Elias got sick last night. I hardly slept. Was running on fumes most the day due to lack of naps. Then just as I was crawling into bed got the dreaded phone call "ummm 3rd shifter hasn't shown up and isn't answering the phone." So here I am at work. Dead tired. Busy work is complete and I still have like 2 hours to go. So although I'm probably writing this sooner than ready, I need to do something productive. 

This post has been weighing on my heart lately. I needed time to process it. I truthfully need MORE time but since I have nothing but time, I might as well a start now. 

Earlier this spring, church did a series called a Hole In the Gospel based off the book. We were given a calendar which focused on different areas each week; they had calls of action, statics. I remember looking the calendar over and one date really hit me. Ok, it more than hit me. It literally rocked me to my core. 

Those numbers are so staggering to me. 6000 children die.A.DAY because they don't have access to something as basic as clean water. The static bothered me. It made me uncomfortable. But to be completely honest here, not uncomfortable enough to do much more than post it on facebook (where I don't think one person even commented on it. Oddly though, if even ONE jumbo jet crashed, I'm sure it would be the most popular commonly posted topic that day). I wish I could say that I did something dramatic once I heard this news but short of turning off my faucet more often, I didn't do too much. 

Fast Forward to the end of summer. One of the blogs I read mentioned the new book for their book club. I was in need of a new book, so I thought if the library had it available for my kindle, I'd join in. Believe it or not, for once, they did. I quickly put a hold on it and waited my turn. 

Enter 7. Officially known as 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess. A mouthful, isn't it? Let me tell you though ... it was as good as the title is long. Good enough that I've now read it twice. A quick run down of the book can be found by clicking on the link above. But let me say this book hit me about as hard as hearing 6000 children die a day from lack of water.

"How can I be socially responsible if unaware that I reside in the top percent of the wealth in the world? (You probably do too: Make $35000 a year? Top 4 percent. $50000? Top 1 percent.) 

Excess has impaired perspective in America; we are the richest people on earth; praying to get richer. We are tangled in unmanageable debt while feeding the machine, because we feel entitled to more. What does it communicate when half the global population lives on less than $2 a day, and we can't manage a fulfilling life on twenty-five thousand times that amount. Fifty thousand times that amount. 

It says we have too much, and it's ruining us."

I'm wrestling with what exactly it means for me and my house and my family. I know a change needs to happen. I know a change IS happening. I'm trying to decide how to make it happen. Expect more as I process this ... and I have a fixed computer that allows me to use the keyboard :)

As many of you (who am I kidding? Many? I think like 4 people still read this but many makes me feel better about my reader base) I love myself some Angie Smith. She has this amazing way with words; to say I'm jealous would be a gross understatement. She has this way of writing exactly what I'm feeling when I'm feeling it. She posted the following post the other night which I read during one of Elias' many nighttime awakenings.

See the original post here.

It was 4:00 in the morning, and like clockwork, Charlotte started screaming.

Confession: Todd usually gets up with her in the middle of the night. Another confession: He usually gets up before me with the kids in the morning. One more confession: He does 98 % of the laundry and more than half of the housework. I have other confessions but I will save them for a day when you might not decide to hate me because I have such a great husband.

Anyway, last night when Charlotte started screaming, instead of her normal “please come get me and rock me back to sleep” sound, she was wailing. She went from dead asleep to sounding like she was desperately afraid in about 4 seconds. I opened my eyes and sat still for a second because sometimes she goes right back to sleep.

“Mommy! Mommy! MOOOMMMMYYY!!!!” I jumped up. Because that’s me she’s calling. And she isn’t just upset, she’s wanting me. And who can resist answering that need?

I jumped out of bed and walked toward her room. Right as I turned the doorknob, she let out another piercing scream, so she didn’t hear me walk in. We live in a house that has creaky doorknobs and pockets of the floor that you learn to step around if you’re trying to be quiet. I know where they are. I didn’t make a sound.

It surprised me that she wasn’t standing up in her crib and bouncing, because she usually does that when she’s upset.

I know. Because I know her.

She was so worked up that she didn’t even notice that I had gotten right up next to her crib, and that I was actually leaning over the white wooden bars while she was flailing around. She was sweaty, I could tell from her little wet head. She was digging her fists into the mattress and rolling her legs around kicking the sides of the crib. And she was more upset than I have seen her in awhile.

I prayed for her. I rebuked any Satanic spirit that might be influencing her, I prayed for peace and for rest. I did it quickly, and I waited just a moment more.

She was still scared. Still unaware of me.

Quietly, quietly, I started humming, “Hush little baby, don’t you cry…” It was just enough to make my throat vibrate. Too quiet for her to take notice, but she must have sensed something in her half-awake state, and she calmed a little. I started to reach over the crib but I didn’t want to wake her if she was going to go back to sleep. She didn’t even need to know I was here, just felt enough in my presence to know she wasn’t alone. I kept watching her though, and I noticed that although she was still upset, she wasn’t looking at the door. She knew that one of us would come in and get her, but she cried to the corner, so distraught that she didn’t lift her head.

And in the middle of the night, while the wind howled around Nashville and the rest of my babies slept, I wondered how many times I have done this.

I call Him, because I know His name.

And He answers, because He has always knows mine.

I am lost in the wreckage, trying to get my bearings, and while I can’t even lift my head, He whispers throughout the madness…I am here, love. Rest.

I snuck in when you thought it was over. When you thought it was impossible. And while your back was turned and the world was upside-down, I came near to you. I have seen you wrestle with your pain, shout in anger, and kick the sides of this life until the bruises reminded you that you could even feel at all.

And somewhere, sometime…many in fact, I bowed beside you and sang. And when you thought you couldn’t get to me, I reminded you that I always, always come to you.

Hush little baby…

I stood in the moonlight and let Him fall on me. Have you ever done that? Because it’s pretty spectacular. I read my Bible, of course. And I love to listen to music, to be in community, and all of the other gifts of this world. But every now and then He speaks and I know that even when I leave the moonlight I’m never going to forget the mercy that spoke in the darkness.

She stirred again and I reached over and touched her back. Gently, gently.

Hush.

She felt me, jumped up, and scrambled for my arms as if I might leave without her.

I never would, you know.

And as she lowered her head into my neck, I settled into the rocking chair and she was out before I even sat.

There were no words exchanged. Just the truth that exists between a parent and a child in the middle of the night. And it says the same thing it always has.

You didn’t know I was there, but it doesn’t change the fact that I was.

I heard you call me and I came.

I sang over you, prayed over you, loved you from the shadows.

Hush, love. Hush. Another day is dawning soon and we will meet here again. Around the squeaky floors I have come to know so well. And when we do, you will remember why it is that you called me in the first place, so long ago.

And if you listen to the stillness, you will hear me. Anywhere, anytime.

Hush.

Can you hear Him?

{Zephaniah 3:17}

A few weeks ago at church, Pastor Brad said something that has stuck in my brain ever since. The series is about Suburban Legends; a series about phrases we often say without thinking. Sometimes we say them so much we believe they are true, but are they? This particular one was about "God will never give you more than you can handle."

Here's the bullet point that really stuck.

"Sometimes you have to change your conjunction"

Conjunction, remember that from English class?

Now that I've been back to work for 2 weeks, I feel like I need to change my conjunction.

I don't know if I can work full time while raising 2 kids, one of which is a baby and doesn't always sleep through the night, and keep up with everything I kept up with pre-Elias or even during my maternity leave.

I'm not sure I can blog as frequently AND find all the best deals AND cook dinner each night AND wash the dishes AND keep up with the laundry AND get groceries WITH coupons AND do fun outings with the boys AND try to keep the house looking nice AND keep up with my TV shows AND bake AND make freezer meals and homemade baby food AND try to get this house in a sellable fashion AND be able to volunteer at church AND see friends AND feel like I'm giving Mike, Colin and Elias quality time AND feel like I'm giving myself some time to do something for myself.

I NEED TO CHANGE MY CONJUNCTION; more importantly I have to be ok with changing it.

I need to be ok with saying I can do this OR that. Be ok with with saying no OR asking for help. I need to be ok with giving up a show or two (or 6). I need to be ok with buying store bought baby food instead of trying to make it now while fruit is season. I need to change it because I can't be the best wife, mother, employee, friend, etc, that God wants of me if I'm spreading myself too thin.

So forgive me if this blog is neglected more than I want. There may be times where my conjunction goes to "OR" instead of "AND".

It's late and I have a lot on my mind. I've had a lot on my mind period lately. You know those big life altering ideas, questions, problems. Mix in my last week of maternity leave and you may or may not get a big emotional basket case.

I don't even know how it happened. I don't remember how my thoughts transitioned anymore. But somehow as I was holding my Graham, my thoughts turned to my other Gram; my Grandma. I could see her perfectly. Sitting in her green chair at Sunset. The radio blaring as she listened to one of Uncle Bob's church services. I could hear her voice.

Then cue the tears.

I wanted to hear her voice talk about him. I could hear the conversation. She'd asked if he was a good baby as her wrinkly old manicured hands rubbed his round bald head. I'd tell that he's a great baby; he's calm, sweet, incredibly smiley, and a great sleeper. She asked how many times he wakes up during the night. When I tell her once, sometimes not at all, she'd call me "giiiiiiiiiiiirl" and tell me how lucky I am while Elias squeezed her finger. And somewhere between talking about the new love of my life and her talking about how she didn't like the newborn stage with her kids, she'd remind Colin that there is a red car somewhere in the cabinet drawer that he could play with. I could envision the whole visit. Where's she'd insist we take home the extra cookie she took from dinner or soft orange she had lying around and somehow we always seem to 'forget' to grab on our way out. The visit where she'd say her oxygen tubes were scaring the boys and want to take them out. The visit that would end with her cold wrinkly hands on my face giving me a kiss and her telling me that she loved me and that she prays for not only me but all her kids, grandkids, great grandkids, great great grandkids including now Elias. She'd hug and kiss all 4 of us and we'd walk out into the significantly cooler hallway.

But that visit isn't going to happen anywhere other than in my head and in this blog. As we are nearly the one year mark, I am grateful that I can still see her face and hear her voice but can't help but be a little sad that my Graham won't know my Gram.

Least not here on this earth and knowing that they will one day meet each other in heaven makes it all just a little bit easier.

Elias Graham: "Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all." Ephesians 4:2-6

"And as she was having great difficulty in childbirth, the midwife said to her "Don't be afraid, for you have another son." Genesis 35:17

Elias Graham

July 10, 2011 at 5:37am

8lbs 15oz, 20 1/2" of perfection

That's what I'm trying to do ... savor THESE moments. While I'm not always doing the best job at it, I'm trying.

After a long evening/night of false labor, had what I am {still} hoping was my last Dr's appt this morning. Mike and I drove to the appointment with me having big hopes and hoping to hear certain things. I left the appointment feeling defeated and discouraged and vainly disappointed by my weight gain. After a what felt like a long, very quiet ride home, Mike kissed me goodbye and headed off to work promising me that everything is fine and there's no need to feel the way I do. Plopped my big pregnant butt on the couch and opened my email only to find a sweet email from my SIL which resulted in tears. Nothing like crying 20 minutes before work! But she reminded me of what I've been trying to tell myself daily: to enjoy these last few days of being pregnant.

I've said that prayer so many times over the past week or so. I truly want to savor THESE moments. As much as I want to meet this new babe, I want to enjoy this time. I want to savor the present moment. These last moments of being a family of 3. These moments where Colin is my main focus (Heaven knows that boy needs it lately lol). Moments where it's just Mike and I watching TV silently on the couch. The precious moments where I can feel him or her rolling around in my stomach. Or feeling Colin and Mike's hands on my stomach trying to feel Shah-Baby kick around. I'll miss my big ole shelf of a belly. Trying to savor the moments of not needing to attend to a newborn baby. Just trying to savor this period of our lives.

So now while we are truly in the wait-and-see period, I'm trying to remind myself that even more.

Just slow down.

Calm down.

And Savor.

Trust that God will bring this baby to us in his perfect timing.

"When I feel like caving in
My heart my soul is wearing thin
I just want to give up
Nothing seems at all to add up
I know you hear me Lord.
When my face is down upon the floor
It's then you whisper in my ear

Be still and know I'm here.
We are not alone.
Be still and know I'm here.
We are not alone.
Be still and know I'm here.
We are not alone.
Be still and know I'm here.
We are not alone."

written by: Angie Smith
posted on:(in)courage

For the record, it was Todd’s fault.

I don’t even remember the specifics of our “disagreement,” but I am quite confident he was in the wrong. I don’t back down as readily as some of my “really good at being submissive” friends, and I recognize that it’s something I need to be better at doing. For some strange reason, I seem to forget this factoid when I am knee-deep in self-righteous bickering and convinced that I am one witty comment away from victory.

But this particular night, I bit my tongue. I stepped on my pride momentarily and offered the kind of olive branch that was (sadly) uncharacteristic of me when I am mad (and also, right. Just in case you hadn’t picked up on that part).

I saw Todd’s face settle, assessing me in order to see if this was just a gimmick to lead up to my final blow, and it made me cringe. He knew that I could, and he was waiting because he assumed that I would.

But I didn’t.

I told him I was sorry and that I didn’t think it was his fault (that part was kind of a white lie. As previously stated I am convinced he was in the wrong. Carry on.)

As I looked at his face softening, I thought about the day I walked down a long aisle to get to him, knowing he was the only one I would ever love this way. And what in the world was I thinking right now? That somehow me proving how smart I was would change our marriage and make him look at me the way he did from the other end of the church?

So I stopped myself. I took a breath and apologized.

And in my head I heard the words, “You can do one better.”

And I did. In fact, I did more than one better because as soon as I started going I couldn’t stop. All I desired was to feel like I had built him up and swallowed my own ugly pride.

It turned out well, as you can imagine, and I walked away from it feeling like I had done the right thing.

I’m not saying it’s easy, but these two words have helped me make some really good and life-giving choices over the past several weeks…

One better.

I walk through the family room and notice a cup on the floor. I absentmindedly pick it up and start to walk to the sink.

One better, Ang.

So I go back, straighten the pillows, quickly gather the books scattered on the ground, and deposit the kids shoes in the shoe bin where they belong.

My friend calls to tell me about her business trip and all I can think is that I have deadlines that are crushing me and I don’t have time for the details. I catch myself, close the computer, and tell her I want to go on the porch so I can focus on what she’s saying.

It was just one better.

My daughter comes to me after having her feelings hurt, and I have a great talk with her. I mention Scripture I think will help her, I hug her, and I tell her I want to pray for her. It was good, but I knew I could just do one better.

I asked her if she wanted to go get a hot chocolate at the coffee shop down the road. We had a blast. When we got home, Todd had started making dinner and I told him I appreciated it.

And then I deliberately walked over to him, took his face in my hands, and told him what a good man he was.

It’s hard to do everything, but it isn’t hard to just do one better.

Make a note to yourself today and hang it where you will see it. As you walk through the day, instead of feeling like you can’t do it all, just remember-you don’t have to.

You will not believe the way these two little words start to shape your hours and your heart…so go ahead…do one better.

I dare you.

No wait, I DOUBLE dare you (see? It works for everything!)