tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58146643210116883362023-11-16T05:26:09.881-05:00Figuring Out FamilyEmilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923974370364152976noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-72874047373097576152016-10-19T20:56:00.002-04:002016-10-19T20:56:36.826-04:00Cookie DayIn October 2008, we were getting ready for the first exam in our American Lit class. Fletcher asked if I was interested in a study group. The guy I had been crushing on all semester just asked if I wanted to be in a study group?! I quickly said yes. In hindsight...probably too quickly. Like awkwardly quickly. Whatever. We're married now. :)<br />
I decided that I was going to make cookies. Fletcher had mentioned that he likes chocolate chip. Almost everyone on the planet likes chocolate chip cookies, so it wouldn't seem weird.<br />
October 19th, I made my way up to c-lab when it opened after Campus Church. Found Fletcher in one of the seating areas. He was alone. "No one else could make it," he said.<br />
<i>Do I still bring out the cookies? I mean...I made them for him. But I don't want him to KNOW that I made them for him. WHAT DO I DO?!? </i><br />
The cookies stayed in my backpack. We studied for our test (btw...this is where the "Men are like planets" joke comes from...he found a typo in my notes and still won't let me forget it), and then spent two hours talking about our families.<br />
A few years later, he confessed that he never invited anyone else to the study group. And then I confessed that those poor cookies were left in my backpack.<br />
Today, eight years later, we made chocolate chip cookies and ate them with our sons.<br />
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923974370364152976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-41352865892614228222013-10-25T00:01:00.000-04:002013-10-25T00:01:00.449-04:00Ezra's Daddy<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Believe it or not, Ezra is ONE today. Reminiscing over the past year, I can’t help
but think of how wonderful his daddy is.
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fletcher was an absolute rock during a long, difficult
labor, not once pressuring me to get meds and supporting the decisions I
made. Massaging and holding me and praying for 17 hours.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0GAMHg6-p6hW8P6sTqOD-vFDxmuI3vK_mqYCBT5E9YVzeIlDs2E91nJAlfLsuKAhn7goECnS0fFDlZyCgtODQPmqsN_HwZVCb34y6RG89EpXmyh84Z-X2Xci4227bxLXT0wrPyW-dZ6w/s1600/DSC02559+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0GAMHg6-p6hW8P6sTqOD-vFDxmuI3vK_mqYCBT5E9YVzeIlDs2E91nJAlfLsuKAhn7goECnS0fFDlZyCgtODQPmqsN_HwZVCb34y6RG89EpXmyh84Z-X2Xci4227bxLXT0wrPyW-dZ6w/s320/DSC02559+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhulIPvFk5H_-OhejILKo5-0p_ctFC9sM8bQ4E2XzfXLuHkGyqq7yjfZEgimSsA5aaZVizcgtwdyri0pIZee1nne2lRL96sA2pF4_v4gt-2ok3qhw5eA9oKI3f5aKcr7bVshmtCPIgkgig/s1600/DSC02578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhulIPvFk5H_-OhejILKo5-0p_ctFC9sM8bQ4E2XzfXLuHkGyqq7yjfZEgimSsA5aaZVizcgtwdyri0pIZee1nne2lRL96sA2pF4_v4gt-2ok3qhw5eA9oKI3f5aKcr7bVshmtCPIgkgig/s320/DSC02578.JPG" width="212" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He has been nothing but supportive of nursing, never even mentioning formula during the painful first two months, as he knew that would be even more upsetting to me, and he’s completely supportive of nursing until Ezra makes the independent decision to wean himself.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKFBDCkOyqYDey0g3hVoQixcBGrz_hR5129BEczKDf1NfPGIdiQui016O8Pl0bQVn81gXavHpaY0au5pkqmStcH8qZo5QPO6Pt-ZD-m_GJeuYD8hkVs-MRbiO5B7b1rtYHyMyTc86gqI/s1600/IMG_1605.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKFBDCkOyqYDey0g3hVoQixcBGrz_hR5129BEczKDf1NfPGIdiQui016O8Pl0bQVn81gXavHpaY0au5pkqmStcH8qZo5QPO6Pt-ZD-m_GJeuYD8hkVs-MRbiO5B7b1rtYHyMyTc86gqI/s1600/IMG_1605.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKFBDCkOyqYDey0g3hVoQixcBGrz_hR5129BEczKDf1NfPGIdiQui016O8Pl0bQVn81gXavHpaY0au5pkqmStcH8qZo5QPO6Pt-ZD-m_GJeuYD8hkVs-MRbiO5B7b1rtYHyMyTc86gqI/s320/IMG_1605.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When we’re having a rough night, he’ll get up and rock Ezra back to sleep, even when it takes an hour or more.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUkjSEGQ7L7fhIJLEsySRU8LnrzzLyDKvEbKKkfFBfEf-V46RgvBZmEuH58ZJd2SMGKmmdlM-WGKaBd4Q6QQUEfQ6wgO29bQKagNV34QRgKmqfgPsRrKXamFbM87rKinHnHVjCoZm5rug/s1600/IMG_0710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUkjSEGQ7L7fhIJLEsySRU8LnrzzLyDKvEbKKkfFBfEf-V46RgvBZmEuH58ZJd2SMGKmmdlM-WGKaBd4Q6QQUEfQ6wgO29bQKagNV34QRgKmqfgPsRrKXamFbM87rKinHnHVjCoZm5rug/s320/IMG_0710.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He leads our family, prays for and with us every day, and is willing to take leaps of faith that most would think absolutely ridiculous, but absolutely perfect for us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He takes time on his days off, the mornings he’s home, and when he gets home from work around 9pm, to just play with his son, give me time to shower, think, read, and have adult conversation with him. He’s always looking for things we can do as a family. He has never once said that he'll "babysit" Ezra. He is his daddy and loves spending time with him when I have a meeting or run errands by myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He has been a huge cheerleader while I work towards a Labor Doula certification and is encouraging me to get a Certified Professional Midwifery license when the time is right.</span></div>
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He’s my amazing husband and Ezra’s wonderful daddy. And we both love him so much.</div>
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923974370364152976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-19301790642117939352013-10-25T00:00:00.000-04:002013-10-25T14:41:35.651-04:00Ezra is One!<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ezra is one
today. I’m gonna say it—this year flew
by. Well, parts of it did. I never thought we would survive the first
month. Nursing difficulties until week 7,
never really catching up on sleep after being awake for close to 36 hours by
the time he was born, feeling absolutely zero connection to this creature that
wanted to be constantly attached to me until he was right at one month old (no overwhelming feeling of love the moment I held him). It was exhausting and hard. But, we lived, my hormones eventually got
their act together, and here we are 365 days later. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> So much has happened in the past year. We moved halfway across the country, back to
Virginia, when Ezra was 4 ½ months old. A
week of intense packing (so thankful my cousin was able to come out to be an
invaluable extra set of hands, driving 1100 miles in 3 days. Fun times.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">While it </span></span><span style="line-height: 17.77777862548828px;">wasn't</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> what we were expecting, we were blessed that Fletcher was able to be
home full time with us from mid-March until July 1</span></span><sup style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">st</sup><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">. Ezra and I were a little spoiled with that,
and we’re still not used to him being at work all day. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ezra has
grown like a weed. He was never tiny,
but here’s the year at a glance:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Birth: 8lbs 8.8oz, 20.5in<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Discharge: 7lbs 13oz<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">2 weeks: 9lbs 0oz<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">8 weeks: 13lbs 10oz, 22.5in<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">4 months: 17lbs 8oz, 25.75in<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">6 months: 19lbs 3oz, 28in<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">9 months: 21lbs 4oz, 29in<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">12 months: 23lbs 6oz, 30.25in<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And what’s
going on now:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He’s eating
3 solid meals a day—loves avocado, peaches, chicken, pork chops, scrambled
eggs, grits, green beans, corn on the cob, potato wedges, yogurt, cottage
cheese, apples, spaghetti, and veggie chips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He’s nursing
an average of 8 times in 24 hours, including 1-3 times at night. No plans to stop until he decides to wean
himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He’s taking
water from a straw cup. I haven’t tried
pumped milk in the cup, yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He’s
cruising EVERYWHERE. He’ll take a few
steps between two people, or let go of a wall of the play yard and walk to
another wall, usually falling into the other wall to stop himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He still
loves to look at books and be read to.
He’s a cuddle bug and I like for him to stay that way as long as
possible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We love our
baby boy.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923974370364152976noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-88162890068595278792013-07-25T16:22:00.000-04:002013-07-25T16:23:28.421-04:00Nine Months Old!I can't believe Ezra is nine months old today. Time is flying by way too fast.<br />
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{I'll have weight and length stats later today}<br />
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He started crawling at the beach, at 7m13d. He has all four central incisors now, too.<br />
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We've switched to Baby Led Weaning when it comes to solids. He despised purees and loves to feed himself. He still loves avocado and enjoys green beans and chicken, too. He continues to hate carrots, though.<br />
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He's nursing 8-12 times in 24 hours. Sometimes he'll sleep for 4-5 hours at night before waking the first time, which is glorious whenever it happens. He's on the move so much during the day that he's only "snacking" and nurses much better at night.<br />
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Ezra has been pulling himself up for a while and is cruising everywhere. He's letting go of things and standing for longer periods of time every day. He hasn't taken any steps, yet, but we're expecting it any day now.<br />
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He said "Dada" first and usually goes into, "Dadadadadada," when he's happy about something. Up until yesterday, he would only say, "Mama," if he was mad. He's used it happily a few times now. And a few days ago we heard, "Nana," which I finally caught on video today. <br />
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He also went to his first baseball game last month. <br />
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Only three months until his first birthday...yikes.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923974370364152976noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-37514006111624788062013-04-25T10:06:00.001-04:002013-04-25T10:20:03.646-04:00Ezra- 6 Months OldHard to believe we've <strike>made it</strike> <strike>survived</strike> blissfully soared through the last six months. Ezra is growing fast and hitting new milestones quicker than we've been prepared for. <br />
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<br />
Height: 28 inches (93rd percentile)<br />
Weight: 19 lbs, 3.2 oz (80th percentile)<br />
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He's nursing on demand anywhere from every 2-4 hours. Still won't take more than an ounce from a bottle of pumped milk, so we're just nursing. Sometimes he'll sleep for a 5 hour stretch at night...other nights he's up every 2 hours. Keeping me on my toes. <br />
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We've "played" with solids a few times and totally skipped rice cereal. He really likes avocado and pears, and last night he was sucking on an asparagus spear like it was a candy cane. He's not too sure about bananas. But we're taking it slow and not rushing anything there.<br />
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Every baby book, parent, and pediatrician told us he would roll tummy to back first around 3 months, then back to tummy, and then he might be sitting by 6 months. He was sitting unassisted at 4 months, 2 days, rolled BACK to tummy at 4 months 16 days, and the stinker held out on rolling tummy to back until 5 months 24 days, just last week on my birthday. In the last week, he's started pushing himself up on all fours...not crawling, yet, but pretty darn close. <br />
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He LOVES books. Being read to, looking at the pictures...<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>chewing on the corners</i></span> (trying to stop that before the teeth come through). We have three songs we sing to him that usually calm him down. When they don't work, Hush Little Baby (such a weird song when you think about what papa's gonna buy)...and then music from the Baby Einstein World Music album.<br />
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<br />
He's a really happy baby, except when he isn't. He doesn't have an "in-between" mood. He's either all giggles and smiles or in super-mad "my world is ending," mode. He nurses himself to sleep around 9pm and usually goes down for at least a few hours after that. At night, he only wakes to nurse. He's not a "3:45...must be playtime" kind of baby. <br />
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The last 6 months have been FULL of learning as we go (as I know the next 20-some years will be), changes (some expected, some not-so-much), late nights, early mornings, and learning how to "be" as a family with a baby. We'll see what the next 6 months will bring.<br />
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<br />Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923974370364152976noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-72717825343632536342012-10-28T17:54:00.000-04:002013-04-30T19:19:55.072-04:00Ezra's {Almost Unmedicated} Birth Day<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">At my 40
week appointment, my blood pressure was much higher than it had been. My feet were swollen, everything was sore,
but I </span><span style="line-height: 17.77777862548828px;">wasn't</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> quite ready for an induction, yet.
I wanted him to come when he was ready.
At my 41 week appointment, everything was worse, and I was just ready to
be done. My midwife said I could hold
off until Wednesday evening to give little dude a chance to come on his own,
and I agreed to that. She said they would use Cytotec, which I had researched during pregnancy. I was very concerned about using it, but I was assured that most of the negative outcomes were due to overdosing and that we would only use 1/4 of a tablet, and MIGHT need a second 1/4 tablet 4 hours after the first. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">We got to
the hospital at 7pm on Wednesday, October 24<sup>th</sup>. I was 3cm, 80% effaced, and contracting on my
own every 7 minutes, before anything was given.
At 8pm, ¼ tablet of cytotec was placed.
My midwife was convinced that was all I would need to kick start
labor. I wasn’t so convinced, though, for
whatever reason. Fletcher and I watched
TV and just…waited. Around 11pm, I could
tell the contractions were getting more intense and asked him to turn the TV
off and plug my computer in so we could listen to a playlist of instrumental Hymns. I asked for a birth ball and sat in front of
Fletcher’s chair so he could apply counter pressure to my back and hips during
contractions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">At 1am, I
asked to get in the tub. The hot water
and the jets on my back felt good, but I just couldn’t find a comfortable
position to work through the contractions.
Leaning back into the jets made them worse, and my legs were so swollen
that getting on hands and knees just wasn’t working, either. My contractions were coupling for two minutes
every 2 ½ to 3 minutes, so I had maybe 30 seconds of a break between them during
transition. All of the pain was in my
lower back. I don’t even know how to
describe the intensity. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">A little after
3am, my nurse asked if I could get out so she could do a 20 minute strip on
baby and then my midwife would break my water.
I was 8-9cm with a bulging bag.
Someone told me once that cervical checks during labor didn’t phase them
at all. BOLOGNA. Holy cow, they hurt. I thought maybe laying on my back was making
them worse, so I asked if I could lay on my side once…nope…not cool. Next time, they said I could leave the bed
raised and put my feet on the squat bar.
That didn’t help, either. I had Fletcher
in a bear hug with my head in his shoulder every time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">A little before 4am, my midwife broke my water, which felt…weird. There was a little meconium staining, so she
called the pediatrician on call to give her a heads up that she might need to
head in soon. Everyone thought it would
be just a couple hours before Ezra was here.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">With the hymns playing and a lavender block in the hospital-provided Scentsy burner, my midwife and nurse both said it was the most relaxing labor they can remember attending. And, it kind of was relaxing at that point. I felt in control, I was still able to smile and laugh (which shocked them) but I knew it wasn't going to be that way for long.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">At 8am, I
was still at 9cm, with a lip. For those
4 hours, my midwife and our L&D nurse had been right there. Helping apply counter pressure, giving Fletcher
bottles of warm saline to hold on my back, helping me get on hands and knees to
help Ezra get in the right position. I
got back in the tub for a while, but I can’t remember what time it was. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">At 9am, having been stuck at 9-9.5cm for over
4 hours, I looked at Fletcher and said, “I just need…something. I don’t even know what they can give me now,
but I just need a break.” My nurse had
stepped outside for a minute, and when she came back she said, “Deann just
called and said that she doesn’t want to offend you and knows how badly you
want to get through without medication, but she was wondering if we could just
offer you something to help you rest for a few hours so you have the energy to
push, and it’ll probably relax your body enough to finish dilating.” It was just perfect timing. No one had said a word about medications
before this, but everyone, including me, knew I just needed a break. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">I got back in the bed and the nurse brought
the Dilauded in. I had a heplock in
place (that bugged the tar out of me, by the way) and she pushed half a dose
during the first contraction, waiting for the second to push the rest. That stuff stung. Just a few contractions later, I could tell
it didn’t hurt nearly as badly. Fletcher
was sitting in a chair next to the bed, dozed off, and almost fell out of the
chair. I was getting sleepy, too. Both of us had been up for over 24
hours. The nurse looked at him and said,
“Go lay on the couch for a little bit.
I’ll sit with her.” He looked at
me and I said, “Go lay down. This stuff
is about to knock me out, anyway.” I
drifted in and out. I could still tell
when contractions were happening, but I didn’t feel them. The nurse said she could tell the intensity
was getting higher, though, because I was curling my toes more and more with
each one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">Around 11,
Fletcher woke up. The Dilauded was
starting to wear off and contractions were hurting again. Our midwife had gone up to the clinic for a
few hours to get some of her appointments in.
She came back down around 11:30 and checked me. I just had a little lip of a cervix left, so
she held it back to see if pushing a little would make it go away. Um…that hurt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">At 12:15, I
felt his head just drop. I screamed. I
had been telling myself for months that I would NOT scream, grunt, say “Ow,” or
get mad at anyone. I was choosing to do
this without medication and just needed to suck it up and deal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">They broke
the bed down, called everyone who needed to be there back in the room, and we
thought we were going to have a baby pretty quickly. I didn’t like my feet being in the low
stirrups (bed was sitting straight up because I did not want to lean back for
anything) so they pulled the high stirrups out.
I never thought I would deliver like that, and my midwife was really
surprised that’s what I wanted, but it worked.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">I started
pushing at 12:15. I have no recollection
of time between then and 3:02, when Ezra was born. I remember Fletcher saying, “I know, I know,”
during the contractions, just trying to be sympathetic. It got to the point where I just wanted to
grab his face and say, “NO, YOU DON’T!!!!!!” but I didn’t. I remember one nurse (not the one who was
with us the entire time) coming in for a few minutes and saying, “Honey, don’t
just breathe in and out. You need to be
pushing,” and my midwife saying, “She is pushing. This is the best <a href="http://www.midwife.org/ACNM/files/ccLibraryFiles/Filename/000000001793/Second%20%20Stage%20of%20Labor%20-%20Pushing%20Your%20Baby%20Out.pdf">open glottis pushing</a> I’ve
ever seen.” Heh…I was just doing what my
body told me to do. Amazing that I
didn’t need to hold my breath and have someone there counting to ten over and
over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">I remember
hitting a point where I was just done.
It felt like he was never coming.
I just knew he was stuck and I was going to end up with a c-section. But, no one else in that room was going to
let that happen. At one point, the fetal
monitor started picking up my heart rate, which caused a bit of a panic. The nurse put a pulse ox on my finger to see
if that is what happened, and then she just left it there. I wanted to throw that stupid thing across
the room. After a few contractions, I
remembered that I COULD just ask if she would take it off and not risk hitting
someone with it. And she did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">I remember
my midwife saying, “You’re tired. Baby’s
getting tired. You need to push him
out.” So, I pushed…and screamed…and
grunted…and yelled, “Ow!” I said “I
can’t,” several times. The contractions
spaced out at one point, which was super frustrating. Like my body just decided it didn’t want to
do this anymore. They picked up again,
still coupling, still in my back.
Precious. My midwife said, “One
more contraction, and we’ll have a baby.”
I thought, “Yeah, right.” I
thought maybe 3 or 4…but 1???? She was
right. One more contraction and he just
slid out with 2 pushes. Granted, it took
3 hours of pushing to get to that point, but still. I had closed my eyes and had no idea he was
out until I heard him crying. Fletcher
was looking at me and didn’t know it, either.
But, there he was. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">She placed
him on my chest so she could clamp and Fletcher could cut the cord. They let him stay there for a few minutes
before the pediatrician and respiratory tech wanted to look at him to make sure
he didn’t aspirate any meconium. Just a
few minutes later, they handed him back and we did skin-to-skin for about 3 hours.
20 hours after my admission, after 17 hours of back labor and 3 hours of
pushing, we had our 8 pound, 8.8 ounces, 20 ½ inches of chunky baby. Who, even though we tried to evict him,
decided to still keep his own timetable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">Our nurse
came in before she left at the end of her shift and told me I had made her feel
like a nurse. That she was grateful she
had been able to use her skills and help a mom and baby through labor. She and every other nurse and physician in
the hospital was absolutely phenomenal.
Almost enough to make me say that I can’t wait for it again… ;-)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 19.5px;">UPDATE: I'm not about to say that unmedicated labor and birth didn't hurt...it did...a lot. But weeks 2 and 3 of nursing hurt so much worse. I didn't cry at all during labor...I bawled like a baby those 2 weeks every time he nursed. But, we pushed through it, the pain eventually went away, and we're still exclusively nursing and hoping to keep going until he's 2. Now I know that child birth actually isn't the most painful thing on the planet and I can get through it next time like it's nothing. :)</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The huge bruise on his head is from being malpositioned while I was pushing. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stubborn, stubborn child.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">My husband's thoughts about Ezra's birth day can be found<b> <a href="http://utterlydependent.wordpress.com/2012/10/26/a-story-of-a-boy-named-ezra/" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #a64d79;">here</span></i></a></b><i><span style="color: #a64d79;">.</span></i></span><br />
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923974370364152976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-41557380424979791982012-06-30T13:32:00.002-04:002012-06-30T15:54:17.042-04:00If You Want Something Done Right...<span style="font-family: inherit;">Just do it yourself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I had the most difficult time finding a maternity swimsuit that was anywhere near decently modest. So, I found a style at walmart.com that looked like it might work. When it was delivered, though, the top was still too low. Unfortunately, I don't know of anyone who makes camis for swimsuits.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">I googled "swimsuit modesty panel" and only found one tutorial using swimsuit fabric. It's $16/yd at Joann's. I figured I could make something work with an existing swimsuit. </span>Took a trip to our local Wal-Mart store and picked up the cheapest black tankini top I could find, a ball-point needle for my sewing machine, and just went for it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I ended up not needing the bias tape, since the hem of the tankini served the same purpose </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">(to give support to the panel).</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmTMxm7lHZHS6lGV_VLIMeMmkYhjksXWzzuizlLsUh1DS124C3NCyR7dvkGVVoltw_RLARFqkrjmMm-F_Fto7JDaMZxK6zBSGz-ue6ArDko0UqzpKxS1vMwmud47DJbVPG4s9Kwgr5N4E/s1600/DSC02217.JPG" imageanchor="1"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmTMxm7lHZHS6lGV_VLIMeMmkYhjksXWzzuizlLsUh1DS124C3NCyR7dvkGVVoltw_RLARFqkrjmMm-F_Fto7JDaMZxK6zBSGz-ue6ArDko0UqzpKxS1vMwmud47DJbVPG4s9Kwgr5N4E/s320/DSC02217.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After cutting the top portion off the tankini, I pinned around the non-serged edges so the lining wouldn't separate from the fabric.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMbVESm4TfpubRWHHm1qcfhWTud8_ZBbZ8ClM1wO-8pQFW1hOvsjzA12gh7WvEXe8tvKBTtUtlTl3OGMqO0tVAQDqtNE9RuyAJkXWh-nSlwbF9tB0t8U5Ej_HRn8Jq-fewZdgIMrKXUWs/s1600/DSC02231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMbVESm4TfpubRWHHm1qcfhWTud8_ZBbZ8ClM1wO-8pQFW1hOvsjzA12gh7WvEXe8tvKBTtUtlTl3OGMqO0tVAQDqtNE9RuyAJkXWh-nSlwbF9tB0t8U5Ej_HRn8Jq-fewZdgIMrKXUWs/s1600/DSC02231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio7Exe6tVl47ffZ2I0_Gw8Yw6MbCEUJghpIKzNqWiupc8oz3CTj0uKWU25qDFpI3YSu_YcASlk9OWqM1tciddBGHSg6bbd_oHPFmv5kPXcZeTHmE7DAOxQ_YEvGlZ1g2pZABWBiXloEVI/s1600/DSC02218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio7Exe6tVl47ffZ2I0_Gw8Yw6MbCEUJghpIKzNqWiupc8oz3CTj0uKWU25qDFpI3YSu_YcASlk9OWqM1tciddBGHSg6bbd_oHPFmv5kPXcZeTHmE7DAOxQ_YEvGlZ1g2pZABWBiXloEVI/s320/DSC02218.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />I pinned the tankini piece to the swimsuit top and trimmed away a good bit of the excess fabric.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqwtmF7KFW3Mb5dxbprBJ1w3c7M2bZ0e9HtAByWSG1fIaaGpzgIGNvkaO1CdqWjKRkT1CMWch2JKeI8e9pYKNWLI9Luc2OVH-jqmN-y8UMNufCf8nwihUI0lQcMC8mLKC5Wvb7vtct8Kc/s1600/DSC02228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqwtmF7KFW3Mb5dxbprBJ1w3c7M2bZ0e9HtAByWSG1fIaaGpzgIGNvkaO1CdqWjKRkT1CMWch2JKeI8e9pYKNWLI9Luc2OVH-jqmN-y8UMNufCf8nwihUI0lQcMC8mLKC5Wvb7vtct8Kc/s320/DSC02228.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />Trimmed after sewing.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghFGhdh7E40MeiQNI0UQXhH4J2qwcO_zd-pmFSvIcvssuWQeox7KipqIA_TRufBbrCuqXuQ6LrjCWBAkdfpEnBHVSg2E-4WTwDoxQFGn8iLYK80uWcOcoefEzmCRkKbCRdD4lKz-aJtns/s1600/DSC02233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghFGhdh7E40MeiQNI0UQXhH4J2qwcO_zd-pmFSvIcvssuWQeox7KipqIA_TRufBbrCuqXuQ6LrjCWBAkdfpEnBHVSg2E-4WTwDoxQFGn8iLYK80uWcOcoefEzmCRkKbCRdD4lKz-aJtns/s320/DSC02233.JPG" width="320" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Finished!!</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMbVESm4TfpubRWHHm1qcfhWTud8_ZBbZ8ClM1wO-8pQFW1hOvsjzA12gh7WvEXe8tvKBTtUtlTl3OGMqO0tVAQDqtNE9RuyAJkXWh-nSlwbF9tB0t8U5Ej_HRn8Jq-fewZdgIMrKXUWs/s1600/DSC02231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMbVESm4TfpubRWHHm1qcfhWTud8_ZBbZ8ClM1wO-8pQFW1hOvsjzA12gh7WvEXe8tvKBTtUtlTl3OGMqO0tVAQDqtNE9RuyAJkXWh-nSlwbF9tB0t8U5Ej_HRn8Jq-fewZdgIMrKXUWs/s200/DSC02231.JPG" width="199" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj4_K2OKe4oB1OGib0TGzAyTdzpBJsul_zAz2KO66n4Csl1nPudwNcTReDpjV46Oplb-HTq6mu-P_KrfwXOx26TcpHyDIzqWGtnXqoVIwwS2Ucq1ECwiFLrXg8vV6bxTRBfUca_x6ZBw4/s1600/DSC02222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj4_K2OKe4oB1OGib0TGzAyTdzpBJsul_zAz2KO66n4Csl1nPudwNcTReDpjV46Oplb-HTq6mu-P_KrfwXOx26TcpHyDIzqWGtnXqoVIwwS2Ucq1ECwiFLrXg8vV6bxTRBfUca_x6ZBw4/s200/DSC02222.JPG" width="199" /></a>
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</div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923974370364152976noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-40455012361899513042012-06-15T20:34:00.003-04:002012-06-15T20:37:59.426-04:00Attempt to Copycat Chick-fil-a NuggetsOne thing I miss A LOT is Chick-fil-a. Nuggets, sandwiches, lemonade, waffle fries, Chick-fil-a sauce. I found several copycat recipes online and decided to throw them all together. They're still missing...something...but they turned out pretty good, especially with some Kraft Honey Mustard Barbecue Sauce. And of course we had to have waffle fries. :)<br />
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Here's what I did, and it was a full dinner for 2 adults.<br />
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2 boneless skinless chicken breasts<br />
Buttermilk, enough to cover chicken pieces<br />
1 egg<br />
1/4 cup Dill Pickle Juice<br />
1/4 tsp Paprika<br />
2 Cups Flour<br />
2 Tbs Powdered Sugar<br />
1/4 teaspoon Salt<br />
1/4 teaspoon Pepper<br />
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Cut up chicken breasts into nugget-sized pieces and set aside.<br />
In a large bowl, mix beaten egg with enough buttermilk to cover the chicken pieces (I honestly don't know how much I used). Add dill pickle juice and a paprika. Add chicken to mixture<br />
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Cover bowl. Let sit in refrigerator for at least 1 hr, or up to 24 hours.<br />
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Heat 2 inches of oil in a heavy pot over med-high heat, or in a fryer, to 375 degrees F.<br />
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In another large bowl or gallon-sized zip top bag, mix flour, powdered sugar, salt and pepper. Remove chicken from buttermilk mixture and add to flour mixture. Shake or stir until pieces are well covered.
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Carefully place chicken in oil. Fry at least 1 minute on each side, until cooked through. Some of my pieces weren't completely crispy, so they may need to fry a little longer. Goal is golden brown color on the outside.<br />
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Use tongs to remove to a plate covered with a paper towel to drain.<br />
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I also had some pieces "slide" out of their coating when removed from the fryer. A few recipes said to dredge the pieces in flour, place them back in a bowl with 2 beaten eggs, and then dredge them again. That may help the coating stick a little better.<br />
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**I am in no way affiliated with Chick-fil-a and this is NOT their official recipe. This is an adapted mixture of several copycat recipes and is an attempt to help with being a little bit homesick. :)Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923974370364152976noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-83826183125028443612012-05-14T20:38:00.000-04:002012-05-14T22:06:39.048-04:00Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We went to our 18 week appointment this afternoon, just expecting to hear Peanut's heartbeat on the doppler and then make the appointment for the anatomical/diagnostic ultrasound in mid-June. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our nurse took us to one of the ultrasound-less exam rooms, got us settled, and our midwife came in with the doppler. After she said hi and asked how I was feeling, she asked if we wanted to know if we were having a boy or a girl, and would we like to do that now? Of course, we said yes, so we went down the hall to one of the ultrasound rooms. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She checked the heartbeat with the doppler, first, and it was 150 bpm. Peanut's heartbeat has been around 165 the previous visits, so I was kinda thinking girl, even though all my symptoms and "instincts" were leaning boy. She fired up the ultrasound and we tried for a long time to get a good look. Peanut, like his parents, is an introvert, and wanted nothing to do with being looked at. We watched some swallowing and the little heart, fingers, arms, and legs. We finally got a good shot and confirmed that Peanut is a <span style="color: blue; font-weight: bold;">BOY</span>!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is our son, Ezra David. :)</span><br />
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<br />Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923974370364152976noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-5909621208594757962012-04-13T11:29:00.001-04:002012-05-14T23:56:44.215-04:00October's Gonna Get Crazy<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've kinda forgotten to update the blog, but we have something to share now!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">On February 7th, we found out that Baby Abbott is on his or her way, due October 17th!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPvwRwm7rYanNHg80I2R2FX-63xP8u5u_M-TC9KiT1VwjUchLFcKgHyM_g74lmTH6Cr7gJbCiO4Lk_uzZS17YpA-T79nobASRP6VFBCTLJpztS04GSOlHGACS5ac2oztVLTeUw6QcfDo/s1600/457972_10100331919987038_55707046_45007157_1157393002_o+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPvwRwm7rYanNHg80I2R2FX-63xP8u5u_M-TC9KiT1VwjUchLFcKgHyM_g74lmTH6Cr7gJbCiO4Lk_uzZS17YpA-T79nobASRP6VFBCTLJpztS04GSOlHGACS5ac2oztVLTeUw6QcfDo/s320/457972_10100331919987038_55707046_45007157_1157393002_o+(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We've been praying for this for a while now and are SO excited!!!! We'll find out if Peanut will be a Phoebe* or Phoebo* around the middle of June. :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">*Not the actual names we have selected for our child. If you're a fan of Friends, you should get it. Real names are TBA.</span></div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923974370364152976noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-67559419232764616582011-07-25T15:18:00.003-04:002011-07-26T12:15:53.921-04:00Why We Waited to Kiss<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial;">Many people have asked us why we waited until the wedding to kiss. This is our story.<br />
When I was 16, our youth pastor was doing the sermon one Sunday and the ONLY thing I remember is him challenging the youth to not kiss until their wedding. Our church is conservative Southern Baptist, but it's not "Duggar Conservative" (LOVE their family, btw) so it wasn't an idea or guideline I had been raised with. I remember there were about ten of us who took the challenge. I know of 2 who made it all the way to their wedding.<br />
<br />
I was in 10<sup>th</sup> grade and been “going out” with a guy in my class. When I told him I had made that decision, he said it was ok with him, but a few weeks later, he said it wasn't working so we broke up. I went to a tiny public school in a tiny country town, so eventually everyone knew why we broke up, and if being a Christian who didn't go to parties was reason enough to be judged, they were loving the new material. But, I had a great group of Christian friends who said a guy who respected me enough would come along. My commitment also caused my senior year relationship to end, as well, even though he knew about it before we started dating.<br />
<br />
I didn't date anyone until I met Fletcher 3 1/2 years later. (This wasn't a "no -dating conviction" thing...I just didn't meet anyone I had any interest in dating). Before we started dating, we knew we both wanted to wait until marriage to live together and to consummate the relationship, but I didn't bring up the kissing thing. I liked him so much and I didn't want to lose another one.<br />
<br />
On our first date, we had a boundaries discussion, and he said he was fine with holding hands and hugging, but he wanted to wait on kissing. He never said how long, and I didn't want to say the word "marriage" on the first date. :) I thought about not bringing it up with him...I was 16 when I made that decision, and I was 21 when we started dating. I told myself I was old enough to control myself.<br />
<br />
I went home for church one Sunday and one of the younger high schoolers was asking about this boy I was constantly talking about. She asked, "Does he want to wait until his wedding to kiss, too?" I had totally forgotten that I told the younger youth girls about it. So, I decided that if he brought it up, I would talk to him about it.<br />
<br />
2 days later, we were sitting on the couch, he kissed my cheek, and his goatee tickled me. He laughed and said, "What are you going to do when I really kiss you?" So...he brought it up. I told him about my decision, scared to death he was going to break up with me, but...he didn't. He said that while he had not made that decision as early as I had, it was something he had thought about and wanted to commit to it.<br />
<br />
It wasn't easy. It was honestly more difficult than not sleeping together, because we were raised knowing that's for marriage. We don't believe that kissing before marriage is a sin...but for us, it was a very clear boundary so we didn't have to worry about "How far is too far?"</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-style: italic;">Our first kiss. June 11, 2011 5:50pm</span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7cgbaIXe9oMmrlnrUFJyT6OrxU_YzD3qitcytJTn17zc78FqUvqlnPQvRNvfe8ao-vdcdly4n7M9qjWGbxaXOIMMLl7GHItqIitv2WJIs30Q3bhOh_g_aGEWNvK_c_58TQrahtZfGNug/s1600/wedding+661.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633372040359772178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7cgbaIXe9oMmrlnrUFJyT6OrxU_YzD3qitcytJTn17zc78FqUvqlnPQvRNvfe8ao-vdcdly4n7M9qjWGbxaXOIMMLl7GHItqIitv2WJIs30Q3bhOh_g_aGEWNvK_c_58TQrahtZfGNug/s400/wedding+661.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 267px;" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial;"><br />
</div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923974370364152976noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-19005841815206656492011-03-18T23:39:00.000-04:002011-03-18T23:39:12.321-04:00Quiet TimeI'm going through "Live Intimately: Lessons from the Upper Room" in my Quiet Times right now and Philippians 2:3-11 was part of the reading for today. I've read Philippians, I've taught a small group on Philippians, and I still find something new every time.<br />
<br />
<div align="center"><strong>ESV</strong>: Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interest of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though He was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made Himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, He humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted Him and bestowed on Him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.</div><br />
I also love how <strong>The Message</strong> words this passage:<br />
<br />
<div align="center"> <sup class="versenum">1-4</sup>If you've gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if His love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care— then do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don't push your way to the front; don't sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don't be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.<br />
<br />
<sup class="versenum">5-8</sup>Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of Himself. He had equal status with God but didn't think so much of Himself that He had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, He set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human!<em> </em>Having become human, He stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn't claim special privileges. Instead, He lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that—a crucifixion.<br />
<br />
<sup class="versenum">9-11</sup>Because of that obedience, God lifted Him high and honored Him far beyond anyone or anything, ever, so that all created beings in heaven and on earth—even those long ago dead and buried—will bow in worship before this Jesus Christ, and call out in praise that He is the Master of all, to the glorious honor of God the Father.</div><br />
<br />
Have you read anything lately that you've seen differently now than the last 27 times you read it? Or has anything just stuck out to you lately?Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-23734337349559628912011-03-17T22:48:00.000-04:002011-03-17T22:48:45.132-04:00St. Patrick the Church Planter<strong><em> </em></strong>Patrick was neither Irish nor particularly religious, at least not initially. Patrick was born Maewyn Succat in 385 AD as a Roman citizen in the Welsh town of Banwen, and for the first sixteen years of his life he was an avowed pagan.<br />
<br />
<strong><em> </em></strong>He was captured by Gaelic slave traders (some sources say Irish pirates/raiders/barbarians) at the age of sixteen and sold to an Irish sheep farmer. Patrick was enslaved for six years, during which he turned to Christianity for comfort. He escaped at the age of 22, and spent the next 12 years living in a British monastery. It was there that he adopted the name Patrick. He returned to Ireland after his time in a monastery, along with 20-some followers, serving as a Christian missionary. He remained in Ireland until his death on March 17, 460 AD.<br />
<br />
St. Patrick used the shamrock to explain the Trinity to the Druids in Ireland, who viewed the shamrock as sacred. Patrick would hold up a shamrock and challenge his hearers, "Is it one leaf or three?" "It is both one leaf and three," was their reply. "And so it is with God," he would conclude.<br />
<br />
Of the 150 tribes he ministered to, 30-40 of them became substantially Christian. He trained over 1,000 pastors and planted over 700 churches around Ireland. The "wear your green" came from the reminder to wear a shamrock to remind yourself to share about the Trinity and your faith.<br />
<br />
The myth that Saint Patrick drove all the snakes from Ireland into the Irish Sea is just that -- a myth. Many locals still insist that the serpents were drowned in the Irish Sea by Saint Patrick, causing their seas to be so rough. The truth, however, is that serpents where never native to Ireland. The story is most likely a metaphor for the druidic religions, which disappeared from the Emerald Island after St. Patrick spread the seeds of Christianity.<br />
<br />
So...it has almost as much to do with Leprechauns and green beer as Easter has to do with freakishly large, egg-hiding bunnies.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-80384836364319783122010-06-10T15:10:00.000-04:002010-06-10T15:10:50.162-04:00Still Kickin'Kinda forgot about the blog...oops. I've been home for about 4 weeks now, and it's been pretty good. Last weekend, the family took a trip up to Fredericksburg for Taylor's high school graduation. It's crazy that she's going to college this fall. Wedding plans are going great. We have a date, a church, reception venue, I have a gown & veil, my bridesmaids are starting to pick their dresses, and we have LOTS of glass for the candy buffet. We've also picked all the music for the ceremony, which we've decided to keep a secret. No real reason...just because we can. :) I get to go down to NC this Sunday to see Fletcher and visit the church he's interning at this summer. I'm not a fan of being apart...at all. But, we'll be married in 366 days!! Family vacation is in 36 days...and if that would like to hurry up and get here, that'd be great! We've been looking forward to Kiawah since the first snowstorm hit back in December. This year, it'll be the 5 of us, Beth & Taylor, and Sarah! I'm so excited to get some girl time in. It's weird to think that next summer is going to so different than what we're used to. Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-56084177506531143202010-02-14T23:44:00.002-05:002010-02-17T12:02:55.361-05:00The Perfect DaySo, all I knew about the plans for today is that we were going to church and that I should eat breakfast, because Fletcher wasn't sure when we'd get a chance to eat before dinner. After church, we got in the car, and he told me to drive across the street to:<br />
<br />
Starbucks on Timberlake <br />
This is where he asked me to officially be his girlfriend January 10, 2009. The day he asked me, he showed me a fortune cookie slip that said, "A thrilling time is in store for you." Today, he gave me that slip to keep, and then asked me to drive to:<br />
<br />
The House I Lived In Last Year<br />
This house is where he told me he loved me for the first time, and where we had the discussion that we wanted to save our first kiss for our wedding day. We had many deep discussions at the house as our relationship was beginning to develop. From there, he told me to drive to:<br />
<br />
The Dollar Theatre<br />
This is where we went to see Dark Knight November 15, 2008. At the time, neither one of us wanted to ask if that was a date...but now we know it kinda was. After that movie got out, he walked me to my car and asked if I wanted to go get coffee the next day. Today, he gave me the ticket stubs from Dark Knight, and from our first official date. And, since we couldn't make it to the Applebee’s parking lot because of traffic, he gave me the ticket stubs from the play we saw last Valentines' Day. That Applebee’s is where we had our first dinner date and where we had dinner last Valentines'. From there, he told me to drive to: <br />
<br />
Dorm 25-1<br />
That's where Fletcher was an RA last year. We would meet outside the dorm to go walk or hang out. Outside that dorm is also where, on December 2, 2008, he told me that he liked me and wondered if I felt the same way. We decided that we would talk over Christmas break, but we wouldn't make the relationship "official" until the beginning of the next semester. From the dorm, he told me to go to:<br />
<br />
DeMoss Hall<br />
This is the main academic building on campus, and it's where the computer lab is. Fletcher walked me up to the 2nd floor lab, and we sat on the couches where we would sit and talk after class. There, he got up, told me to wait, and before he left he handed me a letter that said:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>Emily,<br />
Thus far we have spent this day reliving our journey together. I wanted to do this together with you in order to savor some of the best moments in our relationship. Unfortunately I must leave you behind for a little while on the next part of this journey, but don't worry. We have friends who have played roles within our relationship and guided it in ways that we may never have fully expected.<br />
The next part of this adventure is one in which you will need to trust the guidance of some of our friends just as I had to do in the beginning of our relationship. It is my hope that during this time you will be reminded of the role other people have played in our relationship and that they will continue to play a role as we continue on this adventure together.<br />
Don't worry. I may have let you walk alone on this part of our journey today but I am waiting for you on the other side anticipating your arrival. I love you very much and already miss seeing your face even though it has only been for a few moments. Happy Valentines' Day, sweetheart. It is my hope that my creativity on this day thus far has been worthwhile to you. After all, I may not be able to give you riches of kings but I give you my heart. Perhaps that is the most important gift of all I could give you on this day. I look forward to seeing you on the other side.<br />
So sit, wait, and your first guide will soon arrive.</blockquote><br />
So I sat, and waited, and then I saw Jesse walk around the corner. Jesse is one of Fletcher’s best friends from home, and when I saw that he had driven in today, I knew something was up. Jesse had a picture of Fletcher and I that had 1 Corinthians 13 on it. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3wenHS_anI/AAAAAAAAAGY/u_I1Q6xcK0Y/s1600-h/100_5736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3wenHS_anI/AAAAAAAAAGY/u_I1Q6xcK0Y/s320/100_5736.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Jesse read the passage and then took me down the hall to Eric, one of Fletcher’s SLDs this year and was also on his hall last year. Eric had another picture of us that said, <br />
<br />
<blockquote>“We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.”</blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3we6iUhfFI/AAAAAAAAAGg/g_REn1yxbhg/s1600-h/20091017_59.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3we6iUhfFI/AAAAAAAAAGg/g_REn1yxbhg/s320/20091017_59.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Eric and Jesse then took me down to Chris who has been on Fletcher’s hall the last two years and was in our English class last semester. Chris’s picture said:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>“Love. We think about it, Sing about it, Dream about it and lose sleep worrying about it. When we don’t know we have it, we search for it. When we discover it, we don’t know what to do with it. When we have it, we fear losing it. It is the constant source of pleasure and pain. But we don’t know which it will be from one moment to the next. It is a short word, easy to spell, difficult to define, and IMPOSSIBLE to live without.”</blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3wfl89PTjI/AAAAAAAAAGo/pV8HAYCcHDw/s1600-h/Anniversary+Party+051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3wfl89PTjI/AAAAAAAAAGo/pV8HAYCcHDw/s320/Anniversary+Party+051.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Jesse, Eric, and Chris then took me down to Damian, who has also been on Fletcher’s hall and was also in our English class last semester. {and, thanks to Damian, some of the guys on Fletcher's hall this year heard me SCREAM at SacreMare} Damian’s picture said, <br />
<br />
<blockquote>“I am nothing special of this I am sure. I am just a common man with common thoughts. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, that has always been enough.”</blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3wgG1nrnAI/AAAAAAAAAGw/cox2DuyId4g/s1600-h/Anniversary+Party+219.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3wgG1nrnAI/AAAAAAAAAGw/cox2DuyId4g/s320/Anniversary+Party+219.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
The guys then took me to the door of the classroom where Fletcher and I met on August 25, 2008. Standing outside the door was Anthony, who sat in front of me and next to Fletcher during that English class. Anthony read the quote on his picture:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>“The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins—but in the heart of its strength lies weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back. Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars.”</blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3wgsGFd4OI/AAAAAAAAAG4/YZe_yBQqLxk/s1600-h/Anniversary+Party+227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3wgsGFd4OI/AAAAAAAAAG4/YZe_yBQqLxk/s320/Anniversary+Party+227.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Anthony opened the door, and Fletcher was sitting in his seat. On the board, he had written: "Lesson #1: Men are like planets,” which comes from the first time we got together to study for an English test, and I had a typo in my notes that he, as you can see, still mocks me for, and has earned him the nickname, “Planet.” We talked for a bit, remembering the first time we met, and when he turned around and said, “Hi. I’m Fletcher,” that I looked like a deer in headlights. He told me not to look for a second, and then, over my shoulder, was another fortune cookie that he used when he asked me to be his girlfriend. This one said, “Your wish is about to come true.” He said (and this is paraphrase, because my brain is still mush right now…but it’s all on video that will be posted as soon as possible), “Last January, my wish was that you would be my girlfriend, but now {he starts turning me around} my wish is that you would be my wife.” {He pulls out the ring box and gets down on one knee and asks me to marry him}. The guys were taking pictures and video the whole time, and after we thanked them, we drove to Roanoke to tell my parents.<br />
<br />
But that’s the story…and it was a perfect day.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3whETp_tNI/AAAAAAAAAHA/O8B0W6oxV3s/s1600-h/anthony8+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3whETp_tNI/AAAAAAAAAHA/O8B0W6oxV3s/s320/anthony8+-+Copy.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3whKUvZHJI/AAAAAAAAAHI/eVHDRYkKmcc/s1600-h/anthony15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S3whKUvZHJI/AAAAAAAAAHI/eVHDRYkKmcc/s320/anthony15.jpg" /></a></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-44757160981422757282010-01-10T00:00:00.004-05:002010-01-10T00:00:00.989-05:00714 Days* 102 weeks<br />
* 17,136 hours<br />
* 1,028,160 minutes<br />
* 61,689,600 seconds<br />
714 days since Hannah Grace left us, just 17 days after she arrived. It was the most trying, stretching, faith-filled 17 days of my life. It's still hard. Christmas was hard...Birthday Bash was hard...anytime the family gets together, you realize that she isn't there...we'll never have all 12 grandkids together this side of Heaven. <br />
<br />
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S0ThnCUw3XI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/fRTk3yfExh8/s1600-h/hannahgrace.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/S0ThnCUw3XI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/fRTk3yfExh8/s400/hannahgrace.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423707912016026994" /></a><br />
<br />
It's still difficult to accept that this was God's will. We all thought she would be our miracle baby. For 6 years, we watched the miracles in Mya's life...the fact that she was still alive baffled the doctors. But she was walking, talking, and could see & hear. There was no doubt for those 17 days (at least in my heart) that Hannah was going to be just fine. I hear stories of other micro-preemies who were prayed out of the NICU, and you wonder why that wasn't us, as well. You come to a point when you have to realize that the Will of God will never bring you where the Grace of God won't get you through. It sucks...I still don't see why this was "best"...and I know I probably won't understand that here on Earth. <br />
<br />
Matthew West debuted a new single earlier this month, and it fits so perfectly here.<br />
<br />
"Save a Place for Me"<br />
<br />
Don't be mad if I cry<br />
It just hurts so bad sometimes<br />
'Cause everyday it's sinking in<br />
And I have to say goodbye all over again<br />
You know I bet it feels good to have <br />
the weight of this world off your shoulders now<br />
I'm dreaming of the day when I'm finally there with you<br />
<br />
Save a place for me<br />
Save a place for me<br />
I'll be there soon<br />
I'll be there soon<br />
Save a place for me<br />
Save some grace for me<br />
I'll be there soon<br />
I'll be there soon<br />
<br />
I have asked the question why<br />
But I guess the answer's for another time<br />
So instead I'll pray with every tear<br />
And be thankful for the time I had you here<br />
And I wanna live my life just like you did<br />
Make the most of my time just like you did<br />
And I wanna make my home up in the sky<br />
Just like you did<br />
Oh, but until I get there<br />
Until I get there<br />
<br />
Save a place for me<br />
Save a place for me<br />
I'll be there soon<br />
I'll be there soon<br />
Save a place for me<br />
Save some grace for me<br />
I'll be there soon<br />
I'll be there soon<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />
Happy 2nd Birthday, Hannah Grace!! Can't wait until we're dancing with the angels together!</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://emilyswanderments.blogspot.com/search/label/Hannah">Hannah's Blogs</a><br />
<a href="http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/hannahlucas">Hannah's CaringBridge Site</a><br />
<br />
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<a href="http://www.timeanddate.com/">Time Calculations</a> as listed aboveAnonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-53740791885984471702009-09-22T13:15:00.003-04:002009-09-22T13:15:00.442-04:00When Everyone is Different But Nothing Has Changed<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CEmily%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CEmily%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link rel="colorSchemeMapping" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CEmily%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> 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1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ll admit, I was nervous about the girls coming this weekend.<span style=""> </span>Part of you thinks, “What if it’s awkward?”<span style=""> </span>Out of our “group,” I’m the only one still in college.<span style=""> </span>The rest of them are in, or at least have had post-grad job experience in what they want to do.<span style=""> </span>They’re adults in the real world, and sometimes I feel like a kid stuck at school.<span style=""> </span>So, yeah, I was concerned.<span style=""> </span>But, the moment I get a call and in the middle I hear, “Ok, so we’re turning at the light,” I was pretty sure it was going to be a great weekend.<span style=""> </span>And it was.<span style=""> </span>It felt like almost every fall weekend from the last 4 years, except that everyone was in my living room.<span style=""> </span>It was weird not going to Em & Chels’ apartment, since it was their place for 2 straight years.<span style=""> </span>We talked about being adults and doing what you know God wants you to do.<span style=""> </span>I realized that just because someone lives "2", 3, or 10 hours away, doesn’t mean they’re gone.<span style=""> </span>I’m actually grateful for facebook and blogspot and text messaging, because we can keep up with each other and not worry about having an awkward run-in at homecoming or not having a clue where everyone ends up.<span style=""> </span>After cultivating such a deep friendship with them for 4 years, yeah…it stinks that we don’t live 15 minutes apart anymore, and I don’t see them 3 or more times a week.<span style=""> </span>But, we all knew there would be a day this would happen.<span style=""> </span>Honestly, saying goodbye in May was much harder than saying goodbye when they left on Sunday.<span style=""> </span>In May, part of me was wondering if we would actually see each other “soon.”<span style=""> Actually</span>, part of me wondered if we would actually all be together again.<span style=""> </span>(btw…if we could have coordinated kidnapping Kim, we totally would have…it was weird without her).<span style=""> </span>Now that we know seeing each other is feasible, I’m actually feeling a little better than I have in a while.<span style=""> </span>I know it’ll probably be once a semester, or even just once a year, that we’re “all together”, but that’s better than thinking “never.”<span style=""> </span>And I have a feeling a certain person from Richmond is too in love with baseball (and weekends with baseball and hockey) to stay away too long. <span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="">:)</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="">
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/Srjj_OFkeMI/AAAAAAAAAGE/KFiYDU0B8ck/s1600-h/100_5905.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/Srjj_OFkeMI/AAAAAAAAAGE/KFiYDU0B8ck/s400/100_5905.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384304029774149826" border="0" /></a> </p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-58594213716742009122009-06-06T09:18:00.001-04:002009-06-06T09:22:22.925-04:00Kicking Off the Summer<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" 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mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">I actually have a summer job that I love.<span style=""> </span>I’m working at the childcare center at home as an aide for a 6 yr old boy with Autism.<span style=""> </span>It has been challenging, frustrating, draining, and absolutely amazing.<span style=""> </span>Most of the kids in our class are accepting of him and try to help.<span style=""> </span>And then there’s the 3 kids in the class who are absolute jerks and make me want to scream on an almost daily basis. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">There are meltdowns, but we have a system that helps them dissipate.<span style=""> </span>The kids know which seat is his and that he likes the middle swing and not to bring their Bakugan to school if they want to maintain a peaceful environment.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">My first full day was yesterday, and it was a little weird, because it was just the two of us until the rest of the school kids got out for the day.<span style=""> </span>Next week, it’ll just be us and the other kindergartners until about 1, and then it’s a full house until 6…true full class full days start Wednesday.<span style=""> </span>The day went well, as much as he (and most children with autism) cling to their schedules and totally hate transitions.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I was able to meet the Preschool Special Ed teacher and talk to her while her kids and my kid watched Finding Nemo.<span style=""> </span>We watched some of his other favorite movies, played with legos, and then it was naptime for the entire center.<span style=""> </span>All of the lights were off for 2 ½ hours.<span style=""> </span>It was awesome…it was quiet.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Next week we’re at the center, and then field trips kick off the week after that.<span style=""> </span>Those should be fun.<span style=""> </span>I ran into his teacher at the grocery store the other day, and we were able to talk about how he does during field trips, and I am thankful for the advice she gave.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It should be an interesting summer…but my profs were right…your classes teach you how to fill out paperwork…your classroom experiences teach you how to become a teacher.<span style=""> </span></p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-49382261476083469072009-01-10T00:00:00.004-05:002009-09-22T14:59:33.571-04:00One YearJanuary 10, 2008. 6:15pm. It wasn’t a normal phone call. Your aunt’s in the hospital…24 weeks pregnant…<a href="http://www.webmd.com/hw-popup/hellp-syndrome-and-preeclampsia">HELLP syndrome</a>. It wasn’t a normal voicemail. 10:23pm. Hearing that your baby cousin is an hour old…weighs 15 ounces…and is 11 inches long… she and your aunt survived the emergency c-section…they’re both in ICU. It wasn’t a normal night…your RA’s and SLD partner praying with you for hours…sleeping with the phone next to your ear…just in case. Calling your cousin 8 hours away...and having to have her talk you out of dropping out and going home for the semester (twice)…realizing that God is bigger than this and we are where we need to be…for some reason.<br />January 11- Quiet Time-Utmost For His Highest<br /><blockquote>“Beware of the inclination to dictate to God what consequences you would allow as a condition of your obedience to Him.”</blockquote><br />Her pictures were on my door, as I do whenever there’s a new baby…but these pictures were next to the latest updates from the NICU. It wasn’t the normal, “Congrats on your new cousin.” No one knew what to say, or how to say it.<br />The next month in RHLM would be a (planned in October) study on brokenness. I have to admit…I was not excited about studying brokenness while my baby cousin was in a NICU an hour away. Every song seemed to have a message of hope in suffering or giving everything up to the One who is in control. “I Surrender All”, “Blessed Be Your Name”, “Jesus Bring the Rain” were songs that I had loved for a long time, but they took on an entirely different meaning. Going home the day she had surgery to close the hole in her heart and holding her entire foot with the tips of my fingers…just staring at Hannah Grace. Leaving the NICU was tough…my “oldest cousin” instincts were telling me to stay…just stay and stare at her.<br />Overhearing that she was getting sicker…texting my team…individually…only to find out later that most of them were together, and stopped what they were doing to pray for Hannah.<br />Another week at school…another week of keeping up with the updates and keeping up with who wanted updates. Coming back to the dorm and getting swallowed by hugs from my roommate. Trying to keep a normal schedule…never, ever, turning the phone off or putting it out of arms reach. Hoping, praying, and hoping some more.<br />January 22- QT- Utmost For His Highest- <blockquote>“Wake yourself up and look to God. Build your hope on Him. No matter how many things seem to be pressing in on you, be determined to push them aside and look to Him.”</blockquote><br />Wednesday morning, a girl sings “Held” by Natalie Grant in convo. Hoping that song won’t be applicable to your life.<br />Hearing a noise out in the quad…opening your door to see your entire leadership team and some girls from your hall there, asking if they can pray with you for a baby they’ll never meet this side of Heaven. Hearing sermons on miracles, and signs and wonders, wondering if it’s a sign that we’re getting a miracle. Never losing hope. Learning that joy is not attached to happiness. Learning that you are not in control.<br />January 25-Utmost-Leave Room for God<br /><blockquote>"As servants of God, we must learn to make room for Him--to give God ‘elbow room.’ We plan and figure and predict that this or that will happen, but we forget to make room for God to come in as He chooses. Would we be surprised if God came into our meeting or into our preaching in a way we had never expected to come? Do not look for God to come in a particular way, but do look for Him. The way to make room for Him is to expect Him to come, but not in a certain way. No matter how well we may know God, the great lesson to learn is that He may break in at any minute. We tend to overlook this element of surprise, yet God never works in any other way. Suddenly--God meets our life—‘...when it pleased God...’ (Gal. 1:15)<br />Keep your life so constantly in touch with God that His surprising power can break through at any point. Live in a constant state of expectancy, and leave room for God to come in as He decides.”</blockquote><br />January 27. Sunday morning. Johnnie Moore preached on Job. In fact, the whole semester would be on Job. Writing in the top corner of the first page of Job in your Bible as Johnnie says, <blockquote>“The appropriate response to suffering is worship, and worship is the first act of faith.”</blockquote> Go to Emily and Chelsey’s to hang out and do some laundry. <br />2:30pm- mom calls- Hannah’s not going to make it. Never losing hope. Trying not to cry. Trying to call people and get through the phone calls. Calling Sarah.<br />She went from the arms of her family into the arms of Jesus at 4pm. Trying to rationalize why…realizing that would never be possible. Trying to find a place to be alone…realizing that place does not exist on campus. Getting the, “Are you okay?” and learning that saying, “No.” is just fine. Coming across Psalm 139:13-16 and realizing, yet again, that you are not in control.<br />January 28- RHLM- continued study on brokenness<br /><blockquote>“You experience this joy in hopelessness, realizing that if you are ever to be raised up it must be by the hand of God….Whenever His hand is laid upon you, it gives inexpressible peace and comfort, and the sense that ‘underneath are the everlasting arms’ (Deut 33:27), full of support, provision, comfort, and strength.”</blockquote><br />Going home for the funeral. Holding my other cousins so I would have something else to focus on…holding them a little tighter. Listening to “Dancing With the Angels” over and over and over…looking forward to day when we will dance together in Heaven.<br />Realizing that there will never be a complete family picture. Hoping that all of the younger ones will surrender their lives to Christ so all of us can be together some day.<br />Hannah Grace was here by the grace of God. She wasn’t supposed to survive the 17 days that she did. Her days on earth had a purpose…she was the tiniest person I’ve ever seen…but she was a person. Missing her. A lot. Wondering what she would be like today, on her first birthday. What she would have become. What her voice sounded like. What her laugh sounded like. Realizing, once again, Psalm 139:13-16. Realizing that I will never understand why.<br />For those of you who were a part of my life at that time, especially my close friends and my leadership team, thank you for the hugs, prayers, and more hugs. I don’t know what I would have done without all of you.<br />Happy Birthday, Hannah Banana! We’ll see you again, when we’re dancing with the angels.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-7735277042997009302008-10-02T10:56:00.002-04:002008-10-02T10:59:27.316-04:00How Many Kings?So...a real post is coming soon, but I want to share this song.<br /><br />How Many Kings-downhere<br />Follow the star to a place unexpected<br />Would you believe after all we’ve projected<br />A child in a manger<br />Lowly and small, the weakest of all<br />Unlikeliest hero, wrapped in his mothers shawl<br />Just a child<br />Is this who we’ve waited for?<br />Cause how many kings, stepped down from their thrones?<br />How many lords have abandoned their homes?<br />How many greats have become the least for me?<br />How many Gods have poured out their hearts<br />To romance a world that has torn all apart?<br />How many fathers gave up their sons for me?<br />Bringing our gifts for the newborn savior<br />All that we have whether costly or meek<br />Because we believe<br />Gold for his honor and frankincense for his pleasure<br />And myrrh for the cross he’ll suffer<br />Do you believe, is this who we’ve waited for?<br />It’s who we’ve waited for<br />How many kings, stepped down from their thrones?<br />How many lords have abandoned their homes?<br />How many greats have become the least for me?<br />How many Gods have poured out their hearts<br />To romance a world that has torn all apart?<br />How many fathers gave up their sons for me?<br />Only one did that for me<br />All for me<br />All for you<br />All for me<br />All for youAnonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-72391307566991341692008-09-15T23:29:00.000-04:002008-09-15T23:30:44.206-04:00Here I Am<div>So...I'm driving home after class today, and this song comes on. I hadn't heard it until today. It's awesome. <br />Yeah...I know most of my blogs are lyrics, but that's how I express myself. Music is one of those things I really don't think I could stay sane without.<br /><br /><br />Downhere - Here I Am<br />From the album Ending Is Beginning<br /><br />Sometimes Your calling, comes in dream<br />Sometimes in comes in the Spirit's breeze<br />You reach for the deepest hope in me<br />And call out for the things of eternity<br /><br />But I'm a man, of dust and stains,<br />You move in me, so I can say<br /><br /><b>Here I am, Lord send me</b><br />All of my life, I make an offering,<br />Here I am, Lord send me<br />Somehow my story is a part of Your plan,<br />Here I am<br /><br />When setbacks and failures, and upset plans<br />Test my faith and leave me with empty hands<br />Are You not the closest when it's hardest to stand<br /><b>I know that You will finish what You began</b><br /><br />And these broken parts You will redeem<br />Become the song that I can sing<br /><br />Here I am, Lord send me<br />All of my life, I make an offering,<br />Here I am, Lord send me<br />Somehow my story is a part of Your plan,<br />Here I am<br /><br />Overwhelmed by the thought of my weakness<br />And the fear that I'll fail You in the end<br />In this mess, I'm just one of the pieces,<br /><b>I can't put this together but You can</b><br /><br />Here I am, Lord send me<br /><b>Wanna live my life as an offering</b><br /><br />Here I am, Lord send me<br />Somehow my story is a part of Your plan,<br />Here I am<br /><br />Here I Am, all my life an offering to You, to You<br />Somehow my story is a part of Your plan<br />Here I am</div><div class="photo photo_none"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.new.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=35247120&op=1&view=all&subj=35600909609&aid=-1&oid=35600909609&id=55707046"><img style="width: 460px;" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" class="" src="http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-snc1/v321/248/92/55707046/n55707046_35247120_9142.jpg" /></a></div></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-17559057909706992942008-05-08T08:30:00.001-04:002008-05-08T08:33:12.796-04:00What This World Needs By: Casting Crowns<span style="font-family: verdana;">What this world needs is not another one hit wonder with an axe to grind; another two bit politician peddling lies;<br />another three ring circus society.<br />What this world needs is not another sign waving super saint that's better than you;<br />another ear pleasing candy man afraid of the truth;<br />another prophet in an Armani suit.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">What this world needs is a Savior who will rescue,<br />a Spirit who will lead,<br />a Father who will love them in their time of need.<br />A Savior who will rescue,<br />a Spirit who will lead,<br />a Father who will love.<br />That's what this world needs.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">What this world needs is for us to care more about the inside than the outside; have we become so blind that we can't see;<br />God's gotta change her heart before He changes her shirt.<br />What this world needs is for us to stop hiding behind our relevance;<br />blending in so well that people can't see the difference;<br />and it's the difference that sets the world free.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" name="01"></a><span style="font-family: verdana;">People aren't confused by the Gospel, they are confused by us.<br />Jesus is the only way to God, but we are not the only way to Jesus.<br />This world doesn't need my tie, my hoodie, my denomination,<br />or my translation of the Bible.<br />They just need Jesus!<br />We can be passionate about what we believe,<br />but we can't strap ourselves to the Gospel,<br />because we are slowing it down.<br />Jesus is going to save the world;<br />but maybe the best thing we can do<br />is just get out of the way.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Jesus is our Savior, that's what this world needs! Father's arms around you, that's what this world needs! That's what this world needs.</span>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-63048517944622105782008-05-04T22:45:00.000-04:002008-05-04T22:47:16.363-04:00The Past 36 HoursIn the past 36 hours:<br /> My best friend’s car broke down on I-64W headed back to LU.<br />We were going down the interstate when “Daisy” started making a clicking noise. Kim couldn’t accelerate…Daisy started loosing speed…as we were pulling off, Daisy stopped running. Thankfully, we had already picked up her mom at the Richmond Airport. It wasn’t raining, sleeting, snowing, blazing hot, or frigid cold. It was daylight. There really weren’t THAT many cars on the interstate.<br />We were on the side of the interstate for 2 hours…and the tow truck couldn’t find us. Five cars and a trucker stopped to check on us. Two guys looked at the car…the first one thought it was the timing belt…the second one said her car doesn’t have a timing belt. We called an RA to give her a head’s up that we would probably need someone to come get us. While we were waiting, we watched caterpillars try to cross the road, only to meet their fate when cars came by.<br />The tow truck found us eventually, said he had no idea what was wrong with the car, and took us to a shop. However, it was Saturday, and the shop was closed, so her car is still in Charlottesville. She is planning to leave on Tuesday to go home to Texas. We called our RA again, and she and Heidi (who will be my SLD partner/Room mate next year) started towards us…<br />So, we were in Charlottesville…and none of us are familiar with it. Thankfully, I was borrowing my parents’ GPS for the trip, and we had it with us, so we looked up a restaurant that was supposedly 0.8 miles away…and we started walking…with a GPS…through the neighborhoods of downtown Charlottesville.<br />When we got to the road The Frizz (the GPS) said the Subway was on…it wasn’t there…Thankfully, the Charlottesville Transit Station and Visitor’s Center was on that road…and it was open. So, we asked the Visitor’s Center where it was…and they told us we could take the FREE trolley to the Omni, go down McIntyre…and it would be there…we did…and it was…<br />The GPS Audrey and Heidi had borrowed apparently wasn’t good with directions, and was continually loosing satellite reception, so it took them a little longer than planned to get to us…but they did get to us, and we got back to LU at 10pm…5 hours later than we had planned…<br /><br />We had the Annual Leadership Appreciation and Dedication Service.<br />This is where the emotions are jumbled. During this service, we recognize the Praise Band/RDs/RAs/SLDs/PLs for 07-08 and Dedicate the 08-09 team. I was perfectly fine until it was time for the SLD part. We (the current SLDs) were told to stand with and pray for those on our hall who will be new SLDs next year. I can’t describe the feeling I had when Heidi, Christy, and Emily N. stood up. Everything that happened on our hall this year was by the hand and grace of God, and it was so heartwarming to see two of “my” freshmen and good friends, and one of my closest friends, stand up to “Receive the torch.” Praying for them with Sam was so hard, as Sam and I realized that our ministry together is coming to an end…letting go of Sam’s hand was one of the hardest things I’ve done in a long time…if ever. <br />However, walking from one side of the Vines to the other, with Heidi, towards our PL team, was incredible. Our team is already bonding and preparing for next year. I love all of those girls and I am so excited to work with them in ministry. <br />After the service, as Sam, Erica, Audrey and I were taking pictures of the “Core 4” and just hanging out, not wanting to leave, I flashed back to this time last year…a time when Sam and I barely knew each other, and I was having trouble remembering the names of my PLs. I don’t know what our hall would have been like without them…I do know that God placed those girls on our hall for a purpose, as He has placed the team for next year. My sadness that this year is over cannot be masked by the excitement for next, but I know in August, we will still be friends, each ministering in the way God has called us to. <br /><br />“I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the Gospel from the first day until now.” Philippians 1:3-5Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-46461671543263454692008-04-13T14:02:00.004-04:002008-04-13T14:16:27.355-04:00Somewhere in the Middle<span style="font-size:100%;">So, the Casting Crowns concert was last night.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">I’m not sure why, but their concerts always seem to “get” me.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">I have loved Voice of Truth since High School, and they sang it last night, followed by Somewhere in the Middle, from their new album.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">I’ve listened to it a few times, but it became one of favorites after last night.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">The last half of the song says:</span></p> <pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ></span></pre><blockquote><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between my heart and my hands<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between my faith and my plans<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between the safety of the boat and the crashing waves<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between a whisper and a roar<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between the altar and the door<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between contented peace and always wanting more<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere in the middle You’ll find me<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Just how close can I get, Lord, to my surrender without losing all control<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Fearless warriors in a picket fence<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Reckless abandon wrapped in common sense<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Deep water faith in the shallow end<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >and we are caught in the middle<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >With eyes wide open to the differences<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >the God we want and the God who is<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >but will we trade our dreams for His<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >or are we caught in the middle<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Lord, I feel You in this place and I know You’re by my side<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Loving me even on these nights when I’m caught in the middle</span></pre></blockquote><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><o:p></o:p></span></pre> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Most of you know that I want to be a Special Ed teacher…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Some of you know that my BHAG…Big Hairy Audacious Goal (Thanks Dr. Falwell)…is to open a</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Christian School with a strong Special Ed program, so that all families will have access to a Christian education, no matter what disabilities or challenges their children have.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">I’ve had these goals for a while, and my mind has been so focused on them that I haven’t really been paying attention to the path God seems to be leading me down.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Last Spring Break, I was in NYC.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">This was my third time in The City, but it was my first mission trip.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">We worked at <st1:placename st="on">Manhattan</st1:placename> <st1:placename st="on">Christian</st1:placename> <st1:placename st="on">School</st1:placename>, sleeping in the classrooms in <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Washington</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Heights</st1:placetype></st1:place> (Spanish Harlem).</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">I fell in love with that school, and <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Manhattan</st1:placename> <st1:placename st="on">Bible</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Church</st1:placetype></st1:place>.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">When you think of church in NYC, I had always imagined Catholic churches or a mega church, like Brooklyn Tabernacle, and thought I would never find a “small” Baptist church like I’m used to.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">But, I found one.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">It runs the school.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">I miss it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">I really feel that God wants me to go back…to teach at MCA, but it freaks me out.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">I grew up here:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/SAJMbSE12DI/AAAAAAAAADU/nR-eJHNknB8/s1600-h/IMG_1753.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c14H8xoytio/SAJMbSE12DI/AAAAAAAAADU/nR-eJHNknB8/s320/IMG_1753.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188793752276555826" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Not exactly the Big Apple.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Growing up in a small town doesn’t prepare one to live in NYC.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">But, God doesn’t necessarily called the equipped…He equips those who are called.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Here are the full lyrics to Somewhere in the Middle:</span></p> <pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ></span></pre><blockquote><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between the hot and the cold<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between the new and the old<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between who I am and who I used to be<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere in the middle, you'll find me<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><o:p></o:p>Somewhere between the wrong and the right<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between the darkness and the light<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between who I was and who You're making me<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere in the middle, you'll find me<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Just how close can I get, Lord, to my surrender<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >without losing all control<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Fearless warriors in a picket fence<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Reckless abandon wrapped in common sense<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Deep water faith in the shallow end<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >and we are caught in the middle<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >With eyes wide open to the differences<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >the God we want and the God who is<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >but will we trade our dreams for His<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >or are we caught in the middle<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between my heart and my hands<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between my faith and my plans<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between the safety of the boat and the crashing waves<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between a whisper and a roar<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between the altar and the door<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere between contented peace and always wanting more<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Somewhere in the middle You’ll find me<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Just how close can I get, Lord, to my surrender without losing all control<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Fearless warriors in a picket fence<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Reckless abandon wrapped in common sense<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Deep water faith in the shallow end<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >and we are caught in the middle<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >With eyes wide open to the differences<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >the God we want and the God who is<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >but will we trade our dreams for His<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >or are we caught in the middle<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Lord, I feel You in this place and I know You’re by my side<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" >Loving me even on these nights when I’m caught in the middle</span></pre></blockquote><pre><span style=";font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /><br /></span>----------------<br />Now playing: <a href="http://www.foxytunes.com/artist/casting+crowns/track/somewhere+in+the+middle" title="'Casting Crowns - Somewhere In The Middle' - open on FoxyTunes Planet">Casting Crowns - Somewhere In The Middle</a><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;font-size:10;" ></span><br /></pre> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814664321011688336.post-22585764406459277212008-04-04T22:18:00.001-04:002008-04-04T22:19:57.961-04:00No Excuses...<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next time you feel like God can’t use you, just remember...<br />Noah was a drunk<br />Abraham was too old<br />Isaac was a daydreamer <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jacob was a liar<br />Leah was ugly<br />Joseph was abused<br />Moses had a stuttering problem<br />Gideon was afraid<br />Samson was a womanizer<br />Rahab was a prostitute<br />Jeremiah and Timothy were too young<br />David had an affair AND he was a murderer<br />Elijah was suicidal<br />Isaiah preached naked<br />Jonah ran from God<br />Naomi was a widow<br />Job went bankrupt<br />Peter denied Christ<br />The disciples fell asleep while praying<br />Martha worried about everything<br />The Samaritan woman was divorced, more than once!<br />Zaccheus was too small<br />Paul was too religious<br />Timothy had an ulcer... and<br />Lazarus was dead!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have no excuses…but I have the same God.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0