Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Stripped Of Me

  Up until recently, I was very uncomfortable with myself.
I'm not even sure I knew myself until I stumbled on the misfortune of sinking into depression and began grasping at straws to tear and claw my way out. I had very little confidence in who I was. And somewhere in between people pleasing and attention seeking, I figured out that I needed to be alone with me. Just me. I needed to know who I was.
I couldn't rely on who somebody else said I was, because that is always a set up for disappointment... 
And the only way I could do that was to find out who God created me to be and how desperately much He loved me.

So I needed life quiet for awhile.
I let myself settle into sort of a withdrawn state from my surroundings & social media, so I could see ME in the mirror of God's words about me. The only thing I was in need of was God's affection for me.

It was during that season of seeking that He seemed to shine his light on my innermost desires & passions in life.
I finally took a good hard look at who I was. The person I am isn't some needy girl, desperate for people to like me.
I have gifts to give. I have talents to offer. I have passions to chase after.
I have a little ol' personality of my very own that is God given just for me.
He kicked down the ladder out from under me that I kept climbing, trying to reach people and make them like me. (As if I believed I was beneath them somehow.) And He made me see HIMSELF inside of me.  I realized, it is in Him I live & move & have my being.

And something clicked. I didn't need people to see ME anymore. I needed people to see Jesus through me. When I speak or write, when I parent or do my responsibilities as a wife or friend, I don't have to lack confidence or crumble with insecurity any longer.
I was made to shine. I was made to take on these roles with confidence because of who lives in me.

It's a confidence that led me to the journey of loving myself, just as God made me.
My personality, my quirks, my talents or lack thereof. It's me. There is only one me. There is only one mom to my kids and one wife to my husband...
and there is only one ME who can inspire people or encourage people or be a friend the way that I can. The way I do. I do how I do.

I was looking through my recent instagram pictures, wondering how people may see me these days.
They may or may not see anything wrong with me. I'm not too concerned.
In times past, I would have seen plenty wrong with myself.
Especially just a few months post pregnancy...(if you know what I mean).
But something deep inside me changed. It's not about me.

Because I have a newly discovered genuine assurance that has taken residence in my heart.
It's a sort of spunk and an undeniable peace, knowing I got this under control, this life he gave me.
Not because I am so great. But because I have the greater one living inside me.
Not because I know & have everything, but rather that he has supplied me with an immeasurable amount of faith and grace to live this life beautifully. Gracefully.

I am the happiest I have been in years. I truly love my life. I am so in love with my family. I can't stop snuggling my new baby. My husband is so crazy and makes me laugh all the time. And I feel the sweet presence of Jesus peace with me non-stop.

Despite what my bank account says. Despite what my scale says. Despite what my clothes sizes say. Despite what number my twitter or instagram followers say. I am happy. I am confident. And I am free. There is a freedom in loving yourself simply because God created you and you know He doesn't mess up.

I want more and more each and everyday to be stripped of "me."
And more and more each day lived out, I want Jesus to be seen in me.
This is my heart.






Monday, June 30, 2014

You're Mean, Mom



You're mean...(pause), Mom.

I have been pondering over what to write about these girls. I wanted to share their new pictures, but I figured I had to say at least something. And I've been thinking over what it means to have daughters, to be a daughter and finally to be a daughter of God. Thinking I could in some way end this post with some grand inspirational challenge to myself or to the world wide web.

Instead, Leila comes in my room and out of nowhere says "You're mean...(pause), Mom.
What on earth? 

This happened right after Jada came in and asked me to tickle her edge of her thumb. She didn't so much ask as she just stuck it in front of my face, but I knew what she wanted. (She ripped her thumb nail and it hurts so she has been asking me to tickle it.)

So this is what being a mom is all about? Thumb tickling and being told your mean for no reason.
Good times.

This past weekend a few friends and I were sitting at the park with my mom, feeding off her wisdom. 
I love my mom. She is hilarious. And it's usually on accident. She was raised on an indian reservation and she talks very "up northy." She pronounces things funny sometimes,  says things that come out wrong and sort of blunt,  but it's hilarious and does things like wears two shoes from two separate pairs in public...in a shoe store... on accident.

Ok, that shoe thing happened before I was born, but it's a good example of the kind of things that make us kids laugh all the time. If I gave a recent example,I would probably be the 38 year daughter getting scolded.

I'm convinced parents never stop instructing and redirecting their kids no matter how old they are.
And it should be that way. To some degree. Because they are always making efforts to help them in every other area of life.



Anyways, so my friends, mom and I are at the park just talking and we are kind of in a circle around my mom and she is just simply being "Mom" and giving her input. She cuts to the chase when she is talking and out of her mouth comes a fountain of profound wisdom. I'm so glad I'm not even joking. My mom and I are different in the way we present our thoughts, I guess. But I value her advice and wisdom so much because I know it comes from a place of sound experience and intimate prayer and time spent with God.

And I know that I want my daughters (and sons) to think the same way of me. I'm not just the mean mom who is good for tickling thumbs, but I am the mother they can laugh with (and laugh at), learn from and lean on when they need me, no matter how old they are.

My sister was laughing so hard when she noticed how we were all sitting around her gleaning from her vast river of knowledge and insight. But it's so not taken for granted. I hope she knows that.



I'm watching Jada quickly approach her pre-teen years and it shows in her attitude (not to mention Wesley) and I listen to them and I remember myself at that age. I remember how sassy I was. How disrespectful I was. I was obedient, but had a sassy mouth. Standing on the outside, sitting on the inside I guess you could say. But when I hear my kids talk to me, it makes me nervous some days, because I think back to my relationship with my mom when I was a teenager and I think "Oh brother, they sound just like me..."

I never ever want to hear my kids tell me I'm a mean mom or they hate me.
It's not cute now...and it definitely won't be cute when they are teenagers.

Before I had kids, there was a big part of me that hesitated on even having them simply because I remembered how horrible I was and I see what my parents had to deal with as us kids were all going through our stages of life. It scared me. I didn't want my feelings hurt by my own children, nor did I want the responsibility of making sure they turned out happy and successful once they were grown.

Let's face it, that is a HUGE undertaking. One I am learning now.
And I hope I am doing it right.
What if I'm not?

I am here for my kids. My life is a service to my family. That is who God made me to be. But in return, for the most part, they are adoring me. And I treasure it. They want me, want to be with me, want to sit in my bed with me while I type, want to go to the store with me, want me to snuggle them,  want me to lay with them until they fall asleep. They adore me. And I'm glad they do. Because I adore them.



As much as I love these girls adoring me now and hanging on my every word (even when I'm not talking to them)... my ultimate goal is for them to love and respect me enough to continue to listen to me and adore me when they are grown women. I want to be to them, who my mom is to me. So in turn, they look at my life and the example I set...and want to be that person in their own families.
Does that make sense?

Maybe we will go through some rough spots. Maybe they will sass me now or think they know it all when they are teenagers. But when they become young adult women (and young men) I want them to be able to come to me without being scared. I want them to know I pray for them. I want them to be able ask me things confident I have their best interest at heart. I want them to see me putting God first. I want to set the example of who they want to be like.

That is what I want for my daughters.
They sure are cute now. All my kids are.
And my sister can make them look like little rockstars. And I love it.
But I want them to be happy. Really happy. Temporary happy is fun. And it's fun to surprise my kids with things they want. But as all us grown ups know, what we value now is quite different than what we thought was important as kids.



Photos taken by Joanna Photography.

Sunday, June 22, 2014

I've Been Meaning To...


Isn't this picture fun? As much work as it is attempting to get the kiddos to do what I want them to do in a photo, the end is always worth it. Somebody's eyes are at least half closed, but that is what makes real photos real.

I wanted to take a little break from my busy & slightly selfish mom life attitude because obviously more is on my heart than I sometimes let on. It just takes a lot of effort for me to break away from the daily routine of family to say what I'm thinking.

I'm just going to say it. I've seen a lot of heartache lately. A lot of brokenness. And while things in my life have been going well, I look around to my people... the ones I love and care for, people I know and people I wish I knew better and I see tears and struggles. I've seen hurts far bigger than any person should ever have to bare. Unimaginable pain.

And it's affected me. I've cried tears for others. Wept as they wept. Wishing I could do more...
or would have done more before it was too late. It has given me a chance to reflect on how real this world is. How real troubles are. How real pain is. Even if sometimes in our mind, "their" struggle isn't as big as 'our' struggle is or was, it is still worth our time to reach out because you never know unless you look a little deeper. 

Unless you love a little bigger.
Because you just never know...
unless you do.

We need to look beyond the smiling facebook or instagram photo and see people for who they are.
People that need you...or me. People that need your friendship. People that need your love.

I don't want this to come across the wrong way, because in the end of all ends and the beginnings of all beginnings, Jesus is our hope. He is the ultimate answer to life's problems. His word truly does provide a solution to every question we ask.

But sometimes people need more than to know "God loves you and has a wonderful plan for you life." Let's just be honest. People need more than just a smile and a 'Jesus loves you' as we walk on by. We pass by doing our christian service to others with a simple pat on the back and a "It will be ok. You know why? Because Jesus loves you."
As if we put in our time with people for the week,
like we put in our hour on Sunday mornings with God each week.

People need more. People need people.
Even God saw that when he made a companion for Adam.

Looking back a few years ago, remembering the pain I felt and the mental anguish I struggled with every single day, living with depression. It was so real to me. It consumed me. Yet very few people knew how intense the burden was that I felt I was baring. The vast majority never tried to reach in and break through the walls I had built. I felt whispers and wonders as to how I 'got there' but you know what... it doesn't matter how someone got to that 'breaking point.' 
They could have made all the poor choices in the world, but that's what makes them the perfect candidate for love. 
The perfect candidate for hope.

Hope that you were meant to deliver 
...from the ultimate source of comfort and purpose and life.

There is a whole world of people who 'know' Jesus loves them. Yet they somehow feel alone.
They feel hopeless and lost and stuck in their troubles. Why is that?

Could it be because we, as the hands and feet of Jesus, aren't always doing our part? 
We aren't being obedient when we feel that tug on our heart to call someone or write someone. 
Or we are looking at people's cry for attention on facebook as them being 'needy' and get annoyed with them instead of loving them the truest of ways.  
Well maybe they are needy. Maybe they do need something real. A real friend. Someone who will really talk to them...or better yet listen to them. Someone who will step up and pray for them right then and there. Not just someone to 'like' their status.

I was talking to a friend a few weeks ago about a situation and we both were crying and she said "I just feel bad because I've been meaning to.....dot dot dot.... for like over a year." 

And I totally got it. I've been that same way too. I've been meaning to...
Someone crosses our thoughts or is on our heart... and sure our intentions are good...
We mean to, but we just never get around to it...
We all have things in our lives~ our families, our jobs, our churches, etc that take up our time and deserve our attention. Believe me, I know. But how is it that I can't come up with 2 hours in an entire year to hang out with this friend or write to that person I have been thinking about?

I just feel that this world is such a broken place. And I'm not just talking about broken in the general sense
It's broken in the very near and dear sense. People we know and love are breaking and falling to pieces, and yes, feeling hopeless.  And sometimes we don't even know it because we haven't spoken to them in six months. We think their happy profile picture tells the whole story.

Let's stop. 
Seriously. 
Let's stop for a minute. For an hour... and call that person you have been meaning to call. 
Write them and ask them out for coffee. Do something. Be intentional with people. Be real.
Dig a little deeper than social media and love people a little bigger and a little better.

I really want to strive to be a better friend, even a better family member, a better people person.

I want to know more. Be there more. Love more.
And this goes just as much on the inside of my home with my husband and four little noisy people I am with every single day as it does to others...

I want to turn my 'I've been meaning to' into 'I did.'
Not even just that, but to 'Today, I am...'

Always.








Sunday, June 8, 2014

I Try To Pretend I Care... But I Don't


I am desperately trying to pretend that I care. 
That I care what my house looks like.
What my unwashed hair looks like.
What I will see if I walk to down the basement 
as mountains of dirty laundry screaming at me "Wash me!"
I'm trying to pretend that anything matters in this moment 
but being who I am called to be right here, right now.. 
What is it that I am known most for by those that need and love me the most?
Easy. Mommy. Mom. Madre, if they are feeling "spanish"...
or M.O.M. if they are feeling sassy.


I'm trying to pretend that when I look at these freckles
all I want to do is make sure my home looks like a Pinterest perfect home.
All I want to do is blog. Or stare at my phone. Right?
I'm trying to pretend when he tells me about the next gadget he wants,
that all I really want to do is go out and buy myself something cute instead.
I'm trying...to pretend that anything else matters.
That looking cute matters.
But his excitement over his never ending research of electronics or games,
his enthusiasm for creating new videos or writing plays keeps me more than entertained.
He says he is not talented, but he is beyond talented and creative. 
I keep trying to make him see it.
I keep trying. I pray one day he recognizes that this eagerness to create is a gift.
And it's simple for me, he is what matters.


As if there is anything in the world that can make me laugh more than she does.
As if anything can possibly annoy me more than her drab sense of style,
as she slips on her giant tshirts and sweatpants every day...
and some days I swear she does it just to annoy me.
Because she knows. Oh she knows. 
I beg her every day to put on something cute (as I'm digging rocks out of her pockets)
Even something cute and comfy will do.
But no. She wants baggy and drab. And she walks away laughing at me.
She walks away confident in her style...and just laughs at me.
And of course, I can't help but laugh. 
As if anything could make me laugh more than she does.
How could anything else possibly matter?
I'm tempted to throw away the "ugly" clothes,
but I know she would be digging in her brother's closet then.


And this one. She is my bright eyes. I don't even need to find ways to make my world 
(or pictures for that matter)
look beautiful & perfect when she is in my presence.
Her bright blue eyes and rosy red lips light up pretty much every room. 
That's a given.
Just watching her dress herself up in anything pretty
and stare at herself in the mirror with her giant flower headband 
and plenty of added necklaces and bracelets
to make up for her big sisters lack of style pizazz 
is what adds a simple elegance to my very normal days.


And those moments where I am not listening intently (and sometimes distractedly) to Wesley...
Or those moments where I am not arguing with Jada about her clothes, and sometimes laughing...
And when I am not helping Leila primp or fix her hair or change her clothes for the 12th time that day...
The moments when I am not doing those things,
I am staring at this kid. Or feeding him. 
Or changing his diaper more times than Leila changes clothes.
Brand new to the world. 
I am still trying to make him smile even though I know it's too early.
But he just looks at me, then looks around. 
He grunts, poops, cries, eats and goes back to sleep.
I'm simply loving him at this point in time. 
No fights. No discipline. Nothing too intense.
Just letting him know that I am still his Mommy.


So, if I seem a little quiet.
Perhaps a little preoccupied.
A little distant.
A little consumed.
Maybe a little unmotivated, even.
It's because I am. All of these things.
And as much as I try to pretend I care than I may be coming off that way.
I just don't care. Because right now, I'm just a little distracted.
Too distracted to blog or look pretty or clean my house.
I'm distracted with being the "M.O.M" that these guys need me to be
at any given moment.

And I'm loving every minute of it.
No, seriously. I am.


.....and that's all for me for now. 
the little one is awake...and needs mommy.
he seems pretty angry about it.



Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Introducing Wyatt Cash~ a little earlier than expected...


If you aren't following me on instagram, it's very possible that you haven't heard our happy news...
Two weeks ago, Wyatt Cash was unexpectedly, but lovingly welcomed into our family.
We are now a family of SIX! I can hardly believe it.
Talk about a tired mama!

Wyatt's actual due date was June 8th, but he was scheduled to be delivered on May 27th via csection, the day after Memorial Day. Instead Wyatt, joined our great big wonderful world on May 6th. I was 35 weeks, 2 days pregnant with my little man. He was born 5lb 12 oz and 19 inches long.

I mentioned before that I have a history of pre-eclampsia during pregnancy. Two of my other three children were delivered early as my blood pressure started creeping higher and higher, my arms, legs, feet and face started swelling and I started seeing stars...
so I knew the signs and what to watch for.

I have to be honest.
Out of all the things I was struggling with during my pregnancy- bleeding until I was 16 weeks pregnant, the threat of toxoplasmosis, an ulcer...pre-eclampsia was the one thing I didn't set my faith on or against.
I knew that if it set in again during this pregnancy, the baby would come just a few weeks early and that meant an end to what felt like torture of the third trimester. I dislike even saying that, because I am ever so grateful to be pregnant and to carry them to term, or almost to term, but I am not nor have I ever been your glowing pregnant mama, that's for sure.
Total honesty here.
I felt quite miserable and my swollen feet and skin felt like it was busting at the seems. To top it off carrying an extra 58 lbs on my 5'3 frame left me feeling almost impossibly immobile.

So, the thought of delivering a tad early, sounded like a dream when I was in the midst of feeling so yucky. 
I did not however expect it to happen quite so early and I blamed myself when I sat there in tears, listening to the pros and cons of my health and my baby's health as my doctor urged me that she didn't feel comfortable letting me continue this pregnancy with my blood pressure so high and other things showing up during the lab tests done.



That afternoon, she told me if she were to let me continue to try to stick it out, it would maybe give me one more day, but then we would be running the risk of jeopardizing my health. So I had to decide... and I had to pray for wisdom...

Sunday, May 4th I took a hot bath and I started seeing stars. So later that day, after checking my blood pressure at a local grocery store and it being insanely high, I asked a friend who works at an urgent care to take it for me and it still came up high, but not quite as high as the grocery store reading. So I called my doctor and he wasn't quite convinced of the grocery story machine reading, but he told me to come in the next day.

Monday, May 5th, I went in. I saw a nurse practitioner and she took my blood pressure 3 times and it was high each time. She did several lab tests on me and a stress test on the baby...and told me the way things were looking, she didn't think I would make it to our scheduled day.
She told me to come back the next day to have my blood pressure checked again and I did.

Tuesday, May 6th, Jeff & Leila came with me to get a simple blood pressure check. I packed my hospital bags, just in case, but Jeff didn't seem convinced anything would happen other than them letting me know it would be sooner than we thought. I went in, had it checked and they sent me straight down to labor and delivery to be monitored for a while. Each time, even with rest, it stayed high and I was told to find someone to watch Leila because they were preparing the OR for surgery right away. Today would be Wyatt's birthday.



As much as I tried or thought I was prepared for this, it still completely caught me off guard. 
Because I knew I had Wesley at 36w4d, I was hoping to make it at least that far.  I knew he was ok and healthy born at that stage and that was my main concern.
The doctor explained everything to me, that I wouldn't be able to see Wyatt for 24 hours, that Wyatt would be in the NICU for 2-2 1/2 weeks...but that the alternative of not delivering now...would jeopardize both our health. All I could do is cry. We not only had to decide whether or not we would deliver right then and there in the spur of the moment, but whether I would still get my tubes tied, which was in the original plan. The insurance papers were signed and both I and my doctor were prepared to go ahead... until this happened. It all felt so overwhelming.
So, Jeff left in a rush to find someone in my family that could take Leila and that could pick up our other kids from school within the next hour. Luckily, my family all stepped up to the plate and I am so grateful.
I sat there bawling, feeling responsible for this somehow. How could I have wanted this to happen?
I mean I didn't want it, necessarily, but I expected it because it happened before and I admittingly did want to deliver at least a little early afterall, just not THIS early!
My mom came in, prayed with me and encouraged me to see this as God's way of protecting Wyatt and myself, and that he brought us this far and we should trust Him that God would protect us both...

So within just 2 1/2  hours of getting a simple blood pressure check, I was having surgery and Wyatt was born. It was a quick & easy as they all seem to be, but afterward was the hard part. I was so grateful when I heard him crying. Our doctor told us to be prepared, because premature boys are slightly sleepier and lazier than premature girls and we may not hear him cry. So as far as the care he would need, we would just play it all by ear, depending on how he was doing. But he cried, praise God and that gave me some peace of mind for what the next 24 hours held.


Wyatt on Instagram
A NICU nurse brought him over to see me for about a minute and that was the last time I got to see him for 24 hours because I was on blood pressure meds that kept me monitored in my room for 24 hours. I think that was the hardest thing. I couldnt sleep that night. I kept dozing off and would wake up jolted every time.
I had to depend on Jeff to run down and see him and tell me how he was doing every little while.
He got to be the one to introduce Wyatt to the whole family, while I just laid in my bed. I knew he was on oxygen. I knew they had to insert something into his lungs to open them up, but he recovered extremely fast and within a day and a half was completely off the oxygen. And from that point on all we had to watch was how he was eating and whether or not he needed a feeding tube. He ended up doing great, not needing a feeding tube. And he was released from the hospital with me 5 days after he was born. Forget 2 weeks in the NICU, this boy wanted to come home with his mommy...
and we are so thankful for everyone's prayers for Wyatt and myself during this time!

The last 2 weeks with Wyatt have been the most wonderful weeks I can imagine. Despite the recovery from the c-section, and despite being tired running him back and forth to the doctor for weight checks and bilirubin checks, we have been loving on each other so much. SO many snuggles. And his big brother, two big sisters and Daddy are completely crazy in love with him too.


Every time I hold him, I still can't believe he is supposed to be in my tummy for three more weeks, But God knew what we needed and when we needed him and His love and mercy toward our family has been overwhelming. Sometimes it's hard to realize it when you are in pain or having sleepless nights, but all I have to do is look at Wyatt's tiny precious face and I am reminded of how incredible new life is and what a wonderful miracle it is that God has given our family.



Monday, April 21, 2014

When Life Doesn't Feel Picture Worthy


Along with every other parent or couple or person who celebrates with festivities on Easter Sunday, I found good reason to take pictures of three things...(people) I deem worthy of my time and effort to take said pictures. These three. 
If you have multiple kids, you know what an effort this can be on any normal day, much less when you are trying so very hard to keep them looking "perfect." Trying to get all three to look at the camera, smile for the camera, look presentable at the very least for the camera all at one time. 
It's nearly an impossible task that we take on with rewards of candy or presents or dollar bills if they do a good job. Personally, I give my kids opportunity to "act crazy" for the pictures, so it's a win/win. They get their crazy shots in. I hopefully get my "normal" shots (whatever those are) in.
"Smile for Mommy, look, look, look at Mommy, Leila, at Mommy, look at me, not at the cat. Wesley, put your hand down. Jada stop squinting... Ok, look at Mommy...Smile...Ok, make a crazy face! Stick your tongues out! Thumbs up everyone!" 
Because everyone needs a chance to chill out for a minute and go a little crazy, whatever crazy is to you, so life can resume again "as normal."


Life for me has been in crazy mode. 

I feel overwhelmed with preparations for our new soon coming arrival. I feel extremely exhausted. I wake up each day with swollen hands and feet and the very thought of walking to the basement to change the laundry over or going to the grocery store is uncomfortable to me and I'm on the verge of tears everyday, almost every moment. But life hasn't changed for my kids, so I have to stay in that moment, in their moment all the time, which feels impossible to do. They are still needy. They are still noisy. They still crave my time. They still need food. They still need stories read to them and games played with them and I try so hard with what little energy I have to not get uptight with them, for simply needing their mom.
I will be honest with you. It's been a challenge. I'm definitely not on top of my game. I don't have a lot to say that feels blog worthy or picture worthy these days. As I sit here to try to catch up on my blog, I have one kid coming to me screaming about the other one slapping her in the face. Meanwhile he follows her in and is calling her a "baby and an idiot." And the third one is right behind them both, saying something like"Jada gots a taxi." 
I'm not sure what that means, so I leave it at "I don't know honey." 
Because that's all I can even muster up the energy to say.


What do you say when you have nothing to say? Or when you have too much to say?
What do you say when life doesn't feel picture worthy or blog post worthy, but part of your livelyhood is based on writing and sharing your heart?
What do you say when your heart feels slightly confused or sad or whiney or too emotional...
or some days even too full (if that is possible) and it almost feels like too much is going on in your head to even try to relay it in a mere blog post?
Some days peoples motives confuse me. Some days other bloggers confuse me. Some days life confuses me.
Some days I just don't get it. I don't get what I am supposed to say to everyone. I don't get what I am supposed to do with all these thoughts and ideas, except be still with them.
And some days I feel like I should grab the bull by the horns, hop on and run with them.
But for today, I'm kind of doing neither. 
I'm taking it one day at a time with no real agenda to run with thoughts or ideas, nor to sit still.
I just need a minute to breathe. To let the crazies in my life and in my head do whatever it wants to do. 
Some days I don't bask in the presence of God like I know I need to to get through these kind of seasons. Some days I sit at watch movies on netflix instead.

Saturday night before Easter... you know what I did at about 3am? I watched Dirty Dancing. 
Then I googled Patrick Swayze. Then I googled Jennifer Grey on Dancing with the Stars. And I bawled my eyes out as I read about her tears as she remembered Patrick Swayze.
Yes, friends, that is what I mean. 
I will cry at anything and my mind is everywhere lately.
I can jump from extreme gratitude of the Lord working in my life to crying over Patrick Swayze in just minutes...
And I accept it is what it is right now. It's not picture perfect. It's not blog worthy. It's not inspirational or pretty. But it's real.
And real is where I live right now.
Expectant is where I live.
Exhausted is where I live

Yawn...
And now it's time to get my kids down for bed. I have no idea where my husband is, at church doing something I believe...
And by the way, I did find out what "Jada gots a taxi" meant. Jada poked a hole in the top of her water bottle with a tac and was sipping the water through the hole, so Leila wanted to do the same thing....

Kids. Life. Goodnight.

2 Corinthians 12:9
But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness." So I will boast the more gladly about my weakness, so that Christ's power may rest on me."