Dull Moments

Today would have been my father-in-law's birthday. Isn't it weird to think that one day, we will die, and our birthdays are almost null? We have lots of birthdays we celebrate with our friends, families, and their kids, too. Birthdays are a big deal. Until you stop celebrating them. And the weirdest part of this? I'm actually so, so glad to know that one day, my birthday won't mean anything. That is there something bigger, more significant, more important than the time I spend here on earth. I find that comforting on an existential level. The truth is, I get mad some times. I get mad at the milestones and moments I don't get to have with my father-in-law. It feels like being robbed, over and over again. C.S. Lewis said, "There are far, far things better ahead than any we leave behind." When I think about that, my anger fades. While the birthdays of my kids feel like a big deal, they are nothing compared to what Don gets in glory. They are nothing. I

I don't know who called the 2's terrible, because from what I hear, it's really 3 that we need to watch out for. Joe is obsessed with noses I love having a 2 year old. Every single day, I turn to Robert and I say, "Can we keep him like this? It's perfect. Just for a bit longer. Not forever. Just maybe an extra year?" I know I talk a LOT about the craziness of two. It IS crazy. But it's a hilarious crazy. It's ABSURD. My son cannot talk and argues with me on a daily basis. While that's frustrating, it's also laugh out loud funny. And no, I do not get anything done, but there's a hilarity in that, too. While it may seem awful that my son can undo child locks and doesn't listen and is almost never still, all those things are what make him an amazing little person. He's bright and mechanical and determined. I wouldn't change any of those things about him. Joe's fashion Two year olds are funny, and Joe's sense

I'm not going to lie. When I heard this morning about what else happened to the little girl who was murdered, I really had a moment. My arms dragged as I lifted Joe to his car seat. I opened the door to the gym and really thought about turning around so I didn't have to leave him in the child care area (which is friendly and full of wonderful stuff). And then I thought about what our pastor preached on yesterday - Joshua 24 - choose this day whom you will serve.  Fear is a master and it makes you it's slave, robbing you of goodness and life.  Jesus said you can't serve both God and money, and I think the same thing is true about fear. You can't experience God's unconditional love if you choose fear. Today, I'm going to choose God. That doesn't mean I'm not a good parent who leaves her kid with just anyone. That doesn't mean it's not my job to know who my kid is with and where he is at all times. That doesn't mean I don't get to sa

Now that my second pregnancy is public, here's the {not too gory} details of how it's going: If you knew me at all when I was pregnant with Joe, you knew my life was overtaken by Hypermesis Gravidarum. It was a long 9 months. I was dreading pregnancy again. I truly was, and it wracked me with guilt because I know couples who would give anything - including 9 months of health and happiness - for babies. But it doesn't make rolling that dice any easier. You have 3 prospects when you have a history of HG - same, worse, or better. No guarantee on what you'll get. It's truly a roll of the dice. I used to say that Joe was the most planned baby in the history of mankind, but this little one will take that title. I worked for MONTHS before I got pregnant again, following every tip and trick I could find to lessen and avoid HG. It wasn't obsessive, but I felt like it was due diligence. I had to do what I could, mostly because my job is caring for an active toddler.

Everyone here in Indiana is freaking out over our warm, green, Christmas weather. "It can't be Christmas without snow!" They cry. Meanwhile, I feel like this is totally appropriate Christmas weather. When you spend 90% of your childhood Christmases in Southern California, 60 degree weather is right on target. In fact, it's been making me feel full of nostalgia and a bit giddy. It FEELS like Christmas. It just goes to show that so much of life is what we are used to. One person's disappointment is someone's preference. We are products of culture and habit. We can't ever think we know all the right things , or our way is always the right way.  I hope no matter what your expectations are this Christmas, you find yourself filled with joy and peace. And when life hands you a green or white Christmas to your dismay, you still find a way to stand in awe of our Savior. This Christmas, may our expectation be set aside as we say, "Come, thou long expect

I've been thinking about something for a very, very long time. In a way, it came to a head for me yesterday, and then I read this blog post this morning and I decided it's my turn to talk a little bit about this issue. For a long time, I've been saying, "It's not you, it's me", but I think it may actually not be me. http://johnpavlovitz.com/2015/12/01/my-emancipation-from-american-christianity/ I read that blog this morning and tears came into my eyes. Tears of frustration, of loneliness, of relief. Frustration for things I do not agree with but I feel are accepted as "cultural norms", loneliness for thinking I am one of a very select few who think this way, and relief to hear that I am not the only one. That last one is why I decided to write this blog: if you read that above blog post and resonate; or if you sit somewhere on Sunday desperately wanting to worship God but wrestling with a Christian church or the American Christian Church;