A Sister Named Chuck

Good morning!

Here's a little update on one Charles Bryan Helmer.

Upon attending Charlie's 'Parent Party' at school Monday we learned a couple of things we didn't know about our firstborn.  First off, let me say this impromptu 2pm party in the middle of a Monday was a little frustrating.  I saw the sign advertising the party as I dropped Charlie off, and upon taking him aside and explaining that I would do my best but I couldn't promise I could leave work IN THE MIDDLE OF A MONDAY, his teacher inserted herself in the conversation and assured Charlie that she would be there for Charlie if his mommy didn't have time for him. 

Nice. 
At 2:02pm ON A MONDAY I find myself running through the parking lot into the building where I was more than delightfully surprised to find my super hot husband inside the door.  He had asked my sister to watch the twins so he could be there for Charlie knowing it would be hard for me to make it.  Best dad ever! 

Things we learned about Charlie at his Parent Party:
-Charlie has a reputation amongst his classmates and their parents
The teacher read a dreadful little book about whiny baby owls and Charlie would chime in on the part where the students said their line and above everyone's voices he'd throw his hands in the air and give his most dramatic impression of Baby Owl Bill's line, "I WANT MY MOMMY!"  It startled everyone the first time, and the clever author managed to squeeze the line and additional dozen times.  By the end of the book Andy and I were looking at our shoes while Charlie danced in the spotlight for his act.   
All the kids would laugh when he said the line and I would hear parents around the room laughing and saying, "Oh Charlie," like my kid had a reputation I wasn't aware of, and apparently he does.  Who knew my little cross-eyed goofball was the class clown? 
-Charlie has been exposed to 'too much Bible'
According to his teacher, Charlie stood on his chair last week and told the whole class that Jesus loves them and mom gives money to men on the street corner.  I told Charlie I was proud of him, but explained why we don't have to tell other people when we give homeless people money or food.  Though I don't talk about anything inappropriately over his head, I haven't sheltered Charlie from the reality of war or death in the Bible.  In fact, I sort of pray every day that He will eventually grasp the very concept so we can talk more about what Jesus did.  This has however complicated his perception of death in his academic circle.  For instance, the teacher read, "The baby owls Bill, Percy, and Sarah were safe in their nest when all the sudden they woke up and they were alone."  She then asked, "Where was the daddy owl?"  A little girl raised her hand and softly suggested that maybe the daddy owl was at work for the day.  Without raising his hand, Charlie then offered his opinion, "Nah, I'll bet he's dead." The room was quiet as the teacher tried to think of an answer.  She looked up at Andy and I and I'm pretty sure we simultaneously shrugged, Andy might have smiled- seems like something he'd do.  She finally muttered, "I'll bet he's not."  Charlie raised his eyebrows in knowing suspicion, but held his tongue.
-Charlie is good at what he tries to do, but he doesn't try for very long
He can concentrate on an assignment for no more than one full minute.  An owl made out of playdoh?  More like a playdoh ball with one finger hole for an eye.   He tries for 60 seconds, gives up, and then congratulates himself on the start of what would've been a sure masterpiece and moves on- no problem.
-Charlie would like a sister.  He's made friends with an adorable blonde named Lily and he has since told me that he'd like me to have another baby, and it can be a sister this time.  I asked him what he would like to name his sister, expecting to hear 'Lily' since it's all he had talked about regarding a sister.  "Well mom... I suppose Chuck would be a nice name for her."  A sister named Chuck.  We'll get right on that.

We walked past Miss Sheila's room (his classroom and teacher from last year) on the way out and she was sitting five feet inside the door facing away from the door talking to a parent.  As we walked by, Charlie yelled, "Hey Miss Sheelia!"  Without turning around Miss Sheila put her hand up and replied, "Hi Charlie." 

Five year olds are just plain funny, and I love watching Charlie grow every day, though I wish he would slow down just a bit.  His best friends are his brothers, and he's a great help with them.  He likes to wrestle with his daddy, he likes to snuggle with his mommy Saturday mornings after I run and read about Jesus with me on the recliner.  He told me a couple weeks ago how much he likes Jesus, but he LOVES Christ.  We're getting there.  He likes to go to the gym with his daddy, or do anything with him really.  His favorite part about his daddy is that he doesn't have any hair, and he publicly shares this with anyone that will listen.  At Walmart last week the twins in  two carts, Charlie, and I waited by the exit for Andy to pay for some biscuits he had forgotten to put in the cart.  We kept watching for Andy as the twins were hungry and I had run out of patience with them trying to lick the disgusting cart handle.  As men would walk by, and Charlie would loudly confirm that they in fact were not his father.  A 70 year old man walked by, "You're not my dad."  A Somalian man walked by, "You're not my dad."  A middle aged bald man walked by, "You have no hair, but you're still not my dad."  He then looked up at me, "Ya see that one mom?  No hair, and still not dad."  I saw Charlie.

Charlie lives to see his grandparents and aunts and uncles, and while we're busy with the twins and life, he's a happy, loved, observant, loud little boy- and I'm so thankful to Jesus that he's mine.

Cracks

Deep breath.  That one didn’t help.  One more deep breath.  Okay, that’ll do.  I gather the torn binding of my most prized possession and collect the missing page of Ephesians from the seat beside me.  I’m not sure why I brought Across the Spectrum, but I did- along with my journal of course.  One last quick prayer, “Lord use me as Your vessel as You see fit.”  I smile thinking of the conversation He and I just had on the way over- “Emma, why can’t you remember any of the words in the songs you sing about me?  For the 50^th time, I did not pay for my sins, I paid for your sins- and if you could get the prose in that verse right just once, the entire verse would make a lot more sense.”  I can feel Him smiling.  “I’m truly working on it Lord, I just get so caught up and can’t remember sometimes, that’s why you put me on a worship team with a teleprompter!”  He laughs, “Okay Emma.  Oh one more thing, stop driving with your knees in order to lift your hands to Me.  I am God, I can feel your worship without you endangering my other children.”  “Yes Lord.”  Jesus gets me.  I get out of the car, hold my precious stack of books close to my chest and start through the October sleet storm towards the church.

 

Just a few days ago I walked in with the same flutter in my stomach for my final worship team audition.  With phlegm in my throat and pain in my past I walked into a setting of incredibly talented and polished musicians and prayed the same prayer.  The Lord gave me unexplainable peace and carried me through that, and I trusted He would do the same for my next opportunity.  Dr. Wes had talked about belonging to a group of people, not just attending a church service… so that’s what I’m going to do.  The Lord knows my family needs it.

 

Let me just say, I’m a newly discovered introvert.  I don’t know why I didn’t accept this earlier, but I think I wanted to be an extrovert.  I wanted to be comfortable and at ease with new people and situations- after all my profession demands that, and so I put on a pretty good act- Praise God Almighty that He doesn’t require that of me.  My very best friend recently told me I was an introvert, and after a moment’s consideration I understood that she was right.  I think it’s good to know what you are- after all Jesus is famous for using introverts…broken ones at that.  I have heard His call, or His expectation rather to step up and be used, and I’m obeying this time. 

 

I walked through the fellowship hall of this building I was growing to love, and I began my search for my trainer/guide.  As I walked through and saw the kids in their Awana vests I felt a familiar rush of comfort.  This is how it was before life took a turn.  I remembered learning the verses, running the relay races, and playing with my friends in the basement of my own childhood church.  Our Awana was called Conquerors’ Club, but it served a similar purpose.  I continued through the building and found the leader I was looking for.  She began to walk me through and introduce me to people in the church and show me the anatomy of the building.  I felt like a new teacher, possibly of the Christy or Anne of Green Gables variety clinging to my books and meeting hesitant students.  I was the new girl, I hate being the new girl.

 

All week I had prayed and wondered about why they could possibly want me teaching 6^th Grade Girls.  The leader had said that she had originally wanted me in the Sr. High area as I was younger and possibly more relevant to the older kids, but she couldn’t get over what I put on my application- I wanted to meet a need, even if it didn’t fit in my ‘interests, talents, experienced’ category.  So here I was, going back through my memory trying to remember what it was like to be in the 6^th Grade.  What did I care about, what did I understand?  Are these girls from the community or are they churched?  The have cell phones?  They wear makeup?  They wear yoga pants?  Oh, hmm, I don’t remember that part of 6^th grade.  I step into the room FULL of 5^th and 6^th grade boys and girls and scan the crowd for who may be in my class.  I sit down in between two girls and finally put my books down.  The girl to my left immediately picks up her purse (6^th graders have purses?) and moves 2 seats down away from me.  Perfect- all the sudden my own 6^th grade memory came back real fast.   I stood up to get a chair for another girl behind us and as I turned back to my chair I saw my worn Bible sitting on my chair with my journal.  I remembered.  I remembered sitting in church, in Sunday School running to my seat with that same Bible on it.  All at once God spoke again, “Do you remember why I have you here yet?”  Out of all the ministry opportunities, leading 6^th Grade Girls was not the most glamorous, not the easiest, and maybe not the most important in some people’s eyes- but this, this was on purpose.  God wants me here.  God is pleased that I’m here.  I had never previously remembered my past's events according to grade, only by age, but looking at my Bible sitting on the folding chair, I slowly realized that 6^th Grade was the year that I let sin break me.  It was in 6^th Grade that I began lose my faith that He could love me despite of my mistakes.  It was in 6^th Grade that I began as a girl to start ushering the God of my heart into a small box of conditional love, a box that made sense to me, a box that kept Him safe from the shame on the outside.  

 

I’m not going to share the specifics of my story, but I distinctly remember sitting in a group of other 6^th graders and thinking I was secretly the only one God didn’t have time for anymore.  After all, I was the verse memorizing champion.  I was the special music singing, sanctuary vacuuming, beloved niece of the Pastor.  I knew better, and here I was trapped in sin I didn’t even understand.  Having such big issues so young was not only not talked about, but as far as I had observed, it was not understood by the church- so why then would God ever understand or love what they couldn’t?  I knew I had accepted His non-refundable gift of Salvation, but I had all but started to believe that I had lost His love.  He was safe in His box, and I was alone on the outside--ruined. 

 

It wasn’t for a very long time, after a long journey, that He opened my eyes to the fact that He had never been in a box at all.  He had been there all along.  When I made big mistakes in college, He was there.  When I chased after the futility of fame in Nashville He was there.  When I failed to carry my children full term because of my addiction to work, He carried them and brought them out in His time.  Through the darkest valleys of sin that I chose to walk through- He was walking with me, nothing hidden from Him.  His unconditional love pursued my confused heart and on October 2, 2014 He called my name.  Through His word I began to learn about a God I had read about my entire life but never really known. 

 

This is why I was here- I had a chance to help establish the roots of these tender 6^th Grade girls in the truth and grace of Jesus- and I knew firsthand why it was so important, and so on purpose that I be here every Wednesday night. 

 

The lesson went wonderfully, and God guided my ears to listen, my mouth to speak, and my heart to steer our conversation.  I over-used the word 'situation,' but God's bigger than my tiny internal thesaurus.  By the end of our first meeting, two older girls had unexpectedly opened up about things I would’ve never dared to mention at their age.   We were open, we were honest, I was able to share God’s love and the story of His Son with my group of girls and I know it’s only the beginning.

 

My trainer doesn’t know this, but I had to hold back a tear or two when she handed me my leader t-shirt.  HIS ways are Higher, HIS plan is perfect, HIS love is complete.  It’s because of Him that someone like me, broken at a young age and dragged through life by the enemy and my sinful choices, could ever be used again.  I repeated the lyrics from a song I had just heard on my way home, “Mercy strong to carry shame and nail it to a tree- You alone hold the power to redeem.” 

 

One of the biggest lies the enemy will tell you is that you’re broken beyond repair.  He’s cunning and wants nothing more than to stifle God’s love and grace in us.  He’ll whisper, “Oh honey, your vessel has too many cracks.  Sure God can put you together, but you’ll never hold water.”  He’ll say it so softly that you won’t even see the shame-controlled trap he’s luring into.  I’m here to say that it’s those very cracks that let God’s mercy flow through the broken vessels that we are.  When people see how God has restored me, I hope they see His strength and purpose come through, not my ability to hold water.  Soul restoration is out of our jurisdiction, HE ALONE HOLDS THE POWER TO REDEEM.  I cling to His grace like I do my old Bible, and I pray you do the same- God’s mercies are new every morning and His grace has no limit.

When Daddy goes to Mars

Part of me wants to update you on what's gone on with our children as of late.  The other part of me wants to dig into what I've been thinking about on a deeper, more spiritual level. 

 

To completely change the subject, I'm considering two new creative projects:

1) Uncovering my hidden dancing talents.

I put on a Jenna Dewan-Tatum video from the movie Step Up.  I put on my best dance outfit- loose top and leggings- typical hot dancer wardrobe.  I've always assumed that as I'm rhythmic and musical I must secretly be capable of dancing.  I assume far too much.  The two arts are painfully different, and I should've known that.  It's the very same reason I can't do the breast stroke.  I'm coordinated when it comes to a basketball or football, but put me in water or try to make me look graceful and I'm completely lost.  Imagine putting a giraffe in the middle of the ocean- that's me in the shower.  Forget trying to breathe and move efficiently in water, I can barely wash my hair with a constant stream of water nearby.  Back to Mrs. Tatum- I stood in my basement facing the harsh reality of my iMac and watched the first move, or step, or 4 count of her solo dance...whatever it's called.  She dramatically threw her head back so it was parallel with her breast bone and I swear her ponytail brushed her bum.  I let out a pathetic breath and almost a swear word, then Ctrl+Q'd that crap.  I so wish I could dance beautifully, but I'm pretty sure being able to touch your toes is a pre-requisite unless you want to look like your great aunt rain dancing at a wedding...so until next time I forget that I'm as flexible as an oak tree- Emma can't dance...at all.  My dear, sweet best friend loves posting videos of old drunk men dancing through fairgrounds with arm-fulls of kettle corn and then she tags me, I need to embrace the reality that it's apparently no secret how much dancing talent I don't have.  Moving on to my next creative project---

2) Re-creating pop songs to include a message of hope around Jesus and His undeserved gift of love.  So far I've pursued this as far as listening to the pop station and ad-libbing praise songs in the small breaks of quarter note bass drum.  Here's an example: (Original Lyrics) [Adam Levine:] If I got locked away

And we lost it all today...

Tell me honestly...

Would you still love me the same?  'Yes He does'

If I showed you my flaws 'He already sees them'

If I couldn't be strong 'You don't have to be'

Tell me honestly

Would you still love me the same? 'With a love you've never known'



It's going to take off.  Don't hold your breath, but I got a feelin.

Enough of my creative projects.

I guess I'll take the road of funny blog post about kids as I don't feel my heart is quite ready to go the other way yet.

Here's the twins summed up in a sentence- two parts, one semi-colon.  They are well-behaved for their father; they are not well-behaved for their mother.  What do I mean by that?  Well little lady, I'm glad you asked.

Andy watches the boys all day throughout the week and I'm thankful they're good for him.  It's okay, really.  I'd rather have that, after all he's home more so I would hate for him to be tortured the way I am when alone with the demons...I mean, children.  All I guess I could ask for is a little middle ground- the switch just flips the second he's gone.  My composition teacher taught me not to use supporting adjectives like 'just,' but I'm sure she wouldn't have liked me using 'feelin' without the G at the end a few paragraphs ago either.  Bless her A- and vague corrections giving heart. 

Andy left last Thursday upon my arrival home from work.  Andy went to the gym.  Andy went to the GYM, not to Mars.  It felt like Andy went to Mars. 

In the hour he was gone, there was one bloody nose, one pile of puke, several piles of chewed-on oatmeal, and the rest of the floor was moist with baby lotion, toddler tears, and mommy tears.  It was an hour, and I'm their mother, I feel like it should be easier for me.  As Andy and Charlie pulled out of the driveway, Sawyer, Luke, and I pressed our hands against the front window and tried to let it soak it in that he was really leaving us...together...alone...again...after he knows what happened last time.  We gave each other a knowing glance and the madness began.  I'm not sure about the boys, but this is how I remember the hour.

Lucas immediately left the window and bee-lined for my leg like I'd been gone for months.  All at once he directed all of his attention to making sure I picked him up and never put him down.  Luke would have nothing less, and began screaming like a starving seagull stuck in a tar pit when I didn't pick him up right away.  I finally broke loose and tried to subtly reach for a banana, but his eyes got wide and he dug is fingers back into my legs- how dare I consider eating something and not offering him 90% of it?

 

Sawyer had different ambitions.  While he knew Luke was desperate for my undivided attention along with anything he could swallow whole, Sawyer would rather see just how many devious acts he can accomplish while I'm busy detaching his twin from my personal bubble.  Sawyer grabbed as many electronics he could get his unusually grabby hands on and headed for the toilet.  Without hesitation, the phone charger, remote, and part of the dust buster went in the porcelain throne.  He then completely unrolled the toilet paper before moving on to the next potential crime scene.  By what Sawyer managed to do in 90 seconds, one would think I'm negligent and busy doing self indulgent things like...I don't know, I'll go crazy here... peeing alone, or taking my heels off.  Sawyer landed himself exactly where he knew he was going- in his crib, which he's forgotten he can escape from.  Luke couldn't leave well enough alone so he forced his way into their room and kept Sawyer company, which consisted of taunting Sawyer by dangling toys, pacifiers, and blankets over the edge of the crib and then running away with all three.  Wonderbar.

I was still fishing cords out of the toilet when I heard a farting sound.  Hmm, Andy did give them hotdogs earlier. Gas is normal, I can leave that alone and finish this, right?  Wrong.

Passing gas was not what I was hearing.  What I was hearing was a 22 month old squirting baby lotion everywhere he could.  God didn't bless me with a girl, but I feel like if He had, Paisley Kay would've shamed her brothers out of doing some of the things they do.  I'll never know.  What I do know is that there are far too many "pee-pee's" at the yellow house on Goodview Ct.

I walked in not a minute later to 90 sq ft of hardwood floors nearly covered in lavender scented lotion.  In a crib to the left was a naughty electronic-destroying toddler with lotion in his hair and to the right- a naughty needy/taunting toddler with all the blankets, both pacifiers, and an empty bottle of lotion as he stood dead center of ground zero. 

Naturally, my solution to the twins' behavior was food.  They both like food right?  I shut the bedroom door and went to the kitchen.  Andy had now been gone nine minutes.  I started the microwave and the thought crossed my mind, could I try and scramble two eggs for myself as I make their oatmeal? 

Silly mommy.

I scrambled the eggs, partially, the whites at least.  I poured them on a paper plate and let the twins out of their room to come sit down in their seats for a nice oatmeal snack.  No sooner did they emerge from their room than Sawyer caught a glimpse of a plate he wasn't being fed from.  Next thing I know I'm standing on the recliner while my sister tries and contains the twins from the base of my furniture so I can try and ingest a few calories.  We finally, collectively contain the children and secure them safely in their seats.

I started with Sawyer, only because he had become completely defiant in the face of sharing any of his food with Luke.  I thought if I fed him first, he wouldn't notice if I fed Luke the rest of the bowl.

Silly mommy. 

He caught a glimpse of only one bowl on the counter, saw right through the act and flipped out after his third bite.  He spat out the bite of oatmeal on his clothes and on the floor while simultaneously reaching his hand in the bowl and throwing as much as he could at my face.  I took him out of his seat, figuring he clearly wasn’t hungry.  I took Luke out too so the two of them could go play while they built up more of an appetite.

Silly mommy.

At that point they were both upset about knowing a bowl of oatmeal have been prepared and yet neither twin was being fed.  Luke took his hunger and aggravation out on Sawyer and backhanded him- Sawyer's nose  began to bleed and at the site of Sawyer's pain Luke realized his crime and broke down.  Not a foot from Sawyer, Luke began to cry so hard that he gagged, and then threw up the 98 cheerios he stored in his cheeks after lunch. 

Andy had now been gone seventeen minutes and I had a phone charger still in the toilet, a greasy lotioned wood floor in the twins room, a bunch of spit-up oatmeal on the kitchen table, a puddle of blood from Sawyer's nose on the living room rug and now a clump of cheerio puke about 6 inches from the blood puddle.

At that moment a mutual friend of my husband and myself texted Andy and I in a group message- and I saw my husband give a funny retort in the group message.  My heart reactively filled with frustration and between my 14 hour day of work and my 17 minutes of terrible-two twin time, I begin to conclude that it was completely uncalled for that Andy would ever leave us knowing how they act when he’s gone.

It felt like decades, but eventually I heard the knob turn and in walked relief in the form of one wonderful man- Daddy.  Sawyer lifted his head out of the trash can and Luke dropped the toothpaste.  They both ran to the gate above the entry stairs and simultaneously dropped their ears to their shoulders and bore their biggest smiles.  "Da-dee, da-dee!"  One might assume jealousy would hit me like a wave but I was already half way to my closet where I knew I'd find a five minute recovery experience including but not limited to putting my head between my legs and rocking back and forth in the fetal position.

Talk about humbling.  Talk about frustrating, embarrassing, and confusing.  I'm these boys' mommy.  I'm supposed to have control of this like I do my business, and yet I have none.  It's at this moment that I remember the Wednesday Lucas Andrew and Sawyer Rodney were born.  I remember the fear, the surrender, the thousands of prayers that were lifted for these two crazy kids.  Twenty two months later they run, play, eat, fight, talk, and love like other little boys and we never could've dreamed that they ever would. 

Even on the messiest, bloodiest, stinkiest days, I try and remember to thank Jesus for my husband, for my siblings, and everyone else that helps keep my children alive and happy.  Thank Him for His provision in my babies' lives.  Thank Jesus that I have a bed to fall in tonight.  Thank Jesus for His grace in my life as I fall so very short in so many areas. 

That’s all I have for now.  Until Andy abandons me again, goodnight from Goodview Court!

Toddlers for Sale- Two for the price of one!

Happy Friday!  Amen?  Amen!
It's been a bit since I've updated on the happenings of Goodview Court.  My obsession with Job has not yet subsided, but it has to level out at some point- I mean there's a lot more Bible to learn from right?  While I figure out where the Lord's arm reaches out next (hint hint... Isaiah), I'll fill you in on what's going on with the Helmer family.

Charles just turned five. Yikes.  As if that didn't make us feel old enough, this last week was the 10 year anniversary of our meeting/dating/falling madly in love.  To celebrate twin-parent style, we had a date night in.  We listened to music from 2005, and watched a movie that came out the summer of 2005.  The change in fashion and even quality of cinema brought us face to face with just how long 10 years is- no matter how fast it goes.  Also, we started a small fire on our dining table at 0900 hours. No thanks to my pathetic sloth-like reaction, the flames were eventually contained and nothing was lost in the fire.  Point goes to Andy and his cat-like reflexes.

So...the twins have officially become, difficult.  From day one of learning we would have twins all we heard about was how hard it would be.  When the twins were born early, we weren't sure what our version of normal would be if they survived, so we were in the 'do whatever it takes to get by' mode for the first several months.  Once the boys were settled at home we slid into a safe, careful routine with monitors and never taking them out of the house.  When the boys became mobile and playful, my parents got us the infamous 'kennel' and containment saved our butts for another few months.  Throughout these stages, aside from the frightening difficulties of the first few months, I think both Andy and I would've told people that twins really weren't as taxing as we were expecting.  God let us get good and comfortable with our parenting skills, and then He graciously allowed Luke and Sawyer to turn 18 months old.  Just like that, everything changed. 

Meet 18 month old Lucas Andrew.  Luke is delightfully chubby and drools unendingly.  His soaking wet shirt rarely covers the bottom of his belly- but as he was born at 2 pounds, we see no issue with calling that impressive.  Luke has never chewed a bite of food in his life and his fecal matter only comes out in one size- gargantuan.  Luke has the very bluest eyes that you've ever seen, and he enjoys the outdoors with a baseball cap full of cheerios, but only from the center of a perfectly spread out blanket on the grass.  He sees no logic in leaving the safety and comfort of his blanket.  He has as much fun eating cheerios out of a hat as Sawyer does rolling down a grass hill in his diaper and running through a sprinkler.
With every cell in his wet, chubby little body Luke despises grass, but he's slowly coming around one 'reach in the grass to get a cheerio that flung off the blanket' at a time.  We take a lot of walks with the jogging stroller, and without fail Sawyer will sit up on the edge of the seat and look at the world passing by---not Luke.  Luke will slowly sink lower and lower in his seatbelt until only his head and neck are on the seat of the stroller and the rest of him is sprawled awkwardly on the floor of it- all because he's too lazy to scoot himself up a little when he starts to slip.  He'll just dangle with a completely straight face until the walk is over.  People worry when they pass us and see him lying in the stroller like he's high on the reefer.  Luke is a snuggler and is perfectly content in anyone's arms, but finds himself rather ticked off if you try and blow a gum bubble in his vicinity.  He concerns himself often with the goings-on of his twin brother Saywer.  Luke doesn't care for sharing toys, but he'll put a wet cheerio in your mouth anytime you're close enough for him to jab one in.  His favorite new chore is to speed-waddle the rolled up wet diapers to the garbage and then clap for himself when he tosses them in.  Luke is forever his daddy's boy, and his hands go right in his mouth to stifle an involuntary giggle every time Andy comes in the door or around the corner.  It's precious.  Luke is still working through when to emotionally react to something.  Timing is tough for him.  Anytime Sawyer is being reprimanded, Luke tends to take it personally and still completely breaks down when Sawyer is being put in timeout.  We still have to console and remind him he's not in trouble this time and he doesn't have to cry on Sawyer's behalf.  Meanwhile, Sawyer stares through our souls and plans his next disobedient act the entire time he's being scolded and disciplined.  No tears necessary with a sympathetic twin like Luke.  Once in a while when Luke is eating, we swear he remembers something sad from earlier in the day and he'll go from just fine and dandy to alligator tears for no reason, sad quivering lip and all.  Luke is a joy, and if he were on his own life would be way too easy...that would be why God gave us a little Baby B.

Meet 18 month old Sawyer Rodney.  Sawyer is straight muscle and scar- not an ounce of chub anywhere on his little self.  His long hair flies all over the place as he bounces around the house and his brown eyes are piercing.  Sawyer's favorite words are 'diaper' and 'touch,' and 'Bo.'  I'm convinced Sawyer can run at least 28 miles an hour and there's nothing he can't climb.  His perfect afternoon would be to sit in one of his toy-boxes and throw miniature tractors at everyone that walked by.  Sawyer isn't  your typical naughty toddler in the sense of throwing a tantrum or having an attitude- but Sawyer is naughty.  He gets into everything he shouldn't, he can take apart a dust buster in 8 seconds flat, and he listens and obeys selectively at best.  We've recently been introduced to an unsolvable problem- Sawyer can climb out of his crib AND open his bedroom door.  This wouldn't be too big an issue if Soy was closer to 2- but an 18 month old Sawyer with selective hearing and obeying at best is nowhere near ready for a toddler bed.  Sawyer is not very good at obeying and it appears he has a very short memory along with a giant lack of interest in being disciplined.  We have the stairs gated off, but other than that he has access to far too many dangers to let him roam around.  If we try and keep him in the crib however, he'll keep climbing out and it's a four foot fall to hard wood floor below.  Sleep is already difficult to come by, but not knowing where Sawyer is keeps me crouched down Gollum-style peeking through the cracked open door in my nighty at all hours, and I'm starting to go crazy with this paranoia.  If anyone has a solution to our unsolvable problem, don't hold out.  This is a cry for help. 

Charlie is, as always, an amazing big brother and helper.  He tells us when the boys prematurely get up from timeout, and scolds them when they grab the remotes.  I heard him tell Sawyer once that Jesus loves Luke more because Luke doesn't throw his cheerios on the floor.  We're always working on spiritual encouragement on Goodview Ct.  We had him answer a set of 50 questions on his 5th Birthday and recorded his answers.  The questions ranged from, "What makes you laugh" and "Who is in heaven" to "What kind of superpower would you want."  When asked what his favorite number was, his answer was 86505050.  Seems cute, but that actually is his favorite number.   He writes it on everything, including his bedroom wall, and he sings it around the house to the tune of his favorite song, Wiz Khalifa's "See You Again."

By the grace of God, all of the children God has put us in charge of are alive and well- and though our sanity is barely hanging by a thread we continue to lean on His strength.  At our busiest moments, and when we're missing our previous life with its freedoms and fun, we glance back to November 13th 2013 and can't help but be thankful for God's grace in the lives of our little preemies.  I'll try and update again soon, thanks for reading you lovely little readers you!  Sooooooooo tired.

The God of Job

Well mawnin' yall! 
Like my new hummingbird template? 
I know I do. 
My best childhood friend and I once caught/trapped a hummingbird at the cabin, which is risky business I might add.  I can't remember what we did with it, but I've always recalled feeling proud about that moment---so I'm comfortable assuming we miraculously saved its little life and set it free.  Sigh.  Such sweet passive aggressive Baptist babies we were. 


Speaking of Baptist babies, my brother and I were conversing via mobile phone from different parts of the great United States early this week, and he mentioned making a gift for a friend with a printed verse on it.  I asked him what verse-- I'm nosy.  He shared with me a passage that I've read and learned and heard my whole life- and it's in the book of Job.  God moved in me when Jake reminded me of the story and I've read and studied and listened to Job for days straight now.  Let's go ahead and call it obsession--I'm deeply obsessed with Job's story, and more than that I'm obsessed with Job's conversation with the very same God I talk to today.  If you don't mind, I'd like to bring you along to join in my obsession for a few minutes, and it begins with a question I have for you- What if all of the sudden you became painfully aware that God has seen every little thing you've been up to for your whole life?  I mean, I know we're aware that He's been there, but do you ever really think about the fact that He's not simply checking his voicemails for need-to-know details on the highlights of your day?  He's not just interested in the big or important stuff?  Have you contemplated the weight of the reality that He knows the motivations behind every decision you make, not just the action itself?  Okay, now go a step further---He not only knows why and what you're up to every second of every day, but he cares too.  God is many things, but indifferent is never one of them.  Maybe you have no trouble at all fully grasping this concept, maybe that's always your perspective, maybe it's Maybelline.
If I'm being honest, it's rarely mine.  In fact, I find myself 'accidentally ignoring' God's interest in my choices a lot like I 'accidentally ignore' my bank account after a Kohls spree. 
Hmm?  What was that Andy?  Oh they were having a sale...and I'll probably return most of it anyway, I'll check it out tomorrow.  Mmmmk? Mmmmk.
God sees it all, and He cares about it all.

OOFTA, as my grandpa Jerry would say.

Alright, so now back to the beginning- you suddenly become painfully aware of God's constant presence and His captivating interest in your thoughts, decisions, and actions.  And then..... God SPEAKS.  With a voice you've never heard but always known, He speaks.  God says to you that He has some questions for you, and He'd like for you to answer.
At that point, if I could even speak at all, it would undoubtedly be a very soft, very mumbled version of....... "I'd rather not, Lord."

Enter Job.

Job was a truly blessed man.  He had 7 sons, 3 beautiful daughters, a lot of farm animals (which back then was a direct reflection of wealth and status), and he was one of a few men that would present Himself to God blameless and faithful. 

Enter Satan. 
 
Satan tries to tell God that Job is only faithful because he's blessed.  God allows Satan to take away Job's blessings as long as he doesn't harm Job's body in order to test his faithfulness.  Satan strikes Job's children, his land, his home, his animals and storehouses.  Talk about a test!  Job does not curse God and remains true.  Satan then tries to tell God that Job is only faithful because his body has been spared, and that if Satan were allowed to harm him physically without killing him, then Job would curse God.  God allowed it.

Satan covers Job in painful boils from his head to feet, and tortures him.  Job calls for counsel from a few older wise friends.  Job's friends didn't help.  Job's wife asks why he doesn't just give up and curse God.  Job still doesn't turn his back on God, but as I would be, he starts to get a wee bit mopey.

I had my tonsils out last year, and  I remember begging for the immediate return of Christ so I would never have to swallow again.  I couldn't actually talk, but I somehow managed to let out a steady melody of moans and whimpers.  Job lost all he had lived for and then was covered in boils.  Ouch.

Job begins to question God.  He asks why he ever chose to live for God his whole life if torture was all he was to be given in return.  He asks God why he was ever even born!  I bet Satan was just giddy watching Job go all George Bailey on God.  Job chapters 29-31 outline a speech of defense and confusion from Job that could easily be read by Jack Nicholson in a courtroom scene.  If that was where the story ended, most of us would probably call Job's argument valid and agree with him.

Enter Elihu- a godly friend of Job's who is younger and bites his tongue while the older 'wiser' friends do pretty much nothing.  I will talk about Elihu in another post because he's just plain awesome.  Elihu rebukes Job's attitude and isn't afraid to do it.  Elihu spoke with wisdom beyond his years and was dead on.

Enter GOD.  Lord Almighty.  Creator.  Jehovah.  Elohim. 

I'll let Him speak.  

The Lord Answers Job- Chapter 38

38 Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind and said:

² “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?
³ Dress for action^[a] like a man;
    I will question you, and you make it known to me.

⁴ “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?
    Tell me, if you have understanding.
⁵ Who determined its measurements—surely you know!
    Or who stretched the line upon it?
⁶ On what were its bases sunk,
    or who laid its cornerstone,
⁷ when the morning stars sang together
    and all the sons of God shouted for joy?

⁸ “Or who shut in the sea with doors
    when it burst out from the womb,
⁹ when I made clouds its garment
    and thick darkness its swaddling band,
¹⁰ and prescribed limits for it
    and set bars and doors,
¹¹ and said, ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther,
    and here shall your proud waves be stayed’?

¹² “Have you commanded the morning since your days began,
    and caused the dawn to know its place,
¹³ that it might take hold of the skirts of the earth,
    and the wicked be shaken out of it?
¹⁴ It is changed like clay under the seal,
    and its features stand out like a garment.
¹⁵ From the wicked their light is withheld,
    and their uplifted arm is broken.

¹⁶ “Have you entered into the springs of the sea,
    or walked in the recesses of the deep?
¹⁷ Have the gates of death been revealed to you,
    or have you seen the gates of deep darkness?
¹⁸ Have you comprehended the expanse of the earth?
    Declare, if you know all this.

¹⁹ “Where is the way to the dwelling of light,
    and where is the place of darkness,
²⁰ that you may take it to its territory
    and that you may discern the paths to its home?
²¹ You know, for you were born then,
    and the number of your days is great!

²² “Have you entered the storehouses of the snow,
    or have you seen the storehouses of the hail,
²³ which I have reserved for the time of trouble,
    for the day of battle and war?
²⁴ What is the way to the place where the light is distributed,
    or where the east wind is scattered upon the earth?

²⁵ “Who has cleft a channel for the torrents of rain
    and a way for the thunderbolt,
²⁶ to bring rain on a land where no man is,
    on the desert in which there is no man,
²⁷ to satisfy the waste and desolate land,
    and to make the ground sprout with grass?

²⁸ “Has the rain a father,
    or who has begotten the drops of dew?
²⁹ From whose womb did the ice come forth,
    and who has given birth to the frost of heaven?
³⁰ The waters become hard like stone,
    and the face of the deep is frozen.

³¹ “Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades
    or loose the cords of Orion?
³² Can you lead forth the Mazzaroth^[b] in their season,
    or can you guide the Bear with its children?
³³ Do you know the ordinances of the heavens?
    Can you establish their rule on the earth?

³⁴ “Can you lift up your voice to the clouds,
    that a flood of waters may cover you?
³⁵ Can you send forth lightnings, that they may go
    and say to you, ‘Here we are’?
³⁶ Who has put wisdom in the inward parts^[c]
    or given understanding to the mind?^[d]
37 Who can number the clouds by wisdom?
    Or who can tilt the waterskins of the heavens,
³⁸ when the dust runs into a mass
    and the clods stick fast together?

³⁹ “Can you hunt the prey for the lion,
    or satisfy the appetite of the young lions,
⁴⁰ when they crouch in their dens
    or lie in wait in their thicket?
⁴¹ Who provides for the raven its prey,
    when its young ones cry to God for help,
    and wander about for lack of food?....................

 

The Lord goes on and asks Job 147 questions (if I'm wrong on that I'm quoting my Bible College student brother).  He explains that not only does He set everything in motion, but He also commands its continuance.  He cares about where lightning strikes (this doesn't mean we shouldn't be weather alert:). He cares about where ravens get food for their young.  Job's suffering wasn't only allowed, but it was intentional-and not just for Job and his wife and friends.  My study Bible says the author the book of Job is unknown, as well as the  time it was written.  There are no historical references or landmarks in the language or dialect to give us any type of idea or way to put the story into chronological context.  Now this is just what I believe, but I think God wanted us to have a clear story, a clear depiction of an untainted eternal message outside of timelines and history- God is God.  Everything He does is intentional and planned for His glory and our well being.  Even the trials He allows in our lives are completely motivated by his complete and incomprehensible love. 

 

 

 

God pauses after chapters of majestic reminders outlining His unquestionable greatness, and Job speaks. 

 

42 Then Job answered the Lord and said:

² “I know that you can do all things,
    and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted.
³ ‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’
Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand,
    things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.
⁴ ‘Hear, and I will speak;
    I will question you, and you make it known to me.’
⁵ I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear,
    but now my eye sees you;

6 therefore I despise myself,
    and repent^[a] in dust and ashes.”

 

Look around!  Everything we are and are given was created by and managed by the same God that loved us enough to give us another chance at perfection with HIM.  He tells the waves where to stop, He has seen the end of the world, He knows what's coming.  If He is big enough create, know, and care about all that, can't we have enough faith to believe that nothing in our lives is an accident? 

 

Here's my challenge to you-  It's easy to become far too comfortable and casual with the God of Job.  But He's our God too- and we  never want to forget how big He is. 
You've heard Him. 
You've learned about Him. 
Have you seen Him?
Have your eyes beheld the truth of who God is?  Study Him, know Him, love Him, SEE Him. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back to Truth, Back to Jesus

I was practically born in church.
No, really.
My mom went into labor at church in Honolulu just three weeks after her 21st birthday, and I probably spent more time in church or participating in church-related events throughout my childhood than I did anything else. 

If you've read any of my other entries, you know by now that I'm extremely competitive, and I also happen to be a recovering people pleaser- so add all that up and I DOMINATED memory verse challenges.
 Every.
 Single.
 One. 
I would recite the Scripture, and then mentally spike God's word and do a Baptist-approved victory dance, which probably consisted of clapping to Victory in Jesus just a little off the beat and 'smiling with my eyes.'  I would ask for forgiveness after peeking through my fingers during the closing prayer.  I'd run through the sanctuary when people weren't looking.  I'd take seconds of cheesy potatoes and act like it was my first helping.  And I'd memorize Bible verses for praise and candy.

Between church and my awesome godly parents, I was daily immersed in God's word.  Scripture was woven into my mind and memory, as well as my pillow case and most of my screen printed tees.  As a parent, I'm more thankful for this than I ever have been.  God promises that His word doesn't return void, and that if we hide His words in our heart, it will help guide our path.  I don't regret learning a single verse, and if I'm being honest, I don't regret a single helping of cheesy potatoes either. 

I love cheesy potatoes.

All that said- pounding something into the short and even long term memory does not guarantee change, it doesn't touch your heart until your heart is ready.  In my case, I was so accustomed to the language that I got lazy and began to callous myself to the truth, and the truth behind the truth.  I wouldn't say I stopped appreciating my salvation, but I definitely numbed myself to the gravity of God's greatest gift, and that's bad potatoes folks. Rotten...left in the bottom of the pantry...search desperately for the source of the smell for 44 days bad potatoes. 

The thing with rotten potatoes is that they not only destroy your chance at enjoying the potatoes, but they also fill the rest of the pantry with a stench that ruins your appetite for anything inside.  The smell makes it hard to want to try, why go to all the trouble of cooking at all?  So you just settle for Chinese takeout.  Money out, carbs and MSG in.  Bad potatoes=no good for your health.  Revelation says that the Church of Ephesus left their first love, and I think that's a little like bad potatoes.  I might be reaching on this analogy.  Just go with it.

Anyway, I felt distance between God and I, and it felt like maybe I'd lost my first love.  I realized that it wasn't bothering me like it should and this was a problem, so I got to fixing my problem.  I tried to stimulate my emotions by digging into the details of the crucifixion.  If I could understand the physical pain Christ endured a little better, maybe I'd be given renewed purpose. 

Side note: I tend to tread lightly on the 'stimulating emotions' topic all together.  Growing up, I stood tall on the fact that Faith is not feelings.  True, it's not, but I now have a healthier understanding of why God built me to have the emotions and feelings that I have.  I believe He was intentional about emotion, and it is absolutely part of the designed creation that we are.  It's often noted that Jesus wept, and more than that-- I bet he laughed.  Side note on my side note (it's my blog, I'm allowed): When I'm in the darkest moments of my days, I think about Jesus laughing.  It overwhelms me.  That might be just me.  Moving on- I also believe God sometimes draws us to Him through emotion, He wants us to feel Him.  I do believe that emotions must be checked and not always acted on, and Faith is not based on emotions, but I truly wish having emotion or being emotional wasn't always portrayed in such a negative light, it's a fine line... just saying.  Okay I'm done. 

Back to my quest for understanding.  I tried to study the pain Christ probably suffered to put things in perspective, but it wasn't the physical torment that woke me back up to Salvation.  Watching the Passion of the Christ  isn't a fix for complacency.  I then tried to listen to different sermons talking about why it's just peaches to have a relationship with Christ.  I heard some preachers touch on the do's and don'ts and why we need to strive for holiness.  I thought yes, but being called a good person isn't a good enough reason to give my life to someone.  If I wasn't already a believer, I wouldn't want to give up a life of doing what I want right or wrong for a good-person medal, or slap on the back.  Other preachers would talk about how God will bless your life if you live for Him.  Okay but come on, I knew that.  I believe it, and it's great, but the possibility of a blessed life didn't awaken my passion either.  The most articulate, eloquent preacher couldn't help me rediscover the fire I needed.  Notice all the "I" in these attempts?

Then one night I was reading in I Corinthians 2, and something in me stirred.  Paul writes, "And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. ² For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. ³ And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, ⁴ and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, ⁵ so that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God."  Wait.  So I couldn't revive my own soul?  Answers weren't the answer?  I was then reminded of a passage in I John.  "See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are."  So if I approach Him humbly, He'll do the rest simply because He loves me?

It wasn't about being inspired by fancy words, it wasn't about being motivated by possibilities of blessings, it wasn't about being frightened into submission by man-made standards...it has always been about being loved by Jesus.  Paul says he didn't come with lofty speech or wisdom, he purposed to know nothing except Yeshua, Jesus.  It's always about Jesus, it's always about Love.  We love him because HE FIRST LOVED US.  He started this love thing, and let me just tell you little lady-- Love is bigger than any motivational sermon or possible reward could ever be.  Chapter 2 goes on to explain that we as natural people cannot even comprehend this Love, it's conveyed to us through the Spirit as only the Spirit understands God's unconditional love for us. 

Wow!  When trying to renew purpose in my Christian walk, I assumed I needed to simply gaze at the Cross or try figure out why I was given what I was given on my own.  While the Cross is where the Love came to earth, Love didn't stay there, and neither can my relationship with Love.  The Cross is just the beginning!  It's like ending In Christ Alone  after the 'here in the death of Christ I stand' verse.
Gasp

He didn't die for me and stay dead, He rose and now while He prepares my home in Heaven, He left me with His Spirit.  He speaks with me, He mediates with the Father on my behalf, He cares what I'm up to and how I'm feeling.  He understands what I'm up to and how I'm feeling.  He's perfect, and yet He loves me enough to forgive me every time I hurt Him if I'll just ask.  He dries my tears, He picks me up, He laughs with me, He holds me.  That's why I want to live for Him.  Not only did my Savior die to save me, but He wants to walk with me so I'm never alone.  He promises to be here with me until I get to see Him face to face.  He has written me in the palm of His hand.  He delights in me, I'm His child.  He doesn't just want my decision to accept Him, He wants a relationship with me.

I'm rambling, but is this making sense?  Salvation isn't just about being saved from hell, it's about being saved from having to live a life without Jesus.  Eternal life with Jesus starts the day we take Him as our Savior.  To me, it's beautiful and incomprehensible.  Back to the Truth, back to Jesus.  Why?  Because He loves you with a love you've never known. 

 

Happy Fathers Day!

I've never known where the apostrophe is supposed to go with salutations like "Happy Mothers Day" or "Happy Fathers Day."  I bet my husband would know, that's one of the reasons I love my English-correcting German--here are the rest.

Andy is a special kind of father.  Where most of us are either called to career or home-life, Andy is beyond excellent at both.  He's one of the only men I know that can manage three boys under 5 while going to school full time and possessing unlimited understanding with all of the flexibility my career requires.  I need to be in Nevada for 5 days and then New Orleans for 4 and then I'm sorry but I have three events this week so I'll try and be home by bedtime to help if I can.  Does he ever complain?  Does he ever whine about all the responsibility that lands on his plate?  Nope!  He's a Dean's List honored, butt wiping boss.

Andy knows how to properly utilize caffeine.  He gets up and makes coffee and manages the day.  He doesn't require naps.  He then either makes more coffee or an energy mix from the gym and buckles up for school when I get home so he can finish whatever the boys didn't allow him to during the day.  Again, no complaining, just doing what's got to be done.  How does he do this?  Caffeine.

Andy is EVERYONE'S favorite.  Between being the "golden boy" of his family, the only reason my siblings visit, or the undisputed preferred parent- the party just isn't a party until Andy graces us all with his presence- and trust me, I'm jealous.  I TRY to entertain, I TRY to be funny, but people light up when Andy shows up, and he knows it. You won't find low self awareness on any list of Andy's attributes, but I love that too. 

Andy is an incredible cook.  The boys and I would survive on a menu of grilled cheese and Golden Grahams if it weren't for him.  My idea of 'trying extra hard' on a meal is Homestyle Mac & Cheese ... you know, the mac with the bread crumbs on top?  One time when my inlaws were on their way, I ordered 6 individual servings of pasta from Dominos and put it in a 9x13 pan in my cold oven so it would appear that I cooked something delicious-other than frozen lasagna.  Sorry Stauffer's, but they can tell.  Judge away, but if you ate something my mother in-law cooked or even Andy, you would be intimidated into such ridiculous antics too.  My mother in-law's dinners melt in your mouth, and Andy's are equally impressive.  It's gotten to where when he asks me for help in the kitchen I instantly get a little sweaty and shaky.  I'd rather present a new idea to a 40 year veteran purchasing agent then over-toast an English Muffin in La Kitchen De Andrew.  "Em, how long has that baby ravioli been cooking?" 
I panic. 
"Yes Chef! 
I mean.. no Chef! 
Somewhere between 2 and 11 minutes, Chef!"
He made eggs benedict last week completely out of scratch right down to the Hollandaise, and after he finished and we devoured it, he let me know that not only had he never even tried eggs benedict before, but he was also adding it to his monthly menu and calling it "Eggs Benny" from now on.  My best friends had a housewarming party last weekend and A called me to ask Andy could make a couple dips for it.  When I go to the grocery store he sends me pictures of the exact ingredients he's looking for so I don't accidently buy bagged sauerkraut again or pre-cooked brats.  He's nice about it, but I only go shopping with an entire text thread of pictures now.  I hit strike three in 2009 and never looked back.   Goodview Court is a yummy place to live, thanks to the man.

Andy's a big picture guy.  This is a quality I never would've thought of praying for in a husband, but God knew and I'm so very, very thankful.  We started dating at a young age, and we were 6 hours apart.  In all honesty, I figured at best we'd write a letter or two and fizzle out, but Andy knew what he wanted and could look farther down the road than most 16 year olds.  I remember writing a letter to him in December that year and saying that I couldn't believe we were staying in touch, his reply letter started with the line, "Really?  I knew that as long as you wanted to we'd be talking."  He also claims he told his cousin in 7th grade while meeting me at camp for a couple days that he would one day marry me.  I'm not sure that's big picture as much as creepily prophetic.  Either way it's adorable and I'm down.  Since then, we've faced trials including but not limited to- financial stresses where we skipped meals to feed our little Charlie and donated plasma to pay the electric bill, my unemployment, the dangerously early birth of all three of our children, the death of his grandfather, and my moving our whole family on the hopes that I could run a company with no construction experience.  Not once has he wavered, not once has he doubted.  When I feel like the entire world is crashing down he gently reminds me that God hasn't scheduled the destruction of the planet until after the 7 year tribulation, and we won't be here for that.  He will be that direct and matter-of-fact too, on account of the simple fact that Andy's German.

Andy's German.  This isn't my favorite thing about him, but it does come in handy, sometimes.  Other times, it's difficult--like when I want to win an argument or pick the radio station.  But, I knew this about him when I met him, and I like that he's strong.  So that's all I'm going to say about his being German...except that I'm really tired of pickled sausages and sauerkraut.  They stink and look completely disgusting.  There, I'm done.

This will surprise no one that knows him, but Andy's funny...hilarious, actually.  He can make anyone laugh anytime, and I'm his biggest fan.  He once told me (this may fall under the he's German category) that his favorite part about me is that I think he's funny.  It's true though!  He can have me belly-laughing after my hardest day over his impression of one of the boys, or his 'Yak' call.  He's been making me laugh with the yak call since 2005.  Ask him to do it sometime, you won't regret it.  He listens well, and he's very intuitive and observant and he'll make you laugh at yourself before you even realized you do the habit he's observed you doing.  One time I had to leave church because he told me that I involuntarily keep my head on a constant swivel as the worship starts because I like to see who's at church that day.  His impression was so funny that I walked out and completely skipped communion. 

Overall, I love my husband.  We're a team, we've only ever needed the Lord and each other to be okay or have a good time.  In years past, men were known solely as providers and protectors, and Andy is that but so much more.  He provides our family with the leadership and strength we need, and as cheesy as this sounds- I'm never afraid of what comes because I've got the God of the universe on my side, and He's given me someone on earth that takes the scariest things in life and makes them look like nothing compared to what we can handle. 

So- Happy Fathers day to all the fathers out there, but I win.  I have God, I have my wonderful earthly father, and I have a German I call my best friend.  Boom.