For real...

I'd laugh really hard about this if my head didn't hurt so bad, but I had a moment last night where I was laying in the bathroom floor with my laptop and algebra book attempting to take a quiz through a fever haze and bouts of hanging over the toilet. Both the girls were on the floor outside the door, head to the crack, Mady asking very important questions like, (I kid you not) "Mom, why don't all kids have neighbors? Mom. Mama. It's portant!" While Ash shoved arts and crafts materials in because she just couldn't get Fredrick Douglass' coat just right. It's times like this that I think I want my adult card revoked. I'll be glad to go back to the awkwardness of middle school even...I just need an excused absence sick day and some TLC from my mama.

Grace for a life...

...A life led by the Spirit. I've been slowly piecing together a challenge for church and as I've written, God's challenged me, more than I'm having the chance to challenge others. I realize this is usually the way it goes. But about three months ago He really pointed out to me what His heart was for my life...A life lived in grace and led by His Spirit. That abundantly covers all the bases for me. Being a woman. Being a wife and mother. Being me, fully.

I looked back over the things I've written in the last two years. It's the pictures of my struggle or triumph and a lot of times it's hard to read. Depression has been very real and very demanding. So have Ashlin's struggles. There aren't too many funny recounts of life at my house. But there've been beautiful days and there've been days where laughter rattled our walls. There've been days where I found healing in time spent with others. We truly lead a FULL, running over, abundant life with people I love and am truly thankful for. I guess those things don't always make it here.

In the last three weeks our lives have taken a HUGE turn and Ash went back into school. After years of piecing together the puzzle for her, we finally have some answers and moving forward is like breathing after being held under the water. Relief. I could not have planned this path we've taken, but God's been in it so evidently. She LOVES it. How shocking is that? She's doing well. Another shock! And she's getting help without me having to be the prison warden with the school staff. A role I'm glad to relinquish.

It's answering those quiet whispers. Moving sometimes without even thinking about it. It's knowing that I live a life led by Him. Because I certainly could not have planned this. I wouldn't have, in fact. He would have been with us whatever we'd chosen, but I'm so thankful for where He's led us as we've sought Him out.

Then there's the grace. It's so HUGE. And so all encompassing. He's given me the freedom to live and move and love. And says He's with me as I go.

I won't lie. This post will probrably follow suit with others that have come just before it. I've really struggled with depression for the past 6 months. Hit a lower low than I've ever experienced. But God's been my comforter. I have a really hard time asking for prayer because there have been times where I feel like it seperates me from people as I do share. And that makes it even lonlier. A little more hopeless. But, at John's prompting I went back to the dr. only to discover I had next to no seratonin. So we've changed meds. and that has had a whole other host of side effects.

But I'm sharing all this to say...I re-read some of the things God had challenged me to for January and December. Things like my normal 5 mile a day walk. Time with Him. Reading Psalm 63 daily. Doing thing that are just for me. Connecting with people I love. But choosing to make them all a priority and not an after thought. All things that not only help to combat the depression but challenge me to seek Him as I'm healing. Grace for a life led by His Spirit. He knows my needs and puts things in place to take care of me. I'm undone by that at times.

And I know I've shared this with lots of people in the past few months. It's become my mantra. But...read Psalm 63 with me. Let it wash over you. His love is better than all this life can offer me. I love David's words about meditating on God through the watches of the night. There have been times in my life when I was depressed that sleep was more than difficult. And I love to think of this during those times..."when I remember you upon my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night; for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy." And I do. There are times where all I can do is sing. God is so good. So faithful.

O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,
beholding your power and glory.
Because your steadfast love is better than life,
my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live;
in your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,
and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,
when I remember you upon my bed,
and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
for you have been my help,
and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.
My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.
But those who seek to destroy my life
shall go down into the depths of the earth;
they shall be given over to the power of the sword;
they shall be a portion for jackals.
But the king shall rejoice in God;
all who swear by him shall exult,
for the mouths of liars will be stopped.

And just because I'm concentrating on doing things I love, here's one of my favorite, melancholy songs. That I'm sure will drive some crazy. But me, it makes me throw my head back and sing. I love Copeland. But I love the words of this song. I know where he's coming from... and I really just love to sing. So I do!



But, I really wanted to spend some time this morning reminding myself in the midst of all this change that God's given me grace for a life led by the Spirit. And I want to live it well.

Something borrowed, something blue...

This is a trip down memory lane. I took it yesterday afternoon with the girls both in my lap, laughing so hard they could hardly stand it. I wanted them to be a part of remembering with me. The beginnings of their mommy and daddy. 10 years ago tomorrow.

I told them the story from the beginning. Because where else would I start?

I love this picture, for so many reasons. I look ridiculous and drunk (I was not). We rocked a mini van all the way to Blue Ridge (courtesy of The Downs Family), full of candy and bridesmaids dresses. Notice the foil and toilet paper veil Annie and Jenn made me. Amazing. The night before the wedding, we crammed into a room at the Cohutta Lodge. And while they all slept, I stared at the ceiling.

We got our hair done at the only salon in Blue Ridge. They shut the place down for us. They were so cute and so southern. And we spent the morning laughing like we were in Steel Magnolias. They made us pose for all kinds of picture afterwards...a 30 minute photo shoot in our sweats.
When we got home from the honeymoon and friends started sending us pictures, this one made me roll in the floor. My mother in law will appreciate this story 10 years later. But, this was taken moments after meeting her for the first time. She'd driven in from Oklahoma with her husband and here we stood in the parking lot at the lodge. Awkward at best. Then she says, "Oh wait, I have a gift for you." I thought...hmmm, dishes or a nice picture frame.

Please take in all the nuance of the picture as I describe what's going on. She hands me the box and it's incredibly light. I look at my best friend Jennifer and think...oh no. It can't be. I open it slowly to find a white lace nighty.

I'm in a parking lot.

This is my mother in law, whom I just met. Seconds prior.

Please note the disgust on Jenn's face. The hand that says, "Here, let me take it from you."

Erin in the background doing her best to find her happy place anywhere but there.

My mother in law, ecstatic telling me. "Oh, I hope I got you the right size. I can't wait to hear how it fits." No. Lie. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming...
We spent the day at Wal-Mart picking through lip gloss, dancing on the green lawn in the sun, laughing in our flip-flops and sweats, making decisions about chairs and toulle. Doing nothing but enjoying the day.

Then came the photographers. Utterly obnoxious. Terribly bossy. And we got to the point that we just laughed at them. This was a moment I still remember vividly. Laurel behind the camera. Laughing from the white lawn chairs at the chaos the photographers were causing. That's the photographer's hand in the corner. I won't tell you what Annie and I were doing, but it still makes me giggle. And Jenn's face is classic next to us.
This....is why we picked this place.
At this point in my life, these sweet ladies were two of the best friends I'd ever had. So loved sharing this day with them. They helped make it what it was. Magic.
Sweet friends. Friends I still treasure.
My dress...almost weighed as much as I did.
My favorite moments...

We've been friends since we were 4. I walked into Sunday school and there she was. We've been best friends ever since. Our kids play together now. How crazy is that?! And this is the perfect wordless description of our friendship...Love it!
My precious Uncle John. Who looked like a WWF wrestler. Hugged like a teddy bear. And whom I loved fiercely. My heart breaks a little every time I see this...
A defining moment in the day for me...another similar to the one in the parking lot...with the nighty. John's grandmother catches me. Hand over my heart. And just at the moment the picture was taken, she tells me to give her a call if John isn't gentle...you can fill in the blanks. She was tottally serious.
Let there be dancing.

This is SO my dad and I. Singing. I'm sure in harmony. To a Nat King Cole song. Precious.

John's favorite part of the evening by far. He calls it, "that ugly song you sang to me". Someone to Watch Over Me. It had been in my vocal repetoire for years. Sung at many competitions and auditions. It was and still is one of my favorites. I was so excited to get to sing it to him and mean it.

And one line in the song says...although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, to my heart he carries the key...And this picture was taken as he was telling me how ugly that was. Made us all laugh. Good stuff.
My dad, telling John how proud is was of him. The two men in my life. Both of them irreplacable.
There was no choice in tossing the garter. John just put it on Matt's arm. And they had a good chuckle over it.
A precious group of friends, who had loved me, laughed with me, cried with me, prayed with me, and encouraged me through so much of my life. A discipleship group that started when we were in the 6th grade that met until the day we graduated high school. This isn't all of them. But I was thankful for the ones that were able to be there...and missed the ones who couldn't.
This picture is so cheesy. Yet, it's been one of my favorites since that huge album of proofs came home. Ten years later, it is our life together. Hands in. Commited. In love. And more beautiful and dear to me now than I ever could have imagined that day.

Things I said I'd never...

At 5:30 this morning I found myself up and sweating, intentionally. I HATE early mornings, friends. And though by necessity I have to get up earlier than I would like to most mornings…5:30 was off limits and reserved for others. Not me. Me and 7:00, have been good friends for years.

And when I was finished I flopped myself down on my bed like normal, to read and pray. My sacred hour before anyone gets up and I’m quiet and alone. It is good.

I woke up this morning with the words to a song floating in my head…Be still and know that He is God. Be still and know that He is holy. Be still, O restless soul of mine. Bow before the Prince of Peace, let the noise and clamor cease… And there is more to the rich, sweet song, like a lullaby, but those were stuck on repeat. I opened my devotional to find, “And He arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm Mark 4:39.” The words that followed seemed almost useless after I realized where God was headed…after my heart again. He’s sneaky sometimes.

I told friends last night that my Ashlin and her struggles were breaking my heart. And that it feels just like that some days…a storm, and we’re stuck. I easily go back to that tempting spot where worry comforts. And I find myself stuck in my metaphorical thinking spot…”Think, think, think. Oh, bother.” But God was telling me this morning to give it over to Him. And BE STILL. Embrace today.

At 7:30 this morning I stopped. I laughed out loud. Madalyn, after I’d just fixed her overnight bird’s nest of hair (cute pink bow in place, braids just so) was laying with her dress over her head, halfway under my bed, singing something undistinguishable to hear it echo through the mattress. And of course, she’d tucked her turkey bacon between her knees…because where else would it go?

Ashlin sat at the desk in the corner of my room, bouncing on a yoga ball, drinking coffee (yes you read right), while chewing gum, and playing with her favorite spiky squish ball. All while doing her first assignment for the day. And actually getting it done and doing well (sounds like a bad example from a what not to do while parenting lesson). Never. Never have I ever, thought we’d be here. I could not HELP but laugh.

So, I told the Lord in the quiet that followed after carpool and quiet reading time, that all the new places and directions He’s leading; the direction we desperately need, I will do my best to willingly embrace and then be at peace.

5:30 mornings, if that’s what it takes. Yoga balls during spelling. A little coffee for focus. And turkey bacon between your knees while you sing through the mattress. It’s all so good.

Alex in a Nutshell...

The four of us, John, Tammy, Perry and I, have talked at length about what we’re taking away from the past twelve days. It’s hard to reach conclusions on the end of something so big. So, I’m sitting here, pen in hand, the third flight in two days, and I’m determined to figure some of it out.

I spent years of my youth globe hopping, chasing God’s movement across parts of Asia and more of South America than I can truly remember. From quite a young age, missions stole my heart. What I love about that now as a 31 year old, suburban wife, and mother of two is that all that traveling, all that heart tugging, the draw to share God’s heart to the nations, was preparation for where I am today. I’m coming home confident, beyond any shadow that my little white house on Cedar Mill Lane holds just as powerful a pull as a Buddhist monastery in Thailand once did. This is revolutionary for me.

See, for years, after I left the study and pursuit of world missions, I harbored some resentment that God would call me away from something I loved so dearly. But I obeyed. Even if it left an ache in my heart and a lump in my throat. And on occasion, an angry conversation with God.

As my girls were born, my world began to open up. Not only was God growing them but He was growing me. And sometimes in really painful and difficult ways. In 2007 and after years of vocal study, I felt God saying it was time for something new. And it was then that I dove head first into counseling and Psychology at Liberty, where my heart is to minister to children and families…mommies in particular.

Then there was a day in the fall, two years ago. Sitting in traffic with my girls and I had been battling my worth and purpose for days. I had been dwelling on how God wasn’t allowing me to be used the way I wanted to be used…why am I here God when there are millions who don’t know you over there? Then over the afternoon traffic on Star 94 and giggles from two brown heads in the back seat, God told me to turn around and take a good look. Because here’s what I called you home for, Danielle. They are that important. And that was the beginning of some major heart change in me.

God’s continued to challenge my heart and perspective. But, I feel as if these days away turned my heart even further. In a place of the fatherless, a place where women have no voice and very little influence, I realized what a powerful gift I’ve been given. God trusted me with two precious hearts to love, encourage, strengthen, and grow. The most effective thing I can give them is my love for their Heavenly Father. An example of a flawed heart that follows hard after Him and loves them passionately from that place.

I’m convinced that they will be my greatest calling. And I’m saying this and meaning it, whole heartedly, for the first time in my life.

I’ve always loved that verse that talks about our children standing on our shoulders and doing greater things than we. I have a new respect for it. I see it as a challenge. God I want to devote them to you. I’m going to make mistakes. Big ones. But be there in a real way to meet them, when I’m enough and when I’m not. You are my goal for them.

Can you imagine the power in the years ahead of them? Imagine the things God’s going to do with them? New doors. Roads unexplored. Challenges I can’t fathom. But isn’t it exciting to be a part of something with as much worth and potential as a child’s heart?

Do you have children? Do you see them? Maybe you struggle with finding real value in parenthood, like me? Ask God about it! This is big! It should be the call of our hearts as Christians…how are we tending God’s children? They are your legacy and your mission field. What are you leaving behind?

Friday night fill-in...

It’s 8:00 on Friday evening. Which means that normally everything outside would be just keying up again, after Ifthar. I can hear the lazy chanting over the loudspeakers from several mosques that are near by. They mingle in a most interesting way with the noise from the streets, taxis, street cars, busy bustling life outside. It is so quiet in comparison to the evenings of the past week, where they’ve shot off cannons, blasted music, and basically partied until at least 2:00 every morning. Both a product of life here and the celebration of Ramadan. But today is Friday. And Fridays are “Sundays” here. So life has nearly ceased. Such a dichotomy to the normal rhythm of life in these streets.
We decided to go to church this morning. And as we walked past the gates the quiet seemed almost scary. It’s never quiet here during the day. We meandered towards the main street where we’ve been cactching taxis, our daily little march through the sandy, broken up, garbage littered streets. And normally we play “dodge that taxi”, but this morning we walked. Casually. Together. And like always as we hailed two taxis and told the drivers, “Shutz Academy, 15 pounds”, they both nodded and said “yes, yes”. We always assume they know where they’re going when they agree. Silly Americans. You should know better by now. We asked them to stay together. They didn’t. And when I say we had the scariest taxi ride we’ve had yet, that’s saying a lot! We drove down the Corniche (the coastal highway) at 120 miles an hour (no exaggeration). Only honking the horn to indicate others better move out of the way. I’m not sure he used his brakes until we turned back towards the city. And then we realized he had no idea where we were going. He began asking John, in Arabic, the address. Oh no. Wendy and Blu experienced the same thing. We were dumped roadside and left to figure it out on our own. And I don’t know how many times we’ve said it this week, but we said again, “Thank God for GPS”, as John whipped it out and pointed us towards the alley, that led to more alley, that led to more alley, until we finally came up on the school and were pushed through the gates by guards.
Do you remember Maranatha worship? It was the order of the day. All 80’s all the time during worship. We will HAVE to update the Pearson’s often with new stuff from home. Wendy says it’s essential. But it was precious to hear it sung with an Arabic lilt. There was such a mix in the little auditorium of faces and races. I loved it. The sermon title, “The Road Less Traveled”. A description of what the Pearson’s are walking out now…denying themselves and asking God to take over, regardless how hard. Isn’t God good? And the Pearson’s made some connections with others who have been in the same place they’re in now. Starting out. Needing direction and encouragement. We’re praying they continue to make connections like these as they search for home. I know they’re tired. It hasn’t been easy. They’re incredibly brave.
We left in search of a post-church meal. Just like home. Instead today, we walked with new friends from Uganda. And the streets were blocked at times by hundreds of men on prayer mats, spilling out of mosques. There were no women. And it took me some time to absorb that they’re not invited. Not allowed to worship. Can you imagine? My heart breaks for their hearts. They seem to be kept in cages. Don’t speak. Don’t look. Walk 2 steps behind me. They have no value. They’re covered and hidden and shushed. They don’t know there’s any other way. So I imagine they don’t share in my grief, but I make a point to look them in the eyes when they’ll meet mine. To tell them with a look that I see them and know their value with a smile. At least that’s what I wish they saw there. I’m sure most of the time they just see strawberry blonde hair and fair skin. I am a novelty. We all are for that matter. Sore thumbs, most definitely.

It feels almost like we’re living in a bubble, here in the halls of the monastery where we’re staying. It’s quiet. It’s clean. We have rare, cool air. Faces are friendly (I can actually look into faces here, where outside, I must keep my head down and walk behind the men). Perry and John have made friends and play a nightly game of Frisbee with the monks. And sometimes, a game of Maestro (a game they taught the boys) with the children who gather here several times a week. And yes, monks play Frisbee in their robes. There are sweet little smiley faced men who prepare breakfast every morning. Pita, laughing cow cheese (how random, it’s everywhere), a boiled egg, butter (that has become Wendy’s favorite), fig jam, and honey. Then there’s the little man who guards the front door, I call him my pocket friend. He has a huge smile. Is only shoulder height on me. And I’d love to take him with me where ever we go.
Tomorrow will be a new day. A new adventure. I’m doing my best to finish my last paper for this summer semester. I hate it had to come with me. But I didn’t have much of a choice. Continue to pray that we hear from God clearly. Pray protection. Pray peace for the children. For Wendy and Blu. Pray when they go to bed, that they sleep and wake restored. Pray endurance. Pray for a home, in a safe place at a fair price, and sooner rather than later. Pray protection over their relationships. Pray for more relationship in new connections. Pray for healing, John may have to find a doctor tomorrow as he’s still barely hearing out of his right ear. Pray for restoration for Tammy, Perry, John and I. I’m fighting migraines as hard as I can…stress, no sleep, paper writing, and the heat make for a nasty combination. It is so clear that God is building some strong foundation for them as we’ve been here this last week. Tested and tried. That’s what I keep thinking. Can you imagine the impact they’re going to have? I cannot wait to hear and see the ripple effect from just their obedience in moving. How much more are they going to see as they continue to move forward and blaze new trails?

We have stories to tell. We can’t wait to share them. We miss all of your faces. I miss my girls in a way that makes my heart sick. We’ll be home soon enough, though.

Today's prayer...

I lack. I lack so much. Need you to fill the spaces, yet I'm so afraid if I allow you to, it will hurt so much more that this. It is a lie. I know. I need you.

I am tired. You gave me vision. Your vision. Your heart. And in my haste, my humanity, I've snatched it from your fingers and run head long into the unknown. Now I'm lost. I need you.

What next? Who next? And how shall I get there? I feel as though I've so badly tangled things that I should just remain stuck. Punishment for leaving you behind. I need you.

Yet, I still hear you. Everyday. That not so still, not so quiet voice. And you, with a wash of grace, remind me. "It is more than okay. It is well." But I don't always feel that. I want to. I need you.

Talk of Abraham and Isaac. Sacrifice so great. I can't fathom it. I fear I might not have been so bold. So brave. So obedient. But out of it came provision. God Provides. And a blessing for nations, generations to come. Just how much am I missing by staying here? What kind of blessing have I given up? It hurts to consider. I long to obey blindly. I'm terrified. I need you.

I am here. Because now I can't be anywhere else. And I'm asking, longing, expecting you to provide. Not just provide. To pour yourself out over me. Like much needed rain. I need you. Want you. Thirst for you.

Move me. I will move with you.

The beginning...

1. for brunette heads that bob out of bed. happy to see me in the morning

2. for sweet red headed teachers who pour themselves out for my child

3. lunch with dear friends, plates full of my favorite veggies, and laughter shared

4. time to breathe

5. time to read stories not facts and theories

When I need it most, And don't deserve it,,,

I was talking to the girls on the way home from school, telling them I had an appointment at the house this afternoon. And I was really feeling yucky and not up to talking about parenting, because I don't feel so great about my own parenting lately.

And my Ashlin, the one who I feel misses most of what I say, most of the time, says to me..."Mama, you're excellent at what you do (she actually said excellent, which is another milestone in vocabulary for us). And you're the best mommy. Don't listen to anything anybody says. Just keep asking Jesus. Like you tell us all the time. He'll tell you who you are."

And I cried all the way home. Even when it's the hardest thing I do, they give more back to me than I could imagine or deserve. My temper, bad moods, and all. They are MERCY and GRACE walking around in my life. I'm so thankful for them.

Light up...

I have thought a lot in the past few weeks about parenting. My parenting. Your parenting. How I'm going to encourage other people in their parenting when I'm not always confident in my own...I've hit a rough patch. Which just happens. I want to weather it with grace though.

One of my favorite songs when I was growing up was Steven Curtis Chapman's "Heartbeat of Heaven". And the lyrics never left me, I still find my self singing them..."loving, joyful, peaceful, patient, kind, and good, and full of faith, self-controlled, and gentle; for the heart of heaven beats this way." That meant something very different then than it does now. The fruits of the Spirit. And like Proverbs 31, it felt like a laundry list of things that I should strive towards as a Christian. It left me feeling less than, a whole lot of the time.

It wasn't until my twenties, and after the birth of my first child that I really fully understood that both of those scriptures talked about the products of a relationship. And that really giving myself over to the Lord and finding out His heart for mine would lead to those fruits, to the kind of Proverbs 31 woman He's made me (because mine looks nothing like the A type woman described...I'm finally okay with that).

But, as I've struggled to really face some of these parenting woes, the Lord reminded me today that I need to remember just those things when it relates to my girls. That the most important thing I can do for them, is point them to Him. To encourage a heart that beats for the Lord. Because in my own strength and parenting I will never produce those things that I want for them...to love, experience real joy, to live in peace and rest, know patience, be kind of heart, to be truly good (and not by the world's standards), to have faith beyond measure, to have self control, to live with a gentle spirit. They won't be able to walk them out either, unless they are truly searching after God's heart for themselves.

We have a HUGE mix CD we listen to when the radio's just not cutting it. And because I'm a huge Snow Patrol fan, there's countless songs from them on the CD. One of mine and the girls' favorites is "Run". And I always hear the Lord repeat the chorus to me, "Light up, light up. As if you have a choice. Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you dear." There are times in my life where it's just that easy. I remember who He is. Who I am in Him. And lighting up takes no effort. It just happens. I know Him.

Then there are times where lighting up takes digging, it takes effort, I have to pray hard. And I don't always hear from Him. But I still know who He is. I remember. I love His Word. He always redeems those moments and lights me up anyway.

And today as we sang loud over the music I realized I want that for them so much more than anything else. I want that to be their default. To know Him in a way that lights them up. That gives them opportunity to bear His fruit without the struggle of bearing it out of their own strength.

It makes parenting look completely different to me...

I thought of you today...

My PawPaw has been gone almost two years now. But, I still think of him often. What life he had. And I have countless memories of sitting with him on his piano bench while he played Patsy Cline and sang old hymns that sometimes made him cry. I listened to Patsy Cline last night and realized I love listening to her for the simple fact that he did to. Makes me feel like I still have a little piece of him here. His booming voice over the piano and a smile sent in my direction.

Can't get this one out of my head today. It was his favorite.

Mary's Story...

I think I posted this last year and the year before last. I always come back to it at Christmas. It's not a great piece of writing. It's not the perfect explanation of the story. But, it's mine. I know not everyone who reads it understands it. I like that. Because at the time, it was for me. A way of letting go of what was trapped in my mind at the time. 19. Headed overseas. Looking down the barrel of what it would really cost to give my life for Christ. I've always been fascinated by Mary. And this is what all of that together looked like for me in December of 1999. Merry Christmas!


Mary’s Story

The sun set in the expanse before them. And the soft tints of the watercolor sky soon melted into a blue and then a deeper black. As the warmth of the day followed the sun’s lead, the cold crept in and settled around them. The streets of the unfamiliar city were empty, hollowed out after the fullness of the day. And the echo of hoofs pierced the silence and bounced from cobbled street to stony wall and startled the ears of the little donkey responsible for all the noise. The little animal’s legs were beginning to buckle under the weight of several days’ load and a weak expectant mother. The child on the donkey’s back turned her face to heaven and prayed for provision in the long night she knew she had ahead.

Her husband pushed the weary crew along as quickly as possible and the cold of the night fogged his face with every breath. It became clearer with every step taken, that a place to rest was necessary. But after knocking on several doors that were closed in his face, he began to lose hope. Then on the outskirts of town, at a small inn, he pounded on the door and prayed as he watched the spark of a candle move from an upstairs room, down an outside hallway and disappear. A man appeared, opening the heavy door just to give a loud refusal and close the door in his face, again. But as the innkeeper turned to close the door, a desperate father stepped in between them and begged, “A closet or even the stables. Anywhere my wife can lay her head. Please!?” The man started, half asleep, and peered around him to see the young mother draped over the back of the tired little donkey. And instead of turning them away, he motioned for them to follow him.

The innkeeper led them around the inn to the crest of a hill and pointed beyond the wall of the city where the rolling pastures left the flame-lit streets and became a dark grey. There was a shadow of an old stable, nestled into the face of a cave, and he granted them use of it for what was left of the night. And in a relieved huff, this father grabbed the donkey by the reigns and forced it into the dark that lie beyond the city and finally to the walls of the stable. Nervous now, because he knew their baby boy was close, he fumbled in the dark to find something, anything, to make a fire. And just as he had it lit, he turned for his wife and she collapsed, exhausted in his arms.

Who would have ever known looking at her, what a dramatic change her small life had taken over the past year? Sometimes, she wondered if this was all a dream. In the excitement of her engagement, her family had spent months focusing on wedding plans and she had all but disappeared to them. So she spent hours in the temple, and the priests had begun to recognize her as part of the temple tapestry. Day after day, too overwhelmed with what was going on at home, she found refuge on her knees and the God of Israel became hers. Sometimes his reality was so overwhelming to her that she cried out to him for his tangible presence. At times, there, facedown, she could feel Him and she listened to His voice and she fell deeper in love with Him. And days turned into months.

The wedding grew close. One night she woke from sleep and there at the foot of her bed stood an angel. She wiped her eyes, then tried to let out a cry, but she was overcome with peace. So, she waited and she listened. The angel spoke of how she had found favor in the eyes of God, and she was to bear a child. He was to save the nations and she was to call Him Emmanuel, God with us. She spent the rest of the night in prayer, and as the darkness began to fade, she knew she must speak to her Joseph. In the quiet of the early morning, she rushed through the back alleys of the city until she reached his home. She paced the ground, head down, looking for the perfect pebble to toss into his window, knowing he was still asleep. And as she tossed it into his second story window, she heard it echo against the floor and when he appeared she prayed for words.

The next couple of days were a blur to her. There had been anger. Hurt. Accusation. But, in her heart, she was certain and she knew her God would provide. So she waited. And in a sweep of secrecy, the marriage plans collapsed and the two were wed in the privacy of family. Then she and her husband went into hiding on the outside of town. Lonely months went by and then depended on each other and a God who had been faithful and they prayed day in, day out, for the child that was quietly taking shape in her womb. Only heaven knew. And now, in a stable outside of Bethlehem, she waited on the promised Savior, her son, her baby boy. Their prayer, “God have your way, your will be done. Touch his hands, guide his feet, and keep his heart. Not ours, he is yours. God’s gift to a waiting world. Your will be done.”

The Savior of the Nations didn’t come in a blaze of glory or with the shout of trumpets. Instead, He came in the midst of brokenness. His mother only a child. His bed a feeding trough. The birth of King Jesus caused disruption and He re-arranged plans. But His plans are perfect. He loved us enough, to leave His Father and be one of us. He brought freedom, and truth, and righteousness, and TRUE love all in a baby’s cry. And Christ, God Himself, was born in a stable.

Gingerbread Excitement...

This proud mama has already posted pictures to facebook documenting our adventure into the world of gingerbread. Yes, I'm one of THOSE people. My dear friend, Mandy and I entered both Ashlin and her oldest son, Milo, in GCA's Kennesaw Winter Wonderland Gingerbread Competition.


The great thing about Ashlin and Milo, is that they are poured from the same mold. Struggle in some of the same ways. Think about things long and hard. Create to express all that gets couped up inside. Mandy introduced me to GCA. It was an answer to prayer for Milo and an answer to almost the same prayer for Ashlin. We've loved being able to share the experience together. And being able to get the two of them together to play on occasion has been incredibly rewarding.

In November we took them to Corn Dawgs on their first field trip together. And that was an experience that only a camera could have captured and expressed, even if somewhat vaguely, correctly. It was priceless! Giant vats of corn kernels for making corn angels. Haunted corn mazes, named "Corn Evil". Corn cob launching guns. Baby zip lines. It was all things corn. And all things hilarous. Mandy and I came home with stomach aches from laughing. Again. Priceless. Encouragement for both of us. And all of our kids loved the time together. I LOVE that!


So as December neared we looked for things to do together and the Gingerbread Competition was one of the first things we came across! I signed them up almost immediately! And they got to work planning. Elaborate plans that Mandy and I weren't sure we'd be able to execute. But, we ended up being able to pull off almost everything they wanted...minus a few lego policemen and flat screen tvs. AND...they won!!! Which was SO good for both of their little spirits! They are currently sharing the prize winnings of a hot cocoa mug. Joint custody means we're swapping it out ever Sunday at church.


So for our far away family, here's a re-cap of the process from beginning to end...and almost all that was in between.

Why blogging has taken a back seat...

You have no idea how much I love and need (at times) this little green and brown web-page. But, these days it has takes a back seat to some much bigger priorities that have made their way to the top of the list.

First and foremost, Ashlin came home from public school a few weeks ago. A long, labored over decision. But, one we feel GREAT about. She's in a program she can do from home with all the supervision she needs. But, it does mean a lot more work on my part.

I've entered my 400 level Psych classes and to say I'm drowning would be an understatement. There's an unbelievable amount of work. It's insane. That's expected though.

I'm working now. Just a few nights a week in a ballet studio. But, it's helping just a bit in the money department. And I get the chance to hang out with tiny ballerinas and talk to their parents at the same time...it's good stuff!

SO...sadly, the few spare minutes a day I'd love to be writing here, get used for other things right now.

I did want to share these with our family. Pictures of Ashlin's first field trip out with her new school. We took a trip to the pumpkin patch. All four of us got to go! It was a great time!

This is the fast and furious hunt for their favorite kind of pumpkin.

Madalyn has started posing like this (or some other wierd way) when you say "SMILE"! We have to coax her back to a normal pose and a plain ol' boring grin!

It was SO bright...Mady says, "One second, Mom".

Beautiful girls! And it was a beautiful day! We enjoyed the heck out of each other!

Seems like yesterday...

I know that married couples share anniversaries every day. And each are special and unique to the pair. They make you remember the corny and the cherished moments you shared that day so many years ago. Make you count and measure the reasons you love each other more than you ever thought possible. You've built a life together.

John and I shared nine years this week, over cheeseburgers, overlooking the bay in Alabama. In the middle of a week we spent with my sweet Aunt. And though it's not marked as one of the biggies, it felt pretty monumental to the two of us. We've been a part of each other's lives for a decade now...oh, we're old.

Somehow September 21st we always end up talking about what the life ahead of us looked like from where we stood that day...the plans we'd made. And let me say, we were so far off the mark. But standing here today, I'm thankful for every step we took in this direction. I could not have planned this place, or this time, or this love.

We have a lifetime of stories to tell in nine years. I like that. They're OUR stories.

It should come as no surprise in all my romantic notions that while I had the chance this week, I read a lot of Lord Byron. I literally get lost in his sentiment. I like to mull over the words and imagine where he was when he wrote, what moment provoked such emotion, such thought. And just a few lines from one of my favorites rang with great clarity this week. Just being a part of his life for the past nine years, swift moving, colorful days that quickly collected; I'd have rather been here than traveling the world or pursuing those plans that are now a distant thought in our minds. I can say honestly that it has not always been easy. There have been hard days, even years. There have been rough roads to walk together. But moments where you could not have found two happier people on the planet. All of it made sweeter, richer, as I've shared it with him. So much to look forward to.

"And our days seem as swift, and our moments more sweet, With thee by my side than with worlds at our feet." -Lord Byron