Strong

Strong. Strength. Bravery.

Those three words describe a lot of people I know, love and admire. But they've never really been words that described me. 

If I'm being really honest, I've always viewed myself as weak. 

I was weak because my parents divorced when I was 12 and I withdrew from friendships, school and life because the pain almost killed me.

I was weak when I got married at 22 to the best man I've ever known even though it wasn't what everyone wanted.

I was weak when I let people demean and belittle me because peace was more important to me than standing up for myself. 

I was weak when my body couldn't carry Alex past 32 weeks without causing high blood pressure and protein in my urine (aka preeclampsia). I was weak when  I had to lay on the couch for 4 weeks because my life and my son's depended on it. 

I was weak when they kept losing Alex's heart beat as I was miraculously in natural labor at 37 weeks with no preeclampsyia (that's a story for another time) and I hurriedly decided an emergency C-section was the best course of action. Alex came out with the umbilical cord wrapped so many times around his body my doctor said he may not have made it.

I was weak when I couldn't produce enough milk to breast feed so I gave my children formula to nourish their bodies. 

I was weak when I chose to distance myself from situations that only produced chaos and turmoil in my life. 

I was weak when I had to seek help for anxiety and panic attacks after the tragic death of my aunt only a few days after my daughter stopped breathing and turned blue at 2 months old. 

I was weak when I chose my family over the expectations of others.

I was weak when I chose to forgive when there was no apology made.

I was weak when I stopped letting the opinions of other people speak louder than God's opinion of me.

I was weak until the day I asked my son who the bravest person he knew was and he said, "You are, Mom."

In my weakness, I found great strength. And what I perceived through the noise of other people's thoughts and opinions was actually strength and bravery all along.

"...God uses the weak things of the world to shame the strong." 1 Cor 1:27

The Wings of Eagles

Photo credit: DinoAnimals.com

"But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not grow faint." Isaiah 40:31

Facts about eagles:
1. They are one of the largest birds in the sky.
2. They effortlessly climb heights--sometimes even carrying prey heavier than they are.
3. Their keenest sense is their eyesight.
4. Eagles are symbols of courage, honesty, strength and truth.

And God says that those who hope in Him will soar on their wings. The wings of endless heights, truth, courage, keen sight and unimaginable strength ❤️

The Darkest Season

We summed the season up in one word: hell. There was no other word to describe what we were going through.

It started with a phone call from my mom while we were in the hospital having just given birth to our daughter. "Abner won't get up," she cried. "Something's wrong."

An early release from the hospital with a newborn in tow, and we were headed home to say goodbye to our big teddy bear, Abner Dean Chance.

Because I had a C-section, I couldn't drive with Kelly to take Abner to be put down. The bumpy road to our vet would have been too painful with my stitches. So, I sat on my couch, a 2 day-old in my arms, and wept.

I couldn't sleep. I could barely eat. Why hadn't we seen this coming? One day he was fine; the next, our big guy had no will to get up.

There was a lot of guilt on my part. What if he thought we were replacing him with another baby? What if he thought we had left him? What if...what if...what if...

I cried every time I fed the dogs for a month. I couldn't part with his dog bowl and I couldn't keep explaining to Alex where Abner went. It was too hard.

Slowly, but surely, we adjusted to his big absence while a little girl filled in a small portion of the void.

We are still healing from his loss. He was our special boy. Ask anyone who spent 5 minutes with him. Abner, like his name meaning, was full of light. He lit up our home. And when the light went out, we scrambled for a long time in the dark.

Things started looking up. We passed his bowl--his name written in sloppy black sharpie by Kelly--onto Niko. I couldn't part with the only remaining piece of Abner we had left. It just felt right to retire Niko's bowl and give it to him. After all, he was the one who laid by Abner's side all night long when he could no longer stand on his own.

Mother's Day was a good day, then Alex fell. A concussion and trip to the ER followed. I cleaned out puke from the 3rd row seat of my Explorer for days. But he was fine. He couldn't run or jump or play for 2 days, but we survived.

Two weeks later, he fell and hit his head on tile flooring in the same exact spot. He woke up at midnight puking and puking and puking. So, to the ER we went again. Except this time, he had strep and the stomach bug. 24 hours later, Kelly and I woke up in the middle of the night with the stomach bug. We couldn't take care of the kids. We called my mother-in-law and she showed up to take the kids. We laid in bed all day, unable to move. A couple of days later, Kelly got posion ivy in his nose and eyes. Urgent Care took care of us this time.

Finally, we got over all the sickness. Then, late one night a week later, Natalie choked on her drool and turned blue. If Kelly hadn't been there, I don't know what would have happened. He saved her life with his quick thinking and walked her down to the ER at the end of the street while we let Alex sleep. I took a shower and cried and cried and cried. When I finally pulled myself together, Alex and I drove down the street and joined Kelly and Natalie in an ER room.

There have been many terrifying moments in my life, but none compare to seeing both my children in hospital beds 8 days apart. Sure, everything turned out fine. But the realization that this was my life--these moments that revealed what I feared the most--scared me. Terrified me. Crippled me. I didn't sleep for a week, waking the instant my eyes closed in terror. I couldn't sleep. What if Natalie choked in the dark again? But this time, what if we didn't notice? What if we didn't see? I was living on coffee and fear.

Finally, I got a few hours of much-needed sleep after we purchased the Owlet. It would alert me if something was wrong. But I didn't trust it entirely, so I still woke every few hours to check on my baby.

Days later, I received a devastating phone call. My great aunt, who had just visited us and surprised me by bringing along my grandma, had tragically passed away.

I lost it.

I didn't eat for 2 weeks, bringing my total weight loss to 38lbs. No, I wasn't trying to lose weight; I didn't gain much with pregnancy. Life had just robbed me of my desire to eat. Or even leave the house.

There's not a memory of visiting family in Arizona that doesn't have her in it. Who was going to like EVERY Facebook post of mine? Who was going to share her delicious recipes with me? Who was going to continue to teach me how to love people so well? Who? There are no words to describe how deeply her loss grieved me. I still can't quite wrap my heart around it all.

I thought that was surely the end of our season. Another loss I couldn't imagine seemed like too much. God wouldn't allow more to attack us.

But that wasn't the end.

I was sitting in the Walgreens parking lot, waiting for steroid cream for a horrible rash on my hands and feet when I got a phone call from my doctor. "We think you could possibly have scabies. You're going to have to use a scrub from head to toe on your body. You can't shower for 12 hours."

Tears just flowed from me. And they didn't stop for a while.

After the scrub, we discovered I had a version of Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease that didn't include the mouth part. I had gotten it from the kids, who got it from somewhere. They didn't have it as bad as I did.

I couldn't touch the kids without gloves per doctors orders for 3 days. Walking was painful. My hands ached. I was miserable. And on top of the rash, I had eczema dermititis on my right hand. It was awful.

We got through it, as painful as it all was.

It's still painful. I'm still amazed that we survived. I'm still in awe of how God protected us from the worst.

The season still isn't over, but it has slowed down. Our motto is: let's just pray about it. So, we hold each other tight and let God handle the messes. We just keep praising him and declaring victory. And even if we don't see victory, God is still good.

We just walked through another battle. One that would threaten our livelihood if we lost. Do you know what we decided? If we're supposed to win, we will. And if God allows us to lose, we will lose gracefully. Because God is still good. Even in the losses. Even when we can't see the light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel.

We won this time. And that win brought tears to my eyes. We won on faith and prayer. Consistent prayer. It really does change things.

Will there be more attacks? Maybe.

This season of my life has taught me a few things too valuable not to share:

1. We all walk through rough seasons. Don't compare your rough days to someone else's. Your journey is different because God's using your present situation to grow you in a way that best benefits you.

2. If something doesn't feel right in your life, make it right. Life's short. Mend a relationship. Rid your life of excess stuff. Forgive. Paint the wall a different color. Eat more vegetables. Pour extra creamer in your coffee.

3. Find something you love to do and then do it! We discovered we love beekeeping. We started this season with one hive and are ending it with 7 (one was sold off to purchase more supplies). And we don't plan on slowing down anytime soon.

4. Give grace away like you're made of it. Kelly and I decided early on that we were going to give each other grace, especially in the moments we didn't feel like it. We each needed a safe place to vent. And when we (OK, mostly me!) snapped, the other person said, 'I know you're tired. How can I help you carry this burden better?' So, Kelly took up vacuuming. And me? Well, I took the kids to my mother's.

5. Storms bring perspective. What's most important today? Some days it was laundry, but most days, it was loving each other well. Even if I had to explain--very gently--why the crayon masterpiece on the hall wall was drawn on the wrong surface. We failed some days. Who can walk though a season like ours and not have bad moments? But we apologized to each other and moved forward. And you know who says "Sorry" when he messes up now? A 2 1/2 year-old boy who watched his parents imperfectly walk through the darkest season of their lives and come out better for it.

We're still walking through a season of uncertainty, praying its over soon, but accepting that it might not be just yet. Life has slowed down for the moment. So, we just keep taking life one day at a time. And, when necessary, just an hour at a time.

At the end of the day, I found what matters most in my life: my family. Two babies who want to sleep with mom in the middle of the night. A husband who wakes up with half his body hanging off the bed. Two kids who need love and affection. A husband who needs my help and support. Two kids who are entirely different, and yet, somehow, ours.

Tomorrow will take care of itself. Today, we're just living for right now.

5 Myths About Car Dealerships from an Employee's Wife

For all 6 years of our marriage, my husband has worked at a car dealership. Was it his first choice? No. But it was the only job he could find at 22 after moving back to small town Oklahoma after a big move to sunny Southern California.

"It's only temporary," I remember telling him.

He started out as a glorified errand boy. Which, if you're in the car dealership business, is almost worst than the rough conditions of being a lot porter. In Oklahoma, lot porters work in sun, sleet, snow and severe heat all year long. Their job? To keep the lot clean and organized.

Eventually my husband worked his way up to Delivery boy. Deliveries consisted of teaching and training customers on how to use their new vehicles (and sometimes even dropping off vehicles). There's a lot of gadgets nowadays, aren't there? It's an important job because some cars are push start, some require keys, some have key fobs, etc. (Side note: DO NOT under any circumstances LOSE, MISPLACE or BREAK a key fob. They're EXPENSIVE to have replaced. So I've been told...)

Can I be honest? My husband always lost me at the ignition. Just tell me how to get it started and I'll figure out the rest later. This is probably bad advice because my husband installed a new radio in my Explorer for my birthday and I just figured out how to make sure my phone Bluetooth is correctly connected to the stereo. 7 months later isn't that bad, right?!

As my husband settled into his Delivery boy status, the owner of his company sold the dealership to a competitor. We were nervous he would lose his job and for a while, he just sat in a back room and fixed computers. They weren't sure what to do with him. He had sold cars in the past. He's good at sales but he doesn't like putting pressure on customers to purchase a vehicle. It's a big decision. Especially when we understand how hard people work for those dollars.

Eventually, they attempted to get rid of him. Not because they didn't like him, but because they couldn't figure out what to do with him. Finally, his current boss who instructed him to fix computers, brought him on as IT at their main store. And so, a Network Administrator was born. Who also has held almost every job in the dealership world except: Finance, Sales Manager, Service Manager and Accounting.

My husband can create a service tickets, detail a vehicle, inventory, film and edit marketing videos, create Gas tracking systems, sell a vehicle, tell you how to use sold vehicle, and dabbles in Operations from time-to-time. On top of all that, he is an excellent Network Administrator. He's a jack-of-all-trades in the dealership world. Well, in my humble opinion anyway.

Because my husband has been so well immersed in this world, I thought I would debunk a few myths we've observed over the years.

1. You're paying more for a dealership-bought vehicle than a privately-bought vehicle.
It depends. It's wisest to sell your personal vehicle on your own rather than trade it in. Trade-in value through a dealership will always be less than selling the vehicle on your own. That's because a dealership then has to turn around, possibly service your vehicle if it needs it, sell your vehicle at a competitive price and make money. Why do they need to make money, you ask? They employ lots of people. Sales staff. Accountants. Title Clerks. Shuttle Van Drivers. Finance people. Lot Porters. Detailers. Service Technicians. Service Writers. Receptionists. Power Washers. Marketing Whiz's. IT/Network Administrators. That's a lot of people to have on a company's payroll. But they each pull their own weight to (hopefully) run a tight ship. So, maybe you pay a little more for a vehicle, but something wise to remember is this: research. Research the vehicle you want. Research competing dealership prices. Share this knowledge with your salesperson. And don't forget how many people see that newly purchased vehicle of yours before you do. That vehicle has made it's rounds through sales, service, accounting, detail, etc., before you ever sit down in that driver's seat. You must also remember that a reputable dealership will have your vehicle road ready to drive and will have fixed any issues before selling the vehicle to you. These issues could include: new tires, an oil change, replaced older hoses, new brakes, etc. If you find the car you want for cheaper price through a private dealer, go for it. But also remember that if you're most likely responsible for fixing any issues with the vehicle.

2. Salesmen are pushy.
This also depends on numerous factors. Every dealership will have it's fair share of salespeople. Some will be pushy. Some will be laid back. Some are still green. Some are seasoned pros. My personal belief is that a salesperson's sales approach depends on their personality. You have to remember that while these people have been trained to help you "appreciate" a vehicle a little more, they, too, have families to provide for. And if they don't sell, they don't collect a paycheck at the end of the month. Sure, they chose this profession, but they still have responsibilities just like you do. Once again, your best weapon of defense is to research the vehicle you'd like long before you step through those glass doors. If you know what you want, it will be harder for a salesmen to push you around. Vigorous research is always key. If a competing dealership has a better price, you are always welcome to walk out those doors and drive to a better price. And by all means, DO IT. It's important to keep in mind that most sales people are well-versed on the vehicles on their lot. They know what special features they have and they can be very helpful in putting you in a different vehicle that better suits your desires or price range. They know their stuff. 0

3. They just want to make a killing off me.
Yes, some salesmen do. Some are greedy and they want a big, fat paychecks to purchase expensive watches and spray tans. In fact, there is an acronym I used to see written on vehicles before management changed at my husband's current dealership. It basically meant they had made a killing off a customer. Since things have changed and people have been let go, I haven't seen that anymore. A dealership has many moving parts. Sometimes, it takes a little while for people's true colors to rise to the surface. In my experience, those people don't last forever. If you think someone is trying to make a killing off you AFTER you have done your research, walk out the door or request a different sales person. If they still won't budge on the price, I would leave your phone number and tell them if they decide to lower the price, you'd be more than happy to receive a phone call. The best time to do this is at the end of the month when sales reports are due. But you didn't hear that from me ;)

4. A new vehicle is better than an old one.
Dave Ramsey may have been the first to debunk this myth, but let me be the second. The moment you drive that shiny new vehicle off the lot, you can kiss a couple thousand dollars goodbye. You won't get it back. In fact, if you bring it back the next day to trade it in, you might as shoot yourself in the foot. We have purchased three vehicles from dealerships. And all three have been older vehicles with lower mileage. What does this mean: CHEAPER. What does this also mean: PAY THE CAR OFF SOONER. We live in a world that tells you brand, spanking new is better. They shove it down your throat. But keep in mind that a vehicle's true purpose is to get you and your loved ones from A to B safely. If you can pay cash for a brand new vehicle, go ahead. But don't take out a loan on a new car. Take a decent loan out on a 3-5 year-old vehicle with low mileage. Why? Lower mileage = bigger pay off in the end. When you go to sell that  somewhat older vehicle with lower mileage, you'll get more out of it than you would on a new car with lots of miles. Low mileage is what you're looking for. Trust me. I know what I'm talking about.

5. The Car Sale Price is the final price.
This is a big NO. The car sales price is just the beginning. You can walk into finance and expect to pay $20,000. But that's not what you're going to pay when you leave. You will always have a Doc fee. I've always paid around $350 for this. Then, you can purchase warranties (which I highly recommend on older vehicles. We paid for a warranty and didn't have to pay for a brand new tranny. It was a breakeven and I'm thankful we did it.) They'll offer you Gap Insurance. I always buy it now. I didn't have it and when my car got totaled by a woman having a heart attack, we took a huge loss on our car. It protects you from having to make payments on a vehicle that is no longer drivable. They'll offer you other features you can say yes or no to. Lifetime oil changes. Details. Etc. You choose what best fits you, but remember there is always a Doc fee. Once you leave there, you also have registration and taxes to pay at your local DMV or Tag Agency. If you don't have the funds upfront, ask Finance if that can be included in your loan. It was a lifesaver for us when we purchased our now paid-off-two-years-early Explorer.

The dealership world is a strange place to work and even buy from. But it's important to remember that the less you know about the vehicle you want purchased, the more tempted a salesperson is to drive up the price. Be wise. Do your research. Take a friend to help you look over the paperwork. You wouldn't buy a house without researching all the ins and outs of the home; take the same approach with a car.

A Letter To My Son

My Dearest Son,

Many years ago, I watched from the window as your father--tall and lanky in his youth--ran past my window. I can't explain now what I felt then, but I heard the deafening words, "There is your husband," as he raced by me.

I thought that was a silly thing to think at the time. "I don't even know that guy," I told myself. Besides, I had no plans to get married or share my life with anyone. My parents' divorce had done a number on me. It was an unimaginable pain. A pain that I carried with me for far too long. It wasn't until your birth that I released the pain completely. Because if they had not separated, you would not be here today. I would never undo my past because you--my present--are too wonderful to ever trade or give away.

Fast forward seven years and, sure enough, that boy I watched from the window became my husband. I didn't realize that God was speaking to me for the first time all those years ago. I wish I had listened a little more closely. I wish I had waited patiently for your father to come to the same realization that we were going to get married instead of brushing him off. Because he lived in Dust Bowl Oklahoma and me? Well, I had no future there.

Hindsight is always sobering. Always.

The point I'm trying to make here is that God's plan for your life will always trump your plans for your life. Every. Time.

We live in strange and uncertain times. Your father and I keep talking and praying about the ways we can equip you to best serve the Lord. Our example should be good enough, but we fail you too often. Because the weight of our responsibilities takes a front seat when it shouldn't. Because we're tired and we just want to wrap our arms around you and shut out the world. Because we're human and Satan is a good deceiver.

So while we're trying to be your best example, I pray you give us grace. I pray you offer us mercy when you think we haven't been the parents you desperately need.

My son, my hope is that we never disappoint you. You will know best that we are human and imperfect. You will have a front row seat to all of our mistakes, our shortcomings and our failures. I hope to make you proud though, in the way we rise out of those situations. I hope you learn that your father and I--while flawed--are hardheaded and strong. We fail. We fall. We flat line.

It's then that we remember this life cannot be lived on our own strength. And it was never supposed to be that way.

God's strength will guide you through the storms of life. When you're drowning, when you're stumbling, when you're falling with no end in sight, all you have to say is, "Jesus."

My son, He will rescue you. He will save you. He will take your drowning and teach you how to float along life's rough currents. He will take your stumbling and help you find your footing on solid ground. And when you're falling, He will fall beside you and gently help you find the soft earth below while you lay there to recover. You are never alone. The one who loves you more than I do is always right there.

I pray that you always know the one true God. The God who took my shattered life and worked those broken pieces into a beautiful masterpiece.

My life was a mess. I was hurt and angry at everyone and everything. The hurt was so blinding that I walked around like a zombie for years, unable to feel. When a family falls apart, that tends to happen.

My wish for you is that if you ever find yourself in the dark, lonely place of brokenness, that you keep your eyes on Jesus. You will walk through some dark days, but you won't live there forever. Take your time as you navigate that darkness. There are lessons there that you won't find anywhere else. And when you find your way through it, I pray that you will fall to your knees in praise. Because God takes our darkest moments and He makes them our most beautiful ones. He will teach you more in a storm than he ever will safely on the shore.

My hurt. My anger. My brokenness. He loved me through it all. He protected me through it all. He walked beside me. He carried me. He shielded me. He offered me mercy. He blessed me. He put me in high places. Our God is so, so good, even in the darkness.

My son, the God that saved my life will do the same for yours. He is, after all, the great Redeemer. Never forget what God has done for you. It will keep you humble and sane.

I pray that you do the right thing, even when it's hard. I pray that you remain tender-hearted and that you love people. I pray that you spend lots of time with hurting and broken people, encouraging them and being God's hands and feet. I pray that you live a faithful, humble life. I pray that you find a good woman who will draw you even closer to the Lord. I pray that you have lots of children. I pray that we prepare you to be a good husband and father. Even more than that, I pray that we help you to become a good Christian who loves to serve the Lord.

There will be many that will try to stain your reputation. They will try to destroy your character. They will try to rile you up and cause you to sin. It's in these moments that you must stop what you're doing and pray. Pray for your enemy. Pray God's hand is on you. He will always protect you. And even if He doesn't, you must remember that everything He allows is for your good.

My son, it's imperative that you remember you have 75 years here--give or take. You have eternity in Heaven. Don't forget that the point of this life is to love the Lord, serve the Lord and help share His goodness with others. My hope for you is that when you enter the Kingdom, God welcomes you with these words: "Well done, good and faithful one."

So be brave. Be bold. Live a life others don't understand. Be unique. Stand up for what's right. Love others fiercely. Sing praises to God--even when you don't feel like it. Spend time in nature. Pray without ceasing. Remember that I love you. No matter where you go or what you do, you'll always be mine. You'll always be your father's. And you will always be God's.

I love you,
Mom

28 Things I've Learned This Past Year

My 28th birthday is a week away! It's hard to believe another year has already flown by--and also dragged on. 27 has had some hard moments, but it has been filled with lots of blessings and unexpected beauty.

To celebrate, here's 28 things I've learned over the last year:

1. I'm tired of being a Martha. I want to be a Mary. Who cares if the house is A MESS?! I want to sit at the feet of Jesus and be still. Then go out to dinner because Martha didn't make dinner and neither did I.

2. Stress is overrated. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Even the next hour will take care of itself. Stress less; live more in the moment.

3. Life is precious. Just a vapor. We're here one day and gone the next. I want to make the most of whatever days I have here.

4. Eat more veggies and fruits. Yes, I have fallen in love with fruit this past year. Apples. Bananas. Blueberries. Peaches. Jicama. Whatever. If it's fruit or Brussels sprouts, I'm so there.

5. Cook. All the time. Bake. Make that disgusting meatloaf your husband adores. And then slather it with gravy and mashed potatoes to choke it down.

6. When the world comes pounding on your front door, don't let it in. Don't let it steal your peace. Grab your loved ones and hold them close.

7. Find beauty in each day. Even the rough days. The days that break your heart and make you question God's goodness. Look. Look and you will find it. Because God is always good.

8. Be happy for people. Be excited about their accomplishments. Their good times. Their victories. Don't be petty. It only makes you look bad.

9. When your son pees on you while simultaneously barfing on you, don't freak out. Just go to the shower, turn it on, and let the warm water wash away the chunks from your shirt. And when your husband comes home and tells you how great you look with puke hair, just laugh it off.

10. Stay up late and get up early. Sleep deprivation is only for a season. You'll be surprised how much you can accomplish with only SIX hours of sleep a night for a year (or 14 months) straight. Girl, you've got this!

11. Drink more coffee. Try different flavors. Just avoid decaf. Especially right after having a baby. Make sure you DOUBLE CHECK the bag at the store before you take it home. Decaf can never be your friend. And it might ruin your marriage for a few weeks until you realize you bought decaffeinated life-saving elixir.

12. Sing a little louder in that church pew. Even if you are singing the wrong words and you're off key. Just sing anyway. It's church; people won't judge you out loud.

13. Find a quiet place to rest. Rest for five minutes or five weeks. Just find some time to shut the world out.

14. Take a break from the things that are overwhelming. If you need to give up a hobby so you can relax, quit. If you need to step back from responsibilities at church for a little while, that's O.K. If you need to tell someone "No" when you normally say "Yes", don't beat yourself up. It's only for a little while. You'll feel your feet return to the ground soon.

15. Anger is unnecessary. Feel what you need to, then let it go. Move forward. Don't let anger pull you away from those you love. Don't let it build walls. Don't let it fuel your pride. If you don't believe me, just reread #3.

16. Go on more leisurely walks. Don't rush so fast. Look up at the sky. Look down at the ground. Seriously. Look down sometimes. Change of perspective is good.

17. Admit it when you're wrong. Tell people. Apologize. In the wise words of one of my Pinterest pins: "When a person tells you that you hurt them, you don't get to decide that you didn't."

18. Make new friends. Invite them to coffee. There's always room for more people in your life. Even if it's only once every few months.

19. Go all out. For that birthday party. For the one you love. For yourself. For God. Just give it your all.

20. Keep your side of the fence clean, metaphorically speaking. We don't weed eat that often and so our side of the fence is usually half-mowed. Thankfully, we have very forgiving neighbors.

21. Spend more time with your neighbors. You live with these people. They probably know more about you than your parents do. I mean, I know every time my neighbors go on vacation. I know when they leave their garage door accidentally open. I know when they fight. It's O.K. Sometimes, we fight at our house, too.

22. Give up soda. Just walk away from it completely. Then discover sweet tea by accident and limit yourself to 3 sweet teas a week. Water, you'll always be my first love. But some days, I just need a sweet tea.

23. Your attitude will CHANGE EVERYTHING. Move a massive dirt pile with a shovel and a broken wheelbarrow JOYFULLY. While you're in the midst of that trial praising God and finding joy in the mundane, unfair, every days of life, people will unexpectedly show up to lend a hand. And you will absolutely love them for it. Joy is contagious. So is your attitude.

24. Pray for people. Stay up all night praying for them. You will be so exhausted the next morning, but you will find a peace that is unsurpassable. People need you. They need you to pray without ceasing sometimes. So, pray.

25. Treat yo'self. I have never in my life bought anything that I didn't need. Seriously, ask my husband. I do not treat myself to ANYTHING. Clothes? Nope. People give me clothes. Literally everything in my closet has been free. Yep, that's how I roll. This year though, I started treating myself. Coffee. Nail polish. Sandals. O.K. they were all under $5 a piece, but I kind of like treating myself to little gifts every once in a while. And you should, too.

26. Forgive yourself. Forgive yourself for being human sometimes. I don't always react well to things. But I love that I have a husband who just lets me be me. I can be petty and judgmental more often than I'd like and I can tell him how much I hate that about myself. And he will just grab my hand and squeeze. In that moment, I always remember how blessed I am. The pettiness just fades away.

27. Fall in love with someone who loves you completely...even after 8 years. That doesn't mean love is easy. That doesn't mean you won't have seasons where you'll look at each other and say, "We're broken in this area. Let's fix it together." Fix it and move on. Love is worth it.

28. Breathe. Take a deep breath. Then let it out. It's a good life. Even when it's dark, the sun never fails to rise every morning.

Forget Taco Tuesday, We Do Burrito Bowl Tuesday!

 

We were burnt out on tacos. Ground beef tacos, chicken tacos, ground turkey tacos, fish tacos, shredded pork tacos...the list went on and on. Tacos...they were getting a little...blah.

Don't get me wrong, we ADORE tacos. But we needed a little change. Just something to shake up our usual Tuesday routine.

I was on Pinterest, looking up healthy recipes, when I came across a delicious burrito bowl. I scanned the recipe, then do what I always do: modify it to fit us.

In our house, we don't do one--and only one--vegetable: bell peppers. My husband has never eaten them and bell peppers, along with ground beef, repulsed me while I was pregnant. I can do the ground beef now, but the smell of bell peppers still makes me want to puke. I have a hard time even just looking at them.

So, we adopted this new recipe and made it out own. And we absolutely LOVE it!

Here's how we do Burrito Bowl Tuesday...

What you'll need to make 4 servings:

1 lb ground turkey (you can use beef but we prefer the lighter taste of turkey with our burrito bowls)

1 cup salsa

1/2 cup shredded cheese

3 cups cooked rice (brown, white, basmati...whatever your preference is)

1 can sweet corn

1 can black beans

1 avocado

1 large tomato (or you can use cherry tomatoes)

1/2 large red onion

Salt & pepper to taste

 

 

1. Brown your ground turkey in a cast-iron skillet. When done, pour in 1 cup of your favorite salsa. I tried Casa Mamita's Chipolte Lime Organic Salsa this time around. I'm in LOVE! I don't know if I can eat other salsas now! It was so delicious!

2. Shred your cheese, cut your veggies, and rinse off your cans of corn and beans! Put them into cute little bowls and make it buffet-style!

3. Grab your cooked rice, layer on ground turkey, beans and corn, veggies, and top with shredded cheese! You can also add cilantro, sour cream, salsa, etc. on top!

Enjoy!

--Jessi

The Struggle To Balance and Find Joy In Motherhood

Motherhood is beautiful. It's also messy, rough, and magical all bundled into one life-altering journey.

I've experienced all the highs and all the lows.

The good days. The days made up of laughter, fun and endless joy.

The bad days. The constant whining. The throwing things at Mom's head. The screaming.

The blah days. The days we're doing life at a million miles a second and I can't seem to catch up. But as an older gentleman who lives in the nursing home across the street from our house once told me, "You can't experience good days without some bad days. Just enjoy the experience."

It will all be gone too soon...

So, how do you balance a child, cleaning a house, laundry, meal prep, meal time, animals, yard work, errands, bill paying, working from home, marriage AND attempting to find joy in the midst of it all?

With a lot of grace.

I don't have it all together. I'm not even close to having it together. I have meltdowns. I have moments of, "I can't deal with this for one more second." I cry. I laugh. I get angry. I find joy. That's the key: seeking joy. I don't do it well all the time, but I sure try every day to keep my perspective on this one thing: my son needs to see his mother happy. He needs to learn how to be joyful now because life is too hard without joy.

We're always doing the very best we can. I have seen my husband at his worst (and let me tell you, he's such an easy man to love because he offers me so much grace and love, even when he's had it) and he has seen me at my absolute worst. I wasn't sure I was even livable with at one point. Because I had lost my joy. I had let the world rob me of the one thing it should never be able to rob me of: peace, contentment and joy.

Motherhood is a gift I wouldn't trade for the world, but I had a rough beginning. A very rough beginning. And I was very alone in it, mostly by my choice. I've always had to do everything on my own. I've been burned too many times in the past. People like to think you owe them when they help you and so I was determined that this was something I could do all on my own.

But I'm only human and it really does take a village to raise a child.

There are a few things I've changed over the course of the last year as we've settled--roughly--into a family of three. And I hope that maybe they can help you find some joy and balance in this crazy journey, too:

1. Say no. Say it and don't make any apologies for it.
No, we can't make it. No, we can't take on any more responsibility at the moment. No, we are having family time. Just say no. And don't feel guilty. The guilt trips will come flooding in, trust me. I've weathered many guilt trips. You know what they all have in common? They're all selfish. So, it's important to remember that you owe your family the best of you. Whatever is leftover after can help everyone else. And you should help them if you can. But don't let your family suffer because someone is guilting you into doing what they want you to do.

2. Let the house be messy.
I'm a clean freak. I want everything in its place and I want people to stop by and rave about how clean my house is with a one year-old. Hey, I'm just being completely honest here. It's never going to happen. I've accepted that. Do I still hope that the house may magically stay clean for longer than 5 minutes? Every. Single. Day. I also know that's impossible and NEVER going to happen. So, I let my son destroy the house. I pick up here and there. I vacuum. I clean the kitchen (the only room that manages to never get destroyed). I do the dishes. And I let it go. When my son goes to bed, I do the majority of my cleaning. Unless I'm too tired, then I just go to bed and let it be tomorrow's problem. There's always tomorrow to clean. Or not to clean. Whatever. I won't judge.

3. Pick three important things each day.
I started doing this after my Pastor's wife mentioned that she asks her husband, "What are the three most important things you'd like me to get done each day?" I asked my husband the same thing and his answer? "Whatever is most important to you." It bothered me at first. Hello? I'm trying to make you happy and do three things that you think are important. I eventually got over it and decided to ask myself this question. So, I pick 2-3 things that are important for the day, focus on those, and do my best to get them done. If they don't get done, they don't get done. I don't want to waste any more of my life worrying about trivial things. I just want to love my family and give them the best of me.

--Jessi

Alexander's Birth Story

 

One year ago, we were blessed with the sweetest gift from Heaven...

 

 

It was challenging getting diagnosed with preeclampsia at 32 weeks.
It was challenging being on bed rest for 5 weeks.
But nothing was more challenging than trying to make life-saving decisions for my unborn son.

We were supposed to go to the hospital on February 1st. Check-in was at midnight so I could be induced on February 2nd. Alexander would be 3 weeks early due to my health issues--which could only be cured/fixed/etc. if baby was born. My doctor made the decision to take him early so I could begin recovery and Alexander would no longer be put at risk for low oxygen and blood flow.

My best friend had flown in that Friday to be here for what would have been Alexander's baby shower on the 30th. It was cancelled because I was put on bed rest. Kayla arrived and I instantly felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I knew she would help me in any way she could. And being the fur- mom that I am, asked her to take care of my first-borns while I was at the hospital. She graciously agreed.

About three hours before I was supposed to arrive at the hospital for induction, I felt ill. Almost like I was going to throw up. I decided to take a bath and then lay down. One hour later, I woke up to a terrible contraction. As I started to make my way to the bathroom, I stopped in my tracks. Am I...leaking? 

Sure enough, my water had broke! Two hours before I was supposed to check-in.

We rushed to the hospital. Kelly may have run a few red lights, which I told him was dumb. But then we started timing my contractions. 3 minutes apart. 2 1/2 minutes apart...

I made it to the hospital--contractions and all.  Because of my preeclampsia, my doctor wanted to avoid my feeling contractions due to the pain. Pain raises blood pressure. Sure enough, my blood pressure was really high when I finally laid safely in a bed. The nurse ordered my epidural immediately (it should be noted I was always for having an epidural. Turns out my intuition was correct because the pain could have caused seizure, stroke, etc.).

A Romanian anesthesiologist came into my room after another major contraction. My nurse told me if I wasn't sick, I probably could weather natural birth like a champion. I told her I would prefer the epidural at this point.

The epidural itself wasn't bad...until the very end. I told my nurse I was going to be sick. Then it was over. However, I still felt nauseous. Don't even get me started on receiving a catheter. I'd rather get another epidural.

At one point, I told Kelly I was going to puke. He ran to get my nurse and she immediately gave me some medicine--which knocked me out. I slept from 1am - 7am without waking once.

Then things took a turn for the worse.

I was awoken by two nurses putting oxygen on me and telling me that they were going to have to take me to the OR immediately. I felt Kelly grab my hand as they wheeled me out of the room. I didn't even get a chance to see his face as they rushed me through the hospital. I just closed my eyes.

Once I was in the OR, the nurses began telling me that Alexander's heart rate dropped to 40. As they started prepping me for an emergency c-section, I felt myself beginning to panic. But I knew that if I panicked, my blood pressure would spike and I would only cause more problems. So, I just closed my eyes and waited for my doctor.

The nursing staff that prepped me were absolutely wonderful. They talked to me the whole time and asked questions, keeping my mind off the inevitable: an emergency c-section. They held my hand and gently rubbed my shoulders. As someone who was very much against induction and a possible c-section, the more I thought about it, the calmer I felt. My fears of a c-section started to alleviate when I realized that I wasn't feeling well at all. Not a "sickness", but something deep in the pit of my stomach. Something was very wrong.

Since I found out I was pregnant, the idea of my water breaking and Kelly rushing me to the hospital--where I would happily get my epidural--was kind of my "dream" birth experience. The moment I was told I would either have an emergency c-section or have to be induced at 37 weeks broke my heart in two.

"But I wanted the whole experience," I told Kelly, frustrated.

I cried a few tears, then got over it. Alexander's health was far more important than what I wanted for my birth experience. And I have learned a thing or two through pregnancy: God knows what he's doing. And everything always works out. Always.

When my doctor finally arrived, her beaming face put all my fears at ease. "We have Alexander stabilized for the moment. We can wheel you back to your room and see what happens, but I have a feeling we'll be right back here in 20 minutes or so. What do you want to do?"

Panic.

"What do you think I should do?" I asked her.

"I can't make that decision for you," she told me.

More panic. Where was Kelly?!

I took a deep breath and just breathed for a moment. Something inside of me said, "This does not feel right. Get the c-section."

"Let's do the c-section," I told my doctor.

Peace immediately followed.

"Can I get you anything?" one of the nurses asked.

"My husband," I told her.

Just as I said it out loud, I saw his face. "I'm having a c-section," I told him.

"I know," he replied.

It felt like forever waiting for that little baby cry. But I sat there, holding tightly to the love of my life's hand as my doctor got to work. Here's something no one ever tells you about c-sections: you feel stuff. You feel pulling and tugging. And right before your sweet little one enters the world, it feels like someone or something is sitting on your chest. Then baby cries follow.

As I was patiently waiting to hear my son's first cry, the doctor looked over and Kelly. "Kelly, get over here! You're cutting the umbilical cord. And get your camera out!"

Kelly's face turned white. "I don't know if I can handle seeing my wife like that."

"You will regret seeing this," she told him.

I pushed him in the direction of my son and he released my hand to go meet our child for the first time. As everyone was getting ready for Alexander's entrance into the world, a look of horror filled my doctor's face. She looked over and Kelly and said, "If we didn't do this right now, something really bad could have happened."

The umbilical cord was wrapped around Alexander so tightly that even if I had pushed, he would not have been able to come out vaginally. We would be where we were right there and then, but with possibly different results.

Kelly cut the umbilical cord after my doctor unwound him from its grasp. I heard the sweetest little cry and every nurse in the room said it was the sweetest thing they'd ever heard. They placed my son beside me and his little whimper subsided.

 

But when they took him away to take care of him, he screamed his head off, making the whole room giggle. Where had my sweet little whimpering boy gone?

Kelly spent the first hour and a half of Alexander's life with him as I snored loudly in recovery. I kept asking the nurse for more blankets (because warm hospital blankets are to DIE FOR) and she kept obliging. When they finally wheeled me back to my room, Alexander was immediately placed in my arms and I watched him for a long time while he slept.

When a new nurse came in to "check on things", she pulled off blanket after blanket laughing. "I was really cold" I told her as she gave me a hard time about the number of blankets I had acquired in recovery.

All-in-all, giving birth to my sweet little boy was the highlight of my life thus far. It didn't turn out as planned, but God taught me a very important lesson: things are not always as they seem. Sometimes, they turn out even better.

It's Been Weird, 2016

If I were to describe 2016, it would be with these words: it's been weird.

This year began on bed rest, fighting against high blood pressure and the very real possibility that I could have a stroke and die. And also lose my baby. I don't think I fully understood all of this until after I gave birth (yes, in MY WORLD emergency C-sections, regular C-sections and vaginal deliveries/natural birth--whatever you call it--are considered 'giving birth'. You, my friend, are allowed to have your own opinion on this topic and I'm just fine with that).

Every emotion possible filled my new mom heart. Joy, anger, sadness, hope, love...Finally, I settled on gratefulness and
thank God every day for my sweet--but ornery--little boy.

I painfully tried breast feeding for six weeks while attempting to recover from a c-section. Most days, I spent alone with my new baby fast asleep in my arms, staring out the nursery window while I waited for Kelly to get home from work. I cried. I ached. I felt hopeless. I laid awake in the rare moments sleep was available and prayed endlessly about my short milk supply, my loneliness (where had everyone gone?), and constantly feeling overwhelmed.

Finally, with pleas from a concerned husband, I gave up trying to breastfeed. I gave up pumping. I just gave up. And though Facebook has its wonderful (that's sarcasm) debates about all things breastfeeding related, I really could have cared less what any one thought about my efforts. When tears flow too often and too easily, it's generally a sign something has to give. In this case, it was breastfeeding.

Two doctors I trust (one literally with my life) simultaneously told me, "You have done an amazing job. Now let it go. Don't dwell on it. Don't feel guilty. Just move forward." I had a moment of clarity. Facebook is just a platform for anyone to say what they feel, bully and attack without compassion, empathy or understanding. We are all different. We all have different thoughts, ideas and opinions. Eventually, with maturity, we'll all get to where I am on this topic: total peace. What's best for me, won't be best for you. And vice versa.

Spring brought on its usual storms. Tornadoes. Thunderstorms. Baby screams. New parents trying to figure out how to take care of a newborn. Mountains of soiled laundry and dirty diapers. There were moments of complete sunshine. Then rain and darkness followed. But that's life. It ebbs. It flows. It cuts off the supply. Then oversupplies. And we roll with the punches.

Summer was filled with lots of love and reflection. I finally came to the conclusion that I have a hard time asking for help. I have spent years doing everything for myself, by myself, never relying on anyone else. So, in the moments I needed desperate help, I would internalize and push forward. This put a strain on every relationship in my life until I prayed for strength and wisdom. And summertime brought a lot of that. I've had to learn how to tell people what I need and when I need it. They won't always be able to provide me with what I need, but if I'm brave enough to vocalize it, the stress and anxiety usually subside.

 

Fall was filled with deep grief and loss. Kelly and I both lost family members. Some expected, others a complete surprise.

We decided that life is fragile. Too fragile. And so we purposed to spend more time as a family. More time together. Less time out in the world. Less time giving what we do not have to give. It has caused a lot of tension, strain, and hard moments. People don't like when you decide family comes first. They lecture, nag and talk at you until they're blue in the face. And because Kelly and I value our relationships, we listened. Then we talked to each other, we prayed, and we still felt the same. I suppose it's because grief changes you. It reminds you that each breath is a gift.

I learned a great lesson this past autumn: tell people--AND SHOW THEM--you love them, you value them, you're thinking of them. Even if you're busy. Even if you're scared. Just say it. Don't wait. Life is short.

Winter has been cold, but quiet. For that, I am grateful. I'm grateful for the hours we spend watching Kung Fu Panda 3, Zootopia, and Home. I'm grateful for the hours we spend with our little one. Christmas Day we put him in his truck from his Uncle Zach and pushed him back and forth across the living room floor while still in our pajamas  He belly laughed the whole time. So we did, too. It's moments like those I feel nothing but pure joy. Joy has been hard to find this year. But every time I look into the face of my son, I find that joy. And I see hope.

I don't know if you've ever fought for your life and your child's at the same time, but it changed me. It made me a little more fearless. More scared. More focused. More honest. More real. I can't control everything. Surprise, surprise. I've stopped trying. I just take life one day at a time now--sometimes just an hour at a time.

Most days, the house is a mess. There's a pile of laundry collecting dirty socks. The sink overflowed with dishes. But you'll most likely find a relaxed me sitting on the living room floor, covered in baby slobber, in stretchy pants, surrounded by a sea of toys. One of my son's hands will be firmly touching my arm while the other is busy about life. As long as he lets me sit there with him, watching, teaching, comforting and engaging, I will. It's a great privilege. I know it is. Because one day, he will take his hand off my arm and leave my side for good. Becoming a mother puts things into perspective...for most people.

I've spent a lot of time carrying the burdens of others--carrying the opinions of others--for too many years. My son has given me an invaluable gift. He's given me the gift of release. So, I've let things go. He may lick the floor sometimes. My dogs' muddy paws may tread across my freshly mopped floor. My husband may surprise me with a load of dirt piled high in the front yard.

But I've learned to just take a deep breath and let it go.

Life is short. I get to decide what's most important each day. And most days, it's definitely not the dirty floor.

It's been a sad, hard, joyous, grateful year.

It's been weird, 2016.

Motherhood

Motherhood.

It's beautiful and messy and real and terrifying.

It's made me appreciate a house full of noise, but also cherish the quiet.

It's shaped me into a calmer version of myself while also bringing out the I-will-break-your-jaw-if-you-mess-with-my-child attitude.

It's helped me learn how to sacrifice in ways I never imagined (the clean freak in me has never had such a messy house). But I've also learned how to be selfish when I need time to rejuvenate because I want to give my family the best of me.

I've mastered the art of saying "I've had enough!" with the world, and then turned around and found the strength to stay up all night long with my son while he cuts a tooth.

I laugh more. I cry more. I love myself better. I even love my pudgy belly covered in stretch marks that says, "Life was grown here."

There are some rough days. Especially in the beginning when I had no idea how to care for a newborn. At first, it felt like Alex was Kelly's child. Because of my C-Section, I didn't get to bond with him right away. Daddy stayed by his constant side while I slept (and snored loudly) in recovery. Daddy changed his first diaper, held him in his arms the first time, and cradled him all night long the first night.

I, on the other hand, was recovering from high-blood pressure and the realization that I would be recovering much longer than expected. It hurt to sit up. It hurt to stand. I was sick of hospital beds. I just wanted my bed. There is nothing worse than having to spend any more time in the hospital than you want. I just wanted to take Alex home.

I suffered from a mild case of post-partum depression. Too mild to really diagnose until I woke up one day and felt like my old self for the first time in 3 months. My husband kept telling me I wasn't acting like my normal self. But I just chalked it up to being a new mom and adjusting to life with a small human at my side 24/7. It made sense to me.

I suffered in silence. Not bonding immediately with Alex was hard. And then spending my days and nights trying to figure out how to give him everything he needed right when he needed it because I was certain he would break if I didn't was devastating. I put too much pressure on myself.

And don't even get me started on the middle of the night feedings. I thought I was going to die those first 4 months. Now, I have it mastered. I actually enjoy waking up in the dead of night--only on occasion now--to feed my baby. Coffee. Copious amounts of coffee will get you through ANYTHING.

It didn't feel right to talk about the hard time I was having because I knew so many women who were desperately trying to have a baby. I kept telling myself I wasn't allowed to have rough days because I should only feel thankful and happy.

But that was wrong. Everyone is allowed good days AND bad days. Bad days don't minimize the thankfulness and blessings. They just help us appreciate the good days even more.

I'm beyond grateful for those bad days. Those days of staring at my newborn son and thinking, "What if I drop him? What if I can't figure out what he needs and he doesn't stop crying?"

But I didn't drop him. And I figured out pretty quickly newborns need 3 things: sleep, diaper changes, and feedings.

The bad days stripped away the fears and fine-tuned my confidence. And taught me something very important: car rides ALWAYS put a baby to sleep eventually. Especially after a feeding.

Even though there were these rough days that made me question EVERYTHING, they couldn't compare to the good days. The days where my son would look around the room and smile when his eyes found me. The days he learned how to hold his head up and laugh and babble and roll over. The day he sat on his own without support we just cheered and laughed all day long.

I had a rough start, but Alex offered me an infinite amount of grace when it came to learning what he needed. And, more importantly, he has shown me he really does love me in spite of my shortcomings.

The first time he held his arms out for me to pick him up, I held him in my arms for 2 hours because I was so excited. The first time he said, "Hey," he melted my heart. And when he wrapped his arms around me and laid his head on my shoulder the first time, I couldn't hold back the tears that escaped and fell down my cheeks.

Most days, I feel like I'm just messing everything up. I forget the solid food at lunch time. I forget to put his clothes into the dryer and we have to rewash everything the next day. And there was that one time he rolled off the couch and screamed because he was so frightened. He was fine, but it took the breath right out of my lungs.

We get through with a lot of love and laughter.

Today, he's cutting his first tooth and we didn't sleep last night or this morning. Right now, he's curled up in my bed with Abner (our malamute) keeping watch over him. I keep checking on him every 10 minutes because my heart aches for his pain. But we will survive and tomorrow will bring laughter and more growing pains.

I find myself looking forward to every milestone. Alex has almost mastered sitting up from the laying position. I can't wait until he can say more words and walks. I am already looking forward to letting him pick out a pumpkin for Halloween and seeing his face when we get the Christmas tree decorated. And his first birthday.


My son has changed my life completely. And every day he reminds me that today I'm a better, more grateful person than I was yesterday. Because when he looks at me, I get to be his everything. At least for a little while. I don't take that for granted.

Nothing compares to bath time every night when he soaks me and the kitchen floor. Nothing compares to the way he plays with my hair first thing in the morning when I'm making coffee. And nothing compares to his excitement every time we play with the chickens (by "play" I mean we let the chickens chase us around the backyard).

In a nut shell, Motherhood is beautiful and messy and real and terrifying. It's the hardest job I've ever loved. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

--Jessi

RIP Grandma Jean

 

Kelly's Grandma, Jean, passed away on July 8th peacefully in her sleep.
This was the eulogy I gave at her funeral last week.

 

RIP Grandma Jean
I miss you.

Especially when you'd make a joke, then wink at me.

 

 

Eulogy

Although Jean was not my actual grandmother, I had no problem calling her 'Grandma'. That's because Grandma Jean treated everyone like family.

I only had the honor of knowing Grandma in the latter part of her life. Over the last six years, I was able to spend quite a bit of time with her, especially after her move to Oklahoma. We spent a lot of time drinking coffee together and painting nails. And I loved making her breakfast.

I learned very quickly that Grandma had a remarkable strength about her. When Kelly and I got engaged in December of 2010, we drove to Apple Valley to share the news with Grandma. We had a great visit with her and I was introduced to her amazing apricot jam. Before we left, we asked her if there was anything she needed help with before we took off. She told us she needed help stacking firewood. Kelly and I started moving and stacking the pile when I suddenly noticed 82 year-old Grandma brushing past us with an arm full of wood. With her help, we were able to stack the entire load of firewood in under 15 minutes. And I told Kelly I had never seen anyone with that much strength at her age.

Grandma's strength was also evident in her relationships. Friendship was very important to Grandma. When she moved to Oklahoma, she kept in constant contact with her friends. Distance didn't keep her from writing letters and making phone calls. And when she made the move to the nursing home, it didn't take her long before she made more friends. Kelly teaches night classes at the technology center close to the nursing home and I would go visit Grandma on the nights he taught. I always arrived at dinner time and I'd find Grandma sitting at her usual table surrounded by her new friends. She'd keep us laughing as she finished off coffee and dessert. It always warmed my heart to see her in her element. Because she loved being with people.

As much as Grandma loved her friends, she loved her family even more. Family dominated most of our conservations. She loved to talk about her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, sisters and brothers, nieces and nephews. She shared story after story with me about her childhood in Kentucky. And when we told Grandma she was going to be a great-grandmother again, she stopped everyone that passed by her in the nursing home to tell them about her newest great-grandchild. I know that Alex won't get to know his great-grandmother the way we wish he could have, but it was clear that Grandma loved him the first moment she saw him.

The legacy Grandma leaves behind is her fierce love for her family. And it's a legacy I hope Kelly and I can continue for years to come.

Grandma was a Christian and she loved Jesus. He was the topic of a lot of our conversations. I take great comfort in the fact that when she left this life, she was welcomed home at Heaven's gates. Grandma no longer feels pain. Her body is no longer fragile and weak. She is strong and healthy. And her mind is as sharp as ever.

Today, Grandma is singing with the angels.

God looked around his garden
And found an empty place,
He then looked down upon the earth
And saw your tired face.
He put his arms around you
And lifted you to rest.
God’s garden must be beautiful
He always takes the best.
He knew that you were suffering
He knew you were in pain.
He knew that you would never
Get well on earth again.
He saw the road was getting rough
And the hills were hard to climb.
So he closed your weary eyelids
And whispered, ‘Peace be Thine’.
It broke our hearts to lose you
But you didn’t go alone,
For part of us went with you
The day God called you home.

-unknown