Silly Fun

It is Thursday and forever since I have posted anything.  And I am feeling punchy with no deep thoughts for the night.  So how about some fun photos instead.  Happy weekend- it can't come fast enough!

Our Story

I realize that many of you reading this know our story and don't need to read the details.
The whole story would take to long to tell so I will try to keep it brief.    November 11th, 2007, Paul and I mourned the early deliver of our sons, Jacob and Caden.  Jacob lived for 45 minutes and Caden lived for 30.  I was 21 and half weeks pregnant and we had absolutely no idea there was a problem.  We were devastated and grieved deeply.  This loss was felt even more deeply as we were told would not be able to have children as Paul had undergone chemotherapy five years earlier for stage 4 lymphoma.  So even getting pregnant was a miracle in itself.  We are happy to announce we are pregnant again, however this site was formed to keep you updated as we find ourselves on a another journey once again.

One Boy Vs. THE GIRLS

Everything about this makes me smile.

This is the classic story of "boy out-numbered"

Once upon a time there were two little girls.

Along comes the boy with a "smush"

The classic "smack"

With a good chewing out.

It's funny at first-

Until you are all alone. :( Sorry O.

Jump!

She’s a jumper.  Always has been.  Looking at these photos, one can’t but want to fling aside all duties and jump.  With unashamed abandon, she jumps as high as she can, giggling with glee.  She doesn’t care who watches or how loud her voice echoes.  What would it be like to do just like she?  To jump.  To be carefree- with no fear of what anyone will say.  To simply jump, bouncing until the laughter overtakes and a body falls flat.  So for the briefest moment, I toss aside all inhibitions and climb on the trampoline. A tedious first bounce leads to another and before long all hesitancy is gone and wild walloping jumps are a must.  Uncontrolled laughter bursts from within and for the smallest of moments the world stands still.  It is just a little girl and a grown woman jumping- jump after jump.  Giggle after giggle until exhaustion in all ways takes over and finally the jump is over.  Inhibitions creep back and real life covers the moment.     As I stumble off the trampoline, I find it is time to start doing more of this jumping thing.  To leave behind the daily chores and simply jump.  Jump into whatever takes life to the fullest.  Simply jump.  

Happy Mother's Day

To My Mom-  Thank you for everything- I now fully undertand how much you gave up for us.

These photos are from when she visited.  I am pretty sure that the flour you see flying never happened when I was little.  :)

Loving the Strong Willed Child at 4:00 a.m.

I recently read an article from a mother about her daughter.  It was actually a devotional so this is a glimpse of just how deep I was digging for inspiration on loving a very determined little girl.  Please don't misunderstand- I love my daughter deeply, I just don't always like the choices she makes.  :)  The short writing spoke of a mother praising her adult daughter for the very qualities she used to curse when she was little.  So the past few weeks, as we wrestle with so many behaviors, I have searched for the gift in the messy.  This is easier said then done, especially at four o'clock in the morning.

The last three nights have been a little rough around here.  Sickness has paved the way and left a grumpy, sleepless mother in the wake.  We have had countless sleep issues her in the Berry household but they don't have much to do with having a 3 month old.
The problems encompass the other child, who shall remain nameless, having trouble staying in bed.  So "she who shall not be named" appeared approximately at the bedside this morning at 4:00 a.m.  And by the side of the bed means, balancing on the side-board, looming, silently thumb sucking and clutching a dingy, limp blanket.

She is stealth.
She is silent.  

After a racing heart returns to normal, a sleepy mother stumbles down the hall dragging her daughter back to bed.  In between the jostling of three year old arms and legs, a voice is heard.  "My bed is wet."

What? 


 Wet?

Never. Has. This. Happened.

Dumbfounded, I screech to a halt and whip around.  What.  Your bed is wet?  Through matted 3 day old dirty hair a mumbled yes is heard.

Why? bounces off the walls a little loudly.

Her response- "because Daddy gave me too much milk."  Ha- poor man never stood a chance.  Rounding the corner of her room only brought more surprise.  The sheets were stripped clean of a wet soiled bed and placed neatly in her hamper.  A glance back at her brought even more disbelief as a new set of dry pajamas replaced the wet ones.  To be astounded by the fact that the strong willed, determined three year old not only changed herself but changed her bed as well.  A simple tuck in under the sheets was all that was needed.  The very thing that drives me crazy in every day life, bought her independence and the will to see a job to the end.  The only thing she needed was a hug good night.

GOOD NIGHT!  Good night.  Good night? 

Can I dare have hope that this phase of strong will and determination will some day bring forth a successful young woman who lets nothing stand in her way?  Will the very determination that drives this momma wild- bring tears to my eyes in the years to come?  I smile as I write this and continue to realize that life with this little girl- no matter how much I want to pull my hair out- will never be dull.  For now, a prayer will be said for the day a praise can be sung for the strong will and an embrace can encircle the determined heart.        

    

Happy Birthday Sweet Girl!

Audra celebrated her 3rd birthday on March 9th.  What fun we had.  I will let the photos speak for themselves. 

Loving the Messy

I have been forever changed by the past four years.  A journey of over 1,000 days has brought more pain, sorrow and redemption than I have ever known.  It is not something I want to repeat.  I do not relish digging through the deep, dark moments.   Slowly, the dark is finding light and I have been changed. 

Two years ago I stumbled upon the book 1,000 Gifts, by Ann Voskamp.  I opened the cover and began to drink up the words on the page.  After the first chapter I promptly slammed the book shut and with tears in my eyes placed it back on the shelf for another time.  The first chapter is pain.  It is sorrow. Too close to the center of my heart.  The time to dig deep into the messy places of the heart was not that day.  There is a time and place for that and it wasn’t then.  So the book stayed, on the shelf, cold and alone.  Kind of like my heart.  Last September rolls around and the imminent bed rest loomed over my head.  The first few weeks were painful and torturous as the memories of the last bed rest still shadowed my thoughts.  It became a struggle to stay flat.  It was darkness.  It was loneliness.  It was grief.  And so instead of fighting the tug to dig deep into the messy, I gave in and found 1,000 Gifts.  And my life was changed.  Maybe it was the way she writes, in broken sentences and the infamous fragment-my favorite way to write, with words tumbling over each other in a messy, fragmented mass of letters.  Pages and pages of Word documents underscored in green scribbles.  Perfect.  No worries of sentence structure, colon splices or run on sentences.  With each chapter the challenge become clear- find the gift in every moment.  Take the messy of life and search for the gift. Whether it take minutes or years, find the gift. 

“I am from the God of Redemption, who restores the years the locusts ate up, who writes new stories on pristine pages washed white with the blood of the Lamb-whose business is to work out all messes for glorious good.”

 “to restore the years of locusts” . . . to wipe away the tears . . . to laugh again . . .  to find new life . . . This is the promise that we only find a glimpse of in this life.  To “work out all messes for glorious good” . . . for good.  To find deep meaning in what comes after trauma, and crisis no matter the level.  To come to this place after a long journey only makes the end that much sweeter.  It is truth, it is real, it is solid this writing of new stories.  I find peace.  I find rest in knowing that there is a center to this madness. 

Here is to loving the messy.

And to finding the gift in all moments of life- even the messy ones.  

Warmth

May you experience warmth today . . .