Infamous

I always wondered what I’d do if I had a skinny baby.

Probably freak out just a little.

Slimness is not something that my kids “do.” At least during their first year of life. They are big at birth, and they just keep getting bigger. Rounder and rounder. Chubbier and chubbier with this great stuff called mother’s milk. Its not that they eat an extraordinary amount, its that, according to the doctors, I make pure whipping cream.

It never takes long before the infamous family double chin appears.

Doesn’t he wear it well? Oooh, I just love my little double chinned boy.

Can’t. Kiss. Him. Enough.

As I said. I love each one of my precious little sons.

And while there are many reasons I love my youngest son, I’d be remiss if I didn’t start by mentioning his cheeks.

Oh his sweet, round cute chubby little angelic little cheeks. I can’t. kiss. them. enough.

I love Noah for his little personality. I love how he talks in his own special way, often making attempts at deep manly voices, and changing things up with his high cheery greetings.

I love how he says Hello. It sounds like “Hey, Yo!” and all he needs is a snapping slap kind of greeting to go with it and he’d be down with the homeys. Love that. Love love love that about him.

I love that I’m his world. That he runs to me and shouts, “Mommy!!!” even if we’ve only been separated for a few moments. I love that he loves his Daddy too. And that his parents are his favorite people.

I love how he loves to read his train books. And that there is no possible way for me to be sitting on the floor without him plopping down on my lap with a book in hand.

I love that he’s learning how to pray and that his heart is being trained while it’s tender.

Thank you, Lord, for my baby. For my almost big boy. Thanks for my Noah.

Bedtime kisses

I was thinking last night, as I tucked the boys in bed, that bedtime kisses are such a precious way to end the day.

Often as we get ready for bed, I feel rushed and hurried, trying to get teeth brushed, clothes in the laundry and the last toys picked up before bowing our heads to pray together and sing a bedtime song.  I often feel an overwhelming desire to “just get them in bed already!!”

But you know, there is something about bedtime kisses that just makes the world stop.  The hurry, the rush, the fatigue… it stops.

And for a moment or two, or ten, we slow down. We breathe deep. And we enjoy those tender snuggles and kisses from our three little boys.

Isaiah likes to give 5 kisses and 5 hugs and likes to count them out as he gives them. It always makes me smile when I imagine him catching his breath and gasping for air in between kisses in order to shout: “One!” “Two!” “Three!” etc. My cheeks are always damp at the end… but its an endearing kind of dampness, the kind that fills me with happiness as I take in his warm breath and soft skin.

Joshua likes to give 2 kisses and 2 hugs. And he likes to divide the kisses between cheeks. He often grows distraught if he forgets to give each cheek an equal amount, and says things like, “Mommy!! I wanted to do two kisses on this side AND two kisses on that side so that they have the same ma‘mount.” And so we begin the kissing count down again, making sure each side receives the proper portion. I love being kissed so devotedly.

Noah is in on the act as well. He doesn’t count or measure his kisses, he just gives loud, wet smacks, and says “Mmmmmmah” as he does it. It’s so sweet it gives me shivers. Noah also makes sure to offer a few bedtime smackers to his brothers. He stands at the foot of the bunk-bed with arms stretched high, waiting to be lifted up to kiss his big brother on the top bunk. It melts my heart.

These bedtime kisses bring my day to such a precious close. I always leave the room, (as Nick sits down to read to them from a “chapter book” --currently the Chronicles of Narnia), with a smile on my kiss stained face.

Oh these boys and their sweet little kisses! Oh, may the day never come when they are too big to kiss their mama.

Or… too big for their mama to kiss them.

Because, I admit, I’m not the only one whose cheeks are covered in love. Truly, I cannot resist their round little cheeks, chubby little toes, and soft little hands and I smother my boys at least as many kisses as I receive.

Oh boy, I love it. And I’ll kiss them till the day I die.

God is good.

Faithfulness

It’s been an unusual week.

With some unexpected challenges and trials.

Problems we didn’t plan on encountering.

Heartaches we didn’t expect to feel.

But can I just still say that my husband is the most amazing man ever?

And that our great God is still my God?

Though the challenges have been there, He is still faithful and so are His promises.

“And we know that all things work together for good, to those who love the Lord, to those who are called according to his purpose.”

Long and Busy

As we readied for bed last night, my husband and I discussed our long busy day. Meetings. Errands. Paperwork. Phone calls. Soccer Tryouts. Bible Study. Most of our days lately have been just that:

Long and Busy.

Though long and busy, it's still been a good long and busy. (At least my schedule has been. Nick's... not so much). But even days packed with wonderful things are physically draining by nightfall, aren't they?

So when my husband asked, "What does your day look like tomorrow, Dear?" I was so pleasantly surprised by my own answer.

I envisioned the family room calendar. In my minds eye, I saw it filled with events and sidebar notes, pencil markings and scribblings in different colors. I saw book club and babysitting co-op. I saw 1st day of school and soccer practice. I saw dinner parties and play dates. Dentist appointments and swim lessons. And then, I saw Tuesday, August 9th.

And it was empty. Completely empty. A beautiful blank nothingness stared me in the face. Really? Could it be? A schedule free day in the midst of all the hustle and bustle?

In a voice of awe and delight, I told my husband about my empty schedule.



And oh boy, it's been beautiful. We've stayed home all day. Not a single errand, appointment, or meeting.

I played with the boys. I laughed and tickled and chased.
I cleaned. Oh, I cleaned so much and so efficiently-- it was amazing! I cleaned the hard to reach places that I usually avoid. I washed behind toilets and under cabinets. I Windexed mirrors. I dusted!!
And I cooked. And oh my goodness I cooked all the homemade wonders that I haven't had the time to cook in forever. I made granola! Hummus! Pesto!
And I planned. I pulled out all the schooling books and got busy for August 22nd (1st day of school). I organized events, and emailed participants. The ironic part is that a lot of my planning, was scheduling!! but oh well. It still felt so good.

I needed this day so very badly.

Now if only my husband could get a day like this from time to time--for now he has to live vicariously through me. And since we're two hearts that beat as one, it just might work.

Safe and Sound

He’s home!!

My husband, that is.

As a military family, lengthy separations are part of life. Training, classes, field exercises, deployments— anything from 2 days to 15 months, it’s all part of the job description. It’s common and even expected.

But the one thing it’s not?

It’s not easy.

It might only have been two weeks, but because we couldn’t call or email, it felt like twice as long.

But you know what? After two weeks apart, that felt twice as long… I’m certain I love him twice as much.

If that makes any sense.

In fact, he arrived back on base in the early afternoon, but with all the equipment inventory and recovery that occurs when you arrive home from living in tents for 2 weeks, he needed to stay at work till the late hours of the evening directing traffic and getting things cleaned up.

So do you know what this silly school girl did? She just couldn’t wait until the o’dark thirty hour when he’d be home-home. So she woke her sons up from their naps, packed a picnic lunch, made a “welcome home” sign and drove onto base to see her soldier for a few brief moments before he got back to work.

I know, I’m such a silly school girl.

 But I really couldn’t resist; knowing that he was back, that I could see, hear, and touch him... I couldn’t wait a few more hours. And neither could the boys.

Our reunion was happy and filled with “Hi Daddy’s” and “Look how big I am’s.” (See! the boys felt like it was longer than 2 weeks too) and many many “I love you’s.”

This military life may not be easy, but boy oh boy, the homecoming’s are always so sweet.

Selfless Service

I love American Soldiers.

Of course, I'm a bit biased because my husband happens to be one... and happens to be the strongest, bravest, best looking American Soldier out there... but even still, I love soldiers.

I have a real heart for them. I love talking with them, hearing their stories, laughing and listening... I love watching them work, seeing them parade, or jumping out of airplanes.

I admire the work that they do, their dedication and selfless service. I love their consideration for others... and for the lives of others... above and beyond their own.

Their selfless service amazes me.

And today was no exception.

I was driving onto our military base on the way to a friend's house, when I approached a traffic light. As I slowed down to a stop I realized that something was not right. There were cars stopped in all the wrong place. People slowly getting out of their vehicles. Looks of horror and concern across their faces.


There had been a terrible accident. A terrible terrible accident.


Multiple cars were crushed and in pieces. And one... one car was upside down in the bushes, flattened down to half its size.


As I gasped, I told my boys, "We need to pray. RIGHT. NOW."


For a split second, I paused; trying to decide whether I should get out too (I am a nurse, after all). I quickly noted the 10 or 12 people who had already gotten out of their vehicles. But they were all standing by their own cars on their phones. Though presumably calling 911, no one had stepped toward the rubble to check on the people inside.

In another split second, I saw something else. A vehicle filled with soldiers had stopped just a few cars ahead of me at the intersection. And before I knew it, a whole fleet of them jumped out of their vehicle and went running across the road.

Running fast. Running together. Running in a piece of beautiful Army green harmony in the middle of the discordant and chaotic scene.

It did not appear that they were trained medics, just a group of uniformed soldiers out on a drive. Yet they ran without hesitation. They ran quickly and authoritatively. They didn't wait. They didn't question. They didn't wonder. They knew what to do. They knew how to respond.

It didn't seem to matter whether it was a stranger in that car or not... whether it was an old man or a young woman; whether it was someone they knew or someone they'd never met. It didn't matter who it was. They knew they had a job to do. And they knew the Soldiers Ethos to never leave a fallen comrade.


I felt my eyes fill with tears as I saw them run and approach the vehicle. What a comfort it must have been to those trapped inside to see the men in uniform and to hear, "Here we are, and we're going to help." And to see that someone wasn't afraid in the face of fear itself... what a calming presence in the midst of tragedy!

It was comforting and calming to me too. And I wept. I was so thankful, so proud, so glad, for those dear soldiers. God bless them!!


When they do things like this, all the time, all around the world, how can you help but love them?

Lord, bless and protect our soldiers, as we have been blessed and protected by them.

Challenge

Last week, our Bible Study leader challenged the ladies' in our group to outwardly voice our love for our husbands. She urged us to guard our speech and to use our words to build up. Here's what she challenged us to:

1. For the next 30 days, purpose not to say anthing negative about your husband -- not to him, and not to anyone else about him.

2. Everyday for the next 30 days, express at least one thing you admire or appreciate about your husband. Say it to him and to someone else about him.

It has been a great challenge (especially now that my husband is away for an extended period without any way of contacting him--oh Army life, how I love you!!) but also a great encouragement to carry on.

I have a wonderful marriage. I have a husband who loves and supports me; who listens, counsels, and encourages; who cherishes me like Christ does the Church. And I love him back. I love him with my whole heart; he's my best friend, my right arm, my go-to guy, my knight in shining armor.  I am so very happy with him, and really, in every aspect of our relationship. I'm fulfilled and content. Complete. And it's a wonderful wonderful blessing from God alone.

But I know, that while my situation may not be that rare amongst my Christian friends, it is rare in the rest of the world. It's rare to have a happy committed relationship with your spouse. It's rare not to have any ongoing feuds or problem areas. It's rare not to argue and yell at each other. It's rare to have what I have. What we have.

But the truth is, it's easy to take it for granted.

Really? Is it?

But yes, yes it is. You get used to being this happy, this safe, this loved. And just think it's normal. But it's not.

It's not normal in this sinful world. And it's definitely not what sinful old Kathryn deserves.

But I have it. And oh boy, I have it in such a good and marvelous way, it makes me weep to think of taking it for granted. It cuts me down to my very core to think I have not daily thanked God for my spouse and our marriage. And to not have told my husband EVERY SINGLE DAY how much I love him and how wonderful he is.

So there you go. I'm taking on the challenge. And I urge you to pick it up too. Whether your relationship is in an upward spin or a downward spiral, whether it is just beginning, or hasn't yet begun, we all need challenges like this one.

Choose to build up your relationships. Choose kind words instead of negative ones. Choose to guard your tongue among others.  Choose to let your loves ones know how thankful you are.

Choose. Choose. Choose. Pray. Pray. Pray.


With faith in Christ, nothing will be impossible for you.

Hair

My son, Joshua, has the best "right-out-of-bed-in-the-morning" hair.

No mousse, gel, or hairspray needed, just pure and natural bedhead.

Even the hairstyling commercials and magazine covers can't get it to look this good.

Often times, when I see him in the morning, I'm not able to contain my laughter (can you?). And I'll say, "Josh, let's go look in the mirror" so that we can laugh and smile at it together. Afterall, it's good to learn to laugh at yourself. And often times, we end up laughing at my hair too.

Yep, he get's his wild hair genes from someone...

Anyway, this particular morning, I took him to the bathroom mirror and said, "Joshua, look at this wild wonderful hair of yours. It's beautiful! And do you know what? God made it this wild and wonderful way. God knows each one of your hairs, he know's the number of them, he knows the direction that they are pointing this morning. God know's all things."

Josh smiled deeply and fluffed his hair.

Then I said, "And do you know what else, my dear Joshua? God cares for each one of these hairs on your head. And if he cares and knows each one of your wild and crazy strands of hair, how much more, does He know and love you!?!"

 Matthew 10:29-30

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

It was a sweet moment of laughter and meditation together. Not only was it another chance to share God's Word, but also an opportunity to demonstrate that God's word is not just for our evening family devotions, or Sunday at church-- it's something that should permeate every thought, action, and yes, even every reflection in the mirror.

Home

I've been away for the last 3 weeks; traveling and vacationing to the best of my ability.

It's been great.

We headed cross country to the West Coast and enjoyed every minute of our much needed break. We saw grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and every other relative you can think of. We saw old friends, new friends, college friends, and church friends. We saw the sights. We saw the Pacific Ocean. We saw (and felt) rain, cooler weather, and a thermometer reading that was less than 70.

It was wonderful.

But I'm so very glad to be home.

From the very moment we walked in the front door, all the weight of saying goodbye and leaving loved ones, all the challenges of living in someone elses house or hotel, all the stress of travel and lack of sleep-- it lifted. It disappated. It was gone. We were home.

We relaxed. We let our hair down. We sighed long deep sighs of... well... of home.

The boys, while they loved every doting minute with our relatives, sighed long deep sighs too. They ran around collecting favorite toys and books that they had missed. Isaiah hugged his pillow. Joshua climbed in bed and sucked his thumb. Noah smooshed his little face into his bed sheets. And they all just smiled. And sighed. Wonderful deep sighs of home.

There's nothing quite like home.

While we breathed deep and took in our humble abode, I prayed that we would remember the reason home feels so good. It's not about our stuff. It's not about our beds or pillows, or about toys or swing sets... or even about having a spare set of clothes when everything you packed is dirty.

It's about the life that is lived here. About the memories that are made here. About family. About friendship. About love. And most importantly, about God and His love towards us. We love our home because our home is filled with His love.

Our beds are not just the places we sleep, they are the places we pray and give thanks to God for another day. The living room couch is not just a comfy place to sit, it's the spot where sweet little boys snuggle up for a story. The dinner table is not just where we eat, it's where we meet with God as a family, where we read, pray and sing to our Savior.

Home is where we really live. Where we are our real selves. Where, by God's grace, we can share our true emotions, where we can laugh and cry, display joy and sorry...where we can repent and forgive. Home is where we learn and grow. Where we train, discipline, nuture, and build relationships.

Home is not about the house, about the stuff, about the leather living room set I've been dreaming about, it's about God and His work in our family.

Thank you, Lord, for our home.

A much belated

birthday greeting to my dear husband.

Man, do I love my man.

He’s been part of my life for so long, it’s hard to imagine life without him. In fact, I do my best not to imagine life without him…because it always makes me cry when I do.

Nicholas James, I love you. You mean the world to me. Thank you for being you, for leading our home in godliness, for raising our children in the Lord, for being my perfect soul mate…and loving me as Christ loves the church.

Thank you for choosing me to be your wife. Thank you for eating the leftovers so I don’t have to. Thank you for  frequently lending me your listening ear—I hope you can still hear when you’re 90. Thank you for being my best friend and for being that iron that sharpens iron. Thank you for picking up Starbucks on the way home and for always kissing me at the door.

Thank you also, for humoring me when I asked you to blow out 30 candles.

After all, you only turn 30 once.

Crawling

I came across these older pictures on my camera and nearly wept about how fast things change.

These are the very last pictures I have of Noah crawling.







Oh dear me, the crawling phase is such a precious precious phase of life. And it passes so quickly. For my crawler is a walker.

Thank you, Lord for my little boy, for his sturdy knees for crawling.

And his wobbly legs for walking. How I love this not-so-babyish baby of mine.

Love

 

We went to the park multiple times this week. The weather is perhaps as perfect as it gets here in the South so we’re taking advantage before the blistering summer heat kicks in.

Though humid, it hasn’t been more than 85 degrees and during each park trip there has been a pleasant cooling breeze ruffling through a hair.

As I said, it’s been just about perfect.

On one particular trip to the park, I took my 3 year old Joshua up to the bathroom. He’d been doing his little potty dance on the playground equipment and I was afraid he was going to do the unmentionable next to a nearby tree… so I called him and he cheerfully obeyed

We walked together, down the path, to the park restrooms. Josh prancing along beside me, sliding his feet in the dust.

Then he reached up and slid his hand into mine. I gave it a squeeze and thought how much I love this little boy. And then Joshua looked up at me and said,

“Mom, you’re my best friend.”

Squeezing back a tear, I knelt down and circled my arms around him and said, “I love you, my Joshua”

As he hugged me back, he said

“And I love you, my Mommy”

 

It just made my heart melt.

One Year Old

 

My dear little Noah turned one this weekend.

A whole year old. I know it can be so boring to hear a mom blog on and on about how time flies and how fast they grow.

But can I just say, I don’t know where the time went and can’t believe how fast he grew.

One year old, really??

But yes, here he is, in all his sweetness, chowing down on his first birthday cake.

Despite the challenges and exhaustion that accompanied this first year, I admit without hesitation, that I loved every minute of it.

And oh boy, I really did. I mean really. I just loved it.

I think I must have kissed these sweet little cheeks a million times; each little kiss a burst of joy and gladness between him and I. Truly, being a parent has brought me more pleasure than I ever could have imagined. God is so good.

This little cake covered ball of cuteness just makes my heart sing.

Finisher

For some reason my boys love to "finish off" a box of cereal. They love to get the last bowl, even if it's mostly full of crumbs.

This morning, both Isaiah and Josh had the delight of finishing off a box of cereal.

"Mom," Isaiah says, "I'm the finisher! And Joshua's the finisher too."

"And Mom..." he asks between bites, "does that mean that we are like Christ?"

A deep question for before breakfast! But being the brilliant mom that I am, I mentally reviewed every Scripture verse I knew about finishers and landed on the verse he was thinking of. So we talked about it together.

"Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Heb 12:1-2

One of those moments

Yesterday, I had one of those moments.

You know, the kind of moment where you are just trying to snap a couple of sweet pictures in the backyard… when all of a sudden you start thinking about what you are doing, who you are capturing, and the amazing beauty of it all.

Yes, one of those moments.

A simple photo shoot went from an outward task to an inward reflection. And before I knew it, there were tears in my eyes as I began to truly notice the sweet little faces, the precious round cheeks, the shouts of laughter, and the mischievous grins… and the wonderment that they are mine. That they were given to me from God’s good hand.




When you see those faces, no wonder I started crying, right? Or am I just entirely too biased?

I admit that I have always been a crier and if you read any of my blog posts you’ll see this happens to me frequently. From my earliest childhood days, till my advanced young age of 28, I have shed countless tears. Most of those tears from joy and gladness, and comparatively so very few from frustration or sorrow. God has been so good to me. I am blessed beyond measure, beyond description, beyond anything I could ask or think.  Thank you, Lord, for my children.

“Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD,
         The fruit of the womb is a reward.
Like arrows in the hand of a warrior,
         So are the children of one’s youth.
Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them.”

Psalm 127: 3-5

Thankful Thursday

Thankful Thursday: Brotherly Love

My dear little boys seem to love each other more every day. Their faces light up in each other's presence. Joyful greetings are shouted, whether coded in baby babble, or clear 4 year old speech. Smiles spread across their mouths and laughter echos through the house. I'm so thankful for moments like these ones.

Sure, there are times of fighting, crying, arguing... sometimes more than I'd care to admit. Our sinful natures are present from the get-go, and even the young ones struggle to put themselves and their desires first.

My prayer then, for my children, as well as for myself is that we would learn to imitate Christ and the wondrous love He displayed for sinners like us. I'm so thankful for Christ's completed work on the cross, and for the perfect example of brotherly love.

1 Peter 4:8, "Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins."

John 15:13, "Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends."



Bad Hair Day

While I was talking with my husband on the phone, I looked down at our youngest son, Noah, and started laughing. I couldn't help it.

I said "I think Noah is having a bad hair day"

My husband laughed, but quickly denied it. "Baby's don't have bad hair day's, Dear," he replied.

We laughed together; the thought did seem quite absurd.

But then I took another look at Noah and thought... I beg to differ.

At least a bad hair day never looked so cute.

Absence makes the heart

grow fonder.

I think I told myself that precious line every day while Nick and I long-distance-dated. And then again during every deployment, training cycle, and separation we've had since we got married.

It's something I'll always hold onto and believe with all my heart. When you truly love someone...with an undying, unwavering, unconditional, Christ-like love...absence makes the heart grow fonder. Not only do you learn to treasure every moment together, because of how many you spend apart, but I think you also develop a deepened level of thankfulness, appreciation, and yearning for each other after undergoing separation.

Isn't it true that when your spouse is away, you realize how much they do and did while they were home? Things that you may ordinarily take for granted? Like filling up the gas tank, or changing a hard to reach light bulb?

And even more so, doesn't it make you realize how precious it is to snuggle up to someone as you talk about your day? Or to be able to lock eyes with one another in pride as you hear your child recite his Bible verse without prompting? Or to have the joy of cooking a gourmet meal and seeing him gobble it up without complaint? Or having someone strong and brave in a house that creaks and groans in the night? Or even just the sound of a calm and steady voice as he reads the boys a goodnight story? No one reads a bedtime book quite like my Nick.

I love him more each day.

To top it off, last week, my dear husband gave me yet another reason to grow fond of him while we are apart. And they came in pink, red, and yellow:

Heartaches

Last night, as I snuggled with my 3rd born son, my heart was filled with love and emotion. It was a dear moment of closeness; feeling his soft skin and sweet baby smell. I held him tight to my chest; treasuring the moment in all it's fullness. Is it not, one of life's most precious unions: a mother and child?

In my motherness, I thought of the life he has ahead of him. Laughing with glee while running through the sprinkler. Scoring a soccer goal for his team. Tassels waving in the wind as he graduates from college.

I admit, I also thought of life's challenges and hardships. My heart ached as I imagined him facing  disappointments and trials; of being bullied or pressured or feeling unsure of himself.  I felt myself worrying about the struggles he may endure, losing a loved one or experiencing real tragedy.

My heart ached. I was filled with a desire to just keep him close and safe and warm. It hurt to think of him encountering the world with all its horrors and harms. I wanted him to grow secure and protected under the shadow of my wings.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I could barely contain the emotion of watching my precious babe bearing the brunt of our sinful world. 

While I silently wept, the Lord in his mercy reminded me of the hope we have in Him. While He never promises an easy or carefree life, He does promise to be with us.

As always, when I lose sight of Christ the world feels overwhelming, but then, as I dwell on the Lord and His mercy and grace, I feel a calm knowing that whatever comes my way, or my child's way, God is sovereign. He foreordains whatsoever comes to pass. What a cherished thought to remember that I am in Christ. I am kept safe and secure under the shadow of His wings.

Though I had reached a certain peace and solitude, I found my heart still aching. This time it ached for something deeper, better, and indeed, more important than safety from any earthly trials or sadness-- my heart ached for my son to know the peace that passes all understanding, for him to know the Savior. Oh that he may never walk a day apart from the Lord and be able to encounter any trial or discomfort knowing he rests in Christ alone.

My heart now yearns with a plea and prayer for God's greatest gift for my son: salvation.

May this always be our prayer for our children. Not that they would merely grow safe and strong, but that they may know Jesus as the Way, the Truth, and the Life.