Something to die for

I've been following a blog by a mother of 6 children who lost her 22 month old on December 12th. Never before could I have felt her pain like I feel it now that I have my own little boy. His first few weeks of life I didn't like him very much. He cried all the time and he wouldn't let me sleep. He shook up our lives and made me feel more vulnerable than I've ever felt before. But gradually I got to know him and I began not only to love him, but to like him. And now I wouldn't think twice about giving my life to save his. Unfortunately, tragedy is the loudest and most clear reminder to love while you have the chance.

Thomas Alvin Case V is finally here!

*Our baby was born October 19, 2010 at 3:52 A.M. I actually started writing this the week after he was born, but I've been a little busy to publish this :)*

The last time I felt this way was after our wedding. To everyone else, a wedding or a birth is just another wedding or birth--another event. For me, these events made this life stand still while another life and world, totally separate from this one, was created. I was changed there, and now I am left to reconcile my two lives into one. It is a bittersweet transition.

I was admitted to the hospital Sunday morning after experiencing some strong, but irregular contractions from about 2 A.M. Saturday morning until 7 A.M. Sunday when we finally called the doctor and were told to head to the hospital. We spent a couple hours in triage while they monitored me for some progression. Thankfully, I progressed enough to be admitted. At the time, I couldn't imagine being sent home only to have to make the trip back to the hospital later. We only live 3 miles from the hospital, but the first trip over the torn up city roads was the only trip I wanted to make. Besides that, we had already told our parents that we were headed to the hospital...therefore, the parents were also headed to the hospital. Had we known how long it would be until baby Tommy would be here, we would have had them wait a while before making the trip. Bless their hearts for enduring 2 days and 2 nights in the waiting room!

As you can imagine, Sunday was a very exciting day for everyone. We were at the beginning of the mental game. I was managing the contractions well by singing, dancing, soaking in the jacuzzi tub, and relaxing. At about 2 A.M. Monday morning, I had my first emotional breakdown when I was told that I had not progressed at all within the last 8 hours. I hadn't slept, I had eaten very little, and as I was in progressively more pain, I was finding that many of my coping techniques were expiring. Besides that, my water hadn't broke, which was making progression an even more difficult task. I was becoming less consolable. Around 10 A.M. Monday morning, I finally took the doctor's advice to take a morphine shot so I could get some sleep and relax. I thought I had slept for only a half hour, but I found out later I slept for about 2 hours. At the end of the two hours, my water broke. We thought for sure that progression would come quickly now, so we took "thumbs up" pictures and prepared ourselves to meet our new baby in 4 hours.

But 4 hours later, our baby still wasn't here. It was determined later that my uterus simply was not contracting hard enough for me to dilate on my own. This meant Pitocin would have to be administered--a strong indicator that my hopes to have a drug-free birth would be dashed. We tried some natural techniques for increasing the strength of the contractions, but we were not successful.

Finally, at about 9:00 Monday night, exhausted but feeling like I had fought a good fight, I ordered an epidural. Pitocin was administered soon after that. I felt good about my decision and that it was absolutely necessary at that point. Looking back, I'm sure I would have died of exhaustion if I had not gotten the epidural.



Anyway, the epidural was great! I could still feel and move my left leg and I could move my right foot. I could also feel some of the contractions, but I could not feel pain. So, I slept for a few hours (at least that's what I'm told. I don't remember much about the hours after the epidural). I woke up and a couple hours later I felt a very strong urge to push. They checked me and I was told NOT to push! HA! 20 minutes later, I told them I HAD to push, and again was told that even though I was 10 centimeters dialated, I could not push until the doctor got there. Thankfully, she lives in the neighborhood only 5 minutes from the hospital. Once she got there I was told that the pushing stage would take 2-3 hours. HA! I had been in labor for 72 hours, so I determined I would NOT push for any more hours. Thirty minutes later, my baby boy was lying on my chest!

Looking back, it was quite an amazing experience! For me, it was more of a mental/emotional challenge than a physical challenge, but it was a fun challenge. Even though I had moments when I was ready to throw in the towel and when I swore off any future pregnancies, the whole experience was one-of-a-kind that I will cherish forever.

Dear Baby Boy

Dear Baby Boy,

Today everyone expects to meet you. I don't think you'll come today because I haven't been showing any of the normal "signs" that labor is about to start, but maybe after I write this letter to you we'll both be more confident about making today your birthday.

I felt like I needed to write to you in order to come to the realization that you are not just an ever-growing, no-hassle, movement in my stomach, and to hopefully give us both some confidence in me. Baby Boy, the truth is that I'm scared. I'm afraid of the unknown. I don't know when you'll decide to come; I don't know how you'll decide to come; I don't know how long it will take or much it will hurt. I do know the "you" that I can reach down and touch, but I don't know the "you" that can reach up and touch me. I love you as much as I can right now, but I don't think it's enough, and that scares me too. I don't even call you by your name when I talk about you; you're always "the baby." Have you noticed that? It's not that I'm detached from you emotionally, it's just that I don't know you as a person yet--I only know you as the movements in my stomach that are covered by my skin and protected by my body. You're not your own person yet; you're still a part of me. I only worry about or love the things that I can love about you right now. For instance, I worry when I haven't felt you move much during the day, but I love when I can see your back moving up and down with your practice breaths (and I also love when you make your dad giggle by giving him a few kicks in the back!).

I have so many doubts about my readiness and ability to be a good mother. When I used to think about my future, children were always a part of it, but I never imagined my future would eventually become my present reality. I think that's another reason I'm scared. I'm a dreamer and a planner. Those two things don't seem to go hand in hand very well. In my dreams, you just existed and I was a great mother. In reality, you were conceived much sooner than I had planned. In reality, I had to wait 9 nauseous, weight-gaining, body morphing months for you. Once you are born I have to practice patience and faith, and I have to realize that I will fail, and I need to accept that there will be days where you come very close to hating me. These are the things that I have to plan and prepare for, but they don't line up with the dream. On the other hand, I should plan that there will also be days where I'll feel like a competent mother just because I was able to feed you when you were hungry, or because a kiss made your boo-boo all better, or because I was able to make you laugh. And I will absolutely melt when you reach out for me for the first time, or when you open a door for me, or when you tell me that I look pretty.

I guess what I need to tell you (and myself) most of all right now is that none of the whens, wheres, hows, and what ifs matter all that much in the grand scheme of things. God is our Creator. Whether we choose to believe it or not, He knows our deepest desires and He loves us more than we can imagine. Put those two things together and why should we ever be afraid? It's simple, but it's not easy because you have to resist your enemy's negative but totally plausible suggestions (we'll be talking more about this when you get older).

So, I'm going to fight for faith this week as I wait for you. Despite the doubts and fears that creep into my head, I'm going to trust that God knows what he's doing and that I can do all things through Him! That's such an amazing truth that I hope we do well in showing you.

I'll see you soon, Tommy! I love you!

Your mother.

The Gift of Birth

I've just begun week 37 of pregnancy. That means I only have 3 more weeks (give or take) until I meet this little guy. It's been quite a journey!

When I first found out I was pregnant, I was more horrified than I was excited. After all, I was in the midst of one of the worst periods of anxiety I've ever had in my life (How could I take care of a baby when I can't even take care of myself?), I had only been married for 3 months (We haven't had enough time to establish our marriage!), and worst of all, I would have 9 months of no control over my body. It took a few weeks to get used to the news, a few more weeks to accept it, and it wasn't until I was 19 weeks along, when I began to see the tiny twitches of his body against my stomach, that I began to feel an emotional attachment to my baby.

Most of my second trimester was great. I felt really good, and giving birth, while I knew it would happen "some day," seemed like an eternity away, so I didn't worry about it. The first day of my third trimester the labor, the pain, the unknown became all too real to me. I got really serious about learning relaxation techniques, became educated about exactly what would happen on D-day, and generally became a bit more anxious about that day. But earlier this week, I spent some time with God laying down my worries at His feet. While I was praying, He helped me to realize the TRUE wonder of what was going to happen!

I get to deliver God's creation from my own body...

I get to witness God being Creator first-hand...

I get to partake in a love between God and me, Tom and me, and my baby boy and me that I have never yet known...

I get to give my husband a gift of love that no one else on earth has or ever will be able to give him, and I get to receive likewise!

Thank you, Lord, for the gift of birth!

Recipe: Avocado Burrito

I have been a vegetarian for about 4 years. I must say, I have yet to figure out how to really eat a vegetarian diet. For the first year, I ate very simply. For example: I'd eat a couple pieces of fruit for breakfast, a salad for lunch, and whole wheat pasta with broccoli and olive oil for dinner. I can't say I've made a whole lot of progress since that first year, and I would have to say that I've even digressed since I got pregnant. My poor baby is going to exit the womb craving pizza and peanut butter! But every once in a while I'll fix something up that is quick, healthy, and tasty. This is an extremely easy and filling (and quick, healthy, and tasty) lunch I made for myself today.

1 whole wheat tortilla
1/2 avocado
1/2 cup diced tomato
1/4 cup mozzarella cheese
1/3 cup black beans
Salt to taste

Mash up the avocado and spread it on the tortilla. Add the rest of the ingredients. Fold the tortilla. Eat, and be filled!

New Week New Worries

There is no doubt that this pregnancy has been a prime time for God to teach me about trust, love, and relationships. The lessons are essentially the same, but over time the focus has changed from me to this baby and me, and finally to God and this baby and me.

Seven months ago, my main concerns were: "How will I get through this? How will this change my relationship with my husband? Do I have what it takes to get through this pregnancy? What symptoms will I experience? Will I be able to handle them?" Ten weeks ago, the concerns were about the health of the baby: Are all his limbs present? Is his brain developing correctly? How could I handle it if he died? And in the last few weeks I've begun to worry about the relationship we'll have. Will he recognize me when he's born? Will he love me? What if he doesn't like me? Will he want to tell people how wonderful his parents are? When I think about those questions I comfort myself, justifying, "Of course he'll love me! I'm his mother. I'm his life source. We've been attached all this time, his love will come naturally." I hope that this baby chooses to love me; that he'll know that I love him; that he won't be ashamed of me, and that he'll be proud to have me as a mother. But the reality is that this is as close as we'll ever be. Once he is outside my body, that's when he begins to have choices. I'm convinced that giving birth is taking a huge risk with your heart.

I can't help but wonder if I may be getting a glimpse of how God felt when he chose to conceive Adam and Eve. I wonder how badly it hurt when he gave birth to humankind, knowing that he also had to give them free will...and that they would grow further from him for it. That some of his children would not love him or even recognize him. Some of his children would claim to love him, but would never talk to him, or try to live like him, or tell others that they have a Father and that he is the greatest Father ever. I know God isn't naive enough to think that humankind's love for Him would come naturally just because he created us, but I know he does say, "I love you! Love me back! I'm your life-source! I've always been attached to you; I hold you in my right hand!"

No doubt God took a risk with his heart when he created human beings.

New Baby Bump Pics

Well, I'm pretty sure I have now graduated from looking like I ate a large dinner to actually looking like I'm pregnant. Last week I actually got my first "pregnancy privilege" as two ladies let me go in front of them in the line at the grocery store :) I still wasn't sure even then that I looked pregnant...until that special moment at the store.

I've been feeling pretty good this trimester. I've had more energy and much less/no nausea. I'm feeling much more ready to meet this little guy, but I'm glad there's still 17 more weeks to go. God really knew what he was doing when he gave mommies-to-be 9 months to prepare physically, mentally, and emotionally for a baby. I seem to be growing right along with him :)

20 weeks

22 weeks

23 weeks

recurring dream

I've been talking with a couple of friends of mine about the weird dreams we've been having lately. Now I'm not a crazy dream interpreter that thinks that all dreams have some hidden meaning. You can't tell me this dream is anything but random: One of my friends was in a singing competition at church, but her hoodie got ripped. When she and I and her husband were on our way to Wendy's in a speedboat that was actually a canoe, we started being chased by another boat. Of course, there were whales in the water and we almost fell out and were eaten by whales. Despite surviving manhunt lead by savage humans and hungry whales, we tragically did not make it Wendy's for our frosties before I woke up.

Dreams like that are a nice rest from the recurring one I've had for the last few months. All the dreams vary slightly, but have the same frightening details. 1.) there is an evil presence that I can't see, 2.) I can't turn on the lights, 3.) either I can't speak or I'm not heard, 4.) I am never touched or harmed in the dream, only frightened. The first time I had a dream like this was probably the most frightening because it started in a scene that almost exactly duplicated a scene that took place right before I went to sleep...only in my dream the lights were out. I was sitting next to my husband on the couch and all I could see was his profile against the dim light coming in the window from the outside. I kept trying to ask him to turn the light on, but I couldn't speak and it seemed that even if I could have, he wouldn't have been able to hear me. Gradually, I became frightened and I began to feel something evil in the room with us. It became more and more urgent for me to have the lights on and I kept trying to scream at my husband to turn the lights on but he couldn't hear me! Finally, I said "Get behind me Satan" and I could feel the presence right behind me hovering over my right shoulder.... I woke screaming and had a hard time calming down after that.

I know these dreams have some real-life significance to them. Before I ever say anything to the evil in the dream, I always think, "do you really believe the words you're saying, or are you hoping these words will just perform a magic trick for you?" When there is such a presence of fear it's easy to pull out all the verses and godly language just to get myself out of the fearful situation, but if I don't really believe it or have faith in God's authority, how much good will it do? That seems to be the main point in these dreams. When I'm awake and I think about this, I have to admit that I know that God has the authority over Satan and fear, but I honestly don't think I'm completely convinced of it. My first reaction in my dreams is fear. My first action is to try to turn on the light or call out to someone. My last action is to call out to God. So now my goal is to react in faith instead of fear and to rely on God's authority over Satan...both in my dreams and in real life....

Test of Faith: The Result Show

A couple weeks ago I wrote about the impossible financial situation we were in. I chose to trust God and I was blessed with peace about the situation. And now I have a story to tell!

Here's the math:

$90 - what we were left with after paying bills
$180 - what we needed for Tom to get to work for the next two weeks
$60 - what we needed for groceries for two weeks
$82.80 - amount needed to pay a toll violation (we didn't miss the tolls on purpose) (it needed to be paid before we would get paid again, otherwise $50 would be added to each toll fee of $20.00).
5 - number of bills that still needed to be paid

So, you can see we were short by over $200 for the two weeks. Here's where the miracle begins. The following day, Tom's parents came over and brought with them a HUGE box full of food and toiletries. Later that day, they bought us another entire order of groceries. We didn't need to buy groceries for the entire two weeks!

Additionally, my parents offered to pay the toll violations. Also, my birthday was coming up and they gave me an advancement on my birthday money.

The next week we sold one of the Playstations that Tom had fixed. $225.
Bought another broken Playstation in order to continue the business: -$90
The next week we headed up to my parents where Tom trimmed the hedges and did other projects around the house: $200.
The Playstation we sold crashed for the second time. We refunded the customer. -$225.

At this point, I started to get discouraged again because I was banking on the money Tom would make trimming the hedges in order to pay the rest of our bills, but it looked like we would have to return all that money, plus some, to our customer.

Now, before I go on I have to insert that for the last 8 months the number 222 has come to mean something to me. I don't know why, but whenever I see that number I just remember God's love and faithfulness....now for the rest of the story.

Yesterday we received a check in the mail for, can you guess how much? $222!!! Praise God!!!! We now have more than enough to get us through until the next paycheck!! AND we were still able to tithe!!

It's been a wonderful two weeks of watching for God's faithfulness. All I can say is GOD IS GOOD!

Baby Bump Pics

Pre-baby

14 weeks

17 weeks

18 weeks

Not much to see here...yet. And I had to archive my pre-pregnancy belly since I will probably never see it again.

Today I'm contemplating the pain. I made the mistake of YouTubing women having contractions...ouch! Of course, these ladies weren't employing the methods I've been reading about. Even though I haven't received it yet, I am forever grateful to my cousin for sending me a relaxation method she used while she gave birth at home to her FOURTEEN POUND BABY!

I'm also contemplating the term "labor." Labor means hard work. I'm going to need some endurance for the pain and the labor...I should probably start exercising. It's tough just to walk briskly for a half hour, and that's with NO pain. Hmmm....yes, I should definitely reconsider my exercise program (or lack thereof).

Test of Faith

Whenever a pay day comes, we breathe a sigh of relief at having been able to scrape by until the last day. That relief only lasted for about the half hour it took me to pay bills today. The situation comes down to this: if all we believed and trusted in was our paycheck, then the amount of money we are left with for the next two weeks will not get my husband to work and we will not be able to buy groceries. I'm not writing this to make anyone feel sorry for us. I'm simply writing to be held accountable to faith. After a fairly brief encounter with panic over this situation, I decided that 1.) there really isn't anything we can do about the situation and 2.) I can't and won't put my body through the stress of...well, stress. I claim to believe God loves us and is faithful, now it's time to put that talk to the test. Jesus tells us not to worry about what we will eat or drink or wear. He provides for sparrows so I know he'll provide for us. It will be interesting to see it all unfold.

Happy then and happy now

For some reason I'm doing a lot of reflecting on the past today. I'm not sure this is always a good thing to do--not because the past was necessarily better than the present, but I think that Satan tries to make you think it was. It's the old "the grass is always greener" syndrome. The fact is that I was happy with my life a year ago and I'm happy with my life now. Life is just different.

Sometimes wish I was the "confident," "independent" person I was a year ago, but I remember that a year ago I wanted to be a stay-at-home wife. I got both. But the best part is that any confidence and independence that I've gained over the last few months is much deeper and more real than the confidence I had then. A year ago I had to put forth confidence or else be eaten alive by life. Now I don't have to fake it. I'd rather have less real confidence than all the manufactured confidence in the world. And I know that I gain more of that real confidence every day. In another year I may not recognize myself as the person I was a year ago--in fact, that person is becoming less and less familiar already.

I expect that a year from now the memory of the person I am now will also begin to fade. In a year, I expect that my confidence in who I am will be more developed, I will no longer feel so vulnerable to slipping into the paralyzing grip of fear again, and I will probably look back on my life and sometimes think that things were better in the past than they are at present, and I'll have to remind myself again that things are not better here, they are just different.

Remembering Today

Fresh spring air is drifting through the open front door. The sun is shining and the birds are singing. It's a little after noon and my tasks for the day are almost complete so I can enjoy the rest of the day outside. I'll sit out there and read, pray, and relax until it's almost time for the man of my dreams to walk through the door and greet me with his signature, "Hello, my beautiful bride!" Take a deep breath. Ahh...life is good!

The best part of this good life is that even if the sun wasn't shining and the birds weren't singing, I am still content. I've finally come to a place in my life where I don't need more. If we live in the same house and we never have more money or more things, that's ok. God always has, is, and always will provide us with more than enough.

I'm not just content with what we have, but I'm finally content with who I am. For the first time, I feel like I do deserve my husband. I am confident in my ability to be a great mother. Pregnancy is finally fun, and I'm confident in my ability to give birth without medication. For the last two months, I have had more peace and confidence in Christ's work in me than I have had in my entire life.

I know that not every day will feel like this, but I know that there will be more days like this than days in the shadows. Praise God for His Holy Spirit living in me!

Pregnancy Mysteries

Ok....I know I've already done a lot of complaining about pregnancy, but I'm still not done. Actually, I'm not really complaining this time, I'm just pointing out some of the little amusing "mysteries."

1.) Food aversions/cravings: Why do I gag every time I even see a jar of spaghetti sauce (or say "spaghetti sauce" for that matter), but I can eat salsa by the gallon? It's pretty much the same thing. They look the same anyway.... And why on earth can't I stand to eat chocolate?? I can eat sweets with chocolate in them, but not pure chocolate. Gag!

2.) Being sick: NOT FAIR that pregnant women have a comprised immune system. I realize that this is so that your body doesn't reject the baby as a "foreign object" but still, there's got to be another way. Not only is the threat of morning sickness looming for AT LEAST 12 weeks (sometimes longer), but I can get sick on top of that??? I haven't been sick for YEARS. Not even a cold. Well, I finally got a cold...a pretty bad one. The kind where you have to sleep sitting up in a recliner two nights in a row so the entire contents of your sinuses doesn't glue you to your pillow? That kind.

3.) Sneezing/peeing: I have never had to worry about peeing my pants when I sneeze...until now. The evil thing about this is that for some reason since my uterus has grown to a significant size, I don't always feel the urgency to pee. When I do, my body suddenly feels the urge to sneeze. Thanks a lot!

4.) Feeling lazy: I know I have a 24/7 job with growing a baby, but I am a chronic multi-tasker. However, the term "multitask" can no longer be a part of my vocabulary. When I'm feeling full of energy the most I can push myself to do is shower and pick a few things up at the grocery store. After that it's time for a long nap! Kudos to any woman who works a full-time job while pregnant! These women are superheros. I am not. And huge kudos to my dear husband who has had to begin making his own dinner. I can't stomach it and I just don't have the energy to do it.

I take comfort in the fact that the worst part is almost over, and of course, that there's a precious little BOY coming that will help me forget all about this part. That's it for now (I'm getting tired). I guess most of this stuff is supposed to go away after the first trimester. Only 1 1/2 weeks left!!!! Then maybe I'll start feeling like a normal person again! Can't wait!

What more can I say???

How on earth do you describe something too amazing for words? Maybe that's why Jesus is called, "The Word." Because any breakdown of language couldn't describe Him in full.

I can tell you my story, but you'd have to see God's work in me to really understand. I'll do my best to tell the story anyway. It's very simple really. God has delivered me from anxiety once and for all!! I'm happy to say the miracle wasn't that I woke up one morning and suddenly had no fear. The miracle was that I woke up and realized that I am free!!! Praise God!

So, during the course of that first day I tackled some of the "monsters" that have paralyzed me for the last few months. I reclaimed territory that I had falsely begun to believe was too full of giants for me to dare step foot on. Since then I've had many opportunities to expand my territory. For instance, last night I went to a hockey game in Lansing, went to a restaurant AND ATE (!), and then drove half the way home. It's hard to explain to someone what a big deal this is for me if they have never experienced anxiety before. But everyone has a "Goliath." This was mine.

Praise God! He is good! What more can say??

Enjoying a Dream Come True

I am often tempted (and often I fall to the temptation) to think negatively about everything...and I mean, EVERYTHING! Even if my dreams are coming true (and they are right now), instead of rejoicing in the grace of that, I become very suspicious. Why on earth would MY dreams come true? And if my dreams are coming true, shouldn't I have to struggle, to strive, to work, to walk on fire in order to have the things I want? But what testament to God's grace and unreasonable love would I have if I had to strive in order for my dreams to come true?

...And it's not just my dreams that He's allowing to come true in my life, it's even little everyday things. Last weekend while we were on a retreat with our high-schoolers, I had such an intimate moment with God where He distinctly told me that His love is for me too. I was so excited about that, so I asked for a shooting star. Over the next two hours, I looked up in the sky whenever I had the chance, eagerly expecting my shooting star. I looked down for one moment to make sure there was no ice under foot, and in that one moment I heard my husband shout, "DID YOU SEE THAT?!?!" He had seen a shooting star--MY shooting star--the longest, slowest, shooting star he had ever seen. I missed it. I was instantly so angry that God didn't allow me to see it (remember, I am negative about everything). After I calmed down, I finally realized that God gave me what I asked for. He gave me what I asked for but I couldn't enjoy it. I was too busy watching for ice to see the star. This is the story of my life.

This has to be the end of living my life this way, or else I will never be happy. Back in April, before I lost my job and before I met my husband, my strongest desire was to be a good wife and mother. I felt very at home and content with that life. A few weeks later I met my husband, and within 6 months we were married. Three months later, we found out I was pregnant. I haven't had one day of morning sickness (something else I earnestly prayed for!) My dreams were coming true, and I didn't even have to be patient!! Despite all these things, I haven't been dancing under the stars. Instead, I've been watching out for ice and I've been completely miserable. I realize what the problem is, but I honestly have no idea how to fix it. Sadly, I have no idea how to truly enjoy my life, except to keep telling myself that I have a life worth enjoying. I have to keep reminding myself that the joy of seeing the shooting star I asked for is more joyous than the pain of slipping on the ice is painful.

I have to keep reminding myself that the best things in life are not earned or bought. The best things in life are offered, in abundance, by my loving Creator as a gift. I just have to accept that.

The Last 9 Months/The Next 9 Months

This is just a little collage of my life over the past nine months. Add to this the pics of losing my job, having debilitating panic attacks, of gaining a bit of freedom from anxiety, bouts with depression, and days of rest, and you'll have a more complete picture. I can't help but think that all these thing together are not the complete picture, but that they are part of the whole. I have to think that way or else I will be much like I was earlier today -- sobbing over how things are not going as I had planned. According to my plan, at this point in my life I would be completely free of anxious thoughts; I would have a handle on my life; I would have had at least a year after getting married before starting a family; I would have been able to stay a while longer in the responsibility free moments of weekends at the cabin or evenings on the snowboarding hills. I'm not sure why the thought of not having that depresses me. I have gained much more than I've lost. I've lost only a little freedom and responsibility and a job that I never really liked anyway. I've gained another great family, a deep knowledge of how little strength I have apart from God, many restful days, and the beginning of my own family.

While I'm mourning the life that is behind me, I just know that 8 months from now I'll see the bigger, more beautiful picture. Forgive me for my discontent.

Prayer for Today

"...Help me overcome my unbelief!"

God and Two-Inch Spaces

Have you ever stood at the top of a mountain, the edge of a shoreline, or the middle of a valley and become overwhelmed by the weight of the beauty surrounding you? You stand there for an eternity trying to take it all in. You look as far out as you can see in every direction, almost dropping under the enormity of what surrounds you. You can feel the wind on every bare inch of skin; the air cleanses your lungs and you are sure that you have never truly breathed air until now. The world is so silent here that your thoughts become deafening. You seriously contemplate whether you will become a permanent fixture of the landscape or whether you will settle for a photograph.

You pull out your camera and point it at the grandeur. You try to focus your eyes on the landscape within the two-inch camera screen, but the mountains, the waves, the trees, the birds all squeeze out of the frame 360 degrees around you. The picture you have just taken doesn't do your experience justice. And that's all you can say when your friends turn their dispassionate glance from your photo back to you. "The picture doesn't do it justice!" you say. "You really have to see it in person to get the whole effect."

How often do we attempt the same with God? We experience the glory of God with every fiber of our being, then try to contain our experience of Him in a tiny two-inch box. We take our sad little box--maybe it's a box of logic or rules or rituals--and we are broken-hearted when our friends give us a blank stare that wonders why you wasted their time. Indeed, they really do need to see it in person to get the whole effect.

Are you bringing God to your friends in a box, or are they able to see Him in person?

Alissa's Five Things

I've been sitting at home day after day trying to figure out what my dream job is, while I watch time run out on our second income, which is do to expire in September. I can tell you what my dream job is NOT; I can tell you what it kind of looks like; but I can't really tell you what it IS. I can tell you what I THINK it is, but the more in depth I think about it, the less it seems like a dream job. Maybe I just need to stop thinking so much and just start doing. If it's blessed, it's blessed. If not, I'll move on. But I better get a move on it so I get it figured out before I stop getting paid to look for a job.

So, without further ado (man, that was a lot of "ado!"), I think my dream job would to be a writer. This is not completely new. I remember in a counseling session probably about a year ago telling my counselor that I would love to be a writer. However, being the typical doubter that I am, I immediately thought, "That's impossible for you. You have no talent for such a thing!" Whether or not that's true, I don't know. I do know that it's something that not only do I have a passion for but it is also very cathartic for me.

As cathartic as it can be for me that is only if I am writing out of pure emotion. Writers write based on guidelines and deadlines, not based on feelings. In this way, writing can be a pain in the butt for me. Oh man, did I hate writing papers in college! I wish I had realized then that grades don't follow you around after college quite like your heart does. Before I went to college I wrote because I loved to write. During college, I wrote because I had to. After college, I didn't write at all. I learned during college that in order to be "successful" (that is, in order to get a good grade...such a tiny focus!) in writing, all my writing had to have this many arguments, that many quotes and it had to span so many pages. That's when I stopped dreaming. Thankfully, in the last year of stopping cold in my tracks on the path of success, my heart is finally catching up...only it's on the path of happiness. That's where I'm going with my writing.

I'm too much of realist to believe that following happiness is going to be consistent and fruitful, so I'm not going to let my heart take over completely. I know that in order to be a writer, whether or not I get paid, I must have a balance. It's much like my workouts have been in the past: some days I enjoy working out and some days I have to drag myself out there like a child who is called in from Sunday afternoon fun to go to night church (I think I put up a fight every week until about high school. In fact, I may or may not have done a similar thing within the last couple of weeks...heh, heh). So, in true Alissa fashion, I've made a list of tips for myself:

1.) Write more. Almost any article you come across on "How to be a Writer" you'll see this advice. Academia taught me theory, but never really taught me application (which is probably why IN THEORY I'm qualified to do anything, but IN REALITY I'm qualified to do nothing...yes, I am bitter....). I've spent exactly zero dollars on this advice, but it still seems about a million times more useful than what I paid tens of thousands of dollars to learn (yes, still bitter).

2.) Be prepared. Before I started writing this, I spent about an hour looking up articles about writing, being a writer, and I also checked my email and facebook. When I finally pulled up my blog to start writing, I decided that was the perfect time to start eating breakfast. I finished a banana, sat down to write, then decided some yogurt and granola would really hit the spot. After that, I sat down to do some SERIOUS writing and quickly decided that an apple would definitely set the tone for a day of writing. While that is helping me with my little aversion to food after holiday binging, it is not helping me meet any goals. Although I suppose I could argue (another thing that academia taught me *cha ching*) that the nutrients feed my brain in order to help me write better (I don't know...is it really working?). Even if that were true, I suppose it is possible for me to get all my eating out of the way before I sit down the first time, or I could just set myself up in the kitchen so that if I feel the necessity to eat right now, all I'd have to do is reach and grab. This could be bad for the waistline, though. Perhaps I should think about writing in a coffeeshop or a bookstore (what better place for inspiration, right?).

3.) Expect crap. I've actually written many more blogs than I've posted, and if I wasn't so sentimental, I would probably delete a lot of what I've published on here simply because it is just not well written at all. I hold myself to a very high standard, which is good in accounting, but not so good here. If I write a bad article, that does not necessarily mean I'm a bad writer. Maybe I'm just having a bad writing day, or maybe I just need more practice. No problem. I won't ever stop thinking, so I'll never stop writing...even if it is pure crap. There are some authors who have published books and they write at a level I wrote at in third grade (maybe they are third-graders, in which case, kudos!), so I'm not going to feel bad if I have a bad writing day, or week, or LIFETIME for that matter! At least I had fun, right?

4.) Set goals. Have husband trick you into accomplishing your goals. This is a very unpopular thing to say in this day and age, but I'm just going to say it because it's true: I am not self-motivated. Having said that, I'm not sure if this tip is going to work for me. I have written "to do" lists and even gone to the trouble of drawing pretty little checkboxes next to each goal, only to find the list untouched at the end of the day. Here's the kicker: it doesn't bother me a bit when none of those things are accomplished. I can always clean the bathroom tomorrow, right? I guess I might have to revise this tip. I should set goals, then tell them to my husband and have him remind me of what I said I was going to do. In some sort of weird way, even though he's telling me my own goals, I feel like I'm doing it for him when it comes from his mouth. I don't find much pleasure in accomplishments unless it pleases someone else. So there. Yeah! That's what I'll do! Great idea, Alissa!

5.) Spend more time on conclusions. I'm horrible at concluding my writing. Always have been...