Isn't there some great quote about good intentions and plans?

Well, life doesn't always go as planned.

I'm sure we've all learned that by now.
In one way or another.

I shared about it before, but it was never our plan that Catherine would be our only child.


I don't want to offend or hurt others with sensitive topics, but at the same time, I want to write my thoughts.  So, if you are sensitive to the subjects of having children, only children, conceiving, pregnancy, or infertility and don't want to read or think about such things, feel free to skip this post.

I've started writing this post a few times in my head but never actually on the laptop.

Or the blog.
Where others can see it.

But I'm all about keeping it real lately.  I am encouraged when others do, so maybe my risk of vulnerability will be in some small way an encouragement to someone who needs it.

For the last few years I've created a grand Christmas card/letter/photo montage.

Yes, even when I was single.

I know the idea of doing such a thing is sometimes mocked, but I think it's great.  I'm always happy to get something like that from others in the mail and to keep up with friends from far away.  I also enjoy documenting a review of the year - maybe since my memory is so bad!

There may have been one year in there right after Catherine was born where it didn't happen because it was just too crazy of a time adjusting to life with a newborn, but I'm not sure (See:  I told you I had a bad memory).

For the last two years we've hired a photographer to take Family Photos for the purpose of including them in the annual Christmas card/letter/photo montage.

2012

2013

This year, however, I've just kept putting it off and putting it off and finding one excuse after another and finally having to accept the fact that Family Photos just might not happen this year.

And do you know why I haven't been so eager to make it happen?

Because this isn't the family I thought I would have this year.

Whoa.  I just wrote that.

Please please don't hear me saying that I'm not grateful for the family I have.  I am incredibly grateful for this family that God has put together.


But when I think about poses and I compare our family to other Family Pictures (it's quite hard to find families of three where the child isn't a baby), and then I find the families with a multitude of children. . .

It feels as if there should be another member to our family.

Oh man, this sounds ridiculous when I put it out there.  I know we have been blessed with our child, and I know there are those who would be happy with "just" one.  I am happy.

But it's been a process.  An adjustment.  And a letting go of my desires and my expectations (there's that word again) and my wants and the comparisons of others.

(Go ahead.  Insert the Frozen theme song here.)

And I guess I'm learning to do that.  To let go.

Because guess what:

It looks like we're actually getting Family Pictures taken this weekend.  Pray for me.  Pray for us.  Heck, pray for our photographer as he has to deal with us!

So, that's step one.

Step two will be actually choosing a photo to represent our family.

Step three will be ordering the photo cards and sharing them with our friends and family across the states.

And saying:  This is our family.  Our family of three.  That I am so blessed to have.  And so grateful for.  And I'm not going to love them any less if we are not blessed with more.

May I have that contentment.  May I have that peace.  May I have that joy.

Because this is so true:  "Comparison is the thief of joy."  - Theodore Roosevelt

I want to celebrate the crazy, silly family that we are.  Even if it doesn't look how we thought it would.  It it truly something to be thankful for!

Once upon a time there was a man who I thought I was going to marry.

I'll go ahead and ruin the ending for you:  I didn't.

There were painful and multiple breakups that led me down a path of great depression and loneliness.

An emptiness that only God could fill.

My battle cry during that period was that God was with me even if I couldn't feel His presence.  It was a daily reminder.

Time passed.  My heart healed.  And God brought someone else into my life who did indeed become my husband, for which I am so grateful.

But for a moment, let's go back to that former suitor.

One of the "red flag" warning signs for me that he was not my Mr. Right was seen every single time we went to church together:  He refused to sing.

The time of our church service where we gather to worship and sing praise to God together was often the most meaningful time of the service for me.  And then I would look over at him and see him standing there, just observing, and not participating.

But I'm not going to dwell on the negative.  Or the past.

So fast forward a few years to this point in time.

The man that God brought to me is a music teacher.  And he regularly serves on the Worship Team at our church.  Those are the people who sing on stage as a guide and model to others.

He sings.
He likes to sings.
He loves to sing.

Tomorrow, for the second time, he is filling in for our regular Worship Leader and leading the entire congregation in singing.


 This irony is not lost on me.

I'm glad I waited and did not settle for what was not God's best for me.

God is the giver of all good things, and I am rich from His blessings.  Thank you, God.

I went to a really awesome Women's Retreat last week.  And it's got me thinking a lot about the expectations of being a "good mom" or a "perfect wife" or a "Proverbs 31 woman".

• own a big house
• invite people over often
• clean that big house
• make meals
• make healthy meals
• organic, gluten free, GMO free meals
• no fast food
• meal plan
• make freezer meals
• make meals for others
• bake coookies
• keep a full cookie jar
• have clear kitchen counters
• have granite countertops
• serve in the church
• nursery duty Sunday
• nursery duty Wednesday
• attend Bible study
• host Bible study
• attend small group
• host small group
• have daily devotions
• have daily family devotions
• have daily devotions with husband
• have a happy marriage
• have lots of sex
• have lots of children
• sacrificially give up sleep
• sew
• own a minivan
• drive other people's kids around
• take the neighborhood to church
• take the church to the neighborhood
• serve the less fortunate
• make memories for child(ren)
• have craft time with child
• give up coffee
• go to bed early
• get up early
• exercise
• daily laundry
• mop
• wear an apron
• wear makeup
• wear heels
• have nice matching furniture that isn't second-hand or stained
• have a queen or king sized bed
• . . .

It keeps going and going.
It's enough to make me crumble.
And weep.
And give up.

Because [clearly] I can't do it all.

The question I keep coming back to is "Where do these expectations come from?"

God never called me to be Super Woman.  He's the One I say I live for and care about.  Then why am I stressing about doing all these other things that He's never called me to do?

One point our speaker made at the retreat is that God's not calling me to do, do, do.  He's calling me to be.

To be His daughter.  To be in His presence.

Look at the Bible passage about Mary and Martha in Luke 10:38-42.
Oh, this story has always made me squirm.

Because, like Martha, I'm a doer.  I think of all the work that needs to be done.  And I try to do it.  And then I get ticked off when others aren't doing their fair share.

In this passage, Martha is feeling the same way.  And Jesus totally calls her out on it, and says she can stop trying to do it all.  He never asked her to do it all.  In fact He doesn't want her to do it all.  He wants her to just be.  To sit at His feet and to be with Him.

Oh, Lord, can I do that?  Is it possible to overlook the messy house and the overflowing baskets of laundry and the over-scheduled calendar to focus on what You have truly called me to do??



My friend Lisa-Jo just wrote about NOT Doing It All.  Her honesty was much appreciated and needed.  The part that impacted me the most was kind of some behind-the-scenes information.  The "story behind the photo" if you will.

A couple days prior she had posted a photo of her sweet kiddos all lined up in a row, sitting nicely on the couch, all happy and well fed with bowls of food in their laps.  It was cute.  Of course.


Then I found out the story behind the photo:  Lisa-Jo had just gotten home from traveling out of town for a few days to a conference where she was a speaker.  Though she was delighted to be home and with her kids again, she was also exhausted.  She got Chinese take-out, put it in bowls, lined them up on the couch with dinner and Netflix while she napped.

Can I get a "Hallelujah" for a nap?
Can I get a "Hallelujah" for such honesty?
Can I get a "Hallelujah" for takeout and tv for those moments when we just can't do it all and we need to be real and ok with that?

Another friend's husband recently posted "Judging by my facebook feed, if you haven't taken your kids to an apple orchard or a pumpkin patch yet this fall, you're a horrible parent."  Though obviously tongue-in-cheek, it puts into explicit words what we may be feeling tinges of when we compare our lives to those showing up in our newsfeed.

I can't allow others' snippets of life and snapshots momentarily on display to decide the expectations of my day-to-day reality.

Lord, help me to know what YOU expect of me.  May I strive for only the things that bring glory to you.

Not to get all Martha Stewart on you or anything, but I've just been more aware lately of these good things...

• my little family
• play dates
• hospitality
• girls night out
• community
• learning more about myself
• listening to God
• The Best Yes by Lysa TerKeurst
• pedicures
• a new hair-do
• weekly accountability
• new friendships
• Catherine learning and growing

• thanking God for my blessings
• the crispness of fall
• pumpkin recipes
• simplicity
• getting to miss my family on occasion IE time spent apart
• parents & in-laws
• having many of Catherine's aunts, uncles, and cousins nearby
• the tremendous amount of work my husband does for our family
• looking forward to Fall Break
  
  
  
  
  

So many times I hear or think about the phrase "In the wrong place at the wrong time."

I've experienced it too.

Not as traumatically as others.  As I reflect back on 9/11, it's clear many people that day were "in the wrong place at the wrong time."

You hear about these freak accidents of a tree randomly falling on someone.  Sadly, I am aware of multiple freak accidents like that.

Or a car crash - what are the chances that those two vehicles would cross paths at that same time?

But tonight was different.

Tonight I was in the right place at the right time.

And I look back over the evening and ponder so many things that put me in that place at that precise time.

It's Friday night.  We like to go out for dinner on Friday nights.  We went to our favorite local restaurant.  And we were famished, so we went early.

I think about our waiter and how he served us and at what pace.
I think about our toddler and how she behaved remarkably well, which allowed us to stay for an extended time.
I think about how I forgot to use the restroom like I had planned, which would have altered the time we left the restaurant.

So many little things that caused us to be in the parking lot at our car at the exact time we were.

Catherine was slowly (of course) getting into her car seat, and we were patiently (of course) waiting.

BOOM!

What was that??

I look up and over back toward the restaurant.  Oh man, a truck just backed into another car.  Or did two vehicles back into each other?  No, that silver car is empty.  Oh man, the truck just hit a second car!  What is going on??

Knowing with no doubt in my mind what I need to do, I start walking over toward the vehicle in question.  Wait a minute, um, he's not stopping.  What??  No, he seriously can't be driving away from such obvious, hard hits.

Another patron is approaching the truck and talking with the driver.

Was it his car the guy hit?  Does he know him?  Are they in on this together?  No, he's trying to convince the driver to stop.

Wait.  The guy is driving away.  What?  Somebody stop him.  How?  I keep getting closer to the scene, but the guy is getting away.

I approach the group of people there who had seen it and learn that not only had they seen this man hit the cars, but they also saw him stumbling drunk out of the restaurant.

My brain just keeps going.  Who do we need to contact?  What action needs to be taken?

I know.

It's been a LONG time since I've had to use it, but I know I need to call 911.

Between the few of us there, we are able to give a decent description of the driver and his vehicle (which included a dent in the driver door) and the direction he was going when he left the parking lot.

But time quickly passes.  He goes around the corner.  And is gone.

After the call I continue conversing with the other witnesses.  I walk back to our car where my husband and daughter are patiently waiting.  I know what we have to do next.  I direct Josh to go in the direction the truck went.

I'm not optimistic, but I'm determined.

We go slowly, scanning all driveways, parking lots, side streets.  And as we do, I'm so mad at myself for not taking a picture of the guy or his vehicle.

I had said his license plate number out loud, but only remembered a few of the digits.  TK and an 8 and 9 somewhere.  Maybe a 1, 5, and 3.

What color was the truck?  Silver?  Tan?  How can it be a mixture of both??

We go through a nearby neighborhood and look at the plates of a couple similar looking trucks.

"TK!"  I exclaim and then realize it's the start of all the truck license plates.  Darnit!

We search down one more side street; then my phone rings.  It's dispatch.  They want the info of the vehicles that were hit.  They tell me an officer is at the scene.  I tell them I'll go back to talk to the officer.

On the way back we continue searching.  Josh's slow driving was driving me bonkers.  He told me I needed to calm down.  I told him I would if he'd step it up a bit.

As we pull back into the parking lot I see the police car ahead.  And as we're approaching it, I stare down one more truck going in the opposite direction.  Dented driver door.  I turn around and see an 8 and 9 in the license plate!  It's him!

"Pull up to the police car!"  I holler at Josh, knowing time is of the essence.

"I think that's the guy!!" I shout to the patrolwoman.  She asks if I was the one who got hit.

"No, I'm the one who called 911."

She took my word and went off after him.

Fast forward a bit to another phone call with dispatch.  I gave them additional information, and the dispatcher said, "It looks like they got him."

"Really?!  It was him?!"  I thought it was too good to be true.

I was astounded.  Excited.  Proud.

"Sorry," I apologized for my enthusiasm.  "I'm just a fighter of injustice.  And I feel like tonight justice won!"  My eyes teared up, and I swallowed a lump in my throat.

After I got off the phone, I contemplated that maybe the dispatcher just made that up to shut me up.  But I figured I'd let myself believe it for now anyways.

Fast forward to later at home.  The police officer who I literally yelled at in the parking lot is calling me.  And sure enough.  She confirmed it.

"We got the guy.  You were right.  It was him.  He had a blood alcohol level almost three times the legal limit.  He's locked up in jail."

My heart smiled.  It burst with joy.

Justice did win tonight.  It may not tomorrow or the day after that.  But I'm going to enjoy tonight's win just for the moment.

When I texted the news to the other witness (the one who approached the truck, informing the drunk driver that he just hit two vehicles and was trying to convince him to not drive away), his response summed it up well, "Great to hear!  You may have saved a life tonight!"


Tonight I was in the right place at the right time.

But that's not enough.

It takes being in the right place at the right time, and doing the right thing.

I don't share this to boast.  I do it to encourage you that if you find yourself happening upon some form of injustice, don't assume someone else will fight it or let someone else deal with it.

I could have very easily just looked away, shaking my head, thinking "Bummer for them." after those cars were hit.  I could have taken the easy way out, thinking about how I just want to get on with my evening and head to Target.

I could have let the guy just drive on knowing he was drunk because how was I gonna stop him.  I could have viewed the whole situation as hopeless, not worth fighting.

But, I am a fighter.  There is hope.  And one person can make a difference.

There is victory for us injustice fighters tonight!

I find this so hard to believe, so strange, so bizarre that I have to document it!

A couple days ago I had a sudden, obscure thought:  I don't want to go all out for Catherine's birthday party.

WHAT???

Since when??

And why??

I am The Party Planner.  I love it!  I long for parties to plan.  I live for party planning.  Ok, maybe a slight exaggeration, but my point is clear.



So, why am I all of the sudden having these bizarre thoughts?

Thoughts like...

Maybe we don't need to provide a meal; that's a LOT of work.

Maybe I don't need to invite 85% of the people I know.

Maybe I should shorten the party time.

Maybe I should do less.

It was like I suddenly realized how hard party planning is and how maybe I don't need to put myself through all that.  Honestly, the last party I planned, I had to cancel the day of because I got severely sick.  And, there was actually a huge relief that washed over me after it was canceled.

Where is this coming from???  Who will win in the end?  The Party Planner or The Simplifier?!?

I will be the first to admit:  I have done a lousy job at keeping this blog updated.

But, as they say, "It is what it is."

Get past it.  I am.

~~~~~

My husband is a marathon runner.

Stop there.  I NEVER thought I would be married to a marathon runner.

I remember when we were dating he would occasionally run in the summer, when he happened to have free time.  I just thought, "Why???"

Even though it's not my thing, I am proud of him.  He trains.  He disciplines himself in so many ways.  He literally runs for hours without stopping.  That.Is.Amazing.

A couple few months ago, I was getting resentful about his running because it meant I was guaranteed "on duty" with the toddler*.  No other option, but me.  Stuck*.

So, a friend was gracious enough to loan us a jogging stroller.

Bingo!

(Sorry about the ginormous photos.  I have not figured out how to downsize pictures on my new lappy...)

I LOVE when the two of them can have special times together.  And no, not just because it gives me a break.


I am so blessed by a husband who is also a good father.  Every night, seriously like 99.9% of the time, Josh puts Catherine to bed.  He does the jammies, the potty, the overnight diaper, the teeth brushing, the tucking in with bear, and raffie, and big bear, and pink bear, and white bear, and polar bear, and dolly, and other dolly, and books.  SO many books.  The prayer, the singing, the rocking, the glass of water, the pink blanket, no the striped blanket, no the yellow blanket.  Ahhhh, life with a two-year-old...

Bless his heart!  He is good!!

The other day he forced encouraged me to take an evening off.  He said I should go out solo and do whatever I want - a relaxing dinner, catch a movie, watch HGTV at my mother's, sit at Starbucks, etc.

Wow.

This meant the world to me!!

I needed a break, and he knew it.

This weekend Josh and I get a break together.  Although I don't know how much of a "break" it will feel like to him.

He's got a half marathon to run.