Summer: Full Speed Ahead!

I started this post a while ago, and I'm finally getting around to posting it.

 (First of all, I didn't want to blog without acknowledging the Little family as their beautiful, 6 year old Molly has gone to be with Jesus after close to a year long battle with DIPG. I personally know their family as Julie and I grew up together.
 If you don't know about DIPG, please familiarize yourself with it. It's a horrible disease that there is currently no cure for, and we can all take action by donating to help fund research so that a cure can be found! 
 Molly's parents and sisters--Peter, Julie, Samantha and Clara--are grieving now and it's something that they will never recover from. Their faith has been solid and it's amazing to watch them as they give God the glory through everything, but I cannot fathom the pain they are feeling now. Please keep them in your prayers. To find more information about how you can donate and see their Facebook page full of beautiful pictures and updates, please click here.)


The school year has finally wound to a close and I'm looking forward to enjoying days with the kids with no schedule. With younger kids not in school, the days all run together and are the same, but when they are school age, summer is anticipated and every free day cherished. It baffles me how parents can look forward to school starting again so the kids are gone every day and they have their "freedom" back. I mean yes, everyone needs a break from their kids now and again, but seriously? Great way to give your kids the impression that you love spending time with them....

 That's another blog post in itself that I should probably never write. ;)

 Moving on.

 I have a lot of thoughts mulling around in my head right now that I hope I will have time to turn into blog post soon. I love how God can use something small said by someone else, the line of a song, a verse in his word, or a snippet of a sermon to start a work in our hearts--if we are open to it. I'm so thankful that God doesn't just save us and then leave us to fend for ourselves. We are a constant work in progress that he is molding and making into what he would have us to be, often through ways that we don't like or understand.

 But like I said... I hope to type out my thoughts soon. :) For now, some recent pictures of our crazy, wonderful life.

The day after Mother's Day... Un-matching pjs, holes in socks, yellow lighting. It's perfectly imperfect and I cherish it.

Seeing them read thrills my heart

He's 9 months old now, pulling up to his knees on everything, smiling 80% of the time, getting ready to pop tooth number 2 and wearing his eye patch 1 hour a day for another 7 weeks. Progress has been made over this past month so we are happy for that!

Kindergarten really clicked with him the last month or so of school. I'm so thankful for God's grace this year--I shed so many tears feeling totally incapable but thanks to a lot of hard work, support from Nate and a huge dose of God's grace he passed Kindergarten! On to 1st grade!

This one keeps us on our toes. He doesn't require much sleep, has a very stubborn will and is totally independent. He's also melt-your-heart sweet and loving a lot of the time which makes him totally irresistible. ;)

His first mischievous act was committed this month. He was having fun!

Brooke with 2 of her teachers at the awards ceremony

Her end of the year project. We had so much fun working on this together, even though I probably micro managed way too much. This was a great year for her and a learning experience for us as well. We will be homeschooling this upcoming year and even though it's not easy, it's what is best for our family and what we feel the Lord wants us to do. I feel like I missed out on about 9 months of her life with her being gone 10 or more hours per day, so I'm looking forward to getting to know her again this summer. Birthday post for her coming soon as she just turned 8... what?!

The rain here has been crazy to say the least. Homes have been destroyed and several people have died--devastating to say the least. I'm thankful that the Lord has kept us safe. Each time it starts raining I think that even the Lord can't go very long without crying for sweet Molly's family.

Have a safe weekend, friends. Hug your loved ones tight.

After the Rain

It’s been a rainy week. In Texas, this means it has rained for approximately 6.2 minutes over a span of 3 days, and it is a novelty here.

 “Can we play out in the rain?” the kids begged as it started to downpour again.

“No,” I replied quickly. “It’s lightning out.”

 After a few minutes, the lightning stopped and within a few minutes the kids were in their swim clothes, jumping in puddles, filling up cups with streams from the gutter and yelling “IT’S RAINING!” as loud as they could. Because, obviously when it rains, you have to scream loudly for the full effect. 

Because of the rain, the weather cooled off a little at night so we’ve been sitting in the driveway, letting the kids ride bikes and trying to keep our toes from being eaten by fire ants.

Don't you play outside at night in your boxers?

Learning to ride a 2-wheeler. I remember when I learned how to ride, and now I have a child old enough to do this?

Brooke started attending Music Class at our Christian school once a week, and I’m really thankful for this opportunity. She eats lunch with the First Grader’s and spends a few hours in their class doing quiet activities until Music starts. It’s definitely a highlight in her week!

This past week, 2 different couples I know through Facebook lost their daughters at age 2 and 3. One nearly drowned last year and remained in a coma until she woke up and saw Jesus' face. The other battled a horrible, rare disease until she graduated to Heaven where she is now playing, talking and laughing and Jesus’ feet. News like this really knocks the wind out of me. Both sets of parents have incredible testimonies of faith and are amazingly strong, as they’ve endured what I cannot fathom, but I wonder how they cope? My life is perfect. Absolutely perfect, and I can's even begin to grasp going through something so crushing.

  All we can do is rally around these suffering people, pray for them, cry for them and appreciate the little things our children do each day. When they arch their back trying to wiggle out of your arms in protest, be thankful that they have the muscle strength to do so. When their whines escalate to screams, rejoice in their strong lungs. When they unfold fresh laundry piece by piece, be amazed that their brain is communicating with their arms to complete such a task. When they spit out food they don’t like, appreciate the fact that you are feeding them with a spoon and not through a feeding tube. I think that is what these Parents would want us to do: appreciate the things we see as obstacles, and as always, love more, hug more, cuddle more, enjoy more.

After the rain comes the rainbow, God's reminder to us that he keeps his promises. Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning. This is the hope we cling to.

Newtown

Nate an I arrived home late from a party tonight. We thanked our babysitter, got a report on how they were and walked her to the door. The party we went to was for couples--games, lots of food and a fun gift exchange. A normal Christmas activity that I felt guilty enjoying. I came upstairs with tears in my eyes to kiss my sleeping babies. Brookie's hand was over her head and I could see her red and green manicure I gave her earlier. I kissed her cheek, she stirred, and I stepped back to stare at her beautiful face. I glanced at Nathan, his stomach and chest rising and falling with each breath he took, his blue blanket partly over his face how he likes to sleep. Joe turned his head and sighed after I kissed his cheek and I stared at his face a well. It was routine but it was slow motion as I took extra time to take it all in. 40 parents tonight didn't have that priviledge. Their babies were ripped out of their arms today by an evil monster who slaughtered them in cold blood. They kissed them goodbye in the morning, not knowing that the next time they would see them would be to identify their little bodies. The shock, the horror, the anger and the devestation...they are feeling it all, and we are feeling it with them. Our hearts break for you, Mother's, Father's, family and friends of the victims in Newtown.Your children will never be forgotten.

 To those, like me, who are trying to wrap our heads around what those parents are feeling: hug them tighter, kiss them longer, get off the phone, get off the computer, and live life in slow motion. You might not have tomorrow but you have THIS minute. Take it all in.

The Christmas Spirit

This year it's been hard to get into the "Christmas Spirit". Hearing "Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas" in the grocery store only makes me sad thinking of those who are hurting and won't have anything close to a jolly day. There will be a huge void left that holidays only remind them of what they are missing.

 And then I look around me. On Sunday night I stepped off an airplane and into the arms of my family and friends waiting for me. That night I stayed up until 4am talking and laughing with my sisters. Yesterday we baked cookies and ate dough, played our favorite Christmas songs and watched home videos from our past, much dorkier stage of life.
 We are all safe and Lord willing we will be spending our Christmas together this year. I know that life could change in an instant. If there is ever a time I realize that, it's now.But we have today and that's what I'm living for. Enjoying every moment-- loving more, hugging more, laughing more. Yes, we have all been left with a void this holiday season and it's very fresh on our minds. We are not immune to the grief that others--and ourselves--are suffering.
 But we must enjoy the moments that we do have together. And that is what I aim to do.

Even A Vapor...

On Monday, I got a call from my Mom telling me that a cousin of ours who was only 19 had died suddenly. Her husband (also 19) came home on Saturday evening at 11pm to find that she had passed away in bed. The cause was a seizure. The news was devastating. While I didn't know her well, she was family. She was married this past year and I remember seeing her wedding pictures. So young. So beautiful. So happy.

On Tuesday morning I woke up to hear news that my old Pastor's brother had died suddenly from a heart attack. Again, another person I didn't know well, but a friend of the family and only in his 50's. He left a wife, 2 daughters and sons-in-law and grandchildren. He was a faithful member in his church and lived for the Lord.

Within an hour of that news, I got more bad news. A very close friend of our family, husband and father of 8 had been hit by a car. He had stopped on his way to work to help someone who had slid into the ditch and while he was out of the car, another car spun out of control and hit him. The weather conditions were treacherous and he lay there, unconscious, in the snow. At first the news was grim but not life threatening. He would be in ICU for 2 weeks, but the Dr's were calm.
 And then a turn for the worse. Internal bleeding was discovered and he was rushed in for emergency surgery. 24 hours after being hit, he was ushered into Heaven. He was one of the best guys I've ever known. Always funny, smiling, singing and soul winning. He was a great testimony to all who knew him--a hero. He left a wife, 6 boys and 2 little girls who absolutely adored him--and many, many friends who looked up to him and loved him.

 Needless to say these have been some of the most sober days of my life. Are poopy diapers, runny noses, whining and little disagreements really that big of a deal? What if that was the last time I changed a diaper or wiped a nose or kissed my husband? What if the words I just spoke were my last? Would I want them to be my last?

 Laura's young husband didn't know when he left for work that he would never speak to his beautiful wife again. Larry's wife didn't know that when they turned off the light to go to sleep her husband would never wake up. Ken's wife didn't know when she looked into the eyes of her husband that morning that she would never see them again.

 Would we live life differently if we knew the day the Lord would call us home? Perspective is everything. The things that are a big deal to us wouldn't be if we knew they would be some of our last. The Bible tells us that our life is a "vapor...that appeareth for a little time and then vansisheth away." That little bit of steam coming off your coffee this morning? That's you LIFE. That's IT. A tiny little vapor. Here today, gone tomorrow. What are you--what am I--doing to make it count?

 Go squeeze your children tight. Kiss your husband when he walks in the door. Hug your friends.

And most importantly, go make your little vapor matter.

Please Take the Time to Read This

Those who follow this blog know that our Pastor passed away a few weeks ago. You also know that 2 of his sons are in prison--one for 14 year and the other for 24-for spanking a child with a small switch. Each month they write a prayer letter to send out to the churches. This is Caleb's for this month. Please take the time to read it and think of what really matters in life.

Caleb D. Thompson
February / March 2009

I just got off the phone with Dad. It was probably the last time I will ever speak to him or hear his voice. The finality of that thought is earth-shattering.
He was always so full of life, so energetic, and I always thought that he’d be around to preach my funeral. I thought that trying to keep up with him would be the death of me.
Now I am struggling to hear his weak voice and to understand his broken thoughts. A mysterious and indiscriminate illness has felled this giant of a man. His love of life, his laughter, his enthusiasm and zest have been replaced with quiet resignation.
His waking moments are spent with mom by his side as he guides her through the decisions that his passing will necessitate. Mom received the chaplain’s call in the hospital parking lot and ran through the halls into the ICU where Dad was lying.
“Hi, Son,” he whispers. “I’m not gonna make it.”
We both begin to cry. My world, which has been in erratic orbit, has ceased to turn. Its guiding light is fast sinking in the western sky, bowing its head one last time before giving way to the long, dark, cold night of sorrow.
“You’ve been my best friend.” Each word saps his body of strength and leaves him struggling to speak another. “You always were special.” I listen intently, trying to etch every word on the tablets of my heart.
“I signed your ordination and your degree.” I sob with gratitude and tell him that I’ll always cherish them. “Adam’s gonna take the church. Everyone is glad. They’ve all done so well through the difficulties.”
He is silent for a moment as he gathers strength to talk again.
“Only a few families left us, and they still come around once in a while. They even call to check on me.”
I try to turn the conversation toward him, but he wants to talk about others. Typical Dad. Always the good shepherd. He begins to name people, wandering sheep, taking responsibility upon himself for failing them. I cry. Even in death his thoughts are upon the flock. He grows silent again, then whispers,
“You talk, Son, I want to hear your voice.”
“I love you with all my heart, and I’m so grateful to be your son. It’s been good. You’ve always believed in me, always been my biggest supporter, and knowing that has kept me going during the darkest nights. We made a lot of great memories, had so many wonderful times, and in them all, you always put Jesus first. We’ve been through some tough times, and you’ve trusted the Lord, no matter how bewildering. You’re incredible. I love you so much and although I’m not ready to say goodbye, I don’t want you to hang on any longer for me. Go in peace. I’m just envious that you will see Jesus so soon.”
I’ve cleaned out the chaplain’s Kleenex box.
“Dad, will you say a blessing over me?” I ask. “I don’t know if I’ve ever done that,” he whispers, “but I’ll try.” “The Lord bless thee and keep thee,” he begins. “The Lord make His face to shine upon thee. May He give you humility.”
He labors for breath. “Stay humble Son, stay humble. May the Lord make you great. May He keep you holy and keep you from sin. May He always be first in your life. Lord, help him. Bless him.” He struggles with every word. “May the Lord be your strength always. Son, I’m so proud of you. You’ve always been special from the very first. Your hands were so big when you were little and you gripped my finger so hard. You sure grew tall. Made me look small.”
He is silent for a minute. Dad talks about me walking around in his boots when I was little. “Dad, I’m still trying to fill those boots.” The chaplain pulls out more Kleenex to wipe his own eyes. “I can’t think of a single bad memory of you,” he says, “I sure did enjoy the years you worked with me at the church, talking everything through, praying together, putting together sermons, traveling to preach, I just enjoy you.”
“Dad, I enjoyed working with you. Thank you for the privilege. I only wish I’d have talked less and listened more. I’d give anything to go back to college and sit through your classes again.” Dad speaks again, “I regret not being part of your wedding.”
Mom whispers something, and Dad says, “but we were just glad to be there. I’m so proud of you. Thanks for writing the book. It’s really good. I’ve been sending it out and calling preachers to push it. It’s helping people.”
“I’m so sorry, Dad, that I can’t be there for you. I always thought we’d come home and life would go on, that nothing would change. I’m so sorry!”
“It’s been a nightmare,” he whispers, laboring for breath. “I’m sorry it happened. I still can’t believe it. I wish you were with me.”
He cries. “I’m sorry if I ever failed you.” “No, Dad, far from that. You’ve been the greatest.” “Things sure have changed,” he says. “It won’t be the same again.”
Silence.
Then, “Son, I’ve lived my life upon the Scriptures. I’ve slept on them. I’ve fed on them I’ve given my whole life to the Scriptures; they’ve never failed me. They’ve kept me and led me. They’ve been my life. Don’t ever forsake them, Son. I’m gonna ask them to let me go. I’m tired.” His words are faint. I can hardly understand him. I cannot stop the tears. If only I could hug him.
“I don’t know how to say good-bye, Dad. I will miss you every day of my life. I wish I could tell you what you mean to me.” “You have, Son. You have, better than you know.” “Dad, I’ll be looking for you when I reach the other shore. Oh Dad, I don’t even want to think about facing a day without you in my life. I’ll miss you so much.”
“I’ll always be with you, Son.” He whispers. “Always in my thoughts,” I reply. “And I promise you that your heart will live on in my breast. You’re the greatest man I’ll ever know. Thank you for all you’ve taught me. Thank you for all the good times.”
He echoes, “Good times, Son. Good times.” His voice is weak. “You should write a book, about the good times!” He speaks again, but I cannot understand him. If only, Lord. If only. The chaplain tells me to say good-bye. I don’t know how.
“Dad, I have to go. I love you more than I can say. I love you forever.”
“Forever and ever,” he says.
“Do you want one of my Bibles?” he asks.
“Yes, sir, your hats, boots, and belts too.”
“I’ll always love you, Son.”
He hands the phone to Mom. “Mom, please call again on Wednesday or Thursday.”
“He might not make it,” she cries.
“Are you ready?” I ask her. “I’m trying to be. He’s touched so many lives. He has done so much in his lifetime. I think of all the places we’ve been, all we’ve done, and I’m so grateful that it’s been with him. He’s a great man. It’ll be so hard to let him go.”
I’ve never heard her break up like this. “I’m so sorry I can’t be there for you.”
“I’m so sorry,” she says.
Silence.
Then Dad’s voice, faint and quivering. “I love you so much,” he cries, “so much. I treasure you. I loved working with you. Be steadfast. I’ll be looking for you, Son. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper to the dial tone.