When the Paradox Prepares You

Rolled over in the bed at four o'clock a few nights ago. And as I settled in to get back to sleep, I thought, "It seems just a bit cold in here. What's the deal?" I trudged to the thermostat and blinked awake enough to read it. "45".

Forty-five degrees! Inside our house! And to be honest, after adding a couple more layers of clothing, it wasn't that big of a deal. What with my raging pregnancy hormones and Webb's longterm, honorary induction to the polar bear family, it was pretty much my perfect version of camping:  comfy bed, indoor plumbing, night light, but with cool night air.

However, we figured we should probably look into remedying the heater situation since our baby's been a toasty ninety-eight degrees for nine months and probably wouldn't acclimate to forty-five real well. Yeah, we may be first-time parents, but we do know a few things. And, thank the Lord, it was a simple fix, just a breaker. 

Webb has been the best husband to a pregnant wife that has ever walked our earth. Have I mentioned that? Especially these last few weeks. I've had a slightly inconvenient onset of pregnancy carpel tunnel which makes doing almost anything more difficult than it should be. Especially anything requiring fine motor skills. Like snaps or buttons. Or writing. And he's been there to help with every task. Patient when he sees me trying to open something (anything!) and that look of total exasperation crosses my face. He just smiles and takes care of it. 

In all this weakness, I've been wondering:  why is it that the Lord saw fit to make me as dependent and needy as I've ever been right before the moment I'm sure I'll need to be stronger and more capable than I ever have? I have never felt so helpless as I have through pregnancy. Can't lift this, or reach that. My body won't cooperate. I'm exceedingly clumsy (as if I wasn't before). And yet in the coming days, I feel that the only version of myself I should be is the best, strongest, most capable one.

I feel Jesus using all my current handicaps to remind me that the most daunting things in life don't require any of our strength; They require His. I need the strength of the Lord in order to pass on strength to my child. I need the covering of my husband to serve as a conveyor belt of power. There's a pipeline, a channel, which must be intact for God's provision to flow in the best possible way. And I'm so thankful Webb honors the Lord and leans on Him for everything he needs to pass on to our family.

We have spent many days since the news of our little one praying that the Lord will help us keep the structure of our family intact. Asking Him to remind us to set our minds on things above, to then love and serve each other as spouses, and then to bless and nurture our children. Health begets health. And where we lack, God's grace builds a bridge. And what we cannot help or fix, God mends together.

None of us is strong alone. Interdependence, all leaning together, collapsing on the One who is all strength, is our only course of action. Our only path for wholeness and health.  

So, in all of my neediness, I suppose I can empathize greatly with this little boy who will grace our home soon and rely upon us for everything. Empathy is a gift. Compassion is a privilege. Strength is a shared commodity, distributed among us, flowing from the strongest to the weakest - making all sturdy. And I can't wait to snuggle our boy close and show him how able Jesus has made all of us.

Ready or Not!

Almost to the finish line. The one that marks the beginning. And when I think I'm ready to feel normal again, free of all the weird and quirky, sometimes violent, things my body is demonstrating, I remember this:  nothing about us will ever be 'normal' again! In all the most beautiful of ways.

I received the most thoughtful gift from the most thoughtful friend yesterday. A journal called, "One Line a Day". It's a tiny book that can collect five years of daily reflections - yes, all in one book. Such a sweet thing that I'm looking forward to using. This particular friend has four little ones, she knows my days of lingering with a cup of coffee and pensively penning my innermost thought for minutes on end will soon be hard to find, well, at least for about 18 years. But, one line a day? I think I can manage that!

I wonder quite frequently at this point what kind of mom I'll be. Blogs are sometimes the worst! (She says, ironically, as she blogs.) I read things from these moms who are still growing their own gardens and canning organic food, cooking and freezing 50 meals at a time, cloth diapering and saving their husbands tons of cash, actually doing the junk they see on pinterest, rocking out their kids' sleeping and eating schedules, and still managing to have a wardrobe that looks like it's somewhere near the last five years' style standards.

I'm not making any promises about those things to myself. If the house is still standing and we're fed and love each other, I will demand my husband celebrate our wild success with me.

Questions are constant at this point - are you going natural for labor? are you going to nurse or bottle-feed? what about childcare? Again. I'm making no promises. But I do have a few things I hope to do.

I hope to go natural for labor (cue chuckles from some of you). No, I have no 'granola' type notions about it, no convictions about wanting to be completely aware the first moment of my baby's arrival. Just two things - I’d love to avoid surgery…pretty simply, and also, I don't want it on our tab when we leave the hospital.

I am hoping to nurse, supposing it's healthier and more cost effective. But if it doesn't work out, I won't guilt myself into a pile of tears and remorse. We'll just choose the best formula possible and I'll hand off some midnight feedings to Webb.

Childcare? No clue. Not worried about it yet. (Rephrase, not letting myself worry about it.)

So, here we are! Three weeks to go! And what a journey this has been! A few snapshots - forgive the gaps, some phone pics need to remain on the phone and in the memory…only. (While all of pregnancy is memorable, it's not all pretty, amirite?)

Week 5 - We were both shocked!

 This was the craziest to me! The difference between weeks 5 and 9!

Week 12 - Things are starting to sink in - we're having a baby!

Week 14 - on one of my FOUR trips to Florida during this pregnancy. 

Week 20 - we're halfway and time is passing far too quickly! I wanted to freeze the moment, and I was saddened at the thought that probably all his growing up would feel this fast - especially in hindsight. Made a promise to myself to cherish every moment, every new phase and age he has, and all of his growing - even when that growing means independence from me and dad. 

Week 24 - enjoying the season we're in! I've spent so much of my pregnancy very much ok with being patient, waiting for his arrival. Partly out of sheer terror! But mostly, because I know these moments will only happen once. 

Week 25 - mostly just because that's my favorite maternity shirt. 

Week 29 - Third trimester and strangers are starting to give me preference for shopping carts and hold doors for me. High five. 

Week 32 - Happy mom and baby. My sister in law is my hero for letting me borrow this top - it's been a lifesaver on many "nothing will ever fit again!" days. 

Week 33 - Enjoying the holidays and trying on my new nursing cover from my best friend.

Week 35 - Yes, still the dead of winter and I'm wearing a summer top. This baby has undeniably altered my inner thermostat! 

And week 36 - Look at him, just poking his little self out there all proud and happy. Oh my, I love him. 

The nursery has transformed a bit…

Thanks to an awesome shower from our wonderful church family…

It was super special to have my Mom who came all the way from Arizona, my brother, Jeff, sister in law, Lisa, and their three kids (from West Virginia), AND my 'frister' Kristin, who traveled from Florida. 

 I did the first few loads of baby's laundry and squealed. One, because the Bock grandparents blessed us with an awesome new washer and dryer and laundry is actually fun! And two, because I was folding little boy clothes…what!? 

I would share a million more things with you if I thought you wouldn't slip into a coma. But now, the bags are packed, the carseat is loaded and ready, the prayers are whispered constantly - as I hope they always will be - and we are leaning into the calm and silence before we first hear his cry. Can't wait. 

in the testing

The moment you're really tested - the treasured is stripped from you, your reputation is smeared, you best efforts fail in what feels like every area - the moment you're tempted to believe that God has targeted you for some sort of galactic "whooping"...remember this truth.

He could have left you alone.

what's in a name?

I hated the bus ride to and from school as a kid. And, to be honest, as a teenager! Boarding the bus, especially in the afternoon, was great reason for sweaty palms, heart-pounding panic, and nearly teeth-chattering fear. I wish I were exaggerating!

The bus was a free zone:  no teachers, no monitors...just sixty kids and a forty-five minute free-for-all of cursing, intimidating, fighting, and downright meanness. Some days you were the intimidator, other days the intimidated.

Most days, I was the intimidated. I tried to be quite and invisible until someone chose me as a target. And even then, I'd wait as long as I could until I stood up for myself. One time, a girl stood in my face yelling curse words at me for quite some time before I finally stood up and yelled back at her. She slapped me and knocked me back into my seat. I didn't get back up. But, I was kicked off the bus for three days while she went on with her tormenting discipline-free. Lesson learned? Just stay quiet.

(My parents didn't discipline me for my bus suspension, by the way. The sentiment I got from them was almost as if they put my on their shoulders and paraded me around, proud of the fact that I hadn't gotten into a hair-snatching, face-scratching, out-and-out battle with this girl. They just drove me to school for three days, without complaint.)

I always dreaded school. From kindergarten through twelfth grade. Many of my interactions there were very hard on such a sensitive kid. Consequently, I had a horrible view of myself. I believed far too much of what was said to me or about me. I soaked it in. By high school, I was despondent I'd ever be worth anything or ever be accepted. I was more than despondent, I was depressed.

I felt God didn't see me or know what I was going through. I searched Scripture and was comforted by the fact that He, too, was despised and rejected. But that still didn't make me feel loved and valued. It just let me know I was in Good company.

My junior year, when a friend traveled to England, he returned with a gift for me. It meant a lot that he thought about me in his travels. But what meant more was the lesson I learned from his gift. He gave me a tea cup. It would be about eight years before I embraced a love of hot tea, so I was a bit confused. But when I read the cup, I knew it had been carefully selected. It said, "Amanda, your name means, 'Worthy of Love', and you can say that again!"

Worthy of love. I had no idea. No clue that the name I carried - the name that had become synonymous with shame and humiliation, actually said over me each time it was spoken what God was crying out for me to hear, "I love you, I love you. I made you beautiful. I made you worthy to be admired, loved, by others. By Me." Worthy of love, with your frizzy hair, bountiful hips, lack of braces, and offbeat sense of humor. Worthy of love regardless of what small-minded folks may say. Worthy of love because He declared it over me. Even my enemies unknowingly declared that I was loved when they spoke my name. How awesome is that!?

That's how the Lord got to me. Every verse I memorized about His love set the stage. And each person who demonstrated care and love toward me watered the seed. But God used an even smaller, more common thing, to say, "Amanda, I love you. You." God starting a soul-healing work in me through a tea cup which sits in my cabinet still today. He has continued that work, and He will finish it.

And that work is part of the reason we have taken, are taking, so much time to name our son! His name will proclaim over him all the days of his life what we feel is important for him to know. It will speak of his calling, his God, his identity. So, to us, a name is not just a name, but an opportunity to speak life over our boy every time we call his name.

What shall it be!? Well, we will certainly have to decide before we take him home from the hospital! And when he decides to grace us with his presence, we will declare his wonderful, magnanimous name to the whole world! Our Fragments family included.

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If you don't know the meaning of your name, give Google a holler and find out! I've actually used babynames.com a lot, even pre-pregnancy to find the meaning of names. (MANY are accurate. But, for some, I had to do a little more research.)

Waves

I was prepared for waves of nausea, fatigue, and something that varied from discomfort to pain for a full 40 weeks. No doubt crescendoing at the end.

I was not at all, however, prepared for wave upon wave of emotion - crashing on one another and making it difficult to get footing between assails. High tide, low tide. Thrill. Panic.

....

Monday night, as Webb and I left work, we planned to run some errands. We were headed about twenty minutes away, to Wal Mart, when I asked, "Babe...do you think we could eat at Longhorn? It just sounds really, really good to me."

"I don't mind, but that's an hour away. You are realizing that means our entire night will be out and about, right?"

"I do. I know. It just sounds really, really good right now. And not many things do."

He sighed a bit, but smiled, "Sure. Longhorn it is."

My husband. Such a gracious husband to moody, unsatisfiable, pregnant woman.

As we neared the next town though, I threw out another request, "But babe, we have an hour drive and it's going to be an hour and a half before we eat. And I'm hungry now...really hungry..."

"Ok?"

"Can we just drive through McDonald's here on the way?" I suggested it like this is something normal people do - pre-dinner dinner.

"Let me make sure I'm right," he clarified. "You want to drive through for a cheeseburger, and then you want to eat a steak?"

"I know! But I'm just so hungry! I haven't eaten since 8:00 this morning!"

"Amanda. That's a little bit crazy. It won't take long to get there, I promise."

And the quick-approaching McDonald's was on our left, and then it was in the rearview mirror.

He drove by it. And I, instead of contenting my heart with the steak I would eat in just a bit, BURST into tears. Not teared up, or was just disappointed. No. BROKE into SOBBING.

"Oh my gosh!!" the shocked man in the seat beside me slammed on brakes, swerved into the turn lane, and made a beeline for McDonald's.

"I didn't realize it was this serious! You just want a cheeseburger, right?" he asked with slight panic in his voice.

"Yes..." I uttered between sobs.

..."And a small fry."...

At that, laughter broke the tension of the moment just a bit. I heard how ridiculous I sounded and started cracking up. And he laughed, knowing I was completely out of control and I knew it.

"Can I get a mighty kids meal, with a Diet Coke, please?" he requested.

I sat beside him crying, apologizing and thanking, "I'm sorry! But thank you. I'm sorry!"

When I offered him some fries or a bite of burger, he shook his head like, "Take food from a lion? What kind of idiot does that?"

And we laughed. And an hour later I ate four ounces of steak and a baked potato. Could have eaten more.

I wasn't at all prepared for these waves. Tears at the slightest thing. And I certainly thought if I had navigated the first trimester without any of this, it surely wasn't coming for me. I would make it through pregnancy unscathed! False.

But I am so thankful for such a wonderful husband. I tell him every single day, "You are the most amazing husband any pregnant woman could have. You know that, right?" To which he often replies, "I do know that," with a smirk on his face.

But why all the waves? Why the crashing down of thrill, panic, sadness, excitement, worry, anticipation...one right after the other?

Now more than ever I need the peace only He gives. His joy - a calm delight. And yet every offer He extends, I refuse. If I am to receive peace, I must forego my striving. I must settle my agenda. I, with no exceptions, must surrender - exchanging myself and my plans for true, lasting peace.

This is the peace I've prayed over our son. The reason his nursery is decorated in neutral, calm colors. The reason I often pat my belly and speak softly and reassuringly to him. The very peace that I want him to have more than almost anything else.

And yet, I expect myself to pass on something I am refusing for myself. My son will not simply, "Do as I say." I know this. He will take his cues from who I am. He will walk the way I walk. I cannot pass on what I do not hold.

"The Lord will fight for you. You need only to hold your peace."

Picture it - He hands us peace and says, "Hold this. I'll be right back." And that is our only job. To hold it, ponder it, let it feel at home in our hands.

Today, that is your only job. Forget all the rest of it. He only looked at you and said, "Hold this. I'll do the rest." You must, if you don't do anything else, clutch it. Don't let your hands be so full of all else that you have to let go of the one thing that will help you endure all that otherness.

That's what I'm speaking to myself today. "No matter the wave, wrap yourself around the peace. Though you tumble through the water, unable to distinguish up from down, cling to the peace. For this is only a wave. It has an end. And what you hold does not. It is inexhaustible."

"He will fight for you. You need only to hold your peace."

      (Photo credit:  Ann Voskamp)

making room

Friday afternoon when I came home, I decided to start on Baby H's room. "Decorating already?" you may ask. Nope, not decorating! The room we intend to be Baby's room has been our storage room for two years. Storage. Which, in my world, usually means, "I have no idea where to put this. Throw it in that room and shut the door so I don't have to think about it." 

Old clothes, winter clothes, hubby's hunting clothes, our luggage, keepsakes, pictures, books, tools, extra furniture, kitchen supplies, Christmas decorations, and old TV, workout equipment that I (intend to) use - and a partridge in a stinking pear tree. 

My first task was to pull everything out of the room to see what was actually in there. And I thought, "It's just one room. I could probably finish this before Webb gets home this evening." 

Yeah. I thought I could handle this... 

...and more, in three hours. 

What I hadn't thought about was the fact that everything in that room had something to do with every. other. room. in our house. And what began with "organizing a room," turned into, "rearranging every room, closet, nook, and cranny in our home". 

But! The final result made my heart smile with anticipation...

(Sorry about the graininess - it's a panorama that didn't go quite as planned.)

I've decided to do Baby's room in all neutrals. White crib, gray bedding, white dresser, pale walls.

Webb's and my life is fast-paced, on the run, and at times we bear some stress from the (most-of-the-time beautiful) work the Lord has called us to. (I know none of you has met an overwhelmed pastor, right?) Well, with that being the case, I try to make every part of our home a peaceful place. I don't bring a laptop or iPad in the bedroom to work. We try to cover our home with prayer and serenity. And I wanted that same feeling in Baby's room. He or she will have plenty of noise and color every other moment of the day. I hope this nursery will be a place of true peace for them. 

The chaos that ensued in our home after I tore that room apart reminded me of a spiritual truth. 

Often, we close the door to a certain part of our hearts; we're reluctant to let Jesus work in there. We know each thing He puts His finger on will lead to some other part of our hearts we need to release to Him. If He points out our problem of offense, we will most likely be led to confront our pride. If He shows us our unwillingness to give, we will likely have to confront our fear of poverty - our ultimate distrust of Him. Let Him expose our dislike for a person; He'll often lead us to that same trait in ourselves. 

But that is true discipleship - nothing withheld, no door locked, no part of us unscathed by His purifying fire. 

Open the door, today. Let Him start the cleaning out process you may have been avoiding. 

The peace and beauty to follow will be worth it. 

______________________________________________________

We have one week until we (hopefully!) will find out if Baby H is a lady or a gentleman! We are so excited - can't wait to share the news with you. 

soul care - take time to replenish

"If you really want me to. But, if I go with you, you better hear me saying, 'I love you desperately much,' through every minute of that event."

That was my response when my husband asked me to attend a reunion for our university last week, an evening occasion inviting every person from every class who ever graduated from Southeastern University.

Nothing sounds more daunting to me than walking around "mingling" for two hours and making small-talk with about 500 of my (totally not) closest friends. I used to think I just wasn't a "people person". And I wondered why the Lord would call someone like that to ministry. What was He thinking!?

But then, I realized I absolutely love people! I just like to enjoy them one at a time, with real, deep, meaningful conversations. I sincerely enjoy spending relaxed, quality time with one or two people who know me (and I know) well.  And finally, I discovered, I'm an introvert! I love people AND I love being alone! During my twenties, my greatest fear when thinking about marriage was that I'd never be alone again. Which was very difficult to understand when coupled with my lasting and persistent desire to be married.

My weakness? A large room, full of people I only sort of know. I've learned to cope; I'm quite used to "working a room" now. I can put the brave face on, meet and greet, hold conversations, and have a few laughs. But, I have a limit. One hour or two of that sort of interaction, and I feel like I've worked a 12 hour day and I want a cup of coffee and a nap!

Crazy, I know. And if you're an extravert, you're probably tempted to think, "You're pitiful." I applaud your people-given energy! In fact, I need you in my life so much I married one of you! He balances me out. Especially in moments where he pushes me to go to a reunion and actually enjoy myself.

The truth is, if you're an introvert, you often don't fit the mold. Meeting new people might be anxiety-laden, making small-talk is laborious, and the daily grind can be more tiring for you than for those who get energy from being with others. Our world is busy. And, no matter how contrary it feels, we all will spend more time out-and-about, socializing, than we will spend doing what feels natural - being alone and traveling the deep recesses of our souls while reflecting.

So, introvert, you've got to be especially diligent about replenishing. Replenishment is important for every soul God created. It's a part of soul-care. And I got some great information from a few ladies in ministry while in Florida last week that I was so excited to share with you.

Here're a few ideas for replenishing the tank:

Get in the Word.

Nothing will refresh a depleted soul like the salve of God's words to us. Get your coffee (or tea), close the door (even if you only have 5-10 minutes), and breathe in His words. 

Do something different. 

Break from your norm a minute! Stroll a store (alone, of course;). Drive a different way home or make a loop. Walk a new trail. Get out of the routine and reflect somewhere new.

Take a personal retreat

Do that thing most people around you would consider torture. It's been 5 or 6 years since I did this, but GO AWAY! By yourself! My first experience was forced. My best friends actually picked me up at work, blindfolded me, drove me an hour, and dropped me at a resort. Bag packed, separate vehicle left behind for my use. And nothing but Jesus, me, a journal, and a pool for 24 hours. Perfect. (Sidenote - if you know an introvert who seems particularly overwhelmed, this may be just the ticket to ease the load!)

Talk to a friend.

Sometimes, just telling the story from beginning to end and hearing a fresh perspective will lift your heart and make room for the next thing. And even if nothing sounds more daunting or intimidating than trying to say what's swirling in your heart, give it a shot with one of those friends you know just "gets" you. No worries if it takes you a while to get to the point.

Get serious about taking these opportunities - it's not likely anyone will just hand them to you. And, if you take them often enough, you'll enjoy living, loving, and serving so much more! And, let's be honest, you'll probably be a little more enjoyable yourself!