When I first moved to Louisville I never planned on staying. My friend Bethany and I moved here on little more than a whim. It was August of 2002. I had recently graduated from college the previous May and had just landed my first real job. To say I was excited would be an understatement.

It seemed like a fun place, and hey, why not? We were 22, had a new shiny college degree and were ready for an adventure!

Trouble was, after a few months of our VERY! EXCITING! ADVENTURE! I was a bit homesick and frankly, the luster of a new place was wearing off. Annoying things like bills, boys and responsibilities were wearing me down.

Little did I know that God was beginning to do a great work in my heart.

One wonderful thing about moving to a new place and not knowing anyone is that I was truly up for anything. New small group? Sure! Blind date? Of course! Trying out for a play? Certainly! Go on a retreat? Sign me up!

During this period of life when I was new in town and totally unattached I began diving into all things church related. This was the first time ever that I was totally focused on God’s Word and how it applied to my little life. There were no other distractions.

And something happened. Something real. Something beautiful.

I discovered a man named Jesus.

He wasn’t a white guy in a robe or a sickly skinny fella like all the old paintings suggest.

Nope, not at all.

Quite the opposite really.

I discovered the power of His Word, the Bible. I learned that not only does He teach us in the Bible that He is good and kind and loving, but that He’s fair and just. He is mighty to save.

The Sunday School version of Jesus that I always had in my mind was being transformed through the power of the Bible.

And to be honest, this period of my life was really tough.

I was struggling with how this new Jesus that I’d come to know, could ever love and forgive me. I spent many nights awake in tears praying for God to restore my heart to be like His heart. To make me better, more like Him.

In a journal I had during this period I wrote the following around the Easter season…

“The tragic beauty of the cross is almost more than my heart can bear. I feel so broken. So alone. How could you have died for me? How? I really don’t feel like someone very special. Someone worth dying for? No way. Paul talks a lot about grace in Acts and I’m totally baffled by it Lord. I know that you’re God for goodness sake, but I am really struggling with guilt about all the yucky things I’ve done. I’ve hurt people Lord. I don’t want to live in guilt forever, but right now You just seem so big and I’m so small. I’m having a tough time understanding how You want me.”

This was written in March of 2003.

Since then, slowly but surely I have come to understand more about the character of Jesus. Not only His selfless love, but His power. How living under His authority gives me much more freedom than I could ever have living on my own.

I am no theologian, by any stretch of the imagination. There are much smarter and more well read people than me. But I can tell you what I know to be true. In fact, this truth rushes through me and pounds at my veins from the inside out. Like my heart is crying out for something bigger than this earth, something more. It’s like my soul is thirsty and only God can quench the thirst. Ya know? Have you ever felt that way? Like you just need something that this world can’t satisfy?

This truth that I know? My secret?

His name is Jesus. He died for you even though you (or I) am not worth dying for. But He thinks we were. He loves you. Even though you can’t imagine how.

And now? Today we celebrate that He not only died for you but He rose from the dead to live with you forever.

That truth? Well, it changes everything.

Tonight when I laid Bitzy down and told her one last story I said, “Now it’s time for sleep, because in the morning we get to celebrate that Jesus is alive!” And she said in her most innocent, precious 2 year old voice, “Okay Mama. Can He come and visit us now? I would like to meet him He sounds so precious.”

Oh baby, he visits us every day, every minute. And He is precious. The most precious thing that we’ll ever know.

I can’t wait until my babies are old enough to fully understand the meaning of Easter.

Until then, I pray that someday they will understand the purity and beauty of Jesus’ sacrifice.

And I pray that you will too.

“The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; He is risen, just as He said.” Matthew 28: 5-6.

He is Risen indeed.

In an effort to ignore my dirty floors I’m feeling very reflective this Monday morning.

My Bitzy is at her Lolly’s, my baby boy is sleeping soundly and the sun is pouring in through our big beautiful windows. What a perfect way to begin the week.

This weekend we laid low and stuck around the house mostly. Those are the best weekends if you ask me. The ones where memories are made with crafts, playing pretend and snuggles.

In the midst of our beautifully boring weekend there were many tickle sessions. My babies? They love to be tickled. And Zach and I know the very best tickle spots.

That’s the crazy thing about being a parent. We know our babies inside out. We know the tickle spots that will make them chuckle, also the ones that will made them roar with laughter. They have different levels of ticklishness. Have you ever thought about that? That is a very intimate detail about a person. There are friends I have had for years that I have absolutely no idea where they are ticklish. But my babies? I know every last one. I know their favorite foods, toys and how to instantly make them feel better when they have a boo-boo.

I know them. Like, really know them, better than anyone.

I remember being a bratty teenager and my Mama once saying, “I know you better than anyone.” I’m sure that I rolled my eyes and stomped away like the brat that I was, but it’s true. She does. There is something about sharing life together that is so intimate, something that you can’t really put into words. Knowing someone so completely and understanding them is such a gift.

That said, if I know my babies so well and can read them so completely, how much more does God know us?

Luke 12:7 says, “Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered.”

That’s right. God knows how many hairs are on our head. He knows our tickle spots too. And our tears and our sleep patterns and every single cell in our body. He made them after all.

He knit us together in our Mother’s womb (Psalm 139). He loves us with an eternal love (Jeremiah 31:3). He delights and finds joy in us (Zephaniah 3:17). He has counted our tears (Psalm 56:8).

I think that as people we all want to be known. We want to belong to someone, to be important and loved. I know that I do. It gives great pleasure to know that I am loved so completely by my family.

But more so, the greatest gift is being known and loved by my Creator. To grasp that the Creator of the whole wide world loves me. He loves me with all my ugly imperfections. He still loves me the most, more than I could ever imagine.

Of course He does. He’s my Daddy.

And He’s your Daddy too.

That truth can change your life.

The truth that God not only loves you, but knows you inside out.

That beautiful, amazing truth can give peace for the restless, hope for the hopeless, joy for the weary and love for the lonely.

That truth, can change the world.

My prayer for us all is to feel that love today in a very real and intimate way.

“Know that the Lord is God. It is He who made us, and we are His; We are His people.” Psalm 100:3.

Amen and Amen.

Brother: “Hey you, get outta my toy!”

Do you ever look at your life and think you’re dreaming? Do you look at the pictures of your spouse and/or your babies and think that there’s no way that they’re yours?

No? Just me?

As if I needed another confirmation that I am completely crazycakes.

Sometimes at night when all is quiet and the babies are nestled snug in their beds I look at the pictures on the walls and think, “Are those my babies? When did that happen? Could it be?”

You see, they are my dream come true. Really and truly, they are.

The messes and diapers and tantrums and nap strikes and books and hair bows and vomit, are part of that dream. Granted, some of those things aren’t exactly fun, but they are part of the job. And now, at this very moment, I’m living the dream.

Bitzy is currently choosing to jump in her crib shouting “Zoom, Zoom, Zoom” rather than taking a nap, while Brother is sleeping soundly in his crib snuggled with his lovey. As I watch them on the video monitor my heart swells with gratitude.

I have always dreamed of being a Mama, but now that it has come true, it’s almost more than my heart can bear. It’s too wonderful, too amazing. I am simply in awe of how magnificent they are.

When I sit back and really think about the intricacy involved in creating a human being, I am stunned into thankfulness. How God so masterfully knit these beautiful creatures together in my womb and so generously gifted them to Zach and me. We are not worthy of such amazing gifts. But by God’s grace He continues to help us love and care of these babies.

I am humbled by the gift of them, I really am.

Life is so precious, I want to soak them up and memorize them every single day.

Thank you Lord for the gift of my children, You are so good.

Have I mentioned lately how much these two slay me? So freaking precious.

I’d like to introduce you to someone. He is a very special addition to our family these days.

His name is Leonard.

You see, he’s a magic elf.

He has randomly visited our house over past few weeks, dropping off gifts and promises of what’s to come on Christmas morning.

While we’ve never seen him, as he prefers to visit during bedtime/naptime hours, we love him and speak of him fondly.

In fact, every time a certain man in a brown uniform comes to the door Bitzy asks if the boxes are from Leonard. Sometimes they are, and sometimes they are whisked away quickly to Gammy’s room (AKA: Santa’s workshop).

Talking about Leonard and Santa Claus is pure old fashion fun. Bitzy and Brother are still too young (in my humble opinion) for Elf on the Shelf, plus, I’m not so into the naughty/nice part of Santa. I prefer the anticipation of Christmas, the gifts, and the spirit of fun and giving. With all of our talk of Leonard and Santa we’ve been talking much more about how it’s Jesus’ birthday! We’re having Him a party full with balloons, a birthday cake and candles. We’re talking about how the wise men brought presents and that’s why we do too. I’m not sure how much they are actually soaking in, but seeing as how my Bitzy is such a little sponge these days, I’m hoping she’s getting it all.

Since our babies are so young we’re going to celebrate Christmas morning tomorrow, so tonight is our Christmas Eve. I have Jesus’ birthday cake baked, as well as cookies for Santa. We picked out a big round onion for Rudolph to eat too!  All the presents are wrapped and (I think) we’re ready!

So tonight when daddy gets home we’ll decorate the cake, cookies and party it up for baby Jesus. After it’s all done we’ll get cuddled, read the Christmas story of how Jesus was born in a manager and then read The Night Before Christmas.

While all of this has been a lot of work, I’m so overwhelmed and grateful for the opportunity to begin creating traditions and memories for our little family. In fact, today as I was mopping I thought, “We are creating memories for our children that they will always remember and cherish. We are the memory makers.” Tears stung my eyes at this opportunity and responsibility.

More than Leonard or parties or cookies, I want our babies to remember being loved and wanted and wrapped in our arms as we treasured the gift of the baby Jesus.

On this Christmas Eve Eve, may you snuggle close with you family and friends and soak it all up, every single bit of it. Because friends, this life, this beautiful, wonderful, mysterious, fun life is indeed a gift.

I will admit that it’s possible that I’m a bit weepy.

Unfortunately, this weepiness is not a symptom of pregnancy, it’s just part of me.

I would like to say that I reserve my tears for important occasions…like Easter for example.

Friends, Easter makes me weep.

Not a few tears here and there, but ugly crying that results in my so called waterproof mascara running down my face.

Don’t worry, I get that Easter is a happy holiday, full with chocolate, bunnies and most importantly our risen Lord, but the latter is so humbling that floods of tears just cannot be contained.

While it’s uncomfortable blubbering like a lunatic in the middle of church, the reason for the weeping is the cleansing power of Jesus. The weight of His sacrifice and the power of the Resurrection cannot be ignored.

Not only did I exercise my right to cry in church tonight, but earlier today while listening to Carrie Underwood sing, “How Great Thou Art” I transformed into a human waterfall. Holy cow, girl can sing! I’m not the most avid country fan, but man, the tears where flowing.

Wanna watch? Here it is-

The power of the dead coming to life and how in that moment everything changed, is the hinge in which all of creation can rest. The whole world was different from that moment on. Because friends, death could not hold Jesus and life eternal sprang forth. And because of that, we are free! This Truth is too much for me to swallow. It’s too wonderful, too overwhelming…so as I strive to “get it” and to breathe it all in, this verse speaks volumes about who I want to be…

“I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:10-14

He is Risen Friends…He is risen indeed.

Remember all the talk about me moving…ahem, or perhaps all the whining.

It’s true. I hate moving with a hate that will never die.

But now, we’re all moved in and the drama has ceased. I guess you could say that we’re finally settled.

We painted every room in the house (except the Master Bath) and did tons of cosmetic/decorating work. Fortunately, there wasn’t a ton of mechanical issues with the house so we got to skip all of that!

We also have an unfinished basement that is already plumbed and framed and we’re hoping to finish it this winter…but that’s a whole ‘nother Oprah.

Anyhow, we feel so incredibly blessed to live in this house and still are in awe that God has blessed us so lavishly.

(I don’t know why we continue to be surprised by God’s extravagant blessings…He is our Father and Provider after all).

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.  You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:11-13

We had our old house on the market off and on for nearly 2 years and it simply wasn’t the right time. So many nights Zach and I would lie in bed in utter confusion that God wouldn’t let us move.  We felt that we were “doing all the right” things, but still, God continued to say “NO!” Don’t get me wrong, we had a great townhouse that was sufficient and certainly provided a roof over our heads…but we really wanted a house with a yard.

Now, in hindsight we see that God had gone before and prepared the way to give His best…and He has.  We are so, so, so blessed.

Anyway, many of you have asked for pictures…so here they are!!!!

Welcome to our home!

Master Bedroom! This room is at least twice as big as our old bedroom. We LOVE IT.

Master Bath. Isn’t it amazing? It’s heavenly.

Our Kitchen. At our old house we literally had 5 cabinets. It was a wreck. Look at all this space! It’s dreamy!

Downstairs Half Bath.  This bath is right beside the living room and kitchen. Very convenient for this preggers lady.

Great Room. We love this room! We have tons of seating for friends and family…but mostly I love the color!

Guest Room. This room is dedicated to my home people in NC. It reminds me of home.

Upstairs Bathroom. In our old house we only had 1 full bath so having guests made life a bit crowded. It’s so wonderful to have 2!!!!

Sweet New Baby Boys Nursery! It’s finally finished! Yay!!!

My sweet Bitzy’s room! We kept her room almost identical to our other house so that she didn’t get freaked out/confused. Lord knows that we don’t need any more sleep issues!!!

Bitzy’s Closet/Playroom. Can you believe this closet? What a dream!!! She’ll really love it when she’s 16!

And now my favorite room in the house!!! Our dining room! This room has been a labor of love!!!

As I sit at my Mama’s house examining the overflow of stockings on the fireplace and searching for a place to sit in the sea of my siblings, toys, my squealing baby girl, and friends, I am overwhelmed at the tangible blessings in front of my eyes.

Family.

Life.

Health.

Love.

But mostly I am thankful for a tiny baby King named Jesus.  The One who brings us all together in His name, the One who calls us to remember how He came from His heavenly throne in heaven to experience life just as we do.

He didn’t have to ya know? It wasn’t on His bucket list or anything. When you’re the Son of God, things like crazy adventures, road trips and long walks down the beach aren’t quite as magical when you experience them as a human rather than as Creator. It’s not like leaving a perfect paradise of heaven for a sinful and selfish earthly home would be pleasant.

But still, He came.

He came as a tiny baby in a manager to a mommy that wasn’t old enough to have a drivers license, much less be a mother.

There wasn’t a parade welcoming the King of the universe into the world.

No trumpets.

No carriages.

No flags.

Nope. None of that.

Just a teenager and her fiancee meeting their Creator wrapped in swaddling clothes.

I wonder if as Mary held her newborn son that she considered how His birth would be the timetable in which all of history is set? Or if she realized that although He came to earth in such humility that He would come back in such a glorious fashion that every single knee will bow and every tongue confess that He is Lord?

Did she know that the tiny baby that was pressed against her chest would eventually be pierced for her own sins?

Did she know how her heart would break?

Could she imagine how much one person could bring such joy, but such heartache?

I hope not.

I hope that as Mary caressed the cheek of her son, that she memorized the lines on His face. That she ran her young finger up and down His tiny legs and arms and tickled His baby feet. That she rocked Him and whispered how much she loved Him.

That she breathed Him in and lived in that very moment. Not the past or the future, just the present.

So in honor of Mary and her sweet baby King Jesus, I will do the same.

I will not worry about yesterday or tomorrow, I will sit and look around at the faces of my family and breathe them in and memorize them. I will soak in the pleasure of my sweet baby girl’s Christmas joy that has absolutely nothing to do with presents or Santa. I will bask in the glow of Christmas lights that shine in my soul mates eyes, and then…

I will thank Jesus for coming. For His gift of love and the incomparable delight of being His daughter.

Have a Merry Christmas!

Buckle your seat belts folks, I’m gonna get all preachy and serious on you.

This only happens about twice a year, so you better enjoy every second…

As I have said before, the intention of this blog is surely not to stir up political arguments or religious oppression. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. My desire for this blog is to offer you, my readers, a bit of sunshine on a cloudy day and to brighten your spirits with laughter in a world where laughter is sometimes hard to find.

That said, there is something weighing very heavily on my heart and I simply must share it. My fear is that you may disagree and leave me forever and that is the last thing I want. But, real friends share real stories. Hard stories, funny stories and sad stories too.

And regardless of your political affiliations this is a darn good story.

But, it’s not mine to tell.

There is not much more that burns my blood than people who complain constantly about silly things…people are doing anything but living life to the fullest. People who say things like, “How could it get much worse?” or “I can’t wait for this week to be over.” or “I hate my life.” Or even those who wear a smile but through their words and actions prove themselves to negative and ungrateful.

When people say these things my first instinct to defend those who are fighting for their every breath. People who just got a diagnosis that has changed everything. People who would love to live until the end of the week, but they won’t. People who love their families but will die too soon to see their children grow up.

Now, I’m not perfect by any means, quite the contrary, but I do appreciate life and I try very hard not to take one single day for granted. That said, I believe with all of my heart that life begins from conception. I am adamantly opposed to abortion in every instance, making me a die hard pro-lifer.

One of my dear friends is very pro-choice and is vocal about her stance. As we have discussed it time and time again, she always brings the incest and rape victims who become pregnant. Her entire reason for being pro-choice is because of these victims.

I’ve done a bit of research on the subject and found over 20 sources that confirm that rape and incest situations combined, make- up for less than 1% of all abortions. Less than 6% are for medical reasons, leaving 93% of abortions due to social inconvenience. And in case you were wondering there are over 42 million abortions performed per year. That’s over 115,000 per day in case you’re counting.

That’s a lot of babies that are dying.

Part of the tragedy of this fight is that politics come in and blur the truth. This is a fight for life and death, no less. It’s not about being a Republican or Democrat. It’s not about being a Christian or being an Atheist. It’s about valuing human life. Babies are dying every day because people want to defend the rights of the mother. I don’t know about you, but I know a whole lot of mothers who would do just about anything for a newborn baby to be placed in their arms and heart forever. What about their rights? What about the rights of the baby?

I’m also left wondering about the poor mothers who abort their babies. Woman’s activist are quick to hold up their signs and shout for women’s rights, but where do they go after a woman aborts her baby? When she’s crying in the shower and can’t look at herself in the mirror? Where are they then? Who is left to pick up the pieces of her broken heart?

When a debate arises about anything ethically questionable I always wonder what a 5 year old would say. Is it okay to hit someone? No. Is it ok to steal something? No. Is it okay to kill a baby inside a mommy’s tummy?  Um, no.

Isn’t protecting life a basic human instinct?

All this to say, I was recently blessed to watch an absolutely amazing video about an abortion survivor. Please watch. I know it’s long, but it is so worth your time and attention. I hope and pray that you’ll take the time to watch this video, because friends, it’s powerful. It’s a testimony to life…and living life to the fullest.

As I said, it’s not my story to tell, so I’ll let Gianna tell it.

It’s a story about life…

Gianna Jessen: Abortion Survivor: Watch Here.

You’re never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVAH gonna believe it?

My ihatesleepyou’llnevermakeme child slept from 8:45pm-6:15am.

That is 9.5 hours straight.

She woke up once around 5:00am and cried for approximately 15 seconds and promptly fell back asleep.

Honestly, I just can’t believe it.

I keep thinking that I must be dreaming, that I slept through the endless screams, but then I remember that I still didn’t sleep last night because I was so nervous that she would wake up any minute.

I’m telling ya, watching that video monitor is way better than any reality TV show.

I mean, I haven’t slept for nearly a year, why start now?

Right?

I feel like I’ve been handed an Oscar. “I’d like to thank the Academy…”

But honestly, I’m so thankful for all of you for your support, for my amazing husband,  and for God and his graciousness through this extremely tough process.

I know that we’re not out of the woods yet, that there may still be some screams, but at least now I know that she can do it.

So, thank you, thank you, thank you and Praise be to our patient and faithful God.

YAY!

I had 9 Weight Watcher points for lunch.  9 beautiful sugary points of dessert.  No real food.  No fruit, veggies, bread or meat.  Just sugar. And it was glorious. Who needs real food?  I could totally live on desserts and ice cream forever. Couldn’t you?

Is it just me, or is 98% of this blog about food?

I confess, I love food.

For the first time ever today I became very annoyed with Target. But don’t worry, I’m over it now.  Target said it was sorry and I forgave him.  (Why is Target a boy?)

Every other person I know in the world is pregnant or just had a yummy bit of goodness baby.  What does this mean? Recession?  Peer Pressure? Jobless? Boredom?  Why in the world does it make me want to be pregnant?  Peer pressure for sure. That answers that question.  Well, and that babies are the number one most awesome thing in the whole.wide.world (other than Jesus and husbands of course).

Bitzy seriously gets cuter from one moment to the next.  Is this possible you ask?  Yes. A resounding yes. I’ve experienced this.  She’ll kiss me with a big wet slobbery kiss, crawl away like she’s in a mad rush to get somewhere extremely important, spin around on her tush, then flash me the cutest little toothy smile and confirm, yet again, that she gets cuter by the millisecond.  Seriously.

All I can think about are cucumbers (lie).

All I can think about are Milk Duds (truth).

I confess that I not only write about food constantly, but I think about it constantly. Is that healthy?  Probably not.  But neither is eating 78 boxes of Milk Duds per year and Lord knows that I could care less about how healthy that is.  So, whatever.

I wish that I had super kinky curly hair that looked amazing without me ever touching it.

This morning in a meeting for work I burst out laughing thinking about something hilarious that Zach said this weekend.  It was completely and totally off the topic of discussion and it just popped in my head like lightening.  Being married to him is like going to the Carnival everyday…always funny, never boring and full of rat tails and airbrushed t-shirts.

Actually Zach doesn’t have a rat tail or an airbrushed t-shirt.  Oh well, you get my point. Or do you? What is my point?

I’m feeling particular random today, can’t you tell?

Anyway, happy Monday!

My Miracle.

There are few things in the world that excitement me as much as new life. The joy of finding out that you or someone else is pregnant is a joy like no other. And then, the feeling of the tiny little critter moving and shaking inside of you, it’s a miracle.

I have often said that I do not understand how someone can get pregnant, carry a child and give birth without recognizing that they have just witnessed an absolute miracle of the Lord. New life is a ministry, a miracle and a gift. It overwhelms me to think that God created such a beautiful plan to populate the earth.  He could have done it any way he wanted, but he has gifted us with an intimate way to have children that are born out of love.

I’m amazed that my Bitzy was born because her mama and daddy are crazy about each other and out of our passion we have received the greatest blessing of our lives. God knows His stuff.

While I write I am filled with gratitude that I have a perfect little crawling bit of joy sleeping in the room next door.  She is truly a delight and I cannot imagine my life without her.  What did I do with all my time anyway?  I should have been sleeping!!!  Lord knows that I have hardly sleep a wink since was born.

Tonight I happened upon this blog and I spent nearly 3 hours devouring every single word. Apparently, I’m a few years behind, as this happened over 2 years ago, but the story is just as cutting and fresh as if happened today.  Please take the time to read it, you’ll not be sorry that you did.

In short, it’s a story of how one little life changed the lives of many. It’s a story of hope and love. A story of being broken and allowing God to heal. A story of how life isn’t always easy or fair, but how God is still good.

As I read the words of a mother who was hurting, I sobbed.  I cried for her, for her family, for her child and somehow in the midst of my tears, my arms ached for the child that I never knew.  For the little person that I didn’t have the opportunity to hold and to rock and to sing to.  I miss that little one. (Need some background? Read this).

Someday I will tell my Bitzy that she has a sibling in heaven and that Jesus is swinging with her and keeping her safe until we all get to heaven.  I hope that my Bitzy will fall in love with her brother or sister as her daddy and I did.  That she will look forward to a heavenly reunion when meet our sweetheart that Jesus has been playing with all this time, just waiting around ’til we all join her.

I hope that my Bitzy will love her heavenly brother or sister just like she’ll love the ones here on earth.

Since my precious Bitzy has been born, the sting of losing a child has been more prominent. I don’t know that I realized what we lost when we miscarried our firstborn. Now that I have experienced the absolutely joy and love of being a mother to the happiest little person on the planet, I realize what we’re missing.

But even in the midst of missing my Poppy and reading about another mothers loss, I see God working. I celebrate that all life has purpose, meaning and value.

So often, when gals talk about their heavenly babies they’ll say, “Well I was just 5 weeks”, or “It was for the best, the baby had so many issues,” or “It was just a surprise baby anyway,” and I know with my mommy heart that they are trying to heal, to digest the injustice of losing a baby, to figure out how to live in a new normal. They can’t find the words, so they dismiss their loss to somehow feel better, and that’s OK.  Healing is a tricky thing, it takes time and it’s not easy.

But ya know what? Losing a baby and then giving birth to my Bitzy has completely changed my outlook on conception, pregnancy and birth. I am in awe. Absolute awe that God would allow us to join him in completing a miracle. Our dirty little paws get to participate in the circle of life, it’s incredible and I’m humbled that I get to have a seat in the audience while experiencing God at work.

All this to say, I am not pregnant. Nor am I trying to be pregnant. (As I say that I’m counting on the calender to the days of my last period to make sure, because honestly, as all you married gals know, do you ever really know that you aren’t pregnant?  Or is it just me?). I don’t think I am anyway. Don’t you worry, if I do have a little peanut inside me, I’ll let ya know.

As I consider these things, I couldn’t help but write to you my dear readers and encourage you to appreciate this day which the Lord has made, to smile a bit more at your babies or pray for the ones that have yet to come. To be uplifted that YOU are a miracle.  That God created you for a specific purpose greater than you could imagine…Remember that today friends…I know that I will.

“Rejoice in the Lord Always, I say it again, Rejoice.” Philippians 4:4

I love Easter.  In fact, it’s not only my favorite holiday, it’s my favorite day of the whole year.

This particular Easter was especially marvelous because of my Bitzy.  Turns out that having a baby puts a new spin on everything, including Easter.

My bunny's yummy little tail.

For example, I hate ironing. I’m woman enough to admit that I’m not the greatest ironer.  Which is weird because my mama has ironed approximately 10 million clothing items in her lifetime.

She has a gift.

I do not.

That said, I ironed Gracie’s Easter dress 3 times.  That’s 3 times more than I’ve ever ironed anything of my own.

(Good thing that 12 seconds after I put it on her she puked all over it).

Also, Easter Sunday church service is my most favorite service of the year.  I just love it.  I cry almost the entire service.

Every single year.

I find Easter to be overwhelming. It’s too wonderful, too grand for me to consider.

So I cry.  That’s my way, I cry.

So this year, we went to the cry room (not for me, but for Gracie), at church since she is much too young to go to the nursery.  We were there with the other mommy’s and daddy’s trying nearly everything to keep our offspring from totally freaking out.

Oh wait.  Let me rephrase.  We were there with all the other mommy’s and daddy’s and their perfect babies who were either sleeping peacefully or silently playing…it was Zach and I who were desperately trying everything to keep our Bitzy from melting down.

When she’s being, ahem, difficult, we do the routine of changing the diaper, sleeping, feeding.  You know, the check list.

After I changed her diaper, I finally got her to go to sleep for a total of 3 minutes and finally Zach laid in the floor with her and played.  After all of that didn’t work, I succumbed to the last item on my list.

Feeding.

To be honest, Gracie and I aren’t so great at nursing covers.  While I am absolutely NOT opposed to nursing in public, we’re both much more comfortable without the cover while feeding in private.

For example, apparently my darling daughter assumed that my Hooter Hider (that’s right, clever isn’t?) was a toy.  So she proceeded to punch and kick the cover while somehow using it for a chew toy at the same time.

Figure that one out.

Fortunately a few of our good friends were sitting beside of us and respectively not peering into the X-rated scene that was happening at the most inconveinant time of the service.

You guessed it.  Communion.

When I finally got her to calm down and eat I thought we were in the clear, I’m obviously an awesome mama for nursing in public and getting my incredibly high strung child to chill the heck out.

Right?

Big.Fat.Not.So.Much.

Out of nowhere, no triggers, no loud noises, for no reason whatsoever, she starts the kicking/punching/chewing routine while the communion usher was standing directly in front of me. It was like he magically appeared at the most unfortunate time.  So, I’m trying to give the man a semi-smile while my face is burning red with embarrassment thinking that his poor man got a lot more than he bargained for at Easter service if you know what I mean.

Whoops.  We didn’t mean to.

My sweet bunny.

After the feeding debacle concluded, she was screaming bloody murder because, let’s face it, her mama was a tiny bit distracted while nursing (I wonder why?), so I began walking the floor.

As I am walking and swaying my precious baby (while she a teeny bit high maintenance, she’s mine and I am still completely nuts over her), one of my favorites, The Revelation Song began.

This song is perhaps my favorite worship song of all time.  I’ve listened to it on repeat for days.  I am a bit obsessed with this song.

I know that you’re shocked that I would obsess about something, right?

As I held my girl and sang along with this beautiful praise song I was overwhelmed with God’s presence.  It’s hard to sing the words, “Holy, Holy, Holy Is the Lord God Almighty, Who was, and is, and is to come. With all creation I sing: Praise to the King of Kings!  You are my everything, And I will adore You” and not be confronted with God’s Holiness.

Then, something else shifted in me and I found myself considering how in the world God did it.  How did he allow His son, His baby boy, His heart beat, to suffer a horrible death?  How?

I’ll tell you right now that if the whole wide world depended on me allowing Gracie to be hurt, I wouldn’t do it, and that’s the honest truth.

You’d all be toast.

Call me selfish, but honestly, I just can’t imagine the pain that both Jesus and His Father suffered.

In all of my Easters, I had never considered this.

So I cried.  I cried in Gracie’s little tufts of hair and thanked God that He made the sacrifice for me so that I wouldn’t have to.

As I have this beautiful song on repeat, I continue to cry and be overwhelmed that He is Risen.

It’s a beautiful miracle and I’m filled with gratitude that God has allowed me to experience Easter all over again this year.

“The angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified.  He is not here; He has risen, just as He said.”  Matthew 28:5-6

He is Risen indeed.

Zach and me in beautiful Mexico!

Ya know the song, My Funny Valentine?  I think it’s weird and a    little bit of a downer.  Who writes a love song in a minor key  anyway?  It sounds like a Halloween song…and I HATE  Halloween.

Anyway, despite the song, I have my very own funny Valentine.

I love Zach for a zillion reasons.  But for time and space purposes  here are ten reasons that my man is better than yours!!!

PS:  These are in no particular order…

1. He is seriously the funniest person that I’ve ever met.  Ever. Sure he has a healthy dose of cheesy in his humor (he is John Nelson’s son after all), but no matter how you slice it, he’s a funny dude.

2.  He is completely in love with me.  Does that make me vain that I love him because he loves me?  Obviously that’s not the only reason that I love him, but it is kind of a miracle to love someone who loves you back, right?

3. He tells me several times a day, every day- that I am the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.  Is he a liar?  Of course!  But I love him for it and I never tire of hearing it.

4.  He is a strong leader for our family.  He is encouraging and kind, but yet he doesn’t let me get away with being nuts either.  As you know, I’m a little cuckoo.  He helps to settle me down and lead our family in the right direction.

5. He loves God and strives to serve Him every day and He encourages me with my walk with Jesus as well.

6. He really loves his parents.  This may seem like a lame reason to love my man, but I think it’s important to appreciate your roots.  He admires them so much and has made it a priority in our marriage to spend time with them and learn a thing or two from their commitment of 35 years.

7. He is absolutely precious with Bitzy.  We spend a great deal of time just staring at her in disbelief that we made her.  He is just as amazed at her as I am.

8. He loves every single meal that I’ve ever made for him.  Granted, I’m not ashamed to say that I’m a decent cook.  Definitely not the greatest, but I can hold my own in the kitchen, but sometimes I stray from recipes.  OK fine, I’ve never actually followed a recipe and sometimes that leads to interesting concoctions…but he has never once complained.

Mexico again...best.time.ever.

9. He is a fantastic artist.  He can create anything and make it beautiful. I love that he is strong and strapping, but can also pull out a pencil and draw something incredible.

10.  He is famous for being amazingly strong.  He is the “go-to” guy when people are moving.  Maybe it’s because he once carried a couch up a flight of stairs…by himself.  He’s like Superman…

My Superman.

11. (OK, fine, I can’t stop)- He is 100% my soul mate and I am his…

Happy Valentines Day my love…you’re my favorite.