"If you say, "Look, we did not know this."--does not he who weighs the heart perceive it? Does not he who keeps watch over your soul know it? And will he not repay all according to their deeds? -Proverbs 24:12"
I've held my tongue on social media on the topic of abortion for the most part. Though, in the past I've written a paper on stem cell research and read books, studies, and articles on abortion regularly, I have kept quiet on Social Media because this is such a personal topic. I know people who have had abortions. I know even more people who are strongly Pro-Choice. I love and respect these people greatly. So if you're reading this and you're one of them, please know this is in no way directed against you specifically. I'd much rather have this conversation over coffee in my living room. Those conversations can be much more calm and personal I've found.
As the news broke Tuesday that Planned Parenthood strategizes their abortions in such a way as to end the life of the baby while also keeping specific body parts as intact as possible so as to sell them for higher value, I decided it was time - time to break my Social Media silence on the topic of abortion. God created all human beings with value. Planned Parenthood does not believe this - at least when it concerns an unborn, partially born, or possibly even just born baby, and it has proven to lead to quite grotesque consequences. (If you haven't watched the video in the link above or read a corresponding article, do that now.) That's why I'm writing. To be one of the many voices who calls attention to WHY we should be bothered by this. Dismembering an unborn child and selling its parts is not ok just because the mother didn't intend the pregnancy or want to parent the child.
We all value human life when we choose to.
I have had an unplanned pregnancy. My first baby was conceived while using contraception quite carefully during the first year of our marriage. Andrew and I planned on having our first baby after Seminary was complete. God had other plans.
Though the pregnancy was unplanned, our baby was not unwanted.
We rejoiced. And then we mourned. We miscarried the baby - "Kid" - very early on, which I wrote about here. Of course our friends and family rejoiced and mourned with us.
However, what should be so strange to us in a society where Planned Parenthood is often lauded for the way it aids women through abortions is that the medical community we encountered mourned with us. All of the doctors and nurses we saw said that they were "sorry for our loss," even though the pregnancy was only 4-6 weeks along. They were quite kind, and I am thankful, don't get me wrong, but it shows that we as a society place value on unborn life according to the value the mother (and in some cases father) place on it.
We don't do this (anymore - since slavery was abolished) with people who have a voice. But those who have no megaphone to shout outside of the womb "I am here! I hear my mother's voice! I feel safe here..." get left out of the conversation because it's easy to leave them out. They can't speak up.
Well, what if you don't love the idea of abortion, but you see it as a sort of necessary evil, and what if abortion is only a small part of what Planned Parenthood does? I've heard a statistic from a few sources that abortions are only 3% of what they do. For the sake of argument, let's go with it.
So, they offer other services such as mammogram referrals and contraceptive. Some people view them as a safe medical option for poorer women. So IF they are largely involved in other practices over killing and dismembering babies, then what? How should we feel about a company that supposedly does so much good with just 3% bad?
Would we be ok with a large company selling or using slaves as only 3% of their business? What if the other 97% of time and resources was spent on giving back to their community - serving as leaders in the public forum, fathers, deacons in the church? We already answered that question and fought that battle. It was called the Civil War.
Planned Parenthood is selling baby limbs, livers, lungs, and heads. They'll go to pretty great lengths for the head, according to the video that was released.
If we agree that dismembering a full-term human baby for money is wrong and evil, then the company that does it is wrong and evil. Even if they spend 97% of their time offering philanthropic medical services in difficult neighborhoods, the 3% is still enough to say they must be investigated and stopped. Slavery is wrong even if it's only a small part of what you do on your plantation. Abortion and the selling of human parts is wrong even if its only a small part of what you do at your clinic. Focusing on the "good" only puts a veil over the horrific holocaust of human life that is taking place in these clinics.
I think we all could agree that we don't want to end up in the same league with the WW2 era German citizens who lived near concentrations camps and could smell the burning flesh but claimed not to know what was happening.
You only "don't know" if you choose not to know.
It's bad enough to think of human life ended and thrown away in a trash can, but for it to be pre-planned to do the abortion in such a way as to potentially even turn a profit on its dead body parts... that's pure evil. And we are putting ourselves in line with the citizens from WW2 era Germany if we turn a blind eye and go on thinking that abortions are philanthropic, clean, and help more humans than they harm.
Most of us think of our society as sophisticated, moral, and definitely less barbaric than cultures who offered child sacrifices to their gods. We're not. Our society's gods are just different: convenience, self-fulfillment, education, self-preservation, money, selfishness, to name a few. We offer the babies who come from "unwanted pregnancies" on the altars of these gods.
"In the U.S., abortion is the blood sacrifice we make on the altar to the goddess of unfettered sexual behavior."
**A small note on the issue of "women's reproductive rights": If it weren't an abortion and the doctor turned the baby breach INTENTIONALLY, (s)he'd be brought to court for putting the mother and baby at risk (rightfully so). But because the mother has asked that the baby's life be ended, the doctor now also has the right to put the mother at risk? I can't even wrap my head around the insanity.
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Friday, February 14, 2014
To the Guy Who Shovels My Snow
This quick blog post goes to my honey.
It's mushy to call him that in a public forum, but I don't even care. He is well deserving of all the mush, though he'd never let you think it. So, here I go. It's gonna be mushy, but I want to honor him today.
To the guy who shoveled our snow off the steps (and out of the neighbors' parking spots too)
To the guy who works 50 hours a week
And goes full-time to school
To the guy who busts his tail all day, comes home tired,
And still hopes that Bram might need his Daddy to rock him
And sing him a round of "Wagon Wheel" (the OCMS version, of course)
To the guy who bought me gorgeous purple tulips
Because I like purple better than red, white, or pink anyway
To the guy who already rolls over in the morning and asks how our girl is treating her mama today
And makes sure to tell Bram to be a big man
And take care of mama while daddy is at work
To the guy who calls me "Sweetheart"
Not just on Valentine's Day
To the guy who tells me I'm beautiful even when I'm terribly sick and gross
To the guy who points me to Jesus
And reminds me to look back to the cross when I've looked away
To the guy who holds my hand
Through thick and thin, through joy and pain
The guy who meant what he said that hot July day when I took his name
You're a good man, Andrew Pritchett.
Thanks for all the wonderful, mundane, important things you do.
You love me so well.
Happy Valentine's Day.
It's mushy to call him that in a public forum, but I don't even care. He is well deserving of all the mush, though he'd never let you think it. So, here I go. It's gonna be mushy, but I want to honor him today.
To the guy who shoveled our snow off the steps (and out of the neighbors' parking spots too)
To the guy who works 50 hours a week
And goes full-time to school
To the guy who busts his tail all day, comes home tired,
And still hopes that Bram might need his Daddy to rock him
And sing him a round of "Wagon Wheel" (the OCMS version, of course)
To the guy who bought me gorgeous purple tulips
Because I like purple better than red, white, or pink anyway
To the guy who already rolls over in the morning and asks how our girl is treating her mama today
And makes sure to tell Bram to be a big man
And take care of mama while daddy is at work
To the guy who calls me "Sweetheart"
Not just on Valentine's Day
To the guy who tells me I'm beautiful even when I'm terribly sick and gross
To the guy who points me to Jesus
And reminds me to look back to the cross when I've looked away
To the guy who holds my hand
Through thick and thin, through joy and pain
The guy who meant what he said that hot July day when I took his name
You're a good man, Andrew Pritchett.
Thanks for all the wonderful, mundane, important things you do.
You love me so well.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
...because I'm whateversomethingageiam. An exhortation toward commitment.
Well, it's 4:30am, and I've been up for an hour.
So, naturally, I should blog, right? Oh boy, this could be dangerous. I'm gonna warn you, I'm on a little bit of a soap box.
I just finished reading an article entitled "...because I'm a twentysomething." Go read it. Not because I agree with it, but because it really represents a lot of what I hear from my peers and those younger than me. It's the thinking that is going to shape our society if we're not careful.
It was a fun blog about not letting cultural expectations of what you should be doing at your age define what you think you need to be doing at your age. Have a "big girl job" but don't be bogged down by that big girl job. Get married. Or don't. Have kids. Or don't. And then when you're forty, fall in love all over again (with a child, a new friend, or a partner).
Got all that?
This sounds pretty good. Until you break it down and realize it's all romanticized and ultimately can lead to shirking responsibility and letting go of things that "no longer serve you." It's ok to think about your twenties as a glass-half-full kind of time, but don't let that lead you to living selfishly. Choose to quit your job and go back to school if that's the wise thing to do. But don't shy away from commitment, responsibilities, etc. just because you feel stifled by fitting the mold.
Here's the surprising thing: by sticking by your commitments, you may find out that finding contentment in the regular, every day humdrum of doing dishes, folding laundry, and working at your "big girl job" is actually quite fulfilling. But you have to chose to find contentment in it. The attitude encouraged in this article only leads people to do things like what Julia Roberts character did in Eat Pray Love. She "had everything a modern woman is supposed to dream of having - a husband, a house, a successful career - yet like so many others, she found herself lost, confused, and searching for what she really wanted in life." This line has always made me sad. Not because I feel bad for her that maybe she didn't have a perfect husband or perfect kids or a perfect job, but because I am sad she never CHOSE to find contentment in any part of her wonderfully imperfect life. Now, I'm going to admit I haven't actually seen the movie. The concept of it makes me mad, because at the time it came out I knew far too many women who did what she did - left their families to "go find themselves." They left destruction in their wake. So, I didn't go see it. So, I'm sorry (or maybe I'm not) if I just messed all over your favorite movie. Just think about it for more than 30 seconds. If she was someone you knew - maybe a friend or close relative - would you still find it so charming that she deserted everything and everyone she knew because she didn't want to be tied down and was bored with her overly-privileged life?
The funny thing about this whole "I'm whatever age I am so I can make my own life and do things outside of the norm and buy a plane ticket to Paris" mentality is this: It takes (a lot of) money to live this way, and living this way will eventually get really old really fast.
Paris will get lonely if you don't speak French, run out of money, and get bored with snobby Parisian chefs.
Ending "a relationship that no longer serves you," sounds like the right thing to do until you realize relationships were never meant just to serve you. They were meant to grow you. Sometimes when people take this advice, they leave their well-meaning, good-intentioned, hard-working husband in the dust. (Now, if "no longer serves you" means it's abusive, get out and get help.) If "no longer serves you" just means it doesn't meet your fanciful, romanticized expectation of what you thought being with Prince Charming would look like when you grew up, then you need to do just that: grow up.
I have no critique of her advice to drink tea and read lots of books. Do those things. And never stop doing them.
Saying "goodbye to all the things that have kept you stagnant," could be good. Or it could be really destructive and leave you and many others with a lot of regrets. Make sure you seek enough wisdom from older, wiser people to know the difference.
Here's my advice:
In your twentysomethings or at any age:
Don't shy away from commitment because it looks scary or feels like it might bog you down. When I was 21 and a senior in college I didn't know if I ever wanted to get married or have kids. I got married at 23 and had my first baby at 25. Those were the best 2 days of my life, and I'm thankful every day (even on the hard days) for those two crazy wonderful people in my life. Right after graduation, I took a "big girl job" rather than going to grad school. I got paid a decent wage to work at the best job I've ever had in my life. I worked with high school and middle school kids. It wasn't glamorous. It was self-sacrificing. I didn't spend my Friday nights at the club or downtown or with people my age. I don't regret a second of it. It made me the person I am today.
I'm not tooting my own horn. I'm standing on a soapbox saying "please, please don't shy away from things just because they seem boring, normal, or not adventurous enough." This is what I love about the movie "UP." In the movie, Ellie dies and leaves her husband a note that says "thanks for the adventure..." I remember seeing that the first time (bawling my eyes out) thinking nothing of it because it was so emotional. But if you think about it, they didn't DO anything to speak of. They were married for a long time. They lost a child. They lived a normal, everyday life. And it WAS an adventure. It reminds me of my grandparents and my parents. Normal, boring lives that really weren't/aren't boring at all. They've created and invested in a lasting legacy of people (me and all my siblings and cousins). Over the years, they've done a few cool things, but they haven't traveled the world. They have invested their lives in what matters. And I'm pretty sure they don't regret a second of it.
If you're single, I know I've talked a lot about things that apply to married people (and I understand the original blog post was written by a single girl), but this is for you as equally as it is for the married people. Commit to something worthwhile. Volunteer. Help your family. Adopt a grandparent at a local nursing home. Be a big brother or big sister to a kid who needs it. Don't use your single twentysomething or thirtysomething years for yourself. And when someone comes along that you might just maybe want to share a really amazing, mundane, everyday-for-the-rest-of-your-life adventure with, dive in. Give it all you've got and then some. On the hard days, remember how sweet and worthwhile your relationship really is. Remember the vows you made when you got married and how serious they are. Remember that being bound to a commitment isn't a bad thing just because the word "bound" is in that sentence.
...because I'm twentysomething, I choose contentment in mundane, wonderful things. Make that your mantra. It will change you and your perspective on what you need, deserve, and have to offer.
So, naturally, I should blog, right? Oh boy, this could be dangerous. I'm gonna warn you, I'm on a little bit of a soap box.
I just finished reading an article entitled "...because I'm a twentysomething." Go read it. Not because I agree with it, but because it really represents a lot of what I hear from my peers and those younger than me. It's the thinking that is going to shape our society if we're not careful.
It was a fun blog about not letting cultural expectations of what you should be doing at your age define what you think you need to be doing at your age. Have a "big girl job" but don't be bogged down by that big girl job. Get married. Or don't. Have kids. Or don't. And then when you're forty, fall in love all over again (with a child, a new friend, or a partner).
Got all that?
This sounds pretty good. Until you break it down and realize it's all romanticized and ultimately can lead to shirking responsibility and letting go of things that "no longer serve you." It's ok to think about your twenties as a glass-half-full kind of time, but don't let that lead you to living selfishly. Choose to quit your job and go back to school if that's the wise thing to do. But don't shy away from commitment, responsibilities, etc. just because you feel stifled by fitting the mold.
Here's the surprising thing: by sticking by your commitments, you may find out that finding contentment in the regular, every day humdrum of doing dishes, folding laundry, and working at your "big girl job" is actually quite fulfilling. But you have to chose to find contentment in it. The attitude encouraged in this article only leads people to do things like what Julia Roberts character did in Eat Pray Love. She "had everything a modern woman is supposed to dream of having - a husband, a house, a successful career - yet like so many others, she found herself lost, confused, and searching for what she really wanted in life." This line has always made me sad. Not because I feel bad for her that maybe she didn't have a perfect husband or perfect kids or a perfect job, but because I am sad she never CHOSE to find contentment in any part of her wonderfully imperfect life. Now, I'm going to admit I haven't actually seen the movie. The concept of it makes me mad, because at the time it came out I knew far too many women who did what she did - left their families to "go find themselves." They left destruction in their wake. So, I didn't go see it. So, I'm sorry (or maybe I'm not) if I just messed all over your favorite movie. Just think about it for more than 30 seconds. If she was someone you knew - maybe a friend or close relative - would you still find it so charming that she deserted everything and everyone she knew because she didn't want to be tied down and was bored with her overly-privileged life?
The funny thing about this whole "I'm whatever age I am so I can make my own life and do things outside of the norm and buy a plane ticket to Paris" mentality is this: It takes (a lot of) money to live this way, and living this way will eventually get really old really fast.
Paris will get lonely if you don't speak French, run out of money, and get bored with snobby Parisian chefs.
Ending "a relationship that no longer serves you," sounds like the right thing to do until you realize relationships were never meant just to serve you. They were meant to grow you. Sometimes when people take this advice, they leave their well-meaning, good-intentioned, hard-working husband in the dust. (Now, if "no longer serves you" means it's abusive, get out and get help.) If "no longer serves you" just means it doesn't meet your fanciful, romanticized expectation of what you thought being with Prince Charming would look like when you grew up, then you need to do just that: grow up.
I have no critique of her advice to drink tea and read lots of books. Do those things. And never stop doing them.
Saying "goodbye to all the things that have kept you stagnant," could be good. Or it could be really destructive and leave you and many others with a lot of regrets. Make sure you seek enough wisdom from older, wiser people to know the difference.
Here's my advice:
In your twentysomethings or at any age:
Don't shy away from commitment because it looks scary or feels like it might bog you down. When I was 21 and a senior in college I didn't know if I ever wanted to get married or have kids. I got married at 23 and had my first baby at 25. Those were the best 2 days of my life, and I'm thankful every day (even on the hard days) for those two crazy wonderful people in my life. Right after graduation, I took a "big girl job" rather than going to grad school. I got paid a decent wage to work at the best job I've ever had in my life. I worked with high school and middle school kids. It wasn't glamorous. It was self-sacrificing. I didn't spend my Friday nights at the club or downtown or with people my age. I don't regret a second of it. It made me the person I am today.
I'm not tooting my own horn. I'm standing on a soapbox saying "please, please don't shy away from things just because they seem boring, normal, or not adventurous enough." This is what I love about the movie "UP." In the movie, Ellie dies and leaves her husband a note that says "thanks for the adventure..." I remember seeing that the first time (bawling my eyes out) thinking nothing of it because it was so emotional. But if you think about it, they didn't DO anything to speak of. They were married for a long time. They lost a child. They lived a normal, everyday life. And it WAS an adventure. It reminds me of my grandparents and my parents. Normal, boring lives that really weren't/aren't boring at all. They've created and invested in a lasting legacy of people (me and all my siblings and cousins). Over the years, they've done a few cool things, but they haven't traveled the world. They have invested their lives in what matters. And I'm pretty sure they don't regret a second of it.
If you're single, I know I've talked a lot about things that apply to married people (and I understand the original blog post was written by a single girl), but this is for you as equally as it is for the married people. Commit to something worthwhile. Volunteer. Help your family. Adopt a grandparent at a local nursing home. Be a big brother or big sister to a kid who needs it. Don't use your single twentysomething or thirtysomething years for yourself. And when someone comes along that you might just maybe want to share a really amazing, mundane, everyday-for-the-rest-of-your-life adventure with, dive in. Give it all you've got and then some. On the hard days, remember how sweet and worthwhile your relationship really is. Remember the vows you made when you got married and how serious they are. Remember that being bound to a commitment isn't a bad thing just because the word "bound" is in that sentence.
...because I'm twentysomething, I choose contentment in mundane, wonderful things. Make that your mantra. It will change you and your perspective on what you need, deserve, and have to offer.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
90 days 'til 30
I met him when I was 18 and he was 21. He doesn't even remember meeting me. I didn't really care one way or the other about him that day, but now he's the best husband to me and daddy to our son that I could ever have asked for. This morning, he texted me this:
I remember his 23rd birthday when I made him cookies. That's back when I thought 23 was old. I don't know if I really think anything is old anymore.
But the point of this blog isn't to talk about age or to be overly nostalgic. It is to plainly say that the last 8.5 years of my life have been increasingly blessed by Andrew Pritchett. I guess it's a toast, of sorts, to my husband.
When we were "just friends," he was fun, loyal, and dependable. Now, he is those things and more. He daily fulfills Ephesians 5 and the vows he made on our wedding day.
"Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her..."
Andrew isn't perfect, but he is such a wonderful example of this command.
He gives himself up for me every morning when he goes to work and provides for us.
He gives himself up for me when I'm sick and look awful and he holds me and tells me I'm not gross -that, in fact, I am his wife and I am beautiful.
He gives himself up for me when the day is over and I'm exhausted and I still have dishes to do, but he sends me to bed and does them for me.
He gives himself up for me when I'm acting in sin and he patiently points me back to the Gospel.
He gives himself up for me when he acts in sin but humbly repents and asks my forgiveness.
He gives himself up for me when I'm sad and he gets up from his pile of papers and books to hold me.
He gives himself up for me when he comes home and sits with me on the couch and we're just together.
He gives himself up for me on Jamocha day at Goodberry's when he tells me to go get myself some frozen custard just because I love it.
He gives himself up for me when he watches basketball for the entire month of March with me even though he really doesn't like it that much.
He gives himself up for me when he cares for Bram so I can go have coffee and read a book in peace.
The list could go on...
Andrew, here's to you and the blessing you are to me and so many. Your friendship, your loyalty, your self-sacrifice, your love for others, your sense of humor, your dedication and integrity have been blessing me for many years. Here's to many more.
I love you.
"The countdown begins. 90 days and I'm 30."
He cannot WAIT.
I'm not kidding; he was born to be an old man.
(not that I think 30 is old)
I remember his 23rd birthday when I made him cookies. That's back when I thought 23 was old. I don't know if I really think anything is old anymore.
But the point of this blog isn't to talk about age or to be overly nostalgic. It is to plainly say that the last 8.5 years of my life have been increasingly blessed by Andrew Pritchett. I guess it's a toast, of sorts, to my husband.
When we were "just friends," he was fun, loyal, and dependable. Now, he is those things and more. He daily fulfills Ephesians 5 and the vows he made on our wedding day.
"Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her..."
Andrew isn't perfect, but he is such a wonderful example of this command.
He gives himself up for me every morning when he goes to work and provides for us.
He gives himself up for me when I'm sick and look awful and he holds me and tells me I'm not gross -that, in fact, I am his wife and I am beautiful.
He gives himself up for me when the day is over and I'm exhausted and I still have dishes to do, but he sends me to bed and does them for me.
He gives himself up for me when I'm acting in sin and he patiently points me back to the Gospel.
He gives himself up for me when he acts in sin but humbly repents and asks my forgiveness.
He gives himself up for me when I'm sad and he gets up from his pile of papers and books to hold me.
He gives himself up for me when he comes home and sits with me on the couch and we're just together.
He gives himself up for me on Jamocha day at Goodberry's when he tells me to go get myself some frozen custard just because I love it.
He gives himself up for me when he watches basketball for the entire month of March with me even though he really doesn't like it that much.
He gives himself up for me when he cares for Bram so I can go have coffee and read a book in peace.
The list could go on...
So, 90 days before your 30th, I want to raise a glass to my friend and wonderful husband.
I love you.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Remember the waiting mamas & daddies
This blog has been a long, long time coming. As of today, it's been about 2 1/2 years in the making.
Before you keep reading, please don't read this and feel sorry for me or anyone. Just read it, and if necessary, make changes in your life to be more sensitive.
In December 2010, Andrew & I lost our first baby. Many, many of you don't know this. We don't know how long I was pregnant - probably not long, because of my hormone levels. We were shocked by our pregnancy (only having been married 5 months at that point and planning to wait several years for children) but also really grateful for the life that was growing inside of me. We told our parents, best friends, and that was about it. I was bleeding so we wanted that to settle down before we started making any big announcements. It didn't settle down. I was in ER one day after we confirmed the pregnancy. They were pretty sure I was miscarrying the baby but sent me home to rest for a day before we would know for sure. The doctors confirmed it 2 days later. 2 days before Christmas. God poured grace upon grace on us that Christmas. Andrew & I spent it alone in our sweet little apartment. We cried together, and we grew closer. It snowed late that night, meaning Andrew had one more day off of work and could stay to support me. Like I said, grace upon grace.
I am sharing this for two reasons. Reason #1 is because after losing our baby, it seemed to me that most people around me had an easy time with pregnancy. The more I've been open with people about my miscarriage, the more I've found that to be untrue, and the more comfort I've been able to offer to and receive from other women.
Reason #2 is my main reason for this post. We, as a culture, need to be more sensitive in this specific area.
Losing our baby was the hardest thing we've experienced. We wouldn't wish it on our worst enemy. Unfortunately, the pain of miscarriage, infertility, or just waiting a lot longer than expected for children has been experienced by many of our dear friends. But I'm not writing this so anyone can feel sorry for me or my friends. I'm writing it because in the social-media/technology crazy world we live in, it is easier than ever to be insensitive to people - in this case, waiting mamas (and daddies -I write about mamas most because Mother's Day is coming up and because I'm a girl, so I track with the emotions of mamas more easily).
Whether she's a woman who lost a baby, who is dealing with infertility, who is waiting for her spouse to be ready, who is waiting for a spouse so they can one day have a family together, or who is waiting to adopt a baby, you know her. You may not realize you know her, but even if we just consider miscarriages alone, 1 in 4 pregnancies ends this way -- With a crushed hope, and a waiting mama. And unfortunately, facebook and social media in general is brutal to these women. Every other person seems to be having a baby and posting pictures. There's nothing wrong with that. During my pregnancy with Bram, we posted pictures - for friends and family far away. We should celebrate together, through the pain of waiting and loss. But here's what makes it hard, sometimes impossible, for the waiting mama to celebrate: complaining & careless comments.
Parenthood is hard. From the morning sickness to the nasty diapers to the stomach bug (which poor Bram is dealing with today), it truly is hard. But more than that, it's a treasure. It is so very, very rewarding. For mamas (and daddies) who have their babies here to hug and kiss, don't take that for granted. Don't post that status about how you "just wish this pregnancy would be over already so you wouldn't feel so sick." Hundreds of women would throw up every minute if they had to in order to bear a child. Don't post that complaint about how your child is acting today. So many women wish they had a child - even a child who didn't always behave.
For women (or men) who can't imagine being parents or wanting kids at all, try to at least imagine losing something you hold dear - something you always hoped for and dreamed of, not coming to fruition. Then, remember that's how it is for some of your friends who are waiting for children. And be sensitive to them. Don't ask when they're going to start having kids - maybe they've been trying for years. Or maybe the reason they tried to get pregnant so soon after getting married is because their chances for conception were low. Don't mock. Don't make motherhood or parenthood sound like the end of someone's life. When I was pregnant with Bram, several people made comments like "better you than me" or "he wasn't planned, was he?" or "watch out - you'll never sleep again." Little did they know, we treasured every day of my pregnancy and were simply grateful that Bram was healthy. I'm not mad or bitter at these people, but I've used the painful comments to remind myself to be more sensitive.
Obviously, we have to have grace when people say hurtful things unknowingly; however, wouldn't it be great if we could comfort one another rather than giving our friends one more comment to pour grace on. Rather than being the next pregnant friend on facebook that a waiting mama has to unfriend because of your constant complaints, why not be the sensitive friend who helps heal the wounds by being thankful - not bragging, just being thankful? Rather than faking a pregnancy for a good April Fools joke, pray for people who would never joke about pregnancy because the pain is too real. Or, if you're the older friend who never experienced difficulty in bearing children, be aware & sensitive enough to be gentle in your comments and not to ask prodding questions of a young couple about when they will start trying for their first or next child. Maybe they already are and are waiting.
I know I don't always get this right - even as someone who has lost a child. I'm sure I've said something hurtful to a waiting parent at some point. But if we make it our goal to be sensitive, to have a spirit of thankfulness for the children we have, a heart that treasures children (whether our own or not), and a spirit of support for the parents we know, fewer hurtful comments will need grace poured on them.
So, as Mother's Day weekend approaches, I'm praying for waiting mamas and daddies. Pray with me, and make an effort to be more sensitive, more caring in your comments - on social media or in-person.
Oh - and if you're going to be leading any kind of gathering at which mothers will be honored, be careful. Read this: http://messymiddle.wordpress.com/2012/05/10/an-open-letter-to-pastors-a-non-mom-speaks-about-mothers-day/
Before you keep reading, please don't read this and feel sorry for me or anyone. Just read it, and if necessary, make changes in your life to be more sensitive.
In December 2010, Andrew & I lost our first baby. Many, many of you don't know this. We don't know how long I was pregnant - probably not long, because of my hormone levels. We were shocked by our pregnancy (only having been married 5 months at that point and planning to wait several years for children) but also really grateful for the life that was growing inside of me. We told our parents, best friends, and that was about it. I was bleeding so we wanted that to settle down before we started making any big announcements. It didn't settle down. I was in ER one day after we confirmed the pregnancy. They were pretty sure I was miscarrying the baby but sent me home to rest for a day before we would know for sure. The doctors confirmed it 2 days later. 2 days before Christmas. God poured grace upon grace on us that Christmas. Andrew & I spent it alone in our sweet little apartment. We cried together, and we grew closer. It snowed late that night, meaning Andrew had one more day off of work and could stay to support me. Like I said, grace upon grace.
I am sharing this for two reasons. Reason #1 is because after losing our baby, it seemed to me that most people around me had an easy time with pregnancy. The more I've been open with people about my miscarriage, the more I've found that to be untrue, and the more comfort I've been able to offer to and receive from other women.
Reason #2 is my main reason for this post. We, as a culture, need to be more sensitive in this specific area.
Losing our baby was the hardest thing we've experienced. We wouldn't wish it on our worst enemy. Unfortunately, the pain of miscarriage, infertility, or just waiting a lot longer than expected for children has been experienced by many of our dear friends. But I'm not writing this so anyone can feel sorry for me or my friends. I'm writing it because in the social-media/technology crazy world we live in, it is easier than ever to be insensitive to people - in this case, waiting mamas (and daddies -I write about mamas most because Mother's Day is coming up and because I'm a girl, so I track with the emotions of mamas more easily).
Whether she's a woman who lost a baby, who is dealing with infertility, who is waiting for her spouse to be ready, who is waiting for a spouse so they can one day have a family together, or who is waiting to adopt a baby, you know her. You may not realize you know her, but even if we just consider miscarriages alone, 1 in 4 pregnancies ends this way -- With a crushed hope, and a waiting mama. And unfortunately, facebook and social media in general is brutal to these women. Every other person seems to be having a baby and posting pictures. There's nothing wrong with that. During my pregnancy with Bram, we posted pictures - for friends and family far away. We should celebrate together, through the pain of waiting and loss. But here's what makes it hard, sometimes impossible, for the waiting mama to celebrate: complaining & careless comments.
Parenthood is hard. From the morning sickness to the nasty diapers to the stomach bug (which poor Bram is dealing with today), it truly is hard. But more than that, it's a treasure. It is so very, very rewarding. For mamas (and daddies) who have their babies here to hug and kiss, don't take that for granted. Don't post that status about how you "just wish this pregnancy would be over already so you wouldn't feel so sick." Hundreds of women would throw up every minute if they had to in order to bear a child. Don't post that complaint about how your child is acting today. So many women wish they had a child - even a child who didn't always behave.
For women (or men) who can't imagine being parents or wanting kids at all, try to at least imagine losing something you hold dear - something you always hoped for and dreamed of, not coming to fruition. Then, remember that's how it is for some of your friends who are waiting for children. And be sensitive to them. Don't ask when they're going to start having kids - maybe they've been trying for years. Or maybe the reason they tried to get pregnant so soon after getting married is because their chances for conception were low. Don't mock. Don't make motherhood or parenthood sound like the end of someone's life. When I was pregnant with Bram, several people made comments like "better you than me" or "he wasn't planned, was he?" or "watch out - you'll never sleep again." Little did they know, we treasured every day of my pregnancy and were simply grateful that Bram was healthy. I'm not mad or bitter at these people, but I've used the painful comments to remind myself to be more sensitive.
Obviously, we have to have grace when people say hurtful things unknowingly; however, wouldn't it be great if we could comfort one another rather than giving our friends one more comment to pour grace on. Rather than being the next pregnant friend on facebook that a waiting mama has to unfriend because of your constant complaints, why not be the sensitive friend who helps heal the wounds by being thankful - not bragging, just being thankful? Rather than faking a pregnancy for a good April Fools joke, pray for people who would never joke about pregnancy because the pain is too real. Or, if you're the older friend who never experienced difficulty in bearing children, be aware & sensitive enough to be gentle in your comments and not to ask prodding questions of a young couple about when they will start trying for their first or next child. Maybe they already are and are waiting.
I know I don't always get this right - even as someone who has lost a child. I'm sure I've said something hurtful to a waiting parent at some point. But if we make it our goal to be sensitive, to have a spirit of thankfulness for the children we have, a heart that treasures children (whether our own or not), and a spirit of support for the parents we know, fewer hurtful comments will need grace poured on them.
So, as Mother's Day weekend approaches, I'm praying for waiting mamas and daddies. Pray with me, and make an effort to be more sensitive, more caring in your comments - on social media or in-person.
Oh - and if you're going to be leading any kind of gathering at which mothers will be honored, be careful. Read this: http://messymiddle.wordpress.com/2012/05/10/an-open-letter-to-pastors-a-non-mom-speaks-about-mothers-day/
Monday, September 24, 2012
Fall...
I've decided it's my favorite season. Spring is supposed to be the season of beginnings, and it is. But Fall also has its beginnings, and I love them.
Fall is the beginning of football season. For many wives, this is a "pause" on time spent with their hubby. For Andrew and I, it's one more common interest we share. I love the anticipations of waiting for the game on Saturday almost as much as the game itself. Please note, I did say almost. I also love the anticipation of waiting for the rankings to be posted. Unless we (MSU) lost on Saturday. Then, I dread the rankings. Fortunately, this week we won and moved up one spot.
Fall is the beginning of things that smell and taste wonderful:
Apples. Apple pie. Apple picking. Apple cake. Apple dumplings. I'm going home to Greenville this weekend, and if my mom makes apple dumplings, I will die of happiness.
Pumpkin spice lattes and everything else "pumpkin-y". I currently have pumpkin spice soap in my kitchen and apple pie soap in my downstairs bathroom. When you come to my house, find a reason to wash your hands. The festive smell is wonderful.
Leaves and the smell of burning them. It's refreshing. I don't know why, but it is. It also makes me nostalgic, because I spent many fall days in Michigan raking leaves with my brothers who now live states away from me.
Fall is the beginning of a new routine. I've always been a sucker for routines. Because school starts back, everyone and everything settle into new routines. I like the predictability of that.
This one is the best one, so brace yourself. Fall is the beginning of the holiday season. I include Halloween in this because Andrew really likes spooky things. During the month of October, I can count on him to sing "The Ghost of John" and try to spook me in every silly way he can think of. I sincerely hate being scared, but being spooked is a bit different. It's silly, and I secretly like that. Don't tell him. That would take some of the fun out of October.
October also contains Andrew's birthday. I love birthdays, so that's almost a holiday as well.
Thanksgiving and Christmas. I should just leave it at that, because they really need no explanation. However, my favorite thing about Thanksgiving is that it anticipates Christmas. I love that for the entire month of December, I am reminded of how Christ came to earth into humble circumstances to live a perfect life and die the death that would give me life. I love that.
Fall is also the beginning of super fun festive decorations. Mine this year cost me $20 in the target dollar aisle. Here they are:
Fall is the beginning of football season. For many wives, this is a "pause" on time spent with their hubby. For Andrew and I, it's one more common interest we share. I love the anticipations of waiting for the game on Saturday almost as much as the game itself. Please note, I did say almost. I also love the anticipation of waiting for the rankings to be posted. Unless we (MSU) lost on Saturday. Then, I dread the rankings. Fortunately, this week we won and moved up one spot.
Fall is the beginning of things that smell and taste wonderful:
Apples. Apple pie. Apple picking. Apple cake. Apple dumplings. I'm going home to Greenville this weekend, and if my mom makes apple dumplings, I will die of happiness.
Pumpkin spice lattes and everything else "pumpkin-y". I currently have pumpkin spice soap in my kitchen and apple pie soap in my downstairs bathroom. When you come to my house, find a reason to wash your hands. The festive smell is wonderful.
Leaves and the smell of burning them. It's refreshing. I don't know why, but it is. It also makes me nostalgic, because I spent many fall days in Michigan raking leaves with my brothers who now live states away from me.
Fall is the beginning of a new routine. I've always been a sucker for routines. Because school starts back, everyone and everything settle into new routines. I like the predictability of that.
This one is the best one, so brace yourself. Fall is the beginning of the holiday season. I include Halloween in this because Andrew really likes spooky things. During the month of October, I can count on him to sing "The Ghost of John" and try to spook me in every silly way he can think of. I sincerely hate being scared, but being spooked is a bit different. It's silly, and I secretly like that. Don't tell him. That would take some of the fun out of October.
October also contains Andrew's birthday. I love birthdays, so that's almost a holiday as well.
Thanksgiving and Christmas. I should just leave it at that, because they really need no explanation. However, my favorite thing about Thanksgiving is that it anticipates Christmas. I love that for the entire month of December, I am reminded of how Christ came to earth into humble circumstances to live a perfect life and die the death that would give me life. I love that.
Fall is also the beginning of super fun festive decorations. Mine this year cost me $20 in the target dollar aisle. Here they are:
The mantle with fun fall additions
The front door wreath I made
The steps - with my white pumpkin that I adore
My totally unimpressed boy. He really likes the pumpkins, actually. Don't let the snarl fool you.
The kitchen table - I love when I have a centerpiece.
That - all those rambling reasons - is why I love fall the best.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Caramel Apple Pie
With Bram making our lives interesting and wonderful these days, I
should probably start blogging again anyway, so I'll post the apple pie
recipe from Saturday here. Saturdays in the fall are wonderful. There's
football and tasty spiced things to make. I really like it when my
Saturday looks something like this:
This pie is NOT low-fat, low-sugar, or anything remotely resembling healthy, so plan accordingly... maybe eat only veggies the day before or after :) It is, however, my favorite pie. It also is quite time-consuming to make. Plan 1 hr to assemble (if you're not interrupted by kids, pets, football games, etc) and some clean-up time after to scrub off the caramel-apple juices from your pans. It takes some effort - maybe recruit someone else to do this for you. I don't love clean up. I just love baking and eating.
For those of you who are visual, here's your goal:
So good. There really are no words, so I won't try.
Caramel Apple Pie:
Crust: (you can use ready made crust-with top & bottom-, but I think this recipe is so much more wonderful - and you know all the ingredients in it! No preservatives with weird names you can't pronounce!)
Into 3 cups all purpose flour, cut 1&1/4 cup plus 1Tbsp Crisco (vegetable shortening)
IN A SEPARATE BOWL: mix 1 egg, 1 tsp. salt, 1 tsp apple cider vinegar, and 5 Tbsp water
Add to flour mixture and mix well with a fork (I usually end up finishing the mixing with my hands.
Create 4 balls with the dough. You have enough for 2 pies, so I usually freeze 2 of the dough balls for later.
Roll out the bottom crust and shape into the bottom of your 9-inch pie pan. Roll out the top and save it for later.
Filling:
6-7 cups apple (mixture of tart and sweet works best: granny smith or golden delicious and empire is a good mixture)
1/2 C packed light brown sugar
1/2 C white sugar
1/4 C all-purpose flour
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
4 Tbsp heavy cream
4 Tbsp butter
Crumble Topping: (yes, this pie has a crumble topping AND a top crust. sinful.)
1/2 C all-purpose flour
3 Tablespoons sugar
1 Tablespoon butter
24 Werthers Original Hard Caramel Candies (crushed - with a mallet or whatever you want)
Preheat oven to 450 degrees
Make filling:
Peel and slice apples.
Combine dry ingredients in a large bowl and add apples. Toss to mix.
Add vanilla and cream to apple mixture and mix well.
Melt butter in a large skillet.
Add apple mixture to the skillet and cook approx. 8 minutes until apples are a bit softened (5 minutes usually does it for me).
Turn mixture into pie shell.
Make crumble topping:
Combine the flour and sugar.
Mix in butter with fork until coarse crumbs form.
Stir in the crushed Werthers.
Sprinkle over the pie.
Add top crust. Seal & flute edge and vent top. Brush top with beaten egg white or a bit of milk and sprinkle with sugar.
Bake at 450 for 10-15 minutes on middle rack (until top is golden). Then, reduce heat to 350, lay a piece of foil on top of pie, and continue baking for 35-45 minutes longer. (Set your timer for 30 minutes and then check with a fork to see if the apples are softened. 30-35 minutes is enough in my oven. If you like your apples to be mush, 45 minutes might work fine, but I like mine to be soft while still holding their shape.)
I have started placing my pie pan on a baking sheet about halfway through the cooking time because my juices run over into my oven sometimes. If you use fewer apples, this may not be a problem for you, but I like to pack mine full of apples.
Seriously, seriously yummy. I'm glad it's a bit of a process to make or I might make it too often :)
Enjoy!
This pie is NOT low-fat, low-sugar, or anything remotely resembling healthy, so plan accordingly... maybe eat only veggies the day before or after :) It is, however, my favorite pie. It also is quite time-consuming to make. Plan 1 hr to assemble (if you're not interrupted by kids, pets, football games, etc) and some clean-up time after to scrub off the caramel-apple juices from your pans. It takes some effort - maybe recruit someone else to do this for you. I don't love clean up. I just love baking and eating.
For those of you who are visual, here's your goal:
Caramel Apple Pie:
Crust: (you can use ready made crust-with top & bottom-, but I think this recipe is so much more wonderful - and you know all the ingredients in it! No preservatives with weird names you can't pronounce!)
Into 3 cups all purpose flour, cut 1&1/4 cup plus 1Tbsp Crisco (vegetable shortening)
IN A SEPARATE BOWL: mix 1 egg, 1 tsp. salt, 1 tsp apple cider vinegar, and 5 Tbsp water
Add to flour mixture and mix well with a fork (I usually end up finishing the mixing with my hands.
Create 4 balls with the dough. You have enough for 2 pies, so I usually freeze 2 of the dough balls for later.
Roll out the bottom crust and shape into the bottom of your 9-inch pie pan. Roll out the top and save it for later.
Filling:
6-7 cups apple (mixture of tart and sweet works best: granny smith or golden delicious and empire is a good mixture)
1/2 C packed light brown sugar
1/2 C white sugar
1/4 C all-purpose flour
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
4 Tbsp heavy cream
4 Tbsp butter
Crumble Topping: (yes, this pie has a crumble topping AND a top crust. sinful.)
1/2 C all-purpose flour
3 Tablespoons sugar
1 Tablespoon butter
24 Werthers Original Hard Caramel Candies (crushed - with a mallet or whatever you want)
Preheat oven to 450 degrees
Make filling:
Peel and slice apples.
Combine dry ingredients in a large bowl and add apples. Toss to mix.
Add vanilla and cream to apple mixture and mix well.
Melt butter in a large skillet.
Add apple mixture to the skillet and cook approx. 8 minutes until apples are a bit softened (5 minutes usually does it for me).
Turn mixture into pie shell.
Make crumble topping:
Combine the flour and sugar.
Mix in butter with fork until coarse crumbs form.
Stir in the crushed Werthers.
Sprinkle over the pie.
Add top crust. Seal & flute edge and vent top. Brush top with beaten egg white or a bit of milk and sprinkle with sugar.
Bake at 450 for 10-15 minutes on middle rack (until top is golden). Then, reduce heat to 350, lay a piece of foil on top of pie, and continue baking for 35-45 minutes longer. (Set your timer for 30 minutes and then check with a fork to see if the apples are softened. 30-35 minutes is enough in my oven. If you like your apples to be mush, 45 minutes might work fine, but I like mine to be soft while still holding their shape.)
I have started placing my pie pan on a baking sheet about halfway through the cooking time because my juices run over into my oven sometimes. If you use fewer apples, this may not be a problem for you, but I like to pack mine full of apples.
Seriously, seriously yummy. I'm glad it's a bit of a process to make or I might make it too often :)
Enjoy!
Friday, April 8, 2011
Pink Lemonade
For the past week or so, Andrew and I have had an on and off discussion over whether or not Pink Lemonade is pink because of the flavor or just because of food coloring. Yesterday he told me a story about how pink lemonade originated because someone accidentally used water that was dyed red for their lemonade. Maybe so, but I think most pink lemonade tastes better than regular lemonade. (My brother, Nathan, makes a good point that some is probably flavored and some is probably dyed.) Regardless, in my mind, Pink Lemonade will always be better than other lemonade. Chick fil A lemonade is the only yellow lemonade I like. Yes, this is ridiculous, but it's how I function. It's similar to my unreasonable love for things that are purple.
Today, I left a very stressful/busy week of work and drove through the lovely neighborhood toward the grocery store. I looked ahead to my left, and there were two cute 8ish-year-old little girls who were literally screaming "lemonaaaaade!!!" at the top of their lungs. What else could I do? I turned my car around as soon as I could and went and bought a 4 oz. cup of lemonade. The going rate was twenty-five cents; I gave them a dollar for being so dang cute. (I'm a sucker for cute little 8ish-year-old girls, because I miss my baby sister so much.)
I almost didn't stop. I stopped for two main reasons:
1. I love pink lemonade.
2. I wanted to contribute to the development of these little girls' entrepreneurial spirits, because once upon a time...
Eric, Kelly, and Nathan Sundt were very small children. We were probably 10, 8, & 6 or something like that. We had so many things we needed. I'm sure I needed dolls, barbies, purple things (I still need purple things), hats, and cool clothes. Eric and Nathan probably needed basketball cards, legos, and other weird boy things. We didn't live on a busy street, so a lemonade stand would not have been profitable. We were smarter than that (or maybe our mom informed us). So what could we do? We needed these things, and we had no money.
We had soil. In the soil there were worms. There was a lake up the road with plenty of fishermen who needed tackle. Oh, yes we did. We dug and dug in our backyard for hours until we had thousands of slimy, wonderful worms that would surely make us millionaires. Our parents are so cool. They drove us to the lake to sell our worms. I have no idea if we even made a dime, but I love this memory. I love that I have brothers that sat in the dirt with me to dig up worms. I'm grateful for parents who taught me to work hard for the things I "needed" and who encouraged my entrepreneurial spirit by driving me to the lake to sell gross, slimy worms.
Now, I still have an entrepreneurial spirit; lately, I really want to start my own bakery or maybe just enter my baked goods in a fair someday. It's fun to dream...
Today, I left a very stressful/busy week of work and drove through the lovely neighborhood toward the grocery store. I looked ahead to my left, and there were two cute 8ish-year-old little girls who were literally screaming "lemonaaaaade!!!" at the top of their lungs. What else could I do? I turned my car around as soon as I could and went and bought a 4 oz. cup of lemonade. The going rate was twenty-five cents; I gave them a dollar for being so dang cute. (I'm a sucker for cute little 8ish-year-old girls, because I miss my baby sister so much.)
I almost didn't stop. I stopped for two main reasons:
1. I love pink lemonade.
2. I wanted to contribute to the development of these little girls' entrepreneurial spirits, because once upon a time...
Eric, Kelly, and Nathan Sundt were very small children. We were probably 10, 8, & 6 or something like that. We had so many things we needed. I'm sure I needed dolls, barbies, purple things (I still need purple things), hats, and cool clothes. Eric and Nathan probably needed basketball cards, legos, and other weird boy things. We didn't live on a busy street, so a lemonade stand would not have been profitable. We were smarter than that (or maybe our mom informed us). So what could we do? We needed these things, and we had no money.
We had soil. In the soil there were worms. There was a lake up the road with plenty of fishermen who needed tackle. Oh, yes we did. We dug and dug in our backyard for hours until we had thousands of slimy, wonderful worms that would surely make us millionaires. Our parents are so cool. They drove us to the lake to sell our worms. I have no idea if we even made a dime, but I love this memory. I love that I have brothers that sat in the dirt with me to dig up worms. I'm grateful for parents who taught me to work hard for the things I "needed" and who encouraged my entrepreneurial spirit by driving me to the lake to sell gross, slimy worms.
Now, I still have an entrepreneurial spirit; lately, I really want to start my own bakery or maybe just enter my baked goods in a fair someday. It's fun to dream...
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Friday, Friday, Friday
My husband thinks this video has changed his life.
So he sings "Friday." All. the. time.
This morning this is how he woke me up:
Andrew: "Ta-day is Fri-day..."
me: "Noooo. It's not." **groaning and rolling over to go back to sleep**
I would like to point out that whoever wrote this song clearly is a lyrical genius, because they took the same basic tune to Justin Beiber's "Baby", changed it up a little (still including the guest rapper) and made the tune LESS catchy, but it still went viral on youtube. It must be lyrics like "front seat, back seat, which seat will I take?!" that has the nation screaming for more of Rebecca Black's wonderful song.
While I'm being cynical about the state of current teen pop, I'd like to point out that "baby, baby, baby like woah!" aren't the most genius lyrics either.
Now, to the point Andrew made about this song yesterday... Can you imagine what the majority of the world would think of this song? She's got a pretty tough decision to make there -- front seat, back seat... that's rough. I shouldn't think about this too long though, or I might get convicted about how I sometimes think my life is so hard when people are suffering everywhere... yeah. I can be pretty selfish sometimes too. I'm learning to actually pray consistently over the suffering of others. This morning (even while I'm typing this) I have been convicted that I don't do this enough. I pray once or twice for those affected by natural disasters or diseases. Day-to-day though, I tend to focus on prayer and discussions that revolve around me and my friends. I pray for missionaries, but mostly just those that I know really well. I say I have a heart for the whole world, but do I really? May God work this in me.
Anyway, I need to get ready to go car hunt. I'll probably sit in the front seat, in case you're wondering. We found a couple cars that we like.
We we we... we so excited.
Happy Saturday.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
I'm not great at blogging yet
So, this month has been nuts. Tomorrow is April. I really can't believe it. I know, I know, now I sound like an old person. Sometimes it really does fly though. This month I had the distinct privilege of taking a vacation with the one and only Becca Bonas. It was a great best friend trip. There's really nothing quite like it. It was a gift from God for sure. I needed to sit on a dock in the middle of the intercoastal waterway drinking an Izze and listening to the birds and waves. I needed to look out on the ocean, so much greater than I can imagine and be reminded that God created more water and land than I can imagine. He created the tides; I have no idea how tides work (ok, I have an IDEA because I learned it in 4th grade science class. but c'mon, how many of us cared how the tides worked back then? I didn't. I just wanted to go to recess). I needed to go on a ridiculously long barefoot walk down to a pier that we ultimately weren't allowed to walk out on and make a great memory of sandy, blistery feet and whiny best friends. I needed to talk about how I'm wrong sometimes, how grief is longer and worse than you want it to be, and how anger is an expression of a deeper, underlying emotion. I'm blessed.
I'm also grateful for my husband. Andrew went to a pastoral training conference a couple weekends ago (hence my trip to the beach with Bec). We were apart for 5 days. Super, super weird. It was refreshing in a sense to be reminded of all the reasons I'm grateful for him. He keeps me laughing all the time and lets me cry when I need to. He prays with me. He makes time for me amidst a busy school and work schedule. I'm grateful for these things.
Andrew also likes to turn P90X yoga into Kung Fu. I'm grateful for that too; it helps me not to take myself too seriously. Here's an excerpt from our workout:
*Andrew & I are both trying to balance in ridiculous positions*
Andrew: "hiyaaaah!" "waaah!"
Kelly: "ha! you're crazy. what are you doing?"
*the P90X man tells us to move into the "Crane" stance*
Andrew: "Ooh, THE CRANE"
We both look and see what "the crane" is (a balancing act in which you place your hands on the ground and balance your knees on your bent elbows).
Andrew: "What?! I thought it was gonna be crazy Kung Fu Crane!"
I proceed to try "the crane"
Andrew: "look at my awesome kung fu wife!"
I married the most ridiculous man. He keeps me entertained.
So, there ya go. Really random March post. I promise April will bring more frequent, and therefore shorter, posts.
I'm also grateful for my husband. Andrew went to a pastoral training conference a couple weekends ago (hence my trip to the beach with Bec). We were apart for 5 days. Super, super weird. It was refreshing in a sense to be reminded of all the reasons I'm grateful for him. He keeps me laughing all the time and lets me cry when I need to. He prays with me. He makes time for me amidst a busy school and work schedule. I'm grateful for these things.
Andrew also likes to turn P90X yoga into Kung Fu. I'm grateful for that too; it helps me not to take myself too seriously. Here's an excerpt from our workout:
*Andrew & I are both trying to balance in ridiculous positions*
Andrew: "hiyaaaah!" "waaah!"
Kelly: "ha! you're crazy. what are you doing?"
*the P90X man tells us to move into the "Crane" stance*
Andrew: "Ooh, THE CRANE"
We both look and see what "the crane" is (a balancing act in which you place your hands on the ground and balance your knees on your bent elbows).
Andrew: "What?! I thought it was gonna be crazy Kung Fu Crane!"
I proceed to try "the crane"
Andrew: "look at my awesome kung fu wife!"
I married the most ridiculous man. He keeps me entertained.
So, there ya go. Really random March post. I promise April will bring more frequent, and therefore shorter, posts.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Inspiration and P90X
This is officially my first blog post since I stopped posting on xanga a billion years ago. That's right, people, xanga. Ah, the memories.
Thank you to Elise McClelland for inspiring me to blog again. You're a good friend, and I love reading about how much you love your little family and the more raw things you share as well.
I'm going to keep this post light and quick, partially because it's my first post, and partially because I'm exhausted from 2 days of P90X. Andrew and I have begun the workout and are dedicated to finishing at least 90 days of it. I love to run. Andrew likes to run. However, I broke my foot last year, as some of you may recall, and need a way to cross-train so I'm not killing my foot with high impact 7 days a week. Andrew needs a way to cross-train indoors while it's cold outside in order to prevent asthma issues. The generous couple we live with purchased P90X and told us we were free to use it whenever we wanted. Therefore, we've chosen death by P90X. We started with Plyometrics; apparently this is "the mother of all the workouts." Our legs are pretty wobbly after 2 days of Plyo. We probably should have started with something else. Oh, well. On to the arms and shoulders workout tomorrow.
I do genuinely enjoy working out with Andrew. He's encouraging, and he's not intimidating. He also is good at making me actually wake up on time to work out. I'm thankful for him.
I've got some thoughts I want to get out about Ephesians and authority, as well as women's ministry. That's all soon to come.
Thank you to Elise McClelland for inspiring me to blog again. You're a good friend, and I love reading about how much you love your little family and the more raw things you share as well.
I'm going to keep this post light and quick, partially because it's my first post, and partially because I'm exhausted from 2 days of P90X. Andrew and I have begun the workout and are dedicated to finishing at least 90 days of it. I love to run. Andrew likes to run. However, I broke my foot last year, as some of you may recall, and need a way to cross-train so I'm not killing my foot with high impact 7 days a week. Andrew needs a way to cross-train indoors while it's cold outside in order to prevent asthma issues. The generous couple we live with purchased P90X and told us we were free to use it whenever we wanted. Therefore, we've chosen death by P90X. We started with Plyometrics; apparently this is "the mother of all the workouts." Our legs are pretty wobbly after 2 days of Plyo. We probably should have started with something else. Oh, well. On to the arms and shoulders workout tomorrow.
I do genuinely enjoy working out with Andrew. He's encouraging, and he's not intimidating. He also is good at making me actually wake up on time to work out. I'm thankful for him.
I've got some thoughts I want to get out about Ephesians and authority, as well as women's ministry. That's all soon to come.
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