Joy Leanne

It's Mother's day. A pudgy little Boy of four or five hands a clumsily wrapped gift to his mother. Most likely an older sister had offered to help him wrap the gift. But chances are he instead on doing most of it himself. That's just the way he is. Content to be the baby of the family, but fiercely independent at times. His mother opens the box and does the appropriate ooing and ahhing and holds up the gift for every one to see. The little boy's eyes shine as he see's the earrings in his mother's hands. Boy had spent a long time agonizing over his choices at the jewelry wall in the dollar store. He was determined to find something worthy of her beauty. Watching Mother show off the blue plastic hearts he knows he chose well. "I wanted to get you diamonds" say Boy, "and then I saw the blue ones." She could have worn them around the house and Boy would have been thrilled. That's the kind of child he was. Innocent and easy to please. But she

When I was 15 we drove from Maryland to Colorado and back. On the way we passed through Kansas. I don't remember much about it except is was flat. Very, very flat. There weren't any mountains. There weren't any valleys. Just flat. Lately I feel stuck in a spiritual Kansas. My walk with God is fine. It isn't bad. I'm not in a valley or anything. But I'm not on a mountain either. Now I know we can't always be on a mountain top, but it's been a long time since I've experienced anything other than a mole hill. Perhaps it's just contentment. Maybe I'm just getting comfortable with my walk with God. Maybe this is what a walk with God looks like when not clouded with the hormones of adolescents, college, or pregnancy. Maybe I'm just analyzing to much. Perhaps I should be glad. But I am feeling pulled, drawn, I am craving something more....

I had a break through today. Though that phrasing makes it sound way more dramatic than it actually is. Perhaps a nudge through would be a better description. It is a realization that has been floating on the edges of my mind. A lesson that God has been trying to get me grasp for who knows how long. The majorty of my issues and/or sins come down to a failure to grasp the promise in 2 Corinthians 12:9 "My grace is sufficiant for you. My power is made perfect in weakness." My entire life I have been told I expect to much of people. I have a very hard time loving people with out expecting something from them. I know this. It is a struggle I have had since child hood. I am afraid that if I pour into some one else with out knowing they can pour into me I will some how be left empty. It is selfish I know. My sin is in trusting other sinfull fallen saints to meet a need only God can. If I love as God has called me to, then His grace will overflow in my life. Another area I strugle w

I have come to the conclusion recently that I don't think I could or would ever atempt an auto biography. I found this surprising becuase I had often thought that one day I would. Not that I think my life is terribly interesting but becuase a number of my life experience has been out side of the main stream. (Being a pastors daughter, being home schooled K-12, going to a christian college, getting married strait out of college.) I also firmly believe that every day things such as waiting tables, being a camp counselor, and raising an extroverted 9 month old, can make for rather entertaing stories assuming the are communicated in the right manner. The more I obeserve life however the more I realize that I don't trust myself to convey the story of my life. For starters our memories are never as acurate as we assume them to be. The further away we get from an event the more scewed our memories become. Either we look back at nestolgia remembering only the wonderful warm fuzzies of

"Your sister tried for years and she hasn't done 'it'." The words haunt me. Mock me. Subtly assuring me that I was right all along. I don't measure up. I will never be as good as them. It doesn't matter that I spent four years studying "it". It doesn't matter that I did "it" as an internship. It doesn't matter that I received scholarship for "it"... twice. All that matters is that she my sister tried "it" and is still struggling to make "it" work. The unspoken message screams at me. Asking what makes me think I can be successful at "it" if she hasn't? It obtrusively insinuates, no flat out states that she is better than I am and, in the process, stomps on any hope of ever measuring up. They were only spoken once, but those words still Inger. Whispering doubt. Laughing at me for wasting four years of my time. Shaming me for wasting my money and theirs. Snickering behind my back at an

My Husband and I were talking tonight and he mentioned how much he enjoyed something I wrote for him a long time. A life time ago. When we were first married. So, for him, here it is. I miss you. Did you know that? I miss you when I am work. I miss you while I'm cooking dinner. I miss you while we are sitting next to each other on the sofa watching TV. I miss you at night while you are holding me in bed. It sounds foolish when I say it out loud. But it is real none the less. There are times when I am surprised that you can hold me so tight. I feel as though there is something between us. It's not a wall. If it is a wall I wouldn't be able to see you or touch you. No it's not a wall. It's a fence. It is a fence that allows me to look over and see you. You are on the happy side. You are on the side I want to be on. I can touch you to. I can reach over the fence and hold your hand. I can graze you with my finger tips. But ever time I try to pull you close that fence ge

As children we are told we can be anything we want to be when we grow up. We are told anything is possible if we just try hard enough. And then one day, the world stops telling us this and instead points out all the obsticles keeping us from our dreams. It is an odd phenomenon. One which I am straddeling at the moment. I find myself already telling my 5 month old daughter that she is amazing and can do anything she puts her mind to. And yet, I am constantly telling myself why my own dreams are simply that, fluffy cotton candy dreams. What message am I sending to my child? Why should she be confident that I believe in her, if I display such little confidence in myself. Maybe I need to pursue my dreams, not for my sake but for hers.

"She looks so much like you. She has your mouth." This was one of the first pieces of information my husband shared about my daughter that made its way through the morphine and lodged itself in my brain. Over the past eleven weeks I have heard that time and time again. And it's true. Her little nose and the lines around her mouth are shockingly familiar. There are moments when I could swear I was looking at a photograph of myself. However, a frown and a cabbage patch doll nose are not all we have in common. The more she develops, the more I see personality traits similar to my own. She's already showing a determination that borders on stubbornness and a tendency to over react. While I expected to share some things in common with my daughter, I didn't expect this to show itself before birth. Some women are thrilled when they find out they are pregnant. They eagerly wait for their husband to come home so they can share the news in some super- cute manor like present

My scar was bothering me last night. Nothing serious. Just a little sore and tender. It still stings on occasion. Mostly when I've had Mouse on my lap all day. She wiggles and squirms and rubs against the scar that bears witness to my love for her. Every time I catch a glimpse of the bright purple addition to my anatomy, my mind is flooded with a million thoughts. It is a constant reminder to me. A reminder of the terrifying procedure I went through to bring my Mouse into this world. A reminder of her reluctance to enter this world. A reminder of the million changes both physical and emotional that I have gone through the past year. Weeks before the expected arrival date, Josh and I sat down and wrote out a detailed list of our wishes during labor and delivery. It included a dozen little details on everything from who we wanted in the room with us (no one) to Josh cutting the umbilical cord and how soon we would want to try breast feeding (in the first hour). It was two days after