Heart beats
Blood pumps
Life flows
in the mundane
buh bum buh bum buh bm
Like the runner's feet on the pavement
It's not to the quick
Bristle by, busy, get 'er done
Don't want to miss out on any fun
It's the hearts that race that fail
Seek steady
Seek Simple
Seek slow and go low
Don't listen to "You deserve
a break
a dessert
a little more."
A heart just keeps beating until it's done.
You keep the pace until it's run.
Keep step with the Spirit and strength will grow.
Find the rhythm and the life will flow.

6 Flavors to Take Your Oatmeal From Blah to BAM

Fall is finally wafting in! There's nothing like warming up from the inside out with a hot breakfast before you walk out the door into that fall chill. 

HA!

Who am I kidding? I don't walk out the door until I have fed and bathed three little people and myself...so basically I'm not going anywhere until lunchtime. 

But, a hot breakfast is still nice. Oatmeal is affordable, healthy, and you can pop a bowl in the microwave for a hot meal faster than you can say "2-for-$2 at the Drive-Thru".

Unfortunately, oatmeal also has the potential of tasting like BLAH mush. 

But have no fear, a little of this and a pinch of that will have your tummy full and your taste buds dancing. Here are my 6 favorite way to jazz up those oats. 

The Base:

For microwave oatmeal, I (following the directions on the canister) add 1/2 cup oats, 3/4 cup water,  1/4 cup milk, and a dash of salt to a bowl. Microwave for 1 1/2 minutes. 

Add a sprinkle of cinnamon and a drizzle of honey to sweeten it.

The Flavor:

Creamy Coconut Lime

Top oatmeal with flaked coconut, a dollop of coconut milk (if you refrigerate the stuff in the can it will become thick like whipped cream), and a squeeze of lime.

S'more

Before cooking oats, stir in 1 heaping tsp of cocoa powder. Give it a good stir after it's cooked. Crumble graham crackers over it and drop in a few marshmallows.

Peachy Keen

Slice a whole fresh peach into the bowl and add a splash of vanilla.

Berry Nutty

Cook oatmeal with part water and part almond milk. Stir in fresh strawberries or blueberries and almond slivers (or graham crackers like I did in this photo). 

The Classic

Stir in sliced apple, pecans, raisins, and craisins. 

The Christmas Cookie

You know those boxes of assorted cookies you get (or hope to get) around Christmas? Yup, even those taste good in oatmeal. Hey, if it's between Christmas and New Years you are allowed to have cookies for breakfast.

And don't forget the sure-fire way to get your child to eat any flavor of oatmeal....

sprinkles!!

I am married to an advocate.

My husband's job in court is to take up the cause of another, to represent his client, to fight for them. Of all the people in the world he has fought for, he has always fought the hardest for me.

But sometimes in marriage you feel like you are on opposite sides of the courtroom.

I felt like that a few weeks ago. This time it wasn't a single argument or issue. It was the little things. I had been memorizing "Likewise, wives, be subject to your husbands...." (1 Peter 3) and trying to really put it into practice. I had been trying to love my husband and please him and submit to his judgement in all the small things. After just a couple of days I found myself struggling.

God, I am the only girl in this family. I am the only person here who cares about the things that I care about. If I don't put out there what I want and fight for it, won't I always be overlooked? Will I lose even all the little things I care about? I will lose all the little things and the boys won't even know. If I don't fight for myself, who will? 

I sat and prayed and wrestled until I heard truth answer me.

Jessica, you have an advocate.  

I have someone on my team. The Holy Spirit is my advocate. I have a helper who intercedes for me, guides me, and teaches me. There is someone on my team pleading my cause for me. I don't have to fight. I just have to listen and follow.

Sometimes in a case Brandon has to ask his client to give on the small things in order to win the important things. We have to listen to the Holy Spirit and we have to submit because sometimes we need to give up all the small things to win the big thing---the heart of our husband and the heart of the Lord.

If it is important, I have an advocate and he will fight for me and I will have it. I will trust Him to know what is important and what needs to be let go and I will trust His timing. I am free to fight for my husband because I have an advocate who will fight for me.

How to Win an Argument

(This one was written when I was pregnant with Joseph and we were making some medical decisions in regard to his heart and the predicted surgery he would need.)

Last night Brandon and I sat close on the couch, our warm bodies touching, but feeling so far away. That same old disagreement had stepped into the room like an unwanted visitor--squeezing between us onto the couch, settling down, kicking up muddy shoes, and begging for attention. I wonder how after 5 years of marriage that same fat disagreement still finds ways to squeeze back into our front door. Why do we have to do this again? And why right now? I felt too tired to wrestle with the impossible task of making a decision together when we had both already decided differently. With all our words spilled out uselessly in the air, we called it a night and brushed our teeth and crawled into bed and I hoped I could just sleep forever.

Sleep is mostly what I have wanted to do this year. Pregnancy and surgeries and two little boys and too much sickness can wear a body out just a bit. This year has left me exhausted and bare and no one knows it better than this man curled up next to me in bed. He is the one who married me when we wanted to share an adventure together and make a difference in the world and leave humanity a little better than it was when we found it. But it’s funny how when humanity comes to you in the form of a little human who demands you drop everything else to change diapers in the middle of the night, you realize just how much you always cared more about yourself than the rest of humanity. This year brought out so many of the ugly things in me—the selfishness, the anger, the bitterness—things I didn’t even know were there before. Brandon is the one who has seen the worst of it all. I ponder that and I know the right thing to do now—to love, to submit, to force my heart into agreement with this man who has loved me so well. But fear kept me silent a little longer. Suddenly I feel a strong arm wrapping around me and Brandon speaks, “I decided I want to agree with you. I don’t want you to worry about it anymore.”

With those two sentences, the fear that was gripping me about my unborn child and his health fled. Brandon had reminded me what Jesus is like. As the head of the house, Brandon had every right to make the final call. Instead he lowered himself and told me that he cared more about me than about being right. If he could love me so well, how much more would Jesus love us and lead us well and take care of this child I was so worried about? It suddenly didn't seem to matter now what decision we made.

It was going to be alright.

Perfect love really does cast out fear.  

Stay-at-war Mom

Stay-at-home moms
We are a ragtag army
Not the fittest, because we carried new life in our bodies
Not the finest, because 2 year olds don't believe in showers or fixing hair
Not the clean or the organized, because our homes are well lived in
But we are an army nonetheless.
Well loved, well led, and strong enough. 


We are at war to remember that this place is not our home. We are not staying here.

We cannot stay-at-home. We must stay-at-war. 

They label us homemakers, but Jesus is our homemaker. He is preparing a place for us--for our family. So why do we think we must make our place here?

Why do I fight ingratitude for the old furniture? for the mixmatched? for the well-loved and well-used? If keeping the old means someone else can have a Bible for the first time, then I will keep fighting and love this ratty old stuff and the empty walls. My God will provide all I need according to his riches and glory.

Why do I fight ingratitude for my time? How can I be unhappy when the weeds grow wild in the yard, when the floor stays unmopped, or when the undone projects wait in the garage? If those things undone mean that I have time with my Beloved and that other people are loved on, then I will keep fighting and love the undone.

Dinner will be late. The house will be dirty. The dreams will not all come true here, but my heart will fight and love for the one thing that matters to me. I am looking forward to a wedding day--to a bridegroom who has prepared a place for me. I will not be content until I am with Him, until His dreams are my dreams,  until His kingdom is my kingdom.

God, lead me into battle and give me strength to fight.

I want to fight by giving myself to the simple act of dying. I want to change diapers, make food, play tag, and fold laundry.  I want to surrender the big dreams for little service, like You gave up heaven for a cross to make me a home with You.

I want to fight by proclaiming Your love to the ones who don't know. I don't want to look past them or be too busy for them. I want to extend the invitation to them to be a part of my life without being embarrassed by the fact that I don't have it all together and, as I said, dinner will be late and the house will be dirty. You want them in your home, Jesus, so I want them in mine too.

I want to fight by loving my children well and by receiving all the children You want to give me. You said they are arrows. They will fight the future battles that are beyond my reach. They will go to war and go further than I. God, they just look like children to me, but they are warriors to You and You are making a home for them too.

I want to never lose sight of you, Jesus. I want to remember that home is not here. Home is the kingdom I'm fighting for here on the battleground.


I will be a stay-at-war mom until the battle is won and You take me home. 

Joseph's Birth Story

I woke up with no expectations on Joseph's due date, 3/13/13. Malakai was born a couple days past his due date. Caleb would have been born past his due date if I hadn’t been induced. The odds were against me, but hey, a girl can hope, right? My house was clean. I was sleeping well at night. I felt great. I felt a little too great to be about to have a baby. I met a friend at ChickfilA for breakfast and they gave us free ice cream to celebrate due date day. If anything can console a pregnant woman who is still pregnant on her due date, it’s a ChickfilA icedream.

The rest of the day passed smoothly. No action. The rest of the week passed smoothly. No action. By the weekend I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable and Joseph was starting to feel a little lower and a little too squished. I think I lost my mucous plug on Sunday. 

Monday morning, Kai woke up with the stomach bug. We had 4 really "fun" days and then Caleb caught it too. Kai barely escaped going to the ER for fluids. We asked everyone to pray that Joseph would not arrive until the boys recovered. By Sunday, the last of Caleb’s symptoms were gone.

Sunday night I also started having contractions for the first time. At first I kept thinking Joseph was making some odd movements that were causing the sharp pain in my abdomen. You would think I would recognize a contraction after doing this twice already! I began to notice the pain was rhythmic—happening every 10 minutes. It started in just one spot, but it slowly wrapped around front to back and I realized I was having contractions. They continued all night—every 10 minutes. I went to bed and they were just strong enough to wake me up for a moment at their peak.

The next morning (Monday) was Brandon's birthday. He stayed home from work to help with the boys since I didn’t sleep well and suspected labor was beginning. All day long the contractions continued right on time—every 10 minutes. My appetite kept fluctuating between feeling starving and then feeling too nauseated to even think about food. In the afternoon, Brandon drove me to my appointment at the midwifery clinic. The contractions continued and I refused the midwives' many requests to check me for dilation—afraid they would find me too dilated and pressure me to check into the hospital too early. I get too impatient in the hospital. I wanted to labor at home. They set my induction for Wednesday if I didn't go into labor on my own by then. We went into Kroger on the way home to pick up some dinner and desert for Brandon's birthday. As we walked through the store the contractions were so intense I couldn't think about anything but getting back to the car to sit down and rest. We drove home and served up salad and hot dogs to the boys while Brandon opened his birthday gifts. All the while it was becoming less and less possible for me to focus on anything but the contractions. It was time to call in the grandparents.

Brandon got the boys ready for bed while I packed their bags. When Nana and Papa arrived to save the day and pick up the boys at 9:00, I was laying down and timing contractions about a minute apart every 5 minutes. Brandon was baking his birthday cookies in the kitchen. Through the night the contractions would space out to 10 minutes apart and then drop back to every 5 minutes if I moved. I kept thinking, "I have to rest. This is going to take a long time." By 3 am I couldn't lay down through the contractions anymore. I kept finding myself on my hands and knees rocking, then quickly changing because that made the pain so much more intense.

I felt so weary and birth still felt so far away. I kept reminding myself of the curse as though it were a promise, “In pain, you WILL bring forth children.” I would bring this baby forth! He was going to come out! And I clung to Isaiah 66:9, “'Shall I bring to the point of birth and not give delivery?' says the LORD.” No, of course not. I've done this before. I know the moment seems too far away, but God does give delivery!

Brandon realized I was out of bed and came in to find me complaining that I was too tired and I needed help and we should probably go to the hospital. He immediately jumped into coach mode and before I knew it I was settled on the couch eating chobani and an apple while watching a movie ( Fitzwilly-- an old Dick Van Dyke movie on netflix). He had his arm around me through every contraction while timing them for me.

I read on Ann Voskamp's blog that during labor she visualized herself as a big bag of sand. With every contraction she imagined the pain seeping down and out through her big toe like sand seeping out of a small hole in the bottom of the sand bag. That image worked for me so well and I focused on that through every contraction. I took long slow breaths.

By 8:00 am the contractions were about 4 minutes apart and very painful so we headed for the hospital. We called my mom on the way because she was going to attend the birth as well. We told her we'd call her back once we checked in and found out how close I was.

When we checked into the hospital at 9 am I was excited to see our nurse was a familiar face—our friend Marci from our old community group. She hooked me up to the monitor and my midwife commented on my nice contraction pattern—now every 3 minutes. Then there was this long silence. Just waiting. I couldn't stand the silence. I requested that they check me and I was 7 cm. Ugh. So close, but not close enough. I stalled at 7 cm for a couple hours during Caleb's birth. I couldn't take this painful waiting for hours more. Brandon kept asking if he should call my mom and I kept shaking my head, “No, I need you here”.

I got up to use the restroom. The walking made the contractions fall one right on top of the other. I asked Brandon, “Why am I doing this again? Why shouldn't I just get an epidural right now?” “Uhhhhhh.....”, he said. Oops. Guess I should have told him ahead of time why I wanted it natural this time. That's ok. I was complaining, but I remembered why. It was curiosity really. I wanted the experience. My friends who had natural childbirths not only chose to do it that way again, but they were passionate about birth. They would tell me that it was so painful it was like an out of body experience, but then they would choose to do it again. I didn't understand it. Also, the tribulation before Jesus returns is compared to labor pains. If He returns in my generation, I want that labor experience to hold on to and compare to. This was my chance if I could hang on a little longer. I would be disappointed later if I stopped now. Yolo!! You only labor once!
 (Ok, so I didn't think Yolo! while I was in labor, but now it will be stuck in your head during you next labor, won't i?t! bwaha)

I remembered the Bradley book my friend Joanne had lent me. I remembered reading the way I would feel during transition. It was normal to feel like, “I can't do this and I need help.”. I just needed to surrender to what was happening. That feeling just meant I was close. I was almost there.

I found myself on my hands and knees rocking again. It was so painful. My slow deep breaths turned into moans that I couldn't silence. I decided I would just keep moving and pressing into the pain and if nothing happened after an hour of that then I would call it quits and get the epidural. Our nurse stepped out of the room and told Brandon to press the call button if I felt the need to push. The next contraction came there on my hands and knees and then there it was--this crazy, unmistakable urge to push. It didn't matter that the nurse and midwife were out of the room because there was no way to not push!

Brandon pushed the button and the midwife rushed in. The next contraction came and I pushed and felt Joseph's entire little body move from the place it had been resting for 9 months. It was happening. Forget moaning, I was screaming now. I think as every contraction rolled in I cried, “No, I don't want to do this!” but I did and I was doing it. I couldn't believe I was about to hold my son. Somewhere in the pushing my water broke, but I really have no memory of it. I moved from hands and knees to squatting. I reached down and felt his head—almost there. A couple more pushes through the crazy burning and I couldn't believe I was looking down at this beautiful, blue squirmy baby. A second later he was in my arms. He was so blue. Fear crept in and I remembered the special care team that was there waiting to whisk him away if need be and the ultrasound specialist's words, “Oh, he WILL need surgery.” Then the sound I had waited to hear for so long flooded the room—this soft, beautiful baby cry touched my ears and color flooded Joseph's face. I was holding my third son in my arms. God had added to me another son. He had brought delivery.

The special care team was ushered out of the room (Thank you, Lord!!) and I was given precious time to hold my Joseph and nurse him before they took him away for an echocardiogram. He was here; he was in our arms; and he was perfect.

This Is Winning

When Caleb was sick before his first surgery, I found myself on the floor crying one day. I couldn't keep up with everything and I couldn't get my sick little baby to stop fussing and I dropped down and cried to God, "I just can't win!"

The Holy Spirit said strong and clearly, "This IS winning."

When you have given of yourself to the point that it hurts, that it's hard, that it feels like sacrifice, then you have learned how to really love.

When you let it hurt, keep giving it to Jesus, and keep doing the right thing no matter how difficult it feels, then you have begun to learn perseverance.

How will you ever know the God who does the impossible unless you decide to keep loving in a way that feels impossible?

How will you find out that His strength is made perfect in weakness unless you try doing something that takes more strength than you have?

When being a wife or mother hurts, is difficult, is too big a job for you...it doesn't mean you're losing. It is a reminder that you are running a race and you are running it to win. Keep going!