, but to let her know if I felt any pressure. With the room almost empty (my mom stayed behind, thankfully), I replaced my earplugs and made another attempt at a nap. Not ten minutes later, I felt incredibly strong contractions and an unmistakable feeling that this baby is coming now. I rang the nurse, who checked me again and, much to everyone's surprise, announced that I was "complete." As in, completely dilated. As in, holy crap my husband is not here he is not anywhere near here now is the time to freak out. And freak out, I did. I sobbed uncontrollably into my oxygen mask as my mother, nurse, and doctor all tried to reassure me that they would make it in time, that we could definitely delay the birth long enough for them, all while my new son swam ever-more-determinedly toward the light. I called Ben in an utter panic and choked out the words, "The... baby... is... coming... and... you... are... not... here!!" In typical can-do spirit, Ben told my dad to hang on tight, gunned the engine and drove approximately 100 miles an hour, weaving through traffic on the freeway to get to the hospital in record time.

As I waited, watching the seconds tick by and unable to catch my breath through the sobs, I decided that I just simply had to calm down. I put on the most soothing worship song I know ("All Praises to the King" by Hillsong - love, love, love it!) and determined that I would not open my eyes until it had played three times. Sure enough, halfway through the second repeat my husband and daddy came rushing through the door. Ben's face was ghostly-pale as he breathlessly raced into the room. He stopped short when he saw his wife, delivery "imminent," lying peacefully on the bed, headphones on, serene expression pasted onto face. After several people assured him that yes, the baby really was coming now, I think he forgave my panicked call. I think.

We got to pushing, and I will spare the details of that endeavor on the off-chance that an unrelated man might be reading this post. Suffice it to say that this baby was ready. In approximately seven minutes, Lucas Benjamin was in my arms, and I was trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened SO FAST. My first impressions of Lucas were that he had a dent in his head and did not appear to be breathing, but all of that was forgotten when Ben laid my precious baby boy on my chest and he snuggled in like it was right where he belonged.

I have to take a moment to say that I had the most amazing birth team, for which I am incredibly grateful. Every nurse I had during my stay was excellent, but Kyleen, who was there from induction to delivery, was absolutely amazing. She was the epitome of what you want in a labor and delivery nurse - attentive, patient, kind, and competent, by turns bubbly and enthusiastic or calm and soothing. My OB was equally wonderful, and of course it was awesome to have my parents with us again to welcome their grandson into the world. And my husband? He simply rocks.

So that was the beginning of my darling baby boy. Lucas has so far been a very "easy" newborn, and many things about new mommyhood are much easier this time around. Nursing, which was a nightmare with Eli, has gone beautifully from the beginning. Aside from a couple of completely sleepless nights which threaten to send me to the asylum, Lucas is sleeping well. Eli, who turned two just a few days after Lucas was born, is completely in love with his baby brother. He calls him, quite practically, "Baby Brudder," and loves to touch his head, tickle his toes and fingers, and give him air-kisses. He checks in on him frequently - "Brudder seeping," or "Brudder eating," and then goes happily about his business again.

I think I am adjusting well to the brave new world of having plural children. I hit a wall of fatigue from time to time that sends me slightly over the edge, but after a good cry and a power nap, I am able to regain perspective and keep going. I am having to re-learn how to soothe a crying baby (I am definitely not the gifted one in that regard - Daddy is the real Baby Whisperer of the family) and constantly having to remind myself to stop doing "just one more thing" and rest. The hardest thing for me was re-establishing my bond with Eli when I came home. I could not believe how grown-up and how huge my baby boy was the first time I saw him. Even though he didn't seem to be too affected by the new arrival, it was really hard for me to feel like I was neglecting him in order to tend to the baby, and then to deal with him turning two at the same time... it's definitely been an even greater emotional roller coaster than my first post-partum experience. I miss being able to sit around and hold Lucas for hours on end like I could with Eli. But I am also overwhelmed by how incredibly blessed I am. It is an awesome privilege to have children, and I am so thankful for it. Finally, I am reminded, over and over and over again, how completely sufficient God's grace is for every moment and every need. I have cried out to him (literally!) so many times since bringing Lucas home, and each time I am met with His awesome peace and strength for another moment.

So now we begin our new lives as a family of four, and I can't wait to share the moments with you. Stay tuned!