Walking in the rain, soaked.

God seems to work in ways that I don’t always agree with.

I went to college in the middle of nowhere and I had to drive home through the middle of nowhere in North Dakota. It was almost a six hour drive. Once, two hours into driving home back to Minneapolis, my car started to act up. It was pouring rain. I started praying like crazy that God would let me get home. I listened and He said that He would take care of me. I was assured that He would.

When my car broke down half a mile outside of Litchfield ND I was very angry. “You told me that you would take care of me!” I was furious with God, how could he promise He would take care of me and then this happens? I got out of my car and started walking in the pouring rain into town.

I was less than 200 feet from my stalled car a large truck stopped and asked me if I needed some help. Two large men with very friendly faces seemed very concerned about this 95 pound 18 year old girl walking in the rain with an apparently stalled car behind her. Stupid trusting girl that I was I told them that my car broke down, and yes, I certainly needed some assistance. The told me that they had tow chains in their truck and they would tow my car about a mile into town to the nearest mechanic, which happened to be the only one open on a Saturday. In fact it ended up being the only auto shop open on my whole route for the next two hours.

When we got to the auto shop they told me that yes my car could be fixed but they needed to run to another town for the part and it would be at least three hours. The brothers knew the mechanic and told me later he was not “great for women to be around.” So when they heard it would be a couple hours they asked me if I wanted to go to Ma’s for coffee. Thinking “Ma’s” was diner I agreed, I thought that would be a good way to pass the time.

Ma’s ended up being their Mother’s. It was a large farm on the outside of town. I was welcomed with open arms. I was offered dry clothes since mine were soaked. Ma put mine in the dryer. Pa taught me how to play cribbage. I was fed lunch. I even had fun. A few hours after I had got there I got the call that my car was fixed. I thanked them as many times as I could.

The brothers drove me back to get my car. The bill ended up being less that I expected, and was easily able to pay it. After many more thank yous I was back on the road on my way home.

An hour or two down the road God quietly whispered in my ear. “See I took care of you.” He was right. He took care of me beautifully.

He has always taken care of me beautifully. Never, it seems, in the way that I want to. But I am always held. I am always in His care. Even when I don’t like it. Even when it seems like what He is doing is hurting me more than helping me. I don’t know why He works the way He does. But I know He is working, because somehow-someway things always seem to work. And I seem to come out better for it.

Right now I’m walking through the rain, grumbling, angry, frustrated, and so tired. I don’t know how He’s going to do it this time, but I know He will. He always does. And I know that it won’t be in the way I want Him to. But in the end I can look back and say “Yes even in that situation He took care of me beautifully.”

Blueberries and Milk

Noah's favorite food lately is blueberries. So much so that if there are any in the refrigerator he will hunt them out, grab them and somehow find a way to open the package. He would eat 100 of them if I let him. I hope he doesn't turn blue . . .

Basketball, waffels, shopping and a meltdown

Our weekend started out great! John got home and came over to the playground. There was a stray basketball and Daddy and Noah had so much fun on the basketball court. It melted Mommy’s heart to see and them “playing basketball” together. We got Pizza Hut and it was really nummy. Noah thought so too. He was really tired after playing so hard outside!

Saturday morning Mommy made waffles with sautéed peaches, plumbs, and blueberries all topped with whipped cream. I love cooking good breakfasts. Daddy and Noah like it too. In fact breakfast seems to be their favorite meal. Like father like son huh?

We went to the outlet mall. That was exactly when the weekend started to go down hill a little. We didn’t really find what we needed. How hard is it to find some really cool shoes for a boy? Why are grl (my blocker won't let me use the word for a child of the female variety so until I can get my husband home to undo the password it will have to be grl) shoes so cute and boys get white tennis shoes? Yuck. We need to find some cool boy shoes. I just don’t know where to go. Noah got really tired at the end and we had to skip dinner and just go home. Oh well. We did get him some jeans, long sleeve t-shirts, and books. I never know what size jeans to get him. He is too skinny and too tall. I got him the 2T jeans because they all have an adjustable waist. I love that! For Anya I got some onsies from Carters on a great sale. A five pack for only 6 bucks! Deals like that are great aren't they?

Pink is so so so fun! Okay I admit it Anya's clothes are so much more fun than boy clothes. I really like dressing my little man but dressing her? It's going to be so fun!

I overdid it walking around the mall. I was sore to the point of being worried about everything. I was having a few contractions too. How am suppose to get ready for winter and this little one?

Noah woke up at 2:30 am on Saturday night something unusual for him and didn’t go back to sleep for almost 3 hours. Mommy was very very tired in the morning. We didn’t get to go to church. I couldn’t do it with the combo of being so sore, contractions, and being so tired and nauseous.

We did go to Target for a quick trip to get groceries later on that day. Noah had the worst public meltdown ever. We won’t let him run around the store by himself without holding our hand anymore. It used to be a game that Daddy would chase him and there would be lots of giggles. Not anymore. I can’t afford to loose sight of him for one second. We are telling him now that he has to stay in the cart, be held, or hold Mommy’s or Daddy’s hand. The meltdown lasted about ten minutes while we were in line waiting and checking out. It was horribly embarrassing. And funny enough no one got in line after us, I wonder why? Hahaha. But I’m proud of myself. I held my ground, didn’t give in. He has to learn that he can’t run off anymore. Yes, we made a mistake letting him run around in the first place but now we are correcting that. It would have been a battle no matter what. He is so strong willed. That’s my boy . . . I wonder what Anya will be like and if we will have the same battles with her?

I believe because my head tells me to

I was listening to Barlow Girl today and Never Alone came on. This part that always catches me of the song is the chorus:

I cried out with no reply
And I can't feel You by my side
So I'll hold tight to what I know
You're here and I’m never alone

I can’t count the times in my life that I have cried out to God and gotten no response, no feeling, no words of encouragement from someone He sent to me, no anything. It frustrates me sometimes. Okay I’m lying - it frustrates me a great deal of the time. Why does God have different relationships with people? I ask for the same thing such and such has, to call and He answers. Why does He make me depend on my head instead of my heart? I know He’s there, I know He is. I have to have faith, I just have to trust.

Sure I have had those life altering moments where He has come to me. (I’m going to show how Pentecostal I am right now, forgive me if you think that this is a bunch of crap). He has shown me His love in unimaginable ways, He has spoken to me and told me what direction to go in, and He has graced me with His overwhelming presence – so much so that I almost couldn’t breathe. I can draw from those experiences, but the mind is a funny thing. It can explain away those experiences as nothing, as my imagination, as coincidences.

Forced to rely on faith. That is always where I seem to end up. Forced to believe, because I have made a decision to believe.

I do not believe because my parents taught me to believe, nor do I believe because of the four years at a Christian college. I do not believe because I like Christians or being in church. Far from that in fact. I believe because I have studied, looked at the evidence, and searched my soul for the right answers. Almost 8 years ago I faced a crisis, where my whole system of beliefs came crashing down. It was in that crisis that I had to make a decision to be a Christian. Not a Christian that you think about when you think about the word “Christian” but a Christian that follows what the Bible says a Christian should be. I refuse to be a self-righteous, pompous, arrogant, shove-it-down-your throat kind of Christian. I want to be the kind of person God wants me to be; I fail miserably everyday on so many levels.

So I cry out to Him. Help me. help me. Why is there no answer? Why does He make me live by faith? Why not show me His overwhelming love? Why not comfort me and give me strength?

I know He’s there. I know He is guiding me silently. I just wish He didn’t trust me so much. If he didn’t He would be there constantly and I would know that that was God directing my life, that His presence was just a call away. Instead I have to believe with everything I am that He is there.

I just wish it wasn't so difficult.

Sometimes I feel like a bad mom

I was talking to John last night about how I feel like I am a horrible mom. I wonder if everyone feels like that at some point. Noah still isn’t talking yet and it really upsets me sometimes. I wonder if it is because I am doing something wrong. Do I not read to him enough? Maybe I need to unplug the TV so that we can’t watch any at all, we don’t watch that much, but maybe that has impeded his development. I am a quiet person when I am at home, I just don’t say much even to him. I just can’t constantly chatter to him. Maybe I just need to try harder.

I have been so sick with this little girl and now with all the preterm labor the last 6 months it has been impossible to be the mom that I want to be to him. I know that if I wasn’t pregnant that I would defiantly be a better mom. So should I feel guilty for bringing another life into this world? This is it, God willing, no more kids. Four kids out in the world with my DNA is more than enough thank you. I don’t think I physically could handle another pregnancy anyway. But getting back to being a bad mommy. . .

When I was a nanny I was a great nanny. I was one of the best nannies I knew. I interacted with the children all day long. I never left their sides. That was my job wasn’t it? So maybe my guilt comes from the fact that real parenting is very different than being a nanny. I am the one who is the disciplinarian all day long. I have to clean, there is no maid that comes once a week to clean the toilet. I make breakfast lunch and dinner for both of us and dinner for my husband who works very hard and is gone long hours at his job. And finally I am not being paid an ungodly amount in order to take care of my precious little bean. Being a stay at home mom is so much different than being a nanny – in ways that I can’t even describe. I just thought that when I was a mom I would be the best mom ever because I was such a great nanny.

And now I am not only a mommy to Noah, but I am also a mommy to this little girl inside of me. I have to take care of her too, which means I have to take care of myself. Having to be on bedrest with both of my previous pregnancies I know that at any time I could go into serious preterm labor. In fact the last couple days I have been plagued with contractions that hurt and that warn me to take it very easy.

I can honestly say that Noah knows he is loved. I am very affectionate with him. He is fed, clothed, clean, and watched insanely well. In fact I might be called overprotective. Okay I am overprotective. I never let him out of my sight. Even in our apartment. Heck when He naps in his room I peek under the door to make sure that he isn’t himself somehow. I guess if I were to pinpoint what I feel guilty about it is that I don’t play with him enough. Does that make me a bad mom? I hope after Anya is born that I can start being the mom I want to be again. Maybe I’m not a bad mom, maybe I’m just not the mom I want to be.

I think I need to pray that God will help me be the mom He wants me to be, the mom that I want be, and accept that I can’t be perfect.

Gosh this mommy thing is a lot harder than I ever thought it would be.