I want to be one of them...

Music has such a powerful affect on me. It reaches my soul. This is one of those songs that I can hardly get through without crying because it grips my heart. It's so full of passion and it says what my heart can't articulate. I cannot explain the effect it has on me. Sara Groves is such a brilliant singer/songwriter. I heart her. :)

I love it. Love. It. So without further ado,

When the Saints by Sara Groves
Lord I have a heavy burden of all I've seen and know
It's more than I can handle
But your word is burning like a fire shut up in my bones
and I cannot let it go

And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

Lord it's all that I can't carry and cannot leave behind
it often overwhelms me
but when I think of all who've gone before and lived the faithful life
their courage compells me
And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars

I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharohs court
I hear his call for freedom for the people of the Lord

And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

I see the long quiet walk along the Underground Railroad
I see the slave awakening to the value of her soul

I see the young missionary and the angry spear
I see his family returning with no trace of fear

I see the long hard shadows of Calcutta nights
I see the sister standing by the dying man's side

I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor
I see the man with a passion come and kicking down the door

I see the man of sorrows and his long troubled road
I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load

And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
and when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
I want to be one of them
I want to be one of them
I want to be one of them

The longer I'm alive, I seem to be getting a little less foggy on what my heart beats for - what really drives me. I never had dreams for my future as a child. There's never been this one thing that I've always wanted to do or be. But when I sing the line about kicking down the brothel door to rescue the young girl huddled on the floor, I have such a lump in my throat. I think if I could choose to do anything that mattered, it would be to be that person. To rescue girls like her, and to help their hearts to heal from that.

I think that God uses music to speak to my heart, and maybe that's what He's doing with this song... maybe this is the start of something. I hope so.

Me me me me meme

Missy at It's Almost Naptime tagged me, and I don't mind telling y'all that I'm a little narcissistic, so this will be fairly easy. Although it may be tricky to think of things that are interesting to anyone else but me. Also, I stole that clever title from her (with permission of course) because it's so dang cute.

Anyway, moving on.

The rules for this meme are: (1) Link to the person that tagged you.
(2) Post the rules on your blog. (3) Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself. (4) Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs. (5) Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

1. Every morning when I wake up my throat itches like crazy. I have discovered the most unfortunate way of getting to that itch, and it involves a loud, obnoxious noise that my husband calls "the frog". It's on the top of his Peeve's List. Ohhh, how it grates on his nerves. But I'm yet to find something else less-beastly and man-like that's effective, hence we have "the frog". Every morning. Rain or shine. It's nice.

2. The most interesting job I've ever had was undoubtedly my short stint working in a junk mail warehouse. The fun started at 6 am. When it was still dark outside. I am not, nor have I ever been, a morning person, and so I was still mostly asleep at 6 o'clock. My duties were to feed massive amounts of junk mail onto a conveyer belt to be addressed and boxed up to be delivered to your house. The thing about these belts is that they were moving at warp speed which caused some friction, and that friction caused things to warm up a bit. Things got so warm matter of fact, that they actually caught on fire, at which point we had to stop the belt as fast as we could and pull out the strategically placed wool blankets from under the conveyer and throw them on top to smother those hungry flames before they tried to devour one of the employees. Oh, did I mention that I was 19 years old and completely without ambition? Oh. Well I was. Needless to say, they never saw or heard from me again after day two. Why return after all the fun of day 1, I don't know. Mostly because I was stupid dumb.

3. Although it's been a long time since I was 13, I still sit on the bathroom counter and scrutinize my pores. This is another thing that my husband just can't get enough of. That and all the hair on the shower wall when I'm done getting clean. He loves all of these quirky things about me. They're part of my girlish charm. He's a lucky man.

4. I have a general idea of what my last meal would consist of if I was ever on death row, because I like to plan for the future. I've said it before, I don't want to be caught half-steppin'. And in case you're still reading, here's what's on the menu. You're welcome to join me:
1. Granny's pork roast, rice & gravy because it's the best. It's to die for.
Yeah, thank you. I'll be here all week.
2. Feta cheese, probably incorporated into a tasty Greek salad
3. Chocolate - probably the Hershey's Reserve Dark Chocolate with those deliciously crunchy cacao nibs. Oh, cacao nibs, how I love your sweet, nutty crunchy-ness.
4. And finally, cotton candy & wedding cake

5. Whenever I tan in tanning beds I'm always paranoid that the bed is going to break and my skin will fry on those bulbs. Nevermind my entrails. That's not nearly as much of a nightmare as imagining my skin sizzling, stuck to those hot lights. *shudder* And yet, I still go, because tan fat looks better than white fat. Everybody knows that.

6. I don't like Dr. Pepper. Some may call that weird. I call it, snobby tastebuds.

And the tag-ees are...(opening envelope):

Kristin at Life's Moments
Melanie at Big Mama
Sophie at Boo Mama
Sarah at In the Midst of It
Susanna at Confessions of a Tired Supergirl
AM at Antique Mommy

Congratulations to you all! I hope you'll play along!

100 Wishes - Ella needs squares!

I am so excited and giddy about this! I came across this site recently and fell in. love. with this wonderful idea! Chris and Julie are asking for help on a project. They are making a 100 Wishes quilt.

I read this and I hear their hearts:

In parts of China, when a baby is born, family and friends donate fabric pieces with a wish for the baby to the child's mother. She then makes a quilt from the fabric. It is said that the luck, energy and good wishes from all of the families and friends who contributed, surround the child when she is wrapped in the quilt. The quilt is then passed down from generation to generation. With your help we would like to honor this tradition from our daughter’s homeland.

There are so many good reasons to make this quilt for our daughter, tradition being one of them. We are hoping to find many ways to keep her connected to Chinese culture. Another great reason is that our daughter will someday be able to see how much she was thought about and wanted long before she came into our family.

Read more about it here. You can also check out some of the fabrics and read the wishes that have already been sent in!

So here's what you do:

1. Cut one 9” x 9” square of fabric that you like.

2. On a separate piece of paper/card, put a scrap of fabric and include your “good wish card”. Please also include your name.

I've already got my square cut out for the quilt and I'm working on my wish for little Ella. And I thought, there are probably lots of people out there who would be interested in getting in on some of this sweetness, and I hope you're one of them! What a blessing it will be to this family to receive fabric squares and wishes for their baby girl that they're adopting into their family - and what a huge blessing to sweet Ella when she is grown to see her quilt from people around the world, and to read the wishes and prayers that people held for her long before she ever arrived in her new family!!

So if you're reading this PLEASE PLEASE join in on this project. Click here for the complete details and then email chrisjulietu@gmail.com for their address.

There's still time - don't be left out!

(PS--Sorry about all the font changes. My computer is freaking out on me.)

...Ah, the two what? Uh... uh, what was that word?

What is it wit' the yutes today? Can't nobody $pell no more??

I am of the mySpace generation, sort of, well, maybe... I mean, I am on mySpace. Anyway, I digress. The point I'm trying to make is that every day I see stuff that looks something like this:
ooooh, u look sooooo cutteeeee in this pic
-or-
•°¤*(dAt Ch!Ck AlL yAlL dR3Am B0uT)*¤°•

Maybe I'm not part of the mySpace generation after all. I mean, if you can't spell because it's not your best subject, I can forgive that. I mean, heck, I never got out of remedial math (to my shame), even after more than two semesters in college. It's not my strong suit. But this ain't that. Is this now the cool thing to do? I mean, is your cool-factor elevated by how many symbols you can peck out in place of letters? Is that what it takes to be part of the mySpace club? I mean, the cool exclusive members only without the jackets club?

And all the extra eee's on words like cuteeee and other e-ending words that now escape me... am I to understand that more letters = greater emphasis? Then, some kids use ALL UPPERCASE ALL THE TIME. I thought capital letters meant more passion. I mean, they're not THAT EXCITED ALL THE TIME RIGHT? I MEAN, WHO WANTS TO YELL, OR BE YELLED AT, ALL THE TIME? I just have difficulty understanding their tone. I mean, in a way I get it. I just don't think it's cool. That's what I don't get. How is this cool?

I may sound like a fart here. I'm not trying to come down on the yutes. Really, I'm not. It's just, how did this become the "in" thing. How did not knowing how to spell get so easily wrapped up into this cuteeee package... As the so very proud former-owner of a now-lost Spelling Bee trophy from back in the 4th grade, this irks me.

My winning word was fraction in case you wanted to know. Fraction, f-r-a-c-t-i-o-n, fraction.

Anyway, all of this somehow reminds me of this conversation, although it is completely & utterly unrelated.
V:It is possible that the two yutes...
J: ...Ah, the two what? Uh... uh, what was that word?
V: Uh... what word?
J: Two what?
V: What?
J: Uh... did you say 'yutes'?
V: Yeah, two yutes.
J: What is a yute?
V: Oh, excuse me, your honor...
[exaggerated]
V: Two YOUTHS.

W3¬¬, gºØDnîTeee Y@Ll!

...and that is the gospel truth.

I struggle so much with what nature of things I should post. Have I had too many serious ones in a row? Am I due for a funny one? Or is it all supposed to be funny and never "heavy"? The why is that I'm paranoid of what other people think of me. I have this great fear that my blog will be lame. I feel this undercurrent to make it always light and fluffy so that it'll be more acceptable and on everyone's "must read/great blogging goodness" list, but that just doesn't feel authentic. I don't want to misrepresent my life, which is certainly not light or fluffy just now, unless you count the back fat I've accumulated over the past 5 or 6 years. That's pretty fluffy. Or just fat. Whatever. I'm workin' on it.

So anyway, this fear has kept me from posting much of anything over the past few weeks because I've been so busy just dissecting my life. I've had my face in my hands a good bit lately, feel exacerbated, and at times, deserted.

Spiritually speaking, I realize that my greatest weakness, the thing that is most crippling to me, is my fear of disappointment. Hope, ironically, fills me with dread. I'm so afraid that more disappointment will drive me away from what I want the most, and that is to be a friend of God. And the worst part may be that continued disappointment probably wouldn't drive me out of church, it might just make me resistent to God. I never want to harden my heart to Jesus, but I have such immature faith. And I'm ashamed of that. I've been a Christian for almost 8 years. Eight years. And still I feel so insecure in my faith. And so unsafe talking about that. It's easier to tell the world though, than people you know. More fear. (Yeah. Try not to be jealous. I know my life is very glamorous. I wouldn't want to make anyone stumble with hearts full of covetousness.)

So, I'm learning things about myself that I would rather keep hidden. Specifically things that expose a weakness in me. See, I'd much prefer to talk about things I went through, than admit to things I'm going through. As in now. Today. I like the benefit of hindsight. It makes me look experienced, and educated. You know, whole. Then I can tell you with great wisdom what it was like coming out on the other side, instead of standing smack in the middle, feeling so broken, and without a clue how to truly find my way out... which is generally how I feel on my way through anything. Only I don't like to admit that.

I would so much rather not expect anything from God, to just expect to handle things by myself, than to hope for His help, His voice when I need help, and to receive nothing. It's crushing. And I wonder... is it me? Is it just my inability to hear? Well then, Lord, give me ears to hear! ... That's the cry of my heart, and still I feel like I'm met with mostly silence. And it makes me angry. No, angry isn't strong enough. It really makes me hate God. I know that's not a very "churchy" thing to say, but the Bible says that a man cannot serve two masters. He either loves the first and hates the second, or he loves the second and hates the first. There's no middle ground there. So either my heart is turned towards heaven, full of love for the things of God, and so completely drawn in by Him - or I spurn Him.

That's why I'm so afraid of my own disappointment. I cannot stand to think that God is not good, that He is not for me. And I'm not at a place spiritually where I am mature enough to handle disappointment without feeling like I've been kicked in the gut. I know it's shallow. I know it's immature. I understand that it's childish faith. So like my children, I don't have what I think I desparately need or at least sort of deserve because life should be fun, and I throw temper tantrums. And mine are no cuter and endearing than theirs.

But then, I go back to this: God loves mercy. God is so much more gracious than I am. And God knew what I was when He first won my heart almost 8 years ago. Nothing about me surprises Him. There will never be a moment of truth, an aha moment, when God finally realizes what He got when He got me. He'll never be disappointed with the deal He made for my soul. (Hopefully, and totally by the working of a miracle, I'll never shame Him.)

So there. I said it.

And the truth shall set me free. He said that too. :)

Oh happy day!

Wow. Is there anything more beautiful than poo when your baby is constipated? I walked into Lil' Schmo's room this morning and instantly knew his bowels had been on the move... and no tears! He didn't cry... which means he wasn't in pain. Thank the Lord!! So I said, "Hiii honey! I'm so glad to see you. And smell you."

I'm telling you, you couldn't tempt me with diamonds this morning. Or petit fours. I would take poo instead. Now that's makin' a statement.

So stand aside all you blingy objects and shiny things. Thou temptest me not! You got nothin' on a dirty diaper.

Oooh crow, you dirty bird.

I'm so sorry.

I really am.

To all the mom's I secretly judged for feeding their babies formula. I am now one of you. And crow tastes like crap.

To my shame, I have marched in protest, fist high in the air chanting, "Down with formula! It's not food! It will rot your baby from the inside out!" And now here I am, tail tucked under, and I join the ranks of the rest of the "mothers who feed their kids that trash" who like me, only want what's best for their babies. Please forgive me. I understand now.

Because see, I'm a breastfeeding mama who would never give her babies formula. I nursed my other two for 12 and 14 months. Neither of them ever even came close to weaning themselves. But what do you do, when your child won't nurse any longer, and he's allergic to cow's milk (which I'm all "not milk" anyway) and goat's milk (which I'm all "best thing next to Mother's milk" about). What other alternative is left but to give him soy formula. This is not a solicitation for added pressure advice. I'm just sayin.

Annnyway. I am happy to say that since we made the switch from goat's milk he is a much happier baby. The span between feedings has stretched from every 2 1/2 hours to sometimes 4 hours or longer. Let me just tell you, that's a nice change. He's waking up once a night instead of 2 or 3 times.

Now, his skin is still itchy with eczema, he still spits up (although it's not projectile like it has been), and he still has a sensitive gut that vascillates between constipation and diarrhea, but it's better than it was. Believe me. He's not puking all over me, all hours of the day. He's more content to be put down and just play. He cries less. He smiles more. So for this baby, *gulp*, formula = better. Wow. Never thought I'd say that.

Ever.

So no, not everything is as it should be, but it's much much better.

And I'm happy. Because he's happy.

It's not as glamorous as I'd imagined.

So how do you measure when you've truly reached adulthood. What's the barometer there? I mean, I thought it would be maybe when I became a mom. Nah. Still wasn't quite feelin' it. Would it be the second child? Perhaps the third? Sorta feelin' it now but not quite there yet, and then came the day we had to repair our sewer line and have the septic tank pumped.

Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding!!! Adulthood! SOLD! To the child-laden sewer-pumping couple right here!!

Man, adulthood is gross. And expensive.

Still

I found this clever list idea over at Antique Mommy and decided to play along. Let me know if you do it, too.

So here's what I'm still doing:

*edited

Still amazed: at the thought of eternity.

Still getting used to: being the mother of 3 small children, and how much my body has spread like warm butter over the past 6 years.

Still loving: words!! And laughter! And being a stay-at-home mom and not having to put our little one's in daycare, and also the color gray, and making things with my hands.

Still proud of: the shift I've felt in the past few months toward being a mother and a homemaker. But especially a mother. I feel more heart-bonded to my children. I've made a conscious decision to accept them into our family, to welcome them and to love them, instead of feeling inconvenienced by all of the sacrifices that make up motherhood. I never had that feeling in my heart as a little girl, that I hear some other women talk about, that desire to grow up and have a family. I never felt really warm and nurturing, even after our first and then our second child were born. But I feel my heart turning towards them more now, and I feel better about myself. I don't know if it's something to be proud of, but it definitely settles a part of my mother's heart that condemned me.

Still not proud of: my relationships with my mom and my dad - or my two brothers. We're like strangers that used to know each other. It's tough, but I hope to see some progress this year.

Still hoping: to have a skinny behind.

Still worried: about how my children will turn out and how I might ruin them.

Still never going to: wear mom jeans, or pants with words across the butt.

Still pretending: that I'll be a size 5 again.

Still reading: Your blog!

Still wanting to read: the Bible & my devotional stuff every day. And Inside Out, for the second time. I'd like to read it once every year, but that's a big aspiration. I like to think big but I'm way too slacky to actually follow through with that.

Still interested in: learning about photography, and bringing in some Benjamin's with my crafting skillz. Lots of Benjamin's.

Still not interested in: Paris Hilton or the bird flu. Or global warming.

Or the stock market.

Or Big Brother (the "reality" show).

Still looking forward to: days when I can shop in stores I want to be in, with spending money, and no children, for the whole day. It could happen. And being a size 5.

Still not looking forward to: the imminent nervous breakdown of having all 3 of the kids home for the summer.

Still failing: brevity. Not my gift.

Still grateful for: my true friends. Without them, I'd likely be back in rehab or jail by now. Or at least living like I'm trying to get back to rehab or jail. And the health of our family.

Still Wondering: where my friend Anne disappeared to.

Still praying: to know more about who God is and to believe the love.

Still not believing in: cow's milk, vaccinations and fluoride being good for you.

Still believing in: Jesus' promise to carry out this work that he started in me, to see it to completion because he's not a big slacker like me.

What are YOU still doing?

* * *

Be still and know that I am God ~ Psalm 46:10