Bear-ly a Difference

This is Little Sissy at Halloween last year and Little Buddy at Halloween this year. No wonder I'm starting to get confused!

Happy 9 months, Little Buddy!

I can't believe we've had this little guy in our home longer than he was in my womb (because that felt like FOREVER), but here we are. He's 9 months old. This has been a big month developmentally. He's started waving, jabbering, scooting all over the room backwards, going from crawl position to sitting and sitting to crawl position. He's still so smiley and giggly. Today at his checkup he giggled the whole time she was pushing on his belly, checking his private parts, moving his legs back and forth. He just makes me smile all the time. He's starting to lose some of his chubs, too, which makes me a little sad. He's kind of average now, as opposed to the 95th percentile for weight when he was 4 months old. He's still eating mostly baby food, but he's the champion of bananas, Cheerios, and mushy sweet potatoes. He nurses 4 or 5 times a day now. That probably sounds like a lot, but it's nothing compared to the 10 times a day we were doing just a few months ago. Now it's just morning, night, naptimes, and sometimes one extra feeding.

Let's see...to celebrate we let him sleep with us. Well, that was really because he has a cold and screamed every time I put him in his bed. I slept with him propped up on me for as long as we both could stand it. Then he finished out the night in his own bed. Happy birthday, little man. You bring such joy to my life.

Honor the King

I've tried not to talk about politics very much on this blog. For one reason, I hate conflict. Obviously our country is very divided as to who should be the next president. So are my blog readers. For another, I have not felt totally warm and fuzzy about either party. I know, I love Sarah Palin. That doesn't necessarily make her a great candidate for VP. But I did vote, and I hope you did too--no matter which candidate you are in favor of. Now all we can do is wait...and pray.

See, I believe God is ultimately in control of all things. All of my pro-life friends (I am one of them) have this fear of what will happen if Obama gets into office. I have had nightmares about failed-abortion babies being left with no care. It just makes my heart hurt. But we all know there's a good chance he is going to win this election, and maybe that's God's plan for our country. How can that be? my pro-life friends ask. Well, God allows things to happen so that people will turn to Him and so that people will take action.

I have a friend (I hope she's still my friend) who sent a mass email saying she cannot and will not "honor the king" if Obama becomes the president. (This is what Paul commanded in 1 Peter 2.) She said our country is actually ruled by the constitution, so she will honor that. Even though I hate conflict, I have to disagree with that. We are not always called to do what is easy. We are commanded to "honor our parents" even when they do us harm. That doesn't mean we don't take necessary action to stop their behavior or change the situation. Paul actually said to "honor the king" when Nero was the emperor. His rule was known for tyranny and persecution of Christians. What does this mean if our "king" is someone who is making choices contrary to our beliefs? I think it means we pray for him. We abide by the laws insomuch as it doesn't go contrary to biblical mandates (Paul continued to preach the gospel even though it was illegal). We pay our taxes even if they are going to fund things that we find unthinkable. And we don't bad-mouth him with mockery or derision. That does not glorify God or win over the unbelievers. Rather, we need to put our faith into action. We can put our time and resources into places that provide abortion alternatives to women such as pregnancy resource centers. We can consider adoption. We can take in women that we know personally who don't feel they have other alternatives. Maybe we even enter the political arena ourselves rather than watching and criticizing.

I will not hide the fact that I am a Christian. I am conservative. I am pro-life. What this means to me is that I have an even bigger responsibility than ever, no matter the outcome of this election, to have a good attitude. I have done my part by voting. And no matter who becomes our "king," he needs prayer. He needs counsel from godly people who can help guide him rather than criticize him. And he needs to see Christians honoring him even when we disagree with his choices. Honoring does not mean endorsing. It means understanding that he has God-given authority. That being said, let's rally together and take action. Whoever he is, let's be strong where he is weak....without grumbling and complaining.

How Will People Remember Me?

I don't do weird things just so I have something to blog about. My life is just weird. I'm just weird. What I'm about to relay is too embarrassing to tell anyone, but I figure if your aim in reading this blog is to get to know me better, then you should know that I am a GOOFBALL. I don't pretend to be perfect. I yell at my kids. I am sarcastic to my husband. I care too much about stuff. I am passionate about things I don't know enough about...

Which brings me to today. I graduated from a seminary called Covenant. It took me a long time because I only took one class at a time except for one full-time semester. Mostly I took evening classes, and they all had hundreds of people in them. I got to know a couple of people well, but for the most part I recognized a lot of faces and knew a lot of people's first names. This week a tragedy happened to one of the girls who I graduated with. No one really knows what happened except they found her dead body late one night by her treadmill. It was completely unexpected. She was only 28, healthy, smart, loved life. Her name was Julie.

I found out about it 2 ways: First, some friends on Facebook started talking about how sad they were and one of them who works there shared the details on her service time and place. Then I got an email from the pastor of a church where we attended for about a year when my husband thought he might want to become ordained. It encouraged people to come, even those who didn't know her well. I had some classes with Julie. I remembered her as being very sweet and quiet. She was really gentle and had spent some time overseas doing missions work before coming to seminary. I really felt like I should go.

I got there right on time. They had pictures in the lobby, but I didn't have time to look at them. I just had time to slip into the back of the familiar chapel where I had worshipped many times as a student and employee of Covenant. People started sharing, and I was weepy. I was mourning because a young woman's life had been taken. I was grieving because I want to live the kind of life where those words would be said about me. I was particularly moved by the last verse in one of the hymns we sang called Christ Alone: "From life's first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny." The service was long, and many people shared special memories of Julie. They talked about how she possessed a quiet strength, loved Jesus, loved people--all the things I remembered about her.

The last person to stand up and share took my breath away. She looked so much like Julie I thought they must have been twins. Then it hit me. Wrong Julie. I slipped out during the final song, nervous that someone would ask me how I knew Julie. I needed to look at the pictures in the lobby. She looked kind of familiar. Nope. Let's be honest. I have no idea who she is. I sat through 2 hours of a memorial service for a girl named Julie who I don't know at all. I suddenly felt like my--like someone who I love dearly who goes to funerals as a hobby. In the true spirit of this person, I shoved some cheese into my mouth on the way out. I promise I didn't know there would be snacks there. I could have eaten cheese at home.

The good news is that my friend named Julie is alive and doing fine. I am glad in some ways that I was there to support the family and grieve with my Covenant family. But when I die and people are sharing adjectives about me and my life, it's OK to say I'm a dork. And could you wrap some of that really good cheese in a napkin and put it in my casket with me?

Happy Halloween!

I get so excited for big events with my kids, and then I get so stressed out when they're actually here. Something about getting 3 little ones in a costume this year put me over the edge. This is how we looked just minutes before we walked out the door to bring cheer to our neighbors.

But then things got better, and I remembered why this is FUN. First, Aunt YaYa came to see the kids in their costumes. That's always a fun treat, although I think I might have scared her away from ever having children after she witnessed our chaos. Then we went to visit our sweet neighbors from Pakistan, who were literally in their driveway waiting for us, worried that we would forget to come. Oh, they are so sweet. They loaded our kids with treats and kept hugging us. They brought out candy dolls for the girls and a truck for Little Buddy. She kept saying, "I thought you weren't coming. Maybe I loved on your kids too much and you were upset." What?!? Seriously, it was a challenge for us just to get out the door. I could tell this was important to them, though, and we wouldn't have missed it--even though it meant being an hour and a half late for our party at church.

By the time we got to the party at church, everyone was in much better spirits. Little Sissy was trying to eat her candy through the Zip-loc bag that neighbor Jabeen gave us (in our rush to get out the door we forgot to bring anything to actually put the candy in). She had already ditched her Minnie Mouse gloves and ears, but at least she was content. The two little bears were very warm and cozy in their furry attire, and we were on our way. The church party was fun. The girls got tickets that they used to play games and win more candy to suck on through a zip-loc bag. Little Buddy pretty much stayed at the baby pool and chewed on rubber ducks all night. Here are some pictures of our non-evil, non-scary candy harvesters as promised. Little Buddy had 2 costumes. The pumpkin we borrowed. I took his picture in it because it was so cute, but it was really too small. He would have been a bear by the end of the night anyway, so we just switched to the happy bear costume.

How Do You Get to Heaven?

If you just turned two, apparently, all you need is a good push on the swing. Little Sissy talks A LOT, but I still have trouble understanding some of what she says. Today as I was pushing her on the swing, she kept saying, "Up, up, up high to Jea 'n Gah." When I would finally get her high enough to her liking, she would lean back her head, close her eyes, and breathe in the sunshine. It took me several turns to understand what she was saying. "Did you say you want to go up high to Jesus and God?"

*Smile.* "Yeah."

I love the sweet innocence. If you were looking for a real answer on how to get to heaven, I would be happy to post about that too. It's really about that easy. Simple belief. Childlike faith.

Indian Summer

Despite all the runny noses, I finally agreed to take the children outside to play yesterday. I couldn't believe how warm it was! Unfortunately, Big Sissy was inside refusing to eat her lunch. Don't ask...