Peter

In preparation for Easter, I have been reading the last few chapters of each four Gospels over and over during my quiet times.  It has been really helpful to prepare my heart for remembering Christ's death on the cross as well as His resurrection.  I feel like Easter always catches me by surprise and I wanted to be ready this year. 

It's interesting what God shows you when you follow Him in faith.  The first thing that I have been focused on is Peter.  He is so eager to do the right thing.  I get that.  I'm a people-pleaser.  A do-gooder.  I'm all in.  You say "Jump"...I say "How high".  At one point, Jesus is telling them that He is going to be crucified and of course, Peter says "No way that's happening.  If I have to die, I won't let that happen."  (That's of course, my words, not his.)  But, I understand his attitude...if I believe in something, I hang on for dear life.  I think through "what-if" scenarios and I've decided what I will do.  For example, if someone ever tried to harm one of my children, well, of course I'd fight them off.  They would rue the day. :)  I've got this.

But Jesus tells Peter "No, you're not going to do anything.  In fact, before the rooster crows, you will have denied me three times."  If Jesus had told me that, I would have been skeptical at best.  "No way," I would have said.  "Not a chance.  I will never fail.  I love you.  I care too much. I'm all in."  Well, we know that poor Peter...he did fail.  When crunch time came, he didn't do what he said he would.  He was a coward.  He didn't stand for what he believed in.  We know he wept when the rooster crowed and he remember what Jesus had said.  I get that, too.

We all do this.  We all fail.  We wake up in the morning and say "That thing I'm struggling with.  I can beat that.  I'm not failing again.  I'm strong.  I can do it."  We read Scripture and think, "OK, box checked.  Thanks God.  I've got this now."  And then what do we do?...we fail.  Again and again and again.  We're not strong.  We're not brave.  We get distracted.  We choose to do things that we know are wrong even though we said we wouldn't.

It's the power of sin over us.  Peter needed Christ to go to the cross, conquer sin and death, and be raised again.  He needed to be made new.  He needed the Holy Spirit.  So do we.

We know what the right thing is, but we choose wrong.  We know something is bad for us, but we do it anyways.  We want what we can't have.  We grumble and complain.  And we can't stop.  Not without Christ. 

Romans 13:14 "But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify it's desires." 

On Being An Introverted Mom...

There are some stories in Scripture where I am completely challenged...who Jesus is and what He does is so far from where I am at, that I know it will take many years of sanctification to learn to be more like Him.  Or a lifetime.

And then are there are some places in Scripture where I feel like I understand and it brings me comfort to know that I can be myself and who I am is enough.  Those are very few and far between...no, actually they are non-existent.  That's because when I look at the life of Christ, I should be challenged and convicted...because He is a perfect example.  He does everything right.  He is sinless and loving and kind and wise and all of the things that I long to be. 

So, when I was reading in Matthew 14 the other day, I was reading along and feeling pretty good about myself.

The chapter begins with the violent, disgusting story of the execution of John the Baptist and then verse 13 tell us that Jesus heard the news...

I paused and thought, "Wow, that would be so tragic.  It's his cousin and the one who went before him to proclaim that Jesus was bringing the kingdom of God.  It would have been a really personal loss.  So sad."

And what was Jesus' response?  Well, it was actually really comforting to me.  It says "he withdrew from there in a boat to a desolate place by himself." (Verse 13)  That's exactly what I would have done.

Actually, being an introvert, a desolate place by myself sounds like the perfect response to everything.  Stressed? Withdraw.  Tired? By myself.  Happy? Desolation works.  Probably not on a boat because I get sick.  But, reading that Christ went to be alone brought me some comfort and joy that how I respond to tragedy and feelings is not out of the ordinary and ungodly.

It was not until several years into adulthood that I came to terms with the fact that I am an introvert.  I was always thought being any introvert was super-lame.  I am a very social person and suffer from FOMO (fear of missing out).  I make friends easy.  I don't mind being the center of attention.  So, I assumed I was an extrovert.  I thought introverts never wanted to be with people.  But when I took a personality test during training to go overseas, it told me I was an introvert.  A pretty severe one.

And it makes sense when I think about the idea of being refreshed and re-energized.  And the diagnosis was confirmed when I lived overseas.  It became very apparent that if I did not take some time to be alone, I quickly became over-exhausted and anxious and had a very bad attitude about the work we were doing.  Taking one "day of rest" a week is what gave me what I needed to be out and talking to people.

Learning this about myself was very helpful and I fully embraced my introversion...until I became a mom.  To Jordan. The kid who strikes up a detailed conversation with every stranger possible.  The one who wakes up saying "What are we going to do today? Where are we going?"  And oh, Marcus.  My verbal processor who can be located within 3 feet of me every minute he is awake.  And if I close the door on him, his toes or fingers are sticking under the door, just to remind me that he is there.  As close to me as possible. 

Did I mention that they don't nap?

Nobody told me that about being an introverted mom...even babies are people who suck your energy.  Even when Jordan was a baby who did nothing besides cry and not sleep, I began to realize that I needed alone time.  I NEED it.  If I go too long without it, my brain feels like it will explode and I start dreaming of a hotel room by myself, or the grocery store by myself, or the bathroom...

I recognize the need and intentionally try to meet it.  I seek out alone time with God and alone time with my thoughts or my couch.  I put it on the schedule.  I wake up at 5:45 every morning so I can meet this need and it helps me so much as I deal with the energy level these two extroverts throw at me.  And this is just the everyday stuff...it is even more important as I deal with grief or stress or anxiety.  I recognize this need and that God created me this way and that He understands.

So, when I paused to think about Jesus alone and dealing with his grief over his cousin, I got it.  I understood.

And then came the crowds...

Verse 14: "When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd and he had compassion on them and healed their sick."

Maybe I do need to go on a boat...

When Jesus was done with his time alone with God, He was immediately surrounded by people who needed him.  I get the image of them just standing on the shore waiting for him to step foot in the shallow water.  They were probably yelling at him and begging him for help.  That would have made me want to turn around.  It is hard for me to go from glorious alone time and jump right into the crazy.  This is evidenced by the deep anger I feel when either of my children have the audacity to come over their room before I finish my coffee or my quiet time.  I mean, really.  How dare they wake up a few minutes early?!! :)

But Jesus didn't turn around, He had compassion on them and got right back to the work He was called to.

It's just two tiny verses, but it has started a major evaluation process for me about my attitude towards my kids, Blake, or anything that would dare interrupt my beloved, set-up-on-a-pedestal, IDOL of being alone.  The problem isn't that I have the need or that I seek to meet this need.  The problem is that I put it above the needs of other people.  People who I am called to treat as more important than me.  People who need to be loved the way that Jesus loved the people waiting for Him on the shore.

So, what does this mean?  It means that God is not surprised when Jordan gets up and comes out before I finish my cup of coffee.  It means that I have everything I need from Him and when my day goes differently than I had planned; that I am still called to love people and to honor Him with my attitude and my heart.  So much conviction.  So many opportunities to practice this discipline of walking every moment with God and allowing Him to be enough to sustain me.  Even in the grocery store.

Losing Myself, Part 3 - The Ugly

The first two blog posts came easy.  But it's been three weeks, so I figured I probably better finish the series.  I would hate to leave you thinking that I'm just this strong-minded Supermom who decided to lose weight and just did it.  That's not the truth.  It's not even close to the truth.  What is true is that God brought me face to face with my ugly, deep-rooted sin that had a hold of my heart.  And then, because He is good, He equipped me with the tools I needed to battle with this sin.  And it's a battle that I am literally fighting right now, as I sit here writing this.

So, to summarize the first two posts:

The Bad - Over 200 pounds. A slave to food. Back surgery.  Facing a life of pain management and degenerated discs.  No self-control and constant discouragement.

The Good - Going to the gym consistently.  Lifting weights.  Slow change over time.  Encouragement of friends and family.  Getting strong.

OK, now to the ugly.  Sigh.  This is going to take a while.

It was a year ago. The day before Thanksgiving.  I had a conversation with a good friend who has been alongside me on this journey for a long time.  She called me and was trying to encourage me about how I could persevere even though my support system (aka bribing myself to do good things group) had fallen apart.  I was facing the start of the holiday season and just decided to do my best.  The same as every holiday season.

What she did was encourage me to set boundaries.  It was something she had learned from "Taste for Truth" a Bible study that she had done.  I was skeptical, but liked the idea.  I didn't think I could stick to a calorie goal on Thanksgiving day, but I told her that I would only eat one plate of food.  Well, surprise surprise, I didn't stick to the boundary I set for myself.  I mean, really.  One serving of Thanksgiving food?  My favorite foods?  They are only available one day a year!  How could I only have one serving?  If I am ever on death row (I don't anticipate this, by the way), and I chose my last meal, it would be Thanksgiving food.  So, of course, like every year, I went to town on the food.  And this pace of eating continued the next day, and the next day, and so on and so forth.  You know the drill...it's the holidays.

A few days after we got home, I got that Bible study in the mail as a gift from my friend.  Of course, I was a few pounds heavier than the day before Thanksgiving and feeling disgusted with myself.  So, I was ready to try it.

Here's the premise:  Boundaries are good.  God wants us to set boundaries and breaking them is sinful.  We don't get a day off from every other battle with sin, so why would we give ourselves permission to break our boundaries.

There's more to it than that, but that's what I was hearing.  And here's my response: "The rest of my life?  As if!  Every day?  I can't do that.  And why would I want to?  I can control myself.  This lady doesn't know what she's talking about.  I don't have a problem.  I just need to try harder."

And over the course of the next few weeks, I gain a half pound here, a half pound there.  I was still working out, but I was in this avalanche of food and couldn't stop.  By Christmas day, I was ready to face the sin that God had made it clear that I was living in.  Most of the time, I start my diets on New Years day so I can have that extra week to eat the Christmas candy and treats that were left over.  But this time, I was done.  I was done with it all.  I was appalled at myself and how much I had gained back.  But more than anything, my sin was laid bare in front of me.

So here's what God showed me about my relationship with food:

I am an entitlement eater, not an emotional eater.

I thought I didn't have a problem with food because I don't eat emotionally.  When I have a rough day, I am more inclined to lay on the couch and binge-watch a tv show than I am to go get ice cream or over-eat.  So, I never really faced the negative view of food that I have.  But God showed me that instead of running to food to comfort myself, I was eating food to get my share/my portion.  Let me explain...

I grew up overseas.  One of the things that I remember so well as a child is looking forward to "American food".  People would come visit us and bring special things we couldn't get...I can't even remember what the list was, except for Dr. Pepper was always on it!  And because they were special, they were in limited supply.  In no way do I fault my family for this, but my attitude was always to get my share.  Since it was rare and special, I wanted to make sure I got what was my portion.  So, when my mom got marshmallow creme and made her amazing fudge...I ate and ate and ate to make sure that I got at least my share.  My metabolism and activity level hid my problem well!

Then as I grew up, my metabolism slowed down and I began to gain some weight.  But I still didn't see the problem.  When we went to Morocco for two years, the same thing happened.  People would visit and bring us special American foods...Dr. Pepper, poptarts, candy, etc.  I would immediately divide them into equal portions.  One friend of Blake's who came to visit started eating out of my stash and I almost LOST. MY. MIND.  "How DARE he eat a Reese's peanut butter cup?  That is mine.  He can get one any time.  I never get them.  The audacity."

Ugly, right?

Well, it turns out this entitlement and getting my share isn't limited to living overseas or to special foods.

Here's an example:  I make 24 chocolate chip cookies.  There are 4 of us in this house.  So that's 6 cookies per person.  My intention is never to eat 6 cookies (or more, because the kids don't need 6) that day.  I plan on eating them slowly over the next few days as I have calories available.  But Blake comes home and eats 4.  So he's at a faster pace than I am so I need to pick up the pace or he's going to eat mine.  So I do, and before you know it, the cookies are gone.

Entitlement eating.  I want my share.  My portion.  It's irrational.  I could go to Walmart, buy the supplies and make more chocolate chip cookies at any point.  But, I want what's mine.  I deserve what is mine.

Ugly and selfish.

So, through several weeks of time in Scripture, the Lord brought a couple ofverses to me that I have memorized and then used to approach my selfish and unhealthy relationship to food.

Romans 13:14
"But put on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify it's desires."

Psalm 16:5-6
"The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance."

So, two things:

1. I am constantly to be renewing my mind and setting aside the desires of the flesh.  For me, this means daily committing to this battle.  Every day, and sometimes more often, I go to the Lord and ask for His strength to make good choices.  Does this mean that I am perfect every day?  Not even close.  I've probably failed more days than I have succeeded.  But every day, I recommit.  Sometimes every hour.  I think about what I will be doing that day and plan my eating ahead of time.  I readjust when there are surprises.  There are no "I'll start again tomorrow" allowances or "I'll start again Monday" days.  It's an awareness of the potential that I could be taken over again by my flesh and start pursuing food instead of Jesus.  The potential is always there.  But so is Jesus.

2. I have to recognize that the portion God has given me is good.  I know how many calories it takes to feed my body to be able to do what I need to do.  That is enough to nourish my body and to enjoy food.  If that day includes a cookie or two and I am still within my limits, that is good.  If I don't get to exercise and am more limited, saying no to extra treats is good too.  God has given me some very clear boundaries and they are for my good.  He is not with-holding good things from me.  I struggle with the same thing in finances.  My portion is secure.  The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places.

So, what are my boundaries?

1. Stick to my calorie allotment every day for the rest of my life.  I have five exceptions...my birthday, anniversary, Mother's Day, Thanksgiving day, and Christmas.  I also have made the exception that fruits and veggies don't get counted.  So at the end of the day, if I have not done well, I don't have to starve.  I figure if I get fat on bananas and snow peas, then more power to me.

2. No second helpings except for vegetables and fruits.

3. No drinking pop (soda for you non-Okies) that I pay for.  This has helped me immensely financially too!

Are they easy?  No.  Are they for my good? Yes.  Will it ever be easy to stick to them?  Probably not.  Is God good and forgiving when I fail?  Always.  Does He give me everything I need to overcome?  Absolutely.

So, there you have it.  I hope that when you notice that I've lost weight, you see God's work in my life.  He could have left me where I was.

He didn't and I owe Him everything.

Losing Myself Part 2 - The Good

This post is a little uncomfortable to write because I hate sounding like I am patting myself on the back for my accomplishments.  The truth is my health is a gift from God and if this experience has taught me anything, it is to be grateful for what I have...even on the days I experience pain.

Speaking of pain, before I had back surgery, I lived on narcotics.  It was the only way to survive.  I am grateful for a successful surgery and recovery and for the progress I have made with my weight loss/strength gain because now, I can knock out the nerve pain with an ibuprofen.  And I really only need to do that about once a week or so.  I've learned it's all about stretching and staying loose through consistent exercise.

But I'll back up....Get it?  "BACK up"?  Never mind. Jordan would be rolling his eyes at me right now.

I was post-surgery and after a brief couple of great weeks, I started experiencing continued pain.  I was scared and frustrated that my entire life could consist of this level of pain.  I also began to fear the degenerated discs I have and the possibility of future surgeries, even more invasive than what I had gone through.

I went to Physical Therapy where I learned how to stretch well.  I learned what muscles lay on top of the damaged nerve and how to take care of them.  I learned safe ways to do things like pick up things off the ground without bending.  I finally started to feel better and a tad more confident about my future.

I also learned how weak I was...Everything that supports my spine (from my rear to my abs) was pathetic and possibly non-existent.  So, I decided to go back to the gym.

Thankfully, my gym had recently opened a Kids Club, so I dragged two year old Jordan and little baby Marcus and left them with the sweet workers and hoped for the best.  We had some rough days, but now, my kids walk in there like they own the place.  They pretty much do...we are there four days a week!

I went straight to my safe place...the elliptical in the dark Cardio Cinema room.  I focused on the formula...counting my calorie intake and burning what I needed to.  But I knew I had to add strength training at some point...I just wanted to get skinnier and stronger before I tried it!

Well, somehow I ended up trying the Body Pump class and God blessed me with an instructor who had the exact same surgery I did 16 years before me!  She was able to walk me through the lifts and help me modify to meet my needs.  I started with the teeny tiny weights and have gone to this class for 2 1/2 years and am much stronger.  In fact, I'm the strongest I've ever been in my life...and this includes the teenage sports-playing years.  In those days of yore, I only did pushups if my coach yelled at me to.  I kind of wish I could go back and show 17 year old me how to do a real pushup, but I guess it's not possible. :)

So, for me, strength training is the key.  Low weight, a million reps over years has resulted in much more muscle tone than if I had pushed myself hard and injured myself.  I've even been able to build enough that I can do SOME higher impact things like box jumps...mostly because I can control the landing.

I still have many limitations...I always joke that the teachers should pay me to be the "Modify Girl" if they ever make a video.  I can't (and won't) do dead lifts except with an empty bar.  No jumping jacks or double-leg jump roping.  My abs are still needing a lot of work, especially the ones responsible for twisting because when I try to twist intentionally, they fight back.  They have been trained so well to never twist, that they resist.

But, the biggest blessing of the whole "getting stronger" experience other than the getting stronger and being a much more fun and health mom part...is my gym family.  God has blessed me with many teachers, trainers, and fellow exercisers who push me, but understand my limitations and don't make me feel like I have to keep up.  They even caution me at times to rethink something...which competitive me doesn't always enjoy.  ("Hey Carol, you know if you squat with no weight, you can actually do the whole movement which will work the muscles you want to work instead of not really doing anything beneficial at all...")  But they have blessed me beyond measure by their support!

OK, so there's the secret to my weight loss...strength training and burning more calories than I took in.  You might be saying "Duh! That's not a secret".  You're right.  It's not.  Actually, I've left one thing out...the real key to everything.

Remember in Part 1?  That whole issue of slavery to food?  Well, going to the gym didn't fix that problem.  The problem of sin having a hold on my life.  The problem of self-control.  The really fierce, ugly battle I had to fight with sin.  I'll share more about that in Part 3.  That's not only the key to my weight loss, but my victory I've had over that master in my life.  It's a battle I continue to fight every day and will fight every day for the rest of my life.

By the way, I'm a nicer and more fun Mom now!  I am not in pain all of the time, so I'm less cranky.  And when the boys want to do something active...I can say "Yes!  I'll chase you all over the OU campus!" when they want to ride their bikes.

"Every good gift is from above..."

If you missed part one...

https://livinglindley.blogspot.com/2017/10/losing-myself-part-1-bad.html

Losing Myself Part 1 - The Bad

I have lost 30 pounds in 3 years.  It does not sound like a huge number, especially in a Biggest Loser world where we see people drop a hundred pounds in a few months on a reality show where they are completely isolated from their family, their temptations, their reality...but that's another story, right?  I have had many people ask me how I did it.  So, I thought I would share my journey to this point...but it's a road I will walk for the rest of my life.  It's not a quick fix.  It's been about much more than diet and exercise. 

So, in this first post, I'll go back to where I was 3 years ago...weighing over 200 pounds and in horrific, debilitating pain from a ruptured disc.  Waiting for surgery to "fix" it so I could "fix" myself.  But that wasn't really the beginning.

My food issues have existed a lot longer than my weight issues have existed.  My weight issues began to happen towards the end of college and only increased in severity as I got older. My food issues boil down to this: I. Love. Food.  I do...I love it.  I love to eat good food.  I love to eat dessert.  I love fudge at Christmas time.  I love chocolate chip cookies.  I love to go to a Mexican restaurant and devour chips and queso.  And then devour a chimichanga.  And then a sopapilla.  I love Chinese buffets and the plethora of deliciousness there.  I love Italian restaurants and eating more than my share of bread dipped in olive oil.  And then finishing off pasta with some sort of cheesy white sauce.  I love food.

It probably sounds crazy to confess this, because who doesn't love delicious food?  But seriously, I LOVE food.  More than I should.  I remember one time, I told Blake "I think I'm a slave to food."  He agreed, which of course immediately hurt my feelings.  I knew I was in a bad place by the time I turned 30 and was mom of two little bitty boys.  But I didn't know what to do about it.

So I just tried harder.  I've been on so many diets.  In college, I did the South Beach Diet.  I lost six pounds in two weeks.  It was amazing.  And then I gained it back plus more because I was so hungry.  I tried Weight Watchers.  Nope.  I tried the "Don't Eat Until You Are Really Hungry" diet.  Fail.  I tried counting calories.  Cue obnoxious buzzer sound.  I couldn't overcome my gluttony.  So, I would quit until I moved up a size of pants again.  And I'd try something else.

What about exercise?  Yes.  I did some.  I played 3 sports in high school which hid my food problem.  I worked out some in college, but not enough to fully hide that Freshman Fifteen.  I still played soccer on a rec team, so I burned some calories.  But the weight kept adding up in small amounts.  I started running and training for a 5K.  I'm competitive so I got into it for a while.

In my late 20's, I had a group of other moms who did a points challenge.  I finally found something that motivated me and got me to the gym and to control what I ate.  I earned points and hopefully money at the end of each challenge so I did what I needed to do and lost a noticeable amount of weight.  It was accountability but I depended completely on other people and what they did to be successful.  When they dropped out of the challenge, I stopped.

And then I got pregnant.  I was super excited and didn't gain a ton because I was sick.  I stopped exercising because I was sick and had a two year old.  I had a baby and thought "Alright, now I'm going to lose this and be the fit and trim mom I've always wanted to be."

Cue the back pain.  And the MRI.  The PT.  The meetings with the neurosurgeon.  The surgery.  The recovery.  And the limitations.  No running.  No treadmills on inclines.  No bending at the waist.  No twisting.  No jumping.  No high impact workout.  Did I mentioned degenerated discs to worry about?  And I still loved food.

Thankfully, God did not leave me in a hopeless place.  He took me on a journey of learning to be strong and disciplined and a journey of dying to myself.  I'll save that for part 2.

Update on Life

So, I've been drowning for a couple of years now.  Life is super busy when you have two little guys.  They are absolute joys, but boy can they keep me on my toes!  "On my toes" is not somewhere that I am comfortable.  I love routine.  I don't love change.  I am an introvert so all of the talking (and hostage negotiations) just wear my out.  Jordan has a few special struggles that we work through.  I feel like I thriving right now.   But it's taking me every second of my day and every ounce of energy I have.  Sometimes at the beginning of the day, I think about all the hours and tasks left and thing, "How am I going to do this?"  And most days at the end of the day, I think about all of the hours and tasks completed and all of the surprises and fits and fights and mashed fingers and hurt feelings...and I think "How did I do that?"  The answer is simple:  It's all God's grace.  Seriously.  He is so good to me and to my kids to give us everything we need.

So an update on where the boys are...

Jordan is almost 5 (what????).  He is in Pre-K and is loving it.  And I love watching him learn.  I am so grateful that we are doing school at home because I get sad thinking about all of the growth I see, even from day to day...I would miss that!  School at home is great for his needs.  We break it into 4-5 ten to fifteen minute segments in the day...(Reading aloud, hand-writing, art, Bible time, and his favorite...ABC Mouse on the computer).  I structure those segments around things that help him meet his sensory and routine needs (gym, time with friends, playing at the park, free time alone, swinging on the tree branches in the back yard...and gymnastics!).  Every day is a little different but we kick off the day every morning by watching the morning news together, eating breakfast and making our to-do list.  He needs to know that to expect and the day is so much smoother with it!

He is a smart kid.  I know everyone says that, but he is so observant and remembers everything.  He tells me things all of the time that shock me.  I feel like it's a big practical joke...that Blake tells Jordan things that happened from his baby days and he repeats.  But nope.  Not a joke.  He remembers...or at least remembers the stories.  So, needless to say, if he can focus, he excels at learning.  For example: it was Halloween time and the word BOO was everywhere.  He asked what it said and I showed him B + OO...and then he saw ZOO a few days later and read it.  His brain is so amazing.  It's a privilege to spend time with him every day.

Marcus is two (what???).  He is about the easiest, sweetest two year old I know.  He is so sweet.  He talks all day.  He does everything Jordan does.  I love hearing his language develop.  It is so much earlier than Jordan did.  And he is smart, too!  Today, I heard him count to ten.  I know he doesn't understand the concept of numbers, but he hears it enough during the day so he's memorized it.  I'm sure he will learn so much from hanging around while we do school.

The funniest thing about Marcus is that he is gigantic...and barely two!  So, he talks like a caveman.  And looks like a three year old.  People ask him questions and he says one word or just stares.  And I explain, "He just turned two.  He's a giant!"  Another great thing about Marcus is his obsession with his OU had.  He wears it every day.  Every day.  Sometimes he sleeps in it.  If we're not leaving the house, he puts it on.  It's so cute and so funny.  He is a bright spot in our days every day.  No one loves people like Marcus does.  He's a precious gift.

So, one last update and maybe I'll blog sometime before a year and a half passes by!  The entire time when Marcus was a baby, we knew we wanted to adopt again.  So after last Christmas, we started the paperwork.  We've gotten all the way through the paperwork and are officially a "waiting family".  However, something has changed in our hearts.  We both feel God telling us that now is not the time.  For me, that means I need to make my peace with just having two children. (JUST is a funny word considering there were years that I pleaded with God to give me JUST one!).  We both wanted more than two, but we are drowning.  We are drowning financially, which is not a big deal.  But add that to the business of life and the amount of effort and time we give to Jordan...and yes, I'm drowning.  We adopted him and that means we give him our best.  And adding another kid would not allow us to give him our best.

One week ago, we suspended our adoption.  It was sad, but filled with so much peace.  It wasn't a decision we took lightly, but we know it's right.  I feel like without the stress and pressure of knowing we could get "the call" any day, I can give even more of myself to these precious boys who are a gift.  I don't understand why God would lead us towards adoption and then tell us to stop, but trusting and obeying has brought peace.  So here we are.  A family of four and very happy about it.

The Big One

Dear Marcus,

Happy Birthday!  I cannot believe you are one.  This past year has gone by so fast and I just want to stop time.  But I'm glad that I can't, because I would have stopped it a year ago and missed out on the special little boy that you are.  Every stage of this past year has been wonderful.  You were a pretty easy baby, but even when things haven't been easy (the spit-up days, the "don't-leave-me-alone" days)...well, your sweet spirit just makes everything better.

You are the  perfect bend of sweet and wild.  You are patient and kind and gentle.  And yet, you are the first one to start a wrestling match or climb up on the couch and fall on your head.  (Thankfully, you've learned not to fall on your head, so that makes life easier!)  You are smart and silly and love to be with people.

You are not as much of a snuggler as Jordan is in the morning, but you make up for it throughout the day.  If someone is holding you, within a few minutes you will just lay your head on their shoulder.  Even if it is the briefest moment, that little gesture just makes my heart want to explode.  And you are sweet to just about everyone who will hold you.  You love people.

Your two favorite people: Your Dad and your brother.  Both of those guys just make your day.  When Dad comes home, he can't walk  by you without picking you up or you will follow him crying.  You will stay in his arms all day if he would let you.  You can't get enough of him.  And Jordan makes you giggle and laugh and all you want to do all day is follow him around and play with him.  He doesn't always enjoy that part of being a brother, but he loves you.  Your Dad and I get so much joy from seeing you two love each other.  A couple of days ago, while we were on a walk, Jordan reached over and held your hand.  It is such a wonderful thing to see you two grow closer.

You are a precious gift from God and I hope you always realize that.  You are miraculous, not just in how you came into this world, but the way you've made it a better place, even in just one year!  You are loved by so many and most importantly, you are loved by Him.  He created you just the way you are...and I am so thankful to have you as my son.  I wish I could find better words to let you know just how loved you are!

I love you, buddy.  Welcome to year #2!

Mom

 

You love your birthday presents!