Sit

Sometimes I need a gentle reminder of what's important.  Today has been a very "Martha" day for me.  We had Bible Study at our house at lunchtime and I spent the morning in a semi-frenzy getting ready for it.  (I am nothing if not a procrastinator.)  Els ends up with the short end of the stick on these days because I do things to keep her occupied and out of my way mostly which leaves us both frazzled.  She had a mini breakdown about 15 minutes before people were supposed to arrive and I stuck her in her bed to cool off while I finished preparations for lunch.

Then it hit me.

Where was the love in this situation?  All that my 18-month old wanted was my attention.  Me.  Not what I can do.  I could have my house looking spotless and lunch tasting delicious, but if it's at the expense of love, it means nothing.  Well, then Bible Study came and went and was wonderful, but I forgot the little lesson God began in my heart beforehand.  Els and I walked out to get the mail before nap time and as we were walking back through the yard I heard her behind me say, "Sit."  And she did.  Right in the dirt in her pretty dress.  It was a not so subtle reminder to me that she wanted to spend time with her Mommy.  (Also, it was quite possibly the cutest thing I've seen in a while.)  My heart was melted.  I sat for 15 minutes or so and she ran around picking up various treasures (dead flowers, leaves, shells, hand-fulls of dirt) and bringing them back to me.  We had the best time.

She is priceless and I have this one life to live with her.  I am immensely blessed indeed.

What's in a Name

For some reason, though most of you know it, I've never written Els' actual name on this blog.  I felt like it was some small measure of internet security, but I put so much other stuff about us on here, I don't know why it mattered.  And now I'm faced with a dilemma because baby #2 doesn't have a name that so easily lends itself to a blog nick-name.  So here goes with the names.

She is Eliana (the Lord has answered).

He is Miller (my maiden name).

There you go.

Labor of Love

It's been a long time coming, but B made us a bed!  He has always joked with me about how he can make me anything I need, and in this case, he did.

Please note the little head popping up on the far side.  She loves that the side rails also double as footholds that she can now use to successfully climb up on our bed by herself.

Language of the Soul

Since May, I have had the pleasure of being in a book club with some of the most encouraging ladies I've ever known.  We meet every two weeks to talk about classical literature but I leave every time encouraged as a believer, as a mother, and just as a person in general.  Right now we are right smack dab in the middle of John Milton's Paradise Lost.  It's Milton's fleshed out version of the fall of Satan and subsequent fall of man written in epic poem version.  And it's gorgeous.  We spent some time tonight talking about how sometimes poetry can say things in such ways as to make them make more sense than prose.

The same is true for all of the arts, I think.  Whether a painting, a poem, a song, or other art form, I believe that they reach different parts of us than mere words.  They speak a language of their own and differently to each one of us.  They are the languages of the soul.  It was actually happy coincidence that we talked a bit of this tonight because I was thinking about it in regard to music last night.  B and I watched the movie, "The Soloist", and it was incredible.  It is the true story of a LA Times reporter who befriends a homeless man who is a musical prodigy.  There is this one beautiful scene in the movie where Nathaniel Anthony Ayers, the homeless musician, is presented by the reporter with a cello for the first time in many years.  Mr. Ayers sits down on a makeshift stool on the side of the road and begins to play.  And the look on his face as his bow glides across the strings!  He's hearing the language of his soul for the first time in years.  And I knew that look because I know that language too.  I was almost in tears.  Jamie Foxx should have won an Oscar for that scene alone.  

Maybe everyone's like this and I just don't know it, but songs speak to me in ways that nothing else can.  Music makes me feel alive.  What an incredible gift!

What makes you feel alive?

Love Songs

I don't know why, but today, as I was making chocolate chip cookies, I was thinking about my favorite love songs.  Maybe because making any kind of "dessert" makes me think of my dessert-loving Marine, or maybe it's because I'm a total sap and I love love songs.  Either way, I thought that I'd share with you my short list of favorite love songs.  In no particular order, here they are:

Forever by Ben Harper
Kingdom Come by Coldplay
Springtime Indiana by Sandra McCracken
One by U2
You Are the Best Thing by Ray LaMontagne

Not exhaustive, but it's a start.  And, random, I know, especially with all else going on in our lives right now.

What are some of your favorites?

"Never been good with my thoughts and even worse with my words, but you read like familiar poetry that I have never heard..." -Sandra McCracken

My Girl and Me

We look alike, right?

Boy Oh Boy!

So, as you may have guessed from the title, baby #2 is a boy!  We found out yesterday morning.  To be really honest, before we found out, I was nervous about the possibility that it was a boy because, well, I have no idea what to do with a boy and my mom says that they'll break your heart one day.  However, since we found out, I have been absolutely thrilled about this new little man.  He's so active and, even though it's an ultrasound picture, he looks like his big sister already.

Also, we found out that he's due 9 days earlier than we thought.  November 30 here we come!

Milton's Blindness

I've never much for poetry.  I mean, I love it, but I don't always get it and I cannot write it as much as I wish that I could.  Recently, a friend shared this poem with me and the last line speaks to me as much as a whole book of poetry could.

On His Blindness

When I consider how my light is spent
E're half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide,
Lodg'd with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, least he returning chide,
Doth God exact day-labour, light deny'd,
I fondly ask But patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts, who best
Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State
Is Kingly.  Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o're Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and waite.

-John Milton (emphasis mine)

Sometimes the Legends are True

We live on an island amidst a myriad of other islands, marshlands, tidal creeks and very near the Atlantic Ocean.  While our town is not the home of a Target, Starbucks, or even a reputable Italian restaurant, it   does lay claim to much beauty.  And where there is beauty there is always mystery.

This is where my story begins.

Cruising through the tidal "creeks" (read: rivers) many of the islands look the same.  Some are large and usually lined by enormous houses with lush green lawns and long docks to house their boats, while some are small and hold only a grove of palmettos raised a few feet above the marsh grass.  There is the occasional marina and the occasional sandbar where you can see the, well, uh, South Carolina "natives" in all of their lawn chairs and beer in the middle of the water glory.  Then, there is Monkey Island.  Yes, you read that right - MONKEY Island.  As it would seem just down the road (well, if you consider a tidal river a road and your boat a car) from our house lies the only free range monkey colony in the United States.  There, about 5000 monkeys live on a beautiful, lush 400 acre island accessible only by boat and ringed with "No Trespassing" signs.  The story goes that they are "grown" for research and that about 500 a year are harvested for these purposes.

Since last month, we have been on "Monkey Quest 2010" just about every weekend, trying to catch a glimpse of said monkeys.  On Father's Day weekend, we saw several but they were too far back in the trees to get a good picture of them.  While my lawyer husband assures everyone aboard that trespassing is only a misdemeanor and that he's not even sure what statute they could prosecute us under, none of us has yet to set foot on the island.  I'm fine not even having a misdemeanor, much less not being attacked by wild monkeys.  This past weekend, we had a little better luck.  While trying to crank the boat back up, (I'll spare the details of potentially being stuck in the middle of nowhere on a boat with two tired and hungry toddlers.  That's a whole other post in and of itself.) we noticed that a curious little fellow had climbed to the edge to observe our potential demise.  Behold:

Although we were tempted to see if the little guy could work our a tow for us, we did eventually get the boat cranked thanks to the mad McGuyver-like skills of the men with us, but we got a good picture of a monkey at last.  I am nearly positive that we'll be back.  Finding monkeys has become a minor hobby/obsession for B these days.  

So, there are monkeys in South Carolina.  Who knew?

Our Little Family

Thanks to the super-talented Mr. Jeremy Patat for this little gem of a family photo!

It's Been Way Too Long

Since I've posted pictures of my girl!

Even Me

Oh, I'm quickly becoming one of "those" bloggers.  You know, the ones who just post about once a month, but to tell you the absolute truth, I'd blog a whole lot more often if I could hold a coherent thought in my head for more than 20 seconds.  My mom says that you lose brain cells with each child, but I think this baby growing inside me is taking more than his/her fair share.  Maybe I'm growing some sort of child prodigy!

Anyway, I listen to a lot of John Piper these days.  If you don't know who he is, he is the pastor of a church in Minnesota who is without a doubt the most passionate person I've ever heard speak the Word of God.  You can find all of his sermons here for free.  I can't overstate how much this man loves the Word or how strongly God has used him in my life to get into the Word and love it.  So, long story short, here is the only thing I can think of to write today.

I am the worst sort of person.  Now, real quick, before you start thinking "Oh, no you're not" or, "she's just fishing for complements, hear me out.  I carry guilt about a whole host of things.  Mainly the fact that I have a master's degree that we're still paying off, I've never used it.  I am secretly proud about so much and I have a growing fear that I've walked around for most of my life like the emperor with my nose stuck in the air and no clue that I'm actually naked.  If you talk to me about faith, I will tell you about how the free grace of God has utterly changed my life, yet, I'm still so judgmental. Every Sunday during the corporate silent confession of sin, I confess the same sins over and over again.

But this is not the end of the story.  You see, the God of the universe sent his only son to live a perfect life, die, and rise again so that I can know Him.  Me.  The judgmental, prideful, slothful, guilty, scared of everything woman who walks around trying so hard to look put together.  Even me.  Don't let my futile attempts of cleaning my house and dressing myself and my family well fool you, I need Christ so desperately.  He alone is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.  He did all of the work, not so I wouldn't have to, but because I can't.  Christ covers my sin which allows me to enter into relationship with the God of the universe.  He is the only source of love that there is and it is only because of His massive love that I can love Him.  Or anyone else for the matter.

The really good news?  He's for you too.

"Why should I gain from His reward?  I cannot give an answer.  But this I know with all my heart, His wounds have paid my ransom."-Stuart Townsend

What I Need to Hear Today

Sovereign grace o’er sin abounding!

Ransomed souls, the tidings swell;
’Tis a deep that knows no sounding;
Who its breadth or length can tell?
On its glories,
Let my soul for ever dwell.

What from Christ that soul can sever,
Bound by everlasting bands?
Once in Him, in Him for ever;
Thus the eternal covenant stands.
None shall take Thee
From the Strength of Israel’s hands.

Heirs of God, joint-heirs with Jesus,
Long ere time its race begun;
To His name eternal praises;
O what wonders love has done!
One with Jesus,
By eternal union one.

On such love, my soul, still ponder,
Love so great, so rich, so free;
Say, while lost in holy wonder,
Why, O Lord, such love to me?
Hallelujah!
Grace shall reign

-Sovereign Grace O'er Sin Abounding by John Kent

Mothering: What I've Learned So Far

Wow.  That title kind of sounds like I'm writing a memoir or something, but it's the best I could come up with.  But, I digress.  First of all, I want to say that I am by no means an expert, nor do I make that claim.  If anything, parenting makes me feel dumber by the day.  I've only done this blessed of all jobs for almost 15 months now, but as I scrambled to get chores done during Els' morning nap today, I began thinking about advice people gave me at one of the showers before she was born.  One woman's advice in particular is the piece that I come back to over and over in my mind.  She said, "Stop reading parenting books now.  I decided when my first child was born to mother just like my mother did.  To just love my children and rock them to sleep."  (My paraphrase.)

The first major thing I've learned is to stop comparing myself and my child to others.  While that sounds like the high road, it's mainly so that I don't go crazy.  Which I did for a long time, reading other mom's facebook statuses about how their child slept 14 hours straight at 6 weeks or how they had lost all of the baby weight by that time too.  Neither were true for us and I spent a long time feeling like a terrible mother and a terrible person because of those facts.  So, I decided to stop comparing and start enjoying my little girl for who she is and come to grips with myself as a mother.  (Which meant, among other things, carrying around extra weight for months. And months.)  Since I have decided this, I have been so much happier.

One of the biggest lessons I've learned about bringing up a baby so far is to not get too comfortable in any stage because, as soon as I do, it's going to change.  In the first year, Els would sleep through the night for two weeks and then stop for a month.  She would nap well for a month and then scream through naps for three weeks.  Now, it tends to be food that we cycle through stages with.  She loves bananas at breakfast and hates them at lunch time.  She gobbles down what we have for dinner one night and won't touch it for lunch the next day.  You get the point.  B reminds me all the time that she's just a little person.  He says, "You don't always sleep good do you?  We don't always want to eat the same thing for every meal.  Why should we expect Els to be a little robot and do the same things all the time?"  He's so great at common sense.  

Last, (for now because this is getting long) is never say never.  It's something my mom has always told us.  Right now, that mainly refers to feeding Els as well.  I never wanted to be the parent that fed her children hot dogs and mac-n-cheese.  Oh boy, but if that's the only thing I can get this crazy girl to eat, that's what I feed her.  One day, she'll like "good" food.  And at some meals now, she does.

So, there are my three cents for now.  Most of all, I've learned to cling to my Heavenly Father through all of this.  He's the only way to make it through any day and parenting makes that highly evident.

What to Say?

First of all, I'm up entirely too late.  B is doing work and it's always been very hard for me to make myself go to bed, even if I'm sleepy.  I will absolutely do anything in order to keep myself up.  Ridiculous, I know.  Also, I still have to take a shower because I haven't had one since yesterday morning.  Yuck.  But, I am guessing it's about that time.  What time, you ask?  Oh, about time to tell you that our family of 3 will become a family of 4 in late November/early December!

While not totally unplanned, this little one was certainly a surprise to us all.  I'm feeling alright mostly.  I don't think I'm as nauseated as I was with Els, but I have my theories for that.  Mostly I'm incredibly tired all the time (hence why I need to be going to bed instead of writing) and working out is about ten times harder than it was even a month ago.  I am, however, sticking with it.  That is my goal with this pregnancy.  To work out as hard as I am able for as long as possible.  It just makes me feel better.  So far, so good, but there are still 30ish weeks to go.

I am trying very hard not to assume that this baby will be two weeks early like Els.  It's not working though.  Although my technical due date is December 8th, my personal wager is that the baby will come the week of Thanksgiving.  We shall see.

So, there you go!  We feel beyond blessed about the addition to our family.  We keep trying to ask Els whether she wants a brother or sister, but she has yet to weigh in on the matter.  She is too busy walking everywhere and getting into everything and pretty much being the joy of our life.

Buh-bye Blackberry

When Blackberries first came out, I remember thinking that I never ever wanted one.  I already felt like I was on a short leash with both a cell phone and email, but when you combine the two, I thought, you would always have to be available.  There would be no excuses.  However, the thing about me is that I'm not an early adopter.  I like to hear someone say that it's worked for them and they love it over and over again before I'm ready to jump in.

So this happened.  Over and over again I heard about the amazing wonders of the Blackberry and then, last June, I became an owner.  A user.  There's a reason people call them "Crackberries."  All of the sudden, I was checking it all the time.  Do I have an email?  A facebook comment?  Not to mention that B downloaded a ridiculously addictive game called "Ka-Glom" onto it which I played all the time.  I have not ever been one to play video games of any kind.  But none of these are the reasons that we finally parted two weeks ago today.  It was the price tag.

Let's face it, I'm a stay at home mom and spending $30 on my data plan a month just didn't make sense anymore.  (Or ever, really.)  I can check my email at home anytime I want on the computer, so all I really need is a reliable cell phone with good service.  So, kicking and screaming, I gave up the ole' BB last month when my plan was up.

We're experimenting with a no-contract cell phone right now that I'm not entirely sold on, but it works.  I do feel like I've set myself back about 5 years cell phone wise, but oh well.  I'm curious about how others of you handle the whole cell phone thing now.  Am I the only one [back] in the dark ages again?

I Never Thought

That I would marry a Marine (or a lawyer for that matter.)
That I would live in South Carolina
That I would love South Carolina (well, at least parts of it)
That I would drink black coffee (weird, weird development in my life of late)
That I would enjoy weightlifting
That I would be a stay at home mom (and love it!)
That I could love a little girlfriend so much
That my heart is so black
That there is so much Hope.

This is 6 Days Late

April 6, 2002 was such a life changing day for me, I've already blogged about it before.  Since that post was mainly about Grace, I thought I'd expound upon something I merely touched on there.  On that fateful Saturday, I wore an off-white dress suit thing that I loved at the time but now can't believe I would ever wear.  I sang in the wedding of two dear friends and spent most of the reception trying to avoid a boy that I had broken up with several months before.  Most importantly, though, I was finally introduced to the friend of a close friend that I had heard a lot about.  Brian Magee, I finally met the famous Brian Magee and the name had a face.  A face that, at that time, was framed by shaggy hair and a goatee, the combination of which made me think that he was a lot older than me.  Too old for me, so, on that day, I never gave him a second thought.

Skip a month, to late May, when in the frenzy of getting ready to go out with my best friend from high school, I met this guy again.  In my parent's basement, watching a movie with my brother.  This time, his head was shaved, but the goatee still remained.  I remember thinking that he was good looking and maybe not as old as I had previously thought.

Fast forward a wonderful trip-filled summer to my first semester at UGA.  Oh, there were new guys everywhere, but I kept running into one in particular that seemed different to me.  Brian Magee.  And, as it turned out, we are the same age.  (Well, 7 months apart, but same "grade.")  He was handsome, intriguing, interesting, and pretty much unlike anyone I'd ever met.

We started dating that fall and the rest, as they say, is history.

"You turned me into somebody loved..."  -The Weepies

People I Know

Today my heart just aches for people I know.  People I REALLY know.  The people I don't have to explain myself to or wonder if they like me.

Suprise! You're Still a Runner

That's what I found out at the race on Saturday.  I wasn't sure.  I've only dabbled in running since Els was born.  Oh, who am I kidding?  Since I found out I was pregnant with her, just short of two years ago.  I certainly have not trained for anything.  But, lo and behold, I ran a pretty respectable (to me-I was still just 10th in my age group) time at the Beaufort Twilight Run and, afterwards, fun was had by all.  I'm pretty sure I owe if all to Uncle Tony, as my sister and I refer to him.  Still, I don't do P90X everyday, just 3 or 4 days a week with 1 or 2 runs mixed in there.

All that to say, I've caught the bug now.  I want to do more races.  The thing that I really love about racing is the people.  Just like any other big event, races bring out all sorts of folks.  There are the seriously trained, you-know-before-the-race-starts-that-they're-gonna-be-first-or-second people.  They're usually on mile two of their warm-ups as I cruise into the parking lot, finishing my last gummy worm.  There's the dress ups.  You know, the people wearing Batman costumes, or American flag spandex shorts.  At this race there was a whole group of dudes wearing button up tiger print shirts.  (Side note; one time, the picture company got my race number mixed up with the guy dressed up like Batman's and I got his race pictures in the mail.)  There are the women in full make-up and jewelry, the growing number of people with iPods, and the pre-pubescent boys who sprint for 400 meters and then walk over and over again but still end up averaging 6:30 miles.  The most disturbing (to me) people are the race t-shirt wearers.  No, not previous race t-shirts, the race they're currently running's t-shirt.  There is no bigger race party foul.  You don't wear the shirt 'til you've crossed the finish line, people.  It's a badge of honor. 

Anyway, I wrote and meant to post this a whole week ago, but I've been away from the computer.  I got my race pictures by email two days ago and will not be ordering any.  Running pictures of me have always been disgusting.  But I still want to keep running and getting better.  Pictures or not.