I am currently pregnant for the sixth time. Yes, you read that right. Six pregnancies, so far only two babies. Not a very good track record. I am eleven weeks. I have seen this little wiggling miracle via ultrasound four times. Today in 3D. Totally amazing. At this point "he" is about one and a half inches long, yet in his pictures I see his hands and feet, little elbows, glimpses of a silvery spine, indentions where his ears will soon form. He is very alive. His heart sounds strong. He is real.
To be honest, I was about to give up. I'm no spring chick when it comes to baby-growing. In fact, when the doctor found out I was pregnant, she prescribed some special prenatal vitamins. I got them home and looked at the brochure, and the whole thing was about "older mothers." WELL! I was shocked. But, one thing I've learned through all the baby chasing is that God has His own timing. So, I guess He had me pegged as one of those older mothers. The thought makes me smile.
The kids seem excited. They are all atwitter about the thought of sharing a room when the baby comes. They found out about it today and are literally already picking new paint colors. Adelade is my big-time change-fearer. She is excited about the baby, but I see concern in her face about how this BIG change will affect her little world. She wanted to know if she could keep all her stuff. This is a child who doesn't ever want me to paint furniture and almost cried when I got bangs because she likes things just the way they are. Then Sawyer asked if he could keep all his plastic dinosaurs. He loves jumping on bandwagons.
With all the talk of room changing, Sawyer wanted to make sure that we are "keeping" the kitchen and the bathrooms. I told him that sounded like a good plan to me.
This is a happy time. Maybe my chase is over. God has been good and has taught me a lot during my wait for this child. He gives and He takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
9/11/11
Today is a strange, sad, and emotional day in our country. "We will remember" is the prevailing thought, and everyone is sharing where they were when they heard the news that our country was under attack. I'm not sure why we feel the need to do this, except that it helps us feel connected to one another. Maybe it helps to rekindle that "we're all in this together" feeling that permeated the country right after the attacks. We were united in our desire for revenge, our need for some kind of reckoning. It was and is an interesting time in our nation's history.
For me, it was fitting for this significant anniversary to fall on Sunday. The Lord's day. It reminds me of His goodness, His mercy, and His awesome power. And today while I worshipped I couldn't help but wonder why Christians don't feel a similar ache in their guts or have the same teary eyes or the "we're all in this togther" feelings when we think on the cross of Christ. Why is it that we don't cry "We will remember!" and give God the honor for His perfect plan that culminated in the death and resurrection of his Son?
I think it's fitting to honor the lives of those Americans lost on 9/11. It's good to thank those who keep us safe and to grieve with those who lost loved ones. It's appropriate to honor the heroes who risked their lives on that day.
But, tomorrow is September 12th. We will go back to our regular lives. The TV specials will be over. We will be relieved that we don't have to think about that day for awhile. So, why don't we wake up tomorrow morning with hearts for remembering the only death that ever changed eternity? Let's unite with a declaration for the ages. No matter how crazy this world gets, or how tough life is, or how wonderful things are, we will remember what God has done through His Son. We will remember that His glory and greatness are all that matters. We will remember that we are nothing without Him. We will remember.
For me, it was fitting for this significant anniversary to fall on Sunday. The Lord's day. It reminds me of His goodness, His mercy, and His awesome power. And today while I worshipped I couldn't help but wonder why Christians don't feel a similar ache in their guts or have the same teary eyes or the "we're all in this togther" feelings when we think on the cross of Christ. Why is it that we don't cry "We will remember!" and give God the honor for His perfect plan that culminated in the death and resurrection of his Son?
I think it's fitting to honor the lives of those Americans lost on 9/11. It's good to thank those who keep us safe and to grieve with those who lost loved ones. It's appropriate to honor the heroes who risked their lives on that day.
But, tomorrow is September 12th. We will go back to our regular lives. The TV specials will be over. We will be relieved that we don't have to think about that day for awhile. So, why don't we wake up tomorrow morning with hearts for remembering the only death that ever changed eternity? Let's unite with a declaration for the ages. No matter how crazy this world gets, or how tough life is, or how wonderful things are, we will remember what God has done through His Son. We will remember that His glory and greatness are all that matters. We will remember that we are nothing without Him. We will remember.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
There's No Place Like Home (Movies)
Watching home movies can be a blessing and a curse.
Curses:
1. Extreme boredom. Especially if they're not YOUR home movies and you or your children are not in them. Watching a friend's unedited vacation videos has actually been known to end friendships. Just don't do it.
2. Sentimental overload. Chubby babies, cute little kids who love their mommies. Guaranteed tears and possible chocolate ice cream eating will ensue just to ease the sentimental pain.
3. What-has-happened-to-me Syndrome. Seeing yourself when you were thinner, younger, and (for you men) with more hair can be quite a blow to the old ego.
4. What-was-I-thinking Complex. Especially hurtful if you were a child of the 80s. I mean, the hair was bad. Really bad.
But, then there are the blessings.
Chad and I recently ran across some video of the kids when they were little. I realized after watching that I had actually forgotten what Adelade was like when she was Sawyer's age. How is that even possible?
I've spent hours now watching the kids cry and flail when they were just minutes old, learning to talk, walk, dance, jump, and everything else that little kids figure out. I watched Adelade reading books to her kitten Backpack, who we only had for a few months before he "went on an adventure" and we never saw him again. I saw Adelade meet Sawyer for the first time and remembered the fear that I could sense in her when she saw me lying in the hospital bed. I saw Sawyer finally learn how to get those big old thighs to crawl around, and watched Adelade take her very first nervous steps. I also saw glimpses of my parents and Chad's before illnesses and other scares had touched our family.
And I am so happy to have every single minute of it. It reminds me how faithful God is. How blessed I am. And how quickly things change in life.
Sure, I cried a few tears. I had a few what-was-I-thinking moments. But, most of all, I remembered how very privileged I am to be a woman, to be a mother, to be a wife, and to be a believer.
So, drag out some home videos. Remember how adorable that mouthy teenager used to be. And let yourself be reminded just how much God has carried you through this crazy, chaotic, tragic, and beautiful life. He is not finished with us. Many more video-worthy moments are coming. And I can't wait.
Curses:
1. Extreme boredom. Especially if they're not YOUR home movies and you or your children are not in them. Watching a friend's unedited vacation videos has actually been known to end friendships. Just don't do it.
2. Sentimental overload. Chubby babies, cute little kids who love their mommies. Guaranteed tears and possible chocolate ice cream eating will ensue just to ease the sentimental pain.
3. What-has-happened-to-me Syndrome. Seeing yourself when you were thinner, younger, and (for you men) with more hair can be quite a blow to the old ego.
4. What-was-I-thinking Complex. Especially hurtful if you were a child of the 80s. I mean, the hair was bad. Really bad.
But, then there are the blessings.
Chad and I recently ran across some video of the kids when they were little. I realized after watching that I had actually forgotten what Adelade was like when she was Sawyer's age. How is that even possible?
I've spent hours now watching the kids cry and flail when they were just minutes old, learning to talk, walk, dance, jump, and everything else that little kids figure out. I watched Adelade reading books to her kitten Backpack, who we only had for a few months before he "went on an adventure" and we never saw him again. I saw Adelade meet Sawyer for the first time and remembered the fear that I could sense in her when she saw me lying in the hospital bed. I saw Sawyer finally learn how to get those big old thighs to crawl around, and watched Adelade take her very first nervous steps. I also saw glimpses of my parents and Chad's before illnesses and other scares had touched our family.
And I am so happy to have every single minute of it. It reminds me how faithful God is. How blessed I am. And how quickly things change in life.
Sure, I cried a few tears. I had a few what-was-I-thinking moments. But, most of all, I remembered how very privileged I am to be a woman, to be a mother, to be a wife, and to be a believer.
So, drag out some home videos. Remember how adorable that mouthy teenager used to be. And let yourself be reminded just how much God has carried you through this crazy, chaotic, tragic, and beautiful life. He is not finished with us. Many more video-worthy moments are coming. And I can't wait.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
The Art of Being a Doormat
We aspire to be many things in our lives. Successful professional, maybe. Good wife. Super Mom. Sunday school teacher extraordinaire. Attractive. Youngish. Assertive. Powerful. Funny. Whew!
But, have you ever dreamed of being a doormat?
I mean, really.
Doormats are rather plain. Sometimes they have cute sayings on them, but eventually weather and wear make those disappear. They have mud, dirt, grass, and even doggie business on them. Sounds attractive, right?
They also get walked on, kicked around, and beat up. But, there they lie. Never getting up and running away or protesting, "I will NO LONGER be a doormat!" They hang in there and take it because that's what they were created to be.
Now then. In our culture today, we are sent repeated messages telling us that having doormat-like qualities is weak. "DON'T LET PEOPLE WALK ALL OVER YOU!" the therapists and the talk show hosts and the TV judges scream. "STAND UP FOR YOURSELF!" the magazines and the movies and the teachers and the billboards shout.
But, listen to what Jesus said:
"Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Matthew 11:29
"Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth." Matthew 5:5
Of his accusers, while dying: "Father, forgive them. They do not know what they are doing." Luke 23:34
Doesn't exactly sound like Jesus is calling us to stand up for ourselves, does it? Jesus was no weakling. But, he understood the importance of humility in his relationship with the Father and with his fellow man.
Please understand that I am definitely not suggesting that you should allow yourself to be abused. But, there are many small ways every day that we can allow ourselves to be, well....walked on. We don't have to continually be looking for the thing so-and-so said that offended us. We can choose not to let hurt feelings make us abandon a friend. After all, you didn't hear your doormat grumbling about that big wad of gum you scraped onto it yesterday, did you?
It's a tough thing to picture ourselves as humble, ratty doormats. But, this is the beauty of the Christian life. God is not going to run down to WalMart, buy you, and put you in front of a busy doorway to watch you get stepped on. But, He will watch with love and joy (and He will help you) as you choose to lie down in this life and say, "I desire to be like Christ, who humbled himself. I. AM. A. DOORMAT. It's ok if I get walked on a little bit!"
The Christian life is NOT all about standing up for ourselves. It is about standing up for Christ. And oddly enough, you can't really do that until you lie down.
But, have you ever dreamed of being a doormat?
I mean, really.
Doormats are rather plain. Sometimes they have cute sayings on them, but eventually weather and wear make those disappear. They have mud, dirt, grass, and even doggie business on them. Sounds attractive, right?
They also get walked on, kicked around, and beat up. But, there they lie. Never getting up and running away or protesting, "I will NO LONGER be a doormat!" They hang in there and take it because that's what they were created to be.
Now then. In our culture today, we are sent repeated messages telling us that having doormat-like qualities is weak. "DON'T LET PEOPLE WALK ALL OVER YOU!" the therapists and the talk show hosts and the TV judges scream. "STAND UP FOR YOURSELF!" the magazines and the movies and the teachers and the billboards shout.
But, listen to what Jesus said:
"Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Matthew 11:29
"Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth." Matthew 5:5
Of his accusers, while dying: "Father, forgive them. They do not know what they are doing." Luke 23:34
Doesn't exactly sound like Jesus is calling us to stand up for ourselves, does it? Jesus was no weakling. But, he understood the importance of humility in his relationship with the Father and with his fellow man.
Please understand that I am definitely not suggesting that you should allow yourself to be abused. But, there are many small ways every day that we can allow ourselves to be, well....walked on. We don't have to continually be looking for the thing so-and-so said that offended us. We can choose not to let hurt feelings make us abandon a friend. After all, you didn't hear your doormat grumbling about that big wad of gum you scraped onto it yesterday, did you?
It's a tough thing to picture ourselves as humble, ratty doormats. But, this is the beauty of the Christian life. God is not going to run down to WalMart, buy you, and put you in front of a busy doorway to watch you get stepped on. But, He will watch with love and joy (and He will help you) as you choose to lie down in this life and say, "I desire to be like Christ, who humbled himself. I. AM. A. DOORMAT. It's ok if I get walked on a little bit!"
The Christian life is NOT all about standing up for ourselves. It is about standing up for Christ. And oddly enough, you can't really do that until you lie down.
Friday, August 19, 2011
The Lazy Perfectionist
I have issues.
I think I suffer from a rare form of perfectionism which causes me to quit things that I've begun.
Exhibit A:
Childhood journals. Dozens and dozens of them, started with gusto, tons of enthusiasm, an I'm-gonna-write-in-this-every-day-if-it-kills-me attitude. Day three. Too tired. Think I'll do it tomorrow. Tomorrow comes. Disgusted with myself for being too lazy to write on day three. Never write in it again.
Six Months later. Brand new notebook. Start again. Day three. Vicious cycle ensues.
Exhibit B:
Prayer journals. Don't you just get so enthused when you hear a speaker recommend prayer journals? You think about how great it will be to look back in your journal to see all the things God has done. I know the idea grabs me EVERY TIME. So, I buy a brand new notebook, and....you guessed it. Day three. Vicious cycle ensues.
Exhibit C:
Any number of "great ideas" I have for teaching my kids. I buy a workbook or a program or a book or a CD or a DVD series or whatever. I don't even have to tell you how it ends. Blah, blah, vicious cycle.
So, when I started this blog, I told myself that I don't have to write here every day. I told myself that everything I put on here doesn't have to be Pulitzer Prize worthy (duh). I told myself I was doing this for fun and nothing more. And now it's been three months since I've written anything. And I've probably lost my three readers for good. But, I'm determined not to quit because, actually, I really like thinking about this blog, even when I'm not writing on it.
And besides, I've found a loophole.
I took the summer off.
See how that works? Just like that. It's no longer a matter of laziness or lack of ideas. It's what we busy professional mothers/bloggers have to do. We have a life, you know. We take time off from the trials of a popular blog. I mean, my three readers can be really demanding!
So, I'm back from my summer sabbatical. My, it was refreshing! You'll be pleased to know that this summer I started yet another prayer journal that I abandoned. I don't think I even made it to day three. But, hey, I wouldn't have even been able to start it without my time off.
I like to think that my lack of stick-to-it-ness it more about being a closet perfectionist than being completely without discipline. Or maybe I just really love to buy new notebooks. Whatever the case, I hope that I can come up with something else to say here before I have to claim a fall holiday. Thanks for reading!
I think I suffer from a rare form of perfectionism which causes me to quit things that I've begun.
Exhibit A:
Childhood journals. Dozens and dozens of them, started with gusto, tons of enthusiasm, an I'm-gonna-write-in-this-every-day-if-it-kills-me attitude. Day three. Too tired. Think I'll do it tomorrow. Tomorrow comes. Disgusted with myself for being too lazy to write on day three. Never write in it again.
Six Months later. Brand new notebook. Start again. Day three. Vicious cycle ensues.
Exhibit B:
Prayer journals. Don't you just get so enthused when you hear a speaker recommend prayer journals? You think about how great it will be to look back in your journal to see all the things God has done. I know the idea grabs me EVERY TIME. So, I buy a brand new notebook, and....you guessed it. Day three. Vicious cycle ensues.
Exhibit C:
Any number of "great ideas" I have for teaching my kids. I buy a workbook or a program or a book or a CD or a DVD series or whatever. I don't even have to tell you how it ends. Blah, blah, vicious cycle.
So, when I started this blog, I told myself that I don't have to write here every day. I told myself that everything I put on here doesn't have to be Pulitzer Prize worthy (duh). I told myself I was doing this for fun and nothing more. And now it's been three months since I've written anything. And I've probably lost my three readers for good. But, I'm determined not to quit because, actually, I really like thinking about this blog, even when I'm not writing on it.
And besides, I've found a loophole.
I took the summer off.
See how that works? Just like that. It's no longer a matter of laziness or lack of ideas. It's what we busy professional mothers/bloggers have to do. We have a life, you know. We take time off from the trials of a popular blog. I mean, my three readers can be really demanding!
So, I'm back from my summer sabbatical. My, it was refreshing! You'll be pleased to know that this summer I started yet another prayer journal that I abandoned. I don't think I even made it to day three. But, hey, I wouldn't have even been able to start it without my time off.
I like to think that my lack of stick-to-it-ness it more about being a closet perfectionist than being completely without discipline. Or maybe I just really love to buy new notebooks. Whatever the case, I hope that I can come up with something else to say here before I have to claim a fall holiday. Thanks for reading!
Monday, May 9, 2011
Leave it to the Pro
I'm a professional mother.
This thought just occured to me the other day. When people ask me what I do, I have a tendency to reply, "I just stay home with the kids." JUST?! Every time that word comes out of my mouth, I scold myself for saying it, yet when I'm asked that question, that little four letter beauty slips out every time.
But now I've had an epiphany. I'm thinking of having business cards printed:
Melissa Edgington
Professional Mother
24/7 service
No mess too big!
No boo boo too small (for a band-aid)!
Call 1-800-SLEEPLESS
Seriously, though. This is what I do. Chad goes to work and gets paid money (praise the Lord!). I live at work. And, while I may not get cash on a regular basis, I do get paid. I compare it to the way a country doctor used to get paid in eggs or quilts. I get paid with hugs, kisses, I love yous, rounds of Candyland, dance parties, dress up, Nick Jr. marathons, smiles, tears, and fascinating conversations. My bosses are short and rather immature. The demand is high. And I love every second of it.
So, the next time someone asks me what I do, my reply will not contain any "justs." I'm going to say, "I'm a professional mother. Here's my card."
This thought just occured to me the other day. When people ask me what I do, I have a tendency to reply, "I just stay home with the kids." JUST?! Every time that word comes out of my mouth, I scold myself for saying it, yet when I'm asked that question, that little four letter beauty slips out every time.
But now I've had an epiphany. I'm thinking of having business cards printed:
Melissa Edgington
Professional Mother
24/7 service
No mess too big!
No boo boo too small (for a band-aid)!
Call 1-800-SLEEPLESS
Seriously, though. This is what I do. Chad goes to work and gets paid money (praise the Lord!). I live at work. And, while I may not get cash on a regular basis, I do get paid. I compare it to the way a country doctor used to get paid in eggs or quilts. I get paid with hugs, kisses, I love yous, rounds of Candyland, dance parties, dress up, Nick Jr. marathons, smiles, tears, and fascinating conversations. My bosses are short and rather immature. The demand is high. And I love every second of it.
So, the next time someone asks me what I do, my reply will not contain any "justs." I'm going to say, "I'm a professional mother. Here's my card."
Monday, May 2, 2011
Let There Be Light!
Last night before bed I watched an episode of "Texas Country Reporter." Do you remember that show? Chad and I decided it must've come on on Sunday nights when we were kids, and watching it sort of signaled the end of the weekend. I've always loved Bob Phillips' deep voice, telling me that DQ is the Texas Stop Sign and all that. If you've never seen the show, Bob travels around Texas reporting on neat things going on in all the small towns and big cities and places in between.
Last night he interviewed a couple who live in west Texas who have chosen to give up the conveniences of the modern world. They live seventy miles from civilization in a one room adobe hut with no electricity or running water. She makes all of their food from things they've killed or grown, and keeps the place running with none of the appliances that the rest of us rely on. They don't have a toilet, for crying out loud.
Still, when I was watching her play her harmonica and strum the guitar while he sat with his ten gallon hat tipped back, tapping his foot on their little front porch, I was taken by this little couple. They were happy. They were in love. (She said when he went out riding she couldn't wait for him to come back, watching for him "like a little kid or somethin'.") And they cared nothing about money or anything that most Americans would think is important.
In explaining why they live the way they do, she said that she felt that the invention of electricity had led to the demise of our society: "It seems like when people got electricity and they started stayin' up all hours that that's when all the trouble started." She said this with so much simplicity and such conviction that I started thinking, "Yeah. Electricity. Maybe that's really a problem in our world. Look at them. No computers. No radios. No telephones. No TVs. Heck, they won't be able to watch this story about themselves and they don't even care." I was getting all worked up about it, thinking about all the trouble that our electronics cause, how lazy we are with our dishwashers and our washing machines and our internet.
I went to bed dreaming about a simple life on the range. Then a thunderstorm came up. And there was lots of lightning. And there was lots of rain. And then our power went out.
And I got hot. And it was too quiet in our room with no fan. And I wanted to get up but there was no TV to watch. So, I laid there and thought about how great electricity is and how that lady is really missing out in her one room shack with her homemade clothes and her pickled beans and her outhouse.
It was only a few minutes later that Sawyer called out, absolutely terrified, because he woke up and couldn't see his hand in front of his face. I felt so sorry for him when I came in with a little flashlight and he was trembling and crying. Something funny happened. When he saw that light, he settled right down. He gathered up his stuffed Pooh and his blankets and he cuddled right up with his Pillow Pet and, after I assured him that I would leave the light on, he drifted right off to sleep.
I thought of the little couple out in the west Texas desert. And I thought of God.
I was struck by the thought that people all over the world, whether they live in mansions filled with the latest everything, or in huts with no running water, are just stumbling through the dark without Christ. That little couple is at peace with their decision to live without electric lights. I don't think I would enjoy it much. But, it doesn't matter if I surround myself with brilliant, blinding man-made light. It won't satisfy my soul, even if it does calm a fear or two. All of us will have a moment, no matter how bright our surroundings, when our spirit suddenly cries out, "I can't see anything!" And there is only one cure for that kind of darkness: the Light of the World, Jesus Christ.
I pray that little couple has found Him.
My electricity came back on a few hours later. I think I heard the Hallelujah Chorus in the distance when my ceiling fan kicked back on. I drifted off to sleep thinking of all the great things about electricity, and about the goodness of a God in whom there is no darkness.
Last night he interviewed a couple who live in west Texas who have chosen to give up the conveniences of the modern world. They live seventy miles from civilization in a one room adobe hut with no electricity or running water. She makes all of their food from things they've killed or grown, and keeps the place running with none of the appliances that the rest of us rely on. They don't have a toilet, for crying out loud.
Still, when I was watching her play her harmonica and strum the guitar while he sat with his ten gallon hat tipped back, tapping his foot on their little front porch, I was taken by this little couple. They were happy. They were in love. (She said when he went out riding she couldn't wait for him to come back, watching for him "like a little kid or somethin'.") And they cared nothing about money or anything that most Americans would think is important.
In explaining why they live the way they do, she said that she felt that the invention of electricity had led to the demise of our society: "It seems like when people got electricity and they started stayin' up all hours that that's when all the trouble started." She said this with so much simplicity and such conviction that I started thinking, "Yeah. Electricity. Maybe that's really a problem in our world. Look at them. No computers. No radios. No telephones. No TVs. Heck, they won't be able to watch this story about themselves and they don't even care." I was getting all worked up about it, thinking about all the trouble that our electronics cause, how lazy we are with our dishwashers and our washing machines and our internet.
I went to bed dreaming about a simple life on the range. Then a thunderstorm came up. And there was lots of lightning. And there was lots of rain. And then our power went out.
And I got hot. And it was too quiet in our room with no fan. And I wanted to get up but there was no TV to watch. So, I laid there and thought about how great electricity is and how that lady is really missing out in her one room shack with her homemade clothes and her pickled beans and her outhouse.
It was only a few minutes later that Sawyer called out, absolutely terrified, because he woke up and couldn't see his hand in front of his face. I felt so sorry for him when I came in with a little flashlight and he was trembling and crying. Something funny happened. When he saw that light, he settled right down. He gathered up his stuffed Pooh and his blankets and he cuddled right up with his Pillow Pet and, after I assured him that I would leave the light on, he drifted right off to sleep.
I thought of the little couple out in the west Texas desert. And I thought of God.
I was struck by the thought that people all over the world, whether they live in mansions filled with the latest everything, or in huts with no running water, are just stumbling through the dark without Christ. That little couple is at peace with their decision to live without electric lights. I don't think I would enjoy it much. But, it doesn't matter if I surround myself with brilliant, blinding man-made light. It won't satisfy my soul, even if it does calm a fear or two. All of us will have a moment, no matter how bright our surroundings, when our spirit suddenly cries out, "I can't see anything!" And there is only one cure for that kind of darkness: the Light of the World, Jesus Christ.
I pray that little couple has found Him.
My electricity came back on a few hours later. I think I heard the Hallelujah Chorus in the distance when my ceiling fan kicked back on. I drifted off to sleep thinking of all the great things about electricity, and about the goodness of a God in whom there is no darkness.
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