Thankful This Year

   Wow, I have a ton of posts that I've started but haven't finished! I'm not going to sit and contemplate what that says about my personality... Instead I'll check what was supposed to be a Thanksgiving post and hit "post."
   It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was a year of gladness and rejoicing. It was a year of struggle and frustration. One year ago I announced with extreme joy that we were having a daughter. The long- awaited answer to several year's worth of prayer. But around that time I also started my struggle with preeclampsia and had already ruptured my Achilles. And the hard times were only going to get worse. Those things were most definitely not in my plans.
     That whole situation...my preeclampsia became bad enough that I was hospitalized and sent home on bed rest around 32 weeks gestation, and had an additional extended period (over three months) of being off my feet after surgery, I can't say enough times how blessed I was during that time period. I never want to go through something like that again. Ever. *shudders.* But I've also never felt so loved. I had two different friends clean my bathroom. I had more people than I can count from my church offering to come over and help with laundry and cleaning. My parents stayed for a while and helped Ryan work on the house and my mom stayed for a loooooong time to take care of the children and me. And while I was sitting on the couch for my second bed rest with my leg up feeling like a useless blob, God continued to provide for us. Quite literally out of the blue, He gave Ryan an amazing job opportunity.  I was reminded again, as I watched my husband work long hours during the harvest season and then come home to work hard to take care of us, what an awesome man he is.
     In the middle of what seemed the longest period of my life, I had tons of time to spend with my three beautiful children. This was the longest maternity leave I'd ever gotten (7 1/2 months!) and the longest period of time I'd been able to spend with the boys since my first summer in the PTA program. (which would be 5 weeks in 2008. Yep, a while ago.) I was blessed to cuddle with my children and watch my boys enjoy being big brothers as well as love on my new baby girl.
     The fall saw my little boy Landon take a big step in growing up and go to kindergarten. Big brother Nathan took little brother under his wing and explained all the rules of school. :) And just when I thought I was going to go positively, absolutely, crazy from being on forced bed rest, my surgeon cleared me to begin walking, and shortly thereafter, to go back to work. And the rest of the year has been us as a family acclimating and finding our new "normal."
     In a year of emotional, physical, spiritual, and financial, hardship, God also brought joy, love, friends, comfort, and blessings. I NEVER want to go through a year like this again. And I'm a little tired of doctor's offices... But I can be thankful for this last year.
 

Farewell New Orleans

     Approximately twelve years ago I was in Russia and received one of the worst emails of my life. My dad has taken a new job and we were moving. From Montana, the "Last Best Place." to New Orleans. From Montana to Nola. I knew that dad's company was being sold and there was a possibility of moving, I just never expected that far!
     Now my parents are again moving, in reverse this time. Going from the South to the Northwest. Although not devastated, I find myself a little sad. I don't know when the next time I'll get to visit New Orleans will be. I will miss it and the free hotel. :) So one last time my husband carted the kids and me down to that grand old city. Once more I traipsed through Jackson square, chowed down on red beans at rice at the Acme Oyster Bar, and inhaled powdered sugar at Cafe du Monde. I didn't get to do everything on the list, but I got to do enough. It was the perfect day to say goodbye, raining lightly and a comfortable 60 degrees; a polar opposite of my introduction, a token that the city has come full circle to me.

     It was a roasting hot July day in 2001 and the humidity was full swing in a city I wanted no part of. Dad had dragged mom and me to the French Quarter in his eagerness to show off the "new" home. After wearing much of my powdered beignet, I debated whether the precious remnant of ice water would be better served poured down my gullet or my forehead and back. I was so hot and miserable that I daubed water on my flimsy napkin and wiped any exposed areas of skin, caring nothing about the wadded napkin remnants comically clinging to my face. Draped over the table to increase surface area under the ceiling fan, I remember hearing dad say "let's go walking" and distinctly thinking "are you NUTS!?!" let me remind you that Montana only has several days of 100+ temperatures every year and the humidity stays well under 30%.  I felt like a wilted flower. It took a bit before my body adjusted and I stopped comparing opening the front door to that of a blast furnace.

     People familiar only with Bourbon St. and Mardi Gras often refer to Nola with epitaphs resembling Sodom and Gomorroh, Sin City, and the like.  I can't tell you how many times I heard things like "New Orleans?! That's such an evil place. I would never go there." The truth is that you will go where God calls you. The truth is that, although there is great darkness, the city also has many who walk in the Light of God. The truth is that  a wonderful seminary is down there. It has refused considerations of moving, knowing that where there is evil and hurting, and people who are lost, there is a need for the children of God. The truth is that many strong churches exist in the city, who faithfully preach the word of God, who reach out to the lost. I made many good friends, who reached out to me when I was hurting and in need.

     This final trip down could only have been better if my brothers were able to make it. They both have those job-things that wouldn't allow them to take the time off. :(  My sister-in-law brought her kids down to join the party. What a party with four stair-stepped kids from 8 to 4! We had a girl's shopping trip, a visit to the childrens' museum, and an afternoon through the sprinklers. There weren't many quiet moments with the kids running amuck, but it was wonderful!

      New Orleans to me is a mixture of things I never want to forget and times I try not to remember. It was a great place to date--good cheap food, free entertainment. I had my first oysters there and learned to love shrimp. Also lobster, crab, crawfish, you know the expensive stuff? I don't miss the traffic. From both the city itself and my personal experience with it, Nola is a place that reminds me of the goodness and faithfulness of my Savior. It reminds of his power to redeem, restore, to heal. That was something worth experiencing and worth remembering.

Goodbye New Orleans. I will always love you.

*I tried uploading some pictures, but after blogger was being a pain and wouldn't let me arrange them and making me want to pull my hair out, I decided to save that for a different day.

He is Faithful

Back in December I had a difficult choice to make. I had been offered a job at my PRN (part time as needed) and wasn't sure whether or not I should accept it. The health insurance is literally double. Not kidding. Sure it came with a slight pay raise, but was it enough to even out double the insurance? Also, it was my PRN. It was convenient being a 5 minute walk from my house. I could work 6 hours on saturday and still be home before the kids got up from their naps. But if I worked there, where would I go if caseload were low or we had unexpected expenses and I needed extra hours? Having the responsibility of providing for my family sometimes really stresses me out.

I prayed a lot and talked with my husband, family, friends, and coworkers. I really wanted to work close to home and regain those ten lost hours I wasted weekly in the car. Ryan and I crunched and crunched the budget numbers and came to the conclusion that we didn't know if it would work. He particularly was a little nervous of what would happen if I gave up my PRN. The cry of my heart was to have more time with my boys. I miss them and they're growing up so quickly. Finally, Ryan and I made the decision to accept the position in my hometown. How could I not with two little sets of arms (and a big set) waiting to hug me sooner every evening?

I am happy to report that most of the weeks since I have accepted my new position I have gotten my full 40 hours at a minimum. Many weeks I even have all the overtime I can handle or have to turn it down to spend time with my family. Now that the price of gas has skyrocketed, a 5 minute walk is a definite bonus! The icing on the cake is that I have been able to lose 10 pounds. I walk home for lunch 3-4 days a week and get so many more hugs and kisses from my boys! When talking to a former coworker, she rejoiced with me when I reported all of this. "You choose to honor God by putting your family before your job. He took care of the rest." He has!!! Ryan and I didn't know the outcome, but we stepped out on faith and knew that the Father would provide for us. And I still have a PRN job. My former boss has asked me to do work a couple hours a week at a facility close by. It's so amazing what a wonderful God we serve! When the numbers don't add up, He makes it work anyway.

P.S. For those of you out there who are geeks, PRN is short for pro re nata, "as the circumstance arises."

Family Decorating

Some people despise traditions because they disdain doing the same thing in the same way. Some people love traditions because they find comfort in turning occasions into special events. I happen to be one of the latter. Growing up, we knew what putting up the Christmas tree was going to be like. My mom and I would bake chocolate chip cookies and defend the dough against encroaching brothers and dad with wooden spoons if necessary. The smell of cookies would fill the air while the guys got all the decorations down from the attic. Lights would be strung out to check and see which bulbs were missing. My dad, an engineer, would string the lighs around the tree, methodically placing strands on every branch. Then mom would sit in the wingback chair and pass out ornaments for us to hang on the tree. To some people, it would be monotonous, but to us it was special. There was comfort, familiarity, and we looked forward to it every year just after Thanksgiving.

When I married my husband and I had a discussion about traditions. He's not exactly huge on them, but nor does he despise them. He didn't object to the chocolate chip cookies, though! :) we looked forward to starting our family, blending our traditions, and creating some new ones. We don't push the "perfect" traditions, but go with the flow. The last couple of years we have decorated the tree while children were asleep. Last week when we decorated we decided to allow Ryan to help out. We did, however, decorate the tree when William was in bed. Erik and I carefully separated the glass ornaments from the wooden and plastic ones and asked Ryan to help. It was so much fun to watch! He would take one and carefully eyeball and circle the tree, looking for just the perfect spot. He even told me so! The real laughter came when Erik and I realized that all the ornaments had gone on the exact same spot anyway! All of that effort and 5 ornaments hung from the same branch. To not ruin the child's joy, DH went quietly behind our son and redistributed.

Another thing that I really enjoyed was watching his excitement as I opened the large box containing the Christmas decorations. "What is that, Mommy?" and "Wow!" were frequently heard. I showed him pictures of his daddy of his "Baby's 1st Christmas" ornament, and the wooden bear that I had painted about 6 different colors when I was 4. We enjoyed being together. Ryan's childish giggles and amazement made me certain that this is one tradition I always want to continue.

"B" Happy

Final grades are due to the registrar today, which means that I can view all my grades tomorrow. It's lovely to be able to see them immediately instead of waiting for the grades to be sent in the mail. Just another invention from our impatient society. :) Although I'm most likely going to be on the honor roll again, I thought it was time to reflect on a lesson I learned right after William was born and I had just started the PTA program.

"B" Happy

 So there it was in my hands, another graded exam. It wasn't bleeding red too badly, but just enough life had been drained from several of the problems that the score dropped to a B. Yet more proof that I'm a failure. B's are unacceptable when I'm capable of coming home with A's. Or at least that's what the perfectionistic and somewhat self-destroying internal voice whispers quietly. That insidious whisper intones "are you crazy? Who did you think you were kidding to be trying to go to school, commute a long distance, and be a wife and mother to two small children? You're nothing." Suddenly that voice's logic implodes on itself as I realize that the voice was right about the facts and wrong in the conclusion. I am overwhelmed, overloaded, and any other "over" that you can think of. Yet I am not a failure. The fact that I am able to accomplish this much and even pass my classes, much less ahead of class average, proves my success.

At times the voice is capable of being motivating, of pushing me to achieve all that I am capable of doing. Yet the voice is also stuck slightly behind the times, not realizing that priorities change and the 4.0 grade-point average and another certificate of being on the dean's list are not the only measurements that I judge anymore. Much more important are these: have I read to my children today, prayed for my family, have I done housekeeping basics, packed a lunch for my husband??? Have I tried my best with my limited time to learn that study material? I will admit that it is humbling to see anything less than a ninety on a paper, to worry that the teachers think I am not trying. But in the end life is about more than grades and will it really matter to my future employers or patients that my diploma says "with highest honors?" The grades that I truly want are of more lasting significance; a good relationship with my Savior, my husband, children, and my friends. So I'm going to take that exam and be proud of that grade instead of ashamed. I'm going to be thankful that God is allowing me to do this well period and praise Him for providing for my family. Tomorrow when another grade is handed back, it might still sting if I don't receive an A, but I will not be devestated. I'm going to thank God for all the people praying me through this.