The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Thing

I almost didn’t write this, because well…. it’s gross and pretty random. But I have this friend. And if you know this friend, then you fully understand her sense of humor and why she would deem this “blog worthy” and if you’d read her funny text messages regarding this ‘incident’ you would probably laugh. Actually if you’d read the texts coming from several of my friends while this occurred you might’ve wet your pants. It was a close call for me. 

I shared this story with my BFF as she was lost in a scary part of Chicago, where she was relatively certain she’d just seen a child prostitute. We struggled to determine which experience was worse. (No, not really, all you unfunny people) There are no pictures of this experience, just words. You’ll just have to forgive me/thank me later. That said….

We had a good weekend. Tommy had to work a lot, but I enjoyed a lot of time with Abi Kate, just the two of us. Sunday was busy and filled with church and then a visit to Mimi and Papa’s house that evening (though really, the cats are giving you guys a run for your money in terms of whose most important…). I was going to the zoo early the next morning with one of my best friends and her little girls. My gas light had come on as we’d driven to my parents’ from church that night. I went back and forth about stopping for gas because I was tired. I just wanted to go home and put on comfy clothes and lay on the couch. But, at the last minute, I figured it would save me time in the morning (in which I would SURELY be rushed). So, I pulled into the gas station about a mile down from our house. This. Was. A. Mistake.

I pulled into Pump #1. Another mistake. Tommy ran in to get a drink and to pay for gas, saying he’d be right back to pump. I said, “No. I can pump gas. I’ll just use the debit card. It’ll be faster that way. Don’t worry about it.” Third mistake. So he runs in and I hop out. As I make my way over to the card swiper, I get the sense of something out of the corner of my eye. And dear LORD I’m so glad I caught it. I look down and my foot is literally an inch away from a brown pile of mush. I think, “Nooo. That can’t be….” And look beside it to see another pile. And sweet Lord in heaven why did I begin to bend down to make sure I was looking at what I thought I was?!?! (I made SO many mistakes this night but this might’ve been my worst). And well, let’s just say I come face to face with human excrement at least three times a day, courtesy of the toddler in my house. And there was NO DOUBT what this was. Except, this was no kid poop. Oh no. And as I looked a little further down, what did I see, but a wipe… what looked to be an Armor-All wipe. I think I screamed something like, “OH MY SOUL! Savages!!!!” and flew back into my car. I am unashamed to admit that I silently hoped that the chemicals from that wipe were tearing up the culprit’s rear end… I literally tore into another spot as fast as I could, hoping that Abi Kate wasn’t scarred for life (like I am now). I was so befuddled that I pulled into a spot with my gas tank on the other side. This was about the time that Tommy strolled back outside…. And was like, “Honey, what are you doing? That’s not going to work.” I’m relatively certain I screamed, “SOMEONE TOOK A DUMPAT THE PUMP!”  I know I looked like I was in complete hysterics. It is because I was. In the moment I felt like we were having this odd communication failure. Like he wasn’t quite understanding the severity of this.  He was so chill at about the whole thing. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world to poop wherever. On The Ground. In Public. WHERE PEOPLE (namely me!) STEP! And God love his heart because his first response besides just plain calm was, “You didn’t step in it did you?” (Because God is a gracious God, I did not step in that terrible horrible no good very bad thing. I do not care how much I love those Yellow Box flip flops. They would’ve been in the trash faster than a flea on a dog.) Tommy is still being calm and cavalier about this and I really just think it’s because he didn’t have to see/smell the very bad thing. There are some things you just can’t come back from-- like being face to face with a stranger’s dump. I told him he had to go inside and tell the gas station attendant, and he was like “Nah. It’s ok. It’ll just go away.” WHAT?!  Trust me. I do poop all day. It doesn’t just go away. Anyway, he went on inside to talk to this man. And honestly, there is an entire back story about this particular gas station and particular station attendant that involves our first married Thanksgiving together and an uncomfortable holiday invitation, but I will skip all of that. And also please know that I am not even slightly aiming to be politically correct here, so if my geographical clumping offends you, feel free to go drive to Pump #1 and I promise the sight there will offend you wwwaaayy more than my stereotypical language. The attendant is Middle Eastern and doesn’t speak great English. Tommy walked in and told him, “Dude. Somebody took a dump at pump #1” to which this man replies smiling, “Oh yes. This good? Yeah?” Clearly, friend is NOT getting the picture. Tommy’s reponse, “No. Not good. Took. A. Dump” as he mimicks pulling down his pants… (This alone kept me laughing for a good hour). Meanwhile, I am texting this entire scenario to 3 friends and every one of them said the same thing at first, “OMG! WHO WOULD DO THAT?!” Who indeed.

We drove home and it became slightly less mortifying and more funny. Slightly.

 We put Abi Kate in some jammies, and she took off running to her new favorite place (I’d like to suggest that it is her "safe place" and she was recovering just like her Momma from the terrible horrible no good very bad thing. I cannot be the only one scarred from this). She loves hiding behind her glider and reading books. We told her she could have 5 minutes to read, and I went to our bedroom to change into my comfy clothes. I mean really, that’s all I wanted ALL ALONG. I turned on the monitor out of habit and what do I hear, but her reading this story to herself. “Oh No! Blue!” If you’ve read Pete the Cat: I Love My White Shoes, you’ll understand…

I snuck in to watch her… and felt slightly redeemed. Like maybe the poo was just a bad dream….

All’s well that ends well, right?!

 Please note that my gas light came on this morning as I was driving down the same road. I weighed my options. As I passed the scary place where “it” happened, I glanced at pump #1. There. Are. Stains. Oh yes. I may never be the same again. 

In Which This is Saving My Life Right Now

I came across this blog a few weeks ago. The concept of it and the words filled me up. Maybe because my life saving moment was similar to the original poster’s. Or maybe because she quoted the song that has lived in my heart the last 4 weeks, making my soul move to its rhythm and breathe in its words. Or maybe because her writing elicited a deep emotional response in me as most things seem to do these days. For whatever reason, her urge for her readers to consider and write out their own life saving moments stuck with me….

“And we know that God works all things together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose” Romans 8:28  This verse. The verse I have known for so many years, have quoted so many times. It is saving me. So many times a day, over and over again. The things that happen in this life, they are not always good. This world that we live in, it is coming undone. Even creation, as it groans and waits for redemption, groaning as with the pains of childbirth. I know that pain intimately. Those deep, guttural groans as you wait for the close. The brokenness of this world can and does flow into our lives. Into my life. I have struggled and wrestled for almost three months, working out my faith with literal fear and physical trembling. And in the last 10 days, this verse is what has been laid on my heart, over and over again by the Spirit. The brokenness that happens in our lives as a result of sin entering the world so long ago-- that is not good. But the work the Spirit completes in us through those hard events-- THAT is the good. And oh, how sweet that realization has been. The reminder that God brings life through death. It is the gospel pattern playing out in my life. The bitter death we tasted in May, it was the antithesis of good. But the life He has brought to us through that death, the deepening of our faith, solidifying our rest in Him-- it is so good. Sitting in class on Sunday morning, hearing this message repeated again after hearing it whispered all week in my heart-- it was confirmation for me. This verse, the gospel that persists past salvation, bringing me into a deeper understanding of the rescuing love of Jesus… it is literally saving my life right now.

And these quiet moments with my daughter. Nursing her in the quiet of the morning. Sleepy eyes and her daddy’s long lashes. The war I have waged against myself, certain that my body is broken when I was once so confident in my body’s design-- these moments with her undo that lie. No broken body could carry such a healthy baby, could so efficiently birth her with gentleness. No broken body could produce such a precious intelligent child. No broken body could literally sustain her life and health for so long…18 and a half months. In these moments, I am completely certain of my divine design. In these moments, there are no questions. I am completely confident in my decision and my capabilities. She is completely certain of me in these moments-- there are no judgments of my character, no “helpful” words or intrusive statements. There is just us, giving everything I can to benefit her.  And in these quiet moments with her, fewer and far between these days, the Spirit speaks love over me… He created my inmost being…I am fearfully and wonderfully made. This body, His creation, it is not broken. It was knit together  in His perfection. And as I nurse my sweet girl, the enemy’s lies simply fall to the wayside, exposed as the deceptions they are. These moments with her, however much longer they last, they are saving my life right now.

These two things, tangible and intangible, calling me outside of myself and into the heart of the Father...

You are all glorious. My heart leans in. My soul must sing. You are all glorious.

Where Peace Abides

Life has been loud for me lately. From the ongoings of our world to the opinions of others. My thoughts have been loud. My heart has been unsettled. Even social media has had a lot of volume. (I’m not suggesting anything people should post and not post. Your page, your choice. It’s just, overall, been loud). Sometimes even the things that aren’t said, actions left undone-they have shouted through the silence. And honestly, I am exhausted. Worn down from over analyzing, emotionally spent from thinking and feeling, and craving deep solitude.  I’ve found myself in a new place in life, and in this new place I literally hunger for the peace of Christ. It is a good place, this new season. It’s been filled with more challenges than ever before but the victories have tasted sweeter than ever before. 

I have such a tendency to dwell. To linger. To toil over people, circumstances, and situations that I have no control over. It’s usually unprofitable for me, causing me only to despair and not leaving me with much more clarity than I entered with. So, I’ve found myself choosing to settle my thoughts on the beauty and sweet moments in this life. It’s not that I don’t continue to struggle to bring my thoughts and emotions under control. I do. Thankfulness has simply offered me rest in the moment. It has reminded me to take captive every thought & make it obedient to Christ.

So while the noise around me has continued, I’ve found the quiet in gratefulness for:

• The sound of toddler feet running through my house
• Hearts that are responsive to the Spirit’s leading
• The tender reminder from a friend that God does remember me
• Holistic healing
• Finding myself still hemmed in by the patient love of those who have suffered well with me
• Relaxing naps
• Easy days
• Shopping for girly fall clothes
• Really good coffee
• Forgiveness & restored relationship
• Celebrating the sweet lives of friends’ children
• Days spent with Tommy at home
• Friendships that pick up where they left off
• Hearing “Tank too, Momma” multiple times a day (aka Thank you, Momma)
• The gospel poured out over my life
• Family that loves and doesn’t divide
• Sharing life with others
• Good worship music courtesy of my sister
• The knowledge that what is fractured will one day be made completely new & right as Heaven comes to earth
• Late night conversations on the couch
• The life-giving power of Scripture
• Watching my little girl enjoy the company of others
• The anticipation of Fall’s arrival
• Having a husband who is rooted in the assurance of good things in our lives

Big things and small things. Some important and some not, yet all equally capable of providing reprieve and solace. As I walk through these days, I hope this is where I choose to dwell….in the quiet, where peace abides. 

In This Village

“It takes a village.” A group of people. A network of friends and family. An abundance of love. I’ve spent the last week or so reflecting on the people in our life-- family, friends, acquaintances, the people we’ve deemed ‘family ’ by choice. I’ve thought about their presence in our lives in the last two months as we’ve walked through dark days. I’ve thought about their constancy to check in with us, just one more time, to make sure we’re doing ok. But today, I’ve found myself thinking about their importance to Abi Kate.

She is 18 months old today. At this time a year and a half ago, I was snuggling her up and breathing her in, completely overwhelmed by the fact that she had arrived. The months passed and Tommy & I learned parenting and all its complexities. We loved her more deeply as time raced on-- and we were not alone.

We, of course, love Abi Kate unyieldingly. The sacrifice and dedication to her life flows easily from Tommy& I because she is ours-- an extension of us as individuals and as a united couple. But to see other people love her in that way…. It truly fills my heart with such gratitude and unrelenting tenderness. It has been so unexpected for me that others, even our friends, would love her enough to care about her well-being.

When I’m out of the room and walk back in to see you playing with her, even when your own children are with you-- I notice. 

When you hug her and tell her you’ve missed seeing her-- I notice. 

When you gently correct her because you care about her heart and her character-- I notice. 

When you  take time to listen to what she’s saying-- I notice. 

When you bring her little gifts-- I notice. 

When she is genuinely excited to see you-- I notice. 

When you ask me to bring her along too-- I notice.

 When you point out the ways she is changing and growing-- I notice.

I notice your sacrifice. I harbor an endless amount of appreciation for you.

It has literally stopped me in my tracks so many times… that my friends who have their OWN children to love and adore, would take the time to love my child as well. I am so deeply humbled by that expression of care. In the same manner, when I see my friends who do not have their own children yet, come alongside us and love her-- ask how she is, ask to see her, hold her and embrace her… I again find myself feeling so unworthy of that, yet desperately grateful that they would share part of themselves with her. Even without being parents yourselves, you all have known how to love her so well.

I want her to experience the authority of others. I want her to be taught and loved by others, so that she will learn different viewpoints and understand this life with greater depth. I want her to see the character traits that I lack inside other people that share life with us, so that she will adapt those traits. I want her to see how other believers live and love this broken world so that she might do it too. And if she is surrounded, not just by Tommy and me, but by all these other incredibly selfless people then maybe she will have the best parts of all of us.

I am so grateful that we have not walked these last 18 months alone. If you have invested in Abi Kate, have loved her, have hugged her, have shown her grace, have said encouraging words to her… If you have helped us raise her and helped us love her, if you have made our child your child in any sense…. Thank you. Thank you for being a part of this village. There are so many of you but not enough words or tears to explain the importance and value it is in my heart. We are indebted to your kindness and benevolent acts of love. 

“It takes a village to raise a child.” Today, I am so thankful- as parents and for our daughter-- for the village we have found ourselves in. 

Baby Mine

There were so many things that I was thrilled about when the ultrasound technician revealed that we were having a baby girl. SO many things….

I’m feminine and girly. I love makeup and dresses. Sparkles and shopping. Dangly earrings and painted nails. I just like these things and always have (despite my lack of time/energy invested in them these days). I know it’s the new fad to have ungirly things for your girl. I’ve heard more people and read more articles that talk about having less pink in their girl’s rooms, less girly clothing, gender neutral toys… and that’s fine if that’s your thing. It really is. Not everyone is ultra girly.  And I know pink is just a stereotyped color for girls, but guess what? I love it. And I love baby girl nurseries that are pink. So my sweet little girl has a bright pink nursery. I love things that scream “girl” be it a cultural stereotype or not, so she has always worn big bows. I do not care if they are as big as her head. She makes them look good. And the day that I have been awaiting these last 17 months has arrived…..

She’s found her babies. And she loves them. It’s never really been a question of if she’d play with babies in this house, but simply when.

I know all about what child development says regarding toys, interests, and their impact on gender. I read enough textbooks and listened to enough lectures in college to understand. And on the whole, I do not disagree. If Abi Kate wants to play with trucks-- have at it! If she thinks playing in the mud with army men is the best thing ever, I’m game for that too.  I’m not about stifling her interests into a stereotypical box. BUT… as long as little girl feet walk the floors in this house, there will be babies too.

I loved my baby dolls growing up. They had names and baby clothes, and I regularly begged my mom to buy me packs of “real” baby diapers so I could put them on my dolls. I loved toting them around and rocking them, pretending to feed them. I just loved babies. I loved pretending to be a mother.

And do you know that at 17 months old, I watch my sweet baby girl nurture her soft little baby? She picks it up and carries it around and sways with her baby. And yes, she grabs it by the neck (Dear Lord. We’re working on it…) and she thinks it’s so much better naked (maybe she’s practicing for a future in Elimination Communication?) and she will throw her baby down on the ground in a heartbeat for a piece of cheese (Can you really blame her?!) . But there is a tenderness about her when she loves on her babies.  You can guarantee that I am going to nurture that and cultivate it.

 Naked baby syndrome.

The hardcore feminists would probably be on fire while reading this post, assured that I’m raising my baby girl up to be “just a mother” and pushing stereotypical gender assignments on her. That’s ok. I know better. Without getting into a big long post, I think feminists of the past and today missed the boat quite a bit when establishing themselves and their ideals. I am passionate about womanhood, and all things related to women. It’s why I’m opinionated about pregnancy and birth, breastfeeding and Natural Family Planning. Because they pertain to women--to educating and empowering women in experiences and roles that are solely female.

There is nothing more feminine, more celebratory of womanhood than finding yourself in the role of mother. It is exclusively female. Carrying a baby, feeling them move, feeding a child from your own body, nurturing them in a way that only a mother can-- it is something that only women can do. Being a mother-- it is for women. That’s why we hear talk and research about maternal instincts-- they are real-- no matter how we entered into motherhood, whether scared or assured, through adoption or biological birth.  And I hope Abi Kate learns that in our home. That God’s design of women is beautiful and a high calling. I hope she recognizes that choosing motherhood doesn’t make you less of a woman but instead it celebrates sacrifice, God-given instincts, and helps us understand Divine love. I hope she sees in me that motherhood is a gift and a treasure worth searching for.

 Babywearing with morning hair..wowza

So there will be babies in this house. We will play with them, and hold them, rock them and feed them. Be they naked or clothed. We will push strollers and wear them in slings (Please, I just can’t die to my babywearing-self…) We will play “momma” and love up some baby dolls. We will do all these things with bows in our hair and possibly dirt under our nails. We will enjoy all things feminine, stereotypical or not, because I’ve watched my little girl in these days… and I can already see what a sweet little momma she will one day be. 

Safety first--Visible and chewable kissable

Things Change

Things are slowly drifting into a new normal around here. Not always, but often. And things I was afraid I might never do again resurfaced . It was a busy last week, filled with memories. To the people that were apart of them, the people we walked past, it was probably just a regular good day. But it was more for me…

I sat at the kitchen table of one of my best friends. The same friend who saw me through my chubby elementary school years, my butterfly-clip middle school years. (If that’s not dedicated friendship, I don’t know what is.) 

I know, I was almost too ashamed to post this.... love me through it, Meg?!

We mostly just talked and ate a lot… And we laughed as hard as we cried within those few hours. We talked about silly things and hard things. And within an hour we definitely pinpointed what’s culturally wrong with women. Modern day geniuses ;)

I watched my little toddler run all around the living room floor with another best friend’s child. (you can really never have too many best friends). We ate popsicles and sat on the deck and those sweet little girls looked like the epitome of summer with melted strawberry & honey dripping down their bare chests. And I watched as the youngest of the group took off walking across the deck, 16 full steps, desperate to get herself a bite of a popsicle.  

I ate Cajun food twice and went out with my husband. We laughed in the car while he cracked silly jokes and almost got lost (which is almost always guaranteed when we go on a date).  We went bowling, stopped to buy socks because we forgot ours at home, and I really want to post all the pictures but I’m just way too embarrassed. I need the bumpers as much as I needed them at my birthday party where I turned 9. Tommy felt so sorry for me that he said, “We’re a team! Let’s shoot for a team score!” I’m so lame. But it was lots of fun, and even funnier when I bowled 2 gutter balls back to back in the final frame of the night. We went out and saw a movie and ate popcorn and candy for dinner. And as normalcy never seems to follow us on dates, we got to catch the movie for the hearing-impaired (i.e. there were captions throughout the entire movie. Awesome.) As Tommy said, “We get to read a book AND watch a movie.”

We went and picked blueberries and holy mackerel was that a task in itself. If I’d had gold stars in my car, I would’ve given them to the farmers. We came home with pounds of blueberries, just the right mixture of sweet and tart. Abi Kate was the ultimate blueberry thief, eating so many off the bushels that I felt sure we owed them at least the cost of 2 additional pints. She shouted “BLUE!” when she realized what they were and took off running down the rows.

It's always sad to leave fun places. :( 

We bought a potty. And not for us but for the little girl who started telling us, “Potty!” a few weeks ago. She’s got a long time ahead of her, as she tells us usually while she’s going and she doesn’t always mention it. We’re in no hurry at all (her diapers are cute) and we weren’t really prepared for her interest (can’t we just force her to use our potty?), but we figured we’d roll with it and let her experiment with her own as she becomes ready. She loves it. She filled the entire thing up with 10 pairs of my panties the other night and closed the lid. I found them later…. At least she’s finding good use for it?! But she did tell us ahead of time the other day, we took her to the potty, and sure enough, she pooped in it. (I can’t believe my blog has succumbed to poop stories….) She thinks it’s a really big deal.

Abi Kate and I went swimming with some of our favorite friends. We talked birth and babies. Fears and faith. We laughed at the wittiness her seriously hysterical oldest daughter. And when this sweet, intelligent little girl asked me about the baby we lost, I was able to answer her questions without falling apart. Abi Kate dressed up like Rapunzel, which I totally loved-- her, not so much. It was a good day.

In a lot of ways, life has changed for us in the last few weeks. For me, change rarely comes easily. People that we didn’t expect stepped out and genuinely loved us well.  That has changed me. We learned that some of the people we thought cared a lot for us, probably don’t care as much as we’d hoped or thought.  And that has been hard and brought change too. But in the grand scheme of things, we’ve found ourselves humbled and in need of the constancy of Christ--another change that has ushered in spiritual growth. It’s difficult to recognize and accept the lack of control we have actually have in this life, that such encounters with life’s brevity conjure fear and sadness.  Everything is not perfect or whole or even comfortable in our lives yet. But this week, these memories, these people that have invested in us, they are the proof that God restores.

And even though my thoughts and heart never stray far from the sadness, I found myself genuinely happy on these days. Balancing joy and sorrow. Enjoying simplicity and every day moments. 

And that has been a welcome change. 

You Are the Best Thing

Sunday will be 6 years of wedded bliss for Tommy & I…. I know that’s just a silly phrase-- wedded bliss-- but I feel like it’s pretty appropriate for us.

I’ve known Tommy for the better part of my life. I met him when I was about 10 at church, he met me, and we never really thought about each other again until I was 16. We became friends in late spring that year, and then we went both went to church camp together.... And I always say, “Don’t go to church camp to find a boyfriend/girlfriend,” but seeing as I snatched him up on that trip, I’m pretty sure my opinion is completely null and void.

 

I remember on our trip back on he told me that he didn’t want to kiss anyone again except his wife, and I remember sitting there silently thinking, “Well, then I’m going to be your wife because you ARE going to kiss me.” Persistent, much?

We dated for almost 4 years before we got married, the month after I turned 20 (that sounds so incredibly young and insane. Don’t go getting any thoughts, Abi Kate). And I am grateful for each and every one of those years. We had lots of time to form a deep friendship, to make tons of sweet memories, to form a clear understanding of how the other one operates, how communication works and doesn’t work in our relationship. We figured out each other’s quirks, so well in fact that Tommy often identifies what’s actually bothering me before I even really realize it myself… 

 It is fun to reminisce about particular dates and funny outings and landmark times for our relationship as it grew into something more than just friendship…. Like the first time he told me he loved me… He called me to suggest that we meet early for breakfast the next morning at Cracker Barrel. He sounded so distant and uneasy that I went 100% certain that he was going to break up with me. I had even started forming my responses on the drive over. And in due fashion, we got our times and places mixed up. So when he finally strolled in, I was sure that it was completely over. He acted weird the entire meal and I was so nervous I could hardly eat. Then, after we were done eating he dropped that horrible line that no one likes to hear, “I think we need to talk.” So we hopped in the car and drove to the parking lot next door where they were building a new hotel. It was quiet and there were no distractions. And I braced myself for the bad news, and started trying to hold back tears when he started talking about where our relationship was going. I assumed he was about to say, “Nowhere,” and here I’d been absolutely crazy for him the past few weeks, but instead he said, “Katie, I love you”. And then I really DID cry. Tears of happiness and excitement because Lord knows I was completely spent for that man months before.

I remember our wedding day, walking down the aisle at the church where "we" began and not being able to quite catch a glimpse of him for all the people in the crowd. I was so wound up it would’ve appeared I was nervous, but really I was just anticipating his seeing his face. That same excitement carried me all the way through our reception where we danced ourselves silly with a host of friends and family.

This October we will have been together for 10 years… an entire decade carved out for just us. I love our memories, big moments and small ones. I spent some time looking at pictures of us from years ago, before babies and weddings and engagements. I thought about these last 6 years, how we had no clue what was ahead of us when those pictures were taken. We didn’t know the joy of sharing in a life together. We didn’t know that excitement of anticipating new life, of working together as a team through labor, of falling so deeply in love with a creation that is both part of us. We didn’t know the journey of parenting together-- the moments where you feel like it’s an unending mountain and the moments where you feel like there’s so much joy your heart just pours over.  We didn't know that sadness that we would experience, learning that grief could unite us even more deeply than joy. And I am so grateful that each of these moments has been shared with him.

At our wedding, his brother referred to him as a “man among men”. And he is. There are many things I love about Tommy. I love that he knows how to be a friend, that he invests in our relationship with time and intention. I love that he takes full responsibility for us and our well being. I love that he isn’t afraid of hard work and of new situations. He isn’t easily intimidated or easily impressed, reading people and situations clearly. He is patient and tender, free flowing with outward expressions of love. He is deeply invested in Abi Kate’s life, the big events and the small day to day things like what toy she prefers to play with, and he loves her in the sweetest of ways.

He is the man who easily calms my biggest fears with just his words. The man who prays over our daughter every night with such heartfelt gratitude and petitions.  The one who committed himself to understanding the inner workings of labor and my needs so intimately that words weren’t necessary as we welcomed new life. The one who sends me messages nearly every day that he misses me and Abi Kate while he’s at work. He is the one who loves the little baby that does not share our home with such intensity, a child we will not meet on this side of heaven, that his sorrow at her loss was as tangible as mine. He is the one who knew exactly when to be strong for me and when to fall apart with me in the last four weeks. The one who has come home from working all day, for weeks, only to be welcomed by my tears and grief. And he was gentle enough to embrace that and encourage me to let grief and joy flow as they need. He is as quiet as I am loud, relaxed as I am wound up, intrinsic as I am extrinsic. And because of that, he creates a beautiful balance in our life and our love. 

But what I truly love most about him is his constant love for the Lord. To hear him pray is to know his heart, and his faithfulness and trust in Christ is his most beautiful trait. He leads our family to the cross, and I love him most for that.

Our life is far from perfect, and so is this man that I love so deeply. He is chronically messy, so laid back that time and schedules usually don’t apply to him. He takes procrastination to a great new level ;). We argue like any couple does, hitting bumps in the road and doing the hard work to make them smooth. But those things are hard to dwell on in light of his character.

On our wedding night, after the excitement and partying and fun… when we were finally alone, he grabbed a basin and he washed my feet. And while he washed, he read the passage from John 13 where Jesus washed the disciples feet, and he spoke of his new role as my husband… that just like Jesus humbled himself and served his disciples, this is what he had set for himself as a goal as my husband-- to be humble and serve me faithfully. And he has done just that. I’ve heard him say before that he “married up,” but the truth is, I married up. I married a man who is far more compassionate, more merciful, more selfless, and more sacrificial than I am on all of my best days combined.  I am inexplicably grateful to walk beside him in this life, to truly call him my best friend, and to share in the sweetest and hardest moments life has offered us together. I thought I loved him six years ago, but our relationship has found depths within these years that I never anticipated…

You, my love, you are the best thing.