I tried to bend over. My shoelaces felt like they were a mile away, and I sat back down on the couch, defeated. My sweet baby girl, who is no longer a baby, knelt down in front of me. Her own sneakers neatly tied, warm winter coat covering her little body. It was so chilly this morning. She deftly took my shoelaces in her pinkies and tied my shoes in her own special Betty way. Unique like her. Her helpful servant’s heart overflowed through her fingers to make a perfect bow. It was a soft moment in a rather rushed and not so gentle morning.
My day began around 3 o’clock this morning when a noise woke me up. Which in turn led my bladder to wake up and I shuffled out of bed to the bathroom. It’s a dangerous journey these days, down the hall and through the bathroom doors. As we’ve been painting baby Chip’s room, there are extra things tucked along the edges, making it very tricky for a balance-challenged-half-asleep-pregnant woman. Often I can fall right back asleep, but this morning my body felt VERY awake, despite the long day of painting before. I read for a little while, then dozed off right about when Matthew was getting up for work. The next thing I remember is being fully awakened by a phone call from Matthew, at work, to make sure I was awake. Only then did I remember hitting my snooze button. Oops. So, we had 45 minutes to ALL wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast, and pack lunches for their day at camp. Insert my shoes getting tied here, after an incredibly rushed and harried morning.
We did make it in time. After I dropped them off, I had the entire day alone. This is both therapeaudic and eery for me. To not talk to anyone, or hear my name being called for the thousandth time, can actually be a bit lonely. Right around 1 o’clock I somewhat lost it. I had many hopes and expectations for my day, and about the only thing I accomplished was putting away the groceries I got and washing the dishes from our incredibly crazy morning. Something about the water rushing over my hands, and the quiet of the house, made the tears fall freely.
There are other things at play, I’m sure. Something like pregnancy hormones, and all the changes going on in our family right now. For the past fourteen years, each and every pregnancy has been coupled together with major changes, as if having a baby isn’t change enough. Yet their births have been like exciting exclamation points, accentuating God’s blessing on our family. When we found out we were expecting mid-November, I knew God had something huge in store for us at the end of this year. We’re still unsure of what that is, but we feel the crescendo of God’s masterful handiwork, as November swiftly approaches. Stay tuned.
There’s something incredible about what we say to ourselves. I dare you to listen to yourself when you’re thinking. It’s incredibly enlightening. Do you say things to yourself that you would never allow someone to say to your child? Or to you? Changing negative thinking has totally transformed my life and is transforming the lives of our children.
Last month, I had the incredible privilege of flying out to Portland to visit my dear friend, April. We grew up together for a few years in the middle of Africa. Her house was just a shout away. In fact, we would often stand at the bottom of their hill and yell, “Do you have a roll of toilet paper we could borrow?!” Or “Do you have butter?!” You know, the essential things. This is probably one huge reason I love my neighbor, Jen, so much. I don’t think a week goes by without borrowing something from her… and it is often ONE egg, or TWO INCHES of butter, please. Having someone who loves you and doesn’t think any less of you because you fail to figure out just how many eggs you’ll need each week… on a weekly basis… is pretty grand.
We have had such fun dreaming together. He is such an encouragement to me every day. I don’t often feel what he sees, but I choose to believe him, because he’s never lied to me yet. We are so excited to see how the Lord is going to work out the details of our future. We sense His stirring in our lives and know He has something amazing in store.
And a hot mug of tea. 
Matthew comes downstairs, with his slippered feet shuffling across the kitchen to me. By now, everyone has emerged from their beds. 
He gives me a big kiss, which gets a full evaluation by our eager observers. “Eeew! That’s gross!” “Oh, man. They’re kissing on the lips!” “I’m just looking at my plate.” “How do you breathe for that long?!” “Doesn’t your air go into his nose?” Yep. It’s always preeetttty romantic having a running commentary while exchanging a kiss. But that’s okay. I love that he’s not ashamed to show how much he loves me in front of eager eyes.
Grow Old With Me 