The Things that Keep Me Up at Night

Sometimes I wish I could go back to a faith that fit into a small box of rules and formulas. I wish I could organize my life with manuals and checklists, and I could measure my life in how many star stickers I was rewarded at the end of the day. I think I can understand a faith like that. It's comfortable and safe, and while I find those words repelling, I probably live there more often than I care to admit.

Sometimes I just want easy.

I don't want to know of children halfway across the world that live in garbage dumps, or women that sell themselves to put food in their family's mouths. I don't want to deal with messy relationships, or explain myself to people that will never understand where I'm coming from.

It would be so much easier to crank up some Jimmy Buffet and pretend that life was all blue waters and fru-fru drinks.

My reality is more like a Mumford & Sons song than Jimmy Buffet though.

In my struggle with faith I do see Him. I have known Him to rescue me from a dull, lifeless faith. I have known the relentless tugs of the Holy Spirit on my heart. I know He has called me for a purpose, and He'll continue to reveal it as I seek after Him. I know, I know He meets us in all our ugliness and doubt. I know, I know that He is present even in places where there is so much pain and sorrow and injustice. I know His grace is sufficient for me and that His power is made perfect in my weakness. 

I know He'll never let me settle for easy.

Saying Goodbye

Matt's grandfather passed away a few weeks ago. This is the eulogy that Matt gave at his funeral. I think he would have been proud of his oldest grandson. I know I was...

Growing up there were certain things that we could always count on when it came to Grandpa. Every Christmas we would all get a card and a $5 gift certificate to McDonalds.  For our birthdays, we knew we would be getting a bag of tootsie pops in a Publix bag.  Although it was small, we always looked forward to his gifts. This tradition continued even as we married and added spouses and our own children to the mix. Each spouse and great grandkid could expect to get their McDonald's gift certificates from grandpa each holiday and birthday. He was consistent in other ways as well. When I was in high school I could always expect to see grandpa in the southwest corner of all my soccer games.  I can still picture it now, he’d be standing with the same group of men each game cheering me on.  After the game, win or lose, the first person to be waiting for me on the other side was grandpa.  First would be a big sweaty hug, then we’d analyze the game.  Even when I was in college, playing at Cedarville, he made sure to make the trip each year to see me play even as his health began to decline.  One such instance involved a game in 40 degree weather with pelting rain.  He didn’t care.  While everyone else was in there cars or gone, grandpa put on his windbreaker and stood out and watched me.  His consistent support of his grandkids in everything they did was something that we all took for granted at times but was a cornerstone for our family.

He loved his grandchildren immensely. At family gatherings he wouldn't talk a lot, but he would sit back and observe his family with love. He never had a harsh word for us, even when I'm sure it was overwhelming to have so many kids running around. The one thing he did always have for us was a big hug for each of us. So big in fact that it wasn't unusual for him to pick you right up off the ground.  And those hugs weren’t reserved just for family members, they were extended to girlfriends/boyfriends, friends from college, or anyone that came within a 5 foot proximity of him at church.  He had a way of making people who weren’t part of the family ‘yet’ feel special.  When I told my buddies from college that grandpa had passed, the main thing they remembered was his big hugs.  Those hugs that took your breath away… literally.

Over the last year & a half or so, our family has spent Friday nights at Outback with my parents and grandpa.  I'm so thankful for this time that I got to see grandpa each week, along with my children. We would talk about sports and he would always listen to the events of my week, good or bad.  He would then relate a lot of what I was going through back to when he was working in the same field.  He would give me advice on how to handle situations but would mainly listen.  I always knew he was on my side whether I was in the wrong or right.  One of my greatest privileges of being his grandson was probably something small to everyone looking from the outside.  As grandpa’s health declined, he would have difficulty walking from place to place.  I decided to start lending him my shoulder each week after dinner to get him from the table to the car.  Although this was a small gesture, I believe we bonded from that short walk each week, many times me bearing a significant amount of weight as we weaved through the maze of tables to get to the front door.  It allowed me to feel like I was able to honor him by helping him in a small way, to provide him with support just as he has supported me all these years.  He would then always tell me how much he appreciated it and we’d hug before leaving the restaurant. 

As with his grandchildren, I know his great-grandchildren brought him so much joy, as well.  I remember when I introduced both my children to him;  He teared up the first time he got to hold them. Emma and Jackson always loved being able to see Big Papa, whom she affectionately named for obvious reasons, each week.  When Emma would see big papa, her eyes would light up and she would run up to give him a hug..  Many times, she would have in depth conversations with Big Papa, most of which made no sense, but he didn’t care he just enjoyed each moment with her.  He had a way of making my children feel special.  I think this was because when he got the opportunity, he always paid attention to them.  

The last time that we got to see grandpa was last Friday night at Chili’s.  Two things happened at dinner that night that I will never forget.  The first was Jackson was being very wiggly last Friday and did not want to sit still.  Dad finally took him and sat next to grandpa with him.  I was sitting across from him at the end of the table as we normally do, and I remember watching as grandpa started playing patticake with Jax.  I was thankful, number one, that grandpa got Jax to sit still so everyone could eat, but also, I remember thinking that I was glad that grandpa was able to have some time with Jax.  The second thing that happened that night was there was a balloon man that came around.  Whenever Emma sees a balloon man, she pleads with us to get one.  Usually dad will end up getting her one, but last Friday, grandpa pulled out a few bucks and got Emma a pink balloon rabbit.  I am so glad now, that I didn’t make him put back his money.  I am so thankful that he got to buy this little balloon for my daughter last week.  I am so thankful that I got to watch him look at her with a sparkle in his eye as she played with the balloon that he bought for her.

Grandpa, I think the greatest thing that you left us with was family.  You followed Proverbs 22:6 and raised up your children in the way they should go and now that they’re old… ok older, they have not departed from it.  You left you’re 15 grandkids and two grandkids still hear on this earth with 4 parents who are great examples to us of how to live for Christ.  You left a big legacy for us all, not many can say that their entire family is committed to loving and serving Jesus.

I like to think that right now, you’re reconciled with grandma, and Johnny and Dani are at your side and you are truly, truly happy.  We’re gonna miss you big papa, but so glad to know that all your burdens, pains, and sorrows are taken away.

We love you.

The Depraved Poor?

The other day I was perusing blogs and I came across this one that caused me to sit and stare at my computer completely dumbfounded. The author was apparently a prominent voice within some evangelical circles. He wrote in regards to a recent study by the American Sociological Association that says that less educated, low income Americans are leaving the church at double the rate of those with more education and higher incomes. 

The author began by saying: 

"It is past time to admit a very hard truth: America’s poverty problem is also a depravity problem. It is simply a fact that people who work hard, finish their education, get married, and stay married are rarely — very rarely — poor.  There is no other proven formula for lifting Americans out of poverty.  None.  Food stamps don’t do it.  Medicaid doesn’t do it.  Soup kitchens don’t do it.  Good intentions don’t do it.  Hundreds of billions of dollars of transfer payments have not budged the poverty rate."

Wow, well that's nice for those of us lucky enough to be born into a home where the opportunities to accomplish these things are readily available. It's really too bad for all those other poor folk that face very real, complex, and depraved institutional, social, and economic roadblocks that keep them within the cycle of poverty. But, I'm sure hearing from someone in a higher class that they just need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps- and accept Jesus- is the way to end the cycle. I'm also having a hard time seeing the connection between depravity and something such as not finishing one's education. Am I missing something? As far as I know, depravity isn't confined to socioeconomic class. 

The author goes on to say that the Cross is the only answer to poverty. 

However, can you really say that the Cross is the only answer to poverty when you initially say hard work, finishing school, and staying married is the answer? 

Is the gospel of Jesus the answer? Surely it is. But, the answer to the problem of poverty is found in kingdom values, not middle class values and social stability. Jesus came to bring good news to the poor, bind up the brokenhearted and set the prisoners free. The Cross frees us of our poverty. The gospel shows us a better way to live, though this has absolutely nothing to do with income, education, or possessions. The gospel provides a voice to the voiceless, covers the shame of the disgraced, and brings hope to the dejected. It says you are created in the image of God, you have worth. It says, even in your depravity, Christ died for you. It says hope is not in things but in a risen King. The gospel allows us to put our faith in a God that's able to paint a beautiful portrait of redemption through pain, sacrifice and despair.

When you view poverty through the eyes of the impoverished, using their own definition, it's no wonder they are leaving the American church in droves. Those that are poor define poverty less in terms of material possessions but as the lack of opportunity and voice and feelings of shame and worthlessness.  If this is true poverty, than maybe when looking for solutions to how to alleviate it, we're asking all the wrong questions. Is the ultimate goal to bring someone to middle class status where we have a whole new set of issues, including pride, apathy, entitlement, materialism, and consumerism? 

Those living in poverty aren't finding a home within churches built primarily on middle-class values. There are certainly many, many wonderful churches engaged in serving those in poverty. I wonder though, are we actually giving the marginalized a voice within the church? Do we choose leaders more often based on spiritual gifting or on education and status? What happens to those that feel like they have no voice? Quite often they disengage. Are these people running away from Jesus or are they running from Pharisaical churches? How many of our middle-class churches have become a place of comfort instead of a place of mission?

One of the more troubling assertions in the article, is the author's reflection about his time "in the trenches." He talks about how he spent several years working in mentoring programs, providing financially for people in need, and generally giving of himself. Through all this, he claims he was taken advantage of until the point where he realized that everything he had done was meaningless. 

Ouch.

To say that we don't serve, we don't give of ourselves because "it doesn't work" sounds like quite the depravity problem to me. 

We serve the poor, the unloved, and the marginalized because Jesus told us to and showed us how. We meet the physical needs of people because Jesus said in Matthew 25 that in taking care of these people, we are taking care of Him. I believe wholeheartedly as followers of Jesus we must work to alleviate poverty and work for all kinds of social justice. There is no doubt that when we look at the life of Jesus we see that we are called to do this. In Luke 4:18, Jesus quotes from Isaiah saying,

  

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
   because he has anointed me
   to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
   and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

Then, he goes onto say that today this Scripture is fulfilled through Him. 

He is the answer.

Jesus brought freedom as no one else could. When he rode into Jerusalem days before his crucifixion, people were laying palms before him. They wanted a messiah that would free them from the oppressive Roman rule. But the Kingdom of God was not of this world, and it provided so much more than just freedom from tyrannical governments. The freedom that God gives goes so far beyond physical needs, yet we still serve people's physical needs as Jesus did during his ministry. The cure for poverty isn't in more money, but we give more money. The cure for poverty isn't in providing better education but we provide better education. The cure for poverty isn't in working at soup kitchens but we still work in soup kitchens. We do all these things and love Jesus through loving people. 

We work to promote kingdom values, and we speak to the needs of the whole person. 

We bring hope in despair, voice to the voiceless, and restore dignity to the marginalized. We don't shove middle-class values down their throats; we serve, we love, and we show the person of Jesus, who is the answer to the poverty of every heart, regardless of class or status.

When the Best's Not Best

Several months ago I was at a party having a conversation with a couple moms with kids who were the same age as Emma, who was barely two at the time. One mom asked me where Emma was going to school. I paused for a moment, not quite sure I understood what she was asking. I awkwardly reminded her that Emma was only two. She didn't go to school. She and the other mom told me how their kids had been in school since they were eighteen months. Then they enlightened me about the best schools in the area and how you have to start them early if you want them to get into a good preschool.

They were preparing them to get into the best schools.

At two.

I get tired just thinking about what the next sixteen years of those kids' lives will be like.

I read an excellent article today about Finnish schools, which made me very proud to be a Finn. It turns out that Finland has made more of a contribution to the world than with saunas, Nokia, and Angry Birds. They're leaders in education and it's not because they crank out amazing standardized test scores. In fact, they don't even have standardized tests, apart from the matriculation exam taken at the end of their final year of school as a prerequisite to attend university. Yet, globally they're leading the way in math, science, and reading. They're not motivated by competition; more tax dollars do not go to schools that perform well, and students living in affluent areas do not have greater opportunities than those living in poor areas. In fact, they pride themselves in equality for all students. Schools are publicly funded and run by, get this, educators. It's not business people or politicians making decisions about education. It's educators. They trust their educators and let them do their jobs. Wow, how empowering that must be. I think of all my friends and family in education here in the States who are so disheartened because they're not allowed to just do their jobs. They're policed by bureaucrats that don't know the first thing about educating our children.

We've created a climate of competition that begins during the first couple years of our children's lives that is screwing them up. They are made to think that they're loved because of what they do, not who they are. When all you whisper to someone is achieve, achieve, achieve, you end up with a bunch of kids that don't give a flip about actual learning. In study after study, students admit to cheating because really, that's what we teach them with all our performance-based testing. Students don't even see it as a moral issue because the system (not the teachers) teaches that achievement is the most important goal, so use any means necessary to get ahead.

I don't want my kids to live like this. I don't want to parent like this. I just want my kids to be kids. I had a conversation today with a friend about how if I want to get Em in the preschool where I would like her to go next year, it might be a good idea to put her in a couple days a week this winter. It's hard to get a spot if she's not already enrolled. Seriously, it's out of control. I can't worry about it though.

I am a teacher, regardless of if I'm in a classroom ever again. I take full responsibility for my children. I will cultivate their potential in ways that speak to their entire being. I will teach them about what it means to love God and put others before themselves. We will learn together that it's better to serve others than to be served. My kids will not get lost in a system that some politician has hijacked. I pray that they grow up to be world changers, not because they have an edge over someone else, but because they follow a better way. I pray that they know the One who redeems lives, systems, and cultures. And I pray that Matt and I don't get caught up in all this nonsense in the name of wanting what's best for our kids.

Heaven, Hope, and Hollowing

Evidently three is the age when kids start to figure out that with separation comes sadness. Usually when we leave my family in NY, Emma is sad but bounces back pretty quickly. She gets caught up in the excitement of riding in a plane or the anticipation of seeing other family members. It was not so this year as we left Syracuse. Initially she was fine, but as the plane landed she started crying and couldn't be comforted. She wanted to go back to her wawa's house. She wanted to see her cousins. As we got in the car for the ride home she continued to bawl. We gave my mom a call and Em sobbed to her about how much she missed her and how she didn't have a heart anymore. She couldn't watch the sunset because she was just too sad. It was pretty heart-wrenching. While I don't think it's healthy to wallow in emotions like that I do want her to know that it's okay to mourn. Being separated from ones you love is sad.

A week ago today Matt's grandpa passed away. This is the first time Em has lost someone to death. With her family in NY, she can take comfort in the fact that she can see them again at Christmas. She has a concrete time to look forward to. Seeing someone someday in heaven is not quite so concrete for a three year old. The night that he passed Matt was putting her to bed and she started crying because she wasn't going to see Big Papa anymore. Today as I was putting her down for a nap she kept asking me if I was going to get old. I kept explaining that everyone gets old. Her response was, "But not mommies, right?" I went on to say that getting old was a part of life. Mommies get old and even she will get old someday. Then her little chin started quivering and she said, "But I don't want you to go to heaven." Oh goodness. Break my heart.

I'm not really sure what to do with that. To me, heaven is hope. To her, heaven is separation. It makes me wonder if in trying to bring comfort to our kids, we're really skewing their views. I'm not sure. I know I don't want Em just praying a prayer sometime in her young life just so she thinks she can go to heaven someday and see those that she loves again. Of course I want her to follow Jesus. But, there's a huge difference between following Jesus and wanting to see loved ones again. Are there things that we should wait to explain to our kids until they can think more abstractly so as not to confuse them? Is heaven one of those things, at least when paired with death? Just thinking out loud. What are your thoughts?

The One Where My Kids Puke All Night

The best thing about being a parent is not waking up at 2AM to the sound of your 14-month old throwing up. Nor is it the sound of his sister following suit 20 minutes later. It's not holding your child over a trash can as his little stomach heaves or holding him all night with the putrid smell of vomit penetrating your nose, all the while your spouse is doing the same for your other child.

Strangely enough though, one of the greatest things about parenthood is how it makes you and your spouse the type of people who can do these things without batting an eye.

Seriously, when the nurturing traits were handed out, I must have been skipped over because I'm not naturally a caregiver. I never went gaga over babies before I had my own. I tend to hold my breath around people that I know are sick. I remember some months back we had a friend in town that was in the car as Emma started tossing the large amount of cookies that she had just consumed. Kristin jumped right in to help clean up the massive amounts of disgustingness all over our car and our daughter. I tried to stop her several times, but she just continued like it was no big deal. Wow. I'm so not that girl. And my husband is so not that guy. In fact, Matt's the type that passes out when there's gory scenes in war movies. No joke.

But, there's something super hot about laying on the floor with your sick baby boy, knowing that your hubby is in the next room doing the same thing with your little girl. Funny how what's hot changes as you go through life with someone. I guess that's what building a family together is all about though. It's a  team effort. Both spouses have to be willing to get their hands dirty. What this means will change on a day to day basis, but there has to be confidence on both sides that the other person is willing to step up for the other and for the family.

Real life.
Real love.
Real gross but real good.

Call Me Grace

A few days ago while the kids were eating breakfast, Emma randomly told me she was sorry. It's never a good thing when your three year old apologizes and you have no idea what she's talking about. I asked her what she was sorry for, to which she replied, "For writing in marker all over your table."

Oh. Crap.

I saw the black permanent marker first. Then I looked to where she was seated and spotted the scribbles all over the side of my new, white table.

Dangit. What was going on in her head when she decided it would be a good idea to do something that she clearly knew was wrong?? What was she thinking!? We have had several conversations about only writing on paper and what a big no-no it is to write on furniture, clothing, or her little brother. And of all things, she decided to mess up my new. white. table.

Blast.

I went off on a tangent asking her all these same questions and bringing up these important points. I may have raised my voice. And used broad sweeping gestures with my arms to portray to her just how big my disappointment was. Until she burst into tears and said quietly, "Mommy, please call me grace."

What?

I had to stop in my tracks long enough to actually look at her and ask her to repeat what she said. Again, she said with a quivering lip, "Please call me grace."

Shoot.

I realized my daughter was asking for grace. Even though she knew what she did was wrong. Even though she didn't know the right words to say. I had to pause for a second. I mean, seriously, it's my new, white table. It only took a second though.

"You mean show you grace?" I quietly asked her.
"Yes, Mommy. Show me grace."

I hugged her and told her I would show her grace as God shows me grace. And I meant it.

How many times do I know something isn't right but do it anyway? How many times am I selfish and have an attitude that's just about what I want, regardless of how it affects someone else? Yet I am so incredibly aware of the grace of God in my life.

There's nothing quite like being humbled by your three year old.

A while later she came up to me again with a quivering lip, hugged me and said she forgave me. I was a little confused and asked what she forgave me for, to which she replied for writing on my table. Again, she had the words wrong, but I understood what she meant. I realized that although she had told me she was sorry, I hadn't actually said that I'd forgiven her. My goodness, two important lessons in a fifteen minute time span. I'd forgotten in my earlier conversation with my child how important it is to hear the words "you're forgiven" in the process of reconciliation. I know in my relationship with Matt how important it is for the other person to acknowledge that while yes, a wrong was done, there's something freeing in hearing "you're forgiven." It allows the other to know you're not holding something over the other's head and lets the relationship be restored from both party's perspective.

I hope the lines of communication always stay this open with my kids. I hope that God continues to teach me lessons through my children. I hope they'll look back on their childhood and see parents that strive to show them the love and grace of Jesus.

Extravagance

When I was a teacher, my absolute favorite book to teach was The Great Gatsby. I loved exploring themes of excess and corruption, the mad grab for materialism, and the endless pursuit of this unattainable American Dream. Great discussions would ensue, and I always had several students tell me that this was their favorite book of the year as well. We all want something real to hold onto, yet we chase after all these fleeting things that don't satisfy. I don't think the problem is that we want too much though, I think we just settle for all the wrong things.  

In our culture we're used to extravagance. We even come to expect it. I think God is even a God of extravagance. I just don't believe that His extravagance manifests itself through material things. We think we're blessed because we have so much stuff, but maybe we're mistaking distractions for blessings. Instead, I think He pours out his extravagance on us through His love and grace. God shows us His extravagant love by inviting us to be a part of the work that He's doing in the world. He doesn't save us so that we can maintain a comfortable existence, living as consumers within our little Christian subculture. When we do this, we end up just rotting, and instead of being "the aroma of Christ" to the world, we just stink. We become inwardly focused and do all we can to preserve ourselves, often in the name of preserving God's reputation. 

I spent many of my college years and beyond questioning what being a follower of Jesus was all about. As a sophomore I toured with a drama team that traveled to churches on weekends during the school year and all summer. We probably went to fifty different churches that year. This was an eye-opening year for me as I saw Christianity as I had never seen (or at least noticed) before. I had so many conversations with people that spoke of a God that I honestly didn't understand. I remember listening to this man tell me about how they'll never have drums at their church because certain beats or rhythms were from Satan. 

Um, what? 

What does that even mean? Our team also received several bad reviews. You know, for things like showing up to a church wearing jeans. I alternated between wanting to scream and wanting to completely disengage. I spent the next few years trying to take down the walls that I put up that year from what I experienced in those churches. I know it sounds silly, that one year visiting some messed up churches had such an impact on me. 

I suppose I tend to internalize a lot. 

It was more than that though. I was also immersed in Christian college culture, which at times was great but other times contributed to the walls that I had built. Various circumstances left me battling cynicism and apathy, which is such a toxic cocktail. Looking back, however, I see the work of a loving God that allowed me to experience these things, allowed me to move from a place of comfort to a place of discomfort that would lead to change. I knew there had to be more to Christianity than just "getting saved" and then living life following strange rules and telling people about a safe God. 

I started grad school at Cedarville a couple years after college and had a professor that completely rocked my world. My hope that God was working in our world in a substantive way was restored. He began in Genesis and explained how Adam and Eve were commanded to cultivate and take care of the world around them. God declared what He made as good, but then gave us the opportunity to cultivate what He had already made, to make advancements and improvements. After the Fall, all of creation was affected, not just individuals. We place so much weight on individual sin, but whole systems have been marred by sin. Hence the need for social and economic justice in our world. Individual relationships were not just affected by sin but whole people groups have been dehumanized. Hence the need for racial reconciliation. God, in His incredible extravagance, lets us be involved in this process. The Kingdom of God is not just about the future but is a present reality that God invites us to be a part of as His redemptive work in His world, whether that's cultivating beauty, working to restore dignity to those that have been marginalized, or any number of things that increase His image in our world. We're either working towards something or against it.

Whoa. I certainly didn't want to work against the Kingdom of God.

This sounded a bit different from not maintaining churches that are full of nice, neat people. Our lives are not about finding which church has the best music or preaching so that we can sit comfortably in our pews week after week. Our lives aren't about having the best theological arguments. In the Kingdom of God, life looks much different than in our world. Leadership is not about power but serving. We can give up our need to be right because it's not about us. We don't need to chase wealth but give with open hands. 

I was absolutely floored with what I was learning. It started to make sense to me why it bothered me so much that Christians wouldn't drink but would tell a racist or gay joke. Why people didn't give a rip about the poor, but based their lives around acquiring wealth. However, it also magnified my cynicism for "maintenance Christianity," which I felt was all around me. I would end up in arguments with Matt about what I was learning and felt like I got blank stares when I tried to explain my thoughts to friends. I was so excited, but ended up feeling so utterly alone. I felt like I couldn't connect with friends and couldn't have a conversation with my husband that didn't end in complete frustration. I shut down in some ways and felt like I was in even worse shape than I was after that sophomore year of college. Yet at the same time, I still had hope that life could move beyond maintenance Christianity to mission.

Over the years, Matt and I reopened the dialogue and discovered that we are on the same page in more ways than we realized. Being in a place where we are now able to serve alongside each other and dialogue without worrying if it was going to explode into a heated fight is so freeing. The extravagant love of God has kept me from settling. The extravagant love of God has not allowed for me to become too comfortable, falling into the trap of American Dream Christianity. Each time we're heading in that direction, we find ourselves in places where we're forced out of those comfort zones. God has also showed us other people whose hearts He's stirring as well, who have encouraged and inspired us to keep listening and keep moving forward. We find ourselves now in the middle of the conversation, trying to discern what the next steps are. We're trying to determine how to go against our culture of hoarding all these good things for ourselves, and even for our family, and share this extravagant love of God that we've experienced.

Gonna Put the World Away for a Minute

Growing up, my family spent many vacations boating in New England with another family. The nine of us, along with our dogs, would pile into their 27' Sea Ray. Sleeping arrangements were like a game of Tetris trying to figure out how to fit us all into every nook and cranny. I usually slept with my mom on the table that converted to a bed. We would always get funny looks piling out of the boat into the dingy to make our way into town. I'm sure the multimillion dollar yachts that frequent the area thought we were like the clown car at the circus. We always had a blast though, and those trips are some of the best memories that I have from growing up.

Now that we're all adults, my family still likes seeing how many people we can get into a small area. We've expanded quite a bit, so finding spaces to accommodate eight adults and eight kids is not easy. Thankfully, my brother's Mastiff is not invited on our vacations, however. Back when we had far fewer kids we tried Maine, but even then it was too difficult to constantly load everyone into all our cars and walk around quaint little towns. They suddenly seemed a lot less quaint when we arrived. The last couple years we wised up and just headed to NC where we could spend our days alternating between the beach and the pool. We stay in a condo that's smaller than our house, but somehow accommodates all sixteen of us, and a couple of my cousins' families stay across the street. The first couple days are always a bit chaotic, as we adjust to the cacophony of so many children excited to see each other. I love it though.  The older kids dote on the little kids and the little kids adore the big kids. It's so fun to see them all together. During the day we swim, build sand castles, and skimboard, and at night we go crabbing and occasionally karaoke. Really, you can't get much better than that.

This year, the kids and I drove back home with my parents. Sixteen hours in the backseat of a mid-sized vehicle with my two hulking toddler car-seated children is something I don't want to do again anytime soon. I've done it before though and I'm sure I'll do it again. It's kind of like childbirth; you forget about the pains just enough to try it again. Now we have a week and a half of more time to hang out, sit by the pool, and just enjoy each other's company. The only thing missing is Matt.

Jax's Birthday Blog

My dear, sweet Jaxie boy,
A year ago, I wondered what life would be like adding a baby boy to our lives. Today, I can't imagine life without you. Before we had your sister, I wondered what it would be like to love my child. I had always heard that there was nothing like the love a mother has for her kids. I learned just how true that was when I had Emma. When I found out I was pregnant with you, there was a part of me that wondered if it was possible to love another child as much as I could love her. Well, when I had you I learned that the Author of love created us in such an incredible way. Our capacity to love only increases the more we love. You see, we weren't created to only give out a certain amount of love and then not have anymore to give. We were actually created in a way that the more we love, the more we are able to love. I discovered because I had already loved your sister so much, when you were born my love for you was already so much deeper than I even thought possible. As our family continues to grow, I will never love you or your sister any less, but in fact, I'll have even more love to give! I thank God for teaching me more about love through you this year.
You are such a sweet, fun, good-natured little boy. I've loved watching you grow this year. At first you seemed like a quiet, laid back child, but I think you were just observing life first to figure out how to best tackle it. You laugh and smile so easily and giggle if we just look at you. You're quite ticklish and silly and enjoy spinning around and dancing in my arms. You love to give hugs and sloppy, wet kisses. You adore your daddy and get so excited when he comes home from work. Emma gives you a run for your money, but you're getting to the stage where you can almost hold your own with her. You both love to laugh together and steal each other's toys. Most mornings you wake up before her and I have to work to keep you from walking down the hall to bang on her door. Oh- and yes, you walk like a drunken pro. You took off at about eleven months and love to hang with the big kids. Your favorite toys to play with are balls, toys that make noise, and stuffed animals that you can hug. I love listening to you talk. I can't wait until I can actually understand what you're saying because you obviously have a lot to say. You babble almost as much as your sister talks, but the only words we can decipher are mama, dada, and wassat (what's that). Other than that you just do a lot of pointing and grunting.
I can't wait to see how much you're going to grow and change in this coming year. You bring so much joy to our family, and we love you more than you can even imagine. We thank God for the privilege of being your parents.

Love you so much,
Mommy