I’ve been asked lately about the belly pics.  About why I haven’t posted them and what I look like and how big I *really* am with this little son of mine.  I don’t remember exactly how I was feeling with Jackson at this point in pregnancy, but from what I do recall, I certainly didn’t quite feel this…well, great.  Pregnancy has a beautiful pace this time around, although admittedly the second one does fly across the calendar much faster than the first.  While son #2 is spinning in there, I’m busy planning play dates and baking cookies with son #1 (and, probably unrecommended by anyone sane, jumping on our new trampoline).  It’s a very different–and comparably neglectful–way to experience creating a human being.

But, let’s be honest, I’m not doing the creating. God is mightily at work in this little boy’s life, and He seemed to have gotten my  memo that I preferred this pregnancy to be more tolerable for me.  It is.  Despite the splashy, splotchy face that has returned and the other symptoms I don’t necessarily appreciate, I’m focusing much more on the fact that I’m managing–and even thriving–much better compared to my first go-round.  My body is changing, the baby is kicking, our family is transforming…and at the same time, life is just moving on as normal. That is refreshing.

And as a picture-taker, Facebook commenter, blogger, documenting creative-type…why am I not posting the precious weekly pictures with arrows and signs and thumbs ups? I think those can be overboard (although, of course, not by my own adorable friends). And I honestly focus more on continuing to raise Jackson well than I do on the swirly guy in there.  I can’t wait for him to be here.  I’m madly in love with him. But I also have stuff to get done, a life to live, and time to soak up with my first little treasure before I’m officially introduced to the second.

What I can say about this second baby is that I’m crazy about him already.  I could eat my words later, but I already sense that this little man is just easier. And even if that’s not true, he seems easier because of where I am now.  He’s gotten himself on a spin cycle. That is, he has scheduled sleep and awake time that is dependable for us both.  He doesn’t need *too* much room in my body; just enough to keep us both happy.  He surprises me just enough to remind me he’s there with kicks and jabs that even feel tender and sweet. (I’m sure I’ll feel differently in two months when he’s lodged in my rib cage, punching me with his imaginary hulk gloves).   He isn’t requiring all of me, but just enough to remind me of selfless love.  I already know he’s the perfect second child for us, and he’s perfectly, divinely intended to be in our family.

I’d love to post this appreciation, this sweet recognition that I love this baby more than life itself, with pictures of knitted blankets, sewn burp clothes, onesies with homemade ties, and a nursery that is coming along in cute little stages. But I don’t have time for that.  I’ll eventually sit at my sewing machine and make a stack of bibs in excited preparation. Ultimately though, I don’t feel like I have the space to nest and dwell on this last trimester. So I don’t really take belly pics. And for the ones that have been taken (all 2 of them)…I usually get distracted by dinner plans or a demanding time-out session with Jack to notice the tenderness of a rounded belly, springing forth with new life.

Tonight, though, I was asked again. And since my little son was compromising his dependable schedule and keeping me awake, we snapped some self-portraits, trying to quickly capture the essence of this stage while also keeping the photos from highlighting the fact that I’m wearing Josh’s pajama pants to bed, my make-up is off, and my hair is no longer loose and wavy, but rather in a wild knot.

Nevertheless, here is (who will probably be) Oliver Michael Bishop, kicking mom at 6 months pregnant:

I adore every inch of him, even as inches aren’t my favorite measuring tool right now.  And maybe I’ll find a slot of time before he arrives to capture at least one more leg of this journey as our worlds prepare to change–yet again–forever and for the better.

Jen Hatmaker is my new best friend.  It’s just a shame we’ve never met. But when someone writes a book as candid, honest, and charged with personality as she does, it feels like every time I read it, we’re on the couch together laughing out loud and discussing our own overlapping issues. You’ve most likely heard of her book “7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess.” (If not, get with it!) It’s a book that’s spawned a revolution among Christians to consider our insurmountable intake of and obsession with the following: clothes, shopping, waste, food, possessions, media, and stress.  And people are doing something about it.  The Hatmakers take each issue and focus on it for a single month, building a life around addressing each of these dangerous idols.  For the “clothes” month, she used every opportunity to give away her family’s piles of unneeded clothing while only wearing 7 items for 30 days.  For “food”, she limited herself to eating only seven foods for a month (probably one of the most challenging of them all).  Her creative approach to every issue is touching, convicting, hilarious.  And every time she closes on one issue, you’re left thinking about the fact that compared to most of the world, we’re actually hoarders.

I’ve written so many times about our simplification strategies. (Annoyingly, it seems that’s all I write about these days!)  Our efforts around here to try something new, implement an idea, construct self-improvement plans….they can feel endless.  It’s amazing how little we knew about living a solid, simple, responsible lifestyle in our twenties (only three months before I leave year 29 in the dust).  And it’s even more amazing how little we actually valued this lifestyle, even as Christians.

For me, the danger of this movement lies in the reality that I’ll take any excuse to organize and simplify (except for finances…I like to keep those loose and complicated).  It’s my personality to be project-oriented, busy, working.  Especially during these years of stay-at-home-motherhood, I take out my sense of loss on these projects thinking, “If this is my new job, I’m going to prove myself and work really hard”.  On days where I’d especially love to be lecturing, editing, and lesson-planning, I usually tackle a big mess around here, like sweeping and organizing our entire garage, gutting a closet, rearranging a room, mowing the lawn–all of which I’ve done this week.  I like to think that accountability is important to me (it’s really not). And I also like to think that this part of my personality–the go-getter–is a strength of mine (it’s often not) used for God’s glory (it’s usually for my own).  It can be used for the glory of God, for the cultivation of our oneness with Him.  That’s what Jen Hatmaker makes so clear in her book.  But as I’m considering what the Bishop’s version of 7 should be, I find myself getting giddy about the self-glorification I will find in more completed home projects.

It’s amazing how many “good” things we can do with our lives while also entirely missing the point of relationship with God through obedience.  The slightest veer off the narrow path can lead us so far away from Jesus.  It’s an interesting time to read this book, as I’m officially in the “nesting” stage with baby number two. (My poor, hard-working husband comes home almost daily with a new to-do list because I’m incapable of carrying out my spontaneous–yet heroic–tasks without his help). It IS good to clean, organize, prepare, and simplify.  But only if I’m not continuing the cycle of replacing everything I get rid of with something more practical or desirable.  The mind games that accompany even the most humble servanthood can spoil every good deed intended for God’s glory.

If you’ve read this book, I’d love to hear how you reacted and what you changed.  Josh and I are both geared up to make some changes, putting ourselves possibly through a similar experiment as the Hatmakers.  That is, until the tension of discipline creates an opportunity to compromise.  We will need accountability for duration because we are pros at starting well-intentioned projects or ideas, only to allow other ideas to take precedence.  But, nonetheless, we’re both impacted by this book and by the God that inspired such an experiment for the sake of holiness, not happiness.

Hats off to the Hatmakers and to everyone who joined their movement! I love what Jen wrote in the chapter on media:

“The power of the church has always been in its many, many parts. In a culture of hero worship and conspicuous rainmakers, this concept struggles to emerge, but the story of God’s people comprises a billion little moments when an average believer pressed on, carried through, stepped up.  In the quantity of ordinary obedience, the kingdom truly advances.”

If you’re interested in ways to challenge the Christ-likeness of your life, grab a copy, dive in, and test yourself like the rest of us, building up the Kingdom one obedient sacrifice at a time.

As I rolled out of bed this morning, I felt such a relief knowing that God created today to be new.  It’s no longer yesterday (thank goodness!).  The earth is a bit farther around the sun, and the air I’m breathing is not the same air I breathed the day before.  Mercy is new, and every morning we get the chance for a do-over.

Praise the Lord for this.  Josh had his weekly coffee date early this morning, so I didn’t see him; but, undoubtedly he woke with a similar refreshment.  Yesterday beat the tar out of us.  For me, it was supposed to be a day full of unexpected accomplishment and list-checking.  I have breaking points when I just go haywire on our house.  In the Fall, I walk around the house some random night with a big bin and just start dumping every pair of sandals and flip flops scattered all over the house. I follow this by the dust-buster and an evening of sorting through the shoes that stay and the shoes that are shipped to Goodwill.  In the winter, I feel so cooped up and find myself a few times getting so *sick* of the condition of the attic that I bury myself in the mess, coming up to breathe every hour or so until I can at least walk through it.  Then I do the same thing to the basement. My closets receive the same brutal treatment, and so does every pile of junk or stack of papers. (Funny how I just got the idea to organize the pile of picture frames that’s cluttering the shelf in my front closet). You’d think because of these manic episodes, our house would be one of order and at least have the appearance of precision.  On the contrary.  I don’t know how or why, but Josh and I have the ability to be gross and messy.  To keep order in our lives takes more effort than it does for some, whether it’s a necessary routine, a checkbook, or a functional sock drawer.  We have to re-check our systems every few months, sometimes taking bombs to them and just starting–yet again–from scratch.

And every once in a while, when we’re trimming and pruning our lifestyle, we realize there are deep, ugly roots that are still present.  Really deep. Really ugly.  All this time, with the meal planning, the cleaning, the disciplining, the working, the prioritizing we’ve done the past several years to make our little life together glorious to God…it all seems to have been harvested in really rocky soil.  So rocky, in fact, that we’ve got to pull the roots out, interrupting the seemingly peaceful, put-together existence we’d been maintaining.  We got a bit of bad financial news (probably inappropriate to discuss details here) that reminded us of the foolishness behind us, the years where being irresponsible didn’t seem to have that big of a price.  It’s difficult to see our progress (much less focus on it!) when we’re shoveling deep to uproot the consequences of old habits.

Last night, we both had important commitments that we canceled to stay home, be together, and work through the pain of realizing we’re not fully grown-ups yet.  I was supposed to attend one of my 4-week sessions of Jill Tanis’ Family Food Revolution course, another effort of mine to make of our lives healthier.  Josh was supposed to attend the *amazing* Rend Collective Experiment/Francis Chan event at Central Wesleyan Church.  We would have both been in our element, searching for soul food and coming up filled up.  Instead, we were here, being responsible and sifting through paperwork while making a plan for betterment.

But before Josh got home from work and we collapsed together into this mess…I needed another project to let out my shoe-collecting, attic-combusting desire for control.  In the Spring, our yard becomes my target as I see how both winter and negligence have left the outside of our home shabby. Our to-do list for the Spring this year includes power washing, building, sanding, painting, and tilling.  I hope we get around to the big projects eventually, especially before Second Son makes his appearance in August. In the mean time, the only thing I felt I could do with the only help from my three-year-old is get out the rake, the weed spray, and two small shovels, one for each of us, to attack the should-be-covered-in-tulips curbside that had overgrown–sans tulips–with weeds.  (Our next door neighbors also missed the annual tulip plant this year. Our curbs looked like sick little gardens while our larger neighborhood had strong stems and vibrant-colored tulips blossoming. No fair.)

I got the sense of accomplishment I needed at the curb, especially watching my son use a shovel and get his hands into the little plot of earth God has given us.  But, of course, I didn’t stop there.  I raked other piles of leaves and sticks around the house, made my circles around the yard with the weed spray. (All the while ignoring my pregnancy-induced back pain). We dug, pulled, uprooted, and sprayed for several hours so I could step back and say, “Even if our life isn’t perfect, at least my house looks less abandoned than it did this afternoon.”  It does feel good to have gotten something done, but fixing one problem certainly doesn’t make the others go away. And oftentimes I cycle myself through overcompensation and I’m left with a hollow, shelled version of myself at the end of the day.

The truth is, Josh and I are proud of ourselves and we should be.  We’re ashamed of ourselves and we should be.    It’s so simple, so deeply theological, and yet so obvious: everyday we should be thankful for the new.  Every single day we leave behind the darkness of our yesterdays and have the opportunity to embrace the grace offered every morning.  And regardless of how ugly yesterday felt to us, we’re okay and we have the blessed gift of waking up to a do-over.

I’ve been considering lately somehow getting Instagram, which by definition, is “fast, beautiful photo sharing for your iPhone”.  This, of course, would require me to pursue getting an iPhone.  My Facebook feed these days is loaded with vintage, cropped, polished Instagram pictures of peoples’ plates of food, new shoes, self-portraits, and their children who have the soft glow of light around them.  I always have loved photography, and I appreciate more than anyone a beautiful, edited picture.  Oftentimes these capture a moment more accurately than a traditional untouched image.  Still, I’m noticing more and more how obsessed we are with creating an image for ourselves.  We were obsessed with it before, and now with Facebook and the pressure of social media, we have the added stress of creating a virtual image, projecting the best, most carefully carved versions of ourselves that are very often not reflective of the lives we’re living behind the lens of the iPhone.

I don’t yet have an iPhone. In fact, I recently needed to replace my phone and intentionally kept the ‘simplicity’ of my own smart phone.  This is, in part, because of my technological illiteracy.   But as I’m observing the dangerous pressures of image-making (and the continued pressure of image-upholding), I’m more and more convicted to take a digital assessment of myself, ensuring that whatever face I publish is also the same one that looks back at me in the mirror.

These days, I’m pretty well amazed at the face that looks back at me and the life that being established beneath her.  The first component of amazement involves the swirling baby in my womb, growing ever so steadily. This little champion has already stolen my heart.  I’m surprising myself with the amounts of peaceful excitement I feel about his arrival.  I’m ready for the swings, burp cloths, late nights, full diapers, and sweet kisses.  My heart has expanded to make room for him, and I find myself thanking the Lord that I have opportunity again to put myself aside for the sake of little person entering His kingdom under my care.  I thought I’d have to work my way here, chiseling away at the selfishness that walls my life.  But, these walls are crumbling before me as I ready myself to be a mother to yet another wonderful son.

(It helps that two of the most adorable baby boys in the world happen to live in my neighborhood, and snuggling them gives me a picture of what’s in store for us…)

In addition to my growing mama heart, I’m finding myself continuing to shed the layers of insecurity that I started peeling back four years ago.  Over dinner with my parents (who love and support me in beautiful ways), I was able to say unthinkable things about my life without any guilt or instability such as, “I’m thinking about homeschooling” and “I’m probably not going back to grad school for a while” and “I’ve grown surprisingly content with God’s current purpose for me of homemaking”.  It’s not my parents’ judgement that’s really the issue: it’s my own insatiable desire to please and impress (mostly myself) which has been with me my whole life.  I’m constantly fighting this dragon and putting her fires out in my life, especially in my life as a mom.  I get into rhythms of what I call “Motherhood Performance”, which I know bleeds into other areas of life as well.

Case in point: Instagram.  Like teenagers, it’s very easy to get caught up in comparison, especially when what we’re comparing reflects such huge responsibility like raising and shaping a child. I try to challenge myself and hold myself accountable, balancing that against putting pressure and judgement on my decision-making.  It’s very tricky and, not surprisingly, pretty exhausting.

My husband brought up the excellent point last night that to fight the Motherhood Performance syndrome and the games that insecurity can play, my greatest weapon is going to be reading the Bible.  The Word of God is so powerfully alive, and entering it can only speak hard, heavy truths over the weak and weary lies that lurk in my mind and heart.  How right he is.

Philippians 4:8-9 says, “⁸ Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. ⁹ Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”

I want to put peace into practice. I want to remember everyday that there is nothing in this entire world more true, noble, right, pure, lovely or admirable than carrying a baby–God’s greatest blessing–while cooking or making sock puppets with the child He’s already given me.

(pretending to use the meat tenderizer as Thor’s mighty hammer)

Perhaps these would look more precious with a vintage tint.  But, the smiling little man in these pictures gives me every reason to stop performing, stop comparing, and start bringing heaven into my life through my security in Christ.

The revolutionizing of my kitchen will most likely be a lifelong journey.  Perhaps someday I can achieve Martha Stewart status.  Until then, I’m always plucking away at new recipes, new strategies, new challenges to conquer in an apron.  Last night, I created my very first recipe.  It’s basic.  It’s adaptable.  But the result was delicious.  Since I’m notorious for missing (at least) one tiny but key ingredient every time I get inspired to try something unplanned and new, I’ve had a fair share of experience of adapting recipes.  Here’s the recipe I was dying to try last night, but did not have the ingredients (or the patience for the grocery store) to make it happen:

http://bevcooks.com/2012/01/black-bean-and-sweet-potato-tacos-with-swiss-chard-pesto/

Quickly glancing at the ingredient list, I realized I didn’t happen to have jalepenos, toasted pepitas, and queso fresco on hand at all times.  So without reading further, I created my very own version. Here are some tips for making them extra-yummy.

The BEST whole wheat tortillas: Don Michael

Shred your own cheese. It’s SO much better. And, as I learned, it’s a good stress reliever too.

Fresh cilantro: use as generously as you like! Your food will thank you.

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Here’s is the SCRUMPTIOUS recipe:

BECCA’S BLACK BEAN AND SWEET POTATO BURRITOS

Ingredients:

1 cup Brown Rice, cooked (I used Minute brown rice)

Whole Wheat tortillas

2 Tbsp Olive oil

2-3 sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed

1 can black beans, rinsed and drained

½ cup chopped cilantro

2 tsp minced garlic

1 small yellow onion, chopped

1 ripe avocado, diced

1 cup shredded mozzarella (freshly shredded is best)

¼ cup sour cream

1-2 Tbsp lime juice

½ tsp salt

pepper—to taste

1 Tbsp brown sugar

Directions:

1. In a large saucepan, heat olive oil on medium heat.

2. Add garlic, onion, sweet potato, salt and pepper. Cover, stirring occasionally.

3. Once potatoes are a bit browned and softened, add ¼ cup cilantro and lime juice.

4. Add black beans.  Continue to cook until beans are heated through.

5.  Sprinkle cooked rice with brown sugar. Mix well. Season with salt.

6. Assemble burritos with rice, sweet potato mixture, fresh cilantro, avocado, sour cream, and mozzarella.

ENJOY!

If you try them, I’d love feedback.

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And while we’re on the subject of food…I also made this delicious cake yesterday and used my traditional healthy baking shortcuts, learned over time from Jessica Seinfeld and by experimentation.

When baking, here are some tips:

1.  Get to know Bob. His flour is organically amazing.  I use this flour to replace (at least) half of the all-purpose flour called for in any baking recipe.

2. USE PUREES.  Yes, it’s extra work, but SO worth it!  I puree yellow squash, green squash, sweet potatoes, and cauliflower about once every 2-3 months.  I use about 2 stock-pots to steam large chunks of these veggies.  After they are really soft, they go in the blender with a bit of water.  Then, I portion them out in plastic baggies by 1/2 cups.  They freeze beautifully.

When ready to use, I just run a bag under hot water. DONE.

What’s great about using these purees?

1. They can replace at least half of the canola or vegetable oil in a recipe, which cuts out fat.

2. They COMPLETELY disappear. There is no flavor added or subtracted to any recipe.

3. Your family will be eating veggies without knowing it. This is especially helpful with strong-willed toddlers.

My cake was a success and made healthier by adding cauliflower and squash.

BON APPETIT!!!

The weather is the talk of the town. Anything unseasonal gets people buzzing, especially in Michigan.  I’m learning I’m even less of a winter person than I even thought.  Once the holidays are over, I’m completely through with the snow.  The perpetual gray sky, the ice scraping, and the general bulkiness of life that winter demands…it really gets to me.  Days like to today prove I’m not alone.  Everyone in Holland has spent the past few days digging in the garage for bike pumps, rummaging through attics and basements for sandals that *might* fit our kids, shaking out those capris that have been folded and stored for months.  The sun has blessed us along with temperatures usually identified with June or July.  I don’t want to forget that even though I married a Michigan man and, therefore, will endure the climate most likely for the rest of my life…West Michigan, by and large, is pretty spectacular.

And the flowers around my lamppost aren’t the only thing in bloom around here.  Baby Bishop is making his/her presence known by turning circles and giving mom a few jabs.  Last night, I felt a kick externally (the lay-perfectly-still-with-hand-on-belly technique) for the first time.  This baby’s older brother has blossomed into practically a new child.  Perhaps three and a half is the magic age where daily battles–over food, clothes, toys, transportation, and all of the little observances and preferences tucked into a ‘difficult’ toddler’s daily life–settle down.  There hasn’t been a single timeout in weeks.  Talk about a breath of FRESH air!  I know, in part, this is due to the blood, sweat, and tears of the last 2 years of discipline. And perhaps more recently because of the new book I’ve been reading with lots of wonderful tactics for a kid like Jack. But perhaps time itself is exposing a softer side of Jack.  There are many shaping factors here, and I’m so incredibly grateful I’ve been able to enjoy my son in totally new ways.

The recent weather has given us different possibilities for play, and I’ve come up with a short list of ways to keep a young boy entertained:

* Have a stick pile contest. The bigger, the better.

* Create a rock collection.

* Give rocks names.

* Bury stuff.

* Dig up stuff.

* Pretend to hunt ferocious animals.

Or, if you’re feeling like we were today…head to the beach sans toys and just go discover Pure Michigan…

Today made me realize two scary thoughts:

1. If I could guarantee that more Bishop boys would turn out like Jack has been lately, I would want a dozen of them.

2. I never want to move.

It looks like the weather isn’t the only thing surprising me these days.

Dearest,

This note is probably more for me than for you.  But perhaps when you’re searching for answers someday, or you’re old and gray, you’ll want to dig deeply and find traces of your earliest beginnings.  As your mom, I’m afraid time is already going by so quickly.  If I don’t pause and focus just on you, I will forget all of the moments we are already having.  And I never want to forget how much I already adore you.

I am fifteen weeks pregnant with you.  You are apparently the size of an apple, spending your days circling, spinning, and listening.  I felt you for the first time recently, and I lit up inside.  Your brother can’t wait to feel you kick him, and he will most likely want to kick you in return (for fun, of course).  I will try to stop him. Those first flutters are magical, almost like you are tickling me on purpose.  Someday, I will tickle you back. And I will teach you to cry out “Mercy!” just like your brother.

We are all very excited for you, and yet none of us knows what to expect.  Your dad and I are both the second child in our families, and we know how special it is to have an older sibling.  Jackson will be a wonderful big brother to you.  You will make his world expand and his heart grow even bigger.  He will teach you things; you may just teach him more.  Be prepared to be handled roughly.  Get ready for noise.  Your home is a beautifully crazy place, and we know you will fit just perfectly here.

I hope you recognize your dad’s voice. It is always worth listening to.  I hope he becomes your very favorite person.  He is overwhelmingly brilliant and will teach you about the world and your purposeful place in it.  He is someone you can depend on every day of your life. Even now, before you arrive. Please trust him, honor him, and respect him. Your life will be better for it.

Your brother will have to adjust to your presence, but he is unspeakably excited for you to be here.  I believe Jack will make you laugh for the rest of your life.  Get used to his silliness and his energy; it’s contagious.  And I’m already praying you two will be wonderful, supportive friends.

Having your brother first prepared me to be a stronger, more confident mother to you.  I’m grateful for his patience with me as I figured out just the kind of mom I’m meant to be.  I’ll still be figuring it out with you, I’m sure.  But I’m in a better place now, determined to enjoy every gurgle, kick, or laugh you offer me.

But, to be honest, I’m still scared.  Being a mom is scary for me. So forgive me when I think of myself too much. Or when you see me cry. Or when you wonder if you are my first priority.  Being your mom is the greatest calling put on my life; forgive me when I forget that.  And I promise to offer you forgiveness too.

And lastly, thanks for being you.  I’m still amazed it’s YOU turning circles in there, baffled that God would bless me this much.  I love you, precious baby. Watching you grow is one of my life’s greatest joys.

Much love,

Mom

About a week ago, I went to Meijer for an informative, social event.  This is never something I thought I would enjoy: a nutritionist’s tour of the grocery store.  In fact, grocery shopping is by far my least favorite duty of mine these days. But my continued responsibility to feed my family well has inspired me to keep learning about the food industry and how to best nourish the people I love.  It’s one of those “inconvenient truths”: the more you know about food these days, the harder you have to work to eat healthy.  The tour consisted of a small group of people piling our winter coats in a grocery cart, following the adorable Jill Tanis from section to section, getting introduced to Ezekiel bread in the frozen section and breaking off pieces of “dinosaur” kale, highly recommended for sautees.  I would recommend the tour to anyone, regardless of where you are on your culinary journey (or maybe you haven’t even started yet).  But what I loved most about the tour was Jill’s language choice regarding one little word that had such huge implications for me.  She talked a great deal about the idea of life as a continuum.

Continuum.  What a beautiful replacement for the overused word “journey”, as it implies moving forward, growing, evolving into something better.

Applying this to her tour, she referred to certain advice as more “advanced” depending on where each person was on the continuum of understanding food.  Advice in general falls differently on people, depending on their prior knowledge and experience.  The point she was making was that it’s okay to be anywhere on the food continuum, as long as you are aware that forward motion toward better understanding–and, responsively, better health–is your goal.

I realized, of course, the my relationship with cooking and my role as “feeder” is certainly not the only place I am somewhere on a continuum.  I can’t even tell you where I am on my parenting continuum because even though so much progress has been made with our little Jackson, I’m sure I’ve barely taken steps in comparison to the whole experience of being his mother.  And praise God for that.  But, yet again, God provided advice and tools for me this week to keep me moving…forward…in becoming a better parent to my little boy.  My dear friend Karen Kinne suggested a book to me in order to help with my continued parenting struggles:

There’s nothing wrong with Jack. In fact, he’s pretty awesome. But he is, indeed, difficult.  And after 3 days and 100 pages into these pages of expertise, I’m realizing that understanding his temperament and implementing Mr. Turecki’s strategies for difficult children, my house just might move a little (or a lot) further down the continuum of becoming a balanced, healthy family.  The book explains why the primary caretaker (that would be me) is the one with the greatest struggles with a difficult child.  It explains that “the environment–and your behavior as a parent–can influence temperament and interplay with it, but it is not the cause of temperamental characteristics.”  I’m just about to dive into the practical applications he offers which will hopefully provoke more positive change in our home, but even the purchase of this book–when Jack is 3 1/2–really demonstrates to me that the idea of being on a continuum really is the best illustration for personal growth.

Close friends of mine have watched intentional progress take place around here these last few months and years.  But we haven’t “arrived”, and probably never will considering how much change takes place each day, month, and year with raising children.   But, I can say that I’m so grateful that Josh and I are together on a continuum, linked arm and arm, trying to create the healthiest culture for our home life. We’re considering BIG questions these days:

Where should Jack go to school? Should I homeschool? What’s the point of education?

When will we get our Masters degrees? And why? And where??

What ingredients are really in our food? Should this change? (which inevitably leads to the questions: WHAT is wrong with the food industry????)

How can we be better neighbors? Friends? Partners to our church?

How can we best honor our family today, in the bumps and grinds of daily living?

Admittedly, we’re not chewing on each of these questions nightly. Our conversations would become overwhelming stress sessions.  But, to each of these questions, we can say we deeply care about these issues and are committed to moving along our continuum together. And where we are is just fine if we just…keep…growing.

Thankfully, God has provided us with each other, a strong family of three (almost four).  And I couldn’t think of two boys I’d rather be alongside on my continuum.

Josh and Jack, you are both my Valentines. The loves of my life.  Thanks for letting me grow, and for growing with me.

At 10 weeks pregnant, I turned a little corner.  Until this point, I’ve been feeling surprisingly great.  I was extremely nauseous for one single week, but the nausea somehow vaporized and left.  I’ve had my energy, I’ve been sleeping great, and overall, I’ve had to remind myself: “Oh yeah, there’s a little person inside me.”  I’ve been extremely blessed so far, and I know I have some major prayer warriors asking God to give me a different experience than the one I had with Jackson.*

January 29, 2012 was the first time the fear and sadness crept back into my life, leaving me in puddles of tears while Josh just stroked my hair.  It’s very easy to blame hormones.  Most things are their fault anyhow, right?  And sometimes (as girls all know well), you just need a good cry–with or without a reason–and I was long overdue.  But, as my body begins to prepare for its most important purpose, there’s a slight resemblance to what it did when Jackson was forming.  And as I faced this last night, searching in the attic for undergarments I hoped to never wear again, the recognizable fear quickly felt like sinking sand.

As I explained to Josh through the tears and gasping breath, the most frustrating part is that the past two years of my life seem to have dissolved in a single evening.  We have spent the past two years changing almost everything about our lives.  Our church life, our discipline–for ourselves and Jackson, our priorities, our eating habits, our finances.  Nothing has been unexamined, and we continue to intentionally shape our lives according to our values.  Before Jackson, we lived unexamined lives with very little structure.  So much effort, thought, and prayer have been put into our current lifestyle.  We still have miles and miles to go, consistently attempting new “Life Management” strategies.  But, everything is different from our life two years ago.  And our life is hardly recognizable to our reality four years ago when I was pregnant with Jackson.  How, then, could all of this disappear, leaving me to feel like it’s 2008 all over again and I’m right back where I started?

It certainly didn’t help that yesterday, Jackson’s behavior seemed to slide into the past as well.  It was as if he was two all over again.  From battle to battle, obedience seemed to be his last resort rather than any type of inclination.  Even though he can look so adorable (thanks to my mom for his new space suit), this child has the ability to test every ounce of control and energy that Josh and I have.

I realized that this is the nature of fear, and it’s precisely where the Enemy wants me to be.  He uses every detail to pry at weaknesses, whisper lies, and unravel anything the Lord has tightly woven. The tears were a real and honest release for me, and I’m grateful I have a husband that provides such firm support for the heaviness of my pregnant emotions.  But, ultimately, I need to take responsibility for refocusing on what I know to be true: I should not live in fear.

Deut 3:16 Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.

Isaiah 41:10 So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Romans 8:15 For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, “”Abba,” Father.”

Psalm 23:4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
The struggle, for me, is to not live in fear but also prepare myself to what is to come, given the possibility that these pregnancies just might be similar.   And I thought this is worth sharing, because I think we all have our own experiences of walking in valleys of shadows.  For me, it seems I could be headed to the valley with the darkest shadows I’ve experienced so far**.  And I pray that I’m blessed with a different experience.  But…if not…perhaps my spirit of confidence in the Lord might make a greater difference in this pregnancy than any physical alteration.

If you have a spirit of fear about something in your life…if you are on the brink of a valley of shadows, or even in the middle of one…I’m asking you to share it with me (not in detail) so I can pray for you as I pray through my own experience.  As I prayed last night, I felt closer to God than I have in a long time.  I struggled through worship at church yesterday morning, because I couldn’t really feel the presence of God.   But tonight, as pain and trial reintroduced themselves, His presence was undeniable as I was crying out my needs and releasing my fears. I was cradled. It’s amazing how real He can seem when our needs are so great and our fears so overwhelming.

Today is a new day, and I was reminded quickly this morning that I am, in fact, in an entirely new and better place with this pregnancy.  I will be a different mother to this baby because I’ve been refined and strengthened.  I can handle the changes my body undergoes.  And even if my perspective is the only thing that is different this time around, that can be enough change to get me through it.  If you are fearful, join me in praying against it, especially through the nights of pillow-soaking tears.  And when we cry, let it be to our “Abba, Father” who provides ultimate comfort.  And let us always be grateful that tomorrow is always a new day.

*You know who you are, and I appreciate your prayers MORE than I could ever express.

**I recognize that so many people–many of which are dear friends–have experienced such traumatic life experiences, several involving difficult and even life-threatening pregnancies.  I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for my health and the blessing of new life. But, for me, the experience of pregnancy and the long, uphill postpartum period was emotionally dark and traumatic in its own way.

Last night I met with a mothering/mentoring group with moms I’m just on the cusp of getting to know.  Unsurprisingly, we can talk about intimate issues of motherhood and marriage without even having a deep, trusting relationship (yet).  Women are amazing like that.  Especially mothers.  Without knowing someone’s name, you can discuss breastfeeding as if you’re best friends. There is something so deeply understood and relate-able about being around other mothers.

One of the great pieces of advice I received last night was this: “Say ‘YES’ as often as you can”.  It’s very easy to use these words with children: We’ll see, Tomorrow, Maybe later, Not right now. Admittedly, I sometimes dish out these responses without really considering Jack’s request.  Most often, a toddler’s request will solicit a less-than-yes response. But, this advice really made me tune in to how I’m responding to Jackson and also how my priorities affect such responses.  As a queen of to-do lists, I pile tasks and responsibilities on top of each other, and oftentimes I spend my days around Jack rather than with him.  This advice made me consider the possibility that I could probably fit a few more games of Candyland into my schedule without anything suffering other than my needless agenda.

This also got me thinking about the 3-year-old things of Jackson that are my absolute favorite, the qualities he has right now that won’t last forever and I just want to soak them up like a sponge.  For the sake of tuning in, here is my list of my absolute favorite things about my firstborn at 3:

1.  The use of “Your” in place of “You”.  I especially love this because it’s actually harder to say, and yet it’s what his little brain comes up with.

“Do your want to play a dame?”

which leads me to my second point…

2.  The replacement of “g” for “d”.  “Mom, this lunch is dood”.

3.  The imaginative play.  It’s sad how much of this I have lost as a grown-up, because I vividly remember getting lost in the world of make-believe.  I try to enter his creative worlds, and oftentimes I can really get into it.  But, I no longer have the vibrant imagination that my son does, and it’s amazing to watch his wheels turn as he invents, creates, pretends.

4.  His love for dad.  Jack’s entire world lights up the moment Josh walks in the door. And it’s exactly the way it should be.

5.  His almost-in-the-lines coloring.

6.  His protective nature.  He’s even gotten to the point where he says to me as I’m tucking him in: “Mom, call me if you need me.”

7.  His pride in the “Did you know?” statements. “Mom, did your know the moon is far away in the sky?”

8.  His tenderness with babies.  Considering how rough my child is 99% of the time, it’s amazing to see the gentleness surface in him when he’s around something miraculously fragile.

9. His awareness that bad guys exist and must be defeated.

10.  His reminders that God made everything.  He did, indeed, buddy.

These are especially helpful to remember during these long, winter days of hard work and discipline.  Jackson has been experimenting with just how badly he can get away with treating his mom when he’s frustrated or confused.  Even though I find myself living through head-pounding weeks, I am truly blessed to have my son, given to me as a gift for only a time.  And even though I still must say “no” quite a bit, I’m going to looking for opportunities to say–with a cheerful heart–YES.