On this day last year, I went into labour.  It was an average day on most accounts.  I was eight days overdue and feeling a bit frantic to be done with pregnancy.  I was so frantic, in fact, that I told my mom (via phone conversation) that they could expect a phone call at 3 in the morning telling them to pack their bags, rent a hotel room, and get over here because I would be in labour! 

The first contraction hit me at 10:30 that evening.  It was real.  It was big.  It hurt.  And then my body gave me other undeniable signs that things were happening! 

I didn't want to bother my parents in the very beginning stages, but when 4.5 hours had passed and the contractions grew in intensity and frequency, I just couldn't help giving them a call. 

It was 3:00 on the dot.

three

Three - can you believe it?  THREE days until my baby turns one. Tomorrow I will most likely be rather nostalgic as I think about going into labour (at 10:30 at night) and beginning that whole painful, long, and beautiful process that brought us our son. 

Also, here's a reminder that's meant more for me than for anyone else:

Today is the Lord's Day.  It's not a day in which you complete the necessary requirements of a Sunday so that you can feel good and complete in your Christian life.  No, it's so much more than that.  It's a day where we honour God our Father for His greatness - not just in our lives, but through all of time (and beyond!)  We thank Him for His Spirit's work in our lives - His Holy Spirit that has opened our eyes to the Christ of Calvary.  We thank Christ for giving His life in exchange for ours.  We praise God for the crown of grace He has placed on the heads of His children, and for the white robes of righteousness that cover our sin.  Out of love - not to prove ourselves - should we serve Him.  His death and resurrection have won the victory, and now our lives are His.  

May God be glorified - today and every day! 

about that MCC trip...

Yes, I told you about my fantastic finds at our local MCC thrift store, but I did not mention the little event that occurred as a result of that trip.  Oh, and it's such a good one!

Picture this: I walk into the (stale) little building carrying a 25 pound almost-one-year-old baby on my hip.  My jacket is bulging from the 19 week old baby in my abdomen.  I huff and puff as I attempt to hold on to my squirmy child with one aching arm and peruse the used books with the other.  Two little elderly ladies speaking German are sitting at a table to one side, watching me in this gong show.

I find my three little diamonds in the rough and hastily plop them on the checkout counter.  Remembering the milk glass vases I had seen earlier (for FIVE CENTS), I rush off to grab them to complete my purchase.

It must have been then, that brief moment that I was absent from the counter, that the ladies made their move.

When I finally got back into the car, having gratefully deposited my little heft in his throne, I hastily proceeded to peruse my $1.60 purchase.

"What are these?" I ask, seeing two small booklets - which I had not purchased - hidden beneath the books and vases.  I pull them out, fearing I had unwittingly stolen from a thrift store, which would have been the epitome of moral shame.  

"Can I Really Trust the Bible?" and "How To Be A Healthy Christian" scream out at me from the dated covers.  I am greatly confused.  I pause a moment to think about what in my conduct had warranted the giving of these tracts - for tracts they were.

Baby on hip?  I was patient with him.  Baby in tummy?  Nothing wrong with that.  What I was wearing?  Modest and neat.  What on earth made them think...

... No wedding band.

I stifle a laugh as I grasp the reality of the situation.  My wedding bands have long since found a home in my jewelry box, thanks to the seemingly permanent expansion of my knuckles (o, unpredictability, thy name is pregnancy).  For the most part, I've never felt like anyone has misinterpreted my marital status, most of the errands I run being completed with the companionship of my husband.  Even though I've lived in the community of MacG for almost five years, I am too infrequently in town to become one of those faces that everyone recognizes.  Again, I laugh.

I don't begrudge the actions of those two ladies.  All I can say for them is that they were being faithful to what they believed true.  I must say, though, that I've never been personally witnessed to before, and I've certainly never found it this comical.

four

I heart thrift stores

I bought some pretty books today!

They are collections of "Best Loved Books" published through Readers Digest, condensed for young readers.

They are in mint condition and smell like old books (love).

They has pictures.

And, best of all, they cost $1.50 altogether.

Someone is very interested in them.

five

six

Also, this:

seven

eight

lunch

My lunch:

Judah's lunch:

He was a little unsure

and gave it a few thoughtful sniffs

before digging in.

nine

ten

eleven

twelve

Hold the phone!

Judah is turning ONE in 12 days! 

To herald this momentous occasion, I would like to present you with
a picture a day - from birth to now.  

Starting with this one:

thank God for broom trees

There's been a lot floating around in my head lately.  So much to process, so much to translate into action.  My husband and I did indeed go to my parents' church to take part of their annual Bible conference last weekend, which is what has inspired most of the introspection throughout the week.

After I had graduated from high school, I had no definite sense of calling in my life.  No course of study could draw my attention, no college held sway over my preferences.  I toyed with the idea of enrolling myself in the Faculty of Education at the U of R, but the unreasonable price which this would cost (for one such as I) always brought me back to reality.  Instead of stepping out into the unknown, I found myself signed up to be an intern at a family-run rescue mission.  In no way do I wish to belittle my time there or the experience I gained, but the truth is that I could not fit in with the program, my position, and the course load which I had signed up for.

Again, I found myself searching for direction.  It was in this time of uncertainty that God divinely led me to consider attending Millar College of the Bible.  It was the community my dad grew up in, the college he attended, and where he met my mother.  As many connections as I seemed to have with the place, I realized that going there would in no way be the "safe" road.  I looked at the money I had (which had always been the deciding factor in making decisions before), and found that I had just enough - combined with the generous aid of my parents, of course.  Ignoring every inclination to wait it out until I was one new face amongst 70, I applied to begin in the spring semester of 2008 - and was warmly accepted.

This change of scenery marked an even bigger change in my >20 years of life.  I was so burnt-out, so desperate for a place where I could simply learn and not be looked to for guidance.  I needed a broom tree  - and that is exactly what God provided.

Side note: God knows all of our needs before we even put them into words, and He knows how to best care for His sheep. He is Jehovah-Jireh - my Provider. 

The most important thing about my season at Millar was the care and authority with which the professors taught the word of God.  They knew what they were presenting to the students could in no way be tainted by their own natures - for they knew that God would hold them accountable for every idle word spoken.  I needed to be taught, not asked questions and left to decide on my own what I think the Bible is "trying" to say.

By the way, the Bible doesn't "try" to say anything.  It speaks Truth, pure and unadulterated.  All we must do is decide whether we will submit and obey or oppose and rebel, the former bringing freedom and the latter, death.  

It was one of those professors that spoke at last weekend's conference.  As I listened - this time having swapped an uncomfortable desk for an equally uncomfortable pew, and this time feeling the kicks of my growing baby inside of me - I was transported back to those "broom tree" days.  I was, not unkindly, reminded that THIS BOOK IN YOUR HANDS IS THE VERY WORD OF GOD.  Overwhelmed at my lack of belief over the past year, I soaked in all the teaching that Professor Armstrong was compelled to give.

That weekend has left me desiring for more - insatiably more - of God's word.  Prof. Armstrong's passion is the Torah - the first five books of the Bible.  He expounded on the presence of Jesus Christ in those foundational books.  He showed that the Bible is indeed beyond man's comprehension.  It's complexities are unmatched.  He proved that the Bible shows how God is infinite, all knowing, ever-present, all powerful - that He is above all.

The trouble with all of this conviction lies within my day-to-day life.  I came home with my heart crying, "more!  More!" and was met with "the dishes need to be done, the laundry folded, and that's that!"  I found myself at once overwhelmed by the monotony that is this life of "see need, meet need, repeat".  This whole week has been one giant pendulum of emotions.  One moment I am rejoicing in the glorious salvation with which I am unworthy to be acquainted, and the next I fear that if I don't get out of the house, I'll lose my sanity and wound those I love.

I'm beginning to see that, once again, I am in need of direction - even if that direction leads me no where but my own home.  I am "burnt out" on my own devices.  At the same time, I know God has provided a "broom tree" for Joey and myself - that of the body of Christ.  We have nearly weekly fellowship with close friends of ours, who have been sharpening us and spurring us on in our faith.  We are hearing the word of God preached with gravity, passion, and love every Sunday.  My husband is involved with a group of men who study the word of God every Wednesday morning - and I'm seeing the results of this form of "mentorship" in his life.  Yes, we are resting under the shade of the broom tree.  Now it is our turn to wait on God for direction.

Here's what I'm praying for: that God would rekindle the passion I once felt for simply being a wife and a mom - except, this time, based on the grace that has been extended to me through the sacrifice of His Son, Jesus Christ.  I'm weary and feel utterly useless here at home.  I know from Scripture that God will provide, and I must wait on Him to both convict me and place a burning passion within my heart.

.....

Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, “So may the gods do to me and more also, if I do not make your life as the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.” Then he was afraid, and he arose and ran for his life and came to Beersheba, which belongs to Judah, and left his servant there. 

But he himself went a day's journey into the wilderness and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he asked that he might die, saying, “It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers.” 

And he lay down and slept under a broom tree. And behold, an angel touched him and said to him, “Arise and eat.” And he looked, and behold, there was at his head a cake baked on hot stones and a jar of water. And he ate and drank and lay down again. And the angel of the LORD came again a second time and touched him and said, “Arise and eat, for the journey is too great for you.” And he arose and ate and drank, and went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb, the mount of God. 

(1 Kings 19:1-8 ESV)

wordless wednesday

lies I tell myself

And these? were taken on the same day.

it's a good look for him

grace and truth

I collapse on the couch, completely overwhelmed by the day.  It's not even noon yet, and I've already said words I regret, thought thoughts I shouldn't think, and given looks that negate any smile I might be able to plaster on my face.  I feel somehow cheated by the world today.  I knew I needed an early nap almost as soon as I got up, but my child's refusal to comply to this need has me playing the role of a martyr with all the animation I can muster.

The little nap boycotter is fussy - no surprise here.  I can't handle it.  My brain feels like it's going to explode from the high-pitched whine constantly being directed my way.  What do you want me to do, child?  I don't know what you want!  I don't know how to fix this!  Failure is a word that's being whispered into every thought, every action, every look.  I believe that not only have I failed, but that I can only continue to fail.  And so I make no effort to succeed.

I grudgingly reach over and pick my Bible off the shelf.  What a joke, I laugh.  Here, Lord!  I've failed You in every sense of the word today, but, see?  I'm still devoted!  My hypocrisy is nauseating.  My gut-instinct is to run away and wait for a moment when I'm feeling a little more, you know, spiritual.  Because there will be one of those moments, right?  Those moments where I'm good enough to talk to God?  I'm sure that will come soon.

The heavy, gold-leafed book falls open on my lap.  I stifle a sob.  Something inside me has lurched into my chest.  I feel my eyes welling up with tears.  God, oh God!  This is too much!  Hide Your face from me.  I can't bear Your gaze.  The funny thing is, I haven't even begun to read.  All the same, the reality of my sin has hit me like a massive wall of water.  One simple question burns in a hole in my heart: Why do I run?

I feel like Eve.  Naked and knowing it.  Instantly separate from God and painfully aware of it.  I am undone, whispers my soul.  Oh, God, you have undone me.  In what do I have confidence?  My attempts at righteousness are like a putrid garment, stinking in the nostrils of the Most High God.  I call myself a Christian, but fail miserably at living up to that standard.  I can't be what I think I am.  I must be mistaken.  There is no way I can bear the name of the Saviour. 

The pages of the word of God are turned in silent despair.  I pass by the psalmist David, the prophet Ezekiel, the Saviour Jesus.  My desire to read is nonexistent.  The flapping stops suddenly at the book of Ephesians.  I'm unwilling to comprehend anything, but my eyes glance down the page nonetheless.  I see a lot of in Christ's underlined in the passage, a revelation I supposedly received ages ago and promptly forgot.  I know not for what reason I have emphasized that simple, repeated phrase.  Still, I read on.  My half-hearted skimming comes to a stop when I stumble upon this verse:

For by grace you have been saved through faith: and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not by works, so that no one may boast (2:8-9).

And then it hits me: I'm not good enough.  I can't be good enough.  I WILL NEVER be good enough - except this time, the thought is not death.  That's what God's been saying all along, through His word, through my despair, through His Son.

You're saved by grace, Andrea, not by what you do.  It is by my merit that I call you my own.  You run and hide because you've sinned, but I want you to come to me. I want you to throw yourself fully on my grace and know that, yes, Jesus did indeed pay it all.  You don't owe your all to me in order to earn that grace. On the contrary, because I have pardoned you, your all to me you will give.  

The Law came and, although it was perfect, brought only death.  Man could not comprehend the attitude and purpose behind the Law and used it only as a means of reaching heaven.  Jesus Christ brought grace and truth to the Law.  He kept the Law - every facet of it - and instead of keeping that for his own, He has imputed that righteousness to every person that has understanding of his sin and throws himself completely on His grace for salvation.  The truth is that only God's grace can save us.  It is a gift that only He gives.

In my desire to run away from God when I felt "not good enough", I was not living by grace.  I was entrapping myself in the old "doing good = receiving good" cycle.  In that attitude, my failure would lead only to death.  But I praise God from the very depths of my being for pointing me, once again, to His grace.  I praise Him for forgiving me for the mess I've made of the morning and the lack of love I've shown my child.  I praise Him and weep at the thought of Him hanging on the cross for my sins.  How many times must I come to this realization?  It seems it must be almost a daily occurrence.  My sin nature is still ever-present within me, tempting me to trust in myself to "make it".

In writing this very personal account, I pray that you may also experience the freedom of God's grace.  Only He can give it, and you must see your own fallen state before you realize that grace is the only thing that saves.  I pray that you will know what it means to be truly forgiven.

living on the wild side

We made a spur of the moment decision today!  I've always been the sort of person that must PLAN everything (down to the very last minute), so this is kind of cutting-edge for me.  There's a Bible conference happening over at my parents' church this weekend that we would love to go to.  Back around Christmas we were presented with the idea of going, but we said "February is the busiest month!" and wrote it off.  I was reminded about the conference today and found that this weekend actually is an opportune time to go.  I immediately resolved to petition my husband about it, making him promise to not say "no" right away.  As we were talking about the matter, my Mom phoned and invited us.  It helped to get that extra little nudge and didn't take much petitioning in the end.  We're looking forward to a weekend of great teaching and seeing my parents!  I'm so glad we live only four hours away from them.

In other news, I developed a nasty cough over the last two hours.  There's been this weird congestion thing in my chest for a very long time (at least two months) that has never grown into anything bigger.  Well, now it's something bigger.  The downside of colds while pregnant is NO DRUGS. The upside is that without placebos my body heals faster!  I'd rather be in more pain and get rid of the sickness sooner than prolong it just so I don't feel as miserable.

Right now I'm doing my best to ignore my baby who is fussing for no apparent reason.  Between five and seven is always kind of a touch-and-go time of day.  I wish I wasn't doing these two hours solo tonight.  But, alas, my husband is meeting with some of the camp's board members, and it also happens to be the day we're presenting said board with a very important letter.  I will not begrudge his absence.

Well, I'm thinking it's time for a big ol' mug of peppermint tea.

of speculation and attitude

I admit that it's a bit late, but here's my 16 week picture.

Some Many have speculated that this could be a multiple pregnancy.  At first I wasn't so sure that I liked that observation, because it's the socially acceptable way to say, "you look really big!".   I've thought and prayed about it a lot, though, because I've felt this need to be prepared if twins (or more) should be the case.

If I look at the "statistics" of our life, I get rather uneasy about the idea.

• Judah would only be about 17 months old, which is a bit too young for him to take responsibility (just a "bit").  
• There is no certainty that we would be in a bigger house by then, and that's a bit of a necessity.* 
• I'm due in summer, which is a very busy season for Joey (and everyone else) at camp.  
• I've had one brand new baby and can hardly imagine having two at once. 

*We live in >450 square feet and our "bedroom" is also our living room. Case in point. 

Like I said, the statistics are rather worrisome. 

But, as it has always been in my life, whenever I make logical decisions based upon my own understanding, the Holy Spirit always convicts me of not putting faith in Sovereign God.  He has much better statistics:

• He's sovereign over everything - both immanent and transcendent
• He's omniscient - He knows all that can and will happen
• He's omnipotent - He's all powerful
• He's omnipresent - He'll never abandon me because He's caught up in "more important" affairs

When I reflect on God's character, all of my reasons seem to fade in comparison to Almighty God.  The reality of the matter is that, yes, it would be hectic for the first while.  Hectic, but not unbearable.  I can ask for strength from God daily, and I don't have to trust merely in my own efforts.  God's also put many people around us that (I'm sure) would be willing to support us.  When my emotions fail me, I have a Refuge to run to.  When my strength fails, He will be my strength.

Really, this post is founded in speculation.  We have no way of knowing if there is more than one inside of me until our mid-way ultrasound.  I'm going to the city for a midwife appointment today, and it's entirely possible that she will agree with all of those who suspect more than one.  I'm confident that, either way, this is God's plan for us and it always has been.  He has brought the issue to our notice so that we can pray and study and ultimately discern which attitude He intends to use to bring Himself glory. 

---

UPDATE:

This is definitely not a multiple pregnancy.  Last week's ultrasound confirmed that.  Blame muscle memory, blame the 15 pounds of baby weight from the Cuteness, but do not suspect more than one!

in which I admit that this is hard

**I stumbled upon this entry in my journal this morning, and found that what I wrote still resonates with me.  It shows that I struggle.  Lots.  But it also reminds me that God is faithful.** 

November 4, 2010

I have a lot of apprehension about mothering two small children and keeping this house in order.  Somewhere along the way to adulthood I picked up this (untrue and unfair) belief that being a stay-at-home-mom was like taking the "easy way out" of life.  I suppose I thought that because I don't ever remember a time when my own mother didn't have a job.  Everything she did at home had to come from her exhausted evening self.  I reasoned that women who stay at home all day have all the time they need to "perfect" their dwellings.  In believing such things, I was truly naive.

I have discovered the difficulties of motivating myself to do things when I'm not getting paid for it, when my job security doesn't rest on whether or not I show up for work.  I don't have the choice.  My work continues 24/7.  I don't need to be awake, dressed, or even prepared for it.  It is thrust upon me at all times. I can't take sick days, and I definitely can't store up "holidays" for myself.  It's who I am rather than just what I do. 

This has been the biggest antithesis to my desire to excel in where God has placed me - this feeling of inescapable obligation.  I hate that I even use that word.  But, sad as it may seem, it is oftentimes true.  

This is precisely why I fear having two children: I am hopelessly flawed in mothering merely one child.  How can I expect to care for two?

I wonder if it is even right of me to compare "one baby vs. two".  Is it possible that a woman can't ever be prepared for motherhood, whether it is her first child or her fifth?  Does she become a mother anew with every single pregnancy, labour, and birth?  I hope to God that it is, because that would mean that I have no other option but to rest fully in His provision for our family, just as we did when Judah was born.

In a way, it's actually freeing to know that I will never have it all together, that I will never find it easy to live a SAHM life.  It will (and has already) endear other women who struggle with the same thing to my heart.  I won't be left trapped in my own fantasies that, one day, I will reach perfection.

all kinds of weird

Good morning, everyone.  I'd like to start out by saying that the internet is a pretty cool thing.  So cool that people from Canada, US, Thailand, Japan, the United Kingdom, Russia, the Philippines, Austria, Germany, and France can all read my blog.  Thanks, Google Analytics, and "hello!" in various languages. :)

This has been the hardest month of pregnancy I have ever experienced.  I knew going into this the second time that the amazingly easy pregnancy I had with the Cuteness was not likely to be repeated, but I still (foolishly) hoped that would be the case.  This time I'm plagued with nausea and STRONG aversions to food of all sorts.  This time the heartburn has already started and I'm dreading that it will soon be strong enough to keep me awake at night.  This time I've suffered from severe back pain, had the stomach flu, and been poisoned by food (don't. ask.).  This time the exhaustion has hit me harder in the second trimester.  Pregnancy is all kinds of weird.  Even so, I'm enjoying every minute of being pregnant.  This whole bringing forth life thing is quite the privilege, really.

Judah is changing so much every day, and I'm, ahem, expanding to match.  Now when I see pictures of new little babies on Facebook, I can joyfully anticipate my own little new baby cuddles - ETA July 20.  I'm settling into this idea that we're a well-established family and not just newlyweds who are trying to navigate life together.  There are four (FOUR!) people in this house that we have to make good decisions for now!

My little Nutmeg is getting closer to being "half-baked".  There are only 24 (22? 25?) weeks left to this pregnancy!  I can't wait until our first ultrasound - whenever it is.  We're just waiting on a little white envelope with the words "Come on this day at this time" and "fill your bladder!" inside.  I'm really tempted to find out the gender this time, but the city in which we are being cared for has many, many rules against giving out that information.  So, if we REALLY want to know, we have to go to Winnipeg and pay $100.  Not. Likely.  It's actually kind of a relief to have money be the deciding factor in something like this.

It's almost eight o'clock, my stomach is growly, and I haven't had my coffee yet.  In other words, bye for now!

he was curious about Daddy's robe

so we let him try it on.