42

If you've seen Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, then this number means something to you. 

In the movie, they build a super computer that supposedly can give them the answer to the "ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything." The computer tells them they will have to return in 7.5 million years, the amount of time it takes Deep Thought to process this question, to receive the answer. 

42. The answer was 42. 

In 2024, I turned 42. So I'm expectant--for the answers of life, the universe, and everything to begin coming to me. 

The reality is, I know less now than I ever have. Age does that to you, I guess. It is humbling. You begin to realize that everyone has something to offer, has had experiences that you have not, has suffered in ways you have not, has met someone you have not. And the culmination of our lives has a bearing on how we speak, act, and treat other people. 

My children are no longer little, we are running headlong into adult and teenage years, which is also humbling. I hear the echoes of every single one of my parents' friends saying, "time flies." And the words of the psalmist who says we are like flowers, here one day and gone the next. These bits of wisdom that come to us so frequently in our younger years, it begins to feel cliche, until you reach a certain point in life (sometimes by age, sometimes by experience) and becomes a sobering reality. 

So here's to the last half of 42. I hope to God that I will love--every single person--more next year than this one. 

Overwhelmed

When my heart is overwhelmed, I find I have a strange desire to see that blinking cursor on the screen.  A fresh, clean page waiting for my thoughts.

It's literally been years since I have written a post.  I have considered it, longed for it, even, but have yet to write.  The last two years have been an adjustment, and perhaps I will write more on that later.

Today, what brings me here, is grief.

All of us have experienced grief, and it is unique for each of us--yet there is an experience of loss that is similar in much of our grief.

Death is not easy; it is not simple.
It is hard and complex.
But, it is not the end.

Our culture is so unfamiliar with death, we stay as far away from it as we possibly can, yet it is so near.  We find it difficult to even speak of death in final terms, we say someone has "passed" because to say anyone that we love or cared about has died...well, it's hard.  Not one of us is promised tomorrow, but we live as though we are.  We forget this life is not all there is, we forget to appreciate those in our lives that are the hardest to love, we forget tomorrow is not a guarantee.  

A friend of ours died last Thursday.

In moments when death comes so near that it touches my heart, I remember.  This world we live in, it is so broken.  So, loss is a reality for each and everyone of us--no one will escape.  And grief is absolutely necessary.  Our hearts, our minds, and our emotions need to process the loss we experience.

But, it is not the end.

There is a hope that does not disappoint.  And it's a glorious one.  At times, it is the next breath, at others, a warm blanket. But never, ever, disappointing. 

Kept Promises

I cannot count the times that I have broken promises.  To my husband, to my parents, to my children.  From tiny insignificant ones to big nasty ones.  Sometimes it crushes my heart, and deeply grieves me that I have broken trust; other times…it doesn’t.  The devastating thing is that this will keep on happening, hopefully less frequent, but it is a guarantee that I will continue to fail, either by forgetfulness or selfishness. 

Strangely, even though I have this great ability to break promises; I am offended when others break their promises to me.  Observation has shown me I’m not alone in this.

There is one.  One who has never broken a single promise, whether tiny or massive, he has kept his word Every. Single. Time.  You probably know him, or at least you’ve heard of him.   

Difficulty mounts in my heart when he beckons me to trust him with the lives of my children.  When a little voice on the other end of the phone cries because of the pain he feels from the words and actions of another.

It is so hard for our human hearts not to assume God will break his promises just like everyone else we know.  But the absolute truth he keeps pressing in on my heart is that he is just as faithful to my children as he is to me.  He will keep Every.  Single.  Promise.  I can bank on it. 

It's Not Easy Being Green

A friend on Facebook said to me a few weeks ago, "You make being a mom seem so easy. What is your secret?"  I replied to her, but the question just keeps eating at me.

First of all, because there are no real secrets.  Sure, there are things I do and don't do differently, but I don't have an MLM going with an inner circle that receives my strategies and tips in a weekly email. Secondly, I know a lot of moms, and it seems very typical of these mothers to question themselves, or second guess their methods, even if they aren't posting it on Facebook.

I typically just tell my story, because I'm pretty overwhelmed and fascinated at the beautiful threads the God of the Universe is weaving. He has graciously written me into His magnificent story, and I do not want to forget that, ever, so, I tell my stories; but like I said, this question just keeps itching a certain spot on my heart.

So I started thinking practically about how I mother.  Much of how I mother comes from how I was mothered (bless my mother's soul, I owe so much to her), but there is also so much (heavy sigh, so much) that is different in the world while I am embarking on this same journey.  I wondered if I could possibly offer any valuable insight or information to other mothers.  Because, let's be honest there's a bajillion mom-blogs out there and you probably don't need another one of those to read.

As I would say to my friend Jina, high five for new experiences; if none of this helps you, find a different mom blog, but if it does, praise Jesus.

look ahead of you, not beside you
Facebook can be a good thing, but it is a thorn in every mother's side.  Why?  Because you are constantly comparing yourself to every other mother in your news feed.  We have to get our faces away from the screens in our lives and onto the children at our feet. God gave you the child(ren) you have, He has entrusted them to you, so trust Him.  He gives better feedback, and no amount of likes will ever compare to how much He loves you.

laugh
I'll be really honest, this one is hard.  Laughing is critical, though.  The reality is you have very little control of what happens during your day, what you do have control of, is how you respond.  Will you let the little inconsistencies drive you crazy, or let the constant mess get under your skin, or let the disobedience determine your self-worth?  Your children are (wait for it.....) children.  And they are supposed to be exactly that.  If the day becomes too much of an endurance race, I find dance parties are really helpful.

be loved
If you feel that it is difficult to love your kid(s), I'd be willing to bet, you feel unloved.  The God of the Universe really did send His only Son to the earth in the form of a baby boy to live a perfect life and die the worst death, then live again so that you and I can have life....because He loves us. He gets so much glory when you will be filled up with His love so you can love your little ones.

and lean....
You are not alone, and you cannot do this mothering thing alone.  You need Jesus (I need Jesus).  The crazy amazing thing is that He will be enough for you every. single. time.  Failure is inevitable, but it does not define you.  When you do something wrong, say I'm sorry.  Jesus never said life would be easy, what He said was, "I will be with you."

Often, when I read the Old Testament, I am awestruck at how quickly God's people forget what He did for them.  But, I find this true of myself far too often, which is why in Psalm 77, David even tells himself, "I will remember the deeds of the Lord...and therefore I will have hope."  So when you wake up to the sound of a baby crying or a toddler whining or a child begging for breakfast, remember what the Lord has done.  

a Mother's Day poem

I was showered with love and wonderful homemade cards for Mother's Day, a few have requested I post the poem my husband wrote, so I felt this was the best place to do it.  His words were and will continue to be such a blessing to me; hopefully they give you a glimpse into our world from his point of view.

From the time you were young you heeded the call,
"Come follow me and give me your all."
Obediently you came ready to Go,
Excited to be spent, ready to grow.

India on your mind you studied and read
Mild confusion when you heard, "Stay" instead
Just as before you were obedient to His voice
Submission to your Father your only choice.

Then came your first and second eclipsed by the Army
Your husband came back wounded, whom you loved abundantly.
The twins what a roller coaster, them you almost lost
you were ready to give them to Him, no matter what the cost.

And then your girl who has been a blessing
He knew what to give you even if you weren't asking
And now I salute you and praise the Almighty
For heeding the call to be a missionary to your family.

Selfies might not be so bad

I am not of this current generation obsessed with taking pictures of themselves.  In fact, most of the time, when I look at a young person's profile on Instagram and see most of the pictures are of themselves, I decide almost immediately: do not follow.  So this selfie-insanity that goes on, well, I'll be really blunt, irritates me. 

It seems to just bring to the surface that our society, our culture, is becoming more and more narcissistic.  An "all about me" attitude saturates our society.  It's so acceptable and normal that even as Christians we start to normalize this infatuation with ourselves and deem it appropriate at times.

There's a video that has gone viral on Facebook about the worth of women done by an attractive guy on an empty stage.  He preaches a false gospel to all women of their innate worth, strength, power, beauty, etc.  The problem is, he pulls directly from the Bible to help us all believe the lie that we have value in and of ourselves.  

I do have worth.  I do have value.  I am even beautiful.  But only, only, only because the Creator of the Universe, the Maker of all things, has made me.  My worth, value, and beauty would be the same if I had a deformed face--He still made me.  And what's more than all this, is that when I became a child of God, (when I became a Christian), He attributed more value to me than I could ever achieve on my own, because He named me His own.  The blood of Jesus covered up every sin and inch of darkness in my heart and made me beautiful to look at, where once God's eyes only looked upon me and saw wrath and death. 

So, yes, women of the earth, you are beautiful, just as men, sunsets, and babies are; because the Almighty God who reigns over the entire earth made you.  That beauty however, comes from Him, and exists to draw you to Him and adore Him and worship Him and see His infinite value and beauty. 

Because I'm a mother, I am always on the other side of the camera, trying to capture those precious moments.  I have very few pictures of me with any of our children, even during the years Kevin was deployed, there are more photos of him with the kids than with me.  

The iPhone has enabled all of us to be on both sides of the camera.  Now I am finally able to be in pictures with my children.  Yet, I still hesitate because I want to fight the self-absorbed inclination that all of our hearts have.

I have this beautiful new daughter, who I love dearly, and has captured my heart in a way different than any of her brothers did.  I was, indeed, attempting a "selfie" with her to send to my mom.  

She could see herself, but what did she look at?  Me.  She turned to look at me.  Our Savior sits near us, and holds up the mirror to our hearts to show us we have been made clean and are more beautiful than ever, but the Spirit moves that gaze from ourselves to the Father.  Only in being justified by the blood of Jesus can we see all along it was because of what He has done.

Biggest dandelion ever

And letting the little seeds spread was even bigger fun

Full Bellies and Full Hearts

When we see Kevin’s parents, our kids enjoy days full of adventure; exploring in the woods, driving motorized mini jeeps, building forts of real wood, hunting for turtles and lizards, going on ranger rides, and taking hikes.  Not only do we enjoy adventure, but the beauty of nature, and my mother-in-law’s wonderful cooking. 

By the time we are in the car on our way home, our bellies are full, our hearts are full, our legs are tired, and our imaginations expanded. 

In this place, I looked back and Evan’s eyes were fighting the sleep that was seducing him.  I reached out to hold his hand, and we were caught in a gaze together, and that’s when he asked, “Can I have some friends?”

I had to turn my face from laughter, and my giggles almost immediately turned to tears when I answered him and said, “I can’t give you friends, but I’ll be your friend.”

Hasn’t this happened to each of us?  We experience some aspect of life in a measure so full, and then find ourselves wanting even more.  The fullness only whet our appetite for more. 

More what?  At times, our own hearts cannot put words to what it is we want.  Yet, my three year old was able to articulate his heart.

This is exactly how we come to Jesus.  We look at Him and ask for Him to fill our bellies, to give us adventure, to give us aesthetic pleasure, and He says, “You can have me, that appetite that seems unquenchable, it’s for me; and I satisfy.”

expressions of God through my children

People ask me all the time lately how my little girl is doing. 

Wonderful.  She is wonderful, sincerely, she is a delight.

She is still a baby and so she cries, gets cranky, and has poopy diapers, but still in all of that she is a gift.  My heart has been overwhelmed with love with each of our children, but she is different.  And because the question comes at me so consistently, I began to contemplate a better answer.

As I laid in bed a few nights ago, it was clear:  she is, more than anything, an expression of God's love to me.  Moments later, I realized this was true of Davis and Ronin and Evan and Eli, each has been an expression of an aspect of God's character to me.

Davis was and continues to be an expression of God's provision to me.  He was an extreme surprise to us; I was pregnant a month after getting married while on birth control.  While he was unexpected to us, four months after he was born when Kevin left for Basic Training; there was no doubt the Lord had provided for me a son--a son that had the eyes and heart of his father.  Davis was so much like his Daddy, it seemed sometimes I wasn't without him.  During the very challenging days of Kevin's PTSD, Davis was an incredible help to me with his younger brothers, and still is a huge helper to me.

Ronin is an expression of God's grace, of His undeserved blessing.  Kevin left for the Mojave when Ronin was two days old, and was gone for a month.  As a baby, Ronin was incredibly laid back, a means of grace for a mother who was helping a certain 3 year old adjust to life outside the spotlight.  When Ronin was five months old, Kevin left for the 15 month tour to Iraq, and we went 10 months before we saw Kevin.  Little Ronin seemed to lavish grace on me through smiles and giggles and a general sweet disposition (though he did have a bit of an aversion to discipline).  He consistently surprises me with his humor, his ability to understand without words what I sometimes feel, and his ability to make me feel valued and honored.

Evan and Eli are expressions of God's miraculous power and redemption.  If you don't know their story, it's blogged and you should read it--because if you have ever doubted miracles happen, their little lives are evidence they still do.  Not only do I see the hand of God to work miracles when I look at them, but also I know He redeems what has been lost--in part now and in full later.  Kevin missed the age of six months to about one and a half with Davis and Ronin, which is the reason we tried for a third child, because he was out of active duty and wouldn't miss that precious time of growth in this unborn child.  Well, there were two instead of one.  And the younger two were so like the older two during those stages it was as though the time lost with Davis and Ronin was redeemed in Evan and Eli.

And then there's Baylee.  Since nearly the beginning of our marriage, we have been operating at a pretty high pace.  One adventure after another after another.  While five kids does not quite seem like a time to rest, it is.  It has come with a set of different challenges that my heavenly Father has given me a precious girl as a means of saying, "I love you." 

This season will still be an adventure but a different one, one where I can catch my breath, one where I see His hand of provision in a more mature way, His grace in a new way, His power and redemption in a new way, and one where He wants me to know the depths of His love.

Hurt=Anger

My wonderful husband, at one time, was like a big brother to me.  I only dreamed I would marry someone like him one day (but I got him, bless my soul!).  We were nerds, and would actually spend our free time with others just praying; praying for revival, praying for God to move in ways we had never seen in our measly sixteen to twenty years of life. 

And move, He did.  So later we would talk about how we wanted to be soaked up in affection for Jesus, about sin that was keeping us from doing just that, and all sorts of other things.  Kevin has always been able to articulate things I have not.  I often found myself (even in our early marriage) saying, "Ahhh, yes!" Because he had given words to things my heart longed to say. 

A few nights ago we were sitting in bed, talking; talking about these last three years (which have been incredibly challenging). And I spoke to him of the hurt my heart has endured honestly, for the first time.  I explained my anger was a result of this hurt.  Anger was the only emotion I felt I could express because I could not express need or hurt, so anger came out.

Right then, Kevin had an "Ahhh, yes!" moment.  I had given words to things his heart didn't even know how to say.  I cannot even begin to pretend I know how much pain Kevin saw and endured while in Iraq, but I can tell you there was not a single time he expressed it.  So, what we experienced as a family was anger instead of the hurt that was trapped inside of him for so many years.  

We are embarking on a journey of healing, and it's beautiful.  Wet with tears, and beautiful. 

"She looks just like you."

Hearing those five words makes my heart swell.  Swell.  I think our brand new baby girl is quite possibly the most beautiful baby I have ever seen.  I want people to know she is mine, to know she belongs to me.

Parenting brings many insights, I'm on baby number five, and they are still coming.  Honestly, I thought there wouldn't be quite so many after having five children, but alas, I was absolutely wrong.  Some of the most profound ones have been because of this girl, Baylee.

When I first heard someone say those words to me, "She looks just like you," I felt my entire being smile.  As God's children, He is pleased when He hears someone say, "She looks like Jesus."  I don't mean we look Jewish with an angular nose and olive skin, but that our heart, attitude, words, or actions displayed the love of Christ to someone.  His heart swells when someone looks at His children and they actually look like they belong to Him, when people know whose you are.

Baylee is beautiful, I promise (I'll post pictures eventually), and as the thought settled into my heart, I realized that if people think she looks like me, there must be beauty in me.  The illumination from earlier just got brighter; when people see Jesus in us, it points to the beauty of our Creator, of our Father.  In those wonderful moments when we look like Him, we are showing people that He is glorious, that He is kind-hearted, that He is forgiving, that He is beautiful.

a bit of news

I am pregnant (yes, again) with our fifth baby (yes, fifth).  This changes things here on the blog just a bit.  We will now be a family of seven!  Aaaannnnd.....it's a girl, so I'll need to be changing the entire blog name soon, since she will be arriving at the end of April. 

from the other side (a spouse's struggle with PTSD)

I would never have dared speak of my struggle during the depths of Kevin's struggle with PTSD, in fact, there are few with whom I shared my side of the journey.

Now it is different, Kevin really has experienced healing, he really does still struggle, but he also knows there was a struggle on my side as well, and acknowledging it doesn't make him angry, but thankful for God's overwhelmingly sufficient grace.

I will say with confidence every spouse who has dealt with a veteran who struggles with PTSD has felt very alone.  Strangely, the veteran feels totally and utterly alone too.  This seems paradoxical, to have two people fighting against the same thing, but both feeling so alone.

My experience was not my husband's, but I don't hear many spouses tell their story, mainly because we're afraid to and even feel we are not allowed to express our hurt, struggle, or fear.  Because of the REACH program at the VA, I've actually spoken to other wives, and I was amazed at the shared feelings among all of us.  So I decided to write.  About our side, our side of the fight.  

There were days I felt like I had PTSD, days I wanted to lash out in anger, days I wanted to give up.  That is where the greatest challenge lies:  the man who you knew as a rock, who could not be shaken by mortar rounds, by incessant patrols, by days on end without your companionship, now seems unable to bear your 5 year old's fits of frustration or even just being in a room full of people.

I finally learned the worst thing I could ever do, was to get angry when he got angry (even though that is exactly what I wanted to do).  I learned how to cope with this new man, how to give him space, how to take the blame for every argument, how to always say sorry and expect to never hear him say the same words.  I learned his triggers, how to avoid them (as best I could), when not to leave him alone with our children, and when not to leave him alone.

I felt afraid, alone, and unsure about our future.

What do you do?  In that place of fear and uncertainty.  Trust Jesus, pray, believe unswervingly in the power of the gospel, pray, wait, and pray more.  As a spouse, you must remember you are not alone; yes, because God is with you, but also because there are thousands of wives fighting this fight with you.  Most often, they are fighting silently, just as you are.  Help is out there---for you and for your spouse, you are not weak if you get it, and neither is he.  Some days stick with the Army motto, drink water and drive on, but not in desperation, rather clinging to the hope of Christ and the knowledge that God is still God, and nothing will change that.

wade in the water

You may remember the series of posts on Davis's journey of faith; we talked with our pastor about baptism and he advised that we continue to talk with Davis about the gospel and watch for the evidence of the grace of God and fruit of faith in his life.

Though we waited quite a while, there is no doubt in his mind (or ours) of the transforming power of the gospel in his heart.

So, on Father's Day, Kevin had the honor and privilege of baptizing Davis.  We helped Davis understand baptism as a ceremony.  In the same way a wedding publicly proclaims a man and woman belong to each other, a baptism publicly proclaims you belong to Jesus.

a 13 minute investment

Kevin showed me this video about a month ago, it has some graphic images in it, so if you get queasy, you may want to skip this one.  However, it is enlightening to the internal, mental battle that so many of our combat veterans face.  If you are one of those that desires to understand what those with PTSD are really facing on a day to day basis, watch this video:

Now, after

cutest bath time pictures ever

I know, I know, it's a pretty weighty claim, but look at these guys!  

 Eli is on the right and Evan is on the left.  At first, they were sitting side by side with their backs to me, but the water shifted them just a bit.

an effort to understand (or why not Portland?)

What happens when you tell the world your plans? You have to tell them you've changed them.

Those of you who have been following our story probably remember a blog post from October about our plans to move to Portland (I removed it temporarily while I have been trying to put this post together).

We have decided to stay here in Oklahoma (can you hear the cheers coming from the grandparents?).  There are some peripheral reasons for this, but primarily we are choosing to make Kevin's health a priority.

Questions start forming: does he have cancer? is he seriously ill? what happened to him?

War happened.

Yes, it was almost three years ago.
Yes, he served two tours.
Yes, he seems fine.
Yes, we are a happy family.

While all of those statements are true, it is nearly a daily mental struggle.  If his legs had been blown off by an IED (improvised explosive device) people would be anxious to serve him, however he is trying to pull the shrapnel out of his heart and his mind, which is an injury that is completely unseen.  There are very few civilians who have an inkling of what it is like for our returning soldiers, especially the ones who saw intense combat (Read this article by a soldier who was able to articulate really well what the experience is like).

Perhaps the inability of civilians to understand is because it is incredibly difficult for soldiers to communicate what war really has done to them internally. Sure they can tell you stories, but this is not the same as explaining why though they love their families and war was possibly one of the worst experiences of their lives, they want to go back.

Kevin has described PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) as a dark cloud over him that cannot be lifted.  Some days it is merely overcast, but others have tornadoes and the threat to take shelter.

So, we are staying.  We are learning how to cope, how to heal, and how to best love each other through this part of our journey.

Sunday best

It's hard to believe these guys are 16 months old.  Here they are looking absolutely handsome.

 Eli has discovered accessories; belts, scarves, sunglasses, you name it, he is excited to wear it.

 Evan is our climber!  He is capable but cautious, here he is preparing for his career as a performing cowboy.

 Eli

 Evan

These days Eli jabbers away with nonsense words, but will talk to you for ten minutes or more, Evan is working towards real words like ball, Papa, eye, bye, and a couple others (Eli on the left, Evan on the right).

note from self

Last night I was talking with some friends, and one of them started to share with the rest of the girls something "profound" I had told her.  My ears perked up, "what did I say?"  I honestly couldn't remember.

She began to explain the scenario, and it came flooding back to me:

When the babies were small (which actually lasted for quite a while), Kevin was working late, I had already put our big boys to bed, fed the little ones, swaddled them, and was standing over one and calming the other one down.  I rotated between Evan and Eli; one would be crying while I held the other, and it continued this way for at least an hour.

I felt like I was at a breaking point, and I cried out to God, "Please...please, help them, put your hands on them, calm their little bodies, I believe you can do it, take this burden away even if it's just for an hour."

As my friend explained, she was on the edge of her seat, wondering, did he? Did God calm them?

No.  They continued to scream and cry.

But through their tears the Holy Spirit spoke gently to my heart saying, "My grace is sufficient, I will calm your heart, this is how you will know more fully who I am."

It is in moments of desperation we find the grace of God to be most fulfilling.

cooking with boys

A couple weeks ago, when our family was gathered for lunch, someone mentioned whose daughter I was.  Ronin nonchalantly looks up from eating and asks, "What's a daughter?"

Everyone chuckled, realizing that this is a word which does not fit into our vocabulary since there are four sons, four brothers, and only one mom.

The absence of girls really does change things, though I don't always notice just how much.

One night the boys were helping me make cookies (which means they poured in a few ingredients, stared at the mixer, and incessantly asked when the cookies would be ready).  As the butter and sugar were creaming, they both stood on stools; peering in unable to control their laughter.  Ronin thought the sound was exactly like the sound of their dart guns hitting each other on their bare backs.

After they recovered from laughing, their noses were nearly in the mixer smelling that wonderful aroma of sugar, butter, eggs, and vanilla.  They were breathing it in.

The store had been out of regular semi-sweet chocolate chips so I bought the mini ones instead.  As I poured them in, Davis exclaimed, "Bees!! It looks like a bunch of bees!"  As the chips were folded into the dough, it just affirmed it for him, "it really looks like a beehive now."  More laughter, this time from all three of us.

They sat on the counter after I had put the first batch in the oven.  Fresh baked cookies have a way of luring any boy into the kitchen and it wasn't long until Kevin was at the table waiting for a warm cookie.  Out of the first two batches of cookies only two were left on the plate; and three guys at the table with empty milk glasses, napkins with crumbs, and big smiles.