pregnancy, the 3rd time around

Time to get real, folks. My first pregnancy? Loved it. We waited a long time for Miss Maddie, and when I finally learned I was pregnant, I was one happy mama. Sure, I had morning sickness, but only for five weeks. The zits, the hormones, the joint aches, the heartburn--they were all beautiful reminders of the growing life inside of me. Overall, I really enjoyed being having that baby in my belly. I really  felt like I was glowing. Even late into my third trimester, you could see my cheekbones, I was still smiling, and I had a sense of humor. I worked all the way up until Christmas, then had Maddie a few weeks later.

When I got pregnant with Sam, we were super excited to be expecting again. I started feeling nauseous around 5 or 5 1/2 weeks, and the morning sickness lasted past twenty weeks. I was tired from running after a toddler in addition to growing a life inside me. And we got really troubling news at our ultrasound that caused some serious worry. But some of the happy parts of pregnancy kept me sane: thick, lustrous hair, glowing skin. Toward the end, my joint pain was really bad (and most likely an indicator of the colitis relapse on its way). I did not enjoy being pregnant in proportion to the more pregnant I got. I was huge, tired, awkward, and more than ready for Sam to arrive.

And now, pregnancy numero three. A complete surprise. It was a significant hurdle just getting over the shock (after trying over a year to have a third, not being successful, then getting so sick, then giving up on the dream, well, it was a big, big shock!) But we were and are excited, because we love babies and always hoped for a third. However, within a week of finding out we were pregnant, I started experiencing symptoms of colitis relapse. The symptoms continued to get worse, and worse, and worse. By God's grace, we made it through the first trimester, though barely. I finally woke up, thanks to some much-needed prednisone. Thank you, wonder drug! Now I'm a new woman: cleaning house, making cookies, enjoying the heck out of my kiddos and finally starting to feel like myself. I'm finally settling in. Yet, the pregnancy. Pregnancy + prednisone = puffiness; my face is puffy, my always-hungry body is puffy. And if a puffy face isn't bad enough, I've got a few zits going on, too. No glow. No lustrous hair. The colitis took the glow right away! 

But when it comes down to it, I can handle anything for nine months. Surprise, relapse, morning sickness, zits, puffiness. There's a big prize at the end of this journey. Just trying to keep it real, folks.

Maddie: 69 Months

Dear Maddie Lou Who,

When you pad down the stairs in the morning, hair fluffy, nightgown disheveled, then curl up in my lap, your first questions always comes out like a wee little who down in who-ville, sweet and curious and anticipatory: "What are we doing today?" I wish I had the presence of mind and stillness of heart to savor every moment like this, where your wide-eyed curiosity and sense of wonder at the day ahead stirs some deep, vibrant love within me. 

Kindergarten continues to grow on you, but you're still using around the words "hate" and "school" in the same sentence with frequency. And now there's the homework to "hate" as well. Sigh. Only eighteen more years of homework ahead. Every day, the same question: "School today?" Five out of seven days, the same response. Five out of seven responses, not so favorable. Every day I send you off to school, hoping the magic switch gets flipped and you'll be super excited for school the next morning.  Still waiting... (updated at time of posting: Less drama, more happiness associated with school days. Phew!)

In happier news, you conquered the pull-up! After an entire Summer of practicing, you finally got those eyes above the bar and we are SO PROUD of you! I couldn't even come close to attempting a pull-up, but you stuck with it for months, practicing and practicing until you accomplished your goal. Way to go, strong, capable girl!!!

A teacher work day afforded us a much-needed Mama-Maddie date. We spent our two and a half hours together grabbing breakfast at Chow (you love the Marion Pancake) and hiking at San Damiano. It was a treat to get you all to myself. I love that SD is our special place, where we connect with each other, with God, and have some amazing conversations. It's hard to believe you're only five and a half; at times our deep spiritual talks are on the level of a friend. You are both wise and curious, characteristics that lend well to long talks and walks in the woods.

Today at lunch you asked me how to know whether the little voice you are hearing inside your heart is God or not. We've been talking about really spending time listening, trying to discern the voice of God. I told you that if you ever thought God might be speaking to you, to ask him to reveal himself to you, to   ask him, "God, is that you?" (We've read the Samuel story LOTS of times). Today you said, "I think he's trying to tell me something, because this is what I keep hearing:

'You are my beloved daughter. I love you so much.'"

I told you that it sounded very much like something God would say. There is no greater joy for me than to watch and observe your growing relationship with your Heavenly Father. You SO want to foster a relationship of listening with Him, and I just know that he is going to honor your pursuit of him.

We had your first Kindergarten conference this week. Mrs. L had plenty to say, but the thing she praised the most was your "kind and loving heart." Needless to say, I was a mess of tears and pride (hello, pregnancy emotions) upon hearing her reflections. Of course, your Daddy and I (and all who know you) recognize that you have a compassionate, loving, inclusive heart. You are always reaching out to those on the fringe, to kids who might feel left out. Mrs. L. noted that you've become quite a friend and comfort to a girl in your class who does not speak English as her first language, and it's made quite an impression.

Because we're all about celebrating the big and little things, Daddy thought of inviting you out on a special dress-up dessert to your favorite spot, Esin. You donned a party dress, three hair accessories, three necklaces, a bracelet, a ring, and a purse. You were quite fancy. Creme Brulee was your dessert of choice and you had no problem finishing it all by yourself (with a few bites reserved for Daddy & Sam). You even tried Daddy's coffee. So grown up.

Madeleine Noelle, it goes without saying that you are so, so precious to us. You have a heart of gold, an unmatched personality and zest for life, and a tender spirit that seeks truth. I feel so lucky to be your mom. You've taught me so much in such a brief tenure here on earth. Can't wait to continue learning through the years with you.

Love,

Mama

it feels like I'm fallin' for Fall...

Today, 10/11/12, was the first day this year that felt like Fall.

It was fantastically lovely.

Some snapshots from this most-celebrated cool day, sharing what we love best about Fall:

Sigh. I love Fall.

this week's organization brought to you by...prednisone!

So, the upside of prednisone is that it gives me crazy energy. Like, Spring Cleaning, cloroxing, disinfecting, organizing energy. Of course, I stay up late and wake up early and am super wakeful at night but boy, oh, boy, give me a cup of coffee, 35 mg of steroids and a couple hours, and I can get some serious housework done. 

One morning this week I organized all the bedroom closets. I didn't take before pictures because, well, I was in too much of a hurry. But then I was so proud of the results that I took after pictures. My shoe situation has been messy--really, really messy--for quite some time. The kids like to play in there occasionally and they broke my shoe organizer, so every pair I own was in disorganized piles and shambles. I finally pulled the whole contraption out and just put my winter shoes on the floor and my summer shoes up high on the shelves (to the left of the plastic organizer in the picture on the right, below). I pulled out all the clothes I don't wear and organized my tank top collection (to the right of the plastic organizer). I vacuumed under everything. 

I did quite a bit of work in the kids' closets last week, getting rid of clothes that were too small, moving in the next sizes (for Sam). This week I was able to organize and sort all the toys in Maddie's closet (Praise the Lord for cubbies). I also organized her shoes. Yay! I love sorting hanging clothes by color and style (short sleeve, long sleeve, plain, patterned) and it felt so freaking awesome to get everything in its proper place.

I also vacuumed the kids' closets. When I was done, I cleaned the whole upstairs, washed all the bedding, vacuumed and washed all the floors, cloroxed every doorknob and surface I could find, scrubbed the toilets, AND made dinner.

Did you hear that? 

That was the sound of me laughing at myself. Hysterically. This is NOT typical Becky behavior. Not at all. I only have about 7 weeks left on prednisone. I better make use of these crazy, steroid-induced cleaning sprees. :)

illuminated, again

In this season of great difficulty, I have felt bogged down with everything that is going wrong. My tendency is to worry, focusing on all the things that need fixing. But the scriptures are pretty clear here: turn your worries into prayers. Also, if you are going to take account of anything, it should be those worthy of praise--things true and pure and pleasing and honorable. 

Wow. That is a truly and exercise in trust, depending on God to take care of all the messes. Because really, when I spend time fretting and worrying, it is me seeking control of situations that aren't even in my ability to control. I'm seeking to be God when the reality is only God can fill that role. I am not in control at all, so why spend so much time and energy acting as if I am?!

When stressed or worried, pray. Then start to keep track of all the things God is doing that demand praise, worship and adoration. Focus on these things.

God help me! Turn my worries into prayers and focus my heart on your goodness and providence.

Remicade: Day 1

Making the decision to go on remicade was a difficult one. It's a complicated situation, being pregnant (surprise!) and really, really sick. There aren't a lot of good options for someone like me. I'm sharing my experience (and joining a remicade + pregnant mama study) in hopes that my story might make someone else's decision just a little bit easier.

When I left the hospital in April of this year, I made the decision to defer remicade treatment in order to pursue more natural ways of managing my illness. After all, I had been able to more or less keep my colitis in remission for 7 years through careful diet and asacol (another, less potent colitis drug). We thought it was worth a try before committing to a lifetime of infusions.

Then, God surprised us with a third baby. Change of plans. Within a few weeks of finding I was pregnant, I went from feeling really quite good to totally flaring. We waited on additional medication throughout the first trimester to avoid exposing my developing baby to unnecessary chemicals. It was a really rough 9-10 weeks. I felt AWFUL.

For my colon to stay in its sick state is pretty much the worst thing for me and for the baby. Going to the bathroom eight or nine times a day is super inconvenient for a mama of two. Losing an alarming amount of blood and not being able to absorb nutrients is painful to me and harmful to my baby. My gastroenterologist explained it like this: 

No further treatment (sticking with autoimmune protocol and diet, naturopathic supplements and asacol) = broken, diseased colon = feeling awful PLUS possible miscarriage, preterm birth, small for gestational age infants and complications in labor and delivery (high risk to baby)

Steroid/prednisone treatment = improved physical symptoms, but with not-so-fun side effects = healthier colon but increased risk of steroid dependency and possible adrenal issues in my baby, increased risk of gestational diabetes and having a big baby (medium risk to baby)

Remicade treatment = improved physical symptoms, possible side effects = lowest risk to baby during pregnancy, but crosses placenta during 2nd and 3rd trimester and shows in cord blood and remains in system of baby for 6 months. (low risk to baby, as far as the studies go, but the studies don't go far. Babies born to moms who used remicade statistically have no increased risk of infection but must still be monitored closely.)

Today was my first infusion. I didn't have a lot of time to process it all. Our lives have been crazy. I've felt awful. I honestly just want so badly for remicade to work for me, to be the "miracle drug" that it has been for lots of other folks with this disease. Today I was pretty emotional and a little nervous when I got to the UCSF infusion center.

There's my pump, infusing my blood with 400 mg of rat protein. Yep, rat protein. Look it up. I used a Halloween font because it sounds pretty creepy. But if it works, I'll take it!

The infusion starts with a saline rinse, followed by hydrocortisone to help prevent/lessen any possible side effects (flu-like symptoms, rashes, vomiting, tightness in chest). Then it is a slow drip of remicade for a half an hour, a little faster for half hour, faster for another hour, then all the way open for the last half hour. All in all, the process start to finish takes 4 hours. 

No side effects for me! PRAISE GOD! This was a HUGE answer to prayer. I felt totally fine the entire time. No issues whatsoever. I sat in my chair, caught up on all my favorite blogs, instagrammed, face booked, and chatted with my hubby.

Mamas don't get to sit with their feet up for four hours very often. It wasn't really all that bad. :) Ben picked me up some vietnamese food for lunch. I listened to Jesus Culture on Pandora. I sipped my ice water.

 And honestly, for the first time in weeks, I felt a little glimmer of hope: 

Maybe I will get better. 

It's possible that this drug will send my disease into permanent remission. 

Maybe I'll get my life back. 

And my baby will be protected from the complications of severe disease. 

And my kids will get their mom back.

And this will all be a thing of the past.

HOPE with me.

Next treatment in 2 weeks.

Samuel: 43 Months

Dear Sam,

I think that this month could be summed up in the phrase, "naughty naughty numpkin pie!" 3 1/2 has been a time of, ahem, challenging the status quo and authority structure. Our disciplinary tactics have taken a dramatic turn in recent weeks, ending up with me sitting on you in a parking lot, waiting for you to listen and obey. Oh, the depths to which we sink as moms.

Now, granted, we've had some rough times lately. Lots of transitions, plenty of changes, a mom who's been much too sick to do much of anything, a sister who's struggling to find her own way in Kindergarten. All of these things work to the surface in one way or another. Changes and transitions mean grieving what was and adjusting to what is. This is so hard to do, even for an adult, with handles and experience and (somewhat) stable emotions. Basically, it's like you're living in a snow globe, and every few days someone comes along, turns it over, shakes everything up, and then we spend the next several days waiting for all the pieces to settle into their new spots, all while anticipating another big shake.

And with rough transitions come rough nights' sleep. Your nighttime routine in the past month has included at least one of the following: 1) sneaking into our bed after we've gone downstairs. Exhibits A, B & C:

Confession: In my desperation, one night I booby-trapped our room (empty water bottle on the tile right inside the door), hoping to catch you in the act. That night you actually stayed in your bed, and I was the booby, knocking over that stinking water bottle, sounds echoing across the quiet room. 

2) waking up in the middle of the night with bad dreams, then tossing and turning for 45 minutes before finally falling back asleep (not that I was keeping track or anything), or;

3) waking up at 5:00am, coming into our room, to MY side of the bed, and insisting it's time to "go downstairs."

Needless to say, we're all tired and in need of a good night's sleep. Memo: sleep through the night. In your own bed. Past 6:00, preferably. Thanks.

Another parent to boys recently shed some light on your recent antics: impulse control. TOTALLY! You are insatiably curious, super smart, and your impulsivity plays out in a multitude of surprising, frustrating, crazy-making ways. You can't help but sneak another piece of candy. You can't help but reach out and pull your sister's toy from her hands though she did nothing to provoke it. You can't help but pour out the shampoo in the bathtub for the 1,000th time, even though you've had consequence after consequence for wasting product and making a slippery mess. ARGH. Impulse control, be gone.

Our little guy with the speech issues is talking up a storm these days! It seems I can't get you to be quiet! :) Your speech teacher insists you're making great progress and I can hear it most of the time, in the way you work hard to enunciate individual sounds. It's all good unless you are telling a story, and then all your words run together in a fast jumble of consonants and vowels and excitement and energy and JOY and SINGING in stuttering, sputtering, loud, exuberant chaos. When you are telling a story, it's just anyone's guess as to what you are actually saying. But it is quite entertaining, even if incoherent.

And then there were TWO. You and your big sister/cohort/partner in crime have had a good three and a half years of los dos amigos. But before we know it, you're going to be a middle child. There will soon be THREE Joyce children filling up our house with toys & joys, laughter and impulsivity.

Gulp.

But if we're going to have another baby, I hope we get one that's a perfect combination of the two I already have. It's already been decided that you're the two cutest kids I know, not to mention in possession of the greatest (also, BIG) personalities. This baby will be no wallflower, not in order to keep up with the best big sister and big brother around. I hope that this one, like you, loves to snuggle. I hope the new baby gives kisses liberally and with gently puckered lips. Would you teach the baby how to enjoy life with reckless abandon? How to make a boat or rocketship out of any piece of furniture? Promise me you'll pass on your love of building, your joy for all things structural, your passion for legos and playmobil. Teach your baby to pray, because I can't imagine our nightly routine without those big words, big emotions, and genuine affection.

But feel free to keep mum on sleeping advice. Mkay?

Until next month, big buddy,

Mama

waking up

When I was a child, my parents would play books on tape during long trips in the car. I have vivid memories of the back seat of our blue VW rabbit and a brown vinyl cassette tape case that held our favorite road trip listens: Simon & Garfunkel, Neil Simon, and all those marvelous, image-rich audio books...Gulliver's Travels, Tom Sawyer, Adventures of Huck Finn, Rip Van Winkle. My mom, a teacher, fostered a love of reading long before any of us could pick out words on a page. The imagery of those stories, the background music, even the dialogue itself is still burned deep in my memory:

"Becky, I found a way out!!" 

"Where, Tom?" 

"Over here, (echoing) over here. Follow the string!"

 "All right, I'm coming..."

The last few days, I've felt like Rip Van Winkle coming out of a deep, deep sleep. My body, my spirit, and my soul have needed rest, and I've been hibernating. In a broken world and in my broken body, I had to retreat. And even though it's been absolutely necessary for my health and the health of this growing life inside me, there have been a lot of consequences. I'm rousing from my slumber to a world that's different.

My house has been neglected. Beneath my couches are tumbleweeds of dog hair mixed with leaves and needles from outside. That "natural marbling" you see in the tiles on my floor? Stains.

My kids have been taken care of, but they haven't been lovingly tended to. They are overwhelmed and tired, struggling and needy, having nightmares and needing lots of extra snuggles.

My marriage has not been prioritized. Yes, there have been date nights. We've been praying together more than ever, given our desperate times. We've even shared a few laughs and enjoyed some late night talks despite the deep, aching exhaustion. But we are relating more like roommates than life mates.

Relationships outside of my family have really suffered. In a season where I've hardly had the strength to stay awake after my kids are down for the night, I haven't been texting folks, emailing, facebooking, meeting for coffee, catching up, praying for others, or caring for anyone the way I would want to. I haven't talked with my own brothers in months.

What can I say? I'm a broken person, in a broken body, in a broken world. I fall short, again and again and again. 

If you are someone that I've hurt, neglected, or seemingly forgotten during this season, please, please forgive me. I'm so sorry. I love you and care about you and you are precious to me.

Here's the good news! God, who is rich in mercy and compassion and grace, is MORE THAN ENOUGH. In all the ways I fall short, in all the ways I've messed up, for all the times I've fallen asleep on the job, God has been at work. 

I am an imperfect housekeeper. Thankfully, God gave me the grace for this area of shortcoming long ago and he also continues to send folks to help fill in with the upkeep of my laundry, cooking and cleaning. If you've contributed to the maintenance of my home while I've hibernated, thank you, thank you, thank you.

I am an imperfect parent, but God is a perfect Father. In all the ways I fail to love my children well and meet all their needs, I can still point them to a Father who always loves perfectly and meets every need, in abundance. Thank you Father!

I am an imperfect spouse, but Christ gave himself up for my husband. For all the times I choose MY way, in the cutting remarks I make, in my selfish choices and bad attitude, Christ sacrificially loves, serves, and cares for Ben. Thank you Jesus!

I am an imperfect friend/sister/pastor/shepherd, but we have the Spirit, which is our divine friend, advocate and helper. In circumstances of inability, the Spirit is more than able to accomplish all that God desires for his people. God is so good that can use both our times of strength and weakness to bring about his perfect will in our lives.

I've woken up from my slumber to a changed world. But thankfully, different than Rip Van Winkle's sad story, all the people I love are still here! My house is just as I left it, maybe a little dirtier but it's still where my family lives and that's where I want to to be. My kids are resilient and quick to forgive. They still love me and want me around. My hubby grants me grace time and time again. In relationships where I've been able to reach out and confess my shortcomings and seek forgiveness, there has been reconciliation and healing.

God is healing my body, he's reconciling my relationships, and he's restoring my world. While I've been sleeping, he's been at work.

Grateful. Humbled. Sinking in a sea of grace.

XOXO

word for the weekend

a little sprucing up

I started prednisone about a week ago. One of the side effects is an increase in energy (and a decrease in sleep). Sam's been waking up around 5am most mornings this week and after a few days, I fell into the same routine. Well, give me coffee plus prednisone at 5:30am and I have THREE productive hours ahead of me before it's time for school.

Maybe it's pre-nesting phase, maybe it's the prednisone, WHATEVER. I have barely had enough energy to clean my kitchen for the past few months, let alone take on any extra projects that needed doing. Well, in the past week alone, let me share what I've accomplished:

all of my laundry is currently clean and put away...this is a freaking miracle!

I cleaned out both kids' closets, got rid of all the too-small clothes, and updated drawers with current-size hand-me-downs. yay for a whole new Fall wardrobe for Sam!

I made dinner. Three nights in a row. Involving three different dishes. Yes indeed.

Laid down the gauntlet with the insurance peeps and finally got my remicade approved! Praise Jesus!!

Organized the kids' toys in the garage, donated old items and cleaned and prepped good-condition items for consignment.

And this, my friends, is where my inaugural Pintertest Kitchen link-up comes in:

I love coconut oil and I noticed a while back on pinterest that you can make a natural goo be gone from coconut oil and baking soda. The items I'm taking to the consignment store include a beautiful PBKids kitchen and a Radio Flyer tricycle. Both of these items were covered in kid gunk. I think it was a combination of marker, ballpoint pen, sunblock, TBD snack item, dirt and those super annoying cheap foam stickers from the craft store that covered the once-white exterior of the kitchen.  Well, I'm happy to report that with the use of my all natural (and great smelling!) goo be gone, a Mr. Clean magic eraser, a putty knife and a little elbow grease, the toys look awesome and totally ready for consignment!

I didn't take a before picture because I'm lazy. (Well, not too lazy because I worked hard getting all the gunk off, but, whatever.) You should know that the left front corner of the kitchen (near the fake burners) had two large foam stickers, marker and pen covering a good portion. Now there is just a trace amount of someone's ballpoint pen masterpiece.  So, should you have any stickers, even the stickiest, gooiest, most stubborn cheap foam stickers, give the natural goo be gone a shot! I was pleasantly surprised. :)

good eats, good reads

good reads:

"God is the perfect creator and was completely satisfied in what he had done in creation, He created us to be completely satisfied in Him.  Sin came into the world when we thought something else could offer more satisfaction.  God chose an innocent sacrifice so that we didn’t have to suffer the punishment for what we deserved, gave us a community of people to remind us of this daily because we continue to be deceived that there is some greater satisfaction, and promises one day that He is going to perfect us so that we can understand that He is the ultimate satisfaction!" 

Read that over and over and over and let the goodness just flow over you. Found here. 

Yes, yes, only Him — and you were the beautiful face that brought me the Good News.” She’s wrinkled and exquisite and what if she hadn’t? What if she hadn’t?  What if fear had stopped her or reaching out had inconvenienced her or she had had far more important things to do than tell a bunch of straggler neighborhood farm kids about a Carpenter and a Cross and Nails that can fix all the broken down places?  What if believing meant there’s no way you could stop telling the Good News because it’s more sensational than gossip that parades as news?

A Holy Experience. Ann Voskamp. Subscribe today.

good eats:

Sprouted Kitchen's almond date truffles? Yes, please. Chocolate and almonds are a great match.

oh. em. gee. Joy, you've done it again. Gone and read my pregnancy cravings like you are in my brain! Coke + grilled pepper jack sandwich + chips? Heaven will be made of potato chips and french fries, imho.

(new!) good listens:

Mumford's new album? Yes, yes, yes. I love them. I want to put on kicky boots, a twirly skirt, and dance around the house with my nudey children to this entire album. Buy it. Buuuyyyyy eeeeeet.

delighting in the monotonous

Sometimes life as a mother (worker, disciple, friend, neighbor, spouse...) can feel monotonous. It can feel like the same thing, over and over, day in and day out.

laundry

meals

cleaning

whining

busy work

errands

frustration

sin

worry

impatience

relational strain

carpool

talking back

bickering

I start to think, "Really, God? Why does it feel like Groundhog Day, the same problems, the same sin, the same frustrations that plague me again and again?"

Then I consider my kids, who delight in doing the same exact thing, over and over and over. My son will sit and play with his legos, singing the same lyrics twenty times. My daughter will watch with amazement as her Daddy makes a coin disappear, and because she is desperate to figure it out, she asks "Do it again, Daddy! Again!" 

Why do I struggle with the monotonous when my children delight in it? 

This quote always gets me thinking, so I'm sharing it with you today:

Hope you can find some daisies to admire today. You'll never look at them the same way again. :)

tender mercies

Today I am worried about...

the "severe" state of my colon

prednisone: those little white pills make me a psycho insomniac

remicade: affording the "miracle" drug

the fragility of our little church plant

BUT, today I am thankful for...

friends who run my errands for me so I can stay home and rest

phone calls from friends & family

email offers to help

facebook encouragement

pickles, olives, chips (hello, pregnancy cravings)

pastor of our previous church who dropped off a plant, trader joe's gift card, and card signed by all the pastors who know we're going through some tough times 

A friend listened to the Spirit and sent me this verse, set in the following context: After a night of fishing with nothing to show for it, a bunch of guys sat around in the morning, listening to Jesus teach. Later that day, Jesus encouraged the fishermen to return to the water and let down their nets again. Simon Peter says to his teacher, "Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets." And then, well, that verse above happens. But the disciples leave it all--they walk away from the biggest catch of their lives--to follow the mysterious, beautiful, miraculous rabbi.

At first read, I was like, "Ok, God, what do you want to teach me from this verse?" And this is what I wrote/heard:

God, we are so weary. We've labored so long and so hard but our nets keep coming up empty. Ministry is hard. This health situation is really hard. But I feel like you're telling me that all I need is to continue in obedience, even though it is sometimes with questioning, like Simon Peter. Really, God, put down our nets again?

When we feel like quitting, it is because we are looking for "success" according to some self-imposed measure. We must continue to let down our nets, regardless of the out come.

I heard God say to me, "Are you willing to give it all up (success, health, self-imposed measures, thriving ministry, ideal outcomes)--like the disciples who walked away from the biggest catch of their lives--in order to follow me?"

My answer. "Yes, Lord. Yes."

Then, more from the Lord: "A time is coming when your nets are going to be filled. But that in and of itself won't be nearly so attractive and marvelous as me. When your success is found in Christ and Christ alone, that is where you find true beauty."

So, even in my weakness, my worry, my weariness, 

I'm going to keep putting down my net.

word

Today, I'm really thankful for this:

ideal vs. reality: when life gives you crumbles

This morning was one of those mornings that just called for a special breakfast. Fall makes me think of apple cider donuts so I attempted a batch of almond flour donuts, dipped in my own special concoction of an apple cider-honey reduction and tossed in cinnamon and coconut sugar. An excellent idea, if I do say so myself.

Well, sometimes life gives you donuts and sometimes life gives you donut crumbles. They still taste okay, but man, are they ugly, messy, and difficult.

I hate to reduce our life to donuts, but this morning's breakfast fail was the perfect allegory of our lives these days. Have you experienced this? 

My life is sort of like the "reality" of this morning's batch of almond flour donuts. They aren't exactly the real thing. For starters, they're baked, not fried. They aren't sugar-laden but sweetened with local, raw honey. They fall apart really easily. These donuts sort of resemble the ideal, but ultimately they don't quite measure up.

Our life appears to be crumbling. My health is on the slow decline. Satan is doing everything in his power to discourage, distract and deceive us. As my donuts are crumbling, my kids crying, my kitchen a disaster, and my life a sticky mess, Satan is waving a box of "real" donuts in front of my face. "Doesn't this look better? Don't you want to pass up that healthy, crumbly mess in favor of these beauties?"

Somehow Satan tries to make me believe that the better life, the sweeter life, the "ideal" is something other than I'm experiencing. The donuts in his box look so appealing. They taste good, they look good, they smell so good...

It's a familiar story. The oldest story known, really. In the garden, God had given Adam & Eve every good thing they needed for life. They were blessed in every way. But when Satan came with his trail of deceit, he promised something better, something sweeter, something appealing to the eyes and good for eating. Eve bought into the lie that the "good life," the "ideal," was something outside of the reality she was already a part of.

We know how Eve's story ended up. Real donuts do that to me, too. The sugar and grease tastes SO good for a minute, but then my glucose levels rise and my gut starts to ache. I experience a sugar crash and end up regretting my decision. The plate of crumbling donuts starts to look pretty good. I wish I could go back.

And so I find myself with a crumbling pile of donuts this morning, and a crumbling family, and a crumbling ministry. Yet in it all, I believe that God is good. I know in my heart that what Satan intends for my harm, God will use for his glory. Eve's story didn't end with a half-eaten fruit, shame, pain and agony. What Satan used to crumble the fabric of Eve's family, God put an end to in the person and work of Christ. My story doesn't end with a belly ache and regret. It ends with victory, sweet victory that both tastes good and is good for me.

Lord, would you help me to see past the pile of crumbling donuts, past the dirty dishes filling my sink, the tears in my eyes, the struggle of our week, the hurt of our hearts? Help me to focus on you. Bring about your victory in my body, in my family, in my home, in my church, in my community. The sweet life is right here. It's nowhere else. Help me to see that.

good eats, good reads

good reads:

"She who is always the first one awake pulls a book off the shelf and snuggles up next to me in silence, her nine-year-old lankiness curling up like an infant inside waiting arms. I see hope in her – and I see myself. I kick and I scream and I thrash hard against the Father’s love. I shift my focus and become a prisoner to the panic instead of the promise, and still He says, 'mine.' He looks at me, broken, and calls me daughter and ever so lovingly pulls me right back in."

Have you read Kisses from Katie? Do you follow her blog? Oh my, oh my, oh my. Her writing pulls at my heart and brings tears to my eyes. So good to know there are folks like Katie caring for orphans in places that few feel called to. In the blog post quoted above (Friday the 24th), I could so relate to the feeling of being prisoner to the panic. With so many transitions going on in our lives right now, it is easy to succumb to fear and panic when I should instead be surrendering to joy and peace.

Another of my all-time favorite authors, Ann Voskamp, has a blog. One night, as I lay upon a heating pad, I clicked from page to page, weeping silently with each passing post. I can't even begin to describe her writing. It's like a waterfall of emotion and imagery with each sentence, the kind of writing you want to slow down and savor so as not to miss anything profound. Her prayer for a daughter had me moved beyond words, to a place of silent reflection and nodding agreement.

A good explanation of the problem of grains for people with ulcerative colitis and other auto-immune disorders. A must-read for anyone wanting to understand why folks like me limit their diet so significantly. It's worth the sacrifice.

good eats:

If I were eating cake right now, I would totally be making smitten kitchen's apple spice birthday cake! It sounds like a big delicious slice of Fall. By the way, her first cookbook comes out next month and she'll be touring through SF Sunday, November 4th at 2:00. Signing plus demonstration. Anyone want to come along???

My attempt at shutterbean's vegetable lentil soup made it in the bylines of her blog today. Hooray! I love that feature on her Friday posts and it's led me to some new fun friends. If you've never clicked over to shutterbean, today's the day to do it. The girl has AMAZING recipes all week long.

I must be pregnant. Look at these recipes I'm recommending. Fried guacamole? People, do it for the pregnant girl on a strict diet. Make these cakes and crazy fried treats. Enjoy them. Savor each crispy sweet salty moment and then relay it back to me. Okay, don't actually tell me how good they are.

Happy Friday, dear readers! Have a super weekend!

here, near, far (like Africa far!)

At church we are launching a new vision called Here, Near and Far. The idea is based on Acts 1:8:

But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.

Cool verse! Basically, Jesus is saying, I'm giving you my Spirit power to take the good news of the gospel here (Jerusalem), near (Judea & Samaria), and far (ends of the earth!). At Soma SRV, we feel called to be part of a church-planting movement that supports ministry here in Danville, near in the San Francisco/Bay Area, and Far (to the ends of the earth)! How exciting! 

So, near and far...some friends of mine are totally putting this into practice. In supporting them, I'm supporting the mission both near (San Mateo) and far (Sudan).

Several posts ago I mentioned Kim and Jess. These two lovely ladies are part of a church plant (holla!) named Hope Church in San Mateo. You can read all about the Hope for Sudan news and also answers to prayer here. Basically, a trip to Sudan forever changed a pastor's heart. He came back and with his church organized a mission to raise $25,000 to help feed the poor, starving, malnourished and mistreated refugees near the border. 

I noticed on Jess' instagram that they were starting a 24-hour prayer chain for the guys that they sent to Sudan. I volunteered to take a 15 minute slot (not that much of a sacrifice, considering my time is 10:30).

How can you help? Pray. Give. Educate yourself. Pray some more. Just this week I was lamenting my colitis. I've been pretty sick. But you know what? Three of these precious Sudanese refugee children, beloved by God, will DIE of DIARRHEA today. I am not going to die of diarrhea. I have plenty of nutritious food, knowledgable doctors, access to the best medical care in the world, and resources to pay for it. 

The Sudanese refugees have us. You and me. Consider how you might help.

XOXO

baby #3: three months pregnant

Dear Little One,

Well, we made it through the first trimester. Phew! That was a doozy. Since my last update, it's basically been four weeks of feeling awful. The hormone surge from weeks six through eleven (or so) made for some raging pregnancy symptoms and exacerbated colitis symptoms. I felt so, so sick. There were several days when I really feared for my health and for yours. My doctors were talking about putting me back on the dreaded prednisone. But, praise God, my body seems to be pulling out of the worst of it. I'm nowhere near where I'd like to be, but I'm up and about and feeing much better!

So, symptoms: I start and finish most days with a headache. Nausea (still no barfing, but several close calls that involved spitting over and over into the kitchen sink). Insomnia, wakefulness, tossing & turning at night, multiple bathroom trips. Bleeding gums. Heartburn. Thankful for my tea sampler that provides almost immediate relief in the case of horrible nausea (ginger-mint tea) or heartburn (mint-chamomile). Also, I'd like to take a moment to thank my extensive pregnancy supporting cast: bananas, ginger ale, homemade soup, smartwater, hot baths, steamy showers, heating pad, & nap time.

I now sport a little baby bump. Your big sister is on bump patrol and every day reports that the belly is getting bigger! We marvel over your growing size (like a lime of the length of my pinky!) and wonder what you're up to in there. It amazes me that you can be so big yet I don't yet feel you! Looking forward to that in the next few months. :)

I've spent more time than I care to admit watching birth videos on youtube. I'm sort of obsessed. The miracle of birth will forever be something that amazes and delights me. It doesn't scare me at all! Hoping that you come quickly and easily like your older brother. Looking forward to meeting you, learning whether you'll have a full head of hair like your siblings, and delighting in the newborn days.

On Friday I got to hear your heartbeat again, a steady 160 beats per minute (which, if you follow old wives tales, points more toward a girl). Music to my ears! Good to know you are growing away in there, strong heart and developing body. Until next time, sweet baby.

Much Love,

Mama