If You See Something You Like, Be Impressed By Him

In order to fully grasp the extent of this post, it would probably behoove you to read this post first.  To know where I'm coming from...

http://anotherdayyay.blogspot.com/2011/09/he-provides.html

When I read that post from just one short year ago, I am in awe of the ways in which God is providing for my family.  I smile as I sense the excitement in that post because I had "four paid shoots."  This week, I have eleven.  Our remaining hospital bills are few, and they have never been so much that we thought we couldn't pay....because of photography.

I remember writing this summer about how my family needed a van and wondering how God would provide that need for us.  Well, I couldn't be blessed with more business right now.  God didn't just give us what we needed, he provided a way for us to do it ourselves.  We are doing, for our family, what we feel in our hearts is right and He isn't letting us down. 

I am truly in awe.

I still can't really claim to know what I'm doing with photography, though! Whoops!  Maybe that's bad for business.

But it's true.

I am honored that so many people want me to photograph their family.  I am honored that so many people respond positively to my work.

Let's be real, though.

If you see something you like, be impressed by Him.  Not by me.

(Likewise, if you see something you don't like, take that up with Him, as well!  ha!) 

Any moment, 
any smile, 
any adoring look,
any revelation of love I capture...

is because of Him.
Always. 

Maybe my photography serves no other purpose than for you to see how God can provide.  He makes a way...when no way exists.

I'm not real sure where this photography road is leading.  As I'm working on pictures right now, I can't say for certain to what extent I'll continue to do this.  I'm just seeing where God leads me and praying that, at the very least, you get a glimpse of Him in my work.  I see Him all the time.  I hope you do, too.

Love,

Mary

My Prayer

It is no secret that we still swaddle Gabriella.  This is the way she has gone to bed every night since she was a baby.  Her last new swaddle was actually bought when she was around 1 year old.  It was the biggest size they made.  As Gabriella has grown, her swaddle has slowly covered less and less of her.  Now, she gets wrapped from about the waist down. 

So vested in this routine, Gabriella even rates people on how they swaddle her.  Daddy is the best.  Sometimes, GG will say to me, "That's a good wrap, Mommy!" or, "You're not a good wrapper, Momma."  I suppose I'm inconsistent.

I guess in the long term, Rick and I were hoping Gabriella would always be swaddled.  Think about it...what high school girl that is still swaddled by her parents has any suitors calling?!  Better yet, if we are still swaddling Gabriella when she's in college, all boys in a 10 mile radius will steer clear and Gabriella can be free to focus on her studies, not to mention get a good night's rest.  What 18 year old in a dorm room doesn't need a good night's rest? Sure, she'll be a little weird, slightly peculiar...but such a small price for her to pay to stay a little girl in our eyes.

Well, Gabriella is almost 3 and with no foreseeable hitch in our plan, things have been smooth sailing on the swaddle front.  Until last night...

Not wanting to go to bed is not uncommon for a child GG's age, but last night she was practically fighting us.  She is not a child who throws temper tantrums (yet!), so I knew there was more to the story than usual.  After a series of questions, in a half-hearted, I-know-this-couldn't-possibly-be-it tone, I asked Gabriella, "Do you want a blanket instead of your swaddle?"

Grinning from ear to ear, Gabriella practically ran to her crib.  She has never been more excited to go to bed.  Ever.  I found a special blanket that a family friend made that covered her from head to toe.  GG kept saying how soft it was and when I turned off the light, she was still smiling.

So, there you have it.  

Last night...

For the first time...

Gabriella didn't want to be swaddled.

Dagger to the heart.

Do you remember the first time you realized that your child wasn't a baby anymore?  I know that as your children grow, you have those realizations more frequently, but do you remember the very first time?

For me, I came to that realization last night.  For the past three years, I have never seen Gabriella as anything more than the precious baby we brought home on November 25th, 2009.  Sure, I notice how she's growing, how she's changing, how she's becoming more independent.  But never have I seen her the way I saw her last night...

as a child who is growing up.

If I think about it, the root of my problem isn't the idea that GG is growing up.

  It's the idea that in order to grow up, time has passed.  

I don't know if you've noticed, but I write about time a lot.  Maybe it's because I realize it's value. 

Life is not renewable.  Time is not forever.

As evidenced last night, time is passing.  Apparently, my girls are growing up.

I don't claim to know the ins and outs of my faith.  It's not my intent to lead a bible study or seem like I'm being "preachy", but I would like to share a prayer with you.   Maybe something you might like to pray...

God,

Please help me to be present in each moment of this day.  Help me to be aware of its value.  Help me to see You in ways I never thought possible.

Amen.

Maybe, just maybe, you can spend today with your time-sense heightened, realizing the significance and value of each minute.

In an effort to not waste your time, I need to bring this super long post to a conclusion! ha!  Everyone in my house is starting to rise and I can't miss out on our day together.  I am already aware.  I hope you are, too.

Love,

Mary

What If

"What if?" questions...

The only purpose they really serve is to conjure up a bunch of unrealistic scenarios that are worrisome with no definitive answers that can calm your anxieties.

And if you didn't know, no one can ask a what-if question like a mother.

What if my baby has this...

What if my baby does this...

What if my baby doesn't do this...

Having twins is a whole new ball game and with each stage, I find myself with more what-if questions.

Marielle has not been sleeping.  During the day, she is fine, but nighttime has her up about every 15-20 minutes.  Last night, I don't think she ever slept more than 10 minutes at a time.  Combine this with the fact that at our last doctor's visit, we decided that if her head continued to grow at the rate it was, we would be getting some x-rays.  Baby that can't sleep + abnormal head size = a mother who is asking a lot of what-if questions.

The twins have a 6 month appointment today and I hadn't even planned on going.  After yet another sleepless night (I don't even care that I don't sleep anymore), I just want some reassurance from the doctor that everything is okay.  I want to be there in person.  I don't want it to be a conversation that Rick relays over the phone after the fact.  

So here I've been, since 5am.  Requesting a sub, getting plans together, putting pacifiers in, sniffling, in the dark.  If only you could see me.  I'm a hot mess, but I bet you can relate if you're a mom.  Nothing screams pity party more than a mother in a dark room at the butt crack of dawn worrying about the well-being of her child.  It's like the heart-broken teenager that just keeps listening to that same stupid sad song.  You want to say, "Get a grip!"  Someone needs to slap me and tell me to snap out of it! Ha!  Only, no one can because OF COURSE everyone in this house is FINALLY fast asleep.  

Oh, the irony of my family. 

******************************

Just now, as I was waiting to for my pictures to upload, I checked my school e-mail.  I read an e-mail from a colleague who has been taking care of a family member during a very difficult time.  Very difficult.  God sure does know what we need and when to give it to us.  It occurred to me...

What if  my worst what-if questions come to fruition?

Well...then you do what any close, loving family does.

You take care of each other.

And the people around you, your support system, take care of you.

*********************************

I'm still nervous, but as always, He let's me find humor in my situation and humbles me by showing me the trials of others.

Today, I will see God in the twins' pediatrician as she calms my fears and explains to me everything I need to know.  Does she even realize just how He will use her today?  Maybe I will tell her.  If that won't be too awkward...hehe  :)

Love,

Mary

Here are some pictures of my family rolling around on the floor last night.  Really, they were just rolling, and rolling, and rolling!

Big Fish

You know the old story...A man goes fishin', only to return with tales about the whopping size of the fish he caught.  "It was a big fish!" In reality, it was probably the tiniest minnow, IF a fish was even caught at all.

It's the exaggeration.

The embellishment.

There was once a movie with the same title, Big Fish.  In the movie, a young boy listens to the unbelievable tales his father shares.  Stories you would never, in a million years, believe.  Giants, Siamese twins, etc.  As the boy grows into a man, his father's stories don't have that same sense of fantasy and start to become lies instead.  In many ways, the son begins to resent his father for the far-out stories that he has told over the years. Until...

His father passes away.  At the funeral, there to bid farewell...the characters in the stories the son thought to be figments of his father's wild imagination.  Real people.  Real stories, after all.

*************************************************

You might know someone who likes to tell these bizarre tales.  They share of people they've seen, people they've spoken with, places they've been... You can never quite figure out where the real story ends and the imagination begins.

My question is...

Why would you want to?

Yesterday, Rick was telling me about his and the girls' daily walk.  (I should write a book about their walks, by the way!)  Apparently, when they got to a stretch of farmland that hadn't been mowed in months, he and the girls were attacked by, in Rick's words, "like 50,000 grasshoppers!!"  Rick said they were jumping on his head.  They were jumping in the wagon with the girls (Yes, it still has the duck-taped umbrella!).  Grasshoppers surrounded them and jumped on them from every angle.  He kept yelling to Gabriella, "Just keep your mouth closed!"  A scene from a movie, right?

So, when I woke Gabriella from her nap, I couldn't wait to hear her account of the grasshopper fiasco.  I didn't want her to relive a traumatic situation, but I had to know, "Gabriella, tell me about your walk.  Mommy wants to know about all the grasshoppers!"

Gabriella:  We went on a walk, Mommy!

 Me:  Tell me about the grasshoppers!

Gabriella:  We saw two.

Two?  What happened to the 50,000?!  The swarm jumping in, out, over, and under?!

 

What is it that this little duo sees when they look out the window?  What is it this little duo, along with the twins, sees when they go on walks?
Well, I'm going to choose to believe that Gabriella just hasn't quite mastered her concept of numbers, yet, and if Rick says they fought a battle with 50,000 of nature's hoppiest, then I believe him.

It's the exaggeration.

The embellishment.

 Real people.

Real stories, after all.

I see God in big fish tales that really do happen, that really do exist.  I hope you do, too.

Love, 

Mary

 

Duck-Taped Umbrella

I made my predictable afternoon phone call to Rick on my way home today.  This phone call usually finds us rehashing the day's events, the ups and downs.  Today's phone call filled me with such joy.

Rick shared how, for the first time, he took all 3 girls on a walk in our big Radio Flyer wagon.  He had rigged it with duck tape, a bungee cord, and an umbrella to keep the girls out of the direct sun.  Pulling the wagon all around the neighborhood, they waved at all of the people who honked as they drove by (Rick lovingly said they were like celebrities!) and talked to neighbors and passersby.  They met a man from Uganda who shared that, in his village, having twins made you some type of high official!  He told Rick that twins were a sign of good luck in his culture.  

As they continued on, the wind picked up and, apparently, Marielle's hat blew across the street.  So, Rick pulled that big red wagon with the duck taped umbrella along, chasing down the hat as it would blow, then stop, then blow, then stop.  After a long adventurous walk, they pulled into the driveway, only to find that one pacifier had been dropped along the way!  So, back down the street they went looking for it!

The tale Rick shared of his wagon adventure reminded me of something you might read in a storybook with whimsical characters, bright colors, curly cue fonts, and magical events.  Their days together seem surreal, so full of love and happiness.  Of course, I'm sure when you're pulling 70 lbs. of Radio Flyer excitement behind you as you chase a blowing hat down the street you're not finding the humor in the situation, 

but something about it makes my heart smile.

I'm so happy that they have these moments together.  Funny thing, I'm not jealous or resentful that it's not me making these memories with the girls, that I'm not the one staying at home with them during the day.  I still get my special times with them and besides, I know they remember me throughout the day because written on the whiteboard when I finally made it home this afternoon...

a note

a reminder

in Rick's rushed "the-babies-are-crying" handwriting

10:27am- Gabriella says her doll is pretty like her Momma.

I see God in every man who devotes everything within himself to be the best father he can be to his family.

Love,

Mary 

P.S. My new favorite photo of the girls!  :)

 

And What Must It Be Like to Be Alone...

Is a good night's rest too much to ask for?

For the last week, the twins have been very inconsistent in their sleep schedule.  We've tried different things, called the doctor, but our nights remain the same:  one of them spends most of the night whining, requiring us to put in her pacifier over and over and over.  Maybe 50 times in one night...

As a working mom, as a teacher, it is difficult to meet the demands of my job when I'm so tired.  There is this sense of urgency I have when I'm at school.  You can't take a break or relax when you have children who need to learn how to read.  You can't take a break or relax when you have children who need to learn how to count and say numbers.  You can't take a break or relax when you have children who need to work on concepts two grade levels above because they are so advanced.  

I'm not complaining about the responsibility that comes along with teaching.  I love it.  I guess what I'm saying is this:  it sure is hard being a working mom.  Balancing the responsibilities at home and school has proven to be extremely exhausting.  I'm sure I could make it easier for myself, but then I feel like one end would lose out and too many people are counting on me.  That, in itself, is tiring.

Let's take last night for example.  It was Marielle's turn to whimper and cry every 10 minutes when her pacifier came out.  We had about 20 minutes of complete silence and we hear a cry in the distance.  It was Gabriella.  She was afraid of the "funder" and so into bed she came with us.  

Only GG wasn't tired.  So, for the next 30 minutes that the twins were actually content, Gabriella's big boney toe kept poking me in my back and the slurping from her sucking on her two fingers in my ear was magnified by the quiet around us.  As Marielle started to cry again, here was the conversation...

Rick:  I'll get up and get it.

Me:  No, I will.  I'm up.

Rick:  No, I'm already up.  I'll get it.

Me:  Well, I'm up, too.

GG sits straight up in the bed and so proudly exclaims:  I'm up, too!!!!

Rick and Me:  We know.....

Then, for the next half hour GG begged and pleaded to watch cartoons or a movie.  

GG:  Daddy, let's go down stairs and let Mommy rest.  We can watch cartoons.  How about that for some fun?

Rick in a very sarcastic tone: GG, thanks for tootin' on my leg.

GG in her most sincere voice: You're welcome, Daddy.

It was 3am.

Finally, we let her watch Lilo and Stitch.  As I laid there with the covers over my head, trying to block out the slurping and boney toes and crying, I heard someone in the movie say something like, "...and what must it be like to be alone, to have nothing to look back on, not even memories to think about in the middle of the night..."

What would it be like? 

These years when the girls are so young...

they are hard

they are exhausting

they are, at times, frustrating

but, they are so much fun

they are filled with much more laughter than tears

At the very core, they are the years we will one day look back on and wish for their return. 

So, bring on the sleep-deprived nights, my precious girls.  They are the moments that will turn into memories that will prevent me from ever being alone.

My prayer each day this week has been so simple: God, walk with me.

However, if I can't get some sleep soon, I'm going to have to change my prayer:  God, carry me. 

Ha!

For all of the mommies that stumble upon this blog, I hope that when you're tired from giving everything you have to everything and everyone around you, that you can find patience, humor, love, and appreciation in the memories you're making.  However crazy they may be.  

Because what would it be like to be alone, to have nothing to look back on?

Love,

Mary

Who Am I?

Making an effort to be brutally honest this morning...

Yesterday, I went to the eye doctor for my bi-monthly check-up for my eyes.  As I was sitting in the waiting room, I was looking at the people around me.  There were two guys that looked like they had come from very difficult lives.  The group sitting next to me was made up of some characters:  two girls in their pajamas and 2 guys that, to me, looked like they'd had a loooong night of partying.  

I texted Rick and told him that the next time I wanted to go to this particular eye doctor, remind me not to.  Then, I texted him that everyone around me looked scary.

They did.

As I think about my texts now, the thing that disappoints me the most is that hidden somewhere inside me, I think my comments were fueled by a feeling that I was better than the people around me.

I can assure you that coming to a conclusion like that about yourself is quite disheartening.

Who am I?

If GG had ever come up to me and said, "Mommy, I don't want to sit by that man because he looks different," or, "Mommy, that man looks scary," or, even worse, "Mommy, I think I am better than her,"  I would be real swift to give her a lesson in compassion.  In fact, I would probably share with her how Jesus turned away no one, how God wants us to love everyone, and how in Matthew it says, "And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

Who am I to, if even for a moment, think more of myself and less of someone else?  

Not even our perfect God does that?  

God, who has every right, every reason, to look down on us and boast of His goodness does not.  

Do my judgements, expectations, or standards for the life around me get to be more strict than God's?

I don't know if you can relate, nor do I know if you really want to on this subject...

I can only pray that God will continue to be that voice inside me, convicting me when I'm wrong...

God...

Help me love.

Love everyone.

No matter what.

I see God in the love I have for most people, but I want to see Him in the love I have for all people.

Love, 

Mary