Love Notes to a Husband Away – The Cost of a Hard Living

 Ned came home every night between the hours of 5 and 7 p.m., Monday through Saturday. His hair was long enough to cover his forehead and was usually scraggly by the time he came home. During the day he would run his hands through his hair so much from stress that it would stick up if he weren’t wearing a hat.

            He showered at the coal mine but that didn’t prevent him from bringing coal residue home. His eyes often looked like he had applied some kind of smoky eye shadow. The calluses on his hands were stained by coal – something that wouldn’t wash away even with the abrasive soap they had available at his work. Once we even found a lump of coal in our bed.

            A typical evening in our lives would consist of Ned coming home, eating dinner, and falling asleep on the couch. He was usually asleep before I put Jack to bed. This was necessary because he would have to wake up between 4:30 and 5 a.m. the next morning.

            Ned never took a sick day. He began the job in November and worked on that Thanksgiving. Jack was less than two months old when Ned began as a mine clerk.

            When Ned put on his work jumpsuit, coal boots, and picked up his beat up lunch box, I felt like I was experiencing my very own October Skies. He looked at me with the dull eyes of a young man full of exhaustion and lacking inspiration.

            Ned who loved to take photographs, loved the outdoors – hiking, hunting, fishing -- loved sports – football, baseball, softball, golf – the passionate boy who wanted to see as much of the world as possible – barely had the energy to carry on a conversation with me when he came home. I wanted so much more for him. I wanted him to build rocket ships if he wanted to. Financially we were comfortable, and I was very proud of Ned for the way that he provided for us, but our life together was lacking in so many other areas.

            Now Ned has a military haircut and his uniform is green. He takes pride in his appearance. Though he has spent so much time apart from us this year, in many ways, the time we do spend together is more meaningful. When he comes home I am always refreshed by his joy and enthusiasm.

            I guess this is why I “let” my husband do this. Though the pay is quite a bit less, and this year has been a sacrifice, I believe that it was important to do it for my husband and my family. My boys deserve to have a Dad who is able to be a substantial part of their lives and I wanted my husband to have a life filled with more than just a job that provides. I am not being critical of men and women who sacrificially work long hours for their families. I believe that God has a special grace for those who work in lackluster jobs to put food on the table. However, I don’t think that means we need to be closed off to opportunities that God may provide beyond our little anthills. 

I love you, Ned. Thank you for always providing for us and for sacrificing in that way for more than a year.

Brothers.

When two people really love each other, I mean really love each other, they can’t contain their love and they decide to start a family. They start out as a very tiny family. A one-room-apartment sized family. A relatively small grocery list sized family. A we-can-live-on-just-our-love and still pay our bills, sized family. And then, eventually, their love can’t be contained in just two bodies. And they decide to add to their numbers. It’s kind of like starting their very own love army. Or sports team. Or assembly of  International ambassadors. Whatever. (Team Kimmel is currently a few players short of a batting lineup.)

                        When this happens, something beautiful follows. There are tiny representations of love crawling into the cupboards, tossing their sippy cups in Wal-Mart, squealing on the swings at their local playgrounds, learning how (or how not to) swim at the downtown Y. These representations are generally causing chaos and random adorable acts in their little wakes. When the two (now three) people decide to expand their family, another beautiful thing is created: Siblings.

                        One day when I was in the car, probably listening to the sounds of my children tandem crying, I wondered why it was so important to me that my children love each other. And not only love, but also LIKE each other. If they were best friends, I wouldn’t complain. I would be so thrilled I would probably brag to anyone who would listen. But why is it so important to me? I think there are several reasons.

                         The first is based on one of my original intents of having children. Our love could not be contained. We had so much love to give we decided to create more of us. That was Jack. After that, we decided that we didn’t want to stop with one child, so we had another: Finn. Now, if my love progeny showed hatred or even indifference for one another, of course that would drive my heart to sadness. I want this love that started with us to expand and pour out into the world as a beautiful radiant light. Granted, I had boys, so my thoughts weighted with sentimentality will probably be mocked. But, brothers can have a very incredible deep love for one another. Even if they don’t say so.

        The second reason it is important to me is for their sakes. Surviving childhood is remarkably difficult. I want to know that they are looking out for each other up through their teenage years and beyond. And not just from outside factors, but even from their very own home. There will be no other person in the world that will understand what it was like growing up in our home. Ned and I will try our hardest to be loving, wise parents. But we will make mistakes. We will do things wrong. Our children will think we are unbearably awkward to have around. And when they feel this way, I want them to have someone else to commiserate with. When Finn thinks I am being overly protective of him, Jack can come to me and be his advocate. When they have differing opinions from ours, they won’t feel so alone.

                    

    I hope that my children are a treasure to each other. I hope my boys go on adventures together. I hope they build forts in the woods. I hope they climb trees, play football, catch fish and explore the world together. I hope they strengthen each other’s faith. I hope when my boys grow up that their families stay close. I hope their children can have adventures.

                     

   I guess that’s why I get a little giddy when I see how much Jack adores Finn now. Sure, sometimes he thinks his brother is a pony, and sometimes he thinks it’s a good idea to poke him in the eye, but the overall intent is adoration. I hope that only continues to grow as they grow up together. 

Love Notes to a Husband Away That Good Ol’ Hardcore Summer

all pictures except the ones of Ned were taken BY Ned

My friend Molly and I created a group called: The Hardcore Summer: For Those Who Want More From Life: Carpe Diem. (I was clearly watching Dead Poet’s Society during this time.) There were two members: Molly and me. I don’t remember what we did other than wearing dresses during the MS Walk, but I’m sure whatever it was, it was pretty hardcore. Plus, Molly made me a t-shirt.

            Several summers later we included our one and only additional member: Ned Kimmel.

            In order for Ned to become a part of our elite club, he had to pass a hazing of sorts. We blindfolded him and put him in the backseat of my Mom’s car.

            We must have liked each other then because Ned allowed us to do this to him and, well, I allowed him in our club. It must be said that Molly was less inclined to allow Ned as a new member but must have relented when she saw how pathetic I was to let a boy into our club because I liked him. (She was already married).

            Originally, we talked about dumping Ned in a field and letting him find his way back home. It was probably me who vetoed the idea. (I was always too soft on him.)  What ended up happening was my terrible sense of direction got us all lost. I still have no idea where we went, but I am pretty sure that we were moments away from getting our tires blown out by a shotgun. Thankfully, we un-blindfolded Ned and he was able to get us home. Initiation passed!

            The first thing the HCSFTWWMFLCD, or HCS (for short) club did was get our ear cartilages pierced. Molly is the only one who still has this. Mine never healed correctly and Ned took his out because he didn’t want to come across as a trashy hoodlum to my father (another story).

         The second thing we did, on the very last day of summer, was hike to the old bridge. We recruited several more friends to go with us, most of which highly doubted my ability as a guide to get us to our destination. These days all you have to do is walk down the rails to trails and you’ll get to the bridge. Back then, however, the trails were just going in. Instead, we hiked down a steep hillside through the woods. There was one smallish accident on the trip in which someone tumbled down the hill.  Fortunately they were okay, though it didn’t help anyone trust my leadership. Eventually we made it to the river and fun was had by all. And many pictures were taken. And some people even got a little wet. The hike back was a great many more miles. Ned and I shyly flirted with one another and he even let me take pictures with his camera (true love).

            Everyone returned home more or less in one piece, and hoped and prayed that Molly, Ned, and my hardcoreness might rub off on them; just a little.

            This past summer Ned and I reinstated the hardcore club. I kicked off the summer (a little early) by birthing a baby. Ned joined another elite group in hopes of having many more hardcore summers. Here’s to lots more adventures over a lifetime of hardcore summers. 

Of Greater Worth Than Gold

Sometimes Ned says this quote by John Piper. I never personally heard it, and this is a loose retelling of something heard second hand, but John Piper said something like this:

    If we had an inkling of the amount of suffering that occurs in the world in the span of one day we would literally want to tear our skin off.

   Ned began his field training today. That means 10 weeks of hit or miss visits. Originally we were told not to expect to see each other at all for 10 weeks. Now we know that it MIGHT be more often, but it probably won’t be very much. I spent several days crying, being sad, and generally feeling sorry for myself. Housework went by the wayside and sadness and came into the forefront. This morning, however, I decided to stop being sad and started being awesome instead.

  Okay, so maybe not exactly like that. But I did wake up and wash part of my dishes. And I did wake up thinking about suffering and the role it plays in our lives. I’ve thought about that a lot since Ned started this field training. I don’t enjoy things that are difficult and I don’t enjoy being anything except, well, happy. I do enjoy, however, growing closer to the Lord. I also enjoy becoming a stronger person through God and through the circumstances of my life.

James says:

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

James 1: 2-4

Peter says:

In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith – of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire – may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.  – Peter 1: 6 -7

Paul says:

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.

Romans 8:8

Honeymoon 2009

Everyone in this life suffers. Sometimes I hear about the lives of people I know and I grow weary and sad and wish I could make things better for them. But, I think Christ is continually revealing that our present circumstances are not our final resting place. Though God does not desire for us to suffer, he does desire for us to grow in Him. And he does desire for us to come home to Him – to our mansion with many rooms. 

Door # 13 - Love Notes to a Husband Away

Photo credit NDK

            When we started dating we had a penchant for getting into trouble. Not on purpose. Usually entirely innocently. But there were the cops, and the trespassing, and the making out in the truck, and so on.

            I also had an obsession with climbing buildings. Not that I ever really climbed buildings. Except for the rooftop (another story), and the water tower  (three or four other stories), and I think once the field house (but I didn’t make it very far before my brother told me to get down). I often thought about the best way to scale each of the buildings on campus, but I didn’t actually do anything with this knowledge. And really, the idea was put in my head by my adventurous but slackerish brothers, anyway. My “dean’s list” butt would probably never have concocted such deviant thoughts.

            This particular story took place in the winter, because my strongest memories from that time usually happened in winter. It’s also important to mention that there was a particular bell tower on campus that had become my personal mt. Everest. I loved imagining standing up there, looking at that old bell, surveying the entire campus. So, I had an obsession with climbing buildings, but especially with standing at the summit of Sutton Hall.

It must be said that he tried many different ways to help me reach that goal through legal means. He had pull with security on campus, so he was led to believe. But all these plans fell through, and my time at IUP was nearly spent. I was graduating that Spring and I think I knew even then that I wouldn’t be returning as an alumni to fulfill that desire.

That night I was wearing my full-length pea coat. Which is entirely old ladyish. Which I definitely still have because it keeps me warm. I make no apologies for it. And I still say that in a crisis situation I could hide a lot of weaponry under that coat. Like a complete arsenal. 

During our adventure I also probably only had one glove. I was always losing just one glove. He spent many nights after we parted searching for my lost glove. But that is purely speculation, because I don’t remember if I had one, two, or no gloves that night.

It’s also important to know that Sutton Hall has thirteen doors. I know because he and I made a little pact. If, for some reason, we were able to find an open door, we would then “break in” and try to find a way to that bell. I spent a lot of time in Sutton Hall delivering not so important documents from the Stapleton Library. So, I guess it could be said that I felt a certain entitlement when it came to that building. But let’s be honest, at that time in my life trespassing seemed more like a rite of passage than a crime.

Doors 1-6 were locked. We tried the ones that were in plain sight first. Under those bright new lights that IUP installed in the Oak Grove. Those blinding globes that they didn’t have my Freshman year. The basement doors were a little more exciting to try. I didn’t realize how many entrances Sutton had until that night.

We casually walked our way around the building trying doors. And we probably managed to stop for a kiss or two.  That is not purely speculation, though not 100 per cent cemented in my memory.

By the time we reached door #13 we didn’t really expect to find it unlocked. Every other door had been solidly secured. There was really no reason why the 13^th door wouldn’t be, too. But it wasn’t. It was open. And what’s more, no alarms sounded off because we opened the door. There seemed to be no immediate consequence to walking right in. And if the timing had been different, say 9 o’clock the next morning, it would have been completely normal to stride right in.  But it wasn’t. It was probably closer to midnight.

Winter makes for the brightest nights because the air is clear and the snow radiates light. There were also lights on inside Sutton. He and I stood there for awhile, contemplating our next move. Somehow, the decision we were about to make seemed to be one of those defining moments. One of those, do I dare…do I dare, disturb the universe? moments. We decided not to. Not to disturb the universe, that is. We left that opportunity behind. It seemed so inviting but equally foreboding. Like our futures would be locked in place because of one night’s decision.

I often wonder about that night. Had we decided to walk through that open door would we have been caught? Would we have alerted campus security? Would it have led to a series of consequences that would tarnish our future existence? Would we have walked in, taken the elevator to the top floor and realized that there was still no way to open the staircase to the bell tower? Or, would we have found that it too was mysteriously left open? Would we have created a memory and accomplished a secret fantasy all in the scope of one evening? I guess we’ll never know, but I often wonder about open door #13.

But what about me? The plight of the mother.

          Sometimes I get philosophical and begin to wonder what meaning my life has. As a Christian I could wrap it up and put a bow on it and say: The meaning of my life is to praise God and to love Him forever. I agree that my primary purpose is to be a child of God. However, the secondary meaning of my life, or in other words, how I choose to live my life through the Christian lens – now that is open for creativity.

            I am a mother but does that define me? Is that the beginning and the end of who I am? I don’t think so. It’s pretty easy to feel like that sometimes. I can start to feel like my body was made simply to carry and feed children. That my hands were made only to nurture. That my personal life goals (apart from motherhood) were permanently put on hold when I decided to get pregnant. I don’t mean offense by this, but I think it is different for men. Perhaps culturally, perhaps practically, perhaps biologically. I’m not suggesting that men aren’t affected by having children. It would be narrow-minded, and dare I say sexist, to say that men aren’t changed by it. However, I think generally speaking, women are the ones who hold the greatest responsibility in childrearing.

              Don’t get me wrong. I think that raising children is a privilege, a blessing and an extremely important job. It is so important to me that I spend most of my time doing it. However, sometimes – sometimes, maybe in my weaker more human moments – I think, but what about me? I am a dreamer. I enjoy pondering my life in fantasies. I think it’s important to have aspirations that exceed motherhood and the home. If for no other reason than that one day my children will grow up.

              I already feel the condemnation of people saying that I am going to miss my children being with me. Again, don’t misunderstand me. I don’t want my kids to leave. I want them here with me and I can’t even imagine my life apart from them.  But, I think it’s good to have dreams that aren’t directly related to being a mother.

Poor Finn had the sun right in his eyes.

                  In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m still forming my opinion on this.

Parenting is hard.

It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Here is encouragement for parents who are like me.

I can probably be accused of “over-thinking” this whole parenting thing. Feeding, bathing, and diapering a baby is one thing. And, when Jack was a newborn, I was completely overwhelmed by the night feedings, the constant diaper changing, and the general sacrifice that comes with having a baby who depends on you for everything. But, a new baby stays in one place when you leave the room. A newborn doesn’t tell you “no” when you ask him to pick up his toys. A baby doesn’t get angry and throw one toy because it won’t fit properly into a toy from another set. A baby may cry when he’s hungry, but he doesn’t throw his head against his highchair because he’s disgusted that you gave him water instead of milk. Oh, and your newborn doesn’t start running for the road giggling because you’re chasing him and yelling “stop!” These are the things that a toddler does.

Many nights after Jack would go to bed, I would stay awake thinking, “I was too harsh today.” Or, “I was too easily frustrated by the things he did.” Or, “Nothing I do seems to make a difference in his behavior.” Or, “I hope he knows I still love him even when he gets disciplined.” I pray for wisdom and patience, but some days I feel like I fail greatly in both areas. Some days I think, “I am simply not cut out for this. I don’t know why I think I can do this.”

Ned and I have been trying to teach Jack to sit with us in church. He has had this running cold for weeks so we have not been putting him in children’s ministry. It isn’t exactly natural for a toddler to want to stay sitting and quiet during a whole church service. One Sunday Jack hit me because I wouldn’t put him down during worship. Another Sunday he spent most of the service trying to escape so he could run around the building. Ned and I grew discouraged and had no idea how to teach Jack to sit and to be quiet. Later that day, Ned said to me, “Hannah, I don’t know for sure if this is from God, but I think it is. I feel like we just need to carry on with what we’re doing and we will see results.”

Well, I think we are starting to see the fruits of our parenting. I’m not saying that Jack always listens to us, or that he doesn’t still throw tantrums, or that he eats all of his vegetables or something, but there is definitely improvement. A few months ago I took Jack to the library. He was EVERYwhere. He didn’t care at all when I asked him to stay with me. Yesterday, my Mom and I took him back to the library.  He wanted to explore the whole building, but when I told him “no,” he actually listened! Oh, and here’s something else really exciting! Last Sunday he sat in his Ammie’s lap for the entire sermon! He was such a good boy!

                         
                      











So, if you’re like me, and you feel like you’re flailing in this parenting thing… there is hope. Your daily parenting IS making a difference, even when it feels like your efforts are as effective as trying to fill the Grand Canyon with one bucket of water at a time.

Headline: Desperate stay-at-home-mom stays off boredom by incessantly tickling her 20-month-old and eating cookies (darn you everyone for bringing tempting desserts to my house).

           Sometimes it is good to put things into perspective. Let’s be quite blunt here. Why would anyone want to have children?

            Do you have children because you want to birth someone who is just like you? Because you have some narcissistic complex and think you can have prodigies that will somehow further your own greatness? Ha. Ha. Ha. Funny. Considering you can’t even predetermine their eye color, gender or disposition it is highly unlikely that you will be able to mold them into some kind of mini clone. The only way this will work is if you have been cursed by your mother who said I hope you have a child just like you. But of course when a mother says this she isn’t saying it because she thinks you were a gem of a child to raise. She’s saying it because you were a royal pain and she hopes one day you will ask for her forgiveness for giving her heck.

            Do you have children because finally a person in your life who will ALWAYS love you. First of all, I have to say, I’ve always thought this was a creepy reason to have children. You’d bring a person in the world just so they will love you? Talk about complexes. But also, let’s get real. Yes, your children will love you. But, they will spend a whole great portion of their lives being extremely selfish. It isn’t because they’re hateful little monsters. It’s because they’re children. They have to learn to be gracious, loving and charitable. That’s where your job comes in. You have to teach them these attributes. They will hug you and kiss you and want your attention, but pretty much on their terms. And you can’t really take it personally when they push you away when you need a hug. They’re just children.

            Do you have children because you are biologically incapable of not having them? I’m sure that there is a natural instinct to have children that is pretty strong. I have no doubt. But, I don’t think that can account for all of it.

            So why do we do it? What would make a woman want to go through pregnancy, labor, delivery and post-partum care of a newborn? What makes us willing to lose sleep, tears, time, dreams, solitude and freedom?

            Well, I can’t speak for everyone. But I think I know why I have children and why I didn’t stop at one.

            I see great value in children. I think God did put this child-desire in mothers and fathers. I think that God wanted us to realize in a small way how he loves us. It was no accident that God refers to himself as our Father. He could have referenced any other kind of relationship – he could have distanced himself from us because his greatness is incomparable. However, he calls himself “Father.” This is an intimate, deep and loving way for God to refer to himself. And I believe our love for our children is to be guided by the way that God loves us. God loved us so much that he sent Jesus to save us. And I believe that many parents would sacrifice their greatest treasure in order to save their own children. There aren’t many relationships in which we would be so inclined to be selfless. You can have a great love for your spouse, but that relationship is more of a reciprocal relationship. Your love for your child is unconditional. You look at your newborn and you don’t love them because they create riveting conversation, or because they are so smart, or funny, or good-looking, or because they love you so much. You love them because you honestly cannot help yourself. They are precious beyond compare and you’re so GRATEFUL that you were blessed with them being in your life.         

            And the other reason that I have children is because I think children are so awesome. I have always loved them. I love watching them discover life. I love watching their personalities and interests develop. I love the way that four-year-olds are extremely honest about their thoughts and emotions. I love that five-year-olds are hilarious as well as frank. I love that twelve-year-olds have great dreams and are beginning to form their thoughts on the world. I love that teenagers are taking all their childhood years and determining what kind of people they are going to be when they are “fully” raised. I love the whole process and I am so very very very honored to be a part of it. And as I watch Curious George 2 for the millionth time, or change another poopy diaper, or cry because I think I can’t handle another tantrum from my toddler, I am reminded that I am gifted with the responsibility of molding a precious human life. I am charged with raising a soul that will go out in the world and be a voice in humankind. A child who will most likely be a father himself. I pray that I do a good job and that my boys will not know a day without the love of the Father that we both share.

Absence sharpens love, presence strengthens it. -Thomas Fuller

I’ve been missing my husband pretty sorely these past few weeks. I think part of the struggle is that we’ve now celebrated the baby-can-come-at-any-time threshold. That’s a wonderful thing! But, it makes me realize that we are very near the end. My body is going through something I’ve never experienced before – the last month of pregnancy – and I really wish my husband could be here with me through these weeks.

This is a 34 week shot. The way I'm standing or
the angle makes my stomach look smaller than it is.
But, I like the picture because Jack is actually interacting
with his brother. (sort of).

            Partly I wish he were here to pamper me. I’ll be honest. I’d like somebody to come home in the evening and say, “Hey babe (not that he calls me babe), I’ll watch the toddler, you put your feet up and watch desperate housewives (even though we don’t watch that show). How about I make dinner? Yes, I can absolutely make all of your favorite dishes. You just relax.”

            The other reason I want him home is because this having a baby thing is pretty intimate between a man and his wife.  Not just in the obvious way (duh….). What I mean is, when our first child was born I felt closer to Ned than I ever had before. Our child was in the NICU and we were both overwhelmed with the love we felt for this baby. We didn’t know anything about him but he was already so infinitely precious and important and… let me just say. No one can prepare you for the love you have for your baby. And let me tell you something else, no one could prepare me for the amount of love I would also have for my husband. I already loved him a great deal, but I think what was so special is that my focus shifted from just being about our relationship. We had more in common than our marriage and that common interest was wearing diapers and sleeping and when we looked at him, we thought we might never be the same (and we weren’t).

            I want my husband around for those moments leading up to this baby’s arrival. I want him to be a part of all of it. And it does make me sad that he will be missing whole weeks of baby Finn’s growth post-partum.

            But let me take a moment and reflect on the positives for this time apart.

1)     I think Ned and I have actually grown closer during these past weeks of absence. We infinitely value our weekends together. These times apart have really helped us cherish one another and to show us how much we really care about each other.

2)     I’ve grown closer to my son. I have learned to value each little moment with him and I adore watching him grow. At times does try my patience (especially as my body grows more and more uncomfortable), but he is so dear to my heart and has only become more so since I have been charged with all of the Monday- Friday around the clock care. He is such a blessing to me and I am so thankful that God has given him to us.

my loves in september 2011

3)     I have learned to ask people for help. I truly hate asking people for help. I’m not sure if it severe shyness, pride or my upbringing that causes this (or all three), but it is REALLY hard for me to ask someone outside of my family for help. I feel awkward, lazy, no-good and like I owe someone something if I ask for help. It’s kind of pathetic, but I will mentally think of all the things I’ve done for that person to see if it merits asking them for help. I think if my deeds don’t outweigh theirs, that they will judge me. Isn’t God good to put us in situations that make us vulnerable? Isn’t that just another way to show us how much we need God and others?

4)     I am more sensitive to others in need. I am more understanding when other people need help. I am less likely to judge their situations and I feel more empathetic towards them. It isn’t wrong for me to ask for help, and it isn’t wrong for someone else to need help. It may already seem obvious that other people need help, but there’s nothing quite so convincing as personal experience. And my personal experience shows me that people in need are not less than I am. Needing help from another person may be a sign of weakness (because we are all weak), but it does not mean that people in need are of less value. Again, isn’t God so good to show me the inconsistencies of my heart?

5)     I have grown closer to my friends since Ned has been away. It is pretty easy for me to hole up in my house and keep my world relatively small. Needing other people in my life has opened my heart to growing friendships and to expanding the amount of people I let in my life. It certainly wasn’t a matter of not liking people before, but this period in our life has helped me find time to nurture other relationships. I think this is one of the biggest surprise blessings. God doesn’t just allow me to suffer in order to grow, he also allows me to have joy in my life in order to grow.

6)     My husband is happier. I’m not saying he’s happier because he isn’t around us (I know he misses us like we miss him). And our time apart is mutually bittersweet. But, when my husband was working his previous job there was a lack of joy in his life. I am not suggesting that God can’t give us contentment in any situation, but I AM suggesting that God loves us so much that he opens paths for us that are more fulfilling and suited for our desires. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to see my husband smiling when he comes home for the weekend. There is simply a change in his demeanor. Not to mention that I am overjoyed by the ways that God is growing his character as well (but that’s something he can write about in his blog, should he desire to do so J ).

7)     I have hope for the future. I think this job is a good life choice for our family. This year is a pretty big sacrifice for our family, but I think the results are going to be worth it. I am excited for the places that God will take us and the opportunities we will have to meet new people. I also think that this job will be a good experience for our boys (and possible future children). And since I am one who loves adventure, I am really just thrilled that we have selected an unconventional life.  

Off the cuff post that started as a Facebook Status Update

47, 32.75.

I am learning how to just have fun with Jack and still accomplish the things I need to get done. Not looking at every day as a 10-15 hour shift. Life as a Monday-Friday single Mom can be challenging, and will only become more challenging when I am no longer pregnant, but am actually caring for two boys. I can't wait to meet Finn, but I am also anxious about the changes. Afraid my laundry and dishes will become a raging consuming monster (assuming that I take the time to cook and eat during those early days).

But, I am also excited for the challenge and know that this is where God grows my character the most. I know that God will not give me more than I can handle because God will be there with me: At the 10  o'clock nursing, and the 11 o'clock nursing, and the 11:24 o'clock tuck- him-back-into-bed-time, and the 12 o'clock I think I am going to cry from exhaustion nursing, and the 1 o'clock I-don't-know-why-I-just-woke-up-on-my-own-the-baby-is-still-sleeping-but-I-will-check-on-him-to-make-sure-he-is-still-breathing-time, and the 2:00 o'clock I don't know why my dog thought she would get a turn to go out and pee time, and the 4 o'clock thank-you-God I got to sleep for two hours this time nursing, and the 4:45 o'clock Jack wanted to be a part of the party time, and the 5:00 o'clock baby and Mom are asleep nursing, and the 8:00 o'clock Jack, cat, and dog are all ready to start the day because that is our routine time.

31 weeks, I think

Yes, I am thinking that if the dust bunnies start rolling during those first few months, that just might be okay (they do now and we seem to be okay). And if I take my sleep-deprived butt to the grocery store please don't be alarmed if you see me and I don't see you. Or if I am a bit snappish. Or possibly crying. Or have that vacant I-haven't-showered-and -I-don't-know-what-I-look-like look. I don't want to know what I look like. If you dare talk to me, just tell me I look beautiful and my children look healthy. And maybe offer to help carry my groceries.

One day a man will spring, worth loving

We are counting down and counting up to some pretty big events.

Counting up: baby Finn is now 31 weeks 2 days. Keep in there, kiddo!

Counting down: Ned now has 48 weeks of training left! That’s a lot better than 50.

                        One toddler covered in spaghetti and sauce.

                        One baby somersaulting and kicking his mother under the ribs.

                        One husband driving home for the weekend.

                        One momma writing a blog.

                        Homeward bound

I wish I was

Homeward bound

Home, where my thought's escaping

Home, where my music's playing

Home, where my love lies waiting

Silently for me

                        Was going to write more, but seems like I’m more interested in song lyrics and short sentences than an actual thorough post.