Hope

About 6 years ago, Brett and I started naming our years...It has varied each year, whether we name it in January or September (which is our 'new' year) in marriage.  The words have been simple, but chock full of meaning...fun, change, healing....

This January we didn't talk about it much.

But, I have a word, and I think it will stand for both of us.

It is written on my plate that sits close to our door.

I wanted a different word.  I tried to think of a different word.  But, it kept coming back to me, and I knew I needed to look at it every day, not just for a year, but for the rest of my life.

It is so simple, and so complicated.

Hope.

That is my word for 2013.

What do I hope for?

So, so much.

Healing, rest, newness, community, clarity, confidence, call, a baby...

To hope is so dangerous.  I have done it all too often, especially in that last category I mentioned.  It has been deferred, and it truly does make the heart sick.

But, out of that hope, although we lost something so precious, we gained our Blythe.

6 months ago we lost another baby, by way of ectopic pregnancy this time.  And now that I have 2 beautiful children (who are miracles, as all children are, but because of something I've learned, mine are true miracles to me), I find myself trying to fight hoping for another one.

I say, 'it's fine, maybe we don't really want another one.'

But, we really do.

But, I find myself saying something so different to protect my heart from the months of waiting that might come, as they did with Blythe.

But, no matter what.  I believe that hope does not disappoint.

And, although I grow disappointed at times, I trust in a bigger story, with plans much better than mine.

And I wait.

And I HOPE.

Today

I'm just finishing day 16 out of 17 full days of my husband being halfway around the world.

Lord willing, he will be home tomorrow!

And it has been easy, so, so easy.   I have not cooked anything more than a peanut butter and jelly sandwich...I have been fed every single night by nearby families.  I have seen friends that I haven't seen in eons.  I have had so much help with my kids.  I have even gotten more than a few afternoons to myself.  My house?  It's a tornado.  A wreck.  But, I have had so much given to me that it is hard to complain about the time gone by without my other half.

But, today...today was hard.

It was long.  And I was so tired.  I am barely running on fumes.

My 18 month old didn't nap today, so to occupy her until an early bedtime, we went to play at a nearby Chick Fil A.  It was great.  We had ice cream and had lots of "Mommy time".  But, as I went to get a drink refill before our departure, through a series of accidental events, Harrison let Blythe run right out the door.

Thankfully I was RIGHT there, but she still made it to the parking lot.  I screamed.  I ran.  I embarrassed my son.  I shook for minutes afterward.  What if I had still been 10 feet away awaiting my refill?  What if a car had come at that second?  What if?  What if?

But, my baby.  She is fine.  And my other baby?  He is fine.

And I can't get hung up in the 'What if's'.  Because it will only make me crazy.

If 15 seconds of that moment had been different, she would have been smashed.  But, she wasn't.

And I hugged her tighter tonight.

And I hugged him tighter tonight.

And in 22 hours, I will hug my husband tighter when he, Lord willing, makes it home to me.

Grandlady

Juanita Tessener Dooley Mitchell

April 22, 1925--January 5, 2013

 They called her 'Grandlady'....and the name fit like a glove...

She was grand, and quite a lady....

We saw her just 6 days before she said goodbye to this world, and we prayed for her as we always do.  We had no idea that would be the day she would say 'goodbye' to her little buddy... my husband.  

I'm so grateful that my husband's grandmother felt like my own.

I loved you dearly, Grandlady, and I will miss you greatly.  And I will smile every time I think of you.

Back in action...Maybe.

So, I've been encouraged by a new dear friend to update this little blog once a week.

For lots of reasons.

And I'm contemplating doing it.

Because I like to write.

And because there's a lot welling up in my heart and my mind about a lot of things.

And because I like these 2 people, and I'm sure they will make frequent cameos.

We shall see if I rise up to the challenge.  

I'll try.

Harry

When Harrison was living in my belly, we didn't know if he was a boy or a girl.  Same thing with Blythe.  I loved it.  I loved not knowing, and when he came out it was the best surprise of my life.
However, it did make it tough in deciding on names...because we had to choose two.  One for a boy, one for a girl.

Well, we always knew if we had a boy we would call him Harrison, even dating back to our honeymoon.

And when we talked about it, we knew that at some point, if we had a boy named Harrison, that maybe when he was 15 and on a high school sports team (if he chooses), that maybe his friends and teammates might shorten it to 'Harry'.

Brett's middle name is Harrison (as well as his mom's maiden name), so growing up his family called him 'Harry' as kind of a funny nickname.  Well, when Harrison was born, we were clear that we didn't want him to be called 'Harry', because a couple of handfuls of people did ask if that was our intention.

Not that we don't like the name Harry,but, we named him Harrison to call him Harrison, but like I said, we figured maybe it would get shortened in a friendly way when he was a teenager.

Not when he was 4.

By his pre-school teacher.

H has darling teachers, one of them who kinda talks like Gloria from 'Modern Family'.  I noticed the first week she was calling him Harry.  Harrison said to me, 'Mommy, she calls me Harry, that's not my name.'  I told him, "Buddy, you're just gonna have to tell her that you like to be called Harrison.'

I kept hearing her say 'Hi Harry!'  "Bye Harry!'  And it was when I had a parent-teacher conference a couple weeks ago, that I heard them both refer to him as Harry.  I had thought maybe they were just calling him that as a cute little greeting at the beginning and end of class.  But, it was later that day, when he was playing at a classmate's house, that I noticed the other kid calling him Harry.

The name had already been shortened, about 10 years earlier than I anticipated!  And by the teachers!

I asked him if he minded, and he said, 'No, mommy, I don't like it, but it's okay sometimes.'

So, I had to do the unthinkable.

I had to go to his sweet teacher and ask her to call him Harrison.  I kind of hated that I had to do it, but, I think my baby was too shy to do it himself.

And I think he needed to see me be brave for him when he didn't feel brave enough himself.

And I'll do it over and over again, if each time, it might give him an ounce more courage.

Donuts with Daddy

About a month ago, Harrison was studying the letter 'D' at school.  To celebrate 'D' week, the teachers invited the Daddys for Donuts.  Brett was so excited he could hardly contain himself!  They had a great time and I'm so thankful for the memories that were made!  This week is 'H' week, complete with hat day.  Harrison is staying neutral, and instead of wearing his Georgia or Auburn hat, he has chosen to wear his cowboy hat.  He is pretty adorable!  Love that kid!

Eternity with my baby

I remember clearly where I was sitting in February of 2008 when I read the line that I am using as the title of this post...Brett and I were taking a Sabbatical, having just returned from Italy, and spending a week at the beach before we eased back into work after taking a month off.  I was still a few months away from birthing my first child, but already huge, and my emotions magnified with the pregnancy.

It was in a coffee shop off of 30-A in the panhandle of Florida that I opened up my computer to read a few blogs.  I checked into my friend Kadie's blog to read a precious post about her Everett confessing his belief in Jesus at a mere 4 years old.  I cried so many tears of joy, I wept in fact.  Because he was like my first child...he was my friend's first child!  My very first friend to be pregnant.  I was with her when she bought the test (and snuck it into my bag so that no one would be suspicious, although, let's be honest, I was still single, and a missionary, maybe it would have been more suspicious for people to think I might be pregnant?!)  I remembered the morning sickness, the day he was born, his first birthday, and here he was, making a life-changing decision to come to a faith that would not be easy, but would be joyful for the rest of his life?  I was overjoyed.  I could not imagine the day that I would get to experience this with my own child.

Until 2 months ago.

And now, I can honestly say that I will spend forever with MY baby boy.  Forever.

As the son of missionaries, little Harrison has been exposed to lots of Jesus talk.  Not just from us, although we hope to talk to him the most about it, and hopefully live life at home in a way where he would desire to share the faith that we have.  We talk to him a lot, pray with him a lot, and make LOTS of mistakes, and ask lots of forgiveness.  There is so much humility in parenting, and as much as I can make excuses to myself or to my husband, when my son tells me, 'Mommy, you were wrong',  It  usually means I am, and I say lots of "I'm sorry's" because I can't teach him to do it if I don't.

On the eve of August 14th, just 5 days after we moved back to Florida, Brett called me into Harrison's room while he was putting him to bed.  Harrison had said he wanted to have God in his heart.  I told him that I could pray a prayer that he could repeat after me if he wanted Jesus in his heart.  He said, "No, Mommy, you pray."  I told him it wasn't a decision I could make for him, but I still prayed anyway.  

2 days later, Brett and I didn't think anything of it, because we thought maybe he hadn't made that decision.  But, Brett reminded me that it's not just about praying, but believing with your heart and confessing with your mouth (Romans) that Jesus is Lord.  He began to ask H questions.  He asked him if he believed that Jesus died on the cross for his sins, and if he believed in his heart that He is God.  Yes, and yes!  He then asked if he could take his toys to heaven!  I told him he wouldn't need them there.  He then asked about if he could take his clothes.  He finally came to the conclusion that we could build a toy shelf when we get there!  

Since then, he has proudly proclaimed that Jesus is in his heart.  

And I'm grateful. 

 I pray that he will believe in Him all the days of his life.